The Logic of a Child
Chapter 4: We're Only Four Years Old
IMBSA: Hello, hello, here is the next installment of this heavily addicting fanfic that you just can't get enough of. Yes, I know, I'm giving myself airs again.
Disclaimer: "This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting."
IMBSA: Most likely how Uncle Jean felt during and after the last chapter. Oh, and I forgot to make my apologies last chapter: I do not mean to offend people who have lisps or any sort of speech problems. In fact, until relatively recently, I had one myself. I either couldn't say Rs (like Winry) or couldn't say Ls or a combination of both. I can't remember. Anyway, sorry if people were offended. It is all in jest. And we love Havoc, we really do. We just love torturing him more.
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Having as much grace as a giraffe on roller skates, 2nd Lt. Jean Havoc found his last moments on shift ticking away with a (thankfully) short game of hop-scotch. He had to admit it was more difficult than it looked, throwing a coin and then hopping and balancing on one foot, picking up the coin only to hop once more. Maybe because his head was so much farther from the ground then theirs, he didn't know. It felt like some sort of sobriety test than a girlie child's game. With Havoc on his last nerve, he was so elated when his hell-session had come to an end so he could finally take a drag on his cigarettes and curse to his heart's content outside where he had the freedom to do so. Who knew baby-sitting could be so exhausting and stressful?
Taking the girls by the hand, he brought them promptly to Warrant Officer Watteau Falman. Havoc tapped the newspaper that covered the Warrant Officer's face and most of his table. The newspaper shifted and crinkled until finally a thin, white headed, angular face presented itself.
As fast as he possibly could, Falman tried to muster up a decent salute to Havoc. "Girls," Havoc began in an unusually gleeful tone, "this is your Uncle Watteau, and he will be your jump rope and hopscotch buddy this time." The two girls stared wide-eyed at Falman. "Have fun!" Havoc said quickly letting go of their fingers to get a jump on his trip outside. As far as Havoc was concerned he had a date with a cigarette (or so) with freedom calling him loud and clear. He felt as though two huge, heavy leg irons were suddenly removed from his ankles—they were known as Winry and Riza.
"What's your name again?" little Riza asked furrowing her eyebrows.
"Uncle Watteau," he responded, "Wat-teau," he said slowly pronouncing each syllable so they would understand.
"Uncle Waddle, can we finish our game of hop-scotch?" Little Riza asked.
"Sure, go right ahead," Falman said staring at his newspaper, paying no attention to the girls. Winry and Riza both immediately noticed Falman's negligent manner.
"Uncle Waddle, do you want to play hop-scotch, too?" Winry invited sweetly.
"Yeah, you can take Uncle Jean's place," Riza suggested.
"No, that's okay…You girls go ahead," Falman called back to them, still eyeing the paper.
"But it won't be any fun if you don't play, Uncle Waddle," Riza baited.
"Really?" Falman asked trying to sound interested still having his eye on his newspaper.
"Yeah, Uncle Jean wasn't a good player. He kept falling down when he had to hop on one leg," Riza disclosed.
"I know, he kept thwowing his coin past the squawes. Wiza hid it one time, it was funny to see him look for it," Winry explained. They both giggled.
"Uncle Jean is just so slow," Riza remarked and again the girls giggled.
"Well, I'll be," Falman mentioned, still silently reading an article, feigning interest.
It was suddenly and strangely quiet. No comment was being made. Falman raised his head from the article only to be met by four, inquiring eyes, staring intensely at him, almost studying him too closely.
"Uncle Waddle, why is your hair so white?" Riza asked.
"Traumatic instances with children like you," he responded still facing his paper.
"What does that mean?" Winry asked.
"Either that or it's just growing old…."he trailed off once again facing his paper.
"So are you old or is it a traumatic instance?" Riza inquired.
"Possibly both," Falman commented, engrossed in yet another article.
"Uncle Waddle, why awe you so skinny?" Winry asked. Falman had no answer that was appropriate to tell the four year old.
