FMA Fic: "Devotion" Chapter 25
Title: Devotion
Author:evil_little_dog
Summary: When Alphonse dies, Edward spirals out of control, and into the arms of a dangerous woman.
Characters/Pairings: Edward, Winry, Roy, Riza, Gracia, OC's. Ed/OFC, Past!Winry/Al, Ed+/Winry
Disclaimer: I am not Hiromu Arakawa. I just play her on TV.
Rating: Adult.
A.N.:Alternate Reality. Everything Mangaverseis fair game, but might be seen at a different angle.
A.N. 2: Much thanks to cornerofmadness for the attaboys and edits and suggestions and also to lyrangalia for loving this story and wanting more, ‘way back when I first started writing it.
All previous story bits here.
Chapter 25: Incoherent
The room was warm with the hot water steaming up from the tub on the floor. Pitt poured some witch hazel into it, glancing toward Edward. He still sat on the bench where he had been when Pitt had walked into the room. Pitt cleared his throat. “So, Ed, do you want to tell me what happened? The last I’d heard - and this was from Pinako - Winry was marrying Al. Then I heard Al died.”
The flinch he’d expected happened, so obvious, it was almost a jolt. Pitt took quiet note of it. “Then Pinako died, and Winry sold the house.”
Edward twitched his lip. He peered at Pitt out of a bloodshot eye. “Are you asking me a question?”
“You might want to get cleaned up before the water cools.” Pitt gestured at the tub. “I know you’ll feel better.” He didn’t add ‘and smell better’.
Dumping a cloth into the tub, Edward fished it out again and began rubbing himself down. There were half-healed wounds and older scars covering his torso. Pitt gave them a cursory look, not wanting to stare, but Edward didn’t seem to notice. “You know, Ed, I wasn’t the only one in Risembool with a crush on Winry. Most of us figured we didn’t stand a chance.” He smiled in memory. “I came home once - did she tell you? I was thinking of asking her if she’d maybe wait for me. That was after you and Al had left.” Knowing he had Edward’s attention, Pitt took the time to arrange the towels.
A hiss, rather than a curse, came out of Edward’s mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Turning around, Pitt folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “Do you know what she was doing when I got here, Ed?” He waited, but there was no verbal response. Edward’s shoulders hunched - enough of a reaction, he thought. “She was learning how to make that stew you always liked.”
Edward nearly dropped the washcloth, but managed to catch it in time. He grumbled under his breath, wringing the cloth out and kept scrubbing over his skin.
“So, if Winry was doing that, and took care of you for however long it took you to get on your feet again, after your accident, how is it Al’s the one who asked her to marry him?”
The way Edward stiffened let Pitt know he’d crossed a line. Edward slung his hair out of his face, his expression thunderous. “If you want to know, why don’t you ask Winry?” he spat out.
“That seems cruel, doesn’t it?” Pitt raised his eyebrows, wondering just what Edward might do. If Edward used alchemy, he’d be the one hurting.
Edward sneered. He began washing the scabs and sores decorating his ribs. Blood bloomed, staining his skin. The cloth turned pink, the color deepening the longer Edward washed. He dunked the cloth in the tub, barely wringing it out before he returned to scrub the wounds. Disgust crossed Edward’s face, taking up residence there as he snapped, “Al’s the better man. Always has been. I’m the fuck up. Fucked up his life. Wasn’t going to fuck up Winry’s. They were supposed to work.” He threw the cloth into the tub and reached for a towel to rub his body dry. Blood splotched the pale terrycloth by the time he dropped it on the floor. “Then I fucked up one last time and got Al killed.” His voice barely fluctuated over a monotone growl. His expression, the way he’d scoured the wounds to make them bleed, both spoke more than the words. “Cruel.” He scoffed, but Pitt could see how much redder Ed’s eyes were.
X XX
Larry Storch considered himself to be an all right kind of guy. He took care of the aunt and uncle who’d raised him after his parents died - Dad in Ishval, Mom in an accident with a runaway dray cart. He liked his job. So what if he didn’t like all the men and women he worked with in the military? Who cared if he thought certain automail mechanics needed to be taken down a peg or two? No man could like every person he’d ever met. That was the plain and simple truth of the matter.
He’d seen the treatment Lieutenant Colonel Elric received. The kid was almost eight years his junior, but because Elric was an alchemist, he’d automatically been given the rank of major when he joined the military. He didn’t have to go to officer’s school or even complete school, as far as Larry knew, and the kid had joined at the age of twelve. Considered one of Brigadier General Mustang’s staff, Elric was rarely in the office, usually out in the field. Didn’t wear a uniform, most of the time. Barely remembered the chain of command.
The secretary pool was still undecided whether Elric or Mustang was the better catch. They’d cried real tears over Elric’s little brother dying, some of them saying Al would’ve been an even better match than either of the other two men, if only he hadn’t been engaged.
