[The week had passed with a certain degree of... something surreal, fake, imaginary. Edward can remember the white room, the gate, but most of all, the emptiness of it all. No Truth, no second gate, no Al. He'd been completely alone. And even his own body had felt as fake as the seemingly endless room; it was detached, uncomfortable. As if- as if
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[Cursing quietly under his breath, Edward doesn't respond with more than that at first, mulling it over. If Winry's not here - bastards, those bastards - then he needs a mechanic. There's no way in hell he's going to sit around in a hospital like a complete invalid while he waits around in the hopes that she'll come back. Not when he could be looking into ways of forcing them to bring her back.
Oh, wait, this is Sokka-]
Hey, can you come to the clinic?
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[If it's an automail problem, Sokka doesn't think he can fix it. Sure, he's looked at Winry's blueprints, but he couldn't fix much more than cosmetic damage.]
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[Duh, Sokka. Why else would he ask you?]
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[Much as he hates the idea of a) having an amateur meddle with his limbs and b) Winry being gone for a long time, he can't just sit around and do nothing.]
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Coming in... unless you have any objections.
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I'll um. Try not to touch any... you know, not-metal bits.
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You shouldn't have to. If you at least get my arm connected, I can do the leg myself.
[At least, he's pretty sure he can.]
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[Saying that, Sokka gets the wrench ready to turn.] Ready?
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[And he takes a deep breath, watching for the twist so he's not surprised by it.]
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