CHP 4
A/N: I know I haven't updated this in forever, but I hit a rough patch where I had no idea to move this story. I got a little inspiration, so please enjoy this chapter!
Mustang slammed his hand down on his desk, growling. "What do you mean by end the investigation Fullmetal? I can't do that!"
"Mustang, Winry was saying people would get hurt if things were investigated by the state. Do you want that?" Mustang let out a frustrated sigh, torn on what to do about the incident.
"Did she say anything else?"
"Not really. She was insistent on it though. No state officials at all." Mustang forced out a long breath through his teeth.
"Alright, say I do managed to stop any investigation. Where does that get us?" he questioned, not really expecting an answer. "What if this guy kills again? Fullmetal, what if he comes back and kills Winry?" There was only heavy breathing on the other end of the line before beeping fillled Mustang's ear letting him know the alchemist was done with their conversation. Mustand slammed the phone down, letting out a string of curses in an attempt to release some of his pent up frustration.
A voice from his doorway brought him from his brooding and lifted his head. "Sir?" There, dressed in her usual military attire, stood Hawkeye watching him with a cautious expression like he was a bomb that could be detonated by the slightest wrong move. "Would you like to go to the shooting range?" He nodded and grabbed his jacket before the headed out. The range wasn't much, simply some targets and open area, but Hawkeye frequented the place in her downtime, a fact he'd learned from Armstrong, and she invited him once in a while. Her invitations coincidentally seemed to come whenever something was bothering him, the type of anger or frustration that could be helped by shooting something.
He had to admit the woman was one of a kind, able to read him and figure out how to cut his red wire, stop him from blowing up as he so often pictured himself doing when he caught wind of the idiotic and cruel things some people did. He also couldn't deny having noticed her 'womanly' figure and she was the only woman he knew to have caught his eye in such a way. Sometimes having her around could turn into a distraction. A good distraction, but a distraction none the less.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
Winry winced at Granny re-wrapped her stump and she stared at it, having been propping it up and watching it heal for three days. "I want the surgery. Today." Granny looked up at her, her face only showing traces of surprise since Winry saying it had been inevitable.
"Now Winry, you know it's a painful surgery. You could always stick with a cane or something else-"
"That isn't good enough. I won't have full mobility then." It annoyed her that she'd never heard Granny try to talk a customer out of surgery, yet she was trying to convince her not to. "I'm doing this." She swung her leg and stump around, letting her leg dangle over the edge of the bed.
It bothered her. It bothered her that there was only one thin piece of pale white flesh and bone hanging off the covers. It wasn't like she was crossing one leg or sitting on it, it was just gone. That would hinder her automail skills and make everday life more difficult, sacrifices she was not going to make. "Go set up, I'll meet you downstairs." Granny turned and left the room, leaving Winry to choke down her tears before pushing herself to her foot and hop towards the door. Once she reached it she had to pause to catch her breath, the difficultly of the task sending a stab of frustration through her. When she made it into the upstairs hallway she took several deep breaths before begining her descent down the stairs.
On only the third step down her foot was tilted when it landed because of the uneven weight and slipped from under her sending her falling backwards before plunging, on her back, down the stairs. Each step dug into her spine and smacked against her head bringing on jabs of pain along with the blinding pain from her leg being jostled. When she settled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs she heard metal clanging and when she got the strength to open her eyes she found Al crouching by her side with his hands hovering in the air over her like he was afraid to hurt her by touching her.
That was the final straw. She forced herself up and across the room to the workshop, yanking open the door, hopping inside, and slamming the door behind her. She ignored Granny's piercing look as she made her way to the operating table, wincing as the cold metal pressed against her stinging spine but refusing to give up. Soon she felt Granny's small hands unwrapping her just changed bandages before the light from the overhead lamp shone off the scapel she held in hand.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
Ed heard the first scream in the middle of washing off after a long training session. He had to pause and listen to make sure his paranoid mind hadn't made it up, but a second scream confirmed his fears and still shirtless he took off running towards the house where the screams were originating from. He bolted up the front steps and threw open the front door almost colliding with Al, making him confused as to why his brother wasn't helping Winry. He had no time to dwell on the thought though and ran towards the workshop where the screams were coming from. He was almost to the door when two metal arms wrapped around him and picked him up, lifting him off the ground.
"Alphonse, put me down! Winry needs us!" He screamed and kicked, trying to free himself from his younger, but taller brother's grasp.
"No brother, you can't go in there!"
"And why the hell not?"
"Winry is having the automail surgery." Ed froze, stopping his struggles and going limp.
"She's going through that surgery?" His voice was quiet when he spoke, his voice toned down to a whisper and almost inaudible.
"When Granny went up to change her bandages she decided to get it. She fell down the stairs getting to the workshop and that just pushed her to get her mobility back more, brother." Ed watched the workshop door, hearing Winry's scream, with a twisted expression a mixture of anger and pain. He couldn't bear to hear Winry's screams, so close and so loud. Al lowered him to the ground and he made his way to a pair of chairs mysteriously placed next to the workshop with Al in tow. The two boys took their seats and sat beside one another, listening to the pained screams of their best friend fill their home.
For reasons Ed couldn't understand, he was unable to cover his ears with his hands. Like his mind was convinced hearing Winry's screams would help ease her pain, a ridiculous idea, but Ed absolutely hated to be helpless.
