Chapter 16

Cleansing

It was several days later that Ed learned Winry wasn't quite as ready to move on as he had thought. He was passing Winry's house and knocked on the door – intending to drop by for only a few minutes – but when Winry opened it, she seemed dazed and badly shaken – as though she'd just walked out of a train wreck.

"What's wrong?" Ed asked urgently, his original destination already forgotten.

Winry blinked, staring at him with the blank, glass-eyed look of a wounded animal. Then his words seemed to penetrate the fog she was floating in, and she stepped back from the entrance, allowing him to move inside.

Ed followed as Winry led him into the lounge room and sat down beside her as she slumped onto the couch. She hadn't said a word, and the shock-dazed look on her face was making Ed's stomach twist. He was about to ask again what had happened, when Winry finally spoke.

"I was at the doctor's," she said, her voice a rusty scrape. "You know...the 'condition of entry' thing..."

Ed nodded. When entering into the military's employ, you were required to undergo a medical examination so any problems could be identified and dealt with as soon as possible.

"I was lying on the exam table," Winry continued bleakly, "And I...it was so cold...and the metal, it felt...and I saw the doctor looming over me, and suddenly...suddenly I was back in Angel's Nest and I just...I..."

She trailed off, her eyes wide and staring.

"Winry...?" Ed whispered.

"I attacked the doctor!" Winry gasped out, her voice brimming with tears.

Ed sucked in a gasp. The doctor's examination had caused Winry to have a flashback of her imprisonment in Angel's Nest, and she had lashed out at what she perceived to be a threat.

"But no one can blame you for that!" Ed snapped heatedly. If anyone even thought of holding Winry responsible...

"The doctor won't press charges," Winry said, with a suspicious sniffle at the end of her sentence. "He's a military doctor – he understands how compelling flashbacks are, how they can make people act, but that doesn't...that doesn't excuse what I did."

Ed's brow furrowed. "What-?"

"I lost control," Winry whispered, in a voice that made Ed's chest ache. "I lost control...and I hurt someone..."

"It's okay," Ed soothed. He knew he wasn't good at being comforting – it was more Al's department – but for Winry's sake, he was going to try. "Lots of people have flashbacks – it's okay-"

"No it's not!" Winry yelled.

Beginning to reach for her, Ed jerked back in surprise.

"It's not okay," Winry said in a more moderate tone. "Yes, I'm sure a lot of people have to deal with things like this, but that's different. Because while they might cause some bruises or property damage, with my training I could kill someone."

She looked at Ed with eyes whose warmth was almost lost in a cold sea of pain as she confided in a voice barely louder than a breath, "I don't want to hurt anyone again."

Ed's heart twisted as he heard the aching vulnerability behind Winry's words. He knew that being forced to kill for the H-Faction had affected Winry deeply – he could never truly comprehend the depths of guilt and pain that had left her with. Any comfort he had to offer was paltry compared to it.

But it was still comfort. And all comfort, however small, would help her.

"Maybe..." Ed swallowed around his suddenly dry throat and tried again. "Maybe you just need to figure out what triggers memories like that...and then just try to stay away from those triggers. It'll fade with time."

As he spoke, Ed was thinking of the horrific night he and Al attempted human transmutation. After that, he had been prone to occasional flashbacks, set off by the smell of blood, the sound of screams, sometimes by crowded places as the bodies pressed close to him echoed the feel of thousands of shadow hands...

Gradually, his sensitivity to such things had dulled, slowly melting away as his memories dimmed under the weight of time. He had faith that Winry's would eventually do the same. Eventually.

"They will fade, Winry," he repeated. "They will."

Winry nodded, but some part of her was screaming that these memories were too horrific, too vivid, to fade. Was it wrong to cling to hope when you suspected the hope was false?

oooooooo

Al was grinning as he dashed through the streets, dodging around slower pedestrians, his haste attracting several bewildered gazes. After two weeks in the far reaches of Amestris, travelling from small town to small town, repairing the ravages of war, Al was so eager to see Winry he was practically skipping down the road.

