Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist. If you have any questions regarding this situation, please see the disclaimer from the previous chapter. Thank you.
Author's note: Gomenasai! I meant to update on Sunday. But, I wasn't happy with the ending. And, to quote the wonderful Mort Rainey (Secret Window), "No...bad...writing. -hits delete key-" So, yeah...I saved the alt. ending, though, so check out the note at the end for more details. But, here it is! With angst! Yay, angst!
Advertisement: Shura's gonna update soon (-nudge nudge-) for her Muses O'Doom ficcy. Reeeaaally lookin' forward to it. That is the funniest story, go read it everyone! And all her other stuff if you love Scar-san. :) Then I finally edited Asha's chapter and she updated. It's an early EdWin, while Edo gets his automail. Really funny, with some angst in there, too. Cannot have a story w/o angst. Isis has updated twice, and I haven't read it yet. (Gomen!) Then, if you like Phantom of the Opera of the Rings, read Meluivan Indil's stories. :) Okay...that's all. You can read my chapter now, if you didn't skip this already. haha
Chapter 14: What It Is To Burn (or No Pain)
Edward yanked the key out of the lock, probably with a bit more force than needed, but it was cold outside! In the same jerky manner, Ed turned the handle and threw his shoulder into the door to unjam it. "The doctor said he would be find in a couple—What?" He looked at Winry curiously since she was tapping his arm. It took him a moment to turn around since he'd been locking the door back. But when he did look at his living room, he swore visciously. He suspected Winry would have scolded him for that word if she hadn't been feeling as shocked as he was suddenly angry.
As he surveyed the room before him, Ed began wondering just how it had happened. His living room was in shambles! Books were scarttered on the floor everywhere; the couch cushions were thrown around the room; the recliner was tipped; the TV moved to the floor as if it had been in the process of being stolen, but promptly forgotten about. When he further surveyed the room, Edward noticed his safes behind "books" had been cracked open beyond manual repair. Doubtless, the items were stolen or strewn in various odd places around the room. All-in-all, it looked like someone had broken into his house and not bothered to kindly clean up when they had finished stealing his stuff. How rude.
"Stay here, Winry," he told her. He pulled off his thick gloves and clapped his hands to trigger his alchemy. He touched his knuckles on his right hand and transmuted them to a spike point. He was now ready to defend himself. But what about Winry? He turned to look at her. "If you see something or someone, don't scream or anything - you get out of the house." He flicked the lock on the door again so she could get away quicker. "Go next door and hide in the bushes."
"But what about—"
"I can take care of myself," he snapped. Then he took a deep breath to calm himself. "If something happened to you..." He shook his head. If something happened to her, he'd blame himself. Then he'd never hear the end of it at work. Respectfully, of course. Mustang had a way to remind him of his failures in a polite, very Mustang way.
But Winry smiled at him a little. Ed turned around to go down the hall, rolling his eyes to himself, but her voice stopped him from going further than two steps. "Edward," she said softly. He turned to look at her again. There was a pause between their words, but finally, she mouthed, "I love you," to him.
He blinked a couple times before making a manly noise at her. Love him, she might at the moment, but he didn't want to wonder how she would feel after the entire ordeal was settled and her life was no longer in danger. Once the threat to her life was gone, that feeling of safety she had around him would likely disappear.
Yes, he had thought of a solution. She didn't love him, really. She thought she did, but she didn't. It was only the aforementioned feeling of safety that made her believe she loved him, nothing else. And once this was all over, Edward would go back to living how he used to, without the unfamiliar, strange emotions and work being his everything.
Such a pitiful life he led.
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About an hour later, Edward was sitting in the kitchen, stirring noodles on the stove. Winry was perched at the island, on a barstool, sifting through some of his broken or damaged items. It had taken him about thirty minutes to investigate the house to his satisfaction, twenty to clean up a little, and about ten for Winry to convince him to make noodles for a very late dinner or a very early breakfast. Either one.
He scowled down into the pot, muttering curses about cooking and the fact that someone had broken into and trashed his house. And, here he was, a cop! And someone had dared to do the like. But strangely enough—
"—nothing was stolen?"
Edward shook his head and turned off the burner when the water began to boil. Winry had been talking, hadn't she? "What?"
She rolled her eyes and ran her finger along a little item he'd transmuted when he was much younger. "I said, are you sure nothing was stolen?" she repeated.
