FMA: The Whole and More Than All
Title: The Whole and More Than All
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Ed/Winry, with appearances from Alphonse, Roy, Garfield and the Rush Valley crew.
Word Count: 24, 907
Summary: With tensions rising in Rush Valley, Ed makes a decision that permanently impacts his relationship with Winry and the way they relate to each other. Set in a post-manga world, with minor attempts at worldbuilding.
A/N: Written for fma_big_bang. About a year and a half ago I had a dream about a sequel to COS that was a western and took place in Rush Valley; somehow it mutated into this manga-verse fanfic.
First off, let me thank my betas: juxtaposie, because she is my daily cheerleader/drill sergeant. This fic would not exist without her. pandoraculpa, who has given me invaluable feedback over the course of writing the story. This fic would not be in this finished state without her. Additional thanks goes to a_big_apple, who gave me some suggestions for smoothing out the timeline and fixing the flow of the story. I owe them an enormous amount of gratitude.
Secondly, I also need to thank my big bang artists, dzioo and allegratheneko, who have created the absolutely fantastic pictures that you see in this fic. Please go back to their entries ( dzioos and allegras) and tell them both how fabulous their work is.
***
Rush Valley was exactly as hot as he had feared - the kind of hot where he could feel the sun closing up around him until there was nothing but an Ed-shaped pocket in the atmosphere, almost forcing him to forge a physical path through the oppressive air. For a long moment, Ed stood outside the train station, his suitcase clasped loosely in his hand, and took in the bustling scene in front of him. It was a scene that had long since become familiar to him; something that, despite his initial misgivings towards the city, had become a regular destination.
Then with a sigh, he tipped his hat forward and started the walk. Garfield's was just close enough that he couldn’t justify hiring a cab, and far away enough that the walk in the rising heat of the early afternoon grew more and more uncomfortable with each and every step.
It hadn't helped that he'd worn long sleeves for the trip out, but they remained a necessary evil for navigating Rush Valley without an escort from Winry. Without the sleeves mechanics tended to get excited and grabby, and as long as Winry was with him people kept their distance. Something about Winry made people be polite. Even when people figured out exactly who Ed was, people stayed polite if Winry was in the vicinity. Ed couldn't blame them. There was something bothersome about upsetting Winry.
People figuring out who he was had turned into another problem. He already had a reputation in Rush Valley, having gotten into two serious fights there before - even now, his eyes were picking out roofs that he'd repaired and porches that he'd fixed - but worse than that was people catching sight of his watch, realizing that he was a State Alchemist and a member of the military, and being forced to watch as recognition rose up in their eyes. Rush Valley had been in an odd, tense, mood of late, and despite (or because) of the fact that a significant number of the men living in Rush Valley were war veterans, all through town active service men were given the stink eye. Or worse.
So Ed always made a special effort to keep his head down. And when he finally got to Garfield’s, he knew, Winry would smile at him, and ask if he managed to get through town without finding trouble, no matter how many times he protested that it was trouble that found him.
As he walked, he wondered if he should stop and pick something up. He had gifts from Central, sure - a few cookbooks passed onto him from Gracia, and some photographs from the previous New Year’s celebration that he knew she'd never seen - but maybe he needed something else. Chocolates, or flowers, or something.
They’d been dating for a few years now, but these were the types of things he was still struggling with, even this far into their relationship. He made Winry happy, he was pretty sure - mostly because Granny Pinako had yet to knock his skull in - but a lot of the time when he was unsure of something he had to stop and think about whether or not Al would frown at him before he decided what action to take.
He realized suddenly that he'd stopped walking and was staring at a storefront. An older man, sitting outside and cradling an arm, gave him a look from under the brim of his hat. "You buyin'?" he asked Ed in a gruff tone. Then, his eyes straying to Ed's suitcase, asked suspiciously, "Or sellin'?"
Ed stared at the wires spilling out of the arm. "Buying." He answered, and then, with the smirk properly in place, added, "If you got a deal on what I'm lookin' for."
The man's entire attitude changed in a heartbeat. He jumped up from his chair and beckoned Ed into the shade of the store. "You don't stay in business in Rush Valley unless you got talent or you got deals. I got both, so I actually turn a profit."
Ed grinned and ducked his head to follow the shopkeeper inside, making a mental note to pay with cash instead of credit.
***
He heard a commotion as he approached Garfield's. Raised voices were coming from within the shop and could be heard clearly down the street. One raised voice, actually, once Ed started really listening. It wasn’t unusual for voices to be raised in Garfield’s for any number of reasons: Paninya had ticked Garfield off, or both were teasing Winry, or an automail fitting was going awry, but this was unusual. This was a dark, deep voice, clearly shouting in anger. Ed could hear the bellowing on the wind, carried out the open store front.
Ed picked up his pace, curious and somewhat concerned. The stretch of shops where Garfield’s was located was silent, and though Ed was sure everyone was inside and actually working, it seemed strange to him how deserted everything suddenly looked; it was almost like the entire block was trying to politely look away from an awkward situation, like they didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping.
As he got closer the shouting formed words: “You are all crazy if you think you can stop me from getting them! I will not be treated this way!”
Ed was up to a light jog at this point, and about to make the turn into the shop - just as another body came barreling out of the door. It was like running into a wall, and Ed, unprepared, hit the dirt. His belongings scattered, and somewhere in his shock of surprise heard a voice growl, “Watch it, punk.”
He sat up, rubbing his shoulder where they’d connected and watched the figure stalking away through the cloud of dirt that’d been raised when he fell. Clearly one of Rush Valley’s finest, with arms the size of locomotors and a back as broad as the street was wide. If it weren’t for the dark hair, slicked back from his forehead, Ed might have thought he could have been an Armstrong.
Watching as the man trudged down the street, Ed couldn’t help wondering what that had been all about, and as a result didn’t notice -
“There you are.” Winry’s relieved voice interrupted his reverie. Slightly startled, he realized he was still sitting in the dirt. Winry was leaning over him, frowning. “The trains are running on time today, Ed. I checked. You’re late. I was beginning to think you’d picked another fight or something.”
He scowled as he took her hand, letting her help him up. “People pick fights with me,” he insisted. “I never look for a fight.”
“Is that so?” she gave him an appraising look. Automatically, he drifted towards her, his arm casually reaching behind her back as if to curl her close to him, heat and public be damned. “So what were you doing then?” she challenged.
“Oh!” he bent over, picking up his belongings, scrabbling for the bits of wire that had been tossed as he went down.
Hastily, he rearranged them in his hand. Grimacing - they’d looked much nicer a minute ago, neatly packed in their multicolor bundles, separated by gauge - he presented them to Winry. “For you.” An automail mechanic’s version of a bouquet of flowers.
Winry beamed, and Ed felt his heart speed up a little bit. Even now, her smile did that to him. “Thank you Ed! I can use these -”
“Winry? Is he gone?” Garfield appeared in the doorway now as well, and the expression on his face was one that Ed had never seen before: frowning, unamused, his eyes squinted in irritation. Then his gaze landed on Ed, and instantly brightened. “Edward! You did make it! Come in off the street.”
“Look!” Winry thrust out her hand, showing Garfield her gift. “We were just talking about trying three gauge wire on fifth digit joints!”
“Well that was awfully considerate of you Edward.” Garfield turned his eyes, now glittering, from the bouquet of wires to Ed. Ed tried hard not to visibly sigh at the look on Garfield’s face. As if he didn’t get enough teasing in Central. Instead, however, Garfield cast his eyes down the street and then beckoned them inside. “Come in out of the sun then. We have a fresh pitcher of lemonade in the icebox.”
He followed Winry inside, through the workshop where Winry and Garfield did the majority of their work and appointments, and through the doorway where their kitchen and bathroom split off from the tiny surgical room they kept prepped in case of emergency. Their patients, for the most part, had their surgeries done at the clinics near the center of town - few of the shops in this area were big enough for a full operating room, like Granny’s basement - but the room was kept, just in case. Winry had thought it was strange, when she first started, and Ed knew that while she’d adjusted, she still preferred to do the surgical work herself.
He mostly agreed with Winry - she’d told him stories about coordinating with surgeons in town, exchanging surgical ports and only being allowed to assist in the bare minimum that would satisfy the requirements of her apprenticeship despite the fact that she’d been a surgical assistant since before she hit puberty - and Ed honestly thought it was a bigger hassle than it was worth.
He never said a word, however, and had learned by now to simply listen when Winry talked about work. Winry could get peculiar, if he said the wrong thing, expressed the wrong opinion (even if it was agreeing with her, oddly enough), and these days they didn’t get enough time alone together to justify the risk. And it would all be worth it, once her birthday passed and she was released from her apprenticeship.
She appeared in front of him again, holding a glass of lemonade in front of her expectantly. Ed suddenly realized that he was still holding his suitcase, that he hadn’t even properly greeted her. He took the glass, set it down firmly on the table, dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her.
She squeaked in surprise and stiffened in his arms before wrapping hers around his neck and returning the embrace. “Hi,” he mumbled into her neck.
“Hi,” she returned, kissing him on the cheek and grinning at him as he released her. “You wouldn’t have thought that I’d seen you just last weekend.”
“I could have used you in Central,” he replied, sitting down at the table and picking up his drink. “Mustang’s been a bigger bastard than usual. If you’d been in town you could’ve distracted Hawkeye. Everyone knows that he can’t get anything done when she’s not in the office.”
“That’s not fair,” she protested gently, sitting across from him. “Using me to get out of work. You’re not smart enough to think of an excuse?”
“Funny.” He sipped his drink. “That’s what Al says too. Except then he complains about me distracting him and throws a book at me.”
Winry brightened. "Ed, that's good! That means he's understanding the material. Why else would he waste the book on you?"
"Ha." Ed looked down at his glass, and wondered if he should call his brother back in their little apartment in Central and let Al know that he’d had arrived okay. "He probably hasn't even noticed that I've left, he's so wrapped up in his classes."
Out the door, he heard Garfield answer the telephone, and glanced back towards the entrance, frowning. "So what was up with that guy?" he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
Winry frowned at him. "Ed, we've been through this. Garfield's just that way-"
"No!" Ed interrupted, scowling at her. "You know who I mean. The big guy who was shouting so loudly I practically heard him back at the train station."
"Oh." Winry's face darkened further. "Him."
Garfield swept into the room then, murmuring apologies for breaking up Ed and Winry's reunion. Winry leaned back into her chair, hooked an arm over the edge, and asked casually, "Master Garfield, how many times do you think Mr. Garrett has hit up the shops around the block?"
Garfield put down the pitcher and tossed his head in thought like an impatient horse. "This has to be at least the third time in as many weeks. Why?" Winry pointed towards Ed, and following her gaze he nodded in understanding. "Mr. Garrett is currently blacklisted from purchasing ammunition from any shops associated with the Guild."