"Uncle Waddle, why do you have hair sticking out of your nose?" Riza observed. Falman decided this was a good question to skip, too.
"What awe you doing?" Winry asked.
"Reading." Falman answered, eyes on the text of the paper he held in his hands.
"Why?" Riza asked.
"Because I love reading," Falman responded. Still no eye contact.
"Why?" Winry asked.
"It's good for you,'" Falman explained, eyes still on the page.
"But why?" Winry questioned.
"Because you can learn from it," Falman disclosed, turning the page to continue reading the article he tried so hard to concentrate on.
"Why?" Winry interrogated.
Falman knew there would be no end to their incessant questioning. He finally put his paper down.
"Tell you what, why don't you ladies draw. Do you like drawing?" he asked, looking at the two girls for just the second time under his watch.
"Yes, I love to," Winry smiled brightly at a new activity.
"Yeah!" Riza answered excitedly.
Falman pulled out a few sheets of paper and some pencils and a fat, black crayon. The delighted girls stayed by his feet and began their works of art. 'This is perfect,' Falman told himself. He would not be caught dead jumping rope, nor hopping on one foot like an idiot. He wouldn't even have to chase them. After a few short minutes making sure they had an ample amount of pencils (broken leads could put his plan in disarray) he placed all the supplies on the floor for their easy reach. 'You're a genius, Watteau, a sheer genius!' With the girls totally engaged in their works of art, he returned to reading his paper.
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"Sir?" Falman approached Roy's desk in a salute.
"Yes, Falman?"
"We have a situation, sir,"
"Situation?"
"Yes, sir of an apparent vandalism sir."
"Vandalism?"
"Y-yes sir…But we caught the perpetrators, sir."
"Perpetrators?"
"Yes, the two had resisted apprehension and tried to shoot me sir,"
"Shoot you?"
"Yes, sir. But we were able to thwart them and confiscated their pistols."
"Pistols?"
"Yes, sir. We caught them before they were able to do anymore damage,"
"Damage?"
"Yes sir, at approximately 10 hundred hours sir, the two were in cahoots maliciously marking the floor and desks, sir. They defiantly resisted and with some difficultly we were able to restrain the two guilty parties, sir."
"Two guilty parties?"
"Yes, sir, both are blonde, one blue eyed, the other brown eyed, stand about
three feet tall,"
"What kind of pistols were these, Falman?"
"They were sleek, black---"
"Water pistols?"
"Yes sir," Falman admitted embarrassedly as he placed the weapons in Roy's outstretched hand.
Roy rolled his eyes, placed the pistols on his desk then ran his free hand through his hair. He got up and both he and Falman walked towards the Warrant Officer's desk. The two perpetrators as it were, stood guiltily, yet defiantly by Breda, who was none too happy having to keep an eye on them. It was obvious the two had been crying as sniffling noses indicated. Papers with pencil drawings were littered on the floor by Falman's desk. Then Roy saw the black crayon drawings on the front and sides of the nearby tables.
"I wasn't standing on the desk this time, Uncle Roy," Riza disclosed.
"He said we could put ouw dwawings on the desks," Winry charged.
"NO, I meant you could put the drawings you made on paper on the desks." Falman broke in.
"You didn't specify," Riza accused.
"We' only fow yeaws ode," Winry reminded. As if it needed to be stated again.
After a short deliberation, Roy came up with a solution. "Falman, you get a bucket, soap, three scrub brushes—"
"Three scrub brushes, sir?"
"Three scrub brushes," Roy repeated, "and help the vandals clean up the drawings. I want it spotless by the time your shift is over. That means no playing around. After that, nap time for you two!" Roy eyed the two youngsters sternly.
"But I already took a nap, Uncle Roy!" Riza informed him, running desperately after the Colonel as he made his way back to his work.
"You're going to take another one."
