She stood by him when his father had left. She helped him get back on his feet when his mother was sick. She cried with him when his mother died. She kept him alive when he tried the most dangerous thing a person could do. She made sure he had a strong pair of legs so that he could fix what he called "my mistake." She fixed him every time he went and got himself into some sort of trouble. It was slowly becoming her second job, to make sure he was in one piece and not dead.

So why did it feel like she was the one dying?


He was finally released from the hospital, and she went to visit, just to make sure that he was ok. His arm and leg were fine, and he only had a few bumps and bruises, but she cried anyway.

"Winry?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"You don't get it, do you?" she asked. He looked at her, his eyes filled with confusion.

"Get what?"

"You still don't understand," she said with a sigh. She plopped herself on the couch in front of him and rested her head on her hands. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, Edward."

She said his full name. She was beyond serious now.

"You go out and get stuck in these dangerous missions. Yes, I understand you have to move forward," she said, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to speak. "I was the one who told you to do it. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember," he said softly. "You told me 'You now what a strong pair of legs, so get up and use them.' I can't exactly forget something like that."

He sat next to her on the couch. There was a semi-uncomfortable silence. He was looking at the wall straight ahead, she was staring at the floor. His face was blank, a far-away look in his eyes. She had tears in hers.

"You know, it really wouldn't kill you to send a letter, or to call. Just once I would like to get a call from you guys that doesn't end in you needing new parts. Do you know how much it bothers Granny that she doesn't know what happens the second you step out of our door? Or, do you know how much it does kill me to not know if you're going to come back home? Do you know what that is like?!"

She had stood up, and was beginning to pace in front of him.

"Do you know what you are doing to me?" she asked. He shook his head as an answer, almost afraid of what hers would be. "You are doing to me what your father did to your mother. With the exception that I get to see you every seven months, if I'm lucky."

She stormed out of the room after she had said that. She needed to breath, and she needed to cry. She couldn't do both in a room that suddenly felt so stuffy. She quickly peaked inside the room where he was to see if her words had sunk in. She didn't expect what she saw.

He was still on the couch, but he was extremely pale, save for the redness of his cheeks. His face was puffy, his eyes glassing over with tears. (I made him cry?) His right hand was gripping the couch, while his left hand was clenched on his chest, as if he were trying to keep his heart from bursting.

She slowly made her way down the hall, only to pause as she heard a muffled sob come from the room she just left. That was how his commanding officer and younger brother found him, in that broken state she put him in. When the younger brother found her, she was in a similar state.


"He told me what happened," echoed the voice.

"Does he hate me?" she asked.

"No, he doesn't."

"Do you?"

"No. I don't. And I understand why you said what you did. It opened his eyes a little bit."


A soft sigh came from the giant armor. "I've never seen him cry like the way he was." A small chuckle. "I haven't seen him cry since we were little. You made him remember what it was that made him want to bring back Mom in the first place."

"I did?" she asked, tears coming faster.

"Not in a bad way!" the armor corrected. "He said that what you said reminded him of right before she died. She was always looking out of windows, always waiting. He said it was sort of ironic that it was happening all over again."


Morning came faster than she thought it would. When she opened her eyes, he was sitting in a chair across from her bed. His face was unreadable, but his eyes more than made up for that.

"It's rude to watch someone sleep, you know."

"I know," he said. There was a small smirk playing on his lips.

"So, to what do I owe this?" she asked, sitting up on the bed. He made his way from the chair to her bed and sat next to her.

"I did a lot of thinking."

"That must have been painful for you." He shot her a scowl briefly.

"Anyway… I though about what you said to me, about my parents, and about me. And it just…it bothered me so much to think of it. I mean, there were days that my mother would just sit in the front room and literately stare out of the window for hours on end. And when you said that that was how you felt, the picture in my head changed. So instead of seeing her in that chair, I would see you."


"Let me finish. It was then that it hit me. Why I wanted to bring her back. Yeah, I wanted to have her around to take care of us, but it was also because I felt like I could fix things. Make it so that she wouldn't have to sit in that damn chair and stare out of a window."

The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes. His words were swimming around her head. But where was he going with this?

At least she knew her words sunk in.

He took her hand in his two, and just held it. "History has a fucked up way of repeating itself. I didn't realize it until you mentioned it, but I was becoming my father. Just up and leave the people I care about for my own selfish reasons. And leaving the woman I love to sit and wait… Everything I never wanted to be, and here I am."

"Ed, you are not your fath…wait. Did you say love?" Her eyes jumped from their intertwined hands to his face. He had a small, but warm smile on his face. It suited him. Unlike the wide-eyed, hanging jaw look she had. Not to mention she was crying again.

He slowly brought his face to hers, but he stopped right in front of her.

"I want you to know, I don't want you to hurt the same way my mother hurt. And if you give me a small chance, I can make it so that you won't."

"Ok." And she closed the distance between the two of them.


They had been sixteen then. He kept his word with the occasion letter and more frequent phone calls. A year after that incident, she received another phone call, from Major General Mustang asking her to come as quickly as possible to Central.

She arrived a day later only to be escorted to the hospital. There she was (re)introduced to Alphonse Elric, who greeted her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on someone. When she questioned about Edward's condition, things sobered very quickly.

"They won't let me see him. He still hasn't woken up yet."

"How long has he been out?"

"Four days."

She glanced at Alphonse. They had done it, finally. But he wasn't there to rejoice with the rest of them.


It had been two days since she arrived. She was currently sitting, watching Edward. She closed her eyes briefly while yawning. When she opened them again, brilliant gold was staring back at her.

"I seem to remember someone telling me that it was rude to watch someone sleep," he said, his voice hoarse. She smiled and gave his lips a quick peck.

"History has an effed up way of repeating itself."


This turned out a lot longer than I had intended. Oh well. Why so many pronouns and lack of names? I don't know. Dramatic effect?