"What?" Ammunition meant he had a weapon. Ed's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
"The usual reason," Winry answered, shrugging. "He got stupid. Most of the people who end up blacklisted are. It's all fine and dandy when they have their arm-wrestling contests -"
"It's nice, actually," Garfield interjected, "Sometimes we get new business,"
"- but it crosses the line when people get angry and innocent people get hurt." Winry finished, giving Garfield a sour look.
"You see, Ed," Garfield pulled out a seat and leveled his gaze. "Automail mechanics like showing off their work. And they're proud of the custom weapons they design for their clients. But it looks bad when a client loses control and does something we'd consider ill-advised with their automail. It doesn't reflect well on the mechanics and the engineers who design those weapons. Blacklisting is the absolute last resort, but Mr. Garrett got caught up in some masculine pissing contest -"
"And destroyed two storefronts and injured three people. Bad enough that one of them is still in the hospital." Winry shook her head. "I'm proud of the work I do but... I don't like the idea that my clients could go out and do something like that."
The words hit Ed like a punch to the stomach. For a moment he groped for words, wondering how to respond and where this feeling had come from, but then Garfield picked up the conversation again. "It used to be," he explained, playing with the condensation on the side of his glass, "that we hardly ever had to blacklist someone. Now the Guild is sending out fresh pictures and an updated list every couple of months."
"My Gran could never be bothered with that firearms stuff," Winry made a face. "I'm starting to see why."
"I never saw the point in them myself," Ed volunteered, fishing an ice cube out of his glass and popping it into his mouth. "It all seems pretty useless to me."
Winry's glare swung full force onto him. "Only because you can transmute your own! I could make you a perfectly good weapon for your automail!" Ed felt that sick pit in his stomach again.
The service bell at the front counter rang, and Winry stood up to answer, still muttering under her breath about Ed. "Transmutes them and then doesn't put it back properly, compromises the structure of the entire piece you know..." Her quiet tirade followed her down the hallway, where it ended abruptly in a cheerful greeting towards a client.
Ed glanced at Garfield, who was smiling at him. Shrugging, he took another sip from his lemonade. "I'm so glad Miss Winry has such a practical boyfriend."
***
That conversation was still weighing heavily on his mind that evening, as he stretched across the tiny bed, gazing at the single window in the little room. It was still early enough in spring that the temperature cooled during the night. Winry had left the window open, and the wind was making the blinds bang loudly against the window pane as the curtains fluttered. She boarded upstairs, above the shop, and back in the beginning of their relationship when he'd been uncertain and worried about insulting her honor he'd always rented a small room at an inn whenever he came to visit.
Then she'd simply decided to sleep at the inn with him, despite the fact that Garfield had reassured them both before that he didn't mind if Ed stayed, and scolded Ed for spending the money. They persisted though, if not for reasons of practicality; there was something thrilling about being alone together. The first couple of times she had stayed with him Ed could count among the more nerve-wracking in his life, but now it was nice, and comforting. He liked having her close, felt weirdly empty whenever he had to sleep alone back in his apartment in Central.
He'd made a valiant effort to get some quality time alone after dinner, when they'd stumbled to their room. They'd been holding hands, and Winry had been flushed and giggling, and there had been a few delicious minutes when he’d been able to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close and they’d been able to make up for the lost time spent between weekends when they both worked.
Then she’d laughed, and put a hand warningly on his chest. “I smell awful,” she chided him. “I’ve been working all day. Let me shower first,” There’d been an unspoken invitation: Unless you can’t wait and you want to join me? In response he’d choked and let her go. He wasn’t nearly smooth enough to pull that off, not even if nakedness was nothing new to them. He’d only embarrass himself.
Besides, he’d realized by now that Winry was always worth the wait.
Sprawled out like he was, it was a miracle he didn’t fall asleep while he was waiting. But something about their earlier conversation had stuck with him, and he couldn’t exactly figure out what it was. He didn’t want to pick a fight figuring it out, not now, not when both of their lives kept them apart more often than not, but something was still bothering him.
He sighed and blew his bangs from his eyes. He was making things up. Mustang was working him too hard.
Ed had always vowed once everything was said and done that he’d resign from the military, that he’d never cared anything about the motivations or the perks that appealed to most soldiers, but once the Promised Day had come and passed and true disaster had been averted, Ed had discovered that his debt to Mustang ran beyond a few symbolic cens. He couldn’t make himself leave, not yet.
At least Mustang was playing him to his strengths. With Al restored and completely immersed in his classes at a local college, there was no reason for him to travel beyond trips to see Winry. Mustang had recruited him to help revamp the State Alchemist program. He’d wanted everything evaluated, from the entrance exam to the yearly renewals. Ed had suspected that Roy was possibly toying with disbanding the program, with the full knowledge that the rest of the parliament set up after the death of Fuhrer Bradley would probably agree him, unless they could improve it. If they could actually be for the people, actually support the public they were supposed to help…
It was all politics, which was something Ed had never been good at, but he was good at being upfront and telling it like it was, which had actually worked out to his benefit so far. He’d long ago earned the reputation as an alchemist who truly cared for the state’s citizens, and he was starting to earn a reputation as a fierce negotiator and a blunt statesman. In general, he found the work fulfilling and he was making a pain in the ass of himself around Central. He knew, because Roy had started off their most recent phone call by reporting that at least three senior politicians had complained of migraines after meeting with Ed.
His biggest complaint about the job, in fact, was that it kept him so separated from Winry. She’d returned to Rush Valley to finish off her apprenticeship, and while Ed supported her - was proud as hell of her, actually - it was the first time he’d really considered the time they spent apart and how very ready he was for it to be over. There’d never been any question in his mind that she was the one he wanted to come home to, though he was careful never to try to analyze that thought any further. He wanted to be able to see her whenever he wanted, that much he knew, and anything more than that, anything about the future or the two of them in that future, tended to fog his mind up.
The end was in sight, at least. Garfield was considering releasing her from her apprenticeship with the passing of her eighteenth birthday in a few months. Winry hadn’t said a word about her plans afterwards, but Ed was pretty sure that she would be ready to leave Rush Valley, that he could coax her to Central; if not then definitely back home to Risembool. This project with Mustang wouldn’t last forever, and he didn’t think he’d mind moving back to the country for a bit.
The shower shut off then, and the door to the bathroom popped open. Even if Ed had been impatient before, Winry coming out of the shower was definitely his reward. It was easily one of the more glorious sights he’d been treated to in his life, with her blond hair clinging to her neck and shoulders and the towel wrapped around her whispering promises of areas he’d only recently begun to map in earnest.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Feel better?”
She nodded in satisfaction. “Much.” Then, without another word, she flopped onto the bed next to him, working her way up until their hips and shoulders were flush and pressed against one another.
Ed grimaced. “You’re still wet,” he complained, reaching out and picking at the strands of hair that were starting to stick to him.
“Then dry me,” she ordered gently, her breath warm and damp in his ear.
“Dummy,” Ed scolded, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “I could do that but I’d have to turn the water into steam. I’d end up scalding half your skin.”
Winry blanched and pulled away. “On second thought, I’ll just do it myself.” She sat up, then looked at him over her shoulder, still wearing only the towel. He saw her shoulders rise, as if she were taking in a breath to say something. There was another hidden invitation somewhere in there, another chance for him to put his foot in his mouth, but before either one of them could say a word they both heard it: a terrible crash, the sound of men yelling, and the shriek of metal as automail shifted and morphed into their hidden functions.
Winry rolled her eyes and tossed an annoyed glance at the window. “Clients are getting rowdy again,” she explained in a put out tone. “I hope they don’t vandalize anyone’s storefront this time or more people are going to be losing ammunition privileges. Their mechanics lose money when idiots end up blacklisted.”
Ed pushed himself up onto his elbows as if to crane his head out of the window. He’d been assuming that any disturbances were occurring closer to the other side of town, where the bars and restaurants were clustered; he’d stayed at this inn several times with no problems.
Things outside were already quieting. Still, Winry’s eyes were watching the window raptly, and Ed, feeling forgotten, reached up and tugged at the end of her hair. “Hey you.”
She tore her eyes away and looked at him again, grinning as they made eye contact, and oh, Ed would endure a million Promised Days if it meant that he got to come home to her smile every time. She dipped her head down, brushed her lips over his, and as easy as that they were tangled together again.
Thoughts of trouble outside were banished, along with Winry’s towel.
***
"Well look-it here! It's Ed! How's Miss Winry today, Ed?" Hands grabbed at his arm, fingers clenching hard enough that Ed slowed to prevent his sleeve from being torn off.
"Good afternoon Mr. Redding," Ed responded dryly, trying to politely take his automail arm back. "Winry's fine. Busy, mostly. She's got a full schedule of appointments today."
He was a little impressed. He'd made it a full three shops down from Garfield's before one of the neighbors had accosted him. In general, Ed made the effort to minimize his appearance in Rush Valley, but by now the majority of Winry's customers and the mechanics in the surrounding shops recognized him on sight. Most of them were polite, for Winry's sake, though Ed could tell there was no love lost between him and her customers, who generally treated him with suspicion. He tried not to take it too personally though, because he was pretty sure they’d be wary of any boy that hung around Winry. The ones who knew him personally weren’t that big of a problem.
There were a select few Rush Valley natives, however, that were extremely friendly - to the point that Ed was suspicious of them.
"Come on now, Mr. Redding," Paninya snapped, trying to step between the mechanic and the grip he had on Ed's right arm. "He doesn't belong to you and you know it. Quit trying to steal Winry's work."
"I'm not stealing anything!" Mr. Redding protested. Immediately, however, he dropped Ed's arm as if it had burned him - which it might have, in the midday heat, though Ed knew the truth. "I just think her work is interesting, and I think this young man does her a disservice, hiding it when he comes around." He turned beady eyes on Ed. "Are you ashamed of your 'mail or something, boy?"
Ed raised his eyebrows. "Not at all. If Winry moved to Xing, I'd follow just for the maintenance."
The mechanic sniffed indignantly. "I wouldn't make you travel that far. And I'd offer you a good deal too, except I doubt you’d need it, makin’ top buck for the military.”
There was a moment where Ed's mouth simply dropped open, a shocked moment where his brain tried to process exactly what was being insinuated - Did he just say, I think he did - but before he could Paninya rocked her weight between the two of them and reached behind her, as if to grab Ed's arm herself.
"Don't bait him, Mr. Redding," Paninya interjected sharply. "And don't go bothering Winry's customers. I'm sure she'd have a thing or two to say to you if she knew about that."
"Hey, hey, hey!" He took a step back from the two of them, his hands raised in a placating manner. "I meant no harm! Don't you two go putting words in my mouth that were never in my brain." He looked up and down the street, then snorted and shuffled his feet in the dirt. "I got too much work to do to stand out here and get insulted on my own property."
"Of course," Paninya replied sweetly. "We'll be on our way then."
