Bane; "Hmm. Smart reviewers. No quite smart enough, however, to beat my web of suspense. Muahaha."
A; "Don't feel dumb, actually, feel smart; REALLY SMART. She does this to everyone."
Drumstick; "I should know… :' ( "
Bane; "By the way; a couple reviews I want to point out;
-Evil Koga; "Heh... so Winry sleepwalks and even talks while she's doing it? -Laughs.- Tha'ts funy, what about when Winry finds out he knows? That'll be a kicker.
Plus... I somewhat know what Edward is giong through, I'd use to have similer problems, started to cut and all... ya know... minor things.
Anyways... still loving it... update soon."
Bane says to that; "Mm. Poor Evil Koga. I'm sort of problematical; I only bite my knuckle when I get pissed off enough. I have to- with a teacher like mine? The pisshole sent my out of the classroom. FOR LAUGHING QUIETLY. ONCE. I'm not a loud laugher, by the way. I was just 'being rude'. I bite my finger to keep myself from yelling at her. Suspension would be worth seeing her puckered face go purple with rage… My knuckle is scarred and man, can anyone guess how many days it stayed swollen and inflamed? Cause I chewed that thing hard. : 3. But thanks. "
-Silent:Tears:Fall- "Resining? Fake shock shock Won't Mustang enjoy that. but Ed is quite deranged at the moment. Considering how things are going I'm expecting an attempt at suicide soon. Ed must feel so alone even though he has so many people. Tsk tsk... lets all pity Ed!"
Bane says to that; "If it involves worshipping Ed, sure thing. Oh; I was in the mall yesterday, looking for a Full Metal Alchemist shoulder bag. I couldn't find one; and so spent my money on CD's…And straight afterwards…I found…the bag…-sob-. But anyway, that's not the point; I searched Ebay for a cheaper one, and guess what I stumbled across? Yeah! Another Edward plushie. AND an Al plushie. I SHALL BUY THEM! But back to Silent:Tears:Fall. Oh, yes. Mustang will enjoy it very much. Ed derranged can only make it more fun. Oh, damn, I didn't set it up for a suicide. Why didn't I think of that? –sigh-. He's alone. Very alone…PITY! Pity! But don't worry. Winry is going to have a stunning performance to play in this one."
-Kikyoreborn9295; "Nice chapter. I love how Al is so freaking angsty in this story! And the sleeping Winry thing was nice. ) "
Bane says to that; "Ya' think so? Aww. Thanks. Sleeping Winry was nice, I guess. Well, Not many people have had Alphonse angry, and it seemed like the side he'd be more than willing to take at seventeen. Besides, an Al that throws knives into walls is just wicked."
Bane; "I read a fanfic that said Ed cutting was cliché. Is it? I'm not sure anymore… Review and tell me…DO YOU THINK IT IS CLICHÉ?" –sob-
"Good morning, Riza."
She gave Mustang a reproachful glare.
"You call me by Hawkeye during hours."
"Does it matter what I call you, when…?"
Their lips melded together. Raven-hair brushed against her own, now desheveling blonde strands. Passion kept them together for several minutes. A knock came at the door, but no sound reached the pair. Only the worlds in eachother's eyes remained real.
The knob turned abruptly, and there stood Alphonse, looking a bit flushed, and behind him, Ed, seemingly blank and uncaring.
Riza glanced towards the threshold and her eyes widened.
"Colonel…"
Hawkeye left the room, leaving Roy to fend for himself. Still blushing profusely, Mustang watched Ed intently, waiting for a sarcastic remark that never came.
His mind was too occupied reflecting on the screaming match Al had started on the train. Ed had tried to put a lunch fork into his red overcoat pocket. Though Alphonse was much too vigilant.
"Is life with me that bad?"
"It's not you."
"THEN WHO IS IT?"
Tears formed at edges of amber. But still, Edward refused to cry.
"It's me, Al. It's me."
Al sat infront of Mustang's desk, while his older sibling lingered in the doorway.
"What brings you back after so long, Elrics?"
Edward could feel Roy's gaze settle on him. Slightly uncomfortable under the unceasing stare, he shifted slightly.
Mustang thought he caught something in Ed's eyes. A flash of grief, a fleck of unsurpassable sentiment, could it be possible that something had…?
"Brother and I have come to resign."
Black eyes found Alphonse once more, and for a moment, he was a bit surprised. He hadn't noticed the fact that he was no longer a steel frame. It had been so long since he'd been human. Roy hadn't bothered to look.
A pocket watch and an identification card for Edward Elric slipped out of Al's fingers onto the desk.
