Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Expect the Unexpected ❯ Why Can't I? ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.Short chapter. Sorry! ^_^Chapter 5: Why Can't I?
It was later that night when Winry was sitting in her most favorite spot in her house--the third floor alcove. The room it was in was more of a storage room for Winry's old music books. Not all of them were vocal books; she could play the piano, too. Mostly by ear, but she had a few books containing songs she hadn't been able to transpose. Those songs were very few and far between. She had also learned a couple songs on her own. But most of the music books were vocal.
In a few select boxes were reading books, though. Most all of them were the romance books her mother and grandmother had stockpiled. A lot of them were historcal. Winry's favorite historical romances were the ones set in a medieval period. Though most of the marriages then were arranged and loveless, the people who married for love really loved each other. That was what she dreamed of: loving the man she married more than life itself.
There were a few tragedies in there. One story was set back in the early 1900s. The two people were the same age, sixteen for part of the time. Well, sometimes she felt they liked each other and were too shy to express it. Other times they would bicker rather violently, he with a silver tongue and she with some tool. Needless to say, those were the times she really thought they liked each other and just wouldn't admit it for their pride. A lot of mystery and conspiracy was involved in the plot. The ending of the story wasn't her very favorite, but it was a tragedy. The boy had disappeared one day and never come back to the girl.
She sighed and looked out the window.
Winry would never admit to anyone she was a sappy romantic. That's why some of her songs were in Latin. Hardly anyone knew the language anymore.
She looked out of the window distractedly. There was a notebook and a Latin dictionary before her; she was supposed to be writing lyrics for songs, but she was having problems putting her words on paper. Sure, there were plenty of lines skittering about in her head, but she couldn't latch onto them for the life of her. One word, though, kept taunting her mercilessly: gold.
She would think 'gold,' and immediately he would come to mind, with his arrogant smirk, gold hair, and gold eyes. He was currently outside in her garden, conveniently in her view.He was doing pull-ups on a tree branch at present. Earlier, he'd been doing push-ups on the stones in the garden pond. He would probably be coming inside soon, because it was getting dark quickly. Plus, it had to be freezing outside. The weather predicted snow flurries over the next couple nights. How he could stand to be outside in such cold weather, Winry had no idea. Just watching him made her shiver.
Suddenly, Edward dropped to the ground and landed in a crouch. That made Winry realize just how far up that branch had been. It was quite a few feet over his head. Even though Ed was short, he wasn't that short. She watch him rise to a standing position and stretch his arms. Then he started to look around a little suspiciously. When his gaze settled on the window, Winry felt her breath leave her. He couldn't see her, could he? She was three stories up in a ten-foot ceiling house. So she was about thirty feet off the ground, give or take. He couldn't see her. He was just staring off into the distance. That's right.
Now Winry just had to think of an excuse as to why she'd lost her breath.
It wasn't like she cared if he had been looking at her. So what? She would have looked at him for a little while if she'd seen him. He was pretty easy on the eyes, and that was an understatement. And she knew, without having to boast, that she was pretty. Maybe she wasn't the most beautiful creature ever to grace the eyes of man, but she was decent enough to at least get cat calls occasionally. And Edward...she was surprised someone hadn't jumped him yet. It was probably his frown that seemed to settle on his features that kept people away from him.
Winry shook her head suddenly, catching herself. She was not going to think on that now! She couldn't develope a crush on her bodyguard! That was just wrong. She was paying him to keep her safe, not anything else! A fierce blush came to her cheeks. It increased when she heard the front door slam three stories below her. Now she was going to be summoned downstairs, and very probably lectured on the dangers of being all the way upstairs without anyone with her.
Like anyone was going to break into her house and then lie in wait for her in her reading room. The thought itself was enough to make her shake her head in frustration. It was crazy.
Nevertheless, she cast a wary glance around the room before hurrying down the spiral staircase lining the walls. When she reached the second floor, she had worked herself up slightly and was scolding herself for letting such silly ideas get out of hand. She was so busy mentally berating herself that she didn't notice Edward until she about plowed into him in the hallway. Immediately, she jumped back and pushed her hair behind her ears. It was a few seconds later she registered something...
