Haunting Pains
by. Poisoned Scarlet

Summary: He could feel it starting again – the sudden sharp pains, the sweat breaking out on his forehead, the unbearable thought that this was going to hurt more than the initial severing of his limbs...
Authors Note: Ah, I haven't really read a fiction where Ed suffers from Phantom Pains and I decided to write one just in case. Phantom Limb Pain is a sensory phenomenon that happens to at least 80% percent of amputee's. Its basically reliving the loss of your limbs and/or appendages. The pain can go from mild to severe and the episode can be brief or last hours, so I've heard.

But in this fiction, the Phantom Pains only happen on automail patients, to make it fit with the plot I have in mind.

Enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: Everyone knows that if I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, Brotherhood wouldn't be as awesome as it is.

Damn, where could he have gone? Ed grumbled internally, touching his automail arm as a sharp prick of pain rippled his thoughts. He paid no mind to the sudden numbing sensation, the feeling as if the metallic limb had fallen asleep, for he knew it was just a minor side-effect of automail surgery. It happened from time to time.

What the hell—? He sent a nervous look to his port when the numbing feeling became worse. He flexed his fingers experimentally. They obeyed dutifully, curling into a tight fist.

He heard shifting from in front of him and looked up sharply, flicking his eyes to every object that moved – be it the swaying grass or the young children playing far out in the plains of Resembool.

"Damn it, Al!" Ed scowled, searching left and right for his little brother. He was peeved by the fact that – despite being a giant suit of armor – Alphonse perfectly blended in with the countryside scenery. It wouldn't be the first time Edward overlooked his younger brother as he laid in the fresh beds of flowers and grass. His sharp golden eyes carefully watched the land for any sign of the kind younger sibling, right foot beginning to tap in annoyance. "Alphonse! Where the hell did you run off to this time!?"

He got no response, which only added fuel to his steadily rising irritation.

"Ed, stop screaming like a lunatic!" came an annoyed voice from beside him. Edward didn't even cast a glance at the blond mechanic who he was certain held that wrench he had bought her years ago – when they were in their first digits of their life – in her hands threateningly. "Al's already home! He came back about half an hour ago."

"Ugh." He slid a palm over his face, scowling even heavier at Winry. "Why didn't you say that in the first place? It could've saved me a lot of time."

"You would have known if you didn't go marching out like the bull you are," Winry huffed, crossing her arms. "Anyway, granny says to come back home now – she's making your favourite," she suddenly smiled, eyes twinkling. "Stew!"

This cooled the alchemist's anger. "Really? Great! What the heck are we waiting for then? Let's go!" He grinned as he walked past her, eager to return home for the feast that would await him.

Winry shook her head, smiling softly as she watched her childhood friend wave her over frantically. She made a hand gesture to wait as she fixed the sleeves of her overalls around her waist, tucking the wrench in a spare pocket on her side.

Ed groaned but complied with the blond's request. Come on! Come on! He thought impatiently, his stomach growling loudly. What's taking so—

He could feel it starting again. It was his arm this time – the crawling sensation that began from the very core of his port; an itch he couldn't scratch for the automail prevented it. He rose his left hand to grasp his arm, brows scrunched in worry. He hated when this happened, cursed the gods for their awful timing as sudden pricks began to make themselves known.

His automail fingers trembled lightly against his will and he felt the arm seize up on him even though he logically knew he was fully in control of it and it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. But that did not stop the sweat gathering on the base of his neck, the widening of his eyes as he realized that this was going to hurt more than the initial severance of his limbs.

"D-Damn," he ground his teeth, tightening his grip on the arm that mocked him with swinging pains. "Hurry up Winry!" He needed to get home soon, before the pains became unbearable. He needed to lock himself up in his room, head to the bathroom and slide down a wall and wait for the ghostly pains to make themselves scarce.

He didn't understand why the pain would attack him so early in the evening. They usually woke up him at night, or near dawn – never so early in the day. He also had not experienced these pains in years – the last episode happening nearly 2 years ago, when he was 14. But he remembered vividly how awful the pain was; the sheer agony of knowing no medication would make them stop and no amount of thrashing would ease them.

