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She could hear him coming.
His footsteps were loud, but casual. The sound of confidence was apparent in each stride, and it made her body shake in fear.
Winry could envision the smirk plastered on his pale skin. She could see the dark need in his eyes before they ever came into view, and her knowing made her even more frightened.
The thought of this encounter made her sick. She could feel something burning at the back of her throat, the clenching within her insides, and the stony aftermath of each muscle's flinch.
He was close, so very close, and she wanted to scream. She wanted to call out for someone, anyone, but no one could hear her in the depths of the earth. No one would find her buried underground, far away from all that was considered safe. The steps went silent, and she knew he was there. The blackness of the hall hid him, but she could feel his presence; sense his eyes undressing her as she stood immobile.
"Hello, my darling lotus."
She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry out the name of any creature, man or not, that could save her from this hell.
He crept towards her, and little by little the flames illuminated his features, making Winry gasp.
It was Kimblee, but never had she seen him in such a state. He was younger; his eyes held a wildness that she never saw before, and he was covered in blood. His smile was cynical, and it twisted so deeply, it looked inhuman. She couldn't keep her face from contorting. It was ghastly, no, horrific, the way he stared. His hands hadn't touched her, but she felt violated.
He moved closer, and the dark room transfigured into the darkness of the night. He grabbed her, held her by her hair, and his laugh was so venomous that she could not stop herself from crying.
There was a man calling out for her, but he was saying a name that was not her own. He was inside of a carriage, his eyes shined like crystals as the glow of fire highlighted his tears. Kimblee's hands traced the length of her neck, and something swiped across.
It happened too fast for her to make any response. She simply fell, watching as this man cried out for her, hearing Kimblee's laughter echoing as she drifted in and out of blackness.
"My baby.."
"Please, my baby.."
"….Winry."
Something bright shined into her eyes. She winced at it, covered her face, but she couldn't hide from it. Strange, she thought, her candle never shined so intensely.
She peeked through a veil of her hair and was faced with the vision of tall and twisting trees that reached towards the sky. The airy sound of birds singing a good morning song whispered through the leaves, sweetly waking the forest with its soft melody. Sitting up quickly, she wiped away the morning dew that moistened her skin. She found herself nestled in between the roots of a large tree, and smiled.
It was a dream. A strange, confusing, and not real dream.
Winry let out a shaky breath. She wasn't in the hollow underground, she wasn't going to have to face Kimblee, she was far away and, for now, was safe.
Rubbing her arms absentmindedly, she looked about the area, taking in the colors of the forest. The blues, browns, and greens were all so captivating to her.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a splash of gold and looked to it.
It was Edward, slumped against the very same tree. His hair was tousled and falling out of the braid he kept it in. His mouth was hanging open, making his snoring more audible. The sight was quite comical, and Winry giggled at it. She moved to him and shook him lightly, and he whined and twisted his body in response. Sighing, she moved closer and placed her hands on his shoulders.
"Edward," she whispered in a sing-song tone. "Wake up, sleepyhead."
He moaned and squirmed and whined once more, but his eyes opened. The warm, speckled colors of his irises caused Winry to realize just how close she was to him. His face flushed and she squeaked, quickly bouncing away from him.
There was a moment of silence, but Winry quickly composed herself and smiled.
"Good morning," she said, and Ed nodded in response, his cheeks still a noticeable shade of pink.
Looking at him now, and remembering how she had cried in his arms, made Winry's mind feeling quite muddled. Aside from the sheer embarrassment she felt, she was terrified that, now that everything had settled in, he might change his mind about what he said.
"You're safe with me, I promise."
Did he really mean that? Did he honestly believe he could help her, even save her? Logically, she wasn't sure it could be done.
The sound of shuffling pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked to see Edward standing, his gloved hand held out for hers to take.
"Come on," he grumbled, running his free hand over his face. "Let's get going. We've got some ground to cover today."
Winry blinked and silently abided. He pulled her up with ease, and their eyes lingered on one another as she gained balance; searching for something, but what they weren't quite sure.
