Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist, or Pandora's Box. Not a song this time. This chapter would have been multi-titled.

Author's Note: On the note of multi-titled-ness, check out the LJ for notes about the chapter. I won't talk your ears off here. Anyway, this chapter is like, a little over 8000 words to make up for the lag in between updates. o.o Sorry 'bout that. ;; Hope you enjoy.


Chapter 23: Pandora's Box

It was about two and a half days after leaving the motel that Edward found himself at last. He was sitting in his study, feet propped on his desk and the rest of him leaning far back in his chair. Idly, he was smoking a cigarette, watching the smoke pool then billow away before his unfocused eyes. Behind the expelling of nicotine was his laptop. The screen saver was on, set to a wood fire burning on a black background. It being the closet thing Edward had to a fireplace, he enjoyed it, even though it was more or less a little foolish and pathetic. It brought him comfort, though, when he felt like no one else could. Or would, for that matter.

His eyes focused and his gaze strayed to the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight. Everyone else was asleep, supposedly. Al had pleaded a headache after some work in his shop about two hours before. Edward had sent Winry to sleep a little after that, telling her she was up past her bedtime. Of course, she hadn't been pleased, but he hadn't heard any complaints from her. It could have been his threat to alchemize the door shut that brought her silence. Or, it could have been because he'd given her a good night kiss. He hadn't thought it was something to shout about, just a short, soft touch. But, obviously, it'd sent Winry away without any more complaints. He chuckled. She was so silly sometimes. But other times, he just didn't know what to say to her.

His mind strayed a little, back to the morning in the motel, when she'd mentioned his mother. Edward had immediately shut off his reasonable thinking and given her a look that would have silenced even the loudest of people. She'd quickly stopped after that, but he knew it wasn't from his look. Winry had known that mentioning his mother so close to that day had not been the best thing. They hadn't spoken much that day. He'd been brooding, and he figured she was kicking herself for bringing it up. But Al...he'd had something to talk about. He hadn't stopped chattering all day, almost. When he hadn't been down in his shop, rearranging things, he had been talking someone's ear off.

Edward almost felt bad because he hadn't shown his usual level of enthusiasm when it came to the amount of projects Al had to do. That meant more money for them, which they were sorely and obviously lacking still. Winry had insisted to go grocery shopping the previous day, and that had blown what little Edward had received on his paycheck. So, Edward was inwardly thrilled about all that Al had to do now. He just felt like a bad older brother for not being supportive.

But anyway, back to the motel. It had been stupid for Edward to shut off his rational thinking. Why would she have said something about his mother if she hadn't seen something? Sure, it was a very farfetched thing for her to say she'd seen a blob with his mother's face in the motel bathroom, and that it had been the same thing from her nightmare. Why couldn't he believe her? She seemed to believe him about Envy, and the nightclub. Edward wanted to kick himself because it was all about his mother. He couldn't accept that it seemed something with his mother's face was "haunting" them so close to her death. So, he swore quietly and muttered, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

He blew the blue-gray smoke out slowly and watched it in a thin stream in front of him until it dissipated. He knew his study was going to smell like nicotine now, but that's what air freshener was for, right? Edward sighed a little bit. He didn't want tomorrow to come. Why couldn't the world just skip tomorrow and call it even? It wouldn't be even, though. What would he give the world for skipping that day for him? His other arm?

No thanks, Edward thought. He was not going to go through the pain and expense of buying another automail arm. Plus, the maintenance would be horrible. And sure, Pinako Rockbell would owe him at least something for taking care of her granddaughter, but Edward wanted to use it for when he really needed it, not to satisfy some other selfish want.

Yes, it was all selfishness, every bit of it down to the first thought of his panic. Edward had been afraid to lose his mother. After the excuse for a father had walked out on him, it had only been Edward, Alphonse, and their mother. Ed still thought that it was their father's fault that his mother had taken ill in the first place. Never mind what the medical researchers said. It was that man's fault. And when Edward had heard that her condition had become worse, an uncontrollable cold fear had latched onto him and refused to let go. It hadn't been a fear for his mother, but a fear for himself. He had been wondering what he would do after she was gone, what would happen to him. The actual welfare for his mother hadn't really set in until he'd seen her at the hospital with tubes coming out of her from nearly every orifice. It had stirred him.

From then, he'd furthered the selfishness by, well, continuing, really. It was just like a lie; it kept growing. He'd given his arm and leg for a selfish desire (desperation had set in), and he was still paying his dues for that with the slight hassle of his automail. He'd already paid the automail itself off, it was just the maintenance and upkeep that was a constant reminder of his sin, his selfishness.

