Chapter 13

The Last Stand

The attacks on Rush Valley petered out as the weeks went on. The remaining H-Faction simply didn't have the resources to send their troops through miles of enemy territory in an effort to strike at the heart of the Resistance. Not to mention the fact that their numbers were now dwindling at a rate that predicted rapid extinction.

There was a map in the briefing room, a map of Amestris with which Winry kept track of the Resistance's advance. Resistance territory was marked in red, Dissident territory in blue, and the areas occupied by the H-Faction were coloured inky black. Over the last few weeks, with the steady feed of information from the Dissidents, those black patches had been shrinking at a very gratifying rate.

Now, there was only a few, isolated pockets of black left. The H-Faction were no longer fighting in a desperate attempt to turn the tide of the war – they were fighting to survive.

oooooooo

Winry breezed into the room the three of them shared with two letters clutched in her hand.

"Belladonna's back!" Winry chirped, sounding positively delighted.

Ed wracked his brain to try to place the name. "The last Resistance spy still working under cover?"

Winry nodded. "While that means we won't get any information on the H-Factions plans anymore, it also means I won't be losing any sleep worrying over my spies."

She flicked one letter onto her bookshelf – presumably the letter informing her of Belladonna's return to open Resistance activity. But the other letter she opened and read with avid fascination, eyes skimming the page as though she wanted to devour every word.

"Who's that from?" Al asked, trying to see the return address scrawled on the envelope.

"It's from Breda," Winry explained. "Hoping I'm well, saying he'll rip you guys a new one if you're giving me any trouble, that kind of thing."

"Aren't there phone lines open now?" Ed pointed out. "Why doesn't he just call you up?"

She laughed. "Ed, the lines are few and far between, and they're for official conversations. Information exchange, news of H-Faction's movements and the like. Breda's well-wishing doesn't count."

"Oh, right."

Winry read in silence for several minutes, only dimly aware of Ed and Al talking to each other and moving around the room. Breda said he hoped she'd recovered from the lance through her side (and part of her wondered how he'd found out about that), he warned her to make sure Ed and Al behaved, and informed her that everything was going well in Central, though he thought Hawkeye and Mustang were courting each other. Winry wasn't fooled by the supposedly harsh words about conversations behind locked doors and lingering touches – she could practically feel the approval leaking out of the page. Besides, hadn't Breda once told her about an office pool on when Hawkeye and Mustang hooked up? He'd also mentioned another one about marriage, and a third about children...

Thinking of babies, her mind wandered to little Winry Seren. It was an odd feeling, knowing that her friends had regarded her highly enough to name their child after her. And it was odd to think of another girl named Winry running around, even if the baby was over two decades younger.

But still, the little redhead was doing well, and her parents couldn't be prouder. Hell, half the Resistance cooed over her at every given opportunity. While there were plenty of children they'd freed from the prison camps, plenty of children born from those pregnant couples who had joined the makeshift army...Winry Seren was the first child whose parents had met in the Resistance, whose parents had fallen in love in the Resistance and who had been born into the Resistance.

She was, in her own way, a symbol of hope.

Winry reflected that it was almost ironic. As the Resistance Commander, she'd been the symbol of the Resistance's hope, the hope that they would survive the war. And now Winry Seren was becoming another symbol of hope, the hope that this war couldn't stop them from living their lives.

As she drifted off to sleep, Winry couldn't help wondering if it was something in the name. Were all Winry's fated to become symbols in some form or another?

oooooooo

Ed leaned against the wall of the briefing room, watching as Winry cradled one of Rush Valley's few phones against her ear, barking questions like a savage dog. You could always tell when she was talking to one of the Dissident officials other than Roy Mustang – with the Major General, she was cheerful, pleasant and asked after the welfare of Breda, Riza and the others. When it was someone else, she became grating and harsh, donning the mask of what they expected a Commander to be.

