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Day 8: Hidden Scar
Winry had been so excited about seeing Alphonse in his real body again that she hadn't even noticed Edward's right arm until hours later, while they were eating warm apple pie and recounting what had happened on the Promised Day. Even then, it took her a while. Al looked like he was melting with joy with every bite he took, and she couldn't keep her eyes off him. He looked so alive.
She did her best not to cry during their story. Ed always acted weird when she cried, and she didn't want to interrupt. Besides, they'd both survived, so there was no reason to cry. But when Ed admitted that he couldn't do alchemy anymore—and that he'd never be able to do it again—tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
And as expected, Ed's cheeks turned slightly pink and he leaned back in his chair, looking anywhere but her. “What are you crying for?” he whined, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. Then he paused, blinked in confusion, and slowly put his hand back on the table, and that was when she really noticed.
“So your automail is really gone,” Winry said quietly. Of course the brothers had explained how Al had exchanged his soul for Ed's arm, but seeing his real human hand sitting on the table finally made her understand.
The pink on Ed's cheeks darkened, for some reason. “My arm, yeah. I'm still getting used to feeling again.” He chucked and rolled up his jacket sleeve to his elbow to show her. “I don't think my brain really knows what's real yet. Still got my leg, though. You can't get rid of me that easily.”
Granny laughed a little. “I think Winry would go crazy without something to fix.”
Al laughed, and Winry's face grew hot.
Ed cracked a smile. “Yeah. And it's a reminder. You know, of everything we've been through and all the friends we've made. So I can't even be mad. Oh, speaking of, I'm gonna need an adjustment. You'll never believe it, but I did get taller.”
“Barely,” Al said through a mouthful of pie.
Winry had noticed, actually. When she'd found him hiding out in her room, she'd realized that they were the same height now. And his shoulders were a little broader, and his jaw was a little firmer, and his voice was just a little lower.
Her face grew hotter.
She cleared her throat much too loudly. “Let's get it checked, then. Can't have you wobbling around forever.” She stood up abruptly, startling Den at her feet, and gestured for him to scoot his chair back.
“We don't have to do it right now,” Ed complained, his blush reaching the tips of his ears.
“Edward Elric, you made me sit here and wait for weeks doing nothing but worry. You're going to take your pants off and let me look at your leg, and you're going to do it without complaining.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Ed muttered, and Al choked laughing.
They moved to the couch, and Ed took his pants and shoes off, slumping down on the couch and crossing his arms with a pout. Winry almost scolded him for it, but then decided that maybe he deserved to be a little pouty after having just saved the country.
His leg itself looked to be in decent condition, but the skin around his port was bruised and swollen. Winry gently touched his thigh, and Ed hissed under his breath. “Careful,” he muttered.
“Would you look at that,” she said sarcastically to hide the lump that formed in her throat. “You have grown. You're going to need a new port interface.”
“I—I'll need surgery again?” he asked, his voice going squeaky.
“Yeah, but not the full thing. All of the nerves will stay; you just need a socket and base adjustment to account for your thigh getting wider and more muscular as you grew. Shouldn't be too hard, and it won't be nearly as painful.”
Ed sighed in relief, and Winry noticed every one of his muscles relaxing. He'd always been well toned for his age, but he'd definitely gotten stronger.
Focus on the automail, you weirdo, she scolded herself.
“These markings here,” she said, swallowing her embarrassing feelings. She touched the side of his metal calf, where a few strange geometrical marks were patterned on the automail. “Did you seriously use alchemy to make your leg longer?”
His face flushed again. “I didn't know what else to do. My gait was too unbalanced. There was no way I'd be able to fight like that.”
“Then why didn't you come see me?” she demanded. “Why do you always have to let yourself suffer?”
Ed stared at the floor and didn't answer.
“We were trying to protect you, Winry,” Al said quietly. “We didn't know if someone would come after you for leverage if either of us stopped by.”
“Still, that was reckless of you—”
“I care about you too much to put you and Granny in danger like that,” Ed muttered. “The homunculi were hunting us down, but they were focused in the Central Area. I knew if they lost track of me, they'd go for you. I couldn't let—I couldn't let what we staged in Baschool happen for real.”