Alphonse Elric’sintended, Larry had found out, was the Rockbell bitch. Yeah, she had some looks to her - he liked long legs. Her boobs could be bigger, but she had a sweet ass. He’d wondered a couple of times how her innocent face would look, with her lips wrapped around his cock. Was there a wanton woman beneath that cool exterior? Was she still a virgin, or had Elric’s brother plowed that field?
Larry probably would’ve put Rockbell out of his mind after that first encounter - even with her sharp tongue and bossy ways - but Elric’s woman, Josephine Wagner, kept calling him , trying to find out where she was. And she hated the Rockbell bitch even more than he did.
When Josie called him yesterday, he’d been about to hang up on her when she pled with him she had nowhere else to go. He didn’t think any of Elric’s military buddies would help her out, though he was kind of surprised she hadn’t called them first. Mustang seemed like a good candidate for helping her, but maybe she’d thought it’d muddy the waters if she did. Reluctantly, Larry had agreed for her to stay with him a few nights. She was pretty, he had to admit. Leggy, with a body that wouldn’t quit. He’d even heard Mustang had done a double-take when he’d met her. Larry had no doubts Josie was using him. Her presence in his place was another reminder to find out where Elric was. Josie didn’t seem to have a job - it was possible she was Elric’s light woman, that he paid for everything for the pleasure of her ‘company’. Larry didn’t care, one way or another. She wouldn’t be sharing his bed, after all. That was one triangle he’d just as soon avoid, no matter how leggy and pouty and flirty Josie could be. And what woman told him to call her by her first name so soon after meeting? Beyond that, Larry wasn’t about to go poaching on a superior officer’s game. Not for him, despite how tempting the package could be. Besides, Elric owing him something, if it came to that, seemed like a fine deal on his end.
All this rolled through Larry’s mind as he drove to the train station. A call had come in at the desk for a pick up of two. Waiting by the car, he noticed a pair he recognized, despite them being out of uniform. Mustang and his babysitter, Hawkeye. They didn’t see him, or ignored him, same difference, hailing a cab. Neither of them looked at all flustered - that was something about the pair Larry envied. Mustang was one cool cat.
“First Lieutenant!”
Larry turned, seeing another pair of officers leaving the station, coming from a different line. One from the west, rather than the south. He saluted in acknowledgement, and, after pointing out the car, he collected the officer’s luggage. Interesting that Mustang and Hawkeye hadn’t had any. Storing the luggage in the car’s boot, Larry rested his hand on the lid for a few seconds. Where would Mustang and his adjutant be traveling from, in their civvies?
The thought of what they might’ve been doing kept him occupied all the way back to HQ.
X X X
Edward jerked awake, staring at an unfamiliar wall, painted pale yellow as the dawn. A cold shudder ran through his body, hard enough to make his teeth chatter. He couldn’t place where he was, where he’d fallen asleep. He tried to sit up, failed the first attempt, but managed the second. The change in altitude made his head spin, and Edward nearly collapsed back into the bedding. Biting back a moan, he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his mouth to try to keep from vomiting. His stomach wrenched and he fought against the bile rising in his throat, swallowing it down again.
“Ed?”
A man’s voice, one he didn’t recognize immediately. Edward recoiled from the concern in the single syllable, cracking his shoulder into a headboard. He grunted at the sudden jolt of pain. His spinning head made it difficult to get any type of control over his contrary gut. “Who - who,” he tried to get out a question.
“It’s me. Pitt.” He approached the bed, his hands open and spread. “Remember? I picked Winry and you up at the cemetery earlier.”
Pitt? Edward chewed his lower lip. His eyes didn’t seem to want to focus properly. Pitt was here? “Where’s Winry?”
“She was worn out. I made her lie down after she found your friends. The Curtises?”
“Where’s Winry?” Edward repeated, then remembered Pitt said she was lying down. He sniffed, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his right arm. The cast on his left arm kept him from moving it around too much. It seemed to weigh more than his automail.
“Lying down,” Pitt said patiently. “You should lie down, too. Rest a little longer.”
Another shudder rolled through his body. Edward bit his tongue trying to control it. “Feel sick.”
“If you need to throw up, there’s a bucket at the head of the bed.” Pitt picked it up to show it to Edward. “Or I could make you some mint tea. It’ll soothe your stomach.”
Mint tea. Pinako had made him drink it after the automail surgery. Edward remembered her spooning it into his mouth. “You need to swallow it, boy,” she’d said. “It’ll help.” She’d been right. Pitt probably was, too. “Is Winry awake?” That wasn’t what he’d meant to ask. He passed his dry tongue over his lips. He needed something to drink, even if he’d vomit it afterward. The headboard managed to keep him upright, but Edward felt himself sagging. The nerves kept his exhausted body jumping, making him quiver and jerk. His own voice, clear, analytical, and somewhat exasperated, spoke in his head, It’s the drugs leaving your system. You’re craving opium. This is what happens when you don’t wean off of it. He knew it to be true, but didn’t want to think about it. A spasm ripped through him hard enough to make his teeth click together. Edward grunted. Sweat stung his eyes. Another tremor racked his body. Al had yelled at him at the cemetery, but Al was dead. How could he be there and not? Was Winry dead, too? “Winry?” He had to see her. Getting his feet on the floor, he realized he couldn’t stand up, not without help. Edward clutched the headboard, using it to keep his balance. “Winry!”
