fossilised | For Ed

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For Ed

Al didn't know how it happened.

One moment the fight was going as usual - sad, when they fought so often that there was a 'usual' way for a fight to go - when all of a sudden everything went south. Al had been distracted fighting Gluttony, the huge homunculus was extremely fast on his feet for someone so large, and he hadn't seen exactly what happened. Only that when the dust cleared, Ed was unconscious and a large pool of blood had been spreading from his head outwards to turn the soil a murky red.

He barely even remembered finishing the fight in a burst of frantic alchemy, Ed scooped up into his arms and borne away as fast as he could carry him. The hours that passed were blurred, confused, terrifying. The doctors got Ed stable, said he would live, but there had been damage to his brain. They wouldn't know the extent of what long term effects there would be, if any, until he woke up.

Three days, three long days in an agony of silence and endless waiting.

In all his fear, though, he never would be prepared for Ed opening his eyes and looking at him without even a flicker of recognition.

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The first thing Ed sees is the bright lights above his bed, the light sending a searing pain into his head. He closes his eyes tightly again against the pain. His head feels as though it's been dropped into a vice grip, tender and sore as he begins to stir, the bandages around his temples tight and itchy. He's disoriented -- doesn't recognize the walls, the bed, the voices around him. He grips at the sheets tightly, pulls at them to sit up, his stomach twisting nauseously when he does.

Ed can't remember how he got here -- why he's in so much pain, and when he finally opens his eyes again, he lets out a cry of surprise when he sees Alphonse. The suit of armour is unfamiliar -- it's terrifying and he doesn't know why a man in armour would be sitting at his bedside anyway.

"Who... who are you? What the hell did you do to me?!" Ed's voice is ragged from days without use, and although he shouldn't get up (and by all rights shouldn't even be able to), he drags himself into a sitting position, his face going a touch pale with the effort.

"W-what... what is going on here? Where the hell am I?!" He just hope this strange person can't see his hands shaking, can't see the sweat stippled at his brow from the exertion of his movements.

Al often says that nights were the worst, but he will never complain about nights again. The endless hours sat waiting at Ed's bedside, unsure if his brother would be alright when he did finally open his eyes, are the longest in his life. Even when people come to sit with him - and they do, a stream of friends that they had made along the way to offer support and warmth and generosity that they barely deserved - he still feels alone.

He had recovered from losing his mother, though barely, but he did not know if he could recover from losing Ed. His brother would probably have kicked him so hard his head flew off if he ever heard him say something like that, not when their entire motto was to move forwards and keep living, but his brother was the rock that made Al strong.

Relief floods through him when Ed opens his eyes, only to turn to shock and dismay almost immediately. He freezes in the act of leaning forwards, his arms half outstretched towards Ed as if to steady him.

"--you-- you don't know me?" It's a stupid question, Ed wouldn't joke at a time like this, but he can't help it. "You're-- you're in a hospital, br-- Ed, try to stay calm."

"G-Get back! How do you -- how do you know my name?!"

Ed can feel the way his heart is beating too fast in his chest, the way the too-sudden movement has made his head spin, but he's tough. He fights through the haze of it all and tries to push himself out of the bed. His instincts scream danger at him, everything about this new and terrifying. Though when he tries to remember what happened, why this place seems both familiar and new at the same time? He can't place it.

He falls out of the bed backward, puling with him the covers as he scrambles for purchase. His automail thunks loudly as he hits the tiled floor. Crawling across the room, he presses his back to the wall, keeping Al in front of him. His fingers tingle -- like there's something he needs to remember, something he can do to protect himself. It's muscle memory alone that has him clapping his hands together, the sound crisp and sharp in the air. He doesn't touch them to the ground though, just kind of stares, wide eyed, at his actions.

"What do you want with me?" His voice is weak, raspy, his face pale and damp with a cold sweat. "How did I get here?"

It's as though someone is reaching into Al's chest cavity and tugging on his heart, ripping it out piece by bloody piece. It shouldn't hurt so much, how was it possible for an empty space to be aching so much? Al wants to cry, he can feel the scratchiness in his throat, another impossibility, and the way his voice wobbles is impossible to cover up.

"It's okay, calm down."

He raises his hands in a gesture of peace to show he isn't armed, and he even takes a step backwards so as not to crowd Ed even though his instincts are screaming at him to go to his brother's side and help him up from the floor.

"Please, I promise I don't mean you any harm. My name-- my name is Alphonse, I'm your brother, you got hurt. Please-- please just get back into bed."

Edward's whole body hurts, but he isn't sure why. It feels like he's been fighting, but who would he fight? Why would he fight? He can feel the uncertainty and confusion down into his bones, even as Alphonse tries to get closer.

He can't help the way his fingers twitch, how he knows he should slam his hands into the floor, but he's not sure why. What good would hitting the floor do? Even so, his hands stay pressed together, like it's a comfort, like it's something that feels familiar, but he isn't sure why. "My... my brother?" Ed's voice pitches up at the end, frightened. He presses himself into the corner, though he's feeling dizzy from the fall.

