Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Of Ballet and Bullets ❯ Dirty Pretty Things ( Chapter 14 )

Of Ballet and Bullets

 

Part 14 - Dirty Pretty Things

 

A Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction, By Serenanna

 

Warnings and Disclaimers: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them to play with. I'll return them later, promise. There is violence, adult content, and sexual situations in this story. So, if you're under 18, leave now before your virgin eyes are scarred forever, if you're over 18, enjoy!

 

Story Notes: I'm begging you, dear readers, for the enjoying of everyone else reading this fic eventually, don't spoil it by giving away the plot twists about to drop from here on out to the end of the climax (heh). Given the build up to this point, it would be a disservice to your fellow readers.

 

Time frame for this fic doesn't matter as my knowledge of FMA is a bit scattered but obviously before the ending and Maes's death, and set during the anime series. Also, this is an Ed/Winry and Roy/Riza fic (Two for the price of one!). Being this is fanfiction, liberties were taken with the actions of the characters and certain parts of the fic are not canonal, I just don't know which ones. Read the above disclaimers again if you're still squeamish about reading this, blood splatter included, but I assure you, it'll be worth it in the end probably. Again, no pieces of automail, skirts, guns, tuxedoes, or ballet dancers were harmed in the production of this piece of . . . well . . .

 

**********

 

Another bump jostled the trunk, but it didn't seem to affect the two blond women sitting catty-cornered from each other on plank benches. Ed's unconscious form had long since slumped over till his head rested on Riza's shoulder, his mouth hanging open. Her brown eyes looked up to see Roy across from her, leaning on the truck's door, and her eyebrows knitted together in worry. At least he hadn't fallen all over the mechanic sitting next to him while being knocked out cold. The Lieutenant looked over at the girl, her wrists bound and resting in her lap with her blue eyes glued to the shackles. She looked defeated, but then again, all of them had been defeated. It made her bristle in anger. How had everything gone so wrong? They were usually smarter than this. “Where do you think they're taking us?” Winry asked, her voice almost non-existent.

 

“I don't know . . . it sounded like they only wanted Roy and me . . .”

 

“What will happen to Ed and me?”

 

“They'll probably put you in holding somewhere. Maybe they'll ransom you back to the military or turn you loose later . . .” Riza's voice trailed back as her eyes lingered over Mustang till she sighed, “How could I be so stupid?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This whole thing is my fault. I was sure that it was Edward they were after. When the clues started dropping into my lap, I couldn't put them together fast enough, I . . . I didn't even try to make Roy believe me . . . I am so sorry, Winry . . .”

 

“Don't apologize to me. I don't need it from you,” the girl's hands clenched as she glared over at Ed, “It's him that owes me the most. Why did he lie to me? Did he not trust me enough to not go hysterical? I'm not the type of girl to go silly with fear that easily, I . . . the only thing I really fear is losing him.”

 

“We thought it was for the best,” muttered a hoarse voice beside her. Roy's eyes squinted shut at the pain still throbbing through his head. Did they really have to hit him that hard? His hand jerked upwards to try and rub the sore spot till he felt the ropes constrict around his wrists, “Shit . . . My hands are cold.”

 

He frowned at Riza, taking in her furrowed brow when his eyes finally focused, “They took my gloves.”

 

“They took my guns.”

 

Mustang's mouth dropped open, remembering where some of those guns were hidden, “All of them?!”

 

“Roy . . .” the blonde's voice strained, barely holding back her annoyance with him, “This isn't the time for that . . .”

 

Winry ignored the adults while their conversation passed her by. If she had to rely on those two for rescue, maybe things were a lot worse than she assumed. Oh right, like Ed could do any better in the rescuer department since he was all tied up too, hands behind his back like the Colonel and the Lieutenant. Besides, she was still too angry with the young alchemist to even think of letting him save her. Roy's admission didn't help her thoughts towards him any. “So, it wasn't just Ed then that thought I couldn't handle the truth?” Winry asked suddenly, breaking into their talk.

 

“It wasn't like that-,” the dark-haired man next to her started to say, but his denials were cut off by an irritated groan of pain across from the girl, “Oh shut, Colonel Bastard. You're too loud.”

 

The mechanic's face darkened as she watched Edward bury his face in Riza's arm, almost snuggling the Lieutenant, “Someone make the shouting go away.”

 

“No one's shouting, FullMetal,” the blonde said as she tried to gently push him upwards. The trunk bounced over some divot in the road, and he popped back up into sitting properly, wincing horribly at the jostling, “Ow, ow, ow.”

 

“Great, maybe they cracked his head finally,” Roy muttered, ignoring the dark looks from both women as he continued, “Now that the Major's awake we can work on a way out of this.”

 

Still frowning, Winry settled on glancing at the floor instead of being angry. His change in topic seemed to have the opposite effect on Riza as she glared at her superior. Everything that had happened at the ballet could have been handled differently if he'd just listened to her. They might not at even been there if he had trusted her gut reaction for once. And yet, Roy still acted like he was in control of the situation when he was most definitely not anymore. Something seemed to snap in her eyes when he finally looked at her, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice, “I don't think forming a plan is going to solve anything since all of us are tied up. It was your plan that got us into this mess in the first place.”

 

A stunned looked closed his dark eyes, his mouth almost dropping open till Edward interrupted, “Yeah, and it was your idea to bring Winry into this too. I lied to her for you, asshole.”

 

“Shut up, Ed,” the girl in question said softly, “It doesn't matter to me anymore who did what.”

 

“But it does matter! This isn't my fault even if I'm sorry! He made me bring you here! He made me lie to you! The bastard even ordered me into it!” he yelled before turning on Roy, almost flying off the narrow bench he was cuffed to, “This is all your fault! I told you I didn't want her here!”

