Disclaimer: Cows! COWS! ZOMG Cows everywhere. runs runs runs (Do not own Fullmetal–not my idea–just made up a story.) runs runs

Canon: Animeverse including CoS and the Mangaverse where it doesn't directly contradict, or Ed where tells me "yah that happened, but it was like this:"

Note: Reviews are wanted, so please encourage me with feedback whether it's good or bad. It lets me know you read it and either enjoyed it, or that you think I need to work harder to make it enjoyable and why. If you see some glaring error, please feel free to point it out. I'm really not too delicate, and I usually actually go and fix those.

Previously: Winry, delayed by bad weather and railway problems, finally arrives to treat a very sick Edward Elric. She finds Alphonse exhausted, and Edward convinced he is dying, because fever has taken so much of his strength. Winry gets started setting things straight right away. She talks to Alphonse about the need to remove Edward's leg to conserve his energy.

Winry snatched the small fabric case of tools he held out to her, almost gushing. "Oh yes! Thank you!" Her hands squeezed the case for a moment before she unrolled it onto the bed next to Edward's metal leg.

In moments, a soft hiss told her the hydraulics had depressurized as the leg shut down at her direction. She flipped open the two release toggles embedded on the edge of the socket and with a gentle twist, the leg came of in her hands. Edward barely even mumbled in his sleep. "There now," she set Edward's leg down and patted the thigh that was all he had left on that side. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked, as she pulled the sheet back over his legs. "Let's leave his foot uncovered, Alphonse, until his temperature comes down some, Ok? Meanwhile, why don't you get me your notebook so you can tell me about his medicines? I want you to get some rest soon too."

"Dyadrine?" Winry raised her eyes from the page to glance sharply at Alphonse. "How many days has he been taking this, Al?"

"A couple weeks?" Alphonse's tired eyes widened at her expression. "I don't know, Winry maybe only a few days? Brother hasn't been really clear on that. He didn't even tell me he was having pain again until he collapsed on Friday. What's wrong?"

"Al," Winry sighed. She knew the boy was tired, but she couldn't believe what she was reading. "Do you even know what this is?" she asked her voice rising though she tried to keep it steady. "It's morphine! Damn it! You know he can't take that for more than a couple of days before it will start making him sick as hell. And then with this fever?" she touched Edward's warm shoulder. "It's no wonder he can't keep anything down. He'll try to turn himself inside out to get that crap out of his system." Alphonse cringed so hard that she relented a little, realizing just how exhausted the younger brother was, both mentally and physically. She kept her eyes narrowed at him though. "Geeze!" she finally grumbled, and pointed into the hallway. "I'll deal with you later. Go to bed."

Alphonse opened his mouth to protest, but Winry didn't give him the opportunity. "Right now, Alphonse." She softened her voice a little. "You're too tired to think straight."

"Okay… I…" Alphonse gave his brother one last glance and then nodded again. "He'll be okay, won't he?"

"I'll take care of him," she said offering a small smile, trying to reassure him. "Now get some rest."

She watched with a sigh as Alphonse meekly obeyed. She really needed to contain her temper. How would Alphonse really have known? What did Edward ever tell anyone until he was too sick to hide it. He'd long since grown out of playing sick to get out of work. Now his work meant something to him. She removed the compress and stroked Edward's damp bangs back from his pale face. Now what, she wondered, considering her options. While she thought about it, she refreshed the compress and used it to dab Edward's face and neck for a moment.

"Mr. Mustang," she asked quietly. It shamed her that she'd all but shouted at Alphonse in front of the older man. She'd forgotten Mustang while she looked over the careful notes Alphonse had kept. It wasn't until she had turned to follow the younger Elric's progress that she'd noticed the man standing with his back against the doorframe as he patted the boy on the shoulder in passing. "Do you feel alert enough to spend another hour running errands for me?"

"Of course," came the smiling response. "Your driving was quite skillful despite the weather, so I was able to sleep on the way back."

Always the flatterer, Winry rolled her eyes a little. "I'm going to need some things I don't have with me to help Edward feel better," She told Mustang. "I'll have to write a prescription for a couple of them." She growled softly again, her hand resting on her childhood friend's hot forehead. "I think if you go to Baker's Pharmacy though, that Mr. Baker will probably have everything in one stop. His special blend ginger ale, I particularly want, and you can't get it anywhere else that I know of."

She laid the compress back on Edward's forehead, and refreshed the one on his chest as well. "I'd better just write you a list," she decided, drying her hands on her wool skirt. Winry tore the back page out of Alphonse's notebook and used his pen to write out her list. That done, Winry pulled her prescription pad out of her purse and scribbled in it. She smirked a little as she finished and handed the smaller pages to Mr. Mustang as well. She had never dreamed that her first real prescription with her own signature would be for Edward. It figured though.