Edward's gaze strayed to his laptop screen when he saw the screen change. When he put his feet on the floor to lean forward, he tapped his cigarette out in an ash tray and looked at the little "reminder" window. There were five words on it: "Don't be afraid to cry." Winry must have set it, because he didn't remember typing it. But, even as Edward read the words, he told himself he didn't need to cry. But if he didn't need to cry, why were there tears running down his cheeks?

Carefully, he brushed them away. It was fruitless as more tears replaced them. Maybe Edward did need to cry. It was just, he didn't want to. Why exactly, he didn't quite know. But he couldn't stop the tears from going down his cheeks, though he did try. So, he leaned forward and rested his face in his hands.

The tears of loss and sorrow continued to fall quietly. To finally release the feelings felt good. It made him feel free, in a sense. The weight, the burden of keeping it all to himself, lightened on his shoulders.

So when he looked up, testing himself, Edward was a little surprised to see Alphonse standing in the doorway. On the younger man's face was a slightly confused look. But Edward had the feeling that Al was only a little confused, while Edward was feeling rather embarrassed. So, he swiped his eyes, frustrated to still feel moisture there, and looked away.

He just wanted to be alone, to have people leave him be while he cried for his loss. But instead, he only heard his brother step further into the room and speak his name softly.

Edward lifted his gaze to his brother's and felt his frustration and embarrassment wash away. Left in its place was the previous feelings he'd been releasing, the pain and sorrow. He knew it was showing in his eyes, though he could do nothing to hide it away. He saw Al take in the expression. He wanted to look away again--he was almost ashamed of his tears--but he knew that, if he did, it would be shutting the door between them again.

Instead of looking away, Edward cleared his throat a little. "I'm brooding. Do you mind?" he mumbled. Maybe if he acted like he wanted to be alone, Al would just go back to sleep, and they'd talk in the morning.

Al lifted an eyebrow and looked at his brother. "You're crying," he mumbled. A slightly helpless look went over his face, but it wasn't there long enough for Edward to identify it exactly. Al looked for a clock. "Is it...?"

Edward sighed. Then he nodded a little, switching his gaze to the reminder on his computer. "Yeah." He didn't have to ask what his brother meant. He knew Al was asking about the anniversary.

Alphonse was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, folding his arms across his chest.

Still, Edward battled with the want to be alone, not needing anyone, and actually wanting to talk to someone. Part of him wanted to be alone for the day, just like he had been for the past three years. Another part wanted to be with someone, just to talk or even just to sit with in case he needed some silent form of comfort. And even though Edward knew that Al had always respected Ed's decision to be alone on the anniversary, he had a feeling that his younger brother was going to be there for him, whether Edward wanted it or not. So, he nodded his head. "I guess so." He shrugged. "As okay as I can be at the moment," he said softly, leaning back in his chair. He looked at his brother.

Why wasn't he asleep still? It was midnight; usually everyone was asleep by then, even Edward. They never practiced staying up late; the only times they were up past midnight was for occasions as this one. But even then, it was usually just Edward. His coffee kept him company. It was a little awkward for them to be just standing and sitting there, staring at each other almost uncomfortably. Edward was just curious why Al was up; he had no clue why his brother was awake.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Edward finally asked, giving his brother an expectant look.

Al shook his head. "Had to use the bathroom," he said simply. "Then got a drink of water."

Edward nodded a little, and looked around. There was that feeling that his brother wanted to talk about something that Edward might get upset about. That left Edward to wonder what it was about, and when Al would open his mouth.

He didn't have to wait long; only a few minutes later, Al spoke up. "Edward?" He sounded a little nervous.

Edward looked at Al again. "Yeah?" he said knowingly. Now he just had to wait for what the question entailed.

Al squirmed a little, then sat on the edge of Edward's desk. Then he fidgeted his hands, smoothing down the legs of his pants and pulling on his shirt. But finally, Al looked at Edward. "I don't know if you've noticed, but...Winry...she really does love you. I know you're trying to ignore that because of what happened with Rochelle."

A scowl immediately placed itself on Ed's features. "Don't talk about Rochelle."

The younger Elric frowned a little, disappointed. The incident with Rochelle had been years ago, and Edward was still sore about it? No wonder his relationship with Quintus had been so pathetic. More so, it didn't leave much wondering room why Ed tried to suppress the feelings he had for Winry. "Edward, just listen. Winry is good for you. She doesn't put up with your bad attitude, she's not afraid of you, like some people would be, and she accepts that you have metal prosthetics. She accepts why you have them, too! Not many people believe that you can live after a human transmutation, much less accept you easily." Al took a deep breath. "But you keep pushing her away, Brother."

