A/N 1: Just keep in mind that I'm only portraying how some people behaved in the 1930s and 1940s, so please don't take this to heart. I know people aren't thinking clearly with what's been happening lately regarding social justice.
CHAPTER WARNINGS: Xenophobia, racial slurs, mild language and mild violence. Trigger Warnings: Racism, sexism and mild violence.
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Earth, February 6th, 1940 A.D — Early Afternoon
The Willard, in Jean's eyes, was as grandiose as he'd imaged it to be. An impressive lobby with marble floors, polished to a mirror finish, welcomed him. The ornaments, though made of brass, were elaborate enough to give the space an air of luxury. Jean would've preferred the decorations were made of the gold they were mimicking but beggars can't be choosers. He understood well why the owners of the hotel chose something cheaper. Guests stealing artifacts wasn't the problem, of course, but one couldn't go trusting the lowly staff.
Jean caught a pretty little thing looking at him as he walked down the corridor. He gazed at her and vested her with one of his signature smiles. The young woman gifted him a coy smile in turn, which made Jean feel a bit prouder of himself. He was in his fifties yet his charming attributes were just as strong as when he was a young man. It if wasn't because he had pressing matters to attend to, he would've steered off course to chat up the lovely girl. Perhaps he would get to do this after he meets with Benjamin. It'd been a while since he'd bedded a woman too. His wife never minded his little trysts as long as she remained the one and only Mrs. Montgomery.
Finally, Jean reached the elevators. No one was in the area so he had the space all for himself. He didn't have to wait long for one of the elevators to come down.
The distinct ring of the bell perked him up. Jean adjusted his necktie just before the elevator doors opened. One must always look sharp in the presence of those whose station is below your own. Jean wore his best suit for the occasion too, an impeccable Italian suit he had custom-made on his last trip to Manhattan. The stubby tailor who made the suit had the gall to tell him that the suit didn't go well with alligator-skin boots, and offered him the pair of wing-tipped shoes he was currently wearing. The shoes were not of his taste but they were comfortable, and though he hated to admit it, they did make the whole assemble look snazzy.
The doors to the elevator opened. A lanky elevator operator turned his bored attention to him. "Where to, sir?" he asked, his courteous voice a marked contrast to his flat expression. Jean didn't like the man, and let him know it when he flashed him an annoyed glare. Right after, Jean looked at the time on his Rolex. It was almost noon. He wanted to wait for another elevator to come down but that would make him be five minutes late, and he had a penchant for punctuality. Jean sighed as he stepped into the elevator, keeping in mind that he only was going to stand next to the lanky pleb for less than two minutes. Jean rode all the way to the top floor without making further contact with the operator.
"The Jefferson Room is at the end of the hall," the elevator operator announced as the doors opened. Jean stepped off the elevator. "Have a good day, sir," the operator added as it was customary in his line of work. Jean didn't bother to reply, he didn't even look back as he walked down the corridor, the elevator operator was of no consequence to him.
His mood turned soured some as he approached his destination. He had things pretty much under control, except Benjamin Rockwell. Jean honestly didn't know how the conversation was going to go with his once close friend. Benjamin had sounded quite angry when they hung up the phone the day before so Jean decided to take the role of the concerned friend thinking that this tactic might come in handy. He needed to appear as if he was offering Benjamin a helping hand in regards to his daughter despite the bitch having deserved everything that had befallen her.
Finally, Jean reached the end of the hall, the famous Jefferson Room(1) was within reach. The door swung open just as he was about to knock on it.
"Good afternoon, Admiral Montgomery," the butler greeted.
"Good ol' Bruce," Jean replied, surprised to see the phlegmatic old man. Benjamin was a creature of habit so it shouldn't come as surprising that he kept the same people working for him. *Maybe Ben keeps them close because they know some of his dirty little secrets,* he mused.
"Having a pleasant day?" Bruce interrupted his reverie. "Master Rockwell is waiting for you," the butler added as he stepped to the side to let Jean in.
Jean flashed him a smile as he walked past Bruce. The butler closed the door then escorted him to the living room.
"What would you like to drink? a Texas Tea, perhaps?" he said with an air of superiority that didn't sit well with Jean. He gave the butler a searching look. "Only if it's worthy of an Admiral," Jean said with a threatening grin.
"Of course it'll be worthy of an Admiral." Benjamin's unmistakable voice was closer than Jean imagined.
His old friend stepped in to view. Benjamin's gray eyes looked darker, colder under the artificial lighting; the sharp shadows reflected on his haggard skin made him look somewhat menacing. Benjamin shifted his attention to Bruce. "I'll have the usual," he said then gazed back at Jean. "Come, take a seat." He motioned in a welcoming gesture.
Jean couldn't help but notice how Benjamin's mannerisms betrayed his words, so he offered him a confident smile, one that let him know he wasn't going to be easily intimidated.
Benjamin sat, and Jean took a seat opposite to him. Not long after, the butler returned with their drinks. He handed Benjamin his drink first then walked to Jean to hand him his. Jean scowled at the man for clearly ignoring proper etiquette. Despite the obvious snub, he tried the drink. It wasn't bad at all.
"It's too sour," he said just to spite the butler, but Bruce remained unfazed.
"My apologies, dear Admiral. I assumed you had a preference for all things acidic," Bruce said with a solemn bow. Jean gifted him a venomous smile.
"Bruce, I'll call you if I need anything else," Benjamin said, interrupting the heated moment.
Bruce bowed towards Benjamin then left.
Benjamin took a swig of his Long Island Tea before fixing his steely gaze on Jean. "Long Island Tea and Texas Tea," he began, then paused as if considering his next words. "Similar drinks yet they differ where it matters the most."
Jean chuckled at the insinuation. "You're right, my friend," he replied. "But let me remind you that the difference in liquor is what gives each drink their distinct character(2)."
"Friend?" Benjamin swirled his drink, an amused look on his face. "Are we still calling each other that?"
Jean shrugged. "I don't see why not."
Benjamin fixed a glare on Jean. "A friend would've stopped their friend's daughter from committing an act of lunacy."
Jean didn't answer right away. It was obvious that Benjamin was fishing for answers and he wasn't going to him right away. Let him marinate in a bit of suffering, the kind he'd been through in the recent past.
"Wendy knew the risks," Jean finally said, ready to enjoy this game of his.
Benjamin snorted in disdain. "You got some nerve!" he began but didn't get to finish as Jean decided to cut him off.
"Wendy should've used a proxy in the first place," Jean said in all honesty. He never forced Wendy to become a guinea pig, he only pressured her into showing real results. He picked up the glass and drank from it. "It's a shame her beloved 'right-hand' didn't volunteer, if he would've, Wendy would still be with us," he added as he put the glass down.
Benjamin's face soured considerably meaning that he had thought along similar lines.
"Is it true that the girl looks like your daughter?" Jean asked, he simply couldn't have his old friend regain his composure.
