"Ms. Rockbell."
So formal for a man who had kissed her and asked her to reconsider leaving Amestris for him, she mused. Captain Buccaneer rose to his feet, smoothing his palms over his cobalt slacks, and inclining his head in her direction. The length of his braided Mohawk hung over one shoulder, not a hair out of place. His mustache had grown a little longer since she'd last seen him — then was struck by the realization of how that had been only a couple months ago. So much had happened in so little time...In a matter of weeks, if she were to be blunt about it. Then it came to her, the question that by all means should have happened first:
"Why are you here?"
"You wear these Eastern fashions well," he evaded instead, his eyes traversing over her clothes.
She flushed; she was still dressed in her clothes from Glam Gas Land. It was the same brown bustier and chest harness, but today they were over a white collared shirt that she had left open at the neck. Her blonde hair was braided flat to her scalp on one side of her head, then fell loosely around her shoulders. A pair of brown goggles held her bangs away from her face. It was a far cry from his crisp, clean military uniform.
"Just blending in," she answered, dropping her bag on the floor.
"Is that so?"
He didn't hide his skepticism. Winry paused, mentally leaping through the hoops of how dangerous it would be to tell him where she had been.
"I was on vacation in Saherta. It's a more eccentric place than here," Winry said. Then she added, with a tug at the collar of her own shirt, "You can make yourself more comfortable."
"Dr. Hirano said you had left for work."
His eyes were sharp as he watched her push her bag into a corner with her foot. He didn't take her up on the offer to take off his uniform top, which didn't bode well either. Then an unnerving possibility came to mind—
Scar.
Perhaps he didn't know the details, but he — the military — might have suspicions. Scar had vanished the same time she left Amestris with Illumi, who had certainly stood out in a place like Central. The history between her family and Scar was also thinly veiled at best.
She kept her mask in place, controlling her breathing.
"Some confusion on the good doctor's part then," Winry said, giving the smallest hint of a smile. "It was for pleasure, not work."
"I wish I could say I was here for pleasure, Ms. Rockbell."
With careful control over her facial expression, she furrowed her brows and let the corners of her lips turn downward so slightly. He was still addressing her formally, keeping his uniform top on, looking for the flaws in her story. So then this was about Scar. Perhaps she didn't give the soldiers of Amestris enough credit.
"Why are you here then?" she asked, then raised a hand to her lips. "Did something happen to Ed and Al?"
Buccaneer advanced a pace closer, and put the heels of his boots together, squaring his shoulders. Her suspicions about Scar were suddenly a fleeting memory, and Winry felt her lower lip tremble in earnest. He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform and drew out a kerchief, then held it out in offering. The folded kerchief glared at her from his open palms, one gleaming automail. She abstractly noticed the diamond tips as she reached out to take the bundle.
Its weight caught her off-guard.
She drew back the corner to look at the pipe wrapped inside, and felt her throat close.
Winry whirled away from him, bringing her fist down on the desk behind her. Barely even conscious that she did it, she focused her Nen into her hand and the blow smashed through the wood. Its legs buckled from the force, and the desk crashed to the ground. Behind her, she heard Buccaneer saying her name, but he sounded so far away and the pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud. She wasn't even aware of what she hit next. Her vision was a blur of colors. Buccaneer closed an arm around her to restrain her, but she clamped her hand on him. She heard him let out a cry. His hold dropped away, but only for a moment. The wind was knocked out of her as he pushed her against a wall, then cornered her with his body to keep her there. Winry sobbed as she beat at his chest until he managed to seize both her wrists.
"Ms. Rockbell—Winry!"
Restrained, the pain in her chest all-encompassing, she gave a piercing keen of anguish before she collapsed against him, crying.
She wept until exhaustion claimed her, and when she awoke again Buccaneer was still there — and Dr. Hirano with him. Winry's bleary eyes roved her room from her bed in silence, taking in the destruction she'd caused. Her desk was beyond repair, the doors of the hallway closet were broken from their hinges, and holes littered the walls.
Buccaneer was in even worse shape. He sat shirtless in a chair across from the foot of her bed, his chest swathed in bandages. What little flesh she could see was a startling hue of nightshade aubergine. His automail arm was severed just below the elbow joint.
"Winry," Dr. Hirano greeted her, avoiding meeting her eyes. "I've given you a mild sedative. How do you feel otherwise?"
Numb. Which was likely for the best. Her eyes ached. Her hands ached. Her heart ached.
"When did she die?" Winry asked instead, turning her eyes to the Captain.
