![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Chasing the Trail - Chapter Thirteen: Fever
Canon: Animeverse including CoS and the Mangaverse where it doesn’t directly contradict, or Ed where tells me "yah that happened, but it was like this:"
Note: Reviews are wanted, so please encourage me with feedback whether it's good or bad. It lets me know you read it and either enjoyed it, or that you think I need to work harder to make it enjoyable and why. If you see some glaring error, please feel free to point it out. I'm really not too delicate, and I usually actually go and fix those.
Previously: Edward Elric is sick with an infection in the socket of his automail shoulder. Winry gets Edward a nice warm bath believing it will make him feel better to be clean. Afterwards, she settles him in bed and he sleeps almost immediately.
Poor Ed, she thought, once they’d finally finished in the bathroom and were on their way back to his room. He’s such a mess. I really have my work cut out for me this time. It didn’t matter. He might have a long road back this time, but she’d walk it with him, just as she walked this little stretch of hallway with him.
Edward slept almost instantly when she got him into bed. Gently, so as not to disturb him, she pushed him onto his side, pulling his hair out from under his face, and brushed it out for him, weaving it into a loose braid that she dropped back across his shoulder, he rolling onto his back as soon as she let him with a long mumbling sigh. “You’ll be okay, Edward,” she said softly, stroking his bangs as he slept. “I’m not about to let you fall apart now, just when your life is finally becoming your own again.” That was a promise she meant to keep even if she was doomed to remain in the sidelines of his life even now, she’d support him as always. Now that it was safe again, Winry leaned down and gave Edward a soft kiss on the forehead. He’d never know she did it. Just like always, but it made her feel better.
Edward stretched his back in the big lounge chair. He didn’t know why he was aching so badly today. It wasn’t rainy, the sun was out and it was nice to just relax. Still, he thought he could stand a massage or something. His automail limbs especially ached, even with the white sleeves over them to keep the sun from heating them up while he basked in it. He thought there must be rain coming soon.
“How’re you doing, Ed?” he heard Winry ask. Her fingers skimmed his forehead and combed through his hair for a moment. Edward smiled. He would never get tired of her touch.
“I’m all right. He opened his eyes to look up at her. Her beauty had never diminished any. The finest of lines had begun around her eyes now. They were barely even noticeable, but Edward knew they were really his fault. “Can I have a little drink?” he asked.
Winry offered him the cup of iced lemonade he’d left on the table. He’d forgotten about it, but she held it for him while he sipped, the cool liquid tasting wonderful going down.
“Why don’t you stretch out and relax with me for a while,” he asked, reaching for her with his flesh hand so he didn’t knock the sleeve off his other one.
“Not now, honey.” Winry took his hand, squeezing it briefly. “Al is bringing some parts up and I’m going to try to get a good look at your arm. Besides,” she poked the end of his nose with one finger, “You’re busy watching the kids playing down below.” Her hand settled on the top of his head for a moment. “You want your arm fixed don’t you?”
“Oh.” Disappointed, Edward raised his flesh hand to his shoulder as he remembered that the arm attached to it was temporary. How could he forget something like that? The weight of it didn’t even feel right, now that he thought about it. It really felt like nothing. “Yah, but Win,” he said, recovering quickly. “Just for a little while, okay? The kids are all the way down in the bottom of the yard. I can hear them.”
Winry shook her head and walked away, an amused smile on her face. She seemed so ethereal. Everything seemed just a little too bright, a little too colorful. The laughter of the children floated up to him from the bottom end of the yard. They were calling to him, and for a long moment, Edward was torn between answering them or going after Winry with her teasing grin.
Edward got up, deciding to follow Winry. He got a few steps, but something wasn’t right with his leg. His grin faded as he looked down. “Winry’s going to kill me,” he muttered, watching as his leg disintegrated. He didn’t even know what he’d done to it, but she was going to be angry anyway. Edward struggled on another step. Parts were falling off now, but as they hit the ground, each one would liquefy and soak into the grass. “Dammit,” he grumbled. “That’s just weird. The hell is going on here? Win?” He called after her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Her long blond pony tail swayed enticingly behind her.
