A/N: The writing bug has bitten me, and so I've been spitting out pages this week at a rather alarming rate. I didn't think you guys would mind :) Thanks again to everyone that reviewed, or just stopped by to read. It really does mean quite a lot to me. You guys rock! Oh, and on the note of shameless self-promotion, the new multi-chapter fic I promised in the last update has its first chapter up (called "Freefall"). If you're a D.N. Angel fan, feel free to mosey over and take a look.

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of its characters.

Fighting Fair

As much as Ed hated hospitals, he had to admit that he spent a significant chunk of his time frequenting them. The nurse who'd come to change out his bandages had informed him that they kept a bed ready for him, an empty room that they stocked with various medical supplies and extra food.

Ed was pretty sure that she'd been joking.

And as much as hospitals were becoming a constant in Ed's life, he noticed that they also carried another theme. Whenever he found himself propped up in a hospital bed, wrapped up like a mummy and bored out of his skull by the second hour, he also found himself dialing a familiar phone number. Whenever Ed was hurt, badly enough that he actually sought medical attention, odds were that his automail was also pretty banged up (or occasionally hanging from his shoulder by a few fragile wires). So he'd make the sheepish call, and the next day, Winry would kick in the door to his hospital room, the fires of hell already burning in her bright blue eyes. After a quick scan to ascertain that he wasn't actually resting on his deathbed, she'd hone in on her creations like a heat-seeking missile, and her shrieks of fury would often shake the foundations of the building.

Typically, Ed would respond to her rapid-fire insults, delivered at full volume, with a few shouts of his own. But this time, Ed let her rant without interruption, even though her rage was hot enough to frighten away even the ever-stalwart Armstrong. It was a rare thing for Ed to be able to look past his own emotions, which always sat so close to his surface. He was always the type to act first, and contemplate later. His own brother would testify to the fact that Ed often let his emotional impulsiveness dictate his decisions. But today, Ed let Winry's hot and furious words roll off of him. He all but shut his ears to the sound; he chose to see instead.

Even in the heat of his own anger, how could he have missed, all those times before, the tears that lined her eyes as she shouted, or the way her hands shook as she tended to his automail?

Ed was struck with the uncomfortable knowledge that for someone people referred to as a prodigy, he could be amazingly stupid sometimes. As blind as he'd been, it was amazing that he hadn't actually started bouncing off of walls. Al was going to be so smug when he realized that it was his advice that had forced Ed's eyes open a little.

They'd been traveling back from one of Mustang's stupid missions, a land dispute in the South. There'd been a girl there, a blonde girl with green eyes that bore a vague resemblance to a certain automail mechanic. She'd wrapped herself around Ed like tied shoe laces, and the fifteen-year old had had a hell of a time untangling the knots. Al had laughed until his metal sides shook at the blush that still stung his brother's face, even hours later on the train.

"Why didn't you just tell her you were taken, Brother?" he suggested. "She might've left you alone if you told her you had a girlfriend."

"Winry's not my girlfriend!" Ed shot back instantly, his flush deepening to a darker red. "We're just friends! How many times do I have to tell people that?!"

Al's laughter had faded, and he'd tipped his metal head to the side.

"I wasn't talking about Winry," he said slowly. "I meant you could have pretended."

Ed had made a choked sort of squeaking sound. Whoops. And for someone with such a gentle nature, Al had locked on to Ed's discomfort with ruthless and almost deadly accuracy.

"It's interesting, isn't it Brother, that I mention girlfriends, and the first person you think of is Winry."

Ed was hailed as a child prodigy, someone with an outrageous amount of intelligence. But Al's semi-innocent observation had left Ed tripping over his own words.

"Al…you…I didn't…I don't…Gah…"

Al's snicker had echoed inside his armored head.

"Relax, Brother. It's just something to think about."

And Ed had rubbed a miserable hand over the back of his neck, because he had been thinking about it, more than he wanted to, more than he would admit out loud. And for every moment he'd spent, thinking thoughts he couldn't seem to banish, he'd suffered a moment of intense guilt. Equivalent exchange at its finest.

"Hey, Al."

The hesitancy he'd had in his voice had brought Al's head around instantly. Ed so rarely let his guard down.

"You said before that sometimes when you and I fought, we'd fight over who got Winry." He cleared his throat, miserably awkward. "I guess I was just wondering…who won?"

Al had looked at him for a long time, and Ed knew that his brother was seeing past the words he spoke, to the actual question hiding underneath.

"You did, Brother," he finally said. "When it came to that fight, you always won."

"Really? Are you sure?"

All the laughter had left Al's voice, but he'd still sounded so gentle, and warm.

"Really. I think…I think I knew that that was a fight you'd win no matter what." It wasn't possible for metal to smile, but Ed could see it in Al's voice. "And I knew, deep down, that I wasn't fighting for the win itself. Just fighting for the sake of fighting."

Ed had slumped in his seat. While he'd known that his brother's words were meant to comfort, they'd also intensified his guilt to a near impossible level.

"I don't think that that particular fight is over yet, Al. When I get your body back, I think it'll keep going." He almost winced as he fixed his eyes on his brother's metal face. "After all, you can't really win like this. So the fight never reached a fair conclusion."

"I don't think so, Brother. When I get my body back, you'll see."

They'd lapsed into silence. And after a long while, Al had sighed and spoken one more sentence, almost as an afterthought.

"Brother, she's been waiting for you since before we left Resimbool."

And Ed had choked once again. And he'd sputtered. And then he'd began to wonder.

In all of his…thinking, he'd never really considered, never really let himself believe…that Winry might have done some thinking of her own.

And now here she was. And Ed could see her, like he never had before. And while it elated him, it also hurt his heart a little.

He took a deep breath, and when Winry walked by, still ranting, Ed reached out and took one of her waving hands. Instantly, she froze, her words snapping off like a light switch. Ed so rarely reached out to anyone; he hoarded his personal space like a greedier man might hoard gold.

Ed was lousy with words, especially when it came to things like this. But people were always telling him that they could always tell what he was thinking, because his feelings reflected in his eyes. The idiot Colonel in particular remarked on it, said how much he hated it, because it meant that Ed was a terrible liar, and therefore doomed when it came to military politics. So Ed only said two words.

"Sorry, Winry."

And the rest he said silently. He could tell by the way Winry's breath hitched that she heard his unspoken words. But before she could speak, Ed tugged his hand away. He couldn't let her respond, not yet. He had things to do first, important things. One of the many, many reasons why Al needed to be restored was right before his eyes. Because Winry's response wouldn't be right, wouldn't be unbiased, until both boys were standing before her.

When it came to those he cared about, and especially his brother, Ed knew no other way to fight than fair.