The facade lasted until she put the receiver down. Then she sang out a high note of triumph, sprang across the room to the map and carefully inked over several black patches with blue. Then she paused. She stepped back, regarding the map with something like awe in her eyes. Only when he wrenched his gaze from her and finally looked at the map did Ed realise what she found so astonishing.

The red of the Resistance and the blue of the Dissidents touched all across Amestris, save a small, black pocket in a place called Backridge Plains. With a start, Ed realised that was the last area in the control of the H-Faction, the last place that wasn't coloured in red or blue.

The H-Faction's last stronghold. If Backridge Plains fell...the war would be officially over.

For a moment, Winry just stared at the map, wetting her lips slowly, as a child might at the prospect of an ice cream – except the prospect of this war being over, truly over, was far more enticing than a mountain of sugared confectionery.

"Backridge Plains..." Winry said at last, her voice heavy with a mixture of eager anticipation and dread. Eager for the war to be over, and at the same time, dreading the battle that would come.

"The plains are closer to Rush Valley than Central," Winry mused. "So it's probably better for the Resistance to deal with this."

Another pause, and Winry picked up the phone again. "I guess I'll tell the Dissidents to let us handle them."

Ed wondered if he was just imagining the way her hand shook slightly as she dialed.

oooooooo

The very air seemed heavy as the Resistance prepared to march into battle. While the Resistance itself was spread across a large portion of Amestris, every outpost checking in with Winry and keeping in close contact with their Commander, the main army resided in Rush Valley. And it was here that people were preparing for what would be, hopefully, the final battle against the H-Faction.

And the last stand of the Resistance. For if the H-Faction fell at last, Ed had no doubt Winry would make good on her word and disband the Rush Valley Resistance.

But in the meantime, her army was marshalling. Most of the Resistance would be going with her – they were taking no chances – but some were staying behind.

Christa and Kyle were remaining in Rush Valley, in safety, to take care of little Winry. Ed was rather surprised Marcoh also remained behind, until Winry informed him the doctor had never really adjusted to the Ishbal War – he was prone to flashbacks on the battlefield, and so it was for his own sake as much as everyone else's that he remained behind. They were taking a less-experienced but more battle-worthy medic instead.

Ed and Al wanted to go with Winry but they weren't stupid. They knew, painful as that knowledge may be, that they would just be burdens. They could hold their own in a fight, yes, but they weren't used to the Resistance's hit and run methods, and Winry couldn't afford distractions like worrying about their safety.

But Envy seemed to find the fact that they were staying behind and letting Winry go to war immensely funny.

"Finally learning your place, Fullmetal?" he mocked as people climbed into trucks behind him, preparing to move out. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of the boss. Make sure nothing happens to her, keep her safe, you know...?"

Ed ground his teeth. Envy knew it was eating him up inside to watch Winry walk into danger, and the man was deliberately rubbing his nose in it. He was about to snarl back something sharp and cutting, but Winry came up behind Envy before he could.

"Envy, your mouth is moving, you might want to see to that," she snapped.

"It can move in other ways," he flirted. "Much nicer ways. Wanna find out?"

"What did I say about heartfelt goodbyes, Envy?" Winry asked, a single eyebrow raised.

"Butt out?"

"Smart boy."

He wandered off with a backwards glance of mock-longing directed at Winry. Ed sighed, opened his mouth...

And was cut off for the second time, this time by Scar. "He feels for you, you know?"

Ed and Al jumped, whipping around to see the Ishbalan hovering over their shoulders.

"Again with the sneaking," Winry sighed. "Can you ever just walk up, tap people on the shoulder and say 'hi, I'm here, no need to leap out of your skin'?"

Scar stared at her with faint amusement in his eyes.

"Never mind," Winry muttered. "Stupid question. What were you saying?"

"Envy," Scar indicated the green-haired man with a small nod. "He feels for you. He cares for you."

