Chapter 13

Winry woke up tied to a post in the middle of the town square. Her scarf was gone, her hair in her face, her clothes ripped, and she knew that she looked deranged. She glanced up through the curtain of her hair to try and find a face in the crowd of jeering Parisians the she recognized, one that was compassionate and not disgusted with her.

There was no one she knew in the crowd. No one.

She kept looking for a moment, maybe in denial, maybe hoping, and she saw one person, finally, out of the corner of her eye. A young woman, golden-blonde hair and warm brown eyes, that didn't seem to be out for blood.

Her eyes were fierce when they met Winry's, and Winry felt comforted somehow.

The woman could not have been older than thirty, but she could not have been younger, really, than twenty. The point was, she was much older than Winry herself. Sixteen compared to twenty-six. It was only ten year's difference, yet it made so much of one.

Winry scolded herself quietly. What was she doing, what was she thinking? She had to focus on what was going on…

Of course, she already knew what was happening. It was happening. She was tied up on a post in the town square. There were guards all around and wood and straw at her feet. Dry wood, crackly wood.

She was being burned at the stake.

She thought all this with a certain sort of detachment that only came with intense, burning fear. Then she breathed in slowly-in through the nose, out through the mouth, good girl, don't panic, darling, her mother said in a memory-and threw her head forward and then back so her hair would fall away from her face and she could see everything that was going on around her.

Ed. Where was Ed? Oh, mon dieu, where was Rose? Where was Granny? Where was her family?

She looked above the faces in the crowd and saw the Church. The Church. Where was Quasi-Ed's brother-Alponse-Quasi-AlphonseQuasi?

She looked back at the brown-eyed-woman. She knew that she look frantic, but she didn't dare call out to her, ask the questions she wanted to. My family-where is my family?

The woman nodded, ever so carefully, towards the Church. Winry looked to the base of it, to the great ornate door, and sucked in a sobbing breath.

There they were-at the base of the great Church-locked in cages, like scum. She searched for them, saw Granny next to Rose who was reaching a hand though the bars to try and touch her fingers to Tobias's, Mei who was sitting very still and holding Xiao Mei tightly, Lanfan with her shoulders tight, gripping the bars, looking for her grandfather and for Ling. Ling looking for Lanfan.

Ed was in a cage all his own, gripping the bars tight, shaking them. He was yelling something that she couldn't hear over the crowd.

She was trying to figure out what he was saying when Cornello exited the Church and everything grew silent.

He walked through the crowd like a king, like a god, beloved by his people. He had killed her parents. Not directly, but he had. He had kept Quasi imprisoned. He'd killed Ed's mother and separated him from his brother.

She hated him. She hated him so much she felt that she might die of it, die here before they even had the chance to burn her.

She didn't lower her head. She met his eyes, glaring, defiant. He smiled, smug as anything, and she wanted to scream, tear at the ropes binding her and scratch at his face. Hurt him the way he'd hurt her.

She looked at Ed instead, who had gone very still.

He seemed to be trying to tell her something, but she couldn't make out what.

"Hello, witch." Cornello said casually.

"Hello, murderer." she spat, tilting up her chin at him.

"I do the work of God, scum." Cornello said. "I doubt anyone in this square would disagree."

"I would."

Winry spun her head at the shout, and met the eyes of the blonde woman again. She was standing, arms crossed, defiant, and her words rung in the air.

"You have no right to murder others for the sake of what you believe is right. And in any case, isn't one of the Commandments 'thou shalt not kill?' I think, that if your God was to meet you, he would be most disappointed." the woman said, her words loud in the absolute silence of the square. Shocked faces peered at her from all directions.

Cornello, after a brief moment of shock, began to laugh. The woman didn't flinch.

"It seems Mustang's pet dog thinks she has a mind of her own." Cornello sneered. "Mustang, control her."

"What are you doing?" another man, Mustang, presumably, barked at her. "I told you to stay home. How dare you?"

