I suppose it's Post-CoS. At least I think so… Oh good god. My muse has dished out another short story. I'm not even sure how I came up with this one.

Disclaimer applies here.

EDIT: This was previously a three-shot, but it shall remain a one-shot. Sorry. The second installment 'Her' was saved in my High School documents and I haven't been there in almost two years.

It was very early in the morning.

Winry was lying in bed, counting the stars out her window, realizing it was way too early for her to be awake when she had to get up in the morning to work. There was absolutely no sound in her house in Resembool; her Grandmother no doubt was still asleep from staying up late drinking with her other drinking buddies, and Den the family dog was lying at Winry's feet.

The stars, when connected, would form a sneaky grin she was all too used to. It made her frown; she was all out of tears to cry, and she wasn't going to start back up again. She looked away from the sky, turning completely around to stare at the empty bedside. She wished she had something – or someone – to cuddle when a cool chill rolled up her spine.

She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. The fan wasn't on, and it was the end of summer, so she didn't understand where the chill had come from. She sat up in bed, a strap from her linen nightgown slipping down her shoulder. She swung her legs out of bed and slipped them into her deep red slippers, grabbing her pink sweater and slipping it on as she crept from her bedroom and downstairs to make some warm milk.

Ed wouldn't approve she thought with a smile on her face as she tiptoed down the stairs. The house was cooler downstairs and she hugged her figure as she stepped into the kitchen. It seemed she wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping, as she saw her grandmother sitting at the table, writing things down.

"Grandma, what're you doing up so early?" inquired Winry as she walked past, resting a hand on the old woman's shoulder. "Your body can't possibly agree with you. Why don't you go back to bed?"

Pinako took a drag of her unlit pipe. "I've tried sleeping, girl. I just don't have it in me anymore to stay in bed; besides, I have to finish the blueprints on tomorrow's appointment. Seeing as how you haven't started constructing."

Winry sighed and took out the jug of orange juice – it just wasn't worth the effort to heat up milk and search through the cabinet for the vanilla – and poured two glasses for herself and her grandmother. As she walked back to the table, a flash of gold passed by her vision, and she stared out the window again. Her eyesight and wishful thinking was surely going to be the death of her. She tried her best to ignore her imagination as she sat down and sipped the orange drink.

"Winry, what is it?" Pinako looked at her granddaughter with a serious frown. "You look like you've seen a ghost…"

Winry's vision stayed on the clear window, her body acting on impulse and getting up to grab the spanner resting on the countertop and made her way to the door to peek out the window. When she got there, a brown and gold blob stood there, unmoving, with a shorter figure beside it. She tightened her grip on the spanner and put her hand on the doorknob, swinging it open and raising her arm to hit the blobs.

When she opened the door, she let out a gasp and saw no one there. How could her imagination do something so cruel to her? Did she really need him that badly? She stood there, the cool night air blowing her hair back and tangling it, and she closed the door again, leaning her forehead on the window.

"Winry –"

"I'm going back to bed," Winry cut in and she walked out of the kitchen, her half-sipped juice still on the table. "Good night, Grandma. Don't stay up too late or you'll be wrecked tomorrow."

Pinako frowned and watched her granddaughter walk tiredly and distraughtly up the stairs and back into her room.

The next time Winry woke up, she was lying down on what appeared to be the Central Command Dining Hall. She batted her eyelashes, pushing herself up and staring at the ground while doing so. Why and how was she here? This had to be some sort of cruel, idiotic dream, she told herself, and she stood up, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

She was stopped when a hand touched her hip, and she reached in what would be her pocket for her spanner, realizing she wasn't wearing her nighttime attire anymore. Her eyes opened and widened, tufts of her blonde hair curled and resting on her shoulder. What was this? She was dressed in a long, white gown that covered her feet, and she felt herself wearing ballet flats.

"What… is this?" her voice echoed, and it took her a moment that someone had grabbed her hand. She stared at the person in front of her, and she felt her eyes burn with unshed tears. "It… it can't be you…"

The figure in front of her gaped in realization and ran a hand through his long, golden hair currently resting loose at his shoulders. "We… it's impossible. I'm not home; I can't be able to see you. But, how can I…?" his mind was always wandering, never in the same place just as he couldn't be. His eyes scanned her, gold locking with blue, and a soft melody started to play.

Winry looked down with a pink tinge to her cheeks. What are we expected to do…? She looked back at the boy she'd come to love, and saw he was wearing a dark tuxedo and his long hair in a ponytail. He stared at her, a slow smile crossing his face, and he reached a hand out. "Might as well get it over with. C'mon."

Winry gave him a questioning glare, but something inside her forced her hand into his. He pulled her close and stepped in time with the music, twirling her when the lingering melody got a pace faster. She couldn't help but give him a disbelieving look and question how it was he knew what he was doing. After all, he was never the romanticist. "Edward… when did you learn how to dance?"

"In London," he said flatly, his hand becoming just a little tighter, his fingers digging into her hips. She let out a cry of surprise as he brought her closer again, wrapping his arm completely around her back and spinning her back out, then spinning her under his arm and bending her backwards. "This is just improvisation. You like?"

Winry felt her cheeks heat up. "Like it? Like your dancing? Pfah!" she let out a laugh, short-winded and amused. Ed looked at her and brought her back up, her head falling back and coming back up to meet him, eyes lidded and cheeks pink. "I… It's not that bad." Her head was spinning from the whiplash, and Ed let out a deep chuckle and began to dance again. Winry rested her head in his broad chest, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling.

A gong. A bell. A something rang from the corner of the empty hall, and it woke Winry from her stupor. Ed glanced around, just as oblivious to anything being in the room as she had been. "What was that?" it was more of a statement, a demand for the answer, and Winry shook her head. "Who's there?" he yelled.

Another loud ring, and Winry found herself being pushed behind Edward, when…

Winry sat up in bed quickly, beginning a very familiar, very funny feeling as her head began to spin. What was that? The dream she'd had… it felt as if she'd been there, really there. Dancing with him. Him.

Him.

The house was completely silent, as if she was the only one there. Her grandmother had finally gone to sleep after she had after mumbling something under her breath, and she didn't want to risk waking the woman up by slipping out of bed again. She sighed and sat up straight, combing a piece of her lemon-colored hair behind her baby-soft ear and slipped her legs from her white comforter.

Beads of sweat rested on her brow, and she wiped them away with a slim finger. The pads of her fingers were unusually soft – at least unusual for a mechanic – as they wiped the sweat away, and let out a tired sigh. She slipped her feet into a pair of scratchy pink slippers and took a few groggy steps toward the hall, before realizing a heavy feeling on her shoulders. A ringing in her ear made her turn around and run for her alarm clock, and she shut it off quickly, almost managing squish it in her hands.

"That explains the ringing," she said tiredly, smiling, and wishing she could go back to sleep. She stared at the clock for a second longer before spinning around, the two long, lemon-yellow strands moving in the direction she'd spun in, and she made her way back toward the hall, scuffing her pink slippers, making less noise than she thought she'd make as her head sent her reeling.

I know it's been a while since he left… but why does it still hurt so much?

It was then she knew the answer. To every question she could ever ask herself, pertaining to the happening months before, when she said goodbye without seeing his face, and for the first time in her life… she'd walked away without a tear.

"I know…" she whispered, stopping at the top of the stairs, leaning her hand on the knob on the railing, bowing her head down. "…It's because I love him… isn't it…"

I didn't change the writing itself, just the part at the beginning. This is Complete.

-ducks away from booing and hissing fangirls-

...back! Back I say!

(Review?)

-Cookie-