FMA Fic: "Miss The Girl" 1/8
Title: Miss the Girl
Author: evil_little_dog
Beta Names: cornerofmadness, suspicious, bob_fish for one particular section.
Artist Names: dreamer1789; Yoporock.
Genre: Mystery/Angst
Rating: Teen edging into Adult for violence.
Wordcount: Approximately 52,000
Pairing/Characters: Edward/Winry UST, Al/Paninya, Al/Various Others, Riza/Roy.
Warnings: Future!Fic, triptych piece for Miss the Journey and Nothing Gold Can Stay but it isn’t necessary for you to have read either of those ficlets to understand this story. Violence, murder, alcohol abuse, light mentions of drug use, light mentions of multiple-partner sex. Oh, and language, though warning you of language in an FMA fic just seems like overkill.
Summary: After being away for many years, Edward and Alphonse return to East City to find Winry Rockbell being hunted by a sadistic murderer. Can they find him and repair their relationship with Winry before it's too late?
Disclaimer: Just playing in Arakawa’s sandbox. I promise to dust off the toys and put them back where I found them when I’m done.
A.N. Written for 2009-2010 fma_big_bang.
* * *
Chapter 1
Of all forms of caution, caution in love is the most fatal. - Unknown
* * *
His dress uniform had been freshly laundered and pressed, the creases knife sharp. His medals, badges and ribbons were carefully cleaned, his buttons and shoes polished mirror bright. His hat had been professionally cleaned and reshaped for his head and he’d spent time at the barber yesterday, neatening up his hair and moustache. He intended to prove his worth to her tonight. She’d managed to put him off before but now, she was free and ripe for the plucking.
“You can see why she’d want me, don’t you?” He straightened the sleeves of his shirt, checking his sleeves in his reflection. Soon, he’d be in his dress blues. For now, the workman’s shirt did an excellent job of camouflage. “We would make an excellent match.” The mirror reflected him back, showing him the bed behind him, a woman sprawled across it. “No, you don’t have to speak. It’s enough that you understand, what we had this evening was just a passing thing.” A smile touched his mouth. “I can’t really have you talking to all your friends about me, either. But I doubt you would. You’re a very intelligent girl.” Turning, he cocked his head, studying the young woman. “It’s too bad we didn’t meet under different circumstances.”
Going to the bed, he began wrapping her up in the blanket. It would make it so much easier to carry her. This part of town, no one would even notice. He needed to hurry, though, if he wanted to make it home in time to finish getting dressed for the function.
Before covering the woman’s face, he took one final look. Her lovely hair was almost the perfect shade of ash blond though her roots were showing through. “I really am sorry we met like this.” He studied her staring eyes. “But I’m sure you understand why things had to be this way. I couldn’t let her find out about you, now, could I? What kind of impression would that make on my courtship?”
Her body weighed him down for a few seconds but he adjusted her weight in his arms. “Come along, my dear. This won’t take much longer.
“I have a date to keep tonight, after all.”
* * *
“Your brother.”
Alphonse winced automatically, hunching his shoulders at Breda’s tone of voice. “What has he done now?” He hoped it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t often they actually came to these types of parties but the word had come from General Riza Hawkeye that the Fullmetal Alchemist would be in attendance. And while Edward would’ve grumbled and fussed and whined and carried on for days if Fuhrer Mustang ordered him to attend, he stared at the orders from Hawkeye and gave in with just a weary sigh.
“He nearly incited Mrs. Pendergrast to a riot.” Breda, wearing the stars of a captain on his dress blues, shook his head. “Of course, it’s her own damned fault. She brought that little fluffy dog of hers,” his lip curled in distaste, “stashed in her purse, and it popped its head out at Ed.”
“Oh.” Well, that didn’t sound too bad, Alphonse thought, but Breda wasn’t finished.
“Ed asked her if she’d brought it for the cook to serve,” the meal was high Xingese, “and Mrs. Pendergrast had to be hauled off by her husband.” A very slight pause. “Major Pendergrast.”
Alphonse’s palm had already made connection with his forehead.
“Wait, there’s more.” Breda obviously enjoyed being the bearer of bad tidings. “Ed shouted after her, saying he’d be happy to take care of the appetizer - and the damned dog jumped out of her purse and ran to him. When the major came to rescue ‘Poopsy’,” his distaste rose again and Alphonse understood, at least slightly, why - who, in their right mind, would name a dog ‘Poopsy’? - “the dog bit him.” Alphonse heard sheer, utter glee but he understood it. Pendergrast was a bullheaded bastard - and that just wasn’t his brother’s voice in his head saying those words. “I think your brother was taking the dog to the kitchen, last I saw.”
Shaking his head, Alphonse wondered how he’d be able to frame his apologies. Pendergrast was just high enough up in the military rankings that his fussing could have repercussions. Not that Edward would pay much attention to those, no, but Riza…Alphonse really didn’t want the general angry at his brother. She didn’t always play fair. “Where is Ed?” If he could get his brother to return the dog and say he was sorry, maybe that would do the trick or at least defuse the situation enough that it wouldn’t wind up in a report on Riza’s desk.
“Don’t worry.” The smile wreathing Breda’s face could only be described as evil. “It’s been taken care of.”
“What?” Alphonse glanced around, not expecting to see his brother carrying the dog back as a peace offering. Instead, he spotted a blond head that for an instant made him think - “General Hawkeye’s here?”
“Nope.” Breda popped the ‘p’ as he snagged a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray. “Better.” That evil smile tilted toward Alphonse and he felt a chill run down his spine, a warning that maybe he should collect his brother and just run like hell. “Winry Rockbell’s here.”
“Oh, damn.”
* * *
The kitchen was relatively quiet, after all the ruckus out in the main floor. All right, so he’d caused some of it. Edward couldn’t help but snicker at the memory of that fat ass’ Pendergrast’s face when the dog snapped at him. It really was funny, the way the big man had backpedaled away from the little yellow dog currently sitting on Edward’s thigh and pawing at his chest. “A’right, a’right,” he grumbled, reaching for another strip of chicken and offering it to the mutt. “I’ll share.”
The little dog gobbled up the meat, licking its teeth and lips afterward, its head tilted to one side then the other before it pawed at his chest again. Edward gave it a scowl that did nothing to deter the mutt but this was his chicken, dammit. Okay, so he’d share, but the dog wasn’t getting every single piece! He’d asked the Xingese cook to make it special, something that wouldn’t be served out there on the floor, the sweet and spicy chicken Edward remembered from Xing and the provinces Ling had dragged Al and him through. He was a little surprised the dog would eat it. The hot peppers were enough to make him sweat but the mutt just swallowed the chicken whole. “Bet you’re gonna be fun tomorrow,” Edward told it, reaching for his whiskey glass.
There was a foot in the way.
Edward blinked at the foot. As feet went, it was kind of nice, in a shiny patent leather shoe that reflected his glove. A delicate ankle rose above the top of the shoe, attached to a calf that disappeared into a frothy dress hem in dark grey. Edward found himself admiring a trim waist and hands and wrists gloved almost to the elbows. His gaze lingered for a split second on a well-displayed pair of breasts though somewhere, deep in his brain, something warned him that maybe he’d better move. He wasn’t sure why just yet, perhaps that second sense that had done him so well in the past in his battles. But the whiskey he’d consumed made his reaction time sluggish, so his eyes wandered the rest of the way up a slender throat to a pair of burning blue eyes, set in a face framed by cornsilk hair.
That second sense clamored for him to move, run, slap his hands together so he could melt the floor beneath him but Edward was frozen, staring up at her. He couldn’t even feel the dog pawing at his chest any more.
“Don’t you have anything to say, Edward?” The steel whip in her voice lashed at him before he could react and he gaped, unable to reconcile this woman with the girl he’d left behind so long ago. “Idiot.” Her foot scooted the glass out of his reach. “Are you aware who the Pendergrasts are?”
Art by yoporock
The little dog on his thigh turned around in reaction to Winry’s voice, its ears flipping forward and back. Its fluffy tail wagged a little uncertainly and Edward felt almost the same way as he figured the dog did. At least neither of them had peed in fear yet. “I know he’s a gassy bag of hot air.” He offered the dog another piece of chicken, pleased his hand didn’t tremble. He could feel Winry’s fury, like the air preceding a thunderstorm.
“That gassy ball of hot air owns the biggest sulfur mine in Amestris, Edward. Even you should know why sulfur is important. Especially you, being an alchemist.”
Lightning crackled overhead, about to strike. “What’s it matter to you? You’re not part of the military. He is. He’s an asshole and a blowhard and it’s not my fault his dog likes me better.” Okay, that last rejoinder was weaker than Edward liked but true.
“And he controls the prices of the sulfur in his mine.” Above his head, Winry folded her arms. Edward tried not to glance up to see what sort of effect that had on the bodice of her dress. “That means he can charge the military whatever he wants for sulfur and the military - and therefore, the people of Amestris - would have to pay it.”
“Since when do you care about that kind of thing?” Edward eyed the glass beyond her foot, wondering if he could snatch it up before Winry stomped that heel of her shoe on his hand or head. Too bad the little mutt wasn’t more of distraction. If it was like King, the Wonder Dog, it’d fetch him the glass without spilling a drop.
“Since I’m a citizen of Amestris and my taxes go to pay for the sulfur in the sulfur mines that asshole Pendergrast owns!” Winry swooped down, grabbing the string tie at his throat and pulling. “And you, Edward Elric, are going to go apologize to the man and give him back his damned dog!”
Even without a wrench in her hand, Winry was scary. The problem was, Edward realized, he was already pretty numb from the whiskey he’d drunk earlier. Oh, he could still function - could almost talk normally, even - and walk and, if he had to, dance with some woman that his brother pointed out to him. But that stupid sense of self-preservation was completely gone. That had to be it, right? There was no other reason for him to reach up and push her bangs out of her eyes with a gentle forefinger, wishing it was one she’d made, and say, “You’re really pretty when you’re angry.”
The storm in her eyes raged at the compliment. “You’re drunk.”
Edward smiled in response. “Just a little.”
Her fingers fisted tighter on his tie and she gave him a shake that made his head spin. “You stupid idiot.”
The dog whined, cowering between Edward’s ribs and his left forearm. “Quit scarin’ the mutt, Winry. If he pees on me, I don’t know if I c’n get the stink out.”
Mouth twisting, Winry released his tie, straightening and taking an abrupt step backward. “Get up, Ed. Give the dog back to Mrs. Pendergrast. Apologize to Major Pendergrast. Then go home before you fuck anything else up.”
“But I just got my chicken.” Edward pointed at his plate, nonplussed to see the mutt gobbling down the rest of his meal.
“Now, Edward.” The order lashed out.
With a muttered grumble about sharp-tongued women, Edward heaved himself to his feet. The floor tilted as he stood and he grabbed for the kitchen rack, pleased he didn’t pull anything over or knock anything down. Now vertical, he wasn’t sure if he could pick up the mutt without collapsing.
“I thought you were just a little drunk.”
Edward had to fight to keep from cringing at the vitriol in Winry’s voice. “You try standing up that fast sometime,” he growled back, snapping his flesh fingers at the dog. He wondered absently what he’d done with his gloves. Right, pocket.
Winry bent down to pick up the dog, tucking it against her chest as she stood up. Edward squelched a flare of jealousy at the dog. “I just did.” She pointed with her free hand toward the door. “Go. Apologize to Major Pendergrast.”
“The man’s a dick, Winry.” Edward swayed from side to side, just a little bit, still trying to get his bearings on that sloping floor. Had it been tilted when he’d first come into the kitchen? “He’s always been a dick. Saying I’m sorry to him is like,” he couldn’t think of any suitable to compare it to. “I’m not apologiz - Ow! Fuck! Ow! Winry!” Her fingers - her very strong fingers, her very hard fingers - clamped around his ear and she pulled him along with her.
“You are not embarrassing the military tonight, Edward.” Edward wished that low growl of Winry’s didn’t sound so sexy right now. An erection would wreck havoc with walking. “You are not embarrassing General Hawkeye. You are not embarrassing your brother. You are marching up to Major Pendergrast and, so help me, you’re going to grovel if that man wants you to grovel.” She spun around so fast, Edward wasn’t sure he didn’t lose his ear in the process. Shoving the dog into his senseless arms, Winry pushed him through the kitchen doorway and toward the ballroom. The hallways and corridors sped by, the walls blurring, exacerbated by the alcohol Edward had consumed.