Winry stared at them with wide eyes. He was grabbing her arm and dragging her over to where he'd been standing, in between Ed's cage and one of the other gypsy cages, the one that held Tobias. But when you looked, really looked?

She was going with him willingly. He wasn't dragging her, not really. His hand was loose on her arm, barely even bunching her sleeve. And while he was glaring at her now, and seeming to lecture her quietly, she looked like she was concentrating intensely, not like she was afraid.

All very odd.

She thanked the woman in her mind, because the exchange had given her time to see how good the knots in the rope were. Unfortunately, they were good, a soldier's knots, and she tried to signal with her eyes to Ed that she couldn't get loose.

He seemed to be paying close attention to the man and his wife instead, as the wife was scolded. Winry huffed out an irritated breath and looked at her feet. Was there anything at all that she could do?

Cornello turned to her. "Of course, I shall give you one chance." he said, his voice low. "There is always a chance for repentance. Join us, gypsy girl. Find the way and the truth, and help me to purify the city. You shall live in comfort, perhaps in an orphanage, or on the convent. And you shall be saved."

Winry translated what he was asking her-turn yourself in, become a member of the Church, and help us to rid the city of gypsies, or, betray your friends to save your own skin-and knew there was only one answer.

"I would rather burn." she said, and spat in Cornello's face, which was very effective, due to Tobias teaching her the art of spitting into a bucket, very satisfying, due to the look on Cornello's face, and probably the worst thing she could have done in the situation, because of what Cornello shouted to the crowd as he turned away, wiping her spittle off his face.

"The witch has cursed the city! We shall not be free until she dies!" he screamed, a vein popping out in his neck, and the crowd roared.

"Burn the witch! Burn her!" they shouted as one, and Winry kept her eyes fixed on the other gypsies. Rose had taken out a rosary and was weeping and praying, Granny was watching steadily, facing her death with dignity, and the Chinese were looking at her. Mei stood, carefully, and bowed once, low, placing her hands together.

Winry remembered a sunny summer afternoon when Mei taught her Chinese, and said "Xie xie, mei-mei." Thank you, little sister.

Mei smiled a little, heartbreakingly sad, as if she had heard.

She turned her focus to Ed, who was in the exact same pose he'd been in the whole time, his face close to the bars.

And as the two soldiers lit the fire underneath her, she focused on the gold of his eyes.

She loved him. She could admit it now. She was sixteen and a gypsy and in love with a boy that she had vague, cloudlike memories about from childhood, a boy with bravery and strength in spades, with a temper, who blushed when she hugged him.

She held onto him as the smoke climbed and choked her.

And she held onto her granny, and Rose, and Mei, and Ling and Lanfan and Tobias and Fu.

She hummed the melody she'd danced to at the Festival through a scratchy throat, and closed her eyes, making everything go black before she could faint and have Nature do it for her. Maybe it was strange, but she wanted this last victory.

Oh God, let them live. Save them. My family, Ed, Quasi. Save them, please, please.

After that, everything was a blur of smoke and shouting.

He woke up to a buzzing in his ears and an ache in his body, tied with ropes.

His arms were bound to two pillars in the tower he'd tried so hard to leave behind. And no one else was there; he was alone.

His scarf had gone, had fallen. They'd seen his eyes. He'd been so afraid for a moment, because they were the kindest people in the entire world, and he was going to infect them-

Then Edward had pulled a covering off his own eyes and the world had stopped, had gone white around the edges, and silent.

Edward had demon's eyes.

But it couldn't be. Edward had saved Winry, had protected her, had traveled through the sewers with a hurt shoulder to warn every gypsy in the hideout. Edward was far from a demon.

He'd seen the other boy's lips moving and tried to listen as the soldiers dragged at him.

Winry's voice. "Is that…?"

"Yes. That's my brother." Edward said.

Brother.

Oh, God.

"Brother." he breathed. And how long ago had it been, that he'd listened to Winry's tales of a warm campfire and prayed for a family?

