The Tie That Binds- Chapter 4/?
Author: crazybeagle
Characters: Edward, Alphonse, Truth, Hohenheim, Mustang, Winry, Mei, Izumi, and anybody else who's still around by the end of the manga/Brotherhood.
Genre: Drama, angst, hurt/comfort
Rating: High T for gore and language
Teaser: "You've grown presumptuous indeed, alchemist." Ed has made his offer to Truth. What if Truth refuses to accept it? Equivalent exchange. A toll must still be paid…
Notes: Set during the final chapter of the manga/the corresponding Brotherhood episode. Not a death-fic. Canon divergence. Be warned, though- the "toll" is pretty brutal... A gen fic for the most part, but canon pairings will likely be given a nod.
Disclaimer: ALL YOUR FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST ARE BELONG TO ME. ....Yeah. Not so much. And I'm sure Arakawa (and Ed and Al) are happier that way.
Al didn't remember a whole lot after that. What he did remember came in snatches, brief and terror-filled. Being yanked forcibly through the Gate for the second time in his life, for instance, felt a bit like being ripped apart all over again and reconstructed, only to be dropped in a heap on the ground in spring daylight. Miraculously, though, he still managed to hold onto a fistful of the tatters of Ed's shirt, and wound up sprawled almost on top of him. His own blood just about froze then at the sight of Ed's blood, suddenly not being held in by the arms of the gate anymore, spilling out onto the ground at an alarming rate. The trip through the gate hadn't woken him; Al wasn't even sure if Ed was breathing anymore, his hands were shaking too much to tell.
After that, it was all shocked exclamations erupting all around him, but they were muted over the roaring in his ears-
"Edward!"
"Fullmetal!"
"…Alphonse?"
He wasn't sure what he said in response to those voices, to the figures that converged on Ed and the hands that pulled him gently away and wrapped him in somebody's coat. But he thought he must've called for Mei, for Dad, Dr. Marcoh, anybody to help Ed, and babbled something about don't use a stone, please don't use a stone, he wouldn't want that, even though it was damn near impossible to say that when Ling had appeared with Lan Fan and held one out to him, or when Marcoh did practically the same. There was shouting, and more blood, and he thought Ed might've woken up and started coughing, though he couldn't see him very well for all of the people surrounding him. And he was trembling and trembling, and he thought he might have been sobbing, and somebody had their arms around him. Teacher, his mind had hazily registered.
After that, he wasn't sure how he came to end up where he was now, opening his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed, Mei curled up in a chair next to him, dozing, Xiao Mei curled up in a ball on her scrub-covered knees.
His return to consciousness had come with a torrent of sensory information that he could hardly begin to process. The sheet and blanket pulled up over his chest were heavy, the feel of them and the scrubs he wore underneath chafing and uncomfortable against his skin. His breath was loud and rattling in his own ears, the smell of antiseptic he supposed must go along with a hospital sharp and almost burning in his nose. An aching that set his teeth on edge was coming from one arm, and glancing down at where it sat on top of the sheets, he could see an IV line taped in place there.
And it was cold in here, too. But then again, maybe that was just him. He shivered, his eyes scanning the room. Window to the right of him, its blinds open to reveal what looked like early morning light, which threw dappled spots onto the bed and made Mei's hair look soft and glossy, unbound from its braids and spilling down her back in waves. A door in front of him, closed at the moment. To the right, a closed curtain partition. Somewhere on the other side of it he could hear a faint, steady beeping noise.
For a moment he couldn't quite figure out what was going on. If I'm here, and I'm…uh…myself again, then where's…
And then he remembered. The force of it was like a brick wall.
Brother.
"Mei!"
Mei yawned, her nose wrinkling slightly, and squinted blearily over at him. "Alphonse?" And then her eyes went wide, her face breaking into a tired but genuinely delighted smile. "You're awake," she said, and looked for a second as though she couldn't decide whether to fling herself at him. She stayed put, though, apparently deciding against it, though she bounced once or twice in her seat.
"Y-yeah," he said, forcing a small smile back. "Mei, can you tell me where my brother is?"
