Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist. I don't own the song Scars by Papa Roach.

Author's Note: So sorry this was late. -innocent look- It was Christmas! So, here is a belated Christmas present for you all. And, I am thinking that I'm going to extend my update deadlines...just because a week is becoming to feel like too short a time, especially on a break, while my plot bunnies are tired. So, I'm thinking about every ten days? I updated today, Wednesday, so not this Sunday, but the Sunday after that (the 8th, I believe) I can update. Yeah, sorry if that bugs y'all, but 7 days is getting rough. o.o Anyhoo, hope you guys like this chapter, it's angsty. Angst!


Chapter 21: Scars

The next morning, Edward woke to being quite warm, and to an offending ringing—again. For the past forty-eight hours, he'd woken up to a ringing phone. The first one had been Roy, alerting him of Scar's killing of two more officers, just down the road from his house. The next three had been the watch put on Al and Winry. The fifth, at the moment, was probably Mustang. If Ed didn't have the hunch it was someone from the station, he probably would have unplugged the phone. But, he actually reached over and lifted it off the hook. He didn't have time to say hello to whomever was there before they started talking.

"How are they?" a concerned, but still perky voice asked.

Ed sighed. "They're fine, Hughes," he murmured. "What do you know?" Yes, they were going to talk business at a semi-early hour of the morning.

"Well," Hughes drew out, "not much. Havoc and Fury saw him go in and called Al's cell phone. About twenty minutes later, Winry ran out. Two minutes after that, Al came out on the motorcycle and drove off with Winry. We didn't see Scar come out, so he must have gone out back."

Edward nodded to himself. "All right. Al already told me how he avoided Scar and escaped." Then he yawned. "Let me call you back later, okay Hughes?"

There was a faint response before Ed hung up. Then he turned his face back to the bed, only for his nose to come in contact with Winry's hair. He smiled to himself a bit when he actually registered she was there. He had been reluctant to really think it, because he might have been dreaming it all. But now, he had a face-full of Winry's hair to have a proof to his subconscious she really was there.

He turned on his side and looked up at the ceiling, suddenly awake. Darn Hughes and his phone call. Now Edward couldn't go back to sleep. His mind was filled thoughts about Scar, and Al, and Winry, and what to do with his life now that it had been handed to him finally. He honestly didn't know how to handle it all, at the moment. All he could do was hope he'd figure it out soon enough. He didn't know what to do concerning Scar, because he'd never been face-to-face with the man and had the intent to be killed pressing on him. Ed didn't know what to do about Al's sudden strange behavior now that he'd noticed it. And least of all, Ed didn't know what to do with Winry.

It was no use denying it anymore; Edward loved her. But he wasn't sure if he could tell her. He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if Winry would tell him she was glad, she loved him too, and always wanted to be with him or look at him like he'd contracted the plague. Yes, he was still horribly afraid of her dropping him the second he confessed feelings. She said she loved him, so why she would do that, he didn't know. Edward was just gifted like that, to be dropped the second he showed emotion. That was why he opted to keep his heart, thoughts, and feelings to himself.

Disturbed by his thoughts, Edward stumbled out of bed. When he looked at the clock, it was around seven. A decent hour to wake up—if you'd actually gotten much sleep the previous night! He looked at a peacefully sleeping Winry and walked around the bed to her. Slowly, Ed knelt down in front of her and smirked to himself. "Hey, Winry." He took one of her hands and rubbed his thumb over it.

She stirred a little and barely opened an eye to peek at him. "Mm?"

"I'm going to go get breakfast. Don't open the door for anyone, okay?" He shook her a little to receive a response. Winry nodded vaguely at him. Ed grinned. "I'll be back soon," he murmured. Then he slowly leaned forward and brushed a hesitant kiss on her forehead.

Maybe if he admitted to himself, first, that he was afraid, things wouldn't be so bad. Just maybe.


Two hours later, Edward walked back into his motel room, Al in tow. Both men were carrying bags in their arms. Ed waited until his brother was in the room before kicking the door shut and walking over to the small table, where he immediately dropped his bags. He swore foully and shook out his left arm. "Al, did you have to buy that?" he asked, frustrated at the hot food that had been burning his arm.

Al rolled his eyes. "Yes, I did. It's breakfast. Now be quiet before you wake up Winry," he warned.

Edward grumbled and reached in his bag for breakfast. He pulled out a bagel with an egg and bacon rolled in the middle from one bag, and a small juice bottle from another. Al had already grabbed his miniature container of steaming oatmeal and milk carton. Edward glared at the cardboard container with opaque liquid secreted from a cow. Gross.