He couldn’t reach her. Instead Edward fell, hard. Then he melted into the grass as well. For a little while, he thought he would just lie there, and maybe after a while Winry would come and put him back together again. She always did. No matter how big of a mess he made, she could always sort it out. Edward sighed, and in the process, he soaked through the sod into the underworld. What? He sat up, disoriented. How the hell did I get here? I don’t believe in hell, remember? That wasn’t exactly true. He had spent two years all but convinced that the world he had wound up in on the other side of the gate was somehow his own personal hell.
“Winry?” Edward called again, forcing down the panic that suddenly flared. He couldn’t walk. His leg was gone. His arm was gone now, too, though he didn’t remember it coming off. All he had were empty sockets. It was like when he’d awakened on the far side of that thrice damned gate. No, this time he could hear the kids playing overhead. The sound was muffled. He couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but they had so much imagination that it was anyone’s guess what they were playing now.
It was too dark under here. How the hell could he be under the turf? It was like a big cave, and there was a reddish light coming off the walls or something. Some sort of iridescence, but Edward couldn’t make it out. He couldn’t get close enough to get a good look. “God it’s hot,” he muttered, wiping the sweat off his face. The sun had been pleasant, but this was beyond that agreeable heat. It was humid and sweltering down here.
A sharp scraping noise sounded near him. He thought he felt something frigidly cold flutter around his face and raised a hand to ward it off. How anything could be so cold in this burning place? Edward couldn’t see anything in this red light. It was like being inside that homunculus again–that dream he had all the time, but couldn’t remember if it was real once he was awake–slogging through blood and bones and gore. It was damp like that, too, the ground moist and sticky. He felt like he was inside a cave made of raw meat. Edward felt a sickness rise in him at that idea and he had to squelch it.
There was that scraping noise again. The calls of the children were becoming warped. They sounded like haunts now, the noise of them raking along his nerves, the weird distortion turning the youngsters into creatures hunting him through this deep maze of blood and flesh. Edward wasn’t inside Gluttony. That was always just one giant open field that went on infinitely in every direction. This was enclosed, the walls close, the ceiling low. Edward crawled on, trying to escape the shrieks of those little monsters following him.
Beyond the next turn, he shrank back. Something big lunged at him. Edward couldn’t see it, but he had known it was there, had felt it. He scrambled back into a smaller alcove as far as he could go. They’d get him. The little ones would drag him out and the big one would have him as an appetizer right before it charged through this tight hole back into the real world and got Winry and Alphonse and everyone else he cared about. No. Edward would stay down here and protect them. If he just sat here and kept himself plugged into this narrow passageway, this evil couldn’t get out. It wouldn’t get out. They’d be safe, so there he sat huddled as far back as he could get, terrified but unwilling to move on up through the passageway into the real world again even though he knew now where it led. He wanted to shriek, shrinking back as a giant clawed hand reached into the hole and fished around for him. “Back off!” he cried. “I’m not going with you, so just back off and leave me alone!” He wrapped his arm around himself, freezing and sweating. Winry, he sobbed in his mind. This is my fault.
* * *
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Winry,” Alphonse told her. “The lab is down in the basement, but it’s under the public area of the house, so it’ll take me a minute to get down there.”
“That’s fine Al,” Winry smiled, watching him leave the room. She had gotten a few hours of sleep herself now, while Alphonse sat with Edward. The older Elric’s new medications seemed to be doing him some good. Alphonse had reported happily that Edward often had periods where he felt nauseated, but that he’d only been sick one time while she’d been away, and that most of the time he could drink lemon water or ginger ale, both of which seemed to help. For himself, Edward had spent most of the time sleeping, or complaining about sleeping all the time.
Winry sat on the edge of the bed. She hated to wake him now that he was sleeping relatively quietly, but she thought it was important to at least give him a chance to tell her how he felt. He would probably go right back to sleep, and that was a good thing even if he complained about it. “How’re you doing, Ed?” Winry touched his forehead, feeling for fever. He was a little warm, but not enough to worry her. After all, fever was the body’s natural defense as long as it didn’t get dangerously high. Her fingers brushed through his hair a few times. The main thing with Edward was to keep him reassured and as comfortable as possible. They all tried to make sure he didn’t get confused, or worry too much.
“I’m all right.” Edward opened his eyes. They were dull and glazed as they studied her face. He wet his lips slowly. “Can I have a little drink?” he asked.
