FMA Fic: "Devotion" Chapter 24

[evil_little_dog]

Title: Devotion
Author: evil_little_dog
Summary: When Alphonse dies, Edward spirals out of control, and into the arms of a dangerous woman.
Characters/Pairings: Edward, Winry, Roy, Riza, Gracia, OC's. Ed/OC, Past!Winry/Al, Ed+/Winry
Disclaimer: I am not Hiromu Arakawa. I just play her on TV.
Rating: Adult.
A.N.: Alternate Reality. Everything Mangaverse is fair game, but might be seen at a different angle.
A.N. 2: Much thanks to cornerofmadness for the attaboys and edits and suggestions and also to lyrangalia for loving this story and wanting more, ‘way back when I first started writing it.

Chapter 24 - Introspection

The train clacked along the rails, the car he rode in swaying slightly. Better, Roy knew, than riding in a horse cart. Even the hard wooden benches were better than the bumps and jolts his butt remembered riding in a wagon behind a horse.

“Sir?”

He blinked, turning slightly to meet Hawkeye’s gaze. “Yes, Lieutenant, what is it?”

“I am going to the café car. Would you like me to bring you something back?”

Roy crinkled his forehead at the question. Did he want anything? He wasn’t hungry. “I’d like a cup of tea, Lieutenant. That would be fine.”

“Yes, sir.” She rose from her seat across from him, nodding at Roy prior to walking along the aisle and disappearing out the door. Roy watched after her, his stare turned toward the doorway long after Hawkeye went through it. When he realized, he turned his attention to the window, and the countryside passing by. Outside the train, the day was sunny. Golden light bathed the land. Roy marveled at it, the way the world kept turning without care for the people living on it.

Take, for instance, the people in this train car with him. Who knew what tragedies or comedies played out amongst them? Were any traveling to a funeral, or a wedding? Could some be on honeymoons? Farmers, looking to improve their crops or herds? It had been some years since Roy had played the guessing game Auntie Chris had taught him, a game which taught him how to read people, from their clothes and their calluses, the lines on their faces, the dirt on their shoes and oil on their sleeves. He guessed at a couple of men, merchants, seeking to sell their wares, and a middle-aged couple, who acted like a pair of teenagers, deciding they had to be recently married. A young woman sitting by herself, a handkerchief clutched in her hand, could be either on her way to her family or away from them, for an apprenticeship or schooling. Roy took the time to study her face, seeing a glaze of hope on it, and decided wherever she journeyed, it was for something she looked forward to.

Shifting his position, Roy wriggled to relieve some of the pressure on his back. Long training kept him from slumping against the window, whether he wore in Amestris blues or not. He looked out the window again, not really seeing the land they traveled through. Instead, he remembered Edward as he last saw the younger man. Arguing. Determined to fight his way out of the predicament he’d found himself in, specifically, the jail and being returned to the care of Miss Rockbell and the Curtises.

He understood what had happened to Edward. He’d been through the same situation with Hughes’s death. Thrown himself into tracking down Hughes’s killer, even though he remembered, mostly, there were other things he needed to do - like survive whatever plans Fuhrer Bradley had for his life as a possible sacrifice. But Roy had lost himself confronting Envy, nearly for good. It had been difficult to rein himself in. Without the Lieutenant, Scar, and even Fullmetal’s assistance, he might have continued his wrathful ways. He could’ve destroyed the homunculis and lost his life to Hawkeye’s pistol, or possibly destroyed her and himself in his blind rage.

Fullmetal losing himself to drugs, it made sense. He’d lived for his brother for so long. Alphonse’s death had thrown Edward for a loop, leaving him confused and alone. Those closest to him were lost in their own grief, unable or unwilling to help him. Roy knew Miss Rockbell had initially blamed Edward for his brother’s death, something that had to eat further away at Fullmetal’s shaky self-worth. But Edward had always been an excellent liar, and had convinced him, at least, nothing was amiss, that he was still making his way, moving forward. It took a few obvious stumbles, mistakes Fullmetal would’ve avoided in the past, to make Roy realize more was happening than just grief for the loss of Alphonse Elric.

