Disclaimer: checks que cards I do not own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its components, characters, plotlines, et cetera. Byno means am I allowed to say I do own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its components, characters, plotlines, et cetera. Any statements made hereafter implying I do own the aforementioned details shall result in my writing license being revoked on charge of a big word I can't spell. Signed byMe--car rushes by. Thank you.
Author's Note: I'm back from Cali! We had fun. Check my LiveJournal in a couple days for what we did. I'll put a link for it in my profile sooner or later...and update it hopefully Wednesday. Anyhow, this chapter took me so long to write! O.o But here it is! I hope you all enjoy it! I won't ramble at you. But the song "Beautiful Disaster" is by Kelly Clarkson, andI don't own that, either.
Advertisement: I have to admit, it's getting weird writing these every chapter, so I'll just put the author names: Shiruba Neko, Asha3, IsisoftheUnderground, Meluvian Indil. Go read their stuff!
Chapter 13: Beautiful Disaster
Pain. So much pain. It was hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think. To say it was "overwhelming" would be quite the understatement. And to say that it felt like someone was cutting his arm off with a butter knife; well, that would be a little too close to reality at the moment. He would just have to settle on the pain being too much to stay conscious through and call it even. In fact, just when the light shining in front of his closed eyes began to dim and the rushed, indecipherable voices and beeping machines started fading, one sound cut through it all.
"Alphonse, I'm so sorry. I'll fix it."
His brother's voice echoed in his might for a few more moments until blessed unconsciousness pulled him to rest. Edward was there. He would make it all better.
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Al shivered as the unfamiliar memory suddenly surfaced. Where had that come from? He didn't remember ever having to go to a hospital for his arm; before now, at least. The only times he'd gone to a hospital had been so few he could count them on one hand. His mother had tried to keep him and Edward away from activities too dangerous. Izumi had agreed to take them to a hospital if they were mortally wounded. That had never happened. In fact, the only time Al remembered going to a hospital for something serious had been for the accident. But he didn't remember much about that night, and probably for a good reason. Edward never talked about it, and it seemed like such a sore subject that Al didn't want to know about it.
But as he looked at his right arm and how the coloration differed from the hollow of his shoulder to the rest of his arm, he couldn't help but wonder. Could that have some connection to Edward's metal arm?
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The scent of burning flesh filled Edward's nose. It would have made him gag if the sudden pain in his leg wasn't so arresting. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. He'd refused any pain medication so he felt the full brunt of the cauterization. And if the enormity and reality of the situation of having his lower thigh melted to a stub wasn't enough, to add the pain and the smell was enough to make his blond head spin.
He hazarded a vague, blurry-eyed look across the hallway and saw that the rushing around in his mother's emergency operation room had decreased. In fact, the traffic of peoplehad stopped completely. It did not bode well to Edward. Trying to clear his vision, he blinked a couple times. What he managed to see was not what he wanted.
A nurse with very light brown hair was arguing with a stern-faced doctor. The doctor looked up at a clock then began writing in a folder. The nurse continued to argue some point or other until the doctor finally yelled at her, gesturing to something further in the room. Thanks to another wave of blinding pain in his leg, things blurred again for Edward. He gritted his teeth so hard; he was surprised none of them cracked. He tried to see what was in the room again.
His vision started dimming and he began to feel numb. He squinted until he saw the nurses pulling a white sheet over a gurney bed. If that didn't tell Edward what had happened, then the overwhelming feeling of loss was more than enough.
As consciousness started to seep into blackness, Edward knew he'd failed. His mother was dead, and his attempt to save her had been futile.
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Edward woke abruptly to the feeling of someone tapping his shoulder. He sucked in a breath sharply in surprise at first. When he saw it was only Winry, he sat back against the chair. "Hey, Winry," he mumbled, scratching his neck.
"You okay?" she asked, sitting next to him. She kept her hand on his shoulder.
He nodded vaguely. "I guess," he said, now rubbing his eyes with his left hand. Images from his nightmare, from his past, were still burned in his eyes.
"How's Al?" Winry sounded genuinely concerned and for some reason, it soothed Ed to know he wasn't the only one who cared about his brother.
"I don't know; I've been asleep." Ed looked around groggily for a clock. "What time is it?"
Winry checked her watch. "One-thirty," she said softly.
