Disclaimer: Don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, or the song "Stop the World" by the Goo Goo Dolls. :)

Author's Note: Wow. Another super long lag. Sorry. Buncha stuff came up. Check the LJ if you're curious. Otherwise, here's the chapter.


Chapter 28: Stop The World

The deep laughter that echoed in Edward's mind was only vaguely familiar, yet it felt to him like he'd heard it every day of his life, unfailingly. He couldn't quite remember whose laughter it was, though; he knew it was one he should have been able to recognize without trouble. On and on, he heard reams of laughter repeating in his head. Gradually, a softer, feminine laugh joined the deep male one. They sounded happy; honestly, truly happy together.

Ed heard words, but couldn't decipher them. They sounded like gibberish in his mind, unintelligible. Yet they made sense at the same time, as though he knew exactly of what they were speaking. Edward felt himself frowning in the slightest, but why, he couldn't say.

After a few moments, he saw light. It was orange and red, like a setting sun. When things came more into focus, Edward saw, through a window, a sunset over a river not too far away. Trees and small bushes were blowing in a small breeze. The atmosphere, itself, seemed very peaceful, very happy.

As the view changed, Edward saw three figures, two adults and a child. The adults were standing around a counter top island in the center of a kitchen. The smaller of the two figures, who Edward was guessing to be a woman, held something in her arms. On the opposite side of the island was a larger male figure, hands on the counter. Both were looking at the small child on the island, smiles on their face. Edward's vision focused more on the child.

Said child had some substance smeared all over his face and hands, looking at the adults with a puzzled expression, as though he couldn't quite figure out what was so amusing. But after a moment, he seemed to forget it and reached his hands out to the man, laughing loudly. "Papa!" he squealed happily. Rather than Edward hearing the child's joyful voice, it was more of an understood thing for him.

After a moment, the boy's father lifted him up carefully and took him over to the sink to rinse him off, laughing quietly. "Ah, my son," said the man as he placed the child in the sink, "I don't see how you can make such a mess of yourself in such a short amount of time." He chuckled again, washing the mushy mess off of the child's hands and face. In response, the child clapped his hands together, making the mess go flying across the room and on his father's face and glasses. Some even, Edward saw, made it to the man's golden hair.

Gold hair like his own, like the hair of the child in the sink.

"He takes after you, you know," the woman said as she walked over to the sink. She held a rag in one hand and wiped away some of the mess from the man's face. "I remember, when we were younger, you always managed to make the biggest mess I'd ever seen in a matter of minutes." She laughed and gave him the rag to wipe off the child's hands and face.

The man, who seemed strange and familiar to Edward, laughed again, nervously this time. "Well, I," he began, but never finished, instead opting to lean over to kiss the woman beside him.

With a laugh, the woman shook her head and began to turn. "I'm going to take the little one with me for a nap."

Those last few words seemed to echo once more in Edward's mind. Just as the realization of who these people where, and why they seemed so familiar to him, the memory began to fade away. Edward reached out to the people, to try to hold onto this for a little longer, this happiness and peace. It seemed so strange and foreign to him. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but knew it was something he wanted, more than anything else.

But, like all good things he'd ever had a chance to feel, to taste, this faded away, slowly, excruciatingly. It tormented him with each passing moment to see the woman walking down a hallway, disappearing in a blur.

When Edward opened his eyes slowly, he wasn't sure what he was seeing at first. Everything was still a bit of a haze, and his dream and reality were mixed together. He could still see the orange and red of the sunset and could hear the water running in the sink. But at the same time, he could smell the stale, clean scent of the hospital and felt the rough cotton sheets beneath him. After a few moments, though, everything seemed to come together, one way or another. His hospital room came into clear focus and the stench of antiseptic filled his senses. He coughed weakly from the smell filling his senses. A dry, scratchy feeling in the back of his throat made him wonder when he'd last had something to drink.

With a sigh, Edward began to turn onto his side, but felt something pull on his arm. The IV. He grumbled quietly, shutting his eyes again, longing to return to that dream...


