March 23rd, 1953
Central High School wasn't the only high school in Central, but it was the oldest and the biggest. A big, two story, rambling complex of hallways and classrooms that Ethan had become intimately familiar with in what was just a little under two years. His sophomore year would be over in a couple of months, though he was taking several courses that were for the upper classes. He wasn't the only one. His cousin Alyse was doing the same thing and that meant that they had several classes together.
The school was a loud, crowded place between classes, but that made it easier in some ways for Ethan to vanish into the waves of students making their way in every direction. Lately he just didn't feel like talking as much. His family, of course, knew what was going on and Alyse didn't talk about it at school, and his closest friends knew about his parents' split, but he hadn't talked about it with anyone else. He hadn't even mentioned it to his teachers; that or the fact that he was living at Aunt Gracia's. He didn't want sympathy and he didn't want to concern anyone unnecessarily. He knew there were rumors all over the place, but he wasn't going to confirm or deny them unless someone brought them up to him directly.
He was lost in thought when a hand on the collar of the open collared shirt he wore over his t-shirt stopped him cold.
"Hold up there, Elric," an unwanted familiar voice smirked. "I want a word."
"What's it today, York?" Ethan sighed and looked up into the face of Paul York. The guy was a typically average kid and a bit of a bully. Ethan figured he might be okay except that Paul and his friends seemed to take singular delight in picking on all the Elrics because they were alchemists and officer's brats. Paul's father had never even made Sergeant in his entire military career.
Ethan wasn't afraid of the guy and his friends. They usually kept to verbal taunts and Ethan knew if it ever came to a fight he could easily lick them all as long as he didn't get stuck in a corner.
"I hear interesting things," Paul was grinning sadistically. "I hear your Mom skipped town 'cause your Dad beat her. Or maybe it's the other way around?"
Ethan didn't know what snapped, but two seconds later he had Paul York by the collar instead and pinned up against a bank of lockers. It wasn't the first time Paul had gotten onto the topic of his parents, but it was definitely the most blatantly insulting. "How dare you?" He growled and Paul's face went pale. Obviously he hadn't expected the 'skinny little Elric kid' to be that strong. Paul had four inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle on Ethan. "If you ever say something like that again York I swear I'll-"
"Ahem."
Ethan froze and Paul's face got even whiter. Setting his opponent down, Ethan turned around slowly and found himself looking up into the face of the Vice Principal.
"That will be enough gentlemen," the middle-aged balding man scowled at them both. "York, get to class. Mister Ranimen will see you in detention this afternoon. You, Mister Elric, come with me."
Ethan swallowed, then bent down and picked up his books that he'd apparently dropped when he grabbed Paul. Great, this was just what he needed today. Fortunately his next period was lunch so at least he wasn't going to be late for class. He followed Vice Principal Hodgkins back to his office.
"Have a seat, Mister Elric," Hodgkins gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he sat down in his own.
Ethan would have preferred to stand for sentencing, but he did as he was told. He might as well get this over with. "I'm sorry, Mister Hodgkins. I don't know what came over me." In the last two years he had never once actually reacted to any of Paul's childish taunts. They hadn't really bothered him. These were different though.
"He was insulting your parents," Hodgkins replied evenly. "I heard the whole thing."
That meant that he had seen the whole thing too. Ethan swallowed. "I still shouldn't have lost my temper like that, sir." He had better self control than that, and better training.
Hodgkins sighed and his expression eased from stony to generally stern. "You are not normally one of my problems, Mister Elric. Assure me that you won't do it again and I'll let you off this time."
The man was legendary for his harsh punishments. Ethan bowed respectfully, not believing his luck but not daring to question it either. "I promise. Thank you, sir."
"Good. Now get out of here," Hodgkins waved one hand, and Ethan thought he saw a small smile as he turned and left the room, amazed and relieved that he had gotten nothing more than a warning.
Not that he would ever tell anyone about it except maybe Alyse. Well, and Lia. He told her almost everything that happened in his letters. Her replies always lifted his spirits.
