Chapter 6
Deadly Dance
Winry and Roy stepped out of the negotiations room after the rest of the military brass, both yawning and stretching. Roy linked his fingers and stretched his arms out in front of him, sighing in relief when the tendons finally relaxed, while Winry arched her back like a cat and moaned gratefully as her spine popped. Her eyes landed on the small gathering in the corridor – Scar, Envy, Ed, Al, and Riza – and she smiled.
"Hard going, boss?" Envy asked from where he leaned against the wall.
Ed and Al had soon learned that Scar and Envy were like Winry's personal shadows. While Breda and Paninya might be willing to let their Commander wander about the headquarters at her leisure, it was rare to see Winry without her two self-appointed bodyguards. What was more bewildering was that Winry showed no true surprise at this behaviour, but behaved as though it was normal, as though it was to be expected.
Winry was dressed comfortably but conservatively, and still wore her black headband with the bisected circle of the Resistance stitched in white. The two trailing ends of the cloth tangled with her hair as she shook the thick locks out, as though to clear her head.
"Very hard going," she replied, grinning at Envy. "The top Dissidents still aren't convinced I'm not going to storm Central with my rabid army at my heels, baying for their blood. Kinda hard to ask for resources and assistance when you're facing that attitude."
"Did you try-" Paninya started, but Winry cut her off.
"Yes, Pan, I tried to explain that we just wanted said resources and assistance so I could make sure my people were provided for when we disbanded. They didn't look convinced. May take a few days and a couple of stirring speeches on my part before we get anything from them."
Winry paused, casting a glance about her. "Anyone know where Breda is?"
"I think he and Fuery went to a bar somewhere," Ed supplied.
"Ah," Winry nodded. "Drink the booze, talk of the past, mourn the lost comrades and exchange the funny and heroic war stories. I know it well."
"Did you need him for something?" Al asked.
"Nothing important. I'll leave him re-bond with his buddy."
"Sir?" Riza addressed Roy, a small folder tucked under her arm.
"Paperwork?" the Major General guessed, his face the picture of misery.
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"When my retirement day finally comes, I will be building the biggest bonfire known to man," Roy vowed, but followed the Lieutenant Colonel all the same.
Winry watched them go, and couldn't help noting that Riza's rise in the ranks probably meant she didn't have to remain as the Major General's right hand woman. So did that mean she stayed because she wanted to?
"Well," Paninya said, clapping her hands together. "Since our poor Commander has been forced to spend all morning in a stuffy room with even stuffier diplomats, any suggestions on what we can do to show her a good time?"
"I can show her a good time," Envy purred, mock-growling at her.
Winry glared at him. "Envy, make that noise at me again and what I'll do to your tongue will make the Gordian Knot seem like a simple velcro strap."(1)
Envy grinned unrepentantly but made no further comment.
"Now," Winry continued, in a far more cheerful voice, "I believe someone mentioned something about fun?"
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Roy resisted the urge to snap his fingers and burn the pile of papers in front of him to small flecks of unobtrusive ash.
'Patience, Roy, patience. Wait until you're retired...'
Riza's eyes lifted from her desk and shot towards his with a speed that left him slightly disconcerted. He was sure he hadn't said that aloud...she couldn't read his mind, could she? Somehow, it wouldn't surprise him.
Black Hayate whined at her feet, a soft plea for attention, and Riza scratched his ears obligingly. Roy had a moment to reflect on the day the dog had first came into headquarters, taken in by a soft-hearted Fuery, and he couldn't help a small smile as he remembered everyone's surprise when Riza offered the dog a home.
He'd known she'd do something like that from the first, though. Riza was just like that.
Roy watched the black and white dog, curled up on the floor at Riza's feet, eyes closed in contentment. He'd looked after Black Hayate after Riza had been captured, and he remembered how the dog would keep him up into the small hours of the morning with his heart-wrenching howls as he lamented the loss of the woman who had cared for him. While Roy had grumbled and yelled at Hayate for it, some part of him hadn't really minded.
After all, how could he be angry at the dog for doing what he could not? When Riza had vanished, on more than one occasion he'd felt like screaming to the heavens in sheer grief and despair, so to hear Black Hayate do it...was somehow soothing.
Roy sighed and shoved his chair back from his desk. He needed the reference sheets for the new supply train, and he was sure he'd seen it in that filing cabinet somewhere...
He was flipping through the neatly-ordered files (Riza's handiwork, he was sure) when a gentle, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling his arm away.
Roy froze, every muscle locking in a mixture of astonishment and joy. Riza had touched him. Of her own free will, she had reached out and laid her hand on his wrist. For a moment, he didn't move, basking in the simple contact that, while it seemed so little, meant so much.
