They All Lived Story 7: The World is the All

by LadyWordsmith

The Elric crew makes an unexpected trip back to Resembool, and finds themselves dealing with more drama than they expected.

March 18, 1930

Edward hopped down off the train in Central Station with a feeling of renewed vigor, despite the last couple of days of travel. He had enjoyed his latest orders from Mustang more than he'd expected. He had been sent out East on another mining inspection – something he and Roy had both chuckled over given his first such assignment and its outcome, and the difference in tone this time. This had been a likely inaccurate reporting of actual mineral findings, and possibly an alchemical scam. Aside from a chance to get out of Central and do a little honest 'State Alchemist' work that didn't involve teaching or helping with the assessments – something both he and Al now did since they were trusted to give honest assessments and not to condone inappropriate projects – it had also been a little time on his own; one of very few assignments of this type since his return to Amestris.

It had turned out to be a real scam too. They were reporting only half of what they found to the military, despite being a military owned mine, and then had a couple of half-rate alchemists transmuting cheap imitations of other elements to sell off at ridiculous prices to unsuspecting customers. Ed had quickly put that to rights in his usual 'tactful' and forthright manner. It had been rather satisfying really, even if it hadn't taken nearly the ingenuity it would have taken him fifteen or more years ago.

The sun was starting to set as he stepped off the platform and headed out of the station. Winry and Sara were supposed to meet him, but he felt his excitement wane as he looked around, and found his family nowhere in sight. What was going on here? Well, maybe they were late.

After a half an hour of standing, Ed grew impatient. He went to the public phone and dialed home, but got no answer. Now he was starting to get worried.

Well, he'd hoofed it farther before. Picking up his one bag – fortunately he hadn't forgotten how to travel light! – He headed off into the city. Central wasn't that big!

It was dark by the time Ed reached the house, though it was only a little late for dinner time which was good, because with the added walk, he could feel his stomach complaining! The lights were on, and the car was in the drive. So someone was home. He also noticed another car. What the heck was going on here?

Ed hurried up to the door and opened it. Quickly turning faces met him in an array of looks that ranged from sad to sympathetic. "What's going on?" he asked, fear creeping into his voice. Alphonse? Elicia? Gracia? Sara had tears on her cheeks as she snuggled against her uncle's neck. "Where's Winry?" Oh please….

"I'm here." Her voice was soft, but Ed began to breathe again as he came down the hall and fully into the living room. Winry was sitting on the couch, wiping her eyes as he appeared.

"What's wrong?" Ed came around and sat down, ignoring everyone except her. Seeing her cry always broke his heart.

Winry worried her lip with her teeth and sniffed, trying not to burst out in fresh tears. "Granny's dead." Her eyes were red and her cheeks tear-stained.

"Pinako…." Oh no! No, he wasn't going to cry; not now. Not yet. Though he wanted to. "When? What happened?" He gathered one of her hands in his, squeezing it.

"Just a few hours," Winry managed. The explanation came out haltingly. "There was a call as we were heading out the door and… one of her patients showed up for a late appointment and found her. She… just fell asleep in her chair they think." She was losing the fight with her grief quickly. Fresh tears welled and she choked on a sob. "I talked to her just this morning!"

Ed pulled her into his arms as she started to weep again. "Oh, Winry." He understood her pain far too well; it was old and familiar; the loss of beloved family. Fresh too; Aunt Pinako…she had been as much their family as Winry's most of their lives; cared for them as if she were their own grandmother. Ed had loved the old lady too; they were surprisingly alike in a lot of ways.

"Winry called us," Al explained into the painful silence. "Or well, she called the shop. Sorry, we forgot about coming to get you."

"Sorry?" Ed looked up at his brother. "Because you came here first? Don't be." If they'd left Winry alone when she was this upset, he'd have been much angrier. He cradled her gently, stroking her hair. It comforted him too. "Shh, there there," he murmured in her ear, using the soothing tone he used with an injured animal, or Sara when she was scared. "She had a long, amazing life, and a quiet, painless end to it; the way she would have wanted it; strong and working to the last."

"I know," Winry replied, so quiet he almost couldn't hear it. "But it's so hard. She was just here not that long ago! She said she was going to work on the garden this morning and…"

"Easy," Ed hoped he could calm her down. Sara looked more scared at her mother's reaction than anything else, though Ed could tell she was upset too. "We'll leave for Resembool tomorrow. I'll go bang on Mustang's door tonight and tell him I'm leaving town if I have to in order to get leave."

"I'll handle it," Al cut in with a half-smile. "We'll have a better chance of getting off if there's tact involved."

Ed rolled his eyes, but offered a thankful smile to his brother anyway. "You're right." Of course Al would be coming too. And really, it was unlikely that Roy wouldn't have authorized time off, but Al was better at handling some situations under stress.

"We'll take care of things here while you're gone, Edward," Gracia spoke up for the first time since Ed had arrived.

Elicia nodded in agreement.

"We should probably go," Gracia was a blessing tonight. "Come here, sweetie," she reached for Sara. "Let's get you up to bed all right? I'll even read you a story."

Sara transferred arms willingly; glad to have something to distract her. Al let her go. "I'll get on the travel arrangements," he said as he headed out. "I'll be back in the morning."

Elicia looked torn a moment, then made herself quickly scarce upstairs.

When they were gone, Ed allowed his own grief to fill him quietly. He couldn't break down though. Winry needed him. When she began to quiet, he brought his hand up under her chin and gently wiped away the tears. "It'll be all right, Winry," he said. "Why don't you rest and I'll make us both a cup of tea? A snack maybe? You'll get sick if you don't have something on your stomach." Missing dinner wasn't a good idea, especially not lately. His hand dropped to stroke her stomach; reassurance more for himself than anything else; the gentle, distinctive swell that marked the growth of their second child.

Winry looked up at him, and brought up a hand to wipe her eyes. "I'm glad you're home."

Ed offered her a quirked half-smile. "So am I. Now lie down and relax." He caught himself before saying what he thought next. 'Grannie'd have killed me if I didn't take care of you properly.' He wasn't sure what would hurt more; the mention, or the fact that it had already come in the past tense. Perhaps he had gotten too used to dealing with the deaths of friends and loved ones.

Winry sat up enough for him to stand and then she lay back down on the couch as Ed headed for the kitchen. It was too late to bother really making a meal, so he settled for toasted cheese sandwiches. As he worked, he heard footsteps softly stop in the doorway. He turned and saw Gracia. "Sara's asleep," she said softly. "I think she'll be all right. I hope you don't mind."

"Thank you," Ed gave her a weak smile. "I don't mind at all."

Gracia nodded. "Are you all right, Edward?"

"A little overwhelmed," he admitted. "Deflated, a little stunned. It hurts; Pinako was special to me too. But I think, in some ways, I was ready for this more than Winry was." Odd really, sometimes, given how they'd both lost their parents. "Just the nature of things." He shrugged. "Or maybe it's just us. Winry told me once she cried for us, Al and me, because we wouldn't. It's true. It was a long time after Mom died before we cried for our own hardships; really cried. Now… it's easier, but it doesn't seem right. Not right now. I know she would rather be remembered in smiles than sorrow."

Gracia seemed to find comfort in his response; an odd reaction Ed thought. "The hardest part at first is the easiest later on," she replied with a soft smile as she turned to go. "Winry's fortunate to have you, Edward."

Ed heard her slip out the door, Elicia's familiar tread right behind her. He stood there a moment, still absorbing her words, until he remembered he was holding a plate of food and tea that was rapidly getting cold! He went back out into the living room and set it down on the table beside the couch. He glanced over and started to open his mouth…but closed his lips again. Winry was deep in sleep. That was good, he decided; sleep was an incredible healer.