By then, Edward had found the very lovely vixen, Josephine Wagner, and it didn’t take long for her to dig her claws into him. Roy rested his elbow on the arm of his bench, leaning his chin onto his fist. He recalled his first introduction to Miss Wagner. He’d been surprised such a woman would be interested in Fullmetal, and had said something disparaging to Edward. Fullmetal had reacted in a familiar way - sneering, bragging, so pleased with himself for startling Roy. It was so very much like Fullmetal, Roy hadn’t realized what had been happening beneath the surface. Superficially, Edward managed to complete his duties, underneath, he shattered. Whether or not Miss Wagner had anything to do with it, Roy wasn’t sure. Still, it could be her influence which led Edward down the path to becoming an opium eater.

“Sir, your tea.”

He blinked at the offer of a cup, fragrant steam rising from the surface of the tea. Roy accepted it with a distracted, “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He sipped, the warmth flooding his mouth and nearly making him cough as it slid down his throat. “It’s very bracing,” he said, once he was sure he wouldn’t start coughing.

“It is,” Hawkeye said, her own cup in hand. She had a tray with a sandwich that smelled better than Roy expected, and he almost wished he’d had her get him one, too. As if she could read his mind - and Roy wouldn’t put it past her abilities, some days, Hawkeye said, “You can have half of my sandwich, sir. I ordered a large one.”

“Are you sure, Lieutenant?” He didn’t reach for the sandwich, even though Hawkeye did make the offer.

“Of course, sir. I know when you last ate. You wouldn’t want to get to the office just to fall asleep at your desk, would you?”

The taunt nearly made him roll his eyes, but Roy refrained, smirking instead. “You know me too well, Lieutenant.” He waited for Hawkeye to choose her sandwich half before taking the other one. Mutton, thinly sliced - proof they were traveling through the east, if nothing else would show it - made up the bulk of the sandwich, though lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and hot peppers made it a tasty meal, if a bit smaller than his stomach wanted at the moment.

“Were you thinking about Edward?”

Hawkeye’s question intruded on his thoughts. Roy finished chewing his bite of sandwich, swallowing and washing his mouth with tea before answering. It gave him time to decide what to say, even though she had guessed correctly. “I was comparing his slide to my own. He helped me - as did you and Scar. I feel I have been remiss in my assistance.”

“You have done what you could, under the circumstances.” Hawkeye took a drink of her own tea before setting the cup back on the tray. “Edward is very good at hiding his pain. He always has been. His concern for others, that’s a different matter entirely.”

“It doesn’t mean we should have - that I shouldn’t have been paying attention.” Roy raised his hand to stop Hawkeye before she could speak. “I know. I did have other concerns. And yes, I did notice, eventually, something was wrong. But there is the possibility I could have realized it earlier, if I hadn’t been giving Fullmetal space to heal.” He had failed one of his men, someone he was supposed to protect.

Hawkeye said firmly, “Sir, you cannot always take the blame.”

“No, I suppose not.” Roy took another bite of the sandwich, chewing even though it tasted like ashes. Like Ishval. He continued to eat anyway. Hawkeye was right, he needed to keep up his strength, for whatever waited when they returned to Central.

X X X

Josie wrapped her coat around herself. A shiver racked her body. She wanted to be inside, out of the cold, but wasn’t sure where to turn.

Yesterday morning, the landlord threw her out of the apartment. He’d listened to her say Edward was coming back, that he’d pay for the rent the first two times. But without Edward actually being there, without the money coming in, he wasn’t going to let her stay. And he didn’t find her nearly attractive enough to sleep with her to give her an extension on the rent. She had nothing else to encourage him to let her stay, and wound up tossed out on her ass.

Normally, it wouldn’t be an issue. Josie had been ordered to vacate premises in the past, but she’d always had a back-up, somewhere else she could go. Since she’d been with Edward, she hadn’t needed that sort of thing. He’d provided all the money. He’d taken care of her. And she’d let him, not squirreling away enough money to keep her safe now that he’d vanished. Not enough for the apartment. Barely enough to buy a drink at the corner bar where she’d met Ed originally.

A thought came to her, a man’s voice over the telephone. How would First Lieutenant Storch find her, now that she no longer had the apartment? Josie remembered the bitterness in his voice when he’d talked about Winry Rockbell. Another recollection came to her, the other man accusing Storch of having another girlfriend on the line. She licked her lips, wondering if she could use Storch, not just to find Ed for her, but also to keep her out of the weather until Ed actually turned up.

