HAGANE NO RENKINJUTSUSHI
HAGANE NO RENKINJUTSUSHI
full metal alchemist
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Expect The Unexpected, New EdWin AU fanfic
Art Alchemist
post Oct 10 2005, 11:29 PM
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Oi! It has been a while since I posted on this site, mainly because my other story was kinda long on post form. Yeah, it's been redone FF.net. But, I have come up with a story to add to the EdWin world of fluffiness (ee! yay) as I am an EdWin fan and think they are so cute together. This is an AU fic, meaning it has hardly anything to do with the actual anime. I will tell you right now, I have 10 chapters written on my computer, posted on www.fanfiction.net, and I have introduced three, almost four of the Humunculi, the essentials of Edward, Winry, and Alphonse, the military foldk, and Izumi. So, yes, that's all I know about so far. Guest stars to come.

Anyway, this is a variant off the 1992 movie "The Bodyguard," starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston. I have never seen this movie. I have heard about it, though, and know how it ends. And it is a variant. Not exactly like it. Winry is a famous singer, Edward is a police officer assigned to protect her. That's about it. So, my final words are, I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, I never will, and I hope you enjoy this story! If I forget to update and leave you all hanging, visit it at FF.net under my penname LadyRiona.


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Chapter 1

"Hey, get up," an angry voice ordered with the accompanying noise of a thick folder slapping the desk. The person the order had been meant for snapped his head up, blond hair flying backwards behind his head. He looked at his boss and scowled offendingly. "You have a new assignment."

With that, the dark headed man left to go to his office twenty paces away. Why the man even bothered to get up was beyond the young, blond haired man. Just before his boss disappeared into the office, he held his left hand up, imitated a gun and pretended to shoot at the testy man of higher rank. Scattered laughter hung in the air as the young man lifted his feet off his desk and dropped them to the floor. With a frustrated sigh, he stood up and pushed his long bangs behind his ear before shoving his hands in his pockets. The day was only halfway through, and he had a feeling it would become much longer.

As he strutted down the long aisle of desks to the office door that read "Captain Roy Mustang," on the glass, the young man highly contemplated going back to his own desk and sleeping for a little while longer. But the better part of valor told him that he and his younger brother needed whatever money this assignment could bring in. So he kept on reluctantly and opened the door without bothering to knock.

Mustang was sitting at his desk, filling out some form or other. "Sit down," he said absently.

So he did and then felt the wave of sleepiness come back. The younger man stifled a yawn as he waited not-so-patiently for his assignment briefing. It was about five more minutes and five yawns later that he was finally spoken to again. That could have been five more minutes catching up on lost sleep at his desk.

The captain leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. "Winry Rockbell," he said wistfully. "Have you ever heard her music before?"

The young man lifted an eyebrow. "My brother listens to her music while he works; says her voice is soothing," he answered hesitantly. In truth, he actually owned one of her earlier CDs, but would never let anyone know, not even his brother Alphonse. "Why?"

"If you've been reading the paper, you'll know that there's been threat notes sent to her lately from some anonymous person," Mustang said. "She's come to our police station and requested a bodyguard of the best sorts."

"I'm just part of the Criminal Intelligence Division, sir," he argued.

"And with that training, you can take care of Ms. Rockbell and find the person who is after her life," the captain said with such a calm voice that it unnerved the younger man. "Here is the case file with copies of the letters sent to her." He pushed the folder towards the end of the desk nonchalantly. "Go research it," he ordered dismissively, returning to his other paperwork.

The light haired man gritted his teeth as he snatched up the folder. In his head, he was growling very many not-so-nice phrases about his captain. He didn't dare to ever say them aloud, lest he lose the job he had been working at since he'd been able to work.

"Oh, and Elric?"

Edward Elric bit his cheek and took a deep breath. Very slowly, he turned around. "Yes?" he grumbled.

"Don't fall out of your chair when you fall asleep again."

The blond man let his breath out in a hiss. The captain wouldn't let him live that down, would he? The day that he could get away from Mustang without hearing two words about that incident would be the day he fell to the floor and kissed that man's steel toe boots. Unfortunately, he didn't see that day coming any time soon.

----------

Later that evening, Ed Elric trudged in through the front door with heavy, tired steps. It was a little after six, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than to go back to sleep. But from the sound that greeted his ears, he likely wouldn't be able to sleep for at least another two hours. So he dropped his briefcase on the counter and went directly to the freezer. He pulled out a bottle of clear liquor from near the icebox and contemplated using a glass. Since his brother was too young and had no taste for alchohol, he drank straight from the bottle and drained a small amount of its contents.

Feeling decidedly better, he capped the bottle once more and shoved it back in the freezer. Maybe there was hope of getting his brother to read a book for a little while or to at least make some dinner. So Ed approached the basement door and the sounds of a metal grinder became louder. He opened the door and started down the stairs to the near deafening workshop.

His brother, Alphonse, was an armorer. His clients were usually people who attended renaissance faires for the joust, or they were just purists who wanted a spectacular costume. Then there was the occasional freak who wanted a sword made for his collection. On especially rare occasions, a rich somebody requested Al's service for a decorative suit of armor. Even more rare were people who ordered Al's favorite armor to make - the unusual and unique. But since there were no faires coming up in the next few months, Al was reduced to mere repairing of armor. Why his brother chose to use his hand tools was beyond Ed, though. They were both fully fledged alchemists - illegally, however - and could do most anything they wanted with their unusual skill. But still, Al seemed to like to do things his way - the manual way.

As Ed stepped down to the concrete basement, he was surrounded by the usual sounds of Al's metal shop and Winry Rockbell's CD blaring over the speakers. They were lousy neighbors; Ed readily admit that. He was about to step over to the stereo to at least turn down the music to get his brother's attention when he saw a breastplate with a particularly nasty rip in the side. He figured he'd give his brother a hand and fix it. So he clapped his hands and then covered the tear. A blue light emanated from the metal and soon there was no more tear - the armor was good as new!

Then Al turned around as he heard the alchemic reaction. "Brother!" he cried. "I was going to fix that myself!" He scowled at the armor.

