Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Training Edward Elric ❯ Reluctance ( Chapter 10 )

 

Training Edward Elric

 

Chapter Ten

 

Reluctance

 

“Eventually, though, many applications of the defense mechanisms lose their purely defensive function. The mechanisms that began as reflexes can come to change personality.”

 

— Bienenfeild, D. (2006). Ego Psychology. Psychodynamic Theory for Clinicians. P. 55.

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Eddie's first weekly medical inspection is today.

 

It's difficult to believe we've been at this facility, in this room, for a week. While Eddie's behavior has mellowed some since we began, he seems to go back and forth in his attitude; like a kitten dipping its paw in the water to find out if it's really a threat or not. One moment, he's almost as docile and pliable as he needs to be to move on from this disgusting and harsh phase of the training, but then he backtracks so quickly that it's hard to believe there had been any change at all.

 

He mutters to himself at times. I can catch bits and pieces here and there, and it sounds as if he's trying to reason out why he should give in. I suppose I don't blame him. Human beings are prideful and self-absorbed creatures. We live for ourselves initially, and only when our needs are fully met do we begin to care about the well being of others.

 

Edward, no... Eddie... Eddie was, and still is, a very strong willed person. He is selfless to a point—perhaps more selfless than many others—but I believe this is a learned trait. From what I've learned over the years, before the fateful transmutation, he was not so selfless; children rarely are. However, in his selfishness, he ignored the warnings of others, ignored the fear and apprehension of his brother, and went ahead with what he wanted. Perhaps it's the knowledge of how selfish he was that created the selfless young man I came to know over the years.

 

Perhaps...

 

But this is all speculation; something that I have no way of proving, so it will always remain a theory; though, it suits my purposes as I watch Eddie—as I observe him. It would make sense that his conscious, selfless self is fighting his more base and selfish instinct.

 

He wishes to become a C-5 to help Alphonse, but at the moment finds himself not caring as much about his brother as his situation, and wanting to defend his own pride; his need to remain Edward Elric, his need not to lose himself. Perhaps he is aware that the further he gets into this training, the less he'll think about his brother at all.

 

It is a sad thing, but something that must be. Later, when he achieves his goal—I hesitate to say `if' he achieves his goal because I believe he will make it—there will be time for Alphonse. I'll make sure Eddie uses his status to help his brother. To not do so would be such a cruel thing; and the one who would suffer most would be Alphonse. But for now Eddie must let go; he must forget. He must focus on the now; must throw away everything to gain it all.

 

Truthfully, I'm tired of all this psychological bullshit. I'm an alchemist. This isn't my prime area of study, nor is it my primary area of interest. Yet, I have to understand. That's why they put us through C-3 training. We had to understand what was happening with our trainee. We had to know how to evaluate their personalities, see the changes, know where to push, and what was too much.

 

I've used a lot of that training in my every day life as I climbed the ranks in the military. I was able to evaluate the situation and use that information to manipulate those around me to get what I wanted. With the concepts I learned, I knew when to push and when to act meek. It's suited me well.

 

But this... this doesn't suit me. Breaking people down and rebuilding them...

 

I look at Eddie, lying in his cage, staring silently up, and I wonder what's on his mind. I wonder what he's thinking about. It isn't hard to imagine he's thinking about escape or about how he hates me; or even, perhaps, how he's not going to give into all of this. I wish I knew. I want to move on. I want this part of the training to be over. I want him to give in, but I can't force it. I can only guide him. Too much force and it won't work. Too much force will destroy the fragile bond we have. That bond must grow and strengthen for this to work.

 

I'm not even sure how I got on this tangent. I suppose I have far too much time on my hands as I wait for him to think it all through.

 

As I said at the beginning of this entry, today is Eddie's first medical inspection. This means I should probably clean him... He's only had one shower since he's been here, though this is mostly my fault. I am apprehensive about being naked with him again. While this is merely a platonic thing, it seems to foretell of later parts in this training that are... well... I'll deal with that when the time comes.