"Wait up! My wrench is stuck on a freaking button—oh! There we go!" Winry cheerfully managed to stick the wrench in her pocket with no further delays. She quickly walked over to Ed, giving him a worried once-over when she noticed his labored breathing. "Are you alright, Ed?"

"Yeah, it's just hot," he responded, turning away from her and walking ahead. Winry had to nearly jog to keep up with his pace.

"Wait up, Ed!" Winry frowned. "What's the hurry?"

"I gotta' go to the bathroom," he half-lied, knowing he did need to go to the bathroom but not for the reasons he made her believe.

"Can't you hold it?" she asked, lightly amused.

"Nope," was his short reply.

Ed grit his teeth against the stabs that thrust into his arm. This isn't good, he thought anxiously, they're getting worse. He was thankful that his leg wasn't the one acting up or he wouldn't know how to hide it from Winry's keen eyes. He had no doubt many of her patients suffered from the same sensory phenomenon. He had seen them with his own eyes, some in sheer agony – thrashing, writhing, crying – and some only complaining about mild aches.

He was one of the unlucky ones. The trauma he had experienced in his younger days never allowed him to forget. The first time he had experienced the pains, he had been scared out of his wits. He nearly ran downstairs to tell granny when they stopped abruptly. It continued like this for days and he later discovered that this was actually normal for people who had lost their limbs and resorted to automail surgery.

The prickles worsened, the numbing sensation no longer offering any consolation, and Ed was relieved to see the Rockbell house just ahead.

He picked up his pace, ignoring Winry's shouts of indignation when he left her behind and he broke into a run. His flesh fingers dug deeply into the tender tissues around his ports, teeth grinding violently against each other as another twist of pain made itself known.

"ED! WAIT UP!"

"No can do!" Ed shouted over his shoulder. "I really gotta' go!" He didn't bother to hear her retort but he was sure it wasn't pretty, as he took the porch steps by two and yanked the door open. He marched into the house purposefully, rushing up the stairs and barely managing to respond to Al's quizzical greeting. He turned down the right hall and once he reached his temporary room, locked himself inside and shakily made his way to the bathroom.

He faintly heard the telltale sounds of footfalls coming closer and closer and Ed shut his panicked eyes, desperately hoping whoever it was would either pass his room or leave him alone quickly.

"Brother?" It was Alphonse. No! Shit, not him! Damn it!

"Yeah, Al?" Ed tried to keep his voice composed, casual, as his brother proceeded to ask him what was wrong. "Nothing! I just really gotta' go to the bathroom! I think something made me sick yesterday!" he yelled, hoping that his brother wouldn't try to open the door. Then he'd surely know something was wrong, as it was locked.

"I told you not to stuff yourself with all that pie!" came Al's scolding voice.

"Yeah, I guess I should've listened to you!" Ed laughed nervously, flinching when his metal fingers trembled even more, all five digits stretching out to their full capacity.

"Are you that sick, brother? Do you need granny to check you up?"

"No! Just a mild stomach ache," he responded, hoping he would buy it.

"Well, alright," Al said, voice noticeably less anxious. "I think theres some medicine in the cabinet, so drink that! And hurry up, too, dinners almost ready!"

"H-How long til dinner starts?" Ed dared himself to ask, wincing at the crack in his voice.

"About half an hour, why?"

"No reason!" Ed replied quickly. He cursed himself for answering so fast. He held deep pride for his younger brothers perception and he had no doubt that if he didn't shut up soon Alphonse would catch on and discover the horrifying pains his older brother suffered.

Edward refused to let anyone – much less his younger brother – know of the agony he experienced because of his decision to get automail.

He heard the hesitant steps of his brother as he retreated from the door and headed back downstairs. Soon, all Ed could hear was the whistling draft from the open window in his room and he allowed himself a few moments of weakness.

He dropped down on his knees, clutching his port for dear life as the pains worsened. He could feel beads of sweat drip down the side of his face, he could feel tears begin to accumulate in his eyes when a particularly vicious ripple tore through his body. He could remember with vivid clarity that day all those years ago, as he stared into the reflective tiles of the floor only to see the monster he had created through the science of alchemy.

