S J Smith
Summary: "This is high grade steel, Ed! And it was Al's body."
Disclaimer: Trust me, I'm not. Really.
Rating: Teen? Maybe?
A.N.: Written for M. Jules, who gave me the prompts of "Windchimes" and the Rezembool Trio.
Winry studied the metal thoughtfully, rubbing her chin with her thumb and forefinger. "What are you going to do with it?"
Edward rolled his eyes. "I thought we should just leave it there." He thumped his automail hand on the chestplate of Alphonse's armor.
Not mine any more. Al couldn't help but smile at that, enjoying the feel of the summer sun warming his back and shoulders. Even if he wasn't really able to stand up and move around too much yet, it was a sheer relief to just feel.
Making a little noise of disapproval, Winry hefted a greave. "This is high grade steel, Edward!" She rapped her knuckles on it. "And it was Al's body."
A grunt was Edward's reply. "It was Major - Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong's idea. He thought we might want a souvenir." Fingers opening and closing, the faint clacking of metal digits against a steel palm, Edward obviously had his reminder of everything they'd gone through. "Ah, melt it down, use it for automail. The bastard," his name for their father, "doesn't have a place to keep it anymore." There really was far too much glee in Ed's voice about that, even though, technically, he and Alphonse didn't have a home anymore, either.
Winry turned to Alphonse, eyebrows raised in query. He shrugged. "Whatever you want to do with it, Winry." His grin turned wicked. "Put it against Brother's next repair bill."
Their laughter rang around the yard, even louder than Edward's vehement protest.
"I know what I'll do." Winry beamed that sweet smile of hers that had always warmed Alphonse, even when he couldn't feel anything. Picking up some pieces of the metal, she instructed Ed to make sure the rest of it was covered up so it wouldn't rust, until she could get it moved into storage. Edward muttered something about slave driver and not the hired help but, Al noticed, not so Winry could actually hear him.
* * *
It wasn't two days later that a set of metal chimes hung in the brothers' window, ringing with the slightest breeze.
* * *