Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Fullmetal Alchemist: Revised Version ❯ The House of the Waiting Family, part 3 ( Chapter 11 )

Disclaimer: FMA? T'ain't mine to begin with. Otherwise, it would have been like THIS.

Additional Disclaimer: Any lyrics I post with my chapters aren't mine. I borrow them strictly for…uh…advertising purposes.

A/N: This is the second to the last time I cut off, I swear. This will conclude Chapter 9. Okay? I'm sorry. It's just that I want this done as soon as possible. But next time IS the last time, I promise. :)

…So I hope you guys are still okay with Al the mechanic. o.o;

Fluffiness! I hope I satisfy enough readers to answer whatever question they might have about Winry's body make-up. Just tell me if I've missed something.

Continuation of Chapter 9

Hey do you remember?

I can smell the same scent

Time goes by, as I did in the season when we first met

The smile you gave me

You're my jewel

Was just like a light

We fooled around and sometimes we even fought

Not even knowing what love was

Yes do you remember? I've finally realized

Jewel in my heart, what it is I feel for you

- BoA, Jewel Song

“Ready?” Pinako braced herself, legs apart and bent over Ed's arm with her tool at hand. “One.”

“Two.” Al followed.

“Three.”

Every automail client feels pain. They become so sensitive during the surgery, their senses are easily induced. So much that even a poke is unbearable after the operation. Most don't even make it past rehab. Their cries of agony never wasted on every grueling moment when their bodies fall under pressure from the automail. It's also easy to say that none of them ever went without an ear-splitting yell during the attachment.

But…

The only sound Ed made, sitting there in his blue boxers, when his nerves joined to the automail was nothing more than a, “GCK!”

And that was it.

All the same, Winry flinched as she watched it. She knew that face. He pulled it when milk was the only drink available.

Ed sighed deeply and sat back on the chair, suppressing a gasp. “I always hate the moment when the nerves get connected…”

“Don't whine.” Al told him firmly, hands on his upper limb. “Try moving your arm.”

He only had to twitch both metal parts to assure them that the attachment succeeded. And the pair set to work, adjusting, connecting, then assembling.

“So,” Al's voice floated over the squeaking and the groaning of metal, “what are you gonna do for Winry's `handicap'?”

Ed opened his eyes and let them fall to the girl on the other side of the room, sitting on the sofa watching him. Beside her, like a true bodyguard, Major Armstrong stood in an eased but ready position.

“I'm gonna need scraps of metal, first off. And some plaster and clay…and I think I need to retouch Winry's paint.”

“And the fiber strings?” Pinako lifted a brow.

“Forget it. As long as we stay away from hot climates, she'll be fine.”

Winry furrowed her brows. “Ed, I don't know about that…”

“Well, I can supply you the plaster and the paint.” Pinako told them. “But the clay…”

Ed waved it off with his left hand. “It's okay. I just need some cornstarch, baking soda, and water. I can get those from the kitchen.”

“Very well.”

Armstrong cupped his chin. “Interesting. I hope you don't mind if I stay and watch, Edward Elric.”

The alchemist looked skeptical, but with a nod of consent sent his way by Winry, he agreed too. “Okay.”

“Edward Elric is a strong soul.” The Major commented. “From what I've heard from Lady Pinako, so many automail users cannot bear that sort of pain.”

Al chuckled from behind Ed. “As tough as boots as he is stubborn.”

Winry silently agreed, smiling with amusement.

The older boy threw them both a dirty look and huffed. Before smirking to himself with pride. “But, I'll probably be able to say goodbye to this pain. Once I get my hands on the Philosopher's Stone, I'll restore our bodies and life will be great.”

“That's a shame.” Pinako responded. “You bring home more money than I can expect.”

“Yeah.” Al pointed out, ratchet in hand. “Don't bother getting your bodies back. Isn't it cool to have automail? How about it? You and me, meeting up every week. And then I throw a couple of tools at you for destroying this ergonomically-designed arm for whatever reason you might have.” he tapped his face with his finger thoughtfully. “You know, we should really get to know each other more. That way we can connect. Like we're brothers.”

Al offered the older boy his friendliest, most selfless, cutest smile. With the flowers, the haze and the filter effect to accentuate that frame. “What do you think, Ed?”

Ed gave him the weirdest stare. “…I'd rather die than have you for a brother.”

(A/N: LOL)

The flowers wilted and the filters died out.