Her smile faded a bit. She suddenly looked uncomfortable, and sad, sitting up in the chair.
"Mei," he repeated, while his mind started up a desperate litany of don't-be-dead-please-please-don't-be-dead….
She pointed at the closed partition. "He's through there," she said, quietly.
"So he's-"
"Yes, he's alive," she said.
His shoulders slumped. Suddenly that beeping seemed a whole lot louder than it really was. Vitals monitors always did, he supposed.
Mei's eyes followed Al's to the partition. "We did everything we could. Me, and your father, and then the medics afterwards." She leaned forward a little, and set Xiao Mei, still sleeping, on the sheets near Al's legs. When she came near, Al could see all too clearly the scrapes and bruises on her face, fatigue palpable in her wide eyes. "We got the bleeding under control in his throat, and on the, um, stumps-" the word gave Al the sudden sensation that he'd just swallowed lead, and Mei winced before continuing-"but I've never healed injuries as extensive as that, and even with alkahestry it's too dangerous to transmute something you don't completely understand." She twisted the sheets up in her fingers. "I think Mr. Hohenheim has dealt with wounds that large, but I'm guessing he relied on the Xerxes souls for that kind of power, so he didn't try it either. And," she added, softly, finally meeting Al's eyes, "he told me it's easier on an automail patient if the wound doesn't have to be completely re-opened before the surgeries."
Al nodded, dumbly. The first time, Granny had waited until Ed had been just recovered enough that he could physically handle the surgeries, but no longer. It was less invasive, that way, with less of a chance of automail rejection, which could spell death for the patient.
But he could scarcely bring himself to believe the fact that there was even going to be a second time, that they were seriously sitting here, at what should have been the end of their journey, discussing the logistics of how Brother would survive now that the original price he paid had just been doubled.
Ed had held up his end of the promise, because here Al was now, flesh and bone and all, but…
Needless to say, Al had failed to hold up his own end. Something ached in his chest. And suddenly, he felt very, very tired. That persistent beeping from beyond the curtain seemed louder than ever.
After a moment, Mei slipped her tiny hand under his. He started, the feeling of her skin against his own not exactly unpleasant, but a bit like a battery shock. His wrist and fingers were thinner than hers, and through near-translucent skin he could see veins, joints, and the outline of bones all too clearly. Somebody had cut his nails short.
"You should know," she began in a hushed voice, and when she looked up at Al, her eyes were round and bright. "Before he wakes up, I mean. You should know what else was taken. He won't be able to-"
"He won't be able to talk," Al finished, vaguely and distantly shocked at the fact that he could come right out and say that with such apparent ease. "I know."
"Not ever, we don't think," Mei said, biting her lip. Her hand that wasn't under Al's reached out to pet Xiao Mei behind the ears. "The, um, vocal folds in the back of his throat were torn out."
Al just nodded. Now he finally felt like his own throat was closing up. He didn't think he could stomach the prospect of never hearing Brother's voice again. And for me. Because of me. But he swallowed a few times, blinked back against the hot stinging feeling in his eyes, and willed himself to calm down. Losing it right now was not going to get them anywhere. "Can I see him?" he asked. His own voice was hoarse.
"He hasn't really woken up yet, they don't think," she said, her hand finally coming to a rest on top of Xiao Mei, and fingers of the other twining themselves a little with Al's. "You'd have to ask somebody. After he got out of surgery, they've kept him pretty well drugged. The doctors figured you'd want to see each other, but because Edward's needed so much attention, they kept the curtain closed so they wouldn't wake you."
Al nodded again, and glanced out the window, the morning light hitting the waxy leaves of a flowering tree outside the window. He blinked again, this time impatiently-he was exhausted, and it couldn't have been more than a few minutes he'd been awake. "How long has it been?"
"The Promised Day was yesterday," she said. Xiao Mei stirred a bit, wrinkled her nose, and yawned.