So was food, his stomach reminded him with an angry twisting growl. Ed dropped down into the easy chair to eat his dinner alone. Not what he had been hoping for when he'd gotten off the train a couple of hours earlier, but life had a way of throwing things at people fast, without warning. He'd gotten used to it. He still felt the pain, but he wasn't consumed by it; he had accepted the way the world flowed. There were certain things Ed could do to change things and deal with events, and some he couldn't. In this case, he could comfort Winry and Sara, and help take care of business. Pinako was gone, and she would be missed.

March 19– 22, 1930

Alphonse returned the next morning, as promised, with approval for their time off and tickets for the four of them to head for Resembool on the afternoon train. The morning was a flurry of activity; packing, making last minute arrangements, sending messages that needed to go out before he could leave, dropping Chase – as Sara had dubbed her fetch-addicted pup - at the Hughes' house, and then they were off. Despite the sadness, Sara was excited about her first trip on a train, and her enthusiasm and joy was infectious. For a time, the mood lightened as she explored the train and learned about all the different berths and how it worked.

Three days saw them in Resembool. It was just as Ed remembered it from their previous visits, but different too. Each time they came, the town itself was a little bigger, there were a couple more houses dotting the hills. It was still very rural though, and it still felt like home.

The Elrics walked from the train station. Half way there, Sara went up on her father's shoulders, tired out from so much walking! Eventually the Rockbell house appeared, and they paused at the bottom of the hill, looking up the road to a house that was so familiar in the afternoon sunlight, but achingly silent. There was a difference that seemed almost tangible in the air. This time, for the first time, no one was waiting inside.

There was however, Ed discovered when they reached the door, a polite note from local priest, saying he would be at work late. Ed had called him before they left for Resembool, and the funeral was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon; sooner was better given she had passed four days ago. "I'll go talk with him," Ed offered, and Winry nodded.

The house was quiet, but it looked as if it were waiting, as always; clean, the shop immaculate, with work waiting to be finished. The only hint that the occupant was gone was the flowers wilting in a vase on the table.

"We'll see about dinner while you're gone," Al replied, and the brothers shared a look. Winry looked like she might cry again at any moment, faced with her empty home, but she was holding together well.

Sara simply looked curious. She had never been to Resembool, and the house fascinated her. She crossed the kitchen and looked at the pictures that were pegged on the board on the wall. "Is that you Daddy?" she asked, pointing to one of the many pictures of them as children.

Ed smiled and followed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "That's me," he nodded. "And that's Uncle Alphonse, and that's your Mom."

"Wow. You really were little like me once!" Sara giggled. "This house is really neat."

"We all pretty much grew up here," Ed watched her look around. "Now be good and help while I go take care of business okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Sara gave him an impulsive hug then followed Winry out of the room to set up beds.

Al started pulling out pans and looking through the cupboards for food options. "It's strange, Brother. This house has been part of home for a long time, but now I feel like I'm intruding."

Ed shrugged and nodded. "It's because we're here without asking or invitation. You know she wouldn't mind though. It's going to seem strange not getting a lecture or something on this visit." He smiled sadly. "Well, I should get this over with. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

The young priest who served also as Resembool's mortician, more because no one else had wanted the job, was nice enough. Ed knew him vaguely from his childhood, though he was younger than the one who had handled his own mother's funeral. He was about ten years older than Ed; polite, and kept mostly to business. "Misses Rockbell made sure we knew her preferences years ago," he informed Ed after introductions and the offer of a cup of hot tea. "She also left me in possession of this," he pulled a large envelope out of his desk drawer that was sealed with the appropriate legal notifications.

Ed recognized what that meant immediately. "Her will."

Max - he was too young for Ed to think of him as Father – nodded. "I haven't opened it, though I doubt it will contain much in the way of surprises, with only one surviving blood relative."

Ed nodded. "She didn't have any new apprentices." The auto-mail shop was Winry's; there was no doubt of that. There was still the house and the land though, and everything in it. He'd never really thought about it, but he wondered now what Pinako had done with all the money she'd made over the years fitting folks –like him- with quality auto-mail. "Can I open this?"

"Of course," Max replied. "The only people who may are yourself and your wife."

Ed popped the seal carefully, and pulled out the official document. No real surprises at first; everything had been left to himself and Winry with the notation of a couple of specific special items designated as going to Alphonse and a personal note – Ed almost smiled since it was addressed to him – to share fairly with his little brother! That was Pinako. There was also the authorization for making sure everything in her accounts was transferred to theirs in Central. Ed handed it over to Max so that he could verify the contents, and then accepted it back. "Is there anything else that needs to be settled on for tomorrow?"

Max shook his head. "Surprisingly little. Since you called ahead, and we had her wishes, plans have gone ahead for the funeral, with a small gathering afterwards. Apparently she wanted to make sure everyone had a good time," he chuckled a little. He offered Ed another sheet of paper, this one with the funeral directions she had left.

'Make sure it's one heck of a party.'

Despite the fact that Ed hated funerals, he couldn't keep from smiling. "I guess we can't go against the wishes of the departed," he replied. "There are plenty of good times to remember anyway. Do you know how many people will be coming?"

"Just from what I've heard in town, all of Resembool," Max replied with a chuckle. "And several folks who moved away who are in touch with relatives too. She touched a lot of lives."

"She did at that."

Before Ed left, Max paused at another room. "There is one more thing of hers that's here I'd like you to take with you if you don't mind."

"What's that?" Ed asked, curious.

Max opened the door and a little silvery-white scruffy terrier dog stared out at them. He thumped his little tail and looked up through a furry face that looked like a mustache. "This is Oscar. He was Pinako's companion dog and he's been under my feet for a few days."

Oh, yeah. Ed vaguely remembered Winry mentioning at some point that her grandmother had gotten another dog after Den passed away. He looked at the little terrier. Well, that was one more thing to figure out what to do with. "Sure, I'll take him." But what would they do with him in the long run?

March 23, 1930

The funeral was a solemn occasion, with Pinako buried beside her deceased husband, near the graves of Urey and Sara Rockbell, and her other son. Still, the reception afterwards took a lot of the bite out of the pain, Winry found, and she was glad for it. Father Max had said many very nice things about her grandmother, and Winry had said a few words herself. It had been simple, but moving. Afterwards, everyone gathered for food, supplied by various neighbors, and drinks, and some folks brought out instruments and played music. It was different in so many ways from the other funerals they had attended; but Winry suspected that was how her grandmother had preferred it.

There were so many old faces from their childhoods; all of Resembool obviously, and her friend Nellie and her family, and others who had grown up with them who had come back. There was a brief but amusing reunion with Edward's friend and co-conspirator Pitt, now a well-known doctor. He was definitely taller than Ed now, but the bite had gone out of their ribbings. Winry was glad for that. They didn't need a fist-fight at her grandmother's funeral!

Sara, for the most part, seemed sad but otherwise unaffected. She missed her great-grandmother of course, but with the resilience of a small child who only knew a relative in passing, she didn't entirely understand the nature of death aside from the fact that she wouldn't see Pinako again. She seemed to be handling it well, and getting to meet all of the village children helped! She was too distracted to dwell on the fact that this was a funeral day. With the promise that they would be careful, Winry let Sara go with some of the kids who were going off to play under supervision of their older siblings. It was good for her to make friends!

Finally, when it got dark, people drifted off toward home with last well wishes, and promises to stay in touch. Sara, run to exhaustion, slept all the way back to the house in Edward's arms.

March 24, 1930

"What are you doing up there?" Winry stood outside the Rockbell house, looking up at the roof, where Edward was perched, grinning boyishly. She had just come back from town with an armload of groceries. They were staying for a little while, and they needed more provisions to feed four than what Pinako had kept in her kitchen.