Unfortunately, being clear-headed didn’t seem to be his plan for the evening, even if he had proclaimed his sobriety earlier. “Winry, stop!” Stubborn, Edward planted his feet in the carpet. Winry still managed to slide him along for about a meter before he leaned sideways, nearly tumbling to the floor. The dog leaped out of his arms, yipping at its mistreatment. “I feel sick.”
Winry’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you weren’t drunk.”
“You’re jerkin’ me ‘round an’ I’ma dizzy.” Edward didn’t think he was glaring at her the right way. Maybe because he wasn’t looking in her eyes, he was staring at her breasts. He brought his gaze up. “Jus’ lemme rest here a minute.” The wall seemed sturdy enough and Edward reached out a hand, letting his weight fall against the flat, unmoving surface. “An’ I’ll do whatever you want.” He meant it, too. All she had to do was let him stand there and get his equilibrium back and Edward wouldn’t even argue. He’d do whatever damned thing Winry wanted because he owed it to her, a thousand thousand times over. I should know that number.
Huffing, Winry folded her arms, obviously having no idea what that did to the bodice of her dress. Edward couldn’t help but sneak a peek. He realized he wasn’t being quite as sneaky as he’d thought when a firm hand cupped his chin, pulling it up. “Are you staring at me?”
There was no good answer. Edward knew that. Hell, even the mutt knew. “What if I was?” Belligerent, maybe that’d work, right? “I’m a man, Winry. Men look.”
Oh, definitely the wrong thing to say. Her darkened eyes narrowed to slits then Edward was sitting on the floor, probing his aching jaw, the mutt yapping and dancing in reaction to him falling almost on top of it. “Not at me, you don’t.”
Her words rolled around in his brain and finally connected to what he’d said, just before Winry’d slugged him. “Do, too.” Edward realized he sounded like a sulky kid.
“What makes this different than any other time, Edward?” Her voice came from somewhere far above him.
Edward crawled to the wall, using it to prop himself up. His head still spun from Winry’s punch but he was pretty sure he’d deserved it, if not for tonight, well, there were other times. At least it wasn’t a wrench to his skull. Winry’s question still rang in his ears and he knew he should answer it. Winry hated it when he didn’t answer questions. “Nothin’.” He let his head slide along the wall until he could see her face. “I always looked, Winry. Jus’ din’t want you to see. Nobody else, neither.” Grinning, Edward rubbed his jaw. “Guess it worked on you, huh? Even if it din’t on anyone else.”
Confusion warred with anger, nearly winning. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The dog crawled back in Edward’s lap and he stroked its silky fur absently, rumpling its ears. “Nothin’. I’ll take the mutt back to Pendergrast. I’ll make nice. I’ll grovel so he won’t raise the prices on his sulfur and pass the bill on to the citizens.” Edward realized he was staring at Winry’s ankle. Oh, well. It really was a nice ankle. “I’ll be good. I won’t embarrass the military.”
There was a long pause that made Edward consider looking up. Winry might have an expression on his face he didn’t want to see. Her ankle, on the other hand, didn’t give him an exasperated look, didn’t roll its eyes, didn’t flip its hair. Just stood there, in its pretty patent leather shoe and silk stocking. A long sigh rippled out from above him. Edward still didn’t look up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
Edward’s lips thinned. “I’m not your problem, Winry.” He wished his whiskey wasn’t still on the kitchen floor. “I haven’t been your problem for a very long time.”
The air crackled around his head like a lightning strike. “You’re right, Edward, but you’re my problem tonight.”
The mutt whined, poking its sharp little nose under Edward’s arm. He put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Yer scarin’ the dog.”
The temperature in the corridor got noticeably cooler. “I don’t know why I bother.”
He let out a long sigh. “You don’t have to, Winry. Go on back to your life, ‘kay?” Edward risked a look up, offering her a smile that was only partially fueled by the whiskey in his system. “Me an’ Al’ve been okay. That’s what you wanted to know, right? We’re doin’ fine.” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate but decided he didn’t really care. He and Al had made their decisions a long time ago. Winry had made hers. They lived separate lives that just didn’t intersect any more.
“You’ve been fine?” Winry scoffed. “That’s not what I hear from Riza.”
Edward dropped his gaze back to her ankles. “She doesn’t know everything.” Ruffling the dog’s fur backwards, he made a clucking noise at it. “Does she, little guy?”
A sharp huff erupted from Winry. “She knows enough.”
Raising his eyebrows, Edward glanced toward her face. “I do my job. I live my life. I’m okay, Winry. Don’t you have a husband to get back to?” The hall had stopped swimming enough that he could attempt standing and, clutching the dog to his chest, Edward pushed off the wall and to his feet. He was pleased he didn’t waver in place but managed to stand upright. “I mean, I don’t want anyone to start any rumors.” Chucking the dog under the chin, he started walking toward the ballroom. He raised his hand, wagging it over his shoulder at Winry.
With any luck, he wouldn’t see her again this evening.
* * *
Alphonse sighed, seeing his brother. Edward sprawled halfway across a table, head pillowed on his crossed arms. Men and women were working to clean up the hall and his brother was passed out, oblivious to it all. “Ed,” he sighed, patting Edward’s shoulder. “Come on, wake up. It’s time to go home.”
“I’m not asleep.” One eye canted open, rolling up to focus on Alphonse. Slowly, Edward straightened, his forearms sliding over the wooden table top. He took a deep breath and let it out again. “I’m not drunk, Al.”
“You couldn’t have proved it by me, Brother.” Alphonse dropped his hand from Edward’s shoulder, his mouth tight.
“That was earlier.” Edward smiled suddenly, a sharp, malicious baring of his teeth. “I had to apologize to that ass, Pendergrast. Couldn’t be drunk for that.” Shoving the chair back, he got to his feet.
Alphonse wasn’t surprised that his brother didn’t sway or show any indication he’d been drinking earlier. Edward’s ability to hold his drink could be legendary except there weren’t that many people who knew he could and did have a head for whiskey. Alphonse blamed Fuhrer Mustang for that one. Once he and Edward had returned from all the missions the military had set them on, the Fuhrer - then simply a brigadier - insisted on indoctrinating them to the world of manhood. Edward had sneered - “Like we didn’t get that in Xing.”
Xing…Alphonse’s heart hurt to think of Xing. It had been fascinating and strange and oh so foreign. Hohenheim’s - Dad’s - influence had made Xing’s healing alchemy what it was. It was weird thinking that, even now, that they were direct descendents of the man who’d taught the Xingese their alchemy. Due to their coloring, like their father’s, not to mention Ling’s favor, they were treated as special guests of the country. Alphonse didn’t really want to think about how favored they had been, not any more.
“Brother.” He swallowed down the words he wasn’t sure he wanted to say, not when someone might be listening. It had been easier when they were children, even when they had been traveling Amestris, searching for the Philosopher’s Stone.
“Winry talked to me.” Edward snorted, pushing the chair back up under the table. “Well, she slapped me.” His metal fingers, concealed by a glove, traced a bruise just visible along his jaw. At Alphonse’s sigh, he waved off the concern. “I deserved it, Al.”
Whatever he’d expected Edward to say, that hadn’t been it. The best Alphonse could mutter in response was his brother’s name. “Ed.”
He shrugged, turning to face Alphonse. “You warned me.” Edward squeezed Alphonse’s shoulder. “And I didn’t listen then.” His hand fell away as he walked toward the exit. “I’m tired, Al. Let’s go home.”
Alphonse followed his brother out of the hall. Stopping at the coat check, they claimed their jackets and went down the stairs, out into the winter night. Edward shivered, tugging his collar up more tightly around his neck. Alphonse glanced his way. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” The corners of Edward’s mouth tipped up. Alphonse had to look at the street, hiding his reaction to his brother’s bittersweet smile by hailing a cab. “Hey, Al?”
“Yes, Brother?” He nodded as the cab pulled up to the curb, making sure the driver knew that, yes, they wanted to hire the car. Alphonse opened the back door, waiting for Edward to get inside, then slid in after him. Giving the address for their hotel, Alphonse settled back in his seat, arranging his jacket over his legs for warmth. He wondered if Edward was going to finish whatever it was he’d been about to say and glanced at his brother, eyebrows lifting.
Edward leaned his elbow on the windowsill, his cheek resting on his fist. “Hmm?” That sad grin still lingered on his face. “Oh.” It brightened just a bit. “Didn’t Winry look beautiful tonight?”
There was only one answer to that question, as much as it hurt to say. “Yes. Yes, she did.”
* * *
East City sat near enough to the eastern border of Amestris to be considered its vanguard for any invasions, not that many countries would be foolish enough to cross the Eastern Desert to attack Amestris on that flank. The desert was even a better barricade than the north, with its wall of mountains. General Grumman had retired from his post in the east to allow younger heads - namely, his granddaughter, General Hawkeye - to prevail. The relationship wasn’t something that the general populace were aware of - nor, truth be told, the military, something that seemed like a good idea at the time. Riza thought there still had been a very good reason for that deceit. For one thing, she hadn’t wanted to be treated any differently from any other soldier.
Of course, she hadn’t been, not until Roy made her his adjutant. Then, it was quite different. Riza knew she had been granted the right to not only watch Roy’s back, but also make sure that, should he ever stray from his chosen path, she was to take him down. So far, there’d been no reason to do it, much to her relief. Riza thought the man was totally exasperating but he also was hers. His arguments to move Amestris toward a democracy might have confused the public but the voting thing was going better. Maybe someday, and Riza hoped it was within her lifetime, things would be the way Roy had dreamed they should be.
Until then, she had her own work to do, including reviewing the reports that had come in from her staff. Later, she could call Roy, find out how his day went, listen to him complain that she was in the east and he was in Central City and that needed to change, just as soon as possible. Personally, Riza thought it would be a good idea for the change. Their daughter needed both parents, after all, and Riza was considering making this her last tour of duty.
“General, sir, here are the reports you wanted.” First Lieutenant Sciezca came through the doorway, a stack of folders tucked against her breast. Behind her glasses, her expression was tight, a warning in and of itself.
“Thank you, First Lieutenant.” Riza accepted the folders, tapping them on her desk to align them. She didn’t want to open them, knowing already what was inside, but it was part and parcel of her job. Still, Riza spared a fleeting thought to Roy’s reaction to the sight of reports on his desk. Knowing what was inside these folders made it that much more difficult. Realizing Sciezca remained in front of her desk, Riza turned her attention to her first lieutenant. “What is it, Sciezca?”
“I just wanted to let you know Captain Breda called, sir, to say that the function went well.” Her fingers twitched around each other.
“And?” Riza raised her eyebrows, not missing that telltale sign of agitation.
“Um,” Sciezca shoved her glasses up on her nose, obviously stalling for time. “Edward Elric and Major Pendergrast had an…altercation, sir. But,” she hastened to add, “Edward apologized and the Major was okay with it. Sir.”
Wondering just what Edward had done this time, Riza decided she really didn’t want to know, even if it was her job. She’d hoped that, by insisting the Elrics attend the function, maybe they’d reconnect with Winry, whom she’d also made sure was invited to attend. Sciezca didn’t mention any of the codes involving that particular trio which Breda would’ve used, so it was safe to assume her little ploy hadn’t worked.
A little noise drew her attention to the present again and Riza nodded at the first lieutenant. “That will be all.” She heard Sciezca close the door behind her.
Entertaining the ‘what if’ thought if her plan had worked didn’t complete her tasks for the evening. Riza put aside thoughts of her younger friends and steeled herself, opening the top folder. The pictures were underneath the typewritten reports, as specified in the military regulations. Riza never thought she’d be so thankful for the simple things. Reading the reports didn’t take completely away the impact of the photographs but at least they lessened it somewhat.
Riza didn’t allow her knuckles to whiten, didn’t allow any outward expression of distress when she flipped to the photographs after reading the report. All homicides or suspected homicides were reported to the military. There were times when Riza wished she didn’t have to look at these reports but understood that fresh eyes sometimes led to cases being solved. It didn’t make it any easier. She knew there were some who considered her a hardened killer for what she had done in Ishbal but it was one thing knowing why she took a life and another to see the aftermath of another person’s handiwork.
The first file was relatively simple and the murder already solved, not that it changed the fact Riza stared at the body of a relatively young woman, bludgeoned to death by her husband. According to the report, he believed his wife had been cheating on him and took action. There was no word in the report as to whether the woman had actually had an affair. Riza sighed softly, setting aside the report. The husband was in jail and awaiting trial though he continued to protest that he was in the right, despite laws against abuse.
The second file was more straightforward though no less disheartening, as was the third. Riza wondered again why she waited until the end of the day to review these reports. Did it make going home to her daughter that much better? Or had Roy rubbed off on her in subtle ways, making her postpone the horror as long as she possibly could?