Ed rose a shaky hand to his eyes, pressing the tips of his fingers into his sockets when he recalled the horrendous sight of his supposed mother. He was aware that it was not his mother, rather merely an artificial, empty and dysfunctional, human vessel, but the emotional turmoil he had harbored for so many years refused to thaw against his logic.

Ed could see it as if he were watching it all over again. Hot tears trailed down his face. The creature – the person he had created, the unfortunate being he had made with his own bare hands – breathed life for the first time and reached a sickly, blackened, hand out for him. The odor was terrible and poignant; a mixture of decay and death. The bony fingers reached for him, a cloud of breath was exhaled, and Ed shut his eyes tightly against the sorrowful confusion he saw so clearly in its pin-prick eyes when he had stepped back and screamed.

He barreled into the bathroom door, tremulously throwing it open before staggering blindly into the empty expanse of his room. He dropped to his knees again, a strangled cry escaping his throat. Out of pure instinct, he looked down at his open palm, expecting to see a torrent of blood rain down on it, but only saw a regular clammy hand. He didn't know if the realization that he was imagining this or the fact that his past would never let him forget was the cause of the hiccups as he began to cry.

He hated crying. He hated the weakness, the vulnerability of it all, but he couldn't force down the sobs that threatened to grow louder if he didn't watch himself. His arm still seared and burned, stabbed and twisted, just like that day all those years ago. He still felt as if he was losing his precious limb all over again but he supposed the pain in his chest was more pressing than the sensory pain in his limb.

He was a fool. He was a humongous, gigantic, fool. He was an idiot. A dumbass. The very epitome of stupidity. He was a fool incarnate; every word you could come up with that held a negative connotation.

It's all my fault, he thought morosely. I shouldn't have ever suggested human transmutation. I should have heeded the warnings. I shouldn't have tried it. I should have just accepted her death. I should have... but I-I... I never did. He closed his glassy eyes, ground his teeth as he cupped the upper part of his arm, almost feeling the hot blood gush out and trickle down his back. I was too stubborn. I couldn't let go. Why couldn't I let go? Winry let go. She accepted, she's better than me, why couldn't I just move on?!

Because you had options, a snarky voice replied. Winry didn't. She didn't know alchemy, she was innocent. She accepted. You couldn't. You thought you could surpass everyone else. You were naïve – you thought you could do anything once you knew there was a way to bring her back, however taboo it might've been.

You tried to attain the unattainable and you know you deserve this.

These thoughts shred him apart on the inside. He wasn't even aware of his sharp, pained, whimpers until the loud knock on his door alerted him that his time was up – his mourning had to be put to a close; he had to stop this foolishness and face the world head on once more; he could never atone for his sins, he just had to cope and move forward.

"Ed? Ed, are you okay? Ed?!" Winry. It was Winry. Not Alphonse. He could handle her. But Alphonse? No. He didn't think he could see his brothers substitute body, the elegant vintage armor that served as a vessel for his little brothers soul. The very thing that never ceased to mock him. That was his fault, too, and he sucked in a sharp breath when he realized that he was definitely not through mourning his tragic mistakes.

He shuddered in a breath, trying to compose himself enough to talk. Suddenly, to his utter shock, the door was thrown open, and his wide gold eyes rested on the key Winry held in her hand.

Winry stared at him with wide, surprised, eyes. She took in the wet trails of tears that streaked his face, the fact that he was holding his port as if his life depended on it. The worst part was the utter despair the alchemist carried in his usually arrogant topaz eyes.

"Shut the door!" he shouted hoarsely. "Shut the fucking door, Winry!"

She did. She quickly shut it behind her and locked it for good measure. She looked at him with concerned eyes, taking a step forward to his huddled body.

"Ugh! Fuck!" He heaved forward, dug his blunt nails into the wood floor of the bedroom as his arm reminded him of his own careless mistake in the form of wretched twists and pulls.

