Chapter 20: When she was Electric
Places held memories. There were places in Winry's mind she did not like to visit. Places that were discovered or stumbled upon in the most unlikely times. Places that reminded her of her parents.
Fort Briggs did not have any of these places. Nothing reminded her of home, except perhaps, the absence of it.
She walked with Envy, drew a map of the Fort in her mind. Listened as he told her stories of his past. He filled the rooms of the Fort with memories over two hundred years old. The industrial kitchen did not smell of thyme and lemon like it did back home, but as they ate lunch Envy told her of Ishval, of war in distant lands. Winry thought she might feel grit on her teeth, the dust in the air, smell the scent of copper as blood soaked into the sand.
The flush of orange light in Winry's room had been replaced by an impersonal fluorescent glow. There were no decorative touches on the walls. Here Envy shared secrets. Things he said he had never told anyone before. He filled the shadowed corners of the room with his words. Told her how his life, his past, everything he remembered, felt flat and colorless. Purposeless.
Envy was true to his word, true to the promise he made to Edward. He went with Winry almost everywhere. In the morning he walked her to the kitchen. During the day he lingered by her side as she volunteered her time in the automail workshop. He typically brought them dinner there and ate at the small workbench. Then they walked the cold rampart together, hand in hand.
Winry buried beneath layers of wool. She watched Envy scan the pale valley for signs of trouble. His violet eyes narrowed on the mountains. He looked towards Drakma, and Winry thought that the constant paranoia around the Fort was getting to him. When she asked him, he avoided the question.
In the evening, he walked her back to her room with the fluorescent lights. They had fallen into a routine: he would hesitate on the threshold and Winry would invite him in. They would sit on the bed with a deck of cards between them and talk. He would tell her stories of his past. Moments he had long forgotten that would only come back to him when Winry asked. Winry could tell as he shared these memories with her that he was, for the first time, careful with his words.
If she asked of Ishval, he would tell her of Ishval. If she asked of his childhood, he usually responded with: I don't have one. She asked him to share his fondest memory, and then regretted it when she remembered the work he used to do for Father. The dark centuries of his life before her. That she may not want to know what his favorite moment is. His reply shocked her.
"Fishing in Resembool."
Fishing in Resembool. Winry smiled at the memory. If felt so distant now. Yet she knew that compared to Envy's long life it must seem like yesterday for him. He said his memories do not fade like humans' do. He remembers the sharpness of pain, the sinking feeling of disappointment, the slow emptiness of loss. The anger. He told her he groups his memories like one would group spices in a pantry. Ginger, garlic, basil, salt – except they were: Pain, Anger, Elation, Failure. Regret is new, he said. So is Contentment.
But no matter Envy's willingness to share his past with her, Winry could not help but feel that a distance was growing between them. One she could not explain. She felt the closest to him now than she ever had, but she noticed he was careful with his hands, never touching her except to hold her palm tightly against his while they walked from room to room in the Fort. But now, privately, a tension lingered.
Winry placed a card on the pile between them, and Envy followed with his turn, only collecting the cards once she had pulled her hand away. She wondered if Edward had said something to him. Then frowned at the thought. Envy would not back down simply because Edward said he should. No, something else was bothering Envy. And Winry figured the stories of his past were more of a distraction for her. Placate her with empty words. A decoy.
Winry placed the final card down, and said, "I win."
Envy frowned. His eyes narrowed on the pile of cards between them as if he were trying to uncover a cheat. When he found none, he threw his hand down and shrugged.
"Shit. I went easy on you," he said, sighing. Winry thought she had finally found someone with more of an ego than Edward. "You want to play another round so I can beat you again, or do you want me to go?"
"Is there something wrong, Envy?" Winry asked. She noticed his violet eyes, the rising of his eyebrow. "Normally, you're so talkative, but lately you've been avoiding my questions."
Envy snorted and shrugged. "What are you going on about? I feel like I've been doing nothing but talking all damn day. And I haven't been avoiding your questions –,"
"Don't think I haven't noticed. I'm not an idiot, Envy!" Winry snapped, making Envy pause. He turned his face away to start across the room at a small workbench piled with mechanical parts, and Winry knew he hated being called out. He crossed his arms, and a frown surfaced on his face. Winry knew he would hold his silence out of stubbornness. He was just like Edward in that way.
"Whenever I ask you about what you and Ed are planning you change the subject," Winry said. "Yesterday I asked you why you're keeping me here and you didn't answer me. Don't think I've forgotten, or that I'm too stupid to realize you're trying to keep me in the dark!"