His hand twitched to his side so subtly that Winry wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been sitting right there in front of him. And as he did, the tiniest grimace crossed his face for a split second. Immediately, all the frustration drained from her heart.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, reaching for his hand.
He flinched away from her, so, so slightly, but she knew him far too well to miss it. “Yeah. I mean, my thigh hurts like hell, but yeah.”
Granny and Al were still watching them carefully, so Winry would ask him later. “If you're sure,” she said, and moved back to his automail. “Let me grab my tools; I'll be right back.”
Ed had taken his jacket off when she came back into the living room. He wore a short-sleeved shirt underneath, revealing both fully flesh arms. His right arm was far less muscular than his left, and a little paler, too. He'd definitely need some good physical therapy to match his strength. The shirt was higher cut than what he usually wore, and she couldn't see the plating on his collarbone or the automail scars on his shoulder. She'd definitely have to check those out to see what had happened to the port when he'd gotten his arm back, for his own wellbeing, of course, but also out of pure curiosity. What had happened to all the internal machinery? Had it just…disappeared?
That could wait, though. His leg was clearly bothering him more than his expression let on. Even Al looked alarmed.
“Maybe you should have found a clinic somewhere else, Brother,” he said. “That looks really bad.”
“Fine, I should have taken better care of it. You're all right, and I'm just an idiot.” Ed flung his arm out in sarcastic frustration, but Winry could tell by the slight lilt in his voice that he wasn't really upset.
“An idiot who saved the country and restored your brother,” Winry reminded him.
“Well, I couldn't have done it alone. Even an idiot needs friends.”
Winry started to laugh, but the sound died in her throat as she started to unscrew the outer panel, her touch making Ed yelp. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I just need to get these off. I can't tell what's swelling and what's natural growth.”
“It's fine,” Ed said through gritted teeth. Al came over to sit beside him on the couch, and Ed squeezed his hand.
“Oh, before I do that.” She cringed in anticipation. “I need you to stand up so I can see what needs to be adjusted. And—and seriously, how did you manage to walk on this thing?”
“I think I got used to it.” Ed's fingers tightened around Al's. “I was so used to being on the run and fighting for my life that I just forgot about it.”
“He limped all the way here,” Al said. “I offered him my spare crutch, but he wouldn't take it.”
“Moron,” Winry huffed as her heart squeezed uncomfortably. She prepared her tape measure and mentally ran through what she needed to check. “Most of the little measurements I can make while you're sitting, so I just need a couple of you standing. Al, you can help brace him, but Ed, you need to stand up as straight and level as you can.”
“You got it, doc,” Ed said, smiling to try and lighten the mood. His voice cracked, which would have been funny if Winry hadn't known it came from stress.
“Ready when you are.”
Al helped him get on his feet and Granny spotted him from the other side, and a string of colorful curses spilled through his gritted teeth. Winry had done this dozens of times, so she tried to take comfort in her speed. He wouldn't have to be in pain for much longer.
She'd never admit it to him, but she was actually glad he'd lengthened his calf. Though his knees were different heights and his automail leg was still a bit shorter than his natural leg, his hips weren't nearly as misaligned as they should have been. She ran her thumbs over either side of his pelvic bone to be sure, and Ed squeaked. She chose to ignore that. Al laughed under his breath.
“Okay, all set.” She scribbled the measurements in her notebook, and Ed slumped back down with a sigh.
“Ow,” he groaned. “I really am an idiot.”
Winry rolled her eyes and finished unscrewing the panels around his thigh. She could see the immediate pressure release when she finally peeled them away from his swollen skin, and both she, Al, and Ed cringed in unison.
“I'm going to detach your leg now.”
Ed nodded and closed his eyes, wincing preemptively.
Winry had often wondered how it felt to disconnect the nerve endings. He didn't have any true feeling in his automail, but the wiring extended the real brain signals from his remaining nerves through the leg as if it was made of flesh. Winry had read all about phantom pain and heard plenty of first hand accounts. Did disconnecting his leg hurt, too, even though there was nothing to feel?
