Chapter One
Spring rains in Resembool could quickly transform the quaint, unpaved streets into a sticky, miserable mire. In the rural outskirts of the town, neighbors could easily be as far as a mile apart. Therefore, it was no surprise that there was no one to notice or help the small blond boy dragging the body of a young man through the muddy rut that passed for a country road on drier days.
It was clear from his increasingly frequent stops and bent posture that the boy in red was near collapse. He had his arms hooked under the armpits of the older boy. The muddy trail behind the body had already become a little stream leading back to an empty, scorched patch of land. There was vast relief on the boy's face at the welcome sight of the closest house.
At the doorstep, Alphonse gently lowered his beloved older brother to the ground. He rested his forehead against the doorframe before weakly pounding on the door.
The door snapped open so unexpectedly that Alphonse nearly fell in face-first. A testy blond in a mechanic's jumpsuit appeared.
"Who the hell - " she gasped and fell to her knees in the open doorway, mouth agape. "It can't be," she whispered. Heedless of the rain, she crawled out onto the doorstep next to the prone figure. She put her head to his chest and heard the faint, miraculous beating of his heart. Finally seeming to notice Alphonse, she leapt up and embraced him.
"I can't believe it! How . . . "
Alphonse shook off her question, face lined with exhaustion. His eyes held a strange glitter that Winry had never seen before.
"Just help me get him in. He might die of pneumonia if he stays out here."
Together, they managed to heave Edward into the house. They divested him of his ruined clothing in the entry way and left the muddy pile near the door. They were both winded and sweaty after pulling him up the stairs and wrangling his dead weight into the bed he had used so often over the years. Edward had finally gained some height and filled out in the shoulders. With the addition of metal appendages, he had grown shockingly heavy.
Gathering her breath, Winry noticed that a sizable puddle was beginning to collect underneath Al. He startled at the feel of Winry's hand on his shoulder.
"You should go change," she whispered. "I'll watch over him for a few minutes."
Al responded slowly, as if pulling himself from a dream. He nodded, then headed for the door. He glanced back at his brother.
"I got him back."
Winry only nodded as he walked out of the room. The hard, triumphant expression on his face flooded Winry with memories of Edward. It was rare for Alphonse to look like that, with his gentle nature. She wondered darkly how he had managed to find Edward and feared to learn. Edward had often worn that expression at that age, and it had worried her no less.
Her stomach clenched as she hungrily took in Edward's silent figure. After four years of despairing uncertainty, it was almost like looking at a stranger. Winry bent over the bed, lightly brushing her fingertips over the familiar stubborn contour of his jawline. She ached for him to open his eyes, to come back to life and be more than this semi-apparition. At the sound of Alphonse's light tread in the hallway, she jerked away guiltily.
Fatigue was writ in Al's every movement as he shuffled back into the room. He was wearing some clothes he had left behind from last summer. The pants were already too short. Winry puzzled at him.
"Where are your things?"
He grimaced.
"Central."
"But how - "
He cut her off with a curt gesture. Winry wasn't sure whether to be offended or concerned.
"I can't talk about it right now."
Al strode over to the straight-backed desk chair and dragged it over beside the bed. He plopped down in it and moodily contemplated Edward's face.
"Do I need to call a doctor? Is he going to be okay?"
Alphonse frowned, but didn't look up.
"I think it's the shock. Give it a little time," he sighed. Finally tearing his eyes from his brother, he gave her the ghost of his usual cheerful smile. "Besides, Ed hates doctors. Being helpless makes him feel undignified. He'll be okay. He has to."
Winry nodded again and headed back down to her workshop, ignoring the nagging panic that Edward might not wake up at all.
When she peeked in on her way to bed, she found Alphonse sprawled awkwardly in the chair, fast asleep. Sighing, she brought in a rickety old cot and made up a bed for him. Gently placing his limp arm over her shoulder, she managed to guide him, sleepwalking, into the cozy little nest. A latent maternal instinct made her tuck the blankets more closely around him before she turned to look at Edward.
Ed's face looked soft and contented in a way she had never seen. His features were uncharacteristically free of tension, as though whatever demon had been haunting him all his life was finally vanquished. She caught his eyes flickering through his dreams beneath the closed lids. The sight filled her with hope. As far as she knew, coma patients didn't dream.
"I've watched over him for you, Ed, and I'll watch over you too," she whispered. It seemed that the barest hint of a grin curved his lips, as if he had heard.