Winry offered him a drink from the cool lemon water on the bedside table. It probably could stand some ice, but he took it anyway. She wondered how awake he really was, especially given his next question. “Why don’t you stretch out with me for a while?”
Tempting. It was so tempting, but… “Not now, honey.” Winry took his hand and squeezed it. “Al is bringing some parts up and I’m going to try to get a good look at your arm. Besides,” She gave the end of his nose a playful tweak. “We’re missing watching the kids playing in the snow.” Smiling at him, Winry let her hand rest on the crown of his head. “You want your arm fixed, don’t you?”
“Oh,” Edward’s hand went over to the empty arm socket. His expression told her he’d forgotten about that. As his fingers felt it, he seemed less distressed about it than he had other times he’d woken without remembering what was going on with his arm. Maybe it was because she’d just been talking about the repair. Not like he had any hope of getting that arm back any time soon. Even if she totally rebuilt it, which it was definitely going to need, he wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of it until the infection cleared up and, even then, the cause of the infection had to be dealt with. Winry wasn’t going to allow him to put it off again. Chances were, Edward was going to be in a lightweight simple prosthetic for weeks before he could have his automail arm back. None of these things seemed to worry him at the moment. “Yah, but Win… Just for a little while, okay? The kids are all the way down in the bottom of the yard. I can hear them.”
Now Winry was reasonably sure that, even though Edward’s his eyes were open and he seemed to be looking at her, he wasn’t really awake. She was just an echo inside his dream. At least for the moment, it seemed like a good one. Her hand stroked his bangs as his eyes drifted closed and he was back into his own dream again, no longer halfway between waking and sleeping. She petted all three dogs camped around Edward at the foot of the bed, resettling Ralph when he got up to wag his tail at her, the two terriers content to just lounge where they were.
Once she had the dogs situated, Winry walked to the window, stretching her arms over her head. She stared out into the snowy wonderland below, while she waited for Alphonse to come back up with Edward’s broken arm. A group of children were playing in the deep snow, now that the weather had warmed up enough for their parents to bundle them up and send them out from under foot for a while. Two groups of them worked piling up snow on either side of the street, making fortifications for what promised to be a lovely snowball fight. In fact, quite a bit of snow was already being thrown around, some in the form of balls lobbed across the street at would be opponents, and some just tossed into the gleeful reddened faces of their own compatriots.
Winry hugged her arms around herself, smiling. She wanted some of these some day. Children she could bundle up and send outside, then chide them for staying out too long and coming in too cold. She loved their happy, carefree faces. They reminded her of the times when they–Edward, Winry and Alphonse–had been the ones playing in the snow, or running through the fields of flowers. Either boy–or sometimes even both–occasionally suffered from a sweet moment and picked posies for her hair, or played house with her. They would alternate who was Daddy and who was the child. Edward had played the absolute brattiest child. She chuckled at the memory, stifling her laugh when she heard Alphonse re-enter the room.
Crossing the room quickly, Winry took the parts of Edward’s ruined arm from Alphonse’s hands, maybe a little too forcefully. Alphonse blanched and stepped back as if he expected her to smack him with it. Winry rolled her eyes, carrying the arm to the windows and into better light. Let him think that. It kept those boys in line. Edward, she thought, even seemed to like the rough treatment a bit. Winry wondered if he liked to play rough in bed, too. She had to squelch a snicker as that thought crossed her mind. She kept her back to Alphonse, otherwise he’d want to know why she was suddenly blushing. Though, given the condition of Edward’s arm, he might think it was a flush of rage. “Geeze!” Winry grumbled. “This is a disaster!” She reached in and pulled out some of the broken contacts.
Alphonse joined her then, seemingly over his fright, wanting to see what she was looking at. “Doctor Sheridan said he didn’t know how it was even working. He said ‘It must have been sheer will.’ or something along those lines.”
Winry shook her head at the mess. “I agree. That boy is so stubborn. I don’t know how he was getting any response at all. Look.” She pointed where the main conduit had ruptured, then at some of the wires that protruded out from it. “There’s stuff in here that is melted. Seriously, Al, as if the pain from the infection wasn’t bad enough, this had to be agony whenever these two wires touched each other.” Winry poked at the wires with a forefinger, as if they were to blame for all of Ed’s current condition. “Or any of these,” she added, pointing out another trio. I’d like to know why these casings started melting.”