"It isn't going to kill you, Brother," Al said, taking a sip.

Ed made a noncommittal noise and took a gulp from his juice.

"Why don't you like milk, anyway?" the younger man asked.

Ed choked. He hadn't really been asked before why he didn't like milk. He had, but his brother had never bothered to ask. It had always been a known and accepted fact that Edward didn't drink milk. So, he didn't really have a prepared answer to give his brother. He began to formulate one, a good one, but in the process, Winry stirred. Both men looked at her immediately to judge if she was going to stay asleep for a little longer or wake up then. They were silent, but for Edward chewing his breakfast, waiting for a sign on whether they could continue their talking or give Winry privacy for her morning waking rituals.

After a few moments, Edward turned his attention away from Winry and looked back at Al. "It came from an animal's underside," he said smoothly.

Al looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Ed cleared his throat. "Milk. It came from a cow's udder, which is its underside. I just find that mildly disgusting," he reiterated.

Al was about to reply, but a sleepy voice interjected before he could, saying, "If you drank milk, you wouldn't be so short."

It took quite a bit to hold Edward back from shouting. Instead, he looked over at Winry, mock pleasantly, and forced a smile. "You're just jealous I have advantages from being short," he said cynically. Actually, he pitied anyone who was jealous of his height. He was really short, for a guy. Winry was taller than he was, if just by an inch. But still, that was a lot if you were about five-foot, four-inches. There were, in truth, a couple advantages to being short, but Edward didn't use them, so why bother? He didn't want to be short. He thought it was a curse.

But Winry made a slight noise of acknowledgment before looking over at him. "What time is it?" she asked and sat up. She was wearing one of his shirts again. He hadn't noticed it earlier, when they had shown up, because he'd been too tired and confused to register what she was wearing. Now, it made him smirk a little.

"About nine," Edward told her. Then he tossed her a bag of food. Winry looked at him like he'd was missing a few marbles. "Breakfast," he said, still smirking at her. He could tell she was getting frustrated with not being able to figure out what was amusing him. Her temper was pretty short in the mornings.

About half an hour and some randomly inserted conversation later, Edward crumpled up his bag and tossed it to the corner of the room the trashcan was located. It bounced off the rim and landed on the floor, where most of the trash was, anyway. He sighed. "I'm not known for my hits, but my misses," he said to himself.


A few hours later, with only Edward and Winry in the room, snow began to fall fiercely. Al had left a few minutes before to retrieve something from his room, but the wind was howling loudly, and Edward figured that was keeping Al in his room. No one wanted to be caught out in that mess, especially not Al. That left Ed and Winry alone in an awkward silence.

He was still feeling a little wary about talking to Winry. The last time they had really talked had been on the phone three nights before. Even then, he'd been a little out of it, as he had been asleep before she called. He didn't remember much of the conversation, but he knew she'd said she loved him. That had kept him up for a few minutes before exhaustion from being awake for three solid days took him over.

Winry was sitting on the bed, staring out the window at the snow, lost in thought. Edward was in thought, but not lost. He had a feeling that something was going to happen soon, something he had been putting off for quite a while, and he wasn't at all pleased with what his mind was telling him. But he couldn't help it, could he, if Someone else was in charge of his life?

Suddenly, and without much warning, the dim light went out. Edward swore and looked at the bathroom door. It was out, too. The probability of two bulbs blowing at the same time wasn't likely, so he opted to think that the snow had put the power out. Lovely, he thought grimly. He looked in Winry's direction, but found he couldn't see a thing in the sudden dark. The clouds were so thick outside, they blocked the sun. So much for a little illumination.

"Edward?" Winry's voice was a little hesitant sounding. He didn't know if it was because she was nervous about the power outage or something else.

But he looked over in her general direction again, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark in the room.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

Edward almost choked trying not to laugh. "The power went out?" he suggested in an obvious tone. If she really had to ask, then he would have to start worrying about her.

He heard her scoff. "That's not what I mean, smart aleck," she said critically. Then she sobered. "I meant what happened with your mother."

"None of your business," he replied quickly and instinctively.

Winry stood up. "Yes, it is. Look, I don't know how you feel about our relationship, but I love you, Edward. And you may not want help, but I want to help you get over this. It's still pretty rough for you. Anyone could see that."

He scowled at the floor, not wanting to hear her. But the more he tried to ignore her, the more he heard her. Why did it have to work that way? "It isn't any of your business, Winry," he muttered.

"You know why anyone could see?" Her voice became a little louder as her frustration built. Edward didn't know why she even asked; she would tell him anyway. "Because you ran away," she said evenly.