 

But still, it makes me uncomfortable. I've been naked around other men before, but not showering with them. Not touching them and... well, that's just not something I'm accustomed to. Though I have a feeling Eddie isn't either, so perhaps we're even.

 

I think this long and rambling entry is attributed to me stalling what must be done. Right now everything is calm and quiet, and I don't want to disrupt that. But it's something I must do, so I guess I'll put this journal aside and play my part.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Ed caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head. Beyond the bars of the cage, Mustang was setting a book—the one he seemed to always be writing in—on one of the nightstands, then turned to start over toward the cage. Ed simply watched, nothing more. In what seemed a long time ago, he might have sat up and tried to cover himself for a shred of dignity, but he'd been naked too long to care if Mustang saw him or not.

 

“Good morning, Eddie,” Mustang said quietly. Ed knew he was waiting for an answer, but he felt too groggy and tired to give one. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be giving Mustang his attention, Ed's mind was still half stuck in his previous thoughts—trying to figure out how he could get out of this mess without giving in; without losing himself. They were idle thoughts, ones Ed didn't exactly expect to become reality; yet ones he hoped could be real. They gave him a good mental escape, if nothing else.

 

His eyes wandered over Mustang, then settled on his face. The man looked tired, but Ed couldn't imagine how that could be so. It seemed to Ed that Mustang got plenty of sleep and should be well rested. Instead, dark circles hung low under his eyes and deep lines seemed to be chiseled into his skin.

 

“Good morning, Eddie,” Mustang said.

 

Several sarcastic remarks popped to mind, and while they were all on the tip of his tongue, Ed simply grunted and looked away. He felt so confused. It was hard to know what he wanted anymore; hard to know why he was doing any of this. It was all there—the reasons he'd come here, Alphonse, being a C-5; yet, everything seemed so blurred from being in this room—this cage—of being stripped of his dignity and self-being, and of being deprived of the most basic needs like food and sleep...

 

There was silence and Ed knew that Mustang was waiting for him to respond, and he felt a mental tug to say something. Finally he looked back and muttered, “Yeah, you too.”

 

Mustang gave a pleased smile, though why he might possibly be pleased with such a lame answer, Ed didn't know. Still, he was pleased, and so Ed felt his mood lift a little. Mustang being pleased meant that Ed might possibly get something... No. No, Ed didn't want to start thinking that way... He wasn't happy because he'd made Mustang pleased, he wasn't! He was just glad he wouldn't have to deal with any shit. That was all. That was the only reason.

 

“After breakfast, you have a medical inspection, so we're going to shower before the food comes.”

 

Before your food comes... Ed thought jealously, then it hit him what Mustang had said. “We?” he asked dumbly, thinking of the vague memories he had of showering with the man days ago.

 

“That's right, `we'. We both could use a shower.” While that was true, Ed had no desire to shower with Mustang again. At least last time he'd barely been conscious of what was happening.

 

`Fuck that. I'm not showering with you,' was on the tip of Ed's tongue. Maybe if he made Mustang mad, then he wouldn't have to shower. But then... Ed studied the man's face. He'd said something about a medical inspection. That might mean that Ed would get a shower no matter what, but that something really unpleasant might happen first...

 

Clenching his jaw, Ed thought about his options. Misbehave and be forced—with negative consequences—into doing it anyway; or cooperate to make it easier. The first at least allowed him to retain a bit of his pride, to show that he wasn't going to do what Mustang wanted...

 

Finally, he looked away and muttered, “Fine. Whatever.”

 

He could hear Mustang shift his weight, then, “Alright. Recite the litany and we'll get this day going.” His voice held a bit of reluctance in it, but Ed couldn't understand why. Glancing at him through the bars, Ed wondered if Mustang might be just as displeased with the showering arrangements as he was.

