Chapter 8: Flowers Are Without Hope
Alphonse climbed the stairs to the hotel room, rapping lightly at the door before unlocking it. "I'm home," he called, ducking his head to enter the suite. "I hope you guys had a good time today. Brother, Lena's got some fantastic transmutation arrays for doing green alchemy. I thought you might want to see them. Maybe we can go over there tomorrow?" Closing the door, Alphonse slowly turned around, not hearing a return greeting. Not hearing anything, when it came down to it. "Brother? Winry?" He took a step deeper into the suite.
Surely they hadn't…no, Alphonse took a quick glance at both bedroom doors, standing open. A sense of relief was followed by a rumbled groan of irritation. Edward hadn't taken Winry to the library, had he? Again? "Brother, even you aren't that much of an idiot, are you?"
Checking the suite out offered no clues. There were no notes left behind. The dishes in the sink were clean. Winry's toolkit was back in her room and Alphonse checked the room he and Edward were sharing. Edward's red coat hung in the closet, his usual clothes were heaped on the floor. If Alphonse could have widened his eyes in surprise, he would have. There was evidence Ed had used a handkerchief to shine his boots.
"Did you actually take Winry on a date?"
The words hung in the air for a few seconds before Alphonse realized he had 'spoken' aloud. That was difficult, of course; not actually speaking when he wanted to keep his thoughts to himself. When you didn't have a mouth to close, keeping secrets became very difficult. Thinking out loud was a hazard. Fortunately, Alphonse had learned to contain his thoughts rather than 'voice' them – at least for the most part. "Whatever." It still didn't help him find his brother or Winry. Maybe they'd left word at the front desk?
Alphonse went back downstairs to find out. Despite the obvious wealth of the suites, they did not have telephones in each room yet. Not that Alphonse would have used the telephone anyway; the one time he'd tried it, the sound reverberated inside the helmet and he couldn't understand what the other person was saying. Unfortunately, the clerk at the desk had no idea if Edward and Winry had gone out and didn't remember a short guy in black and a girl in a dress. That could've been anyone, really. "Tonight, of all nights, you decide not to wear your red coat." Alphonse groused as he climbed the stairs back to the suite of rooms.
Well, at least there were a few library books he could look at while he was waiting for them to return.
"…uhhnnng…."
"Ed?"
His head was killing him. "Damn, Winry, you gonn' crack my skull with that wrench?" Stomach feeling like it was going to upend itself, Edward swallowed hard at the flood of moisture in his mouth. Looking around seemed like a bad move; the floor swam in front of him and he gulped, snapping his eyes closed again. "Hnnng..." Something didn't feel right, though. Something beyond the pounding in his skull and his twisting stomach. Edward slitted an eye open, seeing wooden tables and a rough, stone floor. They'd been outside earlier, right? "…Winry?"
She didn't answer and Edward wondered why. Had he dreamed going out with her? "Winry?"
"Oh," her breath hitched, "Ed, I'm sorry." Another pause and Edward felt the warm weight of something press into his shoulder. "It's my fault. If I'd listened to you…."
It hurt like hell to move his head but Edward tried. Winry's voice was coming from behind him, which meant…he wasn't sure what it meant. His thoughts scrambled and it seemed like it took a lot of effort just to control his touchy stomach right now. He wished he knew why his arms and shoulders ached. "S'okay, Winry." Oh. His arms were above his head.
Ice water seemed to flood his veins at that realization.
…shit. The guy in the alley. Winry. Dammit, what'd the guy done to Winry? "Are you okay? Winry?"
"I-I was so stupid." Anger tinged her voice, self-loathing, too. Edward recognized those tones all too well. "I distracted you." Bitterly, she whispered, "This is my fault, Ed."
"No…s'not." Edward wished he sounded more sure of himself. "We'll get outta this." He swallowed as his gorge threatened to rise. The pounding in his skull made it hard to string two thoughts together. His hands were lashed together above his head, no easy way for him to press his palms together to make a transmutation circle. Well, he could, Edward realized, but there wasn't anything he could transmute. His gloves? What would that do? The sound caught his attention. "You're not cryin'?"
"N-no." Winry sounded miserable. "I'm not crying." Her breath hitched. "I'm not gonna cry." There was the strength Edward knew.
"'kay." Swallowing again, Edward opened his eyes. The room swam again then steadied. The lighting was dim and the room smelled like earth and chemicals. The acrid scent lodged in his nostrils and Edward was hard pressed not to vomit. He bullied his stomach into submission as best he could. "Wha' happened, Winry?"
