A/N: I am absolutely and utterly head over heels in love with this manga. The anime is stellar too (I’m a total Vic Mignogna fan girl…YAY!! HE’S DOING TAMAKI FROM OURAN NOW!!), but I love the manga so much more. So, this story is going to be manga-based. Aka, anime-only characters are not appearing, and manga-only characters will be coming out the wazoo!! :D But chea, go easy on me. It’s my first FMA fic and I really wanted to capture Ed’s mature side (Not as easy as it sounds!!)

Anywho, enough of my senseless dribble. On with the story!! Enjoy!

“Go figure, I'm bigger than that

The battles only halfway done

I might look young

But I'm no less defeated

How's the weather up there?

Good God I wish I was tall”

-“Short, Fast and Loud” by Fall Out Boy

.:Screw Loose:.

.1.

It was hard to distinguish fact from fiction when you stared out of the window. Winter in Resembool was nothing like the winters in Central. For one thing, the snow here was white. Not white like the stale, crisp documents that are probably lying on Mustang’s desk right now, neglected and probably to remain that way for quite some time.

No, Resembool’s snow was white like the clouds that swirl and flow through the skies in the summer. White like the countless cups of sugar that were poured in mine and Al’s first attempt at cooking that chocolate birthday cake for Mother all of those years ago. It was a nice contrast to the muddy slush that settled on the bustling streets of Central.

It was colder too, it seemed. Sitting with my forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, my automail resting gingerly on the sill. Even under my thick red jacket, the a chill slithered down my spine as my right shoulder felt numb as the cold, unfeeling mass of metal weighed heavily on me. I started tapping my left leg unconsciously, as if to keep my thigh from suffering the same icy fate.

“Brother,” His voice seemed too whole to settle on my eardrums comfortably. Thinking back, it must’ve been because I had grown accustomed to hearing the metal-like echo of his armor. His voice now was a bit too real for my ears to comprehend.

“Yeah, Al?” I responded. His small, pale frame shuffled nervously underneath my gaze. Was I intimidating him? He turned his head away from me. Seriously, was I glaring and not realizing it?

“Did…Did I do something wrong?” Al asked, his voice ricocheting timidly within the small cart. I lifted my head, slightly startled at his question.

“What would make you say that, Al?” I asked, genuine curiosity in my voice.

He turned his head back to face me, his ambiguous expression staying stiff to my question. “Well, you’ve been ignoring everything I’ve said for the entire trip and have been glaring out of the window for the past two hours,”

Huh. I guess I have.

“I’m sorry Al.” I sighed, frustrated. “I’m just preoccupied right now.”

“Winry?”

Jeez, am I that easy to read?

“Yeah, you are.”

Dammit!

“Look. Don’t be so worried about her. Have you forgotten who we’re talking about? Besides, her last letter from Rush Valley said that everything was great.”

“That letter was from four months ago.”

“When was the last time you’ve written her?”

“…”

“Exactly. So calm down. We would’ve heard if something was up.”

I relaxed my shoulders a bit; he was right. She was, after all, the person besides my teacher who I’ve ever feared. And that in itself takes quite a lot.

There aren’t that many things that scare me. Winry Rockbell, auto mechanic extraordinaire, wasn’t one of them. She is the one thing that terrifies me. Whether its her showing that hell certainly hath no fury like a woman scorned, or risking her neck to do something stupidly righteous, she scares the living hell out of me like nothing else can.

The fight with Father had ended in the late summer; it took me the entire season of fall to recover from the battle. Winry was in shambles the entire time, from what Al’s told me. Even though her career as an up-and-coming automail mechanic was soaring, she could hardly enjoy her new semi-celebrity status for she was too preoccupied worrying about my stupid ass.

“Besides, you know that Granny Pinako would garrote anybody who would ever dare harm Winry. To be honest, I’m completely amazed that she hasn’t mutilated you for all of the stuff that you’ve put poor Winry through.”

I scoffed. “Feh! That old hag doesn’t do anything to me because she gets more amusement out of her granddaughter doing it herself!” I turned my head around for emphasis. “Feel the back of my head. There’s a permanent dent there from Winry’s goddamned wrenches!”

“To be totally honest brother, you deserved it.” He grinned somewhat crookedly, reminding me way too much of that bastard Mustang in central.

“You’re hanging around with Colonel Bastard too much Al,” I commented. “His sick sense of humor is rubbing off on you.”

“No its not,” Al insisted. “If it was, then I would be making a crack about how even though I’ve been the one who’s body has gone without proper nourishment in years I’m still taller.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PIPSQUEAK?!”

Al grinned. “Point taken, brother.”

“Damn you.”

The colors of the setting sun blazed like a wildfire, bright and passionate as the train tiredly lulled into the station. I stood, feeling the unpleasant sensation of pins and needles in my right leg. I looked over my shoulder to see Al reaching above the seat to grab one of the suitcases.

“Don’t you dare Al.” I warned him. “You know that you’re not allowed to do any heavy lifting until you get your strength back.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. He’s become pretty fresh lately. “Ten pounds won’t kill me, brother. Besides, how am I supposed to get back to my full strength if I’m not allowed to lift anything?” I pouted, too antsy to argue.

“Fine. Don’t whine when you pull a muscle.” I said, grabbing my suitcase and strolling out of the compartment.

