A/N: Yay! Fluffy drabble fic! My specialty! =^D Everybody loves EdWin. Let's all play Count the Clichés!

"Brother, why were you so eager to go to Winry's this morning?" Alphonse Elric asked his older brother as he jogged to keep up with his brother's quick pace through their small town.

Earlier that morning, Edward had barged into his younger brother's bedroom, startling Alphonse awake. Dragging him into the early morning chill, Edward had demanded his brother accompany him to the Rockbells' at once. When Alphonse had questioned his brother's urgency, Edward had angrily replied "Just hurry up, would you?"

"I saw a soldier go into their house," said Edward, his large gold eyes squinted against the chilled autumn breeze.

"A soldier?" Alphonse repeated.

"Yeah, in full uniform. Bit far from the battlefront, don't you think?"

"You dragged me out of bed because of your prejudice towards the military?" Alphonse asked exasperated, glaring at his brother in annoyance.

"Are you forgetting who we know out on the battlefield?"

Alphonse looked down at the short, temperamental boy as they jogged across the grassy, dew-covered hill to the yellow house.

"You think this has something to do with Auntie and Uncle?" He asked.

"Of course! What other reason would the military have for poking around here?"

Alphonse bit his lip as the two slowed to a walk upon the dirt path paving the way to the Rockbells' door.

"You don't think they're hurt do you?"

If Alphonse hadn't known his brother so well, he might have thought Edward hadn't heard him. Edward said nothing in response to his question but the slight crease that appeared between his eyebrows as he stared at the dirt beneath their feet gave him away: He was fearing just that.

Their friend Winry, their "Auntie and Uncle's" daughter had been worrying herself sick ever since her parents had been called to the front of the Civil War to treat the injured soldiers. The thought of what she would do if anything were to happen to her parents frightened both boys immensely and neither one of them wanted to see first hand.

The boys stepped onto the wooden porch, listening to the familiar creak as the lose floor boards moved in and out of place. Edward raised a fist to knock, but before his knuckles could connect to the door, it swung open revealing the tall, brown-haired soldier Edward had seen enter the house from his bedroom window earlier that morning. The man stopped, surprised upon seeing the boys and for a moment, he simply stared at them, the younger gazing back in polite curiosity, the older glaring in angry resentment at the occupation the man had chosen. Then, the man offered them a slight nod of his head and slid past them, leaving the door ajar, the cloak of his blue military uniform billowing out behind him, barring—in Edward's mind—the mark of the false hero to the people of the country.

Edward and Alphonse exchanged a quick glance before hurrying into the house. The echo of their shoes on the hardwood was not enough to drown out the sound of sobs that grew clearer and clearer as they approached the kitchen. Alphonse saw his brother's eyes widen in horror as he recognized the voice moaning in anguish beneath the sobs and he had to hurry to keep up with Ed's quicken pace as they moved further down the hallway.

The usually bright, comfortable kitchen was dark with the cloud the hung over the heads of its occupants. Pinako Rockbell, Winry's grandmother, was standing with her back to the door, facing the kitchen counter, her small body shaking with silent sobs. This image alone was unnerving enough to leave both Edward and Alphonse frozen in their tracks: They'd never seen Granny Pinako cry before.

Two sets of Gold eyes moved over to the table. Winry was sitting there, her blonde head resting in her arms on the wooden surface, wailing louder than either boy had ever heard.

"What happened?" Alphonse's voice rang out an octave higher than usual.

Winry just shook her head, her blue eyes shut tight in her wet face.

Alphonse looked at his brother in distress. Edward appeared just a lost and frightened as Alphonse felt. His dilated gold eyes narrowed as he clenched his fists and bit his lip, glaring at a spot on the floor to his left. He let out a deep breath and, shifting his gaze back to the crying girl at the table, tentatively moved toward Winry and laid what he hopped was a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Winry," he said in what may have been the gentlest tone Alphonse had ever heard his brother use, "does this have anything to do with your mom and dad?"

She wailed louder which Edward interpreted as a yes.

"Are they hurt?" Alphonse asked hurrying to stand by his brother.