She still had the telephone number, after all. She’d called it rarely, but she had a head for some figures. And there was a telephone call box at the end of the street. Straightening her coat and smoothing her hair, Josie sauntered toward it. Appearances were everything, even if they were made by listening rather than sight. And she had to put herself together to be able to convince this man of anything, she knew it. A certain amount of dismay was fine, but she’d dangled enough men on the hook before to know what would actually catch them. A woman in need wasn’t always enough.

Fortunately, she had a lot of wiles. Enough to land Storch, at least until Edward returned.

X X X

Winry couldn’t begin to think the last time she rode in a cart. It was easier to walk everywhere in Rush Valley, and, the few times she’d traveled anywhere else, she’d gone by train and either walked or rode in an automobile once she’d reached her destination. In the cart, every rut in the dirt road jolted itself up through the wheels to her spine, reminding her why she didn’t care for this mode of travel. Edward’s weight on her didn’t help matters.

He lay against her, his face tucked into the crook of her neck. Each bump slammed him into her. Winry didn’t doubt she’d have a bruise on her collarbone from Edward’s skull ramming into it by the time this ride was over. Beneath the blanket, she could feel him shivering. From the tug at her clothes, his automail fingers clutched at her shirt.

“We’ll be there soon.” Pitt’s voice broke in, and Winry stiffened at the sound of it, then relaxed again. “My house is set up to take care of emergencies.”

Like Granny’s had been he didn’t say, and Winry was glad of it. Edward might’ve rallied enough to start complaining about her selling the house again. “Thanks, Pitt.” She managed a smile at him, though it was weak as the last snow with the spring sun shining on it.

Pitt didn’t seem to notice. “It’s no problem, Winry. I’m glad to see the two of you again.” How he made it sound sincere, she didn’t know. “Though I expected Ed to be in a little better shape.”

Against her neck, Edward barked out a laugh. Shaking off the blanket, he sat up, remembering before knocking himself in the head with the cast that he shouldn’t wipe his eyes. “Fuck.”

“And you’re still the greatest conversationalist, too,” Pitt said cheerfully.

Edward rallied enough to shoot a glare at him, though it turned into a grimace when the cart hit another rut. “Can’t you drive any better?”

Winry wondered what kind of effort he put into appearing normal. Well, as normal as he could be, shaking from shock. Then again, how long had Ed been able to keep people from realizing he was eating opium?

Laughing, Pitt said, “This pony has a mind of its own.” His smile grew wicked as he added, “Kind of like you.”

“Don’t compare me to a damned horse.” Edward growled.

“Stubborn,” Pitt went on, “determined to get its own way.” A pause. “Short.”

Teeth showing in a snarl, Edward’s threat seemed more a play than real. “Taller than you.”

“We’ll find out when we get to my place.” Pitt twisted a bit more to look at Winry. “How are you, Winry? It’s been a long time.”

What could she say that didn’t sound absolutely stupid or worse? “I’ve been busy,” she finally said, hoping it would satisfy Pitt’s curiosity for the time being.

“She’s been taking care of me.” Edward’s sullen answer surprised Winry. While it was true, she hadn’t expected him to say it.

“You’ve always needed a lot of extra care,” Pitt said, nodding solemnly, but his wink caught Winry’s eye.

“Fuck off.” Edward grunted as the cart hit a dip in the road.

The pony shook its head, making the harness jingle. Pitt shook his head, too. “Is that any way to talk to the man who’s rescued you, Ed?”

Grumbling under his breath, Edward yanked the blanket tighter around himself, leaning heavily against the side of the cart. Winry folded her hands in her lap. Was Edward rallying because Pitt and he had always squabbled as kids? She doubted he felt any better than he had at the cemetery. Sweat plastered his bangs to his face and he still shivered, sometimes hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

“Almost there,” Pitt said, and pointed ahead of them. Winry rose up on her knees, spotting his old house. It looked a lot different than the last time she’d seen it. Now rose bushes and daisies grew out front, and the stone fence had been repaired. The shutters and door were painted a dark green that went well with the warm grey stone making up the house itself. Behind it sat a small barn, probably where Pitt dried and stored his herbs, if Winry had to make a guess. A couple of cats dodged the pony cart ungracefully, one racing for a nearby tree, the other leaping up to a window sill and arching its back. The pony flipped an ear at them, the same way Edward would flip an obscene gesture at someone annoying him. “Whoa,” Pitt said, and the pony stopped abruptly, jolting them one last time. Pitt kicked the brake on and hopped out. “Do you need any help, Ed?”