"What do you want me to tell you? We're at war!" When Envy turned back to face her, his violet eyes were narrowed, his lips curled in a scowl. There was a shadow of anger in his expression. Winry had not seen him look this way in a long time, since when they had first met. For the first time in many weeks, she felt like he might reach over and wrap his fingers around her neck. It made her lean back slightly.
He did not seem to notice her adjustment as he continued, angrily, "You want to know why you're here playing house in Fort Briggs? It's because you're a hostage. Wrath wants the Elrics to behave, and you're his way of getting to them. If I leave you alone and those idiots do something Father doesn't like, you're dead! Understand, now?"
Winry's eyes were wide. She balled her fists into the covers and dropped her gaze to the pile of cards lying forgotten between them. How could she have been so stupid? It all made sense now. The reason she was dragged to the North. A hostage. And now Ed and Al were forced to play nice, or Father would send someone after her. That would mean Envy would be discovered too. She looked up into Envy's narrowed stare, and asked, "Why didn't you tell me this before? And where have Ed and Al gone now?"
The look he was giving her made her remember the homunculus he used to be. She could see the anger and impatience there behind his eyes when he replied, "They've gone after that Ishvalan. The one called Scar. And I didn't tell you, because I didn't want you overreacting."
"Overreacting?" Winry snapped, but before she could voice her irritation, Envy bared his teeth at her, violet eyes narrowing even more. She was sharply reminded of the homunculus she met in the park that one night in Central. Envy the Jealous, pawn for Father, murderer of Maes Hughes, instigator of the Ishvalan rebellion. Winry slid away from him, pinned her shoulders against the headboard in her attempt to put as much distance between them as possible.
And Envy must have noticed, because his eyes widened and he uncrossed his arms. The faint red glow behind his eyes vanished almost as soon as it had come. Winry noticed a jerkiness in his hands when he tried to reach for her, and stopped himself short when he realized what he was doing.
"I'd never hurt you, Winry."
It sounded like he was trying to convince himself too. He turned away from her and stood up from the bed. Then he looked down at his hands. Winry watched him, curiously. Quietly, he said, "You piss me off sometimes, but, strangely, I'm willing to put up with it."
Winry felt the tension in the room evaporate, and smiled. "Not the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
When Envy glanced over at her the corner of his mouth was starting to twist up in a smug grin. The dark shadow in his eyes was long gone. "Get used to it. I'm not about to conform to your human expectations of romance. If you want roses and empty words, go find yourself a soft-headed loser from Central or something."
Winry could not help but laugh at that. "Don't let the Colonel hear you say that. He might take offense."
Oddly, Envy frowned at her mention of Mustang. A silence lingered between them for a moment, and Winry wondered what she had said to upset him. Before she could ask, Envy looked down at the ground and said, "When a human dies their friends and family morn by putting their names on gravestones, right? Why do you do that? I never really understood why humans always want to be reminded of their pain. It's like they enjoy being tormented by their memories."
Winry was taken aback by the strange and sudden question. Then, she realized the raw honesty behind it. Was Envy afraid of dying? It was the only thought that occurred to her. The only reason she would think he would ask such a question.
"It's sentimental," Winry replied. Despite the simplicity of the question, she found it difficult to answer in a way he would understand. "You said your memories don't fade like humans' do. It's because our memories fade with time that we like to be reminded of the people we cared about. If we let them fade, then it's like we're forgetting that person meant anything to us at all. I suppose it would look like we're tormenting ourselves with the pain of loss, but sometimes memories of loved ones can have a positive affect too. We can be inspired by them as easily as we can be hurt by them."
Memories of her parents drifted into the room. She thought Fort Briggs did not have places where she would be reminded of her loss, but now it seemed she was creating one. When she looked up at Envy, his eyes were clouded in thought. There was sadness in the lines of his face, in the way his lips parted slightly, his eyes cast down, his shoulders slouched. Winry wanted to know what he was thinking, or whether her explanation made any sense to him at all.
"Talk to me," Winry said. Envy kept his eyes on the ground. She could tell he did not like it when she asked him to share his thoughts. His hands balled into fists. His jaw tightened.
"You know, I was worried when you went to Central with Ed and Al," Winry confessed. It was her turn to drop her gaze. She stared down at her fists curled into the covers. She twisted the soft fabric between her hands as she talked. "It was so risky for you. Just the thought that you might get caught by the other homunculi… terrified me. That I might never see you again. And that's when I realized, I didn't have anything to remember you by. If you never came back, if we never saw each other again… my memory would fade like it has with my parents."
