Author's Note:- This is an idea I had very late last night, just as I was about to turn off my 'puter, so I had to write it really quickly. I'm quite proud of it, so I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. I wish I did, but I don't.

When the Rain Falls.

She often finds it difficult to concentrate when he's not around. She'll have a moment, halfway through tuning up somebody's automail, where her mind drifts off in search of him, and she wonders what he's doing at that moment. Then the client moves or clears their throat and she remembers where she is and apologises and carries on.

Sometimes, on days where she has nothing to do, she sits in her room and takes the dark, cherrywood box out from beneath her bed. She sits with it in her lap, not opening it, just touching the wood, remebering the day she found it, rescued it from the burnt skeleton of the house. Inside, she keeps a few special items; the first letter he sent her after the two of them left, the one that made her cry solidly for three days; the card he sent her on her fifteenth birthday that had three thousand marks stuffed inside it; the doll they made for her when they were young.

Just simple, sentimental things.

The kind of things that one might expect to get from a boyfriend, although she would never openly admit that she has thought that.

And when it rains, she sits at her window and wonders if it's raining where he is, and if so, she wonders whether he's keeping himself covered. Because as much as the gearhead in her cries with anguish at every rust spot she sees, the silly, giggly teenage girl in her relishes the time she gets to spend with him whilst he sits- in nothing but his boxer shorts!- and she fixes his arm.

She makes a fuss when he comes for repairs, sulks and yells and threatens him, but if she's honest with herself, she likes to sit with him and talk and to be safe in the knowledge that whatever happens, no matter what, he will always come back to her.

Because she is his mechanic.

And she is his friend.

Fin.

R&R s' il vous plait, mes petites.