FMA Fic: "Brave New World" 34/?
Part One: Through the Back Door
Part Two: Aftermath
Part Three: Reminders
Part Four: Under Any Circumstances
Part Five: Lost and Found
Parts Six-Seven-Eight: Cold Comfort, Equivalent Exchange and In the Hallway
Part Nine: Discussions
Part Ten: Telephone Call
Parts Eleven-Twelve-Thirteen: Simple Requests, Tell Me a Story, No Tears
Parts Fourteen-Fifteen-Sixteen: Similarities, Discussions II and Painkillers
Part Seventeen: Wake Up Call
Part Eighteen: Chance, 1,000 Yard Stare
Part Nineteen: Thoughts Of
Part Twenty-Twenty-One-Twenty-Two: Waking, Curiosity, Treasure
Part Twenty-Three: Differences
Part Twenty-Four: Discussions III
Part Twenty-Five: Dress Up, Undercover Blues, Leaving Central, Mistakes, The World According To
Part Twenty-Six: Difference, Sorrow in Her Eyes, Homecoming, Over Dinner
Part Twenty-Seven: Over Breakfast, In the Garden
Part Twenty-Eight: Tune Up
Part Twenty-Nine: Sunburn, Kneading Bread
Part Thirty: Sharpest Cut, Washing Up, In the Cool of the Night
Part Thirty-One: Discussions IV, Nightmare
Part Thirty-Two: Go to Sleep, Morning Chores, On A Walk
Part Thirty-Three: Questions, Discussions V, Discussions VI
Title: Knowledge Can Hurt
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters/Pairings: Alphonse, Winry, Den
Author: evil_little_dog
Words: 1,161
Rating: K+
Summary: Al finds out Ed’s secret from Winry.
Warnings: Part of my continuing crossover between the first anime and the manga.
Disclaimer: Do I look like a Holstein…? Wait, don’t answer that.
X X X
Al took a deep, appreciative breath, then broke out coughing. The wind had shifted and instead of breakfast, he smelled sheep on the early morning. Shaking his head, he leaned back on the porch steps, stretching his bare feet toward the dew-spangled grass.
Den nosed under his arm and Al obliged her, rubbing her ears. Her face seemed greyer, he thought, and tried to remember just how old she had to be. If Winry had gotten Den when she was six, and she was…older than Ed now, then Den had to be absolutely ancient. Den sighed, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re a good girl,” he murmured to her.
The screen door opened with a squeal and popped closed, and a pair of bare feet appeared on his other side, far more delicate than his brother’s. Al took a second to admire Winry’s ankles before letting his head drop back, looking at her upside down. “Good morning,” Winry said, smiling at him.
“Good morning.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be outside?” She squatted next to him, crossing her arms on top of her knees.
“Granny said it would be good for me to get some sun.” Al wriggled his bare toes. “I can’t stay out too long, though. If I get another sun burn, Ed’ll kill me.”
Winry barely managed to stifle her snicker. “I doubt he’d kill you.”
“No, he’d just fuss enough to make me wish I was dead.” Al’s grin faded as Winry studied his face. “What?”
She reached out, ruffling his bangs, and Al leaned into the caress, thinking surely Den must feel like this when he rubbed her ears. “Your hair. It’s like Ed’s. And your eyes, too.”
“Your Al had different coloring.” Al had seen the photos tacked to the wall - a version of himself he didn’t quite recognize, one with grass green eyes and sandy hair.
“Yeah.” Winry took her hand away, but settled next to him, her shoulder bumping into his. The heat of her at his side warmed him more than the sun. And Winry smelled even better than breakfast.
Al turned his face to the morning sun, closing his eyes against the light. Even that wasn’t quite a protection against the brilliance; orange and red streaks painted the inside of his eyelids where the sunlight struck them. He considered his morning so far - Ed’s restlessness waking him off and on throughout the night, until the greying of the room they shared released Al from his bed and into the house. Pinako was no good with anything until after her first pot of coffee - the same as home - and answered him in grunts and pointed him toward the door when he’d cautiously pressed her with the most oblique questions as to Ed’s mood. She had managed to give him a warning about the sun but turned back to her skillet and the sausage and eggs frying in it before Al could take advantage of that second of clarity.
Now, though, he had another source next to him, and Al barely opened his eyes, glancing sideways at Winry through the fringe of his lashes. Den butted his hand, the force of her reminder that he’d stopped petting her startling him into a laugh.
“What?”
“Your dog is pushy.” Al stroked Den’s head again, but reached for Winry’s hand with his other. The calloused fingers and palm had to be the same, and Al thought their Winry had the same small hands. Her knuckles were knicked and scarred. Al rubbed his thumb over them slowly, savoring the sensation of mountains and valleys under his touch.
“What?” Winry asked again, more gently.
“Brother,” Al tested the thought in his mind before speaking it aloud, and changed his tack. “Brother said you took him to the cemetery yesterday.”