They were barely out of earshot before Paninya shuddered. "That guy always gives me the creeps. Mechanics in Rush Valley are crazy, but poachers are the worst sort."
Ed cast a worried glance behind him. "Is he really after Winry's customers?"
Paninya let out a short, sharp laugh. "He's after anyone's customers. Although," she gave Ed a critical look out of the corner of her eye. "I think you're high on his wish list because you're kind of famous."
"Seriously?" Ed's face twisted in confusion. "Right around now that's more liable to get him into trouble than anything else."
"You don't have to tell me that," Paninya retorted. "Why do you think Winry sent me with you? Someone needs to keep you safe."
"Shut up," Ed ordered, refusing to look at her even though he knew she was smirking at him.
"You're going to ruin my reputation," she insisted. "When I worked so hard to become an upstanding citizen too."
"You're half the reason I’m stuck with the reputation I have here," Ed shot back. "You're the one who stole my watch.”
"This watch?" Paninya asked cheekily, holding up that familiar silver watch with the military insignia. It flashed in the sun, a pinpoint bright light in Ed's eyes.
"Will you quit doing that!” Ed snarled, grabbing the watch off of her and stuffing it back into his pocket. “And don’t go waving it around in the middle of the day or we’ll both be in trouble.”
“Don’t worry on my account,” Paninya replied, pulling up at the corner of the street and looking to see if it was safe to cross through the crowd and carts. “I can talk my way out of trouble.” Ed just glowered at her, and she finally shrugged and pointed down the street. “There’s the shop. Do you know what Winry wanted you to pick up?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Ed reached into his pocket for the piece of paper Winry had pressed into his hand when they’d left. Both she and Garfield had a full schedule during the day, so Ed had offered to run errands, both to help out the shop and to keep himself from trying to distract Winry. It was just another one of the reasons he preferred Winry coming to Central than visiting Rush Valley himself.
Coaxing Winry away from her work could be a fun - but rarely profitable - endeavor. “She said she needed - hey! My list is gone!” He turned on his heels, his eyes scanning the ground for the lost piece of paper, already wondering how Winry would react if he showed up and asked her to rewrite everything.
“You mean this list?” Paninya asked teasingly from behind him. Ed wheeled around again and lunged, but before he even got close Paninya flashed a bright grin at him and disappeared into the crowd.
***
Paninya was already at the shop by the time Ed caught up with her - she could slip through a crowd, unnoticed, but Ed had to take his time and couldn't just push people out of his way. The shopping district of Rush Valley was, of course, the busiest part of the city as well, and so Paninya was almost to the counter by the time Ed had politely elbowed his way through the mass of shouting people and slipped away from the manic engineers who'd been trying to examine his limbs.
Choosing a supply shop in Rush Valley was much like picking a mechanic - mechanics were generally loyal to a single shop, and while it was easy to be lured away by better deals, most were suspicious of being lowballed and tended to stick with who they knew. Mr. Garfield had established ties with a Mr. Bosch, and Winry therefore bought from him exclusively. The supply shops had a pulse on the entire city, and everyone knew that the best business gossip was found in the shopping district. It was where the majority of the tourists gravitated, bringing in news from other markets, and half as many mechanics were there to socialize as to buy, much to Ed's dismay as he found his personal space invaded, a body pressing at his back and at both shoulders.
He scowled at Paninya, who appeared entirely at home with both the atmosphere and Ed's sour mood. She had Winry's list out and was holding it close to her face. "Hey," Paninya poked him in the shoulder. "Did she actually explain any of this to you?"
"Eh?" Paninya shoved the scrap of paper in her face. Ed blinked as Winry's handwriting invaded his sight.
"You heard me, did she explain any of this?" Paninya demanded. "First of all, I can't even tell if this is a five or a six, and then she doesn't even say if it’s the gauge of wire she wants or how many bundles she needs. Does she expect you to read her mind or something?"
Ed frowned. "I just bought her wires, why is she ordering more?"
"Geez, Ed, you don't know how many wires go into a single arm, do you?" Ed blinked at her, and Paninya raised an eyebrow. "How long have you had your 'mail again, Ed?"
He opened his mouth to make a retort, but was instantly distracted by the conversation going on directly to his left. Unconsciously, he tugged his sleeve down a little more and pulled his hat farther over his eyes.
"If you ask me the Guild is no more than a branch of the government at this point." Ed lowered his head, and glanced out of the corner of his eye. There were two older gentlemen, entirely nondescript in their demeanor and dress, waiting patiently for their turn to place orders. They were both wearing jackets - Ed couldn't help wondering how they didn’t collapse of heat stoke; he could feel sweat trickling down his neck - and so he couldn't tell if they were mechanics or automail clients. Ed had assumed, from their complaints about the Guild, that they were clients, until:
"They're so out of touch they don't realize that the profits from installation only go so far. I need the ammunition sales to pay my bills." He paused to cough, and then added, "It's gettin' hard to make a living out here."
"Used to be the Guild was on our side," his partner replied. "Now we're paying them dues so that they can tell us not to sell to people."
Ed snuck another glance. They were definitely not mechanics he was familiar with, no one from Winry's block, but that didn't mean their opinions were unfamiliar to him. This wasn't the first time he'd heard Rush Valley citizens expressing such opinions. Ed and Winry had never talked about it, but he also knew that she generally didn't discuss politics - and he knew that she'd heard about it before, from clients who were less than complimentary about Ed and her relationship with him. He sighed. Paninya managed to slip through a couple people, inching her way closer to the counter, but Ed hung back.
"Dunno why they're so gung-ho to kiss the new government's ass anyway." People were closing around all of them, driving a human wedge between him and the mechanics. "It's the same jackasses who made up the old military, and they never gave a whit about us."
"You're telling me? I lost my foot fighting their wars and you think I heard one word from them since they stuck me on a train home?"
"Ha, they've already crippled us once. Now they're just going to do it again with their pointless laws and bans and blacklisting."
A third voice joined in at this. "You mean the Guild or the government?"
"Same difference!" Shouts of laughter rose up.
Ed's mouth twisted. He was always aware of the preferential treatment state alchemist's received, and he'd heard rumblings about what ordinary soldiers had endured during the wars, and the shoddy care that Bradley had half-heartedly provided afterward. As if he wasn't annoyed enough, he thought of Mustang. Mustang was all about the voice of the people - Ed wondered how much he'd heard about this.
Ahead of him, Paninya's voice rose above the din, capturing the shopkeeper's attention. Ed looked up, and then saw the wallet Paninya was using to pay for the purchases - didn't Garfield have a credit line here? - and suddenly, patting down his pockets, he realized.
“Son of a!”
***
The trip back to the train station was much more enjoyable than his arrival. It was late in the day, and the sun would soon be setting. It was already threatening to dip below the cliffs that surrounded Rush Valley, casting long shadows over the town. One hand held his suitcase, while his other hand was entwined with Winry's as she made the long walk with him back to the train station. It still surprised him, despite how long they'd been making these trips to see one another, how fast weekends traveled. It seemed like they never got the chance to spend time together the way they wanted.
Winry was off on Sundays, barring emergencies, and so they'd taken the opportunity to sleep in late, lying in bed until neither one could stand being tangled up in the warm sheets anymore with the sun beating through even the blinds. They'd spent the day together, conceding brunch with Garfield and Paninya but then taking dinner for themselves. Both had known that after dinner Ed would have to get back to the train station, though neither one liked to talk about it. Instead they talked about the next weekend, preferring to look forward to what would be coming, instead of lamenting what they couldn't have.
"There's a place I thought we'd try," Ed informed her. "I can make reservations for Saturday night."
Winry gave him a sly grin. "How did you hear about this place?"
"Oh," Ed said vaguely. "Around."
Her grin was still too big. They both knew the truth.
"Mustang," Ed finally mumbled, refusing to look at her while she chuckled. The brigadier general was always generous in his advice for Ed and Winry's relationship, and Ed never admitted exactly how often he had quietly taken the man’s suggestions.
Winry declined to comment. "I think that sounds wonderful," she said softly. The station platform was almost empty - most people caught the morning trains - but there were still a few people milling around, impatiently waiting for the incoming train. Though it was still dusk, the lights responsible for guiding the train into the station were starting to flicker on, casting a hazy glow over the platform. The evening smelled damp, and Ed thought it might rain soon. Despite the fact that it was warm, Winry was standing so close to him that she could rest her head on his shoulder, if she wanted.
"Tell Al I said hi," she murmured, gazing up at him.
"You'll see him next weekend in Central," Ed responded. Once she frowned, however, he smiled and gave a put-upon sigh. "If you insist. You know I risk my skull every time I interrupt him when he's studying though."
"His books can't be any heavier than a wrench," Winry retorted. He was about to respond that they were pretty damn close - Al was taking some high level classes, and Ed had become something of an expert in getting beaned by both books and wrenches - when they heard the whistle, and braced themselves for the incoming rush of wind as the train pulled in.
He looked back down at Winry, mirroring her expression as her lips twisted into a grimace. "Have a safe trip home please."
"Of course," he responded, reaching out and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. Uneasily, he cast a glance around the platform. Those who'd been waiting for the train had rushed forward, and a lot of the time he got anxious, doing anything with Winry in front of other people.
Winry read him perfectly. She slid her hands up his chest, cupped his cheeks, and pulled him down into a soft, gentle kiss. Suddenly there was no one on the platform but the two of them. Ed was always amazed at how easily he got lost in her.
When the kiss threatened to turn more serious, Winry finally pulled away and panted a laugh against him. "Don't miss your train now."
"I swear," Ed vowed, his arms still locked around her waist, "I'm going to have a talk with Mustang about these meetings early on Monday. If he could just wait until after lunch I could stay a whole 'nother night."
Winry smirked at him. "I'm going to be talking to Riza soon. Maybe I can make a subtle suggestion to her."
"That would be nice," Ed told her, bending over to pick up his suitcase, his brain still vaguely dazed from the kiss.
He wasn't sure what made him ask the question, or why the question had even occurred to him. He knew Winry talked to Al and Mrs. Hughes pretty regularly, and knew that Winry and Riza got along very well, but for some reason he was surprised to hear about Winry talking to Hawkeye personally; in his head, the two had always been connected only through him. “Do you talk to Hawkeye often?”
Winry raised her eyebrows. “Um, I guess?” She twirled the end of her ponytail through her fingers. “She helps me with my custom designs. I didn’t realize how unbalanced they were until I consulted her.”
As quickly as that, the sick feeling had returned to Ed. He felt almost as if he’d been blindsided, but couldn’t for the life of him tell by what. His mouth was open but no words were coming out.
Winry gave him a nervous smile, then rocked forward and gave him one last peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you next weekend. Have a good ride.”
“I will,” Ed said faintly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll probably be up late tonight,” she responded casually, her eyes flitting down to the ground before looking back up at him. “Working.”