Ed shrugged. "There was a loose tile on the roof." He held up a hammer. "I felt like fixing it."

"Without alchemy?" Winry's mouth quirked in a smile.

"It wasn't necessary," Ed replied. He stood then, and dropped down to the balcony below, flipped over the balcony rail, and landed on the deck by the front door, still holding the hammer. He grinned. "It's nice to do little jobs like this by hand though. It feels good, and it's not good to be reliant on alchemy when it's not needed."

Izumi's teachings; even Winry remembered those lessons; hard-learned lessons that Ed now passed on to his own students, using many of the same methods.

Winry smirked. "And the lack of shirt?" Not a complaint certainly!

Ed blinked, and laughed. "Cool air feels good on my back when I'm working. Is that a problem?"

"What? No!" Winry said. "I just hate to disappoint the ladies I passed on the road earlier who wanted to know who the good looking handy-man was!" The comments had confused her at the time, though it hadn't taken her long to figure it out when the house had come in view!

"Tell them I only do repairs with my shirt off for special customers," Ed grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, stop," Winry chuckled. It felt good to laugh, after yesterday. The empty house made it painfully evident her grandmother was gone, but it still felt like it was waiting for her somehow. "You wouldn't like me to make that offer to my customers would you?"

"Only if I'm the only special one," Ed chuckled, but he quit teasing. "Here, let me help you with those. You shouldn't be lugging things around like that."

Winry willingly handed over a couple of the bags – dumped them all in his hands really! "If you insist; I'm all right, Ed. I've done this before you know."

"Yeah," Ed stepped past her to hold open the door as well. "But I didn't get to spoil you last time."

"Well, that's different then," Winry chuckled. She knew Ed still felt guilty about missing a large part of her pregnancy with Sara, even if she certainly hadn't blamed him for it. It wasn't his fault Drachma had chosen to try and invade! At least, not unless the wildest conspiracy theorists were to be believed and Winry knew far better than they.

She paused inside, and sighed. "I don't know what we're going to do with all this," she said as Ed set the bags on the table and started unloading everything and putting it away; all without being asked. "Certainly we can't take it all back to Central."

"We shouldn't," Ed agreed, pausing to look at her. "I mean the auto-mail workshops should probably be consolidated right? There's no one here who can actually run it now."

It seemed a shame really, though Winry knew he was right. It still felt like home though, especially with all of them here; so many hours spent tinkering on auto-mail, studying, talking with Pinako, playing with Ed and Al, her parents… "But what about the house, and all of the things in it?"

Ed came back over to her and gathered her hands up in his; one of those signs he was about to say something sincere and, he thought, important. Winry waited. "I had an idea about that," he smiled. "We should keep the house. It wouldn't really cost anything; it's been paid off for years, and it's still home. I don't want to burn any more bridges."

"You mean houses," Winry corrected uneasily, but she was touched. "I appreciate the thought, Ed, but what would we do with another house?"

"Visit," Ed chuckled. "Think of it as a summer home or vacation spot if you want; most of the well-offs in Central have them after all. This will always be a home for all of us, no matter how long we live elsewhere, or how many places we go."

"You always say we shouldn't cling to the past," Winry pointed out. It seemed like such a lovely idea but…

"We shouldn't live in it," Ed nodded. "But that doesn't mean we forget the good, or stop visiting and coming home."

Winry blinked; his tone was so serious. This was, she realized, something that meant as much to Ed as to her. He had considered this long and hard years ago; at least as far as what 'coming home' meant. She smiled. "All right. Thank you, Edward." The words came out in barely a whisper. "Where's Sara?" She asked as she stepped away as she tried not to show she'd almost started crying.

"Playing," Ed stepped away, giving her space. "A few of the kids came by and asked if she wanted to hang out with them, so I said sure and sent Oscar out with her." Packs of children were more common than dogs in Resembool! Anything that tired out children and dogs alike was a blessing.

"I'm glad she's making friends here too," Winry smiled. Her daughter had plenty of playmates in Central, but the distraction of new friends seemed to be all she needed right now to deal with things while the 'adults' were handling their own feelings as well. "She'll love the idea of coming to visit more I'm sure." Sara really seemed like the freedom to run around the countryside; certainly it was more than she could back in Central. She also seemed to like Granny's little dog almost as much as her puppy back home. Winry had the sneaking suspicion they were about to end up with two dogs.

"I showed her some of our old haunts earlier," Ed grinned as he went back to putting things away. "We walked down by the river up to the bridge, and the bramble patch, and that old hollow tree. You know," he chuckled. "I'm amazed the three of us ever fit in there. It seems so much smaller now."

"I'm not surprised," Winry replied as she helped, grabbing the turnips and cabbage. "The last time we went in there were we seven, remember? There was that big storm and some of the big branches came down in front; afterwards your Mom and mine told us we weren't allowed in there anymore." She was surprised she actually remembered that.

"Oh yeah, "Ed nodded. "Well some of the kids have cleared it out then, 'cause it looks almost like it did before and it's easily accessible. You want me to make dinner too?" The groceries were all away.

"Well, sure," Winry smiled. "If you think you can manage it right," she teased. "I was going to make your favorite." She couldn't imagine them coming into this house and not having stew.

She saw Ed catch himself as he started drooling. "Maybe we'll cook together," He amended, laughing. "I'll chop."

"Is Alphonse off somewhere?" Winry asked as they got to work. She realized she hadn't seen nor heard him since they got back.

"Sure is," Ed chuckled. "He's visiting old friends." He occasionally envied Al his ability to just off and travel when the occasion, or a brief mission for the military, called for it. While Ed got the occasional chance to get out of Central for a few days, rare as those chances were, that was all he really ever took – or wanted to take as far as wanting to get home to his family was concerned. But Al had been to Resembool a few times more than Ed had, and had kept in touch with people better. Ed added a slightly cruel chuckle to his tone. "It seems a couple of our female friends are still single." He hoped that meant his brother had come to terms with his crush – however cute and amusing – on Elicia.

By the time the stew was well on its way to finished on the stove, it was late in the afternoon.

"It's really getting dark," Winry commented as she turned on a lamp.

"That's not sunset," Ed commented with a grimace as he peered out the window. "There's a storm moving in fast." As if to emphasize his point, thunder rolled in the distance and a gust of wind slammed up against the house, rattling the shutters and windows.

Footsteps thudded up the stairs onto the deck outside, and Al came through the door, followed immediately by the wind, and then the rain descended, a sudden sheet that obscured almost everything beyond.

"Get in here," Ed stepped past his brother and closed the door. "That's some deluge."

Al nodded, only a little damp, but panting. "I had to sprint the last half mile to keep ahead of the rain," he chuckled.

"Did you see Sara?" Winry asked, sounding as worried as Ed suddenly felt.

A weight settled on him as Al shook his head. "No. There was no one on the road at all for the last mile. Isn't she here?"

Ed shook his head. "She and the dog were out playing with some of the other kids."

"Edward." He looked over, and Winry had gone a little pale, clearly worried. He couldn't say he blamed her, but he didn't let his own fears show.

"It'll be all right," He managed to force a smile, and confidence he didn't fully feel. "I'll go find her."

"In that?" she pointed out the window, clearly skeptical; there was no longer any visibility whatsoever.

"We both will," Al added, reaching for his own coat – the one he had forgotten to take with him earlier. "I'm sure we'll find her, Winry. She's probably just under a tree somewhere trying to keep dry. Or maybe she went home with one of the other kids when it started to look like bad weather."

Winry only looked partially convinced. Ed kissed her cheek. "I'll be back soon with Sara; promise."