Benjamin became tense and anxious. Jean brought his glass to his lips and took another sip. As he enjoyed Benjamin's suffering, Jean remembered a key detail from his conversation with the mongrel. QMC White had mentioned that the girl seemed to know the brothers, if that was the case then it would mean that the brothers had deceived everyone around them. And seeing that the older of the two married Wendy— "I heard through the grapevine that your son-in-law has taken quite a shine to her."
Jean wished he had brought a camera with him to capture Benjamin's face. So it was true, that pompous midget took Wendy as a replacement for the one he left back home. *That's what Wendy deserves for opening her legs to that man,* Jean thought while he took another sip.
Benjamin finished his drink in two gulps, clearly upset for having his dirty laundry aired so scandalously. He almost broke the glass when he slammed it on the table. "Those two bastards will bring Wendy back, mark my words!" he spat. "And of course you will have no objections helping them since it will benefit you in the long run," he added as he narrowed a glare on him.
Things were going much better than Jean would've imagined. "I'm glad we have an understanding," he smiled.
Benjamin momentarily looked away. It became clear to Jean that his friend was struggling with something. Finally, Benjamin returned his attention back to him. "I want in," he said without hesitation.
Jean was taken aback by Benjamin's words.
Benjamin must've sensed this for he added, "That man bewitched my daughter, toyed with her feelings and reduced her into mere replacement—"
"It's unacceptable," Jean finished for him.
Benjamin slumped back on the couch, his gaze distant. After a brief moment, he focused his gaze back on Jean. "You can keep the profits, I just want my Wendy home."
*Now that was more like it,* Jean thought to himself. With Benjamin in his pocket, the prospect of a brighter future was almost within reach. But they were living in uncertain times and that meant they both needed to be careful. He had to make sure Benjamin was informed of all the changes coming their way because one wrong step could cost them both everything.
"There's a rumor going around the top military channels," Jean began. "An event will happen that will force our great country to enter the war."
Benjamin perked up. "You don't mean a false flag(3)?"
"I'm afraid so," Jean nodded. "Not only that, but there's another rumor going around that involves the ARMY branch. Apparently, they are conducting testing on a new type of weapon." Benjamin's eyes grew upon hearing this. "If what's been going on in the Four Corners(4) is true then we're looking at potential mass destruction."
Jean finished his drink while he let Benjamin consider the implications of what he just disclosed.
"Things are getting out of hand," Benjamin finally said, his face grim with realization.
"What would be better than to offer humanity a ticket to paradise?" Jean replied, giving Benjamin a glimpse of a brighter future. "So what do you say, *friend*?"
Benjamin let out a dark chuckle. "I say we put those phony junkers(5) to good use. If they can't deliver then they'll get shipped to Buchenwald."
Jean's eyebrows shot up. Why would Benjamin waste money and effort on sending those two to a Nazi concentration camp? And why that one in specific? "Why Buchenwald?" he asked, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.
"I guess you don't know everything, *friend,*" Benjamin said with a dose of sarcasm. "So it happens that the younger one is a damn sodomite. What better place than Buchenwald for his depraved kind?"
"Well, I'll be darned!" Jean hollered, unable to contain his shock, but his face turned grim as the initial shock subsided. He couldn't stop thinking about what Benjamin had said. Jean's stomach lurched in disgust as he recalled all those times he had to work side-by-side with Alphonse Von Elric. "You *do* plan on shipping them both to Buchenwald after they open the way to Shamballa?" he asked in dismay.
Benjamin didn't answer right away. "We'll see," he said after a long moment.
Jean rearranged his features into a mask of calm as to not alert Benjamin of his displeasure. Benjamin might not have what it takes to take care of those two, but he did. He'll see to it, because freaks like Alphonse Von Elric and his brother Edward, shouldn't be allowed to live.
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Amestris, Continental Calendar, August 28, 1919
Wendy contemplated with undisguised awe the buildings moving past her. The industrial complex they just entered looked like any other complex she'd visited in the past—heck—if she let her imagination run wild, she could picture herself arriving at The Annex at any moment. Only one key detail reminded Wendy that she wasn't back home; these buildings were missing hangars.
"Mrs. Rockwell, is everything alright?" The booming voice of the fair giant interrupted her reverie.
Wendy turned her attention to Alex. "I'm okay," she said, and offered him a fond smile before returning her gaze to the moving scenery. "This area reminds me of home, that's all," she added shortly after.
"You mean The Annex?" Roy inquired.
Wendy gazed at Roy and nodded. She didn't immediately take her eyes from his handsome face. As she contemplated him, she began to wonder why the Brigadier General showed so much interest in her. Did their playful banter and occasional flirting had something to do with it? Unfortunately, this was as far as she could go given the circumstances as there were more pressing matters at hand. Before she gave herself a chance to think about Roy's feelings, she needed to make sure that the location for the Looking Glass Project(6)—as she baptized the enterprise that would connect Amestris and Earth—was ready to go. Wendy had decided to name the project after Lewis Carroll's most famous story, seeing that she was like Alice, who'd entered a rabbit hole that would lead her into Wonderland.
"Yes, The Annex is an almost exact replica of this area; however, it's missing hangars," Wendy said, deciding to share another anecdote from her own world.
Roy raised his eyebrow, which made Wendy smile. She'd gotten used to his quirks by now and had been expecting Roy to react in such way at any moment.
"A hangar is a large building that houses aircraft, and it happens to be that a hangar was the main base of operations for our teleportation experiment. Electric generators, computers, and of course the teleportation device were housed inside." Both men were gawking at her, and that made Wendy suddenly feel self-conscious. She'd been so excited about sharing her story that she'd forgotten these men didn't know half of what she was talking about. Wendy felt heat rising to her face so she hid her embarrassment behind a sheepish grin. Then she cleared her throat and began again.
"I already explained that hangars are buildings which house aircraft. Well, computers are machines that take on the task of processing complex mathematical equations. And you both have a fair grasp of how the teleportation device works."
Both Roy and Alex still had a lost look on their faces, so she sighed, accepting defeat. She would try again at a later time since anyone involved in the project would need to have a good understanding of the technology that went into marking the impossible happen.
They finally reached their destination, and Wendy was all too happy to get out of the car.
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Warehouse 13 aka Warehouse B
Wendy had to shade her eyes from the sun when she got out of the car, the glare proving to be too hard on her eyes. She lowered her hand once her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the façade of the large warehouse standing before her.
"Thirteen?" Wendy said to herself. Roy, who was close enough, heard her.
"Lucky number thirteen," he repeated, with glee in his voice.
"So there's a story behind the name?" she asked, her curiosity thoroughly piqued. "Is it haunted?" People usually disliked the number thirteen, always having it associated with all kinds of superstitions and mysteries. Maybe that number had a different meaning in Amestris?
"There's a rather peculiar story behind this warehouse," Alex mentioned, deciding to join the conversation. He too looked as amused as Roy.
"Yeah, yeah, Alex. Go ahead and spread your evil lies."
Wendy looked around. She thought she heard the voice coming from the side of the building but wasn't so sure.
"There's no warehouse thirteen, it's warehouse B," a tall, blond man said as he came into full view.