He had left Ed back at the office, his brother still delayed with reports – Ed could never manage to finish his paperwork on time. Sometimes, Al suspected that Ed and Roy were far more alike than either wanted to admit.

He skidded to a halt in front of Winry's door and knocked loudly. There was no answer. He knocked again, his knuckles beating a rapid tattoo against the wood. Still no answer.

Relieving his pockets of the spare key Winry had given he and Ed, Al opened the door and stepped inside, half-thinking that Winry was out and he would surprise her when she got back. But then he saw the small figure at the worktable, and realised why Winry hadn't answered the door.

She was fast asleep, her body slumped in her chair, her arms resting on the tabletop, folded beneath her head. She wasn't exactly snoring, but each inhalation was marked by a slight wheezing noise.

Al smiled, feeling a burst of sympathy as he realised how hard Winry must have been working to fall asleep at her table. Al approached her cautiously and, remembering her hair-trigger reactions when awakened, nudged the sole of her foot to rouse her.

But Winry didn't shoot to her feet and snatch up the nearest weapon. She didn't even open her eyes. Instead, her brow furrowed and she moaned softly.

Al nudged harder, and Winry's face scrunched up like a toddler about to have a crying fit. Her moan was louder this time, twisted by what sounded like pain. Becoming worried, Al finally grabbed Winry's shoulders, shaking the blonde girl lightly. His gentle motions became rougher as Winry began to toss her head, her arms twitching as though trying to dislodge his grip.

"...no..." she whispered. "...let go..."

"Winry!" Al called, certain she was having some sort of nightmare. "Winry, wake up! Winry!"

"Stop..."

"Winry!"

Winry's eyes snapped open, and Al had only a moment to register their glazed look before...

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Winry screamed, twisting out of Al's grasp and flinging him across the room in one smooth motion.

Al managed to catch himself so he didn't break his arm in the fall. He struggled to his feet in time to see Winry advancing on him with a sleepwalker's absent expression, mixed with a tinge of fury and...utter terror.

In a sudden, breathless moment, Al realised Winry was still locked in her nightmare, and his attempt to wake her had been taken as a threat. His presence had been confused with one of the monsters that haunted the shadows of her mind; Winry didn't see him...she saw one of her tormentors. She believed she was striking out at those who had hurt her.

Something cold knotted in Al's stomach, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Al knew that if Winry attacked him – truly attacked him – he wouldn't stand a chance. His best bet was to try to somehow snap her out of the trance-like state she had sunk into.

"Winry..." he started. "Winry, it's Al..."

He just managed to dive out of the way as she lunged at him, and he had a feeling Winry's disorientated state was all that allowed him to avoid the blow that could have shattered his sternum. Winry grabbed for his throat and Al managed to seize her wrist.

"Winry, don't do this! It's me – it's Al!"

She moved to twist out of his hold but he seized her other wrist and shook her, hard.

"It's okay, Winry – I'm not going to hurt you!"

At Al's rough shake and desperate words, something seemed to snap, a sudden jerk rippling through Winry's body. Al didn't even feel Winry extracting herself from his grasp, but suddenly, she was across the room, her head buried in her hands, curled into a ball.

Something in Al was deeply shaken by what had just happened, self-preservation urging him to leave the house while his heart was still beating. But he could see the mechanic's shoulders shaking from across the room, and he knew this was Winry – not a crazed woman lashing out at those who had tortured her, but his oldest friend and surrogate sister, now in desperate need of comfort.

"Winry?" Al whispered. He approached her slowly, trying not to startle her.

"Get out," Winry choked, not even raising her head. "Get out!"

Al didn't even bother replying. He knelt beside her, hesitantly reaching out to touch her bowed head, his fingers resting on the golden crown of her hair. Winry knocked his hand away, and in the moment when her arm shifted away from her face Al realised she was crying.

Al remembered Ed telling him about Winry's flashback and the subsequent attack on the doctor, and could only imagine what she was feeling at having attacked again, but this time striking at someone much closer to her.

Al let his arm rest across her shoulders, ignoring her attempts to shrug him off. Despite Winry's feeble protests he could see she was in desperate need of comfort – and he knew that if she had really wanted to push him away, she never would have let him touch her in the first place. He gently tugged Winry towards him, and when he felt her stiffen he simply strengthened his grip, not allowing her to pull away.