His right arm was freezing! But his cheeks looked a little flushed from heat, and not just because he had a frustrated look on his face.
"Where were you?" he demanded.
She blinked. "Upstairs. Didn't you see me?" Winry asked, looking at him stupidly.
Ed nodded. "Yes, but what's upstairs?" He looked rather impatient.
"My books," she drew out like he was lacking a few wits. Then she remembered. "My notebook! I left it up there."
He didn't seem to care, though. "Why were you running down the stairs?"
Did he have nothing but questions for her? "I...I was thinking. I figured that you would yell at me or something for being upstairs without anyone." Then she felt the ridiculousness of the thought come back. "And it isn't like there's someone lying in wait up there to kill me." With the thought of that, though, came the unsettling feelings that her subconscious had previously procured. She shivered.
"I'll go get your notebook. Go find Al," he said and brushed passed her. As he did, Winry felt the chill in his arm and shivered again for that reason. She would bring it up later. For now, she sighed loudly and tromped down the stairs to do what he'd told her.
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It was the rainy season, that was for sure. And it appeared the rain liked to come after dinner. Always. And this wan't just a light drizzle, either. Rain was pounding on the house like it was determined to beat a hole in the roof. Lightening would flash and thunder would crash just after. It was an all-out assault on the house, with the attacker being the elements. There was a very displeased member of the house, as well.
Said displeased member was currently slipped down the stairs at a wee hour of the morning. Clad in long stretch paints and a wife-beater undershirt. In one hand, he had a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. In the other, he had a bowl he'd fashioned as an ashtray. Every step he took down the stairs, he had to wince. The pain in his shoulder and knee were overwhelming, at the point that it might take two smokes to ease the pain. He certainly hoped it would, because his nerves were shot, as well.
All of the handstands he'd been doing to keep his prosthetics hidden were frustrating him to no end. He was tempted to just tell Winry and walk around barefoot again. He didn't mind his glove; he wore it most of the time anyway. So the glove didn't phase him. Socks did, however. That's why he had none on now. Even though it was winter, he didn't care for socks overmuch.
Edward disengaged the security lock in a subconscious effort and trudged outside. Luckily, Winry had a covered porch through the kitchen. He could go back inside and find something to get the taste of nicotine out of his mouth. That was the only downside of his pain relief method. Besides, the obvious of lung cancer. But the day Edward died of lung cancer before Jean Havoc was the day Edward would roll on his back and then heel to Roy Mustang. That day would never come. Ever.
By the time Edward had smoked half a cigarette, his pain had yet to away. His limbs were still throbbing enough to make his breathing raspy and heavy. He sat up on his own accord when he heard the door open. He burned the cigarette out on his right arm quickly. No use in letting anyone known about his "method" if they didn't have to. He especially didn't want Al to know.
But it was Winry who stepped out. "What are you doing out here?" she asked.
Before Edward could answer, lightening flashed across the sky and illuminated the porch. He grabbed his shoulder when the thunder crashed very soon after. He heard Winry's gasp when the night sky returned to darkness again. He might have cared more about her reaction if he hadn't been hurting so terribly in his shoulder and leg. But since he was hurting, he didn't care much for how she responded to his "condition."
"Edward...wh-what was that?" she asked hesitantly, still in shock.
He opened one eye and looked at her. The rude answer was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "It's my arm. What did you think it was? I have a leg like it, too. You wanna see that?" he snapped, then winced as another rumble of thunder sounded. He gritted his teeth and let out a slow breath. Then his breathing changed to short, quick gasps from the pain.
Winry was silent for a long while. He wondered if she was too in shock to speak. But words came forth eventually. "What were you doing out here?" she asked, latching her hands to a chair. Likely to keep herself upright, Ed mused.
Hesitantly, he looked down at his left hand. The halfway crushed cigarette was still between his fingers. He could tell her. It really was nothing. "I was having a smoke," he answered, holding out his hand.
"I didn't know you smo--"
He cut her off. "I don't. The term 'smoking' implies more than a cigarette everyday." When his knee throbbed, he reached for his lighter. "I," he continued when he clamped the filter between his lips, "do not." He held the flame from his lighter over the end of the cigarette and took a deep breath. The acrid taste of nicotine filled his mouth and lungs.