Al puffed his cheeks, pushing his red cap forward to emphasize his angry but adorable scowl. “Oh yeah? Too bad! Lord knows you need a brother, Ed! Without one, you're just this shrimp with a cute girlfriend who isn't even sure if she likes you or not!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…WHAT?”

Ed flailed his left arm, ready to spin Al over his head till he screamed blue murder. And Pinako was left to restrain him by pinning his legs down with a sigh. The other two just…

“…Yes, indeed.” Armstrong chuckled to himself. “Young love it is.”

Winry had the weirdest look on her face. Before she fell off the sofa and landed on the floor face flat, to the Major's shock, and gathering herself up again to sit with his assistance, she just stared at the best friend(ever grumpy and ever milk-hateful) she'd ever had.

Meanwhile, Al grabbed the smallest wrench he had and thumped an infuriated Ed flippantly on the head with it, chortling. “Stop it or you'll strain yourself, I was just joking.”

The alchemist did stop. But he was still shaking with fury. For one thing, the way Al talked to him just now put him way over the edge; he demanded respect as the eldest of the three, and he'd be damned if he didn't get it. And for another, he said two things there that struck more than one nerve.

Another thing?

…He didn't know which of these two things he was mad about more. And it only drove him insane.

But he liked to think it was because he'd just been insulted for his height. Again.

So focus instead on the fact that the stupid, cat-loving automail junkie just threw another one of those dirty insults in your face without warning at all. Just fixate your perspectives on that, and you'll be fine. You'll be fine, Edward Elric, you'll be fine.

Fine…fine…

…G…g…

“GIRLFRIEND?”

Ed blurted it out without warning, and clapping his left hand over his mouth couldn't take it back, he knew that. So he just sat there, like an idiot, earning all the attention again with his “freedom of expression”. He'd be fine honestly; if a certain pair of blue eyes weren't looking his way too. Again. His cheeks took on a nice, faint reddish color.

Thankfully, Pinako cleared her throat to redirect everyone's attention to the automail reassembly as she twisted that last screw in to secure the metal plate.

“There! All set!” she declared, admiring the finished product.

Ed, still struggling not to embarrass himself further in front of everyone(and Winry), pushed himself off his chair with a grunt. It was finally done, thank the Lord.

He tested the flexion and extension of the metal, checking the suppleness of his arm and leg while loosening them up with a couple of stretches.

“How is it?” Pinako asked him.

He pulled on his metal arm using the other, flexing it. “Feels good.”

Ed seemed satisfied.

Al pulled off his gloves and tossed a few tools back into the toolbox, turning his back on Ed. “Just be careful. The metal you're using now's had its chrome ratio raised, absolutely rust-resistant. But—“

“Winry, come on! I'm fixing you in the basement!” Ed called to her from the other side of the room.

She got up with a sigh and followed him, Armstrong at her heels. Pinako tidied up, and left with some of the tools for the tool shed, leaving her grandson alone in the room. Who was, by the way, still giving Ed the breakdown of his new automail's compatibility.

“So.” he rambled on, not noticing at all that Ed had already gone, along with everyone else. “The tensions might be more springy, but don't count on the strength. It's like I said, it's been lowered, so don't be reckless, okay? I know how you get when you box somebody. Just stop swinging it around, and don't try to use it as a shield. Plates'll never recover, and you fending off a mace isn't exactly my happiest thought, especially when you use the automail arm for defense. So the next time you come running back here with Winry, all beaten up and bruised, and with our precious automail gang-raped—“

Den passed him on his way outside, a bone in his mouth.

“I'm gonna take this wrench, fling it out the window once you're in my line of sight, and put you in the hospital!” Al went on, banging the butt of his screwdriver on the worktable in growing annoyance. “And then, I'm marrying Winry instead of you. Don't you ever forget that I still won that day! You hear me, Ed? Do you—“

Al whipped around to face Ed. And met air.

Pause.

“…Where'd everybody go…?”

-sss-

Winry was more than a little nervous, sitting there in that wooden armchair, hair down, her clothes folded and laid aside.

…And wearing nothing but a sheet.

Not that Ed hadn't seen her—or rather, the body—naked before. He made it, after all. But she couldn't help but feel tense all the same. In a few minutes, as soon as Ed came back with the materials, she'd have to…be exposed.