Ethan glanced at the hallway clock. If he hurried he could just barely grab food and eat before his next class. He picked up the pace and headed for the cafeteria.
April 1st, 1953
Edward preferred to think it was the dumping rain that convinced him to stop on the way home instead of going back to the house. Really, he just needed a change of venue. There was no actual excuse for why he was sitting in this slum of a bar on the far end of town well out of his usual way home other than that it fit his mood.
The place was pretty empty. It was dinner time for most of Central, and the bars didn't usually fill up until after. Ed ordered a gin and tonic and ignored the few other customers in the place. The bar was quiet, dark, and it wasn't the big, achingly empty house.
It seemed though that there was someone in the place who didn't want to leave him alone. A busty thirty-something brunette in a low-cut red dress settled onto the stool next to him. She ordered a scotch then smiled. "Hey there, handsome. You look glum. Want a little company?"
"No thanks." Hopefully she would take the hint.
She chuckled and didn't. "Well I do," she replied with a cool but interested glance in his direction. "And this is my usual seat, so if you find me that offensive you might want to find somewhere else to sit."
It wasn't worth the effort of moving. Ed shrugged. "Suit yourself."
"I usually do," she chuckled. "By the way, I'm Gwen."
Ed continued to work on his drink. He had meant it when he said he didn't want to be bothered. If he wanted conversation there were plenty of people who would be happy to talk at him for a while. He was just tired of people expecting responses in return.
Gwen's drink arrived. She sipped it and continued to watch him. "No offense, but isn't a dump like this a little low-class for you?" Apparently she recognized him for what he was, if not who.
Ed shrugged, focused on the glass in his hand. "It fits my mood."
"You could come back to my place," she suggested, laying one smooth, well-manicured hand on his right arm. "You look like you could use some cheering up."
"I'm married," he replied flatly.
The woman shook her head. Her brown curls bounced, framing a pretty heart-shaped face and full lips. "That's not what I heard. Oh don't give me that look," she added when he glared. "I'm not saying anything that's not true. You shouldn't let it get you so down, and don't let one bad apple spoil the entire pie. There are plenty of women who'd love to keep you company."
Plenty of women, sure, but what was the point? All they would do was fail to satisfy him. None could compare to the woman he had lost. "If you ever call my wife a bad apple again…" Ed growled and stood up before he did something violently foolish. He tossed payment and a tip on the bar and took the whole bottle of gin. "You'll find out for yourself why I'm here alone."
The woman looked taken aback, but Ed didn't care. He turned and strode out of the bar. She didn't get it. None of them did or probably ever would. If he couldn't have Winry, he didn't want anyone else. Not ever.
April 4th, 1953
Winry had always enjoyed the Spring Sheep Festival in Resembool though it had been more years than she cared to count since she had been in the village to attend it. Her memories of the event included some favorites from her childhood, going back to when her parents were alive and they would bring her down to the festival grounds and let her play games and see the new lambs and have a good time. Like any good fair out in the country there were plenty of competitions and such that went along with the tradition.
Seeing it again, especially with family, was a joy. Winry had not expected to enjoy herself as much as she found herself doing as she was dragged back and forth by Coran, who insisted on latching onto his Granny's hand and refused to go anywhere without her! Aldon and Cassie took turns carrying Reichart and followed along behind. The shearing demonstration was first and Aldon's machine worked beautifully. Winry felt smugly satisfied to know that Rockbell-Elric ingenuity had not lost any of its creativity or diluted down a generation. She had enjoyed helping Aldon with the final tweaks to the machine.
"That was great," Aldon chuckled as he picked up a bottle of that season's prize winning mead at one of the stalls. "A congratulatory indulgence," he winked at Cassie who just shrugged and smiled. "You want one, Mom? You helped."
"No thank you," Winry shook her head. The feeling of a job well done and her son's appreciation were enough.
"My treat," Aldon shook his head. "No? All right. You'll have a taste of mine." He paid for just the one and they started off to see everything else.