Edward looked away halfway through his brother's monologue. He really didn't want to hear it, not at that moment. Maybe later on in life, sure, but not then.

"I know how you feel about her," Al said softly, looking up.

That made Edward's head snap up, but he pretended to keep a cool expression. "And how do I feel about her?" he returned evenly. They both knew it was dangerous ground they were treading, and Edward hoped he could keep his frustration in check. So, he looked back down into his lap like it didn't bother him.

Alphonse was silent for a moment and swallowed. "You love her."

There was complete silence for about three, long seconds. In those three seconds, Edward looked up at his brother once more with every emotion he'd ever felt in his eyes and on his face. He had time to blink once and the emotions disappeared again. Alphonse returned the look with some glimmer of hope that he'd reached through to his brother. Those three seconds were a small time that neither man would forget. They felt like they'd lasted longer than three seconds should have been able to.

But then they ended what felt like far too soon when Edward pushed away from his chair and started towards the door. "I don't have time for this," Edward said darkly. He was going to go to sleep; he didn't want to hear it anymore.

"Brother, wait," Al said, stepping in front of Edward. The younger man used his height to his advantage and gave Edward a stern look. Edward stared back for a few moments, then sighed. "Why won't you tell her? What is so bad about letting her know how you feel?"

Ed turned his face towards the ground and frowned. What was so bad, really, with letting her know? Maybe because he was afraid. But what else was there to be afraid of? Edward Elric, slightly famed alchemist-police officer of Central City's Criminal Intelligence Division, surviver of two human human transmutations, wasn't afraid of commitment, was he?

Like heck he was.

But he wasn't going to tell anyone that, least of all his brother. And, when Edward looked up at his brother, the taller but younger man appeared to be steeled for a speech. Ed knew he would deserve every word of it, too, so he'd listen, even though he didn't want to. A sigh was his way to let Alphonse know he could begin.

"You need to tell her you love her, Edward. You may not be able to tell right now, but she's slowly falling apart. I can see it. Every time I look at her, when she looks at you, it's a mix of happiness and sadness, at the same time. Over the past few weeks, since the nightclub, she's been a lot more sad than usual." Al paused. "She loves you, really. But she won't wait forever for you to do something about it. If you want to be with her, Edward, you need to tell her how you feel. It can't be that hard, right?"

A cryptic smile curved onto Edward's lips. If only it were that simple. Ed had noticed the same thing, actually, about Winry. But he hadn't realized it'd been for so long that she'd been feeling, well, sad. He'd noticed since the motel incident. But that had mostly been because he'd blown her off about his mother. Maybe he should apologize? He couldn't very well say he was sorry at the moment, though, and he'd probably forget to another time. Best leave the apologizing for another day and another time.

"Please, Brother, I don't want to see either of you hurting like you are now," Alphonse said quietly. It was his turn to look away.

Edward took that as a signal the conversation was over and started towards the door. But Alphonse had one last question...

"What makes Winry so different that you're afraid to be with her?" Al asked quietly. He sounded a little sullen.

At the doorway, Edward stopped. He put his hand on the wooden frame and looked at the floor with the same smile as before. What made it so different? "Because I really do love her," he whispered. Then he left.


Twenty minutes later, Edward stood, staring at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Water dripped from his face. There were streaks of dirt, mixing with the water, being the only other evidence on his person (besides dirt under his nails) of Edward's outing outside in the middle of the night. The soiled clothing was in the washroom, waiting for attention it wouldn't receive until the next morning. His hair had a little dirt in it, but it could be brushed out.

Carefully, he splashed more cold water on his face to wash off the rest of the dirt. Without lifting his gaze back to his reflection, Ed reached for a towel to dry his face. Once he felt his face was dry, he turned his gaze to the mirror. Immediately after, he made a frustrated noise and brushed away the moisture falling from his eyes.

Edward turned his attention to the wooden box sitting on top of the toilet. The wood was dark, moist and stained from dirt. The paint that had been at one time ornamental was now chipped in more than a few places. Even though it had been underground for a while, the paint was slightly faded, or at least darkened from absorbing the soil that had surrounded it for years. There was still a little bit of dirt on it, but Edward grabbed a moist cloth to remedy that.

