Chapter 4

AN:This chapter is pretty rough. Don't read if you have a weak stomach.

Winry had a strange dream. She dreamed she was a child again, seeing alchemy for the first time. This wasn't an unusual occurrence, she dreamed about it often. Even as a teenager, the terrifying vortex of light, the sight of the bodiless face writhing like a condemned soul of hell could still be recalled with stark clarity.

And most of all, Winry remembered the most terrifying aspect of that transmutation. The strange feeling that had swamped her body.

Not quite pain, but definitely not pleasure, she had felt as though her blood was humming. As though every artery, vein and capillary of her body was twisting inside out, her skin crawling as, within her very blood, something reacted.

The transmutation itself had been terrifying, but that feeling, more than anything else, had been what made her scream. She'd felt it then, and felt it every time she witnessed alchemy afterwards.

Winry had adjusted to it, of course. Rather like adjusting to walking with water in a shoe – it was uncomfortable, but not totally debilitating, and she soon learned to get along in spite of it. But every transmutation performed in her presence always felt the same. She'd never seen fit to mention it, she'd just assumed everyone felt the same as she did.

But this time, the dream was different.

Winry screamed and collapsed to the floor, her hands over her eyes. But the floor warped beneath her like a living thing. She screamed again, and tried to crawl away, but the wood against her hands parted like water, and she fell into blackness.

Her arms flailed, and something seared across her right hand. Winry barely had time to register it before she impacted something soft.

The darkness around her wasn't complete. There was a faint light coming from somewhere far above, a dim greenish glow. Winry raised her hand, examining the red weal across her palm. It stung in the air.

As she watched, the skin parted grotesquely, and bright red blood welled to the surface. There was no pain, only a foggy sensation of her flesh tearing. The cut began to tingle, like sherbet on her tongue. Disobeying all laws of gravity, the blood began to float, tiny droplets breaking off from the pool and rising into the air. Winry watched as though mesmerised, enchanted by the red beads. As they rose, the droplets seemed to solidify, turning hard and crystalline...

Winry woke up, and became aware of several things at once. She was lying on her side, resting on a bed in a dimly-lit room. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and her right arm was tingling from having borne her bodyweight for so long. Her head throbbed...and she was feeling nauseous. Extremely nauseous.

Winry rolled, managing to lurch to her feet and stumble to the trashcan in time to regurgitate the contents of her stomach. Spitting into the bin to remove the last of the foul taste, she took stock of her situation.

Her head still hurt, but it had diminished to a dull ache and, after throwing up, her nausea had passed. Her feet were free, but her hands had been secured behind her back, tied at the wrists with rough rope. She tested her bonds but they remained frustratingly solid. Whoever tied her had known what they were doing.

The room's lone window was shuttered tightly, and the door firmly closed. Winry kicked it, testing it's strength, and found it completely unyielding. Locked then, or barred, or bolted, or barricaded. Either way, it wasn't going to open easily.

The room itself was small, with a bed opposite the door, a small bookshelf and a desk situated beside the trashcan she had made such desperate use of. The whole place seemed to scream 'money'. Winry didn't know much about timber, but the deep, rich wood of both the desk and bookshelf looked expensive. She was willing to bet the sheets she'd just been lying on cost something in the triple-digit zone, and the slim, scarf-like hangings from the posts looked like silk.

Where was she? And why was she here?

Winry had no idea, but she was sure the answers to those questions couldn't be good. She'd been kidnapped by a creature that could turn into Ed, and woken – clearly a prisoner – in a strange room.

Fear rushed up from her throat in a bitter wave. Swallowing hard, she fought the urge to cry. Tears would get her nowhere. If she wanted to avoid whatever was coming, crying about wouldn't do anything. Escape would. She'd have to get free first, though. She'd get the ropes off, and then she'd...

Well, she didn't know what she could do next, but she did know that to have any hope of escape, her hands had to be free. She shifted her hands, trying to stretch her fingers to the knot that held them, but was met with no success. They were too tight to roll off or wiggle out of – she'd have to find something to cut them.

Except the smell emanating from the trashcan was beginning to permeate the room. Wrinkling her nose, Winry searched for something to cover it. There was no lid in sight. Her eyes landed on the books, resting in the shelf, and she made her way over to them.