He looked at her a little more critically. She was pale, her hair disheveled, and the dark smudges on her eyes as pronounced as those bruises. She was in a pair of scrubs herself, and Al wondered if she'd received treatment herself yesterday. He knew she'd hurt her leg, and he didn't know if he'd ever seen her attempt to heal herself-they'd had to take her to Dr. Knox along with Lan Fan when she'd been hurt after their first descent into Father's tunnel, after all, and he didn't even know if Mei could use her healing abilities on herself. "Have you gotten any rest since then?" he asked her.
She looked sheepish. "A little."
"You haven't been in here this whole time, have you?" The thought made him feel equal parts guilty and flattered.
A hint of blush crept into her cheeks. "No," she said, a little primly. "I was just making sure you were alright."
He grinned a little despite himself. But at the same time, if she had been with him most of the time since then, he didn't quite want to think about what kind of state she, or anybody else for that matter, had seen him in when he'd first come back. He'd been…well, not wearing anything, for starters, but what little he remembered about the ordeal told him that before he'd passed out (because he figured he must have somewhere along the line), he'd been a frantic, weeping, blood-covered mess clinging to his limb-less brother. His stomach roiled suddenly at the memory of his fingers coated in that sticky red, and his fists clenched.
"Alphonse?" Mei had withdrawn her hand, and was frowning, watching him with concern.
His eyes slid shut, and he willed himself to get a grip. He turned a hand over and held it up to his eyes after a moment, not even sure why he was doing it-there was no more blood there, of course there was no more blood there, he'd already seen that there wasn't, but-
"Are you-" Mei began.
Al let his hand drop. "Yeah. I'm okay. Sorry." Hold it together, hold it together, come on, it won't do any good to-"Um, can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"If you're here, does that mean-" he broke off with a yawn, and blinked a few times. That in itself, some distant part of his mind registered, was a new experience-blinking, or even closing his eyes at all. Before, he'd never been able to block out his vision, except in a total absence of light, or if someone had covered his head. It almost startled him, the room repeatedly going dark as he fought fatigue and exhaustion that already sought to pull him back into unconsciousness. "D-does that mean that Ling and Lan Fan never left, either?" he managed.
There was a beat of silence. "No, they haven't," she said slowly after a moment. She sounded…worried, and, if he didn't know better, somehow guilty. "And when you're feeling up to it, we need to talk about that…"
"We can t-t-talk now-" he yawned again, his eyes shuttering a few times of their own accord.
Suddenly, she had that steely, determined look in her eyes, the same look he remembered from when she'd been attempting to teach him the beginning principles of alkahestry. It was quite different finally seeing it-seeing her-from his own eye level. "We'll talk later," she said firmly. "Sleep first."
He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to see Ed, and really, all they had to do was open that curtain. "I've been sl-"
"Well you need some more," she snapped. She scooped Xiao Mei up and set her back down on her lap. Xiao Mei, apparently sleepy herself, gave a little grunt of protest but did not move. "And as soon as you can handle it we have to get some real food in you too. Do you have any idea how undernourished you are?"
"Um," he began, sheepishly. His eyes traveled to his knobbly wrists, sitting on the sheets in front of him. His curled fingers reminded him of spiders' legs. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen himself yet. He only had a vague idea of what he looked like, from the few meetings he'd had with his unoccupied body by the Gate. He knew he'd looked horrible, a skeleton with skin stretched tight over it, but truth be told, one of the things that had jarred him the most was just how long his hair had gotten. As long as Brother's, if not longer, and all pale. Without much conscious thought, his hand made its way to his head. Yup, all that hair was still there. It felt dry, though, he realized, yanking his fingers through it, and brittle, though of course it'd been so long since he'd felt anything at all that maybe that was just what all hair was like. But Mei's didn't look like it felt like that…
"It's a little long, isn't it?" Mei said after a moment.
He nearly jumped. "Oh. Uh..yeah." He held a limp strand of it up in front of his eyes, and twisted it.
Mei leaned forward and plucked a strand of it up herself. Al felt his stomach do a nervous flutter at her proximity. Somehow Mei's inherent lack-of-shyness at physical proximity made him feel more…awkward…now that he wasn't in the armor anymore.