Pitt’s face swam in front of him, the freckles making a peculiar pattern over his nose. “Ed, it’s all right, she’s sleeping. Let her sleep.” Pitt tried to shush him.
His stomach rolled, the gas and bile in it rising in his throat and burning his nostrils. Edward doubled over, bile spooling out of his mouth. He vaguely acknowledged the bucket Pitt shoved under his mouth. The splat from the bile hitting the bottom of the pail echoed in his ears. The stench and foul taste made him gag and cough.
His eyes streamed, blurring everything. Unable to stand any longer, Edward dropped on the floor next to the bed. A chill wrapped itself around him. He shivered and fumbled at the shirt he wore, tugging it tighter. Pitt, he realized, knelt next to him. He was talking. Edward blinked, eyes still stinging from the sweat. Focusing on Pitt was too difficult. He wondered again where Winry was. She hadn’t left him here, had she? She wouldn’t leave. She has to make my leg. She knows. Another spasm caused more sweat to roll down his face. Edward grunted again at the pain. It felt like a whole flock of needles concentrated in his joints.
“…trade one addiction for another.”
The words rocked around in Edward’s head, obliterating whatever Pitt was saying. He just couldn’t concentrate on Pitt. He wiped his eyes carefully, the metal finger tips cool against his too-hot skin. “Please,” Edward said, not even sure why he begged. He’d fucked up so many times, even the Truth would say his chances were over.
Something enveloped Edward’s shoulders. He sighed at the added warmth, clutching the blanket close. Someone laid a hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, recognizing Winry by touch.
“It’s all right, Ed.” Winry soothed him with her voice. She wrapped her arm over his shoulder. With a shaky sigh, he leaned against her. Nestling close, he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled so good. Her warmth heated him through, driving off the chills.
Winry wouldn’t let anything happen to him, Edward knew. A scraping noise startled him, but Winry petted his hair, murmuring, “Everything is all right.” He trusted her. His body relaxed, the tension bleeding out of it.
Pitt returned with the bucket, rinsed cleaned. Edward heard him, not opening his eyes. “Winry,” Pitt said, “you need to rest. I can handle him.” A pause. “You can’t wean him off one thing and get him hooked on another.”
Edward nearly fell asleep before Winry answered. “When we were little, after the accident. When Ed decided he wanted automail. Granny didn’t want to give him much morphine. She saved it for the absolutely worst patients, and dripped it out to keep them from getting addicted. I sat up with Ed most nights. I changed his dressings and kept his IVs clean. I wiped him down with cold cloths when he was feverish and slept beside him when he was cold.” She exhaled, not quite a sigh. “He’s probably been hooked since then.” Winry shifted and Edward mumbled a protest. “You need to be in bed,” she told him. “Come on, put your feet under you and stand up with me.”
“Dizzy.” Edward knew he had to sound like a whiny brat and tried to do what Winry wanted to make up for it. It took a few tries - the loaner leg didn’t cooperate at first - but he managed.
“Let me help.” Pitt came to Edward’s other side, offering his own support. “On three, all right? One, two, three.”
Between them, they half-lifted Edward off the floor. The change made his head spin. “Wait,” he thought, and they didn’t move, so he guessed he had said it out loud. When his head and stomach settled enough, Edward let them turn him and take him the few paces back to the bed. Pitt set him on the mattress and Winry helped him lift his too-heavy legs.
“Now,” she said, in that familiar brisk, somewhat cross voice he knew too well, “you’re going to rest, Ed.” Her tone softened, becoming less strident. “I know it hurts and your stomach and head ache. Pitt’s going to make you more tea. I want you to drink it.”
Pitt rustled around behind her, almost out of Edward’s fuzzy range of vision. “I’ll go brew it. Are you all right here?” The question sounded like a warning.
“We’re all right.” Winry glanced over her shoulder and Edward could just see the faint curl of her mouth. When she turned her smile to him, he couldn’t help but nod. Whether Pitt saw it or not didn’t matter, he’d agree for Winry’s sake.
“Your fucking goddess,” Josie hissed in his head. “Just a stupid girl with no clue how to treat a man. She’ll leave you again, Ed, and where will you be?” His back ached in remembrance of the punishing nails Josie had raked along his spine. His balls retracted from the crack of a folded belt. For a second, or maybe longer, he heard the whistle of leather cutting through the air and felt the slice of it on his skin.
“Ed.”
He startled, a yip escaping him. Winry studied him, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “It’s all right, Ed. I’m here.”
“Winry.” Not Josie, with her cruel taunts.
“Yes, Ed.”
