SUGAR COOKIES AND MEMORIES

A Collection of Drabbles

Disclaimers: I don't own Fullmetal.

A/N: -glance.- I really should be taking a shower and doing my schoolwork stuff instead of editing the typos in this, but.. –snort.- can't help it. xD

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The Graveyard Solicitor

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The morning was quiet. The clock's ticking seemed to be muted, and not even the birds appeared to be chirping. It was an unusual silence, one that snuck up on a person and strangled them to the point of shrieking, just to produce a sound. It was a silence that could make someone go crazy, the kind that squeezed out all the bad things in life like a sponge. Loneliness came with such a hush, as well as other emotions that austerely weighed a person down.

Edward simply couldn't take it anymore. He had spent most of the morning hours so far on the sofa, wasting away two or three hours just sitting. Had he fallen asleep? He didn't know. He didn't think he had. He could barely lift his limbs and the sensation of feeling so weak had all but stapled him to the couch.

His golden eyes lifted to the clock, and he drew in a slow breath through gently parted lips. Silver fingers curled delicately, and a cough escaped his lips into his metal knuckles as he stood up. The living room fell deathly still as the only thing that had been moving—whether or not Ed even had been moving or not—lumbered towards the door.

Tugging his shoes on, Edward tapped his heels against the floor in a childish manner to make sure they were on all the way. He snatched his red coat with a flourish, and was out of the house and off the porch before the door had even slammed behind him.

The sun was mocking him. It was like he was some photophobic creature who was up way past the time he should have found a rock to crawl under, the sun a menace that he couldn't rid of. Squinting somewhat, Edward scowled. It was only seven o'clock in the morning. He honestly wanted to be in bed, curled up with the warm blankets, but here he was, outside in the rising sun, marching off down the road with a chilly breeze brushing hair off his face.

--

The blankets were warm and her face was glued to her pillow. A few strands of silky blonde hair fell across her skin, and it took her a few tries to pry her eyes open. Even when they did open, the blue gaze was half-lidded, and her room darkened by the curtains to the point of the coat draped on the chair transforming into a crouching figure.

Sighing softly, Winry dragged herself up to a sitting position—or, rather, a half sitting position. One arm bent, she propped herself up by pressing her forearm to the mattress, her other arm draped across her blanket-covered hip. Swinging her legs out of bed, the girl froze. There was something eerie this morning; something wrong. There was no shuffling about down the hall, nor any noise downstairs.

Hastily, Winry stood up, suddenly feeling fully awake. Never, she thought to herself, had she ever gotten out of bed so quickly. If it were any other daybreak, she probably would have giggled at the thought, but there was something different about this morning.

Pattering down the stairs, Winry sincerely hoped she would see Ed, slumped at the kitchen table, with either a small piece of food or one of the seemingly thousands of books he'd arrived with. "Damned alchemy porno," she had whispered when she saw the piles of texts he'd lugged into the house. Perking up, he had questioned what she'd muttered, and all she had done was giggle.

But when she tiptoed into the kitchen, it was completely empty. There wasn't even a crumb on the counter. Winry stood in the threshold, her hands behind her back, as a frown graced her lips. Standing there in the doorway to a quiet, desolate kitchen, she tried to think up the many places Ed could have disappeared too. And what if he was just in bed?

It was just such an obvious spot for him to be in, it made her feel stupid. Look in the harder spots, and he'll be right under your nose.

Turning quickly, Winry dashed back up the stairs as soundlessly as she could make it. Swinging the door to the spare bedroom open, the smile that had formed so immediately on her face disappeared as her eyes took in the room before her.

There was no one.

Leaning against the door, she released a heavy breath through parted lips. There was no one in the room, except for the suit of armor that was supposedly "sleeping" in the corner. And Winry was glad. That way Alphonse, in his unconscious state, would not be able to see the rash disappointment that spread from her face to the tips of her toes.

Ed and Al had arrived the day before. Miraculously, the only thing that was missing screw seemed to be the oldest Elric's head. Alphonse had been holding the suitcase that normally never really left Ed's hands, and Edward's arms were full of books that looked so old you could poke their spine and they'd collapse into a pile of manuscripts. He had marched right into the house with his trademark toothy grin, followed by a babbling Alphonse, brushing right past Winry and Pinako as if they didn't even exist.

Ed had laughed, as he set all the books onto the table. There were fifteen. Winry had counted. Now that she thought about it, the collection that Edward had lugged along with him was still stacked on the table. Apparently he had stumbled upon a library on his trek back to the Rockbell home.

