Author's note: for the fisr couple of chapters, it'll be in different people's perspectives! Just letting you know.

And you asked me what I want this year
And I'll try to make this kind and clear
Just a chance that maybe
We'll find better days
'Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings
Designer love and empty things
Just a chance that maybe
We'll find better days…

Better Days ~ Goo Goo Dolls

Where the Tears Fall

A blonde girl with bright blue eyes walked into her workroom, whistling. Today was one of her better days; she hoped more of these would come. She twirled in a circle, eyes closed; swaying to the silent beat inside her head. She tripped over her foot and stumbled into her worktable, the toolbox she held dug into her stomach while the insides clanked. The box spilled open all over the worktable, and she quickly looked around, a blush feathering her cheeks, as if a crowd was around her.

She sighed and looked at the mess she had created. She picked them up one at a time, a wrench, a flat head screwdriver, pliers, and another wrench. She organized it neatly then shut the box. She tried pushing the latch that locked the box down it wouldn't budge. She pushed a little hard, but still, no movement. She glared at it, cursing it under her breath. "Granny's gonna kill me. This is the second one this month!"

She groaned and pushed the box aside; she'd worry about it later. She felt a slight pain on her stomach and looked down. Blood. It slipped down her stomach slowly. Intimidating. Damn. I hate blood. She kicked off her flip-flops and walked to the window on the other side of the room, all the while, pulling down her jumpsuit and tying it around her waist. Leaving her in only a tube top. Besides, it was too hot to be wearing anything near a jacket. She opened the medical box on the counter and pulled out three large band-aids and some kind of ointment her grandmother insisted on buying one day in town. She squeezes some of the ointment of her bare finger and slid it across her wound, wincing. It stings! Then she put on the band-aids. She sighed. Why do I always get hurt?

She looked at the thermometer that hung outside the window. 98 degrees Fahrenheit. Good Lord. She thought. I can never get used to this heat! She wondered around the room looking for something to do, anything. She didn't want to lie around all day. Well, she didn't need to. She gave up and walked outside the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She moved down the hall beside the staircase that led to the living room; which was the room she entered. She walked over to the wall that had a billboard hanging on it. Pictures filled the front leaving only a few gaps to see the brown board behind them. She looked at the pictures. Most of them were her and her two best friends. Her two only friends. Both were boys. Both were blonde. One with a super ego, the other with the calmness of a panda.

One showed the three, running around, chasing a small black dog with a white belly and muzzle. Another had her showing the two boys the flowers she had picked from her grandmother's garden. The eldest of them all showed no interest. The next showed the trio at the dining table, her and the youngest chugging down their milk, while the other simply frowned and pushed it away. She chuckled. She ran her fingers over her least favorite, but she still loved it. It showed the back of the older boy, the black flamel sign on the back of his red cloak, and a large armor waving to the picture taker. She closed her eyes and held her breath. I wonder how they are. They never write or call. I miss them. The girl huffed and wiped the sweat off her forehead. "Ugh!"

She pulled off her bandana and pulled her hair out of her ponytail. She jogged up stair to get to her room. She entered her room and closed the door. She peeled her damp clothes off, down to nothing. She went to her dresser and pulled out some lacy black underwear, and a sports bra. She slid them on then went to the next drawer. She pulled out some shorts, and a t-shirt with the word Nothing across the front and patterns of lines that were curled and straight, dots at some ends and nothing on others. Then she pulled out a belt, a two hooped one. She pulled all of this on and walked downstairs, pulling her hair into a ponytail, but pulling her bangs back as well. She was sick of them sticking to her forehead.

When she got to the door that led to the front porch she pulled on a cap with the flamel sign on it. The eldest friend had bought it for her on one of his trips; she had kept it, since it reminded her of them. The back of it had his signature on it. I still remember that.

O0O0O0O0O

"Hey, um—" The male blonde spoke up while she was working to remove his Automail arm. But she really didn't want to talk to him.

"What? You come home after two years with my Automail leg completely destroyed, and the arm I can't even remove! What the hell did you do this time—" She was interrupted by a hand that held s b lack and gray cap in it. It had the same sign as his jacket. The flamel sign. She just looked at it. She didn't know why had put in her face.