Ed shrugged. "I decided to give my little brother a hand," he said nonchalantly. Since they were having to yell over the music, he reached out and turned Winry's voice down.

"I'm supposed to do these jobs myself, Brother, or else I don't feel right about giving it back to the person." Al looked away and back at his present job.

"Well, I saved you some time and effort. But I can always undo it." Ed made to clap his hands again.

Al turned around hastily. "No! I wouldn't want you to undo your alchemy, Brother, since you don't get to use it as often anymore," he said. Ed snickered to himself and walked over to his brother. Al, however, didn't want to discuss his work at the moment. "How was your job today?" he asked.

Ed shrugged and went over to the refrigerator in the corner. He pulled out a can of soda and popped the top. "You want one?" he asked Al. His brother shook his head. "It was work," Ed went on. "I fell asleep at my desk again...did my usual paperwork on that one case." He took a long drink from the can. "Oh, and I got a new assignment," he added as if it were nothing.

Alphonse was immediately excited. They had been living well enough off of Edward's usual paycheck, but things were beginning to get a little tight, what with Al's lack of work. It was a good thing when Ed was assigned a new job. "What is it, Brother?" he asked, his enthusiasm apparent on every word.

With a sly smile, he headed towards the stairs. "You'll never believe me. You'll just think it's some cruel joke Havoc made up for me to play on you," he threw over his shoulder.

He heard Al going through the routine of throwing off his work apron, turning off the machines, taking off the goggles, and running up the stairs after his older brother. "No, I won't; what is it?"

Ed threw himself on the couch and reached for his briefcase. "Start on some dinner, would you Al? I'm starving," he said dismissively.

Al jumped on the couch next to his brother, disrupting his orderly papers. "Brother! Tell me!" He gave Ed an impatient look. "Or no dinner."

The elder brother's jaw dropped. "That's a cheap shot, Alphonse. You know I can't cook to save my life," he murmured.

"Then tell me! You can't just say you got a new assignment and leave it at that. It has to be somewhere in the Handbook of Being an Older Brother." Al pointed at the rather thick book on the bookshelves lining the wall.

Ed grimaced at the thought. "You're like a kid on Christmas, Al," he mumbled. Then he started rifling through his papers until he came across the folder Mustang had given him earlier that day. "I, Edward Elric of the Criminal Intelligence Division of Central CityPolice, have been ordered to be the bodyguard of one Winry Elizabeth Rockbell, the newest diva to grace the ears of most inhabitants of Central City." He took a deep breath after expending all those words.

Al's jaw dropped. "There is a line--I can find it, hold on--in the Handbook on lying to me about something like that!" he exclaimed, jumping for the book. Since he was a lot taller than Ed, he had the advantage of putting it up high enough so Ed couldn't burn it.

"Alphonse, it's in the folder here," Edward laughed incredulously. "Come take a look. And get dinner started before I eat your book while it's down here."

Immediately, the young man dropped the book on the floor and dove for the couch. Ed slid onto the floor just before Al landed in the exact spot his older brother had been in. That had been close...too close. When Ed sat up, his younger brother was leafing through the folder. When he finished, Al looked up from the papers in disbelief, his jaw slack and eyes wide. It took him a moment to recover enough to speak. “Is-Is she going to come here? Will she live with us? Can I meet her? Oh, but how long are you on this assignment?” Questions spewed forth in the exact order Al’s thought process worked when he didn’t think first.

It took a bit for Ed not to laugh at his excited brother. “She might come here only once if it’s absolutely necessary,” he answered. “I mean, look at his place Al; it’s a mess. And I’m not ever here half the time.”

“Well, can I meet her?” Al’s eyes glistened hopefully.

Edward shrugged a little. “Maybe, if I ever get timeto putone word in for her busy schedule,” he mumbled. Then his stomach alerted him to its unfed stated. “Al,” he said pitifully.

“Just a minute, Brother. Waiting to eat will do you good. I really want to meet her.”

The eldest blinked. “Yes, I know. I really want to eat something,” he returned.

“Brother!” Alphonse pleaded.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ed finally said. “But essentially it’s up to the diva.”

Al didn’t hear the second phrase. He was already in the kitchen preparing something edible.

-------------

Ta-dah! As dear Edo-kun said. Well, what'd you think? Lemme know. Oh, if you have any questions or concerns, let me know them too. And if you happen to know someone who is in the police force, or you are yourself, I am in need of a rank listing please! The Internet -not owned by moi- proved not to be helpful in that aspect. And the chapters do get a little longer later on...I will separate them into parts "A" and parts "B" as I did here. Sometimes, there might even be a parts "C" or "D". I write long chapters.

Art Alchemist


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Check out my first FMA fanfic, A Forgotten Memory.

And yet another fic, a one-shot. More Than A Dream
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snwbnny
post Oct 11 2005, 12:55 PM
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Update soon.

Heeeeeeee happy.gif

Re-reading great stories is always fun! biggrin.gif

Especially when you get to review for them again because of it! smile.gif


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Art Alchemist
post Oct 11 2005, 12:59 PM
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Whee, thank you Snw. happy.gif Yes, rereading stories is fun. But reading them for the first time is better! I'm still waiting for an update from you. lol Snw, I dyed my hair black this morning...I look kinda like a female Edo near the end of the series. O.o With glasses and when it is down.


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IPB Image

Thanks to Pycho Girl for my signature! Whoo!! ^__^

Check out my first FMA fanfic, A Forgotten Memory.

And yet another fic, a one-shot. More Than A Dream
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snwbnny
post Oct 11 2005, 01:09 PM
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QUOTE(Art Alchemist @ Oct 11 2005, 03:59 PM) [snapback]298656[/snapback]

Whee, thank you Snw. happy.gif Yes, rereading stories is fun. But reading them for the first time is better! I'm still waiting for an update from you. lol Snw, I dyed my hair black this morning...I look kinda like a female Edo near the end of the series. O.o With glasses and when it is down.



I'm going to try and update after dance tonight. I was having somewhat of a writer's block, but not that serious.