Sighing, Winry turned around and, once again, trudged down the stairs. She froze, though, as she passed the front window, her blue eyes catching on a bright red coat that was fluttering in the wind as the owner of it walked down the road.

--

Edward's left hand was numb from the stinging chill of the air around him. How the sun could seem so warm and inviting, when the earth was completely icy, was beyond fathoming distance for the blonde boy at the moment. It was as if the ground was preparing for winter, and the sky for the opposite season—and warmth.

He shoved his left hand into his pocket. It didn't help much. The denim jeans he had thrown on when he'd awakened this morning were thinning out. He had all the money he needed to get new ones, but he always seemed too busy to really stop by a department store. Besides, the last time he had been out shopping was when he and his brother had taken Winry through Rush Valley.

A small laugh emitted from Edward's throat at the memories from that town. His brows furrowing softly, he patted his right hip, where the chain from his pocket watch was swaying slightly in the zephyr. A few stray strands of hair that had come loose of his braid blew across his face and tickled his cheek. Brushing them behind his ear, he let his right fingers linger near his face. His skin prickled with a new tickling sensation, this time because the touch of his right hand was cool and hard, not soft and warm like that of his left hand.

Edward sighed through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. By the time he opened them, he had dropped his hand once again to his side, and his gaze had dulled from the way it had lit up when he laughed. He was approaching the graveyard, and he didn't feel like laughing anymore.

--

Worry tugged at Winry's expression, as well as her disposition, as she hurried off down the dirt road. Her eyes were glued on the red coat and the blonde hair that was slowing down in its trudging. Her sandals made thunking noises against the dirt, and her hands were shoved into the pockets of her coat. The long locks of hair she had left brushing to her waist; she hadn't even brushed it, but that was okay. No one was out at this hour yet. Or, rather, not many were out yet.

Winry paused, her soft face rolling into another concerned frown as she saw the male further along the road stop completely in his tracks, hunching forward and coughing relatively hard.

It bothered Winry to the core. Edward and Alphonse making the long trip all the way back to Risembool, for no apparent reason connected to the automail, just didn't seem…normal.

Winry sighed softly, and continued watching from a distance as Edward started to walk again. He trudged through the decrepit stone wall and disappeared into the graveyard before the blonde girl resumed following. It was strange, she thought to herself, how the brothers had came back last night, and acted so blasé. They had settled in like they weren't leaving ever again—though the suitcase Alphonse had been carrying had stayed packed—and Ed had eaten more like a pig than he ever had.

But as the previous evening wore on, Winry had noticed changes here and there. Edward had been coughing every now and then, taking slow breaths, falling silent randomly. The only thing she could think of that explained his actions was illness; after all, she had been ill a few weeks prior.

Alphonse had even mentioned to her that Edward had been acting odd. That's what scared her. "He's been sleeping a lot lately," Al had told her once. "He seems different. I don't know why."

Winry stopped as she neared the entry to the graveyard. The one thing that really bothered her was the fact that nothing was broken.

--

A pair of shoes stopped moving in front of a gravestone—a rather well-kept gravestone, with a few flowers sprouting, as well as some weeds. Two knees hit the grass, still wet from the night's moisture, and a blonde head hung dismally. Before Edward knew it, words had escaped his mouth. "Look, Mom," he had blurted, "I just came to say hi."

Completely embarrassed now by the way he had been talking to a grave, even if it was merely an explanation as to why he was there, Ed snapped his mouth shut, and all but glared at the granite before him. His eyes ran over the engraving until his gaze softened; more or less, it saddened as well.

Taking a slow breath, he sighed heavily, his body sagging with the release of air. A small smile formed on his lips as he focused on the plants that were popping up here and there around the grave. "I don't know," he added, "why I'm gonna do this, Mom, but…I need to talk. That's all." As if his mind wanted to spite his own words, Edward cut off into a grimace, almost choking on his breath. The air outside really was cold. Maybe he should just go back to the house.

He didn't want to talk. He never did. But something kept him sitting there, as the minutes wore on, in front of his mother's grave. The boy was talking rapidly in his mind, as if the stone before him were listening as intently as a person. But it wasn't a person, and he supposed that was why he could talk to it so well. Or…think to it, really.

Unlike a person, the gravestone would listen, without arguing, without questioning, without staring. It merely sat there, patiently, offering silence as the answer that fit for any statement. After a moment, Edward grunted, and spoke in a mumble, the grass seeming more interesting now than the stone.