Roy scanned the list once Winry handed it to him. He chuckled softly at some of the items on it.

"What?" Winry frowned at him. She didn't see anything particularly funny.

"Well," Roy began schooling his expression. "Some of these things are already here. You see, Edward and Alphonse wrote a similar list a couple of days ago when Alphonse went to get some of Edward's things for him. And Ralph," he amended when the dog wiggled himself into view down by Edward's legs.

"Well just cross off the things that are here already," Winry told him a little more crossly than she meant to. But really how was she supposed to know what was already here, or what the boys had done. Not like they ever tell me anything, she thought. Men are so stupid!

"I've put a star by anything that's especially crucial," she went on. "Anything with a star, if Mr. Baker doesn't have it, you'll have to have him help you find it somewhere else. On the other hand," Winry continued, stroking Edward's flesh shoulder. "If you've got everything essential at Bakers and one of the other things isn't available, don't trouble yourself about it. Just come back and I'll muck through without that. You need sleep too."

Winry grumbled a little at Mustang's back. Who cared what he thought about the things she wanted to help comfort Edward? So what if she put a box of almond crunch on the list? Edward liked them, and it was easier to get Edward to eat something a little sweet when he was ill. Almond crunch wasn't so sugary that it would turn his stomach though. She stroked her friend's brow, and he moaned softly, worried eyes fluttering open.

He groaned again, and swallowed convulsively. "Win…"

Well, maybe she wouldn't be enticing him to nibble on the almond crunch just yet; Winry realized gently pulling him onto his side.

Afterwards, Winry got a pale, but lucid Edward settled against the pillows again. For the moment he was alert, his eyes following her movements.

"You all right?" Winry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to pat the compress against his cheek. "Feel like that's over for now?"

Edward swallowed, and then nodded slightly, avoiding her eyes for a moment.

"Okay," Winry smiled for him, and reached to give his hand a little squeeze. "Let me get this taken care of then," she told him, rising and picking up the basin.

Now Edward sighed and looked away. It was pretty clear he was embarrassed that she had to deal with it for him.

Winry gave his shoulder another little pat. She managed not to giggle at his discomfiture, but could not help a secret little smile once she was out of his sight. How like him to be embarrassed over something he couldn't control. As if I haven't seen far worse from him.

"Edward?" she called gently as she re-entered his room.

Edward tore his gaze away from the window and gave Winry a wan little smile that nearly broke her heart. Ralph danced back up in with her, and hopped back up on the bed and wiggled into the little space between Winry's hip and Edward's side. Winry started to shoo him back down, but Edward waved her off and rested his hand on his dog's head. "He's worried," Edward said with a pout, tiredly ruffling the dog's ears. "He knows something's wrong."

Winry chuckled a little and picked up the glass of water Alphonse had helped her with earlier. She was glad to see he'd put a little angled straw into it. "Take a sip, Edward," she said cheerily and offered it to him. "The lemon will help your stomach."

At first Edward shook his head, but after a moment she coaxed him to take enough to wet his mouth.

"You want to sleep some more?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm tired…" He sighed. "Real tired. But I'm not sleepy right now."

"All right then," Winry smiled for him and gave his flesh shoulder a pat. "I want to take your temperature then. Is that all right?"

Edward nodded. Obviously, he knew she was going to do it anyway.

"It's down some from when I came in. That's for sure," she went on, easing the blanket back from his flesh leg a little more meaning to do what she could to keep it that way. "Alphonse kept very specific notes," she told him as she slipped the glass under his tongue. "So we'll have to keep a close watch on your temperature, Ed.

Winry took his hand while they waited. After a moment though, her brow furrowed and she lifted it, turning it over for a good look. With a growl, Winry dug in her handbag. In a moment, she produced a jar of hand cream. "Boys are so stupid!" she grumped while Edward could not argue the point. He tried anyway. "Keep your mouth shut!" Winry told him sharply. She scooped out of healthy dollop of the cream and rubbed it into his hand.

Edward did what he was told, but he still voiced his opinion about her 'harsh' treatment by grumbling.

"You be quiet too," Winry told him, knowing exactly what his complaint would be. "You don't need to worry about it being too unmanly for you. This is the stuff we use in the shop. It doesn't have perfume. Just look at the cracks in your skin, Edward!" she fussed, moving on to his foot. "Geeze! Did it not occur to either of them to just help you with a little lotion?"

"No, of course not!" she answered for him, when she saw Edward roll his eyes in response. "And far be it for you to ask Al for anything." She shook her head, rubbing her hands together for a moment to get the excess lotion worked into her own skin. When she was finished, Winry reached over and took the thermometer out of her friend's mouth and read it. "Well, it's not too bad now, Ed." She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Which probably explains why you aren't still talking out of your head," she huffed a little. "When I first got here, I thought I was going to have to put you in a tub of cold water.