His brain fogged. His body trembled again. “The effects of withdrawal,” said the clinical voice. “You’ll feel extreme thirst and nausea, and pain throughout your body. Headaches are common, as are joint pains.” Edward couldn’t tell if it was Alphonse pacing back and forth or Hohenheim near the vanity. Just a blond blur. Couldn’t be the Father. He was gone. Not that it stopped Al.
“Hallucinations are also common, pipsqueak.”
“Envy.” Edward growled.
“Ed, it’s just you and me,” Winry said. She touched his forehead and his cheek. No fucking way Envy knew what Winry smelled like. “Whoever else you’re seeing, they’re not real.”
“You don’t believe her do you? Women, they’re fickle.” Envy crept up to stand at Winry’s shoulder. Its eyes gleamed with malevolence. “She threw you over for your baby brother, didn’t she? You, the Fullmetal Shorty. Whassa matter, you not tall enough for her to even notice you?”
Edward caught Winry’s shoulder. She protested with a yelp as he dragged her down onto the bed on top of him. He showed his teeth. “Envy, you fucking liar!”
“Ed.” Winry lay sprawled over his legs, trying to crawl off of him. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real!”
Envy’s shape morphed, the homunculus becoming Winry’s double. “Ed, it’s not real,” Envy said, a mockery of her voice. “Except it is, isn’t it?”
“Stop looking like her!” Edward snarled.
“Hallucinations are a symptom of withdrawal,” Hohenheim said from the vanity.
Edward stabbed a finger at him. “You shut up, old man!” He turned that finger at Envy. “You fuck off!”
“Ed,” Winry said.
“Ooh,” Envy said, making a kissy face with Winry’s mouth. It leaned closer. “Did you ever imagine what it’d feel like to fuck this body?” Its hands moved in a lewd caress over Winry’s - its - breasts and stomach. “Did it kill you, knowing Alphonse had?”
The growl built to a rumble, harsh enough to rattle his automail plates. “Shut up!”
“Did you ever think about fucking this body when you were on top of Josie?”
The question cut too close. Edward slapped his hands together, the cast making it awkward. The touch was enough to complete the transmutation matrix. He slapped flesh fingers on his automail arm, the flash of light and familiar chime a warning. Envy still smiled, leered at him, wearing Winry’s body.
“Ed, no!” Winry grabbed hold of his arm.
He strained against her grasp and panted with the effort. “It’s Envy!”
“Ed.” Winry rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. She caught his face in her hands, making him meet her eyes. “It’s you and me. There’s no one else in the room.”
Envy laughed. Winry held Edward still, keeping him from turning his head. Afraid he’d hurt her if he moved, Edward whined. His eyes darted to the side, trying to keep Envy in sight. As if she could read his mind, Winry pressed her forehead against his. He could see nothing but her eyes, enormous and brilliant blue.
“You and me.” Her breath fanned his mouth. Edward licked his lips reflexively. Winry stroked his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. “That’s it. Pitt’s not even back yet.” A shuddering sigh escaped Edward and he slumped against the headboard. Her hand moved down his throat to rest over his heart. “You and me,” she repeated. “And you need to change your automail back.”
“Sorry.” Edward wondered if the flush heating his face was from Winry sitting on him or a fever. It didn’t matter either way. He touched his hands together and returned his automail to its normal state. His nerves jumped and twitched in reaction to the adrenaline still coursing through his system. Edward wanted to punch something, but Winry was still in the way. He thought she’d be strong enough to hold him down without restraints. A second later, he broke out in a sweat, gritting his teeth together and hoping Winry hadn’t felt his dick twitch in reaction to that thought. “Can you get off me?” he grated out.
Winry leaned in close again, a scowl on her face. Edward rapped his skull on the headboard trying to escape. “You’re not going to transmute anything else?”
He wanted to arch his hips up and throw her off. And his stupid dick wanted her to stay right there. “No! Get off, Winry!”
She snorted and swung her leg over him, but didn’t pull away. “You look feverish.”
“No shit.”
Pitt walked into the room before Winry could respond, a tray in his hands. “Tea,” he announced, but he glanced at Winry, a question on his face. “I heard noises.”
“We’re all right.” Winry slid off the bed, a reassuring smile on her face. Taking the nearest cup, she turned back to the bed. “You need to drink this, Ed. Do you need help?”
If Pitt hadn’t been standing there with a stupid smirk on his face, Edward would’ve agreed. But Pitt had asked those questions about Winry. And Al. And him. “You go rest,” Edward heard himself say. “If I need any help, Pitt’s here.” He didn’t mention Envy, still leaning against the vanity and primping in the mirror, nor Hohenheim, standing near the window with his arms folded. They wouldn’t be of any use at all.
“You’re sure?” Winry searched his face before handing him the cup. She didn’t let go, even when Edward closed his fingers around it.
“Tell her to stay, Edward,” Hohenheim said. “None of us will rest otherwise.”
He sucked his lower lip, meeting her eyes. He wanted to sneer at the old man, but he thought Hohenheim might be right. “Please. Stay.” When she smiled, Edward tried to tell himself it wasn’t the reason for the loosening of the bands across his chest.