"But—"
"Riza, don't you think you've caused enough trouble for this hour? We all have work to do and we can't do it if we're distracted by your antics, no matter how amusing they are. You're going to take a nap, and that's that."
Riza stared up at him for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, Uncle Roy," she said, shoulders slumping as she turned away to help Winry and Falman. Somehow she didn't like disappointing Uncle Roy.
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For the second time that day, the door was thrown open so forcefully, it banged against the wall. Once again, Armstrong stood behind it. The girls stirred but did not awake. "Sir," He saluted and then approached the desk, eyeing the two girls sleeping on the couch with a look that practically screamed 'THE CUTENESS OVERWHELMS ME!' He continued in a whisper, "I bring good news. Edward is up and about. We have acquired a set of crutches from the nearby hospital."
"Couldn't you just go to the infirmary?" Roy asked.
Pause. "They would not have fit him, sir."
"They're adjustable, aren't they?"
Another pause. "They still would not have fit him."
"Oh goody, something else to bring up the next time I see him."
"He is wondering if he could perhaps check on Miss Winry and stay the rest of the day with her."
"Maybe Breda could use the help."
"Me sir? No sir. They're out." "Uncle Heymans" answered referring to the two slumbering girls.
"It's when they get up that you need to watch out." Havoc muttered.
"2nd Lieutenant." There was a warning in Roy's voice.
"Yes sir," the smoker answered, turning immediately back to his papers.
"I don't see why not." The Flame said as he turned back to Armstrong. "In fact, I think it's a great idea. Show him in."
"Eh, no need." Ed replied as he hobbled on his new found crutches from behind Armstrong. "I'm already here."
"Which is why I said 'show' instead of 'bring'. Nice crutches, where'd you get 'em?" Roy observed.
"At the hospital."
"Pediatrics?"
"I'll have you know, it was the older Pediatrics Department!"
"What do you consider 'older'? Five, six years?"
"For you, that'll be in dog years!"
"Shrimp."
"Pedophile."
"I'm not a pedophile."
"Oh, right, it's just because she's your 1st Lieutenant, that's why you're so cozy with her." Their voices—all right, just Ed's—grew in volume with each exchange.
"We've already been through this."
Ed went ballistic at Roy's seemingly indifferent and annoyingly calm manner. "And I'll dish it out again! Right here, right now, Mustang!"
"Um," Armstrong tried to be polite, yet there was urgency in what he had to say. "I believe you have awoken the sleeping beauties." He pointed. Roy and Ed followed his finger to see Winry and Riza gazing drowsily in their direction. Suddenly, Riza's stomach grumbled.
She patted it and then looked back up at the men. "I'm hungry." She told them.
"Me toooo!" Winry chirped, stopping when she saw Ed. She smiled widely and, copying Riza's earlier action (albeit inadvertently), jumped off the back of the couch, colliding solidly with Ed's chest. "Tall, tall Ed!" She almost shrieked. Ed had let go of his crutches when he saw that the girl was in the air in order to catch her. That, of course, meant that he was only supported by his one whole foot. The force of the impact caused him to go off balance and begin to fall.
"Winry! Crutches!" Ed yelled before he fell heavily to the ground, Winry cushioned on his chest. Then Winry saw Armstrong.
"Teddy-sama!" She yelled and immediately launched herself in the air from Ed's chest towards him.
"Winry, my dear, come to your uncle!" He exclaimed, arms out for the small girl. The big alchemist caught and held her to his chest, sparkles abounding.
However contented Winry seemed to be, Riza was not. "I said, I'm HUNGRY!" She yelled.
"Is she always this demanding, sir?" Havoc questioned Roy, double meaning subtly placed in his words.
"You have no ide—hey!" Roy caught himself, a little too late. "Let's get them something to eat."
"I have candy bars." Fury offered, hand searching in one of his desk drawers.
"No candy, no." Roy commanded.
Riza perked up. "Candy?"