The rain hid Ed full in the face as he stepped out into the storm. Wind drove it against him, ripping his hood from his head and trying, it seemed, to wrest the coat from his body. Ed fought to keep covered as he left the house and hurried down the road and across the fields. Where could she be? He fought panic as he searched the old childhood haunts he had shown her just earlier that day and those he hadn't but he figured the other kids had to know about.

He called her name as he went, making his way to the top of the hill on which the Elric house had once stood. There was really nothing left now but grass and the old tree. He continued calling as he trudged over miles of ground as fast as he could without possibly missing her if she was lying unconscious. Please, just let her be alive.

Fear grew within him, gripping coldly at his insides as the rain sucked the heat from without. It was a cold, early spring rain. He was running out of options, and only hoped that she had found her way back to the house already; that this search would prove unnecessary; his fears unfounded.

Ed was cold and wet, even his booted feet soggy, by the time he reached the river; roaring high, and filled near to full with the rains. He could hear it rushing well before he could see it; with driving sheets of shifting rain constantly blocking his vision.

Then he heard another sound within that world of water; the distant sound of a barking dog. Ed picked up the pace, aiming for the sound, despite the slick mud, and nearly tripped over the dog into the river as he arrived sooner than he had expected. "Oscar!"

The little terrier whimpered, looked up at him, then went back to barking with frantic single-mindedness out at the river, heedless of the fact his fur was plastered to his body and covered in mud.

A feeling of dread crept over Ed as he looked out through the rain, trying to see what the dog was barking at. He froze when he spotted it. A small body, draped at an awkward angle over a rock well out in the rushing water, unmoving.

"Sara!" His first thought was alchemy – but even a split second's thought told him he couldn't risk trying. The water was too fast, the wind and rain too much of a disturbance to mess with either of them. He could try a land bridge, but the mud was wet, and he didn't have time for the slow caution it would take to make one without accidentally dropping it right down on Sara. It was just too risky!

Ed ripped his coat off – the fabric would only hold water and be an encumbrance – leaving it on the shore as he dove into the water. He wasn't a great swimmer, hell he was pretty lousy even after all this time, but that didn't matter right now. He could make it. He had to!

Dark, roaring cold enveloped him as he struck the water, but Ed forced himself to the surface, grateful for the improvements over the years that made his auto-mail light enough, but sturdy enough, not to weigh him down worse than any real limb. Head up, he reached, pulling himself across the current; glad he'd jumped in a little upriver as the water pulled him down towards the rock. At least he wasn't fighting that. He had to hit it. If he went past…. He wouldn't let himself think about that. Ed just kept fighting, pulling in deep breaths and ignoring the icy wash that was pulling heat from his body as he pushed onward.

"Damn!" His shoulder slammed into the rock with a muffled clunk, jolting him up sharply. As he started to slip, Ed grabbed for the rock with his good arm and brought the auto-mail around and up to get a better grip. He almost lost it again when he looked up. He was looking right in Sara's little face, hair plastered down; her clothes ripped, and her left arm was at an angle that made him queasy. Please no. Her face was so pale but… he forced himself around to bring a hand up. The tiniest hint of warm breath coming from her open lips, irregular, but there, told him she was alive. "Sara. Talk to me, sweetie. Daddy's here. He's going to get you out of here okay?" She didn't respond, but it felt better to talk. It kept him moving. This would have been easier if she were conscious, but he didn't have to aim now, he just had to get back to shore.

It took a couple of minutes to get her gathered up. He used a sleeve off his shirt and a drifting stick to splint her arm, then cradled her close in his auto-mail arm, and slipped back into the water, pushing off hard and just hoping they got to shore in one piece. It was much harder this way; holding himself so her head stayed above the water. The river had never been very deep, but it was fast, and walking the bottom was not an option.

His lungs began to ache, his muscles burned with exhaustion; Ed's world narrowed to a rush of water and the bank visible only yards away. A few yards had never seemed so long. He just kept going; no complex thoughts now, just fear, determination, till those began to fade. He hurt, and then he went numb. All Ed remembered was that he couldn't stop.

Mud. His hand reached out and struck the muddy bank at the shoreline. Jolted alert, Ed stumbled up onto his feet, choking on a mouthful of river water as he staggered away from the torrent and fell to his knees in the thick grass, Sara's body in his arms. He was vaguely aware that the only warmth he could feel was the salty tears stinging his eyes. "Sara!" he felt for a pulse; and almost cried harder when he found it; soft, but fairly steady he thought. She was still too pale though, and her body felt so cold. "Hang on, little one," Ed forced himself to his feet again. One more time. He just had to get back to the house. That was all. He couldn't let her die. He would not let his baby girl die!

Barking told him that Oscar had followed him downstream. That was good, that meant they hadn't washed too far, not if the little dog had caught up already. It also told Ed roughly where he was. It was only about a half mile to the house. Staggering, he headed off at as close to a run as he could manage, slowing only when Sara whimpered. Minutes counted, and he didn't dare waste one second, not even to locate his coat. Forget it.

The numbness of the river began to wear off, and the aches returned, bumps he hadn't noticed in the water, cuts from rocks began to sting. His body was cold, and the ports to his auto-mail burned like ice. Oscar clearly understood the urgency, and ran ahead, stopping every fifty yards or so to bark, and wait. Good dog. It was much easier to keep on the path home. At least, he hoped the little dog was smart enough to lead them in the right direction. Pinako wouldn't have kept him otherwise. Still, Ed missed Den. He would have felt better knowing for certain that he could trust the dog leading him home!

It was hard to keep track of how far Ed had really gone, not fighting back the knot of fear in his gut and the cold. He was completely soaked through now. Just as he was sure they had gone the wrong way, he saw lights that resolved into rectangles. He felt Sara again. Her body was colder, her breathing a little stronger, but more erratic. "Don't die on me, baby," Ed whispered. "Hang in there." His voice was cracking. He forced himself into a run.

"Winry!" he bellowed as he staggered up to the front of the house. "Al!"

The door opened as Ed felt his legs go out from under him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Edward!" Winry's cry was a welcome warmth compared to the cold companions of wind and rain; a real human voice. There was pounding on the stairs, and then one set of arms lifting Sara from his. Ed almost couldn't let go, his arms had locked around her.

"We called a doctor, just in case," Winry said softly as Ed looked up through his wet hair and noticed that the man kneeling before him to take his daughter was none other than his old friend Pitt. Ed willed his arms to let go, then pitched forward, catching himself before his face could connect with the stairs.

"She was in the river," he coughed. "I think her arm's broken." He was sure he didn't have the strength left in him to make it up the stairs. With safety, his body no longer felt the desperate drive to keep moving.

But he had to, even though it took an assisting arm from Al to get him back on his feet. Ed made it upstairs and inside. It was like stepping out of a dream; more of a nightmare. Except that the world became a rush of frantic activity; Pitt looked grim as he carried Sara into the nearest room with a bed – the one used for auto-mail surgery - and laid her out, immediately removing her wet clothes and examining her body; listening to her heart and lungs, feeling for other injuries. Winry brought warm dry clothes in for Sara, moving at a run.

"You should sit down, Brother."

Ed blinked, and looked up at Al, who was standing next to him with a concerned expression. It was only then that Ed realized he was swaying on his feet, and shivering violently. He shook his head. "I can't leave. Not now."

"You can't help either," Al replied softly, though his tone was firm and clearly said he would not be patient with arguments. "Not if you collapse. Come on," he gave a gentle shove and then firmly steered Ed out the door and back into the living area of the house. It was a measure of his exhaustion that Ed's attempt to resist proved entirely ineffective.

They went upstairs to Winry's room, the one Winry and Ed shared now, and Al deposited Ed on the bed. "We need to get you into something dry too," he said.

