Guilt

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Huff... huff... huff...

It's a long sprint to the front of the mansion. He knows that there's something he has to stop there – something being done that is terribly and utterly wrong. He needs to get there in time, but his legs feel like lead, and his lungs burn with every breath he sucks in. It's too far away.

He lowers his head and grits his teeth, unwilling to give in just yet. Something inside him pulls him towards the empty old house. The sky is an ominous gray, and a crow perched on a bare branch caws derisively. He pushes himself, willing his legs to move, to reach that ajar door...

He pushes open the door, one hand gripping the doorknob tightly to maintain his balance. His body wobbles slightly, but he's fine in a few seconds. He cautiously walks down the dark hallway, deja vu tugging at his memory while something else tells him he should be running faster.

Finally, he reaches an open doorway, with the sound of a human voice issuing from it. He widens his eyes and steps through the doorway, ready to face whoever it was that lurked in the shadows of the room.

"Oh, Edward. You made it." Shou Tucker looks pleasantly surprised. "Look at what I've done – just in time for the assessment day, too."

Edward takes one look at the white-and-brown-furred creature and realizes what it is.

Huff... huff... huff...

Edward awakes with a muted gasp, the bed sheets crumpled between his fingers. He stares at the dark ceiling for a few moments as he regains his composure, his entire body shaking with silent sobs. He can't forget her. It has been almost ten years, and he still can't forget that day.

He turns on his side and stares fearfully at the woman sleeping beside him. Winry's hair is strewn across the pillow, and her face is tranquil in sleep. Her mouth is open, and she snores softly. Edward closes his eyes and reaches blindly for her hand, not wanting to see the concern on her face, and yet wanting the comfort of her warm touch.

Winry wakes up almost instantly. Edward can hear it, by the way her breathing quickens and her fingers move to clasp his. He presses his cheek into the pillow and speaks gently.

"You're okay?"

"I think I should be the one asking you that," she replies softly, her other hand rising to brush his hair away from his forehead. "What's wrong?" Edward hesitantly opens his eyes, and then immediately wishes he hadn't – Winry's blue gaze looks so worried.

"Nothing," he mutters, and Winry's eyes acquire a strange steel. It's not angry, not really, but it's stern.

"Edward Elric," she hisses, "we have been married for three years. When are you finally going to open up to me?" Her voice becomes quieter, sadder. "I know you've been through hell... but I want to help you, and I can't do that if you always keep me at an arm's distance."

Edward swallows. She's right, of course – she's given him this speech quite a few times since they married, and each time, he promises to tell her everything. But he can't. Winry is so soft and gentle and fragile – even though she would argue otherwise, Edward knows exactly how easy it is to break Winry Rockbell.

But the night is so stifling, and the horror of his dream still lingers. Edward shifts closer to her and strokes her hair, the colour more silver than golden in the moonlight.

He tells her the story in a quiet voice. Later, he wishes he hadn't been so blunt about it – even if he wanted to tell Winry everything, he forgot to remember her fragility. Winry listens silently, her fingers wrapped around his.

After he is done, she holds him close and cries with him. They both cry for the little girl who had her entire life ahead of her. They cry for the father who didn't think he had any other choice. They cry together, and they feel better after it.

After pulling away from Winry, Edward scrubs at his cheeks self-consciously. He doesn't like crying so freely – the intensity of his feelings scares him. Winry studies him through gentle, forgiving eyes.

"It's not your fault," she tells him, and he believes her. "It's not your fault."

Edward nods, shifting closer again – he enjoys the warmth of her body. "But I swear, Winry –" his voice quivers faintly, and a fleeting smile crosses her face – "I will never do that. To you or... or to anyone. I'll never do that."

"I know," she comforts him. She accepts his words so easily. "I know, Ed."

Her breath is warm on his neck, and he allows his hand to slip down her body and rest on her belly. It's not too swollen yet, but Edward can imagine a heavily pregnant Winry already. Winry clasps his hand in both of her own.

"I know," she repeats in a firmer voice. "And the little one knows, too." She smiles at him sleepily. "You'd... never..." She drifts off into slumber before she can finish the sentence.

Edward closes his eyes and allows himself to fall back to sleep, his palm still resting gently on the bump that will soon be his own child.

AN: 887 words. I'm sure Edward feeling guilty about Nina has been done a million times before... but I think if/when Edward ever has a child, some part of his mind would dwell on what Tucker did to his daughter.

Edward crying seems weirdly out of character, especially since he always wants to be so strong for everyone, but, um, well...