It was quite a few hours later when Edward found himself blinking his eyes open. His bleary vision just barely focused on something dark and rather far away. When he closed and opened his eyes a few more times, Edward began to realize where he was. He was in his car. That's right, he remembered. He had been released from the hospital a little while ago. The moment Al and Winry had carefully lain him down on the backseat, he'd passed out again. Moving around so much hurt all of his sore spots. And, he found out, they'd had to perform surgery on him, after he'd passed out. It had something to do with a ruptured blood vessel. Edward hadn't paid much attention to it, too happy to know that he would be released soon. He did, however, have another set of stitches on his left side now. Ugly ones, too.

But now, as he lay on the backseat of his car, he groaned quietly, lifting his hand over his eyes. A few moments later, he heard voices from the front seat. He couldn't quite tell what they were saying yet, but slowly he was able to begin to understand every other word or so. Carefully, he peeked out from under his arm to see Winry looking back at him.

"...awake yet?" she had asked.

He shut his eyes again and shook his head. Very promptly after, he felt himself dozing off once more.

When he woke again, Edward didn't feel as dizzy as before. Slowly, he opened one eye, and then the other to see the interior of the roof of his car once more. His vision was so clear now, he could see each and every white ball of fluff on the roof, staring back at him. With a sigh, he averted his gaze from the ceiling, finding something disturbing about that. His eyes roamed to the front of the vehicle, where his brother was sitting in the driver's seat, head down, reading something. The passenger seat was empty. Where was Winry?

With great difficulty and much pain and groaning, Edward managed to sit up. He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, feeling the Christmas Eve chill seep into his skin. It nagged at him; he should have been concerned about Winry's whereabouts, but he was hurting too much at the moment to care. He sighed, watching his breath cause the frozen window to fog. That sigh, though, made him wince a little, due to the soreness in his ribs.

If there was one thing he had to say he hated about his job, it would be the physical abuse he endured from whomever he was fighting. Whenever he had a particularly rough beat (which this had been the first one in a while, due to his extended time on Winry's case), the next day was always the worst. Well, it was the day after being beaten up and Ed was definitely feeling it. He groaned again, quietly, at the memory.

Apparently, he had been loud enough to bring his brother from his book, as Al turned around, shoving a gas station courtesy cup of coffee into his hands. Edward mumbled his thanks then took a hasty sip of it. The nearly burning hot liquid felt good going down, as Edward was beginning to feel a little cold, despite the heater being on in the car.

"How are you feeling?" he heard Al ask from the front seat. He was turned a little to look back at Ed.

The older Elric sighed, fogging the window again briefly. "Not good," he murmured. This went deeper than the physical feeling for Edward. He knew his brother would realize that, too. The memory of what he'd last seen before passing out in the hospital came back to him, suddenly. It left a bad taste in the back of his mouth. "Al...at the hospital," he began, then paused. That pause was long enough for Alphonse to speak up.

"That was a little weird," the younger man said, knowing what Edward meant.

Ed wanted to shrug, but neither of his shoulders were good at the moment so he refrained. "It was. That file that Clara had; it was Dad's." Those last few words seemed to deaden the air in the car. There was silence from both Elrics that lasted for quite a while; one mulled over the news and the other considered what it meant.

The silence continued, even as Winry came back to the car, holding a few bags in her hands. When she turned around to place them on the floor of the backseat, Edward saw her smile, a little surprised. "You're awake," she said softly.

With a little nod, Edward shifted a little on the backseat, keeping his forehead pressed on the glass and the coffee cup near his mouth. "Yeah," he mumbled. He sighed once more, making the glass on the window fog a little for a few seconds. Slowly, his eyes slid shut, even though he wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep. He was just a little annoyed.

How was it that his father was alive? Much less, in the same hospital at the same time as Ed? What had the man been doing in Central to put himself in the hospital, anyway? What had he been doing in Central, period? Edward had always assumed his father dead. He didn't know what to think about his father suddenly appearing again; he didn't know if he should be happy that he was alive or angry that he'd never contacted them. At the moment, as his annoyance increased, Edward was fairly sure he should be angry.

His father had abandoned them, left his mother to take care of two boys. Sure, he'd left them some money, which their mother had never used, but that didn't change the fact he'd never called to see if they were all still alive. It wasn't that hard to pick up a phone, was it? Or, if ever in the same town, it probably took more effort not to see a person than to go see them anyway.