 

It was a new thought, something that he hadn't considered before. How much of this was what Mustang wanted to do, and how much of it was a strict part of the training? That brought to mind the worry of being passed on to a different trainer. Ed swallowed hard, then sat up. Being passed on to someone else was definitely not an attractive option for Ed. Even though he didn't know if it could happen, just the thought of it...

 

“When my master is happy...” Ed began. After saying the litany six to eight times a day, it was at the forefront of his mind. He could say it by heart without even thinking about what he was saying. Yet, even if he didn't think about it while he was saying the words, he did think on it at other times. It would just pop up in his mind and he'd find himself thinking the words repeatedly until he realized what he was doing and force himself to think of something else.

 

When he was finished, Mustang nodded and unlocked the door. He stood there and watched as Ed grabbed onto one of the bars and pulled himself up on his one leg. It was moments like these that Ed truly appreciated his automail. But then, wasn't that how it was? You didn't appreciate something until it was gone?

 

He glanced over at Mustang and took in the considering look on his face, then the man stepped aside and said, “You go first. I'll be right behind you.”

 

Ed blinked. He'd just assumed Mustang was going to help him like he had before. At the realization that he wasn't, Ed felt resentful and, strangely enough, hurt too. He tried to push that feeling away. Why should he feel hurt if the son-of-a-bitch didn't want to help him? But try as he might, the feeling wouldn't go away. He paused, waiting for just a moment more to see if Mustang would change his mind, then began hopping out of the cage and toward the bathroom.

 

When he was younger, at the time that he'd first been fitted with the automail, Ed had needed to regain a new sense of balance. He'd needed to reset his internal balance system to fit with the uneven weight on his limbs. Now, even with the limbs gone, his body was continuing to overcompensate for a weight that wasn't there. It wasn't something he'd really had to deal with much because even when the automail had been destroyed or had been taken off to get repaired, there was usually someone there to help him around.

 

It was the little things that were taken for granted, Ed thought bitterly as he struggled to stay standing and ultimately fell to the floor. He felt the jarring pain in his knee when it impacted with the cold, metal surface. He felt the pain up his leg and into his side. Gritting his teeth, Ed kept the instinctive cry of pain inside and tried to figure out how to get up without anything beside him. At least when he'd had to stay standing all night, he'd had the crutch... Now, he had nothing.

 

Glancing back, Ed looked at Mustang and saw that the man was just standing there; watching him. He instantly wondered why Mustang wasn't helping him. What had he done wrong? Unbidden, his mind rehashed the morning's events. He hadn't done anything wrong... He hadn't been rude... Well, not really... Okay, so he hadn't exactly been pleasant... Was that why Mustang wasn't helping him?

 

Stupid thoughts. Stupid Mustang. Stupid, stupid, everything, Ed thought angrily as he realized that, without something to hold on to, there was no way he was going to be standing back up. Instead, he half limped/half scooted his body forward, which rubbed his knee and elbow painfully against the metal floor. Unfortunately, going very far took almost as much balance as standing up and he ended up falling over again.

 

Anger welled up inside of him with the humiliation of it all. The temptation to hit something or rage loudly was strong, but he didn't. Instead, he sat on his butt and scooted backward—kicking himself back with his leg and trying to keep his balance with his hand. It worked well enough for him in the cage; though, with there being more distance to cover now, he felt very stupid and foolish.

 

He stopped halfway to the bathroom and glared up at Mustang. You could fucking help me, you know! he raged silently. The expressionless look on Mustang's face didn't help either. There was just nothing there. No pleasure at his pain, no sympathy for his situation, no look of superiority, no nothing. Mustang could be looking at a wall for all the expression there was!

 

Making a sound of frustration and anger, Ed began to scoot himself again. The thing was that Ed knew—he knew—that if he humbly asked for help, Mustang would help him. He could just avoid all this stupid foolishness by just asking for help... But to do that would almost be the same as admitting defeat, and Ed couldn't get himself to do it.

 

Turning the corner around the cage, Ed glanced at it. Now that he was closer to it, he'd be able to grab one of the bars and pull himself up... At least, he would have been able to if it wasn't for the damn outer sheets of smooth metal that rested just outside the bars on the sides and back of the cage.