"What are you doing now?" Winry asked, sounded like she had a point he didn't.
He took a slow drag. "Relieving pain," he breathed, expelling the smoke in a long, blue-gray stream.
He could feel her frustrated gaze settling on him. "What pain?" Winry pressed.
Edward flicked the ash into his borrowed 'ashtray.' "That is none of your business," he replied curtly, taking another drag.
There was a harsh, but not drawn out silence, before Winry spoke up. "Your shoulder, right? That's what hurts." She seemed to want to say more, but stopped herself short. Edward took another drag and lay back down on his arrangement of chairs. "Why do you have to have metal limbs?" she asked after a while.
Upside-down, he gave her a stupid look. Maybe because I lost my real ones?" he suggested.
"How?"
Just as he'd begun to feel better again, used to explaining a little bit about himself, Edward felt his frustration flare up again. "None of your business." His repeated response was delivered curtly. He hoped she would leave him alone soon. At this rate, he would probably end up smoking three cigarettes. That would be lovely. He would wake up smelling like nicotine and have to explain it to Alphonse. That would be a peachy beginning to his day, since Al didn't approve of smoking.
But Ed didn't smoke, he told himself as he stubbed out the smoldering ash on the end of the cigarette. He relieved pain.
"Well, that's not fair, Edward. You interrogated me the other day. You know everything about me; why can't I know something about you?" She folded her arms over her chest, looking offended.
He smirked at her, still upside-down. "That's how it works; you hire me to protect you. To protect you, I have to know enough about you and your habits." He reached up onto the bench forthe pack of cigarettes with his right hand and winced a little. "That's how it works," he reiterated.
Winry stood up straight. If looks could kill, Edward had a feeling he wouldn't be among the world of the living anymore. She stuck her chin out stubbornly and returned inside. He took a long drag on his newly lit cigarette and then watched the smoke he expelled swirl above him. Tomorrow, he felt, was going to be a long day.
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The next morning, Edward crawled out of bed and into the shower, mightily dismayed at his current scent. He smelled heavily of nicotine, especially in his hair. After Winry had left, he'd smoked two more cigarettes, including the one he'd lit right before she'd left. Sure, he'd felt better after the second one, but his nerves had still been fuzzing at him rather loudly. So he'd tortured his lungs more before finally retiring inside. Now if he could just get that smell off of him, all would be right with the world.
Well, almost. Winry was likely still rather vexed with him. He didn't mind, though. If she was mad at him, then she would leave him alone. And after their little run in the previous night, he wouldn't mind it at all. But now he could actually walk around in socks! With a little smile, he stole a glance down at his feet, reasoning with himself that it was to get the shampoo from the back of his head and not to have a peek at his metal leg.
Strangely, he was quite proud of them. Just because he hid them didn't mean he was ashamed of them. He hid them because he didn't want to answer questions on "Why?" and "How?" Heck, he didn't even like to answer those questions to himself! So anyone who thought he would answer to them about that day was sorely lacking their wits. And, it was no one else's business. It wasn't even Al's. No, that night was better left buried as deep as it could go in Edward's heart. Never mind that it had caused him to shun much for the past three years; he would be the first to admit that he'd missed out on a lot. But he wouldn't let it all stop him from going on. Ed had hardened his heart against those thoughts and gone on as soon as he had left the hospital one year after.
As Ed tromped down the stairs, he was waving his hand in front of his face as if he were trying to dispel his cloud of thoughts. But they followed him down to the first landing. As his feet touched the cool woodand he looked out over the covered porch, he thought of the previous night. Winry knew. She had asked questions. He hadn't answered her, so she was bound to ask Al. And once she found out that even he didn't know, Winry would be rather upset at Edward for keeping secrets from his family. Then another thought hit him. She'd been there last night. She knew of his pain relief method. Maybe she would assume it was nothing and just forget it.
Or she could ask Al what pain he was relieving. That would lead to more questions and then Al would know.
That would be lovely.
He shook his head and trudged into the kitchen.
And into a whole mess of trouble of his own making. And he knew exactly why Al was giving him a look that spoke of much anger.
Edward had left his ashtray outside, full of ash.