A/N: What's an update schedule? Warning: brief mild(?) body horror. You'll be able to tell when it's coming. Also, this is about the last coherent and chronological segment I have written; the Liore chapter still needs some wrangling, and I haven't really planned out what I'm doing from there beyond some fragments that take place much later. So be prepared to watch me vanish into the ether for an extended period of time. Sorry.
McDougal was useless. He knew a little, enough to tell that there was more to what had happened in Ishval than military high command had told, and maybe he even suspected the nationwide transmutation circle, but talking to him was impossible. Like she'd noticed when she first encountered him, he was completely unstable, and he had no concept of subtlety. After nearly an hour of wheedling she'd given him up for a lost cause and left the jail.
"You get anything out of that?" asked the guard that she had a sneaking suspicion was really Envy in disguise. She couldn't prove it, but he'd insisted on sticking with her, even after sending the others away, and he'd seemed just a little too interested in McDougall's answers. It wasn't like she could do anything if he was; she'd never studied flame alchemy or learned Doctor Marcoh's array to destroy a philosopher's stone. Instead she scoffed.
"He's crazier than Ed, and without the talent to back it up. Those conspiracy theories are less believable than the rumors about Mustang being the Fuhrer's secret love child." She shook her head. "This whole thing was a waste of my time."
He let her leave unmolested, and she hoped that she'd been convincing enough to keep the homunculi from looking at her too closely. Right now, she was just the mechanic and low-level alchemist who followed Fullmetal around in case he broke something. She wanted to keep that cover as long as she could; her being underestimated could be the difference between life and death for her boys.
She started to head back to Hughes' apartment, where she was staying while in Central, before thinking of the stone in her pocket and changing her course. She needed air, and time to think.
She couldn't keep the stone on her; she couldn't risk having it lost or stolen. Hiding it wasn't an option either; she didn't have anywhere she could keep it where no one would stumble across it by accident. Mustang or his team would find it at headquarters, Hughes or his wife in their apartment, Granny at home, and Ed or Al in her luggage. She couldn't tell them about it, because they would try to use it and hate themselves when they discovered the truth. It was her job to protect them, even from themselves. (Maybe especially from themselves).
She could go out and use it up, but it felt like a waste to let the souls trapped inside die for nothing. They had the right to get revenge on those who had hurt them, to help take down the homunculi once and for all.
She thought of Hohenheim and made her decision.
Winry pulled up her hood to cover her bright hair, and made her way to an alley in a non-residential part of town. It was late enough that the shops would be closed, and she could probably get away with what she wanted to do without being interrupted. Just in case, she transmuted stone walls to seal off the alleyway and grant her privacy from anyone walking by.
Preparations complete, she reached out to one wall and transmuted a sharp, thin blade. ("Are we sure about this?" a part of her asked. "This isn't something we can take back." "What if Ed and Al find out?" asked another part. "They'll hate us." "We need to do this," she retorted. "This is our best option.") Resolved, she rolled up her sleeve and sliced the blade along her arm. ("Last chance to back out." "This is a terrible plan." "I know what I'm doing.") She didn't, really, and she knew that, but she'd made her decision. She took the stone from her pocket and pressed it against the cut.
"Please work," she prayed aloud. She didn't know what she would do if it didn't work.
For a moment, nothing happened, then the stone melted into her blood and Winry Rockbell experienced true agony.
This was worse than being unmade, worse than the Truth, worse than watching her friends die and knowing she was helpless to save them. This was something unnatural, wrong, sick, and her souls clung together to keep from being lost in the maelstrom. Every bone in her body broke and healed, her muscles tore themselves apart, and as she fell to the ground, convulsing, all she could see was red.
She came to slowly, lying on the ground of the alleyway. She hoped that Mister Hughes wouldn't worry; she'd called to tell him that she was taking a walk to clear her head before leaving the prison, but she had no idea how much time had passed since then. She pulled herself to her feet and looked herself over. She was physically intact, no broken bones, even the cut on her arm healed. She transmuted part of the wall into a mirror and looked herself over. Still blonde, eyes still blue, no new tattoos that she could see. That was good; it would be hard to explain something like that to Ed and Al. Finally, reluctantly, she checked her souls.
All three were still there and intact, but instead of a white mindscape they were now defined against a background of red, with the occasional wailing soul flying past. There weren't many of them, comparatively - the stone had been small to begin with, and mostly used up by the time she'd found it - but she hadn't really been prepared for even a mere dozen foreign souls sharing space in her head. She wondered how Ling and Hohenheim had managed without going mad. She thought back to her interactions with them, and decided that maybe they hadn't.
"Hello?" she called reluctantly, all three souls in tandem. "Can any of you understand me?" The wailing didn't stop, exactly, but she thought that she sensed a bit of interest. "My name is Winry Rockbell. This is my body. I want to… I want to help you get revenge on the people who trapped you like this. Bring them to justice. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but I promise I want to help you, as much as I can. My parents were doctors in the war; I won't use you without permission. What was done to you… it was horrible, and wrong, and I want to help, however I can. Just, if you want to talk, I'll listen." The souls kept wailing, and she reluctantly turned her attention away from them to walk back to the Hughes' apartment and formulate her excuses. Winry Rockbell, plus twelve Ishvalan souls, returned to her life.