And with the Major hovering behind her, it didn't help her situation. So when she asked him to at least turn around when she was going to undress, he obeyed and turned to face the wall while Winry prepared herself. Now, here she was: naked and ready to be fixed.

“I'm interested in all this.” Armstrong's voice suddenly carried over to break the silence. “Not everyone at Central speculates. But your body is simply lifelike; no one can tell the difference between you and a real human.”

Winry clutched the sheet closer to her. She'd wrapped it around her torso to protect what should never be seen in public. “It's the paint. Ed doesn't use the glossy kind so that my skin won't look shiny. I need to have a recoating every once in a while. Especially when I get rained on. I even worry about the cracking and the peeling. It's happened on more than one occasion now, and Ed has to keep fixing me during that.”

“What about your eyes? What are they made of?”

“Glass.”

“Especially made by Edward Elric, I assume.”

Winry nodded once. “Un. The pupils are actually thin pieces of film beneath each of the eyes that I can manipulate manually as if they were my own. Sorry. I don't really know how Ed made them. He's never encouraged me to ask what he's doing. You can ask him, though.”

Armstrong tilted his head to the side. “That young man certainly had you well thought out.”

She smiled. “He wanted to put me in a body where I wouldn't stand out in a moving crowd. Even if it does have its limits.” she lifted her hands to eye-level, fingers clenching and unclenching. “This isn't the most convenient body, but it is pretty convincing.”

“Edward Elric takes special care of you, Miss Winry.”

She turned her head to look at him, embarrassed. And she dropped her gaze just as quickly as she'd cast it.

“Not…really.” she stuttered. “Ed's my best friend. He's just worried. Worried that I might get exposed.”

“Which is why he takes great care.” the Major responded conclusively, nodding his noble head.

Winry fell silent.

Then, they heard the familiar pit-patting of a definite pair of mismatched feet down the stairs, as Ed appeared with a cardboard box cradled in both hands, a large-sized mixing bowl balanced on top of it.

“Hey.” he greeted. “Sorry I took so long. I got into a little accident with the baking soda upstairs in the kitchen. Granny Pinako was not happy.”

“What did you do?” Winry asked, cracking a smile.

Ed rolled his eyes to the side. “Ahh…just did something with the water. Spilled it all over the floor. Then I slipped. Made it worse.”

Winry suddenly giggled at a fond memory. “I remember I made an even bigger mess in our kitchen, trying to bake a cake. I got scolded by Aunt Trisha for that.”

Ed's face lit up, something really rare at a time like this. “Yeah! You were making it for my seventh birthday, right?”

He set the box and the bowl on the floor at Winry's feet/foot.

She nodded, laughing. “Un! Your favorite, chocolate cake using your mother's recipe!”

He sighed, hands on his hips in peaceable reminiscence. “Yeah…Mom made great cake.”

Winry nodded. “The best cake-maker in the world. And I wanted to be her apprentice.”

“Heh! Too bad you ruined your chances by messing around in her kitchen!”

“I wasn't that clumsy!” she defended, pouting.

“Your butterfingers sprayed flour all over the walls!” he pointed out, smirking.

Winry let her face drop and looked away guiltily.

“…Not that much.” she admitted.

Ed, deciding she'd had enough, settled for saying, “Doesn't matter. The kitchen was in hell, but the cake tasted like heaven.”

Winry brightened at those words. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Don't forget that it was Mom who helped you make it afterwards.”

“But I was definitely in that cake's taste, right?” she raised her brows, smiling proudly.

“Yeah. You were in the cake, and had it all over you.”

The pair laughed simultaneously, enjoying the moment. And they would've gone on if it hadn't been for the Major's touched and sniffling comment of, “Children in love are fated star-crossed lovers indeed…”

Ed and Winry shut up almost immediately, and she turned away with an uncomfortable look on her face while he shot their bodyguard a fierce look of warning while the man wiped his eyes with his handkerchief in an over-melodramatic way.

“Anyway,” Ed coughed into his metal fist, “I've gathered some of the leftovers from Granny and Al's work. We can't let these go to waste.”

He emptied the cardboard contents onto the floor. Pieces of metal, no doubt scrapped by the two mechanics upstairs, fell clattering onto the surface. Ed gathered them into a single pile, surveyed it, and turned to Winry.

“Okay. Winry, lift up the sheet.” he told her.