"You idiot!" Winry all but screamed at him. Both boys stumbled back in surprise as she suddenly stood from her chair glowering at them. "Don't you dumb boys get it? My mom and dad… they're never coming back! They're gone!" She covered her face and cried into her hands.

"Gone?"

"THEY'RE DEAD YOU MORONS!"

Edward stumbled back as Winry fell to her knees before them, shaking with renewed sobs, her cries echoing around the kitchen. That couldn't be possible… It just couldn't be. How could his Auntie and Uncle be…?

"B-but… they were just doctors!" said Edward, in a much louder tone than he had intended. "How could they've-?"

"All the more reason," said Pinako quietly. Edward turned to look at her. She hadn't moved an inch during this entire exchange. "They were treating the soldiers that would later return to the battlefield as enemies. It's a lot easier when they have no way of recovering."

Had those words really just come out of Granny Pinako's mouth? She was standing in the shadows so Edward could not see her face but he was sure she would look just as distraught as Winry, even without the noise.

The pit pat of shoes on the linoleum made him look around in time to see Alphonse kneel down next to Winry, resting his hand on her shoulder. He turned to look up at his brother, his round face bearing a "What-should-we-do?" look. Edward had no answer to that. His fists clenched in frustration: If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling useless. Even with all the knowledge he had—which his mother had made clear, was much more than what was normal at his age—here and now, facing this tragedy, he was completely and utterly powerless. All he could do was stare helplessly at the little girl on the ground, rocking back and forth, hugging herself tightly as if to hold herself together.

This gave him an idea.

"Stay here," Edward said to Alphonse, "I'll be right back."

"Brother, where are you-?"

But before Alphonse could complete his question, Edward had bolted from the kitchen down the hall and out the still open front door, into the early morning mist. He couldn't wrap his head around what had happened. How could such a disaster befall someone so young? He could not even begin to imagine what he would do if something were to happen to his mother. He knew he needed to do something for Winry, show her he was there for her, shared her pain and cared. He had no idea how to articulate this so he was turning to the one thing he had always trusted to assist him in times of need: Alchemy.

It was a talent he had picked up from his father—though he would never admit to this, of course. When his father had left years ago, he and his brother had taken to poking through the alchemy books he had left behind, hoping to impress their father when he returned. Edward had long since realized he would likely never see his father again but that fact did nothing to sway him from his love of the art and right now it was the only thing he could think of to help him. He did not stop running until he reached his front door. Not watching where he was going as he bolted into the house he ended up running headlong into his mother.

"What's the hurry? And where have you and your brother been so early in the morning?"

"Mom," Edward said quickly, between gasping breaths, "I need your crafts stuff, where is it?"

Edward saw the expression on his mother's face change from one of playful worry to one of concern when he looked up at her. She hadn't seen his face until now and the expression he was wearing must have startled her.

"Edward," she said seriously, kneeling down in front of him so they were at the same eye level, clasping his shaking hands in hers. "Honey, what happened?"

Edward had not noticed the tears that had spilled onto his face until his mother brought her hand up to rest on his cheek. He wiped them away furiously, inwardly cursing himself for allowing them to fall.

"Eddy, what is it?" she asked, running a soothing had through his hair.

He favored glaring at his feet instead of look at his mother as he said "Winry. Her mom and dad, they're…."

He couldn't complete the sentence. He felt his face turn red in shame and anger at himself for getting so upset. He didn't want to show this weakness, he wanted to be strong enough to help the person in need. What use was he if he couldn't even manage to explain what had happened?

"Did something happen to them?"

Solemnly, Edward nodded. His eyes were still glued to the hallway floor, but he could feel his mother's cool blue gaze on his face. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Trisha said: "What do you need my crafts things for?"

Edward finally managed to look into his mother's eyes, his own holding the fierce determination he would one day be renowned for.

"I wanna make a present for Winry."

Trisha smiled at him sadly.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

And she stood, still holding Edward's clammy hand and lead him back to where he needed to be.

