Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Don't own Collide, by Howie Day.
Author's Note: Okay...testing out the 10 day space...I've had this chapter finished for a while instead of finishing it like, day of. Ooh. So, yeah, that's good. I hope you guys enjoy this one. I was picking out titles, and "Collide" came on my CD player, and it just kinda like fit into place. I told one person it was like a puzzle piece. Oh and you guys? I have a website now. It's for Role Playing. The link is in my profile as my homepage or whatever it is. So, if you like to role play or would like to learn check it out. I'm hoping it'll be a nice little community. :) All righty, well, enjoy.
Chapter 22: Collide
It was a few days later when the phone rang in Edward's motel room. Winry looked at it, surprised. It hadn't rung in about four days, and for it to ring now made Winry curious as to why. So she watched Edward go over to the phone, not even excusing himself from their conversation, and lift the phone to his ear with a curt greeting. Obviously, he knew he was calling him.
For the past four days, Winry had been in an almost constant state of shock. Edward had been very open whenever she would ask him something—about anything—and answer calmly, without and sighs of frustration. The day after their argument, she'd hesitantly asked him about an unclear fact. He'd thought a moment, but answered her smoothly and evenly. Winry had not been able to say much for the following few minutes.
Why had she been so surprised? It wasn't like Edward, really, to exactly answer a personal question without stating his displeasure for it first. In fact, it wasn't like Edward at all to answer a personal question.
But all of this was good. It was a strange thing for Edward to be open, even with her, but a good thing. It made Winry smile to know they were talking again. And not just small talk, either. Actual, in depth conversations about important matters, such as Christmas, Scar, the accident…. A couple times, he'd even asked her about her parents' deaths. The first time had left her at a loss for words for a few moments, and it'd had Edward apologizing, thinking it was a sore spot for her. He'd been so sincere apologizing, so…cute. Winry had taken a mental picture of it because she had a feeling that she wouldn't see it very often after the water between them had settled.
But Winry didn't know if she wanted the water to settle. She felt bad for thinking it, but it was true. She liked Edward how he was then; a little hesitant, and, well, sweeter. Since their argument, he'd honestly been sweeter, nicer to her. It seemed like he was trying harder to show that he cared for her. She knew he did. Whether he'd said so or not, Winry just knew he did. It was in his eyes when he looked at her. It was in his smile when he grinned at her. It was even in his voice, sometimes, when he spoke to her.
Winry blushed like a teenage girl and pulled the bed sheets up to cover her red face. She and Edward often stayed up late, talking about anything. They had done so the past three nights and they had begun their fourth a while ago, until the phone rang. It very inwardly and secretly pleased Winry that they could talk now. She almost wondered why they had never done so in the past, but then the mental images she'd conjured of the things Edward had told her came to mind. Winry couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Edward to deal with such loss, all in one night, especially at his age.
People figured eighteen was the age where this divine sight of knowing who you are and what you want to do with your life came to you like Buddha's enlightenment. Quite to the contrary, reaching the age of eighteen was actually where you began your search for who you were, and finally thought about what you wanted to do with your life. Eighteen was a very confusing and scary age to be. You sometimes questioned yourself. There was a constant inner battle of trying to decide what you were, young or old. You were too old to be counted in with the younger teens, but too young to be counted in with the younger adults. It was very frustrating to have to go through the beginning stages of self-discovery and trying to find your place without seeming too awkward.
And for Edward to have the accident to happen then, to lose his mother after what he'd done to try to save her, it must have been hard. Winry knew she wouldn't have been able to last as long as he had, after hearing the things he'd shared with her.
Edward had told her that he'd always felt guilty for his mother's death, ever since that night. Wrecking his car had started it, slowing him down from reaching her. Then, the doctors had told him he was too late to save his mother, but he'd performed the transmutation on her anyway.
From there, after hearing of his mother's absolute death, the guilt had planted itself and grown for three years, making every anniversary of her death harder for him.
