Leave A Scar

The rain was already streaming against solid glass, when we pulled up to Exlomir, a small town in the north.

I watched those drops fall, slip from my view as they all found their way, sliding against the window pane. The train had ceased to follow in the rain's progress, continuing to stand at a stalemate with the tracks.

I thought about this, how trains were like games and tracks their opponent. Thoughts Ed would enjoy hearing, I was sure.

But the alchemist had already stood, and when he called my name, I rose, following the two brothers out.

We were walking without an umbrella when Ed spoke.

"Doesn't this remind you of something, Al?" There was a pause, between his statement and his brother's name. Sometime thought he was leaving out, like it could be heard within the raindrops falling between all of us. The splash his boot made as it lightly kicked a puddle before stepping onto the cobblestone street again.

Al looked up, rain steaming down his helmet. I wondered if it was rusting; if he'd had problems with that before. If the rune that kept his soul intact was still dry.

Al finally spoke, quiet voice echoing out with patters of rain against tin-like metal.

"Yeah," he said. "I wonder how they're doing."

I didn't ask what they were talking about, continuing to look over to the other side of the street, where the alleys were darkest and the shadows were cut with the body of a dog trotting into view. Fur ratted and muzzle in a mess. It didn't pay any attention to me, snout nuzzling against a pile consisting of a banana peel and a carton of milk.

I turned back to Ed, seeing his gaze up at the sky again. Feet continuing to move, like they knew this path all too well. I'm sure they did, but I didn't let myself think on things that didn't concern me. I should've stopped myself from moving, too, should've stopped my hand from rising enough for my palm to curl against his upper arm. Feel the warmth of his skin and the firmness that wasn't metal. I hated myself for touching him like that; like I actually deserved to be in contact with something that wasn't hard and cold and inhumane.

I didn't let myself think on that, either. I spoke, voice quiet against the rain pelting my head. Reminding me of the train station when we had all bumped into each other.

"There's a hotel close by, right?"

There was nothing but selfishness in that statement. I was pleading for an escape from them, a fortitude for myself and a hideaway for the broken pieces I needed to repair. Today had been too long, too many thoughts slipping and shards staking into the floor of my mind.

He turned, just enough to let me see those large golden eyes. Perfectly calm, expressing no worry or anger or whatever emotion I had expected them to give. Whatever it was, I was foolish for thinking I could even see it. That I was worthy enough to even witness anything so above me.

"Yeah," he told me, something about the softness and care in his voice snapping a inner wall. I felt my fingertips tremble against his arm, and immediately he looked down to my hand. He stopped walking, and I stopped as well. Hand still there, as he kept talking.

"You cold? There's another jacket--"

"No, Ed," I dismissed his offer, but my hand wouldn't move, even when he was turned around to face me and reaching for his suitcase. He stayed bent down a little bit, one brow raised in quiet interest. Stare meeting mine, patiently listening as I continued on, bright as always.

"I'm fine! We'll be at the inn soon, anyway, so don't worry about it."

I held up my other hand, still unable to move the one I had reached out. What was happening? Even his metal one was closest to me now, still separated from my sick skin with a red coat sleeve. What was happening?

He didn't appear to notice how incredibly freakish I was, instead straightening and continuing to stare. Rain pouring down on both of us, slipping drops off his bangs and drooping the hook his hair made until it fell in between both eyes. Gold that was still patiently, carefully studying the darkness of mine.

He balanced the suitcase on one raised knee, quickly popping it open with both hands. Making it so his shoulder moved, touching my fingertips all on its own. The firmness was just as I expected, sending a bolt that surprised me. I wanted a wall to build, after feeling that. But it seemed like one was cracking again.

"A few minutes is enough to catch a cold, which is something I'm not letting happen," he said, one hand flapping out a jacket as the other held onto the back corner of the suitcase, balancing it. He put the coat in between us, holding it so the color draped outwards and blocked the sight of his face.

He didn't say anything more; I expected some kind of statement that just reaffirmed how he'd been giving it to me and wouldn't take no for an answer. But he said nothing, and I guess silently standing on one foot like that was protest enough.

I stifled a sigh against my mouth, taking the coat from him and swinging it over my shoulders. I heard his leg creak, as he put it back onto the ground again, suitcase buckles clicking into place.