The doll was simple: Yellow yarn for hair, black buttons for eyes, a rosy-cheeked smile on a cotton face. He had still been very upset when he had preformed the transmutation so it had not come out as well as he would have like. Blocky alchemy marks littered her red dress, conveying to all who looked closely how she had been born. It wasn't perfect, Edward thought, as he ran full speed back to the auto-mail shop, but it should get his point across.

Someone—probably Al—had closed the front door in his absence. Though he knew it was rude, he neglected to knock before entering. The congregation had moved from the kitchen to the family room. The three sat on the sofa, Winry in the middle her grandmother—who seemed to have gained back some of her composure—patting her on the back as she cried into Alphonse's shoulder. Alphonse was the only one to look up at him when he entered the room.

"Brother, where have you-?"

The doll being shoved into Winry's face silenced him and Winry both. Winry wiped the tears from her eyes, taking deep shuttering breaths, and looked up at Edward, clearly expecting an explanation.

"W-what's that?" She hiccupped.

"I…" Edward hadn't really thought about what he would say at this point, "I just thought…maybe you could use something to hold on to."

Winry regarded him with a look he couldn't find a name for on her red, tear-stained face.

"I just… I didn't really know what else to do so I…. but if you don't-"

He was cut off when Winry threw her arms around him and he found himself being squeezed tightly while she cried into his shoulder. For a moment, he merely stood there frozen, feeling her tears fall on his neck. Then, his arms moved up to wrap around her waist and found himself holding her tightly in an attempt to comfort her. Even in years to come, he'd never understand how something so simple could possibly be of any assistance, but he knew that he was helping when she whispered three words in his ear.

"Thank you, Ed."

He wasn't going to let himself cry. As much pain as he was in right now, both physically and emotionally; as angry as he was at this situation, at himself, at God or whatever the hell that had been, he was NOT going to let himself cry. He'd done this to himself and he would rather lose his remaining limbs than allow his younger brother to see him cry. Not when he no longer could.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, as he shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable. The cold, wet cloth on his forehead slipped down over his eyes but he didn't have the energy to move it back into place. The dark red barrier between his eyes and the blinding overhead lights of the room was welcome anyway. He resisted the urge to moan as the stump of what was once his left leg dragged over the mattress.

I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry.

The inner corners of his eyes were beginning to tingle.

Damn, damn how could I have let this happen? I'm not gonna cry. What have I done? I'm not gonna cry. This is all my fault. I'm not gonna cry.

He was startled by the cloth over his eyes suddenly being pulled away. The extreme change in lighting left him blind, unable to make out his visitor. He blinked furiously in an attempt to clear his vision.

"How are you doing?"

That was Winry's voice. He favored shielding his eyes from the blaring lights with his remaining hand than answer her. She could probably figure it out on her own.

"Sorry, guess that was a stupid question."

No Kidding.

Edward felt guilty the instant this thought entered his mind. Winry was only trying to help him and for that he was grateful. If not for the Rockbells this whole situation could have been a thousand times worse: If he and Al hadn't had this place to come to, he likely would have ended up bleeding to death, leaving his brother alone after robbing him of his humanity. It had been a long time since Edward had been able to call himself a believer in God, but he had to admit, an eternity in Hell would have been exactly what he deserved in that situation.

Speaking of which….

"Where's Al?" He hadn't intended to sound so panicked. Evidentially his stress level was getting the better of him.

"Granny made him step outside," said Winry, refolding the cloth and draping it back over his warm, sweaty forehead. "He was getting himself too worked up again."

"This is all my fault."

He wasn't sure what prompted him to say it. His chest was starting to burn and his throat was constricting. He shut his eyes tightly as his breathing began to come up short. This time, the lights had nothing to do with it.

"Ed, it's not—"

"Yes. It is." His remaining hand curled itself into a trembling fist. "The whole thing was my idea. I talked him into it. And now…."

I'm not gonna cry. I am NOT going to cry.

"He hates me. I know he does."

I'm not crying. My arm and leg just hurt. That's all.

