Wayward Son: Grounded

Chapter 3

"Hey, Radarr?" said Aerrow. "You awake?"

Radarr poked his head up with a sleepy frown.

"Sorry to wake you," the redhead said with an apologetic smile. "Do you think you could help me up? I'm kinda thirsty."

Radarr shook his head with a growl of frustration, and Aerrow rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he sighed, and he pressed himself up and supported his other arm once he was sitting. "I'll just go by myself then. Can you pass me my sling?"

His co-pilot shot him a more fearsome glare and shook his head again.

"Why not?"

Radarr jumped up onto his shoulder and tapped the metal socket that had been affixed to the Sky Knight's body.

"It's feeling much better, I swear!" he said. "Radarr, I can't live like this. I don't even remember how long I've spent just lying on this bed. I need to get up and stretch my legs, I-I'm bored! Am I really supposed to spend the next year just sitting here?"

He grabbed the scarf on his bedside table that he'd been using as a sling and tied it around his arm, making sure that both his elbow and wrist were supported around his neck, and the first thing he did after standing up was stretch his back.

"See?" he said. "It doesn't even hurt."

Giving up, Radarr leapt onto Aerrow's (right) shoulder to accompany him.

O-o-O

It was rather embarrassing that the mere act of getting a glass of water had become a two person job - or, in this case, a person-and-small-furry-creature-of-unidentified-species job - but Aerrow knew that until he was able to properly use his arm, he would have to put up with it.

"That's enough," he said, and Radarr turned the faucet off.

He almost choked when he tried to drink too quickly, and had to lean hard on the sink to avoid falling over as he coughed.

"It's okay," he croaked, "I'm fine!"

Radarr raised in eyebrow.

"Mostly fine," said Aerrow, and put down the glass with one final splutter. "Just let me try to... breathe."

He punched his chest a couple of times and cleared his throat.

"First it was standing up, now it's just drinking," he said. "Has somebody just put my life on the highest difficulty setting or something?"

His co-pilot shrugged.

"I don't know either," said Aerrow. "You can go back to bed, I'm gonna go outside and get some air."

Shocked, Radarr jumped up onto the Sky Knight's shoulder as he turned away.

"I'll be fine on my own," Aerrow insisted, "I know how to walk. My legs are fine, remember? It's my arm that's the problem. Trust me, I'll be okay."

He put on his sweetest possible smile.

Radarr rolled his eyes. There was just no reasoning with this guy when he was like this, was there? He jumped off Aerrow's shoulder and ran out, probably returning to his room.

Aerrow put the glass in the sink and left the same way, but turned in a different direction once he was out the door.

O-o-O

It was a strange night tonight. Warm enough to not need a jacket but too cold for short sleeves. Aerrow liked these kinds of nights, especially just before the winter chill rolled in.

And especially since said chill would probably wreak havoc on his shoulder.

He pulled the glove off his left hand.

It was so bizarre, looking at this thing. It was a part of his body and yet he hadn't even possessed it a few months ago. It was one of his major limbs and yet he couldn't seem to feel a thing with it.

The more he stared at it, the more he began to feel like he was falling, tumbling into a black void, held by thin unearthly tendril-like hands as images and information poured into his mind, overloading it to far beyond what he believed he could withstand even when he was sure he wouldn't be able to take anymore-

He was shocked back into the waking world by the feeling of his knees colliding with the ground, and tried to catch his breath.

He wasn't at the Gate.

He wasn't seeing Truth again.

He was here, safe and sound on the Condor, with a light breeze blowing through the air.

It was such a peaceful night.

He sat down, leaning against the railing whilst cradling his left arm, and stared hard at the metal hand.

'Come on,' he thought. 'Move. Just a little bit, come on!'

He felt strained from the effort, almost wanted to pass out, but he knew he had to try. If he couldn't at least try to move this thing, what was the point of even getting it?

'Just a finger,' he told himself. 'Just move one finger, that's all I need. Come on, you can do it! One finger, come on! Come on!'

But no matter how much he pushed himself, it didn't seem to work.

He sighed and dropped it.

It was no good.

If he could just move one finger, perhaps this would all feel worth something, but as it was he just felt-

Wait.

Did that just...

Aerrow looked down at his hand.

He had twitched his trigger finger.

Without even thinking about it, he was moving the prosthesis all by himself.

"Yes," he breathed, smiling with surprise and joy. "Yes!"

It was twenty-two minutes past eleven at night.

Six weeks after the departure of Edward Elric.