Female version of Ed! Omg. Was it blonde before? laugh.gif

EDIT: -sighs- I only have half of the chapter finished right now. But I plan on finishing it as soon as I get my homework done. So, I'll wake up early (before school) tomorrow and post it up. -falls asleep- zzzzzzzz


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Art Alchemist
post Oct 11 2005, 07:12 PM
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Nah it was...actually, there was a little blond in there. lol Along with some red and some natural brown. But now it's just...black. Like, lose me in the dark black. Whoo hoo...I looked in the mirror after I got home from ballet and was like "Holy Crap." hahaha....Oh, I'm gonna update tomorrow, hopefully...once I finish the freaking update on FF.net. Look forward to it please! lol

As I am looking forward to your update. yay! Your story is so cute.


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IPB Image

Thanks to Pycho Girl for my signature! Whoo!! ^__^

Check out my first FMA fanfic, A Forgotten Memory.

And yet another fic, a one-shot. More Than A Dream
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snwbnny
post Oct 12 2005, 01:24 PM
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QUOTE(Art Alchemist @ Oct 11 2005, 10:12 PM) [snapback]298853[/snapback]

Nah it was...actually, there was a little blond in there. lol Along with some red and some natural brown. But now it's just...black. Like, lose me in the dark black. Whoo hoo...I looked in the mirror after I got home from ballet and was like "Holy Crap." hahaha....Oh, I'm gonna update tomorrow, hopefully...once I finish the freaking update on FF.net. Look forward to it please! lol

As I am looking forward to your update. yay! Your story is so cute.



-Updates- smile.gif

I was going to update this morning, but it turns out that my parents didn't wake me up and my alarm clock didn't go up. ohmy.gif But I updated as soon as I could. ^-^

I should dye my hair something besides strawberry blonde. >.< I want to dye it like an autumny brown. Kind of like the color you're hair used to be. That sounds pretty. ^.^


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Art Alchemist
post Oct 16 2005, 08:23 PM
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Disclaimer: Don't own FMA! I do own the Handbook, though, theorically!

Expect the Unexpected
Chapter 1, Part B


Later that night, a storm was ravaging Central. The wind was howling and beating the rain mercilessly against the windows. Lightening split the sky and thunder crashed very shortly after. It had been going on since dinnertime, and it was nearly midnight now. There was no sign of it letting up anytime soon.

It was nights like this that reminded Ed of his past. He could feel the pain in his right shoulder and left thigh more intensely than usual. The doctor’s he’d seen have given him a little bit of pain medication for a while, but it hadn’t worked as Ed had hoped. He left the doctor to go to a psychiatrist, recommended to him by Hawkeye. She’d said that officers who were having troubles overcoming something about a case, usually killing someone for the first time or seeing someone die right in front of them, went there for help.

Anyway, Ed had gone to the psychiatrist for a few sessions, unwillingly of course. He didn’t like to talk about the incident, not even with Al. But a few facts had been dragged out of him, only to be told what he was experiencing was called ‘phantom pains.’ It had to do with the lobe in his brain controlling his memory.

In great detail, he’d been told that people often remember things from certain smells or sounds. Even certain words could trigger a particular memory. Only if the smells, sounds, or words were present or spoken at the time the memory had been recorded, of course.

Well, on the night of the incident, the smell of rain had been in the air, and the sound of thunder had been all around him. The psychiatrist’s diagnosis had cleared up a lot, but Ed wasn’t happy.

Mainly because he wasn’t without pain.

But it wasn’t likely, he’d been told, that it would go away.

Of course, he’d asked if it was only a “malfunction,” he’d called it, with his memory. The psychiatrist had said that sometimes patients of the same trauma—who were quite rare—held a grudge against something to do with the incident.

Ed had become silent for the remaining minutes of his session and never returned.

He had assumed there was nothing he could do to relieve the pain for a while. Then about three weeks after putting up with the pain of “having no limbs,” he’d decided to do something about it. He knew that when experiencing at least two different kinds of pain, the brain focused on the worst. So he had tried many different ways to do just that: to equal or create even greater pain than his arm and leg. Until finally, he’d come across something rather ridiculous that helped.

He’d been at work one night, putting in extra hours, during a storm. Of course, he’d been hurting but hadn’t alerted anyone to it. Havoc, the chronic smoker he was, had come over and offered Ed a cigarette. Ed usually couldn’t stand the smell or taste of nicotine, but for some reason, he’d taken the hit and gone to the locker room. He had lain on his back with his head hanging off the edge of a bench and smoked. Through half of the cigarette, his pain had left him. Now, if the pain became too much that it kept him awake, he would go out on the covered porch, lay on the bench, head hanging off the edge,and smoke until he felt better. Strange, he knew, but it helped him escape the pain.

Edward would be on the porch doing said procedure, but he was so tired. He would have been asleep if he didn’t have the pain now. So if he went to smoke, he felt fine after half a stick. He would probably fall asleep and end up burning to death.

He hoped the rain would stop soon so he could sleep. It was still a workday in the morning, and he was falling asleep more and more often at his desk. Ed knew it was bad performance, yet none of the higher-ups had commented about it to him before. He knew why, too, and it aggravated him. They never took off his job performance because they pitied him. Ed tried not to let that bother him too much, but he couldn’t help it some days.

A little while later, Ed decided that there was a painless way to get to sleep. So he climbed out of bed, not bothering to pull his robe over his boxers, and limped out to the hallway. He peeked into Al’s room briefly to see his younger brother bundled in blankets from the mid-autumn air. Ed smiled a little as he turned the thermostat down to sixty-three. Immediately, the heater kicked off and the cool air started to come out of the ceiling.

As Ed climbed back into bed and pulled the thick fleece blankets up to his ears, he smiled. He would be asleep in no time.

-------------

The next morning, Ed woke up shivering. At first, he couldn’t figure out why. Then a faint pain in his shoulder reminded him. So he threw his blankets off, immediately wishing he hadn’t, and reached for his robe. Upon his fingers touching the fuzzy cotton, he encountered a hole. He frowned at it briefly before pulling it on. He would fix it later.