She did not want to cry. Told herself she would not let the tears come, but it was useless. Heat rose in her cheeks when she remembered the sharp panic of finding out Envy had gone to Central. She had spent the night before he left being angry with him, and she was shocked at how easily she could forget that anger in light of the possibly she may never see him again. She kept her eyes trained on the covers, on her hands twisting the sheet. Knuckles turning white. Hot tears started running down her cheeks.
"Even after I found out what you had done," she cried. "Mr. Hughes… the war in Ishval… I still couldn't let you go. Why? Why can't I let you go? I should hate you for what you did. I tried, Envy. I really did. I tried to hate you. I tried to stay angry. But I couldn't. What does that make me? If people call you a monster for what you did, then I suppose I'm just as guilty."
Finally, Envy said, "You're not making any sense at all."
Winry looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. He stood with a hand on his hip and a frown on his face.
"This is what I don't get about you humans," he said. "You're all over the place with your emotions. Even after I passed through the Gate, I still don't understand how you manage to complicate something so simple."
Winry gritted her teeth, felt anger boil up. She snapped, "You started this conversation with your question about death, Envy. So if I'm complicating things for you, then stop me while I'm ahead and come out and say what's on your mind. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut!"
"I don't want you to die."
Winry heard the words and felt as if her voice had been stolen by the cool draft in the room. Envy stared at her with a frown, one hand on his hip. He shrugged and broke the silence, "It really just comes down to that. And it's selfish. I don't want you to die, because then I'll be alone."
Once again, Winry was shocked by the raw honesty behind his words. Though he said they were simple feelings and simple wants, Winry knew differently. In Envy's attempt to break his new emotions down and apply logic to his feelings, he had managed to come up with a reason that made sense to him. But Winry knew the truth. Knew he had let slip more of himself in those few words than he ever had.
A silence lingered between them. Winry had never thought about them, and clearly, Envy had. He was immortal, and she was not. Eventually, he would outlive her. Winry wondered why she had never thought about that before, why it had never occurred to her that Envy might morn her when she finally passed on.
She let slip a small smile. No matter how she looked at it, their life either together or apart would be bitter sweet. She left the bed and walked toward Envy, stepping into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His skin felt warm against her cheek.
"We just have to make the best out of the time we have," she said. She remembered the word fallen. Felt it when she looked up into his amethyst eyes, and confirmed it for herself. How could someone be so difficult and easy to love at the same time? Maybe she did not love him. Maybe she was just confused. But then, she had been confused for many years.
Envy smirked. "I would make a few suggestions, but you'll probably shoot down all of –,"
Winry leaned in and cut him off with a kiss. She pressed into him, felt a warm stirring in the pit of her stomach when his arms pulled her in even closer. When she pulled her lips away from his, she grinned and said, "Hasn't anyone told you, you talk too much, Envy?"
"Yeah, yeah." Envy bent down slightly and lifted her up. Winry gripped his shoulders to steady herself, before she was tossed not-to-gently onto the bed. The pile of cards tumbled off the edge. Envy sat on the edge and grinned down at her. "Only a few minutes ago you were telling me I wasn't talking enough. Or do you not remember?"
"Well, you know one side-effect of being human is memory loss," Winry countered, playfully.
"Smart ass," Envy mumbled. He let his eyes trail down her body. Winry watched as he studied her. Where there had been anger, now there was something new. A look of intrigue. Winry wondered if she was ready for this. Wondered if it was even possible to be ready to give away everything. To entrust another with secrets known only to the keeper.
Envy's fingertips brushed lightly from one of her ankles up her leg. Skimming the sensitive skin behind her knee, the softness at the back of her thigh at the base of her skirt. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she enjoyed the feeling of his touch. The gentleness of it. The assurance in it. She wondered if she ought to reciprocate the affection he was giving her, but when she made to move, he said, "Don't worry so much, Winry. If I do anything you don't like, just tell me."
His hands caressed her legs. She could tell he was taking his time with her. Getting to know every inch of her. She was just starting to lose herself in his touches, when she felt his lips on her shin. She lifted her head from the pillow and saw him, eyes closed, leaving a small trail of butterfly kisses up her leg. Slowly, she arched the small of her back, felt heat rise in her cheeks at her hot embarrassment.
When she opened her eyes, Envy was grinning up at her. A flash of mischief in his eyes. So brief, Winry almost did not catch it. He crawled forward and pressed his body against hers, kissing along her jawline. Winry noticed he kept his weight supported on his elbows on either side of her, and a memory pulsed through her mind. The memory of his monstrous form, the one Father had called his true form. The weight of it must be more than she could imagine. Yet, the pressure Envy applied with his hips against hers was comfortable, and she was grateful he seemed to know just how much she could take. He knew his strength. Seemed to know her limits too.
