FMA Fic: "Miss The Girl" 2/8
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.
* * *
Chapters 1 and 2
Chapter 3
Moving on is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard. - Dave Mustaine
* * *
“I hate to bother you, Rocky.” Doug Bloodworth interrupted Winry’s thoughts, bringing her focus back to the here and now rather than the plans for the new automail hand waiting to be assembled on her work bench. Glancing up, she saw the receptionist leaning through the doorway of her shop room, his face twisted in a grimace. “You’ve got a visitor.”
From the tone of Doug’s voice, Winry knew it wasn’t anyone she really wanted to see. “Who?” A wild thought insisted Edward had found his way to the clinic but that would be crazy, right? Unless Riza told him where I am. “I don’t have any appointments this afternoon, do I?” She flipped through her calendar, just to make sure.
“It’s not an appointment. It’s a madhouse.” Doug slipped inside, partially closing the door. “A reporter from the newspaper is here.” He paused, taking a breath. Winry wondered if it was for dramatic effect. “He’s here, too.”
With no further explanation, Winry was forced to ask, “He?” Ed?
“Major William Pendergrast.” Doug raised his hand, not quite fast enough to stop Winry from snapping the pencil between her fingers in two, sending flinders flying.
A flush ignited her face though Winry would be hard pressed to say whether she was embarrassed at breaking the pencil or furious that Pendergrast came to the clinic in pursuit of her. From the way her heart thudded in her chest, she’d believe the latter. She didn’t even want to guess why he’d brought a news crew. “Did you tell him I’ve got appointments?”
Doug nodded, his riotous blond hair bobbing around his round face. “I offered to let him talk to Doc but he’s insisting on you.” His chancy smile melted off his face under the heat of Winry’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”
Drumming her fingers on the table top, Winry considered her options. There weren’t any, not with a news crew in evidence. God, why won’t the man leave me alone? It wasn’t like Pendergrast had been a client - Winry’d had a few of them fall in love with her, too, though she’d managed to escape that without any real harm. She refused to think about Edward, though her memory of the way he’d stared at her last night surfaced. When he’d realized who she was, something had gleamed in his eyes, something shuttered away before she had a chance to recognize it.
“Rocky?” Doug’s tentative call reminded her she still had to deal with Pendergrast.
Winry inhaled deeply, blowing out the air in a rush in an attempt to loosen up her suddenly tense body. “What’s Pitt doing? Can he go with me?”
“Doc was finishing up with a patient but I’ll get him if you want.” Doug hesitated in the doorway, reading her expression. “I’ll get him. Give me two minutes.” At her lowering brow, he waved his hands. “Fifty seconds.” He darted out of the doorway, leaving Winry glaring at the top of her desk.
Letting out her breath again, Winry rose from her chair. If Pendergrast was going to force her hand, she’d need to be ready. No mechanic, after all, ever got out of working with automail without getting greasy. She nodded her head, deciding if Pendergrast wanted a mechanic, he was going to get one, in all her greasy, coveralled glory.
* * *
The glare on Riza Hawkeye’s face was one that Edward Elric never, ever wanted pointed in his direction. Unfortunately, that spotlight stare was focused on him. He stiffened his spine, not ducking like a scolded school kid. “It’s not my fault the dog liked me better.”
General Hawkeye’s eyebrow twitched up.
“It isn’t!”
“Brother,” Alphonse mumbled from where he stood beside Edward.
“I understand,” Hawkeye finally spoke, her words drier than the Eastern Desert, “that you did make an apology to Major Pendergrast.” She picked up the papers in front of her, tapping them on the desk to straighten them out. “You also returned the dog.”
Edward leaned heavily on the crutches he’d transmuted out of the wrecked door, since Alphonse had been too busy laughing his ass off to offer to help. “Wasn’t like I could keep the mutt.” From the way her fingers tightened around the pages, Edward realized Hawkeye hadn’t actually finished speaking yet. “Sorry.”
“You understand that your actions might have had repercussions, am I correct, Edward?”
Gah, why did she have to sound like Master Izumi? Except without the whole knuckle cracking, teeth baring thing? “Yes, ma’am.”
“And yet you got drunk, insulted an officer in uniform, stole a dog belonging to said officer and generally made a nuisance of yourself at a military function.”
When she said it like that….
“Not to mention,” Hawkeye’s eyes flicked to his makeshift crutches, “damaged your automail.”
Edward all but howled, stabbing a crutch at his little brother. “That was this morning when I couldn’t get Al out of bed!”
“Brother, inside voice, or I will kick that crutch out from under you.” Alphonse had that ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone to his voice. Normally, Edward wouldn’t care but this time, he grumbled something similar to an apology and thumped the tip of the crutch back on the floor.
Hawkeye finished shuffling her papers, laying them on her desk and lacing her fingers on top of them. “As your normal mechanic is in Rush Valley and, at the present, I am not allowing you leave to go there to get a repair, you will be cooperating with Mrs. Rockbell to have your automail repaired and tuned. I would advise you to not shirk off about this, Fullmetal.”
The use of his military name made Edward wince. Hawkeye rarely called him by that, only when she wanted his complete attention. Obviously, she wasn’t going to let him slide, not that Edward expected her to in the first place. Hawkeye was a firm one for taking care of business and as long as the Elric brothers were assigned to her - even in their current, non-military capacity - she would make sure they toed the lines. Even if it killed Edward to do it. “Yes, ma’am.” He just managed to make the words come out as something other than a sigh.
“First Lieutenant Sciezca has already made an appointment for you, Edward, and a car is waiting out front, as I doubt you’d be able to get to the clinic under your own steam at this point.” Her expression seemed completely cool but Edward was sure he caught a wicked glint in her eyes. “Mrs. Rockbell will let me know if you don’t show, Edward, as if the damage you’ve done to your leg would allow you to pass up the opportunity to have the premiere automail mechanic in the East work on you.”
Definitely a wicked glint. No wonder that bastard got his work done - Hawkeye would’ve shot him in the balls if Mustang didn’t do what she told him to. Grating out, “Yes, ma’am,” Edward jerked his head at his seated brother. “Al will make sure I get there - and back - in one piece.” Surely his brother wouldn’t let Winry completely destroy him, right? What the hell was he thinking? Al’d feed him to the wolves if he thought that’d get him back in better standing with Winry.
“C’mon, Brother.” Yeah, Alphonse was definitely gloating. “Let’s get you to Winry.” As he opened the door to the anteroom outside Hawkeye’s office, he said, “I’ll try not to let her beat you up too much.” Edward was sure he heard a snort come from Hawkeye’s office but by the time he glanced over his shoulder, she was bent over her desk again.
They took their leave of Sciezca, Edward barely hearing Alphonse thanking her for providing them a car. His thoughts were too busy chasing around ideas of escaping East City before he had this appointment with Winry. It didn’t help that his brain kept supplying images of what she’d looked like last night - god, she was beautiful - and that nagging voice in his head whined about how stupid he’d been, all those years before. Edward was considering shoving a cotton swab in his ear to shut the voice up when Alphonse grabbed his arm.
“The car, Brother?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Clambering awkwardly inside, Edward stared holes in the back of the driver’s head while Alphonse made polite, if abrupt, conversation. The drive to the clinic wouldn’t take much time. Edward wished he could tell the driver to take the long way around. The thought of seeing Winry again, so soon after making a complete idiot of himself last night, made him squirm. What was worse, it was over his automail. Edward groaned out loud, covering his eyes with his metal hand.
Next to him, Alphonse shifted, making the leather car seat squeak. He opened his mouth, closed it again, finally sighing before he spoke. “I’m nervous, Ed.”
He gaped and Alphonse glared back, though behind that façade of irritation, Edward could see just how this was affecting his little brother. Making a noncommittal grunt, he picked at a loose string on the hem of his glove. Nervous didn’t even begin to cover it on his end.
“I don’t want her to hate us,” Alphonse went on, achingly soft. “I know we hurt her.”
Edward grunted, twisting the string around the knuckle of his forefinger.
“Brother?” Alphonse turned on the seat, looking at Edward through his bangs. “Why did we let this happen?”