Edward was so stubborn. She wished he'd tell her these things, so she could at least try to help.
Winry slid the leg out of the socket and set it carefully on the floor. Everything needed adjustments, and though a lot of them were minor, she decided it would be more efficient to just rebuild the whole thing from scratch. She told him so, and he groaned dramatically.
“I know you just got here and you're probably ready to relax, but I should really get your port taken care of now, before it gets worse,” she said.
“Fine,” Ed grumbled.
“I'll prepare a bed, then,” Granny said, and hobbled off to the clinic in the back of the house.
“You'll feel better when it's done. Then maybe you won't be so grumpy.”
“I'm not grumpy,” he complained. “I'm just…kinda restless.”
Winry raised an eyebrow. “Restless? You've been running around the country for almost five years, and now that you finally get a chance to relax, you're restless?”
“That's exactly the problem. I've been traveling for so long that I don't really know how to sit still. Besides.” He chuckled a little, but his hand twitched back to his waist. “The only breaks I ever got were when I was stuck in a hospital somewhere. Sitting still feels like I'm just waiting for pain.”
That was…incredibly depressing. “Well, you'd better get used to it,” she said before she could dwell on it and inevitably cry.
“Don't worry,” Al said. “We're definitely going to hang around for a while before we start traveling again.”
They were going to leave again? “It had better be a while,” Winry said, crossing her arms. “You idiots just got back, and you don't seem to understand how much we miss you.”
“Yeah, we just got back and you're already berating us.” Ed pushed himself up onto his remaining leg, and Winry helped him stay balanced with a hand around his waist. He blushed a little again and turned his face away from her. What was with him? He still engaged in their usual sarcastic banter, but was something bothering him?
They joined Granny in the clinic, Al and Den trailing behind, and Winry helped Ed sit down on the bed. “Good news, though,” she said. “We got some really good local anesthetic shots, so I can numb your leg up pretty good before we get started.”
“Great,” Ed said, though his blush immediately paled at the mention of shots. Right, he hated needles. Winry had forgotten.
“You can close your eyes if you're scared,” she teased, and he stuck his tongue out at her. Even after saving the country, he still kept his goofy mannerisms. Winry was glad he hadn't changed too much.
“We're going to remove as much of the outer structure as possible,” Granny said. “The shaft and all its nerve connections will stay. I'll get to work on a new structure and casing as soon as we're done, but it might be a while before we can attach it. The wound will need to heal, first.”
“Will I still be able to wear a spare?” Ed asked.
“We'll see.”
“I'm going to go sit back down, if that's okay,” Al said from the doorway.
“Yeah, of course,” Ed said. “Don't overwork yourself.”
“Like you're one to talk.” Al laughed and let Den lead him back to the main house.
Ed laid down on the bed, moving very carefully. More carefully than Winry expected, and she frowned. “Are you hurt somewhere else, too? You're moving kind of weird.”
“No,” he said, folding his hands on his stomach. His left thumb slowly rubbed back and forth over his right. She squinted at him, trying to pick him apart with just her eyes, and he smiled. “It's just my leg, Winry. I promise.”
One day, she'd get him to tell her what he was thinking, but apparently today was not that day. “Fine, I'll believe you for now.” She gently wiped his swollen skin with an alcohol wipe, wincing at his hiss of pain, and accepted the numbing shot from Granny. “Now hold still. The shot is going to hurt, but I promise it's better than enduring the pain when we peel your port casing off.”
“Would you like to squeeze my hand?” Granny asked.
“I'm not a baby,” Ed said through gritted teeth and a very stressed expression.
Granny chuckled. “Oh, I'm well aware. But you don't always have to be the strongest person in the room, you know.”
“Just do it already,” he grumbled.
“There's no need to be so stubborn, Ed,” Winry said, and carefully inserted the needle into his thigh before he could argue.
As expected, he shouted in pain and jerked to the side, but Winry held his thigh down before he could rip the needle out. She pushed the plunger and Ed squeezed the side of the bed so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The skin over one of the knuckles on his right hand split, a few drops of ruby red blood bubbling out.
“Two more,” she said, cleaning the next spot on the side.