He liked his robe. It was red and had an alchemic symbol on the back. His mother had given it to him when he’d turned sixteen. Not having grown much since the age of ten, he still wore it. Now it was finally showing signs of its age, after five and a half years of early mornings and late nights.

Hastily, Ed made his way to the hallway to fix the thermostat before Al woke up. The poor boy, though he was twenty, wouldn’t appreciate the reason why Ed had turned the heater off.

But Ed hadn’t woken up soon enough, he saw as he entered the living room. Al was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking none too happy about the temperature. He had about four blankets on and was watching the TV quietly. Ed had a feeling he would have a lot of explaining to do for this one.

“Morning, Al,” he said in what he hoped was a cajoling tone. No response. “You’re up early.” More silence. “It’s, ah, it’s a bit chilly this morning. You think we’ll get some early snow this year?”

Al looked up at Ed, expressionless. It was rather disturbing. “The heat was off all last night,” he said in a monotone voice. “I woke up half an hour ago, freezing to the bone. Naturally, I assumed the heater was turned down for the morning since you would be up soon for a shower. But something told me to look at the thermostat.”

Edward immediately busied himself making cereal, something he had mastered about cooking.

“Sixty-three.”

That was all it took to make Ed flinch, causing his hand to twitch and spill soymilk on the counter.

“That’s what the air was set at when I woke up, Brother,” Al grumbled.

Ed recovered quickly. “For a twenty-year-old, you complain a lot,” he said and sat down at the bar.

“Why did you turn it down so low in the first place?”

No questions, no prying, no checking to make sure it really was Ed. Just flat-out accusation. The love he received from his only surviving blood relative.

“I was having pains again,” the older man explained. “And my usual method couldn’t be done for unspoken reasons so I figured I’d freeze myself to sleep. It worked.” Yeah, he kept secrets from Al. He knew it wasn’t very nice and the Handbook would have something to say about it. But there were just some things he couldn’t tell Al. His pain relief method was one of them.

That he had once killed a man was another, though he suspected that Al knew in a strange, younger brother way.

“Well, you froze me out of bed.” Al paused. “In payback, you have to take me to meet Winry Rockbell,” he decided.

Ed scoffed at his colorful cereal. Men of his age either had a maid or a wife to cook them hearty breakfasts, stopped at a coffee shop for a bagel and coffee, or couldn’t afford more than what they found in trash cans. Ed was none of those, and happily so. He had Al, who was a decent enough cook. They hadn’t starved yet, that said something. But then again, they were both on a strict diet of soy products and non-greasy foods. Meat had to be cooked a certain way, eggs were either 100 pasteurized, cooked very well, or not eaten at all. Then there were countless other things Al had a fetish about for their diets.

This all happened two years ago when Al had won a free subscription to this health journal. There were “true” stories of how people’s lifestyles had been changed for the better by the recommended diet for their body type and amount of exercise. There were endless amount of recipes that had eventually inspired Al to create his own and submit them for compensation. Then there were those small print lines advertising something completely against the magazine’s food “ethics.”

Nevertheless, Ed was just happy to be eating real food. He didn’t mind the “no dairy” part since he hated milk. There were a couple things he didn’t agree with, but as long as Al was happy and Ed had food on the table…er…bar.

“—goes best with boots or regular shoes?”

Ed realized too late Al had been talking to him about something. He didn’t want to let Al know he hadn’t been paying attention, so he took on a thoughtful look. Al had mentioned shoes, so it had to be an outfit, likely to meet Ms. Rockbell. But what had Al mentally selected?

“Uh…boots. Definitely boots. The ones Hawkeye bought you for your birthday this year.” Oh, God, Ed prayed, please let this be right! He cast a mental look heavenward.

“The gray ones?” Al asked slowly.

Ed nodded uneasily. “Have you outgrown them already or somethin’?” It was very had to be casual at this point.

“No,” Al replied as easily as Ed wished he could have. “I was just wondering why I didn’t think of that first.” Then he trotted off to find them.

Ed nearly collapsed on the bar. He looked up and mouthed the words “thank you” over and over. Then Al poked his head back in. The elder froze.

“Can I meet her today?” Then he paused, taking in Ed’s leaning on the bar and looking up at the lights.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” Ed said as casually as he could. “And I’ll see what I can do. But you will meet her eventually. I promise.” He smiled encouragingly at his brother. Al bounded off again to have whatever outfit set aside for what would be known as “the day” from now on.

-------------

Before he left the house every morning, Ed made sure he had a very full thermos of hot, black coffee. He’d been drinking coffee since he was about ten. Though he didn’t believe it for five seconds, he’d heard form numerous people that coffee stunted growth. It was nonsense, all of it. Al drank coffee on occasion and he was a whole head taller than Edward. Then he knew a few people who had been drinking coffee longer than he. They were all tall. But sometimes, Ed wondered if he were just…short…or if the coffee had to do with it since was only a few inches taller than he had been at ten.

He shook his head as he stepped out of his car at the police station. Crazy, all the people who had even told him that. Absolutely crazy.

The second he walked into the station, he felt the temperature change from a quite cool breeze outside to air hot enough to taste it in the station. The first surface he reached, he set his thermos, now about missing one fourth of its contents, on the desk and began to take his coat off. He slung that over his shoulder and took up his drink again to continue to his desk. It was still messy, blessedly. The janitor had left him a note on many occasions that she would get a big trash bag and throw all the plastic, collectable coffee cups, stray pieces of paper, the crumpled paper that had missed the trashcan, and many other items into the dumpster. Ever since then, he’d been paranoid about his work space. When the area was clean, his thoughts tended to roam more often. When in a messy space, his mind didn’t have much room to contemplate anything other than what was in front of him. Usually a case file or a summons.

Ed set his thermos down on the space left clear for just that reason and dropped his coat near the trash can. Just as he sat down, Captain Mustang appeared outside of his cubicle.

“What are you doing here?” he asked incredulously.

Edward looked at the captain as if he’d lost his mind. “Working, maybe?” he suggested.

“If you were working, you wouldn’t be here. You would be at Ms. Rockbell’s house. She’s called three times, demanding to know where her bodyguard is at.” Mustang scowled at Ed as if he were some vile substance that needed to be removed immediately. He supposed there was some truth to that.

