Chapter 9 – Phantom Signals
A pair of hands swooped over his vision to cover Edward's eyes from behind. By process of elimination—as well as the cream-soft texture of the hands against his face—he determined the identity of the prankster instantly, but he played along. "Who is it?"
He could hear her playfully lower her voice in an attempt to disguise her identity. "Guess," the voice rumbled.
"Urhm… Marilyn Monroe?" He heard her bite back an amused giggle and smiled. "Hi, Winry."
She laughed and moved her fingers from his eyes. "How did you know it was me?" Winry asked while she moved into his line of sight.
"First of all: you're the only person I know who does that," he started. While he stuffed his textbooks in his locker, Edward continued, "Plus, only a gearhead like you would use that much moisturizer."
He smirked triumphantly at her defiant scowl. She boxed the back of his head, but he merely laughed. As long as her weapon was a fist rather than a wrench, he neither feared nor minded her blows. He knew her hands suffered daily when working with the heavy materials; Edward remembered how chafed and raw his skin fell constantly when he first began to use auto-mail. Thanks to the generosity of the moisturizer, only the acquired strength in her expert hands betrayed her occupation. Still, her tomboyish personality provided wonderful entertainment to poke fun at a ritual she considered embarrassingly girly.
"So, do you have detention today?" she asked with a mild grumble.
"Nope," he announced. "I'm supposed to help Teacher at the butcher shop, though."
"But you told my grandma you were coming over today so we could check on your auto-mail, remember?" she frowned. Winry spotted Wrath and the younger Elric approaching. "Wrath, would your mom be mad if I stole Ed today to make sure his auto-mail is working right?" she called.
Wrath observed Edward's and Winry's faces carefully, afraid of throwing himself in an argument blindly, and answered slowly, "No… I don't think she'd mind…"
Alphonse agreed, "Take care of your auto-mail. We can handle the shop."
"We won't be there long, anyway. We're closing early to go out of town for the weekend," Wrath assured confidently.
"Then it's settled!" Winry declared diplomatically.
Edward knew the battle was lost. "I'll see you at home then, Al," he sighed.
As his brother and neighbor trotted off, Winry pulled Edward by the wrist down the hall. The two passed a group of six and stopped when Edward was addressed. Russell's disapproval of his stolen attention bubbled under his skin when the dark-haired girl hooked on his arm waved at Edward. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
"Hi, Ed," she greeted.
A girl identical to her, but sporting braids and wearing more flamboyant clothing, stood on the other side of Russell. Unlike her twin, her arms remained at her side until she raised her hand to wave shyly. She echoed the greeting, "Hi, Edward."
Edward's classmate Alphonse stood beside the second girl and leaned around her to greet his friends. "Hey, Ed. Hey, Winry. You remember the new transfer students, right?"
Winry did not reply, but Edward nodded modestly. "Noah," he acknowledged to the girl with decorative hair braids that framed her face. "Rose," he repeated in the same tone to the twin nearer to Russell.
Before Edward could wave innocently back at the girls, Winry gripped him by the ear and dragged him away in a fit of jealousy. Fletcher, as he had been walking behind the group in a daydream, called after them, "Bye; have a good weekend!"
Edward did not reply for her was too busy begging, "Ow! Winry, what the hell? That hurts! Let go!" As she tugged harder, his please ran together. "Ahgh! Le'gole'gole'gole'gole'gole'go!"
She did not release his ear until the school campus lie well behind. Her mood appeared better; and Edward decided against bringing up the encounter, retreating to rubbing sorely at his abused ear. He lowered his hand when she twirled and danced to walk backward in his path for conversation.
"After we check your auto-mail," Winry inquired. "Are you going to stay for dinner?"
He shook his head. "Thanks, but not tonight: I really have to get home."
"We're having stew," she tempted in a sing-song voice.
Smiling in spite of himself, he shook his head again. "Sorry, I can't. Another night: I promise."
"You know I'm going to hold you to it," she threatened.
