Parallel
by. Poisoned Scarlet

Summary: "a boy, a girl, and a bridge linking two worlds."
Rating: K+
Genre: Supernatural/Drama
Pairing: Ed/Winry
Type: AU – fairy-tail!FMA
Authors Note: Just something I came up while walking home from a friends house... it's pretty boring now that I read it over. There isn't much happening but it was a nice story to write, regardless.
Story Notes: This story edges on a fable, just because of the supernatural occurrences I add. It's pretty angsty, as you will know, and the end is abrupt and leaves for more but it's suppose to end like that. If I continued to write it, it'd become too long and drawn out! Sorry you guys! My memory of CoS is fuzzy so some things might not add up and, if that does happen, please don't blame me too much!

This is post-Conqueror of Shamballa!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

She resented her for better part of her life.

Her and her little boy visited often, bringing small gifts and pleasant company, and she was kind and nurturing whenever they spoke. Winry was positive she had never heard her utter a single disparaging comment or curse word – not even in jest.

But even if she was a saint incarnate, even if she were to ever save her life, not matter what she did to earn her respect and admiration, Winry knew she would always have that speck of black staining her soul; turning her against the one woman who had seen him off all those years ago: Rose Thomas.

She didn't think it was fair in the beginning. She found it hard to accept that the last person to see him off had been Rose of all people – not her, his childhood best friend. But soon she came to accept the fact and moved on despite the flicker of contempt she constantly felt for the woman.

The event – their, his, leaving – had haunted her for a long time, still did, and most nights were filled with choking whimpers and restless shuffling on her bed. She would always curl up on her side and place a pillow over her ear, as if to block out the complete silence that seemed too loud during those nights.

The wrench he had bought her when they were children was only a bitter reminder of his presence – of his paused-existence in this world – yet she always slept with the tool, placing it softly by her chest, next to her heart, and seeking solace in the cold steel.

They weren't coming back.

The severe expression Roy Mustang had given her hours after their leave had answered as much. He had sealed off the gate for good; destroyed it so no other soul would pass through the rip in dimensions.

It made her loathe him a little, made her wonder what she'd done to deserve such a tragedy, but nevertheless she refused contact with the General for weeks until the hate melted back to simple passive-aggressiveness.

She avoided Central like a plague for the time-being, too; opting to staying in Resembool instead of opening an automail shop in Central City like her grandmother had asked her to do a few days after Edward and Alphonse departed.

Her days were spent rigorously working on automail projects – perfecting already perfect models – for weeks. She did not leave her workshop unless it was for bathing, eating, or gathering material for automail. Her grandmother had been worried for a long time, and she felt guilty for that now, but the old woman understood her need for distraction and let her grieve for a while.

However, that while was short lived.

Eventually, her grandmother made her snap out of her blank state of pain.

Eventually, she began smiling again, no matter how wane and tired it seemed, and she began to live again.

Eventually, she perfected the facade of well-being and was able to hide the gaping wound in her heart from prying eyes.

Eventually, she was able to say their names without disturbing that tear in her chest.

Winry wished she could thank her grandmother for all she had given her during those years. It was Pinako who had snapped her back to the living, after all.

She opened that automail shop in Central City after her grandmother passed away two years later.

The yellow house on the hill was left lonesome since Winry couldn't bear to sell it. The house held too many memories. She simply boarded it up, placed a chain-link fence around the area, locked it up, and left it to gather dust.

The building she bought with the money her grandmother left her for this purpose was of decent size. It was nearby the busiest streets of downtown Central but far enough that the city noise didn't bother her.

She had chosen the area for the park that stretched across the street from her shop. She enjoyed gazing out her window during those slow days. It reminded her of the view she had from her bedroom window in Resembool. It was bitter but sweet.

There was a bridge that she could clearly see from within her shop, too, which made the view all the more gorgeous. It was an antique sculptured bridge, which was avoided like the plague by many because of the rumors regarding it, sadly.

There were many versions of the so-called 'lovers curse' or, as it infamously known, "The Bridge of Cursed Lovers".

"They say that if you stand on it too long, your loved one will die a day after you confess!"

