I'm surprisingly very satisfied with this piece. It's set one year after the end of the manga, so basically when Ed comes back from his journey to the West.
As always, please read and review!
One year goes by more slowly than Winry wants it to.
The familiar walk down the stair steps is lonely without Ed and Al there to thunder past her, eager to snatch a bite of the cakes Granny makes for breakfast. The table is two people too few, and she runs her fingers along the backs of the chairs sometimes, wondering where their muscles used to fall on the carved wood. Ed no londer runs back to her every five weeks, arm and leg damaged beyond repair. Now, he returns once in maybe three months, and Al not at all, him being in Xing all those miles and miles away, with only letters wrapped in frail ribbon there to give her comfort.
She misses them immensely, more than she ever did, more than when they first left to become State Alchemists - a broken boy and his brother without a body - more than when they finally left to leave her in agonizing wait, wondering day and night whether or not they'd come back to her whole, or come back at all. Their golden hair manifests itself in flowers and glazed pies and the shine of yellow apples. Winry sees them everywhere, blue eyed gaze lingering on little things that to her are larger than life.
Granny catches her once, staring off into the endless expanse of hill country that lies to the east and the west. Her hair whips out from behind her, glinting in the dim light of the stars against midnight. Granny's bony fingers latch onto her shoulder. "You worry too much," the old woman chides, but kindly. Winry smiles. She retorts, "You're forgetting that too much is just enough," and Granny chuckles, patting her granddaughter's shoulder once more before leaving to go to sleep.
Al sends her a letter in late January, lengthy and endearing as always. He tells her more wonderful things about Mei than he did before, and she laughs because the way Al falls in love is more obvious and open, a stark contrast to Ed's somewhat frustrating subtlety. Of course, Ed has sent Winry his fair share of letters, dappling a few with "love" in the end notes. But neighbors ask her from time to time whether or not she and Ed really do intend to be married, and she wishes a little that the golden wedding band could be wrapped around her finger already.
Her eyes skim over Al's slanted scrawl, tracing certain lines back to familiar memories. She glances over at the bulletin board hanging on the wall, photographs of every imaginable color tacked onto the rectangular space. The Elric family photo from all those years ago still rests there, not quite squared at the edges. Hohenheim's face is no longer hidden from view, and Trisha smiles on into a future she will never get to see.
Winry lays the letter down on the table and walks away.
{...}
October coming is a subtle thing. It whispers in with the crackle of leaves and warm, fire colors. Winry does nothing out of the ordinary the morning of the third, trudging down the stairs with sleep still hanging over her. Her hair sticks up in too many places, and she halfheartedly smooths it down, as is the routine. When laughter echoes from the kitchen, she assumes it to be that of Granny and a neighbor. A few more seconds of thought, however, bring her to realize that the bell-like tinkling in the airy sound is all too real for her to forget, and she breaks into a run.
Winry slips down a pair of stairs and nearly stumbles onto the floor before catching hold of the kitchen doorjamb. The weight of her body noisily pushes it open, and amber eyes turn to stare at her in a mixture of amusement and curiosity. As Granny snorts from her place at the stove top, Winry stands still and silent a while before blurting out, "Al, you're back."
Al positively beams at her, and before she knows it, his arms are wrapping tightly around her shoulders. "I hope you weren't too lonely," he says into her hair, and she nearly scoffs but doesn't, because the importance of holding a grudge pales in comparison to finally having him there. When she lets him go she shakes her head and feels tears prickle at her eyes. Al offers her a napkin, but she laughs at the gentleman he is and opts instead for her sleeve. Granny pulls a freshly baked apple pie out of the oven, and the three of them talk over breakfast with such ease that Winry cannot believe Al ever left.
She's in the midst of making of Ed's many awkward letters when Al breaks in and says, "Brother should be here by now." He stands up to look out the open window, at the rolling hills painted over in shades of red, orange, and yellow. The familiar path that runs up to the house is bare and unpeople. Winry curls her fingers inward out of habit. "How do you know?" she asks, trying to keep her voice level.
Al looks back to her and smiles. "It's just a feeling," he says. "Today is as good a day as any, after all."