"Edward," she finally said, letting go of him. "Thank you so much, for everything, but I can't ask you to risk your safety for my own. It's selfish to-"
"Hold your damn tongue."
Winry was stunned into silence. The sternness in his tone was surprising, but, despite his words being so harsh and his expression being rather ferocious, she could sense that he meant no harm.
"You really expect me to leave you behind after you forced me to bring you along, and after all of that happened?" He crossed his arms and his brow crinkled deeper. "Like Hell I'm doing that."
Her lip quivered, and she smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, it was foolish to say."
"Damn right," he said, gifting her a smirk back. "Besides, you owe me one."
Winry chuckled and placed her hands on her hips. "How so?"
He uncrossed his arms and placed him behind his head, leaning into a more comfortable stance. "You lost my watch, so you have to help me find another relic with amplified alchemic properties. By the way, it's not easy."
Winry's jaw dropped, and Ed laughed as he began to walk off. She hurried behind, contemplating what he had said.
That watch had alchemic properties, so that meant it was used for alchemy. Is that what he was doing when clapped his hands: alchemy? She could remember tomes on the subject nestled in Kimblee's room. She was forbidden to read such things; he told her the studies were impure and impractical. She believed that to be so when she was naive enough to believe that Kimblee had her best interests at heart, but now did she think differently? She analyzed Edward for a moment and decided that she did.
That didn't explain to her, however, the need for that watch. She didn't know anything about alchemy, but from what she had witnessed of Edward, he seemed to have a good understanding of it, or at least that's how it looked. Just what in the world did he need such a thing for? Why would he want to amplify his alchemy?
She remembered his responses to her questions in the underground fortress. He said he went through hell to get it, but why? Would it be rude to ask? Would he get defensive?
She then remembered all that she had shared with him. If she could tell him of all that horror, then he should at least be able to confide in her this simple thing.
She stopped, and after a moment, he stopped, too.
"You okay?" he asked over his shoulder.
She stared for a moment at him, her fists clenched tightly.
"Edward," she began. "Why did you want that watch so badly?"
His face dropped, and Winry's blood felt like broken glass pulsing through her veins.
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Roy stopped in front of the ominous gates, his teeth clenched together tightly. It had been years, no, decades since he'd seen this place. He didn't ever want to come back, but sometimes life doesn't always allow a person's wants to be realized.
He walked forward and past through the opening for the mercenary hideaway. He hoped that the layout of the place was still the same, but as he thought about it, he doubted it would ever change. Hired killers weren't much for architecture or design. What he was worried most about was if the people changed, or more importantly, if the person we were looking for was still alive.
The bar was still the focal point of this run-down fort. Looking at it made him think of when he was young, listening to the tales of how this once military base was taken over by murderers and thieves.
More like ransacked and pillaged, he thought and entered the small vicinity.
As he had seen many years ago, the place was alive with criminals of every trade, blundering around as they drank, fought, gambled, or acquired partners for sins of the flesh. He could remember being a young boy, running around and through the legs of men and women, hungry for the other's touch. How he wasn't scarred by these things as a child, he'll never know.
"Hello, Roy," a gruff voice muttered, a voice that Roy hadn't heard in so long, he nearly forgot how much he actually missed it.
"Hello, Madame," he smiled, and it was honest.
The hefty woman eyed him up and down, then smirked as she gestured for him to follow her to the bar. He obeyed, and sat on a secluded stool.
"Are you still a rum man?" she asked, already pouring a glass of thick, dark vice.
Roy licked his lips, but held his hand up in protest. "I can't right now, Madame. I'm not here for pleasure."
The woman passed him the glass anyway, her thick hands rested against the top of the bar. "When you come to visit me, it better not be for business. It's been ten years, Roy. Don't think I haven't been counting."
Guilt hit the man hard, and he took the drink. He wasted no time indulging in the crisp, sense-killing taste. Wine could never quench his thirst for such a flavor. He moved the glass back to the woman, and she filled it again, leaning towards him as she slid it back to his open hand.
