A/N: Okay, so for about the past week I've been reading Fullmetal Alchemist manga obsessively, so now I'm all caught up, yay! But anyway, I was listening to my James Blunt CD and I heard this song and immediately thought "WTF ED WINRY SONG FOR LIFE!" I'm serious. Download this song if you don't have it. It works amazingly for them. So I tried my hand at writing an FMA fic! I hope it turned out okay, even if it's kind of long. Heehee!

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, and Cry belongs to James Blunt.

I have seen peace. I have seen pain,
Resting on the shoulders of your name.
Do you see the truth through all their lies?
Do you see the world through troubled eyes?

"…Ed?"

The soft voice awoke the boy abruptly from his stupor. He blinked groggily, trying to separate sleep from wakefulness. "Wha--?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes with his left hand.

"Ed, it's me."

Edward finally realized where his was: on his hotel bed, with the moon shining down through the window on onto his lap. He glanced over to see Winry kneeling at the foot of his bed, her eyes wide but scrunched at the same time. Possible? He didn't know, but that's what he saw. It took another quick look to see Alphonse still sleeping quietly on the other side of the room.

"Winry?" he asked, his voice croaky. "What do you want?" He hadn't meant to sound grouchy. Really. But who liked being woken up in the middle of the night? The moment his words slipped out, her face seemed to crumple a little more. Ed watched her, alarmed.

"Um…Well…" She fell silent, glancing down at her hands, which Ed noticed were folded tightly in her lap. He rolled his eyes and hopped out of bed, grabbing her arm and heaving her up.

"Let's go out in the hall so you don't wake Al up," he whispered, dragging her to the door.

"Oh! Right…"

Once outside, Edward placed his hands on his hips and tried his hardest not to glower at her. She just looked so…troubled. "So…?" She glanced up at him when he spoke, blinking. "What's wrong?" he asked, this time his tone softer.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead of words all that came out was silence. Ed quirked an eyebrow curiously. What was she trying to do? And then he saw something he hadn't before.

Tears.

Oh, crap. Why was she crying? Was it something he'd done? "Hey, hey," he said softly, grabbing her arm. "Are you crying?" whispered Ed.

And if you want to talk about it anymore,
Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder,
I'm a friend.

"I just—um—I don't…" She let her words stop and started to cry quietly rather than silently. Ed felt his heart sink and ushered her to the floor, where at least they could huddle against the wall and not get sore feet from standing. Once the two were seated, Ed had no idea what to do. He glanced over at her. She was now full out crying, with her hands covering her face as if to mask her pain. He looked away again, almost angrily. What the hell was she here for? It's not like he could do anything!

With a soft plop he looked over alarmingly, only to be caught off guard by her head of blonde hair that was resting on his shoulder. He almost cried out and stood up, but before he could utter a word her sobs rose higher in her chest. His heart sank lower once again, and he felt terrible.

"Winry…" he muttered, trying to think of something to say.

I have seen birth. I have seen death.
Lived to see a lover's final breath.
Do you see my guilt? Should I feel fright?
Is the fire of hesitation burning bright?

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" he asked quietly again, subconsciously brushing a stray hair away from her face. Her head, still resting on his shoulder, shook with quiet cries. "Hey," he prodded, trying to bend his head down enough to look at her face. It didn't work, and he gave a heavy sigh and let it fall back on the wall with a dull thud.

"Did you just come get me to cry then?" he asked a little louder. She didn't answer, but her sobs quieted. Ed felt like slapping himself. What was he doing? She was crying and he was complaining? "Dammit!" he hissed, gripping his hands together tightly. "I always say the wrong things, don't I?"

And if you want to talk about it once again,
On you I depend. I'll cry on your shoulder.
You're a friend.

Winry managed to glance up at him. He saw her face, splotchy from crying with tears still streaming down her cheeks, glare at him defiantly.

"No you don't," she choked out, wiping her face with an arm. "I'm just…I'm getting kind of emotional." She gave a sad little chuckle, and her curtain of hair hid her face from Ed. Her words did nothing to lift his guilt though, and he too had to rub at his own eyes for a quick moment before blinking up at the roof.

"Winry…" he began, but then stopped again. What was it that he wanted to say? He had no idea. Something, anything to comfort her.

You and I have been through many things.
I'll hold on to your heart.
I wouldn't cry for anything,
But don't go tearing your life apart.

"I never thought this would happen," she whispered hoarsely. Ed perked his ears up; glad to hear the sobs had evaporated.

"What?" he replied, although he knew what she meant.

"This. Automail arms and legs. Armor for a body. My two…best friends…dying in front of me, begging for a way to live!" She started to cry again, and he felt his eyes turning hot with unshed tears. He barely remembered that time, for he had fallen unconscious and Al had been the one to run to Granny's. But he tried to think about how it must have been, to see them both like that when only hours before they had been perfectly normal…

"You shouldn't feel so bad," he said gruffly, still watching the wall opposite of them rather than Winry, whose head was still lying heavily on his shoulder. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"It does too," she replied hotly. "Don't even start!"

"Yea, but you shouldn't be crying about it!" barked Ed, glaring down at her head, which had become still. "I don't want you to…I don't want to be the one that—that made you cry." He blinked rapidly, and he noticed her hands clenched together in her lap so tightly the knuckles were turning white.

I have seen fear. I have seen faith.
Seen the look of anger on your face.
And if you want to talk about what will be,
Come and sit with me, and cry on my shoulder,
I'm a friend.

"Ed," she said in an almost scolding tone. "You always take the guilt, you know? It's not like this is your entire fault. It's my own fault for being so weak that I'm crying. I don't even know why I came to your room. I'm just…overloaded, I guess."

Ed squinted his eyes. "I couldn't tell."

"Of COURSE you couldn't!" snapped Winry, managing an angry glare at him that caused Ed to wince. "You don't see things like that, do you? No! Never!"

A heavy silence descended down on them.

"But…it's okay. I'll always forgive you for being so thick-headed." Winry gave him a watery grin, but already the tears were starting to pour from her eyes again.

"Wha—Winry! Why're you still crying?" Ed asked, horrified. Hadn't that been over a while ago?

"I…I don't know," she whispered, sniffing. "I guess I wasn't done…" she let out a lonely hiccup, causing Ed's guilt mixed with pity to soar again.

"It's okay," Edward told her softly, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "I have nowhere to be tonight."

Winry tried to smile but all she managed was to let out another, heavier sob. Ed sat back against the wall, which allowed Winry to drop her head on his shoulder again, this time her face buried in the cloth. Her sobs wracked her tiny body, but Ed held onto her hand with a determined sort of sadness.

If he were able to help her feel better, he would try anything in the world. Even if it meant sitting outside all night, listening to her sobs and holding her hand. He would do it.

And if you want to talk about it anymore,
Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder,
I'm a friend.