For the umpteenth time that day, Ed cradled a swaddled bundle of baby boy in his arms, rocking and bouncing gently in an attempt to soothe the child. The poor boy was wailing at the top of his lungs; his face was blotchy and red, sticky with tears and snot. With a sigh, the man closed his eyes and continued to mumble nonsense words to calm the boy.

He didn't notice when his tired wife shuffled into the room, an arm wrapped around her sore stomach. "Only a few days old and already a hellion, just like his father," she commented dryly, despite the soft smile on her face as she gazed at her son. Ed kissed her temple in greeting and grinned tiredly at her.

"Doc said you shouldn't be up quite yet," he reminded smoothly, side eyeing her. Winry huffed at him, not liking the reverse in roles here. Usually she was the one insisting that Ed rest.

"I've been holed up in that room for five days, spent one and a half in labor, and the rest sleeping and sipping soup. I'm ready to be up and around again," she said, her mouth pinched obstinately. Edward huffed out a laugh at the look and knocked his shoulder gently against hers. The stood in silence, listening to the snuffles and quieting cries of their baby.

"Still fussy, I see?"

Ed sighed and shook his head. "I wish the poor kid would just cry himself out already. He needs the sleep." He gently ran his palm over the boy's back, hoping to coax him into breathing and getting some sleep. It seem to do the trick, as after a last hiccup, the baby fell into slumber. Sighing happily, Ed slowed his rocking and smiled.

"There you go, little man."

Winry smiled at him tenderly. Ed had been so worried when they found out she was pregnant. He had nightmares of Hohenheim and his mother, of having to leave Winry and their baby for any reason. He'd hardly left her side while she'd been pregnant, halting his research and helping her with her automail work instead. She been touched, despite how overbearing and annoying he'd been, and strove to remind him that he'd be a wonderful father to their baby. It was heartwarming to see that she'd been right.

"Go put him in the crib, he'll be fine for a little while." Ed looked uncertain at the idea, but with a little nudging he gingerly lowered his son into the small crib he'd made. The boy twitched and sighed, but didn't wake as Ed rubbed his small back once more before standing straight.

"You need to get back into bed too." Winry pouted but didn't put up any fight as Ed lead her back to their bedroom. Once settling in bed sitting against several pillows, Winry grinned at her husband as he sat next to her.

"Do you still want to go today?" she murmured softly. Ed shrugged and looked out the window.

"Yeah, I think so," he answered just as softly. "Will you be alright here alone for a little while?"

Winry rolled her eyes and gave him a good punch to the arm. "I just had a baby, Ed, I didn't get hit by a train."

The man rubbed his arm with a look of mock pain painted on his face. "Alright, alright, no need to start throwing punches. I'll be back in an hour?"

"Take all the time you need, Edward. We'll be here when you get back."

He gave her a soft parting kiss, cradling her face gently between his hands. Winry pressed back earnestly and grinned when he pulled away.

"I love you," he murmured before pressing a last kiss to her forehead. He dashed out of the room before she could reply.

–

Bouquet of white flowers clutched in his right hand, Ed stared down at his parents graves. The wind blew gently through his hair, scattering leaves along the ground around the headstones.

"Hey mom," Ed greeted fondly. He could almost hear her soft voice in the wind around him.

He glanced at his father's grave next. "Hey… father." It was still weird to call him that after all this time. He'd been angry at Hohenheim for so long, disowned him as a father in all meanings of the word. Yet, he'd never really know the man. Only now, after everything they'd been through, did he really know the kind of man his father truly was.

"I'm not going to make the same mistakes you did, you dumbass father," he whispered to the stone. "I'm never going to leave and abandon them."

He could feel the waves of ancient anger and bitterness wash through him, making him clutch the flowers all the more tightly. "You could have just asked for help instead of doing it all on your own. I learned that the hard way too, I guess. But I'm not going to learn this the hard way. Whenever they need me, I'll be there!"

He didn't realize he was yelling until he was gasping for breath, tremors running down his arms. He clenched his eyes tight and growled under his breath.

Then he remembered the look on his father's face when he'd passed on his mother's message. His father's entire body shielding him from the monster that was the dwarf in the flask; he'd been able to see the minute trembles in his father's arms and legs as Homonculas stood imposingly over him. Hearing Hohenheim insist that he was their father and he wanted to act it. Slowly the anger melted out of him and he released his death hold on the flowers. Glancing back at the graves, he sighed.

"But you did it for us, and I guess that's a trait to admire," he mumbles at the ground, kneeling down to gently set the flowers between them. "I suppose you weren't a completely dumbass father after all.