It lives!?
Hello! It seems I'm about a year too late, but in case anyone is still up to writing something new, have some writing. I haven't written anything FMA before, so I hope I got the characterization right. Either way, good work everyone! This is really nicely done :)
Title: Routine
Rating: PG
Time: Some point between The Cause Of and Something Forgotten
Alphonse and Winry woke up at the same time, if not in the same manner. Alphonse twitched-- no, he all but jumped awake, nearly panicking at the sound. Winry's eyes were suddenly open, staring at the ceiling wondering why she was awake. Both relaxed once another sound followed the first, thunder threatening to tear the sky up and lightning forcing its way through their curtains.
Alphonse glanced at the clock, and, realizing there was only about half an hour to sunrise, decided to start the day. He turned and found Winry yawning, turning to her side and determinedly trying to get a little more sleep. It was a little too early to wake up, but ironically it was a storm like that that made up the bulk of his work: children too stubborn to listen to adults telling them they're not invincible going out in the storm, not to mention the adults themselves, having told the children off, pretending to be invincible and going out in the storm. He was going to have a lot of work to do even before the storm passed.
Still mostly asleep, he padded his way to the bathroom. Really, he was as tired as Winry, a little extra sleep would have been nice. The splash of water on his face washed away the sleepy thoughts, replacing them with more practical ones such as "did I leave my bag in the living room yesterday?", "I hope we remembered to clean the dishes", and "maybe I should check on him before I leave", because he knew from experience that calls would start coming in soon, if not through the phone lines then through messengers coming to pick him up.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he took a moment to smile at Winry's adorable sleeping form, happier than a baby and wrapped up the same way. For some reason, both had grown up unafraid of storms, although that's truer for him than for Winry. Alphonse was always strangely reassured that storms would do very little harm, if any at all. Even when he was proven wrong. But Winry... over the years she'd had too many nightmares during storms to ignore the pattern. Alphonse thought about it, and told her decisively that it was the electricity in the storm that gave her the nightmares-- besides, it was something he had recently heard at the time while attending a lecture in Central, some idiot who though they could use electricity to cure or help patients. Alphonse himself was receptive; after all, the man was making sense, but there was no accepting something that was this costly as medical procedure.
Then she told him the nightmares were repeating themselves, but for that he could only use her memories as an explanation; perhaps one of the worse jobs she had taken? Sometimes there was blood, lots of blood, and it would only be in the lower floor of their house. Sometimes she was stretching out her hands, trying to reach somebody, she couldn't quite tell who it was, trying to call out for them. Sometimes it was variations or mixtures of the two... it was really very puzzling. But she was sleeping peacefully right now, so he shook those thoughts from his head and quietly slipped out of the room to check on the pa-- that is, Edward.
The boy gave no reaction to his opening the door, although he expected none. "Good morning," he said, ready to be ignored once more. "Are you feeling well? There's a storm out today," he added, carefully moving closer. Edward's arm was resting just above his heart, fingers curled but relaxed. Had he just missed a nightmare? "I hope they don't scare you," Alphonse continued, frowning thoughtfully to himself as he tried to examine the boy without actually moving him yet. "You don't have to worry, though. It may not look like it, but our house is on a hill, so we don't have as much trouble with the rain. But other people might be, so I'm going to leave early today. Is that alright with you?" Nothing. He couldn't even tell if he was awake. Sighing, Alphonse added, "I'll go get my things now. I'll be right back, don't go anywhere, okay?"
As he shut the door, quietly lest the boy really was still asleep, he spotted Winry walking towards him, still sleepy but alert. "How is he?" she asked.
Alphonse shrugged helplessly. Edward simply didn't like it when he was there. "The same as yesterday."
"Should I talk to him?" Winry offered.
He hesitated. The part that he didn't want to, couldn't admit to himself was that he wanted another chance, maybe this time he would get a reaction, maybe this time Edward would talk to him and not to Winry. The part that didn't sound like a sulking child simply put forth that it was better for him to change those bandages first, in case somebody called and he had to leave. So that's the part that he said aloud.
