Fic: "Five Minutes To Midnight" 2/?
Title: "Five Minutes To Midnight" 2/?
Author: theothardus
Character(s)/pairings: Ed, Winry, EdWin children!
Rating: T+... for language, I suppose?
Summary: Two decades after the Promised Day, and another war in the north is emerging.
Disclaimer: Just playin' with Arakawa's toys.
A/N: Here comes chapter one. (Well, the first one was a prologue, so.... herp.)
~xxx~
I.
The first cut.
When the world stops. When all falls silent. When time ceases to exist. When the people around you either move in slow motion, or quicken at the speed of sound.
It is when you look down at your patient on the surgical table, press the razor blade against their abdomen, and make that first cut.
If you ask a surgeon why they enjoy the first cut, they’ll probably tell you the same. That it’s “the rush”. The adrenaline. The feeling that gets your heart pounding. Five doctors, four nurses, a human being’s life in your hands. Just one slip of the hand… and you’re on your way to the hall, ready to inform their family that they would have to schedule a funeral in the near future.
But for Wendy, it was different.
She enjoyed the first cut; not for the adrenaline or chaos of it… but for the quiet.
As simple as that.
Maybe it was the simplicity of it that had her yearning for more.
Because, when all was quiet, she was at peace with herself. At peace with her mind. At peace with her body. At peace with her soul. Nothing could break her.
The sleep that she once needed no longer applied, putting her into an eternal wake. The back rub that she once wanted no longer existed, her tense shoulders put into a perpetual ease. Like a plant craves sunlight, she craved the inner anatomy, intrigued from the moment her scalpel penetrated the patient’s flesh.
The sweet silence is what had her senses at an all-time-high. She felt like another person. An out-of-body experience, if you will. She was in the state of nirvana that took two lifetimes to reach.
The faces around her blurred. The clock’s hand froze. All noise was mute. Quiet. Simple, beautiful, quiet.
“Hey, you!” A voice pulled her from her daydream, back into solid reality. “Intern!”
She had to blink a few times before recognizing the source of the voice. A tall man-sporting dark, slicked-back hair, hooded eyes, a clipboard, and a white coat-approached her from across the hall. The front office had been overwhelmingly busy that day, phones ringing off the hook and nurses darting around like a hive of bees, but this was nothing compared to the E.R.
As soon as the man reached her, he hit the back of his pen against the clipboard with an astounding click, beginning to scribble on what was probably paperwork. As he asked away, he didn’t even bother to spare her a glance, his pupils making a beeline against the fine print.
“What’s your name,” he quickly inquired (or more accurately demanded).
Great. He was pushy, just as the other hot-shot doctors in this place.
Still, she couldn’t help but be caught off guard.
“Ern… Wendy. Wendy Elric.”
“Any middle initial?”
“No-“
“Birthdate?”
“September 24th, 1920-“
He whistled. “Young. How long you been in the medical field?”
“Since I was thirteen, I think-“
“How long you been here?”
“Two weeks, I think-“
“Been assigned to the E.R. yet?”
“No-“
“Then today’s your lucky day, Elric,” his voice boomed, but his eyes showed no interest. Those coffee irises of his were glued to the paper, not once looking to the intern, or anything else for that matter.
“We’re short on staff,” he briefly explained, “and we’ll need all the help we can get. I hope you have some experience with cardiovascular.”
“I’ve done a few surgeries here and there-“
“Good. Now’s the time to prove yourself, intern.” With that, he clicked the pen for a second time and placed it in his chest pocket. “By the way, you’ll address me as Karev. I’m the Chief of Staff.”
He finally met eye contact with the girl. Sure, he’d taken a fast glance at her only minutes ago from across the hall, but now, he was truly looking at her-not just some newbie intern-for the first time. She felt his observing irises move up and down her body, which didn’t exactly put her in a comfortable place.
What he saw? A young lady, no taller than five foot two; with her sparkling, oceanic blue eyes, and her short, bright blonde hair, no longer than the napes of her neck. Her hair was sleek, bangs brushed to the side, and her complexion was a creamy ivory. Noticing her lengthened lashes, perfectly-molded nose, full lips, and heart-shaped chin, he couldn’t help but acknowledge her attractive nature. Her petit curves weren’t half bad either, and proved that she was still an adolescent ready to bloom. As he looked closer, he recognized a pair of diamond studs embedded in her earlobes, and a scar-as small as a dot-placed in the crease of her nostril.
Doctor Benjamin Karev almost lost sight of the task at hand.
“Urn…” he grunted, which was followed by a sheepish cough as he turned his heels on the girl. While he marched through the nurses, she remained unmoving, staring at his back in curiosity. Out all of the doctors she met here, none had taken the time to take a good gander at her. Not like he had.
Could he trust to recruit a sixteen-year-old to his team? After most people weren’t accepted into med school until they were eighteen, let alone an internship. Whoever she was, this girl better be damn full of surprises. Who knows, maybe he had a prodigy in his hands.
“What are you waiting for?” he called out to her, not turning his head, but raising his hand in the air. “We have no time to doddle; a patient’s life is on the line! Hurry up before I change my mind, intern!”
Her eyelids fluttered, and as the seconds ticked by, her gaze transformed from doting to determined. She had almost forgotten the primary reason why she became a surgeon in the first place. The drive to keep hearts beating.
“Ah… right!”
~xxx~
Resembool, Amestris
August 13th, 1920
A dog’s ear perked up at the sound of tiny footsteps. They were repetitive and quick, echoing through the empty house down the road. The canine huffed, his snout pointing into the humid air. Suddenly, his ears picked up another sound. The mellifluous tune of a child’s laughter.
