Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 2: Tying Them Down

"Edward? Edward, what's wrong? Where's Winston?"

She couldn't help peppering him with questions, as he'd just walked right past her without a word. It had been raining when he came back, his clothes soaked through and covered with mud. He'd completely ignored her, taking a seat on the sofa before throwing that familiar book across the room. Upon recovering it, Winry saw that it was also wet, several pages torn out of it. It would warp for sure.

Even after seventeen years, he didn't tell her anything. At least, not without a fight. It wasn't that he was private, but that he wasn't particularly skilled with words. That's why, all that time ago, she'd always been afraid of what he would do next. Both he and Alphonse had kept her in the dark for the longest time.

Now, she felt that it was happening again.

Closing the door, Winry crossed the room, heading into the kitchen to heat up something for him to drink. Leaving the kettle on the stove, she came back, kneeling beside him, her hand on his.

"Ed," she whispered quietly, "what happened?"

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Edward's eyes closed, his hand moving away from hers only to be pressed against his forehead in frustration.

She'd seen that face a number of times in the past, usually when something had thrown a wrench in his plans, in his greatest desires. He'd cried before, but she doubted that it had ever been enough for all the pain. Winry headed to the closet, pulling out a soft white towel before sitting on the sofa beside him, throwing the soft cloth around him, her head resting on his shoulder. A part of her wanted him to cry, to let everything out so that he could let it go. He tried so hard to be strong, to be a good husband, father, and brother.

But, sometimes, he just tried too hard.

"He found it, Winry," he whispered, shaking slightly. "He wanted me to tell him... about alchemy."

Her eyes widened, causing her to sit upright. Alchemy was what had started that whole mess, putting her husband and brother through all that misery. They'd come out of it all right, not completely unscathed, but it was a lesson, a journey, that they could never forget. Then again, she couldn't forget about it either.

All the days she'd spent waiting, hoping they'd come back in one piece. Looking for letters, hoping that, when the phone rang, it would be Edward on the other end. And then, finally, they'd limped back down that dirt road, grinning like the two goofy boys she'd grown up with.

"You didn't tell him, did you, Ed?" She tried to keep her voice level, to push the fear and anxiety from it. She didn't want him to know how much she resented that science.

Edward shook his head, water rolling out of his hair to slap the floor. "I thought about it. Really, I did. I've thought about it a lot. And, every time, I've decided against it." He looked at her through his fingers, a sad glow in his eye. "I couldn't give it to him, a gift and a curse. I was afraid that he'd go off and do something stupid, just like Al and I did."

That's right. If Edward had told their son about alchemy, about why he'd kept it a secret, Winston would ask that dreaded question: Why? He'd want to understand the ins and outs of the ancient art, and know exactly why, down to the last letter, his father had hidden it from him.

She reached over, taking his hand and settling it onto his knee before turning his face towards her own.

"I'm glad you didn't, Ed. Even if Winston wants to know, it's best if he doesn't." Winry paused, her head bowed. "I couldn't go through that again, you know. The waiting, the worrying. The fear of death lingering over this house."

Edward pulled her to him, his chin resting atop her head, hugging her. "I know, Winry. I'm sorry."

"You big oaf," she laughed. "You don't have to apologize for all that now. But..." She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering with a smile. "The least you could do is go change your clothes. You're cold and soaking wet."

# - # - # - #

"You're okay," Alphonse whispered, patting his nephew's back. The rain was coming down in sheets outside the windows of the inn, and that made him hesitant about venturing out to head back to Edward's. Besides, it was a good idea to keep the two of them separated for a while, so as to avoid stirring the pot. "It's okay, Win. Brother's not really angry with you. He's just stubborn, that's all. He'll get over it. I promise."

Really, Winston was very much a boy, despite his age. He was clever, welcoming, and one that the majority of Risembool's citizens knew and loved. That wasn't to say that he didn't have faults. He did. A number of times, after Alphonse had come back from Xing with Mei, he'd caught his brother's son trying to steal candy out of a display in the grocery store, or fighting with kids twice his size and age.

In fact, Winston had been known as a troublemaker for the longest time. A lot of the villagers were still pretty questioning about him and his motives. Some called him lazy. A good-for-nothing who sat down by the river day after day, looking for a good time with his rod and a handful of bait instead of going to school or helping his mother with her customers.

But Alphonse knew better.

"He'll hate me," came the reply, more of a whimper than anything else. He was shuddering, hands thrown over his head and buried in his hair. "I-I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have brought the book, but... I wanted to know why Dad doesn't say anything about it. About alchemy."

Alphonse cringed as his nephew stared up at him, tears in his eyes.

"Brother doesn't hate anyone," he said, trying to sound comforting. "He just... blows things out of proportion. That's just how he is. Maybe he used to hate people, people who did horrible things to our world, to our friends, but he's grown up a lot since then. He's a better man than he used to be."

He remembered everything about those days. The blood, the tears, the people who died and fought for their dream. He could never forget the sacrifices, the things those dear friends had lost.

Alphonse didn't have children of his own, not walking around at least, but he knew how much Edward cared about his son. He remembered what his brother had said not hours after Winston had been born. Edward had cradled the softest little bundle in his arms, smiling fondly.

"I want to be better than they were, Al," he'd said. "I want his life to have what we didn't all that time. A father, a mother... A family like ours, just... complete. I'll be there for him, through hell and highwater. I'll give him what our father couldn't give us."

Soft green eyes settled on Winston, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

"We made a mistake, Win," he said quietly. "And we paid for it. That's why brother didn't tell you everything. He didn't want you to go down our road. He wants more than that for you. He wants you to have the things we didn't. A life with as little suffering as possible."

"Why can't you just tell me what happened, Uncle? Dad wouldn't be mad at you, right? You're his brother. You've always been there. He couldn't hate you."

He couldn't hate you, either, Alphonse thought, shaking his head.

Maybe Edward wouldn't hate him, but he'd be going against the silent pact that they'd made with each other. One that stated they'd never subject their own children to the dangers of alchemy. No matter how enchanting and magical it had been for them in their youth.

"It's not my place," he said, smiling. "If brother wants to tell you, then that's his right. I'd be going behind his back to tell you our story, and, if anyone should tell you, then it's your dad." Alphonse squeezed the boy's shoulder. "He'll tell you when the time is right. He loves you, Winston. He's there for you, always. I only wish that we had someone to say that to us, too."

But it wasn't enough, his words. Edward was stubborn to a fault, and it was no surprise that his son had picked up on that same behavior. Even the look in their eyes was the same. A simple "he'll tell you when the time is right" clearly wasn't enough.

Based solely upon that gleam, Alphonse knew that this boy would find a way to pull those secrets away.