 

Riza's brown eyes close painfully at the appalled shock on Winry's face that slowly turned into hurt. She was certain that Ed didn't mean it like that at all, but the damage was done. The Lieutenant opened her mouth to voice her part in the disaster when the girl shouted in the boy's face, “Don't talk about me like I'm not here because I am here, whether you wanted me or not!”

 

The color drained from the young alchemist's face, “Winry . . .”

 

“Don't Winry me, Ed! He may have ordered you to lie to me, but you went with it and lied to me so easily!” the automail mechanic screeched, her bound hands visibly shaking, “What else has your lying mouth sprouted off to me about that you didn't mean?! Was everything else you told me a lie too?! If you didn't want me here, you certainly could have done something like you always do! You always do get your way, you spoiled brat! . . . Especially from me . . .”

 

The flinch that flashed across Ed's face looked like a harder and deeper hit than if she had slapped him. Riza's heart sank for the two of them and from her own guilt. This was more her fault than anyone else's. If she hadn't thought Winry's presence would cheer him up without Al around, if she had know how deeply Ed cared for the girl, if she hadn't mentioned her name to the Colonel, if she hadn't been so distracted to be blind to the clues before her, none of this might have happened. She had all the best intentions in the world for the two teenagers, and yet it only seemed to make things turn out in the opposite direction. So much for good intentions . . . “It isn't like that . . .” Edward tried to say before his voice choked up completely, “I-.”

 

“Stop it, both of you. We can all scream at each other later when we're not cuffed,” Roy said, “Besides . . . Ed's right. This is my mess and no one else's.”

 

“Oh, now he shoulders responsibility,” Ed growled, covering up the grateful look with disdain, “Took you long enough.”

 

“Shut up, Ed,” Riza said lowly as he sighed in resignation, slumped against the truck's cold metal wall. She looked up at Mustang as everyone went silent, studying the expression on his face. If she was wallowing in guilt, he was drowning in it. While part of her felt vindicated at not being alone in misery, that same part also felt more miserable for her own responsibility. “I should have told you sooner about my suspicions, Roy,” she said suddenly, “I shouldn't have suggested Miss Rockbell as Ed's date. I didn't know. My mistake, I'm sorry.”

 

“It doesn't matter, Miss Riza,” Winry breathed out, her head lowered and eyes closed, “I'm sure you all did what you thought was best . . .”

 

“Winry-,” Ed started again, looking anxious as his feet shuffled on the floor, “Please, just look at me?”

 

“Not now.”

 

“But-.”

 

“Give it a rest, FullMetal. She isn't going to listen, and the more you try, the more she won't care what you say,” Roy grumbled, “Actions speak louder than words anyway. Right now it's up to you to get us out of here before the truck stops and we arrive at certain doom.”

 

“It's you they want, sir, and me. They were talking about it before putting us in here,” Riza said, nodding towards the door before pausing, “You're being very mature about this situation.”

 

A smirk crossed his face, “Which situation, taking the blame or being captured?”

 

“The former, sir. I still blame you for not listening to me earlier about Margie.”

 

“Margie? Who's Margie?” Winry asked, blinking.

 

“Oh, not this again . . .” Roy groaned. His eyes rolled and Riza's anger snapped. All this and he was still in denial?! She bucked at the handcuffs that pinned her wrists to her back despite the cold and pain, “Yes, this again. You should have listened to me and called this fiasco off when we had the chance.”

 

“She's one of Colonel Bastard's ex-girlfriends,” Ed snickered, “He does know how to pick them.”

 

The mechanic's blue eyes rolled upwards, “Wonderful. Anything else you'd like to confess before we die?”

 

“I love you,” Ed said in reflex honesty before quickly catching himself and sputtering as his face went red, “In that dress, that is.”

 

“We're not going to die, at least not that easily. And you two are being locked into your rooms when we get home! You're both too young to be talking like that!” Roy yelled at the teenagers before turning back to Riza, ignoring the smug look on her face, “And if I had called off the operation, then what? What other shot would we get? You seem to know it all now so you tell me.”

 

“Yes, getting captured has cracked this case wide open now.”

 

Sarcasm dripped off of her tone, making his brow furrow in annoyance, “Insubordination, Lieutenant.”

 

“Can it, Roy,” Riza muttered, “I'm cold, worried, and defenseless right now, but I'm not above being very, very annoyed with you.”

 

“That makes the two of us, Darling.”

 

“Don't call me that. It only makes me more annoyed with you . . . Sir.”

 

Roy bristled at the name, sorely tempted to start another verbal spar when the truck came to a halt. Somewhere in the petty fighting, blaming, and talk of escape, the reality hadn't set in that they were indeed taken hostage. That reality suddenly seemed as close at hand as the squealing protest of brakes. A knot of nervousness dropped in Mustang's stomach yet he didn't let it show to the others. There was no use in panicking over what their fate might be if they didn't mount an escape soon. If Riza was right, if it was only the two of them that their capturers wanted, then there was still hope. Right? They were being kept alive for some reason.

 

The door to the back of the truck swung up. With it came a blast of cold wind and the clicking of guns at the ready. Panic tightened in his throat at the sight of at least a dozen men assembled, the other dozen milling nearby no doubt. They were all masked in black hoods, but Roy could still see the sneer of their uncovered mouths and the glances towards Winry and his Lieutenant in particular. He never should have let her wear such a revealing gown. Her legs were about as uncovered as they could get, stockings, garter holsters all exposed for roving eyes. Mustang's dark eyes hardened, jealousy and protectiveness taking over his mind. He knew exactly what their assailants must have been thinking. He'd thought the same thing over and over again that whole night watching her in that dress, but that was his privilege damnit!

