Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
Author's Note: Almost 6000 words! I have 5956 words in here, without all my extra rambling at y'all. See my Live Journal for more details about that and for some comic relief.
Chapter 17
Edward slowly opened his eyes when he heard the sound of TV static. He inhaled sharply to bring life back to his sleepy body. Shutting his eyes again, he rubbed his face groggily. "What time is it?" he asked himself.
Then he opened his eyes again and spotted the VCR clock. It was blurry, but after blinking a few times, he made out the time to be a little after six. He was ready to go back to sleep, but nature suddenly called with an urgent message for the porcelain god. Grumbling, he crawled off of the couch. He wasn't really aware of his surroundings as he went down the hallway into the bathroom.
Five minutes later, he walked out into the hallway. He'd taken his hair out of his braid and put a brush to it, so it was a little on the wavy side. Ed yawned and stretched out his arms. While he was looking in the living room, he saw the notebook Winry had been using earlier. Where was she, anyway? The last time he'd seen her, it'd been before he'd fallen asleep around four-thirty. She'd been writing in the notebook with a soft expression on her face. It had been the last thing he'd seen before slumber had claimed him.
"Winry?" he said sleepily. He peeked into his study, but no sign of her there. Good. After that, he checked in Al's room and the basement, and still no trace. That left his room.
Edward's and Alphonse's rooms were easily distinguished from the furnishings alone, not to mention the paint on the walls. Al's room was a light, sky blue with stormy gray furnishings. He had a captain's bed with blue and gray patterns on his blanket, placed against the wall near the closet. His dresser was short and wide, fitting comfortably beneath a window. There was a nightstand with a digital alarm clock and a few pictures near the bed. A neat writing desk was in a far corner of the room with a lamp, an old typewriter, and a few reams of paper atop it. Lastly, a small bookcase was near the desk, filled with reference books and things of that sort. Al's room was a neat little place.
Ed's room, however, was painted a dark blue with like colors for his furnishings. He had a queen-sized bed with black and blue bed coverings. There was a wardrobe in the far corner made from from dark oak wood. A bookcase was beside his bed, practically bursting with books. There was a desk at a diagonal from the bookcase, covered in papers and folders. There was an elevated stack of papers Edward guessed was hiding a lamp. A nightstand was at the side of his bed closest to the door. There was a lamp and a book on the surface. In the drawer, Ed knew, was a handgun, some extra bullets, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. There was a door that led to his personal bathroom near the closet, decorated in similar colors.
When Ed walked into his room, he sighed and leaned against the door frame. Winry was asleep on his bed. Her head was just below his pillow and she was facing him. There were a couple of papers in front of her, and the pictures that were usually on his bookcase were spread out with the papers. She looked like she'd been snooping around and the past events had finally caught up with her. He wondered how long she'd been asleep, and how long she'd gone through his papers. He knew they were his because of the messy scrawl on them.
He stood watching her sleep for a few minutes, just taking it all in. She was asleep on his bed...for some reason, it just interested him. It was one of those mysteries of life that he couldn't quite comprehend. Why was it so entrancing to watch her? She was only sleeping. He'd seen plenty of women sleep; his mother, Izumi, Rochelle, Quintus, and a few other girls. But for him to see Winry sleeping it was just a different ball game. Her face was so peacefully set in slumber, anyone else never would have thought that she was being threatened.
With a shake of his head, Edward brought himself out of his thoughts and walked over to the bed. He quietly picked up the papers and put them in a neat little pile on his desk and replaced the pictures on the bookcase. Now that his bed was clean of most but a woman, he sighed. Couldn't do anything about her, could he? Nope, he was stuck with her, one way or another. That was true in so many forms, Edward didn't want to think about it. So, when he headed out of his room to find something to eat, hearing something behind him startled him.
"Edward?" she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep still.
He turned in the door frame, leaned against the wood again, and looked at Winry. She was yawning now, but gestured for him come over to his bed. "Why?" he asked, secretly amused at her. She frowned.
"Because I said so," she mumbled.
He smirked at her. "You didn't say anything about me coming over there," he pointed out.
"Fine. Edward, get over here now," she demanded, still frowning. He rolled his eyes, but complied anyway. In a few short—haha, short—steps, he was standing next to his bed. Winry was scowling at his thigh now. "Kneel down." She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling him down.
He snorted in laughter quietly, but knelt down. Usually, he would have been protesting, but he was still a little tired so complying was easiest to do at the moment. So, Edward let out a slow breath and looked at her. "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound impatient.
