Spoilers: End of series.

Evanescence

"Though we share this humble path, alone

How fragile is the heart

Oh give these clay feet wings to fly

To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart

Lift this mortal veil of fear

Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears

We'll rise above these earthly cares"

- "Dante's Prayer", by Loreena McKennitt

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Two eyes stare at her. Two bronze eyes, reddened and swollen by the tears that have left salty traces on the boy's cheek and on the back of his hands, where they've fallen without him noticing, or caring.

He startledwhen he saw her, causing the tears to stop and cling to his long eyelashes and his grip on his bed sheets to tighten.

"… Win… Winry?"

Hearing this tiny, hoarse voice sends a shiver down her spine. It's exactly the same one, down to the way it breaks, the one she remembers, the one that has resounded from the inside of an old suit of armor for five years.

"Hey Al…"

There are tears in her eyes too, and she tries to hold them back –she can't, can't cry in front of Alphonse, not when he isn't. Lieutenant Hawkeye's words still ring painfully in her ears, so much louder now that she has proof they were true. Winry knew she wouldn't find Edward when she got to Central's hospital.

She can't get it out of her head, Hawkeye's soft, carefully controlled voice breaking the news to her in the cold and impersonal jargon of the military –"Missing in action", the Lieutenant had first said, then "presumed dead"-, the emptiness that swallowed her world then, narrowing it down to these few words, sucking her innocence and carefree smile out of her, and the pain, and the tears, so many tears.

At first, Winry was only able to cry and force herself to breathe, until the second part of Hawkeye's announcement sunk in. Alphonse is alive, and has got his body back. Edward succeeded. Alphonse was still blissfully unconscious when the Lieutenant called, but he's awake now, and obviously knows. He stares at her with eyes both hopeful and desperate and she can't, can't cry in front of him.

They both stare at each other, immobile. Yes, this is Winry, Alphonse thinks, he recognizes her eyes and the tears in them, and yet… not. She looks too old, her hair is too long, and the list of things he's found unexplainable since he woke up keeps getting longer.

She moves slowly towards him, their eyes still locked, and sits on the bed, her hand rising to his cheek. Alphonse is about to lean in when she freezes, drawing a deeper breath and eyes widening in sudden understanding. Only one thing could keep Edward away from his brother. That damn equivalent exchange. Winry knows that Edward wouldn't have hesitated a second to sacrifice himself if it meant Alphonse could be back to normal, if it came to that. His body for his little brother's, and he would have kept his promise.

Edward isn't "missing in action" or "presumed dead". Edward has surrendered himself to that Truth they had once told her about, to save Alphonse. It's logical, it's obvious, it makes perfect sense, how comes no one else seems to understand? Surely they would have told her, of all people, and spared her the agony of imagining him lost and wounded, drowning in a pool of his own blood?

She sighs, and slightly lowers her hand. It doesn't matter. Whatever happened, it doesn't change the fact that Edward is gone and indeed lost, lost to them.

But Alphonse is still here, breathing and real. This is whom she has to concentrate on now. So she honors Edward's sacrifice, her hand finally coming to rest on the younger boy's cheek. Her fingers move to smooth the real hair then back to his real cheek, wiping the dissident (but real) tear she finds there. Alphonse is perfect.

Perfect until his chin begins to tremble, imperceptibly at first then more and more violently. Strangers have come to visit him, strangers have told him his brother has disappeared, strangers that asked him questions, strangers that seemed to know him, them, so well, but this time he wants answers, and he knows he can ask Winry. Whatever happened, she's still Winry, his childhood friend and big sister. He can ask her, so he bravely swallows the lump in his throat.

"Winry… The last thing I remember is Brother and I transmuting Mom, and here I find myself without him and in a hospital bed in Central City. I don't understand, what happened? Even you have changed…"

"You… You don't remember anything after that?"

Her hand draws back as if slapped, swiftly as Alphonse slowly shakes his head. His eyes are still on her though, demanding answers, the infamous Elric determination shining in his eyes.

"That was five years ago, Al…"

She fails to hide the disappointment in her voice, and looks away. Alphonse's body having his ten-year-old appearance makes some kind of twisted sense, even to her, but his mind? His memories? So Edward has failed, after all. He was no match for the Truth, never was, and what she thought was a miracle is a flawed illusion.

Winry takes a deep breath, to suppress her disappointment, and anger. Anger at the Truth, that let a kid –because no matter how hard he tried to deny it, that's all Edward ever was- sacrifice his life without granting him his last request. At Edward –how could he have failed? At herself, because she's well aware that she doesn't know enough to satisfy Alphonse's questioning eyes. At Edward again, because it's all his damn fault she can't help the younger Elric.

She can't, but she tries anyway, for the boy's sake. She tells him everything she knows, everything she's gathered during her visits to repair Edward's automail. Alphonse drinks every word, and briefly wonders why her pride sounds so bitter when she mentions that Edward had been the youngest State Alchemist the country had ever seen.

Winry tells him everything, from the brothers' burnt home to the military chasing them. Her voice is soft, neutral, distant even, as if to make sure she won't interfere in his interpretation of the information she provides. It's just easier that way, to give a historical account of the facts and pretend she never really was part of any of this, that she wasn't left behind. She doesn't need that pain now, on top of everything else. She still groans when she's done though, because she's summarized four years in a couple of minutes and honestly doesn't know what to add.

She's looking away again, and Alphonse thanks her. He feels… empty. Winry doesn't know, those men in blue wouldn't say anything… That's it, then. Emptiness. He doesn't dare to ask other questions, too scared by the possibility of more hollow answers.

Emptiness, and nothing more.

The silence is becoming increasingly heavier and uncomfortable, but Winry doesn't speak either, afraid to discover other flaws. She avoids Alphonse's eyes, looks at the room she's in, but her gaze never rests on the same object for long. The room is too calm, the walls could use a new coat of paint, the silence is too thick, the day too dull. Edward's golden eyes are missing. His golden eyes, his sarcasm and sly grin.

Emptiness, and nothing more.

For the shortest second, Winry tries to convince herself that Edward is going to slam the door open, furious at being kept away from his brother for so long. He will come and fill the emptiness, they will laugh together, and everything will shine again. But no matter how long she looks, stares, glares at it, the door doesn't budge.

Alphonse follows her gaze, and understands. She's waiting. She'll wait for as long as it takes for the sun to return. He doesn't remember she has already been waiting for five years. He would like to wait with her, but his tears catch up with him and start flowing again, sobs making his whole body tremble.

Winry hears him and snaps out of her trance, finally looking back at him, studying, scrutinizing his every feature. He may not be the perfect miracle she hoped for, but he is Alphonse, Edward has poured his very soul into every single one of his cells, perhaps literally, and she's only looking at a little ten years old boy after all, a frightened and innocent little boy who's just learnt he has lost his last relative and five years of his life.

So, gently, tenderly, she wraps her arms around him, her fingers run over his perfect skin and perfectly silky hair, holding all of Edward's love for his brother closer to her, tears coming to her own eyes. They cry for themselves, for each other and young kids with too big a heart.

Later, much later, when they have both calmed down, Winry whispers the last words she has left to say, the only words Alphonse can still hear.

Al… Let's go home.