Fic: Prompt: "Frost on the Pumpkin"
Sow in Tears
by evil_little_dog
Rating: Anyone can read
Prompt: Frost on the pumpkin
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They were three. A trio, a tripod. When they were children, they were all but inseparable, despite the fact that other kids warred for their attention. Edward was the undisputed leader, the one that not only Alphonse and Winry looked to, but also other kids near their ages, Pitt, Nelly, Dale; the rough and tumble kids, the ones who didn’t mind getting dirty; they were all part of Edward’s army. Or Pitt’s, depending on who had the best idea for the day, and whether Pitt and Edward were fighting over who had the best idea - and if they fought too much, Winry usually took over, besting them both with some smooth move that made the boys wish they’d thought of it first.
But when it came down to everything, they were three - Edward, Winry, Alphonse. Where one was, the other two generally weren’t far away. Even if Winry decided at recess to skip rope rather than play tag, the Elric brothers kept an eye on her. If Alphonse skinned his knee trying to roll a hoop, Edward picked him up and Winry blew on the sore until it didn’t sting any more. If some of the older boys decided to pick on Edward because he was smaller, Winry was frighteningly accurate with rocks and sticks and Alphonse had been known to bite.
There was a photo of the trio - Edward with a black eye; Winry with a puffy jaw; Alphonse with a scrape on his cheek - an altercation that brought Tricia Elric and Pinako Rockbell to the school to collect their brawling youngsters. Edward had been proud to point out, despite how they looked, the boys who’d attacked Winry looked that much worse. Even though some of the other kids corroborated Edward’s version of things, it still didn’t keep the trio from being suspended from classes for two days.
“Not that that will matter in the long run,” Pinako told the exasperated young mother. “Those kids are smart enough, they can stand to miss a couple of days. And,” she raised a gnarled finger in emphasis, “help with the harvest and canning for punishment.”
So they were stuck in the garden, picking vegetables for canning. The rich red of the tomatoes appealed to Edward, though he didn’t really like the taste of the fruit. The yellow tomatoes Winry plucked weren’t nearly as sharp-tasting but still not his favorite. Alphonse circled the bean poles, dropping pods into the bushel basket at his feet. The sun, dry and hot, beat down on their heads and Edward almost wished he had a little straw hat like Winry’s, even if it did seem girly.
Straightening, Edward wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, swiping his hand across the legs of his shorts. “Man, it’s too hot out here!” He scowled at the sun then back at the tomatoes. He’d already filled his basket with the fruit but hadn’t even gotten halfway down the row of plants.
“They’re not going to pick themselves, Brother,” Alphonse said, sounding almost prim as he dumped another handful of beans into his basket.
“Yeah, but it’s still hot!” Edward stalked down his row, turning sideways at some points to get through the clinging plants. He wanted a drink, he decided, and the pail of water was over under the shade tree, just waiting to quench his thirst. “I’m getting a drink,” he announced loudly to anyone who might be listening, though the only people near enough to hear him were his brother and Winry. Even Den didn’t want to leave the cool space under the front porch to come to the garden. Grumbling under his breath about old women and how mean they were, making kids pick vegetables in the hot sun, Edward made his way up the slight incline to the chestnut tree.
The bright light seemed to cut right through his swollen eyelids to his sore eye underneath them, and Edward let out a sigh of relief when he finally got into the shade. Dipping the ladle into the pail, he brought up the water, drinking noisily, some of the liquid spilling over his chin and down his shirt. A light breeze drifted past, cooling him even more. Ladling out more water, Edward carefully upended the ladle over his head, smiling as the water cooled his scalp, dribbling down his hair and dripping into his shirt. “Ahhh!”
Seeing Winry straighten up, her hands in the center of her back like she was an old woman, Edward opened his mouth, ready to tease her. The thought faded as she pulled off her hat, wiping her forehead on the sleeve of her dress. The bruise on her jaw stood out in the brilliant light, nearly as purple as an eggplant. Fists clenching all over again, Edward gritted his teeth, remembering the bullies and the way they’d just jumped on his friend. “Bastards,” Edward growled. The bad thing was they hadn’t even had a real reason to do it; just that Winry was there, as far as Edward could tell. She hadn’t been bothering them or anything. Dumping the ladle back in the pail, Edward cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting down to the garden. “Hey! Hey!” He waved when Winry and Alphonse turned to him. “C’mon and get a drink. It’s nice and cool up here.” If he had his chalk, Edward thought he could ice the water, make it even cooler. Tomorrow, he told himself, he’d bring his chalk and use it to draw a circle and transmute the water.
