Maintenance
By Suzi aka KatsyKat
Chapter 9 - The End of Innocence
ahem Angst – you know the category? - well it's not just for show kiddies. Brace yourself.
Back to my favorite – Ed's POV
Remember - since it's been so long) that he's running to Winry's cell after learning the truth from Mustang.
She can't...
My thought process had deteriorated as I skidded in front of the first checkpoint of the prison wing. The rubber soles of my black boots squealed in protest at the sudden stop on highly polished linoleum. Two cadets snapped to attention at my approach.
A flash of my infamous watch got me access to the deeper halls, no problem.
My boots resumed their mad dash through the double doors and across checkered floors to my destination of Winry's cell.
As I approached death row the growing feeling of despair rose sharply in my stomach. Weighed down by the all too familiar feeling of guilt... The pressure was incredible... I felt like I was going to explode – and a hundred pounds would spray out in its haste to get away from my churning guts.
Heart racing, I eyed the several officers, growing as I neared. They were conversing solemnly at the final checkpoint, but all stopped talking to look at me as I dashed to their desk.
I threw my watch on the counter hard enough to see the dent in the hard wood countertop.
"I need access... to question Winry... Rockbell in regards to a matter... of great importance... to the state." I demanded, trying to sound as official as I could between the pants of air my oxygen-starved lungs demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir." The only woman among them spoke in a stern voice, her hair was in a light brown bob cut which bounced slightly as she saluted me at attention. Her rank identified her as a warrant officer. The other's, Sergeant's or lower, followed suit as she continued to address me. "There are no visitations permitted at this time... for any reason."
Her voice was soft, but firm, reminding me slightly of Hawkeye's no-nonsense tone. Her determined green eyes were absolute, even as she showed me the respect befitting my higher rank. I knew immediately that I would not be smart-talking my way past her.
I returned the salute officially, pondering if for only a second how seldom I took the ritual seriously. I only did so now hoping to earn some brownie points. I used the time between snapping my arm up and releasing the gesture to sum up the four soldiers. I saw similar expressions of resolve on each of their faces. They were not going to be swayed by my small authority.
Damn loyal dogs.
"Where is your commanding officer?" I demanded of the soldiers in a stern controlled voice I used to sound older than my 16 years. They looked uneasily between themselves before one reluctantly responded.
"Our commanding office is tending an urgent matter."
"This IS an urgent matter! I'm talking about life and death!" I cried, unable to resist stomping one foot and throwing my hands, now fisted with one tightly gripping my watch, down to my sides.
I didn't want to be so observant to their reactions to my words.
I didn't want to see the young red-headed officer lose all color in his face at my words.
I didn't want to watch the lips thin on the tallest man, as he exchanged a heavy look with his partner.
I didn't want to notice the pained expression that flitted across the woman's face.
I didn't want to understand that like good soldiers they all schooled their expressions into a calm neutral facade within seconds, because they knew I had bore witness to their momentary lapse.
I didn't want to know what caused it.
But whether I wanted to or not... I put the pieces together a little too neatly.
Something had happened, and it was bad.
Barely containing the panicked expression that fought to overtake my scowl, I sprinted to the left – dodging my way around the two guards in front of the desk.
I had to see Winry – she HAD to be alright!
Hearing the surprised shouts of the guards behind me, I grinned despite myself. They were much too slow. It wasn't the first time I'd managed to get the upper hand on a chase because of my speed.
Clapping my hands and throwing them to the ground I raised a solid concrete wall behind me. I could hear the frantic calls for backup as they were effectively stopped, but I was beyond caring.
Let them come... they can arrest me, just as soon as I see Winry's face and talk to her for two minutes... that's it. It's all I need...
A desperate fantasy of whisking Winry away – however illogical and unpractical – filled my already racing mind, before being discarded as utterly ridiculous. With Mustang awake they would surely revoke her sentence.
My racing footsteps echoed loudly in the concrete enclosed hallway, and the irony of the fact that just yesterday I was running AWAY from this cell with almost as much desperation as I had now, struck me.
