Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of its characters!

Dedicated to Kitty. Happy Birthday!

Summary: Edward records his day… and his meeting with a female. A too kind, too pleasant, too beautiful female…


Dear Diary,

No cross that out.

DAILY REPORTS: Day 1

No that's stupid…

March 15,

When I first saw this book in the hands of my brother, Al, I had told him I would never write in it. Diaries were for girls. Not for males such as myself. My mother had said, boys wrote daily reports and analyzed such thoughts as the years pass.

What actually made me begin to start this diary… was, as much as I hate to admit it…

A girl, a blond in fact.

I will carve the memories of today deep within my mind; from the moment I met her till the time I bid her farewell. Well actually, I'm just going to write my experience and hope it'll stay out of my mind…

I had hissed when the first raindrops slapped painfully against my split lip.

Willing the pain away, I had rubbed my sore right arm. Mentally going over my wounds, I concluded to a swollen eye, a couple of bruises, and my left leg badly twisted the wrong way. I wonder if I looked half as bad as I felt then.

Leaning over the bridge above a small stream, I had peered to see my disarray reflection. My golden bronze hair laid limp against my skull, my face seemed hollow, and the lower lip a fierce red. I sighed, brushing the wet hair away from my eyes. My mother had always said I had the most unique and amazing eyes. At the time, I questioned if she had been accurate in this statement, actually, I still do wonder.

A colour like yellow dirt, void of emotion had stared back from the stream.

I threw a rock at my reflection, and even that action had hurt me.

Thoroughly depressed and tired, I had collapsed against the railing of the bridge. Tilting my head towards the heavens, I had felt my soggy maroon cloak cling tightly onto me. I didn't know how long I stayed there, drenched. But then suddenly the sky was a strange violet. The colour of humanity.

It took me a full two seconds to realize that it was not the sky, but a plain umbrella held over my head. Protecting me, sheltering me. I had trailed my eyes down the slender metal handle and towards… ocean blue. Blinking slowly a couple of times, I refocused my eyesight to a pale blond female. She was so pale in fact… it was the colour of milk. How I hate that beverage and its ivory shade. She then offered a hand readily to me.

I looked at it suspiciously.

She spoke, "Would you like a hand?"

"It depends, are you sawing it off or biting it off?" I spoke in my well-practiced smooth voice, even in my state where it should have been dry and hoarse.

She had seemed uncertain to my answer and retracted her hand. The blond looked as if she were debating whether to smack me or gather my shivering form into her arms. Personally, I preferred the first option. I don't and didn't need her pity.

Debating with myself and then concluded that she meant me no harm, I had stood to my full height. …which I have to admit wasn't very impressive. But if she so much as mention it, I couldn't have guaranteed her safety.

She, oblivious to my thoughts, started to look at me approvingly. Checking me out. I'm serious.

Maybe it was my utter confidence, disregarding the water dripping from my body (it wasn't very pleasant then) or was it the way I had casually placed my hands into the wet pockets of my cloak… or maybe what really caught her was the way I looked out beyond the bridge. But whatever it had been, I caught sight of her endearing blush that placed colour on her frozen cheeks.

To be honest, I took this chance to examine her as well. Don't look at me like that, I'm not a pervert. She had the most beautiful ocean eyes, unlike the water in the stream below us. Her lips were full and a pleasant shade of cherry red. The way it was tilted, it looked as if she was about to pull it in an easy, bright smile. Her face was open and honest, with high cheek bones. Adorned in a sun dress unfit for the weather, she continued to hold the umbrella above me.

"Why are you out into the cold?" She had managed to speak in a normal pleasant tone.

"Are you always picking up strangers from the street and prying into her business?" I had asked smoothly or something along the lines. I had to ask if picking a stranger from the streets were a normal occurrence for her to speak so freely.

"I was only curious. No need to get so defensive." She clearly irritated that I had answered her question with a question.

She looked so cute when she scowled.

"To satisfy your curiousity, I was watching the waterworks." I said.

Her scowl had deepened, looking everything like a worried mother who was afraid her child would fall ill. "I am thankful of you for coming to my rescue, regardless."

She appeared surprised at my gratitude and blushed deeply once more. "Well I couldn't just walk by without trying to help."

"And since I answered your question, will you answer one of mine?"

"Shoot."

I rose my eyebrow at such a reply, but asked, "What are doing out in such a weather, fair maiden?"