He sat himself on the floor in a pathetical act. Carefully, showing just how much the box meant to Edward, he reached up and pulled it into his lap. Some of the dirt rubbed onto his sleep pants, but he didn't care. As though he was wiping blood away from someone's wound, he softly wiped the dirt off of the box. He sniffed a few times, holding back tears in his actions, and cleared his throat. Edward's hand shook as he turned the box over to wipe away the dirt from the underside of the box.

When he finished cleaning off the box, he set it on the floor with the same caution he'd been handling the wooden container with. His left hand continued to shake slightly as he reached for the lid. The moment his hand touched the lock, he could feel the alchemy with which he'd sealed the metal. Ed drew his hands back and clapped them together softly. Between his metal and flesh palms and fingertips, he could feel the soft sizzle of alchemy. Slowly, he reached out to touch the box, but his hands stopped a very small distance away. He held himself in a standstill, wanting so much to undo the alchemy on the lock and wanting to leave it closed.

Mentally, he began to weigh out the results of each situation. If he left it shut, he'd have to wait another year before he even thought of it again. That would be more time for him to think of and prepare himself for the contents of the box. He knew some of the items in the box; others, he was afraid to know what they were. That was one of the factors that stayed his hands: fear of the unknown.

However, if Edward opened it, he'd no longer have that fear of not knowing what was in the box. He'd be able to see what he'd feared for three years, what had kept him awake at night many a time, what had haunted his waking thoughts on those dark, lonely days in which he felt ultimately alone.

But did he have to be alone? Did he have to face his fears by himself, seeking no comfort in a willing embrace? Was there no one to hold him and protect him from the desires he sought to know, yet feared? Was he forever destined to be alone, facing things without a true home to return to or someone who loved him to embrace him?

Slowly, Edward pulled his hands away from the box and touched the handle on the bathroom door, undoing the alchemy he'd used there, instead of on the box. He stood up, carefully taking the box with him. Edward held it against his chest as a child would hold onto a stuffed animal, desperate for comfort. With some obvious hesitance, he put his hand over the handle. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to awaken such memories that he'd been content to leave in his backyard, untouched and mostly forgotten?

With a frustrated sigh, Edward squared his shoulders and opened the door. He walked out into his room, clutching the box like a life preserver. As he approached his bed, where Winry lay in sleep, Edward felt his heartrate increase and his palm go damp. He was so nervous. Edward didn't want to open the box alone, and the only person he knew that could give him the strength to look at each item inside was Winry. But, he didn't know how she would react to his request, to be with him as he dug through items of his past, things he knew and things he didn't. He also didn't know how she would respond to seeing the tears he knew would be flowing freely over his face.

But he had to do this. He had to look through the box, one way or another, alone or with her aid.

So, when Edward reached his bed, he sat down on the side with one leg bent in front of his chest and the other stretched out. He set the box beside his leg and stared at it. Once more, he felt the overwhelming fear of the unknown and the fear of his past. He was seriously contemplating putting the box back in the hole in his backyard he'd dug up with his hands. Edward took a slow breath and shut his eyes.

As he was about to step off of his bed to put the box away, he felt Winry stir. A moment later, he heard her voice in his ears. "Edward...what is it?" she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

Edward started a little when he heard her voice, but looked down at her. "Winry..." How was he going to say this? How was he going to ask her to do what he needed her for? He placed his hands over the box with a soft sigh. "I need your help," he whispered.

There was silence in which Ed thought Winry had fallen asleep again. He started to stand up again. "With what?" Winry sat up, holding the blankets up to keep some semblance of warmth in the cold air of Edward's room.

Edward held his silence. His fingers clutched the wooden box under his hands, and his face contorted with frustration. He could literally feel the memories and the pain emanating from the wood, begging to be brought to the light. Edward pursed his lips together and let the feelings encompass him for a few moments before he spoke. "My past." He kept his voice quiet, not sure of how the following time spent with Winry would go.

Winry was silent as well, but a moment later he felt her wrap her arms around him. Edward stiffened in surprise. But when Winry spoke again, he relaxed. "I'll help you however I can, Edward," she said quietly in his ear. Then he felt her kiss his cheek before pulling away. When he heard Winry settle herself close to him, Edward tapped his hands on the box softly, as though trying to stir up the thoughts and feelings inside it. "What is that?"

He cleared his throat. "A box," he said softly. "It has...it has memories in it." He paused. "Things Mustang put in for me after my mom died and--" Ed's voice caught in his throat "--and things my mom put in there." He fell silent once more.