"Alphonse?" It feels foreign on his tongue and he finally drops his hands to his lap, looking bewildered, paler than before. "Where am I? Why am I hurt?" He's scared, still, but there's a modicum of trust, Edward clearly recognizing the surrender in Al's body language. "I don't remember getting in a fight, or coming here..."

For a second or two Al is lost for words and it has nothing to do with the bizarre situation. It's the enormity of having to explain to Ed why he was hurt. What can he say? He can't possibly tell his brother all about the homunculus, about their quest to recover their bodies, about Father and the philosopher's stone. He'd think Al was nuts.

Worse, it might even put him in danger if he told the wrong person.

He passes a hand over his face in a gesture that looks just like a kid trying to figure out an exam question, incongruous with the massive armour body he now has. This whole thing is making his heart ache with a viciousness that doesn't seem real.

"One thing at a time, okay? I just need you to let me help you back on the bed, take a few deep breaths, and then we can talk." That at least gives him a minute to think. "Please, I know you're scared, but I promise I'm on your side."

Ed's hands are shaking, be it from fear or adrenaline, it's hard to say. He stares, wide eyed, up at Alphonse, wary of him at first but knowing he's trapped. Either way, Edward finally nods his head and tries to push himself up to standing.

"Okay. Okay, I'll go back."

He keeps a hand pressed to the wall to stabilize himself, and to ground himself a little bit more. He doesn't know how he got here, why he's here or why everything hurts. His vision spins a little, his head is throbbing with pain and he wavers a little bit on his feet.

"I... don't think I can make it over there." He slumps back against the wall, and for all of Ed's complexes, for all of his big personality, right now? He looks incredibly small.

Al feels like he's seconds away from falling apart, as if he's hanging onto the edge of a cliff by the tips of his fingers and slowly the whole thing is giving way. How can Ed not remember him? His own brother, his only family left.

It tears at him and he knows if he were capable, he'd be crying. Even without that ability, he still can feel his armour trembling. Part of him wants to run away, but he never would. No matter how hard this is for him, it's got to be fifty times harder for Ed. He can't imagine how terrifying it must be to wake up with no memory of anything.

It's that empathy that has him staying, gives him the strength to keep his voice steady, and lets him focus on Ed.

"It's okay, I can help you. I'm going to come and pick you up, okay? I promise I won't hurt you."

He only approaches after he's finished talking, slow and steady so as not to alarm Ed more. If he allows him, Al will scoop up his big brother and place him gently back on the bed.

"O-Okay..."

Edward's heart is racing, and although he doesn't necessarily trust this guy, he knows he can't make it back up to the bed. He wants answers, too, and has a million questions. If getting back into the hospital bed is the only way this person will help him, then he'll do it.

He clings to the suit of armour tightly when he's lifted, his body trembling a little, both from the anxiety and from the pain. He's weak, sore and unsure, but he can't help the little sigh of relief when he's placed back into the bed. It's comfortable at the very least, and he wiggles up so the pillows are more supporting his back than anything.

"I don't understand." His fingers grip the bedsheets, knuckles of his flesh hand white with tension.

Al is as gentle as possible when he lifts Ed off the ground. He wishes he could feel the weight of him, the heat of his body, anything at all. But he can't. And he knows that he, in return, won't be a comforting or comfortable figure for Ed to rest against, all cold and sharp angles.

So he puts him in the bed as soon as possible and oh-so-carefully tucks the sheets up around him to make sure he's warm.

"Me either." His voice is low and sad. "I think it must be because you hit your head in the-- when you got hurt. It's probably not permanent, you just need a day or two to rest and then you'll start to remember."

He really hopes that's true. He's got no way of knowing if it is, but surely Ed couldn't just forget about him. Not forever.

Ed lets out a breath of relief when he's settled into the bed. It's comforting and safe, in a way, and it does not hurt nearly as much as trying to stand. Perhaps this man in the armour isn't all that bad.

"I hit my head?"

Ed touches the bandages and winces, frowning against the shock of pain it sends through him. He looks impossibly young -- all wide eyed and confused. He clenches the sheets. "Did you... did you find me like this? Did you save me, Al?"

The name surprises him, like it's so natural to say but he isn't really sure why he said it. He frowns.

"Yeah, I was there-- kind of. I was in another room, but I knew something was wrong and I came to bring you here as soon as possible."

Al took a seat on the chair next to the bed again, careful not to damage it with his weight. It returned them to the positions they had been in when Ed first woke up, and Al had a small hope that at least getting back to this position might mean that they could now move forwards instead of backwards.

"You've hit your head a lot in the past, it's-- it's so hard I didn't think anything could really hurt it. But I guess I was wrong. I'm..." Al's voice cuts off for a moment, shuddering and choked. "I'm so sorry, I should have been there faster."

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For Ed

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whoa sorry this got archived by accident ugh these boys

i love them so much

i love them too. i return from the hells of busy.

It's okay, I've been absent too <3

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