"I didn't want anyone at Central to force me to the doctor's, so I came here, because I knew that if I came here, Winry would yell at me, and that would be it. No worrying about my cough. After all, Mom, it's nothing. Just a cold. I even found a really nice library at one of the towns the train stopped at along the way. Lots of neat books…I think you'd like one of them, actually. So I got it. I'm not going to read it, though." He shut his mouth again. There he was, babbling to…what? Blades of grass. Not the gravestone. Not his mother. To himself, to the ground.

The wind tossed his braid over his shoulder, and Edward blinked a few times, glancing over to it. A smile crossed his face faintly once more, and he reached up, brushing his braid back towards his spine.

"Just thought I'd visit you," he added gradually in a whisper, and fell still again.

--

Winry lingered by the entrance to the graveyard, her blonde tresses dancing gently in the breeze. Her slender brows furrowed delicately, she shivered as the chill of the wind hit her bare legs and caused her coat and nightgown to flutter slightly.

A small smile passed through her eyes as she glanced down to her feet. Wiggling her toes, the smile shifted to her mouth. She hadn't even gotten fully dressed before she ran after Ed. There she was, in the sleeveless, cotton nightgown that only fell to her mid-thighs, along with her peach-colored sandals, standing in a graveyard, when she should be eating breakfast. The red coat she had pulled on was white and soft on the inside, a coarser material on the outside. The buttons were black, and Winry's smile grew larger as she remembered why she liked it so much.

Edward had bought it for her, and when he had, she'd simply sat there and buried her nose in the soft inside of the hood. He had laughed at her, and walked off to the other side of the store, leaving her to nuzzle to the coat.

Her blue eyes caught the flash of another red coat as the owner of it moved somewhat, falling to sit beside a certain grave. The girl fell silent, leaning forward just a bit as she strained to catch Edward's words. She could hear the gruff mumble, but the words she couldn't make out; it was that frustrating feeling of half knowledge that she never liked to experience.

Shuffling her feet, Winry tossed her head to one side, to get the hair out of it. Her bangs were getting longer, and were constantly in her eyes now; she reached up and brushed the blonde locks to the left of her face with her fingertips. Her fingernail grazed her forehead, and she gasped somewhat, squeaking as she rubbed at her skin.

Looking to her finger, she pouted gently. No blood; she hadn't scratched herself. Dropping her hand, she lifted her face to look back to the grave where Edward was kneeling, but froze, her eyes widening, as they met with another very humiliated, very startled pair of golden ones.

--

Edward felt a heat to his cheeks as he realized that the girl had been watching him this whole time, had been listening to him this whole time. Turning forward again, he let his expression fall to the look that often crossed his face, a temperament of casual boredom, and almost sore repose. Slowly, he stood up, as if it were such an effort that it made him ache all over, and propped his hands on his hips, turning halfway to glance at Winry sidelong.

"Hey," he grunted, lifting one hand for a sheepish wave.

--

Winry blinked a few times, and waved her hand in turn, her face going blank, save for a vexed look that shot through the back of her eyes. Smiling faintly, she started to walk forward, to join Edward near the grave, but he held his hand up again, this time as a signal for her to stop.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, and shuffled towards her, offering her a small smile as his hands found their way back into his front pockets. Brushing past her, he strode out of the graveyard, but paused in mid-step as Winry spoke.

"I didn't hear you," she reassured succinctly, her voice rising in volume. "I mean, I did, but I couldn't make out your words."

Edward glanced over his shoulder, and his head bobbed slightly in acknowledgement of her statement. His feet began moving again, and Winry frowned, hurrying after him. She fell into line, just a few steps behind him, and her hands found their way back to her coat's pockets.

After a moment of silence, her lips parted, but she was cut off mid-breath as Ed laughed. "You're crazy," he said after his chortle dissipated.

Winry blinked a few times, and then narrowed her eyes in a rather immature fashion. "What? Where did that come from?" she cried. Edward's gaze shifted back towards her, and a grin tugged at his lips. He had successfully gotten her mind on something other than the graveyard, and he was going to keep it up.

"You're outside in…nothing, and its cold out here, Winry," he explained, his grin broadening. Looking forward again, he ignored the color he noticed starting across her cheeks rapidly. Winry's childish glare sharpened as she felt the heat on her cheeks, and she turned her head away, huffing a breath, as silence settled over the two again. The silence seemed to almost settle on everything after that; even Winry's sandals seemed to have muted their annoying thunking noises.