Edward shivered visibly, giving her a wide-eyed look. "Sounds peachy!" he told her. Obviously lying. His voice was so ragged, it was hardly more than a croak. As if that weren't enough, he ruined the show of bravado further by launching immediately into a harsh fit of coughing, his hand clutching at his chest.

Winry put the thermometer on the table frowning. "Ed, try not to cough." The admonition was useless. She grabbed another pillow and pulling him up, tucked it behind him. Her arm stayed around him, steadying him, while her fingers dug into his chest near the clavicle anchor. She needed to find that pressure point before he hurt himself. "Try not to cough!"

"Ow!" Edward whined as the fit eased.

"Don't be a baby, Ed," Winry scolded. "It stopped didn't it?"

Edward nodded, still wincing, his hand prying weakly at her fingers. In a moment she eased off the pressure little by little. "It's sore, Win–" he was cut off by another sharp purulent sounding little cough.

"Ed…" Winry reached for one of the face cloths and dipped it in the cooling water before she wiped the blood that stained his lips. "Here, spit it out," she told him, holding the cloth for him. "You don't want to swallow that, okay? It'll just turn your stomach again." She offered him a sip of water when he was done. "Al's notes said that he thought you were having nerve feedback," she said, stroking his hair, still holding the water for him.

"It looks like he called that right."

Edward took another little sip and then nodded. His eyes seemed too big for his face. "That's bad, isn't it?"

"It's not good, Ed," Winry admitted with a frown. She continued to stroke his hair. "You haven't had this much trouble with feedback since your first installation. I don't like that it's got you coughing until you break capillaries."

"How do you think I feel about it," Edward answered petulantly.

Winry sighed and wiped a fleck of red from the corner of Edward's mouth. "Here," she pressed him to take another little sip of water. "You've about scared Al to death," she told him. "What with that and then all your crazy talk."

Edward snorted. It made him cough, but he managed to suppress it. "You wouldn't believe the amount of arnica he's made me take, Winry. I'll never get the taste out of my mouth."

Winry rewarded him for his whining with the drinking straw. She noticed his reluctance to take another sip though, so once he had, she set the glass down for a while. The water didn't do him any good if he just threw it back up. That she gathered was how it had been the last couple of days. "Mr. Mustang has gone to get some medicines and other things for me," Winry told him, stroking his bangs out of his face. The man looked rough, and no question about that. Winry knew Edward hated to be unshaven, and the fact that he obviously hadn't even attempted it for at least a day or two was telling of how ill he was, even if he seemed coherent right now. The same was true of his dirty hair and dull hazel looking eyes.

"What," Edward asked. It seemed that he had not missed her studying him.

Winry slanted him a speculative look. "I was just thinking maybe that bath isn't such a bad idea, Ed."

Edward shook his head, shivering again.

"You don't want a bath?" She asked, pulling his a blanket up a little now that he was cooler.

"It's not that."

"You don't want me to help you bathe?

"No, It's not that either," Edward said impatiently. He shivered hard. "I just… I don't want a cold bath Winry."

"Ed…" Winry took his hand again and patted it. "Ed, honey, it doesn't have to be a cold bath.

"But you said–"

"I was talking about the fever then, Ed!" Winry laughed.

Edward pouted. "It's not nice to make fun of a man when he's sick, Winry!" he grumbled. He pulled his hand free of hers and rubbed his eyes.

"You have a headache?" Winry observed, her hand coming to rest gently on the crown of his head.

He nodded a little. "Lots of stuff hurts."

Winry sighed softly, and tucked herself in next to him again. She got an arm around him, her hand avoiding the ruined shoulder and cradling his ribs instead. "Just lean against me and rest Edward," she soothed. "Mr. Mustang will be back soon, and you can have a new pain pill, okay? I don't want you to take any more of the ones you have. They won't help you get better."

"I don't want to take any more, anyway," Edward murmured. His head came to rest on her shoulder, and in a moment, she was pretty sure that exhaustion had put him to sleep even if he had said only moments before that he wasn't sleepy.

Winry held him like that for a while. She could tell by his breathing that he was hurting even while he slept, but she let him rest however he could until she could do more for his comfort. Maybe Mr. Mustang would return soon.

"Win…" Edward stirred a little against her, clearly uncomfortable. "Could you let me lie back down, Winry," He mumbled. "My back is–"

Winry turned her head and kissed his temple and then slipped out from behind him as gently as she could. She wondered at the soft little sigh when she kissed him. She had meant it to be a comfort to him. "I'm sorry, Ed," she whispered as helped him back into his pillows. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"What?" Edward mumbled thickly.

