They used to play together, the three of them, in the open field out behind the house. Tag, Hide and Seek, Capture the Flag; all the games typical of children when they believed that life would never be more than a big game. And when the sun faded and fireflies winked their way through the oncoming dusk, causing squeals of delight from those that pursued the bioluminescent insects, they would, at times, forget that it was time to return home for dinner.
She had retreated from the game when she actually managed to capture one of the tiny bugs; discovering that the source of such previous fascination was actually caused by a creepy-crawly and she shook the six-legged terror away. "Eww! Gross!"
"Aww, come on Winry ! They won't hurt you." Alphonse approached, gently holding out his hands for her inspection, revealing the creature incased within his cupped palms. She made a face that clearly marked her appreciation for the gesture (or lack thereof) and leaned back and away from the younger boy.
"No way. Bugs are yucky," she insisted, flopping back into the grass. It was dark now, the last tendrils of light having dissipated from the edges of the horizon, the field lit solely by the starts, moon and the fireflies that continued to flicker in and out. Al frowned, feeling put out by his friend's rejection, but eventually decided it was not worth taking offense over and release his prisoner, moving to lay down beside her.
"Winry's just a spoil sport." Edward announced, coming over to stand over the two, a routine smirk adorning a face flushed by activity and tanned by long days in the sun. It was a remark Winry chose to ignore, making a point of directing her nose towards the sky, eyes persistently refusing to meet his. Rising to his bait would only cause another argument; something she had learned before she was six. He scowled, still wanting to chase the fireflies and maybe bring a few home to show to their mother. But it was never fun to play by one's self. With a sigh, he too collapsed back into the grass, peering up at another form of light that hung, untouchable, above their heads.
"They're pretty, aren't they?" Winry spoke at length, addressing the objects that held their mutual interest. There was an infinite sort of peace lingering amongst the stalks of grass; wind tickling across their skin and through messy hair and each child was loath to disrupt it.
Except, of course, Ed…
"Pretty is something girls say. " Ever eloquent, Edward picked at the grass idly, tongue dangling from his mouth in a way that made him look silly.
"Well, if you haven't noticed," Winry retorted, unable to stop herself, "I'M a girl!" Honestly! Boys, especially boys like Edward, could be so antagonistically frustrating at times. She turned her head, glaring at him.
"I think they're nice." Alphonse cut in, to quell the fighting before it could truly escalate. He didn't look at his brother or Winry, eyes focused solely on the object of address. Fingers extended, grasped nothing, came away empty. "It's like…they seem so close, because they're all around you, but when you try to touch them…"
He reached up again, his grasp ensnaring nothing but the night air.
"They move too far away." Edward finished, imitating his brother's motions. He brought down his closed fist, fingers lifting one at a time to reveal an empty palm. He stared at it, almost sadly. "No matter how far you stretch, you can never reach."
Winry just looked at the two boys, gaze flickering first to Alphonse, who was staring at the sky with an appreciative sort of awe, and then to Edward, who was still staring at his palm, almost angrily now.
"You're being silly," she announced condescendingly, "of course you can reach, you just have to get high enough."
Winry was not a scientist like them. She knew nothing of space and the atmosphere and the true distance of stars. Winry was eight years old; her mind still entwined with impossible fantasies, not burdened by infallible, suffocating logic. She could touch a star, if she could find a hill high enough.
"Don't be dumb, that's not true!" Ed sat up to better stare at her, incredulous that she could say something so far-fetched. She say up as well, turning a consternated gaze towards her friend.
"Says who?"
"Says me," Ed exclaimed, eyes burning fiercely with conviction. Why did girls have to be so difficult all the time? "Besides, you can—"
Whatever point Edwards was about to make was cut short when Al tugged on his sleeve urgently. "Brother, look!"
"Huh?" Ed cast a distracted glance at the youngest of the three. When Al saw that he'd gained his brother's attention, he pointed out across the field.
A beacon, slow, steady, bright as it flashed. It cut through the darkness, summoning the children back to their homes and dinners.
"Sorry Winry, gotta go!" Ed smiled cheekily and climbed to his feet, pulling Al with him. The two started off across the meadows, leaving Winry to sigh and trudge the short distance back to her own house alone.
"You can't reach the stars, Winry!" The oldest boy called over his shoulder, his voice sounded muffled by the darkness that enveloped them, and she couldn't tell how far off they were, but it was no use retorting. It was just like Ed to play dirty so he could get the last word in.
--
He had been right, Winry realized years later, even as she clung to him in a fierce hug. It was the first time he'd been home in four years, and she was more than a little disturbed at the distance that hung about him.
He was quiet, sullen, and desperately determined. His face all hard lines and guarded eyes. She was holding back, she could tell, and she wondered with no small amount of regret, where the boy she'd grown up with had gone.
Had he follow his mother to the grave, or had he been stolen by some unknown alchemically driven force that he refused to speak of. Perhaps a combination of both? Whatever it had been, she cursed it thoroughly for taking her friends away from her. Robbed Al of his body and Edward of his innocence.
She smiled through her tears as they turned to leave, feet trudging over the well known, gravel path; watched silently as they slipped through her fingers yet again. She waved as hard as she could at their retreating backs.
Her best friends. Her brothers. Her own personal stars.
No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't reach them.