"I heard that a couple were taking a stroll in the park and when they made it to the bridge, it collapsed and took both their lives. They say that anyone who crosses that bridge and survives will be cursed with bad luck in love!"

"Well, I heard that if you cross that bridge five times during your whole life, you won't get married!"

The versions got even more ridiculous and the claims were eye-rolling but Winry still never ventured near the bridge; no matter how much she wanted to. It wasn't like she had a love-life, more like lack thereof, and it wasn't like she had anyone left that really, truly, mattered to her.

Those two had left years ago, almost five.

If anyone was most suitable to cross that bridge, be it once or five times, it would be her. She had nothing to lose, nothing to live for except her automail patients that relied on her expertise, but she had everything to gain, right?

But she still never dared.

"Alright guys, time to go!" Winry yelled, shooing two bickering men out. She set her trusty wrench on the counter and removed her mechanic gloves, gesturing towards the iron-enforced doors that would lead outside. "It's already seven and I have to close up the shop. Sorry, you two."

"So soon?" one of the men complained. " but it's barely starting!"

Winry rolled her eyes at the old man. She had repaired a small glitch in his automail hand and his friend had tagged along like he always did whenever that particular old geezer hobbled towards her shop. They usually stayed until closing time, which was usually until nine at night for her, and kept her company during those frequent lonely evenings. "I've got no clue what you're talking about but I'm expecting some visitors at my house in about an hour and I have to get ready! So, come on, out with you!"

The two old men complained but conceded, waving their farewells and slowly walking down the isolated sidewalk lit up by the falling sun. Winry watched them go for a moment before going back inside to shut down the lights and fix up her work station for the next day.

She quickly locked up her shop and stuck her hands inside her black coat, shivering when the cold evening air washed over her.

It was winter in Central City and the cold was beginning to become harsh.

She was about to turn and leave when a flicker of light caught her eye. She stood very still as she stared at the black, smudged out, image of the bridge. She hesitantly took a step forward only to take two steps back when another shimmer of light caught her eye.

"What in the world...?" she whispered, swallowing down a tremble of anxiety. But as her eyes adjusted to the evening dark, she noticed that the lights were moving and were very small. It took her a moment, but she was relieved to see that it was only a hoard of fireflies hovering around that specific spot on the bridge.

She checked her pocket watch – the very pocket watch Edward had left behind all those years ago when she had repaired his arm and leg for the last time – and figured she had enough time to take a short stroll in the park before heading home to ready herself for her visitors, which happened to be Riza Mustang and Sciezska.

She stopped short when she came to the fork that would either lead her to the beautiful bridge she quietly admired from afar or the lonesome trail that would lead her deeper into the park, to which she would take another fork, left, and eventually end up near her apartment complex like intended.

She made a snap decision and took the right road, heartbeat racing as the bridge came closer and closer until she was at the mouth of it. A small river trickled beneath it, the lulling melody of running water comforting to her ears, and the temperature seemed to plummet the nearer she got to the bridge.

She cautiously took a step forward, then another, and she grabbed onto the thick wood railing for a moment before deciding that the bridge was, indeed, solid and would not give under her weight.

Her black boots sounded heavy upon the wood and she stopped once she reached the middle.

Triumph blossomed in her chest and she couldn't suppress a smile. Soon that triumph melted into complete relief and she laughed at her own stupidity.

"There's nothing here," she muttered, shaking her head. "I can't believe I let myself believe those stupid rumors... there's nothing here!" she shouted. The only sounds she received was the running stream water and the choir of crickets. "Geez, what would Sciezska say?" Winry sighed, kneading a palm in her growling stomach.

She spun on her heel, ready to head home, only to freeze.

Her eyes stung, began to overflow with the emotion that staggered her breathing, as she stared at the washed out, blurred out, image of Edward Elric.

He was standing with his arms resting upon the wood rail, staring out into the open rather blankly. He wore the strange assemble of clothing from before only he wore a black trench coat this time and his boots were similar to the ones he had transmuted years ago, when he was fifteen and angry at the world.

His hair was still that radiant, envious, rich gold and was tied into a ponytail with the same black hair tie she loaned him years ago. He wore leather gloves on his hands and everytime he breathed, a mist of white would cloud his mouth...