 

One of the men that leered openly at Riza slung his shotgun over a shoulder and produced a cloth bag from his back pocket before crawling into the back of the truck. If by accident or intention, the back of the man's hand grazed the blonde's calf as he reached for her, making her flinch away from him. The Colonel's fury exploded in a low growl, “You are going to die, in a fire.”

 

From the raucous laughter, his threat had all the strength of a wet noodle. The man across from him snickered, stroking Riza's leg deliberately this time, “You're not so tough without those special gloves of yours. I think I'm beginning to like this pretty too. Maybe she'll learn to like me too once I get to know her better. What are you gonna do about it?”

 

Roy's eyes darted up to see the peeved expression clear on the Lieutenant's face, and he smirked, “I'm not the one you should be worrying about . . .”

 

Riza abruptly yanked her leg away and the man's hand slipped to the truck floor. Her shoe slammed down onto the back of his palm, making him scream in pain. Lunging to grab her, Riza jabbed her shoulder into his face with a resounding crack. Then, her foot twisted, crushing bone with a sickening crunch. The man reeled backwards, blood spraying from his nose and over his mouth as he shouted, “Bitch!”

 

He backhanded the blonde across the face with his uninjured hand in a slap that sent her sprawling against the back of the truck. Roy sprung us with a yell only to be yanked backwards by the cuffs tethering him to the bench. To add injury to insult, someone else slammed the barrel of a shotgun into the side of his face in the chaos. Pain bloomed throughout his head, turning his vision black. He nearly passed out again, Winry's scream into his ear as he almost fell on top of her waking him back up. “Stop fucking around and get them moving! Now!” someone shouted nearby, but Roy couldn't place the voice, “And shut her up!”

 

“Winry!” Ed yelled before Roy was sure he heard the sound of metal hitting skin. Then, he heard nothing. Winry's scream choked in a sob and came out as a whimper, “Ed? Edward? Please say something, Ed?!”

 

His eyes slowly creaked open to see two of the men grabbing Riza by the arms, concern written all over her face before her head was covered by a bag and she was yanked from her seat. Fullmetal slumped over but he could barely see why as Winry rushed forward, frantically trying to push the boy back up. Seconds later, a bag went over Roy's head before he was yanked up to his feet. Disoriented and blind, he stumbled and fell, landing on snow-covered ground. Great, now he was not only cold but wet too. “This night just gets better doesn't it?” Mustang groused before someone pulled him back up.

 

Roy stood there, expecting to be shoved when he felt a gun barrel prod his back, “Move.”

 

It was such a simple request, yet it was also one he dreaded doing. They could be walking into anywhere, hell itself for all he knew, and that fear stopped his feet to where he stood. The gun jabbed him more insistently, and Mustang took an unsteady step forward. Move he would, whether he wanted to or not. Ignoring all the aches, pain, and cold stiffness in his bones, he walked.

 

**********

 

“Only those three? You sure, Ross? . . . I know you don't know for sure, but there isn't time to dig deeper. They're being moved as we speak,” Maes said into the phone, rubbing his forehead, “Your best guesses, huh? Ok, fine. Bosch is on the switchboard there? Fuery's stationed here, stay in contact. I'll call in once I have something, have backup standing by . . . I know it's close to midwinter, and I know we're stretched already with this fiasco! Just do it, Ross! . . . I know. I'm worried too, but I know we'll find them. I'm almost sure of it.”

 

No, that was a lie to Second Lieutenant Maria Ross. Hughes wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Roy was really in trouble this time, dragging Riza, Edward, and Miss Rockbell into danger along with him. But, he wasn't about to let the others know how worried he really was. After a brief good-bye, the Lieutenant Colonel handed the telephone back to Kain before exchanging salutes and walking across the Conservatory lobby towards the doors. Breda stood in the doorway, coat in one hand with maps and a small radio in the other. “Havoc has the car around back. You don't want to head this way,” the red-haired man said as he handed over the coat, “Falman's too busy talking with the military cops. If they see you, their questions might get more pointed.”

 

Taking the hint, he turned on heel and headed deeper into the theater, “Why do I have a feeling we're all going to get court-martialed or put in the brig even if we do save the Colonel and the Major? I'll never see my little baby again.”

 

Heymans opened his mouth to answer that question until Maes cut him off by shoving a small notepad in his hands, “Three addresses, for now at least. Do you remember which way Jean said the truck went?”

 

“East . . .” he trailed off while looking down at the writing, “Two of these addresses are in that direction, but I don't think we'll be able to follow the tire tracks to know.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It's snowing again, sir. They'll be covered up in an hour for sure at the rate it's falling.”

 

“Wonderful, even Mother Nature hates the Colonel . . .” Hughes grumbled, “We don't have enough people to split up, and one radio alone was hard enough to get a hold of. We'll just have to try.”

 

“They could be at any of the three locations. Their attackers could turn down any street from here to Edgewater Road, maybe. They could even dump the truck and cars, and move them on foot, and we wouldn't know . . . It's what I would do.”

 

“Thank you, Breda,” he mumbled as they reached one of the doorways to the cold outside, stopping to slip his coat on, “I don't suppose there's good news in anything else you have to say?”

 

“Kain mentioned that he contacted Alphonse Elric and told him of the situation. The kid's already on his way over to Headquarters.”

 

“And that's good news?”

 

Heymans shrugged, pushing the door open, “It's more help in finding them, and right now we can use all the help we can get right? Besides, if he's alive, that means his brother is alive too, so . . .”

