Chapter 9; Intensive
Bane; "Note; there's no EdxRoy in this fic. Be AWARE of that. Sheesh." -.-'! "There is, however, a lot of information, so be on the look out."
A; 0.o? "What's up with you?"
Bane; "Well, it's Saturday night, and my mother made me miss Fullmetal Alchemist. And I have been missing it for many aggrivating and unstoppeable reasons for the last 2 weeks. I would also note that I've been waiting 5 weeks to see this one, as it is the beginning of many that I never got to see. (I picked up on the series from the beginning, and again from somewhere near the end.) I wannapunchsomething."
A; 0.0 "…just don't…hurt me…"
He limped slightly out of the passenger car, something a group of silent military officials were quick to take note of. Edward, however, refused to look at any of them.
Looking back, the Colonel noticed a slight blotch of crimson adorning the window pane, next to which a sullen Edward had been sitting. He said nothing, but followed up at the rear of the tight-knit circle.
It was a hospital, really. A medical facility solely for the military interest. How Ed hated hospitals! They were too white, too sterile, too hygienic.
However, he knew they would pause at the reception desk… if he could follow, or keep them in sight, they'd be powerless to keep him from her side—where he had already once decided he belonged… The Colonel and his troup, to Edward's dismay, followed in stride. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he had first predicted.
"Name of the patient?"
"Winry Rockbell."
"Mm-hmm." The rather pudgy, and overly vulture-like receptionist mused. She had a grating voice, one of which all members of the party had to restrain from cringing to. But, never-the-less, she was quick and efficient at such matters. Scralwing something on a clip board, she bustled down a hall, and retrieved a wheeling bed.
"Lay 'er down there and we'll have a look at her."
Her instructions were followed, and she was taken away, frail body unnearvingly calm. Though, it wasn't difficult to hear the faint murmur of, 'd-don't…move me…'ey won't…l-like it if I'm m-moved…'
The prodigy took a few steps forward, merely aggrivated when a slim hand found its way to his shoulder. Hawkeye eyed him sternly. Edward simply fixed her with an equally warning glance, and shrugged her off. His temper had gone too long within him, now. There was going to be an explosion soon enough.
Several military personel surrounding him glared at the Colonel, stating in a silent, yet severe tone,
'You're going to be responsible for every thing (or every person) that he breaks.'
The waiting room was a pastel color; pink walls, blue ceiling. Brilliant. He fiddled aimlessly at his sleeve, wondering how deep the bullet had settled itself simply to keep his mind off Winry. (And when he could have been reading all those interesting magazines!)
Hawkeye was discussing aiming tactics with a very…pale… Havoc, Hughes was enthusiastically sharing pictures with an equally over-obsessed mother, and several of the squad were settling themselves in the chairs, looking very out of place.
Roy strode back into the room, an expression Edward couldn't quite recognize on his face. Not that it mattered, really. The boy didn't need to know what the guy was feeling just to wipe wall-paper off the walls with him. (Heh, heh…)
He stood up, features contorting into what seemed like more of a pout, but was obviously meant to be one of rage.
"Where is she?"
"Follow me, Fullmetal."
No other explanation was given, but it didn't matter. He needed no other incentive to walk with the Colonel. Once out of earshot, Mustang made a sharp turn down another hallway, opening the doors to find a stairwell. To Ed's surprise, however, they did not proceed.
"What the hell is going on!"
There was a sigh, then a somewhat… saddened?… colonel pivoted to face him.
"So you haven't guessed?"
Edward only fixed him with a steely glare, remaining silent as though to give some indication of wishing to hear more.
"Your resignation isn't valid."
"Well, validation isn't my problem."
"If the Fuhrer wishes to make it a problem, it will be yours."
"Oh, heh! What a predictament."
"We haven't submitted the papers. It's not too late—"
"I'm done with the Military, Mustang. I'm sick of being a dog."
Exasperation dripped from his voice, and he crossed his arms in an effectively looming stance.
"Then you can be a stray."