Winry was just glad she'd been there to catch him the other night, because he had certainly fallen hard and fast. She didn't want to think of what could have transpired had she not been there for him….
Moving on.
Though Ed and Winry had been staying up talking most of the night, during the day was Ed and Al's time to talk. They had a lot to sort out with Edward keeping the news of that night from his brother. Winry had usually sat in the corner, allowing them some semblance of privacy in the dinky motel room. She'd usually write down her thoughts to process them later, not paying attention to the brothers. But occasionally, she would listen to them. It was usually one of them saying a monologue about their feelings about the accident, or something concerning it. A lot of the things they talked about, concerning the accident were personal, so Winry almost felt bad for overhearing. But at the end of the day, she had to smile for two reasons: they were finally being honest with each other, and their emotions put into words were really good for lyrics.
Yes, she had copied a not-so-infrequent phrase from either brother to use in a song or two. She would make it a tribute to them, for being able to stick together through their hardships. Not just because all they had was each other, but because the bond they shared with each other, as brothers, was so strong, so tangible to her. It touched Winry's heart to look at them and see it. She knew first hand that their arguments were not a pleasant sight to behold, but the two always made up afterwards. She liked to believe it made their brotherly love stronger, in a sense, because they had been able to overcome whatever hardship had been there. And being able to do that was what made them both beautiful people.
That made Winry wonder absently of her relationship with Edward. She still loved him very much, in great contrast to Edward's proclaiming that she couldn't possibly love him, the other day. Actually, Winry thought she loved him more, now that he'd told her about the accident. It made her smile, even though wondering of what Edward felt for her was a slightly depressing thought. Yes, he cared for her. But how deep did that caring go? Did he care enough for her to stick around for a while, then leave? Or did his "caring" reach further into an entirely different category? She didn't know what to think, nor what to expect from Edward.
Sure, he probably didn't tell everyone he met on the street about the accident, but people told important things to other people that they cared about. Maybe he had only told her because she had been a listening ear when he needed to talk, and that was that? But then why would he be telling her all of the other details of his life if he didn't intend to stick beside her for some indeterminate amount of time? The listening ear was a good philosophy, but just for the one occasion. It didn't explain why he would want to tell her every other event in his life that was important to him. His openness would have been proof enough for perhaps the biggest skeptic about love, she thought. But, all of that was just wishful thinking at the moment.
Winry didn't want to blatantly ask him if he had feeling for her and to what extent they were, but it made her very curious indeed about it all. Maybe it would come up in their conversations, somewhere, that night? Winry hoped so. Until then, she was still guessing.
Edward's voice suddenly broke into Winry's thoughts. He'd been talking for the past few minutes, but something he'd said had caught her attention.
"Tomorrow? You're sure?" He wore an excited look on his face. "Thanks, Captain." He promptly hung up and smiled at Winry.
Winry looked at him, not knowing whether to be excited as well or something else. He'd said "captain," so she figured it had been Mustang. "What?" she asked since he wouldn't speak first.
"We get to go home," he said, still grinning.
It took a moment for the words to register in Winry's head. When they did, a smile broke out on her face. "Really? Tomorrow, right?"
Edward hopped back onto the bed and lay down on his side next to her. "Yeah. They spotted Scar on the outskirts of town earlier today. As long as it doesn't leak out I'm back home, we'll be all right."
Winry smiled still, warmly. "That's great," she said. She was excited, really, but a little hesitant about going back for a few reasons. Reasons such as Scar manipulating the police by deliberately being spotted so Edward would go home. And, she was afraid that Edward's disposition would change back to how he had been before. It wasn't her fault she was in love!
Ed nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to her thoughts. "I'll finally be able to sleep in my own bed again," he said, turning on his back and resting his head on his hands. "You can cook for us instead of eating fast food or take-out all the time." With a chuckle, he patted his stomach a few times. "I think I've gained a few pounds."
