Wearing Wild Flowers In Our Hair

Note: For those of you Ed/Winry fans, I'm running an art/fic challenge on Live Journal; Fire and Ice 2011. The link is: http:/ fireandice 2011. livejournal. com/ - be sure and take out the spaces! You do not have to have an LJ account to participate or vote. Signups are taking place until September 4th, 2011, and I'd love to make this a huge, wonderful event. Thank you for your time, and enjoy the story!


Edward wished his head didn't feel so sloshy. Wasn't right, Winry helping him like this. She always helped him. Smelled good, too. She was shaking. That couldn't be good. Don't cry. "Wi-Winry?"

"Yeah, Ed?"

She didn't sound right. Edward knew he should say something, figure out a way to get them out of here. He wasn't any help to Winry now. He couldn't protect her this way. Huffing softly, Edward blew some hair out of his face. "You gotta," what did Winry have to do? Oh, yeah. "Gotta leave me here. That guy's trapped inna basement."

"I'm not leaving you, Ed." Winry's voice caught then firmed up, becoming stern. "Don't be stupid!"

They were moving again. Edward wondered how, since he couldn't feel his feet. Winry took his leg, hadn't she? How were they walking?

"Ed, we're getting out of this together."

"Nng. I'll be okay. Y'can leave me here."

Winry shook her head, her hair tickling his nose. "You won't be okay. We're better off together, remember?"

Edward sighed. "You, me an' Al." Jerking his eyes open, he mumbled against Winry's shoulder. "We need Al." Alphonse could protect Winry and take care of the guy in the basement.

"We'll find him. We just need to get out of this place." Winry hefted him up higher on her back. She inhaled deeply. "Hold on, Ed. We'll get out of here."

"Y'can't keep carryin' me, Winry." Edward could just make out the stairs ahead of them. "'M too heavy."

"Ed, I can do this." So damned determined. Edward jerked his right leg, freeing it from Winry's grip. She dragged him across the floor, stumbling but catching herself as Edward let go of her. He managed to balance, sort of, before Winry grabbed his arms again. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Ed?"

"Helping!" He tried to pull free, almost falling. The room spun around him and Edward dropped on his butt. "Ow. Damn it!" It felt like the top of his head popped off.

"You're not helping!" Winry squatted in front of him, her face all screwed up. "I'm not going to just leave you here."

Edward managed to focus on one of the three Winrii in front of him. "I'm gonna slow you down. Y'll get upstairs faster." Folding his arms, he jerked his chin toward the staircase. Fuck, that hurt. "Fina phone. Call p'lice." The Winrii were frowning. "You can't carry me, Winry!" Not up another flight of stairs. "Go get help. I'll be okay!"

Dropping to her knees in front of him, Winry pressed the heel of her hand against her temple. "We're both getting out of here, Edward." She raised her head, eyes narrowed and sparking. Still determined. "It'll be okay. I can help you."

"Damn it, Winry, y're not listening! Y'can't carry me up those stairs." Edward gnashed his teeth, ignoring the way it made his head sing. "Go on! The sooner you get up those stairs, the sooner the p'lice get here! Nng! S'best way t'help me, Winry. Get." Pushing at her shoulders, he growled when she didn't move. "Get up the stairs." Hating the expression on her face, Edward cursed himself for making her look that way. He steeled himself. "Go, Winry!" He bit out the words. "You. Can't. Help. Me."

Winry's eyes were huge, her lower lip trembling. No, nonono…don't cry. She jerked her head away, hair sweeping past his face. "You're right." Her words sounded both thick and sharp. Inhaling deeply, she pressed her hands down on the floor, pushing herself to her feet. "I'll be back, Ed." Her index finger waved in front of his nose before she whirled in a flurry of skirt hem, pounding up the stairs.

He all but fell sideways, eyelids too heavy to keep open. "I know."


Steinkuhl screamed, rocking back and forth against the cement and earth encasing his body. Flowers couldn't run. Flowers needed tending, they weren't angry and frightening. They couldn't work the earth back against him. He pounded his fists against the bindings, not noticing when his skin tore and left splatters of blood behind. He couldn't let the daisies escape. They couldn't leave his greenhouse!

How had the golden daisy worked the earth? He always thought flowers were magical but only in their beauty. Something so fragile couldn't control the soil beneath its roots, could it? He'd never heard of such a thing, never even imagined it. But the two daisies had escaped from his bindings. Was it because he'd taken two at the same time? Did it make them more daring? But the female, the paler daisy, should be cowering, not threatening, especially with the darker daisy and its broken stem.

