Leave A Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Digest

He was quiet on the train ride. We all were. I kept my stare on the bag in my lap, never raising my eyes from it. I was so tired, so exhausted. My emotions were like a well in a desert; completely dried up. Used to the last drop.

My eyes hurt, too, the inner lids stinging each time I blinked. I could only wonder how Winry felt, wonder if she was still crying.

I looked up, feeling the muscles between my neck and head protest slightly. Ed had the aisle seat across from me, his stare turned away. One hand by his mouth, the other on the armrest. For the first time, the seat next to him was intentionally empty; Al had made a point to not take his usual spot beside his brother and sit next to me. Across from Ed.

Al was quiet as well, keeping his head down and hands balled in his lap. Not one of us had spoken since Ed had walked away from us on the path to the train station. His words echoed in my head, playing out again for the hundredth time.

"You don't know what you're trying to fix."

Winry's voice came to me next, and her words carved into me once again, striking deeper this time.

"Ask Al! Ask your girlfriend over there! You don't let anyone in."

He'd showed me something, during our nights together... But even then, I knew she was right. There was still so much he was hiding away, and I had barely breached the surface of it all.

Wheels traveled down the aisle. I looked up, watching the food cart slowly roll by. Ed didn't make a motion for it, even going as far as to turn his head downwards, close his eyes from it as the cart passed on by. A direct insult to me.

I clenched my hand, gripping the base of my bag's strap. I wanted to say something.. I felt like I had to... But I didn't know what. Didn't know where to even BEGIN. My heart was pounding, my blood fuming. I saw Ed's brows come closer together, a frustration in his face. Again, silently telling me to back off.

"I can't BELIEVE you're being like this!" I yelled, hearing the train car's background noise drop into silence.

Neither of us paid any attention to the audience around us. Ed turned to me, shouting back and matching my anger.

"How many times do I have to say it?" My name was added, and I forced myself not to break at the mixture of feelings it gave me. Something he'd always spoken so lovingly, now in such anger. He made motions with his hand, subtly chopping downwards as he spoke, punctuating each word. "You. Don't. Know. What. You're. Dealing. With!"

"Then tell me!"

Ed leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee as he looked away, a sound of frustration shooting out from between his teeth.

I don't know WHY he was being like this... Every second he spent in silence was just proving Winry's point even further. Just digging his own grave with a hand shovel...

Al didn't speak, his hands bunching fistfuls of his loincloth. I expected him to at least say something, but he wasn't even making a sound. What had happened between Ed and Winry? What was bad enough for Al to be this removed from everything?

I shook my head, refusing to apologize. Ed should be the one saying sorry. We SHOULD be ready to transfer stations and head back to Resembool so he could apologize to Winry. We shouldn't have even LEFT at all! I groaned as I leaned my head back, glaring at the ceiling. My arms crossed, the foot that supported my other leg stomping down with the heel. I felt Ed's eyes on me, but he turned away, giving me that stupid little tsk sound again. I clenched my hand into a fist, feeling my knuckles pop.

"Bet you wish you had that emotional martial arts training, huh?"

He did NOT just say that. I got to my feet, immediately storming off to find a different seat, preferably in another car. I heard Al call my name, seeming worried. Ed just griped out a reply; another insult I didn't hear. This time, Al responded to him, defending me.

"Oh, not you too!" Ed stood up, and I turned to see him hunched over as he walked towards the opposite side of the train. He didn't even pause for the empty seat at the very end, instead going straight for the next car. The door slid shut, and I was surprised the glass didn't shatter from the force.

I sighed, mostly to try and relieve that horrible weight in my heart as I made my way back over to Al. His legs moved in as I awkwardly walked passed, allowing me more room than necessary as I made my way back to the seat beside him. I sat down, giving another sigh as I tipped my head back.

"Have you seen that food cart anywhere?" I asked Al.

__________

We all got off on the same stop. I almost felt relieved to see him standing there, hands in his pockets, head turned away. The outdoor station's street lamps casting a pale glow to everything, especially Ed's face as he finally turned to us.

I shifted, carrying his suitcase in front of me with both hands. He didn't look up to meet my eyes, instead just turning away again and beginning to walk. Al and I followed, despite the anger beginning to boil my blood again. I clenched my teeth, watching his perfectly confident posture keep more than a few seconds ahead of us. I REALLY wished that stupid mask of his was real...

When we got to the inn, Al took a spot against the corner of the living room, head bowing low in silent protest. Ed was already inside the bedroom, and with tentative footsteps, I made my way in as well.

He didn't speak to me, instead keeping silent as he removed his shoes. His coat was off, discarded onto the bed on the right, the one he was sitting on as well. Good; that would be his until this whole thing cleared up.

I changed as quickly as I could before diving into the sheets, pulling them tightly up to my chin. A clear signal for him to take the other bed because there was no way in hell he was sleeping in this one.

I heard the impact of his body as he landed on the bed next to mine. The echo of the springs died down, and distantly I heard the sound of crickets outside. It just made me think of fireflies... It just made me think of one of the first nights we had spent in a room like this... I closed my eyes, shutting the memory out and the feelings it brought. It would just lead me down a path of forgiving Ed, wrapped up by the delusions of memories, wiping away the last few hours like applying layers of paint over a piece of art. I wasn't about to do it.

The painting would remain hung, waiting on another artist to heed to its misfortune.