 

With no offer of help, Ed stubbornly worked his own way into the bathroom. While frustrating and embarrassing, this wasn't painful or too horrible in any way. He could still make a statement. He was still Edward Elric! Or, at least, that's how he felt until he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror...

 

He hadn't looked in a mirror since the day Mustang had cut his hair. At the time, he'd been so exhausted and worn that the sight had caused him a profound amount of pain and grief—a sense of loss that had shocked him.

 

Now, seeing himself in a more coherent state, Ed wasn't sure what to think, and in a way, he felt morbidly fascinated by the image in the mirror and couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. With head shaved, skin paled, cheeks gaunt, muscles slightly gone to waste with disuse, and no automail, Ed felt every bit as pathetic as he looked in the mirror. No wonder Mustang could call him `Eddie' so easily...

 

A lump formed in his throat and he glanced away toward the shower. He couldn't bear to look any longer. He didn't want to see that person—Eddie—staring at him. He didn't want to face Mustang's reflection either. Cold tingles rushed over his skin as he tried to return himself to the defiant and self assured frame of mind he'd been in only moments before.

 

But it didn't work.

 

A sound caught his attention and he glanced back to see Mustang stripping his clothes off and tossing them into a pile on the floor. The neutral look was still there, but Ed thought he could see slight signs of determination and hesitancy too. Mustang's eyes were fixed on his, but they seemed to twitch in a way that seemed as though he wanted to look away.

 

Feeling as though he should look away, Ed didn't. He'd been naked in front of Mustang this whole time, so it seemed equivalent that he should stare at Mustang. Maybe it would even make the man nervous or self-conscious. The thought made Ed feel vindicated and he held onto that as if it were some sort of a lifeline.

 

“In the shower,” Mustang said, moving over to the large shower and turning on the water. Unable to stop himself, Ed cast one final glance at his reflection, then worked his way over to the shower. He awkwardly climbed over the one foot tile rise around the shower, then felt the hot spray of the water attack his skin.

 

Ed glanced at the soap Mustang was holding, then up to the man's face. When Mustang saw that he had Ed's attention, he said, “You'll wash me first, then you can wash yourself.”

 

“What?!” Ed exclaimed automatically, his eyes widening. How the hell was he supposed to wash Mustang when he only had one hand? How was he supposed to wash himself for that matter? It would take forever!

 

Bending over, Mustang set the bar of soap in Ed's hand and said, “Do a good job and don't miss any spots.” The neutral look on Mustang's face seemed to flicker with unease and revulsion, but then it was gone.

 

Ed looked down at the soap in his hand, and though he supposed his foremost thought should be anger at having to do this, it wasn't. Instead, he felt inadequate and ashamed. How was he supposed to do this with only one hand? And why had Mustang given him that look? Was it because he was a cripple, or was it the thought of showering with a guy?

 

He glanced up at Mustang, then back at the soap. Okay, well, he felt odd about washing another guy, but Ed thought that he'd probably feel just as odd about washing a woman. Just... washing anyone else! Showering with anyone else! Heat rose to his cheeks at the thought, but when he felt his cock twitch and begin to pulse slightly, Ed thought he'd die of mortification.

 

Not this! Not now! he thought desperately.

 

“Eddie...” Mustang said, reminding him of what he was supposed to be doing.

 

Wanting to die where he sat, Ed pressed his inner thighs together and dropped the soap near his crotch. It was the only place he could think of putting the soap without it sliding away. He rubbed the soap with his hand to get a lather going, but at the same time the bar of soap slid against his groin, making pleasant sensations that his body couldn't ignore.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck... Ed cursed inwardly, hoping the soap was at least slightly covering his erection. Reaching over, Ed washed Mustang's feet, then his lower legs and up to his knees. After that, Ed couldn't reach. He made a soft, involuntary whimpering sound as he realized he would need to move the soap and find a way to kneel on his good knee...