"If you insist," Winry chuckled. She had never actually had any of the locally brewed beverages Resembool had to offer. She had been too young – and uninterested – when she lived here. She took the bottle her son offered and sipped. It was a sweet, mellow flavor, rich and warm. "That is nice," she admitted as she handed the bottle back.
"Told you," Aldon chuckled.
Coran wanted to see the sheep so that was where they started. "Mama, I want a sheep!" he exclaimed after petting the lambs.
"We don't need a sheep," Cassie replied with a patient chuckle. "Where would you keep one?"
"In the bedroom," Coran replied insistently.
"But sheep sleep in barns," Winry pointed out, "And you don't have a barn."
"Daddy can build one!"
Aldon shook his head. "Daddy has other work to do, kiddo," he smiled, scooping his son up his arms. "And sheep are a lot of responsibility. Do you want to clean up sheep poop?"
"Ewwwww," Coran stuck his tongue out. "No!"
"Then no sheep," Cassie gave the final word on the matter. "How about pie instead?"
Coran's face lit up. "I'm hungry."
"You always are," Aldon commented. "All right, let's go sample the finest food in Resembool."
There were tables of food set out for judging; pies and other pastries, preserves from the winter, dishes made from mutton specifically, and the new batches of mead and beer that had been brewing all winter long. Once the judging was over, it was all open for sampling!
Winry sat at a picnic table that had been set up and watched Coran munch his way through two slices of pie, a candied apple, and two or three different varieties of pickled vegetables.
"I swear he's not always this much of a piglet," Aldon said, sitting down next to her with his own plate of food, and setting one down in front of Winry. Cassie had briefly found a quiet corner to feed her hungry infant. "He does this before every growth spurt."
"I know," Winry smiled at her son. "You did the same you know, and Sara and Ethan did too. So did Alphonse and Edward when they were younger."
"You used to come to the festival with them didn't you?" Aldon asked softly.
Winry nodded and, despite the sadness in her heart whenever she thought about Edward, the memories were happy ones. "Our parents would let us run all over on festival days. We played with the other children and enjoyed watching the games and competitions, and then we would sit and eat like this." She watched her grandson. "I think Edward would have tried to finish off the entire fair, but his mother always stopped him."
Coran seemed to have finished. At least, his plate was empty, his little belly was bulging, and his eyes were beginning to have that droopy look that signified a toddler about to fall asleep in the near future. It was definitely getting close to nap time.
"That would have been something to watch," Aldon chuckled. "I have to admit that when we first got here I wasn't sure how long we would stay. Cassie and I both grew up in the city and while we liked the wilderness up at Briggs, the Fort itself was almost a city out of necessity. I mean I liked coming here to visit as a kid," he shrugged, "but then I couldn't imagine growing up out in the country. Thanks for suggesting it, Mom. I don't think we could be happier anywhere than where we are now."
"You're welcome," Winry replied, touched by her son's earnest thanks. "I love Resembool. For a long time, I couldn't understand how the boys could stay away for so long without coming home, or why they thought it wasn't theirs anymore. I knew I would leave for a while eventually for training, and I did, but I always planned to come back and keep working with Granny." She had done just that once. Her entire life had been determined and changed by her own choice to follow Edward and Alphonse and support them however she could.
"So where is home now, Mom?"
That was a good question. At the moment, Winry wasn't sure if she had one, two, or none. She sighed and nibbled on a slice of pie. "I wish I knew."
April 5th, 1953
Life moved on whether Edward wanted it to or not. He went to Headquarters every day, taught his classes, went to meetings, and came home again. Once, work had been a much needed escape. Now it had reached the stage where it was merely part of dreary existence; the doldrums that left him adrift in a world he no longer felt a part of. Ed no longer found enjoyment in the lectures, or even the fighting as much as he had before. Meetings were irritations that spotted his days. Dragging himself out of bed – or usually, off the couch – in the morning became more difficult with nothing to look forward to.
