Winry decided that being alone was really hard.

She fought back a wave of fresh tears, swallowing hard against the biting pain in her shin and hand, but she didn't want to cry and risk Granny hearing. Granny would just ask her what had happened, and then she'd have to confess that she was down in the automail shop trying to sort parts without Granny's permission.

But she was nine, and she could do it. Granny was so sad these days, and Winry was sad too, but that just meant that Granny needed her to be a better helper. Mom had always said that Winry was a good helper.

It was after midnight, and she hoped Granny was fast asleep as she made her quiet way up the stairs, up to her bathroom and her first aid kit. Granny was up later and later now though, drinking coffee that didn't quite smell like coffee all day long even when she claimed it was making her stay awake at night.

Winry wasn't sure that it was the coffee though.

She had overheard Granny talking on the phone to her great aunt Charlette that she wasn't even sure if she could keep the family business running by herself after . . . well, after Mom and Dad died.

Winry didn't quite manage to bite back the whimper that tightened her throat that time, half sadness, half pain, a familiar coldness roiling in her tummy and settling into her bones.

Winry really missed her Mom and Dad.

But Winry could help. She was going to be the best automail mechanic Amestris had ever seen, and until then, she would be Granny's helper.

And as hard as it was, she would do it alone.

It was that line of thought that had led her to the automail shop to finish organizing the last four orders that Granny had left unopened on the workbench in big, sealed boxes. Granny had refused patients the last two weeks since they got the news, referring them to another mechanic the next town over. Winry hoped that, if she could prove to Granny that she could be a good helper, Granny would keep the business that had meant so much to her, Mom, and Dad.

"Winry?"

She clamped her uninjured hand over her mouth to smother a panicked squeak and whirled, a pale silhouette outlined in silver moonlight leaning out the guest bedroom doorway.

"Ed!" she hissed. She wasn't used to anyone else being upstairs and had almost forgotten the Elric brothers were spending the night with them. Their mom—they still had theirs—had gone to East City for a doctor's appointment and wasn't due back for another two days. "What are you doing awake?!"

"What are you doing up?" he asked in a whisper, his sleepy eyes slowly sharpening as he looked her up and down. "Is that blood?" he pointed to her knee.

She swiped an oozing stream of red so dark it looked black, catching it before it had a chance to roll down her shin and drip on her favorite buckled house shoes her dad had gotten her in Central before they'd left.

And didn't come back.

"Go back to bed," she ordered, turning and ducking into her bathroom.

Before she had a chance to shut the door, Ed wedged his barefoot against the frame. "It's on your hand, too."

"I can get it, Ed."

Ed's eyes narrowed, glaring at her through the dimness, the moon casting sharp shadows across his small face. "You don't have to do everything by yourself."

Her resolve melted under his stubborn gaze.

Just like it always did.

With a sigh, she let the door go and flipped on the lights, both of them wincing in the glare of the bare bulbs over the mirror. The first aid kit was tucked under the sink and Ed bent down to fetch it, the box big in his small hands. Winry knew he would kill her for even thinking it.

He put it on the floor. "Sit," he gestured.

Winry wanted to pout about him being so bossy, but her shin hurt, and so did her hand, so she sat on the floor. He frowned as he crouched next to her, opening the kit and pulling out the alcohol and a cotton square, then wrenched open the tin top, the clear liquid swirling around glass as he dumped a generous amount on the cotton and wiped it over the broken skin on her leg.

She hissed a tight breath through her teeth.

"Sorry," he said, his glare faltering just a bit. "So . . . what happened?"

"Nothing."

Ed looked at her for the first time since entering the bathroom, his brows flat and unimpressed.

She sighed. "Fine, I was putting away the orders downstairs."

"It's the middle of the night!"

"Shh! Granny and Al are asleep!"

He clamped his mouth into an irritated line, but Winry couldn't tell if it was aimed at her or himself. "You're not supposed to be down there by yourself or messing with the orders. Granny said—"

"I know what she said," Winry snapped. Ed blinked at her and she immediately felt guilty for her outburst.

Winry was only nine, but Winry was old enough to understand that she wasn't really mad at Ed.

She looked down at her hand as Ed took it gently in his, his fingers brushing the place where metal had sliced her palm, blood beading along the crevice and a tiny stream rolling slowly toward her thumb.

"I'm . . . I wanted to help," she said at last. Ed didn't look up this time, but she could tell he was listening by the quirk in his eyebrow as he pushed some gauze into her hand. "I picked up one of the steel plates—those really sharp ones—and it slipped out of my hand and I caught it on my leg before it could make noise and. . ." she looked down at her shin, still stinging and bleeding just a little. "I just wanted to help."

"You're a big help."

Winry looked up, but Ed was stubbornly staring at his hands as he unwrapped a band-aid, the paper wrap crinkling as he tore it away.

"You helped me and Al by letting us stay here. You even made the beds for us, even though you know we could do it ourselves, you always do it before we come stay." He pressed the bandage to her skin, tight against the pale blue of a bruise blooming around the gash. "You helped Granny make dinner when she said she was too tired, and you helped me with the dishes. You helped Al set the table, and last week you helped me and Al clean our house when Mom felt too sick to. You're always helping people."

He took her hand again, pressing another band-aid to her palm. "Maybe it would be better if you let us help you for a change."

Her face felt hot and she wasn't sure why, but then Ed looked up and she could see the faint red in his own cheeks. He looked away quickly, stuffing supplies back into the box. "Me and Al will help you clean your dumb automail clinic tomorrow, okay?"

She blinked at him, and her eyes felt wet for some reason. "Thank you," she said quietly, pressing her bandaged hand to her pink shirt.

He dutifully avoided her eyes. "You're welcome," he grumbled, shoving the kit back under the sink. "It's late. You should go to bed."

She couldn't deny that she felt better, enough to sleep. Maybe it was her bandaged cuts, or maybe it was Ed's gruff-but-nice words, but the coldness that had chased her up the stairs from the clinic felt warmer now, softer.

Maybe, Winry decided, it wasn't so hard being alone when you had somebody to be alone with.

Let's see if I can keep these rolling all week xD Just gonna try to crank out one roughly-edited fic for a few days in a row and see where we end up!

Anyways, the lovely mildynerdy created some adorable art on tumblr and gave me permission to base my fic off of it. What a hero :D I know I can't link things here, but you can find it by searching tumblr for mildly-artsy's profile, or my own.

This was super quick, but I hope you found it enjoyable, nevertheless. Thank you so much for reading! If you have the time, please drop a comment because they seriously give me so much motivation haha. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow for the next prompt!

God Bless,

-RainFlame