He knew he was lying.
X X X
Author:evil_little_dog
Summary: When Alphonse dies, Edward spirals out of control, and into the arms of a dangerous woman.
Characters/Pairings: Edward, Winry, Roy, Riza, Gracia, OC's. Ed/OFC, Past!Winry/Al, Ed+/Winry
Disclaimer: I am not Hiromu Arakawa. I just play her on TV.
Rating: Adult.
A.N.:Alternate Reality. Everything Mangaverseis fair game, but might be seen at a different angle.
A.N. 2: Much thanks to cornerofmadness for the attaboys and edits and suggestions and also to lyrangalia for loving this story and wanting more, ‘way back when I first started writing it.
All previous story bits here.
Chapter 25: Incoherent
The room was warm with the hot water steaming up from the tub on the floor. Pitt poured some witch hazel into it, glancing toward Edward. He still sat on the bench where he had been when Pitt had walked into the room. Pitt cleared his throat. “So, Ed, do you want to tell me what happened? The last I’d heard - and this was from Pinako - Winry was marrying Al. Then I heard Al died.”
The flinch he’d expected happened, so obvious, it was almost a jolt. Pitt took quiet note of it. “Then Pinako died, and Winry sold the house.”
Edward twitched his lip. He peered at Pitt out of a bloodshot eye. “Are you asking me a question?”
“You might want to get cleaned up before the water cools.” Pitt gestured at the tub. “I know you’ll feel better.” He didn’t add ‘and smell better’.
Dumping a cloth into the tub, Edward fished it out again and began rubbing himself down. There were half-healed wounds and older scars covering his torso. Pitt gave them a cursory look, not wanting to stare, but Edward didn’t seem to notice. “You know, Ed, I wasn’t the only one in Risembool with a crush on Winry. Most of us figured we didn’t stand a chance.” He smiled in memory. “I came home once - did she tell you? I was thinking of asking her if she’d maybe wait for me. That was after you and Al had left.” Knowing he had Edward’s attention, Pitt took the time to arrange the towels.
A hiss, rather than a curse, came out of Edward’s mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Turning around, Pitt folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “Do you know what she was doing when I got here, Ed?” He waited, but there was no verbal response. Edward’s shoulders hunched - enough of a reaction, he thought. “She was learning how to make that stew you always liked.”
Edward nearly dropped the washcloth, but managed to catch it in time. He grumbled under his breath, wringing the cloth out and kept scrubbing over his skin.
“So, if Winry was doing that, and took care of you for however long it took you to get on your feet again, after your accident, how is it Al’s the one who asked her to marry him?”
The way Edward stiffened let Pitt know he’d crossed a line. Edward slung his hair out of his face, his expression thunderous. “If you want to know, why don’t you ask Winry?” he spat out.
“That seems cruel, doesn’t it?” Pitt raised his eyebrows, wondering just what Edward might do. If Edward used alchemy, he’d be the one hurting.
Edward sneered. He began washing the scabs and sores decorating his ribs. Blood bloomed, staining his skin. The cloth turned pink, the color deepening the longer Edward washed. He dunked the cloth in the tub, barely wringing it out before he returned to scrub the wounds. Disgust crossed Edward’s face, taking up residence there as he snapped, “Al’s the better man. Always has been. I’m the fuck up. Fucked up his life. Wasn’t going to fuck up Winry’s. They were supposed to work.” He threw the cloth into the tub and reached for a towel to rub his body dry. Blood splotched the pale terrycloth by the time he dropped it on the floor. “Then I fucked up one last time and got Al killed.” His voice barely fluctuated over a monotone growl. His expression, the way he’d scoured the wounds to make them bleed, both spoke more than the words. “Cruel.” He scoffed, but Pitt could see how much redder Ed’s eyes were.
X XX
Larry Storch considered himself to be an all right kind of guy. He took care of the aunt and uncle who’d raised him after his parents died - Dad in Ishval, Mom in an accident with a runaway dray cart. He liked his job. So what if he didn’t like all the men and women he worked with in the military? Who cared if he thought certain automail mechanics needed to be taken down a peg or two? No man could like every person he’d ever met. That was the plain and simple truth of the matter.
He’d seen the treatment Lieutenant Colonel Elric received. The kid was almost eight years his junior, but because Elric was an alchemist, he’d automatically been given the rank of major when he joined the military. He didn’t have to go to officer’s school or even complete school, as far as Larry knew, and the kid had joined at the age of twelve. Considered one of Brigadier General Mustang’s staff, Elric was rarely in the office, usually out in the field. Didn’t wear a uniform, most of the time. Barely remembered the chain of command.
The secretary pool was still undecided whether Elric or Mustang was the better catch. They’d cried real tears over Elric’s little brother dying, some of them saying Al would’ve been an even better match than either of the other two men, if only he hadn’t been engaged.