Ed twitched and it took a lot to keep from yelling. No one liked to be told they were running away from something...least of all, men. Especially by women. And he was feeling just in the least bit annoyed now, but he was pretending not to listen to her, like she wasn't there.

"You've been running away this entire time!" Winry carried on. "If you haven't accepted it yet, that your mother passed away, then you probably never will! You've been running away from it for so long. Why? The more you run, the more you fear it, the more it bothers you!" She took a deep breath. "You need to accept it."

Edward sat, literally shaking, at the little table. His left hand was clenched into a fist so tight, he was sure to feel blood coming from beneath his nails at any time. His entire arm was quaking from the pressure in his hand and the restrained anger in his veins. "Shut up," he said quietly.

"Stop running away, Edward! Talk to me about it; talk to someone," Winry pleaded. "Some people say differently, but talking about something really does help!"

"Winry, just be quiet," he said, a little more forcefully. If she didn't stop...

"Why can't you just tell me, Edward? It can't be that bad!"

Finally, it became too much. Edward jumped up, knocking the seat over. He saw Winry move back, half-past startled to death. "Shut up!" he yelled. "You don't know what you're talking about, Winry!" He looked at her seriously, his anger apparent on her face. He saw the color drain from her cheeks and her trembles begin. "You don't know the half of what happened to my mother."

They were silent for a while, both shaking for different reasons but over the same thing. Both were afraid to speak at first, not sure of how the other would react, unable to predict what would happen. But finally, Winry took a leap of faith, not sure if anyone would be there to catch her. "My parents died when I was fourteen," she said suddenly. Edward almost swore at the bad timing, but she continued. "They were both doctors...and they had been called out for a war in the east. They went to the front line, and treated both our soldiers and the enemy's." Her voice began to quiver. "But, our military wasn't happy with that and demanded that they stop treating the enemy." Winry took a deep breath. "They didn't. And they were killed for helping other people, people who might have killed them without a second thought. But that didn't stop my parents. They died for a good reason."

Silence. Edward didn't have anything to say to her. So he picked the chair up wordlessly and sat down, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He hadn't smoked lately, since it was snowing. But he wasn't pulling them out for pain relief...more for stress relief. They were there if he needed them, but he wanted to resist as long as he could.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Winry asked, her voice catching and sounding pained. "Anything at all?"

Edward shook his head. "Go away," he said simply. He didn't want to say anything at all about his mother. There was no point. So her parents died when she was fourteen. Poor her. He personally felt like losing your parents at a young age was better than an older age. You grow attached to them, and you begin to realize that they were right about all those things they told you not to do when you were younger. At fourteen...you were still in that rebellious age where you didn't really care about much. It was still hard; he wasn't saying that either of them had it easier. It was just...how Edward had lost his mother...what he'd done to try to help...

A hard collision to the back of his head brought Edward out of his thoughts. He swore loudly and rubbed the offended spot on his head. "What the heck, Winry?" He turned around to look at Winry, tears streaming down her cheeks and white in the face from keeping in a frustrated yell.

"You're such a jerk, Edward! Whatever happened to equivalent trade!" she shouted at him. "I told you my story; tell me yours—"

He jumped out of the chair again, glaring at her. "Don't talk to me about equivalent trade, Winry Rockbell! I've gone through more equivalent exchange than you could imagine." He gave her a stern look, daring her to argue.

"I want to know your story, Edward," she said evenly. "I told you mine, about the sacrifices my parents—"

"Sacrifices! You want to tell me about sacrifices!" Ed cut her off viciously. He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Don't tell me about sacrifices, Winry, because I made a bigger sacrifice than your family ever could. And what did that get me!" Using some of his pent up anger, he ripped his shirt at his right shoulder to reveal his metal appendage. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He looked at Winry and saw her shaking still. Ed knew he was shaking more than he had been earlier. His hand was very unsteady at his side.

"Ed, I—"

"Don't apologize," he snarled, turning to stare out at the snow. "I heard enough apologies when I was in the hospital to last me a lifetime." He took a deep breath and waited to hear the door click. Surely Winry wouldn't love him anymore after him yelling at her so fiercely. He could hardly stand the thought of being trapped in his own body after that. And when he hated even himself, it was impossible for anyone else to love him, much less like him. His words played over in his mind, all of the things he'd yelled at her, the numerous times he'd told her to leave him alone. All of his regret for not only this argument, but their past arguments and all of the times Edward had ever yelled something he hadn't meant came surging through him. It caught him so off-guard, he nearly stumbled at the window. He likely would have if Winry hadn't put her arms around him suddenly. She was holding on so tightly he couldn't push her arms away.