“Winry’s going to kill me,” Edward mumbled unhappily from the bed. Winry glanced over to see if he needed anything, but he pulled himself onto his side with his back to her, and seemed to settle again.
“Can you move that dressing table over here, Al?” Winry asked. “I need a surface to work on for a while so I can see what’s going on in here.”
“Sure.” In a moment, Alphonse had pulled it over into the space that had originally been occupied by the chair that was now next to Edward’s bed. With a soft clap, he transmuted the top wood into a deeper bench that Winry could spread at least a few of her tools on while she disassembled the arm further to try to figure out where the disaster had started.
Edward was getting restless. Winry could hear him panting, his dream evidently disturbing him now. Roxy and Moxy jumped off the bed and, a moment later, Ralph followed, all three of them trotting down the stairs. Leaving Winry’s side, Alphonse went to check on his brother, patting a cool cloth on Edward’s face before laying it across his forehead. Seeing Al shake his head, clearly worried, Winry joined him.
“Dammit,” Edward muttered as Winry pulled the blankets down to his waist and off his flesh leg to just above the knee.
“He’s burning up again,” she sighed, keeping her voice soft.
“That’s just weird!” Edward cried. “The hell is going on here? Win?” He struggled with the blankets, restless little moves that made it clear he was in the grips of a nightmare. Winry took his hand, and sat in the chair next to him, but this time he didn’t seem aware of her despite calling for her.
“Winry?” He moaned. “God, it’s hot.” He sweated like it was, even though Winry thought the room could have been a bit warmer. They were finding that the radiator could use some serious fine tuning. Edward’s breathing went shallow and he swallowed uneasily, raising his hand to his mouth like he was going to be sick. Winry reached for the basin, her chair scraping noisily as she accidentally shoved it back. Alphonse moved it up a bit for her but she sat on the edge of the bed, ready.
He didn’t vomit after all. Instead, Edward reacted almost violently to the noise, or perhaps the slight shift of her weight on the mattress. He drew back from the edge of the bed, away from her, and curled up tight. With a terrified shriek, Edward wrapped his arm around himself. “Back off! I’m not going with you, so just back off and leave me alone!”
“Ed,” Winry touched his face. “It’s all right, honey. Just wake up, okay? It’s just a dream.”
“Ngg!” Edward moaned. He jerked away, squeezing his eyes shut, but when she called his name again, his body started to relax. Winry thought he was starting to wake up.
“That’s right, wake up, honey,” she encouraged. “It’s just a bad dream. Everything is fine.” What horror had his mind dredged up this time to torment him with, Winry didn’t think she wanted to know. Sometimes Edward told her his dreams now. Sometimes, though, he still wouldn’t. They were too terrible for him to articulate. Alphonse had explained to her that it was because he dreamed of things that had really happened–things that should never have been allowed to happen. Edward wouldn’t speak of them, because he didn’t want the memories in his present waking life. It was enough that they disturbed his dreams. Winry could accept that, but she couldn’t let Edward stay in this dream. Not today; not with a fever that could very well confuse him even when he was awake. Winry knew if she wasn’t very careful how she pulled him out of it, there could be repercussions. Edward could waken thinking himself in another place and time as he had days before. She talked to him soothingly; glad to see him relaxing a little more.
Before long, Edward rolled onto his back again. His gold eyes opened suddenly, his breath coming in little gasps as the dream finally let go of him and he woke. He blinked a few times and then closed his eyes again, swallowing nervously. “Win?” he sighed. “I’m back.” He said it hesitantly. It sounded like he wasn’t so sure. Edward stroked the strand of hair that flowed down her cheek in front of her ear. “How did I get back? I was in–”
“You didn’t go anywhere Ed,” Winry interrupted him gently. “You had a nightmare, that’s all.”
“I did?” He glanced around for a moment, his expression worried. “Win…where are the kids?”
“The kids?” she asked, confused. “Oh… outside?”
“They’re outside?” Alarmed, Edward pushed himself up, panic giving him strength as he tried to get out of bed. Winry prevented him, and his hand inevitably wrapped itself up in the fabric of her clothing. “Get them in the house. I just saw a–” his eyes fell on his brother. “Wait…” Edward blinked, his face screwing up as he struggled to think straight. “I was dreaming just now, wasn’t I? You said I was dreaming.”
