Friends and Lovers

Things you should know: "Finding the Catch" is a series of chronological events in the current timeline, six years after Edward disappears. All the other chapters take place at various times in the past. This fic contains series spoilers and sexual situations. Please enjoy.

The bright light was glaring in his eyes before he even realizes they were open. It's the light you see when you die, he thought, briefly convinced he had not survived at all. Slowly the realization came to him that the bright light was sunlight, warm on his face and causing him to squint. He groaned, then flinched at the sound. Apparently he was alive after all. Gradually he became aware of the damp ground beneath him, and the sharp rocks jabbing into his backside. Slowly he turned his body on the ground and dragged himself to a standing position. Where was he?

Grass, dirt, rocks, trees, all familiar things, but which trees? Which grass? Was he in a forest? Not really, he decided. He could hear the noises of a city, or at least a town, and decided to follow them, focusing on getting out of the woods rather than exactly how he got into them in the first place.

He reached a path, which became a small dirt road, that became a small paved road entering a small town. There were people in the town who looked at him oddly, and he looked down at his metal right arm and rolled his sleeve back down. He had rolled it up, he recalled, because he was working on something. He fished his gloves out of his pocket and put them back on. There. Nothing unusual about him now.

Or was there? And furthermore, where was he again? "Excuse me," he called to the passers by. A woman carrying a basket stopped and looked at him expectantly. "what is the name of this town?"

Her expression brightened. "Why, you're in Dillon," she answered cheerfully. "Are you looking for a place to stay? My husband and I run an inn, just there," she pointed, "On the corner."

"Dillon," he said thoughtfully, tapping a finger on his lips. Not somewhere he had ever been, he was sure. But the name was familiar. But familiar from where? He thanked the woman distractedly and continued down the road.

At the cracking sound he spun around. It couldn't have been… He walked back to the crowd he had passed a few steps before. A man stood in the center, holding up a green pitcher. "Anyone else?" he said, in a lilting carnival voice.

"Here, fix this shovel, the handle's broken off!" called a man from the crown. The man in the center took the tool, placed it in the circle at his feet, and crack! came the sound again.

Edward's jaw dropped. "Alchemy," he whispered.

"Amazing, isn't it?" said the woman next to him, nudging him with her elbow.

He spun wildly around, taking in his surroundings. If that was alchemy, then he was… "Home," he said softly. "I'm home."

It didn't take long for him to locate the train station in the small town. "How far am I from Rizembool?" he asked the ticket master.

"I'd say 'bout half a day by train, sir.," the man answered pleasantly. "Would you like a round trip?"

Edward shook his head, grinning widely. "No way. One way, no coming back!"

The man nodded, checking the fare book, and told him, "8500 cenz, sir."

He reached halfway into his pocket before he remembered all his money was in deutschmarks. His face fell for a moment before it brightened again. "I'd like to use my military account."

"Number?" came the automatic response.

Edward paused, then rattled off a string of numbers from somewhere deep in his memory.

The man frowned. "Haven't heard one starting in 215 for years now… got your ident card on you? That one's not gonna be in the book."

The blond drew his eyebrows down. "Ident card?" he repeated. "Cant say that I do."

"What's your name, anyway? You cant use your account unless you have some proof you're really military," the man explained, sounding apologetic.

"Major Edward Elric."

Ed's jaw dropped a second time when the man threw back his head and laughed. "Good one, kid!" he said through his laughter. "Ya had me goin there!"

"I'm not a kid," Ed said, suddenly fierce.

"Fullmetal day was last month!" he man said, still shaking with laughter. "You missed it by three weeks. Everyone was callin themselves Edward Elric."

Ed blinked. Maybe he was dead after all, or transported to yet another alternate reality. However, he had no proof that he was military; his pocket watch had been lost years ago in Central, and the fact remained that he had no cenz with which to buy a ticket. "Which way does the train to Rizembool go, then?" he asked, once the man had stopped laughing.