"Ed!" Winry hurried to him and kneeled down, placing a hand on his back as Ed quieted altogether. He didn't utter a single sound and this only made the mechanic more anxious. "What's wrong? Is it your arm? Is something wrong with it? Please, Ed, say something!" The sheer thought that her own precious creation was causing him pain was almost too much for her to bear.

"I-It's nothing," he forced. "It'll pass soon... I haven't gotten pains like this in a long time. I don't know—" he flinched "—what brought this on but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Pains...?" Winry wracked her brain for an answer. He had had excruciating pains like these before? But—her eyes slowly widened in realization and she stood up, worrying her bottom lip when she saw him stifle a grunt.

"I'll... I'll be right back, Ed! I think I know what's wrong with you!"

"No!" She faltered in step, turning to look at his guarded expression. "Don't... don't go." There was a desperation in his eyes she couldn't quite place. "Don't... just-just don't tell Al." He swallowed, jaw clenched. "Wait, just... please, don't go."

Winry hesitated, hurriedly weighing her options. She could stay with Ed until his pains subsided or she could quickly run downstairs, grab some painkillers, and most likely end his agony altogether. She chose the latter and apologized quietly as she ran downstairs, his slightly betrayed eyes burned into her memory.

"Winry, is brother still sick?" Al's looming body cornered her at the bottom of the stairs, and Winry cursed her luck.

"Uh, yeah," she wracked her brain for excuses. "He asked me to go get him some medicine since there was none in the bathroom."

"Really?" Alphonse frowned. "I could've sworn that I saw a bottle of stomach medicine in the cabinet..."

"Oh! Well, there was!" At Al's curious look, Winry cursed her mouth but continued. "It was just—empty! Yeah, there was no more!" She rubbed her own stomach, smiling nervously. "I have a weak stomach, you know."

"Oh, well. Hmm, I suppose I should go check on brother," Al sighed, overlooking the expression of panic that fleeted the mechanics face, "before he decides to cure himself and—"

"No!" Winry cleared her throat, forcing herself to calm down. But the clock was relentless – the second hand continued to tick, showing her that the more time she spent dawdling with Alphonse, the more pain Edward would most likely be in. "He told me to tell you to pick up a book? Um, I'm not sure of—"

"Oh! A new travel log, you mean? Right?" Alphonse supplied, saving herself from the petty excuse she was about to say.

She snapped her fingers in false-remembrance. "Yeah! That was it! A new travel log! Ed told me that you should go busy yourself with buying him a new travel log!" Ed has a travel long? Winry asked herself, making a mental note to ask Ed about his current travel log.

"Oh, well, why didn't he just say that before?" Slight annoyance slipped into his tone, but Alphonse still managed to sound jovial. "I just have to go upstairs to get brothers wallet and—"

"Uh, here!" Winry dug into her overall pockets and slipped out a few crumpled bills. It was what little allowance her grandmother gave her each month but she supposed that for Ed, she wouldn't mind. "He already gave me the money!"

Al giggled. "That brother of mine! He's always one step ahead of me! Well, tell him to get better soon, okay, Win? I'll try to be back before dinner starts!"

"Oh, you take your time," Winry smiled wryly. "Now, hurry up. I have to go get him that medicine before he starts screaming like a maniac," she forced on a cheery smile, waving as Al stepped out the front door. The instant he was out of sight, she sprinted towards the workshop located in the basement and shakily rushed through the bottles of medication that stood neatly behind glass doors situated on the walls. Once she grabbed the correct bottle, she rushed back upstairs.

"Ed, here!" She swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw that Ed had repositioned himself against the wall, underneath the wide-open window, sitting very still. She walked inside the bathroom and filled up a cup of water. "Drink this. It should help relieve the pain soon, okay? Come on, Ed, open your mouth and drink it!"

"I'm fine," Ed gruffed, pushing the cup away from his lips. His eyes had become a scary, burnished, shade of gold, making her stomach clench with trepidation. "Just go. It doesn't hurt anymore." However, the reflexive clench of his fist gave him away.