"You know, we could really use you two, we've had trouble in—"
"Well, yes, but…we really couldn't use the military anymore."
A wry smile crossed the raven-haired man.
"Mm, that's just as well. I'm just glad you're both fully human again."
He had made a wrong presumption. And still, he noticed nothing.
"But I guess Edward could never be plagued by short-comings forever."
The short jokes were beginning to sicken him. They were a cruel remembrance of what he once had been. They now made no fury, only spread through him like a disease, like blood dripping slowly into water. Crimson loathing of his life.
Alphonse hesitated; he could tell this conversation was disturbing his brother.
"See…perhaps both fully human…couldn't be the right wording."
A swift glance of gold flashed over Edward, who had broken from his thoughts to watch both figures intently.
Amber bore into amber, inquiring if the words could pass through the room. Asking if the truth could pour into the mind of the witness before them. Unable to keep himself from shattering and exposing the agony he felt at mention of his inhuman qualities, he looked away.
The door to the office opened, and as he left, Edward coldly replied, "Go ahead. Tell him. Doesn't matter anymore." He saluted casually, and the door clicked shut.
Half an hour later, Alphonse appeared from the room, nodding at Ed's eagerness to leave. The train held silence for only moments before one of them spoke.
"I'm sorry, Brother, but he had a right to know, and I didn't think that I should have told him over the phone."
"Yeah."
She had never meant to pry. Winry had entered the confines of his room to lay laundry on his bed. But she found more; she found a small booklet that would allow her to enter the confines of his thoughts.
Winry remained loyal to him, and at first had no thought to view it. But as an hour passed, her longing to find the answer to his melancholy was irrepressable. At the first page, a deep saddness began to form in the pit of her stomach. In further pages, tears began to stream down her colorless cheeks.
"Woke yesterday with Winry looking into my doorway. Wonder if she knows what I think about nowadays. Wonder if she knows of pain's gentle influence. I couldn't tell her, she shouldn't have to know I'm like this. Al shouldn't either, but the way he watches me all the time; he has to know."
"Al's increasingly worried. It shows in his eyes. Today, for the first time in too long, I hated myself. Couldn't escape it. Loathing fills me. I look at the sixty or seventy years I have yet to live, and feel like crying. Wish I could give it up. Wish I could give the time I have left to someone else, but not even alchemy can grant me that. And crying is weak. My psycologist acts as though she knows all. Her ignorance is probably the reason I'm not in an assylum…yet."
"Couldn't stand myself this morning. I found a shard of glass in one of the cabinets; Winry probably broke a cup and didn't want to have to mess with it. The crimson gave me new realization. New birth. For a few minutes, I felt like I was alive again; like I was meant to be alive again. Though, with time, it soon fades."
It was true; she had broken the cup. Damn. Each grew steadily worse, until, near the end, she sighted one that spoke exclusively about her.
"Heard Winry talking in her sleep. God, she'd beautiful, even when sleepwalking. She stuttered something about how…I was…gorgeous. And how I flipped my hair. Do I flip my hair? Wish I could tell her…but…worth is more than I can give her. I don't deserve her; I'm not good enough to hold her in my arms and feel the warmth of her gaze…"
She read the rest, and began sobbing. She had never known. He could have killed himself and she'd have never even guessed. But, that's how depression went, wasn't it? Anger brought her to her feet. How could he? How could he do this to himself? How could someone who she had known once as a small boy with a talent for alchemy, and a sense of completion and happiness that reverberated wherever he went, be so lost?
"I need to go get a few medications from the hospital, can you manage on your own without any knives?"
"Fine. Whatever."
He made his way into the house. It was strange, subconsciously, to him that his door would be open…
It only took a moment for him to realize what had occurred. The journal slipped from her fingers as she wept.
"Winry…"
"How could you?"
"What? How could I WHAT?"
He was tired of everyone acting like HE was doing this to them. Her voice was a whisper, and yet, the words remained clearly in his mind as though she had screamed them.
"How could you even try to fathom your own worth, when you know I love you?"
The anguish was hovering just inches above anger.
"You deserve better."
"Better what, Ed? What could someone else have that you don't!"
"Someone else could have—"
He sighed, trying to find the right words.
"Someone else could have what? What else could they be other than you?"
"THEY COULD BE HUMAN!" he roared, suddenly overcome by the need to be understood.
"And what are you if you're not human?"
Winry, in turn, was white-faced and pale. Tears threatened to overcome her.
"I'm a screw up that made a mistake at the age of eleven that caused my brother to lose the rest of his childhood. I'm a military dog that has seen and caused more death than you can ever imagine. And I'm a metal-backed freak. Now, tell me you can call me human."