“Yes, Brother,” Alphonse walked around to the other side of the bed. “You’ve been sick, remember?”
“Real sick.” Winry set the basin aside since he didn’t seem to need it after all. She patted Edward’s cheeks and throat with the compress she’d neatly caught when he had bolted upright. “Your fever is back, so I think you must have had a nightmare, Ed. Everything is fine. There’s nothing here to hurt you.” She took his hand, slowly extricating it from her dress, and petted it to soothe him.
“Or anyone else,” Alphonse added.
“Nothing?” Edward looked from Winry to his brother and then back again, his hand clutching hers. “It’s okay?”
“Everything is fine, Brother,” Alphonse offered, though his face remained worried.
“What day is it?” he wanted to know.
Winry exchanged a glance with Alphonse. This was one of the questions Edward asked almost every time he woke out of a bad dream. “It’s still Monday, honey. Just getting into the afternoon, okay?” Since he was sitting up, Winry got her hand free and unbuttoned his damp pajama shirt.
“Ng!” He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, hardly seeming to notice Winry gently pulling the shirt off and handing it to Alphonse. “The closing!” he cried, slapping his hand over his eyes.
“It’s all right, Brother.” Alphonse spread the shirt over the back of the vanity chair where it could dry, and dug in the dresser for a fresh one.
“That’s right, Ed.” Winry wrung out a clean facecloth. She used it to wipe the sour sweat from the nightmare and fever off his back. “Al already took care of it.”
“He did?” Edward asked, his eyes moving between the two of them a couple of times.
“I did, Brother,” Al said, coming back with a clean pair of pajamas.
Winry patted the sweat off his chest working the cloth up his neck and throat, cooling Edward while wiping away the sourness. “Al called them when he got up today, Ed.”
“The phones are working now,” Alphonse interjected.
“He called the agent at home, and it’s all set up now. They’ll come here Wednesday at ten, so you can sign.”
Alphonse went on. “The agent said everyone would be happy to do that, Ed.”
“Mmm…” Edward nodded, his eyes closing for a moment. “Probably just want to see inside the bastard’s house.”
“That’s not very nice, Edward,” Winry admonished. “Mr. Mustang is still sleeping after going to so much trouble to get me here for you.”
Edward frowned, but he turned his head away, looking like a little boy chastised by his mother. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Never mind, now.” She smiled, petting his hair. “You’re not well. You ought to be resting yourself, and not giving yourself nightmares.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Edward sounded petulant.
“I know, Ed.” Winry worked his arm into the clean shirt. Once she had it on him, she got up, and settled him back against the pillows to check him over again. “You need to take some medicines now, okay?”
Now Edward was more petulant. He didn’t like taking the medicine. Winry had noticed that Edward was most likely to argue about it when he was feverish and most needed it. His arm folded over his chest as if he had both of them to cross belligerently.
Alphonse backed off a pace, making Winry wonder what her face looked like. “What?” she demanded of the younger brother.
“I…” Alphonse hesitated, a little wide eyed. “I thought I’d just go let the dogs outside for a few minutes while he takes his medicine.”
For just a moment, Winry thought Alphonse had a twinkle in his eye that might indicate he thought Edward deserved whatever he got for arguing with Winry. Especially, she thought, after giving Al such a hard time over it when no one was even here to help him.
As if on cue, Ralph appeared in the doorway, his tail wagging in response to the word ‘outside’ being spoken within earshot.
Winry rolled her eyes. “Fine, Al,” she said. “That’s fine, but put them in the run for a little while after. I don’t want them coming up here all wet and doggy smelling to roll around all over Ed’s bed. They can stay in the run until they’re nice and dry again. Alphonse nodded his understanding and started to go. “They probably want to be fed, too,” she said, stopping him in his tracks.
“Okay Winry,” he said. “I know where the Chairman keeps the stuff he feeds them.” He started to leave again.
“And while you’re at it,” Winry stopped him again, “You could make us something to eat. I don’t care what, but make it something simple that Ed can handle too. He needs a little something to go with his pills. He could have milk–”
“Or NOT!” Edward burst out, kicking his foot under the covers.
“Milk is good for you, Ed,” Winry told him, her voice matter of fact.
“It’s revolting!”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“Quit trying to get me to drink that shit!” He squealed.