The fourth report made her frown - another woman, this time found in an alley. Her body had been there for a few days, tossed in with the trash. No one had come forth with a missing person’s report to match her and Riza idly wondered who she might be. There were no identifying marks on the woman, beyond what her killer left behind. A case of strangulation, the ligature marks on her throat indicating a cord had been used. One shoe was missing, though there were indications the body had been moved to the trash pile from somewhere else and the shoe might have come off in transit. Her clothing indicated she didn’t have much money, which might mean she came in from the countryside, trying to find work. A pang ran through Riza at the thought this young woman would go unnoticed, unclaimed, unknown, buried in a pauper’s grave with no one to mourn her passing.
The photographs didn’t tell any more of the young woman’s story, just that, maybe, she might’ve been pretty when she was alive. Long, pale hair fanned out behind her skull, a pair of heavy gloves covered her hands. Her face was swollen and discolored from the strangulation.
Riza sighed, closing the file. There were still more files to go through before she went home this evening and Maizy was waiting. Picking up the next file, she opened it, determined to get through these last few files before she went home.
* * *
“So, why didn’t you tell me, Al?” Edward glanced over at his younger brother, seated behind the driver of the cab they’d hired.
“Well, her clinic is here in East City.” At Edward’s snort, Alphonse went on. “Because by the time Captain Breda pointed her out to me, it was already too late.” Alphonse didn’t turn his attention from the scenes passing by on the other side of his window. “The captain said you’d pissed off the major,” he waved his fingers at Edward’s hissing his name. “If you hadn’t done that, maybe she wouldn’t have come after you.”
Edward folded his arms, jaw jutting like he was getting ready to face down Winry over his automail. That reflexive memory led to others and he shook his head, trying to clear it of anything dealing with Winry Rockbell.
Alphonse, though, proved again that Elric telepathy was faulty at best. “I think Winry was angrier even than Major Pendergrast.” He turned then - of course - and Edward stubbornly stared at the passenger’s side window. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her, Ed.” He hated it when Alphonse’ voice turned wistful. “Is she doing all right? Is she happy?” Alphonse hesitated but for such a short time, it almost seemed a pause for a quick breath. “How is her son?”
“We didn’t exactly exchange small talk.” The words came out cold and bitter and Edward tightened his jaw again.
Sighing, Alphonse leaned back into his seat. “I suppose not, if she was yelling at you.”
“Hey, I did what she asked. I was a good dog.” Edward spat those words.
“Brother.” Another sigh but Alphonse said nothing else, shifting his position and making the leather seat squeak.
Edward didn’t respond, continuing to glare out the window. Catching sight of a blond woman, her head tilted back to look at the man with her, he wished Winry hadn’t looked so nice tonight. Or smelled so good. Maybe that her eyes weren’t so amazingly brilliant when she was furious with him.
Wishing, Edward reminded himself sternly, got him nowhere. Best put Winry Rockbell out of his mind.
* * *
Chapter 2
A guy and a girl can be just friends but at one point or another one of them will fall for the other, maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late or maybe, just maybe...forever.... Unknown
* * *
How could something so simple go so wrong? He paced, chewing on the cuticle of his right thumb. It had seemed so fleeting but often, things were not as they seemed.
She was, in a word, beautiful. He remembered the first time he’d seen her - how she had moved, like a morning sunbeam flitting across the room. Her gaze had swept over him and it seemed as if an electric jolt surged through him, leaving him weak and gasping. And then she spoke and he felt his world would never be the same. This woman - this amazing creature - was like no other woman he’d met before. Whenever their paths crossed, as surely they must, considering his family’s holdings and both her chosen profession and ties to the military, his heart rate increased, almost as if he had entered a battlefield. When she glanced his direction, his body stirred in ways it hadn’t since he was a teenager. His wife had failed to bring him to such a state of arousal for years. But she - she put him off. She had a boyfriend, then a husband and always, always her career.
She didn’t seem to understand what he could do for her, what ways he could further her research and studies. She put him off with clever words and phrases, and a show of propriety that could only be feigned. She was a woman, after all; they were known to tease and lie to get what they desired. He just hadn’t figured out what he could offer that would bring her to him, not yet, at least.
An idea crossed his mind, one so spontaneous and perfect, it nearly sent him staggering back into the bed. A smile crossed his face. Yes. That would be an excellent idea. She’d owe him then and wouldn’t be able to resist any more.
“William? Are you coming to bed?”
He ignored his wife, ignored the little squeaky bark of her dog.
“All right then.” Her voice fluttered over his shoulder, like the wings of a moth. “Good night.”
Yes, it was far too late tonight but tomorrow, tomorrow he’d put his plans in motion.
* * *
Water dripped somewhere in the house.
Winry turned her attention from the automail limb on her workbench. The sound came again, like a dripping faucet into a stopped up sink. Had she left the water running? “Grant?”
When her son didn’t answer, she pushed back from the bench. Another drip. Winry walked into the hall. “Grant, where are you?”
Light spilled through the open door at the end of the hall. Shading her eyes, Winry took a few steps, her feet splashing through the water on the floor. The light nearly blinded her but she still took a quick look down, her breath catching at the sight.
Blood ran along the hallway, drenching the wooden floor, staining her feet crimson. Her breath catching, Winry clutched at her chest. “Grant?” Her voice failed her, barely coming out loud enough for Winry to hear. “No, please.” She forced her legs to move through the sucking liquid, hating the way it clung to her feet. “Grant!”
The dripping grew louder and Winry followed it, using the walls to keep herself upright. Her breath came in gasps as she stepped through the maw of the doorway, into that brilliant light. “Grant?”
“You have to help him!”
Something glittered in front of her. Winry recognized Alphonse’s voice coming from the suit of armor, Edward cradled against the chest plate. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandages wrapped around Edward’s leg; dripped through his fingers clutching where his right arm should have been and onto the floor. The room was flooded with it, scarlet flowing everywhere, lapping up her ankles to her knees, her knees to her thighs. “Winry, please! I think Ed’s dying!”
She slogged across the room, fighting her way through the deluge. The blood thickened as she walked, as if she’d churned it into butter. “He’ll be okay, Al.” Be okay, Ed. Struggling to reach them, Winry saw Edward sliding out of Alphonse’s grip. “Hold onto him, Al!”
Alphonse tried but the blood made everything slick. His fingers slipped and Edward dropped out of his arms, floating for a few seconds on the surface of the blood. “Ed!” Winry grabbed for him, managing to snag his left arm and haul him to her. She held his back against her chest, feeling his heart beat hard enough to rock her. “Ed. Edward!”
His face went under and Winry tried to pull him back up. “Ed! Ed, wake up and help me!” She screamed at his weight, fighting against gravity and the weight of his unconscious body.
“What?”
The light was back, sudden as the sun after a cloudburst. Winry lifted her hand, blocking enough of it to see Edward and Alphonse, dressed in Amestrian blues. “What…what’s going on?”
Edward rolled his eyes, turning away from her. “It’s time for us to go.”
“Go?” Winry felt trapped, unable to move. “Go where?”
“Ishbal,” her mother said, her smile brilliant.
“You be a good girl, Winry. We’ll be home as soon as we can.” Dad ruffled her hair before pulling his hat on, tugging at the brim to straighten it.
“No.” Winry reached out for them, her fingers brushing over the hem of Mom’s dress. “Mom! Don’t go to Ishbal. You’ll die there!”
Her dad turned around but it was Alphonse who asked, “You told us not to die, remember?” just before vanishing.
“Mom? Dad?” Winry spun around, the light filling the room, wiping out her ability to see anything else. “Al! Ed!”
“They’re all gone.” Pinako and Den stood next to her. Smoke spun up from her grandmother’s pipe. “Sorry, kiddo.”
“Why?” Winry heard her voice break. “Granny, why does everyone leave me?”
“Because,” Den said, as her body faded from view, Pinako’s form curling away like the fragrant pipe smoke, “you’re not worth sticking around for.”
The scream ripped out of her throat, swallowed up by the light. Winry grasped at the air, begging for it to bring them back. The floor beneath her shook, knocking her off balance, sending her sprawling. Somewhere, in the distance, she could hear the Elric brothers laughing. “No,” she whispered, her throat too hoarse to shout. “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t - please - ”
“Mommy?”
Somehow, that voice reached her. Winry opened her eyes, seeing a blank wall of white. Her heart pounded, her fingers clenching in the sheets of her bedding. The rank scent of sweat flooded her nostrils. Sitting up with a gasp, Winry scrubbed her forearm over her face. “It’s okay, Grant.” She wished she sounded more sincere. “Just a nightmare.”
Winry could just see the frown on her son’s face as he climbed over the rumpled bedding. “You were crying.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Grant scowled more deeply. “I heard you.”
“I’m sorry.” Winry wiped her eyes with the heel of one hand while reaching for her son with the other. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Grant let her pull him close, his frown not lessening. “You did.” He snuggled against her, draping an arm over her stomach. “You had a nightmare?”
“Mmm.” Winry pressed a kiss into her son’s tousled, chestnut hair. “It was just a bad dream, honey.”
Craning his neck to look at her, Grant asked, “Did you get chased? I get chased in my nightmares.”
“No, no one chased me.” Winry squeezed Grant’s slender shoulders. She didn’t want to tell him about her dream. She didn’t want to guess why Geoffrey hadn’t appeared in it, since he’d left her, too. Do not think about it. “We should both try to go back to sleep, huh?” She couldn’t see the alarm clock from her bed but from the way the light shone through the crack in the curtains, Winry thought it was still very early in the morning.
Grant rubbed his cheek against her chest. “Tell me a story.” He leaned his head back, a delighted smile breaking across his face. “Tell me about the Fullmetal Alchemist. Maizy said he’s here in East City! Do you think I could meet him?”
Words froze in her throat. Winry didn’t know how to answer Grant any other way than to say, “We’ll see, honey.” She kissed his forehead. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Morning seemed to come earlier, rather than later, considering the time of the year. Pitt barely managed to cover a yawn, waving an apology at the two women seated across the small café table from him.
“Late night, huh?” Paninya cupped her chin in the heels of her hands, elbows on the table. Her face seemed brighter almost than the morning sun, peeping over her shoulder through the frosted glass of the window. Pitt wondered if he should get more sleep or he was really that poetic in the morning.
“Mrs. Jackson had her baby last night.” Winry, sitting next to Paninya, answered for Pitt. Her stern blue eyes turned back across the table, pinning Pitt in place. “Which is why I didn’t have an escort to the military function.”
“You can complain to Mrs. Jackson,” Pitt said, picking up his teacup and blowing judiciously on the steaming liquid. “Or her daughter, who wasn’t inclined to wait any longer.”
Paninya pursed her lips. “Awfully close to Longest Night for a baby. Bet Mrs. Jackson’s glad she came out now.”
Winry rolled her eyes. “Paninya, don’t start with that superstition again.”
“It’s not a superstition!” Paninya elbowed Winry in response to her loud, unladylike snort. “You saw Millie’s baby back in Rush Valley. Born on Longest Night,” she leaned across the table, her voice dropping to a spooky whisper, “all covered in hair. When Millie tried to nurse, the baby bit her.” Nodding, Paninya said, “Born with teeth.”
Winry groaned aloud. “The teeth and the hair all fell out within a week, Pitt.”
Sniffing, Paninya went on, lowering her voice deliberately to make it sound spookier. “Her first meal was her mother’s milk and her mother’s blood.”
“Paninya!” Winry slapped her hands on the table. “That’s not what happened.”
“Is too.” Giving Pitt a broad, slow wink, Paninya picked up her teacup, slurping from it loudly to cover up any more of Winry’s protests.
Folding her arms, Winry scowled at her friend. Her good nature won out before very long and she sighed, rolling her eyes one final time at the idea of a blood sucking baby. “I’m still angry at you, though.” Her gimlet gaze crossed the table and Pitt felt that sinking sensation in his stomach.
“Me?”
“You. Because I didn’t have an escort last night, Major Pendergrast,” at his name, Winry’s eyebrow twitched violently, “decided he should ‘take care’ of me.”
Pitt sucked in a sympathetic breath. “Wasn’t his wife there?”
“She was too busy looking for her dog - yes,” she nodded at Pitt’s shocked expression, “the woman brought a dog to a military function! And he thought that meant he could just,” Winry shuddered, fury darkening her eyes. “The man is all hands. And I had to smile at him - just smile - because of his stupid sulfur mines! Worse yet,” her expression somehow darkened even more, “I had to convince Ed to go apologize to them.”