Alphonse Elric’sintended, Larry had found out, was the Rockbell bitch. Yeah, she had some looks to her - he liked long legs. Her boobs could be bigger, but she had a sweet ass. He’d wondered a couple of times how her innocent face would look, with her lips wrapped around his cock. Was there a wanton woman beneath that cool exterior? Was she still a virgin, or had Elric’s brother plowed that field?
Larry probably would’ve put Rockbell out of his mind after that first encounter - even with her sharp tongue and bossy ways - but Elric’s woman, Josephine Wagner, kept calling him , trying to find out where she was. And she hated the Rockbell bitch even more than he did.
When Josie called him yesterday, he’d been about to hang up on her when she pled with him she had nowhere else to go. He didn’t think any of Elric’s military buddies would help her out, though he was kind of surprised she hadn’t called them first. Mustang seemed like a good candidate for helping her, but maybe she’d thought it’d muddy the waters if she did. Reluctantly, Larry had agreed for her to stay with him a few nights. She was pretty, he had to admit. Leggy, with a body that wouldn’t quit. He’d even heard Mustang had done a double-take when he’d met her. Larry had no doubts Josie was using him. Her presence in his place was another reminder to find out where Elric was. Josie didn’t seem to have a job - it was possible she was Elric’s light woman, that he paid for everything for the pleasure of her ‘company’. Larry didn’t care, one way or another. She wouldn’t be sharing his bed, after all. That was one triangle he’d just as soon avoid, no matter how leggy and pouty and flirty Josie could be. And what woman told him to call her by her first name so soon after meeting? Beyond that, Larry wasn’t about to go poaching on a superior officer’s game. Not for him, despite how tempting the package could be. Besides, Elric owing him something, if it came to that, seemed like a fine deal on his end.
All this rolled through Larry’s mind as he drove to the train station. A call had come in at the desk for a pick up of two. Waiting by the car, he noticed a pair he recognized, despite them being out of uniform. Mustang and his babysitter, Hawkeye. They didn’t see him, or ignored him, same difference, hailing a cab. Neither of them looked at all flustered - that was something about the pair Larry envied. Mustang was one cool cat.
“First Lieutenant!”
Larry turned, seeing another pair of officers leaving the station, coming from a different line. One from the west, rather than the south. He saluted in acknowledgement, and, after pointing out the car, he collected the officer’s luggage. Interesting that Mustang and Hawkeye hadn’t had any. Storing the luggage in the car’s boot, Larry rested his hand on the lid for a few seconds. Where would Mustang and his adjutant be traveling from, in their civvies?
The thought of what they might’ve been doing kept him occupied all the way back to HQ.
X X X
Edward jerked awake, staring at an unfamiliar wall, painted pale yellow as the dawn. A cold shudder ran through his body, hard enough to make his teeth chatter. He couldn’t place where he was, where he’d fallen asleep. He tried to sit up, failed the first attempt, but managed the second. The change in altitude made his head spin, and Edward nearly collapsed back into the bedding. Biting back a moan, he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through his mouth to try to keep from vomiting. His stomach wrenched and he fought against the bile rising in his throat, swallowing it down again.
“Ed?”
A man’s voice, one he didn’t recognize immediately. Edward recoiled from the concern in the single syllable, cracking his shoulder into a headboard. He grunted at the sudden jolt of pain. His spinning head made it difficult to get any type of control over his contrary gut. “Who - who,” he tried to get out a question.
“It’s me. Pitt.” He approached the bed, his hands open and spread. “Remember? I picked Winry and you up at the cemetery earlier.”
Pitt? Edward chewed his lower lip. His eyes didn’t seem to want to focus properly. Pitt was here? “Where’s Winry?”
“She was worn out. I made her lie down after she found your friends. The Curtises?”
“Where’s Winry?” Edward repeated, then remembered Pitt said she was lying down. He sniffed, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his right arm. The cast on his left arm kept him from moving it around too much. It seemed to weigh more than his automail.
“Lying down,” Pitt said patiently. “You should lie down, too. Rest a little longer.”
Another shudder rolled through his body. Edward bit his tongue trying to control it. “Feel sick.”
“If you need to throw up, there’s a bucket at the head of the bed.” Pitt picked it up to show it to Edward. “Or I could make you some mint tea. It’ll soothe your stomach.”
Mint tea. Pinako had made him drink it after the automail surgery. Edward remembered her spooning it into his mouth. “You need to swallow it, boy,” she’d said. “It’ll help.” She’d been right. Pitt probably was, too. “Is Winry awake?” That wasn’t what he’d meant to ask. He passed his dry tongue over his lips. He needed something to drink, even if he’d vomit it afterward. The headboard managed to keep him upright, but Edward felt himself sagging. The nerves kept his exhausted body jumping, making him quiver and jerk. His own voice, clear, analytical, and somewhat exasperated, spoke in his head, It’s the drugs leaving your system. You’re craving opium. This is what happens when you don’t wean off of it. He knew it to be true, but didn’t want to think about it. A spasm ripped through him hard enough to make his teeth click together. Edward grunted. Sweat stung his eyes. Another tremor racked his body. Al had yelled at him at the cemetery, but Al was dead. How could he be there and not? Was Winry dead, too? “Winry?” He had to see her. Getting his feet on the floor, he realized he couldn’t stand up, not without help. Edward clutched the headboard, using it to keep his balance. “Winry!”