“I’ll just make us some food.” Alphonse suggested with a soft laugh. “I’m sure the Chairman has some eggs, if you don’t mind breakfast food for dinner.”
“That’s fine.” Winry nodded her approval. “In fact, it’s just perfect. Fix them however Ed likes them best, and bring a couple of sandwiches for us, too.”
Alphonse ducked out then, obviously pleased he did not have to partake in any more arguing with a feverish Edward. Winry knew he was just as happy to let her deal with that after the ordeal he’d had through the weekend. It was clear enough in his notes, even in what he didn’t really say directly, that Alphonse had been having a lot of this very same trouble with his brother when it came time to take his medications.
Turning her attention back to the bed, Winry met Edward’s scowl. There was a cherry flush to his cheeks from the fever. At least he knew what was going on for the moment, even if the fever was influencing him to make bad decisions and take foolish stands. Winry wasn’t having any of it. She put one fist on her hip and pointed her finger at him. “Ed,” she warned. “You don’t want to get worse. You have to take your medicine.”
“I don’t have to like it.” He pouted while she poured from the purple bottle. That one he took without too much more argument, and followed it readily with a good drink from the lemon water. The aspirin, he crunched after she told him not to, his eyes defiant while she cringed at the sound.
Winry did succeed in getting him to wash them down with more of the water, and the more water he drank and kept down, the better. She had more trouble with the next pill she wanted him to take.
“What is that?” Edward wanted to know.
“That is your antibiotic, Ed.” He ought to know what it was, but she tried to be patient, knowing that the fever made it hard for him to remember anything. Some of his medications didn’t help him stay mentally focused, either.
“The mold pill.” Edward pulled a disgusted face.
“Yes, it’s the mold pill,” Winry grumbled, “If you insist on calling it that. But you have to take it, or your shoulder won’t get better.”
Edward pouted.
Winry scowled.
Edward took the pill. And two green ones. And then a yellow one. All of them had to be identified, and discussed sometimes at length and ultimately more bullying until he took them, but they were eventually all down chased with plenty of lemon water.
“I have to pee.” Edward frowned, embarrassed.
“It’s okay, Ed.” Winry reassured him. “Remember that means you’re not so desperately dehydrated now, but I want you to use the bottle this time, okay? You’re still feverish.”
Edward clearly didn’t like that idea very much. He canted his eyes to the side and reddened a bit more.
“Ed,” she said, “Listen, you don’t have to be so embarrassed about it. It’s not like I never helped you with the bottle before either, right?”
Edward shrugged.
“Edward, I just helped you with a bath this morning.”
He shrugged again.
“If you can wait until Alphonse comes back, then he can help you–”
“It’s not that, Win,” he interrupted, sounding so small and forlorn. “It’s just so damned undignified to piss in a bottle.”
“It’s not–” Winry began but Edward waved a hand to negate her words, slapping that same hand over his eyes, his teeth bared miserably.
“It is, Winry,” he moaned. “You know how much I hate being helpless like this.”
Was he crying? Winry settled a hand on the crown of his head, stroking. His shoulders shook, and she pulled him into her arms. “It’s okay, Ed,” she crooned. “Shh…”
“S-sorry…” he stammered, fisting the fabric of her skirt as if he thought she would let go of him or push him away. “I’m sorry… I can’t…” His breath hitched, but Winry had heard the self loathing in his voice.
“Shh…” She hushed him, one hand stroking his back while she rocked him gently.
“God!” Edward croaked, obviously frustrated with himself. “Why am I crying?” That was followed by a gasp and another shudder as he fought back a sob.
“Listen, Ed.” Winry kept petting him. “It’s just because you’re sick, okay? That’s why, and you’re still feverish, and you know how that is for you.
“Sorry,” he said again, sniffling hard.
“It’s okay,” Winry repeated. “Just take a deep breath and let it out, okay? You’re okay.”
Edward did as he was told and that seemed to help him. The shaking settled and after a moment, he pushed himself away from her a little, though he hung his head so she couldn’t see his face.
Winry cupped his cheek with her hand and raised his face. “Ed, it’s all right.” Taking the cloth, she pressed it gently first to one eye and then the other, drying the unwanted tears and soothing the redness around them some at the same time. Winry eased Edward back into his pillows and gave him a clean tissue so he could blow his nose.
“Sorry,” he told her again as he handed it back to her.