Screaming and threatening would get him nowhere. The daisies had climbed out of his garden and needed to be retrieved. He had to catch them. They would be impossible to replace.

Steinkuhl needed something heavier to break out of this stone prison. He'd never left anything here in the basement besides his knives in the locked cabinet. No shovels or even stakes, except the one he'd tied his daisies to, and it wasn't within reach. With a groan, he beat his hands against the cement.

Something shifted.

Eyes snapping open, Steinkuhl stared down at his chest, at the cement holding him in place. A long crack rippled down the center of it, breaking off into tributaries and spreading toward the base. Jerking his body to the right as far as it would go, he flung himself to the left. The casing around his body popped and whined, bits of it flaking away.

He continued rocking, trying to loosen his feet despite the pain his movement caused. His heavy boots might be able to kick free, if he could crack the cement a little more.

And then…then his knives would come in handy again.


Alphonse couldn't understand it. How had Edward and Winry disappeared so completely? They weren't quiet people in any regard; shouting at each other at the top of their lungs was their way of communicating. They weren't people who'd just vanish without anyone noticing but that's what had happened. It wasn't fair. They were supposed to be here on a holiday, dammit!

"Al!"

The sound of his name being repeatedly called finally through his thoughts. Alphonse realized Lena had been yelling his name for some time. Turning, he saw Tony and she had fallen behind, nearly a city block behind. "I'm sorry!" He trotted back, aware of the clatter of his armor.

"It's okay, Al." Lena smiled up at him as he approached though her expression was pained.

Alphonse smacked himself on the forehead, making the metal ring. "Lena, I'm so sorry. It's late. I should take you home. You aren't going to be in trouble, are you?" And even as he spoke, Alphonse chafed at needing to walk her home. Wherever Edward and Winry were, they needed him. Still, he couldn't let Lena go home alone, not with this sort of thing happening to people who could fight back.

Lena shrugged as Tony looked between them. "I'd rather stay and help you. Neither of you know Conway like a native." She glanced at Tony. "Besides, it's not that late."

Alphonse thought it was. Restaurants and shops were closed, the streets emptied. He wished Edward had left a sign, a clue, anything that would help him find his brother. If he could breathe, Alphonse though he might be weeping. If his body was real, maybe it would fall apart from this shaking that ran through him. Had Edward felt the same way when Greed had kidnapped his little brother? No, Edward had been furious that someone would dare – almost like he'd been when the Fuhrer had threatened Winry.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Alphonse said, "No, Lena, it is late. I should take you home."

Hands on her hips, she glared at him, her expression so reminiscent of Winry's, Alphonse took a step backward, expecting a wrench to smack his chest plate. "If it's so late, what's that little girl doing outside?" Lena swept her hand out in an exaggerated gesture, pointing at a frizzy haired little girl, watching them from across the street.


Without Ed on her back, Winry charged up the stairs, trying to ignore the feeling that she raced into a black cave. The stink of fertilizer and manure didn't smell quite right, like something was off in the mix. Winry didn't want to think of the putrid reek clogging her nostrils and coating the back of her throat as she breathed.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Winry hesitated. No light shone anywhere. What was this guy doing, anyway? She swallowed, not wanting to think too hard on that question. The basement where she and Ed had been held was brilliantly lit. The next floor up, where she'd left Ed, not so well lit. She'd been able to see some bags of fertilizer and other stuff, a couple of tables with what looked like pots and bags of soil strewn across them. This floor had no lighting. There was a feel to it, though, in the way the air seemed heavy and moist, that made Winry wonder where she was.

She took a deep breath, feeling along the wall on first the right, then the left side of the doorway. Her questing fingers found the buttons and she pressed the top one. Lights sprang on, stinging her eyes, making Winry blink, first at their vibrancy then at where she was. Flowers, both potted and in vases, covered tables set in rows down the center of the room. A few capped barrels were set against the walls on either side. Hanging from hooks on the walls were skeins of ribbons and thread, scissors, shears and clippers hanging from hooks. Vases and decorative pots vied for room on a table with another bag of soil, dirt spilling from its open mouth.