"Edward?" she whispered, eyes wide with disbelief. This washed out image of him responded, oddly, and turned. She saw his eyes widen, saw his gold irises shrink with poorly concealed despair.

"Winry? W-Winry...?" His voice sounded so floaty, so muffled. She took a tentative step forward before stepping back, shaking her head slowly. She pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes, mouth stretching into a twisted grin at the ironic turn of events.

This bridge...was cursed alright.

"I get it," she breathed. "I'm hallucinating." She laughed, a hollow, aggrieved, laugh. "I've finally gone insane! Great!" She continued laughing, leaning upon the beautifully carved rail weakly. Her chested ache greatly. "Insanity isn't so bad," she whispered, more to herself. "Not if I can see him. Maybe I should've gone insane a long time ago – it's not so bad..."

"Winry, is that really you?" She could hear his voice, matured and strong. Where had all the time gone? "Winry? Winry!"

She opened her eyes and saw that Ed had drawn closer, a shaky hand extended to her. "Winry...?"

She stretched out her own hand, let it touch his and only flinched when she felt nothing. She tried grasping the translucent hand reaching out to her, and he tried the same, but they both came to the same conclusion: they could not touch one another, no matter how much Winry wanted to feel the cold of his automail hand.

"You're not real," she whispered, gazing into his pained eyes. "Why can't you be real?" She felt hot tears drip down her cheeks. "Why can't you be real, damn it!" she cried, bolting forward only to drive through him. She sucked in a cry, turned and stared into his equally grieved eyes. "How come you can't be real, Ed?" her voice cracked.

"I am real," he replied, raising a hand to quickly wipe his cheek. She hadn't noticed when he'd begun to cry, too. "I'm real. Look – I'm real, okay? You're not hallucinating, you're not insane – I'm real!" He looked around, almost desperately. "There has to be a reason why I'm able to see you," he insisted. "There's got – there has to be – how can I see you?"

"Unless I'm not real, either," Winry suggested darkly. "Maybe we're both insane. Or maybe it's just me."

Edward gave her a long, searching, look. "There has to be a way we can see one another," he persisted. "A link of some sort. I'm positive you're real. You have to be. The question is: how?" His voice had gradually become clearer and clearer but his image was still blurry at the sides, almost black and white in contrast.

Winry raised her hand suddenly and Ed stopped his mindless ramble when he noticed. She hesitantly pressed her hand against his arm and froze when she felt the material, felt the coarse fur that let her hand sink to feel the solid structure of his automail.

She retracted her hand and pressed it against her chest, eyes wide. "How...?"

Suddenly, Ed was in front of her. He swallowed and rose his hands jerkily, clapping them against her arms, and smiling in almost deranged glee when he could feel her, too. Winry quickly grabbed his coat and shoved him roughly against her, holding onto him tightly and closing her eyes.

She resisted the sob, the bile that rose up her throat, and simply basked in his so-real warmth.

"Ed," she began hoarsely. "Please. Please, come back. Come back.. come back to me," She felt him stiffen and her eyes watered even more. "Please."

"... I'll try to," was all he said. A vague response to her plea. A promise that at the same time was not a promise – just something to fill the void between the two.

"It's not fair," she whispered. "You're both over there and... I'm here." She gripped his coat tightly, knuckles white. "Sometimes I get jealous," she revealed, almost inaudible. She felt Ed lower his head on her shoulder, tilt it to hear her clearer. This fake Ed was more attentive than the real one, she found herself thinking. "You have a brother. You're never alone... sometimes I wish I had a sibling. Then maybe I wouldn't be so alone, too."

"You're not alone," he breathed harshly. "You were never alone, Win. You have Granny Pinako and Den and what about Sciezska and Hawkeye? Gracia and Elysia? You're not alone," he repeated firmly. "You're never alone."

"...Granny passed away," she said quietly.

Edward did not say anything.

"Den died right after her, a couple of months later," she continued. "Sciezska is engaged and Riza has been wed to Chancellor Mustang for the last year. Gracia moved to Dublith nearly two years ago..." She tightened her hold on his coat, the distinct smell of Ed enough to soothe her. She rested her head on his chest, which she felt heave with the labored breaths as he listened to her. "I don't see Sciezska much and Riza always has security guards surrounding her now that she's the Chancellor's wife. They don't visit very often..."

