"Scars" for evil_little_dog
Title: Scars
Author: jellyjay
Series: Manga/Brotherhood
Characters: Winry, Ed
Rating: PG 13
Summary: The scars bother her more than they should.
Notes: This turned out angstier than I planned it to be, and it's not often that I write Ed and Winry so I really hope I did this right. I'm so sorry for the ridiculous wait, but better late than never, right?
When Ed and Al come back, everything is almost perfect.
Al has his body back, and Edward his arm, and they smile so wide so often that it’s like they’ll both burst at any moment.
Winry can’t say she’s much different - she doesn’t even remember ever feeling so happy - not since her parents died, and certainly not since Ed and Al left in the first place. It’s been a rocky few years, but here they are, all smiles and happiness with only a metal leg, a few scars and a pair of crutches to remind them of all the pain and hardship they’ve been through over the years.
This might actually be the happiest the three of them have ever been in their entire lives.
It’s perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
And after all they’ve been through, it’s nothing less than Ed and Al deserve.
x
It’s the scars that start to bug her after a little while.
After a week, her eyes just seem naturally drawn to the skin on Edward’s shoulder, and the jagged, discoloured lines where the port of his automail once was.
It’s not so bad, at first. They’re only scars - everything else is perfect.
But the more often she sees them, the more she realises that she doesn’t want them there. Ed has been through enough, and now, when everything’s finally better, there will always be a reminder of the Promised Day etched into his skin.
There will always be a reminder of how everything fell apart.
Always.
It unnerves her because everything is perfect - and everything should be perfect - but there is a scar on Edward’s shoulder that serves as a constant reminder that everything is not.
x
“Something bothering you, Win?”
Winry looks up and realises far too late that she’s staring at the scar again, and that Edward is staring at her, and, basically, she’s been caught out.
She shakes her head at him in a poor attempt to hide the odd little flush rising in her cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
Ed raises an eyebrow at her. He knows her better than anyone, so of course, she shouldn’t really be surprised that he doesn’t believe her. “Let’s try this again,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Winry almost winces because she can see it even clearer now. “Is something bothering you, Win?”
She considers, for a moment, telling him what’s wrong; considers telling him that in spite of everything being perfect the way it is now, she wants it to be more perfect - she wants there to be no more reminders of missing limbs and days apart where all she could do was worry. She wants there to be no more visible scars to remind her - to remind them of the way things once were.
One would think that, if she was bothered about reminders, she’d be more bothered by his leg, but that’s different - his leg is automail - it’s what she does for a living. It’s seeing the actual scars on his shoulder - seeing the exact place where his arm once wasn’t - the exact places where things have hurt him and almost killed him and realising the number times she could have lost him over the years and never have known...
It frightens her.
How can she make him understand that?
“Win?”
She looks him in eye and coughs a little. “It’s nothing,” she says again, and at last. She makes a point to make her answer firmer than it was before. “Don’t worry about it, Ed. Everything’s fine.”
x
It’s one of those rare, quiet moments when Al’s outside and Granny’s in town when things begin to heat up.
It starts with a kiss. Winry almost can’t remember how they went from conversing over a pot of stew to kissing over it, but it feels right and long overdue. She had known she’d been in love with him since she was fifteen years old, and she and Ed are seventeen now, so she feels okay with thinking that it’s about time.
Ed tastes like the stew he’d picked out of the pot on the stove mixed with something salty and inwardly, she makes a note to add a little more salt once they’re done with this, if only because she likes how it tastes. She leans into him, standing on her toes a little to press her lips even closer to his, hands lifting to grip at his shoulders -
She stops. Feels the scars under the pads of her fingertips. Remembers the night Al brought him to her with a missing arm and leg. Remembers the blood, and the pain, and along with them, all the memories that have no place in a time as perfect as now.
“Winry?”
She shakes her head and steps away from him. “E - everything’s fine. Sorry. I - ”
“Winry.”
She forces herself to look at him and finds that she’s mildly surprised to see the understanding on his face. “The scars. That’s what’s been bothering you.”
Winry sighs and looks away again. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you just say?”
She says nothing. She still doesn’t quite know how to make him understand or how to tell him that she’s scared of some of the memories they bring up.
“Winry.” Ed hums thoughtfully and takes her hand. “Fine. Don’t say. I get it. They remind me of things I don’t like too.”
Winry feels like she should say something here, but she doesn’t. She wants to ask how he can bare it - all those memories - all that pain -
“The past is real, Win,” he says. “We can’t just forget it all no matter how painful things were. That’s what scars are for, you know?”
“So...” she says at last. “What do we do?”
He smiles at her and lifts her hand to the scars on his shoulder. “We live with them. That’s all.”
“How?”
Ed chuckles and steps closer again. “I can think of a couple of ways. Just trust me on this one.”
x
The whole kissing thing that started in the kitchen has them stumbling upstairs, and while it get’s relatively heated, they don’t do anything past kiss.