After a few moments, he felt Winry cover his flesh hand with hers. He cleared his throat and shrugged a little. When he was silent long enough, he felt Winry shift beside him. "Do you want me to look through it with you?" she asked softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

Edward nodded. "Yes," he managed. He saw Winry smile out of the corner of his eye before she turned away to switch on his lamp. The light illuminated the room, but just barely. It made Edward feel a little better, though, to have that much light in his dark situation.

When he didn't move, he could tell Winry was feeling in the slightest bit impatient about the matter, but she masked it well. "Aren't you going to open it?" she asked from beside him. Her voice and gaze alike were soft on him.

With another pause for a few seconds, Edward nodded. "Yes," he said again. Then he clapped his hands, triggering his alchemy, and slowly lowered his hands to the box. There was a small blue light that came from the lock and a quiet crackling from the transmutation. Even after the light subsided, Edward kept his hands over the box, unmoving.

Fear gripped him once more. He was one step closer to finding out a part of his past he'd never seen before, and it scared him more than anything else ever had. He wasn't sure he wanted to continue. It would only take a few more seconds to lock the box again and put it away, out of sight and out of mind. That idea was becoming increasingly more appealing as thoughts and possibilities swept in his mind like a dark fog. The light from the lamp appeared to dim under his oppressing thoughts. His room felt a little more stuffy with his fear as it grew around him. His thoughts came less and less as the darkness overtook him, making him tremble.

But a moment later, he felt Winry's hand on his arm and it all disappeared. His trembles ceased; his ability to think returned; the room lightened; and he could breathe easier. All of that happened in the moment that he saw Winry's encouraging smile. So, he pushed his shoulders back and covered her hand with his. "Winry," he began, "before I open the box...I need you to promise me something." Edward looked at her seriously.

She continued to smile at him. "Anything, Edward," she murmured to him, the obvious joy she could help him in her blue eyes.

He took a deep breath. "Do whatever it takes to make me look through this box. Don't let me run away from this," he whispered, looking away.

"I promise I'll help you, Edward," she told him softly, slipping her hand down to his again.

A moment later, Ed lifted his gaze back to Winry's. "One last thing." His golden gaze pierced her blue one. Winry looked at him expectantly. He paused, unsure. Edward wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. He was thinking as he had earlier that he would need someone to hold him, to protect him from this, but he wasn't sure how to tell her that.

Winry lifted her hand to his cheek. "Don't be afraid," she told him. As though she could read his thoughts, Winry put her hand over his once more and continued speaking with, "I'm here with you."

He held her gaze for a few more moments before he nodded his thanks. Then he lowered his eyes to the box. Edward saw Winry's hand covering his. As he opened the top of the box, it was as though they were opening it together. That would have made Edward smile if a small phial hadn't immediately fallen out of the box.

With that small bottle came memories flooding back to Edward, bad memories. His hand shook violently as he touched the cool glass. Slowly, he lifted it in front of his face. It appeared to be black and brown dust, but Edward knew better. He remembered the day that Mustang had driven him to the crematorium to retrieve his mother's ashes. Then he remembered as he'd separated some of her ashes, pouring them into the glass bottle. It felt like that day had only been yesterday as he quickly put the phial back in the box. The pain was still so fresh in his mind, and his heart.

Edward reached for the top of the box to shut it, but he felt Winry's arms go around him tightly. "No, no, Edward," she said in his ear, almost desperate. "Don't be afraid," she whispered again. "I'm here with you. We'll do this together."

He struggled, attempting to free himself of her grasp, keep his tears at bay, and shut the lid of the box all at the same time. But Winry's hold on him was firm, pinning his arms to his sides. Edward sniffed loudly and stopped struggling suddenly. He could feel Winry's want to help him, to guide him through this painful ordeal. How could he resist it when it was so powerful?

When he felt her hot tears against his shoulder, that was Edward's undoing and his own tears coursed down his face. He began to shake again in Winry's embrace. But before he could content himself to be in her arms, Winry let go of him and put her hands over his.

"We'll do this together, Edward," she whispered once more in his head.

Winry lifted the lid of the box with him again. The phial didn't fall out this time, but it was on top. Edward reached for it on his own and lifted it once more. He could feel patience, now, from Winry as she looked at the phial over his shoulder. "Some of my mother's ashes," he whispered. "We have the rest buried in a cemetary."

"Edward," she whispered, putting one of her hands over his arm and rubbing her thumb on his skin gently.

He cleared his throat a little and reached for the next item in the box. It was a yellowed newspaper clipping in a clear sheaf. Edward scanned the page a few times. "The obituary," he said quietly. He handed it to Winry so she could read it. Edward had memorized it long ago.