And she knows that. She knows it like the back of her hand, like the fateful words she once saw scrawled into metal. Winry just can't believe she never thought of it before.
"Well, if he is here in Resembool," pipes up Granny, "there are only two places he can be." She stares pointedly at her granddaughter for a moment, but unfortunately, Winry doesn't catch the look. Instead, she bores her eyes into the tabletop and wonders where exactly it is that Ed could be so early in the morning. Why not here, at home, tired and aching for a slice of her apple pie? Winry makes a face and chews forcefully into her breakfast, scouring her mind for a suitable answer.
"Especially if it's today," Granny continues.
And then it hits her.
{...}
"Granny said you'd be here."
Ed turns away from the flowers among the rubble to find her standing on the path, his oversized jacket still hanging awkwardly over the angles of her body. Winry smiles at him, a plate with a slice of apple pie held in between her fingers. Her hair rustles over her eyes with the wind, but she pushes back her bangs and walks a little farther up the hill to join Ed at what used to be the Elrics' porch. "I'm surprised I didn't think of it myself," she says. "Must be the sleep deprivation."
Ed laughs. "Hey to you, too." He gratefully acceps the slice of pie she offers him, downing it in just two bites. As he licks his fingers, he fixes his eyes on what's left of the ashes, on the patches of grass that seem to have started growing over the blood- and chalk-stained concrete. A pair of lilies grows out from the center of the burned house - where the hallway used to be - their petals curving back and dipping to the ground.
"Since when are there flowers?" he wonders aloud. Winry curls a lock of her hair around her index finger and presses her lips together. The empty plate is held tightly within the grip of her other hand.
"I planted them," she breathes, beginning to ramble. "It was looking kind of empty, you know? Really old and gray. I thought a little color wouldn't hurt." She laughs nervously. "Of course, come spring, there won't be anything but color."
"I didn't take you for a gardening kind of girl," Ed jokes. He steps ahead to caress a cluster of marigolds and chrysanthemums that sit at the foot of the threshold. The different orange hues of the flowers blur together under the hazy, clouded sunlight, creating a sort of afterglow. Ed nods approvingly at the display. Winry seems to have eased up a little, and she sports a small grin.
"I do like to get my hands dirty, though," she replies.
Ed raises his eyebrows. The grin he breaks into then is so wide that it makes Winry nervous, and as he moves to stand only a few centimeters away from her face, she smiles and looks away. He towers over her, the stubble underneath his chin brushing against his forehead as he leans down to look into her eyes. "Oh, yeah?" he murmurs. Winry chances a glance at him. His lips are almost on hers, she can feel the apple pie on his breath. "Yeah," she answers, voice cracking, and he breaks out into booming laughter.
"Ed!" Winry does her best to glare at him as he brings his arm around her neck. He presses a slobbery kiss into her hair before turning them the other way, saying to himself in a breathless voice, "God, you're amazing."
"So I've been told." She rolls her eyes and reaches for his hand - it dangles over her shoulder - intertwining their fingers together. The flowers are behind them now that they're making their way home, but the autumn breeze still sends her faint traces of the flora's different scents. Fire lilies, marigolds, chrysanthemums; it all mixes together. "So you like it?" she asks.
"Yeah." He smiles and reaches down into his coat pocket, fishing out the familiar State Alchemist chain from its depths. Winry hasn't set her eyes on the relic in a long time, but she can tell it hasn't much changed. As Ed opens the locket at its end, he continues, "I don't think I wanted to admit it, but it needed that. The house, I mean. It needed the attention." He stares hard at the words inside, as if trying to ingrain in his mind all over again.
"Think they're warching?" Winry asks. She stops them where the path splits off in two: one fork leading them to the cemetery, the other leading them home. Ed follows her gaze as she looks to where the hills meet the sky, the clouds curl and fester, and the sun shines softly in a shadowed blur. If he angles himself just right, he can see their faces reflecting back at him. His mother's and his father's; Winry's parents, too. He pulls her closer to him, and she presses her face into the crook of his neck.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah, I bet."