Winry nodded with a "mm" and turned to leave, but stopped and glanced back at him. "You left your bag in the kitchen yesterday. Is our food sick?"
"So that's where it was," he allowed with a sheepish smile.
"Come take it or I'll wrap your breakfast up in gauze." And she managed to sound like she'd do it, too.
Alphonse successfully averted that threat and was soon back in Edward's room. He was a little surprised to see that he was awake, posture changed, alert. He wondered briefly if it was the storm that finally woke him too, before he realized that they had just been chatting right outside his door. "I'm back, Ed," he said, and Edward twitched. "Did we wake you? I'm sorry. We weren't trying to." Reaching for the blankets, he carefully pulled them back. "I'm going to change your bandages now. We can't keep them on for too long or they might get infected." He took Edward's arm
--all over the wall, like it had been... imploded? Edward was crying, shoulders shaking and--
and ignoring the image pulled him up into a sitting position. He received neither help nor resistance, which simply meant things hadn't changed. Yet. "Are you comfortable? I'm sorry if I hurt you. I know you just woke up, but please bear with me. I'm starting now."
Thankfully there were no more visions while he worked. Halfway through a delicious smell made its way to the room, something carb-y and potato-y and stronger than the smell of disinfectant. He wasn't really very hungry, but his stomach gave a small grumble, letting him know it was time for breakfast. He wasn't alone; Edward's stomach was similarly rumbly. Alphonse saw his chance and took it. "Smells good, doesn't it? Winry bought a cook book a few years ago that she really liked; the man who wrote it used to be an automail engineer, but decided he was a better cook." Edward gave a small, uninterested cough in response. "Would you like to try it?" He waited, worked. "It's really very good. And Winry always manages to get the taste exactly the same."
Of course she would. Cooking was a science, after all. Alphonse should have known that was how Winry thought of it. Edward only tilted his head. Alphonse wondered idly why he never heard anything from the boy. "We're almost done. Please bear with me a little longer." He removed the blindfold, unwrapping it carefully
--the woman walked ahead of them, Edward following and waving his hands as he talked about something; Alphonse could see a full automail arm, since he was wearing a black tank-top. Edward turned to grin at him, saying something that must have been be very amusing--
and putting it away, fishing for a new one. The woman in the vision seemed... familiar, somehow. Not familiar like the other visions, where he felt he should have known what was happening but didn't, but familiar like he'd seen her before. That black hair pulled up in a ponytail, the black jacket and white skirt; Alphonse was certain he'd seen her somewhere before. Another student from his days in Central, perhaps?
Well, he wasn't getting any answers from Edward. He lifted his hands to reapply the blindfold, but Edward suddenly tensed, sitting up straighter and frowning at the opposite wall. "What is it? What's the matter?" It wasn't too bright for him; even though the sun was probably up by now, the storm wasn't letting it shine through. Could he see something that Alphonse couldn't? Probably. "You can tell me." But he was already losing him: Edward let out a breath, slowly, and relaxed, shoulders slumping and eyes resignedly closing. "Are you still awake?" Alphonse asked. "What did you see?" But Edward only continued to sit there, ignoring his presence. "I don't mind if you don't want to tell me now," Alphonse continued hopefully. "I'll be here later, you can tell me then. I promise I'll listen to you."
Nothing. Not even a flinch when he reapplied the blindfold. Alphonse sighed, not for the first time. Even as he informed him that they were done he could hear the frantic knocking on the door downstairs, Winry jogging from the kitchen to answer. A trio of voices started talking at once, over each other's explanations. He couldn't discern any words, but he already had a clue: most likely something's collapsed over someone, and they needed him there five minutes ago, which meant he wouldn't even get the chance to eat his breakfast or feed Edward. "Someone's hurt, Ed," he explained, straightening and gathering his things into the bag. "I have to go take care of them. Winry will watch over you today." He waited hopefully, but Edward refused to acknowledge him. Giving up for the moment, he turned and left.
Edward thought that when Winry came to feed him, he'd ask who taught her to make today's breakfast. He had a feeling he knew the answer, and it wasn't the one Alphonse claimed.
