Brief Commentary:
I'm sure for any one who is a fan of Edward in this story is secretly singing the song "See You Again" in their heads while they scroll down the fanfiction pages in search of a possible update from RNFYE. Or maybe it would be Winry? XD I've actually been listening to it a lot lately...anyway, Eddo does make a reappearance in this chapter, but, as usual, it's anything but a happy occasion. For the characters. Not you. The characters. :) Please review!


Reasons Not For Your Ears
Chapter Twelve

A week since the murder of Paninya's father and the incident Winry had suffered alongside Edward had passed on rather peacefully. With much relief (and oddly, disappointment), the young Rockbell had not yet encountered the older Elric, nor the man, Scar. She, Alphonse and Paninya had attended Aetern-san's funeral to pay their last respects before he was buried. The coffin had been closed when they arrived, and Winry had yet to see even a picture of his face, so the man's appearance was so far a complete mystery to her. Perhaps, when they arrived back at Paninya's house, she would ask for a photograph of him. Chewing her lip, she shifted uncomfortably in her slim black dress, toes aching painfully in the heels she wore as Winry attempted to settle back against the leather seat of Mary's car.

It took Alphonse little to no time to notice her distress.
"Winry?"
Distractedly, she glanced up at him and attempted to put a reassuring smile on her face.
"Yeah, what?"
"Are you okay?" his eyes glimmered with slight anxiety, as well as grief from the funeral procession.
"I'm fine, Al," Winry airily waved with one hand, attempting to brush off his concern. Not surprisingly, it didn't work.
"You're not fine, Winry."
She turned her head to hide the blush dusting her cheeks.
"Okay, so I'm not. So what?"
The blonde-haired adolescent heard an audible sigh from Paninya, who was seated on the other side of Al.
"You guys sound like you should be going out," she said idly, tapping her fingers on the arm rest.
"W-what the hell? Don't be ridiculous, Pan!" Winry glared at her friend, obviously embarrassed at the suggestion. With some relief, she noticed Alphonse nod his head in agreement.
"Don't make such unsupported assumptions, Paninya," he eventually got around to chiding her, "after all, what would you think if Winry and I teased you about that kind of thing?"
Paninya glared at him and looked away.
"Shut up..." she grumbled, propping her head on her elbow rest as she shot seething looks out the window.
"Oh, is there some one you haven't told me about, Pan?" Winry couldn't help but grin, leaning over Alphonse's legs to put both her hands on Paninya's shoulders.
"Shut up," Paninya repeated, sticking out her tongue. Her blood-shot eyes, which were evidence from her long cry at the funeral, now glittered with defiance and a "Make Me" expression darted across her face for a fleeting moment. Deciding she would have no success with the dark-skinned girl, Winry retreated back to her seat and instead turned to Alphonse.
"Al?"
"...let's not talk about it now, Winry," he said quietly. "Paninya's still upset after the funeral, so could this slide?"
Winry felt an emotion that could only be identified as shame creep down her face as her shoulders slumped. She muttered a small,
"You're right. Never mind, Al."
He attempted to smile reassuringly at her, but the smile melted into a sad upturn of the lips, and Winry had to look away as silence overtook the car. She appreciated the fact that Mary, Paninya's mother, had not said a word the whole time. It would make everything much worse if she had decided to butt in during the previously running conversation.

The remainder of the drive to Paninya's house seemed to trail on forever, until Winry could hardly contain herself when they pulled into her friend's driveway. Eager to escape the confines of the vehicle, she was the first one outside, quickly stretching her cramped legs. Promising herself that she would remove her painfully high-heeled shoes as soon as physically possible, Winry impatiently waited as the remainder of the car's passengers climbed out and Mary made her way to the front door, quietly unlocking it and allowing them inside. Quickly yanking off her heels, she put them near the door and padded after Alphonse and Paninya as they were invited into the kitchen.

Not much was spoken as Mary offered everyone warm soup, in hopes to relieve them of some dreariness. This was met with quiet mutterings of 'Thanks' and 'I guess I'm hungry' as the three teenagers stared moodily at the table they sat at. Paninya looked ready to collapse (whether it was in tears or from stress was debatable), Alphonse appeared to be calmly resting his hands on the table, but there was enough sheer concentration in face to keep him from actually breaking the table from what must've been great inner turmoil. Winry also seemed to be perfectly fine, appearance-wise, but her fingers were clenched tightly into fists, her very knuckles white. Gritting her teeth, she looked up with what she hoped to be a nonchalant expression at Paninya's mother and asked politely,
"When will the soup be ready?"
With a quick glance in her direction, Mary replied,
"Less than a minute. I apologize for the lack of funeral reception...at the moment we're a bit low on money, even with her father's insurance...but I suppose it can't be helped..." Mary chewed her lip and looked away.
"Oh," Winry said tonelessly, her gaze dropping to her lap. "That's okay."