 

The Lieutenant Colonel followed him outside and down the steps before walking across the street towards the waiting car with Jean in the driver's seat and Major Armstrong in the back. Breda had a point no matter how much Maes wanted to deny it. He didn't know much about alchemy, but he understood the brothers' story of the blood seal that bought the younger Elric to his armored body. If anything fatal happened to the elder, Alphonse would be the first to know, one way or another. He frowned, shoving the thought as far out of his head as he could.

 

Help was an important commodity to them at that moment too, and so was time.

 

His hand fumbled around in one of his pant's pockets till he grasped a metal watch. Hughes pulled it out, flipping back the plain silver lid to look at the clock. Barely half an hour had passed since they knew the Colonel and company had been taken. Anything could have happened in that amount of time. He closed the pocket watch and put it away. No sense in wasting any more time.

 

**********

 

Everything felt numb from his head down to his toes and everywhere in between, and cold. He felt cold. Even his metal foot wanted to shiver from the cold. The only part of his that felt any warmth was the side of his face. Something very warm and very soft was pillowed under his cheek, that much Edward was sure of. It felt good enough that he wanted to go back to sleeping, sure that when he did wake up the pleasant feeling would disappear. The blond boy laid there as still as stone, stuck persistently between sleep and a fitful wakefulness. Maybe if he stayed asleep the nightmare of an evening he had dreamed would pass too, and he would wake up beside Winry again. It was a nice way to start his day anyway, feeling her fingers pulling at his unruly hair and on his skin, trying to get him to open his eyes.

 

For a moment, Edward was sure he was dreaming awake when he felt a pair of nails dig slightly into his scalp, a thumb brushing his hair. He woke up with at start, and the hand stopped. The only thing he could see was violet, vivid violet with spots of lavender and black. It was Wriny's gown. “Ed?” he heard her voice from over his shoulder.

 

The young alchemist's mind finally kicked into gear when he tried to roll over, the back of his skull hitting something soft yet unyielding. He was lying down somewhere with his head in Winry's lap. “This isn't so bad . . .” he mused out loud.

 

When he tried to move his arms, he realized that they were still cuffed behind his back, “But I could be wrong . . .”

 

He heard the girl sigh, sounding both relieved and vexed at the same time as her hand touched the side of his face, “You idiot.”

 

As soon as her fingers brushed his skin, Ed winced, hissing in pain, “Ouch. Don't do that. Please?”

 

Her hand jerked away, “Sorry, just you have this ugly bruise from where they hit you.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You don't remember?” Winry asked as she bent over him, her blue eyes worried. Ed squinted his eyes shut and turned away, burying his face in her lap. Those idiots in black struck him again when then threatened the girl. He must have blacked out again. Some hero he was. “I remember. I just don't want to remember,” the alchemist muttered into her skirts, voice muffled, “I just wanna go back to sleep . . .”

 

The mechanic girl sighed again, this time more aggravated as she shoved his noggin off her lap, “Big baby.”

 

More forceful in her pushing than she thought, Ed's body followed the rolling of his head to crash onto the concrete floor. He yelped in pain, landing on his side and turning over again till he was staring straight up, “Owwwww.”

 

With a rustle of silk satin, Winry stood over him, a much more pleasant sight that the murky grey ceiling, “Sorry . . .”

 

If he wasn't tired, if he wasn't drained, chained, and thoroughly depressed at the entire situation, he might have been tempted to not forgive her. But looking up into those big, sky blue eyes of hers, which were so full of concern over him, any will to fight the normally tempestuous teenager had left evaporated. “It's ok . . .” he started to say sullenly before forcing a lop-sided grin on his face, “I'm fine.”

 

And yet, he winced at the stab of pain through his skull, a killer headache coming on, “At least, I think I'm fine.”

 

Winry knelt down and grabbed Ed by the shoulders, helping him sit up with a strong tug. Disoriented, he nearly fell backwards again from the splitting in his head till she caught him against her. After a moment of blinking, he finally cracked his amber eyes open to look around. The first thing he noticed was the metal bars across from where they sat on the floor and a corridor beyond it, followed by the steel and wood plank benches hanging on chains along the walls. It was a cell. “They brought us here not too long ago, maybe ten minutes. I had a bag over my head so I couldn't see where they took the Colonel and the Lieutenant, but I know they separated us as soon as we came inside,” Winry explained as she backed off now that he was sitting on his own, moving to retake her perch on the bench behind him, “They shoved me in here and almost threw you in here on top of me . . . I haven't seen anyone since.”

 

Ed exhaled, partially in relief, “Did any of them touch you?”

 

“No, just bolted the bars and left,” she said before her mouth quirked into a smirk, sniffing in distaste, “Apparently they don't think I'm that dangerous.”

 

The young alchemist chuckled, almost sounding bitter, “They're underestimating your capacity for dealing out punishment.”

 

Her pointed shoe kicked Ed swiftly in the back, making him jump to attention, “Cut it out will you?! I'm in enough pain with this headache! I don't need you adding to it!”

 

“A headache?! Is that all I am to you?!” the mechanic yelled, kicking him again but more forcefully, “I am not done being mad at you for ruining my first date ever! Or for lying to me! Don't you dare think I've forgotten about that!”

 

He turned, kneeling on the cold floor to stare at her, “I said I was sorry!”

 

“That isn't good enough!”

 

“Then what is?! This isn't my fault! It's all Colonel Bastard's fault!”

 

“But he wasn't the one sleeping in my bed telling me everything would be ok! And now that everything is not ok, you still can't honestly say you're sorry! Why can't you take some of the blame yourself?!” she shouted in Ed's face, her foot already poised for another kick that would have struck him in the stomach if he hadn't moved out of her range. Winry's frustration only grew, and for a moment, the young alchemist was sure that she would launch herself off the bench and deck him, putting him out of his misery, but she didn't. Instead, the girl screamed, stamping a foot on the ground before she flung herself back against the wall. Ed stared at her in disbelief, sure that at any moment her anger would reignite, but it didn't. She just sagged and folded her arms over her chest, unmoving and pointedly ignoring his existence.

