It has been said,
"time heals all wounds."
I do not agree.
The wounds remain.
In time, the mind,
(protecting its sanity),
covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.
But, it is never gone.
-Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy
"I've never seen Roy get so angry before. I never knew he had it in him." I said to Ed in wonder as we stood in the uptown 1 train. Central Head Quarters was located in Manhattan's financial district, not far from the World Trade Center site, and was a short walk to the red line which ran from lower Manhattan up the West side of Central Park and onward towards the Bronx. Christoper street was only a few stops from Central, and anyone living in New York knows the subway is the most affordable -and sometimes quickest- way around the city.
Seeing Mustang so pissed off was quite the spectacle, and to be honest it served as an even better distraction. The sight of a grinning Edward Elric -shirtless, heaving, with sweat sheening over the dips and lines of every sculpted muscle- was a fearsome thing to behold on its own. His abdomen and pectorals contoured naturally from rigourous excercize, something he no doubt kept up not only for fun and stress relief, but for peak performance in whatever it was he did for a living. All the one-armed push-ups he did at home showed their worth, for his organic arm boasted the same impressive sinew and muscle, and several minutes had passed before I realized that his front was peppered with scars quite similar to the ones adorning his back. I had been relieved when Ed finally left to shower and returned fully clothed.
"Oh he's got it in him." Ed started. "He let's it boil and fester under the surface for awhile and then one day, boom."
He let out a yawn. "He's trained as an arsenist for the military. Back in his State Alchemist days they used to drop him behind enemy lines so he could burn down terrorist hide outs and then slip through their fingers like smoke. I'm not bothered by his threats, I'm used to them. He's been yelling at me for doing dumb shit since I was a kid."
This was surprising.
"You've known the General since you were a kid?" Edward's eyes widened a fraction and he blinked in stupor, looking like he'd just allowed exhaustion to let the cat out of the bag. He quickly collected himself and continued cooly,
"Yea he's a family friend. Met him when I was 13."
"Where is your family?" I pressed. I was fascinated with the lives of other people. Not in the voyeristic way that reality television had turned society into, but real human interest. My life had largely been boring, lonely, and sad. I didn't have friends anymore and my family had been lost when I was only a child. My Grandmother lived out in Queens and was a busy old chicken with her own mechanics business. Now that I had someone in my life, someone to actually exist around, I craved to know what his world was like outside of the one he'd been forced into. The one with me. These open moments with the military man were few and far between, and I planned on seizing each one of them as they came my way.
"Where are you from? Do you have any siblings?" His expression immediatly darkened and his eyes turned cold and hard. The train pulled into Christoper Street station and we exited the car and walked up the stairs to the street in silence. It wasn't until a few minutes later, while we made our way down my quiet street towards the apartment, that he finally responded.
"I'm sorry Winry, I really can't tell you that." His focused remained straight ahead, but I could see from his profile alone that this was an uncomfortable subject. His eyes were always intese and alert, wether he be pleasent or irritable or angry. Even when he slept his face seemed to always be perfectly aware of his surroundings at all times, and I could read that piercing intensity even as it was covered by closed eyes. But his eyes were different now. His sharpness had morphed into something dreadful, and melancholy washed over his features. My nosiness had conjured something unsettling, and seeing the sadness etched in him squeezed my heart in the worst of ways. The rest of the walk home was silent, and as we entered my apartment my land line started ringing.
"Let the machine get it." Ed softly commanded. We both knew that if it were anyone from the military they would reach one of us on our cell phones. They would only use the land line if they couldn't get us but neither of us had received a call or text and we had both just been in Central.
"It's probably my Grandmother," I stated non-chalantly. "She never calls my cell, only the house number. She's been asking me to come to dinner, and she wants to show me the god-awful home renovation she finished last week." I picked up the phone with the usual greeting and was met with silence. Then suddenly, labored breathing. Someone on the phone was crying.
"How can you do this to me? How can you torture me like this?" It was the voice of a man, but not the deep and raspy voice from my previous voicemail. This sounded younger, clearer even as it cracked from raw emotion. I shot Elric a worried expression and he quickly crossed the room and hit the speaker button so he could hear.
"Who is this?" I questioned, setting the phone back in its rest. Ed mouthed to me with exaggerated gestures to keep him talking as he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his sound recorder app.
The miserable, blubbering voice on the phone sniffed pathetically and he wailed, "I'm the one that LOVES YOU! And yet you won't be with me. Can't you see how much I need you Winry? Can't you hear me DYING without you?!" My focus flickered over to Edward and he was stone-faced, staring ahead with his dark blonde eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I could see the muscles move in his strong jaw in aggrivation, and his wide mouth was set in a grim line.