She brought her hands up to his chest, felt the taut muscles there beneath the black fabric of his shirt. It was not the first time she had touched him. Not the first time warmth stirred in the pit of her stomach at being so close, pressed against him. She noticed, not for the first time, the absence of a heartbeat and of breath.
His kisses trailed down from her neck to her collarbone. Black-green hair tickling her sides as he moved down her body. She was amazed at how gentle his touches were, like he was afraid to break her. As if she were fragile.
"Envy…" she touched the side of his face, drew his gaze up to meet hers. She was surprised to find a bit of a flush in his cheeks. There was a slight flash of panic in his eyes, and she realized he must think she wants him to stop, or that he has done something wrong. She pulled his face to hers, captured his lips, felt him deepen the kiss. Hot, wet. She could not tell if he was impatient or passionate. Found it odd how the two bordered such a thin line.
She broke the kiss only to pull at the hem of her shirt. A flush of red rose in her cheeks. She felt bold, pushed against his chest, saw the flash of confusion behind his eyes. He pulled away from her and she sat up. Before he could open his mouth to ask what she was doing, she pulled him down again, but this time she climbed on top. A small grin curled her lips. He lied on his back looking up at her with a frown.
"I know you're a control freak, but why don't you let me have a go at this," she said, smirking. He seemed to relax. She straddled his waist, ran her hands down his abdomen, kissed the warm skin of his neck. She wanted to show him how much he meant to her. Found new passion in the feeling of his skin. His scent; sweet, musky, clean. In her attempt to find a way to express this new feeling, her touches became heavy. When her fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, she hesitated. Not sure how to proceed.
Envy seemed to sense her growing reluctance, because in one fluid movement he flipped them so that he was once again on top. He did not hesitate when he pulled her shirt over her head. She was amazed that she felt so comfortable, half-naked under his sharp gaze. His hands were warm against her breasts, his mouth hot. Hooking his fingers beneath the hem of her skirt, he smoothly removed the last of her clothing.
She felt chilled and vulnerable. His violet eyes studied her body with a gentle look. Fingers running softly down her stomach, tracing a thin line from her navel to the tender, moist flesh between her thighs. Winry closed her eyes tightly, arched into his touch. Felt hot pleasure like never before.
A pressure was on her hips again, and when she opened her eyes Envy was kissing the soft skin of her neck, eyes closed. She noticed he was now naked, could feel his warm skin against the inside of her thighs. She felt a little nervous.
"Winry," he whispered. His hot breath brushed against her ear. "Do you trust me?"
She could not help the reply, "Yes…"
He kissed her lips. There was a short pause where Winry wondered if there would be any pain, any blood. But the only thing she felt was the hammering of her own heart, the hot dampness between her thighs, and the sharp pleasure of Envy sliding in.
Envy lay awake staring at the ceiling. The covers shifted slightly as Winry turned over in her sleep. In all his two hundred years, not once had he been this close to a human. This had not been the first time he had been intimate with one, but sex never meant anything to him. He was the master deceiver of the homunculi after all; lover, husband, wife, mistress. He had played all the roles before. Never floundered an act. Never stuttered a line. Never failed in his seduction.
And when it was all over, Envy would walk away from it. No strings. No emotions. Sometimes, if Father ordered it, Envy would even kill his unlucky partner after the fact. Taking pleasure both from the act of sex and the kill. The cherry on the proverbial cake.
But this time was different. It was the first time Envy cared. Cared about his partner's pleasures. He wanted Winry to enjoy him as much as he knew he would enjoy her. He was certain he had satisfied her, felt her inner walls tighten around him, watched as she threw back her head, exposing the soft skin of her neck to him, as a moan escaped her throat.
It was also the first time Envy had been intimate in his preferred form. Winry reminded him of it when, at one point, she playfully pulled at his long hair. It had hurt. A lot. Not to mention, if he did not heal immediately, he may still have red scratches down his back. It made him grin. There might be a little sadist in her yet.
He thought about leaving when they were done. He always left. Usually. But Winry wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, and closed her eyes. He decided to stay.
One day, she'll die…
Envy glanced over at Winry, sleeping soundly. He knew it was true. He was destined to outlive her, and a slow, sinking sadness pressed down on him. It was more than not wanting to be alone after she died. He could not deny he had grown to care deeply for her. He never thought it was possible, but just the thought of her in pain made his insides twist uncomfortably.
So, this is what it feels like, he thought, to be human.