 

Wishing his erection would go away, Ed scooted over to the mid-height nook on the wall where the soap usually sat, and awkwardly got on one knee and leaned the other side of his body against the shower wall.

 

When Mustang looked down at him, Ed silently begged him to look away. There was no way he would be able to hide the fact that his penis was hard and sticking out, ready for what nature had intended.

 

Mustang's eyes lowered, then moved back up to Ed's face, but he didn't say anything, simply waited. Ed wanted to offer some sort of excuse, but he couldn't get his mouth to work. His tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his throat was dry despite the water dripping down his body and the steamy air.

 

Finally, he looked away, soaped up his hand, and began his task again; washing Mustang's legs, his stomach, then lower back—all the while with Mustang looking down at him. When he came back to his legs, Ed moved his hand more slowly to Roy's inner thighs and nearly choked when he saw Mustang's cock move and lift a little.

 

I can't do this... Ed thought desperately as he stared at Mustang's groin. It was too much... too embarrassing... Mechanically, he lowered his eyes and put his hand down to cover his own erection.

 

For a short time there was only the sound of the shower, then Mustang said quietly, “It's a part of life, Eddie. That's not really something I can control well; the same as you.” Mustang knelt down in front of him, then put his fingers under Ed's chin and lifted his head up. Ed tried to glance away, but Mustang whispered, “Look at me...”

 

Ed didn't want to, and he didn't—at least for a time—but finally he moved his eyes to look into Mustang's. There was compassion and understanding hidden in those dark depths, and for some reason, that struck Ed as... well, perhaps a little uncharacteristic. Mustang had been so distant...

 

“You've done well with what I've asked you to do so far. I'm very pleased with you.” Ed felt surprised pleasure grip his heart at those words. Mustang was pleased with him? Why? He'd failed... He hadn't been able to do what he was told. Mustang should be punishing him, not saying he was pleased with him...

 

“I'm not going to force you to wash me anywhere you don't feel comfortable with, alright?” Ed nodded dumbly, trying to comprehend the situation, trying to understand why Mustang would give him the choice. “It's something you will have to do eventually, but not today. Do it when you're ready; when you're comfortable enough with me. I won't tell you when you have to. I'll let you decide on your own. That's my command to you.”

 

“What if I'm never ready?” Ed asked, wondering if this would be a loophole that he'd be able to use.

 

“You will be,” Mustang said confidently.

 

Ed looked down from his groin to Mustang's now fully erect penis and wondered if Mustang was embarrassed too. It didn't seem like he was given his tone of voice and his mannerisms, but Ed was starting to think Mustang hid a lot of things he was feeling. It made him more human, and for some reason Ed felt a little less inclined to argue and fight because of it...

 

“Okay... when I'm ready...” Ed agreed. He supposed he should feel like he was giving in, but he didn't... It didn't feel like that at all... What is happening to me...? Ed wondered in confusion.

 

“Good boy,” Mustang whispered in that self-assured way he had; running his hand slowly down Ed's back, then up toward his head.

 

Part of Ed wanted to pull away angrily and demand that Mustang not say things like `good boy' as if he were some sort of pet; yet, another part of him enjoyed the praise and wanted more of it. He settled on doing nothing—neither reacting negatively nor smiling at the pleasant words. He'd just act neutral and let Mustang think what he wanted. After all, he was supposed to be pretending to go along with this.

 

Ed pressed his lips together and stared down at the wet tile as Mustang stroked his head softly and tried to convince himself that there was nothing more to it. He was pretending to be good and docile... that's it... just pretend...

 

0-0-0-0

 

I am so embarrassed. I'm going to die of mortification. I can see—understand—Ed—Eddie—getting an erection; he's a teenager, it happens as often as breathing for them. But ME! I'm an adult—a grown man! A grown man who hasn't had sex in a while, but that's no excuse... I know it's ridiculous of me to berate myself for something I can't control. The body functions how it functions, but Ed—Eddie—must think I'm some sort of sex fiend!