Confusion lit in Edward's face, obviously adding to a smug Colonel's ego.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Fullmetal, that you are not of age. You were permitted to remain on your own only because you were under guardianship of the State. Now that we are free of that…" Here he paused to make sure Edward was paying attention (which he reluctantly was), "…responsibility, you are to be given to a new home…under foster care."
Panick was apparent in his eyes now; pools of darkening worry. Roy didn't even skip a beat.
"Winry, in turn, would have a temporary guardian as well."
"You—You can't do that!"
Although he expected a smirk, only a serious edge gripped Roy's features.
"Yes, Fullmetal. I can."
Defiance was predictably set now.
"We'll run 'till I turn 18."
"And you'll live off what?"
There was a slight pause, then, "We'll live off what we can."
"You would do that to your brother for a year?"
Another pause, then a small sigh of submission.
"I'm not going to get a 'temporary guardian'."
"I figured you'd say that."
"So what do we do, then?"
A sharp tone of annoyance crept into his words.
"You'll revoke your resignation. No problems will appear, due to the fact that, according to the papers, you never left our sight."
"But Winry—"
"And Ms. Rockbell will be placed under our care, but will be exempt of all military participation."
Edward gave a satisfied nod, agreeing silently to the terms.
"Why did you go through all this trouble just to get me back?"
Roy simply laughed.
"Because you're the beloved 'Guardian of the People', and we're short of personel until next Semptember, the month of the next exam. We have to salvage what we have until then."
"Sounds like a waste of time," he muttered, but added quickly, "…Do you think I could see her now?"
A last, and utterley wretched silence passed between them before Roy spoke softly, "Better not. She's in a medically-induced coma, and nobody can go into her room. Best relax… and… that shoulder looks like it needs tending." He indicated the soaked sleeve of his shirt, which had just recently (without his knowledge) gotten a red-tinged sheen.
"It's fine."
But he walked in the opposite direction anyway. Not caring what Mustang thought, he headed upstairs, striding in a steady ascent towards the supply floor.
There, he met a stout young man perhaps a year younger than him.
"You really should just go downstairs and have someone look at that." He replied in an aggrivatingly nasally voice when Edward requested a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
It just took a glare that said clearly, 'Either you go fetch it for me, or you'll drag yourself towards it for yourself.'
After a short trip to the restroom, Ed slipped back into a seat across the hall from Winry's room. His shoulder and hip smarted painfully, and nobody who passed by could tell he had actually given the wounds any attention. But the sharp smell of disinfectant remained with him throughout the long hours even he knew he would have to wait for… Waiting, however, was of no consequence. She was safe; they had a secured, non-foster related future, and he felt considerably better.
Until he remembered Al;
I just… He slipped my mind.
Guilt was overtaking his mind, but when he spoke to Hawkeye about it briefly, she nodded with a slight smile.
"It's alright, Edward. It's a short ride to Resemboul, and it would be best if you remained here with Ms. Rockbell in the chance that she wakes soon."
She received a mumbled 'thanks' before leaving formally, addressing the Colonel curtly.
It's just not right…, he thought fleetingly, knees at his chest as he rocked back and forth on the soft, unsettled earth. She lay just a few feet away from him, and despite the impossibility, he could have sworn that he could still small the stench.
Brother's not home yet… What if something happened?
Finally, he couldn't take the rancid aroma (which was non-existant to anybody else but him), jumping abruptly to his feet. He would wash his hands of it. Again. And again. And again.
Bane; "You should all be proud of me; I have resisted all urges to do inter-chapter notes. However, due to this resistance, I have developed a rare syndrome." :-twitch-:
A; "Great. Now you can add it to the list of all the other problems you have."
Bane; :-rolls eyes-: "It is a serious case that permits an authoress to write only after having received reviews. No name has been given ('ey; a new fun thing for my reviewers to think up!) and it is critical. Help me recover!" :-twitch-:"
A; :-rolls eyes back-:
Bane; " (Just kidding, by the way, folks… don't get all worried. Heh.) Just wanted to mention that I actually know I'm being cruel!" :–points at major plot-tist-cliffy-: " Just so you know that it wasn't an accident!"