There were probably a million reasons why - maybe some that didn’t even leave the blame directly at their feet. Even if Edward was pretty sure it was their fault. What had Winry done but devote a good part of her life to taking care of them? And how had they repaid her for that care? Continually disappearing. Not making a real effort to stay in touch - well, not before that bastard Bradley threatened her life - and once he wasn’t a threat to Winry any more, they’d fallen right back into old habits. Al and he had traveled around Amestris; journeyed to Xing as royal guests; nosed around Drachma and studied with the Ishbalans in the Eastern Desert. It hadn’t all been for fun, hell if a lot of it wasn’t tedious work and, despite everything they’d learned, there still had been no way for Edward to get his body back to normal. Still, they’d cut Winry out of it, first with the thought she’d want to stay close to Rush Valley and finish out her apprenticeship, then that she had her clients and what would they say if she ran off to wherever for a year or more? By then, it was too late, and there was an invitation to a wedding waiting in East City.
Alphonse, at least, had been brave enough to attend the wedding. He’d refused to go - ha, look at that, another way to hurt Winry - out of his own stupid spite and jealousy. In fact, Edward remembered that day because Al was a lightweight and couldn’t hold up his end of the drinking after the wedding. He’d spent most of the following day cleaning up after his little brother, who was sure he was going to die. “At least I gotta see Win’y an’ tell’er good luck,” Alphonse had sobbed in between burying his head in the toilet.
The car stopped as Edward tugged at the thread, blinking in slight surprise when his glove split at the seam. “Because,” he said, seeing an expanse of grey metal through the tear. Alphonse got out of the car, coming around to open Edward’s door, too. Edward took a deep breath, arranging his crutches so he could get out of the back seat of the vehicle. The ramp leading up to the clinic were salted in case of bad weather and, under their boots, the halite cracked and popped under their weight. Alphonse caught Edward’s elbow, offering a bit more stability.
Edward could just make out people through the window in the door, a flash of dawn-hued hair making him hesitate even as Alphonse reached for the doorknob, twisting it open. The jangle of bells on the door nearly covered up his answer to his brother’s question but Edward got it out anyway. “Because we’re idiots.”
* * *
“So, how much longer is this going to take, Bill?” The reporter from the East City Times tapped his pen on his notepad.
“It’s William.” William adjusted the hang of his uniform, running a thumb over his blond moustache to smooth it. “Major William Pendergrast.” He turned toward the desk, studying the man standing behind it. The receptionist smiled back, a quick nervous grin that faded when Pendergrast asked, “Where is Mrs. Rockbell?”
“She has appointments, Major.” The young man picked up a file, tapping it against the counter to level the papers inside. “She has to rearrange her schedule to see you.”
Of course. He should have thought of that sooner, called ahead, made arrangements with this man, yet still kept his plan enough of a secret that Winry would still be surprised. William schooled his face to placidity, even though his hands tightened inside his gloves. She should make her arrangements more quickly. He’d speak to her about that later, after she accepted his proposal.
A door opened, the sound coming from the left of the counter, and a man stepped out. Wiping his hands on a rag, he shoved that piece of cloth into the pocket of his jacket. “Hello, Major Pendergrast.” Nodding, he stepped around the counter. “David. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hey, Doc Renbak!” The reporter straightened and the two men exchanged cordialities. “That potion you gave me for Bernell worked like a charm, just like you said.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I was going to call you if I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of days.” Renbak leaned an elbow on the counter, obviously prepared to shoot the breeze.
“Far be it for me to interrupt your conversation,” William said, looking down his nose at the smaller man, “but where is Mrs. Rockbell? I am aware she’s on a schedule but so are we.”
“She wasn’t expecting you, Major.” The doctor didn’t move from his relaxed stance. “And I’m sure you understand Winry’s in high demand.”
The reporter nodded, as if such information was common knowledge. “Your clinic has a contract with the local government, doesn’t it, Doc?”
Renbak made an agreeable sound. “We do have outside providers as well but our biggest grant was set up through General Hawkeye.” The door swung open again and Renbak straightened. “That has more to do with my partner than me, though. Winry’s automail skills are considered superb.”
“Flatterer.” Winry rubbed her gloved hand over her forehead, smearing grease across her skin. It resembled a bruise. “I’m sorry I made you wait, gentlemen.” Walking across the room, she stripped off one of her gloves, tucking it into a pocket. “What can I do for you?”
Why couldn’t she have been dressed more nicely? She looked common in that outfit, especially with her hair contained under a laborer’s bandanna, her coveralls smudged and stained, one knee adorned with a patch. William realized they were all looking to him for his answer and managed a tight smile. “Mrs. Rockbell, I have come to you today to offer a pledge of money and services, from the Pendergrast Sulfur Mines.” He wanted to rub that streak of grease off her forehead, his hand twitching in reaction to it. “My company wants to help support you, and Dr. Renbak, in your endeavors in this community.” The bank check appeared in his hand and William presented it to Winry with a flourish.
“This is generous.” She took it by the corners, passing it on to Renbak almost immediately. “Grease.” Rubbing her fingertips together, Winry leaned against Renbak’s shoulder, her eyebrows arching. “Very generous, Major Pendergrast.”
A low whistle escaped the doctor. “That is quite generous.” He raised his head, smiling at William. “Thank you very much, Major.”
“Just wanting to do my part to help,” William said as the reporter scribbled notes. “Those less fortunate than myself are deserving of the care that you can offer.” He wished a photographer had been sent out, too, but perhaps that could come at a later time, when Winry wasn’t so inappropriately dressed. “I am hoping this will be the first check of many more to come, offering your clinic some stability. I know you are working off of military grants and whatever you can bring in. I want - Pendergrast Sulphur - wants to help you with that.”
What was the flicker that crossed Winry’s face? He didn’t have time to read it but something in her eyes made her seem harder, harsher, than before. That was not what William wanted to see. He wanted her to be softer, more receptive, but perhaps she wore this expression for the reporter. It could be Winry held herself this way so that no rumors might be started. William applauded her that cleverness. He and his wife might know their marriage was a sham but it wasn’t something William wanted bandied around in the daily paper.
Winry turned to the receptionist, absently pushing her hair back, looping it around her ear. Her face transformed with the coming of a smile, more brilliant than all the stars in the sky. Blood rushed under William’s skin, making him feel flushed and warmed. Perspiration collected under his arms and his throat went dry. Even filthy as she was, she drew the eye, encouraged him to touch her, his fingers barely grazing her shoulder.
Startled, Winry turned almost slowly to face him. Her eyes glittered, her mouth twitched. Before she could move or even speak, the sound of bells hanging from the door chimed, a gust of cold air spilling into the building.
“ -idiots, that’s why.”
At that instant, Winry’s expression changed. She jerked out from under William’s hand, shoving past him, leaving a handprint on his uniform. Fist planted on one hip, she shook a finger at the pair standing in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The pair of young men were immediately identifiable. William felt his lip curl in reaction to the sheepish grin of one of them. “Edward Elric,” he breathed, making that name sound like a curse.
* * *
Chapter 4
You have to forgive to forget, and forget, to feel again. - Unknown
* * *
Winry’s question made Alphonse wanted to sink into the floor. He knew a few different transmutations that would allow him to do it. Why did this have to be so difficult?
Beside him, Edward bristled. “It wasn’t our idea.”
“Oh,” both fists jammed into her hips now, “and you’re coming here with broken automail?” On those last three syllables, Winry’s voice grew sharper. “I am not your mechanic, Edward Elric.”
He snapped back, all teeth and fury. “You think I don’t know that? Try telling it to Hawkeye. She ordered me here!” He stabbed his crutch at the doorway, in an approximation of wherever General Hawkeye might be in East City.
Alphonse offered a wry smile to Pitt, who nodded in return. Great, Major Pendergrast - Alphonse would recognize that white-blond hair anywhere, after last night - was here, too, and some guy scribbling notes like crazy in a pad. That didn’t look so good. “Winry,” he called her name, using his most gentle voice, anything to calm her down before this escalated any farther, “it really isn’t what it seems.”