Ed’s scars turn out to be surprisingly sensitive. It’s strange to feel his skin quiver under her fingers - stranger still knowing that this is the boy who saved the world - the boy who refused to tremble in the face of the biggest threat Amestris’ has ever seen now a man shivering under her touch.
He has many scars. More than she thought - the ones she sees on his shoulder on a daily basis almost can’t compare. She’s seen his naked torso before, but not this close. Not close enough to see every detail - not close enough to count every scar.
There are little ones on his arms - the results of little cuts and burns from silly things like the cats Al used to keep in his armour or from being silly around a campfire.
Then there are bigger ones on his torso - the large jagged scar beneath his ribs and a second almost identical one on his back that marks the entrance of the metal brace that nearly killed him in the North.
His skin is like an old map - each scar a blemish with its own story. He tells her all the stories then - explains how he got each one as she traces them with her fingers, and one would think that this would bother her, but hearing him tell the tales and feeling his warm skin beneath her fingertips reminds her that he’s here and he’s whole.
And she realises: there’s nothing she can do to change any of it, but it might not necessarily be a bad thing.
This is who he is.
Most people have photo albums or journals to hold their stories and travels - but those records get lost, and people forget who they used to be in favour trying to discover who they are today.
But that isn’t the way to go about it at all. Ed has taught her that. You can’t know who you are if you forget who you were before.
So Ed keeps his stories on his skin - somewhere where he can never take what he has for granted. Somewhere where he can never forget the boy he once was.
Changes leave traces, don’t they? With Ed, those traces are just more obvious than most people.
“Do they still bother you?” he asks her later, when they hear Al moving around downstairs.
She shrugs a little. “I guess not.”
“Let me know, okay?” says Ed. “You shouldn’t keep that kind of thing to yourself. And.” He coughs awkwardly. “It bugs me. When you’re upset.”
Winry chuckles a little. “I get it. Thanks Ed.”
He clears his throat and gives her an odd sort of grin. “I should head downstairs. Al’s probably wondering where we went.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I need to finish making the stew.”
“Right.” Ed nods at her. And then he smirks. “I guess we found a pretty decent way of dealing with the scars though, huh?”
Winry snorts and resists the urge to hit him for being so frank about it. “Go find Al, Edward,” she scolds. But she smirks too.
If this is how they intend to deal with scars when they bring up old memories, then she supposes it won’t be so bad.
Author: jellyjay
Series: Manga/Brotherhood
Characters: Winry, Ed
Rating: PG 13
Summary: The scars bother her more than they should.
Notes: This turned out angstier than I planned it to be, and it's not often that I write Ed and Winry so I really hope I did this right. I'm so sorry for the ridiculous wait, but better late than never, right?
When Ed and Al come back, everything is almost perfect.
Al has his body back, and Edward his arm, and they smile so wide so often that it’s like they’ll both burst at any moment.
Winry can’t say she’s much different - she doesn’t even remember ever feeling so happy - not since her parents died, and certainly not since Ed and Al left in the first place. It’s been a rocky few years, but here they are, all smiles and happiness with only a metal leg, a few scars and a pair of crutches to remind them of all the pain and hardship they’ve been through over the years.
This might actually be the happiest the three of them have ever been in their entire lives.
It’s perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
And after all they’ve been through, it’s nothing less than Ed and Al deserve.
x
It’s the scars that start to bug her after a little while.
After a week, her eyes just seem naturally drawn to the skin on Edward’s shoulder, and the jagged, discoloured lines where the port of his automail once was.
It’s not so bad, at first. They’re only scars - everything else is perfect.
But the more often she sees them, the more she realises that she doesn’t want them there. Ed has been through enough, and now, when everything’s finally better, there will always be a reminder of the Promised Day etched into his skin.
There will always be a reminder of how everything fell apart.
Always.
It unnerves her because everything is perfect - and everything should be perfect - but there is a scar on Edward’s shoulder that serves as a constant reminder that everything is not.
x
“Something bothering you, Win?”
Winry looks up and realises far too late that she’s staring at the scar again, and that Edward is staring at her, and, basically, she’s been caught out.
She shakes her head at him in a poor attempt to hide the odd little flush rising in her cheeks. “It’s nothing.”
Ed raises an eyebrow at her. He knows her better than anyone, so of course, she shouldn’t really be surprised that he doesn’t believe her. “Let’s try this again,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Winry almost winces because she can see it even clearer now. “Is something bothering you, Win?”
She considers, for a moment, telling him what’s wrong; considers telling him that in spite of everything being perfect the way it is now, she wants it to be more perfect - she wants there to be no more reminders of missing limbs and days apart where all she could do was worry. She wants there to be no more visible scars to remind her - to remind them of the way things once were.
