From What We Once Were
Chapter 7; Interchange
Bane; "ooookay! According to one of my fantastic reviewers, (and a repremand from our dear A), I have succumbed to the realization that… in the world of FMA, there is no such thing as Europe."
-sob-
"So, instead, he will have gone a few hundred miles to the North."
A; "Much better."
Bane; "Yeah. Sure. Anyway, a lot of people must think that Winry is all better. Well she's not."-giggle- "The infection has only been temporarily subdued."
Bane; "I'd like to take the time to point out; a lot of people also thought I'd have Winry committ suicide and kill the pairing. I dunno'; see for yourself. I mean," –goofy grin- "- you have a whole chapter to read to answer these stray questions."
Bane; "Bane got 12 reviews for her last chapter. Ahahhaaa!" –hugs everyone- "I love you guys soo much. I read my last few chapters… and I don't really like them, though. Sooo, after I finish everything else, I'll go back and revamp everything. Sound good?"
The finished handle tingled on her skin, giving her a wide train of thoughts. Winry turned the blade over and over in her hands, waiting. She had absolutely nothing but time.
The minutes melded into hours, and she hardly noticed the sharpening ache of her sternum. They had neglected to give her any forced doses. After all, she was doing better… and she was oh so close to breaking, they thought.
At first, they stepped out into the chilled night air. Edward expected that everything would be fast-paced from there, but the man leisurely checked his watch. To the alchemist's disdain, the stranger proceeded to fish another cigarette out of his back pocket, lighting it with a sigh.
"The first puff's always the best." He mused to nobody in particular as he inhaled an eased breath of sickening fume. Edward was not amused, and he shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. Of course, words never really were much of a problem for the vertically challenged teen.
"You can smoke later. Let's get on with it."
The man glanced at him serenely. Another glimpse at his watch, and he shook his head.
"Another five minutes to kill."
"Are you such geeks that you have nothing to do all day but plan at what time I would arrive?"
This earned the boy a smirk, which he thoroughly loathed.
"Among other things. But it's all timed."
Amber was alight with confusion.
"What's all timed?"
"Well, see," he started, turning to breathe a stale stench into the face of the unfortunate prodigy, " We've set it all up. If I don't get back by half past, they'll know something's up. Which is why I always leave the party early."
His reference to 'the party' was obviously his view of their usual Tuesday night tyrades.
"Besides, the boss likes to have advice on what techniques to use next."
Edward's expression had darkened considerably. He wasn't completely sure whether or not he understood; but he had a pretty good idea. Barely taking the time to think, he slammed the man against the outer wall of the pub, eyes tense and flashing with unsubdued fury, and hand tangled in the shirt collar by which he was pinning him.
"If you hurt her, I swear to God, I will—"
At this, the stranger began to laugh shallowly. The boy's grip loosened slightly, and he let the man push him off. One more puff on the ciggy, and he dropped it to the ground, crushing it in a mutual emphasis measure.
"Listen, Buddy, looks like you need to get your priorities straight. You're just lucky we didn't kill her. Though… we almost did at one point. Heh, Boss got sort or careless…"
If he'd known Edward better, he'd have known to duck. As it was, the boy placed a well-aimed barring arm to the chest. The man found himself once more against the wall.
"What the hell did you do to her?"
There was incoherant mumbling, and then a caught breath as Edward applied more force with his automail arm.
"You see this?"
With his glance he indicated the steel limb. The man was lightly wet with perspiration, and he nodded with a renewed hint of enthusiasm.
"She made it for me. And whenever I happened to bust it, she'd beat the shit out of me with a wrench."
The man scoffed slightly.
"But you know, the beating, as of now, doesn't seem that bad. And I'm sure I could find a whole new way to implode my wiring while I shred your ribcage."
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Edward was fueled by violent rage, while fighting inwardly to keep himself from using the man as his new autopsey victim.
"So what'ya say? Enough of these games; take me to her now, got it?"
Edward backed off, taking only a couple of steps before glaring back to see if he was following. After that, though, Ed would have been surpirsed if he hadn't been.
She fought to control the shaking of her hand, situated behind her back. The door clicked open, and he emerged, just as forboding and menacing as before.
Winry failed to hide the smirk on her face.
"Perhaps we're doing something…wrong…if you're smiling."
He revealed his own smirk. The kind that could only say, 'I know something you don't know'. Winry knew at once that she didn't at all like that look, that malicious concealment. With a short, jerky movement, she rose to her feet. Her hand remained behind her back in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. But her stance was shaky, weakened by pain and illness. Adreneline pumped through her veins, but she didn't need for the world to come into a frightening focus. She needed all this to disappear. All of it.