Those crackling eyes turned his way and Alphonse was hard pressed not to take a step back. He still remembered that wrench pounding on his armor and wondering just how his brother survived Winry’s attacks. Right now, forget the wrench, she’d beat them to death with Ed’s crutch. “How does it seem, Alphonse?” Though the question sounded sweet enough, the sharp lines around Winry’s mouth and her fisted hands told so much more.
Before Alphonse could take a breath to answer, Edward hobbled forward. He and Winry glared at each other, the air around them fairly popping and sizzling. Alphonse opened his mouth and closed it again, not sure what he could say, when he heard Edward’s voice, low and soft, a bare whisper of words. “Please, Winry.”
Her jaw tightened then and, with a gesture far more imperious than any Ling had ever made, Winry pointed at a closed doorway. “Ed, go in there. I’ll be with you in a minute. Al, there are papers you’ll need to fill out. Doug, get them for him.” Turning away from the Elrics, she swept back over to the small knot of men at the desk, an empress in her domain. “Major Pendergrast, again, I appreciate what you’ve done for our clinic. As you can see, I have an emergency.”
“Actually, Rocky?” The young man behind the desk gave her a bland smile in reaction to whatever look she turned his way. “He’s your next appointment. A First Lieutenant Sciezca called him in…Edward Elric.”
Her shoulders stiffened but Alphonse could see her expression didn’t change from its ‘this is an imposition but I’ll handle it professionally’ mask. “He’s still an emergency.” She forced a smile, turning to the major. “Thank you again, sir, for the generous donation from Pendergrast Sulphur Mines.” Winry stuck out a greasy hand. The major blinked at her gesture and shook it.
Alphonse caught sight of Pendergrast’s thumb, sliding low down over Winry’s knuckles and back up. “Mrs. Rockbell, I would like to discuss further how Pendergrast Sulphur can offer assistance to your clinic.” He tore his gaze away from Winry to look at the man taking notes, raising his voice to say, “I believe this could be the start of something mutually beneficial.”
“Don’t worry, Bill,” the man said, tapping his pen on the pad. “I got it.” He smiled cheekily. “Mrs. Rockbell, Dr. Renbak, I’d hate to take up any more of your time.” His gaze drifted to Alphonse, giving him a once-over that Pendergrast didn’t miss. Pendergrast’s mouth turned more sour. The note-taking man, a reporter, maybe, waved his notepad at Winry. “Though, Mrs. Rockbell, I’d love to sit down with you and discuss the Fullmetal Alchemist.”
Winry pulled free from Pendergrast’s grip, leaving behind a smear of grease on his glove. “Oh, that’s a boring story.” Her eyes glittered, giving lie to the words. “You’d do better to talk to his brother, Alphonse. He’s the one with all the dirt.”
“Sorry,” Alphonse raised his hands, shaking his head. “Military secrets. I’d be shot if I told you.”
The man chuckled. “Gotcha.” His sharp eyes watched Winry as she nodded once more at Pendergrast then turned to Pitt, saying something to him that Alphonse couldn’t quite catch. “Even if it does look like there’re a few stories going around here.” Before Alphonse could react, he said, “Well, Doc, Mrs. Rockbell, Major, I need to get back to the paper so I can write this up.” He pulled a crumpled hat out of a deep pocket and shoved it on his head. “Should be in this evening’s copy, tomorrow morning’s at the latest.” Nodding to each of them, he waved a farewell and walked out the door, the chimes ringing him through.
“Here are the papers, Al.” He coughed at having a clipboard slapped into his chest. “Ed’s handwriting is too hard to read.” Why was it Winry always looked the same, fists planted on her hips, a furious scowl on her face? Because Brother and I are idiots, Alphonse reminded himself, not for the first time. “Major Pendergrast, again,” she turned back to the man, “thank you for your generosity.” Her face softened. “As you can see, I do have a problem. Pitt, why don’t you and Doug check the calendar and see when we can set up a time to meet with Major Pendergrast? Something that works for all of us?”
“Sure, Winry.” Pitt moved around behind the counter. “How’s that sound, Major?”
Winry spun back to Alphonse. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get in that room and tell your brother to get undressed.” She tilted her chin up in that particularly defiant manner she had. “I’m going to get my tools.” Skirting the desk, Winry went through another door, closing it behind her.
Surprised she hadn’t actually slammed the door, Alphonse fumbled the clipboard around, rubbing his chest where the metal clip had bit into him. “Pen?” he asked the young man behind the desk.
“Sure thing.” The young man offered up the pen and a wry smile. “You have to forgive Rocky. It’s not been,” his eyes skirted sideways, toward Pendergrast and Pitt, now at the end of the counter, Pitt pouring over an appointment book. “Um, she’s…”
“That’s the soonest Mrs. Rockbell could meet with me?” Pendergrast’s question grated out. Alphonse turned toward the man glaring at Pitt.
“I’m sorry but she is one of the highest rated mechanics in East City.” Pitt’s bland smile and little shrug did nothing to deflect Pendergrast’s ire. “As you can see.”
The man took a deep breath and Alphonse thought for a second he might explode but Pendergrast surprised him by unclenching his fists and inclining his head. “So be it, Dr. Renbak. I’ll be happy to meet with you and Mrs. Rockbell that date and time.” His cool gaze swept over the desk clerk and lighted on Alphonse. “Mr. Elric.”
“Major Pendergrast.”
Pendergrast turned on his heel, military sharp, and strode out of the clinic. The chime of the bells had barely time to silence before the door behind the desk swept open. “Good. He’s gone.” Winry’s jaw tightened. “Alphonse, have you finished filling out those papers?”
He squeaked, “No?” and got an eye roll for his answer. “I’ll get them done while you check out Brother, Winry.”
“Oh, no.” She pointed a wrench - where in the hell had she pulled it from, Alphonse wondered, horrified - his way. “You get in that exam room, too.”
“Ahhh…Brother’s a big boy, Winry. I’m sure you can,” Alphonse’s words trickled off at the way the wrench reflected the overhead lighting. “Okay.” He hurried to open the door for her. Why were so many women Edward and he knew so scary, anyway? It had to be an inverse ratio or something. At least Paninya only threatened with the knife and the cannon Dominic had built into her leg; too many of the other women they knew were of the ‘beat first, question later’ frame of mind. And that included Winry. Not, Alphonse amended as he followed her into the exam room, that he and Edward didn’t deserve it from her.
Edward sat on the exam table, down to his a-line undershirt and, Alphonse was pleased to note, a pair of shorts instead of just underwear. Edward must have transmuted his trousers. Taking the effort to be at least somewhat presentable to Winry was a good sign. At least, Alphonse hoped it was a good sign. Please, let it be a good sign.
Winry set her toolbox down on a low bench with a clattering thud. Straightening, she fished a glove out of a pocket of her coveralls, pulling it on as she studied Edward’s leg. “What did you do to it?”
Edward reacted almost as if shocked, teeth glittering and eyes wide. “Uh…”
“He kicked down the door to my bedroom this morning.” Alphonse settled into the uncomfortable chair across from the table, positioning it so he wasn’t staring right at his brother’s crotch.
“Al!”
“Winry asked. Were you going to tell her?” Alphonse arranged the clipboard and started filling out the paperwork.
After a hesitation of what seemed far too long, though it might’ve been a quarter of a second, Edward shouted, “Yes!”
“Just hold still, so I can get you fixed up and out of here.” The set to Winry’s shoulders and her mouth told Alphonse this really was a bad idea. No matter how much he’d teased Edward about going to Winry, she didn’t want to see them. “Before I start working, you do know that you should go to your regular mechanic. I don’t know this style of automail.” There was a lot that remained unsaid in that sentence. Alphonse wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. “I could do more damage than good.”
Edward swallowed noisily. “It’s…it’s okay, Winry. Whatever you can do…” Folding his arms, he tried to maintain a furious expression. “Hawkeye insisted I come here, instead of going to the mechanic in Rush Valley I’m using.”
If Winry noticed that slipup, she didn’t say anything. Alphonse busied himself with the papers, trying to ignore the feeling that his ribs were squeezing his lungs so tight, he couldn’t quite breathe. Winry didn’t seem to be having any problems, studying Edward’s leg at different angles, though her movements were not as fluid as Alphonse remembered. She tried to bend his leg, only to grimace. “I’m going to have to remove the plates of your knee.”