He nodded and drained some of the juice out, then placed the pot back on the stove. "Yes. That's why there are no other police here," he replied.
"Other police?" She winked at him.
With a slight chuckle, Ed pulled his badge out of his pocket. "You would forget me?" He feigned hurt. There he went, flirting again, when he knew he shouldn't lead her on.
She laughed at him. "Never," she promised, giving him her famous smile. That was all fine and dandy, her smiling at him, regardless that it had been a rough night for them both, but what scared Ed was her eyes and the expression he saw there. It was...love?
No...she really couldn't love him, could she? Sometime soon, he had to sit her down and tell her that what she was feeling wasn't love. He had actually introduced her to what was really going on, and because she was facing the reality of the moment, that someone really was after her, it was only a feeling of strong adoration. But even that was pushing the lines of what Ed was comfortable with.
No, she wasn't feeling love, really.
In fact, it surprised him that she could even admire him to the point where she could even think she loved him.
"Edward?" Her calm, serene voice broke through his dark thoughts.
It took him a moment to keep from snapping at her. It was a subconscious habit he'd formed and learned that, on more than one occasion, she took personally. But in his hesitation to answer, he saw her reach out to touch his hand. They realized at the same time that she had touched his metal hand, still ungloved. Edward pulled his hand back gently and continued his efforts for a pitiful meal. Then a slight bit of remorse dared to creep up on him, but he ruthlessly shoved it away, just like most other emotions he felt.
Five minutes later, Edward was shoving a bowl into Winry's hands. His noodles were still in the pot. His appetite had diminished from his previous thoughts. And since eating was out of the question, he was going to the next best thing—smoking. He fingered the pack in his pants pocket gingerly. Lately, he'd been stressed out enough to make use of his metabolism and eat until he felt better. Or he terrorized his lungs with cigarette smoke until the tension reduced. There was a third option, but he would not take that one. He could actually sit down and talk with Winry, but who knew where that would lead? He would either end up fussing and ranting about something or it would go into something romantic and no words would be spoken. But since he was very frustrated at everything, if he kissed her now, he would probably receive complaints. He had been told he wasn't the gentlest kisser when he was angry. Gentleness was what Winry needed in her life, not an angry cop.
So, taking his idea of smoking and running with it, Ed started toward the back door. He would have made it out, had her voice not stopped him.
"Edward..." He only halted because Winry sounded so pitiful and helpless. It snagged his heart so terribly, he could literally feel the hook taking hold of him. After it was all said and done, would he be able to go free, no strings attached?
God, he hoped so. He didn't want to be in love, he didn't want to have more old ghosts and skeletons in his closet jumping out at bad, random intervals. But he had a feeling that was exactly what would happen if he turned around and went back to her. He also knew what would happen if he kept going. To have her love him or to have her hate him? The decision was hard to make.
Edward turned around and looked at Winry. What he saw in her eyes now was something he hadn't expected. He had expected frustration, or hurt - he could have dealt with those. He could have argued with her if she was frustrated, or walked away if she felt hurt. But he was totally unprepared with a reaction for what he saw.
There was fear in her eyes, genuine fear.
With a distressed sigh, he walked over to her again. "Winry..." Hesitantly, he put his hands on her shoulders.
"I'm so scared, Edward," she whispered coarsely, sniffling a little. Oh, God...she was starting to cry.
"Winry, I...I'm doing my best to keep you safe," he told her truthfully.
She pulled him closer and pressed her face to his chest. "I know, but...what happened to Al..." She trailed off. "I'm just so scared now. I know they're out there, and how close one had been to me."
Why did he have to deal with tears? Or at least why couldn't he have possessed a few more wits to comfort the woman in his arms. Edward racked his brain for some way to deal with her. Then, inspiration hit! He held her back at arm's length. "I'm doing all I can, Winry. But I just need a few minutes to think, okay? You're safe here." Safe there? Someone had just broken into his house, and was telling her she was safe? Hah? "I'm just going to go outside for a minute," he said softly.
Winry looked up at him with teary eyes. She looked to be controlling her emotions now. "All right." She swiped her fingers under her eyes. "Sorry I went off like that," she apologized.
Edward smiled at her understandingly. "It's okay, Winry," he told her. Then, very hesitantly, he lifted his left hand to her cheek. "Just...don't do that again, okay?"