Pitt’s face swam in front of him, the freckles making a peculiar pattern over his nose. “Ed, it’s all right, she’s sleeping. Let her sleep.” Pitt tried to shush him.
His stomach rolled, the gas and bile in it rising in his throat and burning his nostrils. Edward doubled over, bile spooling out of his mouth. He vaguely acknowledged the bucket Pitt shoved under his mouth. The splat from the bile hitting the bottom of the pail echoed in his ears. The stench and foul taste made him gag and cough.
His eyes streamed, blurring everything. Unable to stand any longer, Edward dropped on the floor next to the bed. A chill wrapped itself around him. He shivered and fumbled at the shirt he wore, tugging it tighter. Pitt, he realized, knelt next to him. He was talking. Edward blinked, eyes still stinging from the sweat. Focusing on Pitt was too difficult. He wondered again where Winry was. She hadn’t left him here, had she? She wouldn’t leave. She has to make my leg. She knows. Another spasm caused more sweat to roll down his face. Edward grunted again at the pain. It felt like a whole flock of needles concentrated in his joints.
“…trade one addiction for another.”
The words rocked around in Edward’s head, obliterating whatever Pitt was saying. He just couldn’t concentrate on Pitt. He wiped his eyes carefully, the metal finger tips cool against his too-hot skin. “Please,” Edward said, not even sure why he begged. He’d fucked up so many times, even the Truth would say his chances were over.
Something enveloped Edward’s shoulders. He sighed at the added warmth, clutching the blanket close. Someone laid a hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, recognizing Winry by touch.
“It’s all right, Ed.” Winry soothed him with her voice. She wrapped her arm over his shoulder. With a shaky sigh, he leaned against her. Nestling close, he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled so good. Her warmth heated him through, driving off the chills.
Winry wouldn’t let anything happen to him, Edward knew. A scraping noise startled him, but Winry petted his hair, murmuring, “Everything is all right.” He trusted her. His body relaxed, the tension bleeding out of it.
Pitt returned with the bucket, rinsed cleaned. Edward heard him, not opening his eyes. “Winry,” Pitt said, “you need to rest. I can handle him.” A pause. “You can’t wean him off one thing and get him hooked on another.”
Edward nearly fell asleep before Winry answered. “When we were little, after the accident. When Ed decided he wanted automail. Granny didn’t want to give him much morphine. She saved it for the absolutely worst patients, and dripped it out to keep them from getting addicted. I sat up with Ed most nights. I changed his dressings and kept his IVs clean. I wiped him down with cold cloths when he was feverish and slept beside him when he was cold.” She exhaled, not quite a sigh. “He’s probably been hooked since then.” Winry shifted and Edward mumbled a protest. “You need to be in bed,” she told him. “Come on, put your feet under you and stand up with me.”
“Dizzy.” Edward knew he had to sound like a whiny brat and tried to do what Winry wanted to make up for it. It took a few tries - the loaner leg didn’t cooperate at first - but he managed.
“Let me help.” Pitt came to Edward’s other side, offering his own support. “On three, all right? One, two, three.”
Between them, they half-lifted Edward off the floor. The change made his head spin. “Wait,” he thought, and they didn’t move, so he guessed he had said it out loud. When his head and stomach settled enough, Edward let them turn him and take him the few paces back to the bed. Pitt set him on the mattress and Winry helped him lift his too-heavy legs.
“Now,” she said, in that familiar brisk, somewhat cross voice he knew too well, “you’re going to rest, Ed.” Her tone softened, becoming less strident. “I know it hurts and your stomach and head ache. Pitt’s going to make you more tea. I want you to drink it.”
Pitt rustled around behind her, almost out of Edward’s fuzzy range of vision. “I’ll go brew it. Are you all right here?” The question sounded like a warning.
“We’re all right.” Winry glanced over her shoulder and Edward could just see the faint curl of her mouth. When she turned her smile to him, he couldn’t help but nod. Whether Pitt saw it or not didn’t matter, he’d agree for Winry’s sake.
“Your fucking goddess,” Josie hissed in his head. “Just a stupid girl with no clue how to treat a man. She’ll leave you again, Ed, and where will you be?” His back ached in remembrance of the punishing nails Josie had raked along his spine. His balls retracted from the crack of a folded belt. For a second, or maybe longer, he heard the whistle of leather cutting through the air and felt the slice of it on his skin.
“Ed.”
He startled, a yip escaping him. Winry studied him, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “It’s all right, Ed. I’m here.”
“Winry.” Not Josie, with her cruel taunts.
“Yes, Ed.”
His brain fogged. His body trembled again. “The effects of withdrawal,” said the clinical voice. “You’ll feel extreme thirst and nausea, and pain throughout your body. Headaches are common, as are joint pains.” Edward couldn’t tell if it was Alphonse pacing back and forth or Hohenheim near the vanity. Just a blond blur. Couldn’t be the Father. He was gone. Not that it stopped Al.