Winry's eyes slowly found their way to the back of Edward's head, and she came to the indiscriminate conclusion that he must have slept with his hair still in a braid, as it was completely haphazard and a multitude of strands had come loose. Either that or the breeze was stronger than it felt.

After a moment, she inhaled softly, and murmured, "I'm kind of worried, you know." Edward's shoulders became rigid, but he kept walking. Finally, he sighed heavily, and shrugged limply.

"Why? Don't be," he grunted, falling into the tough guy mode again. Winry frowned gently, and glanced away.

"I always worry," she whispered under her breath, and stumbled slightly over her own two feet as Edward cut off short. She hadn't meant for him to hear her, but apparently he had quite the hearing. "I mean, I…it's all I do. No, what I mean is that I can't help but worry, I—ah, damn…"

Edward turned to face her, and she almost cringed at the irate look crossing through his face. "I don't want you to worry," he commented, his voice firm. She nodded quickly, but he went on. "There's nothing wrong, and it just wastes people's emotions to worry."

The blonde girl tensed up, and abruptly became over protective, leaning forward angrily. "Well, geez, I'm sorry Mr. Tough Guy! Not like you don't worry sometimes, right?"

Ed watched her for a moment, and then turned away, his back facing her as he began to walk again. "I don't," he mumbled, and Winry hurried after him.

"Yeah, right! Everyone worries once in a while…you gotta admit that…I mean, c'mon, why else would you come to a graveyard randomly?"
"I have my reasons," Edward spat back dryly.

Winry fell silent, simply glaring at the eldest Elric's back. It hit her that she had clenched her fists inside her pockets, and was walking quite hastily now, just inches from Ed's spine. Her thoughts processed completely after a moment, and she sighed exasperatedly, slowing her steps down.

"I'm going to worry, and you can't stop me," she muttered, her glare shifting into a determined stare. Edward's shoulders rolled in a slight shrug. "And," she added quickly, before he could comment in any slapdash way, "I want to have you looked at by a doctor. Or at least…I'll make you something hot to eat."

The blonde boy laughed, catching Winry off guard. Blinking, she looked up, and realized that they were approaching her house rather quickly. "What's so funny?" she demanded, her voice rising in volume again.

Edward shook his head, and slowed his steps so that they could walk side by side. Winry sighed irately, and hunched her shoulders up. Ed glanced towards her, and then stopped. Just as he had expected her to, she stopped in turn, and looked over his face.

"What?" she inquired slowly, but he simply shook his head, and started to walk again.

"Nothing."

"Wait a minute."

Edward looked back over his shoulder, raising his brows. His expression went blank, though, as his eyes caught onto the look on Winry's face. She was focusing on the ground, her disposition seeming a bit distant unexpectedly. It was his turn to question as to what she wanted, and she shrugged limply, before she spoke with a somewhat coy voice.

"I just want you to…um…be able to talk to me…you know." Winry paused, and lifted her head, smiling almost sadly at the boy before her. "I guess it scared me, the way you and Al just came back, and nothing was wrong, other than the fact that you're acting a little odd. But like I said…I want you to be able to talk to me." Her teeth grazed her lower lip as she pondered whether or not to bite it—deciding against it—her eyes settled on him. Somehow she felt as though she were letting him down, explaining all that to him suddenly. Of course, if he had wanted to say something that even barely resembled her confession, she knew that he wouldn't even hint towards it.

Edward was silent, his eyes finding the ground. Immediately a pang of culpability came over Winry, and she hurried forward, walking past him and closer to the house. Sighing faintly, the boy turned and followed her at a slower pace. His eyes caught onto her bare legs as she made the ascent to the Rockbell porch, and a smile flicked across his face.

"I got a book," he said, clumping up the steps, "that I think you might like…I'm not gonna read it, but I thought you might want to."

Winry glanced towards him as she tugged the door open, and a smile crossed her face at the sight of his lips curled upwards. "Yeah," she murmured, holding the door open for him as she stepped inside, kicking her sandals off near the threshold. "But you're probably leaving soon, and then I won't get to read a lot of it…and besides, what will you do while I read it?"

Edward shrugged, waving his hand dismissively at the comment towards library fines. Shutting the door behind him, he rolled his shoulders backwards, his coat sliding off his back and into his hands. "What will I do? I'll probably just go back to the graveyard." His answer was succinct as he flung his coat to the chair beside the door, and flashed a smile in her direction.

OWARI.