"No, drink it, Ed!" Winry persisted. She pushed the pill into his mouth, nearly getting her finger bit off in the process. She shoved the water down his throat and frowned when some of it spilt down his shirt. "I'll get you a dry shirt right now." She gave him one last soothing pat on his shoulder and walked over to his worn suitcase to retrieve the clothe. She grabbed one of his black tank tops, seeing as he had worn all of his long-sleeved shirts already.

She knelt in front of Ed and placed the shirt neatly beside him, instead grabbing her pink headband and using it as a napkin to wipe away the droplets of moisture that had clung to his cheeks and neck. He swatted the offending fabric away, sending her a dark look.

"Did you tell him?" he asked lowly.

For a moment, Winry was confused, but eventually she shook her head. "No... Alphonse isn't home right now. I told him you needed a new travel log and gave him some of my money to prevent him from coming upstairs... he'll be back soon, so we have to fix you up quickly, neh?" She smiled slightly, her knuckles bleach against her skin as she gripped the sleeves of her overalls. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, the pain went away," he replied, voice husky. "Thanks, Winry. For not telling him."

"Oh, yeah, no problem," Winry mumbled back, concerned when he tried to stand up. He wasn't holding his automail anymore and the metallic fingers went back to their normal, lax, state as he got to his feet. She was surprised to see he did not tremble as he stood straight and was even more surprised when he stretched his arms out above him and yawned, as if he had not just gone through excruciating pain. Tears were still slightly crusted on his cheeks but he scrubbed those off with her headband, tossing it back to her once he was done.

Winry stared at the wrinkled garment but shook her head and stuffed it back in her back pocket. A hand shot out in front of her and Winry looked up to see Ed looking back, looking grateful in a serious sort-of-way.

She let him pull her up.

"Uh, about those pills," Ed started uncertainly, glancing at the forgotten bottle of pills on the floor, "are they regular painkillers or prescription ones?" He asked lamely, not sure how to ask if he could have some since he feared another relapse. Usually when his arm hurt, his leg would hurt subsequently.

"They're for treating strong pains, usually used to treat adults after automail installation," Winry revealed, bending down to pick up the bottle. "I figured that since you were suffering from Phantom Limb Pain, these pills would ease the pain and, if you continue having more episodes, should completely relieve it in time." She held the bottle out to him, watching him eye it suspiciously. "You only need to drink one – these things are seriously strong, so don't go on trying to be a tough-guy and overdosing yourself!"

"Nah," Ed shook his head, pushing her hand back with his own. He didn't let go. "I don't think I'll need it anymore. I haven't had relapses like these since—" he abruptly stopped, eyes widening when Winry's mouth fell open in disbelief at what he never managed to say.

"You—You've had episodes before?" she whispered. "Ed, why didn't you say anything?! We could have given you medication! You didn't have to suffer—"

"That's not it," Ed cut her off, looking away when she stopped and gazed expectantly at him. "Look, I'm hungry, alright? Can we just go downstairs and forget this ever happened?"

"No," she murmured, "because it did happen and I'm not about to let you walk out that door until you accept these pills!" She shoved the bottle into his hand, forcing his flesh fingers around the middle. Soon her hand engulfed his in soft comfort. "Ed, you don't have to act so strong all the time. You're allowed to ask for help, you know... me and granny would never judge you. You proved yourself to us a long time ago," she kept her gaze courageously fixed on him, despite the pink that threatened to rise on her cheeks when he only stared back, eyes as deflective and guarded as always.

He lowered his head a bit, drawing his choppy bangs over his eyes. "I.... thank you." She saw him swallow, uncomfortably look down at his feet, and Winry knew Ed simply didn't know how to convey his thanks properly, so she decided to help him out.

She held out her arms. He stared at her weirdly.

"What?"

"Come here," she said, then proceeded to blush furiously at how suggestive the words sounded. "I-I mean hug me." That sounded even worse.

Ed merely stared at her. "Why?"

Winry had a feeling this would go from comfortably calm to ugly very, very fast if Ed didn't shut up and just listen. "Just do it!" she barked.

"No way, why?" Ed took a step back, making her puff her cheeks out.