“Wait, Ed?” Paninya half turned in her seat. “You didn’t tell me Ed was there. Was Al there, too?”
Right on top of Paninya’s questions, Pitt asked, “Edward Elric?”
Winry’s scowl deepened and she crossed her arms again. “Yes, Al was there. No, I didn’t talk to him. Yes, Edward Elric.”
Paninya pouted, folding her arms in a mirror image of Winry. “I didn’t even know Al was in town!”
“Neither did I.” Winry sounded a lot less disappointed and a lot more cool than Paninya about the idea of seeing - and talking to - the Elric brothers.
“Trying to have a pleasant breakfast, here.” Pitt waved his fork over the scrambled eggs and sausage in front of him. “Before I have to go in to work?” He gave Winry a pointed look and, much to his surprise, she slumped back in her chair, her lower lip sticking out much like Paninya’s pout. If they had any idea how similar they could be some times, Pitt thought, and ended that musing right there. He wasn’t about to start another squabble.
Paninya, on the other hand, sometimes didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. “So.” Her expression turned sly. “How exactly did you convince Ed to apologize to that major?”
The unfamiliar sound, Pitt realized, was Winry grinding her teeth together. “How do you think?”
Leaning her elbow on the table, Paninya cupped her chin in her hand, raising her eyebrows at Winry.
“Don’t be disgusting.” Winry’s lip curled in disgust.
Paninya snickered. “You have such a gutter mind.”
“Me?”
“You.” Paninya poked her. “I was thinking you threatened him. Like usual. You obviously thought I meant something else.”
Pitt choked on his tea, setting the cup down hastily to thump his chest with his fist as Winry’s hot glare turned on Paninya. Paninya gazed back, as calm as Winry was furious. “Are you okay, Pitt?” she asked, turning to him and letting Winry fume.
He coughed, nodding and wiping his eyes with his napkin. “Winry,” he managed to say, when he got his cough under control again, “did you bother telling Ed or Al about Geoffrey?” From her glare, Pitt almost wished he hadn’t asked. Still, curiosity prompted him to ask.
“Why should I?” Winry all but growled her own question back at Pitt.
“Because they’d probably want to know?” Paninya spread her hands in apology. “Winry, they’re your best friends.”
She said stiffly, “Were. Were my best friends.”
Pitt wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not that Winry didn’t go on to say that he and Paninya were her best friends now. Paninya met Pitt’s gaze, giving him another slow wink before saying, “Al always asks about you.”
“Al’s being nice.” Winry wasn’t bending at all. There was a dull, angry flame in her eyes that Pitt didn’t remember seeing before, even when Paninya or he had brought up the Elrics in the past. What had happened now, he wondered. Or was it just seeing them again, after Geoffrey left her and Grant with just a letter to explain why? “He’s always nice.”
Pitt pointed his piece of toast at Winry. “But you didn’t talk to him.”
“Too busy yelling at Ed, probably.” Paninya showed Pitt a sunny grin despite Winry’s glower.
“You should’ve talked to him, Winry.”
“We don’t have anything to say to each other, Pitt.” The finality to the tone of her voice surprised him. “Whatever we had to say was years ago.” Paninya started to interrupt but Winry raised a hand, stopping her. “Al asks about me because he’s Alphonse Elric and he’s one of the nicest men in Amestris. If he’d really wanted to know,” her brow furrowed and Winry looked toward the window and the street outside the café.
“Now I just feel bad for bringing it up,” Paninya grumped when Winry didn’t say anything else.
“It’s okay.” Winry offered them both a quick, albeit fake, grin. “C’mon, Pitt. We need to get to the clinic.” She pushed her chair back, dumping some sens on the table for a tip.
“Ah, duty calls. Hopefully, I’ll be able to squeeze a nap in between appointments today.” Pitt winked at Paninya.
“Just say you have a lunch date with me.” Paninya patted his arm. “You can sleep through it, I don’t mind.”
“She’ll draw on your face.” Winry sniffed.
Paninya grinned, completely unabashed. “I only did that once. And you have to admit, it was funny.”
“Not when I had to speak to the automail mechanics to get my mastership!” Winry sounded almost normal again, Pitt thought. “I walked in with my face all red from scrubbing.”
“You still got your master’s title,” Pitt and Paninya said at the same time.
The scowl got lost in her reluctant grin. “Not from any of your help.”
Paninya bumped her shoulder into Winry’s. “It was a help! Kept you from freaking out too much before you went in to give your talk. You were too busy concentrating on getting the ink off your face.”
Eyebrow twitching, Winry said, “Oh, it’s so much better to be freaking out because of a spiral moustache on my face than it is on how my talk might go over.”
“You still got through it just fine and look at you now, running your own automail shop with a clinic attached.” Pitt puffed out his chest, hooking a thumb back at himself. “With me as a partner. What more can you ask for?”
That made her laugh, however softly, and Winry nodded in agreement. “Nothing. I have you two and Grant and my clients. That’s enough for anyone.”
Pitt thought it wasn’t quite enough for Winry but kept those thoughts to himself. She was back in a decent mood and he didn’t want to be the one to spoil it for her. Let thoughts of Edward Elric or Major Pendergrast do that.
* * *
Sunlight beamed through the window, landing in a splash on the nicked tabletop, half-covered with a newspaper and breakfast dishes. Edward absently rubbed at his right shoulder, wishing the heat in the military apartments worked better. No matter where he went, if it was cold out, the radiators never seemed to work properly. If he had a clue what he was doing, he’d try to fix them using alchemy, but he never seemed to have time to do that kind of research. Well, that and it seemed he rarely was in one place long enough to really worry about the radiators.
Of course, now that he and Alphonse were back from Xing, they might wind up staying in East City for a while. It depended. Being on a military contract might not be too many steps above being a military dog, but at least he and Al were still doing something for their country. They could even make choices about assignments they’d accept - not that there’d been many they’d turned down. Somewhere along the line, it had become less about what he and Alphonse wanted and what they thought might be best for the people. Edward couldn’t put a finger on when that happened - maybe when Fuhrer Bradley made hostages out of Winry and Mustang’s men. Maybe before. But neither he nor Alphonse wanted to see people hurt, so they went where the military asked them to go.
The corners of his mouth turned down at that. He didn’t regret the choice he and Alphonse had made, all those years ago. They’d talked it over - long, late night discussions, hell, they’d even included Winry in some of them. She hadn’t understood it all then, why they still felt the need to search for a way to get Edward’s body back to normal. He blinked at the newspaper, not really seeing it. Instead, a vision tugged at his memory, of a dove grey dress and a pair of furious eyes. “Oh, hell.”
Slumping back in the chair, Edward covered his eyes with his metal hand. Winry had been at that stupid function last night. Now, far too late, he remembered arguing with her. Remembered her slapping him. That explained the bruise on his jaw this morning. “Fuck.” Why hadn’t General Hawkeye warned him that Winry was going to be there? Oh, right. The woman was a sadist. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’d been drunk and Winry had been right there to witness it.
Hell, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, Edward cajoled himself. If he’d known Winry and her husband, what’s his name, right, Geoffrey, were going to be there, he probably would’ve wound up passed out on the floor of the kitchen, rather than just drunk with that stupid dog standing in his lap.
Edward didn’t like to think about the past and what might have beens. You couldn’t change the past, after all, you just had to make the best of it and try to do better in the future. That didn’t stop him from knocking his metal knuckles against his skull repeatedly at his own stupidity. Winry had lost all capacity to forgive the dumb things he and Alphonse had done when they were younger. She didn’t understand - maybe she couldn’t understand - why automail wasn’t a substitute Edward had wanted. Why Alphonse was so driven to find a way to get Edward’s limbs back. Why in the hell it had really seemed like such a great idea, traveling to Xing along with Ling and the bean girl as envoys from Amestris.
His metal fingers moved, drumming softly on the table. Edward snorted, shaking his head. All their trips away from the comfort of home, the hardships they’d endured, the friendship and family they’d lost - it wasn’t enough of a sacrifice. There was no equivalent exchange for Edward’s limbs, just opportunities missed for something he’d realized he’d wanted even more than his own arm and leg back, far too late to do anything about it.
The food on his plate didn’t look good any more and Edward pushed it away, his stomach turning foul with the regrets storming through him. He swallowed convulsively, managing to keep his breakfast down. He’d need the fuel for his body to face General Hawkeye this morning. Eye unconsciously twitching in response to the order that had been slipped under the hotel room door sometime during the night, Edward frowned at the handwritten note, half-buried under the morning paper. The general had heard of last night’s encounter with Major Pendergrast. Breda, Edward figured, since the man had been representing Hawkeye at the function. She also had other issues to discuss with the Elric brothers, and wanted them both at her office. Edward tugged his pocket watch - a reminder of the collar and leash he’d once worn - from his pocket. They had forty minutes to make it to HQ and Alphonse wasn’t even out of bed yet.
With a resounding sigh, Edward pushed his chair back over the uneven floor, making it squeal. He stretched himself to his feet, hands reaching for the ceiling, back arching enough that his stomach showed beneath his a-line undershirt. Twisting his body from side to side, Edward warmed up a little bit before crossing the room to his brother’s door. Automail made a great knocker and he rapped his knuckles on a wooden panel, making it boom. “Get up. We’ve got a meeting.”
Behind the door, Alphonse grumbled something inarticulate. Probably swearing at him. Edward was pretty sure Alphonse hadn’t had enough to drink to have a hangover but, then again, he hadn’t been paying that much attention to his little brother. The second time, he knocked louder. “C’mon, General Hawkeye will shoot us both if you make me late.”
“Don’ care.” The two syllables filtered through the door, along with the sound of bedsprings squeaking. “Go without me.”
Edward tried the doorknob, grimacing when he realized it was locked. “Al, we don’t have time for this.” He could pick the lock, kick down the door or use alchemy. None of the ideas seemed appealing. Well, kicking the door down was always good but as flimsy as the military hotel doors were, he’d probably put his foot through it rather than kick it open. “Get up before I do something you’d hate.”
“You’re already doin’ it.”
“Hnng.” Edward glared at the door. He really didn’t want to transmute the lock and he wasn’t sure where any of his tools were. “I’ll kick the door down, Al.”
“I’ll make you fix it,” came the muffled response. “Or pay for it.” That was definitely a gloat.
Edward managed to count to three. “Fuck it.” Spinning, his left leg snapped, the blade of his foot striking the door. The resultant crash sounded better than any applause. Still standing on just one foot, his automail leg bent, Edward smirked.
One bloodshot eye glared at him from under the ugly hotel blanket. A hand wormed its way free of the sheets to flash an obscene Xingese gesture. “You’re so dead.”
“You have to get out from under those blankets first.” With a little flourish, Edward twisted his ankle prior to straightening his leg. His knee froze at a forty-five degree angle.
“Cut it out!” Alphonse flung a pillow at Edward, making him dodge. Edward over-compensated, arms windmilling as he tried to stay upright in a battle against gravity. Gravity won, dragging him down to the floor and knocking the breath out of him. “Brother!” Alphonse yelled and winced. “God, can’t you stop that squeaking? It’s cutting through my brain.”
“Uh,” Edward grabbed his shin, trying to force his leg to straighten. The gears whined. He tried to make his leg bend. The hydraulics groaned. “Well, fuck!”
“Can you just lie there quietly?” Alphonse moaned, pulling the covers over his head.
With a nervous laugh, Edward rolled onto his back. “Hey, Al? Alphonse?”
Alphonse sighed, slamming the blankets off of him as he sat up abruptly. “What is it, Ed?”
He pointed at his leg. “It’s not moving.”
“Not moving?” Alphonse looked at his leg, at the door and back at his leg. Edward decided he really didn’t like that smile on his brother’s face. “I guess that means we’re going to see Winry, doesn’t it?”
Edward stared blankly at Alphonse, any argument he thought of giving vanishing from his mind. “Oh, no. Hell, no. She’s not even my mechanic any more!” Alphonse’s grin grew even more wicked. “No, Al! She’ll - she’s already mad at me. She’ll kill me.”
“And then you won’t be squeaking and disturbing my sleep.” Alphonse got out of bed, practically humming as he pulled some clothes out of the dresser. “And it’ll make life easier for General Hawkeye. It’s really a win-win situation, Brother. For everyone.” He managed to avoid Edward’s flailing hands. “Try not to make too much more noise, Ed. We may have downstairs neighbors.” With that, Alphonse left him on the floor, heading for the bathroom.
Edward groaned, thumping the back of his skull against the floor a few times. “Fuckity fuck fuck.”