Winry laughed at him a little. "No, you haven't," she told him. He hadn't been eating very much of anything, period. It worried Winry a little, but she wouldn't say anything since he would just frown at her and tell her she was insane.
"Yes, I have," he argued playfully. "Right here is fat; feel." Before Winry could protest, he'd grabbed her hand and put it over his stomach.
Winry laughed and tried to pull her hand away, feeling embarrassed. "Edward, if you've gained a few pounds, I've gotten fat, because I've eaten more than you," she told him, finally pulling her hand out of his.
He shook his head. "You move around too much to gain any weight," he said, leaning on his side again.
With a little smile, Winry lay down on her back. She didn't realize until almost too late that the sudden mood they were in was more or less awkwardly romantic. Her eyes flicked shyly up to Edward's, briefly, before she looked at her hands. When she felt Edward touch her face, her gaze went back to his. "Edward," she whispered, her voice betraying what she hoped was an assured face.
He slowly leaned close to her face. His eyes flicked between hers until Winry closed her eyes. A moment later, his mouth closed over hers lightly for a few moments. When he pulled away, Winry opened her eyes to see an unreadable expression on Edward's face. He looked somewhere between confused and…happy. Then he covered her mouth again, less gently this time, but not enough for her to pull away. Winry's eyes immediately shut again as a sweet euphoria overtook her mind and a light fog covered her thoughts. She let Edward kiss her that way for a while. A slightly surprised feeling came over her when she felt the tip of his tongue trace the line of her lips. It startled her a little.
Winry took a deep breath through her nose and caught Edward's scent. She opened her mouth beneath his with a soft sigh into him. It almost felt like a natural thing. A moment later, she felt his tongue touch hers briefly. It felt like a touch of heaven, however short it had been. Wanting more, Winry sought him out slowly, enjoying the kiss. Unconsciously, her hand went to tangle in his damp, unbraided hair gently.
When Edward drew away a few moments later, both were taking deep but soft breaths like air was going out of style. Slowly, Winry opened her eyes to look into Edward's golden orbs. He was gazing down at her intensely, so she returned the look on a lesser level.
"I love you," she whispered, dragging her fingers through his hair gently. "If you think that a few unkind words will change my mind, you're wrong." Winry lifted her head and rubbed her lips against his softly in a prolonged kiss.
Edward seemed to take that in for a little while. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "that I was so mean. I shouldn't have said a few of those things." He brushed his thumb against her cheek lightly.
Winry nodded. "You shouldn't have," she agreed, "but you won't again, will you?
Edward shook his head. "Not unless there's a really good reason to shout at you." He laughed. Even when Winry sissy hit him, playfully, he laughed.
"You're a jerk sometimes," she joked, sitting up. "But you're my jerk." Edward smirked at her and lay down on his back. Winry frowned. "For a guy who wears long hair, you sure don't treat it well." She gently fingered some of his hair.
Ed frowned, too. "What'd I do wrong?" he asked, consciously touching his hair as well.
"Sit up," she ordered, gesturing for him to do so. When he looked at her strangely, Winry put her hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him up. When he didn't budge—thanks to the weight of his automail—Winry sighed. "Please sit up?" she tried, smiling sweetly.
He grinned a little, but sat up with a groan. Then, he gave her a brief kiss when he was upright. "What?" he drew out, slightly whiny sounding.
Winry jumped off the bed and started towards Ed's bag. "Stay there," she said, beginning to dig through his items.
"Arf," he mumbled, frowning again.
When Winry found a hair brush and hair tie, she scrambled back to the bed and sat behind Edward. Quickly, she patted his head. "Good boy."
She knew he was about to retort, but Winry pulled the brush through his hair before he could. Any words he might have said seemed to catch in his throat. Winry laughed at him. "You are so easily tamed," she said near his ear.
Edward slouched and Winry could practically see the dark cloud of gloom above his head. "Am not," he grumbled.
"Wanna bet, shorty?" She quickly dragged the brush through his hair. No comment came about the "shorty" remark. Winry laughed, triumphant. "Told you."