 

Edward slumped, and finally took a good look at her. The roses he'd made for her were utterly destroyed, a few petals caught in the tangles of her hair, which had fallen lop-sided to hang around her right ear. Her makeup was ruined, smudged and wiped away till the only part left was the dark lines under her eyes. The priceless collar that she had worn earlier was gone, probably stolen, along with the bracelet she wore. Her gloves were tattered around the wrist from where she had been cuffed. The gown that he had paid for was shredded all over the skirt along with the crinoline and organza petticoats underneath, ruined. And yet, Winry was still pretty, beautiful, despite the imperfections and the scowl across her face. Slowly, the petulance in her features dissolved into misery, tears spilling down her cheeks. She curled up on the bench, hugging her knees and burying her face in the fine fabric to muffle the sound.

 

Watching her cry only made him feel more like a failure.

 

He slowly sunk back down to sit on his heels. His heart felt like it had fallen out of his chest and been stomped on, each sniffle bring another small stab of pain far worse than his headache. Ed twisted on the ground, unable to face the girl or her tears anymore. He couldn't even face the thoughts worming their way through the throbbing in his head. No matter his good intentions, or how smart he thought he was, he still couldn't figure out what to say to please her. Maybe it was sheer arrogance that thought he could ever make Winry happy. He couldn't fix anything after all, not his body, not even his brother. What ever made him thing that he could fix his life well enough to be with the girl?

 

He couldn't even keep his word to Pinako not to make her cry again. Leaning back on the bench, the alchemist hung his head, “I told you I didn't deserve you . . .”

 

Winry sniffled, loudly, and then snorted, bitterly, not bothering to raise her face to look at him. She must have been listening as he heard her crying stop but no reply came from her lips. Ed took the chance while he still had it, “I don't deserve you at all, or your forgiveness. You don't even have to like me anymore if we get out of here, but . . . I just wanted you to know it was worth it to see you in that dress.”

 

The cuff on the back of his head was swift and more playful than painful even if he cringed all the same. She giggled at his yelp, her voice still muffled, “Pervert. That wasn't an apology.”

 

Still wincing, Ed grinned slightly and turned to look up at her, “I know it isn't, but it's the best I got. I'd tell you anything you wanted to hear if I thought it would make things better.”

 

Her blue eyes peeked at him from over her knees, fallen as she muttered, “So you would lie to me again.”

 

“That isn't what I meant. What I mean is . . . Damnit, what do I mean?!” he cursed, kicking at the floor suddenly, “Why do you have to be so hard to talk to?”

 

Winry started to glare at him, but stopped as he thumped his head on the bench, “That isn't what I meant either. What I mean is why can't I tell you what I mean without getting all confused at what I do mean . . . or hurting you, unintentionally?”

 

The mechanic's eyes widened, listening intently despite the growl and aggravated grunts that came from the blond boy's mouth. “I . . . I never mean to hurt you,” Ed said suddenly, looking up at her then away again with a frown on his face, “And I don't want you to get hurt over me either. But I must be a fool for thinking I can, or just stupid. I never claimed I was a genius anyway, just a genius when it came to alchemy, which is really useless to either of us right now with my arms cuffed. I guess I am a bit of a smartass though.”

 

She laughed, wishing the sound would have just died in her throat instead so that her voice didn't choke up, “That's the brightest thing you've said all night.”

 

Ed laughed too, though more bitterly. It would figure that the one thing she found funny would be him insulting himself. But, his pride didn't care, if it still existed. That part of him had gotten left behind somewhere in the course of the evening, and for once, he felt better off without it. The only things he had left was guilt, and Winry, even if he was certain the latter was slowly slipping away from him. Would she ever forgive him for lying to her and bring her into this mess? He seriously doubted it. He doubted he would even be able to forgive himself, eventually. If only she knew how much he blamed himself for already, maybe she would have understood. And yet, he wasn't about to tell her that either. Ed's frown deepened as his head tilted to the side, pressed against satin and her ankles. “I don't want to lose you . . .” he said softly.

 

But, part of his heart feared that he already had.

 

“You're an idiot,” Winry whispered under her breath, harshly, and he snorted in derisive laughter. Yet, the humor stopped when her hand lay across the top of his head. Slowly, her fingers dug between the golden, messy strands. If he didn't feel so desperate for any form of comfort from her, he might have sworn that he was being petted. Closing his eyes, Ed buried his face against her feet, “I'm sorry. I really am sorry, I-.”

 

“I know you are. It's ok,” she cut him off, uncurling from the bench. Edward looked up, and she smiled down at him before bending over. Her lips touched the bruise on his face, making him flinch, but the jolt that went through him wasn't from the pain. It couldn't be that easy for her to forgive him . . . could it? When Winry pulled away, her face fell again, no longer comforting as she crossed her arms while leaning back against the wall, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and find a way to get us out of here.”

 

A grin tugged up one side of his face, “It would be a lot easier if I could use my hands.”

 

She giggled, “Pinning your hands does make you pretty useless, in a lot of ways too . . .”

 

“This isn't a time to be funny, Winry!” Ed yelled, rattling the shackles at his back in emphasis before groaning, “I can't even twist my wrists to touch the metal. Clapping is definitely out . . . How did you get out of your cuffs, anyway?”

 

“Oh, I just picked the lock.”

 

“You just . . . What?!” he shouted, nearly hopping off the ground, “Why didn't you tell me earlier!? Why didn't take them off earlier?!”

