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“It’s all right, girl… I’m just gonna lay here for a bit…”
Winry recognized the tone of defeat in Ed’s voice. Den recognized it too. She whined softly.
Winry knew Ed well enough not to go into the living room and ask if he needed help. Even after all they’d been through, Ed’s pride still often got in the way of asking for help, or accepting it when offered. Granny was much better at handling Ed in this mood than Winry was; if Winry hadn’t loved her granny so much, she would almost be hurt by it.
No, best let Den handle the situation and let Ed re-gather his dignity. Later on, Winry could offer Ed a hot water bottle or a cup of valerian tea or the option of an arnica bath—all the comforts the Rockbell house had to offer that he couldn’t get on the road. Given the chance to hide the majority of his struggles, he might even accept.
There was a soft thump. Winry didn’t have to look to know that Den had curled next to Ed on the floor, keeping an eye on him. The faithful dog would alert Winry or Pinako if there was a serious problem, like she had been trained to do, but this wasn’t that severe—probably the aches associated with late growth spurts and heavy automail sapping away Edward’s energy. The floorboards creaked as Edward shifted position. So he was capable of moving, at least somewhat, even if he couldn’t get up right now. Good to know.
Winry slipped through the surgery room to get into the kitchen without Ed observing her. She filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove. Ed’s care was in good paws.
Den blinked at Ed solemnly with another soft whine. Ed reached out to scratch her ears. “We match now, don’t we, girl?” Den’s tail thumped the floor softly. She’d lost her leg saving him from the collapse of the train station when it was bombed. The sounds of the faithful animal’s wounded anguish after they pulled her out still haunted his nightmares, never quite eclipsed by the product of his sin, or by Nina.
Ed never wanted to hear those soft groans and cries again from Den or any other living creature.
Poor Den. Even with all her training, she hadn’t quite been able to suppress those cries, though she tried valiantly to keep from upsetting him and Al and Winry.
Sensing his distress, Den pushed her muzzle under his arm. Ed looped it across her shoulders, hugging her close. “Good girl.”
Den waited a few more minutes before nudging him softly. Right.
Ed braced his left hand under his shoulder and pushed himself up, bringing his legs around and closer to his body. He sucked in a breath as the motion sent pins and needles through his jarred automail, but it wasn’t enough to knock him over again. Ed shifted slightly and pulled himself up onto the couch, snagging the throw from the back. He patted the spot next to him. Den wasn’t normally allowed on the furniture, but she was on duty, so this was an exception.
Obediently, Den hopped up onto the couch next to him and rested her head on his right thigh. Edward wrapped the blanket around them both.
When Winry came back in to check on Ed, she found him asleep on the couch, wrapped in the throw. Den sat next to him, her head on his knee. As Winry entered the living room, Den raised her head slightly, her tail thumping against the cushions. All’s well.
Sleep was probably the best thing for Ed right now. Winry smiled slightly. “Good dog, Den,” she whispered. “Good girl.”