Edward made a noncommittal noise at her. "So, you're complaining," he began a little while later, "about how I treat my hair. Why?"
Winry blushed, glad he couldn't see her. She hoped he couldn't feel the heat from her blush. She couldn't exactly tell him that she loved his hair almost as much as she loved him, could she? "Because," she mumbled, stalling, "if you go to sleep with wet hair, it looks horrible in the morning." That was a good enough reason, wasn't it?
Ed nodded slowly. "Sure," he replied skeptically. "I've showered every night for the past four nights and you haven't said anything until tonight. It dries before I go to sleep, we talk so much."
The color in Winry's cheeks refused to subside. What he said was true. And her excuse of just wanting to braid it for him wouldn't work out well at all. So, she finally came up with a retort. "Shut up, Edward." Not the most convincing response, in fact it usually reversed whatever point you were trying to get across, but it worked. For a while. When she was almost finished braiding his hair, Edward spoke up.
"Winry?" There was a bit more than a tinge of curiosity in his voice. About what, though, was he curious?
"Yeah, Ed?" For him to actually say her name, as if to get her attention, sort of surprised her. It was only them in the room and it wasn't like either of them talked to themselves loudly or often.
He seemed to be hesitant about asking. Winry could tell he wanted to look at her, so she quickly finished his braid. It was another moment after that before he turned to look at her. When he did, Winry saw his uneasiness and a little bit of doubt in his eyes. "What is it, Edward?" Winry took his hand and was only mildly surprised he let her. He really had changed some, hadn't he?
Edward's gaze fell to their joined hands and a smile touched his face. He lifted his eyes back to hers and held the smile. Slowly, he brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a light kiss on Winry's fingers. It bothered her to hear him say, "Never mind," but she nodded anyway, accepting that he wasn't ready to ask or tell her what had been on his mind.
So, she smiled warmly at him, another blush touching her cheeks once more. She heard Edward laugh at her, so pulled her hand away and tried to sissy hit him again. Ed caught her hand again, though.
"You're cute," he said, still chuckling, "when you blush."
The comment from him only made Winry's cheeks deepen in color and she was helpless to fight it. Words deserted her when she felt she could have used them most.
"Hey." Edward caught her chin between his index finger and thumb, suddenly close to her face. "You're beautiful no mater what, though," he whispered before kissing her again with a gentleness that betrayed the strength Winry knew he possessed.
Powerless to fight it, she melted against him as he hooked his arm around her waist. Gone was the curiosity about what Edward had wanted to ask her. Gone was the frustration of living in a dinky motel for a week. Left was the thought of why Winry even had to wonder if he loved her or not. From the way Edward was kissing her, it certainly seemed like he did. The only thing bothering Winry now was the sudden thought that popped into her head, unbidden.
Why couldn't he tell her?
It was well after midnight when Winry's eyes opened slowly. It wasn't late enough in the morning for the sun to be showing yet, but Winry knew it would be soon. She spent a few minutes trying to figure out why she'd woken up. There was no noise in the room, besides that annoying drip coming from the bathroom faucet.
Winry and Edward had stayed up until maybe one AM, talking about things softly to each other. They had touched the surface of their relationship, but hadn't gotten into Ed's feelings, sadly enough to Winry. But such was life that she would have to wait to really find out. She had ideas, but that was pretty much it. It almost made her sad. It probably would have, had she not been halfway asleep at what felt like four in the morning.
With the intent to stop the leaky faucet, Winry tossed the covers off of her and slid out of Edward's sleepy-limp arms. For a sleeping person, he sure was cold. But Winry barely registered that as she stumbled out of bed and across the room to the bathroom. She went in and tightened the handle on the sink. The drip stopped. However, in the process of turning around, she stepped in a small puddle and cursed quietly. "Stupid faucet," she grumbled vaguely as she stepped back into the bedroom with a wet sock.