"...I am so sorry," were the only words Ed managed to choke. His arms tightened almost painfully around her, crushing her to his body that felt so, so real. "I am... so... sorry. This wasn't... you weren't supposed to be like this. Al and I didn't really expect you... if we could come back, we would. We want to come back but..."

"You can't," she finished for him, rather emptily. "I know. Its been five years, Ed, I accepted the fact that you won't come back."

"But there is a possibility," he said suddenly. He rose his hand and grabbed her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "If I can touch you and hear you then there must be a way to cross over to the other side." He looked around once more, Winry wondering just what he saw, before locking eyes with her again. "I can come back, this is proof. I just need... I just need time," he swallowed. "I can come back. I know I can."

Winry smiled sadly. "But you're not real," she laughed breathlessly. "These are only words I want to hear... I probably fell asleep in my shop again." She rested her cheek on his chest. "I'll wake up in the morning and forget this..."

"Damn it, I'm real!" Ed snarled. He stepped back and she found herself cursing her dreams for being so cruel to her. His hand was back on her cheek, grabbing her and forcing her to meet his gaze once more. "I'm real, you idiot!" he hissed. "Look at me! I'm real! And so are you! You must be real because even dreams cannot be this realistic." He touched her hair, touched her gray coat. "I can feel this. I can feel you. I can smell you, hear you, and touch you. You're as real as me and this bridge..." He suddenly looked down, "... this bridge must be a link between the two worlds."

"A link?" she echoed blankly. She felt the swell of hope blossom inside her chest, felt her delirium slowly fade. "You're... real?" she asked quietly, scared. "You're really real?"

Ed smiled in relief. "I'm real and so are you—!"

"Edward!" she heard someone call. Winry looked around her, trying to pinpoint the location of the voice. It sounded so familiar... "Brother, what are you doing out here all alone?"

"Al!" Ed shouted, excitement rushing his words. "Alphonse, get over here!"

"What is—!"

Winry stayed completely still. She could not see anyone but Edward, who was still holding her tightly in his arms.

"Tell me you can see her!" he demanded, desperately. "Please, Al, tell me you can see her." His finger tips dug into her arm painfully and she took this as a sign that he really was real. Pain was supposed to wake her, jolt her back to her bleak life, but the pain in her arm only grew more profound the longer they stood.

"See... what brother?"

Winry couldn't ever recall seeing such an aggrieved, stricken, expression on his face in her entire life.

"You can't... see her?"

"Brother, what are you talking about?" she heard Al's disembodied voice once more, laced with uncertainty and concern. "Ed, are you alright?"

She saw Ed lower his head, look at her once before subtly dropping his arm in a way that still kept her close but no longer pressed against his body.

"I'm fine, Al," he rasped, hollowly. "I'm just... tired. It's nothing." He brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes out. "What are you doing out here? You'll catch a cold."

She held her breath. Alphonse. That was Al he was speaking to. The adorable little boy from her childhood – the innocent, kind, kid who she secretly wished could be her brother – and he could not see her? Things made no sense, how could Ed see her but not Al? How could Ed see Al but not her? A small pain sprouted in her chest the more the brothers spoke.

She wanted to see Alphonse again, too – even if it turned out to be a dream. The fact that her mind could conjure such vivid imagery only made her strive to sleep more. Perhaps then she could have her happy ending...even if it wasn't real.

"Noah asked me to come find you since dinner is ready," she heard Alphonse say, sounding uncertain. "She says to hurry up and get inside – it's really cold out here."

"I'll be there," came Ed's composed reply. "Just give me a moment."

"Okay... and brother?"

"Yes?"

"Who were you talking about earlier?"

Ed didn't respond for a moment. "Nobody, Al. I was just seeing things."

That hurt, she had to admit.

It hurt a lot.

Her hands balled into fists.

"Oh... well... you should get some sleep. You haven't been sleeping enough lately and don't deny it because I know that you stay up extremely late!"

"Yeah, you're right." Winry stared at Ed's face, his drawn in, exhausted, eyes, and dropped her gaze to the floor. She couldn't understand the situation. It felt real, even the way the wind ruffled Ed's chopped up bangs looked real. She could feel him, felt his warmth engulf her like a blanket, and she could clearly smell the scent which belonged to no other person but him.