"Yeah," he replied. "But I don't mind. A promise is a promise."
She grinned and moved to walk beside him. "Good!"
"So what do you and Grams need to do with my auto-mail?"
"Just the usual: check-up and maintenance." Grabbing his right, steel arm; she lifted the hand into view and moved the fingers. The joints squeaked in an almost-inaudible whisper with the movement. "Hear that?"
"I… think so," he answered uncertainly.
"That means the sewing-machine oil in the workshop has your name on it."
He watched while she handled the steel without the slightest hesitation, like his hand was perfectly normal and should not be any other way. Her ease felt like a breath of fresh air after the majority of people he encountered flinched at the artificial limbs on a daily basis. Although he could not physically feel her touch, phantom signals told his brain what the would-be nerves would have while he observed.
When she looked up to ask the reason for his stare, he turned away inconspicuously like he had only been watching for a moment. She did not speak, but she lowered his hand from her sight. After several silent minutes, Edward realized Winry had not released his hand.
For the remainder of the journey, conversation remained casual and neither mentioned the connected hands. A large, familiar, black-and-white dog plodded up to greet them when less than a quarter of a mile lie ahead. His long tongue flopped out to the side and his tail wagged to greet the familiar people.
"Hey, Den," Winry greeted and pat him on the head.
"What're you doing this far down the road?" Edward inquired in a mild scold.
"He's the best escort in Resembool, that's what," Winry declared proudly.
Den trotted along beside the two and weaved back and forth on the path in an odd circle around the two. Edward watched the dog's silly dance in amusement while Winry—accustomed to the behavior—ignored Den's presence.
Upon entry, Winry discovered her grandmother to be hard at work taking measurements for a new client. Edward occupied his attention by playing with the ever-growing kitten while Winry assisted Pinako with the young man's measurements for a new right hand.
When the Rockbells finally finished and entered the living room, Winry smiled softly at the scene. Edward lounged on the couch with Den over his legs to pin the boy against the cushions. Den's head rest in Edward's lap, muzzle on his lower stomach, while his tail curled around Edward's feet. Edward's right hand rest on the scruff of the dog's neck, fingers opening and closing robotically to soothe the animal.
On Edward's chest lie Paninya. She slept soundly, fur crowding her human bed's face. The fur ruffled with each deep rhythmic breath, but she paid no heed. Edward's left hand weaved in a tuft of fur soothingly for warmth, holding her comfortably in place.
Warmth from the animals left a film of sweat on Edward's face, a dim sheen across his skin. Nonetheless his expression remained peaceful, his light snores easily drowned by the kitten's content purrs.
Although tempted to allow him to continue napping, Winry knew Edward did not want to return home late. She sat on the arm of the couch. "Wake-y, wake-y," she chimed. "Or your chemistry notes will bake-y!"
Edward cracked an eye open instantly. "Is that really necessary?" he yawned.
She smiled and jerked her head to the side in a nod toward the workshop. "Let's get this done so you can go home and rest, huh?"
When he shifted to sit up, Den groaned awake and slid off the couch. Edward cradled his arms around the sleepy kitten; she did not stir in her bliss and released a loud purr, reaching her paws out in a half-stretch to remain sprawled in his arms.
Laying the bundle of fluff gently on the couch—she blinked up sleepily with a lazy shake of the head—Edward stood from the couch and followed Winry to the workshop.
As promised, the check-up remained routine. Oiled joints, function tests, mobility questions, and the like. Night had thrown a blanket over the land by the time Winry escorted Edward to the front porch. She passed a palm-sized bottle of sewing machine oil to him.
"If you have any more issues with those joints, just put a little of this in it and it should be fine. Just keep an eye on it so it doesn't wear down on you," she advised.
Tucking the bottle in his pocket, he pulled the collar of his coat around his neck for warmth. "I know, I know, I remember." He turned to observe the dark road, no moon or stars visible in the sky to light his path.
"I wish spring would hurry up," he grumbled. "I hate how short the days are."
