Chapter 8

AN: One nasty word in this chapter. Should be okay, though.

oooooooo

"Is there any paper left?" Wrath asked, looking around the room, flipping the covers of the now-empty books.

"Don't think so," Winry said, painfully aware of the folded square in her pocket. Her list, tucked carefully away. Already, she felt a blush coming on at the thought of it's contents, especially the last one. Maybe she could tear it up later...after all, no one had to know...

The door slammed open, and both of the room's occupants jumped. Winry blanched when she realised who had just entered.

Envy.

More specifically, it was Envy carrying a tray of what looked like food. Winry's stomach chose that precise moment to remind her she hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was...she didn't know how long ago.

"Get out of here!" Envy snarled at Wrath as he laid the tray on the desk.

Wrath started to rise, and Winry could see he was frightened of Envy. "What are you going to do to her?"

Envy grinned, giving Winry a leer that sent a chill through her body. "You're a little too young to know."

"No! She's nice, don't-"

Envy hit Wrath savagely, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Hey!" Winry yelled, incensed at Envy's attack. Sure, Wrath was technically one of her captors, but he had managed to endear himself to her in the short time they had spent together, and she wasn't about to stand by and calmly let him get roughed up.

"Leave him alone!" she bellowed, kicking Envy in the shin for good measure.

Feeling the familiar adrenaline beginning to pour through her veins, Winry managed to land a solid punch to the side of Envy's head before he spun around. Another open-palmed slap brought tears to her eyes and sent her to her knees.

"Get out of here, NOW!" Without even glancing at him, Envy casually threw Wrath away from them.

The younger homunculus struck the wall, and fell heavily to the floor. He regained his feet quickly, and Winry could have sworn he looked worried about her. And scared.

"It's okay," she gasped, tasting blood on her tongue. Had her lips split again? Not wanting Wrath to be struck again for her sake, Winry managed to say, "Go, I'll be fine."

Wrath looked torn, but still left.

A vicious yank on her hair brought her head around, and Winry flinched at how close Envy was. Not again...

Winry licked her lips nervously, and fought the urge to try and push him away. She titled her chin, ignoring the answering prickle in her scalp, and regarded him with what she hoped were emotionless eyes. Envy's hand brushed her neck, and Winry was unable to keep herself from swallowing – a nervous reflex – beneath his fingers.

Envy's leer increased in intensity. "Unfortunately, I'm here to feed you, not fuck you."

Winry's muscles tightened at Envy's blunt words. But he stepped away, to her immense relief. Whenever he encroached upon her personal space, she felt as though someone were slowly squeezing the breath from her chest.

"Wrath cut you free, I suppose?" the homunculus mused, glancing briefly at her silk-bandaged wrists.

Winry pressed her lips together, refusing to say anything.

"I don't suppose it matters," he shrugged. "You have to eat, and it will be easier with your hands free."

Alarm bells began to go off in Winry's head. This was the guy who'd hog-tied her on the bed, saying it didn't matter that she'd been cut free? He'd seemed so eager to see her restrained only hours before, why the apparent indifference now?

He had said it would be easier for her to eat if she was unbound. Why would he care?

Unless...the food was going to incapacitate her far more efficiently than ropes.

Were they trying to drug her? Winry examined the possibility. They hadn't fed her all day, letting her appetite build, and now they were giving her food? A little suspicious, but admittedly nothing to get terribly worked up about. They were her kidnappers – they wanted her alive, not comfortable.

Winry went to the desk, assessing the meal in front of her. A glass of water, salt and pepper shakers and a metal spoon beside a bowl of soup.

Her wariness rose a notch. Soup was an ideal meal to slip someone drugs, it was primarily a liquid, and could dissolve anything from painkillers to tranquilizers. Winry knew – she and Granny sometimes used soup to administer painkillers after automail surgery.

Conscious of Envy's eyes on her, she knew she couldn't reveal any of her suspicions. Taking a spoonful of soup, Winry discretely inhaled it's scent under the guise of blowing on it to cool it. It smelled vaguely spicy.

That settled it. Spices could cover a lot of aromas and flavours, including the slightly bitter ones bestowed by foreign chemicals.

Winry couldn't be certain her food was drugged, but the possibility was too strong to ignore.

But what could she do?

If she refused to eat it, she wouldn't put it past Envy to hold her down and shove it down her throat. With him in the room, she couldn't tip the bowl out in the trash...so how could she prevent this?

Her eyes landed on the glass of water and the seasonings, and inspiration struck. She might not be able to stop the drugging, but she might be able to avoid the worst of the affects.

Winry bent to the soup, eating greedily. She consumed it as swiftly as she could, bolting it down within minutes.

"Were we starving you?" Envy sneered, his voice laden with false sympathy.

Winry glared. He smirked sardonically and left, and Winry heard a key turn in the lock.

He hadn't bothered to tie her up again. More evidence that he expected the soup to lay her out and make her more manageable.

As soon as the door was closed, Winry acted. Grabbing the salt shaker, she let loose a heavy rain of white crystals into her water glass. Then, with a grimace, she raised the glass to her lips and downed the briny water in several swift gulps.

Then she waited. Winry knew that ingesting salt water caused vomiting, and if she brought the soup up again as soon as possible, there was a chance the drug would be carried with it. Some of the drug would have already been absorbed, but if she expelled the rest, she could probably avoid the worst of the affects.

She didn't have to wait long. Winry knocked the book from the trash can and bent over it, retching miserably. Her stomach, so recently filled, protested the expulsion with agonising spasms that brought her to her knees.

When she was finished, the ache in her abdomen and the disgusting taste in her mouth almost made her regret it. But she had to avoid any possibility of drugs – ropes could be dealt with, drugs were different.

Slamming the book back on top of the trash can, Winry staggered to the bed, leaning against it as she recovered.

She became aware that she was alone in the room, as she hadn't been for who knew how long. This was her chance!

Winry pulled the spring out, and jammed the blunter end in the lock. She knew almost nothing about lock picking, but figured it wouldn't hurt to try. After all, it wasn't like she could break the door down...

Or could she? Winry eyed the hinges, and almost grinned when she realised they were on her side of the door. And they were pin-and-barrel hinges – even better!

She wriggled the end of the coil under the tip of the hinge and began trying to lever it free. If she could get the pins out, the door would be hanging by the lock alone, and it wouldn't take much force to break it down.

But after several minutes of working at the hinges, Winry was alarmed to realise her movements were becoming sluggish. Her limbs were beginning to feel heavy, and she knew the drug was starting to kick in.

And it descended fast. Like a sudden blow to the head, her vision became spotty, and she only just managed to slip the spring into her sleeve and lurch to the bed. She lay on the creaking mattress, feeling lassitude swamp her body and darkness hover at the edge of her vision.

If this was the diluted affects of the drug, what was it meant to do at full strength?

Winry had a brief moment to acknowledge that she was in a lot of trouble, then blackness condensed around her in a soundless rush.