“Sure, Winry.” Edward shifted on the table. “Do I need to do anything?”
Art by yoporock
“You’re fine.” The distant tone of her voice was nearly as damning as her lack of reaction to anything once they’d entered this room. Winry’s work was both quiet and efficient, the former exactly what Alphonse expected but the latter, well, Winry had never, ever been silent while working on Edward’s automail. She chided, she yelled, she heaved out exaggerated sighs of disgust. This automaton of their friend creeped Alphonse out. As he watched, Edward’s expression went from nervous to dismayed to outright seething anger.
This was not going to be good.
Winry spoke without raising her head from where she sat on a little rolling stool in front of Edward’s knee. “I don’t know where you’ve been going, Ed, but whatever your mechanic has been charging you is too much.”
Oh, hell.
Flinging himself upright, Edward nearly kicked Winry in the face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jerking back out of reach, Winry set her hands on her thighs. “It means you’ve got a substandard mechanic who’s using inferior material for your knee joint, not to mention the rest of your leg.” She didn’t even raise her voice, just said it matter of factly. “You could have had Mr. Dominic or Mr. Garfiel recommend a mechanic to you. Someone who,” Winry grimaced, picking up one of the plates to Edward’s knee, “knew what he or she was doing.”
“Oh, oh!” Edward leaned off the table, shaking a metal finger in Winry’s face. “Those two old farts wouldn’t tell me anything. ‘Solidarity between mechanics!’ They weren’t about to give me any good references, told me to go find my own mechanic if I wasn’t going to see you or Pinako.”
“Brother,” Alphonse said, knowing Edward wouldn’t hear him. Winry might, and might take pity and not kill Ed, but that was always a chance Alphonse wasn’t sure he wanted to take.
“No, Al, let him say it.” Winry stood up, the stool spinning away from her at the force of her movement. “Go ahead, Ed. Say whatever it is you’re dying to say.”
“I didn’t want to go to another mechanic!”
Well, that was a surprise, Alphonse thought, glancing at Winry for her reaction.
She shrugged. “That was your choice, not mine.”
Ouch.
Edward gnashed his teeth, fingers digging into the padding on the top of the table. “Because I figured that was what you wanted.”
“What, for you to go parading around with substandard automail? Why would I want that for anyone?” There was the fire, though still banked, not nearly at the intensity level Alphonse expected from Winry. “I hear about the trouble you get yourself in to.”
“If you don’t want to hear, don’t listen,” Edward snarled but before he could finish speaking, Winry raised her voice.
“I don’t want to but my clients tell me. My friends tell me. The only people who don’t tell me about what the two of you are doing,” her glare switched between them, “are you.”
“We didn’t think you’d want to know,” Alphonse said, realizing his grip on the clipboard was wrinkling the papers.
“You’re the only ones.” With a sigh, Winry tossed the knee plates onto the workbench, making Alphonse wince at the clatter. “Al, at least, came to my wedding before the two of you vanished.” She nodded at Edward. “Granny told me you were in the hospital the day Grant was born but you didn’t have time to come see me.”
“Brother?” Alphonse knew Winry had to be telling the truth from the way Edward flinched and glanced away from them both.
“And,” Winry went on, “that was it. You,” she hesitated, focusing on her fisted hand, which she opened slowly, as if releasing something to the air. “Disappeared after that. Except everyone felt the need to tell me everything you two were doing - oh, I heard you had gone to Mr. Garfiel looking for another mechanic. Paninya always tells me when you’re in Rush Valley.” A breath. “She’s here in town, and I’m sure she’d like to see you, Al. Pitt, too. You guys saw him, right?”
“Yeah.” Edward had turned back as she spoke, glancing at her, then dropping his gaze again. “Winry,” he choked, then tried again, still sounding rough, “don’t blame Al. Okay? He’s missed you a lot.” When Alphonse tried to chime in, Edward held up his hand and Alphonse subsided, falling back into his chair with a thump. “I’ve missed you. But you moved on. You…started dating a guy and got engaged and married and we missed out on that. That was our fault.”
Winry at least gave the impression of listening, her arms loosely folded across her stomach, hands empty of anything that could be used as a weapon against an Elric. Alphonse hated how exhausted she looked, as if this little impromptu meeting had worn her out. “How much did you know about what was going on in my life, Ed?” She glanced over. “Al?”
Edward stammered out something unintelligible. Alphonse said, “I heard about Grant from Paninya, like you said. General Hawkeye kept us informed, too, at least for some things. I guess you figured that out, huh? Because they stopped talking about you a couple of years ago.”
Her fingers drummed on the opposite forearms. “That was after Granny died.”
“We…heard.” Alphonse wanted to reach out to Winry, pull her into a hug. She seemed so brittle right now, so distant, even though she was in the same room.
Painfully, Edward said, “Hawkeye told us after we came back. We were in - ”
“Xing. I know. I tried to find you.” Winry shrugged, as if the memory didn’t hurt. “I sent a letter.” She took the few steps across the room, ignoring the way the brothers stared at her. Picking up a tool, Winry twirled it absently in her fingers. “I guess you didn’t get it.”
Would Ling have intercepted a letter from Winry, Alphonse wondered? Did it get lost in the Eastern Desert or at sea? Why hadn’t General Hawkeye followed up with it? Because, a little voice said in his mind, by then you’d stopped asking about Winry. It hurt too much to know anything secondhand and at the same time, he’d drank down every bit of information he’d gotten. “Winry, we didn’t know. I promise you.”
“If we’d gotten a letter, we’d have come back.” Edward, mouth turned down, shifted uncomfortably on the table. “We’ve gone to see her grave.”
“It’s a nice stone,” Alphonse offered. “Granny Pinako would’ve liked it.” That sounded pretty stupid. Even Edward gave him a sharp look.
Winry pointed her screwdriver at Edward’s knee. “I can fix that or I can make you new automail. It’s up to you.” Her smooth, chill expression would make Olivia Armstrong jealous. “Granny’d like that you visited. She always bragged on you to anyone who’d listen.” Her brow furrowed then smoothed out again. “Grant and I picked out the stone.”
“I’ll need something to get around on, huh? Crutches…” Edward made a face.
There was something wrong with what Winry’d just said and, at first, Alphonse wasn’t sure why. “Winry, why didn’t Geoffrey help with the stone?”
“I’ll fix this up so you can walk. Don’t run or get into any fights, not until it’s replaced.” Winry tapped the cupped metal that approximated a kneecap, making it chime dully. “Geoffrey didn’t help because he wasn’t around.” The corner of her mouth curled up but what she offered Alphonse wasn’t a smile. “He left.”
“Damn it!” Edward’s growl rumbled around the small room.
“We didn’t know,” Alphonse murmured, wishing he could hold her, be a lightning rod for her pain. He thought if he reached out to her, though, he might come back with a bloody stump.
“He left you and your kid? Where is he?” Edward nearly vibrated off the table in his need to go beat someone up.
“It doesn’t matter.” The dull surprise in her eyes was swallowed up again by that icy façade. “We’re divorced. I can take care of Grant. Granny left me some money and the clinic’s doing well.” Winry said it casually, almost as if she didn’t know them. Like she was reciting something to a pair of strangers. “We’re okay.” She tapped the knee plate again. “So, Ed, what will it be? Do you want new automail? Or for me just to fix what you’ve got now?”
“Nng, woman, like there’s any choice?” Edward’s attempt to pretend everything was back to normal fell flat. He couldn’t keep the aggravated look on his face. “If I say I want new automail, does…does that mean you’ll be my mechanic again?”
* * *
William couldn’t believe it. Those two puppies came in off the street and completely wrecked his plans. How was it that alchemist could garner so much attention from Winry? He hadn’t missed the looks Elric had shot her last night, the way his gaze had followed her around the room, or the amount of liquor Elric had put away.
Edward Elric could hamper his plans, unless he could get him out of the way. Think, William, think!
The thought came clear, like a glint of sunlight on ice, and made William smile.
