Stillness is a surprisingly easy feat when one is scared out of one's mind. Mr. and Mrs. Ouvert, Gabrielle, Winry, and Alphonse were good examples of this sort of helpless, waiting stillness. The couple and child sat on the bottom bunk of the beds on the left side of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Ouvert were whispering to each other. Occasionally Gabrielle would interrupt with a question or the increasingly persistent and frequent complaints of "I'm bo-o-ored!" "I'm hungry-y-y!" and "When are we going ho-o-ome?" The rest of the time she was silent.
Meanwhile, Winry was having an internal battle between the part of her that really wanted to break down in tears and the part of her that really, really didn't want to. Attempting to comfort her was Alphonse, who was coping with the guilt that he and Ed shared for being the ones who caused Winry to be stuck in quarantine with them.
On the other hand, Al's older brother was refusing to cope with this guilt. When had Edward Elric ever dealt with problems the easy way, anyhow? Instead, Ed paced back and forth across the room and periodically said things like "This is bullshit," and "We shouldn't even be here," and "Who the hell designed this godforsaken quarantine facility anyway? It's giving me claustrophobia," and "Damn it!" (This last was accompanied by a solid blow to the nearest wall, piece of furniture, or other inanimate object, and the obligatory "Don't you dare scratch up my automail!" from Winry.)
Ed's frustrations were exacerbated by the opening of the metal shutter on the wall, through which 'dinner' came on ugly metal trays, passed through the portal by an uglier woman who wore a mask over her nose and mouth and seemed unwilling to touch Mr. Ouvert, the one who took the trays from her and passed them around. The closing of the metal shutter gave a too-loud sound like prison bars clanging, and, combined with the unhealthy fluorescent light on everyone's faces, the sense of being trapped seemed to increase and compound.
No one slept that first night.
Gabrielle, being only seven years of age, might have been the exception to this in another circumstance, however it turned out that Gabrielle "didn't feel good" and she came off of her top bunk to sleep next to her parents. But Ed, Al, and Winry didn't know that until morning (or rather, when all the fluorescents spontaneously flickered on). Gabrielle slept despite the lights being on and when her mom tried to rouse her, she just rolled over an mumbled a little. And as if that wasn't proof enough, the brights lights made it obvious (when you knew what you were looking for) that the color of her hair near her scalp was almost black, whereas the rest of her head was chestnut. Thirdly (and this was most subtle), Gabrielle's skin wasn't pale as a sick child's would be, but rather she appeared tanned and almost healthy.
"I knew it," Mrs. Ouvert hissed at her husband, keeping her voice low so as not to alarm any of the children or teenagers present. "We should have done something earlier—then this wouldn't have happened."
"She's resilient," Mr. Ouvert argued back as he tucked Gabrielle back under the thin, slate gray, hospitallike blanket. "She'll be fine and so will we."
"What's the rate of survival for this fever?" asked Mrs. Ouvert as she opened up the suitcase she'd brought along.
"I've heard eighty-five, ninety..." he responded softly. When Mrs. Ouvert got out some clothes and started changing, Mr. Ouvert glared at Ed and Al until they realized what he wanted and turned away pointedly (they hadn't been looking in the first place).
"Eighty percent, Alec, don't sugarcoat it for my sake," Mrs. Ouvert snapped. "What happens to Gabby if we don't make it, huh?"
"Mom will take care of her."
"Yours or mine?"
"Either."
"And what if they get the fever too? Our mothers aren't young any more, and neither is my father."
"Richard can take her."
"Your brother is a serial goldfish murderer, you think he can raise a child?"
"He'll rise to the occasion. This is all a hypothetical anyway. You think you, me, both our moms, and your dad are going to die? That's way less than 80% survival."
"You're just bringing that up because you've lost the argument and you know it."
Ed nudged Al and leaned in. "I hope my wife is never that shrill with me."
Al glanced at the upper bunk in response.
"Oh, don't even go there," Ed said before Al could start. "It's not like that anyway."
Al raised his eyebrows and didn't say anything.
"Well, look who's talking," said Ed, reaching for Luna's necklace and yanking on it to make it clear what he was talking about.
"Why are you getting so defensive?" asked Winry from the upper bunk. She had been listening the whole time. "It's kind of pathetic, Ed. You suck at keeping secrets."
"Is it a secret?" Al asked in joking surprise.
"Is it?" Winry asked seriously as she hopped down from her bunk.
Ed held up his hands. "Why are you both looking at me as if I know the answer?"
"Sounds like something you should have discussed with her," said Mr. Ouvert helpfully, in response to which Ed groaned loudly.
"He hates being told what to do by his elders," Al explained to Mr. Ouvert's confused and slightly offended expression.
Winry had gathered her clothes from her traveling bag and was preparing to step behind the curtain to shower, but she seemed to change her mind before she got that far. "No," she said suddenly. "I don't feel like having a discussion about it." She yanked Ed closer by his wrist (not hard to do given the small size of the room) and mashed her lips to his before he had a chance to react.
"There," she announced. "Problem solved. Does that answer your questions, Al?" She disappeared behind the curtain without waiting for a response.
"Okay then," said Al as Ed stared at the now-closed curtain in a kind of daze as if unsure whether to be angry that she'd let the cat out of the bag or, as he was more inclined to do, imagine what she was doing behind the curtain as the water faucet screeched on and her clothes floomphed to the floor.
"That settles that," Al continued. "Brother, stop staring at nothing... and close your mouth."