"A flower shop?" Winry didn't take time to think about it. Not seeing a telephone in her cursory glance around the room, she spun in place, heading back to the stairway. She hesitated, staring down, wishing she could see Edward before she started climbing. Swallowing down his name, Winry set her hand on the wooden banister, setting her foot on the first riser to take her back down to him. But she looked over her shoulder at the doorway at the end of the room. There'll be a telephone in there.


Steinkuhl groaned, almost afraid to walk. His shoes felt wet and hot, sticky, and, when he looked down, they were coated with a thick red dust. His first step felt as if he walked on glass shards, nearly sending him to his knees. Grabbing onto the table, Steinkuhl balanced on feet that burned and ached. Biting back a curse, he fought with the agony, digging his fingers into the wood.

Making himself move took willpower, but he had an incentive. He couldn't dally any longer. Personal pain didn't matter. The daisies did. He had to pluck them again. He couldn't let them escape. They had to stay here. He'd chosen them for his garden particularly. Their rarity had entranced him into taking them both from off the street. Now, they had to be contained, before they made their way out of his green house and ruined everything.

The room spun and Steinkuhl retched, acid burning his nose and throat. He hawked and spat, wiping his mouth on the forearm of his sleeve. His feet felt like they'd been immersed in acid but he'd have to ignore the pain, the way the male daisy had. Sucking down a deep breath, Steinkuhl forced his legs to move, taking a step. His legs gave out on him, his knees buckling under the agonizing shock running up through his body. If the female daisy could climb carrying the male, he could climb, too. And besides, the male daisy'd left his stem behind. He might need it back.

Steinkuhl panted, staring at the stairs. They wouldn't be able to move very fast, he told himself. He had time to let the pain fade a bit. Then he'd walk. He would. He had to. And he'd collect his flowers again.


Winry wavered for a few seconds. The man hadn't driven his car down as far as she'd come up by the stairs. The building must've been dug into a hillside. Passing her hand across her forehead, she took a deep, shuddering breath. The room had the same peculiar odor to it; the sweet scent of flowers barely covering something that made her nose twitch. The stench seemed to clog her throat. Winry shook her head, gathering herself. She needed to find a telephone, call for help, and get back down to Edward. She didn't want to leave him very long, not in the condition he was in.

Fighting down a shudder, she made her way through the room. A single door awaited her with a narrow window gracing it. Testing the doorknob, Winry opened the door, entering a tiny office. Pigeonholes climbed the walls and were festooned with ribbons, wax flowers, rolls of paper and strings of beads. The scent of flowers was even stronger here, and Winry made her way through another door and into a closed flower shop. Orchids, tulips and roses greeted her, the scent of so much greenery in an enclosed space overwhelming. Still, Winry gulped it down, thinking it was better than the stink in the previous room. A tiny light burned near the counter, and Winry skirted the plants to reach it, expecting to find a telephone.

The drawer of the brass cash register hung open, proof to any would be thief the money for the shop was located elsewhere, but Winry had other things on her mind, delighted at the sight of a telephone. Taking the receiver from its cradle, she pressed the cradle a couple of times, waiting for an operator to pick up on the other end. "Hello?"

"Whom would you like to reach, please?" the operator responded.

"I need the police!" Rifling the papers under the counter, Winry found a receipt book, imprinted with the name of the florist and the address. "My friend and I were kidnapped!"

"Yes, ma'am." The tone of the operator's voice made it sound as if she didn't believe Winry. "Connecting you."

There was a faint click-click noise of the connection being made and a few seconds later, a masculine voice came on the line. "Conway Military Police, Seventh Precinct."

"My name is Winry Rockbell. My friend and I were kidnapped. We're at Steinkuhl Flower Shop, and the address is - "

"Miss, miss, slow down. You've been kidnapped?"

"He wants to kill us! He was sharpening knives." Forcing herself under control again, Winry said, "We need help! My friend has a concussion, and the man is still downstairs in the basement with him." Winry glanced over her shoulder, back toward the office.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

She swallowed down a scream. "No! No, it's not. Please, send someone to 1722 Oakhill Drive. It's an emergency, please, hurry."

The person on the other end of the line seemed to catch her emergency. "I'll send someone right away, Miss Rockbell."