So, how could this be... not real?

How could her mind create something so... cruel? When all she ever wished for was to forget the two brothers and move along with her life? Perhaps it was a subconscious reaction to her deepest wishes? She knew dreams were basically the reaching in the subconscious and creation of the desires that one would usually not acknowledge when conscious.

Was this one of them?

She thought so.

"I don't understand," he said hoarsely, after Alphonse left. "You have to be real..."

"I am real," she replied, closing her eyes in quiet resignation. Even if he was real, even if in some screwed up, demented, way they were actually in contact with one another, she would most likely never be able to open this link – this passage – a second time.

Perhaps their desperation, the utter despair and grief to see one another, had become too much for both worlds to handle and it had allowed them a little snippet of one another, a small interaction, to lessen the pain a bit. It was too much to ask for, it sounded ridiculous and conceited, but Winry believed it.

She almost did, too.

"I'll always be real as long as you don't forget me," she softly said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out his pocket watch, handing it to him quietly. He sucked in a sharp breath as he squeezed the his old State Alchemist watch in his hands."As long as you don't forget me, I'll always be real."

"... I don't think I can," he said, softly.

"You're not alone," she responded, with a tremulous laugh. "I think about you everyday. I can't forget you no matter how hard I try. I don't think I want to, either."

A small silence descended upon them, dragging out the inevitable scene that would make her and break her simultaneously.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" he said instead, a crude laugh following after. "Is this further punishment for all the sins I've committed?"

"I wouldn't call it punishment," she croaked, as more tears clouded her eyes. "It's a blessing, really. I can see you off this time... I-I can say goodbye to you now! I... even if you're not real... you're real enough and now I can say goodbye and... and tell you," her chest hurt so much, her head felt so fuzzy and light, "how much I love you. I love you, Edward" Her voice cracked and her words became a jumble of vowels and syllables towards the end but she was sure Ed heard her clearly.

"You...do?"

"Of course I do, you big moron!" she cried. "I always have!"

"It... wasn't suppose to end like this," he breathed out. "This is wrong. If you technically don't exist then how the hell can this be a dream? It's.. it just can't..." His arms were around her again, face buried in the crook of her neck. She felt moisture slide down her neck and blot in her shirt. "It... it hurts a lot."

Winry dug her fingers into his hair and she felt his muss her own. She shook in his arms, cried softly in his jacket, felt her head give a strong pound and her eyes grow heavy and start to cross.

She was no where near ready to leave him but her body was beginning to feel weak.

She sagged against him and faintly heard him whisper, "I will come back" before her head gave one last, core-shaking, pound. She heard him call her name, glimpsed his frightened and desperate golden eyes, and managed a small smile that made conflicting emotions flash those those candle-light orbs of his before her vision became black and everything slowly faded like watercolors left out in the rain.

The next time she awoke, she was laying face-down in the middle of the bridge. She lifted her head, winced when she felt a kink in her neck, and glanced around her. It was silent and dark. She looked up into the sky and saw a roll of infinite black pricked with dots of white. She must have fainted or perhaps she had fallen asleep?

But the events between Edward and her came rushing back almost immediately, making the mechanic heave forward as the emotions that came with it hit her dead-on. She shut her eyes, clutched her stomach, and set her jaw against the load of sorrow.

"So it wasn't real," she told the dark. But she smiled slightly when she recalled she had said the three words she had meaning to say for a long time. Even if it wasn't real... she still said it.

She still told Ed that she truly loved him.

It felt like that weight of regret had been lifted... even if the Ed she had spoken to was fictional.

She sat back on her legs and wrapped her arms around her.

She still had doubts: could it all have been a dream?

I'm here, she thought, fingers brushing the rough wood. This has to be real but... where is he then? It was as empty as it had been the first time she'd arrived. The choir of crickets had only gotten louder and the rushing stream filled the noiseless void around her. She hesitantly touched her neck and felt nothing, not even the dry film of saltiness left behind from shed tears.

Her eyes searched around her, heart pinched with hope. But when she saw nothing, nothing but the thin mist of fog beginning to creep in from the lush greenery, she promptly shoved that crashing hope deeply within her and ignored it.