With that not being a good feeling, she stumbled over to Edward's bag and blindly reached for a new sock. It took her a little while, but she came up with one and quickly exchanged the wet sock with the dry one. Nonchalantly, she tossed the wet sock on the floor next to the bag.
By the time she decided to go back to bed, her eyes had adjusted to the dark so she didn't have to stumble anymore. "Hey, Ed," she said sleepily as she reached the bedside. Winry suddenly had a bad feeling.
When he didn't respond—he wasn't as heavy a sleeper as most people thought; he was just good at ignoring things—Winry's discomfort grew. So, she reached down to turn the lamp on. The moment she did, though, a scream worked its way up out of her throat, but it didn't quite make it out loudly. It came out as a hoarse squeaking. Terror gripped her so tightly, she could almost feel it around her body.
On the other side of the bed was a blue blob of water-like substance. Winry didn't know what was worse, seeing what she recognized as Ed's mother's face on the blue thing or that it had part of its liquid mass covering Ed's face, apparently trying to drown him. Winry just knew that nothing that was happening was good, and she couldn't do a thing about it.
That was what scared her the most: the feeling of helplessness.
Winry began to fall backwards until warm arms went around her in a secure embrace. She continued screaming, even after she realized she'd been in a nightmare. Hot tears stained her cheeks in spite of the soothing noises being made in her ear.
After a few more moments, Winry's screams came out hoarsely, like choked cries, as it had been in her dream. The arms around her—one warm flesh, the other cool metal—didn't let go, only held her tighter, if anything. When she finally had to resort to only silent tears and violent shakes, Winry at last heard Edward's voice in her ear.
"It's okay," he whispered. "Shh, it's okay now." He was gently rocking her back and forth, still murmuring to her.
Winry couldn't speak. She could barely breathe through her fright. The night terror had seemed so real! The usual fuzziness around her dreams hadn't been there. She remembered clearly hearing the leaking faucet, feeling the cold metal of the handle beneath her hand as she tightened the faucet, stepping into the puddle; it had all felt so real.
Seeking comfort still, Winry turned her face into Edward's shoulder and sobbed quietly. She was still shaking, but perhaps not as much as she had been a few minutes before. She reached up and grasped Ed's arm tightly, like he was her last rope for support.
Winry cried for she didn't know how long before her tears and trembles settled to soft hiccups and light quivering. She tried to speak, but only stuttered unintelligibly before Edward shushed her.
"Be quiet," he murmured, pressing a kiss on the side of her face. "Don't speak yet. I'm here."
That was all Winry needed to hear. I'm here. She just needed to know that he was there for her. Slowly, she began to calm down to the point of being able to speak. It was a while, though, before she decided to even try. She merely stayed in Edward's arms as he gently rocked her, taking the comfort he was offering.
It occurred to Winry so she vaguely acknowledged that Edward was doing the same for her as she'd done for him in the middle of the night, before. When he'd woken up at night, almost in tears from the upsetting and disturbing content of his dreams, she'd been the one to hold him. It was strongly the other way around now. Life was funny like that, turning things around.
"Edward?" she whispered hoarsely after a few minutes. A headache was pulsing painfully in her temples and ears, making it hard for her to concentrate.
But he smoothed his hand down over her hair and seemed to take away the pain. His hand stopped to rest on her lower back. "Yes?" came his soft voice in her ear. It brought her comfort.
"I-I dreamed…I dreamed that...that something tried to kill you," Winry murmured. How could she explain such a strange, frightening dream to him, especially with him as the main, morbid point, and the face of the thing trying to kill him?
She felt him sigh. Then his arms went around her a little bit tighter. "Don't think about it now, Winry," he whispered, kissing her head. "We'll talk about it in the morning."
Winry let out a soft breath. "All right," she murmured. They shifted at the same time and both lay down. Winry's face was against Ed's shoulder, and his arms were around her still. Not knowing what to do exactly, Winry put her hand on his waist. They hadn't slept so closely before, facing each other. It was different...new.