“Okay,” Ed revised, unsure if she would actually be working or if she was just interested in hearing that he had gotten home safe. “I’ll call you tonight then.”
He climbed onto the train and found a window seat where he could wave goodbye to her. As always, she stayed on the platform until he was out of eyesight, and once the train was well on its way Ed sat back and tried to nap before they arrived in Central. The sick feeling stayed with him almost the entire ride, and he was sure it wasn’t because of motion sickness.
***
“Good grief Fullmetal, are you actually sleeping?” Something hit Ed in the face, and he jerked in his chair as his eyes flew open. Roy was frowning at him from the other side of his desk.
Ed glared at the man as he rubbed his forehead. “What was that for?” he snapped, reaching down to pick up the paper ball that Roy had tossed at him. They’d been working from those notes when he’d dozed off. “You were taking a phone call!”
“You fell asleep while meeting with your superior officer!” Roy retorted, crossing his arms and leaning forward. “Next time I’m throwing the inkwell!”
Ed craned his head back, glancing at the corner of the room where Riza sat, patiently cleaning one of her guns while the men met. She appeared entirely engrossed in her task. “Hawkeye, did you see him? Doesn’t that count as harassment or something?”
“I saw,” Riza remarked, her eyes not even flicking towards Ed. “Sir, your form was all off. Do try to aim better or I’m going to schedule you some time at the shooting range.”
Roy’s answering groan made it perfectly clear who would get the blame if such an event were to come to pass. Ed scowled and slouched down in his chair, half-heartedly shuffling through the notes that were lying in his lap. Roy raised his eyebrows, his expression turning concerned. “You seem awfully tired this morning Fullmetal.”
Ed shrugged. “Not anymore than usual.”
A smirk started to worm its way across Roy’s face. “Did you have a late night?”
Ed’s tone was sharp as he repeated his answer. “Not anymore than usual.”
“Hawkeye,” Roy asked in a slow, sure tone. “What was the date this weekend?”
“The sixteenth, sir.” Riza appeared uninterested, as if she didn’t know exactly what Roy was up to.
“What,” Ed demanded, “you can’t even keep track of the date without Hawkeye helping? Do you need help tying up your boots in the morning?”
“They buckle,” Riza called from the corner.
“You’re just trying to change the subject,” Roy answered smoothly, though there was no denying the color that had risen in his cheeks. “This was a Rush Valley weekend, wasn’t it?” He sighed mournfully and leaned back in his chair, casting Ed an appraising look. “You’re always useless to me after Rush Valley weekends. The late train wears you out.”
“I don’t want to talk about Rush Valley,” Ed asserted, shuffling back through his notes again. “I want to talk about alchemists. I started tracking down Schuster. His last known address was in the west -” Ed abruptly cut himself off, the mention of Rush Valley suddenly reminding him of the words he’d overheard during the weekend. “Hey,” he asked, “Do you have any contacts in Rush Valley?”
Roy raised his eyebrows and scratched his head. “In Rush Valley?” At Ed’s nod he shifted his gaze back to Riza. “Hey Hawkeye,” he called. “Does Miss Rockbell count as one of my contacts?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Ed started to protest, but Riza cut him off.
“No sir, she’s considered my contact.” Riza was finishing up her cleaning and was starting to reassemble her gun.
Ed twisted all the way around in his chair to look at her. Winry had said something similar as he was getting on the train last night. He looked at Hawkeye for a minute, and then blurted out the same question that he’d asked Winry. “Do you talk to her often?”
Roy snickered, and muttered something to himself, but Ed ignored him as Riza finally pulled her attention away from her weapon to look at him.
“Fairly often,” she answered, considering her words. “Every once in a while when she gets a commission and she’ll call me for advice on barrel design or ammunition storage.” She made direct eye contact with Ed, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. Riza looked like she knew exactly what Ed was thinking. “I’m sure you know that her designs are increasing in demand.”
“Of course,” Ed responded faintly, watching as Hawkeye stood up and holstered her gun. For a moment Riza’s face blurred, and he saw Winry performing the same action. When he blinked everything was right again, but that didn’t stop the pit of nausea that was starting to bubble in his stomach.
“Sorry Fullmetal,” Roy interrupted. “Next time I’ll get Hawkeye to record the minutes from her conversation. Can we try to get something done before your naptime?”
***
Al had water boiling on the stove when Ed got home from work, but it seemed he’d forgotten entirely what he’d set out to make, seeing as he hardly looked up from his books, spread across the tiny coffee table in their sitting room, when Ed stormed into the room and demanded an explanation.
“I don’t know,” Al muttered, mostly to himself. “Tea?”
“Well why didn’t you use the kettle?” Ed demanded, the water sizzling around the metal pot as he shook it in aggravation.
Al reached to highlight a paragraph in his book. “I was wondering why it hadn’t whistled yet.”
With a sigh, Ed turned back into their tiny kitchen and put the kettle on proper. Once upon a time, he knew, their roles had been reversed. Ed would never admit it, but he was well aware of the fact that Al had cleaned up some messes behind him. Now he was starting to wonder if college had ruined Al’s brain - his brother was starting to lack common sense in ways that Ed was starting to fear were genetic.
He peered back into the sitting room when he realized he’d heard Al’s voice calling out a question.
“What?” Ed asked, leaning against the frame of the threshold.
“I asked how work was,” Al answered. Then, with a worried look on his face, he lifted his head, asking, “It is Monday right? I went to class this morning.”
“Yeah it’s Monday,” Ed grumbled back. “You’re working too hard Al. Maybe you should come out to Rush Valley with me next time. You know, take a little break.”
“Sounds like fun.” Al’s eyes were straying back to his books. “Watching Winry distract you so you don’t notice Paninya picking your pockets.”
“She only did that once last time!” Ed protested, and Al lifted his eyes to give Ed a serious look.
“Ed, she cleared them out completely,” he pointed out. “If there’d been a hole in the seam she’d have taken your boxers too.”
Ed flushed instantly, and was saved by the high-pitched shriek of the kettle boiling. Grumbling quietly to himself, he went back into the kitchen and poured tea for both of them.
Alphonse hardly looked up when Ed placed the cup in front of him. “Seriously, Al.” Ed wrinkled his nose. “You’re working too much. Why don’t you come with me next time?”
Al lifted his head and gazed at Ed, then cast a glance around at his books as though they would try to escape. “But I still have so much to do if I want to graduate early! And besides, I see Winry when she comes to Central.”
Ed sighed and slumped down into his seat. “Yeah, maybe that’s not such a great idea anyway. The city’s been weird the last few times I’ve been there.”
Al’s gaze sharpened. “Weird like how?” Ed wasn’t surprised by Al’s sudden interest. They’d spent too many years paying too close attention to how towns were operating while traveling, had experienced their fair share of hostile - or, conversely, overenthusiastic - greetings just because of that piece of silver Ed carried around. Weird, in Ed’s book, could cover any myriad of emotions or actions. They’d been brothers too long; Al knew him too well.
“Same stuff I’ve mentioned before,” Ed said, watching the steam from his drink rise towards the ceiling. “They don’t like the Parliament. They think the government is targeting them. They think that the Guild is only paying them lip service and taking their money. It’s getting louder though.”
Al frowned, his tone concerned. “Does Roy know about this?”
“Ye - oh wait.” Ed remembered how the conversation had gone earlier in the morning. “I started to tell him.”
Al’s face remained steady, an impassive stare asking, "Really, Ed?"
“Okay,” Ed admitted. “I got distracted before I really said anything. I’m going to tell him soon though. He’s going to have to come up with something.” After a moment to consider this, he then added, “Or order me to.”
“Sounds like it’s getting serious,” Al responded, tucking his pen into the crook of the book and shutting it. With some small measure of surprise, Ed realized that this was the most attention Al had paid him in the last few months, since the school year had started. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Ed shrugged. “But you know what it’s like down there. It’s not like Central, where a petty robber pulls a whittling knife out of his automail and people think it’s a bomb. A lot of the guys down there have some sort kind of special custom automail, and the more pissed they get the more likely they are to act like idiots with it.”
He sipped his tea, wincing as he drank too fast and burned his tongue. “It won’t matter in a few months when Winry’s done though. Once she gets out of there they can do whatever they want.”
Al considered this statement. “Do you think she’s going to want to move out of the city?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Ed answered without thought. In all honesty, they hadn’t talked about it yet, but it seemed like such a simple, foregone conclusion. “Granny’s not there, me and you aren’t there, why would she want to stay?”
Shrugging, Al muttered, “I don’t know, friends, clients, her business…”
“There’s no reason for her to stay there!” Ed snapped, irritated now. If he weren’t so sure Al was just trying to needle him, he’d wonder why Al was being so contrary.
Silence fell between the two brothers. Al raised his eyebrows, making his patented “Ed-is-overreacting” face, and flipped his book open again.
Ed realized he was drumming the fingers of his automail hand in annoyance against the arm of the chair. He brought his hand up closer to his face. “Hey Al,” he called, ignoring the weary look on Al’s face. “Have you ever really looked at Winry’s work before?”
“I’ve seen your arm and leg more times than I can count,” Al murmured into his book. “Why?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ed responded, flexing his fingers and dropping his arm again. “I meant like, her custom stuff. Last I heard she was getting more commissions."
Al just looked at him blankly.
“You know,” Ed explained impatiently. “Firearms and stuff.”
“Oh,” Al dropped his eyes back down to his notes. “Well that’s nice for her. She can put that extra money away at least, if the Guild isn't taking it as part of her apprenticeship dues.”
Ed frowned. “Yeah but - ” All he could do was mouth for words though - he couldn’t really figure out what was bothering him so badly. There was something disturbing to him in the thought of Winry crafting weapons and installing them for clients. Her hands could do so much better…
He realized Al had torn his attention away from his studies again. That was twice in one day.
“But what?” Al prompted, and Ed was even more surprised when there was no annoyance in his tone, only concern. “She’s good at them, isn’t she?”
That wasn’t part of the problem. Ed had never actually seen one of Winry’s crafted firearms, only blueprints lying around, but if there was anything he knew about her, she didn’t do anything halfway. Her work would be top quality only. “I don’t see why anyone would want one of those,” he finally blurted out.
Al blinked, but to his credit didn’t look surprised. Ed didn’t talk about it often, but after the incident with Scar and Winry and the gun all those years ago, his disdain for firearms wasn’t a secret. “I do,” he offered. “Think about it, Ed. After your surgery, you didn’t feel like you were yourself until you tried alchemy again.”
“That’s different!” Ed blurted out. There couldn’t be any similarities between him and those idiots down south, not even a little bit. Forget that Al was right and after his surgery he didn’t feel like a whole person until he’d clapped his hands and felt that familiar energy pumping through him and oh yes, I’m Ed and I’m an alchemist -
“Never mind,” Ed waved his brother off, and the two of them fell back into silence.