She blamed the pain of loss on something else as she slowly stood up and dusted herself; clothes wet with dew.

What time is it?

She reached into her pocket and couldn't find her watch.

Where did I leave it? She asked herself, panicked. It's Ed's watch he—! She froze. Her hands searched both her pockets desperately. She searched the floor and finally reached the edge of the bridge, gazing down at the flowing water hesitantly.

I-I gave him the watch...in my dream.. she swallowed nervously. But it's just a dream so...did it fall out somehow? She tapped her fingers against the wood. It was too dark too see so it would be pointless to try and search for the watch. She would come again tomorrow, in the morning, when there was enough light for her to search for the watch she was sure had fallen into the stream and was being, no doubt, ruined by the rushing water...

Oh, no, I bet Riza and Sciezska are worried sick! She groaned inwardly, running back home without a single glance behind her. The bridge would be there in the morning, she thought, and she would retrieve the watch quickly, as she felt the creeping of sorrow start to grow with every rapid step.

When she reached her home, there was no sign of anyone. If Riza had come in a car, she must've left already, she sighed, and Sciezska must've gone with her. She knew they'd probably call her tomorrow and ask why she wasn't home, worried sick for their friend, but Winry couldn't tell them it was because she had met with Edward, somehow.

She didn't think she could stand their sympathetic faces.

Because Winry Rock didn't need anyone's pity. She knew they both thought she would never move on. Winry knew this, too, but that didn't mean she would acknowledge it. She had tried to move on and it just wasn't working for her.

She found pretending Ed and Al were only away on a trip better than accepting the reality of the situation: they had crossed to a place where it was impossible to return from.

As long as she did her work and kept herself fed, that was enough, right?

Winry closed the door behind her.

She walked into her dark living room and sat on the springy couch.

She could see the outlines of half-constructed automail and random tools strewn about the floor and tables, the chairs and even stuck awkwardly in the bookcase that dominated most of the northern wall.

It was just a dream, she thought, firmly. Her hand reached into her pocket, to the absence of the watch.

She closed her eyes.

Please let me dream again...

She got a phone call from Riza the next morning at nine 'o clock exactly, her voice riddled with concern and anger. She had justified her absence with the fact that she had fainted in her shop from exhaustion and apologized for making them go all the way to her house for nothing.

Riza didn't care.

She said so long as she was alright, everything was forgiven.

Things became normal for two more months after that.

The bridge was just as tempting – if not more – the longer it stood there, uncrossed, and she worked on patients within her automail shop. She hadn't found her pocket watch and she mourned the loss more than anything else – it had been the last thing left behind by Edward and she had somehow lost it!

She never ventured near it again after searching for the watch, however.

No matter how much she wanted to feel strong arms wrap around her and the musky scent of his cologne intoxicate her, she would not dare cross that bridge again.

She thought it was better to just let life roll unabated.

It's better this way, she had firmly thought, gazing longingly at the bridge. I just gotta' do my job. These people need me. She tore her gaze from it. Just a little longer...these people need me.

The desire festered inside of her for days after searching for the watch. Eventually those days became weeks. Then, before she knew it, it had been a month...then two...and the third month, on the second day, she supposed that everything became a blur...

The phone rang constantly for the rest of the morning that day but the fatigue from the all-nighter she pulled previously made her ignore the phone completely; not in the mood for a service call or a conversation with friends.

Instead, she flipped the sign on her shop to closed at mid-afternoon and walked to the patient room in the back of the shop, where she laid on the stiff clinic bed to catch up on her lost hours.

The phone stopped ringing after an hour.

She slept peacefully for five.

She woke with no recollection of her dream.

She felt cheated although she agreed with herself that maybe it was for the best, as she swung herself off the patient bed and let the room stop spinning enough for her to stand and walk bare footed to the bathroom located just outside the patient room.

She splashed water on her pallid face and traced the dark circles that lined her eyes with a tentative finger. She had lost weight, she noticed, and her skin had really seen better days. She contemplated indulging herself tonight and maybe buy some lotion for her dry skin when someone pounded on her shop window.