"Have we met before? Have I seen you somewhere?" The man on the phone chuckled bitterly at this, and I heard him draw in a shaky breath.
"We've never met, and you've never seen me. But I know your beautiful face Winry Rockbell. Your PERFECT face, your PERFECT body. We could be so great together, and I would make all your wishes come true. You could have a normal life with me. You wouldn't be lonely anymore. No more testing, no more blood transfusions. You wouldn't have to be afraid of people. It can all be over so quickly if you just come to me. I'll make it all better in the Promised land."
My heart rate sped up and sweat broke out on my brow dispite the frosty November air outside. I wasn't sure if it was my anxiety or the cranked heat but suddenly I was woozy and sweltering.
"Promised land?" I questioned nervously.
"Oh yes my love, the Promised land will be beautiful. But can't bring you there if you continue to betray me like this!" He screamed in agony, choking on his sobs.
I felt Edward's cold metal hand gently push my hair from my shoulder and rest on the back of my neck, a welcome relief that managed to keep my wits about me.
"What do you mean? How have I betrayed you?"
"Do you think I'm BLIND? Or just fucking STUPID? I've seen his silver pocketwatch lying around. You and I can't be together until you stop living with that FUCKING State Alchemist!"
Our gazes snapped towards eachother. He had been watching us.
"Don't worry Winry," The man continued, his weak voice cracking. "I know you'll come around soon. I know you'll make the right decision and get rid of him, so that we can be together. I love you so much Winry." The line went dead. We stood there for a moment, taking it all in as the steady dial-tone hummed throughout the apartment. Ed reached over and pushed the button to hang up before sighing and turning to me.
"I really wish that was just an ex-boyfriend of yours so I could find him easily and break his legs." I couldn't pull my gaze from the floor. My mind was too busy launching into the worst-case scenarios and panic rose in my chest. When I finally blinked back into awareness Edward was close to me with his flesh arm holding mine, shaking me gently.
"Rocky? Are you with me?" He asked somewhat nervously. Those intense golden orbs of his danced across my face sizing up wether or not I was about to pass out. I gulped and nodded, replying that I was alright, and needed a shower to calm my nerves.
"Use mine." He said softly, texting furiously on his phone. He was no doubt sending the recording to Maes Hughes in Investigations and also to Mustang. I almost argued, but figured there was no point and frankly I didn't have the strengh.
It was early evening when I emerged from my 30 minute shower pink and puffy and finally relaxed. Showering always had a way of making me feel human again. I could feel the tenseness in my back release as the scalding water rained over me. It had a way of clearing the mind like nothing else. I was wrapping my wet, naked form in a black towel when Ed sauntered into the bathroom.
"Oh good, you haven't drowned yourself." He said casually. I couldn't help rolling my eyes.
"You know, everything doesn't have to be a big joke." I snapped, my previous tranquility ruined by his intrusion. With all the goings-on, the scary phone calls, and now him sauntering in on me practically naked and cracking wise about wether I'd chosen to opt out, my privacy was feeling pretty invaded. A predicament I hadn't experienced since hoards of strangers circled my childhood home banging on my bedrood windows and moaning like zombies about how much they needed my Perfect Blood. His hands went up in front of him defensively.
"Whoa Rockbell, chill out. I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit. You need to relax." This made my blood boil and I stepped to him to look up at his smug face.
"Stop telling me what to do all the time! I'm so tired of everyone in my life ordering me around. My grandmother keeps telling me to drive out to Queens and see how she gutted my childhood bedroom without bothering to ask me first, Roy Mustang has been bossing me around for years telling me where to go and how to dress to not get attention and what procedures the doctors will need me for, and now I've got you here. Telling me what to eat, forcing me to go out when I'm not comfortable, telling me to stop having panic attacks and passing out when someone breaks into my house to hang a fake dead body in my living room."
He stood hands on hips with a cocked eyebrow full of attitude as he took in my tirade.
"You tried to make me not answer the phone earlier, and then you ordered me to shower in your bathroom when I could easily shower in mine. What the fuck for?! I know Mustang put you in charge but do you have to control EVERYTHING?! For God's sake you just waltzed in here without knocking and I'm nearly naked!" Our chests nearly touched and I could feel the red anger boiling in my cheeks as I bore my blue eyes into him.