 

The blonde clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. She was failing miserably as the scowl on Ed's face deepened. “This isn't funny, Winry,” he scolded her, bristling in anger, “That bastard Mustang and the Lieutenant could be in trouble somewhere while you're still punishing me for a little lying.”

 

Her laughter stopped abruptly, “And this isn't the time for you to be starting that argument again when you need my help, alchemy geek.”

 

Damn, she did have a point. He slumped down again, “Sorry . . .”

 

Winry sighed, patting part of the bench beside her, “Get up here so I can see those cuffs.”

 

Grumbling, the alchemist struggled to get up to his feet, nearly toppling over before he collapsed down next to the girl with a groan. His head still hurt as he winced, fighting down the groan of pain. Watching Ed trying to hide how much his injuries had affected him finally struck the mechanic girl with how serious their situation was. He had a point too, even if he had said it with all the tact of bull in a glass shop. Anything could be happening to the Colonel and Miss Hawkeye, and she had been more concerned over Ed's lies to her. If anything happened to them . . . Berating herself internally, Winry pulled two hairpins lose from her fallen locks, straightening the bends from one of them.

 

When she tugged on his wrists, he didn't complain, leaning against the wall for support. “I'm sorry . . .” the girl said under her breath, inserting the pins into one side of the cuffs, “We'll have plenty of time to yell at each other when we're out of here . . .”

 

“I don't want to fight anymore with you though,” Ed admitted as he heard the metal scraping on metal, fidgeting slightly, “You have every reason to be pissed at me. Hell, I'm pissed at me too.”

 

She giggled in spite of his words, moving the hairpins around, “Later, and stop squirming.”

 

“I can't exactly help that. This isn't entirely comfortable for me,” he groused, fidgeting just to annoy her, “Hurry up will you?”

 

Winry prodded him in the back with one of the pins as he yelped, “I can't go any faster if you keep doing that. This is a very delicate procedure to not only match the seven pins in the lock but to keep them open while turning it. One screw up and I have to start again. Tricky little sucker too. My cuffs were cheaper, only five pins so it was rather easy to finesse, and-.”

 

“You're rambling, mechanical freak,” Ed grinned at her from over his shoulder, turned slightly and holding as still as he could, “Do you have it yet.”

 

“Almost, don't move . . .” her voice trailed off, holding her tongue out the side of her mouth in concentration. If she could just turn the pins and the lock now it would open. But if he moved again, she was sure she'd lose it for the third time now. Winry held her breath, turning the hairpins gently. The lock clicked and the cuffs sprung open with a scrape of metal. Much too pleased with herself, the girl gave a cheer of victory while striking at heroic pose on the bench, “Told you.”

 

Rubbing his sore, but now freed, wrist, Ed turned and was about to congratulate her when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, “Shit . . .”

 

Quickly, he shoved his hands behind his back to hide them. Winry slid the pins back into her hair and grabbed a pair of cuffs left abandoned on the floor. She quickly placed the metal over her wrists, but didn't close them all the way. “I can't believe you know how to pick locks . . .” he muttered under his breath, watching the bars, “And you never told me you could. Anything else you want to tell me now?”

 

“I've known how to pick locks since I was eight. It's why Granny never bothered to lock me in my room when I was bad . . .” Winry admitted with a slight grin on her face.

 

He groaned, rolling his eyes upwards, “I only find out about your criminal tendencies now that we're in trouble, perfect.”

 

Her elbow hit hard in the side, but he only grunted off the pain while grumbling to himself. And yet, no matter how much Winry wanted to be truly angry at him for the comment, she bit down on the inside of her mouth to keep from bursting out in silly laughter instead. If only he knew what else she had done, like purposefully forgot a screw in his knee after the last checkup so he would come home sooner. Of course she planned to put it back when she got her hands on her proper tools, but that wasn't happening any time soon. Come to think of it, he probably didn't even know it was missing. “Um . . . Ed?” Winry asked hesitantly, “Don't try anything too fancy like sliding sideways on that knee of yours. It might stick.”

 

His amber and gold eyes nearly popped out of his as he looked at her, “What!? It was fine this afternoon?!”

 

“Well, you asked if there was anything else I wanted to tell you. I thought you should know,” the mechanic huffed, pointedly looking away from him, “Don't blame me if you're reckless with the automail I make for you.”

 

“I'm sorry I asked . . .”

 

Her mouth opened to explain further then the footsteps from the hall got closer. A group of three men emerged from across the bars, rifles over their shoulders and dressed in black. The masks they had worn earlier were gone. The one of them in the lead jingled a set of keys distractingly as he reached the bars, “Isn't that cute, two lovebird behind bars.”

 

The second man snickered, crossing his arms, “I'll take the girl. You both grab the kid since he's awake now. Don't want him getting too far while we have a little fun with her.”

 

She shifted closer to Ed and stiffened, wishing she could disappear behind him. He growled, glaring the one who had threatened Winry until the third man knock his companion hard across the back, “Keep it in your pants, man. We're just gonna move the sweethearts somewhere else. The lady wanted to see them too when she's finished with that other pair.”

 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, “We're not getting paid enough to play babysitter after what went down tonight.”

 

“Tell me about it, but I'm not about to piss of the broad footing our bills.”

 

“Would you both shut up?”

 

The conversation stopped as the wheels in the alchemist's head turned fast. They were being moved again. If the guards found out that their cuffs were off, things would go very bad very quickly for them. Yet, this could be their chance to escape. But how? Suddenly, his amber eyes shot open, lit with an idea. “When I move, go for the door,” he whispered under his breath, glancing over at Winry.