Winry shook her head and threw the tissue away for him. “It’s okay, Ed. I understand.” She mussed his hair. “C’mon, let’s get your bladder empty, then I can wash your hands and stuff.”
This time, Edward didn’t argue about it. He still blushed, but once she got him sitting on the edge of the bed, he didn’t have too much trouble filling the bottle. The strong yellow liquid told her they still had work to do to get him rehydrated. At least he could produce urine and sweat and tears now. Edward also wasn’t as disoriented as he had been when she’d arrived, and certainly not as bad as Alphonse grudgingly admitted that he had been at times. Winry could attribute much of that to the fever and the medications. It helped that there were three people with him now, who could take turns watching over him until the fever really let go of him. Until then, someone would pretty much have to sit with Edward all the time.
“Okay,” Winry said brightly, putting the bottle down long enough to get Edward resettled against his pillows. “Just let me get rid of this and wash up, all right?”
Edward nodded silently. His expression was somewhat sullen, his eyes trailing toward the windows.
Winry frowned, reminding herself that she wanted to put that bed over in that end of the room so Edward could look out. He might be stuck in that bed for a few days, and it would help his restlessness to be able see outside. She knew that expression. Edward wanted to be a part of the world, and he couldn’t even see out into it. Winry left him staring out at the sky to take care of the urine bottle. She left it in the bathroom for the time being and returned for the basin they’d been using for ice and compresses, and the water pitcher. Winry washed out the basin, washed her own hands and grabbed Edward’s bar of soap out of his kit, and filled the pitcher with fresh water before she headed back down the hall with everything. “Okay, Ed,” she said brightly as she reentered the room.
Edward, still preoccupied with the window, turned his attention on her. His eyes were clearer now, and when she touched his face, his temperature seemed to be down some, too.
“Looks like that aspirin is already doing you some good, huh?” Winry handed him the bar of soap.
“Yah, because I chewed it,” Edward shot back, letting her help him sit up again.
Winry snorted, but she let him get away with it anyway. If Edward had the energy to be a smart-ass, that was an improvement too. She scooted her chair close to the side of the bed and sat in it. Once he was ready, she filled the basin with a little water and balanced it in her lap. “Here,” Winry took his hand and soaped it up for him, and then rinsed it in the water she’d poured.
“You forgot the towel?” Edward asked her, an amused smile on his face as he sat shaking his hand over the bowl.
“I forgot the towel.” Laughing, Winry shook her head, and got to her feet. “You can just drip dry for a minute. I’ll bring one for you after I empty your soapy water.” By the time she got back with the towel, Alphonse was coming up the stairs with a tray.
“Oh, good!” She clapped her hands. “That’s perfect, Al. Just set it on the foot of Edward’s bed.” Winry followed him in with the towel and dried Edward’s hand for him, helping him resettle against the pillows.
For Edward, Alphonse had made a small plate of scrambled eggs sided with a little toast, not buttered, but spread lightly with some kind of fruit. He picked up not just the plate, but a smaller tray off the larger one. It wasn’t the first time Winry had ever seen a lap tray of course, but this one fit into the other one so perfectly she had been a little surprised when Alphonse had lifted it and little legs unfolded. “That’s really clever,” she said helping position the legs so Alphonse could put the tray across Edward’s thighs.
Alphonse beamed. “Thanks.”
“Did you make it just now?”
“Yes.” Alphonse nodded. “I realized it might be awkward for Brother to just have a plate in his lap so… Mr. Mustang had some firewood downstairs. I just used a couple pieces of it. I’m sure he won’t mind. I can go chop him some more later.”
“He probably doesn’t need you to do that Al,” Edward observed, picking up one of the corners of toast he’d been allotted and nibbling on it.
Winry smiled. “He probably has people who do that now.”
“Oh…” Alphonse clearly hadn’t considered that. “I wouldn’t want to take anyone’s job from them, of course.”
Winry picked up a fork from the larger tray and set it on Edward’s. “Do you need any help, Ed?”
“No,” he told her. “I can probably manage. To tell you the truth, though, I’m not so hungry.”
“You should eat, Brother,” Alphonse began.
Winry put her hand on the younger brother’s shoulder and he subsided, his expression questioning. “Just eat what you’re comfortable with, Ed, okay? Don’t worry if you can’t eat it all.”
Edward nodded as he picked up the fork. He seemed relieved.