Putting her hat back on, Winry picked up her basket of tomatoes. Alphonse brushed through the rows, not following the path, and caught the other side of Edward’s basket, helping Winry carry it out. Edward felt a flush of irritation that they were doing that; he could get his own basket! He bit his lip, not yelling even though he wanted to, and trotted down the little hill to help. When he was close enough, he growled, “I would’ve come back for my basket. You didn’t have to bring it out.”
“We saved you a trip.” Winry shoved the basket at him, dragging Alphonse’s hand along with hers. “Just take the dumb thing.”
Edward grabbed the basket before Winry let go of her handle, clutching it to his chest. His lip jutted out as Winry stomped past him, heading toward the water bucket. “What’d I do?” he asked, looking from Alphonse to their friend.
Alphonse shrugged in response, adjusting his grip on his own basket as he carried it the rest of the way up the hill. Winry was already at the pail, dipping out some water for herself and drinking it. Edward followed his brother, ignoring the way his scowl made his sore eye hurt more. Winry handed the dipper to Alphonse when she was finished, wiping her chin on the shoulder of her dress.
“What’s wrong?” Edward set down his basket with a thump, scowling as he straightened up.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Winry adjusted her hat and busied herself with grabbing an empty basket.
“Something’s wrong.” Arms folded, Edward glared at Winry, who ignored him, even going so far as to walk a circle around him. He turned to keep her in his sight. “Something is wrong!” he yelled before Winry left the shady area under the tree. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
Winry’s back stiffened but she didn’t turn around. “You can’t do anything about it.”
Alphonse turned huge eyes to Edward, who waved him to stay quiet as he walked down the hill after Winry. “What do you mean?” he asked, much more quietly, standing almost directly behind her. Something clicked into place. “Is it why those guys hit you yesterday?”
Her head tipped forward, her shoulders hunching up. “No.” Her voice wavered funny on the single word and Edward moved around in front of her, frowning even more prodigiously.
“Winry, what’s wrong?” Alphonse had come up, too, standing to her side, his hand on her arm.
“You can tell us.” Feeling his nails cutting into his palms, Edward forced his fists to loosen. “We’re your friends.”
Slowly, the brim of her hat tilted up, showing the brothers that Winry’s eyes were full of tears; her nose starting to turn red. “I know that.” Instead of irritated, she sounded woeful. “Just…I wanna take care of myself.”
Making a disgusted sound deep in his throat, Edward feathered his fingers over the bruise on Winry’s jaw. “You didn’t do too good a job of it yesterday!”
She jerked back, eyes narrowing. “I woulda been okay!”
“No, you wouldn’t!” Edward shook his head. “They wanted to hurt you.”
“Why, Winry?” Alphonse’s quiet voice broke through before either of them could yell again. “What happened?” He squeezed her arm and Winry ducked her head, staring at the ground between her sandals.
“They said Mom an’ Dad,” everything faded into a mumble after that and Edward shot a look at his brother, who shrugged in response.
“They said what about your Mom and Dad, Winry?” He cocked his head, trying to look under the brim of her hat.
“They said Mom an’ Dad were traitors!” Winry yanked her arm free from Alphonse’s grip, her shoulders rising and falling with the sound of her harsh breathing. “That’s why they died, ‘cause they helped the Ishballans!”
Edward felt his mouth turn down but Alphonse was the one who spoke. “That’s not what happened!” He shot a glare off in the direction of the schoolyard. “Your Mom an’ Dad were heroes!”
“That’s what I said.” Winry hiccupped, scrubbing at her eyes with her fists. “An’ that’s when, when.”
“When they hit you.” Edward clenched his teeth together, wanting to run off and find those guys and beat them into the ground. It didn’t matter they were sixth graders and three years older, he knew alchemy and between him and Al, they’d managed to take two of the bastards down. Okay, so Winry had helped, but this time, Edward needed to take care of it for her. Even if it was her Mom and Dad, she was a girl and shouldn’t get into fights. At least, not this time. “Don’t worry, Winry. I’ll make ‘em pay for hittin’ you.”
“No!” Winry grabbed his shirt as he started to turn away, shaking her head so fiercely, her hat fell off. “Ed, no.” He started to whine, mouth falling open to argue with her but Winry’s scowl stopped the words in his throat. “No. You - we,” she grabbed Al’s shirt, too, “yesterday we won. That’s good enough.”
Edward swallowed the things he wanted to say, looking away from Winry. Even if he didn’t believe it, he muttered, “Okay,” reaching up to touch the crown of her head fleetingly. Winning yesterday, he thought, would never really be good enough. He wanted to win today and tomorrow, too, if it would keep Winry from looking so sad.
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