"Hi," she said. Winry lifted her hand to his cheek and brushed her fingers against his jawline.
Ed flicked his eyes at her hand then looked back at her, trying to ignore the chill that went down his spine. She was smiling at him like she knew something he didn't. "What?" He hated being left in the dark.
Very quickly, almost too quickly for Edward to register with his groggy mind still, he felt Winry press a brief kiss on his mouth. "You're cute when you sleep," she mumbled before he could say anything else. He took his turn to scowl now. They were quiet a moment, but Winry spoke again first. "The hospital called a little while after you dozed off."
Ed's eyes snapped back to hers quickly. "What'd they say?" he asked.
"Al's ready to be released. Apparently, they don't keep gun shot wounds very long," she mused, turning on her back and stretching.
Looking elsewhere and away from Winry, Edward scratched his head. "Apparently," he agreed. "How long ago was that?"
She made a small stretching noise and then turned on her side again to smile at him. "About five-ish." She paused. A momentarily smug look came over her face, but it was gone too quickly for Ed to ponder it. He took her cessation of speech as a sign he could go get ready to pick Al up, but she caught his hand before he moved away. "Edward?" Her voice was soft and a little unsure.
He looked down at her. "Yeah, Win?" Momentarily, his eyes flicked to their joined hands, but he looked back at her again.
Winry seemed to hesitate before sitting up. She patted the bed next to her, indicating for him to sit down. Edward did so, and immediately had his arms full of woman. Winry's face was against his collar bone and her arms were around his neck. Edward was surprised at first, so he only sat in shock for a couple moments. Once he regained himself, it took a lot not to stiffen at the blatant affection. Edward wasn't used to touch, giving or receiving. To have Winry hanging on to him like this was pushing the borders on the "Things That Disturb Edward Elric" list.
But, thankfully, she let go after a moment. "Are you going to go pick Al up soon?" she asked.
Ed stood up, nodding. "Yeah. It's getting late, and he probably doesn't like hospitals any more than I do." Then his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten much of anything that day, only some fruit for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch. He looked at Winry. "When you were cooking earlier, how much food was left?" he asked.
She laughed. "Not much. It's either eat out or buy some groceries," she said.
Ed shrugged. "Well, I don't want to buy groceries when I don't know how long we'll be staying here," he said. "We only came back here last night because it was closer than your house." And, he added to himself, it's dangerous at your house. Ignore the fact that someone broke into my house.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Winry nod a little, a sullen expression suddenly on her face. "How long are we going to stay here?" she asked softly.
"A couple days, maybe," he said nonchalantly, like he didn't notice her expression, like he didn't care she was becoming upset. If she was upset about not being able to be in her environment, she needed to imagine how Edward felt when he'd suddenly been uprooted into hers. "Just to confirm some suspicions. I need to be close to the station for that." He nodded, making up his mind completely. "So, yeah, we'll buy groceries after we pick up Al."
He watched her expression stay dark, but he didn't offer any sympathy because, frankly, he didn't have much. The girl was famous, sure, but that didn't mean she always had to get her way. The world just didn't work that way.
"And don't I know it," Ed grumbled to himself, not realizing he'd spoken out loud.
Winry looked up at him. "What was that?"
He looked at her, startled. "Nothing. I'm going to get the car heated up," he stated and left Winry there. It wasn't but a few seconds that he heard her exit his room, though, leaving it empty.
Empty but for one thing, though. Hidden beneath Edward's bed was a puddle of what looked like water, but nothing around it was wet. And just how did someone get a puddle of liquid under their bed, unless they had a dog? The puddle rippled around the edges a little before deciding it wanted to go out from the bed. It headed into the bathroom, via the crack beneath the door. Once inside, the puddle took a more solid form before the mirror. In a few seconds, there was a woman looking at her reflection. She smiled at herself and patted her brown hair.
"I have news for you, Envy," the woman said softly into a small microphone near her mouth. She turned and opened the door a little so she could look at the bookcase. She saw her likeness in a picture and couldn't figure out why it disturbed her.
Edward sighed as he buckled his seat belt. It was about seven now, and they had just picked up Al. Ed should have been ecstatic to get his brother out of the wretched hospital, but instead, he found himself being a little on the agitated side. It wasn't because of the fact that the hospital bill, when it came in, would contain a couple digits more than he'd want to see, though that was unfortunate. Actually, the reason Edward found himself sighing was because of the medication his brother was going to be on, once they filled the prescription.
