Matters of the Heart

Chapter one: Dreams

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Disclaimer: I do not own FullMetal Alchemist or anything pertaining to it

Threedaysunrise

Nothing is more beautiful than the love that has weathered the storms of life. The love of the young for the young, that is the beginning of life. But the love for the old of the old, that is the beginning of things longer.

-Jerome K. Jerome

It had been nearly a month since Ed and Al had disappeared and still the laughter of her heart could not be found. It felt as if pieces of her—very important pieces—had been forcefully, and prematurely ripped from her body. One doesn't recover from that so easily. Winry Rockbell stared wearily at herself in the mirror while gently running the long-toothed comb through her damp, blonde hair. It was two o'clock in the morning and she had taken a shower. She knew she was crazy for doing so, but she couldn't sleep. When sleep came, so did the dreams.

She had never had dreams like these before. Her dreams that had once been of flying over valleys, or of being swept off her feet by her knight in shining armor, changed to a mob of screaming men with strange accents. In her dreams, dark-skinned women garbed in strangely flowing garments, gathered to dance and sing. But the weirdest part of it all was that she dreamed she owned some kind of mechanic shop on the far side of town, by a river.

Winry shook her head slightly as if to shake away the direction of her thoughts. Before he left, hadn't Al said that he had often dreamed of himself in another world where he lived with Ed and had some kind of cough?

Abruptly, she slammed the comb down on the table with more force than needed. Winry froze when Granny's voice grumbled something inaudible downstairs, but relaxed when the sound dissipated and the usual song of crickets returned.

The young mechanic knew she couldn't allow herself the hope of seeing the brothers again anytime soon. With false hope, the familiar reoccurring pain and ebbing loneliness was sure to follow. Winry had learned enough from Ed and Al that you couldn't open the Gate without a price, and even when the gate was open, the chances of getting through untainted was very slim. To top it all off, she was no Alchemist. But more often than not she found herself wondering, that if she could go to the other world…if she could see Alphonse and Edward, would she be able to leave her life here behind? Leave Granny, her puppy, Sheska, and so many others without a second thought?

She shakily stood up from her vanity table after messily braiding her hair and walked over to pull back the covers once again before slipping underneath the smooth sheets. There was no use in entertaining such thoughts, especially if they would never come true.

And so she slept.

And she dreamed.

-Germany-

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"Hey brother, do you think Winry misses us?" Al asked from his bedside corner.

Ed smiled slightly in the dark while folding his hands behind his head. "Of course, you idiot, how could she not?"

"Mustang, Armstrong, Rose, and everybody else, also?" Al asked eagerly.

Ed craned his neck over to get a look at his brother whose feet were plastered high against the wall. The action was childlike for his thirteen-year-old body and even older personality. "Where is all this coming from Al? You're not homesick are you?"

"No, no, of course not brother, I'm just curious that's all!"

Glancing at his younger brother with probing amber eyes, Ed leaned back with a long, deep sigh before replying quietly. "That's too bad because I am."

"You, brother?"

Ed laughed slightly, "Of course Al. I've been stuck in this world for what seems like a lifetime in itself, and then I got to see a glimpse of home…and of all the people I left behind without having the chance of a goodbye. I even saw you in your human body for the first time in years since we were kids and…"

At Ed's pause, Al sat upright on his bed; watching his brother intently. "And what?"

"Nothing." He spoke, leaving no room for argument.

Al sighed when he heard the springs of the cheaply made inn bed squeak, a sighn that Ed had turned on his side as if to escape the conversation. Deciding not to bother his brother, Al shoved his now freezing feet under the covers and laid back down. The rather abrupt ending to their conversation spoke louder than any silence could. Since their time together in this new world, all talk of Winry had been completely banished. Al knew Ed had feelings for their childhood friend, even if he would flat out deny it.

Edward was just too stubborn for his own good. But Al was no fool. He had seen Ed's expression when Winry had embraced him the way she did when he first crash-landed back in Amestres after so many years.

He briefly wondered if he or Ed would ever start a family in this strange place called Germany. But to explain everything—their very history to someone of this world; where they were from…who they were, would be pointless. The only person who understood their situation was Noah because she had the gift to look into human hearts, but she looked far too much like Rose for Ed to allow himself interest.

Ed deserved to be happy. Al only wished that Winry was here to make that possible…to make both of them happy, like she did when they were kids. Sure it was selfish, but it was true.

For the first time that month, but not the only time in his life, Al hated the rules of equivalent exchange.