If she could, she'd blush. But she wanted this to be over and done with too. So telling herself that this was no way for her to lose her virtue as a chaste virgin, she did as Ed told her and raised the sheet far enough for him to see her right thigh. He leaned over and examined it with intelligent, gold eyes. His nose just inches away from her leg.

Winry was suddenly so caught in his scrutiny that she almost forgot what it felt like they were doing…

But some moments later, he pulled away and nodded as if to affirm something with himself. “Alright.”

“What happens first?” the Major decided to ask.

The alchemist rubbed his hands together briskly in preparation. “Well, I need to make the base first before I do the molding.” he reached up to stretch his arms over his head. “Winry has an inner skeletal structure that makes up the scheme of her frame. I can't just put her together with plaster and clay because there's nothing to hold it all together, and she'll just fall into pieces if she even tried to move. So I need to reassemble her leg's metal composition first before moving to the molding.”

The Major could only utter a small but impressed, “Hmm.”

Ed clapped his hands together, and the energy surged through his arms like lightning. It cast a faint, bluish glow in the dimly lit basement.

Ed was fully focused on alchemy, and he never let his mind wander off on trivial things. But when he glanced Winry's way, Ed couldn't help but notice, briefly, how stunning her pretty, delicate face looked in the light. And for a moment, he forgot what he was doing, before delivering a mental slap to himself and continued with the energy buildup, crimson-faced.

Little did he know what sort of thought process akin to his was going through her teenage girl-mind too…

Ready for alchemizing, Ed placed his hands over the metal pieces, giving rise to their appearance, their solid forms dissolving like molten iron, and merging together to become one shape. Keeping one hand over the metal, Ed maneuvered his other hand to hold it over Winry's leg. And concentrating deeply, shifted the metal from the floor towards her. She and the Major watched, entranced, as the metal synchronized with the metal end poking out of her thigh, and gave way to form a long, extending limb made of patented steel. The formation ran from thigh to toe until the transmutation was complete. And Ed pulled his hands up with a sigh. But he was satisfied with his work, checking the joints and bending them to test their flexibility before grinning proudly at Winry.

“There. That part's over.”

“Intriguing.” Armstrong crouched beside Winry's small form, eyeing the slim, fragile-looking build of her metal framework. It resembled the standard construction most tailors used for metal mannequins, with the exception of the joints. Even the toes actually flexed.

“Thanks.” Ed replied. He leaned over the bowl, which consisted of the white dry powder. “The plaster comes next. I'll be right back.”

He went back upstairs to fetch a water pitcher from the kitchen and sat down on the floor again, his hands protected by a pair of old worn rubber gloves he surely borrowed from Pinako. Carefully, he poured the contents of the pitcher into the bowl. Steaming hot water flowed to mix with the bowlful of plaster. Ed dipped a mixing wooden spoon into the mixture and stirred to even it out.

The next half hour was spent with less talk among the three, Ed focused on the plaster mold. He used his gloved hands and worked his way along the lower thigh down to the shin section, clearly avoiding the joints as he applied the plaster in liquid form. The plaster was the second base meant for the clay that was to come soon after. He applied the plaster thickly to form the lower thigh and the calf, weaving his way carefully around the toes and the ankle to prevent any accidents, spreading the plaster evenly along the leg without wasting any and patting it down for smoothness.

Some thirty minutes later, Winry's half-finished leg was encased in dried, white, solid plaster. It had taken that long because Ed had decided to use his bare hands rather than just alchemize.

For some reason, she found it sweet. Ed was the last person she'd call “patient” when it came to manual labor. But he handled the casting very well for someone with a short-complex mantra.

“Did you take this much time creating her body?” Armstrong queried.

Ed looked up sharply at the question, before answering bluntly, “No. I used alchemy. I would have taken forever if I made Winry's body manually.”

This brought up an interesting thought for her, and she asked, “So…why didn't you use alchemy this time?”

The alchemist averted his eyes to the side, looking guilty. It only spurred Winry's curiosity.

“Ed?”

He was starting to look uncomfortable now, and to their surprise, he blushed. “Er…”

He wasn't telling her something. She could feel it. Winry leaned towards him, trying to peer into his face. “Ed, what is it?”

He stayed quiet; unusual. And her forehead creased, his behavior worrying her. “Ed?”

The Major watched along with Winry as the Fullmetal Alchemist hung his head for a few, then looked up slightly. But he never met her gaze.

