I'm back! This is a wild oneshot that I wrote at 3 am, so please forgive any mistakes or phrases that make no sense, I will try to catch them. This contains mention of character death and graphic gore, as well as cute Edwin fluff. Please drop a review and a request if you would like. The name of Edward's lullaby is Welcome Home by Radical Face. I own no rights to Fullmetal Alchemist or the song.

Never in her life did she ever think she would have enough information on flames to make such a horrifying nightmare, or at least certainly not one so realistic. She could feel flames licking up her arms, smell the burning of her hair, and see the embers dancing in front of her. They were somehow brighter than the sun, more delicate than the violets she had woven into Edward's hair the day before while he snoozed on her lap. Despite the fire's elegant swaying, Winry knew of their destruction and the carnage they could wreak on everyone she loved. She didn't know where they had emerged from, nor was she sure if she wanted to know. She rubbed feverishly at her eyes, trying to see through the smoke and ashes.

She wishes she hadn't.

Her parents are standing there, looking back at her as the blaze melted their skin. The fire consumes them, blackening her mother's sky blue apron and her father's flannel, and she can only watch them burn. They don't try to run to her, and they don't try to save themselves.

Why didn't you leave Ishval when they told you to?!

She wonders if the burning of her parents will be the main attraction to this dream,, or if she will have to watch the rest of her life burn before her eyes.

Elysia visits her fiery imagination next, tugging at the bottom of Winry's ivory nightgown, tears gliding down her flushed cheeks. The young girl's eyes are shinning and frozen, though she doesn't seem physically affected by the flames swirling around them.

"Daddy's boss said Dad was dead! Why would he say something like that? WInry? Why would he say that?" The girl was babbling, her small mouth flying with confused and frightened questions. Little Elysia was shaking head to toe, thin arms reaching for Winry to pick her up. The older girl couldn't move however. Couldn't wipe those tears away, and couldn't hold her frail quivering body. She knew what Elysia would have to go through. She knew the girl would cry herself hysterical until she lost her battle in staying awake. Winry wanted to wrap her up in blankets and cradle her close, shush her and explain to her what was going to happen. Explain that life would change, but it wouldn't be over.

She let the flames garble her up instead.

She thought this would be the end; that she would be able to open her eyes and gasp into the silence of her bedroom (she would eagerly take the silence in place of Elysia's cries. It wasn't out of cruelty. It was out of self-preservation). However, she was greeted with a much more horrific sight. A blank room was waiting for her, nothing but four walls and a ceiling…

…and blood.

With her constant presence in the Elric brother's lives, she had quite an accurate envision of blood, though the last time she had seen so much of it in one place had been when Alphonse held his mauled brother in their doorway. The gore was plastered on the walls and even sprayed on the ceiling. She finds herself looking around despite her best efforts to block it all out, and she nearly vomits at the sight of chunks of flesh that had obviously been carved out or cut off. The slices in the skin and muscle were unclean and lacked a practiced hand, giving her a few more hints into the situation that she was blatantly ignoring. She knew her sleeping mind would not be able to take much more horror tonight. She tasted bile on her tongue when she spied lone fingers scattering the floor, their missing fingernails seeming like a warmup compared to what must have come next to whatever poor soul had been subjected to such torture.

It was the automail fingers lying next to them that caused her to begin gagging.

Edward lay in the corner, eyes open and obviously dead. He was bent and twisted, bound up and tossed aside like trash. His golden hair was the only distinguishable factor about him, seeing as how the vessels in his eyes had ruptured, filling his eye sockets with blood. He was missing his shirt, and his chest was melted in on itself, skin and muscle burnt together in the result of a direct and concentrated burn.

Winry thought it looked like acid.

She could actually see his ribs threatening to flake away.

She began to scream.

Edward Elric nearly transmuted his favorite lamp when his partner startled him awake. Her screaming had him gasping exclamations of alarm as he instinctively searched out an intruder in their dark bedroom. He had already been on his feet the old oak floors creaking in protest beneath his bare feet. He glanced out the black window, confirming it was indeed still night and that they were in quiet Resembool. After his sluggish mind caught up with the situation, he quickly turned to Winry, frightened by the look of pure horror on her face. He bounced back onto the bed, firmly gripping her shoulders in his mismatched hands and shaking her slightly. "Winry, wake up."

The woman awoke with a wheeze, blank eyes not seeing the room in front of her as her partner pulled her up slightly in the hopes that movement would reorient her with the real world. Her forehead shone with sweat, her light hair spilling down her back.

"Winry?" Ed called again, concerned churning his gut as he shook her gently once more. "You with me?"

At hearing her name, she turned her head a bit to look at him.

He had never seen her look so lost.

"Edwa-" Her voice was nothing but a soft croak, but Edward could read every emotion tumbling around in her mind by the look in her eyes. His suspicions were confirmed when her soft lips began to scrunch up slightly, her eyes looking him over the same way he had seen Mustang confirm that Riza was not harmed during a raid. Tears instantly glistened on her pale cheeks as she greedily sucked in a breath of air. "I-, I-…"

He needed nothing more to tug her up fully, holding her tightly to his chest. He could feel her strong heart thundering against his sternum, and he was distressed by the way she was quaking. She let out an anguished sob into his bare shoulder, saliva and tears sliding down his skin. He had one large hand splayed across her back, his automail reaching down and snatching up their comforter and draping it around her shaking form. He began to hum, some ancient song from their childhood. It was light and soft, and he occasionally mumbled a few of the verses as he sang it over and over again. He braced himself before scooping her up completely, securing her blanket and singing into her ear.

"Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline… Like a row of captured ghosts…"

Her hysterical sobbing had not yet ceased, though it was gradually slowing. She had enough sense to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her, aware of a slight bouncing and his voice. The blood was still tainting the corners of her vision, and the memory of his agonized form threatened to sneak up on her when she didn't have her full attention on him.

Edward tucked her head beneath his chin, her soft hair tickling his faint stubble. He carried her down the creaky stairs, the smell of morning dew flooding in the open windows. A cool breeze carried in the early spring, and he repeated his song. The ticking grandfather clock said it was half past three, and he squatted down in front of their fireplace, flesh arm keeping her safe on his hip. It took a minute, but he was able to coax the dying ashes back to life, flooding the room with warmth and light.

"Was never much, but we've made the most…"

He was relieved that Winry was beginning to fully settle down, no longer making much noise other than the occasional sniffle. He carried her back to his lazy chair, plopping down in it as he reached his 4 verse. His solid hands repositioned her, using the edge of the blanket to wipe away the tears and snot that stained her soft skin. Half her face was still pressed firmly against him, and he began to rock the chair slightly.

"I've come home…"

His voice was rough with sleep but gentle, eventually bringing her shivering to an end. The change of scenery and the new light in the room did wonders to calm her, but his presence and voice got the job done. Her heart had slowed back to a normal pace, her breathing having evened out.

"Can't have you waking up our nonexistent neighbors." He grumbled lightly as he wove his fingers in and out of her silky hair, kissing her temple as he rocked her back to sleep

"Shaddup…"

The next morning when she tries to thank him, he'll throw mud at her and attempt to flee.

Please review!