FMA Drabbles

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me and I make no money from this work of fanfiction at all.

Pairings: Gen, hints of Winry/Sciezska

A/N: In another universe, Winry's destiny was to become a prodigy at alchemy, but not without great sacrifices. After her father's death, she and her best friend Sciezska try to revive the man- only to fail. After her best friend loses her body and is anchored in a suit of armor, and she herself loses an arm and a leg, they leave to try to find a way to correct their mistake.

The pleasure of the meal continued, the three guests thoroughly enjoying the food and the hilarious banter between the Major and her Ishbalan husband.

"I did lower myself to making a cake," Michael said, sitting up from the low table. "I am told it is tradition here…" He eyed his wife, who covered her smile with a napkin. By now, the three girls suspected that he was no where near as hateful towards northern traditions as he proclaimed, and that his wife was hardly as angry about his "barbarism".

"However, it is huge," Trisha piped up- and smiled gently at her husband. "I'll go get it."

The girls blinked- they were surprised, because Trisha was waddling badly… and Michael had not let her lift anything heavy all night.

"Ah, it's not the weight," he said, sheepishly when they looked at him, and touched his empty shoulder. "I can't balance something that needs two hands."

"Why don't you get automail?" Winry asked, taking one of her gloves off and showing him. "I can recommend a good mechanic."

Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. "My arm was lost quite a long time ago, and I've lived like this so long I really wouldn't want to change. It is not forbidden by the Most Holy to wear automail… but it is a reminder of certain things." He smiled faintly when Trisha came back in, holding the cake.

Sciezska whistled (or whatever it was she did) appreciatively. It was chocolate and strawberry and had at least three layers, and was definitely an outstanding piece of workmanship.

"I know you really enjoy blasphemy, dear," Trisha huffed, nearly dropping it on the kitchen table. "But kindly remember that I am not able to kick your pretty rear at this point in time and it is dreadfully rude of you to leave me like this!"

He got up, contrite, and put his one hand underneath the cake to help it along to the table.

There was a cheer from Winry and Nina while Sciezska twittered in laughter, as the massive confection sliced and pieces spread before them. They had all eagerly dug in when-

"Trisha?" Michael said when the woman went dreadfully pale.

"What's wrong, Major?" Sciezska asked, standing up.

"I believe… the baby… has decided he wants to join the party…"

Winry and Nina blinked, while Sciezska did a good impression of blinking- before pandemonium erupted.

"The baby is on his way?" Michael stood up, looking around. "Your bag has to be here somewhere- we need to get to the hospital!"

"But Mr. Michael," Winry protested, and pointed outside. A full fledged blizzard howled at the top of its voice.

The man's dark skin washed out at the sight of all that snow, and Winry heard him swallow. "I'll go get a doctor. Trish," he said, tenderly, and helped her to the couch. "You girls take care of her while I go get the doctor." He petted her hair slowly, as the contraction eased.

"You be careful, okay?" Trisha said, watching her husband throw on as many clothes as he could before steeling himself to head out into the teeth of the blizzard.

The door slammed shut as Michael charged off.

"I don't want to be a widow!" she wailed, and was left behind with three spastic children.