She used her sleeve to wipe away the remaining tears. "I'll try," she said, halfway laughing, halfway crying still.
Nodding to himself, Edward fingered the cigarettes in his pocket again. He did that for a different reason this time. He smelled moisture in the air, and that wasn't a good thing. The heater had kicked on, so it was melting the snow on top of the system outside. That moisture was just enough to trigger the memories. He shut his eyes slowly, but immediately wished he hadn't when he saw the bright lights shining in front of him again. He opened his eyes and tried to appear normal, but Winry was giving him an inquisitive look. Edward shook his head and headed towards the door, muttering to himself.
It was going to be another long day, he could already tell.
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It was about an hour later when Winry actually left the kitchen. She turned around to survey the room. It was practically gleaming now. That was a strange reaction of hers; if she was feeling sad or upset, she would clean. She almost laughed, ruefully of course, when she realized she had hardly ever cleaned before Edward came into her life. But she didn't want to say Edward upset her all the time. Only sometimes. It's just that...he was so frustrating! And now, with their feelings so close to the surface, they were both on the edge of something. What exactly, Winry didn't know, but it was something.
He'd said she only thought she loved him because he was giving her a feeling of protection. She knew differently. She wasn't really one for believing in love at first sight, but she would have to agree that he'd had her at "hello." Winry hadn't realized it until about a week before when they had gone shopping. Something had just clicked into place for her. It hadn't been some magnificent event in her life, though, that the heavens had opened up, framed Edward in a golden light, and angels had sung. It had been more of moment where she just thought, "Oh, I love him," and that was that. She'd looked at him, smiled, and then thought it. That was all. Nothing big. Just a realization that she was in love.
About half an hour ago, Edward had come inside, smelling like cigarette smoke. He'd stopped on his trek somewhere in the house to talk to her. He'd smiled a few times, but she could tell he was warring with his inner demons again. That far away look had come into his eyes a few times when they'd been talking about Al and the hospital. Winry had moved off of the subject, subtly, when it came up. She didn't want Edward to have to talk about something if he didn't want to. She knew things just didn't work that way for him.
He'd also, in short, explained his "solution" to her. That made her a little mad, but the only way to prove something to someone was with time and patience.
After their short conversation, he'd disappeared, saying he was going to his study to do some work. She'd smiled a little and gone back to cleaning. But now that that she was done cleaning the kitchen, she wanted to talk to Ed. About what, she didn't know, but anything would be good. There were a couple things on her mind that were bothering her, but they weren't things she could just up and say. They were topics that needed to be approached with care and caution. That was just what she hoped to do, maybe.
So, when she stepped into his study, a sigh escaped her lips. Winry shook her head at the sight in front of her. Edward was sitting up in his chair, asleep. His mouth was slightly open and she could hear him making a small snoring sound. She didn't fault him for sleeping at the moment. But it kind of shocked her to see him that way. He looked so relaxed there, like there was nothing wrong in his world, like his brother hadn't just been shot or anything. It surprised her because he was usually so uptight and stressed about something. Winry was impressed he didn't have gray hairs yet. Maybe he dyed his hair? But to see him somewhat peaceful looking was a little strange. Winry hadn't seen him look that way for a couple days.
As she watched him sleep, his head started to tilt forward. He jerked it back with a small snort. It took a second for Winry to suppress the urge to laugh at him. Like as not, he was probably not completely asleep yet after that. When he scratched his stomach with his left hand, that confirmed he was parly awake. She waited until he stopped moving before doing anything. But she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. Edward's hand was still over his stomach, holding his shirt up, so Winry had an unobstructed view at most of his abs. She gazed at his rather well-built stomach for a moment longer before walking over to him.
"You'll catch your death if you sleep like that in your house. It's freezing here," she whispered, looking around for a blanket. She came up with a discarded throw that might have been from the couch. When Winry picked it up, a strange feeling came over her. It was hard for her to describe; the closest thing she could come to explaining it was that it gave her chills, like someone was watching her. A soft smell, like a flowery fragrance, drifted up from the quilted material as she draped it over Edward's shoulders. For some reason, she knew the blanket had been his mother's.