And with this knife, she had the power to do that; for once, she could play God instead of her tormentor. Oh, how she would love that. And she would relish the look on his face until the day she died…
Almost as if on cue, he turned around, speaking in his deeply inclined tone.
"Marcus hasn't—"
His words melded into the air around her, their meanings floating past her mind in distant buzz. With all the time in the world to spare, she brought the knife over her head. Clasping the handle with tightly laced digits, Winry readied herself for the downward plunge. Another moment and she stepped forward. As she inhaled one final breath, she brought the blade down in an arch…directly aimed between the man's shoulder blades…
-1- (scroll down to bottom to receive special distraction inside!)
The man led him into deep underbrush; apparently this 'facility' was hidden by some main forest-like area. Though it was very nigh to the bar, it couldn't have been seen by the casual passerby.
"The name's Marcus, by the way… I figure you ought to know, seeing as—"
The prodigy only bothered to flash him a disconcerting leer and grumble flatly, "Frankly, I really don't care."
There was silence between them for a moment before Edward spoke again. It was blunt and rather forceful, but the boy was sure this 'Marcus' wouldn't take any notice.
"Why do you need the stone in the first place?"
At this the stranger flipped back a strand of greasy hair and gave an appreciative smile. It was, naturally, crooked and yellowed.
"Good to know you already know what this is about. Makes my job so much easier. As for the reason? Well, I know it's for the boss. Imean, it's pretty vague… I'm probably the only one with the faintest of outlines—"
"That doesn't answer my question."
Marcus shrugged placidly.
"It's not really what he needs, I guess. But he always wanted to make some sort of amendment for the Ishbalan War."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he took pride in his aid for the fall of the 'Military Dogs.' Though he had no preferance to which beliefs would reign."
"So the soldier has regrets…"
"Not at all."
Gold flashed with inquiry. He stood still, breaking their pace. It was a moment before Marcus, too, came to a halt.
"The 'soldier', as you put it," The man paused and smirked, determined to add some emphasis, "Has decided he wants to finish the job."
Her tormentor stepped forward, letting her clumsily miss her mark. She fell with the momentum, and crashed to the ground. The dull thump rang in the barren room. How graceful…
It took only a few seconds for Winry to recover from the slip, and she made a desperate grab for the blade, which had fallen from her hand. A dulled chuckle escaped the man, who had pivoted to face her.
"You're a bit off timing, you know."
His foot found her frail hand with ease, and he applied pressure onto his leg. He didn't hear any reaction; his aged boot crushed the brittle bones with a satisfying crunch. Winry let forth a whimper, and attempted to clench together a palm that was no longer linked.
Kneeling curtly, shoe still firmly implanted onto her fist, he smirked.
"Would you like to know exactly why you're off timing, Winry?"
She didn't respond, which didn't really surprise him. Instead, she attempted to twist her crushed hand back. He applied more weight, making her cry out.
"Because, either Marcus has inexplicably lost his accountability over that last twenty-four hours, and forgotten how to work a phone, or someone's come to Resemboul. I think you'll recognize him."
She froze. She invisioned Edward, just as he had been before he had left. But something anew lit into her eyes. They were going to kill him. They were going to shoot him through just as they had done to Pinako before.
"I don't suppose you saw a short blonde. He was probably suited in all black with a red overcoat, and he has a prominent lack of anger control." The Colonel's lip curled into a smirk at his last words; it felt good to say what he thought of the boy's patience out loud. 'Amusing', yes, that was the word.
The bartender thought for a moment before responding.
"Saw someone that matched your description…but he didn't have a temper, if that's what you mean. At least, I didn't see any signs of one. In any case, though, he was right stubborn! I told him the man would come—he always does, see, but the kid wouldn't leave."
Mustang turned to face Riza, sided by Maes.
"Well?"
Lieutenant Hawkeye merely shrugged, while Hughes smiled distantly and replied, "I think, Roy, that if the man said 'stubborn', we pretty much found our link."
Again, the Colonel confronted the bartender, being pointed in the direction of a wood area—not too far off.
His pleasure in her shock was what made it so difficult. He watched her; eyes alight with amusement. Winry wouldn't cry, he already knew that…but he also took into consideration that escape would resound infinitely on her mind, now. Yes, this one held evidence of self-sacrifice. Damn hard to break, and damn easy to predict.
She shook with silent thought as his penetrating gaze moved about her quivering muscles.
"You can't hurt him—"
"I think there's a difference between what I 'can't' and 'will' do."
She was like a rabbit now, caught and wounded within hopeless tangles of barbwire. The steel vice would lead her to some escape… somehow. He noted the fleeting glance she spared him, and began a mental countdown…
…It took less time than he anticipated for her to circle around him, limping hurriedly to the door. She hadn't even closed a damp palm about the knob by the time he had grasped her crushed hand. Mercilessly, he clamped it within a tightening clutch. He waited until she cried out before he acted with one swift movement, and she was thrust back into the wall onto which she had only just been leaning.
