New story time! I started this one not too far back, but I just didn't feel like working on it. After I finished the first chapter, though, I couldn't wait to start on the next. I hope this turns out okay, and if you see any messups, let me know! FYI, I based this off of the English dub of Brotherhood, episode 23, so if you watch it and are like, "Hey, something Edward/Winry/Alphonse said sounds familiar," it's because I got some dialogue from there. I don't own anything, which includes the FMA universe, the characters, or the dialogue. Hiromu Arakawa owns in, BONES produced it (?), and FUNimation dubbed it!

StarKatt427

Sore, exhausted, and horribly stressed out from the day's events, Edward Elric slumped back ungracefully onto the green hotel couch, rubbing a hand roughly across his eyes. For the first time in hours, he allowed his still on-edge body to slightly relax. Still, he couldn't unwind very much. Eyes closed, Edward was surprised to hear the sound of splintering wood and, looking down, realized his right hand, the automail hand, was fracturing the couch arm. He eased his grip enough so that the couch wouldn't be damaged, but it was hard; he needed a way to release all his pent-up frustration.

Alphonse had come in sometime, but Edward wasn't sure when. It surprised him that he hadn't heard the clanking of his brother's armor. Sighing, he threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. If Al hadn't been there, would everything have turned out the way it had? No, that was a stupid question. Al was the one who had attacked Scar while Edward had him distracted.

When he jumped in front of Winry, coming between her and Scar, the girl who was ready to shoot him and the man who was prepared to attack her.

The sight of Winry holding the gun, aiming at Scar, the feel of removing the weapon from her hands, would be burned into Edward's mind as long as he lived.

Edward sighed, another vision of Winry filling his mind; not the one of her with the gun, eyes bright, angry and terrified, wild tears streaming down her face, but the one of her holding his arms, crying broken sobs into his chest, after what he'd told her:

"It's your hands: they weren't meant to kill. They're meant to give life. That's why."

That's why she couldn't shoot the man who had murdered her parents, why she could never shoot anyone. Winry wasn't a murderer; she saved people.

Edward sighed through his nose, and the couch arm, though Edward had previously lessened his grip, now shattered as his fist closed around the wood.

"Brother?" Al asked, worry evident in his voice; for himself or Winry, or possibly them both, Edward didn't know.

"I'm fine. I'm okay."

"Then why do you sound like you're trying to reassure yourself?" Edward glared at his little brother, a fourteen-year-old soul trapped in a giant suit of armor. Why did he have to understand Edward so well? Then again, that was one thing that always saved the brothers, the way they almost always knew what the other would do next, what they were thinking. Al was simply trying to help.

"Maybe I am. So what?"

"Isn't there someone else you should be reassuring?"

Edward looked away, stubbornly crossing his arms. "I'm probably the last person she wants to see."

"I doubt that," Al muttered softly. "And even if she doesn't want to see you," he began, and Ed flinched slightly, "she needs to."

"We already explained everything to her back at Command." Edward kept his eyes off his brother. "She knows now. There's nothing else I can do."

"That's a lie."

Edward was surprised to hear the conviction and anger in his brother's voice. Rarely was Alphonse ever angry, but it did happen ever so often. Edward's fists clenched tighter as he said, "She talked to all those freaks in Rush Valley and sounded fine, didn't she? She's fine."

"No, Brother, she's not. I saw how you watched her, and you know she's not fine too."

"I wasn't watching her."

"Oh, really? Well then, please explain why you couldn't keep your eyes off of her-"

"I wasn't staring!" Edward jumped up, bright with annoyance as he walked toward Al's still form sitting on one of the hotel beds. "All I was trying to do was see if she was okay! After she got that call, I realized she was fine. She's my friend, isn't she? I should watch out for her and make sure she's okay."

"Then why aren't you doing that now?"

Gaping, Edward was at a loss. Why wasn't he with her?

Maybe because you're afraid she'll hate you for not telling her the truth.

A bitter grin spread slightly across his face. "You're really evil, you know that?" he asked his brother.

"No," Al said, still serious, but a hint of satisfaction had now crept into his voice. "I'm just smarter than you are." He lifted a large, metal gauntlet into the air and pulled it into a fist, and Edward could almost see his determination. "Go. She needs you now. Make sure she's okay."

Edward lifted his automail arm and pounded his fist against his brother's. "You got it."

What the hell was I thinking? Edward asked himself as he stood outside Winry's hotel room. How many times had he raised a hand to knock now? Five? Six? He'd lost count. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing out in the hall either, but he guessed it had been several minutes.

Why is this so hard?

Because, his better half replied, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Al, you're afraid. You're scared you've finally lost her.

"I'm not scared of anything," he whispered fiercely, then finally lifted his fist and knocked on the door, one, two, three times.

And then it hit him just how nervous he actually was.

"Winry?" he called, voice rough. "It's me. Can I come in?"