Click to continue to part 2
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Ed/Winry, with appearances from Alphonse, Roy, Garfield and the Rush Valley crew.
Word Count: 24, 907
Summary: With tensions rising in Rush Valley, Ed makes a decision that permanently impacts his relationship with Winry and the way they relate to each other. Set in a post-manga world, with minor attempts at worldbuilding.
A/N: Written for fma_big_bang. About a year and a half ago I had a dream about a sequel to COS that was a western and took place in Rush Valley; somehow it mutated into this manga-verse fanfic.
First off, let me thank my betas: juxtaposie, because she is my daily cheerleader/drill sergeant. This fic would not exist without her. pandoraculpa, who has given me invaluable feedback over the course of writing the story. This fic would not be in this finished state without her. Additional thanks goes to a_big_apple, who gave me some suggestions for smoothing out the timeline and fixing the flow of the story. I owe them an enormous amount of gratitude.
Secondly, I also need to thank my big bang artists, dzioo and allegratheneko, who have created the absolutely fantastic pictures that you see in this fic. Please go back to their entries ( dzioos and allegras) and tell them both how fabulous their work is.
***
Rush Valley was exactly as hot as he had feared - the kind of hot where he could feel the sun closing up around him until there was nothing but an Ed-shaped pocket in the atmosphere, almost forcing him to forge a physical path through the oppressive air. For a long moment, Ed stood outside the train station, his suitcase clasped loosely in his hand, and took in the bustling scene in front of him. It was a scene that had long since become familiar to him; something that, despite his initial misgivings towards the city, had become a regular destination.
Then with a sigh, he tipped his hat forward and started the walk. Garfield's was just close enough that he couldn’t justify hiring a cab, and far away enough that the walk in the rising heat of the early afternoon grew more and more uncomfortable with each and every step.
It hadn't helped that he'd worn long sleeves for the trip out, but they remained a necessary evil for navigating Rush Valley without an escort from Winry. Without the sleeves mechanics tended to get excited and grabby, and as long as Winry was with him people kept their distance. Something about Winry made people be polite. Even when people figured out exactly who Ed was, people stayed polite if Winry was in the vicinity. Ed couldn't blame them. There was something bothersome about upsetting Winry.
People figuring out who he was had turned into another problem. He already had a reputation in Rush Valley, having gotten into two serious fights there before - even now, his eyes were picking out roofs that he'd repaired and porches that he'd fixed - but worse than that was people catching sight of his watch, realizing that he was a State Alchemist and a member of the military, and being forced to watch as recognition rose up in their eyes. Rush Valley had been in an odd, tense, mood of late, and despite (or because) of the fact that a significant number of the men living in Rush Valley were war veterans, all through town active service men were given the stink eye. Or worse.
So Ed always made a special effort to keep his head down. And when he finally got to Garfield’s, he knew, Winry would smile at him, and ask if he managed to get through town without finding trouble, no matter how many times he protested that it was trouble that found him.
As he walked, he wondered if he should stop and pick something up. He had gifts from Central, sure - a few cookbooks passed onto him from Gracia, and some photographs from the previous New Year’s celebration that he knew she'd never seen - but maybe he needed something else. Chocolates, or flowers, or something.
They’d been dating for a few years now, but these were the types of things he was still struggling with, even this far into their relationship. He made Winry happy, he was pretty sure - mostly because Granny Pinako had yet to knock his skull in - but a lot of the time when he was unsure of something he had to stop and think about whether or not Al would frown at him before he decided what action to take.
He realized suddenly that he'd stopped walking and was staring at a storefront. An older man, sitting outside and cradling an arm, gave him a look from under the brim of his hat. "You buyin'?" he asked Ed in a gruff tone. Then, his eyes straying to Ed's suitcase, asked suspiciously, "Or sellin'?"
Ed stared at the wires spilling out of the arm. "Buying." He answered, and then, with the smirk properly in place, added, "If you got a deal on what I'm lookin' for."
The man's entire attitude changed in a heartbeat. He jumped up from his chair and beckoned Ed into the shade of the store. "You don't stay in business in Rush Valley unless you got talent or you got deals. I got both, so I actually turn a profit."
Ed grinned and ducked his head to follow the shopkeeper inside, making a mental note to pay with cash instead of credit.
***
He heard a commotion as he approached Garfield's. Raised voices were coming from within the shop and could be heard clearly down the street. One raised voice, actually, once Ed started really listening. It wasn’t unusual for voices to be raised in Garfield’s for any number of reasons: Paninya had ticked Garfield off, or both were teasing Winry, or an automail fitting was going awry, but this was unusual. This was a dark, deep voice, clearly shouting in anger. Ed could hear the bellowing on the wind, carried out the open store front.
Ed picked up his pace, curious and somewhat concerned. The stretch of shops where Garfield’s was located was silent, and though Ed was sure everyone was inside and actually working, it seemed strange to him how deserted everything suddenly looked; it was almost like the entire block was trying to politely look away from an awkward situation, like they didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping.
As he got closer the shouting formed words: “You are all crazy if you think you can stop me from getting them! I will not be treated this way!”
Ed was up to a light jog at this point, and about to make the turn into the shop - just as another body came barreling out of the door. It was like running into a wall, and Ed, unprepared, hit the dirt. His belongings scattered, and somewhere in his shock of surprise heard a voice growl, “Watch it, punk.”
He sat up, rubbing his shoulder where they’d connected and watched the figure stalking away through the cloud of dirt that’d been raised when he fell. Clearly one of Rush Valley’s finest, with arms the size of locomotors and a back as broad as the street was wide. If it weren’t for the dark hair, slicked back from his forehead, Ed might have thought he could have been an Armstrong.
Watching as the man trudged down the street, Ed couldn’t help wondering what that had been all about, and as a result didn’t notice -
“There you are.” Winry’s relieved voice interrupted his reverie. Slightly startled, he realized he was still sitting in the dirt. Winry was leaning over him, frowning. “The trains are running on time today, Ed. I checked. You’re late. I was beginning to think you’d picked another fight or something.”
He scowled as he took her hand, letting her help him up. “People pick fights with me,” he insisted. “I never look for a fight.”
“Is that so?” she gave him an appraising look. Automatically, he drifted towards her, his arm casually reaching behind her back as if to curl her close to him, heat and public be damned. “So what were you doing then?” she challenged.
“Oh!” he bent over, picking up his belongings, scrabbling for the bits of wire that had been tossed as he went down.
Hastily, he rearranged them in his hand. Grimacing - they’d looked much nicer a minute ago, neatly packed in their multicolor bundles, separated by gauge - he presented them to Winry. “For you.” An automail mechanic’s version of a bouquet of flowers.
Winry beamed, and Ed felt his heart speed up a little bit. Even now, her smile did that to him. “Thank you Ed! I can use these -”
“Winry? Is he gone?” Garfield appeared in the doorway now as well, and the expression on his face was one that Ed had never seen before: frowning, unamused, his eyes squinted in irritation. Then his gaze landed on Ed, and instantly brightened. “Edward! You did make it! Come in off the street.”
“Look!” Winry thrust out her hand, showing Garfield her gift. “We were just talking about trying three gauge wire on fifth digit joints!”
“Well that was awfully considerate of you Edward.” Garfield turned his eyes, now glittering, from the bouquet of wires to Ed. Ed tried hard not to visibly sigh at the look on Garfield’s face. As if he didn’t get enough teasing in Central. Instead, however, Garfield cast his eyes down the street and then beckoned them inside. “Come in out of the sun then. We have a fresh pitcher of lemonade in the icebox.”
He followed Winry inside, through the workshop where Winry and Garfield did the majority of their work and appointments, and through the doorway where their kitchen and bathroom split off from the tiny surgical room they kept prepped in case of emergency. Their patients, for the most part, had their surgeries done at the clinics near the center of town - few of the shops in this area were big enough for a full operating room, like Granny’s basement - but the room was kept, just in case. Winry had thought it was strange, when she first started, and Ed knew that while she’d adjusted, she still preferred to do the surgical work herself.
He mostly agreed with Winry - she’d told him stories about coordinating with surgeons in town, exchanging surgical ports and only being allowed to assist in the bare minimum that would satisfy the requirements of her apprenticeship despite the fact that she’d been a surgical assistant since before she hit puberty - and Ed honestly thought it was a bigger hassle than it was worth.
He never said a word, however, and had learned by now to simply listen when Winry talked about work. Winry could get peculiar, if he said the wrong thing, expressed the wrong opinion (even if it was agreeing with her, oddly enough), and these days they didn’t get enough time alone together to justify the risk. And it would all be worth it, once her birthday passed and she was released from her apprenticeship.
She appeared in front of him again, holding a glass of lemonade in front of her expectantly. Ed suddenly realized that he was still holding his suitcase, that he hadn’t even properly greeted her. He took the glass, set it down firmly on the table, dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her.
She squeaked in surprise and stiffened in his arms before wrapping hers around his neck and returning the embrace. “Hi,” he mumbled into her neck.
“Hi,” she returned, kissing him on the cheek and grinning at him as he released her. “You wouldn’t have thought that I’d seen you just last weekend.”
“I could have used you in Central,” he replied, sitting down at the table and picking up his drink. “Mustang’s been a bigger bastard than usual. If you’d been in town you could’ve distracted Hawkeye. Everyone knows that he can’t get anything done when she’s not in the office.”
“That’s not fair,” she protested gently, sitting across from him. “Using me to get out of work. You’re not smart enough to think of an excuse?”
“Funny.” He sipped his drink. “That’s what Al says too. Except then he complains about me distracting him and throws a book at me.”
Winry brightened. "Ed, that's good! That means he's understanding the material. Why else would he waste the book on you?"
"Ha." Ed looked down at his glass, and wondered if he should call his brother back in their little apartment in Central and let Al know that he’d had arrived okay. "He probably hasn't even noticed that I've left, he's so wrapped up in his classes."
Out the door, he heard Garfield answer the telephone, and glanced back towards the entrance, frowning. "So what was up with that guy?" he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
Winry frowned at him. "Ed, we've been through this. Garfield's just that way-"
"No!" Ed interrupted, scowling at her. "You know who I mean. The big guy who was shouting so loudly I practically heard him back at the train station."
"Oh." Winry's face darkened further. "Him."
Garfield swept into the room then, murmuring apologies for breaking up Ed and Winry's reunion. Winry leaned back into her chair, hooked an arm over the edge, and asked casually, "Master Garfield, how many times do you think Mr. Garrett has hit up the shops around the block?"
Garfield put down the pitcher and tossed his head in thought like an impatient horse. "This has to be at least the third time in as many weeks. Why?" Winry pointed towards Ed, and following her gaze he nodded in understanding. "Mr. Garrett is currently blacklisted from purchasing ammunition from any shops associated with the Guild."