Perhaps the warehouse was meant to be unlucky after all.
Wendy wasn't the superstitious type, and she sure didn't believe in ghosts, or anything in between, but maybe she should, because there was apparition standing before her and it was giving her a courteous bow.
Wendy had worked hard on mentally preparing herself for a moment like this knowing well that there was a good chance of her encountering an Earth double in Amestris. But she should've known that no amount of preparation was going to help. Wendy couldn't help but gasp in horror as she stared at Admiral Montgomery's counterpart.
Jean Havoc cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side, not understanding why Wendy was freaking out. "Mrs. Rockwell, are you okay?" Jean asked. He moved in closer and that spooked Wendy even more. She took two steps back, fisting her blouse.
Jean shot a worried look at Roy. "Hey, what gives?" he said, prompting Roy to answer.
Roy sprang into action. He stood in front of Wendy, blocking Jean from view. "He's not the person you know," he said in a low, soothing voice and placed his strong hands on her shoulders to help her refocus.
It took Wendy a moment to recover from her shock. She blinked a few times as she tried to regain her composure. Once centered enough, Wendy realized her breath was ragged and her legs felt like jelly. *So this is what it feels to encounter a double,* she thought while forcing a smile to her face—a moot point. Her eyes began to moisten on their own accord as the memory of Edward's shocked reaction when they first met came to mind. Wendy couldn't forget how spooked Edward looked as if he'd seen a ghost. How could she have known that he was seeing Winry in her?
"Here," Roy said as he handed her a handkerchief. Wendy instinctively touched her cheek, it was wet with tears. She nodded in gratitude as she took the handkerchief.
Wendy turned around to dry her face. She kept her back to the group, partly because she was embarrassed to have been seen in a vulnerable state, but mostly because she didn't want Roy to see her heartbreak. The latter surprised her. Since when had she started caring about what Roy thought of her? But Wendy didn't get a chance to explore this new discovery since Jean decided to address her.
"I apologize, Mrs. Rockwell, for whatever it is I did."
His words made Wendy feel inexplicably guilty, but they were what she needed to get her bearings. She reminded herself that this man wasn't The Havoc and that she should treat him as his own individual, after all, this is what she had demanded of everyone since day one.
Wendy turned around, and said, "You've done me no wrong, mister—"
Jean jumped at the opportunity. He extended his hand to Wendy and said, "Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, at your service."
Wendy didn't shake his hand, she did scoff in dismay, which only made things worse. But Wendy couldn't help it. Learning of the Second Lieutenant's last name had been akin to taking a punch in the gut. She also felt crushed, now that she knew where Admiral Montgomery's nickname came from. She hated to admit it, but both Edward and Alphonse had been duplicitous from the very beginning, and the intense feeling of betrayal born from their actions, left a nasty taste in her mouth.
Wendy remembered she wasn't alone so she rearranged her features into a mask of calm before shaking Jean's hand. "Nice meeting you, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc." She even tried to sound pleasant but she knew that she wasn't fooling anyone.
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"So what do you think, Mrs. Rockwell?" Alex asked as he showed Wendy around the warehouse.
Wendy's face lit up with approval. Alex had sure gone above and beyond her expectations. She had anticipated some setbacks in regards to acquiring the machinery she needed for the project, but everything seemed to be accounted for. Wendy looked up and gave Alex a huge grin, feeling grateful for all that this man pulled off in such a short amount of time. Thanks to Alex, she was one step closer to returning home. Wendy walked up to a piece of equipment with two large glass containers attached to it.
"This one is meant to contain the Red Water," Wendy said as she placed a flat palm on the cold, glass surface.
"Correct," Alex nodded. "But it needs modifications since the equipment was used for distilling alcoholic spirits and not alchemical substances."
"The Tringham brothers should know what do with it," Roy said as he joined the conversation.
Wendy hummed at that. She returned her attention to the machine. She tilted her head to the side as she devised in her head what was needed to be added to the distiller to convert Red Water into electricity. She knew that an AC/DC adapter running in parallel would be necessary since she wasn't sure what kind of output an alchemical reaction would throw. "I should start drawing blueprints for the adapter," Wendy said to herself, already having some ideas in mind. Suddenly, Wendy remembered something important. "Alex, were you able to acquire the monitors you told me about?"
The tall blond nodded. "Yes, M'lady. I was able to acquire the Drachman equipment from a fencer I know in the north."
"Thank you." Wendy sighed in relief. It had been a true blessing that the cathode-ray tube technology was already present in this world, otherwise, that would've set back the project.
"Is there anything else you need, Wendy?" Roy asked.
Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. "Not at the moment, but I'm sure this will change once I get to work." As she looked up at what was going to become the Red Water machine, her thoughts went to Russell. She hoped by now the lad was fully invested in the project seeing he had much to gain from it. "How are the brothers doing?" Wendy asked as she returned her attention to Roy.
"So far, so good," Roy replied. Wendy hadn't been present when it happened but Alex told her that Roy had a long talk with Russell. Apparently, the young Major swore to change his ways, as Alex had put it. Wendy could only hope this was the case. Russell harbored a grudge against her, and she couldn't blame him, after all, if it wasn't because of her rash decisions, Winry would still be in Amestris.
"The brothers arrived in Xenotime two days ago," Roy added, snapping her out of her musings. "They are retrieving their research notes, which they left behind with a trusted friend. They won't be back until the end of the week."
Wendy placed a hand on Roy's shoulder. "That's fine by me," she said, having sensed some tension in Roy's voice. "In the meantime, I want to go sightseeing." She gave him an impish smile, then added, "Would you take me sightseeing, Roy Mustang?"
Roy opened his mouth but no words came out. On the other end of the building, Jean was heard laughing. His reaction made Wendy blush.
"It's a date then," Roy said, making Wendy smile up at him with utmost gratitude.
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Earth, March 22nd, 1940 A.D
Winry ran the back of her hand across her forehead. She'd been told by the workers in the Rockwell Estate that March was a capricious month. Some days were cold while others were sweltering hot; sometimes a person would walk out of the house wearing layers of clothing only to come home in the evening with half of their clothes in their hands. Today, was one of those kinds of days. Winry had bundled up in the morning before heading out to the garage. She'd worn a long sleeve, button-up shirt with some well-worn overalls, which she paired up with some scruffy-looking boots. She wore a straw hat for a lack of bandana, making her look more of a gardener than a mechanic. But beggars can't be choosers. Despite looking like the hired help, it was the first time in a long while that Winry felt a little more like herself. She was tired of wearing hand-me-downs from Wendy, and wearing what Alphonse bought for her reminded her of how bad things had ended with Edward. The clothes she was wearing belonged to one of the worker's children, a boy, for the looks of it, but Winry didn't care. The clothes gave her the freedom to work on machines and that was all that mattered to her.
While there was no automail to work on—except Edward's—there was Betsy, who was Alphonse's beloved car. Betsy was a Ford Model A Roadster, and for what she'd been told, Betsy was one of the last of its kind since the production shot down back in 1931. Betsy was a good car, but she started giving problems about a year before Winry found herself on Earth. Having no luck with mechanics, Alphonse considered handing Betsy for "the cause"(7). It'd been Edward who convinced him to let Winry try her hand on fixing Betsy before making a final decision.