The two men stared at each other for a few minutes, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Ed leaned to the side to retrieve his coat. He stood again, returning the captain’s less-than-pleased look.

“Her address?” Ed prompted.

Mustang lifted an eyebrow. “It should have been in the file. Where is that, Elric?” He was waiting for Ed to give a wrong answer like the folder was at home under a bottle of booze, unopened.

Ed smirked inwardly and opened his briefcase. He slowly pulled out the folder and opened it. “Ta-dah,” he said sarcastically. Then he searched the paper for her address and pointed at it. “I’ll just be on my way, then.” It was probably best to leave now before Mustang’s disappointment made it to the point of anger to take out on a certain prosthetic-limbed CID member.

So he took his thermos in hand and left the station wordlessly, feeling quite smug on the inside. Before he slid into his car, Ed made sure he had his wallet and cell phone. No one ever called him unless it was an emergency. At least, no one but Detective Maes Hughes.

That man never needed a reason more valid than that he was bored to call someone. Of course, he made rounds of who he would call, because if he called Ed whenever he was bored, Ed wouldn’t own a cell phone anymore. Or at least he would have blocked Hughes’ number by now. And Ed had a feeling it was his turn soon, since he wouldn’t be at the station much for an indeterminate amount of time. Ed hoped he could tolerate the man’s overly cheerful disposition when Ed was feeling less than tip-top shape.

Just as Ed was shutting his car door, a big raindrop hit the windshield. As if on cue, his shoulder started to ache faintly. More rain fell until a not-so-happy drizzle was coming down.

Oh yeah, it was going to be a long day. It had just barely started, too.


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Thanks to Pycho Girl for my signature! Whoo!! ^__^

Check out my first FMA fanfic, A Forgotten Memory.

And yet another fic, a one-shot. More Than A Dream
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snwbnny
post Oct 16 2005, 08:32 PM
Post #8


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Yay! Another great chapter! happy.gif

I tried to review on FF.net but it wouldn't let me. I'll try again later. -nods-

I wish I could give constructive critisizm, but I'm not good at that kind of thing. lol. Either I don't really even notice something or I just don't know how to make it better. So, overall another great chapter! biggrin.gif

And now, as Snw, teh almighty...FMA fan...I command you to update! ohmy.gif

Can't wait for more
- Snw


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See that awesome sigggy? Well, it was made by Nil-chan! Thank you! ^__^
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Art Alchemist
post Oct 19 2005, 10:26 PM
Post #9


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We all know I don't own FMA....no need to put a disclaimer! lol

Okay, kinda long but I'm going to California and I dunno when I'll have the time to sit down at a computer! So, yeah...enjoy the length, those of you who do read this...oh...on FF.net, I would try to make the chapter titles song titles, but I give up, so, there are a couple chapters with song titles...such as this one.

Chapter 2: Never Take Friendship Personal


It was still raining twenty minutes after Ed left the police station. The fact that the weather on the radio said it wasn’t going to clear up for a while made Ed feel all gooey inside. Actually, if anything was gooey, it was his tolerance for pain.

Oh, and he was lost, too.

Yes, Edward Elric, part of the Criminal Intelligence Division of Central City Police, a twenty-one year old man who was supposed to meet diva Winry Rockbell, was lost.

And he would never admit it to anyone—ever.

He swore loudly when his cell phone rang. He knew just who it would be, too. Reluctantly, he grabbed the nuisance of an electronic device on the passenger seat. He didn’t even have to check the number before he answered.

“Yes, Hughes?” he growled.

There was a pause on the other line long enough to make Ed wonder if he was wrong. It had happened before, but only once or twice. "You’re good,” came the voice. “I heard about your new assignment."

Edward rolled his eyes. “Hughes, I’m driving in the rain, and I have no idea where I’m at.” Hadn’t he just told himself he would never tell anyone he was lost? “I don’t have time to talk.”

“Lighten up, Ed.” There was another pause. “So…tell me about Miss Rockbell,” Hughes asked easily.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t met her yet since I’m lost in the pouring rain.” Maybe if he enunciatedthe rain part, Hughes would call someone who wasn’t driving.

“Well, be sure to call me whenever you have a chance. I would love to know more about her. I wonder if it’s something in her personal life that makes her voice sound like an angel. I’ve heard rumors that—”

For the past five minutes, Ed had been on a secluded gravel road off the main street through suburban Central. Ed had just expected that, when he left the close streets and tall buildings of Central that he would just have to turn around, the road being a dead end or a wrong turn. What he hadn’t expected was to suddenly be halted rather roughly. Before he could hold himself back, Edward’s head hit the steering wheel none-too-gently. When he sat back up, he saw little stars going in circles around his head.

“Ed? Edward, are you still there?” came Hughes’ voice through the phone.

Ed sighed, not at all pleased. “Hughes, let me call you back,” he said wearily. “I just ran my car into something.”

“You all right?” the detective asked. Yeah, the man was always talking about his wife and children or if someone wasn’t married that they needed to find a wife or husband. But he also cared a lot for his friends. That was why Ed could stand the man.

Ed nodded. “Yeah. Just hit my head is all.”

"Be careful,” Hughes said. “And don’t forget to—”

Edward hung up before his friend could finish his sentence. He tossed the phone on the seat next to him with a growl. Why him? Why did his days always have to go bad? Why couldn’t Mustang’s days ever go bad?

He pulled his coat on and stepped out in the pouring rain. When he looked around, he saw the faint outline of two tall pillars. When he walked closer to the hood of his car, he almost ran into a wrought iron gate. Ed hadn’t realized how hard it was raining. So he leaned down to look at the front fender.

Dented very badly.

He stepped back and fisted his hands in his hair. A few choice swear words left his mouth rather loudly. To vent some of his frustration, he kicked his front tire a few times, cursing each time. He only stopped when he heard a faint crackling near the gates. It puzzled him for a minute before he approached the gate. There was a little screen, a keypad, and an intercom. Ed wiped the screen and saw someone looking back at him. Looking up showed him a small security camera pointing down at him.

“State your name and business here,” the man, who looked very much like a butler, said.

“Edward Elric, Criminal Intelligence Division of Central City Police. I’m here to see Ms. Rockbell,” he announced, holding up his badge.

“The gates will open in just a moment,” the butler told Ed.

The blond man reached back and rubbed his neck. “Yeah, about the gate…I—”

"We will see to it, sir, when you are out of the rain.” Immediately, the gates opened and the screen turned off.

Ed grumbled to himself and slid back into his car. He hoped it would start again. After about three tries, there was life in the vehicle, blessedly. But it didn’t sound very pleased with him. As soon as he went through the gates, Ed’s jaw dropped. She lived on a frickin’ mountain! It took him five minutes to reach the top because he had to negotiate the sharp U-turns.

By the time he reached the house—no, it was a mansion—Ed was fuming. He was muttering and swearing under his breath. Once he parked the car, the front door of Winry's home opened and the man from the gate intercom appeared in the doorway. Before Ed climbed out of his car, he shoved the case file into his briefcase, put his cell phone in his inner coat pocket. He checked the gun on his shoulder harness to be sure he had it. Sure, he knew there wasn’t an obvious need to have one for the meeting, but he preferred to always be prepared, or at least have it for protection.

Finding everything to his satisfaction, Ed climbed out of his car and rushed to the door, still rather frustrated. He made sure it was clearly written on his face as he went inside. As he shed his dripping coat, he scowled. As he accepted a towel to dry his hair, he scowled. Edward Elric wasn’t pleased.

“Mistress Rockbell will be here momentarily. Please follow me to the sitting room.” The man sure was stuffy. Ed almost gagged at the politeness issued toward him.

When they reached the sitting room, the butler informed Ed he would “fetch” Mistress Rockbell. He chuckled at the man’s back and reached up to his braid. Carefully, Ed pulled the elastic cord from around his hair and shook his braid out. Or tried to shake his braid out. In his hair’s current drenched state, it was hard to do much but work through it with his fingers.

Once his hair was loose, he rubbed the towel over his head to keep the rain water from dripping down his back more.As he heard footsteps and voices coming back to the sitting room, Ed started to braid his hair again. He was halfway finished when his charge and her butler came back into the room.

Edward would be lying if he said Winry Rockbell wasn’t an attractive woman. She had the light blond hair that most girls dreamed for, clipped on the back of her head with a little bit left down to frame her face. Her blue eyes rivaled the sky on a clear day in mid-summer. Her complexion was flawless and her face very pale, but in a strange, healthy way. They way she carried her well-proportioned form spoke that she’d been raised right, to know she had worth and didn’t need anyone else to tell her that. That was probably the second thing he had begun to admire her for.

The first had been her ability to make it as a soft opera singer in Central City. That took spunk.

But at the moment, he only thing that related the lovely woman before Ed was her looks. He could sense her fear of her situation more and more as she came closer. Ed would have felt sorry for her if he hadn’t known that they would probably never speak again when the ordeal was finished.

So instead, he decided it would be best to be impersonal through their time together. It would be for the best.

Winry sat down on a very overstuffed beige sofa. “Sit down,” she said softly, gesturing to the seat behind Ed. She rested her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands together. Slowly, he sat down and pulled his small notebook out of his shirt pocket. “Would you like some coffee?”

Mentally, Ed started to take notes on first impressions. “Yes, please.” Best be polite he figured, and try for a good start. They would be together forquite a bit oftime, perhaps; they didn’t need to be going at each other like a cat and mouse. But if that turned out to be the case, who would be the cat and who would be the mouse?

The butler approached him. “How would you like your coffee, sir?” he asked.

Ed looked at the man. “Black,” he answered. “I’m lactose intolerant.” It was a lie, but it would keep cream out of his coffee.

Then the much older man looked at Winry, unmoved by Edward’s feint. “And you, Miss Rockbell?”

“Some tea, please, Primus.” Winry hung her head down and stared at the floor. Then she looked up, almost shocked. “I’m sorry, my manners have run away. It’s obvious, but I’m Winry Rockbell.” She attempted a smile, but it came as more of a grimace.

“It’s fine, Ms. Rockbell. Ed Elric.”

“Just call me Winry, please.”

Ed looked down at his notebook and began his notes once more. “Mm-hmm.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Winry leaning over like she was trying to see what was in his notepad. “What are you writing?” she asked.

“Notes…” he mumbled.

“Already?”

Ed nodded as Primus came back in. The white haired man set a saucer with a deep blue tea cup in front of Winry. Then he placed a miniature pitcher containing cream and something else containing sugar. Ed had no clue what they were called. Then the butler brought a mug the same color of Winry’s cup in front of him. “Your coffee, sir. Black, as you requested.”

“Thank you.” Ed nodded to the man.

The butler looked at Winry. “Do you have anymore need of me, Miss Rockbell?” he asked.

“No, Primus.” She looked down at the floor again and sighed. “Thank you.”

When the butler was a safe distance away, Ed launched into his plan. “How long has Mr. Primus been working for you?” he asked.

She thought a moment. "For about…six, seven months?” she answered.

“How did his résumé look?” Ed wanted to know.

Winry looked up at him seriously. “Are you implying that Primus could be the one sending the letters?” she demanded.

Ed simply shrugged. “In this game, Miss Rockbell, everyone’s a player,” he said, “whether we want them to be or not.”

“What am I in this ‘game?' ” she dared to ask.

He thought a moment. “You are the victim.”

“And what are you?”

Ed smirked. “I am…I am the moderator, in case things get rough.”

Winry smirked as well. “Quite modest, are we?” she asked sarcastically.

“I tend to think of it is as being confident. Anyway, to start this off, I’d like a list of all of your friends, family, and acquaintances,” Ed requested. “As soon as you can compile it.”

“Why?”

Edward hated that word. Inwardly, he cringed. “I’m going to run background checks,” he suggested. “Remember, everyone is a player, and one or more of those players are culprits. It’s my job to keep you safe and find out who is trying to hurt you.”

She seemed to be contemplating his order. “Fine. But I’m not putting my family down. They did everything they could to get me where I am today. They wouldn’t try to take it away.” Winry’s voice seemed adamant of her decision.

Ed sighed. “Do you have any siblings, Miss Rockbell?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, but I don’t see what they would have to do with it.” Now she sounded annoyed.

“Brothers or sisters?”

A scowl made its way onto her features. “Shouldn’t this have been in your file over there?” Winry asked, pointing at the manila folder on the couch next to him.

He looked at her with a calm, slightly mocking smile on his lips. "Brothers or sisters?" he repeated.

She sighed. "Two sisters, two brothers, all older," she replied finally.

"Any of them have a spectacular talent that, if it were known, would make them famous?" He lifted an eyebrow as the butler walked in front of the door and then off to some unknown part of the house to do who knew what.

Winry squeezed the bridge of her nose tightly as though to relieve a headache. Ed could relate, though it wasn't a headache. It was the ache in his limbs. The smell of rain was heavy in the air."My oldest sister could sing as well, but she was very shy."

Ed snapped his fingers. "Bingo, a motive. If she were jealous enough, she could be the one doing this." Before Winry could protest, he quickly added, "So, see? Everyone's a player."

"She wouldn't think like that! She was happy for me!" Winry argued in defense for her sister.

With a dismayed shake of his head, Edward closed his notebook. "My little brother, a great guy. He's twenty; very smart. He knows all this stuff about metal working and armor. He can draw, too...God, he's smart," he said admiringly.

"What's your point?"

"Al makes armor...sometimes, he makes more money that I do off of one suit of armor." Ed looked at Winry pointedly. "I get jealous of my younger sibling. I'm the one supposed to bring home money enough to feed us, not him."

Winry was silent. Ed looked at his watch out of habit. He didn't realize that it was already eleven o'clock. His stomach hadn't even complained yet. So he stood up.

"Miss Rockbell. There is a lot of work that will have to be done, including that list from you." He paused. "I live about an hour away. If something were to happen to you here, I couldn't make it in time, driving so far."

Winry stood as well. "What are you suggesting?"she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"In order to protect you how my boss would want me to, I would have to live here." Ed looked around him. "It looks like you have enough room for a boarder or two."

"Two?" she echoed.

He looked at her seriously. "I just can't let my brother live alone in Central's slums. Plus, he'd kill me if I didn't ask." There was a pause. "For him to meet you, I mean. He's a big fan."

She nodded skeptically. "Right. The one that makes armor?" she asked.

"One in the same. He's the only family I have surviving." Ed smiled halfway, albeit a little painfully.

Winry made to say "Oh," but no sound came out. "Well, if you must to do your job correctly," she relented.

Ed nodded, grateful, as his cell phone rang. It was immediately present to him, procured from his coat pocket. Edward furrowed his brow a little before answering. "Ed Elric," he said curtly into the phone.

"Hey, Brother." It was Alphonse. "You busy?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "What if I was in a very important meeting with Captain Mustang about a promotion?" he returned. To Winry, he mouthed "Younger brother." She nodded.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'll call you back." The younger man sounded genuinely sorry.

"Wait a second, Al. I didn't say I was in a meeting. I said what if. Big difference. What do you need?" Then Ed pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Brother! The Handbook has something to say about tricking me!" Al yelled.

Ed looked at Winry, who appeared faintly amused. "What's up?" he asked casually. To Winry, he said, "What are you doing for lunch?"

She looked at a loss for a moment. "Nothing. Primus was going to make chef salad, I think."

"Al, meet me at the diner in town, all right? You know the one." He motioned for Winry to wait just a second. "Be there in thirty minutes." Then he hung up his phone.

"What was that about?" Winry asked.

"You're doing something for lunch now. Al wanted to meet you, and I figured that I should let him as soon as humanly possible. He can be a pest."

Winry looked at him as if she was about to blow a head gasket. "You can't do that!" she exclaimed.

Ed paused, midway pulling on his still-damp coat. "Can't do what?" he asked, looking at her over his shoulder with his notebook between his teeth.

She took a step forward and snatched the pad of paper away. "You can't just schedule a lunch for me at God knows where and expect me to be ready to go in five minutes!" she told him heatedly.

Ed looked aghast as he pulled his coat on the rest of the way. "Guess what, Miss Diva? I just did. My little brother really wants to meet you and now isthe best chance. If you don't get ready in five minutes, I won't be a gentleman and pick up the bill," Ed threw back, just as heatedly.

They glared at each other for a moment. The first one to move wasn't Ed.


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Thanks to Pycho Girl for my signature! Whoo!! ^__^

Check out my first FMA fanfic, A Forgotten Memory.

And yet another fic, a one-shot. More Than A Dream
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Phyco girl
post Oct 19 2005, 11:43 PM
Post #10


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Very nice ^^ Very well written and... I hope you continue happy.gif Other than a few grammar problems it was great. biggrin.gif
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Art Alchemist
post Oct 29 2005, 12:14 AM
Post #11


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Hey all! I was on a small vacation in California....but I am back now! And here is the first half of Chapter 3....and yes, I know I should have split up chapter 2....but I forgot to, lol. Anyhow, enjoy!


Expect the Unexpected
Chapter 3: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
Part A
By: Art Alchemist


Winry sat in the front passenger seat of her bodyguard's car, arms crossed over her chest and a formidable scowl written on her features. It was still raining as hard as he had claimed it had been when he ran into her gate and dented his car. Like she cared. She was beginning to really dislike the man sitting beside her. First, he had accused, indirectly, her butler of being the one behind the ordeal of the threat notes. Then he had, indirectly again, accused her family and friends of the same thing; used her older sister as an example for the culprit; invited himself and his brother to live with her; and finally, bodily removed her from her own home to eat at some unknown place a half an hour away. Some bodyguard. She was beginning to feel bruises.

"For all the fuss you put up about your makeup, you aren't applying any," he said from beside her. Casually, like he hadn't just tossed her over his shoulder effortlessly and hauled her to his car in the pouring rain.