Ed nodded, removing the shredded shirt; it didn't provide any warmth now anyway. It just felt clammy in comparison to the warmth of the house. He was still shaking from the cold. "I need to dry off first."

"That's what this is for," Al tossed him a fluffy towel. "I've got hot water on already for tea. Are you all right, Ed?"

Ed reached back to towel his head dry, realizing that the braid had come completely undone sometime between diving into the river and getting back; his hair fell loose and tangled. "I'll be all right," he replied stubbornly. Physically, that was true. "I've had a lot worse." He could see the worst bangs and the dents in his auto-mail as he stripped down to shorts and dried off before pulling on dry clothes and grabbing a comb to get the knots out of his hair. The shoulder was the worst off, with a serious indention in the metal where he had initially slammed into the rock. "As long as Sara's all right, I'm fine." If she wasn't… oh hell. His body was still shaking.

"I'm not convinced." Al crossed the room and pulled a blanket around his brother. "You're lucky you're alive. You can't even swim. Not well anyway."

"It's amazing the strength you can get from sheer panic," Ed smirked wryly, and then went off in a coughing fit. "Sara's safe now, that's what's important." He stood and pushed past Al then. He needed to see her.

Winry and Pitt were standing in the kitchen when Ed and Al came back downstairs. Neither looked happy. Winry was crying.

Ed scowled. "What's going on?"

Pitt blinked, and looked up; his expression professional which meant, to Ed, grim; an expression definitely at odds with Pitt's usually lighter demeanor. "Her arm is only fractured, but she was in the water a long time, and she inhaled a lot of it. I've been able to help expel most of it from her system, but there's no way to know how much damage has been done to her lungs."

Ed's eyes widened. No. No this couldn't be. He'd gotten her out. She was safe now. She had to be. "But she's breathing. I felt her pulse…I heard her heart. She's alive!"

His voice was rising, but he didn't much care at the moment. This wasn't happening!

"There's nothing more I can do for her now," Pitt replied sympathetically. "She's resting quietly, but her temperature is still low. If she doesn't come down ill from this I would consider it a miracle. Really though, the danger is lung damage. If she makes it through the night, her chances are good."

There was no need to ask 'and if she doesn't.' If she didn't make it through the night, she would be dead.

"She can't die!" Ed tried to bolt for Sara's room, but strained against Al's arms as his brother grabbed him and held him in place. He was yelling. He didn't care. "She can't! I'm her father, damn it! I'm supposed to protect her." He sagged as sobs racked his throat and his body convulsed. "I won't let her die!"

"Edward, stop it!"

He was brought up short by the pain in Winry's voice. He looked over at her, standing there in tears, but her eyes angry. "Winry…" Ed went limp, and Al let go of him.

"Please," she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. "That's enough. I can't take the hysterics." She turned and fled the room, going back in to where Sara was

"If you'll excuse me, I'll get out of the way." Pitt looked uncomfortable. Ed couldn't blame him. "Just keep her warm unless she develops a fever. Treat that as normal, but only try to give her liquids if she comes conscious enough to swallow properly. I'll be back in the morning unless you call before then."

Ed sighed, feeling deflated. "Thanks, Pitt."

"I'll want to take a look at you too," Pitt commented with a dry smirk. "If you think you'll live till then I'll save you the invasion of privacy this evening"

Ed was too tired to smirk back, but he nodded. "I'm fine." It was mostly true! He really didn't feel like being poked and prodded tonight.

He watched Pitt leave and the room fell quiet. Pitt's mother lived close by, so it wouldn't be hard for him to get here quickly if he was needed. The silence was punctuated by a huge sneeze. Ed took a sniff. His head already felt stuffy. "Damn. I'm going to have one hell of a cold."

"The tea should be ready," Al suggested, crossing the room. "Sit down, Edward."

"I will in a minute." Ed turned and walked over to the cabinets, crouching down he opened one and started digging around with his hand. He knew it was there… and, ah ha! He pulled his arm out and held up the small bottle.

"What's that?" Al asked, spotting it as he turned around with the hot tea pot.

Ed smirked, even though he wasn't feeling overly amused. "Something I found once. Aunt Pinako said she kept it for 'medicinal reasons.'" He opened the bottle and took a whiff. "Whoa, yeah! That'll clear sinuses." Even when he was ten, he had known better. He poured a cup of tea, making it a generous mix, and stirred.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Al asked.

"Are you sure it's not?" Ed countered. "I'm cold to the bone and I feel like hell. There's no chance I'm going to sleep tonight. I can't. If something happens I…" he looked away, picked up the tea, and sipped. It was too hot to gulp it down; that was probably a good thing.

Al's expression became understanding, even if it wasn't approving. "She'll make it brother. She has your strength; and both of your stubbornness."

"I only wish I had your confidence," Ed sat down at the table before his legs could give way. "I'm scared, Al. I can't lose her…" Tears welled in his eyes, and fell, leaving spots on the table. "And it makes me wonder. Did Mom ever feel this way, when we were sick or hurt? Did she worry, or feel like her world could end in moments? I hate being helpless." He wasn't Dr. Marcoh. He didn't have the knowledge or the ability to actually heal someone; not even if he'd had a fake Philosopher's Stone. Hell, he hadn't wanted the thing in years, but the urge to be able to go in there right now, and save his baby girl was overwhelming. Yet even with his knowledge of how to rework human physiology, he didn't dare try it on a real human; he'd only tried it on homunculi.

Ed downed the rest of the tea, despite the fact it was too hot. It burned all the way down, from heat and liquor, but it reminded him he was still alive, and it dulled the aches in his body as it warmed him. He poured and mixed a second glass. It was the only pain-killer available at the moment. The shaking lessened, and his coughing quieted.

Al had gone quiet. He sat down across from Ed with his own cup of tea. He added honey and stirred thoughtfully. "I'm sure Mom felt the same when we weren't well, just how we felt when she was sick. That's love, and family."

Ed sipped his second cup more slowly, ignoring his still shaking fingers. "I can't stand not being able to do anything. We couldn't save Mom. Hell, we couldn't even try. But it would be too risky to try alchemy."

"Patience, brother," Al sighed. "That's definitely the last resort."

"I can't be patient," Ed snapped, a little more harshly than he'd intended. "There's no way I can just sit around all night waiting to see if my own daughter lives or dies. There has to be something we can do!"

"Like what?" Al asked. "You just said yourself that alchemy is too risky. Messing with the human body is complicated, even if you do know a lot about how it works and its composition. This wouldn't be basic transmutation. We'd have to regenerate and repair damage to a very specific part of her body that we can't see. Even if we could, we don't have that depth of medical knowledge."

"I could change the composition of the bodies of the homunculi," Ed said. There had to be a way if he thought it through enough. "But it didn't matter as much if I messed up then, since I was trying to kill them." A simple but painful truth; there was a big difference when anything was better than nothing. "Doctor Marcoh could probably have done it," he sighed, frustrated, running his auto-mail hand through his hair. "Or Lujan, that guy from that town that had that stone disease. Even then, they needed one of the fake stones." No. Out loud, his reasoning made it seem even more impossible.

"So we wait," Al replied, his voice surprisingly calm, though Ed knew that his brother was just as upset and worried; he just handled it differently. "If it comes down to no other choice…"

"Then I'll take the chance." The decision was made; not that he intended to tell Winry. She was upset enough, and she might very well disapprove. Still, if there was no other choice… Ed just hoped that moment never came.