They were all alchemy texts – hardly anything she could understand let alone use to escape – and Winry's attention was drawn by a particularly large one in a red binding. That would probably cover the entire bin.

It was a little awkward with her hands behind her back, but Winry managed to hook her fingers around the book's spine, and then dump the textbook face down on top of the bin.

It worked well, and Winry felt an almost immediate relief from the stink. Feeling rather chuffed, she resumed her search for something to cut her bonds.

She cast her eyes about the room, but the only things that appeared even half-way sharp were the nibs of the pens resting on the desk. They weren't much, but they were all she had.

Unable to reach them with her hands behind her back, Winry realised she might have to resort to using her feet. Which meant she'd have to get her boots off.

Winry sat on the bed, her left ankle resting on her right knee. Mentally thanking anyone who was listening for her flexibility, she bent down and seized one of her bootlaces between her teeth, pulling the knot loose and then kicking the boot off. She repeated the exercise with her other shoe, and toed both of them under the bed. The socks could be worked off with a lot of wriggling.

With her toes free, Winry managed to ease the pens from the desk with her feet. They clattered onto the chair, and she turned her back, fingers groping for the metal nibs. She found one, and began to saw the tip across the ropes.

oooooooo

"Are you sure about this?" Roy asked, staring at Ed.

"Of course I'm sure!" the blonde alchemist exploded. "Don't you see? That's why they kidnapped her, that's what they want her for! We have to go in there now!"

Al and Riza stood to one side, choosing not to interfere in what was on the verge of exploding into a truly savage argument.

"Wait!" Roy snapped, "Take it easy."

"TAKE IT EASY! THEY'RE GOING TO USE WINRY TO MAKE THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE AND YOU'RE TELLING ME TO TAKE IT EASY!"

"First, how long have they had Winry for?" Roy continued, apparently unfazed by Ed's screaming.

"We don't know," Al sighed miserably, "She could have come in any time after we left, so anywhere from two hours to just under twenty minutes."

"Well then, worst case scenario, the homunculi already have the stone and Winry is dead-"

"WINRY ISN'T DEAD!"

"It's worst case scenario only, Fullmetal."

"Why are we still standing around here when we should be going after them!"

"Think about it!" Roy said harshly. "You're talking about an all-out war on the homunculi, which will require a greater number than we currently have!" He indicated the four people in the room; Riza, Al, Ed and himself.

"And," he continued, more calmly, "If the Fuhrer is involved, we have no way of knowing how deeply this reaches into the military."

Riza stepped in. "The only people we can truly rely on are Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery."

"What about Armstrong?" Al pointed out. "And Ross and Brosh?"

"Armstrong is actually a good idea," Roy mused, "But your one-time escorts have been sent to the East to try and quell an uprising – can you think of anyone else?"

"Just our teacher," Ed sighed. "Al, can you call her and ask her to come help?"

"Sure," Al said as his brother began to walk from the room. "But where are you going?"

"I'm going to call Pinako." Ed's gait was heavy, slumped. Defeated.

Outside the office, Ed leaned against the wall, one hand over his face. The homunculi needed Winry's blood, but what were they doing to her in the meantime? He attempted to squash the horrific images that rose at the thought.

He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. This was his fault. If he'd only double-checked the passage before rushing off to the Stone Bell...Winry would still be here.

It was like when they were prisoners of Barry the Chopper, only worse. That time, she'd been right in front of him. If she'd been hurt, he would have known, at least. And he'd been there, as well, able to give her what paltry protection he could offer. Now, Winry was far away from him, and he had no way of knowing whether she was hurt, or scared, or suffering...

His insides twisted with worry and recrimination, Ed picked up the phone.

oooooooo

Winry cursed viciously. That had been her last pen nib. The thin metal had gradually broken into smaller and smaller fragments, until they were too small to use. And that had been the last piece. She'd have to come up with something else.

Her fingernails couldn't reach the rope, and they were too blunt to do much good. She couldn't saw it over the bed frame – that would only tighten the knot. But there was nothing else that could help her.

Winry slowly began twisting her wrists within the rope. She winced as the skin was scraped raw, but she kept going, trying to coax the ropes to loosen. If she kept this up for long enough...