"Vicodin," he muttered to himself. "Just peachy." That wasn't very cheap medicine, and Edward had taken it before to know its affects. It didn't take away pain, he knew. Oh, he knew that too well. It just made you forget that the pain was ever there. Well, how could Edward have forgotten his pain when there was none there, really, to forget! He was referring to his phantom pains, of course. At the thought and memory of that night, he fingered his metal shoulder hesitantly before starting the car.
"Edward?" He heard Winry's voice filled with concern from beside him.
He immediately moved to crank up the car instead of answering. "So, Al," he began. He was backing out of a parking place because some idiot had taken what had been an empty spot for all of two seconds. Edward had been thrilled for those two seconds that he wouldn't have to back out. Backing out wasn't one of his specialties. Not at all. "What did you think of getting all that attention at the hospital?" He grinned a little.
Though the male-female ratio of nurses in most hospitals had more males, Central City was different. Very different. It was at least four female nurses to one male nurse. And, if memory served, the majority of those female nurses were young and fresh out of med. school. Sure, that was a little low to think, but it was something that would encourage any male to get better soon. Or, if one looked at it another way, it encouraged them to fake sick for longer than they really were.
He saw Al shrug a little, looking the slightest bit on the drunken side. Or maybe it was 'high.' "Okay, I guess. Nurse Clara was the one to attend me mostly," Al mumbled.
Ed nodded. Typical. "Of course Clara would," he grumbled. She'd been the one to see to Edward when he'd been there. He pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed off towards the grocery store. They were mostly silent during the ride, except for Al making random comments about the snow and the streetlights at regular intervals, usually after a stop light. Edward knew Winry was struggling not to laugh from beside him. He couldn't say that he was completely untouched from his brother's apparent drugged-up state, but Ed was also dealing with a couple things in his head at the moment. It wasn't hard not to laugh.
When they reached the grocery store, Edward fished in his coat pocket for Al's prescription. He handed it to Winry when he found it. "I want you," he began, "to go fill his prescription." Then he pulled out his wallet and frowned at the contents. Not horribly much. But he shoved one of the two fifty dollar bills from his tattered wallet in her hand. "It shouldn't be more than that. If it is, can you cover it and I'll pay you back?"
Winry looked at him seriously. "You know, I can help with some of the expenses, Ed," she offered.
He frowned more at her. "No." He didn't need help to pay for food. He was getting a paycheck in a couple days. What he had should cover it.
After many sighs and frustrated looks, Edward, Alphonse, and Winry were walking through the falling snow into the store. Ed took his brother by his jacket sleeve to keep him from walking off in the wrong direction. He wondered if it was a bad decision to have his brother, who was currently on a high dosage of morphine and Vicodin, walking around in the public grocery store. It wasn't easy to deal with someone who was a little more than high.
After twenty minutes of shoving groceries into a cart, Winry caught up with the brothers. She immediately went to Al and wrapped her arm around his. Ed knew it was to keep the younger man going in the right direction, but he couldn't help the frustrating pang of slight jealousy that flared. How pathetic? He was jealous of his brother getting attention from Winry. It was almost enough to make him laugh at himself. But instead, Edward tossed a box a cereal into the cart. "Anything you wanted, Winry?" he asked her before he headed to the checkout line.
She seemed to survey the cart and its contents before shaking her head. "Nope. We're good," she said and followed him to the front, still holding onto Al's arm.
About ten minutes later, Edward was digging through his pockets, trying to reach the total of his groceries of fifty-seven dollars and eighteen cents. He only had another fifty in his wallet. Al, having just been released from the hospital and not one to carry much money on his person, was mostly useless. Ed refused to ask Winry for help. When he looked at the cashier, he could tell she was quickly becoming frustrated. The line behind him was getting longer every couple minutes. When he heard the quiet swish of a card being slid through something and buttons being pressed, Edward looked up at Winry. She was putting her credit card back in her purse while she waited for the transaction to be authorized.
Wordlessly, Edward put the money back in his pocket and bit the inside of his cheek to keep the words mulling in his mind from escaping. They weren't very nice words.
Edward was still fuming when they walked outside. The snow was falling a little harder, covering the parking lot in the fine, white powder. With a grumble, he shifted the groceries in his hand to reach for the car keys. He was almost to the car when he heard Al yell something from behind him.
"Brother!" he shouted.
