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Heavy Metal Madonna	By : antilogicgirl Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Het - Male/Female Views: 2542 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters therein. No money is gained from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Cold Turkey

A/N: And here�s where the plot begins to thicken. Keep in mind that Havoc�s got an addictive/dependent personality. He picks up addictions easily. I think you�ll enjoy his mental anguish. I know I do. This chapter, there�s preparation for Jean�s operation, and a bit of lighthearted banter. It�s shorter than the first one by nearly 1,000 words, which is rare for me, but what the hell�enjoy. Don�t forget: I�m putting a couple of sneak-peaks at Chapter 3 at the end!

Warnings:

FL--Foul Language

AD--Adult Content

Sweat beaded on Jean�s forehead, and his eyes shifted restlessly. Winry watched him from across the room, looking at him through the corner of her eye. He had been sweating like this for a couple of days now, becoming nervous and almost completely unable to focus on anything. For a moment, she returned to pretending to study the diagram of the lumbar vertebrae.

�Just one�� he mumbled, his fingers tapping at the blanket that covered him to the waist.

Without taking her eyes from her reading, Winry said for the tenth time, �Negative.�

�Please?� Jean�s voice was becoming increasingly desperate, and she began to wonder if making him quit smoking cold turkey had been such a great idea. This sort of thing had been going on since morning, when he had awakened from a fitful sleep, and immediately asked for a cigarette. It was clear that the worst stage of withdrawal had set in. He was going to really start begging soon, and it would not be pretty. To be completely honest, Winry was not sure she wanted to see him beg like that. Jean was a nice guy.

Cautiously, she approached the bed to check on the IV bag. The saline drip was nearly empty, so she went to get another. �No, Jean.� He made a slight whining sound, causing Winry to look over her shoulder. His eyes were pleading, and there was a very boyish pout on his lips. That sort of thing should be illegal, she thought, because it was so pitiful that Winry almost wanted to give him a cigarette just to make him stop. That, and it was painfully adorable. �I can�t have you taking anything, not even nicotine. After the detox period, it�ll be a lot easier.�

His pout became more pronounced as he crossed his arms over his chest. A sullen reply came out next, �Maybe I don�t want it, then. Damn it.�

Winry laughed wryly. �You, sir, are lying. Just because you are having trouble kicking your habit, it doesn�t mean I�m letting you get away. We shook on it.� Not to mention that you�re not in your right mind at the moment�A crease started to form between his eyebrows, and he appeared angry, or at least annoyed. She turned away, bending down to open the drawer in the supply chest.

--

Jean felt like his skin was on fire. Or, if not that, it was crawling. Like there were bugs walking around just below the surface. He was jumpy, and God, was it hot in here. Somewhere in his head, he knew that he was going into withdrawal, but that didn�t stop him from feeling like he was going absolutely nuts. For the last hour, he�d tried to read, or listen to the radio, or even just stare at Winry in hopes that his telepathic abilities would suddenly awaken and he could make her give him a cigarette through sheer force of will.

But alas, his brain remained quite normal, and Winry was probably immune to his brand of telepathy, anyway. She went to get another bag for his IV, and told him yet again that he could not have a cigarette. When she turned away from him, Jean was honestly contemplating grabbing her and forcing her to give him a smoke, but then something odd happened.

Winry bent over, reaching for the drawer handle where the IV bags were kept, obviously forgetting that she still wore a skirt. Jean was under the impression that none of this woman�s skirts fell any lower than mid-thigh. It was not that he could complain�the girl had amazing legs�but for the love of God, he could see things he knew he should look away from when she bent over like that. Her skirt was blue, almost the same color as her eyes, but her panties were white, with little pink flowers printed on them.

In the few seconds during which she was in that position, no fewer than three sexual images flashed through Jean�s mind, and all of them involved Winry wearing nothing but those particular panties�and a very naughty smile. Oh, yeah, he thought, I�m going crazy. What other explanation was there for the fact that he�d just been fantasizing over Winry�s underwear? For Pete�s sake, she was young enough to be his�well, maybe his niece. But still, he felt like a pervert!

Luckily, Winry was quick in her search for the correct fluids, and was standing upright once again in no less than five seconds. Jean�s mind was doing strange things, focusing on small details of her posture, body language, and behavior that he�d failed to notice before. Because of this new fascination, he did not seem to realize that he could care less about cigarettes right now.

His eyes seemed to be riveted to Winry, as if he could look nowhere else. He watched with rapt attention as she removed the old IV bag, replacing it with the new one, and Jean felt the need to slap himself when his hand inched toward where her thigh touched the side of the bed. In the end, the only thing that stopped him from reaching out to touch the bare skin of her leg was the fact that she moved away to a safe distance. Jean suddenly began to feel fatigued, as if adrenaline were draining from his system.

Soon, his eyes began to droop, and not long afterward he was asleep, dreaming of things he would never recount to anyone, especially the woman that watched over him.