"Fair maiden?" Laughing at such an address, (I even laugh at myself. What on earth possessed me to say such a thing?) she said, "I just happened to be heading home after a stroll."

Grinning, despite my split lip I said, "Well I must not bother you then. I thank you once more for bringing me to reality."

I had inclined my head and made way to brush past her, only to fall onto my knees when the damnable left leg twisted a wrong way.

The girl rushed by my side and helped me up to sit on the cement bridge. "Let me see that leg," she had said.

She brushed past my black leather pant leg and expertly examined the odd angle the mechanical leg was in. "I'm alright." I had gritted through my teeth, trying to yank my leg out of her grasp.

"Of course you are," she had replied in a sarcastic way, "But by the condition of this leg, if it's not repaired soon, you'll have to get another auto mail leg. And I know how painful that is." She had spoken with confidence. And from thin air, it seemed to me, she pulled out a wrench.

"Hold this," she had said, then passed the umbrella to me and pulled my leg against her thigh.

Awkwardly, I had held the umbrella over both of us. "Do you even know what you're doing?" I had glowered, feeling my dignity slip slowly away from me. Can you blame me?

"I know exactly what I'm doing." The strange female then knowledgeably and dutifully mended my leg.

"I don't need your help." I still said stubbornly.

I went unheeded.

I had turned my head so not to look at her, all the while acting like a spiteful child. I found that I would occasionally sneak looks at the hair in front of me. She caught me a couple of times when she, herself, glanced up.

But let's go back to her hair.

The colour was unlike mine, but a perfect gold. Like sunshine to contrast the grey around us. I had distinctly smelt the aroma of cinnamon and the underlining of metal and oil, but an overall pleasing scent.

She was careful as she maneuvered my leg and so tender…. Sure, I admit to myself if not to anyone else. I was attracted to her from the small amount of time we spent together and I was certain that she was of me.

Finally she gave a "Done", giving the leg a final pat as if to clarify.

I shifted the leg experimentally, finding it satisfactory, I had nodded. But to be honest again, it was better than satisfactory. I felt like I could lash out at a mountain of rocks and not get injured at all.

I returned the umbrella and thanked her.

She caught my smirk, blushed and said, "You're welcome."

"I never did catch your name…"

"Winry. Winry Rockbell."

"Winry." I repeated as if tasting it, feeling it roll of my tongue.

"How did you get those injures?" She had caught sight of slightly swollen eye and split lip that marred my lips… not that she was particularly paying attention to those parts.

"I was caught in a pointless fight…" What the fight was about, I will leave out. This report will only include her. Winry. Her name still brings a funny tingle in my chest.

She shifted and fidgeted, looking at the muddy ground. I felt the meeting with her was soon to be over. And strangely, I had not wanted to leave. And from her body language, she didn't seem to want to either.

She's too cute, I had mused. "I must depart."

She hadn't looked up. "I give you my eternal thanks… we will meet again."

I don't know what made me make that promise, but it felt so right when I said it. Neither did I know what made me do what I did next. But I didn't want to take back any of this.

I had touched her perfect cheek with a gloved hand, caressing the soft flesh, the creamy flesh that I had hated first sight. But by now the sun peeked over the rain clouds that were weakening in their ambush, the light had made her skin glow heavenly. Her hair had sparkled like spun gold.

She was beautiful.

I remember for the next few moments, my mind was a blur… and at the same time crystal clear. Mystified, I had leaned closer until our noses were touching… our cold intake of breath intermingling.

I waited.

Her sapphire eyes closed… and I sealed the kiss.

My senses still tingle as I recalled it.

I had shuddered when her warm lips pressed against my cold ones; the kiss was soft and chaste. My lips had lingered as if promising another meeting… I don't know if there will be one.

And stupidly, without a word… I had turned and walked back into the rain.

"Please! What is your name?" That was the last thing I heard her melodic voice say.

I didn't say anything. I didn't stop walking. I continued with my hands in my pockets.

I felt her intent gaze on my back, and I told her so softly I feared she didn't hear me against the patter of the downpour. But I hold hope that she did. Why? I don't know.

And that was my meeting with Winry. Why it affected me so, I don't know. There are too many things I do not know. From the few romance books I have read, (I tell myself I have to keep an open mind from the variety books) our meeting seemed to be just that. A fairy tale. Nothing more.

5 pages. The whole experience took me 5 pages to write. And yet I hope…

No.

There's a nice patch of dirt in park next to the bridge. I will bury this journal there.

That is final.

Ever thine,

Edward Elric