Authour's note: This one is slightly shorter than the others, but I think I left it on a good note.
I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so far, and this story is about to turn into my longest story (chapter-wise anyway), yippee for me! I'd like to thank theretard5892 for reviewing every chapter, starfruit-22, Very Swampeh, bookwormally and fma-43 for reviewing every chapter after they've found my story (at least that's what I believe). I love you guys! ^_^
Mustang looked at the dark brown liquid with revulsion and reluctance. It was his sixth cup of coffee that morning, and worse, it was hospital coffee. Even the military didn't torture its staff with this quality, but he didn't trust the situation well enough to back to HQ. Also, he wasn't sure how such a stunt would look to his subordinates, or the people up top. So, he held his breath and downed the drink.
"You know, sir, coffee is said to increase blood pressure and cause insomnia," Hawkeye stated nonchalantly over the newspaper she was reading.
"Fullmetal's already beaten it in that regard," he replied sarcastically, pouring himself a seventh cup.
Hawkeye looked up, the paper crumpling slightly as she lowered it to see her superior better. The man didn't look as if he'd had much sleep, and she had a feeling that his hair had not met a comb on this particular morning, nor had his clothes met an iron.
She sighed wearily before straightening the paper. As she was trying to find her place, she realised that she hadn't had one. She'd just been staring at the words with none of them going in. She sighed again in resignation and folded the paper up.
"Nothing of interest?" Mustang asked conversationally.
"Not really, some things are more important than what you read in the paper," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
Mustang nodded in agreement. He raised the cup to his lips and drank the coffee. He shuddered involuntarily after swallowing, trying not to let the coffee get to him. As he looked down into the half-drained cup, he realised that he could not drink any more of it and put the cup down.
"I wonder if Edward has eaten his breakfast," Mustang mused.
"I believe Miss Rockbell is serving him," Hawkeye commented.
"I would like to see that," Mustang quipped with a devious smile.
Ed was staring at the ceiling; he had nothing better to do. He had no desire to speak to any of his captors, it gave them too much of a chance to fool him. And, it seemed that they have given up trying to strike up a conversation with him, which he was grateful for. But, he had to admit, the silence was starting to get to him.
He was still being watched by the burly man who pretended to be Major Armstrong, and he was certain that the shifts were going to change over soon. Depending on who the person was pretending to be, he might talk to them for a few minutes. But then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to risk hearing whatever new lies they'd come up with.
From the corner of his eye, Ed saw the fake major turned his head to the door, and then walk over to it. As Ed followed, he saw that someone was struggling to turn the handle. The fake Armstrong opened the door and, after a moment, stepped back to let the newcomer in.
Ed looked back up at the ceiling once he saw who it was. It was the girl who'd tricked him and the same one he'd mistaken for Winry. He admitted that she was blonde and had blue eyes like Winry, but he knew that she wasn't his mechanic. He didn't stop staring at the ceiling when the girl stood beside him.
"I brought your breakfast, Edward," she told him, a fake cheerfulness in her voice.
As he breathed in, he could smell pancakes with syrup, his favourite. He felt his mouth fill with saliva and his stomach growled. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten a good meal rather than a desperate mouthful. In spite of wanting to put across an uncaring front, he bit his lip longingly.
The girl smiled, obviously happy that she'd hit the target. She stood there, waiting patiently for him. Her eyes bore into him until he finally turned to look at her.
"You're pretending to be Winry, aren't you?" he asked, hoping to catch her off-guard.
Her smile dropped and sadness entered her eyes, leaving Ed feeling triumphant. He'd picked up another act and seen through it.
"I am Winry, Ed," the fake Winry insisted, imitated pain in her eyes.
Ed took a moment to look at her. She looked new to this deception business, and uncertain as to how to lie. It gave Ed an idea.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," he averred.
"Ask me a question, Ed. Anything, anything that only Winry could know," the girl challenged him.
"Where does Den have automail?" he asked mildly.
"On her front left leg," the girl answered immediately.
Ed didn't reply. He averted his eyes as he thought, realising that he couldn't actually remember. He cursed his memory for choosing a time to fail him, or maybe it was whatever drugs they'd given him.
"If you're gonna ask me something, Edward, you'd might as well choose something that you actually know the answer to," the girl retorted.
"What did Al and I make for Winry for her birthday when I was seven?" he asked, confident that she wouldn't have a clue.
"You made me a doll using alchemy," she answered easily, brisling slightly at him speaking in third person. "You performed it right in front of me and it scared the heck out of me. Your mom spent the next hour along with my parents trying to calm me down."
Ed stared at her, shocked. Only Al and Winry would know that, and she'd replayed that day back perfectly to him. It was something he had not been expecting her to do, least of all easily. She hadn't even had to pause to think.
"Do I pass?" she asked lightly.
"For now," he conceded.
"Good," she smiled. "Now, are you ready for breakfast?"
Ed blinked in surprise. He'd completely forgotten the food she was holding. Now that he was thinking about food again, his hunger came back with a vengeance. Despite this, he clenched his jaw. He didn't want to eat anything until he knew it was safe.
The fake Winry sighed, apparently understanding his reluctance. She pulled the stool up and sat down. She pulled out a pair of cutlery and cut into the pancakes. She pulled a small amount with her fork and popped the morsel in her mouth. She contentedly chewed and swallowed. She then licked her lips as she looked down at the rest of the breakfast. It was obvious that she wanted to have more, but was resisting. It was meant to be his breakfast after all.