"Come, now. I'm sure you'd disappoint Elric sorely if you were to leave so soon."
She shook her head, trying to find some way to free herself; to warn Edward… She was woken from her distant panick by a harshly placed blow. Her wind was replaced by a violent strike to the stomach. Winry sank to the floor, sliding against the wall. She felt a boot sole against her throat, and knew what position her tormentor had shifted to. The captive winced slightly, but didn't bother to open her eyes. She clutched her middle in a feeble attempt the cease the ache. He pushed down with his foot further, squeezing the breath out of her throat.
She gasped and fought down a wave of hacking, shaking roughly from the irritation in her sternum. And yet, as she began to lose consciousness, the threshold flew open, and there stood another of his men, a smug grin plastered onto his unruly visage.
"Hey, Thom? He's here."
She slipped into darkness; a sheath of black guilt wrapping itself about her in rings of eternal worry.
He had kicked down the door; without any real need, for it had been unlocked. Marcus, however, hadn't bothered to stop him.
Edward was met with the barrels of four rifles. Each was carried by a man who had obviously known better days.
"I'm just passing through."
The prodigy took no mind to the tension, and stepped forward, viewing the facility with a sharp eye. They were in a run-down laboratory, and corridors led off onto either side. A table lay forgotten in the corner, cards discarded haphazardly onto its surface. Crates clearly held the role of chairs, though there were few of them.
He was taking it casually, feeling that there was no rush to beat the shit out of them. But the click of a pistol behind him brought him directly out of that state of mind. Turning his head to glance, he caught view of Marcus, smirking. His aim was at the nape of the neck.
"I don't suppose I have to tell you to turn around real slow with your hands on your head?"
The boy only offered up his own grin.
"And I don't suppose I have to tell you that I didn't come unprepared?"
Edward stomped down his foot, startling the man into jumping the trigger, and ducking backwards just at the right moment. The projectile hit hard into the farwall. Ed muttered humorously, "Just remember; you started it."
Unhesitatingly, he closed hands around a rupt at his belt. It was promptly thrown at their feet. In the blast's confusion, they failed to notice the flash of blue light… Coming forward with two strides, he landed a crescent kick into soft, fleshy face. Four to go.
Gunfire went off, and a dull twinge settled itself just below his hipbone. Edward winced, and jumped above the aim. Coming down into a hard stomp above the assailant, he brought him to the ground, of which he would be sticking to for quite a while…
A three-sixty twisting blow left the second unconscious.
"So I guess it's just you and me, huh, Marcus?"
The man opposite to him gave a sleek, yellowed grin. Abruptly, however, his expression contorted into one of anguish at the blurring crack of a firearm. (For lack of better sound effect.) He sank to his knees, falling backwards in a crumpled position.
Marcus's absence revealed a placid being. A reddened scar ran along his neck, and his shoulders were held high; posture fixated. Oh yes, this one was one of military stance. He held in his hand a modern revolver, still loaded.
Edward paid little attention; nothing mattered anymore, only Winry… "Where is she?" he snarled through gritted teeth.
"I'm afraid that she's…resting up…to meet you."
"Yeah," He spat, "I'm so sure."
Maybe if I run forward—I can get too close for range…he pondered hurriedly. With one swift movement, he side-stepped the man, coming in two strides further in his attempt to avoid fire. There was a shot, and Edward staggered. He collapsed backwards onto the foor with a thud. Shoulder spewing claret fluid consistantly, he attempted to back away. Thom, however, was quick to catch up with his pained gliding.
The man smirked as he aimed nonchalantly at the boy's heart. So that's is, I guess… Ed thought fleetingly; too dazed to react, And for what?
He jumped, as abruptly the doorway burst open. A flash of light and cacophany of sound erupted, and the tormentor was no longer hovering above him. Colonel Roy Mustang in all his pretentious glory remained a few feet away, pistol in hand, still steaming. Considerable numbers of military personel made their way tersely through the doorway.
A hand was offered to him, and he, with hesitation, took it. Once at his feet, he took a moment to regain his composure. His gaze shifted about each figure and his expression was somber; tinged with a rage even they hadn't witnessed. Throwing a nasty glance at the Colonel, Edward strode wordlessly down one of the corridors. He walked slowly, listening at each passing door for breathing. Mustang watched him disappear into one of the rooms, and proceeded to turn away. He took a seat on a crate, and sighed heavily.
"Sir, don't you think we should follow to make sure the boy doesn't get into any more trouble—"
He didn't even bother to look up as he blatantly replied mid-sentence, "The way I see it, Lieutenant, it's going to be a lot more trouble if we follow him. I propose keeping my ears for the next hour. You wait and see."
