Chapter 1; Locations
Bane; "You will find that it is not difficult to tell what this is going to be if you've read my first two stories. (Brought to Light) (Burnt Rose)."
Drumstick; "It's an EdwardxWinry fluff. Angst, as usual, and romance, as usual."
A; -grumbling-
Bane; -pokes A-
A; -makes profane gesture at Bane-
Bane; -gets pelted by lemons-
Drumstick; "Bane…you have to feed A. She's thirsty again…"
Bane; "Fine! I'm make lemonade." -.-'
A; -prances off to find lemon-squeezer-
Bane; "Okay. I know that at first, you're going to think it's cliché (This word is a habit in my context...get over it!). But I really don't think so. Well, yes, she's been kidnapped in loads of fics, but have you ever seen her NOT want to get rescued by Edward? I didn't think so."
"Damn it! Where is he!"
He aimed another blow at her face. She barely even noticed; it was nearly numb now, simply twinging with occasional prickles. Chains held both arms up, as they had done so for the last two hours. Her tormentor was able to screech for extended periods of time.
Her body battered and bruised, she still found reason to smirk.
"You'll never find him. He belongs to the state, and he belongs to me. And that is reason enough for him to stay hidden."
"And you'll break long before we look."
The beating went on for another long hour. She was barely lucid as they brought her to her room. It was bare, and painted a gloomy grey. She was set in the corner, where they didn't bother to restrain her.
When at last the anesthetized feeling wore off, she was forced to chew on her index knuckle to keep from crying out. Winry refused to allow them to know that the morphine they took care in forcing her to consume was emphasizing the agony.
She had finally found a feeling of peace; of narcotic numbness. And then it faded away slowly, breaking in the wake of unceasing agony.
She fell asleep to the prayer that had haunted her for eight months; that he wouldn't come to find her. He was too important to the State to be at risk. He was too important to her.
She shivered with the intense chill of the evening. Lips nearly blue, she doubled over to warm herself all she could. It did nothing.
The back of her shirt was ripped in long strips; the result of the cruel whippings she'd been subjected to. Beneath it, the wounds were beginning to heal. They would scar and remain as a reminder to the nights on which she refused to beg for mercy.
Her capris, intended for wear in late April, fared just as well as her shirt. They was torn just above her left knee, and were of no help to gather warmth in the month of December.
In the morning they'd scream at her again. That she didn't relish, and still, it would be another day that he hadn't come for her; that he wouldn't come for her.
She had struggled for the first two months, but now found her strength waning. She had accepted her fate. She would remain here, bruised and narcotic-induced until the day they went too far on her beatings.
She woke to the slam of her door. Lifted up by her hair, she prepared herself for the newest chain of words the man would yell. But it didn't come. He was obviously fed up with words for the moment, preferring to deal his anguish on her.
A few kicks to the shins and she was thrown to the floor in a heap.
"Why do you torment me like this?"
A rage formed inside her. How dare he ask her; when every day for the past eight months she had endured hardships beyond any she could have thought possible from such a man.
"I said answer me!"
This time the kick was aimed at her stomach.
"I-I don't know!"
She couldn't think of any possible answer. How had she tortured him? At this, the persecuter leaned down, forcing Winry up and pushing her against the wall.
"I need to know where Elric is! And you'll tell me!"
"Never."
He took her by the throat.
"I'm sick of your games! Tell me now or you'll die."
"That's kind of lame,"she growled, gasping for breath, "I'll die anyway."
"Would you rather naturally, or by me?"
"It doesn't matter. Kill me, and you kill your last chance of finding him. Not that I'm much of a chance…"
With a snarl, she was dropped to the ground with a thud. Just as the door was shut, she heard him bellow to the poor kitchen maid , "Boil me some damn water… and bring me something to tie her arms."
Two men in yet another room could be heard sniggering appropriately. He had been trying new things lately; finding new attempts at innducing an agony so great that she would betray him. They had all failed so far.
She lay sprawled across the floor, taking in the view of the ceiling. Her arms were tied together, then strung behind her head. The remaining rope by which she was bound had been laced rather tightly around her delicate neck. She had only to struggle; and strangle.
The water was in a small metal bowl, steaming malevolently.
Eyedropper in hand, he dipped the tip into the boiled liquid. An understanding abruptly took place between them. Winry squirmed in vain as he brought the utensil over her.
"You don't have to do this. You could just tell me where he is."
The original defiance had returned, as well as the will to suffer anything to know that he was safe. If she could have, she would have taken that will to a whole new physical level. As it was, she was in no instance to fight.
First, he let the droplets fall to her temple, letting the water burn for a minute or two, to make sure that each orb of liquid fire did not go unsuffered. Winry only stifled a slight wimper.
For an hour, he did this, bringing the water back for reboiling every ten to fifteen minutes. Minute by minute passed, and with each fading second, the guilt would swell further.
Her face was wet now, the water falling like tears, only lukewarm. They were forming a line of humidity among the red that had appeared and remained. Never did she bother to wipe them away.
She was alone now, simply sitting in the corner, her guilt abusing her steadily. There, for the first time in eight months, she wept. She kept her sobs quiet, not wishing for her weakness to be found, but they were sobs none the less.
Winry had never once thought of crying; there was no point. But though she had gone through one infliction after another, the burns were never so great as this. Her thoughts buzzed waspishly, telling her things she already thought to be true. Over and over again, she told herself of her faults. Her mind viciously whispered the words she would not dare to say aloud, lest they be granted.
She was wrought with guilt; after all, this was nothing to what he would bear if she told anyone where he was. Disgust was recycled throughout the room. For a moment as he had tormented her, she had wished that he'd find her; save her. But what if her thoughts in that one moment mattered? What if he came…?
"Brother?"
He gave a slight nod of acknoledgement, and resumed his point of near-sleep. Alphonse responded by sighing, pushing his foot against the relaxed form of his older sibling.
Finally losing patience, Edward crocked one eye open.
"What?"
"Where are we heading?"
"I told you, Al. We're stopping in a shitty little pit of a town, where we'll take the next shitty train to go see the shitty colonel."
He rolled over, his back to Alphonse. Ed could feel the hesitancy in the silence, and waited for his brother to form the words cautiously.
"Brother, I just… don't you think we should visit Winry and Pinako?"
"We are going to, Al. I just feel that maybe reporting to the state first is the best thing; we won't have to cut our visit short knowing that we still have to make it to Central."
Bane; "A little short...but Chapter 2 should come tomorrow or the day after..."