Ed turned around quickly to see his younger brother kneeling in the snow near the trash can. It either meant that there was something in his brother's system that wasn't agreeing or he'd found—
"A kitten!" Al exclaimed, looking at his older brother.
With a face set to shrivel any flower, Ed went back over to his brother with the groceries still in hand. Winry was standing off to the side, looking amused. "Al, we don't have time for a kitten," Edward said, trying not to fuss at his brother despite his very apparent frustration.
Al looked up at Edward with wide, twinkling eyes. "But, but...it's snowing! Look at it! It's shivering!" To emphasize his point, Al picked up the kitten to show it to Ed. "Can we please take it home?"
Edward growled. Before he could answer, Winry interjected. "Edward, he has a point. It's freezing out here," she said, suddenly beside him.
He turned to look at her. "Winry," he said firmly. "Don't encourage—"
Winry suddenly did something that surprised Edward, and frustrated him even more. She looked passed him at Al and smiled. "Come on, Al, take the cat and we'll drop it off at the animal shelter, then go home. Edward can just get over it." She glared at him when she and Al went over to the car.
Ed stood very, very still and bit his tongue. Tasting his own blood was a lot better than saying the words trying to form and escape his mouth. It took a lot more effort than he would want to admit later to keep from shouting at Winry and his brother at the moment. Mainly, he wanted to yell at Winry until she went deaf. He couldn't really validate a reason to yell at Al because they'd had the kitten fiasco more than once in life.
It was a few more moments before he realized that the car was locked and Al and Winry were standing beside the vehicle. He could have cheerfully left the situation like that until he felt numb, but the ever present reminder that nowhere was safe made him move. Since they'd left his house an hour and a half ago, Edward had felt like he'd been watched. It was a slightly unnerving feeling, and it aggravated him more that he couldn't figure out why he felt so paranoid. He couldn't imagine that Mustang would have a watch put on him and Winry. Nothing more than Al's injury had happened! That was the worst thing. Otherwise, things were fine and dandy. Except that he was ready to kill Winry himself.
In the car, he started the ignition but didn't turn the heater on. Since he'd acknowledged that they were being watched, the adrenalin had been let loose and was making him not in the least bit cold. It was about five minutes later that he saw Winry reach out and turn on the heater. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Only few more minutes to drive with a short stop between, then he could take a hot shower and try to drown himself. Then things would be better. The sooner he forgot about his anger, the sooner he could actually say something.
Winry sighed. Why did he have to be so moody all the time? And worse, why did he have to refuse help? Guys always thought that asking for help was a bad thing. It was sometimes, but not when they really needed it! Asking for help when they needed it was an action of humility, a show of not being so full of themselves that they could ask for something. Was it really so hard to ask to borrow a couple dollars for groceries? No! She was going to be living there for a couple days, eating their food. Why couldn't she chip in to help with the expense?
She lifted her glass to her mouth as if to take a sip, but looked at Edward over the rim. He was scowling into his plate like it was some horrid abomination that had insulted his deceased, twice removed great-aunt Agatha. Or maybe he was glaring past his plate and into nothing. She just hoped that it really was only nothing, and there were no plans of immature revenge setting in his mind.
When they had gotten home, Edward had tried to beg off for a shower. Winry, being the only other sober person, had put her foot down and demanded that he either cook dinner or talk about his feelings. Needless to say, they'd ended up with a carefully prepared dinner of spaghetti. Of course, Winry had done a lot of it since Edward was practically useless in the kitchen. He'd put water in the pot, dropped noodles in and poured in the sauce. Granted, spaghetti wasn't hard to make, there was still making sure the sauce tasted right, not scorching the sauce, and that the noodles were cooked well. Winry had done the supervising and the stirring. Edward wasn't really fit for cooking, either, since he appeared to be brooding quite heavily. Brooding and cooking never worked out well. Something would get burnt.
"I'm not hungry," the man of her thoughts said suddenly. He pushed his chair back and tossed his napkin on the table only to promptly disappear down the hall without another word. That left Winry alone, since Al had passed out shortly after they had gotten home.
With a great sigh, Winry decided she didn't have much of an appetite, either, after that. Just what was bothering Ed so much, anyway? Had a small animal crawled up his butt and died? That usually set people uncomfortable, and when people were uncomfortable, they were usually pissy.
But Edward was more than pissy. He was pissed off. She wouldn't call it mad, though. "Mad" was more of yelling at stuff and kicking anything that was in the way. "Enraged" brought a person very red in the face to mind. No, Edward was angry. He had hardly said a word since the hospital. She knew that something memorable was coming up in a few days because of his pocket watch, but what exactly escaped Winry. He'd also said the other night that the hospital held bad memories for him. It probably had to do with the accident she'd heard so little about.
