Although my fic is slightly off the topic of the war in Iraq, this is dedicated to the soldiers and the loved ones who are left at home while the soldiers away for a long period of time.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
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"Dear Edward," Winry read aloud as she wrote.
"I miss you so much. You don't know how much. Every day, from the time that I wake up from the time that I fall asleep, I think about you. I'm worried, Ed. I want you to come home... stop risking your life. I guess that's a selfish want." She thought about those sentences again. "No..." she told herself, as she tried to reword them just to make them sound better.
"ARGH!" Winry groaned as she scribbled over the last few sentences of her letter to him. She couldn't ever find a way to write what she really wanted to say to him. There was just something missing from all of the words that she wrote. Usually, she would end up just writing a few meaningless sentences to mail- at least she wouldn't end up embarassing herself. She had worked up the courage to try to write something meaningful today, but it wasn't working too well.
It had been so long since Ed had left with the rest of the US troops to Iraq. So long that she had stopped keeping track. The only thing that she could do, really, was to continue her life the way that it was and just hope for him to write at least a few words back. Sometimes he'd reply in a few weeks. Sometimes... three months would pass before even a word was heard from him.
The long waits worried Winry the most. She knew that it was war, and she knew that he could have died as quickly as a second ago. That's what she feared the most.
His death.
And during the peak of her stress, everyone could see it and the smart ones stepped away. She would screw on screws tighter than they were supposed to be, she would jerk her wrench more violently, and the same wrench would usually make contact with a random skull quickler and more often.
Sometimes- wait, most of the time- Ed's younger brother, Al, would come over to confort her, to tell her that Ed could take care of himself well and that he would come home soon enough. She tried to believe him, but after the passage of so much time, it was hard to believe even a tangible letter from Ed was real.
"Winry?" A loud rapping on the door nearly scared her out of her skin. She recognized the voice. It was Al.
"Come in," she called, with her pen still in her hand, debating what to write.
When Al popped in, he walked over to Winry. He saw the girl mindlessly scribbling on paper, and he knew, just from the expression on her face, that she was writing to Ed.
"Why don't you tell him how you really feel? It seems like every time you send him a letter, your words have no feeling to them..." Al softly suggested.
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Ed hunched over his desk, moaning to himself. He had just gotten another letter from Winry, and felt obliged to reply, just to assure her that he was alright. He sometimes wondered how much she worried about him, with the amount of letters that he had recieved since he had left.
It was pretty embarassing, actually, to have Mustang teasingly smirk every time he handed a letter to him from Winry.
He continued to scrible the usual sentences down. "I'm not hurt," "Don't worry about me," and "I'll be home soon" were just a few that he wrote on every letter. He wondered if they were becoming monotonous to her, or if she realized that he pretty much said the same thing on every letter, despite her musings on several events happening at home.
He felt someone peeking over his shoulder and glared at the figure. "Who are you writing to?" It was Mustang. He looked at him with great curiousity, although he already knew who it was.
Ed frowned. "No one."
"I'm sure that your girlfriend would appreciate being refered to as 'no one.'" He made air quotes with his hands.
This infuriated Ed even more than before. "She. Is. Not. My. Girl. Friend!" He jumped up and down in anger.
"Calm down, shorty." Mustang smirked cooly.
A vein burst in Edward's head. "WHO DID YOU JUST CALL A SHRIMP THAT'S SMALL ENOUGH TO BE EATEN?"
Mustang decided not to reply until the steam stopped pouring out of the soldier's ears. When he had finally settled down, only to glare at the paper again, he got up, ready to leave. His last words before the door closed behind him were, "Maybe it would help if you told her how you felt."
Ed, surprisingly, actually considered this advice.
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Dear Edward,
I miss you so much- please come home soon! Al is here, but it's not the same without you... because I love you, and I worry so much. Please take care of yourself and don't get hurt from fighting.
Love, Winry
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Winry,
I will come home soon enough, because I miss you, too. You and Al will be the first people that I see when I come home, I guarantee it. Please don't worry about me, Winry, I mean it. I love you.
Ed
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So, what did you think? You should review to tell me. ;)