The night dragged on, until it seemed it would never end. Ed insisted on spelling Winry for a while on watch over their daughter, and he sat with her for a couple of hours before Al kicked him out to get some rest. Not that Ed figured he would sleep. He lay down on the couch just outside the room and stared at the ceiling. He lost count of how many cups of tea he drank. Eventually, his body warmed and somewhere in the night he had stopped shaking, though he could not have said when. He waited for his next rotation, hoping it came soon. No change was better than a turn for the worse, and he'd rather be with his little girl if he had to wait and worry.

March 26, 1930

"Ed, wake up."

Ed blinked one bleary eye open, focusing on the face of his brother. What was he waking him up for anyway? He… Ed sat bolt upright as his mind kicked into gear. "Sara!" he winced and clutched his head. Damn! "Ah hell…"

"Calm down," Al actually smiled, though he looked nearly as tired as Ed felt. "She's still with us. Are you all right, Brother?"

"Maybe," Ed griped. "What's with the head?"

"Too much tea," Al replied. Ed opened his eyes again a crack and was sure his brother was smirking.

"Not funny. I'm serious," Ed rubbed his temple with his left hand.

"So is Alphonse," Winry commented, coming into view. If Ed was completely honest, she looked terrible. Clearly, Winry hadn't slept. Ed felt ashamed for falling asleep himself. Winry held up the little bottle that had been on the table. "One of these used to last Granny a month!"

Ed flushed, and managed a smile of embarrassment. Talk about distracted. He hadn't bothered counting tea cups. He couldn't remember how many he'd mixed, or just had plain. "Well that was unintentional."

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes. "I mean I'd heard you 'could' drink, Edward, but I really thought the story was a little exaggerated."

"By who?" Ed looked at them suspiciously. He'd told her about it, but he hadn't said much beyond the fact it had happened.

"By me," Al admitted, looking abashed. "It just kind of came out in conversation when she showed up."

"Oh really?" Ed snorted, scowling. "Was this for your own entertainment or my embarrassment?"

"You know you're really unpleasant when you're hung over right?" Winry retorted. "No one wants to embarrass you, Ed. Besides, you're doing well enough on your own."

"Whatever." Ed forced himself to stand, heading for the cabinet. "I need food." If he didn't get something in his stomach, it was going to rebel from queasiness and hunger. His pride hurt, but it was just more unpleasantness at the moment. The stuffiness just compounded the headache.

Winry averted her eyes, clearly hurt by his response. "Al only did it because you wouldn't." She sounded like she was going to cry again, and Ed felt a rising sense of guilt. She was right of course; despite admitting how much she had been on his mind, he had never told her about the details of that night, of his and Al's conversation. He'd been too embarrassed and, frankly, he hadn't been sure how she would react, so he'd played it off lightly.

He stopped, his back still too them. Finally, he spoke quietly. "I was too ashamed. I didn't want you to think less of me for it."

His back stiffened momentarily as Winry's hands settled on his shoulders, and she leaned into him from behind. "You're over-reacting, Edward." Her voice was gentle and, he might be imagining it, but it sounded like she was smiling. "Really, Al did you a favor."

"A favor?" Ed scoffed. "How so? Why was that particular detail so important?"

"Because," she rubbed his shoulder with her hand as spoke. "He told me I hadn't thrown away my life in pursuit of a fantasy."

Ed froze. "I never thought of it that way."

"Think about it," Winry continued. "Really, it was kind of reassuring to know that just my memory had that much of an effect on you. I had no way of knowing if you and Al were still alive and well; or if you had already fallen in love with someone. Maybe I had imagined that you were hiding your feelings when we were kids. In seven years, a lot can happen."

That was an understatement. A lot could happen in five – roughly the time they had been home – or four – the time he and Al had searched for the Philosopher's Stone; or less, as long as it took to fail a human transmutation…

Winry kissed his neck. "Does it change anything about our lives knowing I know more than you told me? Or that I knew before you mentioned it?"

"Not really," Ed replied after several long seconds of thought. He sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right… again." He turned his head over his shoulder and shot his brother a quirked smile. "But don't expect me to thank you."

"Wouldn't think of it," Al smiled back.

It was then that it occurred to Ed that they were all out here. "Who's with Sara?" He spun, immediately sorry he'd moved too fast as his vision swam.

"Pitt," Al replied. "He came back this morning like he promised."

"Morning… what time is it?" Ed looked around for the clock. "How long was I out?"

"After ten," Winry replied, sounding amused. "You passed out around two."

Hell. He'd slept right through the night, and a good bit of the morning! "I was supposed to take another shift with Sara. Why didn't you wake me?"

"For what?" Winry asked. "So you could feel even worse this morning? You dragged in half-drowned yourself last night, Ed. Pitt definitely wants to look you over before he leaves this morning as well. You were coughing in your sleep."

"Oh, great." Just the thing to brighten his mood. "As long as he doesn't want to stick me with anything I won't argue." He was pretty sure he couldn't put up much of a fight this morning anyway. He ached all over after his exertions yesterday.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Pitt said as he stepped out of Sara's room. He looked much less grim than he had the night before. "As long as you cooperate anyway."

Ed turned to face him. "How's my daughter?"

"Much improved," Pitt replied, smiling. "Temperature is good, and her breathing is better. She'll need to be kept quiet for a few days, but she's out of danger. There's been no permanent damage."

It was as if the weight of the world – or Gluttony perhaps, that was heavier certainly – had lifted from his heart. "Thank you, Pitt."

Pitt shrugged it off, but graciously. "You have a very strong-willed little girl, Ed. She's a lot like you. Expect her to sleep a lot for the next several days. Keep her on gentle foods until she wants something more difficult; a day or two should be all that takes. Now, if you'll have a seat, we'll get the unpleasantness of your examination over with."

Ed nodded and sighed, sitting down on one of the dining chairs since that was closest. He was glad it was a fairly noninvasive check-up. Pitt looked at his wide variety of scrapes and bruises, took his temperature, and generally looked him over otherwise. Ed was impressed, but not surprised, by how well Pitt had learned his job in the years since their last run-in with each other, back when Ed was just thirteen. The prognosis was not a surprise. "Well you're running a bit of a temperature yourself; battered and bruised, but nothing's broken. At least nothing I can fix," he added with a wry twist of his lips. "Your auto-mail is dented more than the rest of you." He looked up at Winry. "If you need to remove them for repairs, wait a couple of days before reattaching them."

Ed saw Winry nod out of the corner of his eye, and he could guess the why of it. He knew the limits of his own endurance, and yesterday had nearly surpassed them. If he was tired now, he was likely to be even more so tomorrow. Reattaching limbs was painful, and enough of a shock to the system that he'd need to be more healed up first. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Just the usual," Pitt shrugged. "Rest, take it easy for a few days; don't get into any duels to the death."

Ed chuckled in spite of himself. "Very funny."

"Your reputation precedes you," Pitt said as he stood up. "Fist-fights I might condone," he added, teasing just a little; still the friend Ed remembered. It seemed the worst of their competitions were at an end.

"While we still don't have the full story, I can deduce it fairly well just from looking at the both of you. Frankly, it's a miracle either of you isn't dead. But then, you're known for defying the odds aren't you?"

Ed shrugged. "That's true enough." He sighed. "I don't know it all myself. When I got to the river she was out nearly in the middle, caught on a rock. She was unconscious. I went and got her." It was a very non-dramatic telling, but that had been his entire focus, and he'd rather not consider just how close to death he had skirted.

Al looked impressed anyway. "The middle of the river? But Brother, you can barely swim!" Obviously just what Ed had gone through hadn't been fully realized to that point.

"That didn't matter," Ed replied softly. He would never forget that night, he was sure. It would haunt him for the rest of his life. "If I hadn't heard Oscar barking, I'd never have found her." He looked over at the little dog that was curled up asleep by the door. He was dry, but there was still mud stuck in places in his fur. "Only Sara knows how she got out there."