"No candy." Roy repeated. Riza sighed heavily and put on her best puppy-dog eyes for Fury. Cain struggled all of two seconds before nodding and mouthing the word 'Later' to her. Riza smiled. Another one wrapped around her fingers.
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IMBSA: I can't tell who's more manipulative; Roy or Riza? They're perfect together! Heh. What can I say, I'm a psychotic fangirl. Poor Ed. Poor Falman. Poor everyone, pretty much. Who said I wasn't a sadist::smiles evilly: Thanks for the good reviews, all of you! R&R!
AnimeFreaks13: We rather liked Chapter 3 too. But you know, Havoc was asking for it. He was mean to her first. I mean, yeah, sure, she was like, "I don't want you; give me my Uncle Roy", but, you know, she was effing scared. And he got angry at her. I could list off errors on both parties, but I'll spare you that. Oh, Ed'll be able to get around, don't worry. I could just see Winry taking his foot apart as he's snoring on the couch. Shows them what'll happen if they don't keep the four year olds occupied.
You're absolutely right. We understand, we're just got a bit spoiled (much like Riza) on some of our other fanfics where we would get around 20 reviews within two days of posting. Long ones too. But we're getting used to it. And you're right. We haven't been flamed, and we are very thankful.
Crazyanimefreak15: We loved writing Armstrong, 'cause he is just so effing awesome. RANDOM SPARKLES! Riza's reaction ("SHINY!") would have been mine as well, even though I'm waaaaaaaaay older than her.
Az4ever: We know the "romance" we promised is very low, but you know, they're kids. Like Roy said, "…a bit freaky in a Freudian sort of way." But I understand what you mean. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that'll be a few chapters yet. So hang on. And good to see that you liked it!
C.A.M.E.O.1 and Only: Hell, never underestimate a four year old period. And never piss of little girls. :voice drops to whisper: They have magic powers. :nod nod:
Butterfly-grl4: The same pairings are mine too. I love both of them (though Royai wins by a loooooooooong shot)!
BLADE ASSIN: Oh, rest assured. We have no intention of abandoning this story in the middle of it. In fact, we're almost done writing it. Now, we just have to wait for the time to post.
Invisible johnny: GAH::shelters: I'm sorry about Second Chances! It's all KAHBG's fault! She hasn't mailed it to me yet! WAH! Don't hurt me::cringes: Well onto the response: As you may have gathered, it's only slight romance since Roy is NOT a pedophile, and I have no inclination into making him into one. For Ed it's a bit easier to be close to Winry since they already know each other and she recognized him. It's still kinda wring for him, but not as bad as Riza and Roy while Riza is still a tender child. I'm glad you like my writing enough to read my other stuff. The warm fuzzies are enveloping me….I'm also happy that the lack of true romantic fluff 'n' stuff won't stop you from reading. Havoc is an unfortunate soul even without the girls. Poor guy, all he wants is a girlfriend. Thanks for the review and the encouragement and the compliments and—well, thanks for everything::huggles:
Pichu172B: Poor, poor Havoc. But you have to admit it was damn funny. :pats Havoc's head: What he suffers for humor.
HarryPottergrl19: Warms my heart to see you liking it!
Tsunade-chan: Armstrong is just…so cuddly. The reason we refer to him as Teddy-sama is that I called him that when I was describing him to my mom. I said pretty much the same thing Ed said to Winry to my mom. Thus: his name. We also thought he'd be the same as Hughes for some inexplicable reason. We can't tell you who'll be their next victim; you'll just have to find out for yourself.
Maylin-chan: Well, yeah, it would be funny. But people are already assuming that Roy is a pedophile even when there's nothing blatant like that in the story. So, thanks, but no. It's funny, to be sure, but a bit weird. Besides, we already have pretty much the whole story already written, and it's already walking on a thin line as it is as far as plot goes. Thanks for the review!
Don't know: We know it's messed up. 'S why we wrote it. We love the not-so-playful banter they get into.
The warm fuzzies are growing very numerous in number in fact I'm—:gets drowned in warm fuzzies: