Beauty and the Alchemist

"You don't understand! I'm nothing more than a monster, a metal freak! Who could love someone like me?" he asked in anger, eyes piercing her own. Gently, Winry placed a palm to his cheek, feeling the sudden heat rush to his face. "I could."

Disclaimer: I don't own either of these, gosh. I wish I did though.

Chapter 18: Hair Care

The glass hit the table with a quick smack. From the sound, one would assume that the cup would've cracked or shattered, but it maintained its ornate shape. The liquid inside, a harsh bourbon, slipped over the sides and onto the wood. Zolf pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his hand, a frown settling on his lips. The stickiness remained. A scoff erupted out of the old woman across from him. He peered down his nose at her, inhaling sharply at her smug façade.

"Is something funny, Mrs. Rockbell?"

Pinako leaned back in her seat, arms folded defiantly across her frame. "It's Ms. Rockbell," she corrected him. "And it seems like you're shaking in those fine loafers you're wearin' Kimblee."

Her statement made him smirk. The two had been at it for an hour, exchanging comments back and forth, each one no further than where they had started. He was composed and civil, but every attempt he made to pluck information out of his detainee failed miserably. She was tenacious, much like her granddaughter, and refused to leak the slightest of details.

"Looks like we'll be sitting here all night."

"Fine with me," muttered the old woman. "Better get myself something to drink then."

Kimblee pushed forward, his long, elegant form leaning on the table. He folded his hands under his chin and observed Pinako. His eyes were fixated on the deep lines of her face; the skin that was pulled back tight because of her bun. Her own eyes seemed impenetrable; she held his gaze and even returned a deadly glare back to him.

But there's a weakness somewhere.

"Winry is a fine girl," he cooed. "Beautiful, and smart; large blue eyes."

"She is, and she's a very hardworking girl." Pinako chimed in. "And she wants nothing to do with the likes of you!"

"Of course, of course. I understand your concern. Perhaps I have been too forward in my advances."

At this utterance, Pinako raised her eyebrows.

Kimblee grinned, aiming to appear as sincere as possible. "You see, I just want to provide her with a comfortable life." He gestured to their elaborate surroundings; Pinako did not bother to look.

"Comfortable? You expect me to believe that horse shit?"

"You're a wise old dame, I believe you truly know when someone is being dishonest."

"I can, and you're nothing more than a snake! You intend to take my granddaughter and lock her up in this hell hole!"

Kimblee gasped, mock offense playing on his face. "My, Pinako. You can see I am very well established. She will never want for anything with me."

"She'd want for her freedom," the old woman retorted.

Kimblee's snarky grin faded. Instead of furthering the discussion of his proposal, he stretched forward and selected a flower from the centerpiece. It was an imported arrangement, decorated with the deepest blues and most vibrant purples. He rolled the stem between two of his fingers, and with very little effort, snapped it in half.

"I don't know if you are aware, but I intend to take that girl," he said firmly. "I will do it despite what you say." He plucked a petal from the flower and let it fall to the ground.

"You'll have to kill me before I tell you where Winry is!"

Kimblee did not raise his eyes from the plant. Instead, he pulled another petal from its center and watched it flutter down.

"It looks like you will be of no help to me. I suppose I must find her on my own."

"Your damn right you will!" Pinako banged her small fists against the table, upsetting the liquid in his glass once again.

He pulled a petal. "Such a shame. By the time I find her, my patience will be worn so thin. I'd hate for her to become an object of my irritation."

The old woman's eyes widened and she stood from her seat. "Zolf, you dare not lay a hand on my granddaughter."

He glanced at her wickedly, licking his lips in utter satisfaction. Deliberately, he ripped the final petal from the flower, holding it between finger and thumb for Pinako to see.

"Oh, I won't. If you help me find her, she will not be harmed. I'll wed her as planned and we can live together. It will be 'happily ever after' for all of us."

"You're evil, Kimblee. A sick, twisted man—"

"Yes, I've heard it all before," he waved his hand, removing her words from the air. "So, what will it be?" Pinako Rockbell stood strong against her captor, brow furrowed in thought.

"Well, what will it be?"

The old woman ignored him, and instead, grabbed his glass from across the table. She downed it furiously and tossed it aside. It shattered on the fine hardwood, decorating the delicate wood with crystalline pieces.

"You can go to hell. You'll never find that girl."

Zolf clenched his fists, but did not break his cool character.