"We'll find that out later," Winry said, placing her hands on his shoulders from behind again. "When Sara wakes up." Her fingers worked his shoulder muscles. Ed wasn't sure if she was doing it consciously, but it felt wonderful.

"I expect it won't be too long," Pitt said. "She was stirring a few minutes ago."

"Good." Winry stepped away from Ed and back out of the room to check on Sara again for herself.

"I think I'm going to get a quick shower," Al commented and headed back towards his room about the same time, leaving Pitt and Ed along in the main room for a few minutes.

Pitt sighed as he put his things away. "You're one lucky guy, Ed. You know that?"

"How do you figure?" Ed asked. He wasn't sure how he felt about it at the moment; lucky they were both alive, but not lucky that it had happened in the first place. He didn't like near-misses with death. Of course, he didn't much care for actual death either.

"Are you kidding?" Pitt grinned at him. "You're the only person I know who probably could have pulled off that rescue. You found Sara, and got her out in time, even though most anyone else would have hesitated, or gone for more help. Pretty good moves, especially for a lousy swimmer."

"Apparently I'm not that lousy," Ed smirked.

"Water is the shrimp's natural element," Pitt chuckled.

If Ed hadn't been so tired, he'd probably have reacted more violently, if only for old time's sake. He knew Pitt didn't mean it, and it was hard to get riled at the moment. "I think insulting the patient must break some doctor's oath somewhere."

"Nope," Pitt shook his head. "Just ill-advised in most circumstances."

"Glad I'm a special case," Ed retorted. He stretched, getting a couple of kinks out of his back. The couch wasn't the most comfortable place to crash out for hours. "I'm also glad you were here," he added. "I know another doctor could have handled it but…"

"But it's nice to know the person taking care of your family," Pitt nodded, clearly understanding. "I'm glad you have that much faith in my abilities."

"In my friend," Ed corrected. As a rule, he disliked doctors; though he respected their abilities; it was hard not to as many times as they had put him back together! "You should come back for dinner with us before we go. Bring the whole family." He had met Pitt's wife and three kids at the funeral; the youngest was just about Sara's age.

"That would be great," Pitt chuckled. "You know," he admitted, looking around to make sure no one else was around. "There was still something I was jealous about for years."

"What's that?" Ed asked warily.

"Winry," Pitt replied, and Ed blinked. "I had such a crush on her."

"So why didn't you make a move while I was off all over the place?" Ed asked. He knew Pitt had studied away from Resembool, but he'd have had plenty of chances if he wanted to take them.

Pitt shrugged. "I would have, but by the time I realized it, I'd also realized she was head over heels for this guy with a height complex who was always on the move." He was grinning, and Ed knew who he meant.

"Was I the 'last' person to figure that out?" Ed asked, feeling a little exasperated. Even Pitt had known?

"Probably," Pitt replied smugly. "But I figured if you ever slowed down long enough for her to catch you, you'd make a good match. Nice to know I was right."

"So I should think twice before letting you examine my wife then?" Ed teased, and the awkward moment passed, though it was Pitt's turn to look embarrassed.

"I'm over it now," he replied with a laugh. "Long ago. Besides, right now she looks to be the healthiest out of you lot; she needs me least; except for Al, who still seems to be the more sensible of you two."

"No argument there," Ed chuckled, leaning against the table with one arm. "On either count. Winry's amazing. You should have seen her when she was carrying Sara. She trekked all the way up to Briggs during the Drachma 'border dispute' and worked auto-mail till she went into labor two weeks late."

Pitt laughed. "Sounds like Winry."

As if summoned, Winry stepped back out of Sara's room. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," Pitt and Ed chimed in unison, which set them to chuckling again.

Pitt picked up his bag. "I'll come back again this evening if you need. Just give me a call. Otherwise it will be tomorrow."

"We'll let you know," Winry nodded. When Pitt was gone she stepped in front of Ed. "Now to bed with you too," she smiled, but then her lip trembled, and Ed watched her expression crumble as she felt against him, crying. With relief, Ed guessed; much needed catharsis. He put his arms around her.

"Hey, it's all right now," he patted her back. He'd probably never be truly comfortable in these situations. "Winry…"

"Oh, Ed," she sniffed. "I was so scared."

Ed felt his ears turning pink. He opened his mouth to say something reassuringly confident. "Me too," came out instead. "It used to be I couldn't imagine any pain worse than what we've already endured. Now I can, and it's terrifying." The reality of nearly losing Sara, even the possibility of anything happening to Winry, or Al again, or their unborn baby; it all terrified him. "One person can only take so much."

"We've always endured," Al commented softly. He'd come back in while they were distracted. His hair was damp; he'd always taken fast showers.

Ed looked up into his brother's quietly smiling face.

"When you put your whole heart and soul into something, it's hard to lose," Al said.

Ed nodded. "The effort pays off when it counts; when you know what you're really offering in exchange." He'd have willingly died to save Sara; just as he had willingly offered himself to get Al back when he'd given himself to save Ed. "You know, if we'd had that much insight when we were kids, none of this would ever have happened."

Al nodded. "But it was worth it, wasn't it? If we hadn't tried to bring back Mom, we would never have been searching for the Philosopher's Stone. Then who would have stopped the homunculi before they succeeded in their plans? In the end, I really think more good came out of our mistake than anything else."

"You're right." Ed found himself smiling. "We've done a lot of good. But without that, we would never have gotten involved." The things they had learned; the people they had saved, in the long run everything had worked out well; the rewards were greater it seemed than the costs. So maybe it all balanced out somewhere, but Ed had given up trying to figure out exactly how it balanced in equivalency. He just trusted that if he did his best, and did what needed to be done, than it would all work out.

"Would you change anything you've done in your life, Ed?" Winry asked, looking up at him. "If you had the opportunity."

Ed sighed. "Knowing that it might change the outcome, I don't think I could." Then he smiled. "I'd like to think I could be less of a jerk with a second chance though."

Winry chuckled, despite the tears on her cheeks. "That would be nice."

"No more tears, okay?" Ed asked, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "I can't take it when you cry."

Winry stood up. "All right. So," she smiled. "What would you like to eat?"

Ed laughed, and the tension left the room completely. "I'll take anything you've got, and plenty of it."

"So the usual," Al chuckled. "I think we can manage that."

"You should get some rest," Winry said, going back to her earlier insistence.

"We all should," Ed replied. "I'm not the one who stayed up all night. I'll go." He wasn't in any mood, or condition, to argue. He was still tired, stiff, and achy. "But I want to see Sara first." He stood, and went into the other room.

Sara was awake. She blinked sleepily and opened her eyes at the distinctive sound of his footsteps. "Daddy?"

Ed smiled, and walked over to the bed, sitting down in the well-used chair beside it. "Hi, kiddo. How are you feeling?" He took her hand in his.

"Sleepy," Sara replied. "My arm hurts."

Ed leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You hurt it when you fell in the river."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Sara looked up at him with a serious furrowed brow; an expression comical on a child so young. Ed could almost see her memory of the event coming to her, as she trembled slightly and blinked her eyes. "We were coming home an' I took a short cut this way 'cause the other kids were going to their houses. I stopped to play at the bridge. The storm started, and the wind pushed me hard. I fell off the rail and fell in."

"You know I told you not to walk up there without someone to hold you," Ed sighed, frowning.

"I know," Sara sniffled. "I'm sorry, Daddy!"

Ed hugged her. "I'm just glad I got there in time. You need to be more careful."

"I hope she listens to that advice more than you do," Winry commented sardonically from the doorway.