Winry didn't realize that, when she put her hand on Edward's waist, he twitched. It didn't click for her to think that he was ticklish on his side. Instead, she yawned. "Edward?"
There was a pause. "Yeah, Winry."
"Thank you." She snuggled closer to his warmth as a shiver went through her.
Ed cleared his throat a little uncomfortably. "Good night, Winry."
Winry didn't respond. She was already asleep again.
The next morning, Winry woke up with a start. She was freezing, despite the blankets around her. It felt like how she'd woken up in the middle of the night when Ed had been gone. A feeling of panic washed over her. Where was Ed? A horrible thought occurred. What if she'd dreamed the past week, and it was December eleventh again, and Al was about to burst into her room, saying Scar was there? Or worse, none of that would happen, and she'd spend Christmas with only Al?
"Edward," Winry cried as she sat straight up in the bed. She was in the dinky motel room, alone. What if she'd only dreamed since she arrived at the motel, and their argument still had yet to happen? At least she'd be prepared.
But all of her doubts washed away when Edward appeared in the room and at the beside. When he took her hands in his cold palms, Winry knew that the only thing she'd dreamed had been that night terror. She looked in his eyes and saw concern on his features.
"What is it?" he asked softly, rubbing his cold thumbs over her knuckles. That made a little shiver go through her.
But Winry sat still mostly, not sure what to think. "N-Nothing," she said. "I had just thought...I thought you'd left me." His hands over hers so early after such an interesting previous night was horribly distracting.
Ed grinned at her a little. "No, I was just packing up the car. I checked out earlier," he told her.
With a little nod, Winry blushed. "Right. Packing." She offered a shy smile.
He continued grinning at her until he gave her a quick kiss, startling Winry. "Almost done. Hurry up and get dressed so we can go."
That brought the faintest of scowl's to Winry's face. Not just because they had to leave, but because if he hadn't kissed her softly, Winry would have sworn none of thir romantic moments and that attention grabbing kiss had happened. It would not have made her happy if Edward had resorted to his old self again.
But she crawled out of bed and saw some of her clothes (she'd been wearing Edward's clothes since the motel) on the little table. She smiled. It had been unncessary for Edward to retrieve clothes for her when they were going to the house anyway, but sweet all the same. So she quickly snatched up the jeans and sweater and rushed to the bathroom. The thought in her head currently was that, once she got dressed, they could leave. The sooner they could leave, the sooner they'd get home and Winry could take an actual shower with regular shampoo and conditioner, and she could eat real food, and sleep on a real bed. She was due for a good nap, anyway, and there was the possibility of convincing Edward to take one with her, since he'd been sleeping less than she lately. Maybe she was just being worrisome in thinking he'd change to his old ways. Maybe he was just a little stretched and stressed, at the moment.
When the bathroom door clicked shut behind Winry, she had a very sudden, very bad feeling again, like the feeling in her night terror. The feeling was so strong, the clothes in her hands dropped to the floor. There was a strange noise behind Winry, and she hesitated to turn around.
When she did, she immediately screamed as loud as she could, thankful that her throat actually made a noise. One of Winry's greatest fears was not being able to scream when she needed to. Before her was that blob thing from her terror, complete with Ed's mother's face. It was reaching out to Winry with a halfway sorrowful expression on its face. Winry stood where she was, paralyzed in shock and, well, fear.
"Why?" the thing asked softly.
That was all Winry heard or cared to hear before the door burst open and Edward rushed in. The thing disappeared at once, as if shocked or surprised.
Ed's arms went around her in a protective sort of way, and Winry gasped. "What," he asked. "What is it?"
It took a moment for her to breathe again, but finally Winry found her tongue. "There was a thing, a blob. It was in my dream last night, the thing that was trying to kill you. I-It was reaching out to me, and it asked 'why,'" she said quickly.
Winry could literally feel Edwar'd skepticism taking place. So she pulled away and looked at him. "It had your mother's face."