"What brings you in, Son?" she asked, her dark eyes searching for the answer as he took another deep drink.
He placed the glass down. "I'm looking for someone, off duty."
She nodded in understanding and scanned the room in seconds. "Who might it be?"
"Must you ask?" he said softly, and she smirked.
"Walk past the staircase, table under the loft," she answered. "Watch yourself. You haven't been around for a long time, and if someone recognizes that uniform, I don't want blood staining my floor."
A smug smile took over his mouth as he stood. "I assure you, you needn't worry about my blood being spilled."
He moved in the direction that the madame suggested, earning grunts and grimaces from the criminals surrounding him. He chose to ignore these things, however. Even if he was a master of flame alchemy, he wasn't fool enough to think he could take these men on without destroying everything and everyone within the vicinity.
He reached the steps but was stopped by a large brute.
A swarm of outlaws, hungry for a fight, began to surround the two, teeth bared and weapons raised. Roy took in the sight of them and groaned.
"I'm not in the position to fight all of you at once," he stated, earning chuckles and hoots from the motley looking crew. "So, if you value your lives, sit back down and carry on about your night."
The crowd broke into a laughing frenzy, and an enormous finger shoved at Roy's chest.
"You don't belong here." the large man grunted.
Roy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose lightly. "Go on and swing, I'm not in the mood for a monologue."
The man growled, and a mighty fist made its way towards Mustang's face. He ducked low, and swung hard into his knee, successfully damaging the joint and throwing the man off balance. Roy came back up swiftly and threw an uppercut into his jaw, then, balling both fists together to increase momentum, threw an elbow into his temple. The giant lost consciousness, and the other criminals watched with wide eyes as his massive head bounced off the wooden floor.
Roy stretched his shoulders unenthusiastically and massaged his fist. "Man, I'm rusty. That guy's jaw nearly broke a finger."
"Bastard!" a criminal growled and lunged at him.
The thought of snapping his fingers almost crossed his mind, but an arrow shot at the attacker, successfully scraping the tip of his nose, and hitting an inked face on one of the many wanted signs hanging by the doorway of the building.
Roy glanced at the arrow, not bothering to hide his large grin. "Your aim is too far right."
A hooded figure walked to his side, a bow in hand.
"I meant to aim right," the figure stated. "The man in the sign only has one eye."
He nodded in understanding and turned his attention to the cloaked savior.
"It's been too long, Riza," he whispered, but the figure made no response.
"Knock off the damn squabbling!" the madame finally shouted. "Or I'll throw all of you out!"
The crowd calmed, and the hooded figure, or Riza, began to walk toward a secluded space behind the tavern's central staircase. "Join me."
The table was hidden by the lack of lighting. Riza's cloak blended well with the shadows. As Roy sat down, he felt as though he looked to be sitting by himself. That was fine with him; he wanted this conversation to be as low key as possible.
"Why," Riza began, their usually controlled, emotionless voice wavered as they spoke. "Why are you back?"
He stared hard at the darkness, imagining the burning light of their ruby eyes. It had been too long since he looked at them.
"I need your help," he confessed, and his fingers laced together atop the table.
It was silent between them. An intensity brewed in the air around them, thick with an electric reaction as their bodies took in the sight, sound, and smell of the other.
"Start talking," they ordered.
Roy fiddled with his thumbs as he stared at nothing.
"I'm sure you know the 'Fullmetal Bandit'?" he asked, and Riza hummed in agreement.
"A talented young alchemist; reminds me of you," they replied.
Roy didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. "Well, I'm on the hunt for him."
A single, small chuckle escaped from their throat.
"Why would you be chasing after him?" they asked, intrigued and humored. "He's a harmless thief; hardly the kind of criminal a general needs to worry about."
Roy leaned into his hands, his fingers masked the entirety of his face, except for his eyes.
"He has something, or someone, of great value to the queen," he whispered.
"Someone?"