Though it didn't have to be that way. It had occurred to Ed the night before that there might be a more effective way to deal with how lousy he felt lately than attempting to drink himself into a stupor when he came home feeling depressed. There was a substance that Mei had mentioned in Xing that was used for medicinal purposes. Primarily, kashu was a painkiller, but in small doses it was an anti-depressant and was supposed to have a mild euphoric effect while it kept the patient unconscious. Pleasant dreams and a good night's sleep sounded like just the ticket!
He was glad he had paid attention to Mei's lectures and taken copious notes on their alchemical compounds even though the details of those compounds would never see the light of day outside his alchemy notes. He knew the exact ingredients and the dosages that could be taken without doing damage and for the right effect. Mei had warned him that it was definitely dangerous if taken in too large a quantity and, like most painkillers, addictive if not monitored carefully. Ed had written everything she said down verbatim and asked for clarification several times to make sure he had it right. At the time it had been academic curiosity.
So that night when he got home he went straight to work. He already had all the critical ingredients in the house; he probably had one of the best stocked alchemy labs outside of the government labs themselves. Some small part of his mind screamed that this was a stupid idea but he quashed it easily enough, much more interested in the alchemist part of his mind that wanted to see if he could even mix the stuff properly; that wanted to see if it worked and maybe find a temporary solution to his problem.
The compound proved to be deceptively simple to mix. The base ingredient was the same as the morphine the doctors in Central used on patients, but there were more additional ingredients. It was a highly concentrated substance normally given diluted in liquid and ingested, though it could also be injected directly into the bloodstream.
Ed had no intention of going anywhere near himself with a needle! Besides, that was for larger doses. This wasn't supposed to knock him out for surgery. A light dose, in theory, would just help him sleep for a few hours – the exact time would depend on how fast his body metabolized the stuff – and wake up feeling pleasantly rested after a night of good dreams. Given lately all of his sleep was either dreamless or full of nightmares, anything was an improvement.
Before taking the kashu Ed got ready for bed. He changed into his pajamas and turned down the covers. Tomorrow was Saturday so he didn't have to worry about getting up at any particular time. If the dreams were good, sleeping in sounded like a very appealing thought. He measured the kashu into a glass of water in the lab before bringing it into the bedroom. Ed sat on the edge of the bed. Bottoms up.
It tasted like nothing really going down, but Ed knew to expect the effects to take hold fairly quickly. He lay down, pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes.
Resembool; he recognized it the moment he opened his eyes. Edward was in his old bedroom, in bed, and everything was the way he remembered it from when he was a boy. The window glass was closed but the curtains were pulled back and it was raining outside though the light in the room made it cheery.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in?" Ed replied automatically, curious to see who it was.
The door opened and Winry bounced through, her raincoat and rain hat still dripping water and most of her long hair was tucked up under the hat. The coat was – as usual – longer than her skirt so it looked like that was all she was wearing! "Good morning, sleepyhead," she grinned as she closed the door behind her. "I almost didn't believe it when your Mom said you were still in bed at this hour."
Mom? Winry had to be sixteen. His mother was dead. Ed opened his mouth to say something when he heard a voice from downstairs.
"I'm going to the market!" Trisha Elric's voice came up through the floor, muffled by distance but distinctly hers. "Alphonse is coming with me to help carry groceries," she added a moment later, and Ed got the distinct impressing his mother wanted him to feel guilty for loafing in his room.
"Okay," Ed called back just to make sure she knew he had heard. Otherwise she would come upstairs and, from the interesting expression on Winry's face, Ed suspected he didn't want that at all!
Downstairs the front door clicked shut. As soon as it did Winry giggled. "So should I come back some other time or are you actually capable of getting up?" She winked at him and Ed felt his body warming, responding to the distinctly sexual undertones.
"Oh I think I can manage," Ed flashed his cockiest grin. Then something else occurred to him and he pulled his arms out from under the covers. Two hands, two arms; both complete flesh and blood. He could feel his legs; both of them. None of the faded scars he was used to were there either. Winry was sixteen and so was he.