"What?" Ammunition meant he had a weapon. Ed's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
"The usual reason," Winry answered, shrugging. "He got stupid. Most of the people who end up blacklisted are. It's all fine and dandy when they have their arm-wrestling contests -"
"It's nice, actually," Garfield interjected, "Sometimes we get new business,"
"- but it crosses the line when people get angry and innocent people get hurt." Winry finished, giving Garfield a sour look.
"You see, Ed," Garfield pulled out a seat and leveled his gaze. "Automail mechanics like showing off their work. And they're proud of the custom weapons they design for their clients. But it looks bad when a client loses control and does something we'd consider ill-advised with their automail. It doesn't reflect well on the mechanics and the engineers who design those weapons. Blacklisting is the absolute last resort, but Mr. Garrett got caught up in some masculine pissing contest -"
"And destroyed two storefronts and injured three people. Bad enough that one of them is still in the hospital." Winry shook her head. "I'm proud of the work I do but... I don't like the idea that my clients could go out and do something like that."
The words hit Ed like a punch to the stomach. For a moment he groped for words, wondering how to respond and where this feeling had come from, but then Garfield picked up the conversation again. "It used to be," he explained, playing with the condensation on the side of his glass, "that we hardly ever had to blacklist someone. Now the Guild is sending out fresh pictures and an updated list every couple of months."
"My Gran could never be bothered with that firearms stuff," Winry made a face. "I'm starting to see why."
"I never saw the point in them myself," Ed volunteered, fishing an ice cube out of his glass and popping it into his mouth. "It all seems pretty useless to me."
Winry's glare swung full force onto him. "Only because you can transmute your own! I could make you a perfectly good weapon for your automail!" Ed felt that sick pit in his stomach again.
The service bell at the front counter rang, and Winry stood up to answer, still muttering under her breath about Ed. "Transmutes them and then doesn't put it back properly, compromises the structure of the entire piece you know..." Her quiet tirade followed her down the hallway, where it ended abruptly in a cheerful greeting towards a client.
Ed glanced at Garfield, who was smiling at him. Shrugging, he took another sip from his lemonade. "I'm so glad Miss Winry has such a practical boyfriend."
***
That conversation was still weighing heavily on his mind that evening, as he stretched across the tiny bed, gazing at the single window in the little room. It was still early enough in spring that the temperature cooled during the night. Winry had left the window open, and the wind was making the blinds bang loudly against the window pane as the curtains fluttered. She boarded upstairs, above the shop, and back in the beginning of their relationship when he'd been uncertain and worried about insulting her honor he'd always rented a small room at an inn whenever he came to visit.
Then she'd simply decided to sleep at the inn with him, despite the fact that Garfield had reassured them both before that he didn't mind if Ed stayed, and scolded Ed for spending the money. They persisted though, if not for reasons of practicality; there was something thrilling about being alone together. The first couple of times she had stayed with him Ed could count among the more nerve-wracking in his life, but now it was nice, and comforting. He liked having her close, felt weirdly empty whenever he had to sleep alone back in his apartment in Central.
He'd made a valiant effort to get some quality time alone after dinner, when they'd stumbled to their room. They'd been holding hands, and Winry had been flushed and giggling, and there had been a few delicious minutes when he’d been able to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close and they’d been able to make up for the lost time spent between weekends when they both worked.
Then she’d laughed, and put a hand warningly on his chest. “I smell awful,” she chided him. “I’ve been working all day. Let me shower first,” There’d been an unspoken invitation: Unless you can’t wait and you want to join me? In response he’d choked and let her go. He wasn’t nearly smooth enough to pull that off, not even if nakedness was nothing new to them. He’d only embarrass himself.
Besides, he’d realized by now that Winry was always worth the wait.
Sprawled out like he was, it was a miracle he didn’t fall asleep while he was waiting. But something about their earlier conversation had stuck with him, and he couldn’t exactly figure out what it was. He didn’t want to pick a fight figuring it out, not now, not when both of their lives kept them apart more often than not, but something was still bothering him.
He sighed and blew his bangs from his eyes. He was making things up. Mustang was working him too hard.
Ed had always vowed once everything was said and done that he’d resign from the military, that he’d never cared anything about the motivations or the perks that appealed to most soldiers, but once the Promised Day had come and passed and true disaster had been averted, Ed had discovered that his debt to Mustang ran beyond a few symbolic cens. He couldn’t make himself leave, not yet.
At least Mustang was playing him to his strengths. With Al restored and completely immersed in his classes at a local college, there was no reason for him to travel beyond trips to see Winry. Mustang had recruited him to help revamp the State Alchemist program. He’d wanted everything evaluated, from the entrance exam to the yearly renewals. Ed had suspected that Roy was possibly toying with disbanding the program, with the full knowledge that the rest of the parliament set up after the death of Fuhrer Bradley would probably agree him, unless they could improve it. If they could actually be for the people, actually support the public they were supposed to help…
It was all politics, which was something Ed had never been good at, but he was good at being upfront and telling it like it was, which had actually worked out to his benefit so far. He’d long ago earned the reputation as an alchemist who truly cared for the state’s citizens, and he was starting to earn a reputation as a fierce negotiator and a blunt statesman. In general, he found the work fulfilling and he was making a pain in the ass of himself around Central. He knew, because Roy had started off their most recent phone call by reporting that at least three senior politicians had complained of migraines after meeting with Ed.
His biggest complaint about the job, in fact, was that it kept him so separated from Winry. She’d returned to Rush Valley to finish off her apprenticeship, and while Ed supported her - was proud as hell of her, actually - it was the first time he’d really considered the time they spent apart and how very ready he was for it to be over. There’d never been any question in his mind that she was the one he wanted to come home to, though he was careful never to try to analyze that thought any further. He wanted to be able to see her whenever he wanted, that much he knew, and anything more than that, anything about the future or the two of them in that future, tended to fog his mind up.
The end was in sight, at least. Garfield was considering releasing her from her apprenticeship with the passing of her eighteenth birthday in a few months. Winry hadn’t said a word about her plans afterwards, but Ed was pretty sure that she would be ready to leave Rush Valley, that he could coax her to Central; if not then definitely back home to Risembool. This project with Mustang wouldn’t last forever, and he didn’t think he’d mind moving back to the country for a bit.
The shower shut off then, and the door to the bathroom popped open. Even if Ed had been impatient before, Winry coming out of the shower was definitely his reward. It was easily one of the more glorious sights he’d been treated to in his life, with her blond hair clinging to her neck and shoulders and the towel wrapped around her whispering promises of areas he’d only recently begun to map in earnest.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Feel better?”
She nodded in satisfaction. “Much.” Then, without another word, she flopped onto the bed next to him, working her way up until their hips and shoulders were flush and pressed against one another.
Ed grimaced. “You’re still wet,” he complained, reaching out and picking at the strands of hair that were starting to stick to him.
“Then dry me,” she ordered gently, her breath warm and damp in his ear.
“Dummy,” Ed scolded, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “I could do that but I’d have to turn the water into steam. I’d end up scalding half your skin.”
Winry blanched and pulled away. “On second thought, I’ll just do it myself.” She sat up, then looked at him over her shoulder, still wearing only the towel. He saw her shoulders rise, as if she were taking in a breath to say something. There was another hidden invitation somewhere in there, another chance for him to put his foot in his mouth, but before either one of them could say a word they both heard it: a terrible crash, the sound of men yelling, and the shriek of metal as automail shifted and morphed into their hidden functions.
Winry rolled her eyes and tossed an annoyed glance at the window. “Clients are getting rowdy again,” she explained in a put out tone. “I hope they don’t vandalize anyone’s storefront this time or more people are going to be losing ammunition privileges. Their mechanics lose money when idiots end up blacklisted.”
Ed pushed himself up onto his elbows as if to crane his head out of the window. He’d been assuming that any disturbances were occurring closer to the other side of town, where the bars and restaurants were clustered; he’d stayed at this inn several times with no problems.
Things outside were already quieting. Still, Winry’s eyes were watching the window raptly, and Ed, feeling forgotten, reached up and tugged at the end of her hair. “Hey you.”
She tore her eyes away and looked at him again, grinning as they made eye contact, and oh, Ed would endure a million Promised Days if it meant that he got to come home to her smile every time. She dipped her head down, brushed her lips over his, and as easy as that they were tangled together again.
Thoughts of trouble outside were banished, along with Winry’s towel.
***
"Well look-it here! It's Ed! How's Miss Winry today, Ed?" Hands grabbed at his arm, fingers clenching hard enough that Ed slowed to prevent his sleeve from being torn off.
"Good afternoon Mr. Redding," Ed responded dryly, trying to politely take his automail arm back. "Winry's fine. Busy, mostly. She's got a full schedule of appointments today."
He was a little impressed. He'd made it a full three shops down from Garfield's before one of the neighbors had accosted him. In general, Ed made the effort to minimize his appearance in Rush Valley, but by now the majority of Winry's customers and the mechanics in the surrounding shops recognized him on sight. Most of them were polite, for Winry's sake, though Ed could tell there was no love lost between him and her customers, who generally treated him with suspicion. He tried not to take it too personally though, because he was pretty sure they’d be wary of any boy that hung around Winry. The ones who knew him personally weren’t that big of a problem.
There were a select few Rush Valley natives, however, that were extremely friendly - to the point that Ed was suspicious of them.
"Come on now, Mr. Redding," Paninya snapped, trying to step between the mechanic and the grip he had on Ed's right arm. "He doesn't belong to you and you know it. Quit trying to steal Winry's work."
"I'm not stealing anything!" Mr. Redding protested. Immediately, however, he dropped Ed's arm as if it had burned him - which it might have, in the midday heat, though Ed knew the truth. "I just think her work is interesting, and I think this young man does her a disservice, hiding it when he comes around." He turned beady eyes on Ed. "Are you ashamed of your 'mail or something, boy?"
Ed raised his eyebrows. "Not at all. If Winry moved to Xing, I'd follow just for the maintenance."
The mechanic sniffed indignantly. "I wouldn't make you travel that far. And I'd offer you a good deal too, except I doubt you’d need it, makin’ top buck for the military.”
There was a moment where Ed's mouth simply dropped open, a shocked moment where his brain tried to process exactly what was being insinuated - Did he just say, I think he did - but before he could Paninya rocked her weight between the two of them and reached behind her, as if to grab Ed's arm herself.
"Don't bait him, Mr. Redding," Paninya interjected sharply. "And don't go bothering Winry's customers. I'm sure she'd have a thing or two to say to you if she knew about that."
"Hey, hey, hey!" He took a step back from the two of them, his hands raised in a placating manner. "I meant no harm! Don't you two go putting words in my mouth that were never in my brain." He looked up and down the street, then snorted and shuffled his feet in the dirt. "I got too much work to do to stand out here and get insulted on my own property."
"Of course," Paninya replied sweetly. "We'll be on our way then."
