If he can't sleep at night, he puts his left hand into his coat pocket and rolls those tiny bits of metal around between his fingers until they grow warm against his skin. Metal. Like his right arm. Like his left leg. It's a part of him. It's the shell of his brother. And those tiny balls and rings in the palm of his hand...it's a part of her. Hagane. The earrings roll between his fingers. It seems forever since she entrusted them to him. Forever since she forgave the murderer of her parents and reassured him with a smile that she wouldn't cry, not until they were joyful tears, and all he could do was hold her close, just for a moment, before she gave him the earrings and then ran away. The metal will give you frostbite where it touches your skin. Does it hurt her when his metal fingertips touch her skin? No. She made him that arm. That's the hand that she reaches for. That hand is hers. He lets the earrings fall back into his pocket and touches the fingertips of both hands together instead. That hand is hers, and he gave up the flesh and blood one for his brother. He painted the blood onto the suit of armor that became his brother's body—a body lost from his own blind desire to regain what was too far gone. He'll give it back, though. If it takes everything that's left of him, and turns his heart fullmetal, he'll give Al back his body. He drops his arms to his sides and touches his pocket again. And when it's time for tears of joy, he'll give back Winry her earrings.