Winry let him be. As long as he was lucid, she wouldn’t coddle him more than he needed. “You’ll feel better in a few days, and then we can worry about getting your weight back on, Ed. You’ve really lost a lot since last time I saw you. I can see why Al’s worried.”
Edward snorted softly, but then he stuffed in a mouthful of eggs, so neither she nor Al commented. At least he was willing to eat. Winry turned to Alphonse. “What did you make for us?”
“Well,” Alphonse grinned. “I had a little fun with the chairman’s electric popup toaster,” he admitted. So we have toast for our sandwiches, and here is a little bowl of dressing, and mustard, and then some ham, and cheese,” he said pointing to each thing as he mentioned it, “I guess I could have fried a couple of eggs to go on sandwiches, too if I’d have thought of it, but…”
“It’s fine Al,” Winry told him, knowing that he’d keep rambling if she let him. She was already stacking ham and cheese on her toast while surreptitiously watching Edward eat. “Ed, honey,” she touched the older brother’s knee. “Try to eat more eggs before you fill up on toast if you can, okay?”
Edward’s mouth pulled into something between a pout and a scowl. Despite that, his next bite was a mouthful of eggs. He was pretty slow chewing them. Winry almost felt bad for bothering him.
“If the toast is all you can stand Ed, that’s fine,” she amended gently. “I just meant if you can eat the eggs that you should eat them first. You need the protein.” She stroked his leg, letting her hand rest on his thigh.
The wistful little smile Edward gave her in response to that simple touch almost broke Winry’s heart. She wondered if the man had any idea the effect that smile had. She didn’t think he did. He used it too easily in ways that weren’t necessarily to his advantage. It took the fire out of his eyes, and turned it into a warmth that had melted her since they’d been children. Winry gave his knee a little squeeze and let go, answering his smile with one of her own, before turning her attention to her own meal.
They talked some about Edward’s arm, though Edward contributed very little to the conversation, Winry noted he seemed to be concentrating very hard on what he was doing. It wasn’t long before she heard his fork hit the plate harder than usual as he dropped it and sat with his head bowed.
“He fell asleep.” Alphonse reached an arm out to keep his brother from falling sideways.
“Let him sleep, Al,” Winry said quietly. “Here…” she moved Edward’s tray onto the bigger tray again, lifting both trays out of the way. “Let’s help him lie down again. The medicine makes him sleepy, and he needs the rest.”
Edward roused while they were easing him into bed. Winry took that opportunity to have him drink more water. After Edward was finished, she sent Alphonse to get more in a clean glass so they would have it handy when Edward wanted it again. Winry was pleased to note that, to the touch, Edward’s fever had gone down. Still, she slid the thermometer under his tongue just to be sure he wasn’t slipping down too far. Though he wasn’t entirely asleep, Winry could tell by the way he toyed unconsciously with the thermometer that Edward wasn’t too alert, either. She stroked his hair to keep him with her enough that he didn’t bite down on the glass or work it out from where it needed to be. “There now,” she whispered, when enough time had passed and she could take it out to read it. Just under a hundred. Well that was safe enough. Winry set the thermometer aside and tucked the blankets up around Edward’s shoulders before bending to kiss his cheek.
“Tucking him in?” The deep voice behind her sounded amused.
End Notes: Seriously, I'm very sorry to keep everyone waiting so terribly long for this. It's really been done and just waiting for me to have time to proof the final draft for months now. Life has been very eventful the last couple of years and I haven't been writing as much. I'm hoping this year I'll start to get my focus back for it. Your comments continue to encourage me. I have no intention of abandoning this story. There's still a lot of it to tell.
~Ishte
no subject
Winry has definitely become more patient over the years. There seems to be a bittersweet quality to her, and I'd like to see more of that explored. We know what happened to Ed and Al in the other world, it'd be nice to know what happened with Winry while they were gone.
Al seems a little more nervous and twitchy than I expect - from his reaction to Winry's glares, I almost think he's been abused. I know he's a gentler character than Edward (or even Winry) but he almost is coming across as someone who is completely retiring. He survived on his own for three years without his brother - and obviously helped Ed achieve their goal of returning to Amestris, so I'm surprised he seems so...childlike.
no subject
It wove a vivid web around his illness, and how his loved ones are working so hard to get him well again.