"Thank you!" Twisting the telephone cord around her fingers, Winry said, "There are basements – sub-basements – in this place. I'll leave you a path to follow! Please, hurry." Replacing the receiver in its cradle, Winry studied everything available to her. The door was bolted, and needed a key to be unlocked – the man in the basement was taking no chances with the people he caught. But Winry didn't need a key to open a door, especially with all the windows available. She pulled the blinds covering the door and, hefting a large ceramic pot, sent it shattering through the glass. The pot broke on impact with the sidewalk outside, and Winry surveyed the damage for a few seconds. It should get not only the military police's attention, but also anyone else's who came by the shop.

Running back into the office, Winry grabbed a roll of ribbon out of the pigeon hole. She had to knock a piece of glass free to tie the end of the ribbon around the front doorknob of the flower shop. The resultant crash barely registered. Tying the ribbon in place, Winry let it unroll behind her as she walked back to the office, wrapping the ribbon around the doorknob there. Grabbing another roll of ribbon, Winry started off through the back of the store, heading for the basements below. "Help is on the way, Ed," she murmured. "Just hang on."


"She shouldn't be out that late." Alphonse barely heard Tony's words as he started down the street, picking up speed as he moved. He'd seen the curly haired girl before. She'd been outside the hotel. She'd been behind them on the street while they were walking. He'd noticed her, but hadn't paid any attention to her. And now, she stared at him, her eyes huge in her face as he thundered up to her.

She didn't even seem afraid to see something as huge as he was bearing down on her, just popped a finger in her mouth, tilting her head back farther. "Wow," Alphonse heard her say.

"You've been following us!"

Her shoulders hunched a bit and she sidled sideways.

"Al!" Lena shouted behind him, so far behind him.

Alphonse leaned down over the girl. "You've been keeping track of where we are, since we got to Conway! Why?"

Her face screwed up but he couldn't feel any sympathy at the second. Not now. "My brother and our friend went out tonight, and now no one knows where they are. But I bet you do!"

"Al," Tony grabbed his greave, stumbling as he was unable to turn Alphonse around. "You're scaring her."

He couldn't keep the fury from his voice. "She's been following us. Almost everywhere I've gone, I've seen her. She's keeping track of us for some reason!" Jerking free, Alphonse understood why his brother kicked things. He wanted to kick something right now, too, just to release some of the tension he knew should be running through his body. Gathering control of himself was like trying to catch the wind in a sieve but Alphonse managed, kneeling in front of the girl. He tried to make himself small, impossible as the task might be. "You've been following us," he repeated, making his voice soft and gentle, even though it was an effort. "Why?"

Looking about to cry, the girl shook her head, her clenched fists held up to her chest.

Alphonse couldn't keep the urgency out of his voice. "Please, you have to tell me!"

"Al, she's a little girl," Tony said as Lena caught up to them.

"But she knows something! Why else would she have been following us? Please," he begged, holding out his hands to the girl, "tell me where they are. Tell me where I can find Ed and Winry!"


Steinkuhl studied what remained of the stone cocoon. Blood streaked down the bit still standing staining the crumbled pieces on the floor. It would be a mess to clean up later. He'd need someone who knew how to fill in holes to tear it down and repair the area around it. And he'd have to hire someone with some discretion. Most people didn't know how deep into the hill his shop went. At one time, it had been an armory for a private citizen, maybe even an alchemist. His father had bought it up for a song when it remained abandoned for so long, and bragged about it to anyone who'd listen. At least, that's what Steinkuhl remembered. His father had taken a fall down the staircase when he was little, landing in a bloodied, broken heap at the bottom of it. His mother didn't go looking, even when he'd told her Daddy was hurt. He'd tried to help Daddy back upstairs, but he wasn't strong enough. And Mommy wouldn't let him go outside to ask anyone for help. When anyone asked, Mommy said Daddy'd left, but it wasn't true. He'd been planted in the garden, and daisies grew over him. Mommy'd made him help her dig the hole, and then plant the flowers afterward. They had to do all the digging at night, so no one would know. "He's a daisy now," she'd said, "better a daisy than a man."

There were other daisy patches in the yard, but Mommy hadn't been one of them. Enough people knew her, that when she got sick, they came around and helped him take care of her. And the doctor had been there when she died, and insisted on taking her body away. Mommy had been buried without any daisies planted on top of her. He'd nearly gone and dug her up to plant her in the yard, but when he'd finally managed to escape the well-meaning mourners keeping watch over him, someone had planted flowers to grow out of Mommy. It seemed rude to dig them up, so she'd stayed with the rest of the people in the cemetery.