She began to wash dishes to take her mind off of things. Cleaning usually did that, at least for a little while. And taking her mind off of things was exactly what she needed. She started to run the water when she heard a cry from the bathroom. Edward must have been taking his shower. It was very tempting to keep the water running, but Winry decided revenge wasn't the way to get Edward to talk to her. It was to wait patiently for him. But she could only wait for so long until she had to pull out the big guns.
Winry looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was about eight-thirty. Still early. Upon further surveying the kitchen, she looked at the stack of papers she hadn't dared to touch earlier. Now, they looked very interesting.
So, deciding that it would keep her busy—and her mind off of things—she went over to the counter and began sifting through the pile. She saw various names scribbled on random pieces of paper, a few absently scrawled words, and some notes on corners and edges of the papers. Then she found something that looked particularly interesting:
"Edward Elric, release from Central Hospital," she read to herself. It was dated for February of three years before. Very intrigued, she began reading the details of his release. Turning further back in the file showed her his injuries and medications. On the last page of the stack, or rather the first page, was the accident. There were pictures of what had been a car in pouring rain. Winry scanned the picture for any street signs to see what part of town it had been in.
Her searching was interrupted when she heard the bathroom door open. She quickly closed the file and shoved it back onto the counter. But, because Fate picked who it liked and when, the file didn't make it all the way onto the counter and fell, bringing other files with it. Winry swore quietly and leaned down to pick up the papers. She had almost gotten them back together when she felt a presence directly in front of her, then heard a clearing of a throat. Busted, she heard her mind say. Slowly, she looked up at Edward. She quickly looked passed his pants to his chest, and eyes lingered there. She forced her gaze to jump to his shoulder and the scars, then finally up to his face. He was looking down at her blankly. A drop of water slid off of his hair and dropped onto her nose.
She was about to explain what she was doing when she realized, it may have been his house and his papers, but she didn't have to explain herself to Edward Elric, even if she had been invading his privacy. So, she coolly picked up the files and set them on the counter. After giving Ed a chilling look, she started to walk past him. Then she felt hot metal grab her arm.
"What were you doing?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice and Winry dared to refer to it as nervous.
She looked at him, still with a gaze that could freeze a volcano, and shrugged. "Cleaning up a mess," she said icily. Then she attempted to pull her arm free of his grasp. She felt his hand tighten on her arm.
"Did you read anything?" he asked, the nervous edge becoming slightly dangerous.
Winry bit her lip. Not because she was mad, but because his grip on her arm was steadily becoming tighter. "Let me go, Edward," she said as softly as she could.
"Did you read anything?" he repeated, louder.
"Edward, let go of my arm! You're hurting me!" she almost yelled, pushing at his metal arm.
He flinched like he'd been slapped and immediately uncurled his fingers. He looked at his hand as if he'd seen it for the first time and turned away from her. Winry sighed and tried to touch his shoulder. But, like so many other times, he moved away and retreated into his dark thoughts. She cursed herself without knowing why she deserved it. If anyone deserved a scolding, it was Edward for not being able to control his fury or his metal limbs.
She wouldn't even try to justify anyone's actions as she went to wash the dishes. Winry decided then that she would have been better off if she'd let the water run. She would have preferred to deal with a yelling Edward than a quietly angry one. It was always worse when someone said nothing, always.
It was nine-thirty when Winry yawned. She had finished washing the dishes and made some edits to her lyrics. Then she'd started planning out a tune in her head by writing down random chords in random order. That was usually how she wrote music. It sounded pretty decent when she played it on the piano, and after arranging a few things, it sounded great. And if it sounded great to her, then it had to sound magnificent to other people. She never regarded her work well unless it sounded really good. Composing was fun, but it was hard to come up with a good, flowing tune that fit the lyrics.
She didn't know why she was so tired. She had taken a nap earlier. Maybe it was just the events of the past couple days catching up with her. Winry let her mind wander and it landed at the sleeping arrangements. Al was still passed out in his room, and was due for more sleep-inducing medication soon. She hadn't seen a spare bedroom earlier when she had explored the house, making the only bedrooms Ed's and Al's. She wasn't sure what Ed would decide, so she would probably do well to ask him.
"Edward?" She turned around on the bar stool and saw him looking thoughtfully at the television. He made a small noise of acknowledgment. "Where am I sleeping tonight?" she asked.