“Two?” Ed wheezed. His face was already dripping with sweat.
“Yep. To make sure you're good and numb all the way around.” Winry prepared the next shot, and Ed grasped for Granny's hand. “Just focus on your breathing. Here it goes.”
He managed to muffle his yell this time by clenching his jaw so hard that the veins in his temples bulged. Winry hated seeing him in so much pain.
“Last one.”
The needle slid in and Ed jerked, kicking her right in the stomach. She stumbled back with a yelp, and he winced again. “S-sorry, Winry,” he said through pants for breath. “Didn't mean that.”
“It's okay. I should have held you down better.” At least the kick wasn't too hard. Winry forced herself not to rub the spot, hoping to hide the pain so he wouldn't feel guilty, and went back to where the shot stuck out of his thigh. She finished the injection and sighed. “Okay. We'll give it a few minutes, and then we'll get started.”
She looked up from his leg. His shirt had slipped up from his involuntary jerk, showing some of his stomach, and a bit of rough pink skin peeked out from beneath the fabric. Ed smoothed his shirt back down before she could get a good look. She'd seen him topless dozens of times, even recently, and she was pretty sure that hadn't been there before.
“While we're waiting, you should show me your arm,” she said. “The automail really just disappeared?”
“Yep,” he said through a pained smile. He didn't move to take his shirt off, despite having done so for maintenance many times in the past five years. “Central Hospital checked me out to make sure everything was good, and yeah. It just vanished.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you're lying to me?”
“Come on, Winry. When have I ever lied to you?” Ed gave her an innocent smile, but the look was ruined by the sweat across his face and the tension in his brow.
“Do you want a list, or…?”
He put his hand over his heart and gasped dramatically. “How dare you?”
“So if I whack you in the arm, it's not going to hurt?” Winry whipped out her wrench as a threat, and Ed put his hands up in surrender.
“Hey, hey, no need for violence. Seriously, Win. Just focus on my leg; I'm fine.”
“Fine, I'll just get Al to tell me everything when we're done.”
“Your wellbeing is important to us, Ed,” Granny said, bringing her tools over on a wheeled tray. “With or without your automail.” She cleared her throat before Ed could inevitably argue—Winry saw it in his face; the moron was going to brush them off again—and put her gloved hand gently on his swollen thigh. “Can you feel that?”
Ed grimaced at the touch. “Yeah. Not as bad, though.”
“Good. Another few minutes and you'll be all set.”
Ed was quiet through the removal surgery. He stared up at the ceiling with his hands folded back over his stomach and a far-away look in his eyes. He only twitched a couple of times in response to the pressure against his thigh, but the local anesthetic seemed to do its job very well. Winry wished they'd had some for his original surgery. She expected to see his face screwed up in pain every time she glanced up, but he just stared at nothing, almost completely relaxed.
Relaxation was such a foreign look on him. Even as a child, before their failed human transmutation attempt, he'd held so much tension and energy in his shoulders. And afterward, he hadn't even found peace in his sleep. Winry had never told him that she knew about his nightmares. He'd never mentioned them, and he always put on a capable expression and marched forward as if nothing was wrong.
Winry looked a little closer. Was he really relaxed, or was he just distracted? His eyes looked…dull.
“There's some infection,” Granny said, breaking Winry out of her thoughts.
Ed blinked, and like the flip of a lightswitch, the life in his eyes was back. “Huh?” he said, looking down at his port.
“There's some infection around the port interface,” Granny repeated. “Thankfully, it doesn't seem to have spread too deep, so we'll remove as much as we can, but you'll have to be diligent and keep it clean.”
“And I’ll check you on that,” Winry threatened. “You can’t neglect it anymore.”
“Oh,” Ed said, avoiding her eyes. “Okay. How long do you think it’ll take to heal enough for a new interface?”
“A few weeks, at least. The scar tissue hasn’t stretched well with your growth. You’ll have to be very careful.”
His hand twitched back to his waist again. “Okay.”
Winry and Granny got back to work, and his eyes glazed over again. He didn’t even notice when Winry wrapped the bandages tightly around his thigh. He just…stared.
“Edward,” she said quietly.