“Mm.” Winry stared over the green grass, suddenly seeming far away from him.
Al could almost feel the distance between them. “I think,” he said, “there’s another difference in our worlds.”
“There are so many of them, Al.” Now Winry turned back to him, the corner of her mouth turning up. “What’s one more?”
Licking his lips, Al said carefully, “This one is bothering Ed. A lot more than the others.” He turned more to face her, reaching for her other hand so he could hold both of them. “I think it has to do with your parents.” He hesitated. “And Corporal Mustang.”
Something flickered in Winry’s eyes. “How did her parents die?” The question came out so low, Al might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking at her.
“An Ishbalan man killed them,” he said. Just the barest facts, no mention of how Scar had helped save Amestris. How Winry and he had traveled with the Ishbalan and his companions. That wasn’t what Winry needed to know right now - and not really what Al wanted to talk about. “How did they die here?”
“They were killed,” Winry said, her mouth taut and eyes narrowed. “A soldier was ordered to kill them, and he…he followed the orders he’d been given.” The faintest of tremors shook her cold hands.
Al chaffed Winry’s fingers between his own, knowing he couldn’t offer much in the way of heat. Even warm as it was outside, because he was still so skinny, he felt cold. Winry’s words floated around in his mind, and he connected them with Ed’s grumbles yesterday, coming to a conclusion that forced him to straighten so sharply, his back cracked in protest. “Winry.”
“I don’t want to talk any more about it, Al.”
“But,” he looked over his shoulder, toward the house where the killer of Winry’s parents slept as far as he knew, under the roof of the two people who should be his worst enemies. “Winry.” Letting go of her hands, he wrapped her in a hug, leaning his face into the crook of her neck. She sat, stiff and strange and cold, so cold, and Al wondered how she’d found out, if their counterparts had told her, or Corporal Mustang had - no, he wouldn’t, Al was sure of it - and just how many more mines they were going to trip over in this world, and its differences from their own.
Den whined, licking Al’s cheek, and he realized the damp on his skin wasn’t just from Den’s tongue. Wiping his eyes, Al swiped his hand over Den’s head, trying to comfort her. At least she’d let him, though Winry gave him a look he wasn’t sure he could define. She wiped his cheek with her thumb. “Al, I love my parents. I always will. But war.” Turning her face from his, Winry stared toward the sun again. “War makes good people do bad things. You have to understand that, and think of them as good, no matter what. It’s circumstances, not…who they really are.”
Al tightened his arms around her, swallowing down his own pain, and hoping, back home, their Winry wasn’t alone.
X X X
Part Two: Aftermath
Part Three: Reminders
Part Four: Under Any Circumstances
Part Five: Lost and Found
Parts Six-Seven-Eight: Cold Comfort, Equivalent Exchange and In the Hallway
Part Nine: Discussions
Part Ten: Telephone Call
Parts Eleven-Twelve-Thirteen: Simple Requests, Tell Me a Story, No Tears
Parts Fourteen-Fifteen-Sixteen: Similarities, Discussions II and Painkillers
Part Seventeen: Wake Up Call
Part Eighteen: Chance, 1,000 Yard Stare
Part Nineteen: Thoughts Of
Part Twenty-Twenty-One-Twenty-Two: Waking, Curiosity, Treasure
Part Twenty-Three: Differences
Part Twenty-Four: Discussions III
Part Twenty-Five: Dress Up, Undercover Blues, Leaving Central, Mistakes, The World According To
Part Twenty-Six: Difference, Sorrow in Her Eyes, Homecoming, Over Dinner
Part Twenty-Seven: Over Breakfast, In the Garden
Part Twenty-Eight: Tune Up
Part Twenty-Nine: Sunburn, Kneading Bread
Part Thirty: Sharpest Cut, Washing Up, In the Cool of the Night
Part Thirty-One: Discussions IV, Nightmare
Part Thirty-Two: Go to Sleep, Morning Chores, On A Walk
Part Thirty-Three: Questions, Discussions V, Discussions VI
Title: Knowledge Can Hurt
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters/Pairings: Alphonse, Winry, Den
Author: evil_little_dog
Words: 1,161
Rating: K+
Summary: Al finds out Ed’s secret from Winry.
Warnings: Part of my continuing crossover between the first anime and the manga.
Disclaimer: Do I look like a Holstein…? Wait, don’t answer that.
X X X
Al took a deep, appreciative breath, then broke out coughing. The wind had shifted and instead of breakfast, he smelled sheep on the early morning. Shaking his head, he leaned back on the porch steps, stretching his bare feet toward the dew-spangled grass.
Den nosed under his arm and Al obliged her, rubbing her ears. Her face seemed greyer, he thought, and tried to remember just how old she had to be. If Winry had gotten Den when she was six, and she was…older than Ed now, then Den had to be absolutely ancient. Den sighed, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re a good girl,” he murmured to her.