Dr. Hirano cut in, "I don't think that this is the time—"
"A few weeks after you left." Buccaneer said, not backing down from her stare the way Dr. Hirano had. "The Elric brothers handled her affairs in your stead."
"Why didn't they come to tell me?"
Dr. Hirano threw her hands up in the air in defeat. Buccaneer was unperturbed by her.
"Alphonse's health has improved, he's gained weight, but he's still in no condition for a voyage across the sea. The other—" There was the slightest purse to his mouth. "—didn't believe you would want to see him."
Edward would have been right, too.
"If she needs more medication, this is my extension," Dr. Hirano said, handing Buccaneer a slip of paper. She gave Winry a sideways glance before gathering her medical bag. "I apologize that I couldn't repair your arm, Mr. Buccaneer."
"It's fine, Doctor." His gaze hadn't wavered from her. "Winry will fix it."
The doctor let her eyes flicker between the two of them before letting herself out of Winry's quarters, giving one last long, skeptical glance over the damage she had done. When the door snicked shut behind her, Buccaneer abandoned the chair to sit on the foot of her narrow mattress instead.
"It's probably for the best that neither of the Elrics came," he said, not mincing words. "I don't think either one of them would have known what to do with you."
"Probably not," she whispered in agreement.
"What was that?"
She didn't answer, instead sitting up on her elbows. Buccaneer followed her gaze to a cabinet. He stood and crossed to open it, finding a collection of glasses. He filled it with water from the tap and handed it to her. Winry drained it empty.
"Sit," she said instead after he had taken the glass and set it aside. Her mouth still felt dry as the soldier abided by her order, sitting closer to her on the bed than he had before.
Winry climbed out from beneath the sheets clumsily; the sedative was more noticeable now that she was moving. He proved he was still man when he flinched away when she began to peel away the bandages on his chest. Something Uvogin had said echoed in her ears.
"I'm sorry there's nothing on me to fix — I'm all man, not machine."
Well, where was the fun in that?
"What are you doing?" Buccaneer balked as she exposed a wound. The gash was deep, a clean slice that went to the bone. Guilt cut her deeper. "The doctor is going to stitch—"
"That's not necessary," Winry whispered, closing her eyes as she covered the injury with her hand, and felt it sew itself shut under her touch. He pushed her fingers away, eyes dropping to the silvery scar — the only souvenir of what she had done to him. The bruising around it had faded, too.
"What was that?" Buccaneer asked again.
Her vision was going blurry with tears as she ignored his question a second time, peeling back another layer of bandages. The injury was still fresh enough that blood began to trickle from it when she did. He seized her wrists, pushing her hands away from him.
"What was that."
The Captain's tone was a demand, and Winry turned her face away from him to wipe her eyes on the shoulder of her shirt.
"Just—Just let me fix it," she whispered. Begged. "This is my fault, let me fix it."
"Tell me what it is, Winry. This isn't alchemy, is it?"
"It's not," she breathed, looking away. The drugs were robbing her of her resolve and silence. She could feel her words slurring. Damn whoever had thought to send Buccaneer, he was more compelling than Edward could have ever been. "People don't use alchemy here. This is called Nen."
"What's Nen?"
"It's—It's a technique that lets you manipulate aura, your life energy. It can be harnessed, and used. Weaponized."
"And you can..." She nodded. "But you're able to reverse it?"
"Everyone develops a Nen ability that's specific to themselves," she explained, spacing her words so they wouldn't run together. Winry chuckled quietly to herself as she thought of Chrollo; even though his ability was to steal abilities, to do so was still uniquely his. "I can...cut through things, and then bring them back together again."
And she wasn't limited by just flesh anymore either. She had proven that to herself in Glam Gas Land when she had been able to seal the building. Although it had been harder, took more focus, she had been able to do it. She could use her Hatsu on things.
"Is this why you felt like you had to leave? After the Promised Day. Is this why you wouldn't stay?"
"Yes. And no. Please, just let me—"
His grip on her wrists had loosened, and Winry pulled a hand free then covered the bleeding wound before he could protest further. He didn't though, instead watching with invested interest as the bruising around her hand faded. There was another slender scar when she drew away.
"Why would you leave because of this?" Buccaneer asked, watching her with veneration.
"Ed didn't understand."
"Damn good I came in his place then." Winry managed to crack a smile for a moment, then began crying all over again. "I brought your grandmother's things with me."
"You did?" It came out as barely a whisper, but he nodded.
"The Arena has the crates stored in the basement. Whenever you're ready, we'll go through them."
Her gut told her she wouldn't enjoy these crates nearly as much as she had the last.