Any look of disbelief on Edward's face turned immediately to shock. "Win, that's not funny," he breathed, stepping back.
She grabbed his arm. "I know it isn't, but it's true!" she continued. "Ed, I swear, I saw it." She paused, and Edward shook his head. "Edward, I—" Then she broke off. She'd mentioned his mother. That had ended whatever logic and unbiased thoughts she'd asked for. "Never mind. I'll just change in the room." She bent to pick up the clothes and brushed past him quickly.
It was going to be a tough few days, Winry could just tell. Edward passed through the room quickly.
Why wouldn't he believe her? Just because it was more or less a little farfetched to believe the blue blob from her night terror that had tried to kill Edward and had the same face as his mother had suddenly appeared and disappeared in the bathroom didn't mean he had to completely shun her! Right? Well, maybe 'a little farfetched' was an understatement. But what about that thing he'd told her about at the nightclub, that shapeshifter that had been posing of her butler? That had been unbelievable, but Winry had believed him. Not only because she'd heard a second account from Armstrong. It was because she figured Edward wouldn't like about something as ridiculous as that, despite his bad habit for practicing lying and stretching the truth to its boundaries and beyond.
It flustered Winry, just in the slightest, that he couldn't believe her as easily as she'd believed him. What did she have to gain by lying about something like that? Especially if it involved his mother! If Winry wanted attention, she could easily gain it by simply demanding it. She didn't have to make up stories.
No, it didn't just fluster her, she thought as she stripped her shirt off, it hurt her. It hurt that he couldn't believe her, couldn't trust her, after all they'd shared. It felt like she wasn't being worrisome, and Ed was slipping back to his old, uncaring self where he didn't want to talk, or even think he needed to talk. That annoyed her, if he was going to slip away from her.
Winry sighed lightly and pulled up the fond memories of their past few days, hoping that they weren't gone forever. Quickly, she changed clothes, a sullen, melancholy expression on her face. A moment after she'd pulled the sweater over her head, Edward knocked and poked his head in the room.
"You ready?" he asked, not knowing he had almost looked in too early.
Winry nodded a little, not hiding her sad expression. "Yeah," she murmured, pulling at her sweater with one hand and holding the other clothes in her other hand, tucked under her arm.
When she started toward the door, Ed stepped into the room a little and reached to take the other clothes from her. "You okay?" His voice was soft when he asked her.
She thought a moment before answering. "Yeah," Winry lied, not meeting his eyes.
But Edward lifted her chin up with his index finger. "Hey," he looked at her seriously, "Winry. Are you okay?"
Winry cleared her throat. Lying was never good. Sometimes it got you out of momentary trouble, but it always caught up with you. So, Winry would have to face it eventually. But then wasn't the best time or place. "We'll talk later, okay?" was the first thing out of her mouth, blessedly. Then she quickly stepped passed him. But Ed was next to her down the long walkway, towards the parking lot. When they reached the opening, the air hadn't cleared much between them, and it made Winry a little uncomfortable. She looked around at the cars.
Al was sitting in their car, parked next to the motorcycle. Both were cranked up. Edward went ahead of Winry and shoved the clothes in the back seat of the car, then pulled out two helmets for the motorcycle. Once the car door was shut and Ed cleared some space, Al began to pull out. Winry stumbled a little. Not that she wasn't wanting to be with Edward, it was just...
The ground was covered with snow!
"Edward?" Winry took the helmet from Edward when he offered it to her. She was debating whether or not to mention the snow. She didn't really have a choice, now that Al was gone. So she sighed.
Ed looked at her. "Yeah?" He pulled the helmet over his head.
She chewed her lip a little and watched Al drive off in the car, disappearing in the morning traffic. Winry felt Edward's gaze on her still. Then she looked at him. "Never mind." It took a lot, but she forced a smile.
As Winry climbed on the motorcycle behind Edward, she offered a silent prayer to God and held on tight.
