It's late already, and he knows it. He can't sleep, gazing upward toward the ceiling. This room smells nostalgically familiar to him, and he remembers that he hasn't been in here alone for years now.

He wonders if Al is still awake. Probably not. It's been a long and tiring day for the younger, after one uncomfortable day on the train from Central. Emotionally exhausting, too, for both of them. He replays the mix of feeling in those always-readable cobalt eyes, shining with tears, and he remembers that he could not help cracking a grin. Al looked up, face glowing with joy upon seeing his childhood friend, and they stood there for one silent moment until she jumped up and tackled them to the ground.

Dinner was an almost lighthearted event. They never spoke of the Promised Day. Though he could not remember complimenting Pinako to her face, he saw Al's features light up once again as the old lady brought those steaming dishes of goodness to the table. He was so busy watching him that he did not eat much himself. They never ask what's wrong. Because somehow, they all know.

There's something different about her, and he knows it. She knows about what he's experienced over the past year, and when it's all over, there's a certain spring to her step as well. She looks brighter, prettier almost. Not that she wasn't the same old mechanic freak that she was before.

He's tired, too. Al's in another room tonight. The moon sends streaks of pale glow into the room, down on his blankets, and he reaches up his right hand, his flesh hand up. And clenches it tightly. He's tired, but he cannot stop reminiscing.

It is then when he notices the golden light seeping through the cracks in his doorframe. An all too familiar golden light. He knows exactly what that means, and he remembers all those nights in those years long ago. Long, sometimes sleepless nights. He would stare at the light in the hallway and wonder when it would go out. If it ever will.

He does not want to sleep, so he rolls himself off the bed and tiptoes to the adjacent wall. He puts his ears to the thin wooden board, and sure enough, he hears what he thought he would hear.

Pause. A faint humming, pause again. The clink of metal, then a faint humming. Pause. Clink. A whispered curse, then slightly louder humming.

He knows that he cannot sleep now, so he quietly steps out of the room and down the hallway. If anyone asks, a midnight snack. After all, he did not eat his normal share at dinnertime.

The floorboards creak quietly, and he takes special care to step as slowly and deliberately as possible when he reaches the source of the golden light, a small crack in the wooden door where the whirring gets louder. He pauses. He can see her figure if he leans to the right and cranes his head in, and he does exactly that. Just a little more. A bit more, as to not disturb the door lest it creak open some more.

He can barely see her now. Cascading blonde hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, and bare shoulders are hunched over the worktable. He cannot resist a sharp intake of breath when he realizes he hasn't seen her like this in so long. That black top.

The whirring stops abruptly. He freezes, holding his breath as best as he can. An ominous pause as he prays she wouldn't come his way, yet he wouldn't be utterly disappointed if she did, but he doesn't want her to. Really. Wood scrapes against wood as she moves in the chair she's sitting in, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

The screwdriver starts, and he lets out the breath he's been holding. He cranes his neck forward once again, and he realizes that she's moved her chair forward out of sight. Perhaps, just a bit more, and he could get that sight of her again…

His head bumps against the door, sending it squeaking forward. Impulsively he swears, drawing back his head and just about ready to disappear out the doorframe when he hears the loud thud of a wrench just centimeters from his ear. It is lodged in the wood. He stares at it, then back at the source of the tool, and stands there.

"Ed! How long have you been there!?"

He stares dumbly at the wrench, then back at her. "I—uh—um—went—ah—"

"Answer me!"

He speaks the first coherent thought that comes into his brain. "You missed."

"I—what?"

"You missed, that wrench is not in my head."

"I never miss—has it ever occurred to you that I might not want to give you permanent br—" Winry trails off mid-thought, then starts again, glaring at him with a renewed anger. "Okay, you never answered my questions: why were you spying on me, and how long have you been there?"