 

Did she have much of a choice, really? She looked at him skeptically a moment, then nodded.

 

The man slid the key into the lock, opening it with a rusty clink. As soon as the hinge of the cell door squeaked open, the young alchemist sprung up from the bench and brought his hands together in a clap. Blue-white light flooded the cell as he dropped down to touch the floor. The ground shook as the three men fumbled for their rifles, but it was too late. Multiple rock tendrils shot up from beneath his feet, shooting through the bars towards two of the soldiers. Just when it seemed that the rock would impale them, it split into arms, not only pinning them both to the wall but covering their mouths as well.

 

The guard who had opened the cell looked on in horror. Just as he opened his mouth to shout a warning, Winry charged the open door. The bars rammed against him hard with an audible crack as he went sprawling to the ground. The gun fell from his hands as he clutching his face, groaning in pain. Standing over him, the girl quickly moved the weapon out of the way, kicking him in the back for good measure as she panted while glaring at the men, “Serves you three right! Didn't your mothers teach you to respect women!?”

 

The two pinned to the wall murmured under their rock bindings, kicking helplessly at the air.

 

A sadistic grin spread across Ed's face as he looked at his handiwork then over at Winry's. Moving quickly, he grabbed the man by the ankles and dragged him into the cell. Seeing what he was doing, the mechanic girl ducked to help, lifting him up by the shoulders. Once they had the fallen guard in the middle of the cell, the alchemist took the pair of fallen cuffs and slapped them over the man's wrists till they locked. He then alchemized the second pair of restraints off his wrists and into a gag using part of the rock floor as well. Finished, he collapsed back on the floor, taking a long breath, “That should hold them a while.”

 

After all the alchemy he had used that night, he felt drained. The livid bruise on his face didn't help him in feeling any better either. If only he could have just stayed there and rested. All he needed was a few minutes. And yet, Winry stood over him, looking down with concern. Damn those blue eyes of hers for reminding him that they weren't safe yet. Groaning, Ed pushed up from the floor and back to his feet, “We need to get moving.”

 

“But we don't even know where we're going. How are we going to find Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye? And we're bound to run into more guards . . .” Winry shivered slightly, rubbing her arms, “You should have told me. Then at least I would have worn a more sensible gown to be kidnapped in.”

 

Edward couldn't help but grin, “But I like that one on you.”

 

She blushed, looking both embarrassed and furious at the same time despite her chattering teeth, “This isn't the time for you to be cute, Ed. I'm cold, miserable, and absolutely-.”

 

“Hold on a moment,” he said as he slipped his tuxedo jacket off, tossing it over her shoulders. Winry's growing tirade stopped short, leaving her blinking at him in surprise as she clutched the jacket closed over her chest. His hands rubbed the wool over her arms, trying to warm her up even if his automail hand only made her feel colder. At least, he was telling himself it was to get warm again. For some reason his hands slowed down the more she stared at him. And somewhere along those lines, he had also taken a step too many into her personal space, barely a foot away from being pressed against her. Yet, if Winry minded, her blinking blue eyes didn't tell him so.

 

Self consciousness set in though as Ed backed away, “Um, there. That should be better for you. Um, don't move.”

 

As he turned away, Winry shook herself out of the small trance and slid her arms into his jacket. Given everything that happened that evening, maybe she had over-reacted just a little. Ed probably did mean well. And he really did mess up saying what he meant at times. If he ever managed to say something meaningful to her without mangling it in some way, she might have died of shock. What mattered most was that he cared for her, a lot. Wasn't that enough?

 

Another clap sounded and more blue-white light flooded the cell. Edward touched the metal bars, which seemed to dissolve in his hand then reform into a club with a U-shaped head. A pale eyebrow arched at him in curiosity, “Is that supposed to look like a wrench.”

 

The alchemist laughed nervously, forcing a grin as he held the metal weapon out towards her, “Well, it's not your favorite one, I know, but it should be just as heavy. I'm not chancing something happening while we find a way out of here by leaving you defenseless.”

 

A radiant smile beamed across Winry's face as she took the improvised wrench from Ed. Her heart felt like it would burst in pride. He was arming her the only way he knew how. He trusted her to take care of herself, that she was strong enough to do so, right? Well, at least that she was hoping he was thinking by giving her the weapon. Actions spoke louder than words after all. Experimenting with the weight, the mechanic girl twirled the wrench in her hands and swung it through the air, hitting one of the rock forms he had made earlier with a loud thud. He winced at the noise, but continued to grin to himself until she turned towards him, “It's perfect!”

 

Ed's mouth opened to comment when Winry launched herself at him, kissing him forcefully her arms wrapped over his neck. He staggered back a half step, nearly falling over. Ok, so usually he was much more nimble on his feet. Yet, concentrating on anything was hard with so much of the girl and her new blunt instrument in his arms, including his balance. Her lips didn't help, but that was the one part he absolutely couldn't complain about. Just when he thought he'd never get to kiss her again, here she was, pressed against him. The wrench dropped from her hands and slid down his back to fall on the floor with a loud clang, but Ed hardly noticed. His lips were still pursed when Winry pulled again, giggling softly, “I forgive you.”

 

Both of his eyebrows shot up, “Really?”

 

The mechanic answered him with another kiss, quick and hard, before patting his automail shoulder and pushing away. Ed stood there stunned into silence as she grabbed the fallen wrench from the floor and hefted it across her shoulder. Helplessly his eyes followed her as she started out of the cell and into the hallway, unable to prompt himself to do much else. She actually forgave him for lying to her, knowingly putting her in danger, nearly getting her killed, and ruining their first date . . . because he gave her a crummy wrench.