He could feel Winry's eyes on him but refused to open his own to meet their gaze. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to run far away and forget all about this horrible mistake, and that desire infuriated him, for it was so reminiscent of someone he never wanted to associate himself with. Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't get out of bed; It meant he had to stay where he was and take responsibility for what he had done.

"Wait there for a sec."

He wasn't going anywhere, that was for damn sure. He listened to the sound of Winry's footsteps retreating from the room, his eyes still closed, blocking out the world. When he could no longer hear her, he cracked his eyes open and took the opportunity to wipe the shame from his face.

How could I have been so stupid? Did I really think there wasn't a good reason it was against the law? Alchemy itself forbids it, what the hell possessed me to—

These thoughts were only making his eyes water more persistently. Furious with himself, he wiped the new water away, determined to keep himself under control, redoubling that resolve when he heard Winry's footsteps approaching again in the hall. He closed his eyes again just to be safe.

Winry didn't say anything when she entered the room. Edward thought she was trying to be quiet, perhaps thinking he was asleep. That worked out fine for Edward. As much as she had helped him and as hard as he knew she was trying, he really didn't want her there right now, as horrible as it may be.

He opened his eyes in surprise when he felt something soft brush his face. Winry had lain something down next to him on his pillow. He turned his head slightly to get a better look at it. It was the doll he had made her two years ago when her parents had died. He looked up at her confused.

"I know," she was not looking at him but was instead speaking to her knees as she kneeled next to him on the floor. "Boys don't like dolls. I just…" she glanced off to a spot on the floor to her right, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "I just thought… you could use something to hold on to. And… and don't forget that I'm here for you, no matter what happens or what you do." She looked up at him, her blue eyes bright, and smiled at him sadly. "And Al could never hate you no matter what. So don't worry. Because I know it's not in either of you to just give up. You'll find a way to keep going one way or another."

The end of this speech was met with a brief blank stare from Edward, who didn't have the faintest idea how to respond to that before he felt his eyes begin to water again and had to close them to prevent himself from crying in front of her.

"Thanks," was all he managed to get out.

"Hey."

Edward didn't look up from his feet but he knew Winry had turned to look at him.

"Take Granny and Den… and go hide in another country. OUCH!"

His refusal to look up came back to bite him when something heavy connected with his head with the force of a bull. The impact sent him tumbling backwards off the stool he had been occupying and onto the floor, his head receiving another blow when he hit the ground

"Are you serious?" Winry shouted at him, the wrench she had used to hit him still in her hand. "What's the point of only telling your friends and family to run? Are you saying you can't stop all that from happening anymore?"

Edward jumped to his feet, (vaguely wondering how many IQ points he'd just lost) defensive.

"We can stop it from happening and we will but there's always that small chance-!"

"There's no small chance! There's no nothing!" she shouted in his face. "You have to stop those guys and protect our country! And you and Al have to get your original bodies back! I have to do what ever I can to help!"

He looked at her briefly, at a loss of what to say, before letting out a long breath through his nose.

"Geez, talk about over simplifying things," he muttered turning towards the door to leave her bedroom.

"Now what?" She said, moodily. "You never give in that easily—"

"Oh my God, quit nagging me woman."

His hand was on the door knob and he had every intention of storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him and maybe stomping down the stairs for good measure, when a glance to his left showed him something that made him pause.

"Not going to stomp off in another rage?" she asked, her voice heavy with irony. He ignored this jibe stooping to pick up the doll he had made with alchemy so many years before.

"You still have this?" he asked turning towards her and holding the doll up for her to see.

"Oh," she hurried over to him, taking the doll and holding it against her chest tightly. "Thank goodness. I was worried Granny might've thrown her away."

"I can't believe you kept that this long."

Winry looked up at, him giving him a look that seemed to question his sanity.

"What? Don't most tomboys go through a phase where they think all things girly are sexist?"

"Who are you calling a tomboy?" Winry shouted raising her wrench again. Edward raised his auto-mail arm to protect his head, knowing she'd hesitate if she thought she might hit it.

"The auto-mail junky with violent tendencies."

Winry glared at him for a moment before saying, in an exasperated tone, "I kept her because you made her for me."

"That's the only reason?"

