Chapter 17

Stumbling Forward

As Ed and his brother stepped into Winry's apartment, he reflected that the blonde woman had done rather well for herself. Her automail business was well underway, she was becoming much more relaxed in both attitude and demeanor – she didn't flinch when she was touched anymore – and she stayed in regular contact with Paninya and the others in Rush Valley. Paninya even forwarded Scar and Envy's letters to her each month. When he last asked after them, Winry had told him they were doing 'as well as can be expected', whatever that meant.

He and Al had made a habit of stopping by Winry's apartment once a week to have dinner with her. Ed liked it when the three of them sat around Winry's table, eating and talking or just sharing comfortable silences. It felt like home.

He glanced towards the shelf, his eyes drawn automatically to the four photos resting in places of pride. The first was of Winry, her parents, Pinako and Den on the porch, Winry playing with the young puppy while her parents and grandparent looked on. Another showed her, Ed and Al as children, the photo snapped on the sly during a meal. Al was frozen in the act of reaching for a plate of rolls, and Ed and Winry were squabbling over the last slice of ham. The largest picture displayed Winry, Paninya, Scar, Breda and Envy standing outside Last Hope, their arms slung companionably around each other's shoulders. Breda, Winry and Paninya beamed happily at the camera, Envy was smirking devilishly and Scar was expressionless save for a slight crinkle of amusement at the corners of his eyes. The most recent photo depicted Travis, Christa, Kyle and little Winry, the parents beaming over their child with Travis looking every inch the proud uncle.

So many people smiled from the shelf, all of whom had been important to Winry in some way. The shelf was a silent record of those she had loved, those who helped her grow into the person she was now – almost like the roll of credits at the end of a movie. It seemed as though Winry were saying, 'You know me as I am, these are the people who helped to make me what I am.'

Or maybe Ed was reading too much into it.

"Are you doing okay, Winry?" Ed asked as they sat down, already reaching for the stew.

Winry shrugged. "I'm still seeing the shrink, I still have nightmares, and I still jolt awake expecting an attack sometimes. So...no, I'm not okay. But..." her voice softened. "But I think I'm going to be."

Ed felt something warm and happy bloom in his chest at her words.

"What about you guys?" Winry asked. "What are you planning to do?"

"I think I'd like to stay in the military," Al mused. "At least for now. Maybe become an alchemical doctor like Marcoh."

"I think you'd be good at that, Al," Winry commented. "What about you, Ed?"

"Not sure," Ed admitted. "I know I want to stay in the military – we've made friends there – but aside from that..."

"You'll figure it out," Winry assured him, with a smile that made Ed feel like he could conquer the world.

oooooooo

Ed knew he should be sleeping. But he'd felt unusually restless – it was a hot night, and he'd finally decided a little midnight swim in the river could only help him. Normally, he wouldn't have braved the dark path to the glade Winry had shown he and Al at night, but the full moon in the sky provided more than enough pale, silvery light to see by.

Except that when he reached the river, Ed was surprised to find someone already there.

Winry was perched on one of the flat rocks that bordered the water, and judging by the moonlight glistening on her damp skin and the bikini-like swimwear she was clad in, she'd already taken a dip. Ed stopped in his tracks about fifteen feet behind her, knowing he should say or do something to alert Winry to his presence but unable to rip his mind away from the spectacle she presented long enough to do so. He stared at her back, mesmerised by the soft curve as her shoulders joined her neck, fascinated by the slight dip of her spine...and suppressing a twinge of pain at the scars that striped across her skin.

Ed's hitch of breath as he registered the lines of calloused flesh alerted Winry, who had to have been rather distracted in the first place to let him sneak up on her like that. She yelped and spun around, snatching at the towel resting beside her and using it to cover herself.

"What did you see?" she hissed, her voice as urgent and charged as if she had screamed the words. "How much did you see? Did-"

She cut herself off, biting her lip and falling silent. Her eyes avoided his, staring at a pebble at her feet as though it held all the secrets of the universe; a faint darkening spreading across her cheeks seeming almost a blush of shame.