He grumbled a reply. Winry rolled her eyes, sliding her hand under his flesh arm to help him maneuver out of the cart. She almost pulled her hand back at the oily feel of his sweat soaking through his shirt, but she’d dealt with worse. Pitt waited as Edward shifted his real leg and the awkward loaner around, offering a hand to help Edward out of the cart. Take it, Ed, Winry almost hissed at him, but Edward grabbed the cart’s side and hopped out, somehow managing to stay upright. Winry couldn’t see his face, but from Pitt’s expression, Edward couldn’t look too good. Scrambling out after him, Winry took his automail arm, holding him steady. “Are you all right?”

Edward curled his lip without any real vehemence, and Pitt grinned. “Come on, let’s get you inside and cleaned up, and you can rest for a while.” He took Ed’s other arm and between them, they only halfway hauled him into the house.

Winry didn’t get to see much as Pitt guided them to bathroom. What she did notice was the way the light shone through the windows, illuminating a yellow pine table, the sweet scents of herbs with lavender and rosemary in particular vying for attention, and a small office, with ledgers and a capped ink bottle next to an open book, giving her an idea what Pitt had been doing when he’d gotten the call for help.

The bathroom matched what she’d seen of the house. The wooden floor had been scrubbed to a smooth finish, with a brightly-colored rag rug next to the clawfoot bathtub. A commode sat tucked a little away to the side, a partition walling it off from the rest of the room. A window allowed southern light in and a wooden bench of the same grey finish as the floor sat beneath it. Pitt settled Edward down there, bending over in front of him, his hands on his knees. “Can you sit there for a minute, Ed? I’ll get you something to wear.”

Slumped back against the wall, Edward’s answer was to roll his eyes. “He’ll sit,” Winry said dryly, and Pitt shot her an indecipherable look. Straightening up, he nodded at her as he left the bathroom.

“You’re being nice,” Edward muttered, looking at her through his messy bangs.

“I’m always nice,” Winry said tartly, but her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “Ed.”

Leaning his head back into the wall for support, he asked, “What?”

She met his eyes. How long had it been since she’d done that? A simple matter of non-verbal communication, the meeting of a gaze, holding each other’s stares. Edward had been sick, and ducking his head or hiding behind his hair. Now, he looked back at her, still sick, still broken. But something had changed. Winry felt her breath catch inexplicably and she opened her mouth, as if to speak.

“Bathrobe, and some patient clothes.” Pitt strolled through the door, a load of clothing in his arms. “Not complaining or anything, Ed, but you stink.”

He huffed, turning his attention to Pitt. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll fuck up your bathtub?”

“I was thinking I’d give you a wash tub to use.” Pitt set the clothes down on the sink. “I mean, you’ve got a wooden leg there. That’s not really supposed to get wet, is it?”

“I can take it off,” Winry said, thinking her voice sounded so distant. She blinked, trying to regain control over herself. “If Ed promises not to break his skull. Again.”

“The wash tub might be better anyway.” Pitt gestured at the cast on Edward’s right arm. “Those shouldn’t get wet, I know.” Edward leaned forward to reply but a belch came out instead, the stench of it making Winry’s eyes water. Pitt reached over Edward to open the window, fanning his hand in front of his face. “Do that again, and I’ll drown you in that tub.”

“Fuck off.” It was said without any real heat. “My gut’s killing me.”

“Mint tea would help.” Pitt glanced between Edward and Winry. “It’s soothing and good for stomach problems.”

“Soothing would be good,” Winry said, nodding agreeably.

Edward grumbled something, pulling his foot up so he could start working at the laces of his shoe. His fingers didn’t seem to quite have the dexterity at first, but he finally loosened the knot and the shoe fell off his foot. “Tea?” he asked pointedly, as they both looked at him.

“Right.” Pitt’s easy grin slid back into place. “I’ll get some hot water brewing. And bring back a wash tub.” He left them alone again.

“Do you need help?” Winry asked, careful not to meet Edward’s eyes this time.

He snorted. His fingers went to the front of his shirt, a fingernail ticking lightly against the button. Edward didn’t wear his sleeves buttoned and left the cuffs loose or rolled up. While automail fingers were amazing, automail with fine motor skills was still something Winry and her fellow mechanics were working on. Buttoning a shirt - specifically a shirt sleeve - was beyond automail fingers. It took him a little bit to get his shirt undone but Edward shrugged out of it, letting it fall onto the floor. Winry picked it up automatically, not hiding her grimace at the sweaty dampness of it. Edward shot her a look before unbuckling his belt. Winry glanced away to give him some semblance of privacy.