The ticketmaster pointed down the tracks. "That way, good man."

Ed thanked him and began walking, ignoring the man's coming questions.

"Sir, you aren't going to walk, are you? Sir?"

The man sat in his booth, watching the small figure grow smaller as it followed the tracks in the direction he had pointed. He was limping a little, the man saw, although not badly, and his blond hair swung across his back, side to side with every step. He couldn't have actually been… could he?

Edward had picked up a sturdy stick from along side the tracks, grasping it firmly in his left hand, using it to support his weight. After the first few miles, the stump of his leg had become increasingly sore. He could see the next town in the distance, and there was still plenty of daylight, but he was going to have to stop there. If he remembered correctly, Rizembool was four towns away along the tracks. He glared down at his feet. With that wooden leg, it would take him days.

He squinted up at the sky. First thing he would do when he got home, after tackling his brother and hugging him like he would never let him go, is get himself some proper automail.

Home. He was tired, exhausted even, but he was going home. He thought it would never be possible, and yet, here he was. Finally on his way home.

He was barely aware of his surroundings as he entered the next town, Altenburg, he thought it was called. He was too busy struggling with himself, memories of his home and loved ones rushing up from where he had pushed them down deep within his mind. He must not allow himself to hope falsely, he thought firmly. There was no proof that his sacrifice had worked. There was no proof that Al was really alive.

Neither of them was paying attention to where they were going, yet both were shocked when they collided, first with each other and then with the ground "I'm so sorry," said a voice that made his stomach jump. A hand appeared in front of his face, a hand he knew very well, strong, slightly calloused, and smelling of machine oil. "Can I help you up?"

Slowly he raised his eyes to her, pushing himself up from the ground.

She screamed.

He flinched at the piercing sound and stood up slowly on his good leg. "Winry…" he said slowly.

She screamed again, and he grabbed her by the arm. "Shh, don't scream," he said, his voice soft and low. "It's really me."

Never in all her dreams had she imagined she would run into him here. It was one of the reasons she hadn't wanted to leave Rizembool in the first place. She threw her arms around him, feeling him stiffen, but he slowly brought his arms to circle her waist, one hand coming up to stroke the back of her head. "Where were you?" she demanded into his neck.

"Far away," came the vague reply.

She pulled away, studying his face, his eyes, his hair, everything about him. "You grew," she said before she could stop herself.

Ed smirked. "Yeah. People do, you know," he said, taking in the sight of her. Home. He was finally home.

She twined her fingers around his, squeezing his hand tightly.

"So you live here now?" he asked after a moment.

Winry nodded. "Al too, when he's not away-" She stopped when she saw Ed's face.

"Al?" he said, his voice catching in his throat.

"Al," she confirmed.

"Is he… is he-"

She nodded again. "Al is fine. Human. Whole. Ed, not a day goes by that he doesn't try to find you. He never gave up hope." She gave his hand a tug. "Come on, lets get out of the street. Aren't you hungry, Ed? You're always hungry, I'll make us some dinner."

Ed smiled, then pulled her to him hesitantly for a hug. "I'm not dreaming, am I? I'm really here?"

Winry squeezed him tightly, then began to pull him down the sidewalk. Suddenly she stopped. "Ed," she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Huh?"

She pressed her lips together once, then raged, "You busted up your automail again, didn't you?"

She stopped when she heard his dry laughter. "Nope," he said, shaking his head.

She looked at him through narrow eyes. "You're limping," she accused. "What'd you do to it? Of course you've messed it up."

But he was shaking his head. He lifted his pant leg to show her his prosthetic that was most certainly not automail. Her eyes swung up to his stiff right arm.

"What happened to the arm and leg I made you?" she demanded, seeming to tower over him although he was now the taller one, and shaking the wrench that had not been in her hand minutes earlier.

Edward rubbed the back of his head, wondering if he could escape the inevitable whack he knew was coming. "Ah, I lost them?"