 

Ed tugged off the black bowtie still around his neck, and at the collar of his shirt to relieve some of the heat he still felt from the kiss. He made a mental note. Next time he had to say he was sorry to Winry, he would skip the flowers and chocolate and going right to the nearest tool shop.

 

Wait, where had she gone to?

 

“Hey! Wait up!” he yelled after her, moving quickly down the hallway after her, “You don't know where you're going!”

 

**********

 

The snow was getting deep as the car nearly skidded again on the unplowed streets. Maes gripped the car seat tightly, trying not to look too scared at the man in the driver's seat. “Havoc . . .” he said through his chattering teeth, “There's a fine line between the need for speed and killing all of us for the sake of speed. I want to see my baby again, please?”

 

“It isn't my fault! These roads are starting to turn icy . . .” Jean muttered, turning the car down another empty street, “This is the second location right?”

 

“Yes, the last one is clear across town,” Breda piped up from the back seat beside Major Armstrong, “So, if this isn't the one . . .”

 

“The Colonel will be fine,” Alexander said cheerfully in spite of the dour looks on the rest of the officers in the vehicle. Even Hughes was beginning to doubt that everything would be ok. He reached for his pocket watch again, flipping it open to look at the time when he pulled it free from his back pocket. Fifteen minutes had passed since the last time he looked at it, and that was at the first location, ten minutes away from the ballet. Maes frowned, closing the watch again, “When we find him that is . . .”

 

He twisted in the seat to put the watch away, looking out the window before freezing. Maybe it was luck looking out for them, or the Colonel specifically, but if he hadn't looked then, they might never have seen it. A large white truck was parked down one of the side alleys, almost entirely out of sight from the street. It was so well hidden they almost missed it.

 

“Stop the car!” Hughes shouted, almost flying out of his seat, “White truck! Stop! Pull over! Now!”

 

Havoc jammed the brakes, and the back wheels skidded sideways on the snow, spinning almost out control. He turned the wheel sharply, and the slide stopped with a loud squeal of metal they spun about completely. The car rocked back and forth before coming to a halt facing the alley. None of the men made a noise, staring in disbelief at Jean as he grinned manically, “Always wanted to do that trick . . .”

 

“Next time, do it without us in the car,” Heymans said shakily. Maes was about to agree with the Second Lieutenant's opinion when he remembered why they stopped in the first place. He yanked open his side door, and ran out into the snow. “Lieutenant Colonel!” Armstrong shouted, getting out after him.

 

He knew he probably should have waited for the others, but he had to know if it was the one or not. It was snowing more than he thought, and the wind had picked up, blow in his face. Hughes trudged through the drifts, raising his arm up to shield his eyes from the gusts. He slowed down, stopping completely to bend over and catch his breath when he reached the back of the truck. Panting, Maes looked up at the open doors. It was empty, “Damn . . .”

 

At the pounding of feet on snow, he looked over his shoulder, more pointedly at Breda than the others, “What did you say earlier to me? About them possibly being moved?”

 

“It's what I would do . . .” Heymans' voice trailed off as he took in the truck, “The location Ross gave us isn't far from here. They could have been moved to there.”

 

“We don't know that with this damned snow. The tracks have to be covered by now,” Havoc turned around, shouldering the rifle he'd pulled from the car, “We should get back in the car, and-.”

 

“Hughes! Havoc! Breda!” Armstrong shouted from the side of the truck. They rushed at the yell, coming to a halt behind the large alchemist's imposing figure as he stood in the snow. For a moment, they looked on confused till Alex pointed one finger down at his feet. There against the pure white was a bright crimson spot. “Blood split in freshly fallen snow,” the Strongarm Alchemist mused out loud, a poetic tone to his voice.

 

“It's not even as big as a coin,” Jean scowled, “I don't think anyone had died yet just from that.”

 

Breda pushed past them, pointing off to a few more feet ahead of them to a line of read that wove around a line of three more parked cars, and further down the alleyway, “It's a trail.”

 

Hughes's mouth dropped open as he turned away, heading back towards their car, “The radio . . . I'm calling for back up. Search the cars for anything else we could use then follow the trail. If it enters a building, you wait.”

 

“But Lieutenant Colonel, what if-?” Havoc started to protest till Armstrong cut him off with a strong cuff to the shoulder, “We wait for back up, Second Lieutenant. You heard the order.”

 

Grumbling, he turned and started after the trail, “Understood, sir . . .”

 

Hughes frowned. He knew what he was doing, didn't he? The four of them alone wouldn't be enough to get rid of two dozen men with guns. He wasn't cut out for combat anyway, which was why he jumped on the position in Investigations, low mortality rate. But on the other hand, his best friend, his best friend's lover, and one of the two brothers he'd been watching over were now all captured. He was doing the right thing by thinking of everyone's safety, right? Mustang would kill them if anyone one of them died trying to rescue him, well, figuratively. Reaching the car, he grabbed the radio from where it rested between the front seats. He was doing the right thing, right?

 

“Fuery, come in.”

 

“Sir? Sir! I'm here! Did you find them?! Over.”

 

“Copy, I think we have. We're at the second location, an abandoned complex about five minutes from the train yard. Do you have the address? Over.”

 

“Sir! I have it! I can have two units there in twenty minutes! The snow's slowing everything down! Over!”

 

“Dispatch back up here then . . . We found blood . . .”

 

“Sir?”

 

Maes glanced back at the trunk. Twenty more minutes? Could they wait that long? “We're going in without them. They can catch up. Over and out.”

 

He dropped the radio onto the seat and climb back out, ignoring the squawking noise, “Sir!? Sir! Maes! Pick up! Sir! . . . SIR!”

 

**********

 

To Be Continued in Of Ballet and Bullets, Part 15, Pulp Fiction.