Edits: Dashed carby and potatoy. Changed present tense to past (x3). Petted Edward and Alphonse (x5).
Title: Routine
Rating: PG
Time: Some point between The Cause Of and Something Forgotten
Alphonse and Winry woke up at the same time, if not in the same manner. Alphonse twitched-- no, he all but jumped awake, nearly panicking at the sound. Winry's eyes were suddenly open, staring at the ceiling wondering why she was awake. Both relaxed once another sound followed the first, thunder threatening to tear the sky up and lightning forcing its way through their curtains.
Alphonse glanced at the clock, and, realizing there was only about half an hour to sunrise, decided to start the day. He turned and found Winry yawning, turning to her side and determinedly trying to get a little more sleep. It was a little too early to wake up, but ironically it was a storm like that that made up the bulk of his work: children too stubborn to listen to adults telling them they're not invincible going out in the storm, not to mention the adults themselves, having told the children off, pretending to be invincible and going out in the storm. He was going to have a lot of work to do even before the storm passed.
Still mostly asleep, he padded his way to the bathroom. Really, he was as tired as Winry, a little extra sleep would have been nice. The splash of water on his face washed away the sleepy thoughts, replacing them with more practical ones such as "did I leave my bag in the living room yesterday?", "I hope we remembered to clean the dishes", and "maybe I should check on him before I leave", because he knew from experience that calls would start coming in soon, if not through the phone lines then through messengers coming to pick him up.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he took a moment to smile at Winry's adorable sleeping form, happier than a baby and wrapped up the same way. For some reason, both had grown up unafraid of storms, although that's truer for him than for Winry. Alphonse was always strangely reassured that storms would do very little harm, if any at all. Even when he was proven wrong. But Winry... over the years she'd had too many nightmares during storms to ignore the pattern. Alphonse thought about it, and told her decisively that it was the electricity in the storm that gave her the nightmares-- besides, it was something he had recently heard at the time while attending a lecture in Central, some idiot who though they could use electricity to cure or help patients. Alphonse himself was receptive; after all, the man was making sense, but there was no accepting something that was this costly as medical procedure.
Then she told him the nightmares were repeating themselves, but for that he could only use her memories as an explanation; perhaps one of the worse jobs she had taken? Sometimes there was blood, lots of blood, and it would only be in the lower floor of their house. Sometimes she was stretching out her hands, trying to reach somebody, she couldn't quite tell who it was, trying to call out for them. Sometimes it was variations or mixtures of the two... it was really very puzzling. But she was sleeping peacefully right now, so he shook those thoughts from his head and quietly slipped out of the room to check on the pa-- that is, Edward.
The boy gave no reaction to his opening the door, although he expected none. "Good morning," he said, ready to be ignored once more. "Are you feeling well? There's a storm out today," he added, carefully moving closer. Edward's arm was resting just above his heart, fingers curled but relaxed. Had he just missed a nightmare? "I hope they don't scare you," Alphonse continued, frowning thoughtfully to himself as he tried to examine the boy without actually moving him yet. "You don't have to worry, though. It may not look like it, but our house is on a hill, so we don't have as much trouble with the rain. But other people might be, so I'm going to leave early today. Is that alright with you?" Nothing. He couldn't even tell if he was awake. Sighing, Alphonse added, "I'll go get my things now. I'll be right back, don't go anywhere, okay?"
As he shut the door, quietly lest the boy really was still asleep, he spotted Winry walking towards him, still sleepy but alert. "How is he?" she asked.
Alphonse shrugged helplessly. Edward simply didn't like it when he was there. "The same as yesterday."
"Should I talk to him?" Winry offered.
He hesitated. The part that he didn't want to, couldn't admit to himself was that he wanted another chance, maybe this time he would get a reaction, maybe this time Edward would talk to him and not to Winry. The part that didn't sound like a sulking child simply put forth that it was better for him to change those bandages first, in case somebody called and he had to leave. So that's the part that he said aloud.
Winry nodded with a "mm" and turned to leave, but stopped and glanced back at him. "You left your bag in the kitchen yesterday. Is our food sick?"