"First of all," He started calmly, "I've already seen you naked. Remember when I heard you fall in the shower? And Secondly, I need you to not have a heart attack everytime something happens because my job is to keep you safe and I can't protect you from this guy if I'm spending all my time reviving you. I bought food for the house because my body isn't like normal bodies and it doesn't function well when I consistantly eat garbage. I usually eat for fuel, not for fun. My limbs are machines which run on protein, complex carbs, good fats and anti-oxidants. Greasy food and bullshit makes me sluggish, and my limbs get stiff. I can't eat the crap you had in the kitchen."
"I can't help you with your Grandmother either," he continued. "But I may be able to do something about Roy if you would only let me in a little bit. I don't know what the rules are with you. I have no idea what you're dealing with on a personal level, Winry. I don't know what makes you so important to the military. I'm ordering you around because I need to protect you from this lunatic and I don't know enough about you to create compromise. All I know is that you hate leaving your apartment, you don't have any friends outside the military, and you never mention family besides your Grandmother. You're not living your life, Rockbell."
"I AM living my life! Sure it's not perfect, and it gets lonely, but I'm doing something important. I'm making a difference." I fought back.
"And what difference is that exactly? What difference are you making by caging yourself in this apartment? You don't work, you won't leave unless forced, you sit here all day doing yoga and reading books and taking kitchen appliances apart so you can see how they work. And then you turn around and complain about Mustang telling you to lay low." His irritated expression softened along with his voice. "You crave experience, I can tell. If you want to live a real life, do it. Stop being so afraid."
I huffed and shot back at him, "I am NOT afraid."
"Really? When was the last time you took a chance? Tell me about the last time you did something risky." He had stepped closer to me, his voice dropping to a deep and raspy murmur. The golden gaze I had been glaring daggers at fell down the front of me, taking in my state of undress.
"Is that my towel?"
I shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the towel more snuggly across my bust so it wouldn't fall.
"I...I forgot mine and it was the only one in here. Sorry." His molten gaze flickered back to mine.
"I'm not complaining." His roaming eyes settled on every inch of me and warmth crept into my cheeks, but we were interrupted by the gentle hum of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.
"Elric here." He answered as I slinked past him to head to my room. As I shut my bedroom door behind me, I found myself replaying our argument in my head. Why exactly was I so irrationally angry? Yes I was tired and fed up, and torn between living this lonely life that could save the world or experiencing a real life that would put me in a spotlight I didn't want. I hadn't had friends or a semi-average life since High School. I tried to keep my condition a secret, but school nurses with big mouths let the cat out of the bag and it wasn't long before the entire school knew. What started as awe, wonder and admiration quickly soured into jealousy, prejudice and misunderstanding. Friends of mine stopped talking to me because someone had told them that Perfect Blood meant believing oneself to be perfect. They assumed I thought myself too good for them. Girls in the halls and locker room would shoot me dirty looks as I passed by, because I was naturally thin and toned, because I had clear skin, because my thick and shiny hair grew quickly, because my curves developed early. They hated me because having Perfect Blood meant I never got sick, and I never got allergies, I never even got acne and I had 20/20 vision.
The doctors had told me and my grandmother that I would grow up to be a vitually perfect specimen, but I never understood what that meant until high school. Rumors flew around and my reputation suffered even more. Girls gossiped about me out of jealousy because of my looks, and they hated me for the way their boyfriends's eyes would follow me as I walked by. Guys would whistle at me in the halls and mutter lewd comments under their breath. Junior year when I decided to focus all my attention and frustrations on sports, my peers's distain for me only grew. My exceptional hand-eye coordination served me well during tryouts for softball and basketball, and when I went out for cross-country I outran even their fastest member. The coaches were delighted, and I thought I had finally found somewhere to belong. But envious students told of what they had learned about me, and it was decided that I wouldn't be allowed to play sports because my Perfect Blood gave me an unfair advantage. Even the booksmart kids wouldn't talk to me. They studied their asses off to maintain good grades, but A's and B's came easily to me because I was smart and liked to learn. Life after school was still difficult, any romantic relationships I entered would start out normal enough. But after getting close and comfortable, every boyfriend I had told about myself was at first fascinated and then eventually irritated because I cured diseases but never wanted to leave the house. They would see the experiments I went through and decide they couldn't handle a 'perfect' girlfriend and leave. The military would have to pay them to quiet about me, so I eventually stopped pursuing any relationships. I got tired of guys getting excited about the thought of 'sex with a perfect woman' only to leave when they realized just how imperfect I actually am, and every failed attempt at love was humiliating.
I shook away the painful memories and went to my walk-in closet to change when Ed's voice sounded from the other side of my door.
"You're not gonna believe what that bastard Mustang is making us do."