A sudden click on the other side of the door made her motions cease. Watching the heavy wood begin to open, Winry stepped into the center of the room and squared her shoulders. Trying to prepare for whoever or whatever came in, but feeling chillingly vulnerable standing there in bare feet with her hands tied behind her back.

She recognised the creature as soon as he stepped in the room. It was her kidnapper.

"You!" she shrieked, anger overriding fear, "Who are you!"

Envy was taken aback. After spending nearly an hour in a locked, shuttered room to contemplate her fate, he expected her to be a cowering, crying wreck, pleading for her release. He hadn't anticipated a fiery battler, standing with feet planted wide as she demanded his name.

Unexpected, but amusing all the same. He found himself wondering just what would make her cower.

"The name's Envy," he smirked. "And I've waited a long time to meet Fullmetal's whore."

Winry's spine stiffened with indignation. "What did you just call me?"

Envy didn't answer, just stepped in close to her. Winry fought the urge to shrink backwards, and instead tilted her chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. He lifted a lock of her hair from her shoulder and ran it through his fingers, caressing the strands. Winry kept herself still, her enraged glare covering her fear.

Envy ran the back of fingers down her cheek, his smirk growing broader as she twisted her head away, still refusing to move her feet. Her skin had been softer than he would have thought, considering her profession. His eyes drifted up and down her body, pleased with what he saw.

Winry swallowed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling at Envy's blatant perusal of her body. Winry finally stepped away, desperate for some space between them. But Envy followed, every step forward echoing her movements backward. Dread knotted her stomach, and she could feel the palms of her hands beginning to sweat.

Winry came up against the bed. There was no more room to retreat. She tensed, preparing to fight.

"You don't scare me," she snarled, her eyes spitting venom.

"Well, we can always work on that," the corners of his lips tilted in a sadistic smile.

Winry found herself knocked down to the bed so quickly her vision blurred. Her bound hands dug into her spine, and her breath came fast and hard, her heart hammering with fear. She tried to work her way upright, but he moved with blinding speed, straddling her hips and pinning her shoulders to the bed.

It was all too clear what he wanted.

Winry panicked, thrashing wildly. Her hands were tied, so she used her feet, bending them suddenly to knee him in the back. He didn't even lurch forward – he must be enormously strong.

Envy lifted her shirt, shoving the material up until it bunched against her collarbones, deliberately allowing one hand to toy with the strap of her bra. Winry's stomach wrenched in revulsion.

"No!" Winry shrieked, as though sheer volume would make him stop. "No! Get off! Get off!"

"Oh, I'll 'get off' all right," Envy sneered, menace laden in every syllable.

Intrusive fingers fiddled with the waistband of her pants, crawling over her skin. Winry shut her eyes and willed her mind away, trying to envision Ed as she silently chanted his name.

It was a fragile illusion, shattered easily when fingers too cold to be human slid into her pants and across her thighs. Tossing her head, Winry attempted to stifle her sobs, but was unable to hold in the tears that began to leak down her face. She flinched when Envy's tongue licked them away. There was nothing gentle or comforting in the gesture – it was dominating, rough and mocking.

She felt his weight lean onto her, hampering her desperate gasps for air and making pain explode in her lower back and wrists as they ground together. Lips and tongue moved across her neck, and Winry shuddered with disgust.

"No..."she whimpered, "No, no, no..."

"Yes," Envy taunted, "Yes."

His bite was so sudden and painful she screamed. A wet trickle, hot on her strangely chilled skin, told her he'd drawn blood. She could feel it running down her neck.

She felt him shift his weight, adjusting his hold so she couldn't pull away and he could tug her pants down. Winry took her chance and kicked viciously. She connected solidly with his chest, but the blow did so little she felt like a flea fighting a Great Dane.

Envy snarled in anger and yanked her legs apart, his knees intruding between them to keep them parted. Winry bucked, holding out little real hope of dislodging him, but desperate to do something to defend herself. Hard fingers bit into her hips, holding her still. Fear and dread churned deep in her gut and made her whole body shake. Her eyes were still slammed shut, her mind screaming in horror. This was really going to happen...

As he settled on top of her once more, Winry at last gave into despair, and tried to brace herself for the inevitable violation.