Edward let out an irritated sigh, taking a large sip of his coffee, not caring it burned his mouth. When he leaned his head on the glass again, it was done with enough force to make a noise. Winry turned around to look at him.

"Are you all right, Ed?" she asked. Her voice was still soft, like before, and it soothed Edward in the slightest.

He shrugged, though, deciding not to answer. He wasn't all right in more ways than one, and he didn't want to explain them all to Winry, not at that moment. He didn't want to lie, either, since she could see right through them. So he took a deep breath, shutting his eyes once more. "Wake me when we're home," he murmured, leaning his head back on the seat. He would at least try to nap for a little while so he'd have enough energy to talk to Al at the house.


A few hours later, Edward found himself at the bar in Winry's kitchen. It was late, probably around midnight, and he had just woken up from a nap. Shortly after arriving back at his house in downtown, Winry had sheepishly asked him if they could spend Christmas at her house. Much to her surprise, it had seemed from her expression, Edward had almost immediately consented. He had been too tired and in too much pain to argue with her. He'd also considered, in his few moments of thought, the recent happenings: Scar breaking in and Envy beating him up. It had seemed logical that they change environments to keep their enemies guessing. Though it would only be a matter of time before they figured out where they where. Where they'd go after was beyond Ed, currently.

With a bit of a grimace, Edward held his side, over his stitches, and took a bite of his cheese sandwich. One bad thing about the medicine he was taking was that it made him hungry. He'd woken around eleven-thirty earlier, had taken a pill or two, and within ten minutes had been carefully trudging through the house to find something to eat. Of course, they'd brought the groceries from Ed's house to Winry's, since some of the stuff had gone bad, or she was just lacking, anyway.

Edward sighed, making the edge of his napkin lift a little. After a few moments, he drummed the fingers of his metal hand on the counter, the only noise in the kitchen, until he heard footsteps from the stairway. Seconds later, Al appeared, yawning.

"Hey," he said, smiling a little. "When did you wake up?"

Ed gave a small shrug. "Thirty minutes ago, I guess," he mumbled, taking another bite of his sandwich. When he chewed and swallowed, he took a sip of his drink, remaining silent. His mind was too tired to initiate conversation at that present moment.

Al sat at the end of the bar, two stools away from Edward, with a small frown. He seemed troubled. "You said that file was Dad's, right?" he asked, voice quiet.

That's what it was. Edward had almost forgotten about that for the time being, what with his nap. So he nodded, replying with a simple, "Yeah."

Before he had a chance to finish that one word, Al was speaking again. "How is that possible? I thought he was dead." There was a slightly annoyed edge to his voice.

Edward nodded. "I did, too." A yawn escaped him. It wasn't that Ed was bored with the subject or not wanting to talk about it; he just didn't feel like talking at that moment. But that always seemed to happen: when Al wanted to talk, Ed didn't and vice versa.

"How long do you think he's been in Central?" Alphonse wanted to know, the annoyed edge gone now. He was playing with something small between his fingers.

The question, though, made Ed nearly choke. He coughed, though, and that wracked his ribs painfully. "Jeez, Al, I don't know. He never called us after he left, and probably wouldn't have called us anyway. I doubt he knows we live in Central." Ed paused, considering his words and the possible outcome they may have. "I doubt he even knows Mom died."

Al sighed. "Maybe he does, Ed. Maybe he knows that we live here and was coming to see us," he argued, voice still quiet.

Ed gave that some consideration. "Maybe. But, here's an equal chance that he wasn't, doesn't even know we're alive still. Maybe he doesn't even care, Al." He knew that was cynical of him to say, especially to his younger brother, who still had good memories of their father, but Edward couldn't help who he was.

His statement seemed to strike a nerve in Al. "He's our father, Ed! Of course he cares!" he said a little loudly. "Why wouldn't he?"

Edward tossed the remainder of his sandwich - a few bites of crust left - on his napkin. "Alphonse, he left before I turned thirteen. He has never tried to contact us since then, and I'm almost twenty-two now. He's our father. If he cared about us, he would have come back for at least Mom's funeral. But he didn't." A glare set itself on his features. "He doesn't care."

Alphonse returned the hard look, taking a deep breath. There was a little bit of a pout forming on his lips. A small silence held between the brothers before the younger one stood up from his spot and retreated once more, up the stairs.

