asobouyo | 39th Teddy Bear [voice/action]

[Elicia had been sleeping next to Gracia off and on now, after papa had left. She thinks maybe it makes her mama better, that she's close and there. And like so many other days, Elicia gets up and rubs her face, bleary-eyed and ready to start the day. Only, what greeted her was the silence of a empty, blue room; the essence of it—everything that made it her mother's—was sucked out. All she had was a pillow behind her and a blanket clutched in her hands, and for a moment, she doesn't understand.

It takes some time before she finally does.

The house is really quiet. Winry and Ed must be doing the things they do every day. She numbly leaves the bed and goes into the bathroom, stripping down like always, turning on the water and being careful that she doesn't make it hot. She gets soap in her eyes, but it's okay, because it washes out. When that's over with, the clothes come next—it's a dress, and she puts her ties in her hair, trying to make them match evenly on each side; it sort of looks right, she thinks, so she goes to the kitchen and uses a chair to get to the cabinet so that she could get the cereal box. And then the milk. Spoon and bowl. She doesn't make orange slices because the knives are bad and off limits. And then she sets the table and eats fast.

It's all wrong. But she's had nightmares about a day like this, only soothed when she woke up and looked at her mother, or wandered into her room in the dead of night, just for a look. But now nothing's left in her mama's room, and the fog of loneliness pushes on her from all sides as she sits on the couch and waits for something to change.

Over time, she lets herself cry. It builds up like a wave traveling toward sand, gradually peaking as the force carries it. It's okay, she thinks. She'll come back, or papa. They wouldn't just leave her behind for long. Not even the malnosso could change that about them. Right? They'd come back and there wouldn't be any reason to cry.]

[Voice]

Mama—

[She breathes in, voice watery and unsure. Everyone had to do things like this. This was the right thing to do. This is what people here had to do sometimes, for the ones they loved. She inhales a shaky sob.]

Gracia... Hughes... Went home.

[It's weird to say her full name like that. She doesn't like it. But she has to be grown up right now.

Later in the day, she'll be out working on the garden Raine had helped her replant, and has no intention of going inside until the sun starts dipping low. She doesn't really feel like playing today. A lot of her presents from the birthday are left scattered in her room, where she's left them from the night before Gracia had left.]

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[Her expression falls, shrinking under the hand on her head, and she's quiet for a while, unsure how to reply. She did the wrong thing, didn't she? She shouldn't have waited... They needed to know, because they cared about mama, too.]

... I'm sorry I didn't call you. I'm really, really sorry.

[Tears prickle the corners of her eyes, but she holds them back.]

I didn't want you to feel sad.

You don't have to be sorry. You did a great job, Elicia.

[Announcing something that awful, all by herself? It's kind of scary to imagine how much she's growing up now. How long is she going to be stuck in this place? What if they get sent home too? Or what if they don't? Is she going to be raised by them, or a bunch of villagers, or strangers...?

God, he's gotten used to living here, but sometimes - times like this - he really hates this place.]

You don't have to worry about anything, okay? We're gonna take care of you.

[You did a great job.

She's glad. She tried her best to do a good job, to make things easier. And then the unspoken promise—they were going to take care of her, and she knows it won't be the same just like Winry and Ed know. She can't see the future, can't guess it at her age, but she knows what today will be like. She knows it won't be mama in the living room, just like not so long ago she learned her papa wouldn't be waiting outside the school anymore.

She trembles and breathes, sharp and sad, and then moves to throw her arms around his neck and hug him. Because he said he'd take care of her, and she believes him with all her heart.]

I love you, big bro. I love you and Winry and everyone, and I love seeing you every day...!

[It's unspoken.

Don't leave me behind.

It's a masked plea for faces to not disappear. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not for a long while, even if it's a ridiculous thing to want. She can't fathom how fate can be sometimes, but she does remember Law telling her that life was and will always be unfair in its darkest moments.]

I promise I'll be good. I'll stay out of the way; you don't have to worry about me, I promise-

[He doesn't hesitate- as soon she moves forward to hug him, his arms are around her, holding her gently with his automail. He understands this embrace, this painful longing. He's been there- when Hohenheim left, when his mother died. When he lost Alphonse. The tears, the desperation, the need to cling to whatever is left.

"Give him back! He's the only family I have!"

He knows, and that's exactly why he holds her back: because it's what he needed then, and it's what she needs now.]

Elicia, it's okay. It's okay. You don't have to make any promises- not to us, and not to anyone. You got that? This is your home, and just as much your life as ours. You won't be in the way, not even a little.

[She nods, face wet and hot against his shoulder. This is her home. This is her home. Mama and papa aren't here, but she can't help but want them in this place more than anything. Because her papa can't live anywhere else, and her mama would never leave them behind, and they'd always be together.]

It won't stop hurting... When does everything hurt less...?

...It takes a long time.

[He can't lie to her; lies only make it hurt more when you realize that they were lies. The pain comes back, hard and heavy, and no amount of sweet comfort can change that.]

It does get better, though... I can promise you that much. But you've gotta wait it out.

[Her hug tightens a little, eyes squeezed shut. It's scary. Time going by--waiting for it--it's scary.]

... Will you wait with me?

I don't plan on going anywhere, Elicia. You're stuck with us.

[It's not a promise; you can't make promises in this place. They're practically begging to be broken. But there is one small reassurance- that as long as the nature of the village allows it, he's staying right here. He's sure that it's what her parents would have wanted, and they deserve that much from him.

She deserves more, but... he'll do his best.]

[A nod.]

Thank you, big bro. Thanks...

[It's the most she can really ask for, right now. So she has to hold onto that idea that they're not going anywhere. She just has to.]

Hey, forget about it.

[He brushes a hand through her hair, trying to think back on how his mother used to comfort him when he was upset. He'd cried a few times after Hohenheim left, before the resentment started to sink in, and she always did this for him and Al.

What else...]

I don't know when Winry's coming home, but- you want to eat some of that lunch you made? It looks great, so we shouldn't waste it.

M-mm...

[She looks down, hesitating.]

Does Winry know yet, big bro...? She's going to be so sad...

I don't know... I haven't seen her. [He hesitates, then adds,] I can tell her, if she doesn't know. You've done enough already.

[She did a huge thing, announcing it to the village like that. That's enough.]

... If she's sad, you'll hug her, too, won't you?

I... yeah. Of course I will.

[Even if he's not the huggiest person ever, they're worth the effort.]

39th Teddy Bear [voice/action]

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