It was then Ed realised that, in spite of her confidence and her apparent willingness to brazenly display them, at heart Winry was probably deeply ashamed of the patchwork of scars that danced across her skin – even when she'd taken he and Al here, she hadn't gone swimming with them, just lain on a rock beside the river and dragged her arm in the water. Because no matter how often she told herself her scars were nothing to hide, no matter how much she tried to show them off, to be proud of them...some voice inside her kept telling her that she wasn't right, that she wasn't meant to look like this.

Ed had felt the same when he first acquired automail. As though he wasn't whole, wasn't right...

Winry had helped him then: her obsession with automail, her absolute love for the artificial limbs, her utter ease with them – as though they were normal, as though they were right – smoothing over his worries and quieting his doubts.

He wanted to be able to do the same for her, he just didn't know how. But as Winry continued to chew her lip and stare at the ground, Ed knew he had to do something.

Trying to convince himself he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life, Ed reached forward and gently pulled her into a hug.

Winry stiffened, resisting at first but soon surrendering to his embrace. She didn't even blink as he slowly lowered them to the rock beneath their feet, didn't try to pull away even when she was practically sitting in his lap, one arm hugging her to him and the other stroking her shoulders.

His hand dipped down, running over her back and the ridged scar tissue he found there. Primarily horizontal lines, but most with a diagonal slant to them, he let his fingers waltz across the hardened flesh, following the lines.

"You should be proud, Winry," he said softly, his hand coming to a slow stop on her back. "Be proud of your scars...they all tell a story."

He hesitated a moment, then ploughed ahead. "Where did these come from? These ones on your back?"

Winry inhaled sharply, and even though Ed half-expected her to refuse to tell him, she spoke.

"When I was first caught," she said dully. "The torture...when they whipped me, some...some cut deep enough to scar. And it didn't help that they never gave me any real medical treatment..."

Ed swallowed, his fingers moving across Winry's hip and down to the ragged line across her leg. From mid-thigh, it curved down to her knee, and Ed could tell it had narrowly avoided the femoral artery.

"One of the 'tests'," Winry murmured, "In Angel's Nest. I was too slow in dodging a knife."

Ed tried to keep his expression open and trustworthy, tried to not to let the sorrow and anger he was feeling leak out. He had to make Winry feel comfortable telling him this, and somehow, he knew she would feel the most comfortable if he reacted as little as possible.

His hand moved again, tracing the mark on her stomach, as though someone had gutted her. But he knew that wasn't the story behind it...

"That's where they..." Winry sniffled slightly. "That's where they...they cut the baby out..."

Ed's breath hissed between his clenched teeth. It hurt to remember that though Marcoh could heal the damage the forced abortion caused, he couldn't heal the scar it left.

"Sometimes..." Winry murmured. "Sometimes I think 'what if they'd let me have it'? I mean, the kid would be almost four years old now...and I think I could have been a good mother..."

Ed held back a snort. The idea of Winry – caring, compassionate, overprotective Winry – as anything but a good mother...

"Still, I couldn't have had a baby in Angel's Nest, could I?" Winry said, sounding resigned.

Ed held her tighter. When it became apparent she wasn't going to say anything more, he moved to caress the long slash down her side. She had mentioned that it was a relic of an assassination attempt...

"I woke up to someone looming over me," Winry explained. "I rolled out of the way instinctively, so all I got was this slash down my side, and then everyone else woke up and Envy broke the guy's neck."

Ed knew the stories behind the so-called 'cookie-cutter' scar and the mark bisecting the transmutation circle, but he let his fingertips trail along them anyway. His hand rose to her collarbone, touching a small circle of darkened flesh beneath it.

"During one of the raids of the prison camps," Winry told him. "One of the guards got in a lucky shot. I was bleeding all over the place but Breda managed to patch me up before it got really nasty."

He let his hand roam to the other shoulder, where a small, wrinkled circle was caressed slowly.

Winry swallowed. "That was the torture again – the guy used to put his cigarettes out on me. That was the only one that scarred, though."

Ed's hand wandered over her shoulders, brushing her shoulderblades and the irregular lines left by the whip...and then he touched a scar that was different. It felt rougher, more jagged...and it travelled vertically down her back.