Edward leaned forward again and dropped his face to his hands. "Aw, God," he grumbled, tangling his fingers in his bangs. He felt Winry begin to rub his back gently. How could she be so freaking casual after what she'd told him? He stole a look at her from the corner of his gaze. She looked a little thoughtful as she stared off down an empty corridor. He assumed she was thinking very hard about something because she continued to absently drag her fingers over his back. So maybe she was bothered by something; it could have been the fact Al was just down the hall having God knew what done to him, not that she'd confessed love for Edward. He knew he was bothered by both, but more so about his brother now, considering the bullet in Al's shoulder was from Edward's gun.
Why had Al even been at the club in the first place? He didn't like crowded places that much, and the nightclub had been anything but empty before Edward had revealed he had a gun. And last he'd known of his brother, Al had been calling between college classes to check in. The college campus building was clear across Central. It had to have been a rather important reason for Al to show up at the nightclub. But what could have been so important that he'd been shot in the shoulder? The two men had a secure system of what they deemed important to each other and individually. Individual incidents were shared when convenient, and earlier had not been convenient for either of them. So it had obviously been some vital piece of information. But what? What was so important that Al had rushed across Central?
"Edward?"
He looked at Winry. "Yeah?" She'd stopped rubbing his back, but still had her fingers over his right shoulder where his automail was attached.
"You should have a doctor look at your face," she said softly. "You have a couple cuts that look a little deep."
Edward rolled his eyes. "I don't care about my face," he grumbled crossly. "It'll heal on its own. What won't heal on its own is Al's shoulder." He turned his gaze back towards the floor.
Winry shifted beside him. He felt a new energy from her; urgency, frustration? "I do. Please Edward?" She reached out to touch his cheek, just below a cut that was throbbing a little if he thought about it. That would leave a scar.
Debating whether to listen to Winry or not, he turned his face away from her hand and looked down a busy hall. It didn't matter by whom, Edward didn't like a lot of touch; physical contact of most kinds disturbed him. And since it had been a long day, someone touching his face was probably too much for him. "They'd have to sedate me first," he mumbled darkly. He didn't expect or even want a response from Winry so he stood up. He would get some coffee to calm his very shot nerves. "You want a drink, Win?" he asked, digging in his pockets for his wallet.
Then she stood up as well. And the way she stood up just did not seem like it divined much happiness. "No. But I want something else," she said, sounding a little vexed. Okay, so maybe a little was understating it, but Edward was trying to look on the bright side, he really was! He just wasn't doing a very good job of it at the moment. "Do you want to know what I want?"
Edward shuddered. God only knew what the woman had to say. "Not really, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway." He tried to sound casual, like it didn't bother him that she was probably about to kill him. So he looked over his shoulder in a bored manner.
She seethed at that. Oops. "Exactly the opposite of that, Edward Elric!" Winry exclaimed a little on the loud side. A few eyes turned towards them. "I'm tired of you being so bipolar towards me!" He turned and gave her a flustered look. "Like tonight! You take me on a date, and then you suddenly start treating me like just another person on the street! Now, I'm feeling ice from you. And I'm tired of that because I don't ever know what to expect from you!" She glared at him, managing a hurt look. And, oh God, were those tears forming in her eyes? He was pretty sure they were; her cheeks were turning a little red and her eyes were swelling. Great.
Edward didn't quite have a response for her. He never had a response for anything when it dealt with how he felt. He rarely talked about his feelings. If he ever did, which again, was rare, it was to Alphonse. But he usually talked to himself or recorded it in his journal. So when a triage nurse came up to them, looking a little taken aback, Ed was grateful.
"Are you Edward Elric?" the young woman asked. She looked very familiar to Ed. He had a slight idea where he'd seen her before, but wasn't sure…
He nodded, though. "Yeah, that's me." He shoved his hands in his pockets when the woman extended her hand. "I'm not here for casualties. How's my brother?"
The woman cleared her throat. "Yes. He's just fine. The surgery on his shoulder was minor and—"
Ed choked. "Surgery? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"You were asleep, and quite frankly, you slept like the dead," she chuckled a little. Ed gave her a bored, impatient look. "Well," she cleared her throat again, "We removed the bullet successfully and wrapped his shoulder. He'll have to stay for the rest of the night for observation, though, since he is still under the anesthetic."
