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Rush Valley was never silent. Even at night there was always the faint sound of machines left to run unattended, of long-distance trains chugging through the station, of the odd automail engineer who kept odder hours. Sure you could find pockets of quiet, in the library or on the outskirts of town, certain disused rooms in the town hall and courthouse, but for the most part Rush Valley was a cacophony of sound from all directions. And yet, as Paninya sat minding the front of Garfiel’s shop, all she could hear was the absence of sound. A few particular sounds, rather. No clanging tools from the cupboard of a workspace behind her and to the left, no bright happy laughter ringing from the living space upstairs, no Eastern-lilted voice chatting up customers in the front room. Paninya slumped over the counter, chin resting on her folded arms.
“Has Winry called yet?” a young boy asked, pulling himself up high enough to look over the counter with one automail hand, his flesh and blood arm held tight in a sling.
“Not yet.” Paninya sighed, glaring at the telephone by the wall as if that could make it ring with a call from the North. Who even went to the North by choice, anyways? It was cold up there, and Paninya knew Winry didn’t have the sort of heavy-duty winter clothes people needed in the mountains.
“Well, when she does, tell her Dad wants her to call us!” the kid grinned, showing off two chipped teeth around a missing one. Paninya wondered if they were related to the busted arm.
“I will.” Paninya promised. She may not know all of Garfiel and Winry’s customers yet, but she was sure Winry would know the boy by description alone, so she jotted that down on the notepad of customers who’d left a message for Winry, next time she called back. It hadn’t even been a week, and already the list took up two thirds of the page. Paninya resolved to hug Winry as tight as possible, when she got back from the North.
The phone ringing startled her almost off the stool, and Paninya scrambled to pick it up and put on her best Professional Voice. “Garfiel’s Automail, how can we help you?” she chirped, dragging the appointment book and its attached pencil closer.
“Am I speaking to Garfiel?” a deep voice asked, thick with an accent Paninya couldn’t quite place.
“No, this is Paninya.” she picked up the pencil, ready to take whatever notes she needed to. “If you’re looking to make a first time appointment, I can handle that.”
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a business call.” the man on the other end said, and Paninya felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Something was very, very wrong. “I’m calling on behalf of Fort Briggs, regarding Miss Rockbell.”
Paninya’s blood ran cold. “Winry works here, yes.” she said, fingers clenching around the pencil in her hand.
“Miss Paninya, I’m going to have to ask that you transfer me to Miss Rockbell’s employer now.” the man asked, and Paninya turned to look at where Garfiel was chatting with a customer, discussing what they were looking for out of a tune-up.
“I’m afraid Mr. Garfiel is performing an automail procedure at the moment.” she said, her voice surprisingly calm and steady to her own ears even as her heart pounded in her chest. “I can take a message for him, though.”
“Very well.” the man on the other end of the line sighed, and Paninya finally put her finger on the accent. Drachmanian. “Please tell him that Miss Rockbell was abducted by the terrorist known as Scar, and her whereabouts are currently unknown.” Paninya was very glad she was already sitting down, automail or no she was sure her knees would’ve given out if she’d heard that while standing. The man on the other end of the line didn’t seem to notice though, simply forged on with his message. “We are doing our utmost to locate her, but in the meantime our resident automail engineer has recommended that her appointments not be left hanging.”
“I- I’ll be sure to tell him.” Paninya couldn’t disguise the tremble in her voice, and for a long second there was only silence through the phone.
“My sincerest condolences.” the man, the soldier on the other end said softly. “We will call back to inform Mr. Garfiel as soon as we have any further information.” the line went dead, and Paninya stared at the receiver in her hand. Abducted by Scar. Scar, the man Winry had confessed once was the one to kill her parents. Scar, the man she had confessed in a hushed whisper late at night that she couldn’t kill, even with a gun in her hands and the clearest shot imaginable.
Paninya’s hand shook as she set the receiver back in its cradle, and the click of it hanging up was the loudest sound in her ears. There would be no call from Winry apologising for taking so long, there would be no more laughter, no more Eastern accent in the shop, no more tools clanging around a space too small for the sheer genius which filled it. Only silence.