He would always come back. Even if it took weeks, months, years, he would always return to the place where he was born.

He would turn up one day, out of the blue. I would be in my bedroom, pouring over new designs for automail, making adjustments to a model, cleaning my tools, and then hear Granny Pinako's, "Winry!"

And I'd know he and his brother were home.

Resembool, so far away from the hustle and bustle of the streets in Central, where the news that manages to stretch over to our quiet town is often weeks old and embellished to the point of fiction.

It was there, on one of the summer days that would meld together in a blur of colour and sound, that I awoke abrubtly, clutching the duvet like a toy to my chest. After a few more minutes of blissful silence, I shoved the duvet to the bottom of my bed and stretched, feeling the muscles in my arms and back pop and grind together.

I dressed quickly, slipping a simple black bandeau over my chest and opting to simply tie the sleeves of my work overalls around my waist. I grabbed the brush that lay, half in and half out, of the open draw next to my bed, and smoothed out the tangles in my hair that had accumulated throughout the night of hounded sleep. I brushed back my fringe and left two thick strands of hair fall on either side of my face. I discarded the brush and picked up the faded red bandana that lay, crumpled, on the top of the chest of drawers. With a well practiced movement, I tied my fringe back out of my eyes.

I swung open the balcony door and stepped ouside to see the crisp blue sky masked by grey clouds that held the possibility of rain later on. For now, though, the sun cast silver linings and shone brightly, quite high in the landscape compared to when I usually awoke.

I leaned over the balcony railing to look into the porch below, and shouted, "Granny Pinako? What time is it?"

I heard the metallic clink of a pocket watch being opened, and closed again. "Nearly ten. You seemed tired last night, so I let you sleep." The quiet pfff of Granny's pipe was only just audible from my place upon the balcony. "You'll have to catch up on your automail work though – it won't design itself!"

I thought of the unfinished plans and model that were waiting for me and groaned. I heard a laugh from below. I rolled the question that I wanted to ask around in my head, altering the phrasing. Finally, I shouted back down hesitantly, "Is there...Have you heard any news?"
It seemed ages before I heard an answer. Another pffff pffff drifted up from the porch and then, "No. I'm afraid I haven't."

I stood up straight and sighed.

"I'm sure they're fine, Winry." Pinako's voice was quiet, but it still reached my ears.
I walked back inside, pretending I hadn't heard her.

I stood up from the desk where I had been sitting and yawned. An empty plate littered with crumbs from the sandwich I had eaten to hold my hunger at bay was balanced precariously between my wrench and the table. I glanced down at the plans that I had been working on for the last hour proudly, sweeping them up to pin upon the board above where the skeleton of an automail arm lay palm up.

I reached absentmindly for my wrench, grabbing it from the table without thinking. The plate clattered against the table and I jumped. My heart pounded heavily in my chest and I felt my blood rush through my ears at the sudden sound. I exhaled loudly to calm myself, and turned back to my work.

I was standing at a pillar drill after another two hours of work. My muscles burned pleasantly, and the smell of oil was paired with a freshly-cut grass scent that wafted in through the open balcony door.

Suddenly, I heard Pinako's voice over the clash of metal against metal and I paused.
"Winry! We've got some guests of honour!" My heart rose up into my throat, yet my relief was dampened by a stronger emotion.

I bounced up, powered by the anger that surged through my veins, and weaved through the metal contraptions to the next room.

"That dummy," I complained under my breath. "I kept telling him to call before he drops by, but nooo..." I had reached the balcony, and I saw him there, looking smaller than ever next to the huge stranger and crate that stood nearby. My fury reached it's peak, and I threw my wrench with all my strength across the yard where it struck it's target with deadly precision.

He exclaimed a strangled cry and fell backwards as I yelled, "HEY! ED!" He lay face down, but not entirely motionless. "DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO CALL AT LEAST ONCE BEFORE YOU SHOW UP FOR A MAINTENANCE CHECK?"
At my words, he sprung back up and yelled back, "WINRY, YOU JACKASS!" His left hand rose up to where my wrench had struck him, "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!?"

My anger gone, I laughed at his expression.

"Welcome home!"