That didn't mean he couldn't collect other flowers. He'd seen a beautiful one the day they'd planted Mommy. She'd been swathed in black and dripping dew. She'd bought flowers at Mommy's shop before, but he'd never paid any attention to her then. She'd been exquisite at the planting, like a rose veiled in ribbons, just hints of color shining through. She'd been his first. He'd lured her in when she'd said she was taking a trip away, offering to take care of the plants Mommy'd sold her while she was gone. No one missed her at first, since she'd told everyone she was going for a month. By the time someone did realize she hadn't come back to Conway, he'd put her in a press, and saved her forever.

He'd pressed or planted others, preserving their lovely petals in various ways. He'd gotten good at it, though he'd never shown anyone his techniques. Mommy kept Daddy planted in the garden to keep him a secret. He understood other people wouldn't understand why he'd preserved his flowers.

But the two daisies he'd plucked off the street tonight, they were a problem. He couldn't let them escape. They had to be plucked again, planted quickly, or he knew he'd have serious problems.

Steeling himself, he tried to get off the floor. Agony ripped through his legs and feet, making him moan. He wasn't sure if he could even walk but he knew he had no choice. He left a trail of blood behind as he made his way to the preparation table to gather his tools. The knife fit his hand perfectly, but he thought he might need something else. These daisies were different. They didn't act right. They weren't scared of him.

Dropping his flensing knife, he reached into his cabinet for his work tools, pulling out the long, broad knife he used to chop down small trees. He ran the ball of his thumb over the edge of the blade, feeling it catch and cut the flesh, leaving behind a streak of blood. With a smile, he hefted the blade, turning toward the stairs. He could use this to stop the daisies from leaving. One blow from this, and they'd be unable to move, ever again.


Winry threw the ribbon roll down the stairs ahead of her, charging after it. She'd run out of ribbon halfway through the room off the office, and had shoved a table close enough to the door to tie off the second start of ribbon. The light seemed dim below, as if swallowed up somehow by the basement itself. Winry shoved off the thought as she raced down the stairs, her hand on the rail. "Ed?" Her voice caught in her throat as her feet hit the floor.

Edward leaned against the wall where she'd left him, head sagging to the side. The blood stained his hair a lurid color and Winry had to swallow hard. She hated seeing him bleed. It reminded her too much of that night, when a suit of armor showed up at the door, her best friend in its arms, bleeding to death.

"Ed!" Forcing her feet to move, Winry ran across the floor. She crouched next to him, cupping his face. His skin felt clammy as she gently righted his head. "Ed, wake up." Her words sounded reed-thin, as if a puff of wind could blow them away. "Open your eyes! Ed!"

Heart thundering in her ears, Winry bit her lower lip, not even noticing the pain. Edward was still breathing, she could see his chest rise and fall, but he looked so pale. "Please, Ed. Open your eyes." She lightly patted his cheek. "Help is coming, Ed. I called the military police! Someone will be here soon."

"…nn?" His eyes barely dragged open, only offering Winry a glimpse of golden iris behind his lashes.

"Ed? Can you hear me?" She edged closer, trying to get a look into his eyes.

"Hnn." He blinked, and his lids stayed closed for a few rapid beats of her heart before they opened again. "…feel sick."

"I know." Winry stroked his forehead. "That's the concussion. I'm glad you didn't throw up on me when I carried you up the stairs." Her stomach twisted. If she'd kept quiet, done what Edward had asked and left him in the alley, maybe none of this would've happened. He would've been paying attention to the strange man, rather than to her, and wouldn't have gotten hit in the head. Later, later! she reminded herself fiercely. Edward needed her to take care of him now. "I need you to stay awake, Ed. Can you talk to me?"

"Oughtta get outta here," Edward mumbled as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. "I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving you!" Anxiety made her snap at him. "Someone's coming. The police are coming. They'll get us out of here, and we'll be okay."

Edward's hands came up to tug at her wrists. "Go meet 'em." He gave her a little smile. "I'll be 'kay. Just rest here."

"No, Ed." Winry nearly choked on a sob. No tears unless they're happy tears. I made you a promise. "I'm staying here, with you."

"Good." Winry straightened at the sound of that voice, turning to the staircase and the man standing in the mouth of the doorway. He smiled at her, the dim light glinting off of the knife, like a monstrous gardening tool, he held in his hands. "Makes it easier for me."