"Winry, just—"

Then he felt her hot tears on his back. Jeez, she was crying still. "Don't tell me to go away, Edward Elric!" she sobbed. "You spend all of your time telling people to go away that you miss out on a lot. You miss out on the joys being with someone can bring." She let go and moved in front of him so she could glare into his eyes. "Now you're going to..."

He knew why she trailed off. She was shocked. Surely she'd seen a man cry before. Why was Edward any different? "Just leave me alone, Winry," he murmured softly, staring out the window, feeling suddenly drained.

"Edward..." she said softly. She took his hand and laced her fingers with his. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? Just let go." There was no specification needed. They both knew what she meant.

"You don't—"

"Yes, I do," she interrupted firmly. "I do need to know, Edward."

He looked down at her and knew that there was a great amount of grief in his eyes. He could see his reflection in her blue orbs. "So you can decide if you still love me after you hear it?" Ed asked quietly.

What happened next, he didn't expect. One moment he was looking at Winry, pain-free. The next, he was looking over at the table with a stinging pain in his cheek. He lifted his hand to lightly touch his offended face.

"Don't you ever say you don't deserve someone's love, Edward, even if they know your story," Winry told him lowly. "You are more deserving of someone's love than anyone I know. Do you want to know why, Edward?"

He looked away from her, not speaking. Again, she would tell him anyway.

"You deserve love because you are the most impossible, callous, beautiful person I have ever met and anyone who says differently has something else coming," she said with feeling.

Edward sighed. "Three years ago," he began. She looked puzzled for a moment until he sat down next to the table, touching his shoulder. "Three years ago was when it happened. Five years ago, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. She'd had it for a long time, the doctors had said, and she had been lucky to have lived so long with it. Al had always suspected it had been us to keep her alive for so long." Absently, Ed fingered the pack of cigarettes on the table, but shoved them away. "Anyway, two years later, around May...she had been taken to the hospital because of some new symptom or something. I hadn't heard it all...I just knew that I needed to get to the hospital as soon as I could."

He paused. It was long enough for Winry to speak up. "Go on, Edward," she whispered, sitting on the old hotel mattress across from him.

"It was raining like the Flood. Later, I'd heard there had been at least a foot and a half of rain water flooding the city. But I was driving to the hospital through downtown and came down off of the bridge slightly disoriented. I ran a red light and a storage truck sideswiped me." Ed felt his eyes go unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling. He could see it all again perfectly. "My left leg was broken and cut up. A lot of blood...the EMTs had been surprised that I had survived so long like that." A little bit of a shiver went through him.

Winry touched his right knee gently. "Where was Al?" she asked.

"In the passenger's side of the car, just about dead," Ed answered easily. Winry's sudden terror was abrupt enough to surprise him. "We were transported to the hospital and admitted to the emergency room. Al died on the table a few times. I wouldn't let them do anything before they let me see my mother, who was also in the emergency wing." He took a deep breath. "Screw this." Ed reached for the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. "You remember I'm an alchemist, right?" Winry nodded. He lit the stick of nicotine and took a slow drag. "My mother's leg was being eaten away by her disease, so I traded legs with her via alchemy. They might have been able to fix her that way.

"After they amputated what had been my mother's leg, they performed an emergency procedure to cauterize the wound as quickly as possible." He paused again, mulling over a fact. "Al's arm had been sliced by some shrapnel, too badly for stitches. They had to stabilize him before searing his arm, though.

"Once I had a stub, I demanded to be taken to my brother. Good old Mustang," Ed chuckled grimly, "was kind enough to take me to see the most horrifying sight of my life." A twisted grin came over his features.

Ed wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Winry murmur, "Bless the man."

"What was that?" he asked.

"What did you do after seeing Al?" she returned, evading his question.

He nodded briefly, continuing his tale. "Vomited a few times, mainly from the stench of burnt flesh." Ed shuddered. "But then I did the same thing for him I did for my mom: I alchemized my arm for his. Then they were able to stabilize Al and put him in the intensive care unit," he murmured.

"What about you?" Winry pressed, leaning forward.

Edward took a deep breath and burned out the cigarette on the palm of his flesh hand. "They amputated my new arm and cauterized the wound. I eventually passed out from the pain. The only reason I stayed semi-conscious before was that I was determined to help my brother." He paused again, seriously contemplating stopping his story now before things became more detailed. But when he looked at Winry, her look of complete interest and the visible want to know more kept him going. If she felt any pity, she hid it well. If anything, he saw raw admiration in her eyes.