"My room," he said after thinking a moment.
She nodded a little. "Where are you sleeping?"
"My room," he repeated. Winry choked on nothing. Edward made a noise of slight disgust. "I'll put a pillow in the middle. You're not going to sleep on the couch, and neither am I. We'll end up with back problems."
Winry swallowed with effort before saying anything. She tried to say, "Well," but her voice came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat and attempted again. "Well, I'm going to go to sleep now, okay?" She waited for him to acknowledge her, but received only an absent wave of his hand.
She looked down at herself and saw the same clothes she'd been wearing for more than twenty-four hours. She suddenly felt filthy. "Edward."
He didn't look away from the television. "What?"
With a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you have any clothes I can sleep in?" she asked, pushing away any embarrassment that tried to come up.
She knew he wanted to laugh from the way the corner of his mouth twitched. Laughing would have been fine if he didn't have such a bleak expression in his eyes. But he nodded. "Yeah." Ed hoisted himself out of the chair and trudged down the hallway. Winry followed him into his room and stood next to the bed. He went to his dresser and opened up the top drawer. He pulled out a white T-shirt and tossed it to her. Then he closed that drawer and went for another one. The middle drawer produced a pair of sweatpants.
Winry watched him stand up with the pants still in his hand. He walked over to her slowly with an indecisive look in his eyes. He put the sweatpants in her hand, but didn't let go yet. He continued to look at her like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to start. She stood, waiting for something, anything, to happen. It wouldn't matter if it was a grumbled apology for being a jerk or some muttered phrase about something. She just wanted to hear him talk to her again, like she actually meant something to him.
It felt like they were suspended in a moment where the boundaries reality normally set upon them were gone. Winry couldn't hear the sound of the television anymore. The lights seemed surreal and dim. Everything around them was muted. But in the small area that allowed for Winry's thoughts to go around, everything else was heightened. She could hear Ed's breathing like his mouth was near her ear. His heartbeat was as loud as if she had her ear pressed against his chest. And if she could hear that well, her own heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears and her uneven breaths came rapidly. Winry was just sure that something was going to happen.
But as suddenly as that moment had come, it left when he let go of the sweatpants. Any connection they had shared was gone with the two simple words Edward muttered to her: "Good night."
Then he left.
He left her alone, after that unreal moment to suffer in horrid silence and loneliness. She'd felt so whole in those uncountable seconds. She felt like she'd found the thing that she'd been searching for all her life. But the second he had let go, the feeling had gone away. That left one thought on Winry's mind; had he felt it too?
She didn't know what time it was when she opened her eyes, but Winry knew that what had woken her up was out of the ordinary for her. She quickly opened her eyes, but didn't sit up. She wouldn't move until she'd identified the sound she'd heard. It was almost as dark when she opened her eyes as it had been when they were closed. So she shut her eyes again and listened for the sound. There was only the sound of hers and Edward's breathing. Apparently, he'd crawled into bed after a while. She must have been really tired to have stayed asleep.
There was the sound again. It sounded like a groan. Winry turned onto her other side to face Edward, but came in contact with the pillow he'd promised to put between them. So she leaned up on her elbow and looked down. It was still quite dark, but her eyes were adjusting. After a few moments and noises from Edward later, she could see that he was asleep, but tossing and turning. When he held still long enough for her to look at his face, there was a very distressed expression on his features. Then he opened his eyes suddenly and sat up. Winry sat up, too, and put her hand on his shoulder.
"Edward," she whispered after a moment of hearing his raspy breathing. She watched him grab his knee and bring it in closer to him. He made a few softer noises that were akin to whimpers and it broke Winry's heart.
So, she scooted closer to him and pulled him close. She rested his head at the base of her neck and wrapped her arms around him comfortingly. He was shivering, even though his entire body was hot and sweaty. Winry sighed and kissed his head. "Edward, it's okay," she murmured into his hair. "It's all right."
He shivered for a few more minutes before calming down. He'd apparently fallen back asleep in her arms, but he whispered something in his slumber that made Winry wonder even more what had happened in the accident.
"I'm sorry, okaa-san."
She bit back tears and rested her cheek on his head. Edward wasn't just angry, he was full of guilt.
All right. Well, this is probably the last that you all will hear from me in a week. I'm off for Tennessee in about six hours. Whooo...Love y'all. Thanks so much for the positive feedback and kind words!
Peace...lurve...reviews:)