"I know," Winry said calmly. "But he isn't in love with me. So I have to keep brushing him off. Because if I ever returned it, if I ever flirted back...it would be too easy for him to think that what he feels for me is love. These sort of emotions are new to him – caring and love are two different things, and I don't want him to confuse them."

Ed blinked, startled at how insightful that statement was. Winry never flirted with Envy, not for her sake, but for Envy's?

Winry shook her head, then turned to Ed and Al. "Guess I'll be seeing you, then."

"When will you be back, Winry?" Al asked, his voice ripe with worry.

Winry shrugged. "Who knows?"

Then she reached forward and hugged them both fiercely. Ed held her tightly, unable to keep a small, deeply pessimistic part of him from thinking that this could be the last time he held her. She had survived this long, yes, but all it took was a bullet in just the right place...

He licked his lips, a half-formed idea of whispering in her ear that he loved her, but before the thought had truly taken form Winry had released him and stepped back.

"See you later," she smiled.

Then her voice hardened, roughened to a shout as she turned away. "Let's move out!"

Trucks started, the simultaneous gunning of engines sounding like a pride of lions staking a claim. The vehicles started slowly down the road, a black snake winding through the valley and towards the horizon, a solemn train carrying Winry away into the distance.

Ed just stared at them, and kept staring until long after the trucks had disappeared from view.

oooooooo

Ed wondered if this was what Winry felt when he and Al were roaming across Amestris in search of the Philosopher's Stone – this waiting, this sick, crawling worry, wondering if she was going to come home in pieces or if she was going to come home at all.

He didn't really know what to do with himself. Ed wandered around Rush Valley, half-crazy with anxiety, trying to find pointless busy work to keep his mind off Winry and what might be happening to her. In the end, he wound up spending a lot of time with Marcoh, who always seemed to welcome an extra set of hands to help him in the infirmary.

It was during one of those sessions that Ed learned how Marcoh had joined the Resistance in the first place.

He had been with Scar and the Xingian girl called Mei Chan, travelling north to investigate the notes left by Scar's brother. They were surprised by the H-Faction, and lost each other in the chaos. The doctor learned later that Scar managed to escape, but neither of them ever found out what happened to Mei Chan. Marcoh was captured and transported to one of the H-Faction's many prison camps.

Marcoh spent nearly three years in the camp before he was freed by the Resistance. At the time, Winry had been reluctant to use her alchemy – she hadn't truly understood it, and so had been worried she might make a mistake that could cost people their lives – so Marcoh tutored her, explaining it in great depth and detail until Winry felt comfortable using it.

"She knew we'd met," Ed mused. "Did you tell her?"

Marcoh nodded. "I told Winry a lot of things about my life. You just feel like you can talk to her, like she understands and – maybe not forgives – but accepts. She just puts people at ease around her...makes you feel like you can trust her with anything..."

The man's voice had been trailing off, but then he shook himself out of whatever reverie he'd sunk into. "Still, it makes her a good Commander, doesn't it?"

Ed made an indistinct noise of agreement in the back of his throat. It was true – Winry was a good leader, he shouldn't worry...

But he wished she'd come back soon.

oooooooo

The rumble of engines roused Ed from a catnap he'd sunk into after lunch. For a moment, he just lay where he was, blinking against the light, wondering why he felt like leaping up and running towards the sound. Then memory came back in a swift burst, like an explosion of rain from heavy clouds, and Ed leapt to his feet and followed the sounds.

'Winry's back!'

But his relief was short-lived. The people disembarking from the trucks were battered and bruised, looking as weary as if they'd been forced to run to Backridge Plains and back. Many were being brought out on stretchers, and the motionless, white-shrouded forms in the back of some vans did nothing to ease his worry. Ed's eyes scanned the crowd like a prowling hawk's, looking for Winry, for that small, distinctive blonde head...

He was so intent on the crowd, he missed Winry coming up behind him. "Hey, Ed."