* * *
Chapter 5
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.
* * *
Chapters 1 and 2
Chapter 3
Moving on is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard. - Dave Mustaine
* * *
“I hate to bother you, Rocky.” Doug Bloodworth interrupted Winry’s thoughts, bringing her focus back to the here and now rather than the plans for the new automail hand waiting to be assembled on her work bench. Glancing up, she saw the receptionist leaning through the doorway of her shop room, his face twisted in a grimace. “You’ve got a visitor.”
From the tone of Doug’s voice, Winry knew it wasn’t anyone she really wanted to see. “Who?” A wild thought insisted Edward had found his way to the clinic but that would be crazy, right? Unless Riza told him where I am. “I don’t have any appointments this afternoon, do I?” She flipped through her calendar, just to make sure.
“It’s not an appointment. It’s a madhouse.” Doug slipped inside, partially closing the door. “A reporter from the newspaper is here.” He paused, taking a breath. Winry wondered if it was for dramatic effect. “He’s here, too.”
With no further explanation, Winry was forced to ask, “He?” Ed?
“Major William Pendergrast.” Doug raised his hand, not quite fast enough to stop Winry from snapping the pencil between her fingers in two, sending flinders flying.
A flush ignited her face though Winry would be hard pressed to say whether she was embarrassed at breaking the pencil or furious that Pendergrast came to the clinic in pursuit of her. From the way her heart thudded in her chest, she’d believe the latter. She didn’t even want to guess why he’d brought a news crew. “Did you tell him I’ve got appointments?”
Doug nodded, his riotous blond hair bobbing around his round face. “I offered to let him talk to Doc but he’s insisting on you.” His chancy smile melted off his face under the heat of Winry’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”
Drumming her fingers on the table top, Winry considered her options. There weren’t any, not with a news crew in evidence. God, why won’t the man leave me alone? It wasn’t like Pendergrast had been a client - Winry’d had a few of them fall in love with her, too, though she’d managed to escape that without any real harm. She refused to think about Edward, though her memory of the way he’d stared at her last night surfaced. When he’d realized who she was, something had gleamed in his eyes, something shuttered away before she had a chance to recognize it.
“Rocky?” Doug’s tentative call reminded her she still had to deal with Pendergrast.
Winry inhaled deeply, blowing out the air in a rush in an attempt to loosen up her suddenly tense body. “What’s Pitt doing? Can he go with me?”
“Doc was finishing up with a patient but I’ll get him if you want.” Doug hesitated in the doorway, reading her expression. “I’ll get him. Give me two minutes.” At her lowering brow, he waved his hands. “Fifty seconds.” He darted out of the doorway, leaving Winry glaring at the top of her desk.
Letting out her breath again, Winry rose from her chair. If Pendergrast was going to force her hand, she’d need to be ready. No mechanic, after all, ever got out of working with automail without getting greasy. She nodded her head, deciding if Pendergrast wanted a mechanic, he was going to get one, in all her greasy, coveralled glory.
* * *
The glare on Riza Hawkeye’s face was one that Edward Elric never, ever wanted pointed in his direction. Unfortunately, that spotlight stare was focused on him. He stiffened his spine, not ducking like a scolded school kid. “It’s not my fault the dog liked me better.”
General Hawkeye’s eyebrow twitched up.
“It isn’t!”
“Brother,” Alphonse mumbled from where he stood beside Edward.
“I understand,” Hawkeye finally spoke, her words drier than the Eastern Desert, “that you did make an apology to Major Pendergrast.” She picked up the papers in front of her, tapping them on the desk to straighten them out. “You also returned the dog.”
Edward leaned heavily on the crutches he’d transmuted out of the wrecked door, since Alphonse had been too busy laughing his ass off to offer to help. “Wasn’t like I could keep the mutt.” From the way her fingers tightened around the pages, Edward realized Hawkeye hadn’t actually finished speaking yet. “Sorry.”
“You understand that your actions might have had repercussions, am I correct, Edward?”
Gah, why did she have to sound like Master Izumi? Except without the whole knuckle cracking, teeth baring thing? “Yes, ma’am.”
“And yet you got drunk, insulted an officer in uniform, stole a dog belonging to said officer and generally made a nuisance of yourself at a military function.”
When she said it like that….
“Not to mention,” Hawkeye’s eyes flicked to his makeshift crutches, “damaged your automail.”
Edward all but howled, stabbing a crutch at his little brother. “That was this morning when I couldn’t get Al out of bed!”
“Brother, inside voice, or I will kick that crutch out from under you.” Alphonse had that ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone to his voice. Normally, Edward wouldn’t care but this time, he grumbled something similar to an apology and thumped the tip of the crutch back on the floor.
Hawkeye finished shuffling her papers, laying them on her desk and lacing her fingers on top of them. “As your normal mechanic is in Rush Valley and, at the present, I am not allowing you leave to go there to get a repair, you will be cooperating with Mrs. Rockbell to have your automail repaired and tuned. I would advise you to not shirk off about this, Fullmetal.”
The use of his military name made Edward wince. Hawkeye rarely called him by that, only when she wanted his complete attention. Obviously, she wasn’t going to let him slide, not that Edward expected her to in the first place. Hawkeye was a firm one for taking care of business and as long as the Elric brothers were assigned to her - even in their current, non-military capacity - she would make sure they toed the lines. Even if it killed Edward to do it. “Yes, ma’am.” He just managed to make the words come out as something other than a sigh.
“First Lieutenant Sciezca has already made an appointment for you, Edward, and a car is waiting out front, as I doubt you’d be able to get to the clinic under your own steam at this point.” Her expression seemed completely cool but Edward was sure he caught a wicked glint in her eyes. “Mrs. Rockbell will let me know if you don’t show, Edward, as if the damage you’ve done to your leg would allow you to pass up the opportunity to have the premiere automail mechanic in the East work on you.”
Definitely a wicked glint. No wonder that bastard got his work done - Hawkeye would’ve shot him in the balls if Mustang didn’t do what she told him to. Grating out, “Yes, ma’am,” Edward jerked his head at his seated brother. “Al will make sure I get there - and back - in one piece.” Surely his brother wouldn’t let Winry completely destroy him, right? What the hell was he thinking? Al’d feed him to the wolves if he thought that’d get him back in better standing with Winry.
“C’mon, Brother.” Yeah, Alphonse was definitely gloating. “Let’s get you to Winry.” As he opened the door to the anteroom outside Hawkeye’s office, he said, “I’ll try not to let her beat you up too much.” Edward was sure he heard a snort come from Hawkeye’s office but by the time he glanced over his shoulder, she was bent over her desk again.
They took their leave of Sciezca, Edward barely hearing Alphonse thanking her for providing them a car. His thoughts were too busy chasing around ideas of escaping East City before he had this appointment with Winry. It didn’t help that his brain kept supplying images of what she’d looked like last night - god, she was beautiful - and that nagging voice in his head whined about how stupid he’d been, all those years before. Edward was considering shoving a cotton swab in his ear to shut the voice up when Alphonse grabbed his arm.
“The car, Brother?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Clambering awkwardly inside, Edward stared holes in the back of the driver’s head while Alphonse made polite, if abrupt, conversation. The drive to the clinic wouldn’t take much time. Edward wished he could tell the driver to take the long way around. The thought of seeing Winry again, so soon after making a complete idiot of himself last night, made him squirm. What was worse, it was over his automail. Edward groaned out loud, covering his eyes with his metal hand.
Next to him, Alphonse shifted, making the leather car seat squeak. He opened his mouth, closed it again, finally sighing before he spoke. “I’m nervous, Ed.”
He gaped and Alphonse glared back, though behind that façade of irritation, Edward could see just how this was affecting his little brother. Making a noncommittal grunt, he picked at a loose string on the hem of his glove. Nervous didn’t even begin to cover it on his end.
“I don’t want her to hate us,” Alphonse went on, achingly soft. “I know we hurt her.”
Edward grunted, twisting the string around the knuckle of his forefinger.
“Brother?” Alphonse turned on the seat, looking at Edward through his bangs. “Why did we let this happen?”