"You…you remember the guy stopping us in the alley?" When Edward made an agreeable noise, Winry went on. "You told me to leave, and I started to – but I-I turned back around and distracted you. I'm so sorry, Ed." She sounded weak and scared and not at all like her normal self. "It's my f-fault."
He tried to piece it together, not remembering all that much. The meal – Edward's stomach twisted at that and he clamped his lips closed – the guy in the alley. "'s'not your fault, Winry." He'd just have to figure a way for them to get loose. Behind him, Winry sniffed. "We'll be okay. Don' cry."
Her, "I won't," was shaky and drawn out and sounded like a lie to Edward but he decided against calling her on it. It wasn't as if he could do anything about it right now.
Well, besides changing the subject. "Where are we?"
"I don't know." Winry took a shaky breath. "He made me get in the trunk of his car with you. When he opened the trunk, we were down an incline and he grabbed me and dragged me in here."
"Smells like shit."
"There was manure…" Winry hesitated. "I saw bags of manure."
"An'…" His head hurt too much for Edward to concentrate on the other, chemical smell. He knew it. It was a common, stinky thing.
"And?"
Edward could almost feel Winry's eyes boring into his skull. "Dunno." Whatever he'd been thinking of was lost now. He wanted to go to sleep but his arm and shoulders hurt too much. And Winry was scared. "Hnnn…" Winry doesn't get scared.
"Ed? Ed, are you okay? Don't go to sleep, okay? Ed?"
"Tired." Ow…keep your head up…hurts too much….
"I know, Ed, but I need you to stay awake." Winry wriggled behind him. "We have to get out of here."
It took so much effort to open his eyes. "I'll try." The room swam in front of him and Edward had to close his eyes and gulp at the bile in his throat. Behind him, he could feel Winry squirming, her shoulders bumping into his. He could hear her grunting softly, thinking she sounded like she was trying to break a frozen screw loose, and that noise drifted through his mind as everything else went black.
Alphonse closed the book with a metallic sigh, setting it back on the table. It had been more a fairy tale than anything; going on about the man of the east, the one who had brought alchemy to Amestris, being an immortal and able to bring about great changes in the world around him. Alphonse wasn't sure he believed it, though, after what he and Edward had witnessed in the bowels of Central City, perhaps it wasn't so much a fairy tale as something ringing with the truth. If that man…thing…Father…was the one who had brought alchemy to Amestris, it might explain a lot.
Swiveling his helmet, Alphonse would have frowned when he noticed the time. It was very late, far later than he would expect his brother and Winry to be out, especially without leaving him any indication where they might have gone. If he was a jealous person, Alphonse might've thought they'd ditched him to go have fun but, as it was, Alphonse thought his brother needed a little more joy in his life and Winry might be the best way to provide it. It wasn't like their ongoing arguments didn't show just how much they cared for each other. And his brother's sappy comment at the Central City train station, about making Winry cry tears of joy, was practically a declaration of…well, if not love, Alphonse wasn't sure what to call it.
That still didn't explain why they'd be out so late. Alphonse got to his feet, pacing the room. The sound of his armor rattling broke through his thoughts and he headed for the door, not wanting to disturb the rest of the other hotel patrons. Stopping, he quickly wrote a note, leaving it in plain sight, and left the room, locking the door behind him.
The stairs were empty, as was the street outside the hotel. Alphonse looked both directions, hoping but almost certain he wouldn't see two blond teens, bickering in the middle of the sidewalk.
Nothing.
Alphonse wondered just where they might have gone. Conway wasn't that large of a town but big enough that it wouldn't exactly be easy to search. Wondering if his brother had suddenly decided to take up drinking – well, it would explain why he and Winry weren't at the hotel – Alphonse let out a sigh that rattled his shoulder plates. "If I find out you and Winry are having fun and didn't bother to even leave me a note, Brother," he grumbled to himself, starting to walk to the first place he thought Edward could possibly be: the nearest bookstore.
It had been sheer luck to pick those two daisies on such a night. He hadn't expected to be so blessed to pluck them right off the street like that. It had been a disappointment to realize one was male but the petals were such an amazingly rare color, the sex didn't matter. The other was just as lovely, as sheer and sweet as honeysuckle on the vine. They would be excellent additions to his garden. He could hardly wait to plant them.
Walking down the stairs, he smiled as the familiar scents washed over him. Loam and peat moss, nitrate, the rich smell of manure. Quick lime. Clay, for the roses and the tomatoes he planted. There, in the corner, a barrel sat, waiting for him to extract his most recent planted daisy. She would be so lovely, once she'd dried out. Salt and clay together worked on her stem, branches and petals. Later, perhaps, he'd press the remains, but only the best and brightest were given that honor.