He hadn't prepared himself to see her like this; crumpled against the far corner. She was doubled over, bruised abundantly, and letting out shallow gasps. She was still unconscious.
"…Winry?"
There was no reply. Edward neared her, kneeling beside her with little pause for thought. "Winry…can you hear me?" He shook her shoulder gently, completely forgetting the pain in his own.
Still receiving no results he allowed his lips to curl into a gentle smile. Leaning forward, he planted a chaste, gentle kiss atop her forhead. He drew back slowly and watched in silence as she stirred.
"Good morning, Winry."
Edward gazed into fluttering blue as she woke. The eyes held sentiment, but recognition within.
"You came…"
He nodded once, taking her hand as he did so.
"Yeah. Comeon, we need to go."
Still watching her, he was somewhat startled to see tears begin to brim. …Tears of…joy…surely? But no; it was evidently anguish.
"It's okay now, Winry, I'm going to get you out of here—"
She attempted to rise to her feet, but found no more strength to do so.
"No! Th-They'll—just like—j-just like Pinako…"
He wiped away her tears sluggishly, taking his time. "They're dead, Winry. They're not going to do anything to me...or you." Edward observed her as she took in this new piece of information.
"D-Dead?"
"Yeah."
Winry closed her eyes, releasing a sigh of relief. When it became apparent that she had no intent of opening them, or rising to her feet, Edward closed one arm around her knees from underneath. The other, he placed about her waist. She gave a little whimper of protest, but he guessed that it was due to the fact that she had no more strength to beat him with a wrench as he did this… Lifting her easily, he emerged from the room, a lathargic and barely lucid Winry in arms.
Edward was confronted at once by the Colonel. Glowering loathingly was obviously not a suitable enough repelant.
"It wasn't your fight, Mustang."
Obsidian pierced through his rage.
"That's where you're wrong FullMetal."
"How am I wrong, then?"
Edward fought not to swear at his former superior.
"That is what, you'll find, we need to discuss in Central."
With a downward glance at Winry, who had just, in her unconscious state, absently grabbed his shirt and clung closer to him, he retorted, "I'm not going."
Roy didn't reply, only nodded at the inquirious look one of the combatants offered. He, in turn, stepped forward, approaching the boy with more caution than was necessary.
"Let me see her."
The man held his arms out to receive Winry. Unsure, the prodigy stepped back, ready to fight them off. It's none of their damn business anyway.
"Let me see her—she's wounded, I need to see the damage."
Wounded? He glanced down at her, noticing for the first time the elongated strip of lacerated bruising along her sternum. Why didn't I see that before?
Edward gently laid her onto his still open arms. The man checked her breastbone, muttering something about an infection similar to gang-greene. (sp.) She uttered a soft whimper as he brought up her crushed hand for examination.
"That'll take some surgery."
Ed was startled when, with no warning, the man proceeded to walk to the door.
"Hey! Come back here—you can't just—"
"Edward," The Colonel smirked, "I'm going to need you to come with us… with her."
There was no way to describe his fury as he was led out of the facility. I shouldn't have let her go… It had been almost too easy for the Colonel… but not for long, oh no.
-1- Bane; "Muahahaha! What now!"
Bane; "Lots of news to tell you!
1. The distraction numbers are NOT permanent. Instead, to make it fair for those who actually like them, I have decided to do the numbered distraction conversations every other chapter. Yes, yes, I know I have no logic, but hey! It's better than nothing, right?
2. (This one's the coolest…) I applied for Magnet School. North Cobb (big one; International Studies), and IB (Biggest one; International Baccalaureate Program; at Cambell High…)" -SQUEAL- "I got into both…A applied for two other schools, as well as North Cobb. She was accepted for all three of hers as well. (High class, eh?)
3. A new idea! I'm sure you all want to strangle me for not updating regularly. Well, this one is about 7 pages long on word…so you can understand why; it had to be perfect. But… it is stressful to wait… so… (Disclaimer; this idea is NOT mine; it is from another author from another site. I just built off of the idea!) …If you like, you can write a death threat for me to update.
Rules; -1 per person.
-no flames, just funny and imaginative ways to kill me if I don't update…
-IT IS JUST FOR THIS ONE CHAPTER. THE CONTEST ENDS NEXT UPDATE!
-If yours is the most comical (or weird-slash-creative), you'll win a fabulous prize. You will be able to choose my next ficcy. I'll give you a list and what they are going to be about. Sound good?" –prance-
4. "I'm working on Brought to Light now—won't do anything else until it's done. I'm hell bent on updating!"
Bane; "So I updated...Are we happy?"
A; -puts arms above her head- "WHEAAHAAA!"