There were probably a million reasons why - maybe some that didn’t even leave the blame directly at their feet. Even if Edward was pretty sure it was their fault. What had Winry done but devote a good part of her life to taking care of them? And how had they repaid her for that care? Continually disappearing. Not making a real effort to stay in touch - well, not before that bastard Bradley threatened her life - and once he wasn’t a threat to Winry any more, they’d fallen right back into old habits. Al and he had traveled around Amestris; journeyed to Xing as royal guests; nosed around Drachma and studied with the Ishbalans in the Eastern Desert. It hadn’t all been for fun, hell if a lot of it wasn’t tedious work and, despite everything they’d learned, there still had been no way for Edward to get his body back to normal. Still, they’d cut Winry out of it, first with the thought she’d want to stay close to Rush Valley and finish out her apprenticeship, then that she had her clients and what would they say if she ran off to wherever for a year or more? By then, it was too late, and there was an invitation to a wedding waiting in East City.
Alphonse, at least, had been brave enough to attend the wedding. He’d refused to go - ha, look at that, another way to hurt Winry - out of his own stupid spite and jealousy. In fact, Edward remembered that day because Al was a lightweight and couldn’t hold up his end of the drinking after the wedding. He’d spent most of the following day cleaning up after his little brother, who was sure he was going to die. “At least I gotta see Win’y an’ tell’er good luck,” Alphonse had sobbed in between burying his head in the toilet.
The car stopped as Edward tugged at the thread, blinking in slight surprise when his glove split at the seam. “Because,” he said, seeing an expanse of grey metal through the tear. Alphonse got out of the car, coming around to open Edward’s door, too. Edward took a deep breath, arranging his crutches so he could get out of the back seat of the vehicle. The ramp leading up to the clinic were salted in case of bad weather and, under their boots, the halite cracked and popped under their weight. Alphonse caught Edward’s elbow, offering a bit more stability.
Edward could just make out people through the window in the door, a flash of dawn-hued hair making him hesitate even as Alphonse reached for the doorknob, twisting it open. The jangle of bells on the door nearly covered up his answer to his brother’s question but Edward got it out anyway. “Because we’re idiots.”
* * *
“So, how much longer is this going to take, Bill?” The reporter from the East City Times tapped his pen on his notepad.
“It’s William.” William adjusted the hang of his uniform, running a thumb over his blond moustache to smooth it. “Major William Pendergrast.” He turned toward the desk, studying the man standing behind it. The receptionist smiled back, a quick nervous grin that faded when Pendergrast asked, “Where is Mrs. Rockbell?”
“She has appointments, Major.” The young man picked up a file, tapping it against the counter to level the papers inside. “She has to rearrange her schedule to see you.”
Of course. He should have thought of that sooner, called ahead, made arrangements with this man, yet still kept his plan enough of a secret that Winry would still be surprised. William schooled his face to placidity, even though his hands tightened inside his gloves. She should make her arrangements more quickly. He’d speak to her about that later, after she accepted his proposal.
A door opened, the sound coming from the left of the counter, and a man stepped out. Wiping his hands on a rag, he shoved that piece of cloth into the pocket of his jacket. “Hello, Major Pendergrast.” Nodding, he stepped around the counter. “David. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hey, Doc Renbak!” The reporter straightened and the two men exchanged cordialities. “That potion you gave me for Bernell worked like a charm, just like you said.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I was going to call you if I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of days.” Renbak leaned an elbow on the counter, obviously prepared to shoot the breeze.
“Far be it for me to interrupt your conversation,” William said, looking down his nose at the smaller man, “but where is Mrs. Rockbell? I am aware she’s on a schedule but so are we.”
“She wasn’t expecting you, Major.” The doctor didn’t move from his relaxed stance. “And I’m sure you understand Winry’s in high demand.”
The reporter nodded, as if such information was common knowledge. “Your clinic has a contract with the local government, doesn’t it, Doc?”
Renbak made an agreeable sound. “We do have outside providers as well but our biggest grant was set up through General Hawkeye.” The door swung open again and Renbak straightened. “That has more to do with my partner than me, though. Winry’s automail skills are considered superb.”
“Flatterer.” Winry rubbed her gloved hand over her forehead, smearing grease across her skin. It resembled a bruise. “I’m sorry I made you wait, gentlemen.” Walking across the room, she stripped off one of her gloves, tucking it into a pocket. “What can I do for you?”
Why couldn’t she have been dressed more nicely? She looked common in that outfit, especially with her hair contained under a laborer’s bandanna, her coveralls smudged and stained, one knee adorned with a patch. William realized they were all looking to him for his answer and managed a tight smile. “Mrs. Rockbell, I have come to you today to offer a pledge of money and services, from the Pendergrast Sulfur Mines.” He wanted to rub that streak of grease off her forehead, his hand twitching in reaction to it. “My company wants to help support you, and Dr. Renbak, in your endeavors in this community.” The bank check appeared in his hand and William presented it to Winry with a flourish.
“This is generous.” She took it by the corners, passing it on to Renbak almost immediately. “Grease.” Rubbing her fingertips together, Winry leaned against Renbak’s shoulder, her eyebrows arching. “Very generous, Major Pendergrast.”
A low whistle escaped the doctor. “That is quite generous.” He raised his head, smiling at William. “Thank you very much, Major.”
“Just wanting to do my part to help,” William said as the reporter scribbled notes. “Those less fortunate than myself are deserving of the care that you can offer.” He wished a photographer had been sent out, too, but perhaps that could come at a later time, when Winry wasn’t so inappropriately dressed. “I am hoping this will be the first check of many more to come, offering your clinic some stability. I know you are working off of military grants and whatever you can bring in. I want - Pendergrast Sulphur - wants to help you with that.”
What was the flicker that crossed Winry’s face? He didn’t have time to read it but something in her eyes made her seem harder, harsher, than before. That was not what William wanted to see. He wanted her to be softer, more receptive, but perhaps she wore this expression for the reporter. It could be Winry held herself this way so that no rumors might be started. William applauded her that cleverness. He and his wife might know their marriage was a sham but it wasn’t something William wanted bandied around in the daily paper.
Winry turned to the receptionist, absently pushing her hair back, looping it around her ear. Her face transformed with the coming of a smile, more brilliant than all the stars in the sky. Blood rushed under William’s skin, making him feel flushed and warmed. Perspiration collected under his arms and his throat went dry. Even filthy as she was, she drew the eye, encouraged him to touch her, his fingers barely grazing her shoulder.
Startled, Winry turned almost slowly to face him. Her eyes glittered, her mouth twitched. Before she could move or even speak, the sound of bells hanging from the door chimed, a gust of cold air spilling into the building.
“ -idiots, that’s why.”
At that instant, Winry’s expression changed. She jerked out from under William’s hand, shoving past him, leaving a handprint on his uniform. Fist planted on one hip, she shook a finger at the pair standing in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The pair of young men were immediately identifiable. William felt his lip curl in reaction to the sheepish grin of one of them. “Edward Elric,” he breathed, making that name sound like a curse.
* * *
Chapter 4
You have to forgive to forget, and forget, to feel again. - Unknown
* * *
Winry’s question made Alphonse wanted to sink into the floor. He knew a few different transmutations that would allow him to do it. Why did this have to be so difficult?
Beside him, Edward bristled. “It wasn’t our idea.”
“Oh,” both fists jammed into her hips now, “and you’re coming here with broken automail?” On those last three syllables, Winry’s voice grew sharper. “I am not your mechanic, Edward Elric.”
He snapped back, all teeth and fury. “You think I don’t know that? Try telling it to Hawkeye. She ordered me here!” He stabbed his crutch at the doorway, in an approximation of wherever General Hawkeye might be in East City.
Alphonse offered a wry smile to Pitt, who nodded in return. Great, Major Pendergrast - Alphonse would recognize that white-blond hair anywhere, after last night - was here, too, and some guy scribbling notes like crazy in a pad. That didn’t look so good. “Winry,” he called her name, using his most gentle voice, anything to calm her down before this escalated any farther, “it really isn’t what it seems.”