The golden haired man looked back down into the box and saw some old photos of them, ranging from when they'd been children on through their teenage years to just a few weeks before the accident. Edward lifted them out individually and looked at them, studying the pictures he hadn't seen in so long. He hadn't made copies of them, so it was like seeing them again for the first time. The main reason why there were no duplicates was because he hadn't been able to find the other pictures or the negatives.

One picture was of Trisha and Alphonse when Al had been about five years of age. They were at the park, walking down the sidewalk, hands clasped. Trisha was looking down at her youngest son with a soft smile on her face and shining in her eyes. Alphonse looked at though he was talking almost ceaselessly with an intent look on his face. When Edward lifted his eyes above them, he saw a tree and legs dangling from a very low branch. He could only assume that it was his legs, and he and Alphonse had been in another fight and Edward had been the one to flee. He smiled a little at the glossy image.

The second picture was of Trisha sitting in a rocking chair with a leather bound book in her lap. There was a thoughtful expression on her face as she looked down at the pages. For as long as Edward could remember back in his childhood, he remembered that his mother would always work in that book. Her scrapbook. It was her escape, he remembered she had referred to it as at one point in time. If she'd been feeling sad or depressed, then she would look at the pictures and add a few more. She had let him look at it a few times, but as he'd grown older she had stopped letting him look in it, saying that it would ruin the surprise. He hadn't understood what she'd meant. Maybe he never would...

He looked over a few other pictures of the three of them together. There were a few with his father and mother together. Edward was loathe to admit he'd put them in there, and that the man was even his father since he'd left when Edward had been about five or six. But he couldn't deny the fact that the man was part of his life, or how much he looked like his father. That, he wanted to admit even less.

But all of the pictures he studied intently and each individually, memorizing every detail and remembering each event. He let Winry look at them, but he said nothing about any of them to her, only let her assume what she would about them. Edward's gaze was set more intently upon the next item in the box after he finished looking through the pictures.

There was a neatly folded and packed in shirt, the last item before he reached the things his mother had put in. He stared at the soft lavender shirt unblinkingly and unseeing. Memories of when his mother had worn the shirt were running through his memory without pause. It felt like an onslaught, a horrible attack on his mind. It was painful, to say the least, to look at it and have her scent coming up to him, triggering more and more thoughts.

With great effort, Edward tore his eyes away from the box and looked at Winry. He knew there was pain written on his face and in his eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore," he whispered. "It hurts." He went to clench his hands into fists, but found Winry had taken them both in hers softly.

She leaned towards him slowly and kissed him. Edward shut his eyes and let her do as she wanted. But she didn't hold the touch for long before she let go of his right hand and lifted her hand to his cheek. She smiled at him a little. "I'm here with you, Edward. Let me help you, like you asked me to do." Winry brushed her thumb across his cheekbone before she kissed him again. Then she moved her hand to his neck and let her hand slide down his back, as though physically removing his pain.

Indeed, Edward felt lighter as he reached for the shirt. At first, he fingered the material softly before he actually lifted it out of the box. As he held the shirt in his hands, he felt the memories of his mother returning, but not as painfully. It hurt to remember her, but it wasn't overwhelming like before. It felt like he had when he'd been looking at the pictures, just remembering things and committing other things to his memory.

Slowly, Edward lifted it to his face and breathed in the scent. He felt like a child again when he'd been seeking comfort from his mother. He had buried his face in her stomach many a time to just cry to her after a particularly frustrating day at school or a bad fight with Alphonse...or just a bad day from the moment he'd gotten out of bed. Even in his teenage years, he'd done the like when things had become too much. Edward felt the tears springing to his eyes to relive an old memory. When he felt arms go around his shoulders, it scared Edward for a moment. But then he heard Winry making soothing noises to him and felt her smoothing her hand over his head.

Edward shook his head a little, sniffing. "Gotta finish it," he murmured, pulling away from Winry. He didn't pull away because he didn't want to be held; he really did want comfort. But he knew he had to finish what he'd started. He'd opened up Pandora's Box already; he couldn't just shut it halfway through the release. He'd miss the hope at the bottom.

So, he turned to look at the box. He looked in and saw a small velvet box, a slightly bigger box, and a leatherbound book. The leatherbound book from the picture and Edward's memory. He swallowed as he reached for the smaller velvet box first. He recognized it as a ring box; who wouldn't? But why would she leave behind a ring for them?