* * *
Chapter 3
Author: evil_little_dog
Beta Names: cornerofmadness, suspicious, bob_fish for one particular section.
Artist Names: dreamer1789; Yoporock.
Genre: Mystery/Angst
Rating: Teen edging into Adult for violence.
Wordcount: Approximately 52,000
Pairing/Characters: Edward/Winry UST, Al/Paninya, Al/Various Others, Riza/Roy.
Warnings: Future!Fic, triptych piece for Miss the Journey and Nothing Gold Can Stay but it isn’t necessary for you to have read either of those ficlets to understand this story. Violence, murder, alcohol abuse, light mentions of drug use, light mentions of multiple-partner sex. Oh, and language, though warning you of language in an FMA fic just seems like overkill.
Summary: After being away for many years, Edward and Alphonse return to East City to find Winry Rockbell being hunted by a sadistic murderer. Can they find him and repair their relationship with Winry before it's too late?
Disclaimer: Just playing in Arakawa’s sandbox. I promise to dust off the toys and put them back where I found them when I’m done.
A.N. Written for 2009-2010 fma_big_bang.
* * *
Chapter 1
Of all forms of caution, caution in love is the most fatal. - Unknown
* * *
His dress uniform had been freshly laundered and pressed, the creases knife sharp. His medals, badges and ribbons were carefully cleaned, his buttons and shoes polished mirror bright. His hat had been professionally cleaned and reshaped for his head and he’d spent time at the barber yesterday, neatening up his hair and moustache. He intended to prove his worth to her tonight. She’d managed to put him off before but now, she was free and ripe for the plucking.
“You can see why she’d want me, don’t you?” He straightened the sleeves of his shirt, checking his sleeves in his reflection. Soon, he’d be in his dress blues. For now, the workman’s shirt did an excellent job of camouflage. “We would make an excellent match.” The mirror reflected him back, showing him the bed behind him, a woman sprawled across it. “No, you don’t have to speak. It’s enough that you understand, what we had this evening was just a passing thing.” A smile touched his mouth. “I can’t really have you talking to all your friends about me, either. But I doubt you would. You’re a very intelligent girl.” Turning, he cocked his head, studying the young woman. “It’s too bad we didn’t meet under different circumstances.”
Going to the bed, he began wrapping her up in the blanket. It would make it so much easier to carry her. This part of town, no one would even notice. He needed to hurry, though, if he wanted to make it home in time to finish getting dressed for the function.
Before covering the woman’s face, he took one final look. Her lovely hair was almost the perfect shade of ash blond though her roots were showing through. “I really am sorry we met like this.” He studied her staring eyes. “But I’m sure you understand why things had to be this way. I couldn’t let her find out about you, now, could I? What kind of impression would that make on my courtship?”
Her body weighed him down for a few seconds but he adjusted her weight in his arms. “Come along, my dear. This won’t take much longer.
“I have a date to keep tonight, after all.”
* * *
“Your brother.”
Alphonse winced automatically, hunching his shoulders at Breda’s tone of voice. “What has he done now?” He hoped it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t often they actually came to these types of parties but the word had come from General Riza Hawkeye that the Fullmetal Alchemist would be in attendance. And while Edward would’ve grumbled and fussed and whined and carried on for days if Fuhrer Mustang ordered him to attend, he stared at the orders from Hawkeye and gave in with just a weary sigh.
“He nearly incited Mrs. Pendergrast to a riot.” Breda, wearing the stars of a captain on his dress blues, shook his head. “Of course, it’s her own damned fault. She brought that little fluffy dog of hers,” his lip curled in distaste, “stashed in her purse, and it popped its head out at Ed.”
“Oh.” Well, that didn’t sound too bad, Alphonse thought, but Breda wasn’t finished.
“Ed asked her if she’d brought it for the cook to serve,” the meal was high Xingese, “and Mrs. Pendergrast had to be hauled off by her husband.” A very slight pause. “Major Pendergrast.”
Alphonse’s palm had already made connection with his forehead.
“Wait, there’s more.” Breda obviously enjoyed being the bearer of bad tidings. “Ed shouted after her, saying he’d be happy to take care of the appetizer - and the damned dog jumped out of her purse and ran to him. When the major came to rescue ‘Poopsy’,” his distaste rose again and Alphonse understood, at least slightly, why - who, in their right mind, would name a dog ‘Poopsy’? - “the dog bit him.” Alphonse heard sheer, utter glee but he understood it. Pendergrast was a bullheaded bastard - and that just wasn’t his brother’s voice in his head saying those words. “I think your brother was taking the dog to the kitchen, last I saw.”
Shaking his head, Alphonse wondered how he’d be able to frame his apologies. Pendergrast was just high enough up in the military rankings that his fussing could have repercussions. Not that Edward would pay much attention to those, no, but Riza…Alphonse really didn’t want the general angry at his brother. She didn’t always play fair. “Where is Ed?” If he could get his brother to return the dog and say he was sorry, maybe that would do the trick or at least defuse the situation enough that it wouldn’t wind up in a report on Riza’s desk.
“Don’t worry.” The smile wreathing Breda’s face could only be described as evil. “It’s been taken care of.”
“What?” Alphonse glanced around, not expecting to see his brother carrying the dog back as a peace offering. Instead, he spotted a blond head that for an instant made him think - “General Hawkeye’s here?”
“Nope.” Breda popped the ‘p’ as he snagged a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray. “Better.” That evil smile tilted toward Alphonse and he felt a chill run down his spine, a warning that maybe he should collect his brother and just run like hell. “Winry Rockbell’s here.”
“Oh, damn.”
* * *
The kitchen was relatively quiet, after all the ruckus out in the main floor. All right, so he’d caused some of it. Edward couldn’t help but snicker at the memory of that fat ass’ Pendergrast’s face when the dog snapped at him. It really was funny, the way the big man had backpedaled away from the little yellow dog currently sitting on Edward’s thigh and pawing at his chest. “A’right, a’right,” he grumbled, reaching for another strip of chicken and offering it to the mutt. “I’ll share.”
The little dog gobbled up the meat, licking its teeth and lips afterward, its head tilted to one side then the other before it pawed at his chest again. Edward gave it a scowl that did nothing to deter the mutt but this was his chicken, dammit. Okay, so he’d share, but the dog wasn’t getting every single piece! He’d asked the Xingese cook to make it special, something that wouldn’t be served out there on the floor, the sweet and spicy chicken Edward remembered from Xing and the provinces Ling had dragged Al and him through. He was a little surprised the dog would eat it. The hot peppers were enough to make him sweat but the mutt just swallowed the chicken whole. “Bet you’re gonna be fun tomorrow,” Edward told it, reaching for his whiskey glass.
There was a foot in the way.
Edward blinked at the foot. As feet went, it was kind of nice, in a shiny patent leather shoe that reflected his glove. A delicate ankle rose above the top of the shoe, attached to a calf that disappeared into a frothy dress hem in dark grey. Edward found himself admiring a trim waist and hands and wrists gloved almost to the elbows. His gaze lingered for a split second on a well-displayed pair of breasts though somewhere, deep in his brain, something warned him that maybe he’d better move. He wasn’t sure why just yet, perhaps that second sense that had done him so well in the past in his battles. But the whiskey he’d consumed made his reaction time sluggish, so his eyes wandered the rest of the way up a slender throat to a pair of burning blue eyes, set in a face framed by cornsilk hair.
That second sense clamored for him to move, run, slap his hands together so he could melt the floor beneath him but Edward was frozen, staring up at her. He couldn’t even feel the dog pawing at his chest any more.
“Don’t you have anything to say, Edward?” The steel whip in her voice lashed at him before he could react and he gaped, unable to reconcile this woman with the girl he’d left behind so long ago. “Idiot.” Her foot scooted the glass out of his reach. “Are you aware who the Pendergrasts are?”
Art by yoporock
The little dog on his thigh turned around in reaction to Winry’s voice, its ears flipping forward and back. Its fluffy tail wagged a little uncertainly and Edward felt almost the same way as he figured the dog did. At least neither of them had peed in fear yet. “I know he’s a gassy bag of hot air.” He offered the dog another piece of chicken, pleased his hand didn’t tremble. He could feel Winry’s fury, like the air preceding a thunderstorm.
“That gassy ball of hot air owns the biggest sulfur mine in Amestris, Edward. Even you should know why sulfur is important. Especially you, being an alchemist.”
Lightning crackled overhead, about to strike. “What’s it matter to you? You’re not part of the military. He is. He’s an asshole and a blowhard and it’s not my fault his dog likes me better.” Okay, that last rejoinder was weaker than Edward liked but true.
“And he controls the prices of the sulfur in his mine.” Above his head, Winry folded her arms. Edward tried not to glance up to see what sort of effect that had on the bodice of her dress. “That means he can charge the military whatever he wants for sulfur and the military - and therefore, the people of Amestris - would have to pay it.”
“Since when do you care about that kind of thing?” Edward eyed the glass beyond her foot, wondering if he could snatch it up before Winry stomped that heel of her shoe on his hand or head. Too bad the little mutt wasn’t more of distraction. If it was like King, the Wonder Dog, it’d fetch him the glass without spilling a drop.
“Since I’m a citizen of Amestris and my taxes go to pay for the sulfur in the sulfur mines that asshole Pendergrast owns!” Winry swooped down, grabbing the string tie at his throat and pulling. “And you, Edward Elric, are going to go apologize to the man and give him back his damned dog!”
Even without a wrench in her hand, Winry was scary. The problem was, Edward realized, he was already pretty numb from the whiskey he’d drunk earlier. Oh, he could still function - could almost talk normally, even - and walk and, if he had to, dance with some woman that his brother pointed out to him. But that stupid sense of self-preservation was completely gone. That had to be it, right? There was no other reason for him to reach up and push her bangs out of her eyes with a gentle forefinger, wishing it was one she’d made, and say, “You’re really pretty when you’re angry.”
The storm in her eyes raged at the compliment. “You’re drunk.”
Edward smiled in response. “Just a little.”
Her fingers fisted tighter on his tie and she gave him a shake that made his head spin. “You stupid idiot.”
The dog whined, cowering between Edward’s ribs and his left forearm. “Quit scarin’ the mutt, Winry. If he pees on me, I don’t know if I c’n get the stink out.”
Mouth twisting, Winry released his tie, straightening and taking an abrupt step backward. “Get up, Ed. Give the dog back to Mrs. Pendergrast. Apologize to Major Pendergrast. Then go home before you fuck anything else up.”
“But I just got my chicken.” Edward pointed at his plate, nonplussed to see the mutt gobbling down the rest of his meal.
“Now, Edward.” The order lashed out.
With a muttered grumble about sharp-tongued women, Edward heaved himself to his feet. The floor tilted as he stood and he grabbed for the kitchen rack, pleased he didn’t pull anything over or knock anything down. Now vertical, he wasn’t sure if he could pick up the mutt without collapsing.
“I thought you were just a little drunk.”
Edward had to fight to keep from cringing at the vitriol in Winry’s voice. “You try standing up that fast sometime,” he growled back, snapping his flesh fingers at the dog. He wondered absently what he’d done with his gloves. Right, pocket.
Winry bent down to pick up the dog, tucking it against her chest as she stood up. Edward squelched a flare of jealousy at the dog. “I just did.” She pointed with her free hand toward the door. “Go. Apologize to Major Pendergrast.”
“The man’s a dick, Winry.” Edward swayed from side to side, just a little bit, still trying to get his bearings on that sloping floor. Had it been tilted when he’d first come into the kitchen? “He’s always been a dick. Saying I’m sorry to him is like,” he couldn’t think of any suitable to compare it to. “I’m not apologiz - Ow! Fuck! Ow! Winry!” Her fingers - her very strong fingers, her very hard fingers - clamped around his ear and she pulled him along with her.
“You are not embarrassing the military tonight, Edward.” Edward wished that low growl of Winry’s didn’t sound so sexy right now. An erection would wreck havoc with walking. “You are not embarrassing General Hawkeye. You are not embarrassing your brother. You are marching up to Major Pendergrast and, so help me, you’re going to grovel if that man wants you to grovel.” She spun around so fast, Edward wasn’t sure he didn’t lose his ear in the process. Shoving the dog into his senseless arms, Winry pushed him through the kitchen doorway and toward the ballroom. The hallways and corridors sped by, the walls blurring, exacerbated by the alcohol Edward had consumed.