A swear escaped Edward's lips as he balled up his sandwich in the napkin and threw it away. He took the last few sips of his drink before setting it in the sink. It didn't rid him of the bad taste in his mouth, though from that argument. But what he'd said was true, wasn't it? If their father cared even a little about them, or just even their mother, he would have come to the funeral a few years ago, right?

Edward shook his head and walked up the stairs. Wrong.

When he walked into his room, Edward went straight to his bed. It was the same room he'd slept in before, right next to the stairs to go up to the third floor and down to the first. Winry was just down the hall. Al's room was further down. He had purposely set it up that her room be between his and his brother's for security reasons when he'd first started living in Winry's home. In his house, she had slept in his room with him for security reasons, as well, because they had no other bedroom. It was true that Ed or Al could have given up their room for her. For some reason, Edward hadn't...neither had Al, and Ed hadn't wanted to make Winry sleep in a man's room.

With a sigh, Edward lay down on the bed carefully, very wary of his sore body. A quiet groan escaped him as he shifted so he was lying on his back, head tilted so his chin was in the air. One hand was on his chest, over his heart, which would beat faster when he thought of Winry, like he was now.

Edward had bought Christmas presents a few weeks ago when he and Winry had gone grocery shopping. He'd sent her off with her list of things to buy and had walked over to the jewelry shop a little further down in the shopping center to pick up what he and Al had ordered. He'd only been in the shop for about ten minutes, then walked right back out with two small bags, proudly declaring the jeweler company in silver letters. Of course, he'd hidden the bags in the car, in the glovebox so Winry wouldn't see them.

A necklace. He'd bought her a necklace. It had a little heart-shaped diamond, held onto the silver chain by a medieval looking clamp with three prongs, one in front and two in back. Edward quite liked the style and hoped Winry would, too.

Alphonse had bought the matching earrings. They were small diamonds, held on a smaller and shorter silver chain by the same clamp. The chain wasn't very long, maybe three-quarters of an inch, so they didn't dangle very far down.

Again, Edward knew his brother had liked the style and hoped Winry would, as well.

Edward sighed one more. Through his thoughts, he'd felt his body slowly going numb as sleep began to reclaim him. It had started at his toes and worked its way up to the top of his head. So currently, Edward lay, unaware of his body but mind still present in the room. He even heard the small noise of the door to his room open. It wasn't an unusual, startling sound. During his nap earlier, someone had come in to take his temperature to make sure he wasn't running a fever. Ed didn't know if his perception of time had been off or not, but to him, it had seemed quite a while before the person left.

After a few moments, his body was startled out of its numbness to feel a hand on his forehead. Edward opened his eyes slowly to see Winry standing at the bedside. She looked nearly as startled as his body felt. But Edward managed to lift hand over his mouth and yawn. At the same time, he felt Winry's hand slowly slide from his forehead. A shy, almost hesitant smile touched her lips.

Edward immediately remembered, without having to wonder anything, their argument that morning. He frowned inwardly as he began to push himself up to a sitting position. He felt Winry's hands on his arm and waist helping him. He smiled at her, but it was a little hesitant, as well, for a different reason. He was going to apologize to her, but it was always awkward feeling for him to apologize to anyone.

"Thanks," he murmured when he was sitting up. He pulled his knees in and leaned forward with his arms on his legs. Just as he was about to take a breath to begin his apology, Winry spoke.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him when she sat on the edge of the bed.

Taken with a little surprise, Edward couldn't speak for a moment, sitting with his mouth slightly open. He recovered after a moment, clearing his throat. "I'm, ah...okay," he said carefully, "I guess." He shrugged a little, his slight shock gone. "I still hurt everywhere."

A small laugh from Winry made him wince a little. That smile of hers had betrayed her for all of a few moments, letting Edward know she was still thinking about their argument. Now, though, she was acting like it didn't bother her. "Well," she was saying, "it only happened last night. Your body won't recover that quickly, no matter what you think." Her eyes flickered hesitantly to his metal limbs.

