"WINRY!"
The sandy-haired mechanic paused and glanced down at her agitated patient.
"What is it, Edward?" she asked.
"That HURT! You could've warned me!" Ed snapped as he pushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his face screwed into a grimace.
Winry gently released the grip of her wrench on the screw she was loosening on his automail leg, and narrowed her eyes to examine it. Ed raised himself off the examination table onto his elbows, sending his loose golden hair cascading down his back.
"Are you even listening to me?!"
After letting his whining simmer in silence for a few moments, Winry finally met his gaze.
"It's rusty," she stated evenly.
"Whatever!" Ed griped, "You promised you'd warn me the next time you were going to loosen a sensitive screw!"
"It's your fault it's rusty," Winry explained as she turned her attention back to the stubborn screw, "It's those awfully LONG hot showers you take and then sitting around without drying it off. I warned you, but as usual, you refuse to listen."
Ed scowled.
"You should still tell me!" he insisted, and folded his arms across his chest, "It hurts…"
Winry glanced back up at her pouting patient, his arms still folded and an unabashed pout on his face. Looking at him, practically a man now and a head taller than herself (which he never hesitated to bring up), it was difficult to believe how quickly the time had gone by. All those hours spent, usually just the two of them, diligently making adjustments to a child's grave mistake. In moments like these, they were suddenly eleven again. He never listened to her advice anyway. She often wondered why she even bothered. Yet, all that manifested upon Winry's lips was a gentle smile. As usual, Ed was quick to notice.
"What on earth are you smiling for?"
"Hmm, nothing," responded Winry as she let it curl into a smirk.
Ed unfolded his arms and leaned forward until he and the blond mechanic were nearly eye to eye.
"What's the reason?" he asked.
'He's such a child,' Winry thought, and allowed herself a small giggle.
"Come on!" whined Ed.
"Oh, I don't know…" she replied with a smirk, "Maybe just that the so-called 'Hero of Amestris' who 'punched God in the face' and survived lord knows what other horrors you haven't told me about, gets rendered useless by a little rusty screw."
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!"
"Maybe you should listen to my maintenance advice for once!" responded an exasperated Winry.
"Fine, fine," replied Ed as he leaned back onto the examination table, "Whatever you say."
"One more good yank ought to do it…" mumbled Winry as she reached for her wrench.
Ed frowned, "What did you say?"
Suddenly, an otherworldly pain exploded in his artificial leg.
"YOW! WINRY!"
"I'M SORRY, OKAY!"
"YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"
"I DID NOT!"
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a slew of curses under his breath as the fiery sensation began to ebb away.
"You kind of deserve it for acting like such a child," mumbled Winry as she deposited the vilified screw into a nearby metal tray with a sharp clang.
Ed pulled up the neckline of his black tank top to mop the beads of sweat gathered along his forehead. When Winry glanced up to reach for a screwdriver, she felt her mouth drop open and the heat creep across her cheeks. She hated when he did this to her; pulling her soul away from every anchor of reason and sending it into a dizzying spin. Suddenly, she noticed Ed's face re-emerging from behind the curtain of black fabric. Frantically, Winry bowed her head and dove her gloved hand into the nearest tray, looking for a tool she didn't need. The excessive noise drew Ed's attention as he sat up to readjust his top across his abdomen.
"Win?"
The flustered mechanic mumbled something incoherent and continued rummaging through her inventory of automail parts.
"Are.. you… okay…"
The words fell slow and thick from his lips as he noticed the fading redness still caught on her cheeks.
"It's nothing!" replied Winry, her voice high and sharp, "It's just really, REALLY hot in here…"
Ed frowned and lay back down, glancing around at the walls of the harshly sterile room. A phantom pain blossomed in his right shoulder and turned the back of his throat acidic. While Truth returned his arm, it wasn't so quick to let him forget the price of his first mistake. Even since that terrible night, he hated this room, a festering darkness in the heart of the Rockbell house. Memories of the blood, fear, pain, and guilt clamped down without mercy on his heart. Ed closed his eyes and reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. He could almost hear Truth's bitter laugh echoing in his head.
Guilt for what he did to Al. Guilt for what he did… to her.
Ed slowly opened his eyes, hoping to burn away the awful memories under that harsh light. He raised his chin to see Winry had quietly slipped back to work on his automail, humming a song he used to know under her breath.
"What's what from?" he asked in an attempt to distract himself.
Winry jumped, sending the two flaxen tendrils of hair hanging out of her trademark green bandana swaying. Steadying herself, she met his curious golden gaze.
"What's what from?" she responded as she leaned over to search through her tool box.
"The song," said Ed.
"Oh!" she replied as she pulled out a frighteningly large wrench, "I'm not entirely sure, but I remember your mom singing it to me once when I scraped my knee while we were playing. I can't remember the words, and whenever I try to, the memory kind of sounds like she's singing underwater. So, that's what I call it."
Ed noticed the tops of her ears go pink.
'What on earth is up with her today?' he thought.
"Heh… It sounds kind of stupid now that I explain it," she admitted, growing redder by the minute.
Ed shook his head and smiled, "Not at all! I remember it too…"
"Hmm," replied Winry softly as she bowed her head to return to work.
"We must've been what… Six? Seven?" Ed continued, "It was a warm summer day, kind of like today. Al and I got it into our heads that we were going to go fishing. Mom packed us lunch, but you insisted on coming."
Winry paused and looked up. Ed's golden eyes stared right through her.
"Al let you borrow his rod when we got there. I don't even think he wanted to go…"
"Ed?"
"I got mad about something," he said, "Oh! You caught a bigger fish than me!"
"Ed, I have to adjust…"
"I pushed you into the creek and that was how you scraped your knee. Al ran home and got mom. That's when she sang to you..."
"There's another screw I have to…"
"God," said Ed as he shook his head and leaned back, "I wish I remembered the words."
Ed heard Winry say something, but like her memory of his mother's song, it sounded garbled and distant. She was clad in the same beige coveralls and green bandana, the air thick with the smell of lubricant and the bitterness of rust…
Suddenly, that fiery pain engulfed every nerve in his body. Ed bit his lower lip and clenched sterile white sheets beneath him as he rode out the pain.
Her indigo eyes were wide and burned into his. This… She was a view so familiar now, it was practically home.
Suddenly, the dull and faltering scrap of Den's claws on the wooden floor and heavy footfalls filled the Rockbell house's hallway.
"Hi, Den!" called Al, "Who's a good boy?!"
Yet, the commotion did nothing to bruise the moment.
"Thanks, you crazy gearhead," said Ed.
"For what?" asked Winry.
"Everything."
"You idiot."