I turned the corner, barely slowing – and almost plowed directly into Lieutenant Hawkeye. Both her and my reflexes were the only things that kept our heads from colliding painfully.
As it was I spun into the opposite wall, my automail arm rammed the concrete with a ringing thud.
Hawkeye placed a hand on the opposite wall to steady herself and looked at me with sad sienna eyes.
I raised my face to hers, stopped momentarily in my mindless run to Winry's cell.
The lieutenant opened her mouth to speak and I was overcome with dread about what she was going to say.
I did the only thing I knew how – I interrupted her.
"Look – I know I'm in trouble." I rambled. "And I promise I'll go peacefully – I don't want any trouble. I just... you need to know... about Winry..." my breath hitched as I saw her eye brows furrow. I hurried on before she could say anything.
"Mustang told me... Winry..."
Riza's eyes widened further... "Roy told you? Roy Mustang? He's awake?" I hated the hope in her voice, as if forgetting my own excitement regarding his consciousness, only minutes ago.
I detested the rising excitement that seeped out, despite her normally cool and level tone. It wasn't fair for her to have hope about her friend and me not get the same... Still, I knew there was no getting past the topic now. If I wanted information on Winry... Perhaps I could use this to my advantage.
"He is!" I cried, "He really is. You know I wouldn't make that up! He woke up a few minutes ago... and there's been a huge misunderstanding! I NEED to see Winry right now!"
The devastation that broke across her face sealed it for me... I pushed past her – ignoring her cry... I think she called my name, but I was halfway down the hall.
I skidded to a stop, my mind in a numbing blur... the cell was empty.
Funny that as bare as the cell seemed before, without the sole occupant it was a hundred fold more deserted feeling.
I piled hundreds of reasons as to why she could be gone... shower – physical examination – cell inspection –a last minute court appointment... each excuse was crazier than the last...
Until finally I felt a hand come down on my shoulder.
"I'm so sorry." Lieutenant Hawkeye's voice was more somber than I'd ever heard it. "By the time the guards found her, there was nothing we could do."
The guilt crashed upon me before I knew it was coming. It was my fault – I knew it was. It had happened shortly after I spoke with her. She'd been in here for weeks before that. And then I came along...
Without even knowing how, I'd made everything worse for her... again.
Running our talk through my head, I could see so many clues. So many hints I'd ignored. She'd been pleading with me – in the only way she knew how to ask for help... indirectly. And I was a failure of a friend for not noticing – for not putting it together sooner, just... just a little earlier.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that there was a far away buzzing sound... I tried to silence my train of thoughts and I realized the sound was actually Hawkeye was talking to me. I tried to listen through a growing feeling of detachedness... her words about a rope torn from the sheets... a metal piece in a hair band... picking the lock on the glass the camera was in... setting the camera to loop footage... none of it felt real. And, at the same time, it was too real. Only Winry was capable of executing that elaborate a plan.
I don't remember falling, but the next thing I knew I was on the floor staring at the cell in front of me. There was a sharp pain in my right knee as if I'd bashed it against the concrete floor.
I do remember pressing my face into the bars as if squeezing it painfully between them could stop the hot tears from streaming unchecked down my face. I made no noise... the sobs caught painfully in my chest as if caught behind the lump in my throat.
I don't know how long I sat there, or how many people came to talk to me. I do know that when they tried to forcibly pick me up and make me leave my uncomfortable position, I swung wildly at the unfortunate individual with my automail arm.
The painful cry as it collided with something solid barely registered through my daze.
I maintained my position, as if by staying frozen I could keep the burning pain around my heart and stomach from spreading and eating me alive.
I know that they called Al – and he came to me with his voice so broken,
"Brother!... Winry..." he cried as he approached. I pushed away his embrace.
Seeing him made me angry. Not at him, but at myself. He didn't even get a chance to see Winry... to help her. I had ruined it. I had...
I began yelling at him. Not so much at him, but at myself, at the world.