Winry smiled a little. "Remember what I told you about the guy that got a knife into my back?"

Ed nodded. He remembered her telling them that story when Al first asked her why she called Marcoh 'Miracle-worker'. He shifted until he was looking over her shoulder, staring at her back and the vicious, six-inch scar that told of one of the many attempts on her life. He could see the lines the whip left, and with a start he realised there was another mark, on her lower back. It was darker than the others, like ink...in fact, it almost looked like some sort of symbol...

With a start, he realised that was exactly what it was. A symbol tattooed on her flesh. He didn't recognise the symbol – an intricate but beautiful sign inked onto the skin of her lower back.

"Winry..." he began, wetting his lips. "Why do you have a tattoo on your back?"

Winry blushed. "Well, uh...did you know Envy can make a lot of sense when you're really drunk?"

"You got drunk and Envy talked you into a tattoo?" Ed clarified, trying not to laugh.

"Paninya, too," Winry reflected. "Breda knew the guy who did it, and come to think of it, Scar suggested that symbol..." Winry laughed slightly. "I think they conspired against me!"

"What is it?" Ed asked curiously.

"An Ishbalan symbol," Winry replied. "It means 'inner strength'."

Ed mulled that over in his head for a few moments.

"I think it suits you," he blurted out. "I mean, it's kind of appropriate, isn't it?"

Winry blushed again.

Both Ed's hands were moving now, down her arms, his flesh and blood fingers finding small scars scattered across her forearms. They were very faint – you couldn't see them unless you were looking for them, or your fingertips were seeking that scrape of roughened skin that told of a scar.

"When I fought Scar," Winry said in a low voice. "He blew up some rocks in my face. I tried to dodge, but there were these little bits of stone flying through the air, and when I raised my hands to shield my face..."

She trailed off, but Ed knew what had happened. The debris had sliced into her arms instead. He didn't say anything, though, just let his hand wander to the numbers tattooed on her wrist – tattoos Winry had never wanted nor consented to – his fingertips gently moving across the painted flesh.

He meant what he said when he told her she should be proud of her scars. Each mark was an affirmation of her courage, a silent witness to her determination to let nothing and no one break her, a testament to her will to survive.

Ed couldn't help thinking that there was something deeply intimate in this – caressing her scars as Winry told him the story behind each mark.

Winry sighed as Ed traced the tattoo on her wrist. She was almost embarrassed about the way she was leaning into his embrace, but she couldn't help it. She really did feel like her scars were something to be proud of when he touched them with that look of reverent awe in his eyes, and being held like this made her feel comforted, treasured...even loved.

The hand that Ed wasn't cradling in his rose to the scar on his neck. She didn't need to be told where it came from – he had already told her about his tussle with the Angel of Death – but she wanted to return the gesture he was giving her.

She froze as Ed's hand reached her face, touched the tip of the prominent scar running from cheek to chin.

Ed couldn't help but think how this scar, and the accompanying chipped tooth, could create such contrasting images. When she smiled, it made the expression almost child-like, but when her lips twisted in a grimace or a snarl, it seemed terrifying. But now...now it seemed to neither endear nor repel – it seemed to enhance her, enhance her beauty and maturity; a hint of the trials she had endured, a glimpse of the strength of the woman she had become.

"That was one of the H-Faction's alchemists," Winry admitted. "I don't really know what he did – it involved somehow firing spears of metal from the ground, and one caught me in the face...it was a good thing Paninya and Travis were close enough to take him down before he finished me off..."

She inhaled sharply as Ed's fingers ran down the scar, pausing to caress her lips, slightly parted as her breath puffed over his hand. The moment seemed powerfully charged as they sat there in silence, embracing in the moonlight, one hand on each other's scars, learning each other's pain.

Ed stared at Winry's eyes, pupils dilated in the silvery light, soft blue irises reflecting the sprinkling of stars in the sky. It felt right, it felt natural, to lean forward and touch his lips to hers.