"I shouldn't have kissed you, Ed," she shook her head stroking his bangs. "That wasn't very professional of me."

His eyes widened a bit. "That didn't make me uncomfortable," he said a little of his usual brashness coming through even though his voice was hoarse. "I was already uncomfortable. It was nice," he averred. "It made me feel better. Kiss me any time you want, Winry."

Winry gave his head a little pat. "Go to sleep, Ed. Okay?" She wanted to put ice on that ugly hot bruise, and she thought it would save the protest if he were asleep when she did it. "You're sleepier than you think you are anyway." She hardly had to say it. Edward was already drifting off, mumbling something she couldn't understand.

For the next few minutes, Winry reread Alphonse's notebook. She wanted to give Edward a chance to get a little deeper into sleep so she wouldn't disturb him. Once she had finished reading, she turned to a fresh page and continued the journal, by writing her own observations. Then she mapped out a treatment plan for Edward. By the time she had finished, Edward seemed to be sleeping pretty well. There was a crease between his brows, though, a telltale marker of his pain.

"Ed," Winry called his name softly, but he didn't stir, so she took a fresh compress and unfolded it on the edge of the bed so she could scoop some ice into it. The bruise looked just as livid as it had when she'd first seen it. Not that she expected it to have changed that much in an hour. Maybe she had hoped her memory of it had been exaggerated. But as she arranged the sheet over him, to try to keep his modesty while she tended it she realized that even if she hadn't taken his leg, he probably couldn't have walked. Even if he was much better tomorrow, she didn't think he would be able to bear weight on that leg. If he did this on a piece of furniture, he must have been running she thought as she pushed the sheet out of her way more, gently pulling his leg toward her a bit. She bent to get a better look at it. Another inch and it would have been a lot worse for him, I guess. Hardly concerned with what it was she was touching, she eased his penis aside a bit. She was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate her putting ice on it, but it she noticed that the discoloration even tinged the side of his shaft some. No way was he doing any walking, she confirmed to herself. Bending close, she gently applied the ice pack to the deepest part of the bruise.

"Do you need better light, Doctor Rockbell?"

Winry nearly jumped out of her skin. She had not heard Mustang re-enter the house, nor climbing the stairs. Edward whined softly, the jerk of the compress against his injury hurting him and ruining the relative peace of his sleep. "Could you knock?" she growled, her hands clenching.

"I beg your pardon," Mustang returned smoothly. She could just hear the smirk in his tone, and hated how her cheeks were burning. It wasn't like she'd been doing anything wrong. "I was trying to spare Fullmetal any embarrassment."

By embarrassing me? Winry drew her breath in to retort, but bit her tongue and kept it to herself. She reminded herself that it wasn't professional, that she was tired, he was tired and that her quick, reactive tongue wasn't helping matters. Especially not with Edward squirming under her where she was trying to treat that bruise.

"The hell're you doing, Win?" It would have been a shriek if Edward's voice hadn't been so weak. Instead it was like a croak as he pulled his leg up and tried to push himself out from under Winry's hands. His only hand pulled at the sheet, which he held possessively over himself, his eyes accusing.

"Ed—"

Winry was interrupted by Alphonse tearing breathlessly into the room. "Ed?" he cried, "What's wrong?" The younger boy looked to Winry when Edward only scowled darkly. He was probably too weak to do much else, so it was about his only weapon. "What's wrong with him?" Alphonse expected her to know.

"Too many people in the room while I'm trying to treat my patient, for one thing!" she barked at him. "I thought I told you to go to bed, Al!"

Alphonse backed up a pace, wide-eyed.

"I was putting ice on your stupid bruise, Edward!" she told the blond, pointing at the area he now had the sheet tightly covering. "As if you have anything I haven't already seen anyway. What did you think? I was playing with your toys?" she rolled her eyes. "As if!"

Now she pointed at Mustang, "Is that everything on my list?"

"Yes ma'am," the erstwhile general nodded.

"Good. Leave it right there. I'll sort it out once I get him settled again."

Mustang complied setting his bags down on the quilt chest at the foot of the bed.

"Well?" Winry asked when neither he nor Alphonse made any move to go anywhere. She pointed animatedly out the door. "Go to bed," she told them, her eyes flashing. "NOW!" she cried when they still hadn't moved.

"Win…" Edward mumbled from the bed.

"You too!" she rounded on the sick man, as the other two fled her fury. "You most of all, Edward. Go to sleep right now."

End Note: Took long enough to get her here, didn't it? I'm amazingly sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. I know that a lot of you know why this one was so difficult for me. Hopefully, from here, I can move forward more easily. Thanks to everyone for your amazing patience and your comments and critiques while waiting for me to get this story going again. Thanks thanks thanks.