Watch me.

OoOoO

"No Winry, like this! You have to take three strands at a time!" May groaned.

Winry dropped the two pieces and laid back onto the floor, feeling its coolness seep through the blouse she was wearing. Her fingers were much too rough for the delicate job of braiding. The callouses she had earned from years of tinkering served no use in the feminine practices May was recruiting her for. Over the course of a few days, the woman from Xing had proven to be clever and well-spoken. She brought tears to Winry's eyes from her good humor, and made her fume red from smart remarks. The two were together from morning until evening, unless Alphonse had intervened and coaxed May into a walk in the village. Today, they had spent much of their time in Winry's bedroom, fiddling with hair,

"I give up, I need a break."

May lowered the mirror and peered over her shoulder. She laughed at Winry's defeated form, rolling her eyes at how dramatic the blonde woman could be.

"It's not that difficult, maybe a few more tries and you'll have it!"

Winry groaned in reply, tossing an arm over eyes. Whenever she wasn't focused on perfecting Edward's automail, much of Winry's time was spent with May. The Xingese woman fascinated her, filling her minds with stories of her homeland and their extravagant rituals and customs. May would stare off into empty space and smile, recalling fond memories of the festival she attended with her parents, or her journeys to far-off places to visit distant relatives. She combed through her hair, undoing the braid Winry so dutifully attempted to execute.

"I learned this type of braiding before I was six years old. It's custom to wear your hair like this during weddings or name days."

"I've only ever worn my hair in a ponytail," Winry muttered.

"I wish I could've just done that to my hair as a child. I would have saved so much time."

Her comment made Winry smile. With a sigh, she heaved herself off the floor and stretched her long limbs. A glance at the window told her it was close to the evening. She had yet to complete any adjustments on Ed's arm.

"I think I'll pick up my lessons later."

May wrinkled her nose. "Fine! I'll expect you back here tonight!"

Winry shrugged and grabbed the doorknob.

May rolled her eyes and splayed herself on the floor, earning a chuckle from Winry. Wandering down the hall, she eyed the windows as she went, watching the curtains flutter in the presence of a draft. The snow has been constant and unwavering, small flurries conquering the village that rested below their home. The winds were gentle and occasionally, the sun peaked through the clouds like a curious child, frightening the remnants of winter that remained in her wake.

Winry's workshop, in comparison to the tranquil scenery, was quite the opposite. Arranged in utter disarray; her past week had been filled cutting and shaping. Small trimmings of steel settled upon the floorboards, their small colonies untouched by the mechanic. Agitated by their appearance, Winry opted to go on a hunt for a broom. She headed straight for the kitchen, praying a closet would contain what she needed. The Elric brothers were away for the day, assisting local alchemists with a task that needed to be dealt with immediately. They did not care to elaborate on the subject.

At least, that's how Ed put it.

The thought of the him made Winry's chest constrict, her lungs pulled together, sandwiching her heart. He had been very thoughtful the last few days, greeting her every morning when she rose from slumber. They'd bundle up and take a stroll around the estate, leaving two sets of footprints in the fresh fallen snow. Some afternoons he would come to her workshop and keep her company, nose glued to a thick book. Winry enjoyed his nearness and was overwhelmed with disappointment when he strayed from her. Of course, after she finished the automail, she too would stray.

Don't think about that. Just, find the broom. You came down here for the broom.

She pulled knobs with haste, searching ferociously. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and moved to the next closet, but once again, Winry was met with emptiness.

There must be one somewhere. But where?

"The cupboard under the stairs!"

Picking up her pace, Winry hurried back into the grand entryway. Expecting to be rewarded with her prize, Winry flung the door open jubilantly. But to her dismay, she only found shelves piled meticulously with books.

I swear Edward; is nowhere sacred?

Massaging the space between her brows, she carried herself back up the stairs. Her mind mapped out the short list of tasks remaining; the final plates needed rubbed down extensively, then added to the model; there was also the issue with the inner casing. Attaching it to Edward would prove to be her most difficult task, along with the rehabilitation process. And then, she would be finished. It was hard for her to grasp; time had moved so fast, slipping through her fingertips before she could even protest. The days had felt so short.

This is what you wanted though, right?

"Right," she said to no one, hoping the mere utterance would cement the severity of the situation into her mind.

Don't lie to yourself.