"Hmm…it's mostly dead ends," she said, frowning at the strand. "Didn't you tell me once that it used to be short?" She looked at his face, like she was trying to visualize his hair short, but then her gaze landed on a spot somewhere near his shoulder, and her eyes narrowed.
He fidgeted, uncomfortable under her scrutiny but also quickly becoming too exhausted to care. "What is it?"
"They didn't do the best job cleaning you up, is all." She reached out and touched a bit of the hair that fell over the shoulder closest to her. "They had a lot of other patients to take care of, and they were trying not to wake you so they did it quickly, but…" Her fingers pinched another strand of hair he couldn't see. "There's still some blood, here."
He stiffened. Suddenly he felt wide awake. His stomach churned. And the beep-beep-beep from beyond that stupid curtain now seemed deafening.
Mei didn't fail to notice his change in demeanor. "We can wash it out," she said, quickly. "I'll get a nurse to bring a basin."
He gulped back nausea, staring straight ahead, trying very hard not to let any of his hair enter his line of vision, or imagine Ed, at age eleven or at age sixteen, bleeding out in his arms.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Alphonse?"
"Huh?" He thought his voice sounded small, strained. Mei's eyes were wide with worry.
"I said we can wash it out, but, um, if you want, I-" she reached into a pocket of her pants, and produced one of her small kunai. "The hospital's over capacity right now, so it might be awhile if we ask them for anything that isn't really important. I know it's not a pair of scissors, but it's definitely sharp enough if you want me to try and-"
"You want to cut my hair?" In any other situation he might think it was hilarious that she was offering to cut his hair with a kunai, but at the moment it seemed like more of a godsend than anything else.
Her head bobbed up and down, earnestly. "It probably won't look like it did before, but I've used these to trim off split ends in my own hair. And you wouldn't think so, but once you get the hang of it it's actually pretty easy, if-"
Beep. Beep. Beep. That curtain must have been awfully thin.
Al gulped again, and nodded. "Go ahead."
…
To be continued…
Previous chapter here.
Characters: Edward, Alphonse, Truth, Hohenheim, Mustang, Winry, Mei, Izumi, and anybody else who's still around by the end of the manga/Brotherhood.
Genre: Drama, angst, hurt/comfort
Rating: High T for gore and language
Teaser: "You've grown presumptuous indeed, alchemist." Ed has made his offer to Truth. What if Truth refuses to accept it? Equivalent exchange. A toll must still be paid…
Notes: Set during the final chapter of the manga/the corresponding Brotherhood episode. Not a death-fic. Canon divergence. Be warned, though- the "toll" is pretty brutal... A gen fic for the most part, but canon pairings will likely be given a nod.
Disclaimer: ALL YOUR FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST ARE BELONG TO ME. ....Yeah. Not so much. And I'm sure Arakawa (and Ed and Al) are happier that way.
Al didn't remember a whole lot after that. What he did remember came in snatches, brief and terror-filled. Being yanked forcibly through the Gate for the second time in his life, for instance, felt a bit like being ripped apart all over again and reconstructed, only to be dropped in a heap on the ground in spring daylight. Miraculously, though, he still managed to hold onto a fistful of the tatters of Ed's shirt, and wound up sprawled almost on top of him. His own blood just about froze then at the sight of Ed's blood, suddenly not being held in by the arms of the gate anymore, spilling out onto the ground at an alarming rate. The trip through the gate hadn't woken him; Al wasn't even sure if Ed was breathing anymore, his hands were shaking too much to tell.
After that, it was all shocked exclamations erupting all around him, but they were muted over the roaring in his ears-
"Edward!"
"Fullmetal!"
"…Alphonse?"