“You don’t have to stay in here and watch me,” Edward said.

Winry sighed. Why couldn’t it be that simple? “Why should I believe you, Ed?”

He grumbled, ducking his head, making it hard for her to understand him. Before Winry could ask Ed to repeat himself, he looked at her. Winry’s heart stuttered. If she didn’t know him, she would’ve guessed Edward to be in his forties - older, maybe. Everything he’d gone through since Alphonse’s death stamped its way across his face, leaving it ravaged as a battleground. Edward dropped his eyes, averted his gaze, and Winry realized she’d missed whatever he’d said. Again. “What?”

It was Edward’s turn to sigh, though his came out more like a hiss of air from a stalling locomotive. “Because there’s nowhere left for me to go.” He said it without any inflection, no emotion. Nothing in the way he spoke those words offered Winry any sort of hint of what he felt. Before she could decide how to react, Edward grunted, his shoulders hunching and teeth gritting together.

At least she knew how to react to another spasm. Winry helped him to the bench, making him sit despite how stiff his body had become. He shuddered, sweat breaking out over his face again. Reaching for a cloth, Winry ran water over it before using it to wipe Edward’s forehead and cheeks. “Are they getting worse?”

Hunched over his knees, Edward mumbled a single word. “F-fuck.”

Winry sighed and reached over, rubbing his back. “You idiot.”

Pitt knocked before opening the door. “All right.” He carried in a wash tub, setting it on the floor. A bucket sat inside the tub, and Pitt snatched it up, setting it in the bathtub and running hot water in it. “I’m sure this is awkward, Ed. For everyone involved.” He included Winry in his smile. Winry tried not to turn her head. “You don’t have to stay, Winry. I can help Ed.”

She hesitated for a second but Pitt jerked his chin. Slowly taking her hand from where it rested on Edward’s spine, she rose to her feet. Edward glanced at her through his bangs, but she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. “Okay.” She nodded jerkily. “I’ll get the tea ready.” Winry hesitated before leaving the bathroom. “You haven’t heard of anyone else being around, have you? We’re traveling with two other people, and they’ll have expected us back at the train station.” She doubted the Curtises would go unnoticed. Strangers in Risembool were rare, in their own way.

“I haven’t, but you’re welcome to use the telephone. It’s in the hall.” Pitt gestured over his shoulder.

“Thanks, Pitt.” Winry tried to catch Edward’s eyes. He wouldn’t let her, and she decided not to try again, leaving the bathroom and the two men in it.

X X X

The sun had already crossed more than half the sky, starting to change it from brilliant to faded blue. Izumi looked at the sun, frowning, wondering just what had happened to Edward and Winry. They should’ve have met the kids on their walk back to the train station.

“Maybe we should ask someone.” Sig was right - or would be, if there was someone to ask. Izumi didn’t point that out. It was obvious enough. They walked along the road, Izumi tilting her head toward the hill where the white stones stood. She couldn’t see anyone in the cemetery. Sig studied the ground. “I wonder if there was a burial today.”

“What?”

“Look.” He nodded at the soft ground under the arches marking the entrance to the cemetery.

“Cart tracks?” Izumi rubbed her chin, looking up at the hill. “I don’t see any sign of fresh dirt.”

“No.” Sig stepped away from the tracks. “Someone might’ve picked up Ed and Winry from here.”

With a low growl, Izumi folded her hand into a fist. “If that stupid boy…”

“He’s sick, honey.” Sig touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “They can’t have gotten far.”

“He managed to get on a train and leave Rush Valley without any of us knowing. Ed’s still a strong-willed brat.” Izumi stopped herself from pacing, knowing it would do no good. She contented herself with kicking at the dirt. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as yelling at Edward, but would have to do.

“Winry’s with him this time.”

And she would keep him from leaving, Izumi was sure. It didn’t answer the question of where they were, but it wouldn’t take long to suss out where they were. Risembool was a small community. Someone would have seen them. Someone would be able to tell them a location.

“All right.” Izumi tightened the barrette holding her hair off the back of her neck. “Let’s go find them so I can kick Ed’s ass again.”

X X X