They were barely out of earshot before Paninya shuddered. "That guy always gives me the creeps. Mechanics in Rush Valley are crazy, but poachers are the worst sort."
Ed cast a worried glance behind him. "Is he really after Winry's customers?"
Paninya let out a short, sharp laugh. "He's after anyone's customers. Although," she gave Ed a critical look out of the corner of her eye. "I think you're high on his wish list because you're kind of famous."
"Seriously?" Ed's face twisted in confusion. "Right around now that's more liable to get him into trouble than anything else."
"You don't have to tell me that," Paninya retorted. "Why do you think Winry sent me with you? Someone needs to keep you safe."
"Shut up," Ed ordered, refusing to look at her even though he knew she was smirking at him.
"You're going to ruin my reputation," she insisted. "When I worked so hard to become an upstanding citizen too."
"You're half the reason I’m stuck with the reputation I have here," Ed shot back. "You're the one who stole my watch.”
"This watch?" Paninya asked cheekily, holding up that familiar silver watch with the military insignia. It flashed in the sun, a pinpoint bright light in Ed's eyes.
"Will you quit doing that!” Ed snarled, grabbing the watch off of her and stuffing it back into his pocket. “And don’t go waving it around in the middle of the day or we’ll both be in trouble.”
“Don’t worry on my account,” Paninya replied, pulling up at the corner of the street and looking to see if it was safe to cross through the crowd and carts. “I can talk my way out of trouble.” Ed just glowered at her, and she finally shrugged and pointed down the street. “There’s the shop. Do you know what Winry wanted you to pick up?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Ed reached into his pocket for the piece of paper Winry had pressed into his hand when they’d left. Both she and Garfield had a full schedule during the day, so Ed had offered to run errands, both to help out the shop and to keep himself from trying to distract Winry. It was just another one of the reasons he preferred Winry coming to Central than visiting Rush Valley himself.
Coaxing Winry away from her work could be a fun - but rarely profitable - endeavor. “She said she needed - hey! My list is gone!” He turned on his heels, his eyes scanning the ground for the lost piece of paper, already wondering how Winry would react if he showed up and asked her to rewrite everything.
“You mean this list?” Paninya asked teasingly from behind him. Ed wheeled around again and lunged, but before he even got close Paninya flashed a bright grin at him and disappeared into the crowd.
***
Paninya was already at the shop by the time Ed caught up with her - she could slip through a crowd, unnoticed, but Ed had to take his time and couldn't just push people out of his way. The shopping district of Rush Valley was, of course, the busiest part of the city as well, and so Paninya was almost to the counter by the time Ed had politely elbowed his way through the mass of shouting people and slipped away from the manic engineers who'd been trying to examine his limbs.
Choosing a supply shop in Rush Valley was much like picking a mechanic - mechanics were generally loyal to a single shop, and while it was easy to be lured away by better deals, most were suspicious of being lowballed and tended to stick with who they knew. Mr. Garfield had established ties with a Mr. Bosch, and Winry therefore bought from him exclusively. The supply shops had a pulse on the entire city, and everyone knew that the best business gossip was found in the shopping district. It was where the majority of the tourists gravitated, bringing in news from other markets, and half as many mechanics were there to socialize as to buy, much to Ed's dismay as he found his personal space invaded, a body pressing at his back and at both shoulders.
He scowled at Paninya, who appeared entirely at home with both the atmosphere and Ed's sour mood. She had Winry's list out and was holding it close to her face. "Hey," Paninya poked him in the shoulder. "Did she actually explain any of this to you?"
"Eh?" Paninya shoved the scrap of paper in her face. Ed blinked as Winry's handwriting invaded his sight.
"You heard me, did she explain any of this?" Paninya demanded. "First of all, I can't even tell if this is a five or a six, and then she doesn't even say if it’s the gauge of wire she wants or how many bundles she needs. Does she expect you to read her mind or something?"
Ed frowned. "I just bought her wires, why is she ordering more?"
"Geez, Ed, you don't know how many wires go into a single arm, do you?" Ed blinked at her, and Paninya raised an eyebrow. "How long have you had your 'mail again, Ed?"
He opened his mouth to make a retort, but was instantly distracted by the conversation going on directly to his left. Unconsciously, he tugged his sleeve down a little more and pulled his hat farther over his eyes.
"If you ask me the Guild is no more than a branch of the government at this point." Ed lowered his head, and glanced out of the corner of his eye. There were two older gentlemen, entirely nondescript in their demeanor and dress, waiting patiently for their turn to place orders. They were both wearing jackets - Ed couldn't help wondering how they didn’t collapse of heat stoke; he could feel sweat trickling down his neck - and so he couldn't tell if they were mechanics or automail clients. Ed had assumed, from their complaints about the Guild, that they were clients, until:
"They're so out of touch they don't realize that the profits from installation only go so far. I need the ammunition sales to pay my bills." He paused to cough, and then added, "It's gettin' hard to make a living out here."
"Used to be the Guild was on our side," his partner replied. "Now we're paying them dues so that they can tell us not to sell to people."
Ed snuck another glance. They were definitely not mechanics he was familiar with, no one from Winry's block, but that didn't mean their opinions were unfamiliar to him. This wasn't the first time he'd heard Rush Valley citizens expressing such opinions. Ed and Winry had never talked about it, but he also knew that she generally didn't discuss politics - and he knew that she'd heard about it before, from clients who were less than complimentary about Ed and her relationship with him. He sighed. Paninya managed to slip through a couple people, inching her way closer to the counter, but Ed hung back.
"Dunno why they're so gung-ho to kiss the new government's ass anyway." People were closing around all of them, driving a human wedge between him and the mechanics. "It's the same jackasses who made up the old military, and they never gave a whit about us."
"You're telling me? I lost my foot fighting their wars and you think I heard one word from them since they stuck me on a train home?"
"Ha, they've already crippled us once. Now they're just going to do it again with their pointless laws and bans and blacklisting."
A third voice joined in at this. "You mean the Guild or the government?"
"Same difference!" Shouts of laughter rose up.
Ed's mouth twisted. He was always aware of the preferential treatment state alchemist's received, and he'd heard rumblings about what ordinary soldiers had endured during the wars, and the shoddy care that Bradley had half-heartedly provided afterward. As if he wasn't annoyed enough, he thought of Mustang. Mustang was all about the voice of the people - Ed wondered how much he'd heard about this.
Ahead of him, Paninya's voice rose above the din, capturing the shopkeeper's attention. Ed looked up, and then saw the wallet Paninya was using to pay for the purchases - didn't Garfield have a credit line here? - and suddenly, patting down his pockets, he realized.
“Son of a!”
***
The trip back to the train station was much more enjoyable than his arrival. It was late in the day, and the sun would soon be setting. It was already threatening to dip below the cliffs that surrounded Rush Valley, casting long shadows over the town. One hand held his suitcase, while his other hand was entwined with Winry's as she made the long walk with him back to the train station. It still surprised him, despite how long they'd been making these trips to see one another, how fast weekends traveled. It seemed like they never got the chance to spend time together the way they wanted.
Winry was off on Sundays, barring emergencies, and so they'd taken the opportunity to sleep in late, lying in bed until neither one could stand being tangled up in the warm sheets anymore with the sun beating through even the blinds. They'd spent the day together, conceding brunch with Garfield and Paninya but then taking dinner for themselves. Both had known that after dinner Ed would have to get back to the train station, though neither one liked to talk about it. Instead they talked about the next weekend, preferring to look forward to what would be coming, instead of lamenting what they couldn't have.
"There's a place I thought we'd try," Ed informed her. "I can make reservations for Saturday night."
Winry gave him a sly grin. "How did you hear about this place?"
"Oh," Ed said vaguely. "Around."
Her grin was still too big. They both knew the truth.
"Mustang," Ed finally mumbled, refusing to look at her while she chuckled. The brigadier general was always generous in his advice for Ed and Winry's relationship, and Ed never admitted exactly how often he had quietly taken the man’s suggestions.
Winry declined to comment. "I think that sounds wonderful," she said softly. The station platform was almost empty - most people caught the morning trains - but there were still a few people milling around, impatiently waiting for the incoming train. Though it was still dusk, the lights responsible for guiding the train into the station were starting to flicker on, casting a hazy glow over the platform. The evening smelled damp, and Ed thought it might rain soon. Despite the fact that it was warm, Winry was standing so close to him that she could rest her head on his shoulder, if she wanted.
"Tell Al I said hi," she murmured, gazing up at him.
"You'll see him next weekend in Central," Ed responded. Once she frowned, however, he smiled and gave a put-upon sigh. "If you insist. You know I risk my skull every time I interrupt him when he's studying though."
"His books can't be any heavier than a wrench," Winry retorted. He was about to respond that they were pretty damn close - Al was taking some high level classes, and Ed had become something of an expert in getting beaned by both books and wrenches - when they heard the whistle, and braced themselves for the incoming rush of wind as the train pulled in.
He looked back down at Winry, mirroring her expression as her lips twisted into a grimace. "Have a safe trip home please."
"Of course," he responded, reaching out and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. Uneasily, he cast a glance around the platform. Those who'd been waiting for the train had rushed forward, and a lot of the time he got anxious, doing anything with Winry in front of other people.
Winry read him perfectly. She slid her hands up his chest, cupped his cheeks, and pulled him down into a soft, gentle kiss. Suddenly there was no one on the platform but the two of them. Ed was always amazed at how easily he got lost in her.
When the kiss threatened to turn more serious, Winry finally pulled away and panted a laugh against him. "Don't miss your train now."
"I swear," Ed vowed, his arms still locked around her waist, "I'm going to have a talk with Mustang about these meetings early on Monday. If he could just wait until after lunch I could stay a whole 'nother night."
Winry smirked at him. "I'm going to be talking to Riza soon. Maybe I can make a subtle suggestion to her."
"That would be nice," Ed told her, bending over to pick up his suitcase, his brain still vaguely dazed from the kiss.
He wasn't sure what made him ask the question, or why the question had even occurred to him. He knew Winry talked to Al and Mrs. Hughes pretty regularly, and knew that Winry and Riza got along very well, but for some reason he was surprised to hear about Winry talking to Hawkeye personally; in his head, the two had always been connected only through him. “Do you talk to Hawkeye often?”
Winry raised her eyebrows. “Um, I guess?” She twirled the end of her ponytail through her fingers. “She helps me with my custom designs. I didn’t realize how unbalanced they were until I consulted her.”
As quickly as that, the sick feeling had returned to Ed. He felt almost as if he’d been blindsided, but couldn’t for the life of him tell by what. His mouth was open but no words were coming out.
Winry gave him a nervous smile, then rocked forward and gave him one last peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you next weekend. Have a good ride.”
“I will,” Ed said faintly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll probably be up late tonight,” she responded casually, her eyes flitting down to the ground before looking back up at him. “Working.”