The cold air hit me like a smack across the face. It had to be at least ten degrees, my breath smoking out of my mouth and nostrils like there was a fire in my brain. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, turning my collar up against the lashes of wind. I tried to make out any figure on the near-deserted platform; the wind was kicking up a lot of the fresh snow.

“Welcome home, bean.”

I squinted through the haze of white; sure enough on the bench sat the tiny silhouettes of a woman and a dog. Her hair was tied up in it’s gravity-defying ponytail, her right hand occupied by her long pipe. She drew in a drag and released a smoke ring. I smiled, despite myself.

“Hey Granny.” I greeted her with a wave. “Where’s Winry?”

Granny stood from her seat, her trench coat brushing the ground in the process. Den stood as well, his automail leg clicking against the smooth concrete. “She’s back up at the house, working as always. Where is Alphonse?”

“Present and accounted for, Granny!”

Pinako stopped in her tracks, her pipe falling from her hand as she stared in nothing less than amazement at Al.

“Al…Al, is that really you?” She asked in utter disbelief.

In the entire span of my lifetime, I have seen Pinako Rockbell cry twice. The first time was when my mother died, and the second time was when I accidentally walked in on her in the kitchen in the middle of the night, sobbing over a telegram informing her that her daughter and her husband were dead.

She walked over to Al, her small hands outreached in a childish state of uncertainty, as if, if she did not touch him, feel him, he would disappear. Al bent down slightly, his grey eyes filled with tenderness as he let the old woman feel his face, rustle his hair, pinch his cheeks.

“Oh,” She cried out, “Oh, it is you!” Her tiny arms constricting around his thin waist, her eyes blurred with tears. Al hugged her back, smiling. Pinako sniffled, composing herself. “You’ve gotten so big, Alphonse!” Al shrugged; he was never the type to dote on such things. “Oh, wait until Winry sees you; she’ll be beside herself!”

Den barked happily as he bounced around, his automail leg clicking against the pavement excitedly. Al laughed, overjoyed.

“So you remember me too, eh Den?” Al bubbled, patting the dog on the head. Pinako cleared her throat, signaling for Al and I to pay attention to her announcement. Just as fast as she had lost it, she had regained her strict composure.

“Now let’s get up to the house. Dinner should be about ready.” On cue, my stomach rumbled. I realized that I hadn’t eaten since around noon, and it was a quarter of seven. Out of curiosity, I decided to question what the meal was tonight.

“Stew. And before you question, there is not that much milk in it at all.” She gave me a quick one-over. “No matter how much you need it,” She muttered. I twitched.

“WHO’RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT YOU COULD FLATTEN HIM WITH A FLY SWATTER?!”

“You. Now let’s get home.”

“COME BACK HERE YOU OLD HAG!”

It was almost unnerving how dreamlike Resembool looked at twilight. With its final ounce of strength the fading daylight danced on the snow, illuminating all the shadows of the night in one last glorious attempt at keeping a grip on the earth. It made me anxious, somewhat, this setting.

It was too perfect, too picture like…it was too like something that I would never be allowed to enjoy. Nice things always made me nervous. I never got to enjoy nice things for long. The nicer it was, the faster and the more painful it was when it’s taken away from me. If I believed in karma, then I’m certain that I’d be waking up in a few moments, a book on some outlandish idea on the past notes and theories of human transmutation cushioning my head in a dark and lonesome library.

Approaching the house brought back a sense of dry nostalgia. The kind that always seemed to leave you with a stale taste in your mouth, like the one you get when you just wake up from a long nap. It was that kind of nostalgia.

I gazed up at the balcony of the second floor, the one with the sliding door that led to the room of my childhood friend and mechanic. Thinking back to the time were we were greeted by her and her lantern brought a small, crooked smile to my face. I always seem to smile crookedly now.

As Granny Pinako reached to turn the knob of the door, it opened with a great gust of air. There stood Winry, her hair loose and cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her expression is indecipherable, her wide blue eyes blank as she stared out at us. Then, without warning, tears began to bubble out of the corner of her eyes, her stoic expression crumbling before us.

Al and I immediately rushed past Pinako as Winry sank down to her knees. I wrapped my arms around her, Al doing the same. “Win,” I cooed. “Win, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”

“I-” She hiccupped. “I’m…I’m speechless. I mean, you guys said you were going to do it… I always knew that you would, but now…it’s just not sinking in…” She turned and looked into Al’s dulled gold eyes. She stared into them with awe and wonder, her hand wandering up to cup his cheek. The moment her hand connected with his face, her body shook yet again with tears.

I tightened my grip around her, Al smiling gently; he knew that these were tears of joy. She cried for a good while, her mouth moving but forming no words. So, we all just sat in silence for those moments, the sound of her hiccups the only audible sound in the quiet snowfall. The only thing she said during those few minutes we held her on the ground in the doorway was “Welcome home.”

A/N: There’s chapter 1! I’ve been trying to write like a lunatic to kill off my habit of writer’s block!! Due to technical difficulties (aka my computer being a biznotch), I regret that Midnight Down will not be updated for a while unless I can somehow retrieve the files from my other computer. Fear not, for it shall be soon though! :D For now, please be happy with my first FMA story. R&R! Domo arigato!

Ja ne,

TrinityFire13Guardian137