Ed glanced over his shoulder. "So do I." He turned back to Sara. "Don't separate from the other kids and go off on your own like that again, okay?" If he'd showed up even a few minutes later….

"I won't. I promise," Sara nodded solemnly. His normally rambunctious daughter was much subdued. She looked over at Winry. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Uncle Alphonse is making you something to eat," Winry smiled. "I'll bring you some when it's ready."

Ed could tell from her tone she was actually talking to both of them. With a small shrug and a smile, he let go of his daughter's hand and stood up. "I'll be back in a little while," he promised. Now that he'd seen she was all right for himself, maybe he could get some rest again.

The light coming through the windows made it late afternoon, Ed guessed, when he woke again. He was stiffer than before, and it hurt to move. He rolled over to get up anyway. He'd felt worse. His stomach growled audibly. Damn, he'd slept right through whatever food Al had prepared. Ed hoped there was some left. He'd take it cold without complaint!

The blankets beside him stirred, and Ed realized he wasn't alone.

"You're awake," Winry smiled up at him drowsily.

"Only because otherwise I'd probably be eating my pillow," Ed smiled back, relaxing back onto the mattress.

"Then you might want this," came the sound of Al's voice from just outside the door.

Ed glanced over his shoulder and sat up. "If it's food, get in here!"

Al laughed as he pushed open the door, carrying a large tray that looked like it contained a full five course meal. Ed hadn't even heard him coming up the stairs.

Ed started drooling immediately. "You're a life saver."

Al smirked. "It's not all for you, brother."

"Thanks, Al," Winry chuckled. "You didn't have to though. Have you gotten any rest?"

"Sure," Al shrugged. "I took a nap after we ate earlier. I'm just the only one here who isn't sick, exhausted, or pregnant." He set the tray down on a table.

"Thank heavens for that last one," Ed sniggered as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "This smells heavenly," he inhaled deeply.

"Dig in," Al stepped back.

"Not that you have to tell him," Winry chuckled, sitting up as well and stretching. "How's Sara?"

"She slept for a while," Al replied. "Then she got bored, so I found a couple of old story books and read her some stories."

Ed handed a bowl over to Winry before picking one up himself and digging in. Oh man that was good! He savored the taste, letting it roll over his tongue. This was very possibly the most amazing…

"Did you hear me, Ed?"

He opened his eyes and looked at Winry, perplexed.

"Apparently not," Al grinned. "Or rather, perhaps too much."

"What?" Ed frowned between bites.

"I asked if you liked it," Winry chuckled. "This is really great, Al. You're practically a gourmet chef. I didn't think half this stuff was in the kitchen!"

Al looked slightly embarrassed, but clearly pleased. "Most of it. I did make a quick run into town for a few other fresh things. Besides, if you're going to eat food, it might as well taste good!"

"My thought….exactly," Ed replied between bites.

"And eat slowly enough to taste it," Al added, a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"I can taste it!" Ed objected, rolling his eyes. "Geez. It's absolutely delicious okay? If it wasn't would I be eating it?"

"Yes!" Winry and Al replied in perfect unison.

"Your faith in my standards is underwhelming," Ed quipped, going back to his food. Would they ever stop making fun of his appetite?

March 30, 1930

Ed leaned against the porch railing, looking down the hill and out across the countryside. It struck him that anyone arriving today would see no signs of the storms that had come through just days before. The sky was bright blue, with only the thinnest white chases of cloud here and there. Everything shone with the brilliant greens of new spring, and flowers were coming up everywhere. The world smelled new, fresh, and full of life.

Only days ago, his daughter had almost died.

Only days before, Pinako had.

So much could change in such a short span of time. No matter how many times it happened, it amazed Ed at how quickly the flow of the world could sweep people up and move onward.

In the grass in front of the house, Sara was sitting amongst the wildflowers, tossing a ball with her free hand, the other still up in a sling and would be for a few weeks. Oscar, once more bathed to a silver-white shine, yapped happily and chased the ball, bringing it back the way Chase did at home. Only, unlike the puppy, he made sure to gently return it to Sara's hand every time. Ed was beginning to see why Pinako liked the little yapper. After all, Oscar had been just as critical in saving Sara's life.

"What are you thinking?" Winry asked, her hand on his left shoulder as she joined him at the rail.

"That I hope the dogs get along," Ed chuckled, moving his arm away from her hand so he could put it around her waist instead.

"I'm glad I don't have to convince you to take Oscar back to Central," Winry chuckled leaning into his shoulder.

"No, I'm getting pretty fond of the little guy," Ed said. "Besides, Sara would never forgive me."

"That's the truth." She watched Sara playing, while Ed watched her. It still baffled him how things had all turned out sometimes, but he wouldn't have given up what he had for anything. A waft of breeze ruffled Winry's hair so it danced and swayed. Her expression was peaceful, her eyes the same light rich blue as the sky.

Winry seemed to sense that he wasn't paying attention to their daughter anymore. "What's that look for?" she asked.

"Nothing," Ed smiled, embarrassed at being caught. "You look good."

Winry's cheeks flushed pink; a rare occurrence that Ed found exceedingly attractive. He tightened his hold on her just a little, but not too much. "I wonder if this is how my parents felt, when they used to stand here," she said softly, looking back out over the fields. "They used to a lot when I was little. Especially in the evenings; I'd play in the grass by myself, or with Den when we got her. Sometimes with you guys too, and your Mom would come over. Do you remember?"

"A little," Ed nodded, smiling at vague memories. "That was a long time ago."

"I was just remembering," Winry's face softened, her gaze more distant. "When my parents would stand here and watch. They always seemed so happy, and I can't help but feel like they're still standing here, watching us." She chuckled and shook her head. "I know it probably sounds silly."

"No, I don't think so," Ed replied. Once, he might have, but not anymore. "Tomorrow, we'll go home; get back to our everyday lives; the world goes on, and it only flows in one direction. We're all part of it."

"You sound like Izumi," Winry chuckled.

"She was a good teacher," Ed smiled. "Right up to the end. She was right though. We live that cycle over and over, and we can see it in microcosm, going on around us every day." He used his arm to turn her so he could hold her more easily, and look her in the eyes. He placed one hand on her stomach. "From this little one and our little girl playing down there in the grass, to us, and through on to Pinako's death; it's all been here. My point though is," he smiled. "While we're all a part of that cycle, it is cyclical, that means, at least I think, that they're never entirely gone. We still have memories; and after all, aren't memories part of what makes us real?"

"They certainly are part of who we are," Alphonse chuckled as he joined them on the deck.

Ed smiled. His brother, more than anyone else, knew the truth to that. "As long as we have those memories, no one in them is truly gone. So, as long as you remember them standing here, your parents will be."

Winry looked like she might cry, but she was smiling. "Every once in a while you surprise me, Ed," she chuckled softly. "From you, that's surprisingly sentimental."

"Maybe he's mellowing in his old age," Al snickered.

"Hey!"

"Maybe," Winry chuckled. "But, if they remain how we remember them, Ed, I'd like to remember back a little further."

"Oh?" Ed wasn't sure exactly what she meant, so he waited for an explanation.

Winry smiled at him and Al both. "I want to remember them all together. When my parents, and both of yours, were still here, and Granny too. There was a time like that once."

"I'm not sure I remember a time like that," Al admitted.

In the vaguest depths of his own memories, Ed thought he could recall, in the fuzziest of memories, a day spent playing in this yard, when Al was still barely crawling, and all of the adults in their lives had been alive, and well, and happy. He could hear their laughter, as if it came on the breeze; distant, but familiar. "I remember," he smiled finally, surprised at the happiness that came with having even just one true memory of being a complete, happy family. "I remember."

Authors Note:

The character of Pitt was introduced in the FMA novel "Under the Faraway Sky."