"Isn't it reason enough?" She looked down at the doll with an emotion Edward couldn't name on her face. "I didn't see much of you and Al after this was made so she's important to me. It makes feel close to you even when I'm not."

Edward squinted at the little doll, humming in understanding.

"It's definitely not my best work," he said nonchalantly, lifting his flesh hand to trace one of the many blocky scars lining the doll's face. "There are alchemy marks all over it."

Winry chuckled and smiled up at him.

"Best transmutation I've ever seen you do."

He grinned at her.

"You wanna know a secret?" Winry asked, looking at the doll, sadly.

"Sure."

She smiled sorrowfully as her blue eyes moved up to meet his.

"When you and Al left… after you joined the military, I used to hug this everyday… and somehow it always felt like I was hugging you."

Edward had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

"I know why you two always have to be away, but that doesn't mean I don't miss you," she was talking to the floor now, holding the doll close to her chest. "Sometimes I wish you could stay home a little longer than you do."

Edward looked at her a moment, unsure what to say, before tentatively bringing his flesh hand up to rest on her shoulder.

"We'll come home to stay when all this is over, Winry," he assured her.

"I know," she raised her head to look at him again. "At least until you're called away on another adventure."

"The next one'll involve you. I promise."

She smiled at him, knowing he was always true to his word. As he smiled back at her, she found herself wondering how they had reached this point. A year ago, Edward had never made her nervous. She'd never found it difficult to look at him, or wondered what he was thinking as obsessively as she did now. How had everything changed so dramatically between them? When had he stopped being the immature boy she had grown up with? How had he become the man that was standing in front of her now? And most importantly, when—when, how, and why—had she fallen in love with him? So much had changed over the last year and so rapidly. It was so strange, both wonderful and horrifying to think what they had been working for all these years might be achieved in the next few days. Maybe the next time she saw them, Alphonse would be back to normal. Maybe Edward would hug her with both his arms again. If anyone could make it happen, Edward Elric could. No matter the risk, the danger in the battle he was entering, she knew he'd come back. He always did. Not always in one piece, but he was never away longer than she could handle. But just to be sure…

"Ed?"

He had turned away from her now, and was on his way out her bedroom door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Promise me you'll come back."

He turned around to look at her fully, wearing an expression that seemed to question her mental health.

"Winry, don't be ridiculous. Of course I'll come back!" He smiled at her in a way that always made her feel safe. "I can't guarantee the condition of my auto-mail, but I promise we'll come home soon. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

Winry chuckled.

"That's what we always do."

A/N: Oh teh cheese.

Okay, first of all, let me just say, I have no idea how old these guys were when this stuff happened in Cannon. If you squint at the headstones in Volume 11, it looks like the year of death for both Winry's parents and Trisha was 1908, which would have made Ed and Winry 9 when their parents died. However, considering how much younger than that Ed and Al looked at their mother's funeral in the flashback in volume 5, I'm not entirely sure. I know they were 5 and 4 respectively in Brotherhood, and in anime V1 they were 10 and 9 but I have no idea in the manga. It's hard to say. Especially since Ed has a habit of looking younger than he actually is. I believe they were both 16 in that last bit but… I don't know, I guess Ed could have been 17. We'll never know.

If you're wondering, with justification, why Trisha didn't go with Edward back to the Rockbells after Ed told her Winry's parents had been killed, it's because she decided to make some comfort food before heading over. You know, some cookies, maybe an apple pie. That's a big food in this series. It also had to do with, well…Trisha's a plot device; you can't expect me to be good at writing her because, really, how well do we know her as a character?

I get the feeling, Winry's better at articulating what she's thinking than Ed. That's why she gave him a pep talk whereas all Ed could do was stutter and force out half formed sentences.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story. I was working on adding more detail when I write as I have a nasty habit of using waaaaaaaaaaaaay too much dialogue. I think I did alright with this. However, I'm not sure how well I hit the emotional aspect of the story. It was heavier than I'm used to. Constructive critiques are the best so if you leave a review, I will love you forever. Thanks for stopping by!

~ AJ