Winry broke. Her shoulders slumped, her arms dropped, and instead of trying to struggle out of Al's gentle hold she suddenly turned and clung to him. Al held her, murmuring softly – he was hardly aware of the words that were coming out of his mouth, but his soothing tone and loving whispers seemed to be doing the trick.

He let Winry sob softly into his shoulder, one arm wound around her waist and the other hand stroking her hair. A small part of his mind found it almost amusing; that Winry had attacked him, but now she was the one in need of comfort.

"What happened?" Al asked, when her sobs had quietened to dry gasps.

"I...I had a nightmare," Winry confessed. "I was remembering...nights...nights in the cell..."

Al winced – he didn't need any more explanation. But he didn't let her go – the youngest Elric continued to hold the woman he'd always regarded as his sister until she was calm again.

"Do you have...those dreams...often?" he queried, deeply concerned, as Winry wiped her eyes,

Winry's eyes slid away from his. "I haven't been sleeping," she admitted. "The nightmares...they're just too bad. I...I'm afraid to sleep."

Al gripped her hand briefly, understanding what it cost Winry to admit she was afraid.

Winry choked on a small sob, and though Al was half-expecting her to start crying again, her voice was steady when she spoke.

"This is...this is getting really bad," she said, her voice small and frightened. "I think...I think I need to see someone about this...a therapist or something..."

"I'll ask around," Al volunteered. "Ed, too. We might be able to get some names."

oooooooo

Winry woke with a jolt, her mind screaming in fear, her skin tingling in expectation of blows that never came. She stared wildly around the room, eyes seeking the shadows of her dreams before cold logic asserted itself, reminding her that those who had hurt her were long-dead.

She'd killed many of them herself.

With a sigh that trembled like a bare branch in the wind, Winry stood from the bed and began rifling through her drawers, following her therapist's advice. She had been seeing Dr. Conway for a few weeks now, and when Winry asked her for advice on dealing with nightmares, the doctor had recommended that she do something relaxing before trying to fall asleep again.

So whenever Winry woke from a nightmare, terrified and shaking, she went for a swim.

She had found the small river almost by accident while following a deer track through the park, the winding, tangled path leading her to a scene worthy of a woodland painting; a small opening in the trees beside the water, dappled with sunlight and shadow. But Winry wasn't one to be taken in by the aesthetic – it was the feeling of serenity, of calm, of utter peace that lured her back there time and time again.

She took that path now, picking her way carefully over bushes and pebbles as she wandered through the dark night. The water beckoned her onward, gleaming in the moonlight like a ribbon of silver.

Winry breathed a sigh. She was beginning to feel better already – out in the soft shadows of the night, with the cool breeze ruffling her hair, she could practically feel the tension melting away.

Winry left her towel on a flat rock that jutted out over the water, and slipped into the river with barely a ripple. She slowly immersed her body, treading water and letting the river flow past her, eddies and currents tugging at her skin. Somehow, the sensation always felt as though it were caressing her mind as well as her body, cleansing her of her memories even as it lifted the cold sweat from her flesh...

Winry floated in the river for a long time.

The cold water – and the chill slowly sinking into her bones – finally forced her back to dry land. Winry toweled herself dry, looking with regret at her moon-silvered skin, at the shadows cast by her scars. She ran her fingers over the marks gently, tracing the roughened flesh.

Sometimes, she wished the water could truly wash her scars away.

oooooooo

While the nights still had a slight chill about them, the days were definitely getting warmer. Winry found herself panting as she bent over an automail leg, beads of sweat trailing down her forehead and jaw.

When the idea of a swim crossed her mind, Winry made no pretense at resistance.

Except that when she reached her glade, she found someone already there.

Riza Hawkeye was sitting beside the river, and Winry found herself thinking the older woman looked strange when not wearing the Dissident uniform. Dressed casually, her hair down and her back still straight but lacking the rigidity of military posture...she seemed almost a different person.