When he opened the lid, a folded piece of paper fell out. He almost missed it, but Winry picked it up and placed it in his hand. Edward had almost forgotten she was there, he'd been so caught up in his memories and thoughts. He carefully unfolded the paper and looked at it. It was a note from his mother, reading:

'My dearest Edward, as you read this, I am watching you from above. And because you're reading this, it means you've found the ring I left for you. It was my wedding ring that your father gave to me. I know you prefer not to speak of your father, but please don't let your feelings for or against him keep you from giving the ring to the woman you love. It gave me a wonderful marriage with your father, when he was still with us; I give it to you in hopes that it will do the same for you. With the ring, I send my love and blessings to you and your bride, wishing you both many years of love and happiness.

'I love you, my son. Treat your wife well. Love and cherish her always. You will receive that love back, tenfold in so many wonderful events in your life.'

Edward sniffed and wiped away his tears quickly before they fell onto the paper. He heard Winry sniffle from beside him. But she wasn't looking at him or the paper. She was looking down in her lap. Edward turned his gaze to her questioningly, but she shook her head, smiling a little. "Don't worry, I'm okay," she told him. "You're almost at the bottom."

Then he remembered the box. His eyes went back to the few remaining contents and he saw the box and the scrapbook. He went to lift the lid on the box, but stopped himself. "This isn't for me," he whispered. He lifted the box itself and set it aside. For some reason, he just knew it was for Alphonse. Edward wouldn't poke into that, as it was probably something private, like the note to him had been. And as he lifted the scrapbook out, Edward ran his fingers over the leather and placed it in his lap. He touched the edges of it, wondering if he should open it to look in yet. He half thought he should wait to look through it with Alphonse the next morning, but his other half was dying to see what his mother had made in it.

"Edward?" he heard Winry say from beside him.

He turned his gaze to her to see her looking at him intently and rather impatiently. It seemed like she was as curious as he was about the inside of the book. But, it just didn't feel right for Edward to look in it without his brother. The three items in the box had been meant for both of them. They had their separate parting gifts from their mother, but the scrapbook seemed like a gift for the two together. Ed didn't want to look through it without Alphonse.

So, he smiled slightly at Winry and placed the scrapbook beside him. "Will you help me?" he asked her for the second time that early morning. But this time, he meant it on such a simpler level.

Winry looked at him, a little confused at first, until she seemed to figure out what he'd meant. He watched her take his mother's shirt in her hands and take extra care as she folded it neatly, as it had been before. He smiled, truly glad that she had been with him. Edward had no clue what he would have done without her. Actually, he probably would have been asleep on the couch feeling rather pathetic and miserable when he woke up.

Carefully, he took the shirt from Winry and set it in the box. But then he heard Winry's voice from beside him. "Aren't you going to put those in?" She pointed at the scrapbook, the box for Alphonse, and the box holding the wedding ring.

Edward shook his head. "No. The bigger box is for Alphonse; I'll give that to him in the morning. Then we can look at the scrapbook." He paused for a moment. "All of us," he added for Winry. He saw her head snap up from looking at the pictures, and she looked to be somewhat in shock. A small smile touched his face.

"O-okay," Winry said. Then she handed him the pictures carefully, an awkward smile on her face as she did so.

In a few short minutes, the items were back in the box, save the scrapbook, the ring box, and Alphonse's box. Edward set the box on his desk, which he had taken notice of it being straightened. When he turned again to go back to his bed, Edward frowned a little. The reality of what he'd done and what he'd seen was setting in to him now. He walked sullenly around the end of his bed and sat down, his back to Winry. He felt her eyes on him, but ignored her.

Going through his head were so many memories and thoughts, good and bad. He'd been perfectly content with his life a few months ago, even with the knowledge of the anniversary of his mother's death approaching. He had assumed he'd deal with it as he had every year, brooding in his study and attempting to dig up the box in his backyard. Each year, though, his depression around Christmas had been worsening steadily. But this year, since he'd talked about it, he'd been able to dig up the box. Maybe he hadn't been ready to see inside of it yet, all of the things he'd halfway forgotten about, but he'd had Winry there for him. He'd asked her to promise him to make him look through everything, and she'd kept that promise. For better or worse, he didn't know. He'd just have to find out.

With a sigh, Edward lay back onto his bed and shut his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep and digest everything that had happened later in his life. Maybe when he wasn't so tired. He frowned a little. He'd been awake for about twenty hours with no rest between. It felt good to lie down on something soft and familiar. He felt his consciousness slowly falling away from him.