She no longer resisted the fluid. Rain fell freely from her eyes. And he had done this to her. He had caused her pain.
"Is that what you think, is it?"
"Yeah."
"What if I told you I can?"
"Then I'd say I'm not the only loony in the room."
She stamped her foot in exasperation, "So this is what you think it is? A JOKE?"
His expression had never been as serious.
"Jokes are for those who still have the will to laugh."
"So you think life is too over-rated to laugh?"
"Define over-rated?"
"Are you ready for death?"
"Don't remember writing anything about that in there."
"Oh? Then what is…this?"
She found the page and thrust it into his hands. He read the passage she had pointed out aloud; " I look at the sixty or seventy years I have yet to live, and feel like crying. Wish I could give it up. Wish I could give the time I have left to someone else, but not even alchemy can grant me that. And crying is weak."
"Well? Are you ready for death?"
He looked at her; glimpsed at the pain a wretch like him was causing her. And he knew the answer at once. There was no holding back. There was no other option.
"Yeah. I'm ready."
And although she made no sound, anyone could have noticed the cry of anguish that flared like flame in her eyes. She walked towards Edward, pausing once she was before him. The pain of her hand across his face was almost relieving. But her words were all but.
"And I thought you'd always be strong enough to cry. Even if you'd never show it."
He closed the door as she left. After a moment of reflection, he fell to his knees. Ed just sat there, staring blankly at the wall. The only thing that remained was the pain he had caused Winry.
I'm ready.
He had only to go up to the attic. Nervous as he was, he heard Winry's wracking hiccups as she attempted to cease weeping. His pace quickened with renewed vigor; after all, this would be her last pain. There would be no Edward left to cause her pain. His path led him upstairs, into the aged scent of the attic. Just the atmosphere he deserved to die in. He had to use all of his strength to force the door open; the ancient knob needed replacing.
Edward scanned the floor for something sharp (or dull) that lay unused (or really rusty). And at last, he spotted a twoinch nail. In the center of the room now, he braced himself. He recuperated his will by remembering Winry's cry of anguish. It only took one swipe and it began.
She met him at the door.
"Winry, is everything all right?"
"Al, Al. Oh…I found…a notebook…"
She trailed off amid her tears.
"It's in my room…I'll show it to you…Just…follow me…"
Blood abruptlyflowed down from his fingertips, the scarlet fluid giving a bitter aroma to the surrounding air.
Finally, he thought. Finally.
Masses of red liquid puddled around him. A pang of loss swept through him at the sight of it.
Too late to turn back now.
Only a few minutes past, he began to feel slightly dizzy. A sudden rush came to his head. Edward fell, his knees colliding with the wooden attic floor.
She led them into her room. Frantically, she clawed at the journal, holding it up for Alphonse to read.
"Please…Al. Please. Help him!"
Something dripped down from the ceiling onto the white pages of the booklet. It was crimson and…a drop of blood. More followed, now falling as though a morbid rain had come to haunt those who had failed to protect its previous captive. The blood had leaked through the floorboards, soaking the ceiling through.
The claret tears flowed more swiftly now. Winry let out a scream that resounded through the house, echoing in a mimick of her torment.
Everything was fading, now everything was slipping slowly into shadows. But among the darkness, one thing remained; Winry.
Even near to death, he recalled the scent of the perfume she wore irregularly, her presence…her smile. These memories, too, began to slip away.
Can't forget her. Can't lose her.
Once more, he abruptly hated himself. But not enough to die.
"Oh…my…god…"
She was crying again. Ed was gone. Ed was…no longer part of this world; no longer part of her world.
He staggered to his feet, faltering for a moment. Ed had lost too much blood. If only he could reach the door, and wrench it open, he could be heard.
He lost his balance, collapsing onto the entryway. But even in his desperation, he knew he no longer had the strength to get it open.
Edward fell to the floor, and lay on his back, facing the portal to his salvation, and still, he hadn't the ability to stand. In a final attempt at survival, he kicked against the door with his metal leg. One…Two…Three…Four…No answer.
He began to shake violently. And for the first time in years of hidden agony, he wasn't afraid to lay there and sob, tears burning as they ran down his cheeks.
Bane; "Muahaha?"
A; -sobs-
Drumstick; -double sobs-
Bane; -.-' ?
Bane; "Tonight I'll release a songfic that redoes the suicide part of this. I'm naming it either Claret Tears or Tourniquet. The song is Tourniquet, by Evanescence; album 'Fallen'.You like?"
Bane; "Silent:Tears:Fall, yes, there was a suicide planned. Just didn't want you to know you were right before you read the chapter. Good presumption (Unlike Roy's).