This was proof that he wasn't a demon. God had answered his prayers. God loved him after all.

Despite the circumstances, he let himself smile, and whispered a thank you into the emptiness of the tower.

Now, the bells whispered. To business, Quasimodo. Save them.

I can't. That was the simple truth of it. He was here alone, he was a weak little boy and they were big strong soldiers, and he was afraid.

You can. the bells sang, and chimed in the wind. You can. Save them. Save your family.

He straightened, and opened his eyes, looked around at the tower. They'd left everything there. He supposed they didn't think he was much of a threat.

He saw his carving knife lying on the ground, but it was too far away.

His hands were bound behind his back and his ankles were tied, too, forcing him into a standing position. He could only barely move his hands and feet, but he could twist his body.

He had ropes around his ankles and wrists but there were even more, tied to the ones on his wrists and ankles and tied on the other end to the torch brackets on the walls, string him up like a puppet. He twisted, tugging at the experimentally.

He heard a roar from the square below and tugged harder. Yes!

As he'd thought, one of the ropes tied to his wrists and to the wall was tied far too loosely to the torch bracket. If he could get it off-he pulled harder-then maybe it would loosen the hold on his wrists.

The rope pulled free and he set to work on his wrists, rubbing them together uncomfortably as he worked on the knot.

Wait. What kind of knot?

He closed his eyes, hoping, and felt the knot with his fingertips until he was sure. A secret smile covered his face.

This was precisely the kind of knot he used on all of his bells. He knew knots like this. He carefully undid it, then leaned down the work on the knots around his ankles. He had just finished when he heard a loud shout.

"The witch has cursed the city! We shall not be free until she dies!" It was Cornello, and Quasimodo rushed to the window.

What he saw made his stomach feel like it was dropping out.

They were all in cages, every gypsy in the Court, all of them, like animals. And he saw his brother (that still gave him a thrill to even think) in one of the cages at the front, staring out with his demon's eyes exposed. He was staring at Winry, who was tied to a post in the middle of the square, hay and wood at her feet, a soldier approaching with a torch.

"Winry!" he screamed, leaning out the tower window, but she didn't hear him. No one could. The hay was lit and the flames rose.

And he couldn't do anything.

He screamed along with Winry, in pain and frustration, the cheers of the crowd covering up the noise of his screams.

There must be something, something, something..!

He saw the extra ropes for the bells lying in a heap by the wall and he knew suddenly what he had to do.

"I won't let anyone else die," he whispered, "not for me, not anymore."

He tied one end of the enormous rope to one of the stone posts in the tower room, and wrapped the other end securely around his wrist. They he ran and stood at the edge, on the windowsill.

Be brave. the bells chimed. Be brave, be brave.

He took a deep breath. Winry needed him.

He closed his eyes and jumped out the window.

The wind whipped though his too-long hair as he fell, holding on for dear life, to Winry, still burning. Please, he prayed, oh please don't let the flames have reached her yet, just let it be the smoke, don't let them touch her until I can save her.

She was unconscious by the time he reached her. He barely heard the terrified screams from the townsfolk, or Cornello's enraged roar. All he heard was the cheers from the gypsies, from Ed.

He swung past her on the rope and grabbed her, his momentum tugging her sweat-slicked wrists from the ropes. The rope swung them back up to a balcony on the side of the Church, and he stood there with Winry cradled in his arms, barely stirring, screaming with all his might. And this time, everyone heard him.

"Sanctuary!" he cried. "Sanctuary!"

A/N: Well, next chapter's finally up! Blame the wait on a bad case of writer's block and a LOT of exams. Anyway, what I'm trying to say here is sorry it took so long.

I'm fairly sure we're reaching the end here! One more chapter, maybe two, and definitely an epilogue of some sort. It might take a bit, and for that I'm sorry. But summer break's pretty soon. So soon I'll be able to write more often and I might finish it faster, eh? That's be a nice change.

As always, I own nothing except plot.

Please review! I love me the reviews!

Much love, Ninjee