Instead of her answering voice (not that he'd been expecting it, but still, he could hope), the door slowly opened. Edward remained still as she appeared in the doorway, but he felt his eyes widen at the sight of her.

Had she always been this pale? Her skin, usually fair and glowing, had always had some form of color, whether it was flushing cheeks or just her natural skin tone; now, though, her face was corpse white. Edward noticed the blue veins of her eyelids and the dark, bruiselike circles underneath her eyes. She looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and Edward couldn't help but let a tiny gasp escape his lips.

Winry should never look like this. His Winry was all smiles and laughter and flying wrenches and kind words. But then, wasn't his Winry always hiding the pain she'd felt after her parents' death, the loneliness she experienced when the brothers had left?

Speaking of which, when did he start thinking of her as his Winry?

Brushing the realization away, he remained focused on the girl's tired, fragile face, her eyes still somewhat clouded over with unshed tears.

Somehow, though, and Edward was never sure how, she managed to smile weakly at him. She remained silent, but moved back, allowing him room to enter. Slowly, he did.

His glance immediately fell on her luggage, placed neatly on the small bed. Her bag, holding her clothing and the other essentials she needed, lay beside her green tool box, the one she always brought when he called and told her he needed automail maintenance. Once in the room, he felt awkward and, for some reason, foreign. All his life, Edward had thought he knew everything about Winry, when in reality, he was just barely scratching the surface of who she had been, who she was now, and who she was becoming.

Fidgeting with his hands, glaring at the carpet, all Edward could think to say was, "Hey."

"Hey," she replied softly, closing the door behind her. Winry leaned back against the wood, then turned to him. Eyes heavy and red, she looked at Ed, a tiny smile on her face. Sadly, it didn't reach her eyes. "Did you need something?" she asked, hands held loosely behind her back.

Yes, he did need something. Edward needed to hear her say that she would be okay, that she was strong and could take care of herself. Still, was it so wrong for him to feel an overwhelming urge to just squeeze her to his chest, to hold her and protect her from anything or anyone that would hurt her? Was it so wrong that he wanted to keep her safe from anyone that would take her from him? Was it so wrong that he wanted to take care of her?

Looking down at his boots, Edward felt his face silently heat up. Since when did protecting her mean he would do anything to keep her smiling, keep her away from danger? When had it gotten this serious?

"I, uh…I wanted to check on you," he phrased carefully. He glanced up at her, a frown plastered on his face, yet he was hoping she could see just how concerned he was, the way just seeing her like this terrified him.

Winry watched him, face giving away nothing as she walked away from the door, past him, and to the window, leaning against the side of it. He turned to her, looking at her form from the back, at her hair, long and blonde and in a horribly messy ponytail. Surprisingly, he felt the desire to run his fingers through her hair, to get rid of all the snarls and knots. Quickly forcing notion away, Edward walked forward until he was a few feet behind her.

"I'm fine. I'm okay," Winry said, repeating the exact same words he had just told Alphonse as she looked out into the mid afternoon sky. She could feel his presence behind her. He knew she could.

It killed him to know that she was lying to him. Winry was an honest person by nature, always believing the truth to be best. Yet here she was, lying to him, shutting him out.

And he absolutely hated it.

"You're lying," he stated, voice betraying him as he felt harshness creep out of his words.

"So what if I am?" Edward jumped at the anger in Winry's voice as she jerked to face him, hands at her sides, balled into fists. Her eyes were bright, but with anger or tears, Edward wasn't sure. He'd take her anger over her tears almost any day though. She looked dangerous at that moment, face pulled into a dark, angry scowl. Edward couldn't remember a time when she'd ever looked this infuriated.

At the same time, though, she'd never looked so breakable.

"So what if I'm lying? It makes me feel better, so why shouldn't I?" she yelled at him, and he cringed back slightly. Wanting nothing more than to run from her, to stay out of this part of her life, it was hard for Edward to make himself remain there facing her. But Winry had always been there at times like this in his life, hadn't she? Even though he'd always turned her away, Winry had been there after his mother died, even after the failed Transmutation. She had always been by his side, creating new limbs for him so he could walk, always there for repairs when he busted his automail. And she'd never asked for anything expect that once he and Alphonse had gotten their bodies back, they would return home, for good.

It was only fair that he be there for her now, even if she pushed him away.

"It's not gonna help," he replied, voice lower than usual, softer.

Winry's expression turned incredulous as she watched him, taking in his eyes dark, his face, pulled into a tight expression, one that revealed no trace of anger. He tried to keep his face calm, but was unable to when a wild, broken sound burst from Winry's chest, somewhere between a wail and laughter. He felt his eyes widen as pure terror set in, his heart rate pick up. She was scaring him, and he didn't known what to do or say. Could he even say anything?

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk!" she exclaimed, a twistedly miserable smile on her face. "Don't give me that crap! You lie to yourself all the time, because you think it makes you stronger. You think that if you lie, you can do anything, say anything."