Winry trudged back to her workshop, the door clicking behind her defeated frame. Her work numbed her mind and distracted her from the larger issues at hand. Her mind drifted back to her grandmother and guilt expanded in the pit of her stomach. As days went on, Pinako seemed to become a secondary character in the narrative she was living. The past two months had exposed her to so many new things; the thought of returning home created nothing but dread. Her fingers delicately twisted wires, wrapping blacks and blue around each other in a pattern quite familiar to her.

May would be so proud.

Her ethic began to dwindle, and before Winry knew it, she had braided every set of wires on her work bench. She laid them out by size noting how much easier it seemed. They were not the only things growing shorter; Winry's time with the Elrics was close to completion.

Now, if only I could do this to hair.

As if May had been watching her through the walls, May came barreling into the room, the sound of her bare feet ricocheting from the floor.

"Winry! They're back! Get dressed!"

Her hands came to rest on May's shoulders. "What is it?"

May gripped Winry's hands with her own, squeezing them with all the strength her small body could muster. "There's a festival! In the town, Al said that we need to get dressed! There's going to be food and dancing and music!"

"Oh, I don't know May, I haven't gotten any work done."

May's gaze fluttered down to the workspace, cocking her head in response to the sight of all the intricately twisted cords.

"You did it," she began, eyes creasing from a snarky grin that appeared on her face.

"I suppose."

"Please, I need your help." Winry bit her lip. Neglecting her responsibilities would be so easy.

In the end, she considered it to be her best option.

May was with patient with her. The black hair that had previously slipped through her grasp remained steady in her hands. Winry wrapped and pinned, slicked, and tucked. By the end of their session, May stared in appreciation at how far the mechanic had come. The braids flowed down her back.

"Not too bad for a grease machine," May laughed. Winry pushed the next pin into her locks a little harder.

"Ow! Winry! I was kidding."

"There you go, all done." Clapping her hands, Winry stepped back and gave May a moment to observe her reflection. However, instead of fawning over her appearance, the Xingese woman turned abruptly and enveloped Winry in her arms.

"Thank you Winry," she said into her shoulder. "I am so glad you are my friend."

Winry returned the gesture, squeezing May with all her might.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Edward's voice caused the two women to separate, and May shrunk into a smaller version of herself.

"Oh no," Winry chimed in with a smile. "I was just fixing May's hair."

The alchemist peered down at the woman. "Looks good."

May did not reply. She exchanged a quick nod with him before shuffling out of the room.

Turning to his mechanic, Ed looked defeated. "She's still afraid of me."

"May will come around. She just needs time."

"I was flying off the handle when she arrived," he admitted.

"Sounds quite like my own circumstances."

Edward shot her a look. "We need to get going."

"Right, let me just do something to my hair."

Winry planted herself on the cushioned seat in from of the vanity. She extracted a ribbon from a drawer and began to tie it up; May preferred elaborate twists, but a ponytail would do for her.

"I can help you."

"Edward," she retorted, rather unconvinced.

"Really, I can. Hand that to me."

She passed him the small strip of fabric, letting it slip away without a fight or fuss. Edward selectively pulled three strands from the crown of her head, looping them strategically between his knuckles.

"I used to watch my mother do this," he stated quietly.

Winry watched concentration don his face in the mirror. Golden eyebrows pulled toward the bridge of his nose, lips pursed while he worked his hands in a familiar pattern. She felt him tug gently at her hair, and through the intertwining of it, brush his fingers dexterously at the nape of her neck. She leaned into him, yearning for the contact that had diminished between his skin and hers.

"I also had to learn how when I began to grow my own hair."

Edward finished rather briskly, and when glancing down at her yellow hair, found the sight to be incredibly pleasing. Winry smiled at his reflection, noting how much pride he took in his own work. She meant to thank him, face to face, but was caught by the sudden presence of his mouth on her shoulder. He pressed his nose into her skin, allowing himself one last fleeting moment of her warmth.

"Ed," she breathed.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember how she felt several nights ago beneath those white sheets. Their bodies had been separated by remnants of fabrics, but how their hands had traveled, sought out and settled upon smooth expanses of flesh. He knew this desire would kill him first, far before any transmutation would.

"They're waiting for us," Edward said, regret fueling each word.

Winry understood, and felt him leave her to dress. She stared in the mirror again, catching a stray hair between her finger and thumb. Tucking it into place, she wished that her heart was easier to swallow.

A/N: here we are, there we go.