Betsy not only provided Winry with much-needed entertainment, but she also helped Winry regain her full strength.
Winry hadn't warmed up to the idea of working on a car from the beginning. She wanted to work on Edward's automail but he was doing his best to keep her at an arm's length ever since the unfortunate encounter with Benjamin Rockwell. Winry could've persuaded Edward into having his automail checked but her guilt didn't let her. She was well aware of how unjust she'd been with Edward after Benjamin left. She hadn't meant to be so unkind, but her nerves had been left frayed after encountering the first double on Earth. At the time, all she could think of was how both Edward and Alphonse could deal so casually with people who were a representation of someone they knew or loved, and in Edward's case, actually marrying one.
Edward choosing Wendy to be her lawfully wedded wife gnawed at her for days. She tried putting herself in Edward's shoes, thinking if she could see a double not for what they represented but for the person they truly were. Would she have fallen in love with Edward's double? The affection she instantly felt towards Benjamin Rockwell—her father's counterpart—told her that this might very well be the case.
Winry wanted to tell this to Edward—that she understood why he married Wendy—but Edward had become too aloof to even consider listening. But Winry wasn't going to give up. Once she finished fixing Betsy, she would try again. She needed to apologize to Edward. She also needed to speak with him about what happened between them in the kitchen although she had a feeling that their budding romance was over before it began.
Thinking about how things ended, left Winry feeling like her heart had been ripped from her chest. Winry frowned, hating the sensation. Feeling sorry for herself made Winry realize that she needed a new distraction; and, she needed to cool off in more ways than one. So she headed for the kitchen to pester Mavis into giving her a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade.
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The Rockwell Estate Kitchen
Mavis had just sat down for the first time that morning. She had made a fresh pot of coffee and was already enjoying the first sip when Marla walked into the kitchen.
The young maid had a dreamy look on her face and smiled as she brought her fingers to her lips.
Mavis recognized what was going on; Marla has been servicing more than the rooms that morning. "Go clean that face of yours, Marla. And wipe off that silly grin too while you're at it," Mavis admonished seeing that she was Marla's superior. "And you better keep away from the young master's room if you know what's good for ya!"
Marla turned to Mavis, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. "You're an ol' hag, Mavis. You wouldn't understand," she retorted.
Mavis got off from her chair, her coffee was all but forgotten. "Ol' hag?" she snarled at the young maid, who had the gall of staring her down. "At least I've kept my legs closed since the first day I worked here!"
"Master Alphonse likes it when I have them spread wide for him," Marla said flippantly.
"Master Alphonse is using you. And believe me when I say that he doesn't care for you," Mavis countered.
"He ain't like the other white men," Marla snapped back.
Mavis shook her head, already feeling sorry for the young girl. "I know that, you fool. He just isn't interested in you."
Marla harrumphed at her before turning around and leaving the kitchen.
*Foolish girl,* Mavis repeated to herself as she watched Marla's haughty behind disappear as she turned a corner to go God knows where.
Mavis sat back down and sighed. Master Alphonse had been humping everything that had a skirt shortly after Master Benjamin's impromptu visit. Master Alphonse might be fooling all those young girls he was bedding, but he sure wasn't fooling her. She knew what Master Alphonse liked, and it ain't women. She'd known this ever since the Von Elric's arrived at the estate. Mavis couldn't have missed it, seeing that all homosexuals tend to behave a certain same way. Her brother—oh, Lord bless him; keep him under Thy hollow hand—acted like that. But no matter how many women her Malcolm got in bed with, he was still outed. At least it happened while he was living in another state otherwise her whole family would be paying for his transgressions. She didn't wish that on Master Alphonse, he was a kind soul to everyone despite their station in life, or the color of their skin; a rare quality in a white man.
"Phew!" Winry hollered as she opened the side door, the one that faced the back garden.
Mavis couldn't help but stare at her from head to toes. At least the girl had the decency of wiping her boots on the mat before entering the space.
Winry perked up, sighing in contentment when the smell of food reached her nose. "Gosh, Mavis, whatever it is you're cooking smells divine," she said, and her stomach growled in agreement.
Mavis didn't notice the smell much since she'd been in the kitchen for the longer part of the day. She gazed at Winry, the girl's sheepish grin telling her that she was starving. Truth be told, she hadn't seen Winry until that moment, the girl probably hadn't had any breakfast, to begin with.
Mavis rose up to her feet again.
"You must be hungry," she said as she sauntered to the kitchen area. She gave Winry a once over before adding, "Seeing that you've been busy working outside." *Like the hired help,* she wanted to say but kept that thought to herself.
"You're a lifesaver!" Winry grinned. She was about to join Mavis by the counter but stopped when Mavis held her hand out.
"And where do you think you're going, child?" she admonished.
"Don't you want some help?" Winry said, her head tilting to the side.
Mavis couldn't hide the look of surprise; this girl sure was an odd duck. She waved her hand at Winry, shooing her back to the breakfast table. Winry turned around, and sat, albeit reluctantly. Mavis noticed how flustered the girl looked, no doubt from working outside in the sweltering heat. She took a glass from the shelf then went over to the pitcher and poured some lemonade into it, adding a few ice cubes from the icebox before heading over to the breakfast table.
"Here you go, child," she said, with one eyebrow raised. "You look like you need a refreshment."
Winry smiled. "Thank you so much!" She took a sip of the lemonade. "Oh, this is so good!" she cried as her eyes rolled to the back of her head in utter bliss.
Mavis tried to suppress a chuckle. Miss Winry was an odd duck indeed but she was a harmless one. And she reminded her of Mistress Wendy when she was around the same age. Thinking about Mistress Wendy spoiled Mavis's mood.
Mavis didn't like putting too much stock into it, but things hadn't been the same ever since Miss Winry entered their lives. The girl had a connection to Master Edward and Master Alphonse that bothered her. The way the brothers treated her was as if they've known each other since they were kids themselves, and she was certain that something else was happening between Master Edward and Miss Winry, though she didn't dare share this with anyone. She hoped that Master Edward had the decency of refraining from touching the girl seeing he had a daughter about Miss Winry's age.
"Are you okay?" Winry asked, interrupting Mavis' thoughts.
Mavis blinked then offered the girl another smile. "Of course, child," she said, waving a hand in disregard. She gazed at Winry a little longer before returning to the kitchen area. "Let me fix you a sandwich," she added as she started gathering the ingredients.
Winry gave her a genuine smile of appreciation, which made Mavis feel a tad of remorse for her unkind thoughts towards the girl.
If Mavis was honest with herself, she had to admit that she liked Winry. With Master Edward's children away in boarding school, and despite her own take on the situation, the sudden appearance this girl had made things more lively around the house. For better or for worse, Winry's presence had ignited something in the brothers that she'd never seen in all the years she'd known them.