Those crackling eyes turned his way and Alphonse was hard pressed not to take a step back. He still remembered that wrench pounding on his armor and wondering just how his brother survived Winry’s attacks. Right now, forget the wrench, she’d beat them to death with Ed’s crutch. “How does it seem, Alphonse?” Though the question sounded sweet enough, the sharp lines around Winry’s mouth and her fisted hands told so much more.
Before Alphonse could take a breath to answer, Edward hobbled forward. He and Winry glared at each other, the air around them fairly popping and sizzling. Alphonse opened his mouth and closed it again, not sure what he could say, when he heard Edward’s voice, low and soft, a bare whisper of words. “Please, Winry.”
Her jaw tightened then and, with a gesture far more imperious than any Ling had ever made, Winry pointed at a closed doorway. “Ed, go in there. I’ll be with you in a minute. Al, there are papers you’ll need to fill out. Doug, get them for him.” Turning away from the Elrics, she swept back over to the small knot of men at the desk, an empress in her domain. “Major Pendergrast, again, I appreciate what you’ve done for our clinic. As you can see, I have an emergency.”
“Actually, Rocky?” The young man behind the desk gave her a bland smile in reaction to whatever look she turned his way. “He’s your next appointment. A First Lieutenant Sciezca called him in…Edward Elric.”
Her shoulders stiffened but Alphonse could see her expression didn’t change from its ‘this is an imposition but I’ll handle it professionally’ mask. “He’s still an emergency.” She forced a smile, turning to the major. “Thank you again, sir, for the generous donation from Pendergrast Sulphur Mines.” Winry stuck out a greasy hand. The major blinked at her gesture and shook it.
Alphonse caught sight of Pendergrast’s thumb, sliding low down over Winry’s knuckles and back up. “Mrs. Rockbell, I would like to discuss further how Pendergrast Sulphur can offer assistance to your clinic.” He tore his gaze away from Winry to look at the man taking notes, raising his voice to say, “I believe this could be the start of something mutually beneficial.”
“Don’t worry, Bill,” the man said, tapping his pen on the pad. “I got it.” He smiled cheekily. “Mrs. Rockbell, Dr. Renbak, I’d hate to take up any more of your time.” His gaze drifted to Alphonse, giving him a once-over that Pendergrast didn’t miss. Pendergrast’s mouth turned more sour. The note-taking man, a reporter, maybe, waved his notepad at Winry. “Though, Mrs. Rockbell, I’d love to sit down with you and discuss the Fullmetal Alchemist.”
Winry pulled free from Pendergrast’s grip, leaving behind a smear of grease on his glove. “Oh, that’s a boring story.” Her eyes glittered, giving lie to the words. “You’d do better to talk to his brother, Alphonse. He’s the one with all the dirt.”
“Sorry,” Alphonse raised his hands, shaking his head. “Military secrets. I’d be shot if I told you.”
The man chuckled. “Gotcha.” His sharp eyes watched Winry as she nodded once more at Pendergrast then turned to Pitt, saying something to him that Alphonse couldn’t quite catch. “Even if it does look like there’re a few stories going around here.” Before Alphonse could react, he said, “Well, Doc, Mrs. Rockbell, Major, I need to get back to the paper so I can write this up.” He pulled a crumpled hat out of a deep pocket and shoved it on his head. “Should be in this evening’s copy, tomorrow morning’s at the latest.” Nodding to each of them, he waved a farewell and walked out the door, the chimes ringing him through.
“Here are the papers, Al.” He coughed at having a clipboard slapped into his chest. “Ed’s handwriting is too hard to read.” Why was it Winry always looked the same, fists planted on her hips, a furious scowl on her face? Because Brother and I are idiots, Alphonse reminded himself, not for the first time. “Major Pendergrast, again,” she turned back to the man, “thank you for your generosity.” Her face softened. “As you can see, I do have a problem. Pitt, why don’t you and Doug check the calendar and see when we can set up a time to meet with Major Pendergrast? Something that works for all of us?”
“Sure, Winry.” Pitt moved around behind the counter. “How’s that sound, Major?”
Winry spun back to Alphonse. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get in that room and tell your brother to get undressed.” She tilted her chin up in that particularly defiant manner she had. “I’m going to get my tools.” Skirting the desk, Winry went through another door, closing it behind her.
Surprised she hadn’t actually slammed the door, Alphonse fumbled the clipboard around, rubbing his chest where the metal clip had bit into him. “Pen?” he asked the young man behind the desk.
“Sure thing.” The young man offered up the pen and a wry smile. “You have to forgive Rocky. It’s not been,” his eyes skirted sideways, toward Pendergrast and Pitt, now at the end of the counter, Pitt pouring over an appointment book. “Um, she’s…”
“That’s the soonest Mrs. Rockbell could meet with me?” Pendergrast’s question grated out. Alphonse turned toward the man glaring at Pitt.
“I’m sorry but she is one of the highest rated mechanics in East City.” Pitt’s bland smile and little shrug did nothing to deflect Pendergrast’s ire. “As you can see.”
The man took a deep breath and Alphonse thought for a second he might explode but Pendergrast surprised him by unclenching his fists and inclining his head. “So be it, Dr. Renbak. I’ll be happy to meet with you and Mrs. Rockbell that date and time.” His cool gaze swept over the desk clerk and lighted on Alphonse. “Mr. Elric.”
“Major Pendergrast.”
Pendergrast turned on his heel, military sharp, and strode out of the clinic. The chime of the bells had barely time to silence before the door behind the desk swept open. “Good. He’s gone.” Winry’s jaw tightened. “Alphonse, have you finished filling out those papers?”
He squeaked, “No?” and got an eye roll for his answer. “I’ll get them done while you check out Brother, Winry.”
“Oh, no.” She pointed a wrench - where in the hell had she pulled it from, Alphonse wondered, horrified - his way. “You get in that exam room, too.”
“Ahhh…Brother’s a big boy, Winry. I’m sure you can,” Alphonse’s words trickled off at the way the wrench reflected the overhead lighting. “Okay.” He hurried to open the door for her. Why were so many women Edward and he knew so scary, anyway? It had to be an inverse ratio or something. At least Paninya only threatened with the knife and the cannon Dominic had built into her leg; too many of the other women they knew were of the ‘beat first, question later’ frame of mind. And that included Winry. Not, Alphonse amended as he followed her into the exam room, that he and Edward didn’t deserve it from her.
Edward sat on the exam table, down to his a-line undershirt and, Alphonse was pleased to note, a pair of shorts instead of just underwear. Edward must have transmuted his trousers. Taking the effort to be at least somewhat presentable to Winry was a good sign. At least, Alphonse hoped it was a good sign. Please, let it be a good sign.
Winry set her toolbox down on a low bench with a clattering thud. Straightening, she fished a glove out of a pocket of her coveralls, pulling it on as she studied Edward’s leg. “What did you do to it?”
Edward reacted almost as if shocked, teeth glittering and eyes wide. “Uh…”
“He kicked down the door to my bedroom this morning.” Alphonse settled into the uncomfortable chair across from the table, positioning it so he wasn’t staring right at his brother’s crotch.
“Al!”
“Winry asked. Were you going to tell her?” Alphonse arranged the clipboard and started filling out the paperwork.
After a hesitation of what seemed far too long, though it might’ve been a quarter of a second, Edward shouted, “Yes!”
“Just hold still, so I can get you fixed up and out of here.” The set to Winry’s shoulders and her mouth told Alphonse this really was a bad idea. No matter how much he’d teased Edward about going to Winry, she didn’t want to see them. “Before I start working, you do know that you should go to your regular mechanic. I don’t know this style of automail.” There was a lot that remained unsaid in that sentence. Alphonse wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. “I could do more damage than good.”
Edward swallowed noisily. “It’s…it’s okay, Winry. Whatever you can do…” Folding his arms, he tried to maintain a furious expression. “Hawkeye insisted I come here, instead of going to the mechanic in Rush Valley I’m using.”
If Winry noticed that slipup, she didn’t say anything. Alphonse busied himself with the papers, trying to ignore the feeling that his ribs were squeezing his lungs so tight, he couldn’t quite breathe. Winry didn’t seem to be having any problems, studying Edward’s leg at different angles, though her movements were not as fluid as Alphonse remembered. She tried to bend his leg, only to grimace. “I’m going to have to remove the plates of your knee.”