Ed whipped around, wondering if everyone in the Resistance was conspiring to give him a heart attack with the way they sneaked around. "Winry?"

Her smile was tired but genuine. Her clothes were covered in dirt and dust, and she was holding a patch of cloth against her arm. He peered a little closer, and realised there were streaks of dried blood on the material.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, instantly tense. "Do you need to see Marcoh?"

"Not you, too!" Winry moaned. "I'm fine, a bullet just nicked me, that's all! It wasn't even worth bothering our battle medic about-"

"Still a good idea to see the doc, boss," Envy chimed in, he and Scar extricating themselves from the crowd. "Just make sure it didn't get anything important."

Envy seemed honestly worried, as did Scar, but Ed supposed that was to be expected. After all, these were men who were despairingly accustomed to people around them dying. Scar had lost his brother, his family and most of his people. Everyone who had ever meant 'ally' to Envy was now dead (though Greed/Ling was still unaccounted for). Most of the people or creatures they had been attached to had died, and Ed had a feeling a history like that made you very protective of anything you grew to care for.

"It would be advisable for you to at least treat the gash with antiseptic, Vharla," Scar added.

Attacked on all sides, Winry could only throw her hands up in resigned exasperation. "Fine! I'll go see Miracle-worker about this insignificant little cut, let him squirt me with chemicals and put string through my skin! Happy, now?"

oooooooo

"Stop staring at me like I'm about to keel over!" Winry barked, her feet tapping agitatedly against the floor of the infirmary as they waited for Marcoh to finish treating more pressing injuries.

Envy and Scar didn't so much as blink.

"I'm not going to die the second you take your eyes off me," she grumped.

Something flickered in their eyes, a mixture of guilt, fear and apprehension that was gone almost as soon as Ed noticed it. But Winry had seen it too, and he saw her brow furrow as she tried to puzzle it out. Then a distant sort of shock settled over her features, and Ed could see the moment when she realised what he had inferred just minutes before.

"You guys think you're going to see me die?" Winry growled, and Ed had the feeling it wasn't as much of a question as her tone made it sound.

Something flashed in Scar's eyes, and Envy avoided her gaze.

"Well, don't worry about it – you're not going to see me die!" she snapped. "And I'll tell you why; I'll be seventy years old and calling you two every day to fix my drains and change my lightbulbs and run to the shops and organise my photo albums and rant about how young people have no respect – you guys are going to die first, just to get away from me! Got it?"

Ed couldn't help chuckling at the stunned looks on both Envy and Scar's faces. It just struck him as typically Winry – instead of mouthing some empty promise about dying together, she was insisting that they would die first. Assuring these survivors, who had outlasted almost everyone who ever meant anything to them, that they would indeed die someday.

Winry had a weird idea of comfort, but more often than not, her brand of comfort was just what you needed.

oooooooo

Marcoh stitched up the small gash in Winry's arm carefully, the wound small enough to make performing alchemy unnecessary, but still large enough to require stitches.

As soon as the injury was dealt with, Scar and Envy were banished to what served as the Resistance's cafeteria, on strict orders to eat a full-course meal. Winry didn't accompany them, just stared out the window of the infirmary, absently fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Where's Al?" she asked suddenly.

"He went with Kyle into the mountains to repair one of the bridges," Ed answered. "He'll be disappointed he missed your arrival."

Winry nodded, still staring out the window. Ed made no move to break the silence, unsure of what she was thinking. The war was officially over...but many, many lives had been lost. Lost or changed forever, so altered by what they had experienced that they might never be able to return to what they had once called home...

When Winry finally spoke, her voice was detached, as though not even she could believe this was really happening. "I guess...I better pick up the phone and inform the Dissidents that the war's finally been won."

"And then?" Ed couldn't help asking.

Winry's eyes were unreadable, but her voice held a hint of sorrow. "And then...we disband the Resistance."