He wasn't sure what he said in response to those voices, to the figures that converged on Ed and the hands that pulled him gently away and wrapped him in somebody's coat. But he thought he must've called for Mei, for Dad, Dr. Marcoh, anybody to help Ed, and babbled something about don't use a stone, please don't use a stone, he wouldn't want that, even though it was damn near impossible to say that when Ling had appeared with Lan Fan and held one out to him, or when Marcoh did practically the same. There was shouting, and more blood, and he thought Ed might've woken up and started coughing, though he couldn't see him very well for all of the people surrounding him. And he was trembling and trembling, and he thought he might have been sobbing, and somebody had their arms around him. Teacher, his mind had hazily registered.
After that, he wasn't sure how he came to end up where he was now, opening his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed, Mei curled up in a chair next to him, dozing, Xiao Mei curled up in a ball on her scrub-covered knees.
His return to consciousness had come with a torrent of sensory information that he could hardly begin to process. The sheet and blanket pulled up over his chest were heavy, the feel of them and the scrubs he wore underneath chafing and uncomfortable against his skin. His breath was loud and rattling in his own ears, the smell of antiseptic he supposed must go along with a hospital sharp and almost burning in his nose. An aching that set his teeth on edge was coming from one arm, and glancing down at where it sat on top of the sheets, he could see an IV line taped in place there.
And it was cold in here, too. But then again, maybe that was just him. He shivered, his eyes scanning the room. Window to the right of him, its blinds open to reveal what looked like early morning light, which threw dappled spots onto the bed and made Mei's hair look soft and glossy, unbound from its braids and spilling down her back in waves. A door in front of him, closed at the moment. To the right, a closed curtain partition. Somewhere on the other side of it he could hear a faint, steady beeping noise.
For a moment he couldn't quite figure out what was going on. If I'm here, and I'm…uh…myself again, then where's…
And then he remembered. The force of it was like a brick wall.
Brother.
"Mei!"
Mei yawned, her nose wrinkling slightly, and squinted blearily over at him. "Alphonse?" And then her eyes went wide, her face breaking into a tired but genuinely delighted smile. "You're awake," she said, and looked for a second as though she couldn't decide whether to fling herself at him. She stayed put, though, apparently deciding against it, though she bounced once or twice in her seat.
"Y-yeah," he said, forcing a small smile back. "Mei, can you tell me where my brother is?"
Her smile faded a bit. She suddenly looked uncomfortable, and sad, sitting up in the chair.
"Mei," he repeated, while his mind started up a desperate litany of don't-be-dead-please-please-don't-be-dead….
She pointed at the closed partition. "He's through there," she said, quietly.
"So he's-"
"Yes, he's alive," she said.
His shoulders slumped. Suddenly that beeping seemed a whole lot louder than it really was. Vitals monitors always did, he supposed.
Mei's eyes followed Al's to the partition. "We did everything we could. Me, and your father, and then the medics afterwards." She leaned forward a little, and set Xiao Mei, still sleeping, on the sheets near Al's legs. When she came near, Al could see all too clearly the scrapes and bruises on her face, fatigue palpable in her wide eyes. "We got the bleeding under control in his throat, and on the, um, stumps-" the word gave Al the sudden sensation that he'd just swallowed lead, and Mei winced before continuing-"but I've never healed injuries as extensive as that, and even with alkahestry it's too dangerous to transmute something you don't completely understand." She twisted the sheets up in her fingers. "I think Mr. Hohenheim has dealt with wounds that large, but I'm guessing he relied on the Xerxes souls for that kind of power, so he didn't try it either. And," she added, softly, finally meeting Al's eyes, "he told me it's easier on an automail patient if the wound doesn't have to be completely re-opened before the surgeries."
Al nodded, dumbly. The first time, Granny had waited until Ed had been just recovered enough that he could physically handle the surgeries, but no longer. It was less invasive, that way, with less of a chance of automail rejection, which could spell death for the patient.
But he could scarcely bring himself to believe the fact that there was even going to be a second time, that they were seriously sitting here, at what should have been the end of their journey, discussing the logistics of how Brother would survive now that the original price he paid had just been doubled.
Ed had held up his end of the promise, because here Al was now, flesh and bone and all, but…
Needless to say, Al had failed to hold up his own end. Something ached in his chest. And suddenly, he felt very, very tired. That persistent beeping from beyond the curtain seemed louder than ever.