Winry groaned softly and turned off the light in the bathroom, waiting for the pounding to stop. This wouldn't be the first time she'd done this little deed. Someonewould always do just this: pound on her window, call for her, or even phone her over and over again just to complain about minor aches or schedule an emergency appointment which, usually, she couldn't dobecause she felt so tired but did so anyway to keep the Rockbell reputation strong.

But then there were days like these, where she'd just ignore them and continue to bask in her small break.

After a few minutes of silence, she turned the tap back on and continued to wash her face. She grabbed a towel and patted her face dry, sighing when she looked up to see very little difference. She was still pale, still tired, and still strung out.

I need a vacation, she thought dully. I wonder if I could get in contact with that Xingese girl – Ran Fan, was it? – and ask for some good vacationing spots in Xing. She hung the towel back and padded to the patients room, where she tied on her boots again and grabbed the coat she'd draped on the tray where she kept all her tools.

Winry peeked into the deserted, dim, waiting room/automail shop and sighed in relief when she saw no one outside. She quickly unlocked the door and checked both ways, sighing again when she saw the sidewalk empty of anyone.

She locked it behind her and hurried down the street, stopping only once to glance back at the bridge. She was tempted, very tempted, to return and see if something would happen but...

It's better this way, she thought stubbornly. She gripped her purse. Just focus on going home! She walked back home, a walk that took her half an hour since she had been going so slow. When she reached her block, she automatically felt anxiety wind her up.

She could see several black cars crowd around ahead...near her apartment complex...

Winry hurried down the block, stopping when she saw the cars were actually parked in front of her apartment and there were guards standing by the entrance; expressionless, passionless, faces snapping to her instantly.

Whats going on? She thought curiously. She took tentative steps forward, catching the guards eyes and making them smirk. One of them walked into the complex and Winry cautiously stepped toward the front metal door.

"Excuse me, but did something happen?"

"Negative, ma'am," the guard replied coldly. "We are simply here on the Chancellor's orders to guard his wife."

"Wife...? Riza!" Winry realized and the guard nodded.

"She is waiting inside. I would advise you not to keep the First Lady waiting."

"Yeah," Winry mumbled, pinking a little. "Thanks!"

Winry had given Riza a key to her home, she remembered. She trusted the woman with her life and it had been the sole reason she had given a key to her in the first place. It might've also been the fact that she needed a fall-back just in case something happened. Her neighborhood was not very safe and more often than not she would hear windows shattering and gun shots prevailing in the cover of the dark.

Winry took the stairwell by two and ran to her apartment, knocking wildly. She ignored the guards standing on either side of her door as it opened to reveal a worried-looking Riza Mustang.

"Winry!" Riza smiled, the stress lines fading from her forehead. Her eyes hardened. "Would you mind explaining to me why you did not answer the phone nor why you were not at work today?"

"O..oh, was that you?" Winry panted, feeling extremely guilty now. "I'm sorry! I thought you were another one of my annoying patients." She heard movement behind Riza. "I was really tired...I pulled some all-nighters to get some work done and, well, you can say I was too fatigued to actually answer the phone...or open up the shop today," she sighed.

Riza's stern glare lightened. "Well, I have some spectacular news for you!"

"Are you expecting?" Winry asked, hopefully, causing Riza to startle.

"What? No!"

"Oh," She was mildly disappointed. "Well, then, what is it? It's really late...it must be important if you came all the way here."

"I think you should come inside," Riza closed the door behind her and Winry paused, seeing two figures sitting on her couch. She only saw their backsides but something about their hair was familiar. She rubbed her sleep-clouded eyes and really saw them, especially when one of them turned and beamed honey colored eyes back at her.

She froze.

The other turned slower, letting her take in the detail of his strong jaw-line and straight nose. His eyes glowed in the little light the room had to offer but they sparked like flint when they locked with her own; a gold molten enough to melt the metal she so adored.

She choked up.

She turned to Riza, who smiled encouragingly.

"It's..."

"Winry, it's us," Al said, standing up. Winry stared. "We, um, came back a few hours ago – in the morning actually – but you weren't in so we couldn't meet up earlier."