"When I woke up a few days later, it was to a room full of balloons and flowers. The people that would visit me would tell me there were so sorry for my loss and I had no clue what they were talking about! Whenever I asked someone what I had lost, they would all look at me like I was crazy and then immediately become a closed book. It drove me insane for a little while, until a nurse came in to give me my medicine." A bit of a scowl came over his features. "I demanded to know what I had lost and tried to reach for her stupid, frilly smock, only to find that I didn't have a right arm anymore." He shuddered again. Winry crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He kissed her cheek roughly and continued. Not because she wanted to hear it, but because he needed to say it. "It all came back to me in a rush...the car accident, the pain, seeing both my mother and my brother dying on an operating table, the alchemy...the smell of charred flesh...all of it." Ed grasped his shoulder to find Winry's small, delicate hand already there. He looked at her to see tears running down her cheeks. "Even though I remembered giving up my limbs to save their lives, I couldn't believe it had all happened. It had seemed like a bad dream I couldn't wake up from.

"When the morphine toned down some, I could feel the phantom pain in my arm and leg. It was, to say the least, the worst thing I had ever felt, no comparisons. Then Al came in with his—my—arm in a sling and looking a little rough for wear. There hadn't been a need for words then...I looked at him, he looked at me and I knew. I knew that our mother hadn't lived. The sacrifice I'd made for my mom, for nothing. Performing forbidden human alchemy to end up an orphan." A tear escaped down his cheeks but became trapped in his slightly bearded face. He intended to stop there. The rest of the story wasn't interesting...just more pain and suffering. That's what his life was about.

But Winry seemed determined still. "What about your metal prosthetics?" she asked softly, touching his arm. "Where did you get them?"

"A mechanic I know...she's really good with armor and always likes a challenge," he said, smirking to himself.

"Sounds like my grandmother," she mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder.

"She was your grandmother," Ed admitted. "You were in Central already when this happened, I believe."

Before Winry could comment, the door burst open and Al walked in, shivering and covered with snow. There were trails of moisture, looking slightly icy, over his cheeks. He stumbled over to Ed and Winry and threw himself on the floor beside his brother's chair, sobbing. "I had no idea, Edward," Al whispered hoarsely. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ed reached out hesitantly with his right hand and ruffled Al's hair. "You never needed to know," Ed murmured.

Al looked up at him. "Yes, I did! For the longest time, until you got your prosthetics, I had wondered why something just didn't feel right. Now I know...now I know the sacrifice you made for me and Mother," he rasped. "That's something I can never repay you for, Edward."

The elder brother shook his head. "You already have, Alphonse. Now drop it." Ed wiped a bit of moisture from his eye and pushed Winry off of his lap. "I'm going out for a bit." He didn't question why he said it, and no one else questioned his reasons for being tired. It had been a long couple of days. At least, no one questioned at that moment. Ed felt a small hand grasp his shoulder and turned him around. Another slap went across his face.

"Edward!" Winry exclaimed. "You idiot!"

He swore. "What did I do now!" Ed rubbed his cheek. That was twice she'd slapped him in less than fifteen minutes.

"You can't expect me to let you leave now! It's a blizzard out there!" Winry used a colorful word of her own. "You were gone for four days, and I felt like I was dying because you left! If you leave me now..." She trailed off, taking deep breaths.

Edward suddenly felt bad. That was true. He had left her, without thinking of how it would affect her. He'd left, selfishly, to deal with his own problems by himself. He had known she would have gladly helped him, but he'd been too proud to sit down and tell her about his mother. So, Edward went over to her and put his arms around her shoulders carefully, wary of the weight of his automail.

"I want to go home," she whispered.

Ed sighed a little and held her close. "I know..." he said softly. He wanted to go home, too, but he wasn't sure on how safe it was to go back to his house when Scar had just been there the night before. He had no idea when or if the Ishbalan had been sighted.

He'd call Mustang. He would know. If Mustang didn't know, Hughes would. Hughes knew everything else that went on.

So, Edward continued to hold onto Winry until she seemed calm enough. Then he pushed her at arms' length and looked at her seriously. "I'll see what I can do, okay?" he murmured softly.

Winry nodded and took a deep breath to help control herself.

Ed looked at his brother and shrugged. The elder knew he was so horribly lost in love and so horribly afraid to show it. He wondered if his brother knew it, too. Probably. What was left to wonder was, did Winry notice it?


Just a note, I am going on a road trip to Louisiana (yes, I take road trips frequently), for God knows how long. So, yeah...but I should be back by the eighth, definitely. Okay! Well, Peace...lurve...reviews? Oh, we got about 20 reviews last chapter! Whoo:)