After a moment, Mei slipped her tiny hand under his. He started, the feeling of her skin against his own not exactly unpleasant, but a bit like a battery shock. His wrist and fingers were thinner than hers, and through near-translucent skin he could see veins, joints, and the outline of bones all too clearly. Somebody had cut his nails short.
"You should know," she began in a hushed voice, and when she looked up at Al, her eyes were round and bright. "Before he wakes up, I mean. You should know what else was taken. He won't be able to-"
"He won't be able to talk," Al finished, vaguely and distantly shocked at the fact that he could come right out and say that with such apparent ease. "I know."
"Not ever, we don't think," Mei said, biting her lip. Her hand that wasn't under Al's reached out to pet Xiao Mei behind the ears. "The, um, vocal folds in the back of his throat were torn out."
Al just nodded. Now he finally felt like his own throat was closing up. He didn't think he could stomach the prospect of never hearing Brother's voice again. And for me. Because of me. But he swallowed a few times, blinked back against the hot stinging feeling in his eyes, and willed himself to calm down. Losing it right now was not going to get them anywhere. "Can I see him?" he asked. His own voice was hoarse.
"He hasn't really woken up yet, they don't think," she said, her hand finally coming to a rest on top of Xiao Mei, and fingers of the other twining themselves a little with Al's. "You'd have to ask somebody. After he got out of surgery, they've kept him pretty well drugged. The doctors figured you'd want to see each other, but because Edward's needed so much attention, they kept the curtain closed so they wouldn't wake you."
Al nodded again, and glanced out the window, the morning light hitting the waxy leaves of a flowering tree outside the window. He blinked again, this time impatiently-he was exhausted, and it couldn't have been more than a few minutes he'd been awake. "How long has it been?"
"The Promised Day was yesterday," she said. Xiao Mei stirred a bit, wrinkled her nose, and yawned.
He looked at her a little more critically. She was pale, her hair disheveled, and the dark smudges on her eyes as pronounced as those bruises. She was in a pair of scrubs herself, and Al wondered if she'd received treatment herself yesterday. He knew she'd hurt her leg, and he didn't know if he'd ever seen her attempt to heal herself-they'd had to take her to Dr. Knox along with Lan Fan when she'd been hurt after their first descent into Father's tunnel, after all, and he didn't even know if Mei could use her healing abilities on herself. "Have you gotten any rest since then?" he asked her.
She looked sheepish. "A little."
"You haven't been in here this whole time, have you?" The thought made him feel equal parts guilty and flattered.
A hint of blush crept into her cheeks. "No," she said, a little primly. "I was just making sure you were alright."
He grinned a little despite himself. But at the same time, if she had been with him most of the time since then, he didn't quite want to think about what kind of state she, or anybody else for that matter, had seen him in when he'd first come back. He'd been…well, not wearing anything, for starters, but what little he remembered about the ordeal told him that before he'd passed out (because he figured he must have somewhere along the line), he'd been a frantic, weeping, blood-covered mess clinging to his limb-less brother. His stomach roiled suddenly at the memory of his fingers coated in that sticky red, and his fists clenched.
"Alphonse?" Mei had withdrawn her hand, and was frowning, watching him with concern.
His eyes slid shut, and he willed himself to get a grip. He turned a hand over and held it up to his eyes after a moment, not even sure why he was doing it-there was no more blood there, of course there was no more blood there, he'd already seen that there wasn't, but-
"Are you-" Mei began.
Al let his hand drop. "Yeah. I'm okay. Sorry." Hold it together, hold it together, come on, it won't do any good to-"Um, can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"If you're here, does that mean-" he broke off with a yawn, and blinked a few times. That in itself, some distant part of his mind registered, was a new experience-blinking, or even closing his eyes at all. Before, he'd never been able to block out his vision, except in a total absence of light, or if someone had covered his head. It almost startled him, the room repeatedly going dark as he fought fatigue and exhaustion that already sought to pull him back into unconsciousness. "D-does that mean that Ling and Lan Fan never left, either?" he managed.