“Sure, Winry.” Edward shifted on the table. “Do I need to do anything?”
Art by yoporock
“You’re fine.” The distant tone of her voice was nearly as damning as her lack of reaction to anything once they’d entered this room. Winry’s work was both quiet and efficient, the former exactly what Alphonse expected but the latter, well, Winry had never, ever been silent while working on Edward’s automail. She chided, she yelled, she heaved out exaggerated sighs of disgust. This automaton of their friend creeped Alphonse out. As he watched, Edward’s expression went from nervous to dismayed to outright seething anger.
This was not going to be good.
Winry spoke without raising her head from where she sat on a little rolling stool in front of Edward’s knee. “I don’t know where you’ve been going, Ed, but whatever your mechanic has been charging you is too much.”
Oh, hell.
Flinging himself upright, Edward nearly kicked Winry in the face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jerking back out of reach, Winry set her hands on her thighs. “It means you’ve got a substandard mechanic who’s using inferior material for your knee joint, not to mention the rest of your leg.” She didn’t even raise her voice, just said it matter of factly. “You could have had Mr. Dominic or Mr. Garfiel recommend a mechanic to you. Someone who,” Winry grimaced, picking up one of the plates to Edward’s knee, “knew what he or she was doing.”
“Oh, oh!” Edward leaned off the table, shaking a metal finger in Winry’s face. “Those two old farts wouldn’t tell me anything. ‘Solidarity between mechanics!’ They weren’t about to give me any good references, told me to go find my own mechanic if I wasn’t going to see you or Pinako.”
“Brother,” Alphonse said, knowing Edward wouldn’t hear him. Winry might, and might take pity and not kill Ed, but that was always a chance Alphonse wasn’t sure he wanted to take.
“No, Al, let him say it.” Winry stood up, the stool spinning away from her at the force of her movement. “Go ahead, Ed. Say whatever it is you’re dying to say.”
“I didn’t want to go to another mechanic!”
Well, that was a surprise, Alphonse thought, glancing at Winry for her reaction.
She shrugged. “That was your choice, not mine.”
Ouch.
Edward gnashed his teeth, fingers digging into the padding on the top of the table. “Because I figured that was what you wanted.”
“What, for you to go parading around with substandard automail? Why would I want that for anyone?” There was the fire, though still banked, not nearly at the intensity level Alphonse expected from Winry. “I hear about the trouble you get yourself in to.”
“If you don’t want to hear, don’t listen,” Edward snarled but before he could finish speaking, Winry raised her voice.
“I don’t want to but my clients tell me. My friends tell me. The only people who don’t tell me about what the two of you are doing,” her glare switched between them, “are you.”
“We didn’t think you’d want to know,” Alphonse said, realizing his grip on the clipboard was wrinkling the papers.
“You’re the only ones.” With a sigh, Winry tossed the knee plates onto the workbench, making Alphonse wince at the clatter. “Al, at least, came to my wedding before the two of you vanished.” She nodded at Edward. “Granny told me you were in the hospital the day Grant was born but you didn’t have time to come see me.”
“Brother?” Alphonse knew Winry had to be telling the truth from the way Edward flinched and glanced away from them both.
“And,” Winry went on, “that was it. You,” she hesitated, focusing on her fisted hand, which she opened slowly, as if releasing something to the air. “Disappeared after that. Except everyone felt the need to tell me everything you two were doing - oh, I heard you had gone to Mr. Garfiel looking for another mechanic. Paninya always tells me when you’re in Rush Valley.” A breath. “She’s here in town, and I’m sure she’d like to see you, Al. Pitt, too. You guys saw him, right?”
“Yeah.” Edward had turned back as she spoke, glancing at her, then dropping his gaze again. “Winry,” he choked, then tried again, still sounding rough, “don’t blame Al. Okay? He’s missed you a lot.” When Alphonse tried to chime in, Edward held up his hand and Alphonse subsided, falling back into his chair with a thump. “I’ve missed you. But you moved on. You…started dating a guy and got engaged and married and we missed out on that. That was our fault.”
Winry at least gave the impression of listening, her arms loosely folded across her stomach, hands empty of anything that could be used as a weapon against an Elric. Alphonse hated how exhausted she looked, as if this little impromptu meeting had worn her out. “How much did you know about what was going on in my life, Ed?” She glanced over. “Al?”
Edward stammered out something unintelligible. Alphonse said, “I heard about Grant from Paninya, like you said. General Hawkeye kept us informed, too, at least for some things. I guess you figured that out, huh? Because they stopped talking about you a couple of years ago.”
Her fingers drummed on the opposite forearms. “That was after Granny died.”
“We…heard.” Alphonse wanted to reach out to Winry, pull her into a hug. She seemed so brittle right now, so distant, even though she was in the same room.
Painfully, Edward said, “Hawkeye told us after we came back. We were in - ”
“Xing. I know. I tried to find you.” Winry shrugged, as if the memory didn’t hurt. “I sent a letter.” She took the few steps across the room, ignoring the way the brothers stared at her. Picking up a tool, Winry twirled it absently in her fingers. “I guess you didn’t get it.”
Would Ling have intercepted a letter from Winry, Alphonse wondered? Did it get lost in the Eastern Desert or at sea? Why hadn’t General Hawkeye followed up with it? Because, a little voice said in his mind, by then you’d stopped asking about Winry. It hurt too much to know anything secondhand and at the same time, he’d drank down every bit of information he’d gotten. “Winry, we didn’t know. I promise you.”
“If we’d gotten a letter, we’d have come back.” Edward, mouth turned down, shifted uncomfortably on the table. “We’ve gone to see her grave.”
“It’s a nice stone,” Alphonse offered. “Granny Pinako would’ve liked it.” That sounded pretty stupid. Even Edward gave him a sharp look.
Winry pointed her screwdriver at Edward’s knee. “I can fix that or I can make you new automail. It’s up to you.” Her smooth, chill expression would make Olivia Armstrong jealous. “Granny’d like that you visited. She always bragged on you to anyone who’d listen.” Her brow furrowed then smoothed out again. “Grant and I picked out the stone.”
“I’ll need something to get around on, huh? Crutches…” Edward made a face.
There was something wrong with what Winry’d just said and, at first, Alphonse wasn’t sure why. “Winry, why didn’t Geoffrey help with the stone?”
“I’ll fix this up so you can walk. Don’t run or get into any fights, not until it’s replaced.” Winry tapped the cupped metal that approximated a kneecap, making it chime dully. “Geoffrey didn’t help because he wasn’t around.” The corner of her mouth curled up but what she offered Alphonse wasn’t a smile. “He left.”
“Damn it!” Edward’s growl rumbled around the small room.
“We didn’t know,” Alphonse murmured, wishing he could hold her, be a lightning rod for her pain. He thought if he reached out to her, though, he might come back with a bloody stump.
“He left you and your kid? Where is he?” Edward nearly vibrated off the table in his need to go beat someone up.
“It doesn’t matter.” The dull surprise in her eyes was swallowed up again by that icy façade. “We’re divorced. I can take care of Grant. Granny left me some money and the clinic’s doing well.” Winry said it casually, almost as if she didn’t know them. Like she was reciting something to a pair of strangers. “We’re okay.” She tapped the knee plate again. “So, Ed, what will it be? Do you want new automail? Or for me just to fix what you’ve got now?”
“Nng, woman, like there’s any choice?” Edward’s attempt to pretend everything was back to normal fell flat. He couldn’t keep the aggravated look on his face. “If I say I want new automail, does…does that mean you’ll be my mechanic again?”
* * *
William couldn’t believe it. Those two puppies came in off the street and completely wrecked his plans. How was it that alchemist could garner so much attention from Winry? He hadn’t missed the looks Elric had shot her last night, the way his gaze had followed her around the room, or the amount of liquor Elric had put away.
Edward Elric could hamper his plans, unless he could get him out of the way. Think, William, think!
The thought came clear, like a glint of sunlight on ice, and made William smile.
* * *
Chapter 5