 

The look on his face when... I can't even write it, but it nearly killed me. There's no way I could possibly make—force—him touch me there, even if it is only to wash me. But now I—did I make a mistake? Should I have given him the chance to choose when to make that next step in that area? Could he tell that I didn't want him to touch me as much as he didn't want to touch me?

 

Maybe I'm not cut out for this. I don't know if I have what it takes to go all the way with this...

 

0-0-0-0

 

Ed stared dully out of the cage bars and for once his attention wasn't solely on Mustang's food. Instead, his eyes were on the man himself, watching him thoughtfully. Mustang was writing in that book of his between bites. He'd take a bite, write, take a bite, write. He wrote quickly and his demeanor seemed agitated. Whether that was good or bad, Ed didn't know...

 

Glancing down at the empty container his food had come in, Ed flicked it away with one finger and watched it bounce across the metal floor. He couldn't get the shower out of his mind. He'd felt—still felt—happy that Mustang said he was pleased with him. He was trying to fight it, trying to tell himself that he was being an idiot for feeling pleased over something so trivial and stupid, but he couldn't help it.

 

Besides, being happy was better than the confused jumble of emotions he'd been feeling, but he was afraid. It was too easy to give into the good feelings. It was easier than fighting, easier than feeling negative, but he felt like each day he was losing a part of himself. He didn't want to feel good when Mustang praised him, didn't want to think that maybe letting Mustang call him `Eddie' wasn't all that big of a deal, didn't want to consider not putting up a fight for once and just going along with everything...

 

Ed looked up when he heard Mustang sigh heavily. The man was lying on his back with the book flopped to one side. He felt torn between feeling glad that something might be troubling him and being a little worried. Mustang normally kept his composure and it was rare, even before they'd come here, that Mustang had lost control of his emotions. Ed mulled over it for a moment, then turned to face directly out of the cage.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, hoping it wasn't out of line. He didn't feel like being punished or being humiliated, but he didn't like to see Mustang so out of sorts. Ed grimaced at his thoughts and quickly amended them to `anyone'. He didn't like to see `anyone' so out of sorts... had nothing to do with who it was... For a moment, Mustang just laid there, then sat up and stared at him expressionlessly. After a minute, Mustang looked down and grabbed a strawberry off his tray.

 

Fine, ignore me then... bastard... Ed thought sullenly.

 

But Mustang didn't ignore him. Instead, he stood and moved over to the cage. Kneeling down, he gave Ed a smile and held the strawberry out through the bars of the cage. “Yes... I'm fine... Thank you for asking...” His voice was soft and he seemed more pleased than Ed had seen him since leaving Central.

 

Ed glanced hungrily at the strawberry. His mouth salivated heavily and he could smell the fruit... Reaching up with his hand, Ed made a grab for it, but Mustang pulled it away. Ed felt anger flash through him, but calmed just as quickly at Mustang's next words.

 

“With your mouth, Eddie. Take a bite.” Again, Mustang held out the strawberry. Wanting the fruit more than he cared about how this seemed like someone giving their favorite pet a treat, Ed snatched a large bite of the strawberry with his teeth and savored the sweet and tangy taste. It made his stomach ache and his taste buds flair up in desire for another.

 

“I'm glad you showed concern for me, Eddie,” Mustang said, then reached through the bars and briefly ran his hand along Ed's head before pulling back.

 

“If I show more concern, will I get another strawberry?” Ed couldn't stop himself from asking. He'd meant it as a joke, but he was almost alarmed to hear the sincerity of his question echo in his ears.

 

“Perhaps,” Mustang said with a smile that could mean anything. “We'll see.”

 

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A note on Roy's last entry. You may notice there are a few sporadic words in there that seemed to be thrown in there in odd places. Since not all places I post will allow for things being crossed out, and I wanted to give it more of a hurried feel, I decided to do it that way.

 

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