--

It was six o�clock in the morning when Winry brought in a large tray of food, waking Jean with the smells of eggs, toast, sausage, and hash browns. She watched him open his eyes, and smiled. He seemed to be getting better now, since the previous day. After he had a nap, Jean had seemed much calmer, more collected. He also did everything she told him to do, without complaint, about which Winry could not find nothing wrong. She placed the tray in his lap after the bed was adjusted, and watched him eat.

�Hungry?� she asked as he ate nearly all of a triangle of toast in a single bite. Jean did not seem to hear, as he munched away happily. Instead of repeating herself, she merely picked up the hand she had been working on for Edward. The new alloy she made was light, but much stronger than the last set. The weight of the auto-mail would be reduced by 15%, at least. She would not know for sure the exact amount until all of the cables and connections were installed, but Winry was pretty sure that her estimate was correct.

�Weh� cand oo do ee opewashun?� Havoc asked, his mouth filled with egg.

Winry clicked her tongue, annoyed. �I�m sorry,� she said, �I can�t understand you around all that food.�

Once he�d swallowed the mouthful of scrambled egg, Jean asked, �When can you do the operation?� She explained that it would probably be another week or so before his system was completely free of nicotine, which was a good thing, because she needed the time to fabricate parts. The new alloy would be perfect for Jean�s prosthetic vertebra, as well as the access port. But there were no templates for this stuff. She was going to have to take extensive x-ray photography of Jean�s lumbar region, as well as create models and do calculations�

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jean set down his fork and asked wonderingly, �Where do you go when you space out like that?� Blinking in surprise, Winry told him precisely what she�d been thinking. �Ah,� he said, �just nuts-and-bolts type stuff, huh?� Winry frowned, not really understanding where he was going with that statement. What else was she supposed to be thinking about?

After that, they lapsed into an almost awkward silence, neither of them knowing quite what to say to the other. The stillness reigned for two long hours, during which the food was cleared away, and Winry settled back in to adjust the tension of the cables in the fingers of Ed�s new hand. After a few moments, she became aware of the familiar feeling of being watched. Pretending to fidget with the index finger cable, Winry peeked through the hair that fell over one side of her face.

Havoc was watching her intently, his eyes keen. Unsure of exactly what he was watching for, Winry attempted to keep her attention on the work before her. Perhaps he wanted to see if she was good enough to do what she planned? Or, maybe it was something else. He had seemed as if he were going to change his mind several times before the first stages of withdrawal were over, and he seemed fine now, but she could be wrong. The only thing she could hope to do was make sure he saw how competent she was in her work.

--

�How is she treating you?� came Roy�s slow, drawling voice. A moment ago, he had been wheeled into the kitchen to sit next to the telephone. Now, Jean held the handset, wondering how his former commanding officer found out where he was, and what he was up to. Then again, Roy knew everyone, it seemed, and his �spies� were everywhere.

�Fine,� he said in a slightly sarcastic way, �I�m on the wagon for the moment.�

Roy snorted, and Jean smiled, but it faded as the older man replied, �For what? Smokes, booze, or coffee?�

�You had to bring up booze, didn�t you?� To be honest, he hadn�t really felt the need for alcohol in almost a year, only taking a glass of wine with dinner to be polite to his mom. But right now, Jean could have done with a nice stiff drink; single malt scotch would do very well. But it would be a very long time before he could touch the stuff, no matter how much he might need it.

Jean understood himself very well. He was a man of many vices, and they changed periodically. When he was fifteen, he�d started to smoke, and cigarettes had been an abiding companion ever since. Beer came not long afterward, when his best friend took him out for his eighteenth birthday. Other addictions made brief appearances, but Jean Havoc always found himself back at his holy trinity: cigarettes, booze, and coffee. Mostly cigarettes, though. If he were going to be honest, women factored in there somewhere, but he had never had much luck with those. He�d never spent enough time with them to really become addicted.

But currently, his situation was something to be pitied. Right now, he didn�t want a cigarette. Coffee was not really necessary. A drink would be nice, but it was only to get his mind off of what he actually did want�

Winry was moving around the kitchen, getting things ready for dinner. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. How had he thought that her skirt was the worst that could possibly happen? Roy�s voice became a dull drone in his ear as he looked at all of the skin the young woman was showing. Her legs were blissfully covered, which would have been a relief, but Winry had tied the arms of her dark blue coveralls around her waist to reveal a bandeau top. Its apparently sturdy black fabric stretched taught over her moderate�but extremely appealing�bosom, leaving little to the imagination.

Several images flashed through his mind at that moment, combining his earlier underpants fantasy with a new one involving a black bra. The result was perplexing. Instinctively, Jean glanced down at his lap, but frowned in an instant. By all rights, the thought of Winry Rockbell in sheer black panties and a matching bra should have given him a raging hard-on, but it hadn�t. It appeared that such things were impossible, now. Would the operation fix that, or was she just going to give him back his legs?

��hear me, First Lieutenant?!� Jean snapped back to reality when he heard Roy�s voice again, yelling now.