-Risembool-

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It was her day off and Riza Hawkeye was at total loss of what to do. Her life was the military. Give her an assignment and she would make sure to follow through and complete it, or die trying. But a day off? She had no idea where to even start. It was that infuriating Mustang's fault! He had told her, rather, commanded her that she take the day off! Her hands were itching just to get a hold of her gun…but no, he confiscated that too.

Riza sighed at her rare moments of childlike thinking. Complaining about it wasn't going to get her anywhere. She might as well make the most of it and act like the woman she was. Unclipping her wheat-golden hair, Riza shook it out, attempting to ignore its heavy mass on her shoulders.

By the time she was finished she had on a tight fitting beige trench coat that stopped at the knees with her hair eloquently thrown over her shoulder and a simple red handbag. Today was her day she told her self confidently, and all she would do was relax.

Three hours later she was bored out of her mind.

So there she was, sitting on the park bench and staring aimlessly at the softly rippling water on the lake when it hit her, or he hit her. She had only briefly closed her eyes when a giant-of-a-man went for her purse, spouting off an ear-burning curse as he ran. She didn't even have to react for her legs were already pushed forward in a slow stretch when the stupid fool tripped over them gracelessly and fell flat on the pavement.

The oaf was struggling to get up when the bottom of her heeled shoe came down hard in the center of his back and he grunted. "You son of a-"

The man was cut off when the back of her hand slammed his face into the ground. "You, despicable ogre, would stoop so low as to steal a woman's purse?"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye. That's enough."

Her head turned sharply at the command and she growled when she saw who it was. "Colonel," She spoke with stiff acknowledgement. After what he had done for the military when those strange suits of armor had come through the Gate, he was given back his position and he took it on the condition of having free reign.

But where had he come from?

The man below her, seeing her attention had shifted, pulled out a switchblade from his sleeve and twisted wildly, slicing her leg. Riza hissed and stumbled back from surprise and pain. The Colonial was immediately by her side and with the snap of his fingers, a lick of flame shot out, enveloping the man's hand that held the knife.

She forced herself not to flinch as the smell of charred skin sprung into her nostrils, just as she forced herself not to flinch when the man fell to his knees in a roar of agony. It was his fault Mustang had to result to such a level. The Colonel took the attempt at an officer's life very seriously, and it was either get burned or get shot, though she herself would have much preferred to get shot.

Since she was not in uniform she couldn't do much other than watch, she made as if to walk away but was stopped when a strong hand encircled tightly around her upper arm.

"No yet, Riza" Roy's voice was soft but firm.

A little confused, she stood still waiting patiently as the bastard was cuffed and put into the jail car. Roy then grabbed her arm and roughly pushed through the growing crowd while dragging her limping form behind him. When they were free from the crowd and a good distance away, he forced her to sit on another park bench before kneeling in front of her.

The action made her flustered. "Sir, what are you doing?"

He extended her leg, which was bare up to her knees, and began to inspect the bleeding mass. His head was bent low and all she could see was the top of his cinder colored hair. He looked up sharply, his dark eye, the one that was not covered by the patch, staring at her intently.

"It's deep. We need to get this bandaged up before infection settles in."

Riza raised an eyebrow. "We? I am perfectly able bandage my own wounds, sir. Today is my day off, thanks to you, and I intend to keep it that way."

He quirked a smile at her as he reached for his pocket to pull out a white hanky and began to dab the streaming blood off her leg. His gloves, she noticed, were no longer on his hands as he had taken them off before he began the careful ministrations on her leg. His hand was wonderfully calloused as they 'accidentally' brushed against her skin. His left hand was wrapped around her ankle, straightening it out, while he gently prodded her wound. The most infuriating thing about it all was that he took his sweet time doing it, and she had half a mind to give him a good whack upside his cocky head.

Ever since that last battle, Roy had turned more endearing and more flirtatious than ever before. Sometimes it unnerved her, like now, but there were times she wondered what brought it on.

Roy looked up at her and smiled as if reading her thoughts. He gently put her ankle down, his fingers lingering longer that she would have liked. But he had done the job efficiently. There was no more streaming blood save for the stains left in their wake, and what was left was nothing a little water couldn't clean.

He thought otherwise.

In one fluid motion Riza was cradled in his arms and she was clutching his uniform in fear of being dropped.

"Colonel, what are you doing? Put me down!" she sputtered, quickly loosing her composure.

The Colonial laughed slightly, "Returning the favor lieutenant. After all that time you spent healing me back to health, it's the least I can do. Besides, if you walk the wound will only seep more."

Riza growled inaudibly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Second Lieutenants Jean Havoc and Heymans Breta casting knowing glances their way and snickering with expressions one could only associate with evil. She gave them an unbridled glare. If they were to say anything about this, she would enjoy using them as target practice.