Unfortunately, being clear-headed didn’t seem to be his plan for the evening, even if he had proclaimed his sobriety earlier. “Winry, stop!” Stubborn, Edward planted his feet in the carpet. Winry still managed to slide him along for about a meter before he leaned sideways, nearly tumbling to the floor. The dog leaped out of his arms, yipping at its mistreatment. “I feel sick.”
Winry’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you weren’t drunk.”
“You’re jerkin’ me ‘round an’ I’ma dizzy.” Edward didn’t think he was glaring at her the right way. Maybe because he wasn’t looking in her eyes, he was staring at her breasts. He brought his gaze up. “Jus’ lemme rest here a minute.” The wall seemed sturdy enough and Edward reached out a hand, letting his weight fall against the flat, unmoving surface. “An’ I’ll do whatever you want.” He meant it, too. All she had to do was let him stand there and get his equilibrium back and Edward wouldn’t even argue. He’d do whatever damned thing Winry wanted because he owed it to her, a thousand thousand times over. I should know that number.
Huffing, Winry folded her arms, obviously having no idea what that did to the bodice of her dress. Edward couldn’t help but sneak a peek. He realized he wasn’t being quite as sneaky as he’d thought when a firm hand cupped his chin, pulling it up. “Are you staring at me?”
There was no good answer. Edward knew that. Hell, even the mutt knew. “What if I was?” Belligerent, maybe that’d work, right? “I’m a man, Winry. Men look.”
Oh, definitely the wrong thing to say. Her darkened eyes narrowed to slits then Edward was sitting on the floor, probing his aching jaw, the mutt yapping and dancing in reaction to him falling almost on top of it. “Not at me, you don’t.”
Her words rolled around in his brain and finally connected to what he’d said, just before Winry’d slugged him. “Do, too.” Edward realized he sounded like a sulky kid.
“What makes this different than any other time, Edward?” Her voice came from somewhere far above him.
Edward crawled to the wall, using it to prop himself up. His head still spun from Winry’s punch but he was pretty sure he’d deserved it, if not for tonight, well, there were other times. At least it wasn’t a wrench to his skull. Winry’s question still rang in his ears and he knew he should answer it. Winry hated it when he didn’t answer questions. “Nothin’.” He let his head slide along the wall until he could see her face. “I always looked, Winry. Jus’ din’t want you to see. Nobody else, neither.” Grinning, Edward rubbed his jaw. “Guess it worked on you, huh? Even if it din’t on anyone else.”
Confusion warred with anger, nearly winning. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The dog crawled back in Edward’s lap and he stroked its silky fur absently, rumpling its ears. “Nothin’. I’ll take the mutt back to Pendergrast. I’ll make nice. I’ll grovel so he won’t raise the prices on his sulfur and pass the bill on to the citizens.” Edward realized he was staring at Winry’s ankle. Oh, well. It really was a nice ankle. “I’ll be good. I won’t embarrass the military.”
There was a long pause that made Edward consider looking up. Winry might have an expression on his face he didn’t want to see. Her ankle, on the other hand, didn’t give him an exasperated look, didn’t roll its eyes, didn’t flip its hair. Just stood there, in its pretty patent leather shoe and silk stocking. A long sigh rippled out from above him. Edward still didn’t look up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
Edward’s lips thinned. “I’m not your problem, Winry.” He wished his whiskey wasn’t still on the kitchen floor. “I haven’t been your problem for a very long time.”
The air crackled around his head like a lightning strike. “You’re right, Edward, but you’re my problem tonight.”
The mutt whined, poking its sharp little nose under Edward’s arm. He put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Yer scarin’ the dog.”
The temperature in the corridor got noticeably cooler. “I don’t know why I bother.”
He let out a long sigh. “You don’t have to, Winry. Go on back to your life, ‘kay?” Edward risked a look up, offering her a smile that was only partially fueled by the whiskey in his system. “Me an’ Al’ve been okay. That’s what you wanted to know, right? We’re doin’ fine.” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate but decided he didn’t really care. He and Al had made their decisions a long time ago. Winry had made hers. They lived separate lives that just didn’t intersect any more.
“You’ve been fine?” Winry scoffed. “That’s not what I hear from Riza.”
Edward dropped his gaze back to her ankles. “She doesn’t know everything.” Ruffling the dog’s fur backwards, he made a clucking noise at it. “Does she, little guy?”
A sharp huff erupted from Winry. “She knows enough.”
Raising his eyebrows, Edward glanced toward her face. “I do my job. I live my life. I’m okay, Winry. Don’t you have a husband to get back to?” The hall had stopped swimming enough that he could attempt standing and, clutching the dog to his chest, Edward pushed off the wall and to his feet. He was pleased he didn’t waver in place but managed to stand upright. “I mean, I don’t want anyone to start any rumors.” Chucking the dog under the chin, he started walking toward the ballroom. He raised his hand, wagging it over his shoulder at Winry.
With any luck, he wouldn’t see her again this evening.
* * *
Alphonse sighed, seeing his brother. Edward sprawled halfway across a table, head pillowed on his crossed arms. Men and women were working to clean up the hall and his brother was passed out, oblivious to it all. “Ed,” he sighed, patting Edward’s shoulder. “Come on, wake up. It’s time to go home.”
“I’m not asleep.” One eye canted open, rolling up to focus on Alphonse. Slowly, Edward straightened, his forearms sliding over the wooden table top. He took a deep breath and let it out again. “I’m not drunk, Al.”
“You couldn’t have proved it by me, Brother.” Alphonse dropped his hand from Edward’s shoulder, his mouth tight.
“That was earlier.” Edward smiled suddenly, a sharp, malicious baring of his teeth. “I had to apologize to that ass, Pendergrast. Couldn’t be drunk for that.” Shoving the chair back, he got to his feet.
Alphonse wasn’t surprised that his brother didn’t sway or show any indication he’d been drinking earlier. Edward’s ability to hold his drink could be legendary except there weren’t that many people who knew he could and did have a head for whiskey. Alphonse blamed Fuhrer Mustang for that one. Once he and Edward had returned from all the missions the military had set them on, the Fuhrer - then simply a brigadier - insisted on indoctrinating them to the world of manhood. Edward had sneered - “Like we didn’t get that in Xing.”
Xing…Alphonse’s heart hurt to think of Xing. It had been fascinating and strange and oh so foreign. Hohenheim’s - Dad’s - influence had made Xing’s healing alchemy what it was. It was weird thinking that, even now, that they were direct descendents of the man who’d taught the Xingese their alchemy. Due to their coloring, like their father’s, not to mention Ling’s favor, they were treated as special guests of the country. Alphonse didn’t really want to think about how favored they had been, not any more.
“Brother.” He swallowed down the words he wasn’t sure he wanted to say, not when someone might be listening. It had been easier when they were children, even when they had been traveling Amestris, searching for the Philosopher’s Stone.
“Winry talked to me.” Edward snorted, pushing the chair back up under the table. “Well, she slapped me.” His metal fingers, concealed by a glove, traced a bruise just visible along his jaw. At Alphonse’s sigh, he waved off the concern. “I deserved it, Al.”
Whatever he’d expected Edward to say, that hadn’t been it. The best Alphonse could mutter in response was his brother’s name. “Ed.”
He shrugged, turning to face Alphonse. “You warned me.” Edward squeezed Alphonse’s shoulder. “And I didn’t listen then.” His hand fell away as he walked toward the exit. “I’m tired, Al. Let’s go home.”
Alphonse followed his brother out of the hall. Stopping at the coat check, they claimed their jackets and went down the stairs, out into the winter night. Edward shivered, tugging his collar up more tightly around his neck. Alphonse glanced his way. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” The corners of Edward’s mouth tipped up. Alphonse had to look at the street, hiding his reaction to his brother’s bittersweet smile by hailing a cab. “Hey, Al?”
“Yes, Brother?” He nodded as the cab pulled up to the curb, making sure the driver knew that, yes, they wanted to hire the car. Alphonse opened the back door, waiting for Edward to get inside, then slid in after him. Giving the address for their hotel, Alphonse settled back in his seat, arranging his jacket over his legs for warmth. He wondered if Edward was going to finish whatever it was he’d been about to say and glanced at his brother, eyebrows lifting.
Edward leaned his elbow on the windowsill, his cheek resting on his fist. “Hmm?” That sad grin still lingered on his face. “Oh.” It brightened just a bit. “Didn’t Winry look beautiful tonight?”
There was only one answer to that question, as much as it hurt to say. “Yes. Yes, she did.”
* * *
East City sat near enough to the eastern border of Amestris to be considered its vanguard for any invasions, not that many countries would be foolish enough to cross the Eastern Desert to attack Amestris on that flank. The desert was even a better barricade than the north, with its wall of mountains. General Grumman had retired from his post in the east to allow younger heads - namely, his granddaughter, General Hawkeye - to prevail. The relationship wasn’t something that the general populace were aware of - nor, truth be told, the military, something that seemed like a good idea at the time. Riza thought there still had been a very good reason for that deceit. For one thing, she hadn’t wanted to be treated any differently from any other soldier.
Of course, she hadn’t been, not until Roy made her his adjutant. Then, it was quite different. Riza knew she had been granted the right to not only watch Roy’s back, but also make sure that, should he ever stray from his chosen path, she was to take him down. So far, there’d been no reason to do it, much to her relief. Riza thought the man was totally exasperating but he also was hers. His arguments to move Amestris toward a democracy might have confused the public but the voting thing was going better. Maybe someday, and Riza hoped it was within her lifetime, things would be the way Roy had dreamed they should be.
Until then, she had her own work to do, including reviewing the reports that had come in from her staff. Later, she could call Roy, find out how his day went, listen to him complain that she was in the east and he was in Central City and that needed to change, just as soon as possible. Personally, Riza thought it would be a good idea for the change. Their daughter needed both parents, after all, and Riza was considering making this her last tour of duty.
“General, sir, here are the reports you wanted.” First Lieutenant Sciezca came through the doorway, a stack of folders tucked against her breast. Behind her glasses, her expression was tight, a warning in and of itself.
“Thank you, First Lieutenant.” Riza accepted the folders, tapping them on her desk to align them. She didn’t want to open them, knowing already what was inside, but it was part and parcel of her job. Still, Riza spared a fleeting thought to Roy’s reaction to the sight of reports on his desk. Knowing what was inside these folders made it that much more difficult. Realizing Sciezca remained in front of her desk, Riza turned her attention to her first lieutenant. “What is it, Sciezca?”
“I just wanted to let you know Captain Breda called, sir, to say that the function went well.” Her fingers twitched around each other.
“And?” Riza raised her eyebrows, not missing that telltale sign of agitation.
“Um,” Sciezca shoved her glasses up on her nose, obviously stalling for time. “Edward Elric and Major Pendergrast had an…altercation, sir. But,” she hastened to add, “Edward apologized and the Major was okay with it. Sir.”
Wondering just what Edward had done this time, Riza decided she really didn’t want to know, even if it was her job. She’d hoped that, by insisting the Elrics attend the function, maybe they’d reconnect with Winry, whom she’d also made sure was invited to attend. Sciezca didn’t mention any of the codes involving that particular trio which Breda would’ve used, so it was safe to assume her little ploy hadn’t worked.
A little noise drew her attention to the present again and Riza nodded at the first lieutenant. “That will be all.” She heard Sciezca close the door behind her.
Entertaining the ‘what if’ thought if her plan had worked didn’t complete her tasks for the evening. Riza put aside thoughts of her younger friends and steeled herself, opening the top folder. The pictures were underneath the typewritten reports, as specified in the military regulations. Riza never thought she’d be so thankful for the simple things. Reading the reports didn’t take completely away the impact of the photographs but at least they lessened it somewhat.
Riza didn’t allow her knuckles to whiten, didn’t allow any outward expression of distress when she flipped to the photographs after reading the report. All homicides or suspected homicides were reported to the military. There were times when Riza wished she didn’t have to look at these reports but understood that fresh eyes sometimes led to cases being solved. It didn’t make it any easier. She knew there were some who considered her a hardened killer for what she had done in Ishbal but it was one thing knowing why she took a life and another to see the aftermath of another person’s handiwork.
The first file was relatively simple and the murder already solved, not that it changed the fact Riza stared at the body of a relatively young woman, bludgeoned to death by her husband. According to the report, he believed his wife had been cheating on him and took action. There was no word in the report as to whether the woman had actually had an affair. Riza sighed softly, setting aside the report. The husband was in jail and awaiting trial though he continued to protest that he was in the right, despite laws against abuse.
The second file was more straightforward though no less disheartening, as was the third. Riza wondered again why she waited until the end of the day to review these reports. Did it make going home to her daughter that much better? Or had Roy rubbed off on her in subtle ways, making her postpone the horror as long as she possibly could?
