Sun Goes Down

S J Smith

Disclaimer: If I were the creator of this series, I would be living somewhere other than Indiana, trust me.

Rating: Teen

Notes: Chapter 72 has jossed this story but I'm gonna go with it anyway. grins

Notes, 2: Happy b-day, Dana.

Running away had been the plan. Run away, find that little bean girl, get back to Brigadier General Armstrong's stronghold in Briggs and…well, he hadn't really thought beyond that. Finding out how that girl used her alchemy, yeah. Seeing if there was a way to use it to get their bodies back. That had been the plan.

Edward just hadn't expected that Kimbley would find them first.

The stocks banding his wrists kept him from using alchemy, not that Ed was sure it would do much good. He didn't know where Kimbley had stowed Al and Winry, for one thing, and that left a cold chill in the pit of his stomach that the stove in front of him did little to warm. The soldier who stood in watch behind him wasn't about to tell Ed anything so he didn't waste his breath asking questions. Instead, he waited, clothes steaming just a little as they dried, the heat in the room flushing his face.

Ed wondered briefly if Kimbley had gotten so used to the conditions in Ishbal, he wanted to be that hot everywhere he went. It just felt too warm to him, almost stifling, and Ed had to fight back his yawns. Sleeping now wasn't a good idea, it just...

Jerking awake, the sound of a soft voice alerted Ed to someone's presence. He refused to look back, to see what was happening; he wouldn't let Kimbley have that sort of satisfaction. Ed glared at the stove, blaming it for putting him to sleep.

"Oh, did I wake you?" Kimbley's voice reminded Ed of the purr of Winry's beloved motors coupled with a faint hiss of steam. "I beg your pardon, Fullmetal. If you're comfortable enough to nap, perhaps you should return to it."

Stretching his legs out in front of him, he yawned prodigiously as the alchemist moved around the cabin. Ed made to stretch his arms, giving Kimbley a sharp smile, as if he'd just remembered the stocks on his wrists. "Thanks, the nap was plenty."

Kimbley nodded, setting a kettle on the top of the stove. "Would you like some tea?" The look he gave Ed was solicitous though something lurked in his dark, narrowed eyes.

"I don't think I can drink it." Ed waggled the stocks in reminder.

"Of course." Kimbley eeled around the stove, squatting in front of Ed. His smile was knifeblade sharp and those dark eyes glittered like pitch. "Do tell me you'll be a good boy and won't run away."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ed muttered, "not without Al and Winry."

"Ah, yes. Your brother and your mechanic." Kimbley produced a key with a flourish and unlocked the stocks. As Ed rubbed the wrist of his flesh hand, Kimbley rose, setting the stocks aside. "I suppose you'll be wanting to know how they are. Don't worry, Fullmetal, no harm has come to them."

The warning hung silently in the air between them and Ed slouched down in his chair. "I didn't find Scar," he said.

"No, I'm sure you didn't. There weren't enough fireworks for you to have accomplished that." Kimbley kept his back turned to Ed, fussing with a teapot. Ed mentally swore that the man considered him so little of a threat then scowled to himself for using that word. "Still, you found his traveling companions and surely they know where he is, hmmm?" The kettle whistled before Ed had a chance to answer and Kimbley busied himself with pouring.

"We didn't really get to ask," Ed lied smoothly as always, "your people interrupted before we could get anything out of them." Well, that much was true; what with that guy, what was his name – Yoda? – yammering on about how he knew them, Ed hadn't really had a chance to ask anyone anything. Not that that was a bad thing, under the circumstances; Ed wasn't about to share Xing alchemy with Kimbley or any of the homunculi if he could help it.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Kimbley turned, holding a steaming cup. "If I'd realized something delicate was going on, I wouldn't have interrupted." He offered the tea to Ed, who accepted it warily. "It just seemed like with you, your brother and your mechanic leaving that way," he shook his head, a calculating little smirk on his face, "you were deserting us."

"Why would you think that?" Ed bared his teeth at Kimbley. "I told you I'd find Scar. Winry didn't like being left at the campsite alone, so she came with us." He shrugged eloquently. "I didn't want her to come along." Keeping a level gaze on Kimbley, Ed added, "I didn't think it'd be safe for her to be with us." Kimbley made a sound. In any other person, Ed might've considered it a disbelieving laugh. Kimbley made it sound like a curse and Ed felt his skin crawl. What, he wondered, had he gotten them into this time? And how could he get them out, when he didn't even know where Winry and Al were?

Kimbley took a sip of his tea, gesturing towards Ed's cup. "Drink up, Fullmetal, before it gets cold, and we'll talk about your Winry."