"Take it." The male said. He smiled as she removed it from his hand. She looked at it and then turned it around to the back where it had an elegant signature on it. His. "I figured that maybe you wanted the famous and handsome alchemists signature! So when I'm gone you can stare at it all day—" A wrench met his face. The girl was furious.

"Thank you!" She said as she picked up a pair of pliers and quickly yanked out a nerve connection; the boy almost screams. She gave him one more good hit in the head, this time with a flathead screwdriver, then stormed out of the room; a black aura following her.

"Dammit!" He cursed, then tried to get off her worktable, but collapsed to the ground. He forgot about not having two legs. "I'm sorry!" He yelled, hoping she would hear. He heard her stomp upstairs. The girl opened up her door and entered her room. She stomped over to her dresser and opened the second drawer. This drawer held her precious possessions. She set the ball cap inside the drawer and hustled back downstairs to continue working on his broken Automail.

O0O0O0O0O

She opened the door and summoned her dog inside the air-conditioned house, even though it wasn't any better inside than the outside. The dog ran up the steps one of its legs clanked on the wood. It glinted in the sun and was shiny and new. "Good boy, Den" The blonde praised the animal, rubbing behind his ears. He licked her hand and ran into the house. She looked out onto the path that led to the city to see if anyone was coming. No one.

She walked out to the mailbox and opened the front. There was one letter, on the front it said Pinako Rockbell. She chuckled, So Granny does get some mail every once and a while. She turned around and looked at her house. Bright yellow in the sunlight, with a green front porch. A sign out front saying Rockbell Automail. She smiled and walked back inside and pulled the cap off. She started toward the kitchen where she heard slurping of water and pots and pans being shuffled around. "Granny?" She called.

"Yes?" An old but strong voice answered. Now might be the time to tell her about the toolbox. She could practically see her conscious smirking at her. Yeah. Maybe. She agreed with herself. "Um, yeah. Well, you know that red toolbox you bought me? Just a week ago?" She finally entered the kitchen and looked at her grandmother.

"Yes." The old lady answer, but it was almost a question. "No. You didn't! Lord! Can you not just keep one in tact for three weeks?" The girl's conscious spoke again, No. She fought back. Yes I can! I just- um, I just can't keep my balance all that well. And there was a screw on the ground!

"Yes, Granny. I just tripped and it fell." It was the truth. She just didn't include the part about her eyes being closed or her spinning.

"Young lady—" Her grandmother started but was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Yes!

"I got it!" The girl ran after the phone in the kitchen and picked it up. She held her ear to the receiver and answered, "Rockbell Automail. I'm Winry, how may I help you?"

"Winry?" A deep voice answered. She recognized it and held her breath. She knew this was about the two boys she was friends with. "It's Roy Mustang. We need you in central."

"Huh? When? Why? Are Ed and Al hurt?" She was freaking out, she knew it, but she couldn't help it, she needed to know.

"Calm down, please, Miss Rockbell. We need you here now. Take the first train you can get. We will send an escort, and I promise you won't be able to miss him." Roy took a deep breath. "And as for the Elric brothers—"

Winry listened to the whole story and kept calm until she heard the word wounded. She dropped the phone and ran upstairs. Pinako apologized for her granddaughter's reaction, and silently hung up the phone. She heard Winry running around her room opening and shoving clothes into her suitcase. Winry ran downstairs pulling on some flip-flops and holding her suitcase. She threw it near the door and quickly ran to her workroom. Winry shoved her broken toolbox into a bag and quickly ran over to a black briefcase hidden in a corner. She grabbed the briefcase and the tools and went to the door. Breathing heavily, she turned to her grandmother and asked, "When is the next train to Central?"

The old woman blew smoke out of her mouth and pulled her pipe away from her face. She looked at the train schedule hanging on the wall next to her. "Five minutes."

"What?" Winry yelled and put her cap on. "Can I go, Granny? Please!" Winry begged and put on her best puppy-dog face.

The old Rockbell sighed and said, "Run, Winry." And with that, Winry was out the door, all of her bags in hand and was running as quickly as she could; her wallet in her back pocket. Pinako laughed at Winry's getup; knee socks that were white, black and red, in plaid, still in sorts, her t-shirt, her converse were pitch black, and her hair pulled back. The old woman smiled to herself, and patted their dog on the head.