The fourth report made her frown - another woman, this time found in an alley. Her body had been there for a few days, tossed in with the trash. No one had come forth with a missing person’s report to match her and Riza idly wondered who she might be. There were no identifying marks on the woman, beyond what her killer left behind. A case of strangulation, the ligature marks on her throat indicating a cord had been used. One shoe was missing, though there were indications the body had been moved to the trash pile from somewhere else and the shoe might have come off in transit. Her clothing indicated she didn’t have much money, which might mean she came in from the countryside, trying to find work. A pang ran through Riza at the thought this young woman would go unnoticed, unclaimed, unknown, buried in a pauper’s grave with no one to mourn her passing.
The photographs didn’t tell any more of the young woman’s story, just that, maybe, she might’ve been pretty when she was alive. Long, pale hair fanned out behind her skull, a pair of heavy gloves covered her hands. Her face was swollen and discolored from the strangulation.
Riza sighed, closing the file. There were still more files to go through before she went home this evening and Maizy was waiting. Picking up the next file, she opened it, determined to get through these last few files before she went home.
* * *
“So, why didn’t you tell me, Al?” Edward glanced over at his younger brother, seated behind the driver of the cab they’d hired.
“Well, her clinic is here in East City.” At Edward’s snort, Alphonse went on. “Because by the time Captain Breda pointed her out to me, it was already too late.” Alphonse didn’t turn his attention from the scenes passing by on the other side of his window. “The captain said you’d pissed off the major,” he waved his fingers at Edward’s hissing his name. “If you hadn’t done that, maybe she wouldn’t have come after you.”
Edward folded his arms, jaw jutting like he was getting ready to face down Winry over his automail. That reflexive memory led to others and he shook his head, trying to clear it of anything dealing with Winry Rockbell.
Alphonse, though, proved again that Elric telepathy was faulty at best. “I think Winry was angrier even than Major Pendergrast.” He turned then - of course - and Edward stubbornly stared at the passenger’s side window. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her, Ed.” He hated it when Alphonse’ voice turned wistful. “Is she doing all right? Is she happy?” Alphonse hesitated but for such a short time, it almost seemed a pause for a quick breath. “How is her son?”
“We didn’t exactly exchange small talk.” The words came out cold and bitter and Edward tightened his jaw again.
Sighing, Alphonse leaned back into his seat. “I suppose not, if she was yelling at you.”
“Hey, I did what she asked. I was a good dog.” Edward spat those words.
“Brother.” Another sigh but Alphonse said nothing else, shifting his position and making the leather seat squeak.
Edward didn’t respond, continuing to glare out the window. Catching sight of a blond woman, her head tilted back to look at the man with her, he wished Winry hadn’t looked so nice tonight. Or smelled so good. Maybe that her eyes weren’t so amazingly brilliant when she was furious with him.
Wishing, Edward reminded himself sternly, got him nowhere. Best put Winry Rockbell out of his mind.
* * *
Chapter 2
A guy and a girl can be just friends but at one point or another one of them will fall for the other, maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late or maybe, just maybe...forever.... Unknown
* * *
How could something so simple go so wrong? He paced, chewing on the cuticle of his right thumb. It had seemed so fleeting but often, things were not as they seemed.
She was, in a word, beautiful. He remembered the first time he’d seen her - how she had moved, like a morning sunbeam flitting across the room. Her gaze had swept over him and it seemed as if an electric jolt surged through him, leaving him weak and gasping. And then she spoke and he felt his world would never be the same. This woman - this amazing creature - was like no other woman he’d met before. Whenever their paths crossed, as surely they must, considering his family’s holdings and both her chosen profession and ties to the military, his heart rate increased, almost as if he had entered a battlefield. When she glanced his direction, his body stirred in ways it hadn’t since he was a teenager. His wife had failed to bring him to such a state of arousal for years. But she - she put him off. She had a boyfriend, then a husband and always, always her career.
She didn’t seem to understand what he could do for her, what ways he could further her research and studies. She put him off with clever words and phrases, and a show of propriety that could only be feigned. She was a woman, after all; they were known to tease and lie to get what they desired. He just hadn’t figured out what he could offer that would bring her to him, not yet, at least.
An idea crossed his mind, one so spontaneous and perfect, it nearly sent him staggering back into the bed. A smile crossed his face. Yes. That would be an excellent idea. She’d owe him then and wouldn’t be able to resist any more.
“William? Are you coming to bed?”
He ignored his wife, ignored the little squeaky bark of her dog.
“All right then.” Her voice fluttered over his shoulder, like the wings of a moth. “Good night.”
Yes, it was far too late tonight but tomorrow, tomorrow he’d put his plans in motion.
* * *
Water dripped somewhere in the house.
Winry turned her attention from the automail limb on her workbench. The sound came again, like a dripping faucet into a stopped up sink. Had she left the water running? “Grant?”
When her son didn’t answer, she pushed back from the bench. Another drip. Winry walked into the hall. “Grant, where are you?”
Light spilled through the open door at the end of the hall. Shading her eyes, Winry took a few steps, her feet splashing through the water on the floor. The light nearly blinded her but she still took a quick look down, her breath catching at the sight.
Blood ran along the hallway, drenching the wooden floor, staining her feet crimson. Her breath catching, Winry clutched at her chest. “Grant?” Her voice failed her, barely coming out loud enough for Winry to hear. “No, please.” She forced her legs to move through the sucking liquid, hating the way it clung to her feet. “Grant!”
The dripping grew louder and Winry followed it, using the walls to keep herself upright. Her breath came in gasps as she stepped through the maw of the doorway, into that brilliant light. “Grant?”
“You have to help him!”
Something glittered in front of her. Winry recognized Alphonse’s voice coming from the suit of armor, Edward cradled against the chest plate. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandages wrapped around Edward’s leg; dripped through his fingers clutching where his right arm should have been and onto the floor. The room was flooded with it, scarlet flowing everywhere, lapping up her ankles to her knees, her knees to her thighs. “Winry, please! I think Ed’s dying!”
She slogged across the room, fighting her way through the deluge. The blood thickened as she walked, as if she’d churned it into butter. “He’ll be okay, Al.” Be okay, Ed. Struggling to reach them, Winry saw Edward sliding out of Alphonse’s grip. “Hold onto him, Al!”
Alphonse tried but the blood made everything slick. His fingers slipped and Edward dropped out of his arms, floating for a few seconds on the surface of the blood. “Ed!” Winry grabbed for him, managing to snag his left arm and haul him to her. She held his back against her chest, feeling his heart beat hard enough to rock her. “Ed. Edward!”
His face went under and Winry tried to pull him back up. “Ed! Ed, wake up and help me!” She screamed at his weight, fighting against gravity and the weight of his unconscious body.
“What?”
The light was back, sudden as the sun after a cloudburst. Winry lifted her hand, blocking enough of it to see Edward and Alphonse, dressed in Amestrian blues. “What…what’s going on?”
Edward rolled his eyes, turning away from her. “It’s time for us to go.”
“Go?” Winry felt trapped, unable to move. “Go where?”
“Ishbal,” her mother said, her smile brilliant.
“You be a good girl, Winry. We’ll be home as soon as we can.” Dad ruffled her hair before pulling his hat on, tugging at the brim to straighten it.
“No.” Winry reached out for them, her fingers brushing over the hem of Mom’s dress. “Mom! Don’t go to Ishbal. You’ll die there!”
Her dad turned around but it was Alphonse who asked, “You told us not to die, remember?” just before vanishing.
“Mom? Dad?” Winry spun around, the light filling the room, wiping out her ability to see anything else. “Al! Ed!”
“They’re all gone.” Pinako and Den stood next to her. Smoke spun up from her grandmother’s pipe. “Sorry, kiddo.”
“Why?” Winry heard her voice break. “Granny, why does everyone leave me?”
“Because,” Den said, as her body faded from view, Pinako’s form curling away like the fragrant pipe smoke, “you’re not worth sticking around for.”
The scream ripped out of her throat, swallowed up by the light. Winry grasped at the air, begging for it to bring them back. The floor beneath her shook, knocking her off balance, sending her sprawling. Somewhere, in the distance, she could hear the Elric brothers laughing. “No,” she whispered, her throat too hoarse to shout. “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t - please - ”
“Mommy?”
Somehow, that voice reached her. Winry opened her eyes, seeing a blank wall of white. Her heart pounded, her fingers clenching in the sheets of her bedding. The rank scent of sweat flooded her nostrils. Sitting up with a gasp, Winry scrubbed her forearm over her face. “It’s okay, Grant.” She wished she sounded more sincere. “Just a nightmare.”
Winry could just see the frown on her son’s face as he climbed over the rumpled bedding. “You were crying.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Grant scowled more deeply. “I heard you.”
“I’m sorry.” Winry wiped her eyes with the heel of one hand while reaching for her son with the other. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Grant let her pull him close, his frown not lessening. “You did.” He snuggled against her, draping an arm over her stomach. “You had a nightmare?”
“Mmm.” Winry pressed a kiss into her son’s tousled, chestnut hair. “It was just a bad dream, honey.”
Craning his neck to look at her, Grant asked, “Did you get chased? I get chased in my nightmares.”
“No, no one chased me.” Winry squeezed Grant’s slender shoulders. She didn’t want to tell him about her dream. She didn’t want to guess why Geoffrey hadn’t appeared in it, since he’d left her, too. Do not think about it. “We should both try to go back to sleep, huh?” She couldn’t see the alarm clock from her bed but from the way the light shone through the crack in the curtains, Winry thought it was still very early in the morning.
Grant rubbed his cheek against her chest. “Tell me a story.” He leaned his head back, a delighted smile breaking across his face. “Tell me about the Fullmetal Alchemist. Maizy said he’s here in East City! Do you think I could meet him?”
Words froze in her throat. Winry didn’t know how to answer Grant any other way than to say, “We’ll see, honey.” She kissed his forehead. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Morning seemed to come earlier, rather than later, considering the time of the year. Pitt barely managed to cover a yawn, waving an apology at the two women seated across the small café table from him.
“Late night, huh?” Paninya cupped her chin in the heels of her hands, elbows on the table. Her face seemed brighter almost than the morning sun, peeping over her shoulder through the frosted glass of the window. Pitt wondered if he should get more sleep or he was really that poetic in the morning.
“Mrs. Jackson had her baby last night.” Winry, sitting next to Paninya, answered for Pitt. Her stern blue eyes turned back across the table, pinning Pitt in place. “Which is why I didn’t have an escort to the military function.”
“You can complain to Mrs. Jackson,” Pitt said, picking up his teacup and blowing judiciously on the steaming liquid. “Or her daughter, who wasn’t inclined to wait any longer.”
Paninya pursed her lips. “Awfully close to Longest Night for a baby. Bet Mrs. Jackson’s glad she came out now.”
Winry rolled her eyes. “Paninya, don’t start with that superstition again.”
“It’s not a superstition!” Paninya elbowed Winry in response to her loud, unladylike snort. “You saw Millie’s baby back in Rush Valley. Born on Longest Night,” she leaned across the table, her voice dropping to a spooky whisper, “all covered in hair. When Millie tried to nurse, the baby bit her.” Nodding, Paninya said, “Born with teeth.”
Winry groaned aloud. “The teeth and the hair all fell out within a week, Pitt.”
Sniffing, Paninya went on, lowering her voice deliberately to make it sound spookier. “Her first meal was her mother’s milk and her mother’s blood.”
“Paninya!” Winry slapped her hands on the table. “That’s not what happened.”
“Is too.” Giving Pitt a broad, slow wink, Paninya picked up her teacup, slurping from it loudly to cover up any more of Winry’s protests.
Folding her arms, Winry scowled at her friend. Her good nature won out before very long and she sighed, rolling her eyes one final time at the idea of a blood sucking baby. “I’m still angry at you, though.” Her gimlet gaze crossed the table and Pitt felt that sinking sensation in his stomach.
“Me?”
“You. Because I didn’t have an escort last night, Major Pendergrast,” at his name, Winry’s eyebrow twitched violently, “decided he should ‘take care’ of me.”
Pitt sucked in a sympathetic breath. “Wasn’t his wife there?”
“She was too busy looking for her dog - yes,” she nodded at Pitt’s shocked expression, “the woman brought a dog to a military function! And he thought that meant he could just,” Winry shuddered, fury darkening her eyes. “The man is all hands. And I had to smile at him - just smile - because of his stupid sulfur mines! Worse yet,” her expression somehow darkened even more, “I had to convince Ed to go apologize to them.”