Mavis put that thought on hold and took the sandwich to Winry. The girl smiled in appreciation; Mavis would've smiled back but she suddenly became fixated on her appearance. Who in blazes would want to dress like a boy? But it was the oil smudges and grime clinging to the girl's arms and half of her face what made Mavis frown.
"Child, you're a mess!" she said, unable to hold back her tongue. "You look like a damn grease monkey!" She even shook her head and hummed her disapproval.
Winry's radiant expression vanished and a scowl took its place. Mavis sure had hit a nerve.
"There's nothing wrong with getting one's hands dirty," Winry retorted, clearly upset about the unfair treatment.
Mavis harrumphed and put her hands on her ample hips.
"A woman shouldn't be tinkering with cars, Miss Winry, that's a man's job."
Winry rolled her eyes at her like Miss Wendy had done so many times in the past. The sensation that she was dealing with a version of the young Mistress instantly upset her. Mavis went back to the kitchen area where she felt safe.
"Gender doesn't have to be an issue," Winry continued most likely feeling defensive. She started drumming her fingers on the table, something the Mistress did when she was upset.
Mavis fetched a glass from the shelf deciding she needed a drink. She glanced at the girl a couple of times while she poured some lemonade into the glass. What wouldn't she give for spiking the drink at that moment. Maybe that's why Master Edward started drinking again. *To cope,* she thought miserably as she brought the glass to her lips.
The kitchen timer went off, almost making Mavis choke on the lemonade. She put the glass down and grabbed the oven mittens. She ignored the girl's glaring as she took out the salmon from the oven. Mavis placed the rack on some towels, took her mittens off, and picked up a fork to check if the fish was cooked thoroughly. The salmon looked perfect so she covered it then set it aside to let it rest for a few minutes. Mavis then looked at Winry, who had barely touched her sandwich. She didn't mind the girl feeling resentful; someone had to knock some sense into her.
"I don't know how they do things where you come from, but here in the United States women belong in the kitchen." Miss Winry gazed at her, shocked and upset with the comment. The girl fixed her blue eyes on the sandwich, then, after a few long minutes, she spoke.
"It doesn't have to be that way..." Winry muttered.
At that moment, Mavis couldn't help but feel pity for the girl. "But it is, child," she replied in a somber tone, starting to feel as dejected as Winry. Whatever life this girl had lived before entering their lives had put her at a huge disadvantage. Mavis had come to realize that Miss Winry was like a lost puppy, and she wouldn't survive in this world if she didn't start to wisen up, fast.
"We women have no place in a man's world," Mavis said, in an effort to open up the girl's eyes to the harsh reality of the world. Mavis was sure her own gaze looked quite forlorn since the girl, for once, was at a loss for words. A pang of guilt pricked her heart; Mavis ignored it. Regardless of gender, Miss Winry had an advantage; she had the right coloring, and that in itself would make her thrive. Even if she was an odd duck, she would still live a better life than the likes of her.
Winry averted her gaze. She began playing with the sandwich before pushing the plate away. A moment later, she looked up and fixed her saddened gaze on Mavis.
"I'm sorry," she said, then averted her gaze for a second. "I sometimes forget that this place is not home," she added as she gazed back.
Mavis felt even worse than she did moments ago. Dealing with this girl wasn't easy and the fact that she was the spitting image of Mistress Wendy made it worse. What was she to do?
"You really don't know much about how things run in the world, now do you?" Mavis didn't know why she said such a thing, but it felt like it was the right thing to say.
Miss Winry laughed nervously at that. "Is that obvious?" she said, and while she was trying to sound sheepish, Mavis noticed desperation in her voice. The urge to console this girl like she has done so many times before for young Wendy began to overwhelm her senses.
"You know, you're just like my Mistress," she said, a sad smile playing at her lips. "Proud and headstrong, and always trying to pave the path to a better world."
Winry didn't take her words too kindly. She stood up, ready to leave, so Mavis raised her voice to stop her.
"It's hard talking to you," she said in all honesty. "I meant it to be a compliment, but I should've known better than to be comparing the two of you."
Winry stood still. She looked upset but Mavis could see in her face that she understood.
"How good are you around the kitchen?" Mavis asked, thinking that a different approach might bridge the gap between them.
"Fairly good," Winry replied, smiling.
Mavis could see that the girl was trying her best to put their differences behind. "Well, that settles it!" she said right away. "You're going to help me finish prepping tonight's dinner."
Winry nodded, and Mavis sighed in relief.
"Go finish your sandwich," she said as she gave Winry a once over. "And then you go get yourself clean. I won't allow grease monkeys in the kitchen, understood?"
Winry stared at her for a second before she started making monkey sounds.
Mavis couldn't help but laugh. It was then when she realized that this girl wasn't as odd and scary as she thought her to be.
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Winry looked at all the dishes lined up for tonight's dinner. She hadn't seen so much food piled up on a table since her grandmother was alive. She pushed the sad memory away and focused on the present seeing this was her life for the time being.
Mavis was giving her a proud smile and she smiled back.
Things between them hadn't been easy from the beginning. Winry couldn't blame the woman. Mavis had been working for the Rockwell's since she was a young girl; besides, from the way Mavis spoke about Wendy, she undoubtedly had a hand in raising her so it was only natural that she felt uneasy dealing with someone who looked like Wendy's long lost twin.
Winry didn't know how much Mavis knew about Amestris if she knew anything at all. She couldn't picture Edward and Alphonse divulging their past to anyone who'd stopped to listen, though this might have changed recently thanks to her arrival.
Ever since she woke up from her coma, she had felt quite unwelcome. It hadn't been just with Edward, everyone else in the house—except Alphonse—made her feel the same way. The house staff often tend to keep their distance, most likely thinking of her as if she was some sort of apparition, and who could blame them? Still, the constant rejection made her feel unwanted and lonely.
Out of everyone in the household—besides Alphonse, that is—she felt more comfortable being around Mavis. She assumed it was her matronly presence that had her seeking the older woman like a moth sought a light, but maybe there was something else to this attraction. Winry was relieved to have finally found common ground between them otherwise she wouldn't have known how she was going to survive in that house for much longer. She'd been stuck on Earth for almost three months, and for the looks of it, she was going to stay there for a while longer, a prospect she wasn't looking forward to.
Mavis' loud sigh snapped Winry out of her woeful thoughts. Winry looked up wondering what made the older woman react that way.
"I wish we had time to make some dessert—from scratch I mean," Mavis said while shaking her head in obvious disappointment. "Oh well, ice cream it is!"
Winry leaned against the counter and looked up at the clock hanging from the wall. It was still early. What if she went into town to get the ingredients to make an apple pie? She had gotten so good at making pies that she could have it prepared in a jiffy. Everyone would enjoy their dinner while the pie baked in the oven, and if everything went right, they would finish their meal with a thick slide of piping-hot pie—with a scoop of ice cream, of course.
"Hey, Mavis?" Winry called. Mavis raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Let's go into town and buy some apples. I can make a mean apple pie, you know," she said with glee. Winry honestly believed Mavis was going to welcome the idea, but the woman did quite the opposite. The look of alarm crossing her ebony face both puzzled and scared Winry.