If he still knew Riza as he had in his youth, their pupils were most likely dilating over the statement. He hoped their curiosity would pull the archer to his plans. He hoped he could still rope them in.
"Yes," he answered, and leaned in close to the dark. "If I'm right, I do believe there is still a living heir to the Resembool throne."
He half expected them to gasp, but saddened when he remembered that Riza held a steely disposition. He should know they wouldn't show surprise; their emotions were as camouflaged as they were now in the dark.
"I see," was all they said.
He stayed leaned in, peering at the darkness. He wanted to reach out a hand to them, to pull the darkness away from their body.
"I need you to help me track him," he whispered, lightly squirming as his ribs dug into the wood of the table. "I must capture him at all costs; dead or alive."
The darkness tensed, and their breath warmed the bridge of his nose.
"I won't kill him," they stated.
"I never asked you to," he replied.
Hir breathing was steady, and the warmth of each exhale that touched his skin was intoxicating. He had almost forgotten how much this one person affected him.
"You know I can't say 'no' to you," Riza sighed, as they moved away, and Roy began to feel cold without them near.
"I'll pay you handsomely," he offered, and the darkness tensed again.
"How dare you?" they growled, and his stomach twisted. "I don't want your money."
He knew where this would lead, but feigned ignorance. "I can't ask of you this favor without proper payment, Riza."
"Don't you dare pretend to forget," they warned. "You saved my life, Roy. I'm in your debt."
Roy cleared his throat and pulled away from them. His body fought him back, however, moving much slower than his brain signaled.
"You owe me nothing," he confessed. "That was a payment to your elder. I couldn't let you be- I owed him that."
"Your debt to my elder died along with him," Riza corrected, but their voice suddenly softened. "I am here today, because of you. I owe you everything that I am."
Their words startled him, ignited something within him that he thought died so many years ago.
Riza removed the dark and heavy hood, revealing golden hair and irises of fire. No wonder he was so mesmerized by the flame; it mirrored the archer's eyes so perfectly.
"My life is yours, Roy," Riza whispered, and he couldn't pull away from the flames. "I'd follow you into Hell if you asked."
And into Hell, they would go, he thought, but at least they'd be together.
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Edward wasn't expecting this. At least, not so soon.
His heart was racing far too fast. He felt like a child that had been caught doing something naughty, baring the look of terror before his punishment began.
Winry looked frightened, too, and he berated himself for stalling.
"I'm sorry," she stammered, shaking her head and hands before him. "I shouldn't have asked."
"No," he stated, and began to take deep breaths. "It's okay."
Winry moved to comfort him but hesitated. He didn't notice, however, as he was focusing on where to start, how to tell her, whether or not he should tell her every detail, and, finally, if this was a good idea in the first place. He told himself to stop fretting, that he owed her the truth after everything she told him; equivalent exchange, after all.
He sat where he stood, and Winry moved over to him, kneeling beside him.
"When I was a kid, I lived in a little cottage with my family," he began. "It was just me, my mom and brother, and I couldn't have ever wanted more than that."
The memory of his mother's garden and playing in the field by their home made his heart grow heavy.
"Al, my brother, and I used to practice alchemy, and our mother would encourage us, say we had a talent no one else had. We loved the attention and practiced every chance we had. Our mother was our world. We wanted nothing, but to make her happy."
His teeth clenched, and his eyebrows twisted together.
"One night, in the summer, we were practicing a complex transmutation. We wanted -hmph- well, we never knew our father, and she never said anything, but we knew she missed him. I don't know what happened to him. I think he left one day, and never came back."
He remembered creeping out of his room late at night and peaking into the living area to see his mother staring out at the darkness with a torch-lit in the window.
"We tried to make a sign in the sky. We wanted to help guide him home."
An empty feeling hit his stomach, and a numbness flooded his nerves. He cleared his throat and continued.
"But it backfired. The array went off inside our home, we were so stupid. Mother caught us, but not fast enough."
He remembered the fire; the sparks blinding him, the sounds of explosions deafening him.