“Wait, Ed?” Paninya half turned in her seat. “You didn’t tell me Ed was there. Was Al there, too?”
Right on top of Paninya’s questions, Pitt asked, “Edward Elric?”
Winry’s scowl deepened and she crossed her arms again. “Yes, Al was there. No, I didn’t talk to him. Yes, Edward Elric.”
Paninya pouted, folding her arms in a mirror image of Winry. “I didn’t even know Al was in town!”
“Neither did I.” Winry sounded a lot less disappointed and a lot more cool than Paninya about the idea of seeing - and talking to - the Elric brothers.
“Trying to have a pleasant breakfast, here.” Pitt waved his fork over the scrambled eggs and sausage in front of him. “Before I have to go in to work?” He gave Winry a pointed look and, much to his surprise, she slumped back in her chair, her lower lip sticking out much like Paninya’s pout. If they had any idea how similar they could be some times, Pitt thought, and ended that musing right there. He wasn’t about to start another squabble.
Paninya, on the other hand, sometimes didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. “So.” Her expression turned sly. “How exactly did you convince Ed to apologize to that major?”
The unfamiliar sound, Pitt realized, was Winry grinding her teeth together. “How do you think?”
Leaning her elbow on the table, Paninya cupped her chin in her hand, raising her eyebrows at Winry.
“Don’t be disgusting.” Winry’s lip curled in disgust.
Paninya snickered. “You have such a gutter mind.”
“Me?”
“You.” Paninya poked her. “I was thinking you threatened him. Like usual. You obviously thought I meant something else.”
Pitt choked on his tea, setting the cup down hastily to thump his chest with his fist as Winry’s hot glare turned on Paninya. Paninya gazed back, as calm as Winry was furious. “Are you okay, Pitt?” she asked, turning to him and letting Winry fume.
He coughed, nodding and wiping his eyes with his napkin. “Winry,” he managed to say, when he got his cough under control again, “did you bother telling Ed or Al about Geoffrey?” From her glare, Pitt almost wished he hadn’t asked. Still, curiosity prompted him to ask.
“Why should I?” Winry all but growled her own question back at Pitt.
“Because they’d probably want to know?” Paninya spread her hands in apology. “Winry, they’re your best friends.”
She said stiffly, “Were. Were my best friends.”
Pitt wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not that Winry didn’t go on to say that he and Paninya were her best friends now. Paninya met Pitt’s gaze, giving him another slow wink before saying, “Al always asks about you.”
“Al’s being nice.” Winry wasn’t bending at all. There was a dull, angry flame in her eyes that Pitt didn’t remember seeing before, even when Paninya or he had brought up the Elrics in the past. What had happened now, he wondered. Or was it just seeing them again, after Geoffrey left her and Grant with just a letter to explain why? “He’s always nice.”
Pitt pointed his piece of toast at Winry. “But you didn’t talk to him.”
“Too busy yelling at Ed, probably.” Paninya showed Pitt a sunny grin despite Winry’s glower.
“You should’ve talked to him, Winry.”
“We don’t have anything to say to each other, Pitt.” The finality to the tone of her voice surprised him. “Whatever we had to say was years ago.” Paninya started to interrupt but Winry raised a hand, stopping her. “Al asks about me because he’s Alphonse Elric and he’s one of the nicest men in Amestris. If he’d really wanted to know,” her brow furrowed and Winry looked toward the window and the street outside the café.
“Now I just feel bad for bringing it up,” Paninya grumped when Winry didn’t say anything else.
“It’s okay.” Winry offered them both a quick, albeit fake, grin. “C’mon, Pitt. We need to get to the clinic.” She pushed her chair back, dumping some sens on the table for a tip.
“Ah, duty calls. Hopefully, I’ll be able to squeeze a nap in between appointments today.” Pitt winked at Paninya.
“Just say you have a lunch date with me.” Paninya patted his arm. “You can sleep through it, I don’t mind.”
“She’ll draw on your face.” Winry sniffed.
Paninya grinned, completely unabashed. “I only did that once. And you have to admit, it was funny.”
“Not when I had to speak to the automail mechanics to get my mastership!” Winry sounded almost normal again, Pitt thought. “I walked in with my face all red from scrubbing.”
“You still got your master’s title,” Pitt and Paninya said at the same time.
The scowl got lost in her reluctant grin. “Not from any of your help.”
Paninya bumped her shoulder into Winry’s. “It was a help! Kept you from freaking out too much before you went in to give your talk. You were too busy concentrating on getting the ink off your face.”
Eyebrow twitching, Winry said, “Oh, it’s so much better to be freaking out because of a spiral moustache on my face than it is on how my talk might go over.”
“You still got through it just fine and look at you now, running your own automail shop with a clinic attached.” Pitt puffed out his chest, hooking a thumb back at himself. “With me as a partner. What more can you ask for?”
That made her laugh, however softly, and Winry nodded in agreement. “Nothing. I have you two and Grant and my clients. That’s enough for anyone.”
Pitt thought it wasn’t quite enough for Winry but kept those thoughts to himself. She was back in a decent mood and he didn’t want to be the one to spoil it for her. Let thoughts of Edward Elric or Major Pendergrast do that.
* * *
Sunlight beamed through the window, landing in a splash on the nicked tabletop, half-covered with a newspaper and breakfast dishes. Edward absently rubbed at his right shoulder, wishing the heat in the military apartments worked better. No matter where he went, if it was cold out, the radiators never seemed to work properly. If he had a clue what he was doing, he’d try to fix them using alchemy, but he never seemed to have time to do that kind of research. Well, that and it seemed he rarely was in one place long enough to really worry about the radiators.
Of course, now that he and Alphonse were back from Xing, they might wind up staying in East City for a while. It depended. Being on a military contract might not be too many steps above being a military dog, but at least he and Al were still doing something for their country. They could even make choices about assignments they’d accept - not that there’d been many they’d turned down. Somewhere along the line, it had become less about what he and Alphonse wanted and what they thought might be best for the people. Edward couldn’t put a finger on when that happened - maybe when Fuhrer Bradley made hostages out of Winry and Mustang’s men. Maybe before. But neither he nor Alphonse wanted to see people hurt, so they went where the military asked them to go.
The corners of his mouth turned down at that. He didn’t regret the choice he and Alphonse had made, all those years ago. They’d talked it over - long, late night discussions, hell, they’d even included Winry in some of them. She hadn’t understood it all then, why they still felt the need to search for a way to get Edward’s body back to normal. He blinked at the newspaper, not really seeing it. Instead, a vision tugged at his memory, of a dove grey dress and a pair of furious eyes. “Oh, hell.”
Slumping back in the chair, Edward covered his eyes with his metal hand. Winry had been at that stupid function last night. Now, far too late, he remembered arguing with her. Remembered her slapping him. That explained the bruise on his jaw this morning. “Fuck.” Why hadn’t General Hawkeye warned him that Winry was going to be there? Oh, right. The woman was a sadist. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’d been drunk and Winry had been right there to witness it.
Hell, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, Edward cajoled himself. If he’d known Winry and her husband, what’s his name, right, Geoffrey, were going to be there, he probably would’ve wound up passed out on the floor of the kitchen, rather than just drunk with that stupid dog standing in his lap.
Edward didn’t like to think about the past and what might have beens. You couldn’t change the past, after all, you just had to make the best of it and try to do better in the future. That didn’t stop him from knocking his metal knuckles against his skull repeatedly at his own stupidity. Winry had lost all capacity to forgive the dumb things he and Alphonse had done when they were younger. She didn’t understand - maybe she couldn’t understand - why automail wasn’t a substitute Edward had wanted. Why Alphonse was so driven to find a way to get Edward’s limbs back. Why in the hell it had really seemed like such a great idea, traveling to Xing along with Ling and the bean girl as envoys from Amestris.
His metal fingers moved, drumming softly on the table. Edward snorted, shaking his head. All their trips away from the comfort of home, the hardships they’d endured, the friendship and family they’d lost - it wasn’t enough of a sacrifice. There was no equivalent exchange for Edward’s limbs, just opportunities missed for something he’d realized he’d wanted even more than his own arm and leg back, far too late to do anything about it.
The food on his plate didn’t look good any more and Edward pushed it away, his stomach turning foul with the regrets storming through him. He swallowed convulsively, managing to keep his breakfast down. He’d need the fuel for his body to face General Hawkeye this morning. Eye unconsciously twitching in response to the order that had been slipped under the hotel room door sometime during the night, Edward frowned at the handwritten note, half-buried under the morning paper. The general had heard of last night’s encounter with Major Pendergrast. Breda, Edward figured, since the man had been representing Hawkeye at the function. She also had other issues to discuss with the Elric brothers, and wanted them both at her office. Edward tugged his pocket watch - a reminder of the collar and leash he’d once worn - from his pocket. They had forty minutes to make it to HQ and Alphonse wasn’t even out of bed yet.
With a resounding sigh, Edward pushed his chair back over the uneven floor, making it squeal. He stretched himself to his feet, hands reaching for the ceiling, back arching enough that his stomach showed beneath his a-line undershirt. Twisting his body from side to side, Edward warmed up a little bit before crossing the room to his brother’s door. Automail made a great knocker and he rapped his knuckles on a wooden panel, making it boom. “Get up. We’ve got a meeting.”
Behind the door, Alphonse grumbled something inarticulate. Probably swearing at him. Edward was pretty sure Alphonse hadn’t had enough to drink to have a hangover but, then again, he hadn’t been paying that much attention to his little brother. The second time, he knocked louder. “C’mon, General Hawkeye will shoot us both if you make me late.”
“Don’ care.” The two syllables filtered through the door, along with the sound of bedsprings squeaking. “Go without me.”
Edward tried the doorknob, grimacing when he realized it was locked. “Al, we don’t have time for this.” He could pick the lock, kick down the door or use alchemy. None of the ideas seemed appealing. Well, kicking the door down was always good but as flimsy as the military hotel doors were, he’d probably put his foot through it rather than kick it open. “Get up before I do something you’d hate.”
“You’re already doin’ it.”
“Hnng.” Edward glared at the door. He really didn’t want to transmute the lock and he wasn’t sure where any of his tools were. “I’ll kick the door down, Al.”
“I’ll make you fix it,” came the muffled response. “Or pay for it.” That was definitely a gloat.
Edward managed to count to three. “Fuck it.” Spinning, his left leg snapped, the blade of his foot striking the door. The resultant crash sounded better than any applause. Still standing on just one foot, his automail leg bent, Edward smirked.
One bloodshot eye glared at him from under the ugly hotel blanket. A hand wormed its way free of the sheets to flash an obscene Xingese gesture. “You’re so dead.”
“You have to get out from under those blankets first.” With a little flourish, Edward twisted his ankle prior to straightening his leg. His knee froze at a forty-five degree angle.
“Cut it out!” Alphonse flung a pillow at Edward, making him dodge. Edward over-compensated, arms windmilling as he tried to stay upright in a battle against gravity. Gravity won, dragging him down to the floor and knocking the breath out of him. “Brother!” Alphonse yelled and winced. “God, can’t you stop that squeaking? It’s cutting through my brain.”
“Uh,” Edward grabbed his shin, trying to force his leg to straighten. The gears whined. He tried to make his leg bend. The hydraulics groaned. “Well, fuck!”
“Can you just lie there quietly?” Alphonse moaned, pulling the covers over his head.
With a nervous laugh, Edward rolled onto his back. “Hey, Al? Alphonse?”
Alphonse sighed, slamming the blankets off of him as he sat up abruptly. “What is it, Ed?”
He pointed at his leg. “It’s not moving.”
“Not moving?” Alphonse looked at his leg, at the door and back at his leg. Edward decided he really didn’t like that smile on his brother’s face. “I guess that means we’re going to see Winry, doesn’t it?”
Edward stared blankly at Alphonse, any argument he thought of giving vanishing from his mind. “Oh, no. Hell, no. She’s not even my mechanic any more!” Alphonse’s grin grew even more wicked. “No, Al! She’ll - she’s already mad at me. She’ll kill me.”
“And then you won’t be squeaking and disturbing my sleep.” Alphonse got out of bed, practically humming as he pulled some clothes out of the dresser. “And it’ll make life easier for General Hawkeye. It’s really a win-win situation, Brother. For everyone.” He managed to avoid Edward’s flailing hands. “Try not to make too much more noise, Ed. We may have downstairs neighbors.” With that, Alphonse left him on the floor, heading for the bathroom.
Edward groaned, thumping the back of his skull against the floor a few times. “Fuckity fuck fuck.”
* * *
Chapter 3