"Well, I can't really eat it with my hands like they are," Ed mentioned, wondering what the girl's reaction would be. "Unless you want to feed me."
Sure enough, she looked over to the bodyguard, who was pretending to be Armstrong. He narrowed his eyes and looked unsure of how to proceed, but obviously not eager to release even one arm. The girl turned back to him, uncertainty rife in her eyes and face.
"Do... Do you promise not to try anything?" she asked, genuinely fearful.
Ed was surprised, but then realised that this was just a young woman. She didn't have any special training or anything like that. Ed found himself feeling sorry for her. He gave her a small smile.
"I just want to eat on my own," he assured her.
The girl bit her lip anxiously, deliberating on who she should listen to. She kept looking to her companion, who's stony face was getting more uneasy by the second.
Eventually, she reached out and held the strap at his wrist. She watched him with extreme scrutiny, watching for any hint of deception. Her face was easily read, and it was screaming insecurity. Slowly, the sounds of leather creaking as it was loosened, but neither of them dared avert their eyes from each other.
When he felt the leather off his wrist, he managed to turn his hand over and he carefully curled his fingers to gently hold her thumb. He saw her tense, and her breath caught. He didn't move, noticing how his supervisor, her bodyguard, had stiffened at his stunt. He calmly breathed in and prepared himself for the next moment.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The girl instantly relaxed. She smiled slightly and he felt her move her hand to sit further in his. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and pulling the leather strap out so he could move his wrist more freely. She then set to freeing off his fore and upper arm. However, she did not release his shoulder, merely freeing it off enough for him to move it slightly.
She stood back and picked up the tray from the stool. She sat down and cut up the pancake into tiny, manageable pieces. She then handed him the fork and held out the plate in plenty of distance for him to reach, and keep her safely out of danger.
With the exchange between them over, Ed carefully stabbed one of the pieces and manoeuvred it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, being careful to taste it to try and detect any underlying flavour that would betray the drug they might have spiked the food with. However, all he could detect was the sweetness of the flat cake and the syrup.
He closed his eyes and smiled, relishing in the texture and taste. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten pancakes, probably the last time he had been staying at the Rockbell's. He had to admit, no one could ever make pancakes like the old lady, Pinako, did, just like automail. He was sure that Winry was almost as good at making them. And, these pancakes certainly reminded him of those two.
He allowed himself a moment. How he missed them, he missed Pinako with her stubbornness that he could never hope to equal; he missed Winry with her fiery temper and obsession with automail; he missed Al...
He missed Al, period.
Edward opened his eyes and looked at the girl. She seemed to be glowing with pride, and he wondered if she'd actually gone so far as to actually make his breakfast for him. He smiled at her and reached for another piece.
Major Armstrong kept a close eye on Edward. He watched every move the young alchemist did, and evaluated everything. He thought this was too risky, and he wasn't in a position to quickly help Winry if Edward did try something. But, she'd made the decision, and all he could do now was pray for the best.
Although, he had to admit, he was quite impressed that Winry had convinced Edward to eat something. And, even more impressively, Edward was actually relaxed and enjoying what he was eating. He was beginning to think it had been a good idea to include the young lady in this case.
Soon Edward had finished his breakfast, and he looked sadly at the empty plate. He reluctantly handed the fork back to Winry and then came the moment that Armstrong had been dreading.
"Look, Ed, I'm gonna have to put the straps back on," Winry explained cautiously.
It was obvious that she was nervous; she clearly was not looking forward to Edward's answer. At least she had moved the plate, knife and fork out of his reach, so the situation was somewhat diffused compared to five minutes ago. Not safe, just safer. He could do something now if anything went wrong.
"You don't want to do this, do you?" Ed asked her in a calm tone.
"No," Winry admitted. "No, I don't want to do this."
"I understand," Ed mentioned, nodding his head.
Then, he slowly laid his arm down where it had been restrained only twenty minutes ago. He didn't move as Winry redid the straps. She was careful to ensure they were tight enough, but not too tight to hurt her friend. When she was finished, she stepped back and picked up the plate.
"Thanks... Winry," Edward called as she was leaving.
She stopped, but a look from Armstrong made her carry on walking. However, when she reached the door, she could not resist looking back to her friend while she opened it. She saw him watching her, a slight smile on his face. She smiled back in response and then walked through the doorway and closed the door.
She rushed down the corridor. She felt this was something that Colonel Mustang would want to know.
"That's great news, Winry!" Al exclaimed happily, looking round to the still faced officers. "Is- Isn't it good news?"
"It could mean one of two things," Lieutenant Hawkeye explained. "One: The drug, whatever it is, is starting to break down and he's starting to recognise us again. That's the hopeful option."
"And the other?" Winry asked reluctantly.
"The other is that he's only pretending to recognise us," Mustang clarified. "If he's doing that, he's only going to make it harder for us."
"He'll think he's playing us who he thinks is playing him," Hawkeye continued. "It twists everything we all say, until we don't know whether to believe what the other is saying."
Winry didn't answer. She had been so happy to think the Ed was starting to improve, and now here was Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang telling her that it all might have just been an act. She felt tears run down her face as the tiny bird of joy was stuffed back into the cage of despair.
"But... Brother could be getting better, couldn't he? He could have recognised Winry, couldn't he?" Al asked desperately.
"We can only hope, Alphonse," Hawkeye answered. "We can only hope."