He thought maybe these two daisies might have earned a special place in his collection. Humming softly to himself, he activated the hidden lever, opening up the secret room. He'd left the light on earlier, knowing he would be returning shortly. Two daisies at once complicated things. Fortunately, the male was half-unconscious, if the lolling head was any indication, and the female's pretty bright eyes were full of fear. He could almost smell it drifting off her, a fine perfume. Fear was a good thing, though he thought she still might cause a problem. He figured he should finish plucking her first, then the male.
Still humming, he made his way to the cabinet where he kept his special gardening tools, unlocking the door. Behind him, the female made a strange little noise, a hiss of a sound. He ignored it, taking out the first of his tools. The flensing knife felt a little dull when he tested it on his thumb, so he pulled out his whetstone and oil from the cabinet, setting all three on the nearest table, along with a cleaning rag.
"W-what do you want?"
Another noisy one. He frowned as he began sharpening the flensing knife. Why couldn't they just be quiet? It would be so much easier if they were silent.
"Did you hear me?" Her voice rose in anger.
He turned his shoulder toward the daisies, peering into the cabinet. He plucked out the second tool, the flexible blade, that had once been a file. It was still perfectly sharp and he laid it on the table. The final tool, the sharp Xingese knife with the waterfall pattern, came out last. He couldn't help but raise it up, letting the light cascade off the blade.
"Someone will be looking for us. A lot of someones. You've kidnapped a State Alchemist."
Considering the Xingese knife, he turned it in his hand, glancing toward his pair of daisies. The male's head still drooped, petals stained crimson from the earlier blow in the alley. He'd need to wash the red out carefully, not wanting it to dye those rare golden petals.
"Are you even listening?"
The sounds the female made were so unlike the flowers he usually plucked, he glanced toward the pair, surprised at what greeted his eyes. The female glared at him, rage snapping in her gaze. He almost took a step back, not expecting such a thing. The other daisies had been fearful, cowering, but this one seemed different. Terror no longer wrapped this daisy in its cloak but stiffened her stem. He turned the blade in his hand, unsure of himself.
"Gah, thickheaded idiot men!" The female stamped her foot and he found himself taking a step back. Daisies didn't have feet. They didn't yell at him, they begged and pled and wept dew and eventually, were plucked and made even more beautiful. The knife in his hand twitched and he looked at it, surprised that his hand trembled. There was something wrong with this daisy, something terribly wrong. He raised his head, staring at the pair. The female stared back, eyes narrowing, mouth curled in disgust. "Let us go." When he hesitated, she snapped out, "Now!"
When she shouted, the knife spilled from his hand, clattering on the floor. He realized he'd taken a step back. His mouth went dry while his palms sweated. "You." Swallowing hard, he crossed the room, grabbing her chin. He shook her head, screaming, "You don't get to talk! You don't get to talk to me!"
The pain erupted in his shin, nearly sending him to the floor. Howling, he hopped out of the range of her feet. As he stumbled up through the stairs, he could hear her yelling after him, "Come close again and see what happens!"
Winry panted, glaring after him. The door was still open, letting her know how she could get out. She just had to figure a way to get free of the wires binding her wrists. The knife was too far away and she really had no way to get it up to her hands, anyway. Behind her, she felt Edward shuddering, turning as best she could. "Ed? Ed, are you okay?" He wheezed and the sound made her heart plummet. "Ed?" A cough and a sputter answered her. "Edward!"
"Ha…kicked 'im. Good…girl."
Her legs nearly gave out at the praise. He was still alive; still with her. "We're getting out of here, Ed." Tilting her head back, Winry twisted her arms as much as she could, trying to get a good look at the wire cutting into her wrists. If it was rope, she knew she could probably free herself from the restraints. "Ed, is there any way you can transmute the wires on my wrist?"
"Nng…" He wriggled behind her. "…Can't get my hands right." At her sigh, Edward mumbled, "Sorry, Winry."
"It's okay, Ed." Not wanting him to feel bad, Winry forced a smile, making it warm her voice. "We'll be okay. This guy," she looked toward the doorway, "he's scared. He's going to do something stupid, right? Scared people always do something stupid." Her arms ached and her shoulders felt like knots. She could only imagine what Edward had to feel like. "After we get out of here, I'll give you a massage."
"Hnn?" Edward shifted his weight, leaning his back more heavily against hers. "Whnn…tired."
Winry swallowed, moistening her suddenly dry mouth. "Ed, stay with me, okay? I need you to talk to me. About anything you want. Just talk to me."
Edward whined, a soft, high-pitched exhalation. "Too tired. Lemm' rest an' I'll talk later."
The weight on her back suddenly increased and no matter how loudly Winry called his name, Edward didn't answer.