"Then we shouldn't waste any time," Winry smiled as she tossed her rain hat over the back of his chair then undid the front of her coat. "Who knows how fast your Mom and Al will get back."
Apparently this was a pre-arranged assignation. Ed groaned softly as Winry kicked off her shoes then removed her coat and draped it over the chair as well. It was no wonder he couldn't see the hem of her skirt under the coat – she wasn't wearing one at all! In fact, she was wearing very little; just some of the skimpiest, laciest undergarments like he had only seen in magazines, these in a deep purple.
"I'll take your inarticulateness as approval," Winry pulled the blankets off him and shoved them aside as she crawled up over him on the bed, her hands sliding up under his shirt and skillfully taking it with them up until she slipped it over his head. "I get my eye candy too," she chuckled, her voice dropping into a more sultry whisper as her fingers ran lightly back down the sides of his chest and abdomen. "It's only fair."
"Whatever you wish," Ed's voice squeaked tightly, but he didn't mind. It was like electricity was coursing through him. She was stunning – a wicked little angel who had come to play. Besides, he could get even. Her chest was rather nicely in reach.
In moments Ed was lost in the enticing pleasures of risking his mother's wrath by having uninhibited sex in his room with the girl from next door. There were plenty of surprises too, and tricks he had never thought of before.
It rapidly dissolved into the single most erotic dream – or experience - Edward had ever had.
April 6th, 1953
Edward was just about to suggest another round when he found himself violently ripped from sleep so fast that it felt like he was ascending stairs at twice normal speed. He came awake gasping and panting heavily. His pajamas straight through to the sheets were soaked with sweat and sticky in places. The pounding he heard was his heart going in his ears and chest and it took him a moment to become aware that his limbs were shaking violently; his whole body was shaking, and he hurt….oh shit he hurt!
His stomach twisted and cramped as he tried to sit upright and found himself doubling over, vomiting violently as he almost fell off the bed. What the hell! This wasn't supposed to be happening. Thiswasn'tsupposedtobehappening.... Panic welled up in him as he vomited again, his body shaking so hard he could barely hold position.
There was only the smallest portion of his brain that clung frantically to reason, racing for explanations along with his heartbeat. He must have used the wrong dose. But how could that be? He'd followed his notes! Whatever had happened he had to move and he had to move now or he was dead.
That thought spurred him to action. Ed forced himself to his feet, staggering all the way against the wall, slamming into it before falling to his knees. His hands didn't move fast enough to fully catch him before he slammed into the floor, conking his nose and sending a whole new sensation of pain shooting across his face.
Aching, shaking, and in tears, Ed crawled as best he could out of the room and took a right down the hall to the lab. He had to stop three times in the barely fifteen feet of hallway to vomit again even though there was nothing left but bile. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit…
The door was open. Ed dragged himself through it and grabbed for the edge of the desk, ignoring the clock that ticked away evenly, taunting him with it's four in the morning.
Where was it? Where was it! He always kept some in here...
There! Grasping, stumbling, grabbing again, Ed's shaking hand closed around the jar and he yanked the top off. Some of the dark contents spilled on the desk but he ignored the grit. No alchemist worked with dangerous ingredients without a treatment for if he accidentally got something in his system.
Ed upended the little jar and closed his mouth around as much activated charcoal as he could safely swallow. He gagged on it going down, but didn't vomit again as he sagged against the edge of the desk. His vision blurred and he wasn't sure if it was tears or something else, but he struggled as he felt his ability to follow thought slipping away.
The world seemed to spin around him. Tears ran down his face as he curled in on himself; hot trails that seemed to dance in time to his whimpering sobs. There were certainly less painful ways to die, but at that moment, that might be the least agonizing solution to his distress.
The floor slammed into his side though he felt no sensation of falling and he lay there, shaking violently as he wished he would find unconsciousness. It was a long while before the universe was kind enough to grant it to him.