Laughing a bit sheepishly, Havoc rubbed at the back of his head, ruffling hair that was now getting a little too shaggy for his taste. �Hehe. Sorry, Sir. What was that?�

He might have imagined the sound of Roy�s eyes rolling, but he was more inclined to think that he didn�t. �I asked if you were awake. What the hell is she doing to you over there?�

You have no idea, he thought, but knew he dared not say that aloud. �Winry isn�t doing anything to me, Sir.�

�So it�s Winry now�� Roy�s voice became suspicious, but also amused. �She was always Miss Rockbell before. You sure she isn�t doing anything to you?�

�Goddamned pervert,� Jean muttered, and decided that a change of subject was needed. �How�s Ed?� he asked, knowing that it was a low blow, but not really having any other ammunition against Roy at the moment. A satisfying sputter came through the phone, and it was not long before Roy hung up, with a warning that he�d better let him know if Winry was mistreating him, or as soon as he could walk again, he�d have his ass handed to him.

Shaking his head from side to side, Jean hung up the phone before wheeling over to the kitchen table. �Need any help?� he asked, suddenly feeling the need to be useful. Winry smiled at him for a brief moment, leaving him blinking in surprise, before handing him a bowl, and a knife. Jean was supposed to cut up the green peppers that were inside. This was just the kind of thing for him. He�d always been handy with a knife.

In less than ten minutes, it became clear that he was going to have to learn to pay better attention to what he was doing, or he was going to cut off a few of his fingers. It was difficult to keep his eyes on the peppers when Winry was moving all around the chair he sat in. For a few seconds, Jean closed his eyes. This was a habit he needed to kick. After a few deep breaths, he felt more centered, so he opened his eyes and set to work. While he had to concentrate a great deal�especially since Winry had started to hum a little under her breath�he was ultimately able to perform the menial task in under five minutes.

�Thank you,� came Winry�s voice, much closer than he wanted it, as a hand reached over his shoulder to collect the bowl. Jean�s fingers, now nerveless, dropped the knife into the bowl. The shock he felt at her proximity was only compounded by the scent that now invaded his senses. It was light and heavy at the same time, something like a mix of axle grease and white jasmine. I�m going�no, I�m already nuts, He thought, trying desperately not to feel the strands of silky hair that brushed his cheek just before she was gone. The spot on his cheek was a bit tingly, like his lips after the first cigarette of the day. That�s what this is, he realized with a sudden certainty that frightened him, it�s a goddamned addiction. He wasn�t sure what it was about the woman that now dumped freshly cut peppers into a large pot. It might be her stubbornness, or her smile. Could be her legs, or the kindness she showed.

Whatever it was, he knew that it was going to be very difficult to keep control of himself, especially during the period of rehabilitation that she was expecting. A year. That�s what she said. Could he take it? An entire year of having Winry help him with physical therapy? Would he be able to stand having her that close, holding him up, and pushing his body to its limits? Suddenly, Jean was a bit unsure about this procedure. Sure, it would give him back his legs, but what good would it do if he went completely insane before he could use them?

--

Winry took a deep breath. Her grandmother was with her, so she was confident that if anything went wrong during the initial operation, she wouldn�t actually kill Havoc. But it was daunting. She watched as the anesthesia took effect, Jean�s eyelids slowly drooping lower and lower until they closed entirely. After another deep breath, Winry said, �Help me move him.�

They turned him onto his stomach after he had been intubated, and Pinako pulled the strings on Havoc�s gown. It took only a few moments to finish undressing him, after which they draped his back and lower body with sterile sheets. Before putting on her gloves, Winry stopped to lean down and look at Jean�s face. She smoothed his shaggy hair away from his eyes, and thought that he looked very young. �We�ll get you a hair cut,� she whispered, �just as soon as you can sit up by yourself.� And then she was straightening up, and walking over to the sink.

As she scrubbed her hands, she went over the procedure again in her mind. �You sure he can take this?� Pinako asked, her voice tight.

Winry paused, for a long moment listening to the rush of water from the faucet. Then she looked over one shoulder, catching a glimpse of unkempt blond hair. She had seen him go through things that no human being should ever endure. Jean Havoc was one of the strongest people she knew. But would he be able to stand the strain? His body would be fine, but what about his mind? �I hope so,� was all she could say before turning back to the task at hand.

Grim determination was set into her delicate features, and she refused to let her fear or uncertainty cloud her mind. This was going to work for him. If it never did for anyone else, it would work for him.

She would make it work.

--

Sneak Preview, Chapter 3: Pain and Suffering

��It�s done.� It was tough to believe. She looked at the skin around the round access hatch, still brown where they had swabbed it with betadine. �Okay,� Winry said, putting down the power driver. �Let�s test the nerve output��

��I�ll probably be cursing your name later on when you make me move�but right now, even though it hurts�� Jean slid his arm out from beneath the covers, bending it just enough to let his fingertips brush over her cheek. �I really could kiss you��

��My, my,� said the elderly woman, �isn�t that interesting�� Leaning her small form against the jamb, she gave a short chuckle and said, �Once you�ve finished molesting your patient, dear, would you mind getting started with supper?��

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