Instead, he stared at the bit of cleavage she was showing from above the sheet.

That looked dangerously close to slipping off her naked form if she didn't grab the ends soon.

Fortunately, Winry noticed his gaze and found where it lingered, looking down at herself. Blue eyes wide, she shrieked and pulled back clutching at the sheet in her crossed arms, absolutely mortified.

“Ed!” she scolded, trying to sound as angry as possible without losing so much of her face.

He looked up, crimson-faced, before hanging his head again in humiliation. “S-sorry. It was because I…” and he just trailed off. He didn't dare think to finish his sentence with, “…noticed it.”

The room slipped into an uncomfortable silence. And Winry refused to lower her hands from her chest as she stared at her best friend sitting on the floor with his gloved hands coated in white plaster.

Armstrong cleared his throat loudly, as if it cleared the thick atmosphere. “Perhaps we should continue.”

Ed thought so too, standing up abruptly and rushing back upstairs with the empty bowl and pitcher for the clay.

Clay application wasn't as hard as the casting. Ed only had to fill in for the joints, where the gaps and the notches stayed. All he had to do was cake the plaster over with the colorless clay.

“First things first.” he mumbled, producing a small vial full of thin, green stalks. “This is for the fibers.”

Winry finally had the guts to say something, and stated(without a stutter), “But you said never mind it.”

“I was…a little absent-minded.” Ed shrugged his shoulders. “I should've known better. The fiber's exactly what's helping you walk and talk.”

The Major actually looked disapproving. “Do not be negligent, Edward Elric. Miss Winry is your ward, is she not?”

Ed looked at him like he was crazy. “Ward? What the—Major, what's your deal? Winry's not my ward! She's far from somebody who needs care all the time! She can take care of herself, you know. I mean, as long as she doesn't…fall apart or something.”

But Winry could see what Alex Armstrong was getting at. He was right. Ed took care of her, more so now than before; he worried constantly over the state of her body, shielded her with his coat out in the rain, and never stopped buying those tubes of paint at every town they dropped by for retouches. It was like getting babysat all the time by a—

Nonono! Don't! He's not a shrimp, Winry. Not so much anymore, at least. Lay off, lay off.

She had to admit though. Other than Ed being an older brother figure and a playmate since the times in the sandbox, they might have had established another kind of relationship after the transmutation and during their journey towards recovery. Simply put, she and Ed had a parent-child thing going on. And it went on more than she thought.

Winry could picture it now: Papa Edward and baby Winry. And Daddy fixing his daughter's booboo.

(A/N: And this is the part where I disturb the chapter to say: AHMAGADZ!)

The teenage girl thought her head was going to blow, watching that scene in her inner-mind theatre. Ed a dad? Her dad?

Two words: Alternate…world.

“Where did you find fibers?” Armstrong's voice cut off her train of thought, and she found Ed on the floor again, the vial's contents swirling inside the bowl of clay as he stirred with the spoon.

“To put it, plant fibers are strong and supple.” Ed explained. “The best kind of plant fiber is cellulose. There are other types of this fiber, and right now, I'm using bast. It's the sturdiest I know, and it's found in the stems.”

Then the Major figured out the purpose of the green stalks. “You're mixing the fiber with the clay.”

“That's right. The fiber strings don't run parallel to the clay. It's more of an invisible net. No matter what limb Winry bends, the strings assimilate with the clay and prevent any breaking. This is how she's moving so easily without being so stiff.”

Ed tapped the spoon on the edge of the bowl to finish. “Alright. This won't take long.”

He clapped his hands together, initiating the alchemic reaction again. His hands went to the clay, as it leapt and shifted shape along with the fibers. Carefully, he transferred it towards Winry, and the clay molded itself over the plaster, filling in the gaps. The plant stems fell apart, giving way to the fibers as the transmutation congregated them into long, thin and fragile strings that ran throughout Winry's leg within the clay according to Ed's set-up.

Within seconds, the transmutation was done. And his task over Winry's leg reconstruction was complete.

Then a can of paint suddenly popped into his head, and he sighed. Well, almost complete.

“Incredible!” The Major praised, patting Winry's new leg with a large hand. “Exactly like the real thing! Edward Elric, you are a genius!”

Winry smiled happily herself to see the leg looking as good as new. “Ed, the seal.”