"Were you raised by wolves, child?" Mavis snapped at her. "It's Good Friday(8), not Christmas!"
Winry wanted to scream at herself, somehow she had offended Mavis, again. She felt her cheeks growing hot, and the threat of tears was not far behind, but she wasn't going to cry, despite her chagrin.
"Besides, you can't leave the premises," Mavis continued saying.
Winry snapped her head towards Mavis, her misery was suddenly forgotten. She raised an eyebrow thinking she'd heard wrong.
Mavis fell silent and narrowed her eyes at her in confusion. Finally, she said, "You didn't know?"
*Of course I didn't freaking know!* Winry thought as her mouth twisted into a scowl. "And why can't I leave?" she spat. She shook her head too, unable to grasp such stupidity. "Why must he be so damn ridiculous!" she grumbled to herself but her voice was loud enough for Mavis to hear.
"Child, show some respect!" Mavis gave her a chastising look. "Master Edward must have his reasons," she added as she shook her head at her in clear disapproval.
Winry scoffed back in response. She was angry—scratch that—she was livid and didn't want to listen to reason.
"Child, you sure are asking for an ass-whooping right about now!" Mavis snarled, narrowing a glare at Winry. "If you're so damn upset with the Master's orders, then go and take it up with him!" she added as she pointed an angry finger towards the exit.
Winry started at Mavis for a second. She pressed her lips into a tight line then stormed out of the kitchen. She knew Mavis didn't deserve to be treated with such disrespect but she didn't have time to apologize to her at the moment. She needed to find Edward and ask him why he was being so damn unreasonable. These past few weeks she'd been feeling miserable about the way she'd lashed out at him but maybe Edward did deserve every bit of it. One thing was to have her put up with waiting while he and Alphonse worked on finding a way back to Amestris, and quite another to keep her hidden from the world. What if Earth and Amestris couldn't be reconnected? There was no way she was going to become Edward's prisoner. "The hell with him," she hissed under her breath as she went upstairs, two steps at a time.
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Edward's Study
Edward adjusted his glasses as he stared at the mathematical formulas jotted down in his old journal. He'd been over them for the past hour, hoping that he'd missed something in the calculations, but everything was as it should be. He groaned in frustration as he slid the journal to the side. Edward leaned against the chair his gaze focused nowhere in particular. He'd pioneered the science that led Wendy to transport herself from one place to another, yet now when it mattered the most, he was unable to make it work himself. What was he missing? It didn't help that Alphonse was just as lost as him, and he was an active participant in Wendy's project.
Thinking about his brother made Edward recall what he'd said to him a few months ago. Alphonse believed that Wendy's Will(9) manifested. *But if that is the case,* Edward thought to himself, frowning as the answer came to mind.
What would it mean for everyone if Winry couldn't go back home? Would she still meet the gruesome fate he'd seen when he crossed worlds? He didn't even want to think about how the rest of his family would react to Winry if she remained on Earth. And how would he go explaining to his children that their mother had gone missing and a replica was left in her stead? He wouldn't even know where to start! *Thank God they aren't around,* Edward thought miserably, knowing that this was but a small break until the inevitable happened.
There was a knock on the door. Edward usually didn't like to be disturbed while he was working, but right now, he welcomed the distraction. He looked at the time, it was just past three o'clock. Dinner was still a few hours away so it couldn't be one of the servants coming to fetch him. *Maybe Alphonse came home early?*
"Come in, Al!" Edward called out. He became guarded when Winry entered the study.
"Hey Winry, what brings you here?" he said as he took off his reading glasses. His gaze lingered on them as he placed them on top of his journal.
Ever since Benjamin had come over, things had taken a turn for the worse between them. Winry had made clear that she didn't want anything to do with him so he'd kept his distance, though not a day went by without him thinking about how things might've ended if Benjamin hadn't shown up at all. Finally, he looked up. Winry appeared to be angry, but whatever it was that was bothering her, was dissipating fast. Her once hardened expression softened considerably, only to be completely replaced by a look of curiosity.
"You wear glasses?" Winry said as if it'd been the grand discovery of the Twentieth century.
Edward felt an immense sense of relief sensing he'd just dodged a bullet; he sure wasn't prepared for a new confrontation. "That I do," he replied, trying to keep things civil between them. Winry didn't comment on it, but the way she was tapping her foot let him know that she wasn't there for the small talk. Edward sighed, resigning to his fate. There was going to be a confrontation after all.
"What can I help you with?" he said, refraining from wasting more time.
Edward could see a storm brewing behind Winry's blue eyes, something was bothering her all right. Finally, Winry spoke.
"I was helping Mavis with tonight's dinner and we realized that there's no dessert," she began.
Edward raised an eyebrow. "It's not a big deal," he said, not understanding where Winry was going with all of this. Sure, their conversations had been awkward as of late but this was something new.
"I was wondering if you could take me into town so we can buy apples to make a pie from scratch," Winry added, giving him a tense smile. "So what do you say? I've gotten really good at making apple pies."
Apple pie was the last thing Edward expected Winry to say, so it was only natural that he didn't know what to say next. Finally, he fixed his gaze on Winry, and said, "The prospect of apple pie sounds awfully good," he began, and his heart twitched with guilt when Winry's eyes lighted up with joy. "But I decline," he added, hoping his answer would put an end to the conversation.
"Why?" Winry said as her face soured. Edward sighed, hating to have been the one who'd fired the first shot. "Because it might prove dangerous for you," he added, and with it, starting a new conflict.
Winry scoffed in disdain. Then she started gaping like a fish out of water, refusing to comprehend what was being told. "That's—" She shook her head. "That's your excuse?"
The anger he'd seen in Winry as she entered the study returned with a vengeance. Edward groaned already hating where their conversation was heading. "This world is a dangerous place for a girl like you," he tried to explain.
Winry stared at him in utter disbelief. She brought her hands to her hips and scowled. "You're being ridiculous," she said, followed by some incredulous laughter.
Edward took a deep breath, trying to keep the rising frustration in check, but it wasn't working. He realized and accepted that he had lost this fight before it began so now it was as good time as any to lick his wounds. He got up and went to the new liquor cabinet he'd just had installed a couple of days ago. He felt a tinge of remorse for breaking his promise to his brother, but seeing that Alphonse himself was breaking rules left and right, he couldn't go objecting about him going back to his old coping mechanisms. Edward opened the cabinet and took out a bottle of scotch. He grabbed a tumbler glass and filled it halfway. He glanced at Winry, who was glaring at him, then picked up the glass and took a swig. The scotch went down smoothly. He sighed in contentment, welcoming the numbness. Once he felt relaxed enough, he turned to Winry.
"I don't care if you find it ridiculous, Winry. That's how it's going to be and you will obey, is that clear?" At this point he didn't care how he sounded, either way, he was done in.
And as expected, Winry looked murderous.
"How dare you talk to me like that!" she screeched. "Who the hell do you think you are!"
