Disclaimer: If I owned FMA it would be really really sad. Plus, the comedy would suck. So therefore, I don't own it.

Wasting Away

Flowers weren't enough. He needed something more for her. She was simply too special for just a bunch of roses. He had been passing a mechanic's store on the way over, and had bought her a new wrench. He would have got her something more, but he was low on money. He smiled sadly, placing the wrench atop the grave. He then slapped his hands together, and then slammed them on the ground. Instantly, the grave was sourounded by beautiful bright flowers.

His eyes were listless, as he stood back up, staring at the name carved into the stone. He should've known this would happen. It had happened to his father, so it was only right it should happen to him. She had wasted away. Slowly died waiting for him. It was just like with his mother. He had took too long and she had died. Some had said she had died of a broken heart.

"Brother?"

His younger brother Alphonse stood behind him. It was only recently that he re-aquired his body. A worried look marred his face as he stared at his brother. "You've been out here a long time haven't you?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice.

"I must be pretty pathetic." Edward said, showing no regard to answer Alphonse's question. "Even after all this time. Even after the pain and the loss that we've suffered because of my mistake," He shook his head at himself. "I still want to bring her back."

"Brother, you can't!" Alphonse cried, afraid that he was planning to go through with her ressurection.

"I won't Al," Edward assured, his eyes blankly stuck to the grave. "I learned my lesson the first time." He said, "but even to think it, I must be pretty pathetic."

Alphonse hesitated. He wasn't quite sure what to say to him. "Are you coming back for dinner?" He asked, deciding to switch the subject.

"Yeah..." Edward said after a moment. "Go ahead. I'll catch up."

Alphonse nodded. He turned and started to head back towards Pinako's house.

Edward smiled softly as he bent down, running his hand affectionatly over the name. His eyes held deep remorse, as he thought of the person sleeping six feet below him, never to rise again. The thought made his heart feel heavy. Gently, he rested his head on the stone. "Oh Winry..." He whispered. "I wanted to come back here with my arm and leg... then maybe... you would see me for me, and not some hunk of metal." He closed his eyes. He felt guilty. Very guilty. He should have been there for her. Weather or not he could save her. To just be there for her in her final moments. Holding her hand. Why couldn't he see it earlier? She was withering and he had done nothing to help her.

They had been back for about three days now. It was then they had found out. Alphonse had started crying when he found out, but Edward had looked stern. There wasn't a faulter in his step, not a tear in his eye. He couldn't let himself cry. He couldn't be weak. Winry wouldn't want him to be sad for her. He may have looked strong on the outside but on the inside he was miserable.

He hadn't slept since he had found out. He rarely ate anymore. There were deep bags under his eyes. He only spoke when he had to. In short terms, he was living in his own isolated hell without her. He wanted her. He needed her.

"Winry," he mumbled, as he sat back next to the grave. He felt as though talking to the grave was like talking to Winry. That was his sleep deprived explantion for his actions. "I'm a real mess aren't I?" he asked. The only answer he recieved was the howling wind. He brushed his bangs from his sad-stricken eyes. "Look what you did, I'm miserable without you." He muttered. "Then again... look what I did to you." Again a softer wind blew, tossing his clothes and hair. He liked the breeze. It reminded him of her.

"I'm so sorry Winry," he said. He must have apologized about a million times, but it didn't seem enough. If he could, he would apologize until he went blue in the face.

"You wasted away, and I wasn't there." His voice had turned into nothing but a cracked whisper. "I really have become my father." His fist tightened on the ground, ripping grass up with it.

Edward still hated his father with a passion. How could that man who was supposed to be his father, do that to his mother? He also wondered, how could he have done that to Winry? Sure, he didn't know. But that was meerly an excuse. He could have known, he should have! He should've been there, maybe he could have helped somehow.

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry Winry."

Slowly, he got to his feet. He glanced down at the grave with a sad sigh. "I loved you Winry. I still do." With that, he turned on his heel and started to head back towards his house for dinner. The wind picked up once again. As it brushed through the trees, causing a soft whispering sound to fill the air. If one could listen hard enough, they just might be able to hear the echo of Edward's words, as they were carried gently up into the sky.

A/N: I like the idea of this oneshot, but I don't like how I wrote it. Hm. Well, as I always say, it's up to the reviewers!