The screen door opened with a squeal and popped closed, and a pair of bare feet appeared on his other side, far more delicate than his brother’s. Al took a second to admire Winry’s ankles before letting his head drop back, looking at her upside down. “Good morning,” Winry said, smiling at him.
“Good morning.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be outside?” She squatted next to him, crossing her arms on top of her knees.
“Granny said it would be good for me to get some sun.” Al wriggled his bare toes. “I can’t stay out too long, though. If I get another sun burn, Ed’ll kill me.”
Winry barely managed to stifle her snicker. “I doubt he’d kill you.”
“No, he’d just fuss enough to make me wish I was dead.” Al’s grin faded as Winry studied his face. “What?”
She reached out, ruffling his bangs, and Al leaned into the caress, thinking surely Den must feel like this when he rubbed her ears. “Your hair. It’s like Ed’s. And your eyes, too.”
“Your Al had different coloring.” Al had seen the photos tacked to the wall - a version of himself he didn’t quite recognize, one with grass green eyes and sandy hair.
“Yeah.” Winry took her hand away, but settled next to him, her shoulder bumping into his. The heat of her at his side warmed him more than the sun. And Winry smelled even better than breakfast.
Al turned his face to the morning sun, closing his eyes against the light. Even that wasn’t quite a protection against the brilliance; orange and red streaks painted the inside of his eyelids where the sunlight struck them. He considered his morning so far - Ed’s restlessness waking him off and on throughout the night, until the greying of the room they shared released Al from his bed and into the house. Pinako was no good with anything until after her first pot of coffee - the same as home - and answered him in grunts and pointed him toward the door when he’d cautiously pressed her with the most oblique questions as to Ed’s mood. She had managed to give him a warning about the sun but turned back to her skillet and the sausage and eggs frying in it before Al could take advantage of that second of clarity.
Now, though, he had another source next to him, and Al barely opened his eyes, glancing sideways at Winry through the fringe of his lashes. Den butted his hand, the force of her reminder that he’d stopped petting her startling him into a laugh.
“What?”
“Your dog is pushy.” Al stroked Den’s head again, but reached for Winry’s hand with his other. The calloused fingers and palm had to be the same, and Al thought their Winry had the same small hands. Her knuckles were knicked and scarred. Al rubbed his thumb over them slowly, savoring the sensation of mountains and valleys under his touch.
“What?” Winry asked again, more gently.
“Brother,” Al tested the thought in his mind before speaking it aloud, and changed his tack. “Brother said you took him to the cemetery yesterday.”
“Mm.” Winry stared over the green grass, suddenly seeming far away from him.
Al could almost feel the distance between them. “I think,” he said, “there’s another difference in our worlds.”
“There are so many of them, Al.” Now Winry turned back to him, the corner of her mouth turning up. “What’s one more?”
Licking his lips, Al said carefully, “This one is bothering Ed. A lot more than the others.” He turned more to face her, reaching for her other hand so he could hold both of them. “I think it has to do with your parents.” He hesitated. “And Corporal Mustang.”
Something flickered in Winry’s eyes. “How did her parents die?” The question came out so low, Al might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking at her.
“An Ishbalan man killed them,” he said. Just the barest facts, no mention of how Scar had helped save Amestris. How Winry and he had traveled with the Ishbalan and his companions. That wasn’t what Winry needed to know right now - and not really what Al wanted to talk about. “How did they die here?”
“They were killed,” Winry said, her mouth taut and eyes narrowed. “A soldier was ordered to kill them, and he…he followed the orders he’d been given.” The faintest of tremors shook her cold hands.
Al chaffed Winry’s fingers between his own, knowing he couldn’t offer much in the way of heat. Even warm as it was outside, because he was still so skinny, he felt cold. Winry’s words floated around in his mind, and he connected them with Ed’s grumbles yesterday, coming to a conclusion that forced him to straighten so sharply, his back cracked in protest. “Winry.”
“I don’t want to talk any more about it, Al.”
“But,” he looked over his shoulder, toward the house where the killer of Winry’s parents slept as far as he knew, under the roof of the two people who should be his worst enemies. “Winry.” Letting go of her hands, he wrapped her in a hug, leaning his face into the crook of her neck. She sat, stiff and strange and cold, so cold, and Al wondered how she’d found out, if their counterparts had told her, or Corporal Mustang had - no, he wouldn’t, Al was sure of it - and just how many more mines they were going to trip over in this world, and its differences from their own.
Den whined, licking Al’s cheek, and he realized the damp on his skin wasn’t just from Den’s tongue. Wiping his eyes, Al swiped his hand over Den’s head, trying to comfort her. At least she’d let him, though Winry gave him a look he wasn’t sure he could define. She wiped his cheek with her thumb. “Al, I love my parents. I always will. But war.” Turning her face from his, Winry stared toward the sun again. “War makes good people do bad things. You have to understand that, and think of them as good, no matter what. It’s circumstances, not…who they really are.”
Al tightened his arms around her, swallowing down his own pain, and hoping, back home, their Winry wasn’t alone.
X X X