My name came from his lips, and part of me expected to see rain flecking out from the word. Adding more sorrow to everything.

"You still haven't learned to put on a coat."

I grew alarmed, enough to raise my hair up, hand clutching at meeting of the two coat ends. He smiled a little, head bowing down and to the side as his shoulders grew a little weighted. Al came up behind me, smiling as he held his hands near my shoulders.

"I got it!"

I wanted to tell him he didn't have to; that it was embarrassing enough having Ed say something like that. But I couldn't not let myself feel such mortification, so I grinned, kept grinning as I let Al's fingers tug the coat away and let both arms slide through the sleeves. A mother dressing her child; an infant they were being forced to clean the drool of with every step they took.

Why was I here?

Ed reached out, adjusting the front of the coat near my stomach, hooking the hem away from the front and folding it back into the proper place. Letting it swing a little as he glanced up, giving me that soft smile.

"You should be using this for yourself," I said. "You're soaked."

"I keep another coat in here," he said, suitcase rising in gesture. "For moments like these, in case your wondering." For a split second, I thought I saw his face grow warm. But I digressed my thoughts; knowing it was impossible to have that happen. Not in this weather. Not with him.

His hand slipped away from the coat, trailing the ends upwards as if it was a rope connecting us. He finished stepping, turning away, voice following him as Al and I continued after.

"C'mon. I'm sure the hotel's pretty toasty by now."

I thought about empty rooms and the ghost of photographs lining long hallways.

I thought... and one sentence continued to resound in my head.

What was still keeping me here?

Why couldn't I just go, just leave, and let the rain sweep me up. Drain me to the gutter, where I belonged.

What was still keeping me there?

I was staring at a page when Ed broke my progress. I looked up from a sentence I had long-sinced memorized.

He called me, and like the dog I was, I followed.

We stood for a moment, long enough for Ed to pop an umbrella out above us. Rain ricocheted off the surface, splattering onto the concrete surrounding us in dozens of tiny raindrops. Man-made.

"Unless you'd like to wear the coat again," he grinned, and I couldn't help but smile with my head turned away.

We walked for a few minutes, Ed unusually quiet. I glanced to him, keeping my hands in front of myself, bowed a little lower than usual. He just seemed to be mindfully studying everything passing by, everything that wasn't near me. Opposite of me, actually; those golden eyes searching tops of buildings and sun visors.

I thought back to when he was blind, how one of them had dumped rain onto his already wet self. We didn't have an umbrella back then, but even if we did, he probably would've tried to hold it like he was now. Even without his sight.

I tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach, small buŧŧerflies dusting the upper ceiling of my stomach. I silently shook the thoughts away, attention coming back as his head bowed gently, a sigh drifting from him.

"I was just thinkin' about the time I went blind," he said, and then I noticed something that looked like humor in his eyes. "Sounds so weird to say..."

I nodded in the quickest way I knew how, turning to watch the pavement by overtaken by my own feet. I didn't speak for a while, not knowing exactly what to say.

"What do you think that was?" I asked, turning back to him. Separating my hands and moving them to the back of my being.

"Not sure," he replied, shrugging one shoulder. The one closest to me. I could only think of another memory; when we had gone back to Central, after speaking with Mustang about the bomber. I had been holding onto Ed's arm, watching his face look to mine with such an innocent worry. He'd shrugged the arm I had been holding; the same bobbing motion he had just done.

I shrank away from examining anything.

He sighed once more, the sound lighter. Not as heavy as before; allowing me to peek a stare to him, watch his posture rise, stare ahead of us as he continued on.

"Sometimes I think it's maybe just some sort of fluke; something like you were saying before, like chemical imbalances or some elemental compound we haven't discovered yet." He shook his head, eyes closing to the concrete below. "Maybe it's the metal in my body; maybe it's something to do with that..."

"And sometimes..."

His words ended there, voice drifting into the silence the rain filled with constant streams and splatters against solid ground. I didn't know how to fill the silence between us, didn't know how to create that stream of words.

But whatever I would say, it would all just end up hitting solid ground. Dispersing upon impact.

I glanced to him again, simply watching as he gave a simple shake of the head, eyes closing from me again. Dismissing whatever he was going to say.

The rain kept landing.