"I—ah—" His story finally comes back to mind, and he hopes his face isn't as tinged red as hers. "I was going to get a snack down in the kitchen, and your light was still on. And you were, you know, working on that automail piece over there. And I stopped because I always liked to see you make automail. Remember, back then when I came home, and I would be up past midnight, and watch you make my automail for the next day, and it looked pretty cool and I was wondering what you were making now." He stops when he realizes that he's rambling.

She glares at him one more time in exasperation, and he stands sheepishly waiting for his verdict. "You idiot, you could have asked to come in instead of watching me like that."

He feels the burn in his cheeks now. "Well," he defends, "you were making a lot of noise back there in my room when I was trying to sleep.

She's quiet for a moment, anger fading away. Finally, "Was I? Um…I'll try to keep it down…"

"Nah, it's okay. Mechanic freak. I can't sleep that well tonight, and you're working on automail at 2am."

"I have a project I have to finish!"

"For what?"

"One of my commissions from Rush Valley." She sits back down and starts working again. "Actually, one of many. There are a lot of customers waiting, and I've been stalling on them since I came back to Resembool."

He settles himself in another chair near the back of the room and contents himself by watching her work. She has her back to him, and a desk lamp providing the warm golden glow outlines her features as she periodically lifts up a piece of metal or a screwdriver. He is reminded strongly of those times when he came back with mangled automail after he screwed up a mission at Central. Waiting those nights without an arm, watching the golden glow and his mechanic examining each piece carefully. Somehow crafting all of those broken pieces into a new arm for him to use.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted occasionally by the whir of the screwdriver or the clink of a tool on metal. He stares in turn at the pieces of metal being grafted together slowly, at her figure facing him backwards, and at his own left foot. A wonder of metal, as it has always been. In remarkably good condition since he hasn't replaced it since he'd been fitted with it. She is probably even more talented now than she was back then when she made the automail leg for him. Giving him something to stand on.

He feels a sudden surge of guilt. Making her work this hard for him, all these years, working tirelessly night after night. Not that he would ever admit it to her, but he was thankful for the time she put into it. How can she stay up like this crafting automail pieces every night? For her skills, he always held a certain degree of grudging respect, but never like this as it would require an immense amount of concentration and focus.

"Hey, Winry?"

"Hm?"

"Are you—are you going to go sleep anytime soon? Or are you just going to pull an all-nighter until you finish that thing?"

She pauses for a moment, setting the pieces down. "Hm. That's a good question. Should I?"

"Do you normally do that?"

"Well…during my time at Rush Valley, often. But nowadays, not so much. Not after I returned here. Until tonight. This, see—" she holds the half-finished piece of metal up, "is the arm for one of the little girls there that I had started but never completed. You know, after you and Al came home, I just decided to start working again. Seeing you guys home, alive and well, and this whole mess done. Yeah."

He pretends not to notice that she stopped immediately, the beginnings of a pink blush starting on her cheeks. "Anyways, I have to get to work now again. You should go to bed and stop bothering me."

He rises from the chair slowly and realizes just how tired he really was. He had no idea how long since he'd left his room, but he knew there was a comfortable bed waiting. "So you're sure you are not going to sleep tonight?"

She turns and faces him, brushing a stray strand of golden hair from her eyes. "Yeah, probably. I want to do something worthwhile for the people, and you coming home reminded me of that. I'm going to finish this before tomorrow."

"Okay, then… Oh, and here." He reaches toward the doorframe and pries the wrench from the wood. "The wrench that you finally missed me with. Ha." He tosses it to her, which she catches neatly.

"I did not, I was just showing you how close I can throw. Better than you can, probably."

"Oh, you just wait and see, I can throw that wrench without alchemy halfway across the world."

"Okay…"

"So, goodnight then, Winry?"

"Goodnight, Ed."

The hallway is dark when he returns to it, padding down the corridor and turning into his own room. He closes into the door and collapses into his bed, but not before turning on his side and seeing the golden glow around the edge of his door. Golden light seeping through.

Golden light that will always be there, waiting for him.

This is from awhile back...2010, I think, one of the first fanfics I ever wrote. Don't know why I haven't put it up till now.