"Sir, I think the files you're looking for are here," Riza said, guiding his attention to a small stack of folders on top of the cabinet.
"Riza...are you sure you can't read my mind?"
She gave him a very strange look as she handed him the files. He wasn't sure why...until he replayed their conversation and realised he had called her by her first name. Feeling inexplicably embarrassed, as though he had just crossed some forbidden frontier, his eyes went to the window, casting about desperately for something to distract them both from the awkward moment.
As though a higher power had heard his not-quite-prayers – not that he believed in God – Roy's eyes landed on the small group in the courtyard.
"What are they doing?" he asked, drawing Riza's attention to the ground below, where Winry and Paninya circled each other while the others watched.
Riza blinked. "I think they're sparring, sir."
oooooooo
There wasn't much to do for fun in Central, as most of the city was still in the process of being rebuilt. So Winry had suggested sparring. While not quite a recreational activity, it was still a good way to exercise muscles stiff from sitting down for most of the day.
Ed and Al stared at Winry in blatant fascination. Every glance, every movement, every perfectly controlled ripple of muscle and tendon spoke of skill and training. Ed couldn't help wondering when she'd picked these particular skills up. Envy and Scar slouched in the shade, watching the proceedings with faint looks of amusement, as though this was a scene they were well-used to and found quite entertaining.
Paninya feinted, searching for an opening, but Winry wasn't fooled. She held her position, waiting until she could see the spark in the darker girl's eyes, the way her muscles tightened just that hair more that showed she was following through this time.
Winry spun to the side, delivering a light roundhouse kick to Paninya's back as she flew past. The dark-skinned girl whirled, trying to land a blow on the Commander, but Winry suddenly just wasn't there. She had ducked and lunged forward, coming up under Paninya's guard with blinding speed. Paninya tried to step back, to put enough distance between them to swing at the small blonde, but Winry was too fast. The taller girl found her automail hand twisted up behind her back, Winry's other arm laid across her throat, resting just against the larynx, so that the slightest pressure could throttle her.
But it wasn't the speed and ease of the attacks that threw Ed off. It was Winry's grace. She moved so naturally, so fluidly...it almost looked like she was dancing.
"How did I beat you?" Winry asked, releasing her friend. It was then Ed and Al realised that Winry was also acting as a teacher...after all, didn't Breda say most of the people in the Resistance had been trained by her?
"By being freakishly fast?" Paninya tried, then at Winry's stern look re-played the brief fight in her head. "Umm...I rushed you too slowly?"
"Exactly!" Winry beamed, "You were too easy to read. Too many feints and too much time to prepare for the rush. Do you want to try again?"
"Can't you torture someone else?" Paninya whined. "Scar? Envy?"
Winry turned to the two men in the shade, raising her eyebrows in silent invitation.
"No way, boss" Envy said flatly. "One butt-kicking is enough for us."
Ed supposed they were referring to their first meetings with Winry – before they joined the Rush Valley Resistance – both having met defeat after exhausting tussles.
"Wimps," Paninya hissed, then addressing Winry, "How about Ed or Al?"
Winry turned to the brothers in question, her hand held out invitingly.
Ed shifted his weight, the only sign he was unsettled. He could admit that the fighter within him was curious – how did Winry measure up against him? But the rest of him was busy reminding himself that this was Winry in front of him, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her...
"We'll give it a try," Al spoke up, "Right, brother?"
Why was it that whenever Al volunteered for something, he felt compelled to follow suit?
"Sure," Ed relented. "Who's up first?"
Winry shrugged. "I'll take on both of you at once, if you like."
Ed stared. Logically, he knew Winry had beaten both Scar and Envy in physical fights, and her previous spar with Paninya had proved she had obviously trained extensively. But taking on both he and Al at once?
Al seemed to have similar misgivings. "Winry...are you sure?"
"Positive," she said, already assuming the 'ready' stance. "Come on, it'll be a good workout."
Ed and Al looked at each other, shrugged, then leapt forward. Al struck out with his elbow as Ed swung his feet at Winry's ankles, trying to sweep her legs out from under her. Like a child with a skipping rope, Winry leapt over his leg and let it pass beneath her, grabbing Al's elbow mid-jump and using it as leverage to fling herself over their heads.
Ed tried to turn, but Winry's foot shot out, catching him in the back of his knee. His leg bent as it was supposed to and Ed lurched forward, just managing to catch himself on his hands and knees. Winry had no chance to pursue her advantage, as Al came at her with a solid blow to the face. Winry dropped to the ground to avoid the punch, placing her hands against the cobblestones as a brace to launch her feet into the air. Her heels caught him in the chest, sending him to the ground and knocking the breath from his body.