Anger at her suddenly flared up, searing hot in his chest as he yelled back, "Lying to yourself doesn't work, you idiot! It never does! You think I haven't already realized that?" It scared him how furious he was at her, how horrible and nasty his voice had sounded when he'd shouted at.

His anger, which normally would have made her flinch, didn't faze her. "Apparently not!" she screamed, voice a screech. "When you say you'll get your and Al's bodies back, you're not just lying to yourself, but to everyone! To me! You lie to me all the time!"

Edward wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but the next thing he knew, his automail fist was buried in the wall next to Winry's head, his other shaking at his side, and he was only a few inches in front of her. Winry's eyes were wide with fear, genuine fear, at seeing Edward this livid, especially at her. She had pushed him too far, she realized a moment later.

"Don't….don't you dare think that. Don't you ever!" Edward was no longer shouting, but his voice was dangerously low, deep and filled with so many emotions it scared him: anger, not at her, but at the truth in her statement; fear that he was going to lose her forever; grief that she would actually believe he liked lying to her.

"I promised…I made Al a promise we would get out bodies back, together, and I don't break my promises. And now I'm promising you that we'll come home when we're back to normal. I plan on keeping both of them." He leaned forward, watching as her eyes steadily widened, grew wet. His left hand rose toward her, his fingers catching the loose strands of her hair, twirling them gently.

"And," he continued, voice considerably softer now, trembling slightly, "I hate lying to you. Haven't you figured that out yet? I do it 'cause it keeps you safe. I guess it didn't work too good, huh?" He released her hair, looking down at the floor, a sad smile on his face. He'd nearly gotten her killed today, bringing her to Central. He felt so tired, so much older than he had that morning. So many people were dead now because of Scar, because he hadn't been there to save them.

However, he silently admitted, shocking himself, he would do everything he'd done over again, twice even, if it meant Winry was still alive, still with him.

Because maybe, just maybe, she wasn't simply his friend.

Butterflies filled his stomach as he looked back at Winry, fearing that she would still be angry, be ready to yell, to blow off everything he'd just admitted. Possibly even hate him.

Instead, huge, crystalline tears were coursing down her cheeks, her breath coming in uneven gasps as she looked straight at him. She was shaking, her entire body trembling as she finally began to break. Immediately, Edward's heart lodged painfully in his throat, then seemed to plummet into his stomach, then even farther until it shattered on the ground as she cried.

"I wanted to kill him….so bad," she said, voice uneven as she covered her eyes with the back of her pale hands. "I wanted to kill him, a-and it was the worst thing I have e-ever felt." She looked at him from behind her fists, and more tears began to pour from her eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry. Please, p-lease don't…please d-don't h-hate me!"

Something in Edward broke at that moment, a small, special place in his heart he saved just for Winry, and it would be years before it repaired. At her words, Edward pulled her forward into his arms, burying her head in his shoulder as he held her. His arms were wrapped protectively around her small back, one hand on her waist, the other moving from her neck to her head, stroking her hair. She shook against him, and he felt her arms wrap tightly around his waist, pulling herself even farther into him. Not just into his body, though: his heart. In that moment, Winry lodged herself permanently into Edward's heart, filling him with a wonderfully unfamiliar warmth he had never before experienced.

"Hey," he began, voice shaking, unsteady, as he rubbed her head gently, his fingers catching in her hair. "Hey, it's okay. It's really okay. You honestly think I could hate you, Win? Man, that's stupid." He felt her bury her face in his neck, her tears hot on his exposed skin. "I would…I could never hate you. No matter how mad I get at you, I will never hate you. I promise, I'll never hate you."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, and Edward felt himself actually smile slightly.

"Don't be silly," he gently chastised. "You didn't do anything."

"I a-almost killed him. I would have i-if you hadn't have been t-there."

Inhaling sharply, Edward pulled her face away from his neck, until he was staring into her beautiful blue eyes, the ones that managed to take his breath away. He wiped the tears that were on her cheeks away, feeling her soft skin against his calloused thumb. She sniffled, looking terribly adorable, and Edward rested his forehead against hers; he didn't have to crane his neck up anymore, since they were almost the same height now. He felt a small excitement at the fact they were just about even in height and he was no longer so much shorter than her, but he pushed it away until later. Instead, he smiled softly at her, his hand cupping the side of her face.

"Let me tell you something, Winry. I don't think you would have shot Scar, even if I hadn't been there." Her eyes widened and her lips parted as she began to deny this, but Edward cut her off. "I know you were angry…and terrified. But, you aren't like Scar. You're not a killer." He wiped another tear from her face, then smiled gently. "You don't kill; you save. You save me." It was hard, trying not to blush, but he had a feeling his cheeks had turned red as he'd told her this, told her just how much she meant to him.

Winry was watching him, eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, and Edward was suddenly caught in an icy fear that she wouldn't believe him. This vanished, however, when Winry broke out in a watery smile, a few stray tears still sliding down her cheeks. She laughed softly, then hiccupped, and suddenly Edward found himself laughing along with her as he crushed her back into his chest.