There was a beat of silence. "No, they haven't," she said slowly after a moment. She sounded…worried, and, if he didn't know better, somehow guilty. "And when you're feeling up to it, we need to talk about that…"
"We can t-t-talk now-" he yawned again, his eyes shuttering a few times of their own accord.
Suddenly, she had that steely, determined look in her eyes, the same look he remembered from when she'd been attempting to teach him the beginning principles of alkahestry. It was quite different finally seeing it-seeing her-from his own eye level. "We'll talk later," she said firmly. "Sleep first."
He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to see Ed, and really, all they had to do was open that curtain. "I've been sl-"
"Well you need some more," she snapped. She scooped Xiao Mei up and set her back down on her lap. Xiao Mei, apparently sleepy herself, gave a little grunt of protest but did not move. "And as soon as you can handle it we have to get some real food in you too. Do you have any idea how undernourished you are?"
"Um," he began, sheepishly. His eyes traveled to his knobbly wrists, sitting on the sheets in front of him. His curled fingers reminded him of spiders' legs. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen himself yet. He only had a vague idea of what he looked like, from the few meetings he'd had with his unoccupied body by the Gate. He knew he'd looked horrible, a skeleton with skin stretched tight over it, but truth be told, one of the things that had jarred him the most was just how long his hair had gotten. As long as Brother's, if not longer, and all pale. Without much conscious thought, his hand made its way to his head. Yup, all that hair was still there. It felt dry, though, he realized, yanking his fingers through it, and brittle, though of course it'd been so long since he'd felt anything at all that maybe that was just what all hair was like. But Mei's didn't look like it felt like that…
"It's a little long, isn't it?" Mei said after a moment.
He nearly jumped. "Oh. Uh..yeah." He held a limp strand of it up in front of his eyes, and twisted it.
Mei leaned forward and plucked a strand of it up herself. Al felt his stomach do a nervous flutter at her proximity. Somehow Mei's inherent lack-of-shyness at physical proximity made him feel more…awkward…now that he wasn't in the armor anymore.
"Hmm…it's mostly dead ends," she said, frowning at the strand. "Didn't you tell me once that it used to be short?" She looked at his face, like she was trying to visualize his hair short, but then her gaze landed on a spot somewhere near his shoulder, and her eyes narrowed.
He fidgeted, uncomfortable under her scrutiny but also quickly becoming too exhausted to care. "What is it?"
"They didn't do the best job cleaning you up, is all." She reached out and touched a bit of the hair that fell over the shoulder closest to her. "They had a lot of other patients to take care of, and they were trying not to wake you so they did it quickly, but…" Her fingers pinched another strand of hair he couldn't see. "There's still some blood, here."
He stiffened. Suddenly he felt wide awake. His stomach churned. And the beep-beep-beep from beyond that stupid curtain now seemed deafening.
Mei didn't fail to notice his change in demeanor. "We can wash it out," she said, quickly. "I'll get a nurse to bring a basin."
He gulped back nausea, staring straight ahead, trying very hard not to let any of his hair enter his line of vision, or imagine Ed, at age eleven or at age sixteen, bleeding out in his arms.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Alphonse?"
"Huh?" He thought his voice sounded small, strained. Mei's eyes were wide with worry.
"I said we can wash it out, but, um, if you want, I-" she reached into a pocket of her pants, and produced one of her small kunai. "The hospital's over capacity right now, so it might be awhile if we ask them for anything that isn't really important. I know it's not a pair of scissors, but it's definitely sharp enough if you want me to try and-"
"You want to cut my hair?" In any other situation he might think it was hilarious that she was offering to cut his hair with a kunai, but at the moment it seemed like more of a godsend than anything else.
Her head bobbed up and down, earnestly. "It probably won't look like it did before, but I've used these to trim off split ends in my own hair. And you wouldn't think so, but once you get the hang of it it's actually pretty easy, if-"
Beep. Beep. Beep. That curtain must have been awfully thin.
Al gulped again, and nodded. "Go ahead."
…
To be continued…
Previous chapter here.