"Not mine," Ed said, no, insisted.

"Really?" That smile etching across the man's face made Ed want to shiver but he refused to allow himself to do so. "Strange, the Fuhrer seemed to think she meant a great deal to you."

"She's my," Ed ran through the words that applied to Winry, settling on, "mechanic."

"Childhood friend," Kimbley said, ticking the phrases off. "Traveling companion. She's been seen with you on numerous occasions. You saved her life in Central, I hear, from Scar, no less." His eyebrows arched knowingly. "She drops everything to come to your aid." That smirk twisted into something else. "Sounds like she's a bit more to you than just your mechanic."

"She's your hostage." Ed nearly spat out the words, hating the sound of them.

"So, that makes Miss Rockbell your collar, doesn't it?"

Ed set down the teacup rather than slamming it, which would've felt better. "She's a person," he snarled, "don't make her an object."

Kimbley smiled, a peculiar humor lighting his eyes. "But that's what she is to me, Fullmetal, the collar 'round your neck. I hold the leash and give it a tug and," his voice trailed off as he raised his cup to his mouth.

The implications in those sentences knotted Ed's stomach and made his fists clench. "Don't touch her." His tongue tripped in his mouth. "Leave both of them out of this, her and Al."

"But surely you understand I have no choice, Fullmetal." Kimbley shook his head slightly, that weird joy even more evident. "Someone has to be punished to teach you a lesson."

"I said, don't touch her!" Ed found himself on his feet, his automail hand clutching the front of Kimbley's jacket.

Lowering his head to first stare at Edward's fist, Kimbley slowly raised his eyes to meet Ed's. "What, exactly, do you propose I do then, Fullmetal? Surely you understand that I can't let this pass without some sort of retribution, your attempt at escape, your letting Scar go, your apparent refusal to do what I ordered you to do, in the Fuhrer's name?"

Teeth gritting together, Ed grated out, "Winry's an innocent in all this. Leave her alone." He forced his hand to unclench from Kimbley's coat. "Do…do whatever you want to me." He glared up at the other alchemist. "But don't you lay a finger on her."

Kimbley set his cup down with a faint 'click'. Something in his ebon stare made Ed suddenly wish he had the bastard Colonel's flame alchemy, so he could burn that expression off Kimbley's face. "Whatever I want," he said softly, and his hands came up, one to rest on Ed's shoulder, the other cupping his chin. "Whatever I want."

His smile made Ed's blood run cold.

The soft crunch of snow outside the tent alerted them both, making Winry raise her head and Alphonse's helmet swivel. They both stared at their guard and doorway he stood before. The guard turned sharply, his hand hovering over his weapon, when the door jerked open with a squeal and Edward nearly fell through it. Winry started up from her cot but Ed regained his balance, shoulders hunching as the two guards exchanged words.

"Brother?" For a voice that reverberated through a hollow metal shell, Al could pitch his words to be incredibly quiet.

Ed didn't seem to see them; his gaze fixing on the ash bucket next to the stove. He scrambled across the tent, falling onto his knees in front of the bucket and retching painfully.

"Ed!" Winry moved to him, hearing the soft chuckles of the men behind her. Ignoring them, she knelt beside Ed, rubbing his back. She could feel him shaking as he coughed and spat, clearing his throat. Fishing a handkerchief out of her jacket pocket, she started to hand it to him when he finally sat up.

"Stocks," he muttered and Winry winced.

"Sorry." Wiping his mouth, Winry folded the piece of cloth and dabbed it across his damp face, almost surprised that Ed let her. Then again, he couldn't do it himself. When she had him as presentable as she could make him, she asked, "Can you make it to the cot?"

For an answer, Ed leaned his shoulder into hers, raising one leg and planting that foot on the floor. Winry gripped his arm, putting her other hand around his waist, and together, like some strange, shambling creature, they stood. Ed swayed into her when they got upright and Winry wondered if he was going to throw up again. His skin seemed pale beneath its normal tan and his eyes, oh, when he turned them to meet hers….

Winry squeezed his waist. "Come on. You need to sit down." He dropped heavily onto the cot she took him to, not protesting when Winry wrapped her blanket around his shoulders. She went to the stove and picked up the bucket, taking it to the guards. When they stared at her coolly, Winry shoved it into the closer one's chest. "Get rid of that." Without waiting for a response, she marched back over to the cots, sitting next to Ed to offer him what warmth she could.

"Brother?" Alphonse sounded almost as lost as she felt, the strange gleam in his helmet that passed for his eyes flaring with misery.