"Can I see him?" Edward took a step forward. If she wouldn't let him as a civilian, he could always pull out his badge and plead his brother knew something about the case he was investigating. He had a feeling Al did know something, so he wouldn't be completely lying. But the triage nurse stepped aside and gestured down the hall.
"He's being transferred from the ER to Recovery right now, so follow me." The woman started down the hallway.
Edward shook his head. "I know where it's at well enough, thanks," he told her. He grabbed Winry's hand and went down the hallway without the triage nurse.
The walk seemed to take forever. Sure, it was sort of a long way to recovery from the ER, but Ed didn't remember it being this long. It was probably because Winry's words were still in his head. Was he really bipolar only towards her? If he was, it was probably because he was fighting his inner feelings…he didn't want to be in love with her! He freaking couldn't! It was just unethical. How many cases for someone being sued over that had happened in the past? Too many, and Edward didn't want to be another statistic for that.
He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. There was a very big difference there. Though there were of the same letters, there weren't enough to make them similar. He wouldn't let himself be anymore than that.
"Edward?"
He almost cringed for some reason. Maybe he was successfully falling out of love…. "Yes?" he replied softly.
"You passed up Recovery," Winry reminded him.
He rolled his eyes and turned around. When he did, he forgot that she was directly behind him. So he was now standing mere inches away from Winry. He could actually feel her body heat. "Sorry," he mumbled and tried to step around her. He saw her lift her hand and reach for his shoulder, but then decided not to in mid-movement. Why was she such a touchy person?
The hallway wasn't that far behind them so he walked down the way to the nurse's station. Ed leaned on the counter to gain the women's attention. When one looked up at him, he asked, "Has Alphonse Elric been transferred yet?"
The woman laughed. "It's usually the other way around; people ask where and when someone was transferred, not if they have already been transferred," she said.
Ed started to count in his head. "Has he been transferred yet?" he asked evenly. He managed to sound indifferent, though. At least the woman started checking her papers.
"Not yet, but he will be in room 347 in just a couple minutes," she said, pointing down a hallway. Edward nodded and headed down towards the room the woman had gestured to, but she called after him. "You can't go in yet. You'll have to wait until he's in there and stabilized. So, if you'll have a seat in the waiting area..." She pointed down the opposite hallway.
Ed growled. "No, I'll wait outside his room, thanks," he replied in a snippy manner, daring her to challenge him. He had a reputation at this hospital; hardly any of the nurses fondly remembered him. When he'd been stuck in the hospital, he'd been very angry at everyone. Except Al. So, it was only plausible most people felt his wrath if they bothered him overmuch.
"Fine, go ahead," the nurse said. "But stay out of the way, Mr. Elric."
Ed smirked at her behind his bangs and pulled Winry behind him. He started down the hallway quickly, but slowed his pace a bit when they were at room 340. He was suddenly very self-conscious and it bothered him. As they went further down the hall, the lights dimmed until it varied to every other light being on.
At room 346, Ed stopped. He slowly turned to look at Winry. It might have bothered him any other time that he had to look up a little to see her eyes well, but not now. He felt too serious, too conscious of his movements.
"Yeah?" she said, some of her anger and frustration still with her voice.
Edward let go of her hand and rubbed his neck. "This is seriously going to support your claim on my bipolar attitude, but let me try to explain. But first, Winry?" He waited until she looked at him. "I'm not good at expressing myself with words. So...just bear with me." Winry leaned against he wall expectantly. He took a deep breath. Then he let it out slowly, unsure of where to begin now. He'd set himself up for the jump, but didn't have everything just right to step off the edge. When he looked in her eyes, he realized he'd already taken the plunge and was waiting for the impact.
"I'm confused," he began slowly, "about a lot of things. So, just cut me some slack for a couple days, okay?" She gave him a look that clearly said she wasn't impressed. He let out another strained sigh and put his metal hand against the wall beside Winry's head. It took him a moment to regain himself. "These past few hours have been very stressful; this entire week, actually! My brother got shot, with a bullet from my gun after I saw someone change their freaking shape right in front of me, had the same guy treat me like a rag doll, and then you told me that you loved me!" His fingers tensed up on his right hand with little metallic clicks. "I know it's frustrating to you for me to be, as you said, bipolar, but right now, I can't help it!" He took a deep breath to try to steady himself. "This hospital holds a lot of bad memories for me, so I'm trying to get over them, too." Ed grumbled to himself for a moment about feelings. Then he changed the subject; no use getting into that if he didn't need to. "I care for you, Winry, I really do, okay? Not only because I'm your bodyguard. And you're different from how I had imagined you to be a few weeks ago. But, we just can't happen, okay? It just won't work well."