The soup had tasted good. That's all she really remembered as she trailed towards her neighborhood after just getting off of a bus. Too busy to be concerned with Winry's condition and how hard it would be to walk nine blocks in high heels, the driver had refused to go any further before turning around. She had been angry for several minutes, but eventually the emotion faded into one more sullen and pessimistic. Winry became withdrawn into her thoughts, easily ignoring the strange looks being sent her way from passerby as they observed her black demeanor. Regardless of the quickly approaching spring weather, the evening air was still chilly, and she was forced to draw her black jacket closer to herself as she began to walk more briskly. Damn...she was so cold...next it'd be snowing or something...

If she hadn't nearly tripped over a garbage bag that was a little too far out of the alley way she was passing, she wouldn't have noticed the silent, still figure that lay slumped against a dumpster. As if it were dead. It had been in the middle of her cursing the garbage that it caught her attention, and immediately her mouth closed. Winry, for a long time, could only stare at it. Finally, a word tumbled from her lips.

"Edward?"

There was no mistake.

As she cautiously stepped closer, Winry grimaced at his condition. Bruised and battered (more so than usual), the number of holes in his filthy wife-beater had become huge, gaping tears - soon the shirt would fall off by itself regardless. Blood dripped freely from a gash in his side, pooling onto the frozen ground beside him. The wound in his upper arm had been wrapped in a strip of dirty cloth, but it had done little to stop the bleeding, and some kind of pungent bodily fluid stained the make-shift bandage. Her gut lurched as she realized that his bullet wound had become infected...and what of the other one? She was almost afraid to examine it. Had he been foolish enough to even leave the bullets inside him?

Winry couldn't stop herself as she retched onto the ground, her vomit spattering at the cement. Her throat became sore as her stomach kept finding more and more things to reject, and all Winry found herself able to do was slump onto the pavement, hands supporting her, as she heaved. It took her several minutes to finish before she pulled a tissue out of her coat pocket. It was already half soaked with tears and some snot from her nose (courtesy of attending Paninya's father's funeral), but it would do. After she had wiped her mouth, Winry turned to face Edward's half-dead form again and sucked in a deep breath, before gingerly stepping over to him.

Carefully avoiding his puddle of blood and the wounds he bore on his body, she heaved him upright, biting her lip as his head rolled lifelessly from her effort. One eye-lid opened, the gold pupil there now clouded with illness as he took in her form, before it fluttered closed.
"Edward!" she hissed desperately. "Can you try to walk?"
There was no response from him besides a quiet groan, before he fell silent. Winry's face drew grim as she continued to attempt at hoisting him up, letting out a strangled breath as she managed to grip his good arm and place it around her shoulder, the other one dangling uselessly at his side. It wasn't necessary for a doctor to be present in order to decide that it was probably dislocated. She attempted to take a step, but ended up nearly falling down again.
"Damn high heeled shoes," she swore under her breath, slowly using her other hand to pry them off of her feet and pick them up, before the hand wrapped around the back of Edward's torso. So began the long process of dragging an unconscious, injured Edward Elric nine blocks to her apartment on the third floor of the building. Damn it.

It wasn't until it had become quite dark outside that, with heaving breaths and a sweaty disposition, Winry approached the door to her apartment, nearly leaning against the door as she rang the door bell. Immediately it swung open, revealing an enraged Pinako Rockbell standing directly in front of her.
"Winry, what the fuck took you-" it took her a split second to see and analyze Edward before she nodded grimly and said, "Bring him inside."
"Thanks, Baa-chan," Winry said breathlessly, entering as quickly as she could before dropping Edward onto their couch with a sigh of relief. She winced as she remembered that the apartment managers would be unhappy with any blood stains left behind...she shook her head. This wasn't the time to worry...

Pinako reappeared a few minutes later with a first aid kit and a few other medical tools, her face perfectly serious as she made her way over to her granddaughter and the boy on the couch.
"What's his condition?" she asked briskly, wasting no time in tearing off the remnants of his shirt.
"He's lost a lot of blood, and he...he has two infected gun shot wounds, the gash in his side...I think his left arm was dislocated, too...the one with the bullet wound."
"Jesus Christ," Pinako muttered. "Where does this boy live? Did you find an I.D.?"
"No," Winry answered truthfully.
"Is the boy a fucking moron?" her grandmother growled as she examined him, "he left the goddamn bullets in. Too much of a wuss to pull them out, I bet. And now an infection has set in for both wounds. He was lucky - the second one on his back was an inch or so away from his spinal cord...however, if the infection spreads, that may damage it."
Winry paled as her grandmother's expression became grave.

"The boy is in rather lethal condition."


Oh, Pinako's medical experience, I imagine, comes from Winry's parents being doctors. Either they learned some things from her, or she picked up on a few practices herself. :) And the dislocated left arm is the same one with the bullet wound in it.