The words tumbled from my mouth, completely uncontrolled. I have no idea what I was saying. I felt my mouth moving, I saw the reactions of those around me, I felt my vocal cords straining... but I can not remember a single word that passed from my lips.
Seeing expressions that ranged from sympathetic to hurt to horrified brought me somewhat back to reality. Enough to notice that quite some time must have gone by because the number of people present had doubled. Better than 20 people eagerly crowded the hallway outside of the cell. Some I recognized and others I didn't. I strained to listen through a ringing louder than my own thoughts at what I was saying, and was unsucussful.
My tunnel vision opened enough to recognize a doctor in a white coat had joined the ranks. I noticed a hushed conversation with Hawkeye and saw her shout my way.
Before I could put together what she was saying, I felt the cold unyielding arms of Al wrap around my arms and chest.
It was easy to forget how much stronger than me Al had become with the binding of his soul to the armor. Partly, I'm sure, because even when we sparred he held back so as not to hurt me. And it probably helped that we rarely fought for real and when we did, we chose to express our anger through words and alchemy rather than fists.
Still, it was a very real reminder to be crushed in the metal embrace of my younger brother. He had lurched at me suddenly – deliberately – and caught me off guard. He towered over me, effortlessly keeping even my automail my limbs immobile while the white-coated doctor closed in with a stern, if not solemn, face and a needle in one hand.
I felt cheated. Sure Al often held me back from my various fits of temper. But never did he conspire against me to hold me down. He had never aided someone else in actually restraining me. We were a team - unbroken by the world around us... until now.
The betrayal ran deep, burning my veins, giving me one last surge of strength against his grasp. How dare Al be so calm in the face of that happened?!? Wasn't he as outraged as me? I felt it a disservice to Winry's memory that he wasn't in hysterics. With a strength borne of my righteousness, my arms raised a little and I nearly slipped free.
I felt the small satisfaction of watching the fleeting look of fear that crossed the doctors startled face; as I lunged in his direction until Al redoubled his grip and I was forced, once again, into a growling submission.
I wasn't even screaming anymore. My rage went beyond words. I scarcely had time to curse my weakness, in the familiar outlet of blaming my size. I barely felt prick of the needle. I hadn't even verbally bashed Al for his treachery when I blacked out.
My last coherent thought, before darkness claimed me, was that no one here had any idea how I felt. I'd lost the woman I loved before I'd ever even told her. And it was all my fault.
It was a mentality I would cling to for the rest of my life.
To this day, decades later, I have never loved another woman the way I loved Winry. She lingers as a constant reminder than machines aren't the only thing in life that need maintenance.
People need it much more.
And when they don't get it... they break; sometimes in ways that can't be fixed.
I understand, through more therapy than I'm willing to admit to, that some people will break regardless. No amount of love can fix a person... but it helps.
I know from personal experience that if Al hadn't been with me, I never would have recovered from Winry's death. His never changing devotion to my mental state was like salve to a wound… or maybe oil to an engine.
I will probably always feel that if I'd realized this simple fact sooner, the world wouldn't have lost one of the best people that was cursed to be born within it.
But if I've learned anything from this cruel world, it's that we can't do anything for the dead... except keep them in our hearts and learn to move forward on two legs... be they our own, or someone else's.
the end
I meant the end sentence to be a double meaning on the fact that Winry's auotmail leg is the one he walks on literally, and Al leant him the emotional support to get through her death. I hope that wasn't too confusing.
I KNOW the end's a bit, abrupt, in comparison to the rest of the story. Honestly, this is how it was supposed to end from day one, and although the plot grew and grew and grew out of control – the ending just didn't. I simply couldn't do anything to it without changing what it WAS.
I'm sorry it's such a sad note, but the Winry in my story was just too far gone to turn back. Thank you THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review. You comments kept me going through this MUCH longer than anticipated story. As any author knows the greatest gift they can get is people who leave productive comments about their stories – be they good or bad.
Thank you, also, for reading this far. That – with the length this story demanded to be – is a feat in and of itself. :D Now, I'm off to something a little more light-hearted. Ja!