"Ugh, Ed!" Winry dropped her arms and set them on her hips. "I always hug you first and you owe me for the pills and saving you from Al! So?" She crossed her arms and rose an expectant brow, lips curling downward when Ed only shifted his eyes away from her and absently picked at his automail arm. "Forget it!" She sighed, exasperated, and turned to leave. "Come on downstairs – the stews been ready for a while now and granny's probably mad that we're so late for din—"

She couldn't believe it.

She felt arms envelop her, felt his slightly quickened breath brush against the shell of her ear, and was surprised at how tightly he held her. She couldn't see his face but if she knew anything about Ed – which she did, a lot of things actually – she knew that his face probably matched hers in color. That color being a bright shade of scarlet.

He didn't say anything but when he did it was definitely not what she had been expecting. "...since do the rooms have keys?"

Winry blinked. "H-huh?"

"Keys," Ed repeated. "Since when do the rooms have keys? I don't remember you having keys for the locks."

"Oh, well, granny thought it would be better if we changed the locks with ones that had keys since it would be safer."

"Safer how exactly?"

"W-well... if something happened then we would be able to enter the rooms and not break down the door," she laughed uncomfortably, grimly remembering how a little girl belonging to a patient of hers locked herself up in one of the spare rooms and refused to come out, eventually confessing to them that she couldn't because she didn't know how to work the lock.

"I'm not even going to ask," Ed murmured dryly, confident that this change most likely had a ridiculous story behind it.

She rolled her eyes and rose a hand, tentatively touching the arm slung around her midsection. He visibly stiffened when she wrapped her hand around it, giving it a little squeeze.

"U-Uh..."

"Brother!" He could hear Al's heavy footsteps clunk up the stairs. "Brother, are you better now? Granny says that if you don't get your butt downstairs, she's gonna' drag you down by the ears!" He was close by and Ed couldn't bring himself to remove his arms from Winry.

Apparently, she couldn't either.

But eventually he shook himself from his stupor and pushed Winry away like he had been caught with his hand in his fathers bookcase. She looked over her shoulder and blinked curiously – almost cutely he'd dare to think – before giggling, making the red staining his cheeks only brighter.

"The hell are you laughing at?" he hissed, taking a few more steps away. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she giggled until it morphed into a full-out laugh. "I just noticed—you're—it's cute when you get embarrassed."

This only made him flush harder, which in turn made Winry laugh harder.

"Brother?" Al tilted his head curiously at his brother and childhood friend. She was laughing heartily while his brother only seethed, sending her dark looks. He noticed the red that only increased with his staring on his brothers cheeks and deduced happily that something big had happened and perhaps this would be enough to knock some sense into his dense older brother's head. "Did I miss something important?"

"No, Al," Winry shook her head, a giggle escaping her. "Nothing at all. Tell granny we'll be downstairs in a bit, okay? Ed's still feeling a bit sick."

"Oh, right, here!" Alphonse dug into the bag he had been carrying and pulled out a small, leather-bound, book. "I chose red because thats your favourite color."

Ed reached for the book and smiled softly at his brothers thoughtful actions. "Oh... thanks, Al."

"Right! I have to go help granny serve dinner! Get better soon, okay, brother?" Al skipped out the door, but not without sending an overly-happy beam at his suspicious older brother.

"What's got him so chipper?" Ed asked sourly, stuffing the travel log into his back pocket.

"So, travel log, huh?" Winry squinted at him. "How come I've never heard about it before?"

"It's not a travel log," Ed grumbled, "it's just a book I use to write down important notes or events that happen during our journey."

"Like?"

"Like none-of-your-business," Ed shot back, smirking at her slightly-offended look. "Oh, look, I just noticed," his smirk widened at the pink shade of her cheeks, the fire kindling in her azure eyes, brightening them considerably, "you look cute when you're angry." He sent her a cheeky grin, casually walking out of the room as she gaped at his retreating backside.

"You—that's—ED!" She growled, fisting her hands on either side of her. "Get back here you stupid alchemy freak!!" And then she proceeded to whip out her trusty wrench and chase after Ed, who only howled in laughter and then terror when he caught sight of the tool.