He waved a hand. “Yeah yeah, I know. I also have to paint your leg afterwards. But if you really want to do it now…”

She nodded, and he gave in.

“Okay.”

Armstrong looked between the pair in mild puzzlement. “I beg your pardon?”

“There's a trick to fixing Winry. She has a new leg, true. But it's not going to move with her, not yet.”

“Why?”

Ed stood up, and helped Winry to her feet by slinging her arm over his shoulders while her other hand held the sheet close to her chest. Her left leg kept her moving, but the new unpainted one remained immobile. “Because there's a medium between Winry's soul and this body. When her right leg was destroyed, her soul parted from it because it was no longer a use to the body, and it was rejected. So making her a new limb was only the first step to fixing her. The second step is to affix.”

The Major seemed confused now, but he was following. “I see.”

“Hold on Major, and I'll show you.”

Ed helped Winry move to an old wooden table standing in the corner. He asked her to sit with her back turned to them, and she obeyed.

“Okay. Winry, can you lower the sheet so I can see your back?”

She gave him an uneasy glance over her shoulder, before slowly lowering the sheet to reveal something to the two men. There on the small of her back, was a small red seal. Supposedly made by Ed.

Armstrong leaned in for a good look. “This is where the bond is?”

“That's right.” Ed told him. “I have to attach that leg fully to Winry's body so that the soul appends to the new attachment and moves it.”

“I see.” then the man noticed something. “It seems like it's written in blood.”

Ed nodded. “It is. It's written in my blood.”

The Major suddenly didn't look very well, but the pair didn't even notice as they laughed at their “close call”.

Ed clapped his hands and placed them on Winry's back. The transmutation lasted briefly for it died down.

“Winry, can you move your leg?”

She decided on her toes first. She wiggled her big toe; it moved along with all her other toes. Altogether, she extended her leg, stretching it as high as possible from her seat on the table.

“Ed, you did it!” she turned to him, beaming. “It's as good as new!”

He smirked. “Great.”

Armstrong smiled widely himself. “Brilliant!”

Winry moved off the table, testing out her new leg by bending her knees and rolling her ankle.

“Whoa, whoa. Not so fast!” Ed told her. “I still need to paint that, so go sit back down.”

She sighed, not to be put down by the fact she had to wait a little longer before she finally had freedom. Obeying Ed, she walked back easily towards the armchair and sat back down. He approached and bent to her level over her face. And once again, she was caught in her chum's brilliant eyes…

“…Looks like your face needs a retouching too.”

She blinked, pulled momentarily from her bout of wonderment. “Eh?”

Then their bodyguard stepped forward, his noble head down. “Edward Elric, do you need assistance? My family has been passing down the art of painting for years.”

Ed shook his head in an assuring way. “Nah, that's ok Major. I can handle it from here.

“Oh, but…” Winry suddenly spoke up, “do you…mind if you give us some privacy, Major?”

Ed's gaze fell on her, puzzled.

What Winry intended was for her and Ed to be alone. Without Armstrong looking in on her while she was getting a retouch. After all, it probably wouldn't be just her face and the leg that'd need it…

But the man, apparently, had the wrong idea, and his eyes simply twinkled with unsuppressed glee.

“There will come those times…” he began solemnly, quoting from his favorite poem. “…when a young man and a lady, in the season of spring, come to meet beneath the apple tree. And the young man, bold gentleman that he is, passes a hand to the lady, drops a kiss to her wrist.”

Winry's cerulean eyes grew to the size of saucers. “N…N…!”

Ed blushed at those starting words, and yelped, “WHAT? CUT IT OUT, DAMMIT!”

Armstrong didn't stop, to their embarrassment and utter horror. “The young lady, ever chaste, colors and retreats, leaving the youth befuddled, thinking what a waste.”

“HEY!”

“Yet sometime in the early eve, when the sun dips for sleep, the young man finds her, patient and earnest. Her hands on his face, her eyes melting with his…”

Winry stuttered, “M-M-M-M-Major…please stop…”

The Major pressed his hands over his heart dramatically, tears in his eyes. “…And he…”

A white blouse was torn off, and a pose.

“BEHELD HIS HEALTHY BODY FOR THE GLORY OF MANHOOD!”

And the pair died as the pink sparkles engulfed the little basement beneath the Rockbells' house.

End not of Chapter 9

A/N: e,e …R and R, please? Gimme 5 at least for this, or I'm never going to finish this chapter.