Winry looked up at Ed's face. She just couldn't get over how content he looked when he was asleep. He looked so defenseless... Her eyes trailed down to his still slightly ajar mouth. She wondered...what it would be like to kiss him while was asleep. Well, it couldn't hurt for her to kiss him once, could it? So she tilted her head to the side and covered his mouth with hers for a prolonged moment. No response from Edward when she broke the contact. He looked as innocent and helpless as he had a moment before. She laughed a little to herself and began to regain her composure.
When Winry began to move away from him, his voice caught her off guard. "Winry," he whispered. His eyes were still shut. She would have though he'd woken up a little if his mouth hadn't slid open again.
Edward was talking in his sleep. How cute? But he'd said her name. How strange? She was about to say something when his features changed from relaxed to stressed. His eyes shut a little tighter and twitched beneath his eyelids rapidly. He started to murmur in his sleep incoherently.
"Edward," Winry whispered, touching his shoulder. Sweat began to form on his forehead and his breathing quickened. "Edward, wake up."
When he began to thrash a bit more, Winry leaned away. And just in time, too, because the second she'd moved back, his eyes opened wide and he yelled, "No! Okaa-san!" Then he winced, shut his eyes tightly, and drew his left knee up towards him. Out of the corner of Winry's eyes, she saw something fall to the floor slowly beneath his chair. But her attention went quickly back to Edward a moment later. He was whimpering quietly and breathing heavily; quite uncharacteristic for him, she thought. Winry watched him open one eye and focus on her. It was mildly disturbing. "Winry," he murmured. "What—"
Let's go in the living room," she interrupted, pretending she'd only just gone in the study, like nothing was wrong. But something was wrong, and it had everything to do with Edward's pride. Right now, however, it was her task, as his almost-girlfriend, to be there for him, especially when he didn't ask.
Winry had expected him to tell her to go a way or something. She was surprised, though, when he pulled the throw out of his lap and went out of his study. Winry ignored the fact that he could have been heading to his room to lock the door. So when he disappeared down the hallway—towards the living room—Winry bent down to pick up the slip of paper she'd seen. What she saw brought a faint smile to her face.
It was a picture of Edward and Alphonse when they were a bit younger, probably when they were about fifteen and sixteen. With them was a youthful looking woman with brown hair a little darker than Al's. She had her arm around Al's waist companionably and her other arm around Edward's neck, since he appeared to be trying to escape. There was a big smile on their faces, despite Edward's choice of poses. Winry could only guess the woman was their mother from the likeness she saw in their faces. Though Al looked more like their mother than Ed did. Winry wondered what their father looked like...
"Winry!" she heard Edward call from the living room so suddenly that she dropped the picture.
Quickly recovering, she caught it in midair and set it on the desk next to some yellowed papers. They caught her attention, but they were none of her business. "Yeah, I'm coming," she yelled distractedly to him, glancing at the papers since she just couldn't help herself. They were letters...from who to whom, she didn't have enough time to read since she'd been walking and craning her neck to see them.
Winry went into the living room, expecting to see Edward glaring and pointing at the kitchen, like most men would. Instead, he wasn't in plain sight. She stood in place for a moment looking around, until she saw him lift his arm from the couch. He waved his hand lazily then dropped it back onto his chest. Winry walked over to the couch and looked down at him. His eyes were closed. A tiny bit of how he had looked earlier was still on his tired features as she gazed down at him, smiling.
When he opened one eye halfway to look at her, he grumbled, "What're you lookin' at?"
She laughed a little. "You're so cute when you're asleep," she teased. "Much quieter, easier to get along with."
He made a noise at her that she took to mean, "If I were fully awake right now, I'd kick your butt, but I'm not so you're lucky." She only laughed at him again. "Are you going to stand there all morning?" he asked, sounding very groggy.
Winry shook her head. "No." She walked around the edge of the couch and stood before him. "Lift your head up," she ordered. Blessedly, Edward was too tired and halfway asleep still so he didn't argue or question her. Winry sat down on the spot where his head had been and relaxed. Once she was situated, she pulled his head back down on her lap. She smiled at him when he cracked open one eye to peer at her. "Your hair is a mess."
"Hn," was his first comment. "Unbraid it, then."
She nodded. "I will. Turn on your side," she said softly.