Edward nodded. "You're right," he mumbled. That seemed to earn some surprise from Winry now, as her eyes whipped up to his quickly. Before she could speak again, Edward continued. "Winry, about this morning," he said quickly, "the argument." She nodded at him, eyes slightly sullen. "I'm sorry. I don't want to make excuses, especially to you. I just...really don't like hospitals, and everything about them put me on an edg--"

He was cut off by a slender finger against his lips. Edward lifted his eyes from his feet to Winry's blue orbs, wondering when he'd looked away. Her eyes were glistening a little, but whether her tears were happy because he had apologized or sad that he'd brought it up, Ed didn't know. Women were so strange; they cried for the silliest reasons.

"It's okay, Edward," he heard her whispering. "I was just...a little upset, still, about last night."

Another memory came to Edward. Winry had shot someone, killed them. He immediately felt like an idiot for not worrying about her. He swore under his breath, looking around him before scooting over on his bed. "Come here," he mumbled to her.

There was silence for a few moments, no one moving. But a moment later, Winry slowly moved closer to him. Edward slipped his arms around her, carefully pulling her close. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable in his arms, and he didn't want to upset his body. When it seemed Winry was going to let him hold her in one of his not-as-rare-as-before outburts of sweetness, and that his body wasn't going to rebel, Edward let out a soft breath into Winry's hair. The moment he rubbed his hand down her back, he felt her body begin to shake.

He felt so sorry for her, that she'd had to experience killing someone. He knew, from experience, how it could make someone feel. Having lost his mother in a tragic way, the first time he'd killed someone, he'd thought that it had been someone's parent. That had been all he'd been able to think for a while, for quite a few days. But slowly, he'd come out of the stupor for long enough to take a breath and accept what he'd done.

With the shake of his head, Edward pushed away his thoughts, focusing on Winry. He made a few quiet shushing noises to her, murmuring what he hoped would be comforting words. This continued for quite some time as Winry released the emotions she'd been hiding for the past twenty-four hours. Edward didn't mind, though.

Somewhere in the house, a clock struck half past the hour. Edward was assuming it was officially Christmas, had been for about thiry minutes. About this time, Winry's tears were coming to a halt, slowly but surely. His hand continued to rub on her back, holding her close. No one had done the like for him in quite a while, but Ed remembered how soothing the feeling was.

A few minutes later, Edward heard Winry's voice, weak and unsteady from her tears. "Is it all right if I stay in here, with you?" she asked.

Edward bit his lip suddenly. He had been trying to ignore the fact he'd gotten used to going to sleep with his arms around Winry from the past few weeks. He had assumed that, since they were in Winry's mansion house now with plenty of rooms, that things would go back to normal: a work relationship.

He may have been jumping to a conclusion or two about what it meant that Winry wanted to sleep in his room with him. It could have just been because she was too tired to go back to her room, or possibly didn't want to spend the night alone after reliving the memory of what she'd done. That could have been it, nothing else. But, it was just as possible as the other options that she wanted to stay with him for completely different reasions.

But Edward found himself nodding. "Sure. Just don't kick me," he mumbled.

He saw Winry's mood shift immediately, saw her resisting the urge to sissy hit him, due to his injuries. "I do not kick in my sleep," she argued, sliding down in the bed, a small but playful frown on her lips.

Edward nodded again. "Yes, you do." He stayed sitting up so he could look down at her. "Trust me, I would know." He winked at her, however, just because it seemed like something he could and should do.

Winry rolled her eyes at him. "Well you snore," she groused.

"I know," Ed replied confidently, finally laying down beside her. He scooted away, though, carefully. Suddenly, he felt a little nervous as he turned onto his side, facing Winry.

There was a small silence while Winry shifted, finding a comfortable spot. After a few moments, he saw her reach out to turn off the lamp next to the bed. The room went dark with minimal light coming through the curtains. Edward could still see, though, as Winry shivered a little. He supposed it was cold in the room, but he liked cold. Besides, he had enough medication in his body to still be feeling warm from the high it'd given him.

Gradually, even as Edward scooted away slowly, he felt Winry's body come closer and closer to his. When her back was almost against his chest, Edward cleared his throat a little, slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sure what to do at the moment, whether he should let her stay where she was or to scoot away.

After a moment, that question was answered for him when he felt Winry grab his arm and pull it around her. It was his metal arm, but she didn't seem to mind as she sighed, content. Edward, feeling a little more comfortable now, sighed lightly. After a moment, he even held her a little closer to his chest.

"Good night, Winry."