Then he felt his pillow give a little at the side of his head. Edward opened his eyes to see Winry above him. Her eyes were fixed on his seriously. She looked to have so much she wanted to ask him in her eyes. He knew she couldn't though. So he sighed and turned his face away, looking towards his door.

"Edward," she whispered, lifting her thumb to his hair. He felt her hook her thumb in his hair tie on the end of his braid softly.

He kept his gaze away from hers as he pursed his lips and squinted his eyes shut. Tears were stinging his eyes and he didn't want Winry to see them. But she repeated his name with a tone in her voice that made Edward turn his face to look at her. Before he could respond, he felt Winry's mouth cover his firmly, as though daring him to try to pull away from her. But he didn't move. He remained sedate beneath her as Winry kissed him, keeping his eyes open. When she pulled away, her eyes slowly opened and fell on him. She made a frustrated noise before she kissed him again, but with a little more force this time. Still, Edward remained ungiving beneath her.

When Winry realized her attempts were useless, she pulled back and swore. "Edward..." she sighed, looking away. "You're such a jerk." He felt her pull the hair tie from his braid as she turned her face back to his. "But I love you anyway."

Edward furrowed his brow in frustration, finally showing some form of emotion besides depression. "Hey now," he began. He was ready to tell her off now. But, he was cut off when Winry kissed him again.

Apparently, she'd planned to annoy him so she could get under his barrier of emotion and awaken some other feelings in him. Edward forced himself to remain impassive, though his fingers were itching to touch her. He could feel Winry's frustration in the third kiss, and it would have amused him if he wasn't busy trying to stay unresponsive.

He felt Winry shift on his bed, leaning closer to him so she could put more passion into what probably felt like a one-sided kiss. Well, it may have been a one-sided kiss, but Edward was having a hard time keeping it that way. He especially had a hard time with it when Winry pulled away with a frustrated noise. "Edward," she whispered, leaning her forehead on the pillow next to his. Her breath was warm against his skin when she spoke. "Would you just...?" She broke off with another annoyed sound. She lifted her head once more and kissed him again, reaching down to grab his hand. He felt her lift his hand by his wrist and place it over the small of her back.

Winry leaned closer. Edward made no movement to further the action or take away from it, choosing to remain indifferent.

When he felt Winry's attempts to deepen the kiss on her own by opening her mouth over his, Edward couldn't help his faint smile against her. He was halfway enjoying her frustration, but wouldn't let her know. That just might make her smack him.

After a few moments, she seemed to give up. Almost as quickly as the amusement and the want to respond to Winry, it disappeared and Edward felt his depression seeping in once more. As Winry pulled away and sat up with a sullen expression on her face, Edward frowned as well, his gold eyes filled with sadness he could even feel. He turned onto his side and looked at the wall. A sigh escaped, and as he breathed out, Edward felt like a small weight was pressed on him.

He felt a little bad now for rejecting Winry's affections. He didn't know what had caused her to kiss him thusly, and now he probably never would. Ed could imagine she was feeling a little hurt by his actions, but he could do nothing to change them now. So, he would remain cold and hard. Just for the night, though. In the morning, he would thank her in his own way for being with him. He shut his eyes in thought of what he could do for her.

As sleep began to drift in Edward's mind once more, he felt the bed give behind him. Almost immdiately after, he felt Winry's arm go around his waist, tucking him to her. He smiled a little.

Even though he'd pushed her away...so many times...she still loved him. That's what she'd said, right? He was a jerk, but she love him anyway. Ed's mind drifted back about an hour previous, back to his conversation with his brother. He yawned thoughtfully.

"Maybe Al was right," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

Winry stirred behind him, and kissed the back of his neck. "Hmm?"

"Maybe...I should tell you." Ed's voice was heavy with exhaustion as he spoke.

But Winry seemed to wake up a little more behind him, though she didn't move. "Tell me what?" she asked him. When Edward didn't respond, she squeezed his middle gently to obtain his attention. "Tell me what?" the blond woman repeated, more insistant this time.

But her words fell on unhearing ears. Edward's mind was already in a soft retreat of slumber, no longer troubled by the thoughts that ever plagued his waking mind.


Winry sighed when she realized Edward was asleep. That was going to bother her now, until he told her whatever it was he and Al had talked about. But, she rolled her eyes inwardly as she settled herself against Edward's back comfortably again. He was tired, and he needed to rest. She would interrogate him later. She was just glad she'd been there for him when he needed her. That's what meant the most to her, and it left a smile on her face as she drifted off into sleep.