Edward drained his glass and poured more scotch in it. He hadn't planned on getting plastered, but now he was. He turned to face Winry, a wide grin brought about by the scotch, playing on his lips.
"What are you going to do about it? bash my head in with a wrench?" He took another swig. "Tell me to fuck off? Oh wait, you've already told me to fuck off!" he yelled back, then started laugh at his own cynicism. He could see that Winry was furious and also conflicted. It was clear that his words had hurt her, but at that moment he didn't care. He'd been harboring some resentment ever since she told him to get out of her room, and it simply slipped out.
Winry averted her eyes for a moment, then she looked back at him, and held his gaze. "I know," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "The way I treated you wasn't fair, and I hope you can forgive me."
Edward swallowed deep, feeling like a despicable jerk. He looked at the drink in his hands before he drank it all. He left the tumbler on the cabinet seeing that the alcohol wasn't going to soothe him as he'd wished. His way to oblivion was now paved with unbearable guilt and profound remorse. Edward turned to Winry, ready to ask for her forgiveness—for being such a fucking brute—but Winry held her hand up, telling him with the gesture that she wasn't finished.
"I get that you're just trying to keep me safe, Ed, I do. You think that by keeping me ignorant about things I won't suffer." Winry stopped for a moment as if considering what to say next. She gazed back, and added, "But what are you going to do if I'm stuck here forever? What then?"
Edward was stunned. He'd been dreading this moment for a while, and now that it was here, he didn't know what to do.
"Say something, dammit!"
Winry was getting desperate, and he couldn't blame her. Should he bare it all and be done with it? "You wouldn't understand, even if I told you everything," he finally said, convinced that Winry was going to react worse than when she met Benjamin.
"Then try me, Ed," she said. Edward could see she was trying to hold back tears.
"Why must you be so fucking stubborn?" he mumbled and was sorry as soon as he said those words.
"And why must you treat me like I'm a child?" Winry was barely holding her composure. "I get that there's a marked age difference between us, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like I'm your daughter."
Edward felt his blood run cold. Out everything said between them, he never expected Winry to come up with those words. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn. He averted his eyes, his shame too intense to face Winry.
Winry in turn drew in a shaky breath. "You have a daughter don't you?" she murmured in sudden realization.
Edward said nothing, having lost his voice.
There was an awkward moment of silence between them, one that didn't last long.
"That's why the rooms are closed off and why there are no family photos besides the one you showed me of Wendy," Winry said, her voice thick with emotion.
Hearing those words out loud made Edward regret not telling Winry about his family right from the beginning.
"You want to keep me hidden, so people won't talk," Winry added shortly after.
Edward snapped his head toward her. *Shit!* He knew things were going to get messy when the truth about his family came out but things were getting out of hand.
"It's complicated, Winry. Trust me when I say I don't want to hurt you more than I already have," he said, still trying to salvage this train wreck.
"But you keep hurting me, Ed. Your refusal to talk is hurting me right now," Winry said as tears flooded her eyes.
*Shit, shit, shit!* "I'm damn aware of it!" he bellowed. "And that's why we should end this conversation right now!"
Winry looked stunned. She stared at him for a few moments, her eyes pleading for him to relent. But his adamant silence made her sneer at him. Winry wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Right after, she fixed him with a look of muted hatred.
"Fine Ed. If that's what you want, then so be it. I'll find the truth some other way," she said in a glacial tone.
Edward realized that he finally managed to accomplish what he'd had set to do when Winry was still unconscious. But he never would've guessed that Winry's hatred was going to hurt this much.
"Go right ahead, Winry. It's not like you've never pried into some else's business. But I warn you, you won't like what you'll find, just like you didn't like what you found when you lockpicked my State Alchemist's pocket watch."
Winry was seething. "You're an asshole, you know that?"
The hurt in Winry's voice almost made him repent so he turned to his trusty friend. He poured more scotch into the tumbler. "I'll drink to that!" he said as he held the glass high, hoping that the insolent comment would mask his pain.
Edward didn't get a chance to ponder about what he was going to say next since his train of thought got interrupted by noises coming from outside.
"What is it now?" he grumbled.
What he initially thought to be simple noises were actually voices. But who in their right mind—other than him and Winry, that is—would have an altercation in his house? Then he got his answer. Edward felt a heavy weight drop into the pit of his stomach when he recognized one of the voices. Edward set the tumbler back on the cabinet, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he looked at Winry.
"I'm sorry, Winry, I really am," he said before bolting out of the study.
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Winry was still standing in the same spot long after Edward left the study. She couldn't move, she was too shocked by what was happening. Only moments ago, she and Edward were having another huge fight, and now she had been left all alone. Edward had apologized too, which meant that whatever was happening outside was somehow connected to her. Winry wanted to go after Edward but she wasn't so sure she should.
Perhaps she was reading too much into it, and the commotion outside had nothing to do with her? She did hear a female voice when Edward first noticed the commotion. Maybe it was a woman looking for Alphonse seeing that the younger Elric had been busy taking women to bed as of late. In a way, Winry felt responsible for Alphonse's womanizing especially since this started right after Benjamin Rockwell's visit. She'd had gone over the events of that night many times, and recalled telling Edward of the incident between Alphonse and Becky before things between themselves became more intimate. She'd confessed to Alphonse himself that Benjamin might've heard her, but Alphonse told her that she had nothing to do with it. He then went on to say that it was time he started thinking of having a family of his own. Winry knew Alphonse was lying, but she didn't want to start a fight with him too. She had enough of that with Edward.
Winry drew in a calming breath then slapped the sides of her face. She needed to keep her bearings for whatever she was going to find on the other side of the door.
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As Winry walked down the hall, the voices became clearer. The skirmish was happening downstairs.
Winry walked at a snail's pace. She hated to admit it but she was scared of what she was about to find.
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Winry could make out Edward's and Mavis' voices. Alphonse hadn't spoken yet, so either he was keeping to himself or he wasn't present. The other female voice she didn't recognize, but going by how loud she sounded, this woman was angry. Things were unraveling according to her assumptions, and the belligerent woman was simply looking for the younger Elric. But then, why did Ed apologize to her in the first place? Winry didn't need to wait long to find out the answer to her question as she heard the voice of a pleading boy.
*A boy?* Winry thought. What was a boy doing in that house? Then Winry realized what was going on. She leaned against the wall seeing her legs had lost their strength. "Ed has a son," she told herself as her vision blurred with tears. She suspected Edward had a family and she even confronted him about it just moments ago. *Why?* she thought as silent tears ran down her face. *Why would he keep them from me?* She couldn't understand—didn't want to understand—the logic behind Edward's reasoning.
Winry angrily wiped away the tears from her face. She then pushed herself off the wall and kept going.
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Downstairs, in the Living Room
"This is more than just a prank, Trish! You vandalized school property!" Edward bellowed as he crumbled a paper note in his automail hand.