Winry rolled to her feet, to find Ed's foot nearly in her face. For a moment, as his boot neared her cheek, Ed felt the familiar flash of triumph of a battle about to be won. But then, with a speed Ed could have sworn wasn't humanly possible, Winry's hands shot out, seized his ankle and spun it easily in her grip, sending him into a controlled tumble.
Al had recovered quickly, and was already launching a new attack. Winry back-flipped gracefully over his head, but he had been expecting such a move and whirled before she'd even touched the ground. For a moment, Al thought he'd moved fast enough to catch her, but as his arm swept down he found it parried with Winry's own.
Her hand twisted around his like a snake, grabbing his wrist as she spun into him. With more strength that Al would have thought her thin frame capable of, Winry twisted her hip into his stomach and with an easy torque of her waist and a yank on his arm, she sent him flying once more.
Al managed to right himself in mid-air and landed just in time to attack again alongside his brother. Both Elrics closed in, adrenaline and energy practically smoking off them as they threw themselves into the fight once more.
Ed swung again at her legs, forcing Winry to step back to avoid him. But Al had already moved behind her. The younger brother grabbed Winry's wrist, hoping to twist her arm up behind her back in the same move that had defeated Paninya.
Ed was facing Winry, and he was the only one who saw the sudden flash of intensity in her eyes. With a show of flexibility Ed didn't think was anatomically possible, she arched her back, flipping over Al's arm (whose hand was still on her wrist) and bringing her feet down onto his shoulders. Using them as a brace, she completed her flying somersault and sent him lurching forward. Al collided with Ed like a twelve-ton truck, and sent them both sprawling on the ground, the impact turning their bodies numb and making their ears ring.
"God, are you okay?" Winry hissed, rushing over to them as soon as her feet were on the ground again.
Ed and Al only managed to wheeze a few unintelligible words, the wind knocked from their bodies so forcefully Ed found himself wondering if he'd ever breathe properly again.
"You'll be fine," Winry pronounced, looking them over critically and poking at anything that looked damaged. "Only bruises."
Ed couldn't help remembering a time when Winry would have been far more concerned over their injuries. And he noticed that while he and Al were drenched in sweat and panting like they'd run a marathon, Winry's breath came only a little harder than before.
"How...did you do that?" Al gasped, eyeing Winry with the kind of respect a fighter affords those stronger than themselves.
"Sorry about that," she said, offering an apologetic grin. "I have to rein myself in while sparring, but you guys moved faster than I expected, and I just...reacted."
Questions burned on Al's tongue like strong liquor. He wanted to ask her who'd taught her to fight like that, how she'd even had the time to learn it in the first place...not to mention how she'd gotten so good in such a short span of time. He and Ed had been training for over ten years, and Winry – who couldn't have been training for more than five, less than half that time – had left them in the dust. What had Breda implied when they were in Rush Valley? That she'd had formal military training...?
But he didn't say anything. Instead, he stared the woman who had been a surrogate sister to him, and couldn't help but long for the old Winry Rockbell, the one who threw wrenches to defend herself and yelled at them for sparring on her back lawn.
Because the more he learned about this new Winry Rockbell, the more she unnerved him.
oooooooo
Winry persuaded them to take her to a bar, insisting she buy them a drink to make up for tossing them down in the courtyard.
"This place isn't bad," Winry commented, taking a delicate sip of the drink Envy had persuaded her to try. It was called 'Dark Sea', and she had a suspicion it was strongly alcoholic.
Ed smirked a little, noting the cautious way Winry was consuming her drink. But she had a point – the 'Dragon's Talon' was a nice place. He'd been rather reluctant to introduce Winry to the bars in Central, mainly because of the inevitable hostile reaction the Dissidents displayed to anyone who wasn't in the military.
But as it turned out, he needn't have worried. When the grumblings and sideways looks had started up, Winry had defused them in an instant with one of her smiles, the kind that just exuded charm and innocence. While the chipped tooth gave said smile a street-urchin look to it, that only seemed to enhance the child-like, guileless quality it possessed.
With one smile, the sullen murmurs had subsided almost instantly. It seemed Winry still possessed her gift of persuasion.
"Envy...what's in this?" Winry finally asked, waving her Dark Sea under his nose. "It smells like turpentine. And it tastes like mud."
"Puts hair on your chest, boss" Envy defended.
"In case you haven't noticed...I'm a woman! I don't need or want hair my chest!"
"Oh, I've noticed you're a woman, Pidgeon" Envy leered.