"So that's where it was," he allowed with a sheepish smile.
"Come take it or I'll wrap your breakfast up in gauze." And she managed to sound like she'd do it, too.
Alphonse successfully averted that threat and was soon back in Edward's room. He was a little surprised to see that he was awake, posture changed, alert. He wondered briefly if it was the storm that finally woke him too, before he realized that they had just been chatting right outside his door. "I'm back, Ed," he said, and Edward twitched. "Did we wake you? I'm sorry. We weren't trying to." Reaching for the blankets, he carefully pulled them back. "I'm going to change your bandages now. We can't keep them on for too long or they might get infected." He took Edward's arm
--all over the wall, like it had been... imploded? Edward was crying, shoulders shaking and--
and ignoring the image pulled him up into a sitting position. He received neither help nor resistance, which simply meant things hadn't changed. Yet. "Are you comfortable? I'm sorry if I hurt you. I know you just woke up, but please bear with me. I'm starting now."
Thankfully there were no more visions while he worked. Halfway through a delicious smell made its way to the room, something carb-y and potato-y and stronger than the smell of disinfectant. He wasn't really very hungry, but his stomach gave a small grumble, letting him know it was time for breakfast. He wasn't alone; Edward's stomach was similarly rumbly. Alphonse saw his chance and took it. "Smells good, doesn't it? Winry bought a cook book a few years ago that she really liked; the man who wrote it used to be an automail engineer, but decided he was a better cook." Edward gave a small, uninterested cough in response. "Would you like to try it?" He waited, worked. "It's really very good. And Winry always manages to get the taste exactly the same."
Of course she would. Cooking was a science, after all. Alphonse should have known that was how Winry thought of it. Edward only tilted his head. Alphonse wondered idly why he never heard anything from the boy. "We're almost done. Please bear with me a little longer." He removed the blindfold, unwrapping it carefully
--the woman walked ahead of them, Edward following and waving his hands as he talked about something; Alphonse could see a full automail arm, since he was wearing a black tank-top. Edward turned to grin at him, saying something that must have been be very amusing--
and putting it away, fishing for a new one. The woman in the vision seemed... familiar, somehow. Not familiar like the other visions, where he felt he should have known what was happening but didn't, but familiar like he'd seen her before. That black hair pulled up in a ponytail, the black jacket and white skirt; Alphonse was certain he'd seen her somewhere before. Another student from his days in Central, perhaps?
Well, he wasn't getting any answers from Edward. He lifted his hands to reapply the blindfold, but Edward suddenly tensed, sitting up straighter and frowning at the opposite wall. "What is it? What's the matter?" It wasn't too bright for him; even though the sun was probably up by now, the storm wasn't letting it shine through. Could he see something that Alphonse couldn't? Probably. "You can tell me." But he was already losing him: Edward let out a breath, slowly, and relaxed, shoulders slumping and eyes resignedly closing. "Are you still awake?" Alphonse asked. "What did you see?" But Edward only continued to sit there, ignoring his presence. "I don't mind if you don't want to tell me now," Alphonse continued hopefully. "I'll be here later, you can tell me then. I promise I'll listen to you."
Nothing. Not even a flinch when he reapplied the blindfold. Alphonse sighed, not for the first time. Even as he informed him that they were done he could hear the frantic knocking on the door downstairs, Winry jogging from the kitchen to answer. A trio of voices started talking at once, over each other's explanations. He couldn't discern any words, but he already had a clue: most likely something's collapsed over someone, and they needed him there five minutes ago, which meant he wouldn't even get the chance to eat his breakfast or feed Edward. "Someone's hurt, Ed," he explained, straightening and gathering his things into the bag. "I have to go take care of them. Winry will watch over you today." He waited hopefully, but Edward refused to acknowledge him. Giving up for the moment, he turned and left.
Edward thought that when Winry came to feed him, he'd ask who taught her to make today's breakfast. He had a feeling he knew the answer, and it wasn't the one Alphonse claimed.
Edits: Dashed carby and potatoy. Changed present tense to past (x3). Petted Edward and Alphonse (x5).