“Hallucinations are also common, pipsqueak.”
“Envy.” Edward growled.
“Ed, it’s just you and me,” Winry said. She touched his forehead and his cheek. No fucking way Envy knew what Winry smelled like. “Whoever else you’re seeing, they’re not real.”
“You don’t believe her do you? Women, they’re fickle.” Envy crept up to stand at Winry’s shoulder. Its eyes gleamed with malevolence. “She threw you over for your baby brother, didn’t she? You, the Fullmetal Shorty. Whassa matter, you not tall enough for her to even notice you?”
Edward caught Winry’s shoulder. She protested with a yelp as he dragged her down onto the bed on top of him. He showed his teeth. “Envy, you fucking liar!”
“Ed.” Winry lay sprawled over his legs, trying to crawl off of him. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real!”
Envy’s shape morphed, the homunculus becoming Winry’s double. “Ed, it’s not real,” Envy said, a mockery of her voice. “Except it is, isn’t it?”
“Stop looking like her!” Edward snarled.
“Hallucinations are a symptom of withdrawal,” Hohenheim said from the vanity.
Edward stabbed a finger at him. “You shut up, old man!” He turned that finger at Envy. “You fuck off!”
“Ed,” Winry said.
“Ooh,” Envy said, making a kissy face with Winry’s mouth. It leaned closer. “Did you ever imagine what it’d feel like to fuck this body?” Its hands moved in a lewd caress over Winry’s - its - breasts and stomach. “Did it kill you, knowing Alphonse had?”
The growl built to a rumble, harsh enough to rattle his automail plates. “Shut up!”
“Did you ever think about fucking this body when you were on top of Josie?”
The question cut too close. Edward slapped his hands together, the cast making it awkward. The touch was enough to complete the transmutation matrix. He slapped flesh fingers on his automail arm, the flash of light and familiar chime a warning. Envy still smiled, leered at him, wearing Winry’s body.
“Ed, no!” Winry grabbed hold of his arm.
He strained against her grasp and panted with the effort. “It’s Envy!”
“Ed.” Winry rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. She caught his face in her hands, making him meet her eyes. “It’s you and me. There’s no one else in the room.”
Envy laughed. Winry held Edward still, keeping him from turning his head. Afraid he’d hurt her if he moved, Edward whined. His eyes darted to the side, trying to keep Envy in sight. As if she could read his mind, Winry pressed her forehead against his. He could see nothing but her eyes, enormous and brilliant blue.
“You and me.” Her breath fanned his mouth. Edward licked his lips reflexively. Winry stroked his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. “That’s it. Pitt’s not even back yet.” A shuddering sigh escaped Edward and he slumped against the headboard. Her hand moved down his throat to rest over his heart. “You and me,” she repeated. “And you need to change your automail back.”
“Sorry.” Edward wondered if the flush heating his face was from Winry sitting on him or a fever. It didn’t matter either way. He touched his hands together and returned his automail to its normal state. His nerves jumped and twitched in reaction to the adrenaline still coursing through his system. Edward wanted to punch something, but Winry was still in the way. He thought she’d be strong enough to hold him down without restraints. A second later, he broke out in a sweat, gritting his teeth together and hoping Winry hadn’t felt his dick twitch in reaction to that thought. “Can you get off me?” he grated out.
Winry leaned in close again, a scowl on her face. Edward rapped his skull on the headboard trying to escape. “You’re not going to transmute anything else?”
He wanted to arch his hips up and throw her off. And his stupid dick wanted her to stay right there. “No! Get off, Winry!”
She snorted and swung her leg over him, but didn’t pull away. “You look feverish.”
“No shit.”
Pitt walked into the room before Winry could respond, a tray in his hands. “Tea,” he announced, but he glanced at Winry, a question on his face. “I heard noises.”
“We’re all right.” Winry slid off the bed, a reassuring smile on her face. Taking the nearest cup, she turned back to the bed. “You need to drink this, Ed. Do you need help?”
If Pitt hadn’t been standing there with a stupid smirk on his face, Edward would’ve agreed. But Pitt had asked those questions about Winry. And Al. And him. “You go rest,” Edward heard himself say. “If I need any help, Pitt’s here.” He didn’t mention Envy, still leaning against the vanity and primping in the mirror, nor Hohenheim, standing near the window with his arms folded. They wouldn’t be of any use at all.
“You’re sure?” Winry searched his face before handing him the cup. She didn’t let go, even when Edward closed his fingers around it.
“Tell her to stay, Edward,” Hohenheim said. “None of us will rest otherwise.”
He sucked his lower lip, meeting her eyes. He wanted to sneer at the old man, but he thought Hohenheim might be right. “Please. Stay.” When she smiled, Edward tried to tell himself it wasn’t the reason for the loosening of the bands across his chest.
He knew he was lying.
X X X