Edward grumbled a time or four, but eventually managed to be on his side so the back of his head was facing Winry. He continued his mutterings as Winry pulled his hair tie from the bottom of his braid. She was a little puzzled when he waved his hand at her limply. After a moment, she figured out what he meant and put the red band in his hand. Edward's fingers closed over her hand for a moment until he pulled his hair cord away. Winry shivered a little, but went on to gently untangling his braid. After a couple of minutes, she heard him mumble something.
"You're not tenderheaded, are you?" she asked suddenly, hoping he hadn't been cursing at her under his breath.
"A bit," he mumbled tiredly.
She winced. "Sorry. Did I hurt you any?" He shook his head vaguely. "Good." Winry patted his head gently, then started to run her fingers through his hair slowly to get out any tangles. "Edward?" she asked lightly after a few minutes. He might have gone back to sleep, but she was hoping that he was still slightly coherent.
"Hmm?"
Winry paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask. "Was that your mother in that picture you had?" she questioned.
Edward nodded. "Yeah."
"What happened?" She knew she was on unsteady ground now, but maybe she could get some information from him if he was halfway asleep.
"Ow," she heard him mutter. Then she felt him shiver. How could he be cold? He had the throw draped over him.
"What?" 'Ow?' What was that about? She leaned forward to look at him. There was a pecualiar look on his face.
"You scratched my head," he said, sounding a little disgruntled.
Winry sighed. "Sorry," she murmured. Maybe he was more coherent than she thought. He made another noise at her.
"Just go to sleep, Winry. We'll talk in the morning," he whispered, turning on his back. Edward opened his golden eyes and looked up at her.
When she looked down at him, she saw so much in his eyes. She saw the obvious exhaustion from the past few days; confusion; and quite a few other unidentifiable feelings. But something else that caught her was pain. Not just pain from now, but pain from his past. It was so visible, Winry found herself asking, "What happened, Edward?"
He winced now, taken aback by the suddeness of the question. "Don't worry about it, Winry; you don't need to know." Then he shut his eyes and turned on his side again. He shifted so the back of his head was against her stomach.
Winry sighed and watched his head go down with the movement. She would have laughed had she not been so suddenly frustrated. He was so closed-mouthed. It was annoying. Why didn't he talk about himself ever? Why did he always keep to himself? It was unhealthy to keep his feelings all to himself, bottling them up and never letting any out. One day, she knew they were going to explode, tired of being caged up inside him. But she wanted to be there that day, to catch him if he fell, to be the listening ear if he needed to talk. She always wanted to be there for him.
But she couldn't be there for him if he wouldn't tell her anything.
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The next morning, Edward woke up around ten. It was kind of late to him, but he'd had a long night. He didn't want to wake up yet; he was too comfortable and warm. So he burrowed deeper into the warmth. He wasn't usually this warm he woke up at Winry's house. What was different? While he pondered that sleepily, he turned his face into the pillow. Then he muttered a curse when the thick seam rubbed his nose wrong. "Stupid pillows," he grumbled, pulling his blanket over his head.
Then he caught himself. Pillows didn't have thick seams, did they? At least, usually not the ones you slept on? Limply, he brought his hand up to whatever he was sleeping on and fingered the material. It felt like denim. Why would his pillow be made of denim? Unless he was sleeping on the couch downstairs?
Opening one eye hesitantly confirmed Edward was definitely on a couch. When he became more aware of where he was, he realized he wasn't at Winry's house. He was in his living room, on his couch. He should have realized that right off from the slight lumps in the cushions. That was all fine and dandy, he was in his own house for once, but what was he sleeping on? Certainly not a pillow. He didn't have any denim pillows.
So, very slowly, Ed opened his other eye and turned. Then he promptly fell off the couch in shock. Just to make sure he'd been seeing right—since his eyes had been known to play tricks on him in the past—Edward looked up at the couch again. Yup, his eyes were just fine. Now whether that was fortunately or unfortunately, he didn't know.
There, on his couch, Winry was sleeping, slouched in what may have been an uncomfortable position. But she looked perfectly content there, on his slightly lumpy couch, more or less passed out. But, if she functioned on as much sleep as he did, she would probably be waking up within the hour. Edward had no clue how to respond to it. Should he just turn on the TV quietly and watch the news, to see if there was anything intriguing and possibly helpful about his case? Or should he get back on the couch and pretend to sleep until she woke up? That would, in turn, cause him to "wake up," if he'd been asleep. What to do, what to do?