"Do you treat all your clients like that?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Like what?" Although he kept his eyes on the road, she saw a perplexed expression become visible on his features.

"Rudely...forcing them to eat lunch with you and your brother?" she supplied.

Ed blinked. "Oh." He paused and negotiated a turn. "No. You're my first bodyguard assignment. Usually I work undercover, finding information out about wanted criminals."

Winry quickly bit her lip to keep the very impolite words in her mouth. So instead, she opened her makeup kit and began to apply, as it was more easily put. She did her best to coordinate her makeup with her outfit. She'd had very little time to ready herself at the house so she had changed into a pair of loose black slacks and a black tanktop, despite the autumn chill in the air. Atop that, she had her baby blue kitted sweater duster. It was a very warm jacket, no matter what anyone said. It was comfortable. Therefore, wearable.

"Not as girly as I thought," she heard the obnoxious driver murmur.

Winry spared him a look before putting on midnight blue eyeliner. "Hmm?"

"I said, you're don't dress as girly as I thought you would," he repeated a little louder.

She scoffed. "Mainly because someone didn't give me--"

"Bump," Ed interrupted.

On instinct, Winry pulled the pencil away from her eye and looked at him. "What?" Immediately after, the car jolted rather roughtly. "Oh."

"Don't need a trip to Central General Hospital because of a makeup incident." A hint of a smile came over Ed's lips.

"Anyway, since someone didn't give me enough time to get ready," she continued as if she hadn't heard him, "I grabbed the first thing I saw and changed." She reached for her eyeshadow palete.

She heard Ed snort in mock laughter. "You put up a fight against a gentlemanly offer of lunch." He spared her a brief look. "And most girls would jump at the chance to go out to lunch with me." He smiled insolently.

Winry rolled her eyes. "So, what type of place are we going to eat at?" she probed.

"This little place that opened about half a year ago in downtown Central, about ten minutes from where I live. Al and I know the woman who owns it really well. I have a feeling she'd be ecstatic to have you eat there," he answered. "We'll be there in about fifteen minutes, so be quick."

Again, Winry rolled her eyes and reached for her mascara. She saw Ed wince out of the corner of her eye. "What?"

"That thing looks painful," he said, tilting his head toward her.

"It's just mascara," she said, unimpressed.

"I should suggest it as an interrogation device," he thought aloud.

Winry scoffed. "You would offend women if you did," she warned. "Best not."

Ed muttered something about feminists as his cell phone rang. He swore under his breath and growled about his "sixth sense" tingling. Blindly, he searched his coat pockets until he procured the ringing item. "Yeah, Hughes?"

"Do you check your caller ID or do you just guess?" the detective asked, sounding very curious indeed.

"I just know. What do you need? I'm on my way to meet Al for lunch and the weather is still bad." Ed slowed the vehicle at a stoplight.

The excitement was very obvious in Hughes' voice when he spoke. "Did you meet her? What'd you think? Is she as pretty as her pictures?"

Ed growled. "You know, it's still raining quite hard. The last time I was talking to you, I ran my car into a gate," he muttered and shot Winry a look before driving again. "And I don't think my passenger would be very pleased with me if I ran into something with her in the car."

Winry glared at him. "You do, you have no more job--anywhere," she threatened.

"Oh, was that her?" Hughes asked rather loudly. "You're taking her to lunch already? How cute. Where are you taking her?"

Ed hung up the phone before he heard anymore. There was a distant rumble of thunder a few miles off. Winry couldn't help but feel slightly amused as she shut her makeup pallet. "That was an interesting semi-one-sided conversation," she threw out casually.

She saw him visibly tense. "One of her many fans," Ed muttered.

"Are you not?" she asked sweetly.

"My brother plays your music when he works in the basement. I hear it after dinner if his muses suit him," he returned shortly.

From the expression he had, Winry supposed she wasn't going to get any more positive answers from him. Not that she wanted to. She didn't even want to eat lunch with him. Yet here she was...sitting in his car, on the way to some diner in a thug infested part of Central. Well, what part of Central wasn't thug infested, actually? It was just sheer luck that people made it though without being mugged.

She stole another look at her bodyguard. His expression was quite grim, almost pained. What could be bothering him?

Another thought came to her. When she'd been thrown over his shoulder, his shoulder hadn't felt like skin. It had been cold and hard...kind of like metal. But that had been through his thick coat and his shirt, so she was probably mistaken. It could have been anything...the stress of the moment of being tossed around or some police-like gear he had to wear all the time. And she couldn't ask, because she wasn't sure at all if she had really felt metal. She didn't want to sound like an idiot their first day of meeting. Her hair might have been blond, but his was too. She knew well enough not to ask when she didn't have enough details to wonder in the first place.

When Winry looked up, it was when Ed parked the car in front of a cornerside diner. The place was slightly dingy looking, but it could have been the dirty windshield and the rain she was looking through. She had definitely dined in better. As she squinted through said rain and windshield, she saw a person standing beneath the overhanging roof, rubbing his gloved hands together. She looked at Ed and saw him shaking his head.

"That freezing person would be my brother...he's too polite for his own good," he murmured as he rooted around the messy backseat.

"What are you looking for?" Winry asked softly, wanting to touch his arm out of curiosity, just to see if it was metal.

He didn't answer for a few seconds until he held up some object. "An umbrella for you. Don't need you to be soaked as we cross the parking lot..." he said. "Stay in your seat." A serious look came over his face before he climbed out of the car.

Winry had no clue what was going through his head until he rounded the hood of the car and stood beside her door. She watched him open the umbrella and reach for the door handle. Old fashioned chivalry, she thought. How many men opened doors for women anymore? And open umbrellas so they didn't get wet in the pouring rain?

She offered him a smile. She would never know how much it inwardly and subconsciously affected him.

---------------------

Whoo....yay...end of part one....anyway, lemme know what you think!! ^,^


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Thanks to Pycho Girl for my signature! Whoo!! ^__^

Check out my first FMA fanfic, A Forgotten Memory.

And yet another fic, a one-shot. More Than A Dream
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ladybug29
post Sep 9 2006, 08:36 PM
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I love it! Can't wait for part two!


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