Winry refrained from rolling her eyes. "I'm sure you have. But that's not the point. The point is...what is in this drink?"
Ed glowered at Envy's less-than subtle flirtations. Envy just didn't seem to give up, no matter how many polite and not-so-polite rebuffs Winry dealt him. And Paninya and Scar seemed to treat it like a free show, just watching and occasionally (in Paninya's case) laughing.
When Envy refused to tell Winry what a Dark Sea consisted of, she turned to Scar and confided, "I think he's trying to poison me!"
"I am not!" Envy snapped, indignant.
Paninya took a tentative sip of the drink, and the face she pulled made her look like she'd swallowed a lemon. "What is that, Envy? Motor oil?"
"Boss...you said you'd try it," Envy reminded Winry, sounding like a petulant child.
"I'm drinking it aren't I? Though I think I should have gone with Scar and just ordered water." Winry cast a glance at the man beside her, taking in the small glass of water in front of him. "What's it like, never drinking alcohol?"
Scar thought for a moment. "Calm. Controlled. Painless."
"He's got a point," Paninya laughed. "No hangovers if you only drink water. And no naked dancing on the top of the roof, either."
"Give me a break!" Envy snarled. "It was the first time I'd tried alcohol since getting this stupid human-like body!"
Winry and Paninya snickered. The corner of Scar's lip lifted slightly. Ed and Al couldn't resist a short laugh at the once-homunculus's expense either. For a moment, the whole atmosphere was one of relaxation and laughter.
Then a sudden commotion erupted behind them, and the change in Winry and her group was astounding. At the explosion of noise, they were instantly tense and alert, spinning in their chairs to see the source of the disturbance. When they saw it was nothing more than a few tipsy men at the next table getting rowdy, they relaxed.
But the hair-trigger reflex was like a slap in the face to the Elric brothers. They had been relaxing, content to watch Winry and the others as they laughed and joked. But Winry and her people...they couldn't relax. Not entirely. Some part of them always had to be on alert, ready to react at the slightest hint of danger. They could never truly be at ease. Hadn't he seen as much while travelling to Central, with Winry's split-second transition from peacefully asleep to awake and threatening at just a nudge on the sole of her foot?
Just another facet of these people that hinted to Ed and Al how dangerous a life they had led for the past few years.
The men on the next table grew louder, until a particularly hard shove from one of their occupants sent another crashing forward into Winry's back. Winry's hands shot out to stabilise herself, but her Dark Sea drink spilled onto the table and soaked the cloth that covered her forearms.
Winry swore so viciously Ed and Al blinked.
"Still, at least now you don't have to drink it," Al pointed out, ever the optimist.
Winry gave him a weary smile. "There's that."
She began to unwind the sopping cloth that served her as arm-guards, wrinkling her nose as the reek of liquor filled the air. She began patting her pockets, as though searching for something. Then, with a small, triumphant noise, she pulled out the object of her rummaging.
A small piece of chalk.
Then, as Ed and Al watched in bewilderment, she sketched a small transmutation circle on the table with blinding speed, placed the cloth wrappings in the centre, and activated it. With a snapping sound and a flash of light, the alcohol that saturated the cloth evaporated, dissipating into the air to leave the material dry once more.
"You...you know alchemy?" Ed stammered.
Al seemed similarly astonished. "Where did you...how did you learn..."
Winry shrugged, avoiding their eyes. "I just...picked it up."
Ed was about to ask her how and when she had 'picked up' this particular skill when he noticed something. Something on Winry's left arm, previously covered by her wrist-guards. A flash of black...
Gently, he grasped Winry's hand and pulled it flat to get a better look. Her muscles tightened at first, as though she were considering resisting, but she relaxed after a moment, allowing him to inspect the marks he had glimpsed.
His breath froze in his lungs.
Numbers. Like those on Hawkeye's arm, on Breda's and Marcoh's. Numbers tattooed in black ink, etched into Winry's flesh as a permanent reminder of time spent in one of the H-Faction's prison camps. But unlike the other prison camp tattoos Ed had seen, this one didn't contain six digits. There were only two numbers printed on her skin. A one and an eight.
Eighteen.
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AN: As always, LaughingAstarael did a wonderful job of beta-ing for me.
(1) The Gordian Knot is a story connected to Alexander the Great. It was an immensely complex knot that bound a horse to a cart, and it was prophesised that whoever parted the horse and cart would conquer Asia. Alexander tried to untie the knot, but when he could find no clear solution to the knot's tangles he simply cut it in half, parting the horse and cart.
So, in essence, Winry is telling Envy she'll tie his tongue in a particularly hideous knot.