He snapped back to life again. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
Ed smiled at her in confusion, his brows furrowed. “You’ve asked me that a bunch of times already.”
“I’ll begin work on the new port,” Granny said, and left them alone. Very strategic of her, Winry thought wryly.
“You’re not telling me the truth, Ed.” She washed her hands and came back to sit on the edge of his bed, keeping her eyes on the floor. She just couldn’t stand to watch him lie to her over and over again. “Did I do something wrong? Is there a reason you can’t trust me?”
“What? No, not at all, Winry! I—I do trust you.” He shifted his weight in the bed, angling his shoulders away from her. “I just…don’t want you to worry.”
“Edward Elric, I can’t believe you managed to save the country when you’re this big of an idiot!” Winry raked her hands through her hair in frustration. “Don’t you get it? You’re only making me worry more by keeping secrets from me! I thought—” Her voice cracked. “I thought we were past this.”
The moron actually laughed a little. “Yeah, I did, too,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Winry snapped around to glare at him, though he was still staring at the wall. His face was beet red, and somehow, it managed to get redder when he glanced at her.
“I—I mean that about me, not you!” he said quickly. “I thought I’d—I thought…I…”
Wait a minute. His voice wavered. His breathing was shaky, and his hands trembled in his lap. And if she looked really closely, his eyes were glassy. Was…was Edward going to cry?
Winry had never seen him cry, not once. Not even at his mother’s funeral or during his automail surgery. For a while, Winry had admired him for it, especially since she cried over everything. But now, when he finally got a chance to sit still, she could see the wall he’d built up for years crumbling before her very eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly. She turned to sit facing him on the bed and gently put her hand over his. “It’s okay. You can cry if you need to.”
“I’m not gonna cry.” But his voice cracked three times in four words and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. “I—I gotta be strong.”
“You don’t have to be strong anymore, Ed.”
Ed’s face contorted into a mix of God-knows-how-many emotions, and for a second, Winry thought she’d finally pushed him away for good. But then he hung his head and hiccupped, and even though his hair obscured his eyes, she saw the tears drip onto his lap.
Winry had thought that the day she saw Edward cry would be the day the world ended. If something was big enough to make Ed cry, surely nothing could possibly be worse. Yet here he was, silently crying in front of her, and that big thing was…her. And she was glad.
He didn't make a sound, but his body gave it all away. He cried about everything. He cried because of his mother's illness and death. He cried because of losing Alphonse and condemning him to a life in unfeeling armor. He cried from the agony of the automail surgery and rehabilitation. He cried over Hughes and his grieving family. He cried when he realized he had no choice but to let Scar kidnap Winry. And he cried over a hundred thousand other things he had no words to describe. Finally, finally, he released everything that haunted him; everything that he’d been holding in for his entire life.
“It hurts, Winry,” he whispered, gasping his chest.
“I know it hurts,” she said, taking his other hand—his right hand—and squeezing.
“I don't—I don't know how…”
“It's okay, Ed. I'm right here with you.”
He took a long, shaky breath, and then flung his arms around her. He buried his face in her neck and sobbed into her hair, clinging to her as if she'd disappear if he didn't hold tight enough. Winry hugged him back, gently rubbing his back as he broke down in her arms.
“I'm sorry,” he sobbed. “I just—I didn't wanna lose you, too. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“I know,” she said gently. “I know. It's okay.”
“I think I died,” he blurted.
“What?” Winry tried very hard not to let her alarm slip into her voice.
“In Baschool, there was—there was an explosion. I fell into a mineshaft and got impaled. I think I died.”
She almost asked him to repeat what he'd said, just to wrap her mind around it, but suddenly Ed was rambling, and she wasn't about to stop him. Not when this was the first time ever he'd willingly opened up to her.
“I—I don't know how long I was there. A steel beam went through my stomach. There was—God, Winry, there was so much blood.” His fingers tightened on her shirt. “I was so scared. I—I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. When they pulled it out of me, I used m-my own soul as energy to stay alive. Winry, I…” He choked out another sob, pressing his face against her neck. “I might not have much time left to live. I don’t know how much of my soul I used. I just knew I couldn’t die before getting Al his body back. And I wasn’t gonna make you cry again.”