“Okay,” Ed revised, unsure if she would actually be working or if she was just interested in hearing that he had gotten home safe. “I’ll call you tonight then.”
He climbed onto the train and found a window seat where he could wave goodbye to her. As always, she stayed on the platform until he was out of eyesight, and once the train was well on its way Ed sat back and tried to nap before they arrived in Central. The sick feeling stayed with him almost the entire ride, and he was sure it wasn’t because of motion sickness.
***
“Good grief Fullmetal, are you actually sleeping?” Something hit Ed in the face, and he jerked in his chair as his eyes flew open. Roy was frowning at him from the other side of his desk.
Ed glared at the man as he rubbed his forehead. “What was that for?” he snapped, reaching down to pick up the paper ball that Roy had tossed at him. They’d been working from those notes when he’d dozed off. “You were taking a phone call!”
“You fell asleep while meeting with your superior officer!” Roy retorted, crossing his arms and leaning forward. “Next time I’m throwing the inkwell!”
Ed craned his head back, glancing at the corner of the room where Riza sat, patiently cleaning one of her guns while the men met. She appeared entirely engrossed in her task. “Hawkeye, did you see him? Doesn’t that count as harassment or something?”
“I saw,” Riza remarked, her eyes not even flicking towards Ed. “Sir, your form was all off. Do try to aim better or I’m going to schedule you some time at the shooting range.”
Roy’s answering groan made it perfectly clear who would get the blame if such an event were to come to pass. Ed scowled and slouched down in his chair, half-heartedly shuffling through the notes that were lying in his lap. Roy raised his eyebrows, his expression turning concerned. “You seem awfully tired this morning Fullmetal.”
Ed shrugged. “Not anymore than usual.”
A smirk started to worm its way across Roy’s face. “Did you have a late night?”
Ed’s tone was sharp as he repeated his answer. “Not anymore than usual.”
“Hawkeye,” Roy asked in a slow, sure tone. “What was the date this weekend?”
“The sixteenth, sir.” Riza appeared uninterested, as if she didn’t know exactly what Roy was up to.
“What,” Ed demanded, “you can’t even keep track of the date without Hawkeye helping? Do you need help tying up your boots in the morning?”
“They buckle,” Riza called from the corner.
“You’re just trying to change the subject,” Roy answered smoothly, though there was no denying the color that had risen in his cheeks. “This was a Rush Valley weekend, wasn’t it?” He sighed mournfully and leaned back in his chair, casting Ed an appraising look. “You’re always useless to me after Rush Valley weekends. The late train wears you out.”
“I don’t want to talk about Rush Valley,” Ed asserted, shuffling back through his notes again. “I want to talk about alchemists. I started tracking down Schuster. His last known address was in the west -” Ed abruptly cut himself off, the mention of Rush Valley suddenly reminding him of the words he’d overheard during the weekend. “Hey,” he asked, “Do you have any contacts in Rush Valley?”
Roy raised his eyebrows and scratched his head. “In Rush Valley?” At Ed’s nod he shifted his gaze back to Riza. “Hey Hawkeye,” he called. “Does Miss Rockbell count as one of my contacts?”
“That’s not what I meant!” Ed started to protest, but Riza cut him off.
“No sir, she’s considered my contact.” Riza was finishing up her cleaning and was starting to reassemble her gun.
Ed twisted all the way around in his chair to look at her. Winry had said something similar as he was getting on the train last night. He looked at Hawkeye for a minute, and then blurted out the same question that he’d asked Winry. “Do you talk to her often?”
Roy snickered, and muttered something to himself, but Ed ignored him as Riza finally pulled her attention away from her weapon to look at him.
“Fairly often,” she answered, considering her words. “Every once in a while when she gets a commission and she’ll call me for advice on barrel design or ammunition storage.” She made direct eye contact with Ed, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. Riza looked like she knew exactly what Ed was thinking. “I’m sure you know that her designs are increasing in demand.”
“Of course,” Ed responded faintly, watching as Hawkeye stood up and holstered her gun. For a moment Riza’s face blurred, and he saw Winry performing the same action. When he blinked everything was right again, but that didn’t stop the pit of nausea that was starting to bubble in his stomach.
“Sorry Fullmetal,” Roy interrupted. “Next time I’ll get Hawkeye to record the minutes from her conversation. Can we try to get something done before your naptime?”
***
Al had water boiling on the stove when Ed got home from work, but it seemed he’d forgotten entirely what he’d set out to make, seeing as he hardly looked up from his books, spread across the tiny coffee table in their sitting room, when Ed stormed into the room and demanded an explanation.
“I don’t know,” Al muttered, mostly to himself. “Tea?”
“Well why didn’t you use the kettle?” Ed demanded, the water sizzling around the metal pot as he shook it in aggravation.
Al reached to highlight a paragraph in his book. “I was wondering why it hadn’t whistled yet.”
With a sigh, Ed turned back into their tiny kitchen and put the kettle on proper. Once upon a time, he knew, their roles had been reversed. Ed would never admit it, but he was well aware of the fact that Al had cleaned up some messes behind him. Now he was starting to wonder if college had ruined Al’s brain - his brother was starting to lack common sense in ways that Ed was starting to fear were genetic.
He peered back into the sitting room when he realized he’d heard Al’s voice calling out a question.
“What?” Ed asked, leaning against the frame of the threshold.
“I asked how work was,” Al answered. Then, with a worried look on his face, he lifted his head, asking, “It is Monday right? I went to class this morning.”
“Yeah it’s Monday,” Ed grumbled back. “You’re working too hard Al. Maybe you should come out to Rush Valley with me next time. You know, take a little break.”
“Sounds like fun.” Al’s eyes were straying back to his books. “Watching Winry distract you so you don’t notice Paninya picking your pockets.”
“She only did that once last time!” Ed protested, and Al lifted his eyes to give Ed a serious look.
“Ed, she cleared them out completely,” he pointed out. “If there’d been a hole in the seam she’d have taken your boxers too.”
Ed flushed instantly, and was saved by the high-pitched shriek of the kettle boiling. Grumbling quietly to himself, he went back into the kitchen and poured tea for both of them.
Alphonse hardly looked up when Ed placed the cup in front of him. “Seriously, Al.” Ed wrinkled his nose. “You’re working too much. Why don’t you come with me next time?”
Al lifted his head and gazed at Ed, then cast a glance around at his books as though they would try to escape. “But I still have so much to do if I want to graduate early! And besides, I see Winry when she comes to Central.”
Ed sighed and slumped down into his seat. “Yeah, maybe that’s not such a great idea anyway. The city’s been weird the last few times I’ve been there.”
Al’s gaze sharpened. “Weird like how?” Ed wasn’t surprised by Al’s sudden interest. They’d spent too many years paying too close attention to how towns were operating while traveling, had experienced their fair share of hostile - or, conversely, overenthusiastic - greetings just because of that piece of silver Ed carried around. Weird, in Ed’s book, could cover any myriad of emotions or actions. They’d been brothers too long; Al knew him too well.
“Same stuff I’ve mentioned before,” Ed said, watching the steam from his drink rise towards the ceiling. “They don’t like the Parliament. They think the government is targeting them. They think that the Guild is only paying them lip service and taking their money. It’s getting louder though.”
Al frowned, his tone concerned. “Does Roy know about this?”
“Ye - oh wait.” Ed remembered how the conversation had gone earlier in the morning. “I started to tell him.”
Al’s face remained steady, an impassive stare asking, "Really, Ed?"
“Okay,” Ed admitted. “I got distracted before I really said anything. I’m going to tell him soon though. He’s going to have to come up with something.” After a moment to consider this, he then added, “Or order me to.”
“Sounds like it’s getting serious,” Al responded, tucking his pen into the crook of the book and shutting it. With some small measure of surprise, Ed realized that this was the most attention Al had paid him in the last few months, since the school year had started. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Ed shrugged. “But you know what it’s like down there. It’s not like Central, where a petty robber pulls a whittling knife out of his automail and people think it’s a bomb. A lot of the guys down there have some sort kind of special custom automail, and the more pissed they get the more likely they are to act like idiots with it.”
He sipped his tea, wincing as he drank too fast and burned his tongue. “It won’t matter in a few months when Winry’s done though. Once she gets out of there they can do whatever they want.”
Al considered this statement. “Do you think she’s going to want to move out of the city?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Ed answered without thought. In all honesty, they hadn’t talked about it yet, but it seemed like such a simple, foregone conclusion. “Granny’s not there, me and you aren’t there, why would she want to stay?”
Shrugging, Al muttered, “I don’t know, friends, clients, her business…”
“There’s no reason for her to stay there!” Ed snapped, irritated now. If he weren’t so sure Al was just trying to needle him, he’d wonder why Al was being so contrary.
Silence fell between the two brothers. Al raised his eyebrows, making his patented “Ed-is-overreacting” face, and flipped his book open again.
Ed realized he was drumming the fingers of his automail hand in annoyance against the arm of the chair. He brought his hand up closer to his face. “Hey Al,” he called, ignoring the weary look on Al’s face. “Have you ever really looked at Winry’s work before?”
“I’ve seen your arm and leg more times than I can count,” Al murmured into his book. “Why?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ed responded, flexing his fingers and dropping his arm again. “I meant like, her custom stuff. Last I heard she was getting more commissions."
Al just looked at him blankly.
“You know,” Ed explained impatiently. “Firearms and stuff.”
“Oh,” Al dropped his eyes back down to his notes. “Well that’s nice for her. She can put that extra money away at least, if the Guild isn't taking it as part of her apprenticeship dues.”
Ed frowned. “Yeah but - ” All he could do was mouth for words though - he couldn’t really figure out what was bothering him so badly. There was something disturbing to him in the thought of Winry crafting weapons and installing them for clients. Her hands could do so much better…
He realized Al had torn his attention away from his studies again. That was twice in one day.
“But what?” Al prompted, and Ed was even more surprised when there was no annoyance in his tone, only concern. “She’s good at them, isn’t she?”
That wasn’t part of the problem. Ed had never actually seen one of Winry’s crafted firearms, only blueprints lying around, but if there was anything he knew about her, she didn’t do anything halfway. Her work would be top quality only. “I don’t see why anyone would want one of those,” he finally blurted out.
Al blinked, but to his credit didn’t look surprised. Ed didn’t talk about it often, but after the incident with Scar and Winry and the gun all those years ago, his disdain for firearms wasn’t a secret. “I do,” he offered. “Think about it, Ed. After your surgery, you didn’t feel like you were yourself until you tried alchemy again.”
“That’s different!” Ed blurted out. There couldn’t be any similarities between him and those idiots down south, not even a little bit. Forget that Al was right and after his surgery he didn’t feel like a whole person until he’d clapped his hands and felt that familiar energy pumping through him and oh yes, I’m Ed and I’m an alchemist -
“Never mind,” Ed waved his brother off, and the two of them fell back into silence.
Click to continue to part 2