One would think that, if she was bothered about reminders, she’d be more bothered by his leg, but that’s different - his leg is automail - it’s what she does for a living. It’s seeing the actual scars on his shoulder - seeing the exact place where his arm once wasn’t - the exact places where things have hurt him and almost killed him and realising the number times she could have lost him over the years and never have known...
It frightens her.
How can she make him understand that?
“Win?”
She looks him in eye and coughs a little. “It’s nothing,” she says again, and at last. She makes a point to make her answer firmer than it was before. “Don’t worry about it, Ed. Everything’s fine.”
x
It’s one of those rare, quiet moments when Al’s outside and Granny’s in town when things begin to heat up.
It starts with a kiss. Winry almost can’t remember how they went from conversing over a pot of stew to kissing over it, but it feels right and long overdue. She had known she’d been in love with him since she was fifteen years old, and she and Ed are seventeen now, so she feels okay with thinking that it’s about time.
Ed tastes like the stew he’d picked out of the pot on the stove mixed with something salty and inwardly, she makes a note to add a little more salt once they’re done with this, if only because she likes how it tastes. She leans into him, standing on her toes a little to press her lips even closer to his, hands lifting to grip at his shoulders -
She stops. Feels the scars under the pads of her fingertips. Remembers the night Al brought him to her with a missing arm and leg. Remembers the blood, and the pain, and along with them, all the memories that have no place in a time as perfect as now.
“Winry?”
She shakes her head and steps away from him. “E - everything’s fine. Sorry. I - ”
“Winry.”
She forces herself to look at him and finds that she’s mildly surprised to see the understanding on his face. “The scars. That’s what’s been bothering you.”
Winry sighs and looks away again. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you just say?”
She says nothing. She still doesn’t quite know how to make him understand or how to tell him that she’s scared of some of the memories they bring up.
“Winry.” Ed hums thoughtfully and takes her hand. “Fine. Don’t say. I get it. They remind me of things I don’t like too.”
Winry feels like she should say something here, but she doesn’t. She wants to ask how he can bare it - all those memories - all that pain -
“The past is real, Win,” he says. “We can’t just forget it all no matter how painful things were. That’s what scars are for, you know?”
“So...” she says at last. “What do we do?”
He smiles at her and lifts her hand to the scars on his shoulder. “We live with them. That’s all.”
“How?”
Ed chuckles and steps closer again. “I can think of a couple of ways. Just trust me on this one.”
x
The whole kissing thing that started in the kitchen has them stumbling upstairs, and while it get’s relatively heated, they don’t do anything past kiss.
Ed’s scars turn out to be surprisingly sensitive. It’s strange to feel his skin quiver under her fingers - stranger still knowing that this is the boy who saved the world - the boy who refused to tremble in the face of the biggest threat Amestris’ has ever seen now a man shivering under her touch.
He has many scars. More than she thought - the ones she sees on his shoulder on a daily basis almost can’t compare. She’s seen his naked torso before, but not this close. Not close enough to see every detail - not close enough to count every scar.
There are little ones on his arms - the results of little cuts and burns from silly things like the cats Al used to keep in his armour or from being silly around a campfire.
Then there are bigger ones on his torso - the large jagged scar beneath his ribs and a second almost identical one on his back that marks the entrance of the metal brace that nearly killed him in the North.
His skin is like an old map - each scar a blemish with its own story. He tells her all the stories then - explains how he got each one as she traces them with her fingers, and one would think that this would bother her, but hearing him tell the tales and feeling his warm skin beneath her fingertips reminds her that he’s here and he’s whole.
And she realises: there’s nothing she can do to change any of it, but it might not necessarily be a bad thing.
This is who he is.
Most people have photo albums or journals to hold their stories and travels - but those records get lost, and people forget who they used to be in favour trying to discover who they are today.
But that isn’t the way to go about it at all. Ed has taught her that. You can’t know who you are if you forget who you were before.
So Ed keeps his stories on his skin - somewhere where he can never take what he has for granted. Somewhere where he can never forget the boy he once was.
Changes leave traces, don’t they? With Ed, those traces are just more obvious than most people.
“Do they still bother you?” he asks her later, when they hear Al moving around downstairs.
She shrugs a little. “I guess not.”
“Let me know, okay?” says Ed. “You shouldn’t keep that kind of thing to yourself. And.” He coughs awkwardly. “It bugs me. When you’re upset.”
Winry chuckles a little. “I get it. Thanks Ed.”
He clears his throat and gives her an odd sort of grin. “I should head downstairs. Al’s probably wondering where we went.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I need to finish making the stew.”
“Right.” Ed nods at her. And then he smirks. “I guess we found a pretty decent way of dealing with the scars though, huh?”
Winry snorts and resists the urge to hit him for being so frank about it. “Go find Al, Edward,” she scolds. But she smirks too.
If this is how they intend to deal with scars when they bring up old memories, then she supposes it won’t be so bad.