Winry was silent for a moment. "You're afraid," she stated quietly.
Ed narrowed his eyes. "I'm not—"
"Yes, you are, Edward. I don't know why you're afraid. I know there's a story behind your metal limbs, and I think that has something to do with it." She looked at him sternly. He returned her gaze with a little less force.
"Winry, I just don't know, okay?" He moved away. "Just...let me get through this night, okay? Then we'll talk." Right as Edward finished talking, the attendants moving Al started to come down the hallway.
"Excuse us!" one of them said when they came close to Ed and Winry.
Edward moved forward to make room for his brother's gurney. But in doing so, he tripped on the toe of his boot and fell towards Winry. Thinking quickly, he slapped both hands against the wall on either side of her head to catch himself. He saw Winry flinch and keep her eyes closed. "Winry," he whispered so she would open her eyes. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to do that, actually, since he was only about two inches away from her face. But it was too late now. Her eyes slowly opened. Then she took a deep breath.
"Edward," she looked straight into his eyes like she was trying to memorize their color. That was all fine and dandy. When the gurney passed by, Edward flicked his eyes to the side to try to see Al. When he looked back at Winry, he saw her focus on his eyes again and look deeper, like she was trying to see inside him. That just wouldn't do. So he shook his head and leaned closer to her.
"You don't want to know me, Winry," he whispered, close to her mouth. "Trust me."
He knew it was a bad idea to kiss her right now, that it would really throw things off. He knew that it would probably confuse her even more, make her even more upset at him, but he did it anyway. Edward lightly touched his lips to Winry's very briefly. He looked down at her to see a little bit of a startled expression in her eyes, but not so much that he would back away. She was about to whisper his name when he pressed his mouth against hers again, longer this time. He kept his eyes open to watch her, to see her reaction, to see if this was what he wanted. Her lips trembled beneath his and her eyes fluttered shut. He could almost hear her heart picking up a fast pace.
In that moment Edward knew he was lost and he couldn't do a thing about it. He didn't want to be; he didn't want to be in love again. It only meant his heart being broken again. But there was nothing he could do now. It was becoming hard to fight these feelings that were advancing on his poor, defenseless heart. He knew he was only making it worse by kissing Winry as he was now, but he couldn't help it. It had just been in the moment to happen, like it had been written in his destiny to happen.
But when Winry reached her hand up slowly to touch his cheek, he pulled away abruptly. He didn't know why; maybe the sudden action had surprised him or it was a subconscious thing, but it was too late now. Edward looked at Winry and saw her with another confused look on her face. But then she focused on him and that confused look disappeared. She smiled a little.
"Go see your brother," she said softly. "I'll wait out here for you, unless you want me to come with you."
What was this? He was the one confused now! He had been expecting her to yell at him again, like she had earlier, because he was being 'bipolar.' But she just calmly told him to go, like he hadn't just switched from romantic mode to self-defense mode in a quarter of a second. Maybe she was beginning to understand what he'd told her?
"All right. I won't be long," he found himself saying. Edward turned around, feeling a little light-headed and flustered as he went into room 347. He would think Winry was losing her mind, but he wasn't too sure on his own sanity either. So he didn't have much room to say much.
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Winry waited until the door shut and Edward was gone before she let her small smile burst into a full-blown, sunny grin. She leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. A bit of a chuckle escaped before she chewed her bottom lip gently. She could still taste Edward's kiss. And what a taste it was... A little sweet, but mostly something she couldn't identify, just like the man. He was sweet sometimes, but there was just something about him that she just couldn't figure out, something so alluring that she couldn't leave it be. He was charismatic, but that wasn't the thing that drew her to him. There was something more, something so much deeper.
It was his past...that dark past he never let out and the heavy feelings he kept inside him. Even though she knew it was probably a morbid story, she was drawn to it. She wanted to know his past.
Another chuckle escaped her lips. To her, Edward was a disaster, a lawsuit waiting to happen with his spastic moments, his impulsive behavior, and his explosive personality, simply a disaster. But he was a beautiful disaster.