Inside that empty house, a little boy roamed the perimeter, his little feet bouncing in joy. He couldn’t contain his fits and giggles, grinning ear-to-ear. His chubby arms extended at his sides like a pair of wings. His red-and-white striped shirt and beige shorts swayed with the nonexistent wind, while his caramel-colored loafers clicked against a mahogany-boarded floor. He couldn’t wait for their new home to be finished. It may not have been as big as the yellow house, but running through it was like a new adventure!
On the other side of the house, a young man balanced himself onto a ladder, reaching the crease between the wall and the ceiling with his paint brush. He began covering a strip of white with the paint, which consisted of a light cocoa hue. His wife had picked it out for him; she seemed to know more about interior decorating than he did, after all.
Pausing, the man wiped a sweat with the back of his hand. He should’ve known to wear something lighter today…. especially in August of all months. His denim jeans, moth-eaten and encrusted in paint stains-not to mention his double layers of a white, long-sleeved sweater that lied beneath a green, form-fitting tee-shirt (also covered in splotches of paint)-weren’t exactly summer attire.
All he could do was roll up his sleeves, turn his brown painter’s hat backwards, and unlace his matching leather boots. He would just strip naked, but his wife would probably knock him into a thousand-year coma for such indecency.
The twenty-one-year-old began moving the brush up and down in slow strokes. He felt calm at this pace, painting the afternoon away.
Almost done. Just one more wall and-
Click! Click! Crunch!
All of a sudden, he heard the racket from the other side of the house grow closer. He could tell by the way the tiny feet went from clicking to crunching, indicating that they had landed on the paper blanket, which was laid out on the floor to prevent paint from dripping onto the nice surface.
The man grunted and turned his head toward the hallway.
“Theo?” he called out to his son, “Slow down before you hurt yourself!”
In only seconds, a little boy appeared in front of him, tugging on his pant leg.
“Sowwy, daddy!” he hollered, a harmless grin lifting on his rosy lips. “Sowwy! Sowwy!”
“Sorry” seemed to be his new favorite word lately. Between Theo’s expanding vocabulary and two encouraging parents, he always found new words to embrace and repeat.
Edward stepped down from the ladder. He then scuffled the crown of the toddler’s head with his heavy-duty-gloved hand, flashing him a warm smile. “How about you stay here for now, okay? The house isn’t safe enough for you to go wandering around yet.”
The boy stuck his fingers in his mouth, responding with a muffled, “Mmmmhmmmm.”
The man stretched and yawned, strolling over to a dried wall that he could lean against.
“I think it’s nap time for daddy…” he murmured, slowly rolling to the ground. “Wake me when the… sun sets…”
Theo ran up to his recumbent form, pulling on his crumpled shirt sleeve. “Don’ go sleepy, daddy! ‘S not time t’ go sleepy!”
His eyes were already closed, but that was just a bluff. He couldn’t resist a smug grin.
The two-year-old began to bounce in place-what he and Winry normally called his ‘potty dance’. He grumbled and tugged harder on Ed’s shirt, whining, “Daaaaaaaddyyyyy! …Daaaaaaddyyyyyy!”
A chuckle escaped from his throat. Finally, he waved him off. “All right, all right.”
Theo’s eyes were two full moons, bright and round. He always had questions; always yearned for answers. “Daddy, why di’n’t mama come wiff us?”
As his eyelids slid open, he responded, “I already told you…” He picked the boy up, setting him in his lap. “…Mommy’s tummy is too big.”
That answer didn’t leave him satisfied. “But why?”
Ed pushed out an exhale. When it came to children, you needed to not only explain things thoroughly, but time and time again. “…’Cause she doesn’t have enough strength to help us right now. She’s carrying your little brother or sister in that tummy of hers, so she needs all the rest she can get.”
Theo gave him a blank, but still questioning stare. He couldn’t be sure if the boy understood or not.
“…Speaking of which…” he began, “…I think that Theo needs some rest, too…” He slid off his thick brown gloves, tossing them across the room. “…Whaddya say?” Following the offer, Edward took off his hat and placed it the other way around, angling it so that it would cover most of his face.
At first, Theo stubbornly pouted, but when he took two glances at his father, he felt the need to mirror the man he looked up to.
“…Sleepy time!” he whooped, plopping against Ed’s chest and curling up into a little ball. He mimicked his father’s exact position, throwing one leg over the other.
The corner of Ed’s mouth lifted upward, his heart fuzzy at the sight. Once the little body in his grasp eased, he was relieved. He kissed the side of his child’s head, murmuring a ‘sleep tight’.
More than a year ago, it took more than convincing to get Winry to agree with his proposition. Just she and Ed, a house to themselves, able to eat, sleep, and have sex wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. It sounded wonderful, but Winry remained reluctant to leave her grandmother in a house by herself. He had to constantly assure her that they would only be a few roads away, and she could check on Pinako every day.
Finally, she gave in. Now, here they were, a year later, almost finished with the house of their dreams. Surprisingly enough, it lied in the same spot as his childhood home. The ashes that once resided were no more… and he was perfectly content with that. It was even designed the same as the home he was born in-a two story house, big enough to raise a family, but quaint nonetheless, with its pointed roof. They had colored the roof’s shingles, window frames, and doors green, to compliment the plains surrounding it. The house itself was a perfect white, to compliment the rare snow that typically came every twenty years.
Honestly, he wanted something to look back on. He wanted to be able to say that he built it with his own two hands, without the help of alchemy or any other necessities. He wanted to accomplish more than what he could write in books.
He sincerely hoped that his future children would set out to do the same.