"Yeah," she agreed absently.
Both stared at the road in silence for several beats before Edward sighed, "Well, I'd better get home." He advanced a step toward the stairs. "Thanks for--"
"Ed, wait," Winry requested.
He froze and pivoted to his side to face her. Unaware of when she had approached him, Edward found her to be directly beside him. Before he could react verbally or otherwise, Winry touched her lips to his and retreated a step back.
She smiled awkwardly and her cheeks flushed deep pink. "Have a good weekend."
Edward's heart raced in his chest like a steam engine thrust into full-speed, the hot steam rising to his head to turn his skin vibrant shades of scarlet. His thoughts skidded to a halt, and his brain separated from his mouth. He groped for a response and managed to stutter, "Uhm… You, too, Winry."
He turned back to the stairs, and his legs carried him along robotically. As his mind slowly processed what occurred, he smiled. He found himself unconsciously waltzing giddily along the road and singing quietly to himself, "Hello, my beautiful. It seems I just can't stay away…"
The journey blurred from his ecstasy and shortened the road considerably. As expected, few lights illuminated his home upon his arrival. He skipped inside and plopped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and flung his coat into the closet. Edward found no signs of his brother's return home, so he refrained from starting dinner. He tiptoed through the house as to not wake Envy on the chance he was still asleep.
He retreated to the bedroom he and Alphonse shared and closed the door behind him. He grabbed a book and flopped onto his bed comfortably, his book held over his head to read.
As he read, the book lowered to his lap and a shadow caught his eye. Flattening the novel, he looked over at the foot of his brother's bed: Alphonse's backpack.
"Alphonse?" Edward called aloud.
Realization slammed into him like a train and he leapt from the bed and sprinted out of the room. His stomach and heart battled for dominance as they climbed into his throat.
"Al," he rasped to his vacant surroundings.
Envy slumped into the living room and spotted Edward flying around like a frantic pheasant. "What're you yelling about, full-metal pipsqueak?"
"Where's Alphonse?" Edward demanded in a desperate squawk.
"Hoenheim took him downstairs when he got home a couple hours ago," he replied casually.
Edward's eyes widened and he bolted to the stairs. Envy followed and warned in a bored tone, "It's no use: he locked the door since you walked in on us the other night." Envy rubbed his bandaged left ear gently in hopes of relieving an itch beneath the gauze. "You're not going to get in."
Envy sighed when he saw Edward stubbornly fight the soundproof door. Edward punched, kicked, and slammed his body into the structure with no success. "Alphonse!" Edward shrieked. "Dad, stop! Please!"
With a hefty sigh, Envy grabbed Edward around the torso to drag him away. Edward thrashed violently and outstretched his hands to the door.
"Put me down!" Edward roared.
When Envy ignored the command, Edward swung his metal arm around to slug Envy in the injured ear.
Envy yelped and dropped his captive instantly to cradle his ear. Furious, he swung at the boy to find him too close for his attack and Edward's forehead slammed him square in the face. He staggered and his blurry double-vision watched Edward freeze in a dazed panic.
"You're dead," Envy snarled while attempting to hold his bleeding nose during his vertigo.
Edward turned and stumbled for the front door. He fumbled down the driveway and set off at a blind dead-sprint down the road, and tears muddled his vision so he had to rely on memory to follow the invisible path.
The winter air chilled him to the bone and each icy inhale sent daggers of pain through his lungs and throat. He did not dare glance behind him to check if Envy was in pursuit in case he lost his balance. His abdomen burned and throbbed under the stress of the cold and exertion, but he did not slow.
After what felt like decades of running, the Curtis home finally rolled into view. When he registered the lack of light within the house, his heart sank as he suddenly recalled the weekend trip Wrath mentioned. In his horrified disappointment, Edward forgot about the iced-over snow pile in the yard and tumbled to a halt in the snow.
"Teacher," he rasped as if praying loudly. "Help!"
He heard no movement within the house.