"Alphonse?" she breathed in disbelief. "Is that really you? You're actually back?" She didn't know when but her legs had brought her closer and closer to Al until she was running and she slammed into him, tears trailing down her cheeks from sheer joy. "You're back!" she cried. Al hugged her back. "You're finally back!"

She looked toward Ed, who was still sitting on the couch, a little awkwardly, and she extended her hand to him.

He looked at it, then at her, almost timidly.

She smiled warmly, unable to stop her eyes from watering. "Take it, you big idiot."

He quirked his lips upward in a smile and took the hand firmly, causing Winry to remember that night at the bridge briefly, before she hauled him up and brought him into a tight embrace as well. He felt the same, broad and strong, and his smell was almost scarily alike to the scent she had inhaled months previous.

Was it real? She thought after the heartfelt reunion, as her two best friends sat on the couch and began their long-overdue explanation on how they managed to get back. No, it couldn't have been. She thanked Riza for the cup of coffee, drinking the bitter drink quickly.

Could it?

The explanation was long and drawn out. She listened with rapt attention, adding her own comments here and there and asking her own questions.

"Noah?" Winry asked, carefully.

Al nodded brightly. "Yep! We brought her with us from the other world!"

"Are you sure that's okay?" Winry asked, unsurely.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Al asked, smile fading a little.

"Well, she is originally from that world," she began. "Bringing her here, to a place she's not either familiar with or even seen until now..." she trailed off.

"It was an accident," Ed blandly stated.

"Brother!"

"It was!" Ed scoffed, derisively. "You and I were the only ones who were suppose to leave. She was watching us off when we got busted by the damn German police...I suppose that was a blessing rather than a curse," he sighed. She noticed he had an accent; a sort of elegant accentuation to his every word... "She jumped into the circle with us and then around three officers tried to go after her. By then we had already preformed the alchemy; there was no going back from there," Ed explained.

"I see – so you used the soldiers as your toll," Winry murmured, earning a small look of surprise from Ed and Al. "It doesn't matter though," she smiled, the smile reaching her eyes a little. "You two are finally back...but, where is Noah?" she asked, seeing no other person with them.

"Hotel," Al answered. "She was very tired so we decided to let her stay there. You can meet her tomorrow, though! I think you'll really like her!"

"I bet I will," she smiled, gazing down at her cup of coffee. Stealing looks to Edward was getting harder and harder to resist. He was different...more mature, radiating a patronizing aura of knowing and apathy. He was different than how she last remembered him. He was only fragments of who he once was...

Maybe it was a dream, she thought, tightening her hands around her cup. All a dream. The weight of before seemed to have returned, making her shoulders slump and her eyes heavy once more. Dream...

"You look really tired, Winry," Alphonse commented, with a hint of concern.

"Alphonse is right," Riza added, leaning down to survey the black circles under her eyes and pale face. "You should go to sleep."

"We'll come back tomorrow!" Al quickly stated, when he noticed her protesting frown. "We promise."

Ed abruptly stood. "Yeah, we'll drop by around noon," he said, his eyes clashing with her own. There was an indescribable emotion burning in them. She dropped her gaze, face heating against her will.

"Come," Riza motioned, straightening. "I'll drive you two back to your hotel. Winry, I advise against opening your shop tomorrow."

Winry sighed. "I have a lot of things to do tomorrow."

"Can they be put off?"

"Not really."

"You sure?"

Winry's lips quirked up at her skeptical tone. "I'd rather get through them now instead of putting them off. Its a bad habit to fall into."

"At least take one day off," Riza smiled, kindly. "Another day wouldn't hurt you."

Parting was bittersweet. The reunion, she admitted, was less than what she had expected. The distance between them had been palpable and she noticed that, no matter their past, it was obvious that their future without her was written quite clear in their actions...the calculated smiles and cautious movements.

The awkward goodbye in the form of halfhearted waves and smiles was, she supposed, the worst.

"We'll come back tomorrow, Winry!" Al waved, following Riza down the stairwell.

"See you," Ed nodded but right before he left, he hesitated. "Do you..." he began and she waited patiently. He shook his head. "No, nothing. I'll see you tomorrow!" He rushed down the hall and, under the glare of the lights, her eyes caught the shine of a chain on his pants.

A chain most familiar to the State Alchemist pocket watch she had convinced herself she lost months ago...