Winry took a step back and remained hidden in the hallway when he started pacing in front of the girl who he was speaking to. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, trying to keep the tears at bay. Edward had a son *and* a daughter; no wonder why he paled when she told him to stop treating her as if she was his daughter. The young girl across from her looked to be around fourteen or fifteen years old, which wasn't that much older than herself.
"So?" Trish said flippantly.
"So?" Edward repeated, his eyes almost bulging from his face as he spoke. "This is the third boarding school you've been kicked out of in two year's time!"
Winry swallowed hard. So this was the reason why she hadn't seen any children around the house, and the reason why their presence was hidden in the house. Edward had wanted to send her back to Amestris without her knowing of their existence. Winry didn't realize she had balled her hands into fists until she felt the nails digging into her palms.
Trish pointed an angry finger at Edward. "This is your fault, you know? Have you ever stopped to think about how much I hate those stupid places?"
"I don't have to," Edward retorted. "You're the granddaughter of a Rockwell, and as a Rockwell, you are required to have a proper education."
Trish scoffed in disdain. "'Proper education' my ass!"
Winry's jaw dropped and so did Edward's.
"Stop it, Trisha!" The boy intervened. Winry didn't catch a glimpse of him until that moment, now that she did, she wished she hadn't. The boy was a spitting image of herself. A sob escaped her and she clamped her mouth with both hands, hoping no one had heard her.
"Dad, she didn't mean it," the boy added as he looked from Trish to Edward.
"I meant every word, Ben!" Trish retorted. She then returned her attention to Edward. "This bastard is simply upset because he's now stuck with us—"
Trish didn't get to finish what she began. Edward grabbed her by the arm and shook her. "Don't you dare, Patricia Von Elric!" Edward roared and shook her again.
Patricia tried yanking her arm to free herself. "Stop it! You're hurting me!" she cried when she couldn't.
"Dad, stop!" Ben cried as he pulled on Edward's arm.
At least Edward was using his natural arm and not the automail one or Patricia would be suffering more than a broken pride. Regardless, Winry couldn't take it anymore.
"Your children are telling you to stop!" Winry screamed so loud that her voice reverberated around the room.
Everyone in the room went quiet for a few moments. The only thing heard was labored breathing.
"Miss Winry," Mavis said from around the corner.
Winry flashed her a glare, pinning the woman in place. Mavis had been a witness to what had been going on, so why didn't she intervene before things got out of hand?
Edward let go of his daughter who in turn took a few steps back. Both father and daughter stared at her with wide eyes. Edward's son froze in place, he too was unable to take his big blue eyes from her.
Winry was unable to get her mouth moving so she stood still, like everyone else.
After a few torturous minutes, Patricia walked up to her. The girl was scowling as she studied her, no doubt recognizing the resemblance to her mother. Winry also saw Patricia's resemblance to her father. From her golden hair and eyes to her insolent expression, Patricia sure was Edward's spitting image.
The longer Patricia stared at her, the faster her hostility grew. She suddenly turned to Edward. "Where's mom?" she demanded, then fixed her feral eyes back on her.
Edward too gazed at her, pleading with his eyes for her to keep quiet. Patricia must've noticed the exchange for she repeated, "Where's my mother?"
"What do you mean, Trish?" Ben must've not yet caught on what was happening.
Patricia realized this since her belligerent expression softened considerably. She turned to her brother and while ruffling his hair, said, "Don't worry about a thing, Benny."
Winry's heart sank. Not only did Patricia looked like Edward, but she acted like him too, right down to his duplicitous smile.
Patricia took Ben's hand in hers. "Let's go have something to drink," she said as she shot a complicit look at Mavis.
"You kids are in luck!" Mavis said, right on cue. "I just made some lemonade today." She took Ben's other hand. Both Patricia and Mavis walked Ben to the kitchen.
"I'm not a baby!" Winry heard Ben say after they were out of sight.
Winry felt devastated. She turned her attention to Edward who looked worse for wear.
"I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he said before he walked out of the room.
Once again, Winry found herself all alone.
Feeling raw and emotionally exhausted, she walked to the nearest couch and sank into it. She drew her legs close to her chest before she let bitter tears fall freely down her face.
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A/N 2: Somehow I managed to edit a near 12,000-word chapter in a week! Anyway, don't know if I can keep that pace for long (you know, adulting and stuff).
A/N 3: In the original, I didn't give Mavis a voice of her own. I changed that with this chapter. This is another reason why I decided to revamp the story. Things will be happening that will lead to choices being made, which will define the ending (or endings—still debating on this) for this story.
A/N 4: I might be changing the rating for this story soon. This will definitely happen for the AO3 version. The FFNet version will end up being the edited version. I will be posting notes when this happens.
Visit my Tumblr page: hirstories dot tumblr dot com for story-related artwork and other stories.
Thank you for reading!
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References
(1) Presidential suite named after Thomas Jefferson. The Willard Hotel has been the preferred hosting for almost every U.S. president since 1861.
(2) Texas Tea and Long Island Iced Tea have the same ingredients but the liquor used is different. Texas Tea uses tequila while Long Island Iced Tea uses gin. Looking around the Internet, I also noticed that there's a debate about which one is the original drink.
(3) The false flag I'm referring to is about Pearl Harbor. Did you know occultism and conspiracy stories go hand in hand? Yes, there's a conspiracy story that involves Pearl Harbor. It pretty much goes like this: the US government and the military branch knew about the attack on the Polynesian station but did nothing to stop it simply because they needed a reason to enter the World War. Take this info with a grain of salt, but if you're interested, you can Google it.
(4) The Four Corners Region (in the USA) is where the states of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah meet. This is also the zone where most nuclear testing happened, and it is also the region where UFOs have been seen (think Roswell). There are also some other creepy stories coming from Four Corners such as the Dulce underground base conflict. Check it out online. It sure makes for some good creepypasta. Anyway, I mentioned the Four Corners Region because of the uranium bomb, which was part of the plot in Conqueror of Shamballa.
(5) I mentioned this in previous chapters. For the purpose of this story, both Ed and Al took over the social standing of their father and created a fake persona around it, deciding to append the nobiliary particle of "Von" to their surname.
(6) Actually, there is a thing called the Looking Glass Project, and you guessed it, is another conspiracy theory (for now). Google the term and add CERN to the keyword search. You might be surprised by what you find. Anyway, it does make for food science fiction, right, right? :D
(7) I went ahead of time with this reference since the USA didn't enter the World War until the Pearl Harbor incident. However, there was a shortage of raw materials ever since the Great Depression. The following text I took from The National World War II Museum at New Orleans: "To meet America's metal needs, scrap was salvaged from basements, backyards, and attics. Old cars, bed frames, radiators, pots, and pipes were just some of the items gathered at metal "scrap drives" around the nation. Americans also collected rubber, tin, nylon, and paper at salvage drives."
(8) March 22, 1940, actually fell on a Good Friday. I did loosely use the symbolism of death that is likened to Good Friday (as in sacrifice and contemplation of sacrifice) in this chapter.
(9) I made reference to the Will in previous chapters. The information about the Will comes from Hermeticism, which I will be referring to throughout the story.