Author's Note: This is a one-shot I wrote for the Comment-Fic community on Live Journal. The prompt was: Fullmetal Alchemist, Ed/Winry, Even an atheist screams out to God sometimes. The story is set a few years after the end of the series.
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Winry was in bed, Pinako and three other women from the village busying themselves with making sure the birth went well. Edward's hand was in Winry's, which was squeezing his so hard with each contraction that it made him wince.
Edward couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but he felt the atmosphere in the bedroom change, and the women, who had seemed so confident in their operations, looked at each other with apprehension.
Winry hadn't noticed, but Edward did. But she must have felt whatever was happening within her body, because the pressure on his hand intensified suddenly only to slacken moments later.
Then he saw the blood.
Winry looked at him, terror etched on her face, now complete in the knowledge that something was wrong. "Ed?" she said softly, her eyes beginning to unfocus.
Edward met her gaze, and tried desperately to remember what it was like to be confident, so he could show her that everything was alright.
"It's going to be okay," he said to her.
The women were moving quickly now, doing things he couldn't see and he was certain he didn't want to.
"Edward," Pinako said with seemingly unnatural calmness. "Edward, I need you to go outside now."
He turned so quickly to look at the old woman he felt his neck crack. He opened his mouth to object, but then saw the expression on her face.
For what he saw brought a chill through his body. He knew whatever had gone wrong, Winry and their child's life now hung in the balance. And he knew she wouldn't have asked him to leave unless she had already calculated what needed to be done and decided that their chance of survival was greater with Edward not there to interfere or get in the way.
"Winry," he said, surprised that he had been able to make any sound at all other than a sob. "The old lady needs me to get something."
Turning back to his wife, the sob did come when he saw that she was now barely conscious and her grip on his hand was slack at best. He desperately wanted to stay, but he knew he had to go.
He shut his eyes as if that could keep the tears from flowing and left the bedroom he and Winry had shared for the past two years, where they had created the new life which was now trying to enter this world.
Out in the hallway, once the bedroom door had been shut by one of the attending women, his legs collapsed from under him and he slid down the opposite wall, leaving him in a heap staring at the closed door.
He knew Pinako was the best at what she did. She had delivered him and Al and countless other babies. But he also knew that sometimes life or fate or whatever you wanted to call it didn't care that you had the best. He'd seen enough to know that sometimes little children died horribly and sometimes loving fathers never came home to their families. He knew wars claimed lives in the hundreds and there were people who enjoyed killing like others liked gardening.
The world could be a cruel place. But this was Winry. And Winry was his, just as he was hers, and this child they had created was theirs to love and prepare for a world that could also be so very beautiful at times.
Staring at the door, Edward had never felt so helpless. There was nothing he could do. None of the tricks or abilities he had spent his life attaining would make a tiniest difference. Even Pinako, with all of her skills, could only do so much against the will of fate. Against the fickleness of God.
God.
Edward was an atheist. He didn't believe in God. And even if he did, as an alchemist, he had little use for him. The law of equivalent exchange made sense to him. The will of God did not.
But if there was anything which could keep his wife and child with him, it was the will of God. And right now, he was willing to ask for help, because his entire world was on the other side of that closed door, and he knew it might not be there when the door opened.
Edward wasn't really clear on how praying worked, but he figured that if there was a God, he could hear silent prayers just as easily as those spoken alive.
"God, I know I'm not the best person in the world. I know I've done things I can't take back. But Winry is the kindest, most loving person I've ever met. I don't deserve her, but the world deserves her to be here. And our child hasn't even had a chance to take a first breath. Please, I beg you, please let them both be okay. Please let me keep them."
He knew enough to not expect a reply, so he just sat there, staring at the closed door. He could occasionally hear sounds, and once, after what seemed like hours, he thought he heard the cry of a baby, but he couldn't decide if it was his mind playing tricks or not.
Then finally, the door opened, and Edward wasn't sure if he wanted it to. For as long as it was closed, he didn't know.
Pinako walked through the doorway. Edward tried not to look at the smears of blood on her hands and arms, but like a magnet, they attracted his gaze. He tried to read her expression, but all he could see was a tired woman who had just gone through an ordeal.
"Come see your wife and son," she said.
It took a long moment for the words to sink in. They were alive. Winry was alive. He had a son. They had a son. They were alright. The whirlwind made him dizzy and for the first time, he was glad that he was sitting down.
And then he was on his feet, brushing past Pinako to see his family. Winry looked even more tired than her grandmother, but there was a small smile on her face and her eyes twinkled when she saw him rushing toward her. Then Ed saw the bundle in her arms, and the tiny face, asleep after his adventure, peaking through the blankets.
"Our son," he said, his voice betraying him once again.
Edward kissed Winry's forehead and knelt next to the bed so he could be as close to the two of them as possible.
He took a moment to turn back to Pinako and say, "Thank you." She only smiled and nodded. He added more thanks to the other women, who were packing up their things and talking softly amongst themselves.
Then he thought of something else as he watched Winry looking at their son. He didn't know much about prayers or God, but he knew enough to glance upward to the ceiling and silently add another thank you. Just in case, of course.