"I-I'm okay," Ed muttered, making an aborted effort to wave off their concern. His eyes downcast, he seemed to stare blankly at the wood encasing his wrists. "Just…just let me sit here."

Al exchanged a worried glance with Winry. Feeling him tremble, she shifted closer to Ed. "What happened with Kimbley, Brother?"

"He made some threats." A ghost of a smile passed across Ed's face. "I got him to promise me he wouldn't make good on them." The way his gaze flicked to the guard still watching filled in the 'for now' part. Ed shuddered. "I'm so cold."

Winry scooted even closer, her hip and thigh pressed into Ed's, her shoulder bumping his. He leaned his head against her shoulder and she just managed not to flinch; Ed never asked for comfort; he never took it willingly. She hoped her eyes weren't huge as she met Al's gaze, though she could feel his concern radiating out and the way his fingers wriggled, she knew he wanted to reach across the small space between them, just to touch Ed.

The soft breath of the words took her by surprise, made her stiffen for a second. "We have to get out of here." Ed's voice was pitched so low, Winry was sure Al wouldn't even know what his brother had said. "Any ideas?"

Winry pulled the blanket up over them both, speaking just loud enough that the guard might hear, "You're freezing, Ed." She rubbed her hand up and down Ed's flesh arm and he turned into her a little more.

"Keep it up," he mumbled, almost against her throat and Winry wondered briefly, insanely, whether Ed meant it because it felt good or because maybe they were tricking the guard into believing…believing what? She grimaced.

"Brother?" Al shifted on his cot, the clank of his armor seeming loud in the quiet tent.

"I'm okay, Al." The words tickled her neck.

Winry managed not to squirm as she dug surreptitiously in the cuffs of her jacket, fishing out a pair of picks used for prying debris out of automail. She mentally congratulated herself for slipping them into her jacket earlier. Fitting the picks into the lock, she carefully felt around the tumblers, hoping the sound wasn't loud enough to alert the guard. "Ed, what sort of threats did Major Kimbley make?"

The quiet that answered her made Winry shiver more than the chill in the air. Ed pulled away, making her snatch at his arms to keep him from dragging the blanket off their hands. "Edward," she said at the same time Alphonse whispered, "Brother?"

"He…" Ed shot a glance at the guard and a sneer settled onto his face as he turned back around. Winry wondered if Al noticed it wasn't quite as vehement as usual; as if Ed was going through the motions. "Later." The word came out as a breathy sigh. He slumped against her again, his forehead thumping onto her shoulder though the stocks were laid gently in her lap to allow her access to the lock.

While it wasn't exactly easy to pick a lock without looking at it, Winry persevered, knowing that this might be their only real change to get away from Kimbley. When the faint click alerted her, she lifted her shoulder a little, jostling Ed. Plucking the lock from the latch, Winry tucked it into her pocket before pushing at the wooden panels to open them from around Ed's wrists. He raised his head from her shoulder as she pulled the stocks away from his hands, the flame back in his eyes and burning almost fever bright.

Pressing his hands together with a growl, Ed slammed his palms onto the floor of the tent, making the canvas ripple. Before their guard could react, the fabric wrapped him up, swaddling him so tight he tipped over, unable to remain upright. While Winry moved to check on the guard, making sure he could still breathe, Ed transmuted Alphonse's stocks, breaking the wood over his automail knee. He tossed the pieces into the stove and slammed it shut with more effort than necessary.

"Brother," Alphonse said in a chiding tone. "We could use the stocks on him."

Ed made a noncommittal noise, waving his hand and, a short time later, Winry and Al had the guard pulled in front of the stove, blanket draped over him. Ed made two quick mockups with his alchemy, stepping back when he was done. "It won't fool anyone," he muttered, "not if they look but it might buy us some time." He wagged a finger at the guard, still wrapped in canvas except for his arms, held in place by the stocks. "Be good."

Alphonse poked a hole in the tent, pressing his helmet to it to look out. "It's clear," he said.

"All right." Ed beckoned Winry closer. "Ready?" He searched her eyes and Winry blinked hard, realizing he was looking down at her. She bobbed her head and Ed scuffed his hand over hair.

As he started to turn away, Winry caught hold of his jacket. Brows twitching, he glanced at her. "Thanks," she whispered, touching his cheek fleetingly, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and the bruises, like fingerprints, marring the line of his jaw. Ed pressed into the brief caress, letting out a sigh as his eyes closed.

For a second, Winry saw just what this search took from him, how much her best friend had changed and hardened from the boy she'd known. And then Ed raised his head, his familiar, cocky grin in place, eyes glinting. "Let's get out of here. We have a bean girl to find."