“You used your soul?” she whispered.
“As—as a philosopher’s stone. I don’t know what’ll happen to me in the long run. I don’t know how much energy one person’s soul has. What if I…” His entire body shook like a leaf, and he squeezed his arms tight around her. “What if I just drop dead one day?”
Winry wished she had something to say. Instead, she just held him close and tried to keep her own tears quiet.
“I couldn’t even tell Al,” Ed breathed. “He has no idea. N-no one does.”
Al didn’t even know? Winry’s eyes widened. “You’ve…you’ve been carrying this burden of fear all by yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m stupid, I know. And—and now everything’s over and I don’t know how…”
Of course Ed didn’t know how to express himself. He’d been shoving everything away for a decade or more.
“You let me help,” Winry said. “That’s how. We can figure this out together, okay?”
“What if—what if I die soon and make you cry again?”
She let herself smile and rested her head against his. “I’ll cry because I care about you, dummy. And if you do die soon—I want to spend as much time with you as possible before that happens. We’ll make the most of it. You, me, Al, Granny, all of your friends.”
Ed didn’t speak again for a long time. She just let him cry into her shoulder until his breathing had calmed and he pulled away first. “Thanks, Win,” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and looked up, and his eyes widened. “D-damn it, I didn’t mean to make you cry again—”
“What did I just say?” Winry wiped her face with a smile. “Crying isn’t always bad, you know. I just happen to cry over everything.”
“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze back down to his lap. “Well, then, um…if you don’t mind crying some more…I did actually lie to you about my arm.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re not a very good liar. Let me see it, and I’ll see what I can do.”
He cracked a sad smile and very carefully took off his shirt. Her eyes were drawn first to his waist, where she’d seen the pink earlier. The scar from the metal beam was terribly rough and disfigured, and she ran her fingers over it without thinking. Ed shivered beneath her touch, but didn’t flinch like he had earlier.
The scarring around his right arm was…incredible, really. He still had his scars from the surgery, and they circled his arm just like the metal port had. He had a screw hole in his collarbone, but it looked like it had been patched at a hospital, along with a few other spots around where his port had been. On the outside, it looked like it had been there for a long time.
“Alright, where does it hurt?” Winry asked.
“Inside,” Ed said, just as she'd expected. “The doctors in Central said there’s some stuff left over pretty deep in my chest. None of them specialized in automail, so they worried they’d damage something if they tried to remove it. So…more surgery.”
And he’d been prepared to just live with it for the rest of his life? “Granny and I will get it taken care of, no problem.” Winry checked around the bandages, but the external wounds were healing well, so she replaced them. “You don’t have to worry about anything for a little while, okay? Just let me take care of it.”
“I’ll…try.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
Ed laid back down against the bed with a sigh and a little smile. “Thanks, Winry. I love you.”
“Of course, Edward—what?”
His face turned ruby red. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just thanks. That’s all.”
“Ha! I heard that!” Al shouted from the door. “Granny, you owe me five hundred cens!”
Winry spun around to look at him with her mouth hanging open. “What?”
“We bet on who would say it first, and I just won!”
“I didn’t say anything!” Ed shrieked. “Win—Winry, gimme your wrench so I can clock him with it!”
“You’ll have to catch me first, Dearest Brother!” Al turned and hobbled out of the room, giggling like a goblin. Den barked excitedly.
“Jackass!” Ed yelled, and then slumped down and crossed his arms with a pout. “Ruined the moment.”
Winry looked back at him, her own cheeks heated. “We were having a moment?”
“Well—well, yeah! I was…I was…” His eyes slid back to the foot of the bed. “You know…”
“You don’t have to put it into words,” Winry said. “I understand. Emotions are hard.”
“But you’ll…be there for me while I figure them out, right?” he asked slowly, as if the words felt funny in his mouth. “We’ll…make the most of it while I’m still around.”
Her hand found his. Or maybe his hand found hers. “Of course, dummy,” she said with a smile and the prickle of happy tears in her eyes. “You don’t even have to ask.”