"She used her own body to protect us, but I was the only one that came out okay. Alphonse's body was injured far behind repair. He couldn't move, could barely talk, and now he's fallen into some kind of sleep that he can't wake from. I wanted the watch, so I could fix him."
He remembered how much Al looked like their mother before the accident.
"I just want to see him smile again."
He let out a shaky exhale and felt something wet hit his shoulder before being engulfed in a tight hug. It took him by surprise, and he wasn't sure if he should hug her back or not.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "That's so awful. I-I wish I hadn't been so careless."
"It's… not your fault," he muttered, and rested an arm around her.
There was a pregnant pause as Winry tried to stifle her whimpers. She pulled away, wiping at her wet cheeks with her small knuckles. She sniffed, and suddenly, her eyes grew wide.
"Maybe," she began, trying to formulate the words as she spoke. "Maybe I can do it."
Ed didn't comprehend what she was trying to say. "Do what?"
She deadpanned. "Heal your brother, dummy!"
"Hey!" he shouted defensively, then her words sunk in. "Hey…"
"I think I can do it," she confirmed, placing a hand on his knee. "I mean, I healed you, and I heal myself without even thinking."
He stared at the ground stupefied. Could it be that she could be the prize of his journey? Could she really help him? He thought of her power, and the possibility made his heart race.
But he thought of the man who used her, who harmed her for baring such a gift, and he grew hesitant.
"Winry," he said. "I-it would be amazing, but… I don't want to use you."
Winry tilted her head inquisitively.
"You can't use me if I offer to help," she told him.
This statement changed everything.
"Winry," he said, staring boldly into her eyes. "If you did this for him… It would mean everything to me. I would forever be in your debt."
The girl sniggered and smiled softly. "Oh, I know. I plan on using that to my advantage."
He paid no heed to the sly remark, for he was far too focused on the fact that she was going to help him heal his brother. His heart was in his throat, his grin grew wide and he hugged her fiercely.
"Winry, if I believed in miracles, you'd damn-well be one!" he exclaimed, and she laughed as she hugged him back tightly.
When the excitement settled, they got to their feet and began walking once again. The sun was high, and they had the rest of the day to reach what he believed would be a safe resting point. Despite being a cautious mind, Edward couldn't stop the adrenaline pulsing through him as he thought of returning to his brother.
She skipped along beside him, still gasping and awing over the little wonders of the world. He thought he was going wet himself when she saw her first dragonfly, swatting and wailing at it like a frightened toddler. When he buckled over from laughter, she stamped her foot and bubbled her cheeks, as she had done before, but eventually began to giggle as well. To think, not even a day ago he wanted to be rid of Winry, and now he couldn't imagine going home without her.
The journey back was still long, but he was ready to face it; so long as she was with him.
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She wasn't there.
He tore through every room, ripped apart every object possible of hiding her away, but she was gone.
"WINRYYY!" He screeched, his vocal cords nearly ripping. "COME OUT, COME OUT!"
But there was no response. Only the sounds of a mad man screaming into blackness.
The little brat, he thought. Somehow, that damned little princess got away. His nails cut the palms of his hands as snarled and spat wildly. He roared as he took a vial of his lotus' blood and destroyed the tunnels of the underground fortress. He laughed a high, cold laugh as he watched the earth around him crumble, running only when the tunnel dared to take him with it.
He stormed out into the sunlight, and his fury returned. He breathed deeply and wildly, but paused when he caught a strange scent. It was as if his mind had turned primal, for he ran through the forest like a wild animal, smelling the air with fervent need. He stopped near a steep drop of mud and rocks, and near a collection of sharpened pieces, sat a small ruby-colored pebble. He clawed his way down to it and hovered over the gem of Winry's blood like a predator would to its prey. He inhaled deeply and smiled a wicked smile.
"You may be gone," he muttered, licking his lips hungrily. "But I will find you."
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A/N: Hawkeye is non-binary in this fic. Why? Cause non-binary people are cool and Riza is cool.