His musings were interrupted when he heard her shivering. Instinctively, Edward looked around and saw the quilted throw his mother had sewn years before. Well, it was better than her freezing in his cold house. So, he got to his feet, the blanket in hand, and stumbled over to the couch. He draped the blanket over her shoulders, telling himself it was in a nonchalant manner, but he couldn't help his sudden self-conscious feeling. He sighed when he stepped away from her. Howhad he managed this? How had he managed to find a nice girl who said she loved him for what she knew of him? And what she knew already turned most girls off. And how was it that when he found her, he couldn't love her?
It just seemed his luck, he thought, as he looked down at her. Edward watched her shift into the warmth of the blanket and sighed. He had a feeling of longing, wishing that he could have been the one she was snuggling against. He didn't even try to push away the knowledge of how pathetic that was. And, as Edward was letting his feelings come to the surface, he took the hard impact that he wanted to be with Winry. What made it worse was that he knew he couldn't. It was the same philosophy as a kid in a toystore - look only. Even touching was questionable. It didn't matter if they saw something they really wanted more than the toy everyone else had, they couldn't have it.
How Edward wished the philosophy was "a kid on Christmas."
Christmas...that was coming up soon. Edward trudged out of the living room, away from Winry, away from the feelings that were threatening to swallow him. He went into the kitchen to look at the calendar. It was November twenty-nineth. Just a few more weeks. Then Edward could count another number on the anniversary list.
With a sigh, he went to the bar and sat down. What a great time of year, he thought sarcastically as he brought his elbows up onto the surface. Edward rubbed his face and groaned. So much had happened lately. So much still had yet to happen. And he was tired already? How old was he again? Forty-one? A wry chuckle escaped, surprising himself to the point of looking up. Had it really been that long since he'd laughed to himself? If he didn't recognize his own chuckle, then he guessed it had been waytoo long.
But you couldn't blame Edward. He'd been through a lot in his lifetime...his father leaving when he was at a young age, his mother being diagnosed with that disease, the accident, his mother dying, and now his brother being shot? Of course, that didn't seem like a lot to just count off, but the time spent getting over it more than made up for what may have been lacking that list. And those were not easy things to overcome; if Edward were any younger, he would probably still be depressed about being an orphan. But there were plenty of adult orphans who were just fine living how they were, because they had a family of their own. But Edward? He only had Alphonse, usually. He didn't know if he could call Winry family yet. He didn't know if he wanted to. He didn't even know what he wanted to feel about Winry.
He blew his hair out of his face as he looked up again. His gaze strayed over to the woman of his thoughts. She was still asleep, looking quite content to be there. He envied her the ability to be happy where she was, in whatever circumstances. She most often had a smile on her face, unless she was mad. Then Edward was the one smiling to himself because it was so amusing to see Winry when she was like that. Her reactions to one word were hilarious.
But he knew she had a story. He'd heard part of it a few weeks ago. Edward knew her father was dead; he didn't know about her mother. Regardless, she had a dark past, too. She knew what it was to burn, to feel the harsh emotions of losing a parent. It didn't matter what age, it was always hard. There was never an age where it was simpler to deal with, never. The bracing reality of knowing that person was gone forever was rough, and always hit when it was least convenient.
Yeah, she knew what it felt like. She'd felt the inevitable pain that came with life. But she managed to smile despite it. Edward admired her for that talent.
"Edward?" Her soft, sleep-filled voice caressed Edward's ears gently, causing him to shiver a little, even though he was quite warm in the kitchen.
"Yeah, Win?" He turned his gaze to the living room, probably with the remainder of his thoughts on his features still. He didn't care. He'd promised her a conversation; she deserved some answers now. When Edward looked at her, he was amazed in too many ways to count. He didn't know why, he just was.
He watched her stretch her arms out slowly. "Good morning," she said after a minute. Then she smiled at him.
Here was someone who knew what it was to burn. Yet she could still smile like she had no pain.
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Yeah...I really recommend the song "What is it to Burn" by Finch. If you're sensitive to screamers, though, you may not like it. It isn't really bad, but if you're sensitive, you're sensitive! lol But if nothing else, check out the lyrics; they made me rewrite this chapter. Check out my livejournal for the original, alternate ending.It'll be up there, along with what I did in California. Link is in my profile. Anyway...peace...lurve...reviews.