Alerted by Winry's presence behind her, Riza turned to face the blonde mechanic, letting a soft smile tilt the corners of her mouth.

"I'm not surprised you know about this place," Riza remarked quietly.

Winry shrugged, feeling somehow as though she had been caught off-guard. "I found it by accident."

"A deer track through the park, correct?" Riza asked. "Trying to find somewhere secluded, alone...somewhere where memories could be calmed."

Winry realised Riza had been here frequently, too – probably trying to forget the memories of her own captivity.

"You came here, too," Winry stated. She wasn't too sure why she said it – something about finding Riza here had thrown her off, and perhaps she was trying to regain her sense of equilibrium in conversation.

But Riza didn't reply verbally, only nodded slightly.

"Do you still come here...at night?"

"No," Riza said simply. "I don't."

Winry cocked her head to one side, regarding Riza like a curious bird. The older woman could practically see the question weighing on Winry's tongue, and wondered if the young blonde would voice it.

"Then what do you do when you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, a scream already welling in your throat?" Winry asked bluntly.

Riza hid a smile. She shouldn't have doubted Winry's...well, not tactlessness, exactly...confidence maybe.

Then, revealing more vulnerability than she had to anyone but Roy, Riza told her, "I wake the man sleeping beside me, and ask him to hold me."

Winry's eyes widened. Riza wasn't sleeping alone? She had a man beside her?

Winry knew sleeping was probably all it was – she didn't think Riza would be ready for anything else just yet – and Winry would also be fairly confident in stating the identity of the man.

Riza watched realisation settle over Winry's face, and felt a small glow of satisfaction. The younger woman was understanding the point she was trying to make. While she felt a little uncomfortable revealing such personal information, she knew she wanted to. Winry had helped her, and now that the mechanic was struggling with herself, Riza thought it was time she returned the favour.

When Ed and Al had discreetly asked for the name of a reliable therapist, Riza had known who they were asking on behalf of. She had recommended Dr. Conway, the doctor she herself was seeing, in the hope that therapy might benefit Winry as it had benefited her. She knew recovery would probably be a far more lengthly process for Winry – the young woman had been through things Riza couldn't even conceive of, so it would take far longer to work through. Winry had a long, hard path ahead of her, and Riza found herself wanting to help her take those first stumbling steps

"This is a beautiful place," Riza murmured, looking around them. "But it was tainted by my memories – while I felt calmer when I was here, I could never truly relax. But then..."

When Riza trailed into silence for several moments, she found it interesting to note that Winry didn't prompt her or show the slightest hint of impatience. She just stood where she was, staring at the older woman as though she knew Riza was going to continue, as long she gave the other woman time.

"But then I brought Roy here," Riza admitted.

She didn't say anything more – she didn't need to. Winry understood. Riza let Roy in, allowed him to share her pain...and didn't they say a burden shared was a burden halved? Winry remembered how relieved she'd felt when she finally blurted her story to Ed and Al.

So Winry smiled slightly and nodded, leaving Riza satisfied that her seed had been planted in fertile soil.

oooooooo

"I thought it only ever got this hot in Dublith or Rush Valley," Ed grumped as he stepped into Winry's house.

"It's not that bad," Al said, struggling valiantly to be cheerful in spite of the heat.

"Easy for you to say," Ed hissed. "I have automail – metal conducts heat, remember?"

Then he remembered how foolish it was to even insinuate Winry's creation were sub-par within her hearing, and whirled to face their host, half-expecting a wrench to come flying out of nowhere...but Winry's only reaction was a raised eyebrow.

"Feeling hot?" she asked, a slightly mischievous grin quirking her lips.

Ed glared, thinking that their reddened faces and sweat-dampened skin were speaking for themselves.

"Want to cool off?" she offered.

"Yes, please," Al said, looking eager at the prospect.

To both brothers' confusion, her smile suddenly softened, and her eyes held a strange light – as though she were inviting them into a secret.

"I know the perfect place," she said. "A little glade by the river where almost nobody goes..."

oooooooo

AN: Thanks to LaughingAstarael for catching my grammar mistakes, and for making some suggestions that made this a better chapter.