Winry's lips weren't the rose-petal soft described by so much flowery poetry, but they were warm and real. He could see her eyes widen in shock and realisation, and hear the thundering of her heart. He could smell the gentle, clean smell of Winry – enhanced by her swim – and taste the slightest hint of toothpaste on her mouth. He could feel the hard ridges of scar tissue pressing against his own lips.

They drew back, but not by much and not for long. Ed hugged Winry tightly, crushing her to his chest and burying his face in her her hair, still slightly damp from her midnight swim. He was pleased to feel her arms snake around his waist and hold him to her just as tightly.

"Winry," he breathed into her hair. "I think I love you."

"That's good," Winry whispered. "Because I think I love you, too."

"Oh," Ed said in relief, because while some part of him had expected that to be the case, he hadn't been sure. And nothing had prepared him for the sudden rush of hopeful joy swelling his chest when she whispered those few, precious words.

He noticed that Winry was shaking. He panicked at first, thinking he had pushed for too much too soon, but he realised that Winry was shaking with laughter.

"What's so funny?" he asked, slightly miffed at the idea she might be making fun of him.

Winry titled her head up to his and beamed. "We're priceless, aren't we?"

Replaying their 'confession' over in his mind, the humour of the situation struck Ed all at once, and he found himself laughing too.

oooooooo

Ed didn't know how they arrived back at Winry's apartment, or how she talked him into staying the night, or how she managed to persuade him that both of them in the same bed was better than one on the couch. When he tried to recall what had happened, he simply couldn't.

Ed hadn't really been paying attention. He had been caught up in the feel of her, of meaningless looks that suddenly weren't so meaningless, of incidental touches on hand and shoulder that suddenly weren't so incidental.

He lay next to her in the sheets, watching her breathing slow and even out, watching her eyelids begin to flicker as she entered REM sleep. He was tired – a good kind of tired, the peaceful, contented kind – but he found himself not wanting to go to sleep. Ed found himself wanting to stay awake and watch her, watch the way she breathed, the way she moved, the expressions that crossed her face while she slept.

But even Edward Elric must give in to unconsciousness eventually, and he didn't even remember when his eyes slid closed.

oooooooo

"...stop..."

Ed shifted, blinking awake. It took a moment for him to remember why he wasn't in his own bed. On the heels of that realisation came the sudden shock that Winry was tossing in the bed beside him, moaning.

"No..." she breathed, her expression pained. "No...don't touch me...let me go..."

Ed didn't need to be a psychologist to know what she was dreaming about. His heart twisted in his chest as Winry whimpered like a terrified child.

He didn't hold her – something told him that might make the nightmare worse – instead he stroked her face gently, trying to soothe her.

"It's okay, Winry," he whispered. "It's okay. It's me – it's Ed."

Winry's face slowly relaxed, and she turned her head into her hand, her body shifting towards his, snuggling up to him. Ed smiled, pleased that even in sleep, Winry recognised that he wasn't a threat.

Gently, trying not to wake her, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, smoothing the blonde locks back into place.

"I love you," he whispered, just to hear the words out loud.

"Love you, too, Ed." Her sleepy voice took a year off his life.

"You're awake?" he yelped, blushing that she had caught him fawning over her like some suitor in a cheesy romance novel.

Tired blue eyes blinked up at him, and then he remembered what had awoken him in the first place.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously. "I mean, you were having a nightmare..."

"I'm okay," Winry murmured. "They aren't too frequent anymore, and I don't wake up terrified – the therapy helps."

Ed was still frowning.

"Don't worry, Ed," Winry chided, punctuating her words with a kiss on his lips, loving the fact that she could.

But Ed seemed slightly uncomfortable, so she drew back slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Winry suppressed a sigh. "Ed, you need to be honest with me here – it's the only way this is going to work," she told him bluntly.

"That's just the thing," he blurted. "What is this? I mean, we know we're in love-"

Winry worked hard to stifle the giggle that rose in her throat as Ed flushed at his own words.

"-and we hug and...and kiss...but I don't...I'm not sure..."

Winry could see Ed was floundering, and tried to extend a helping verbal hand. "You're not sure what we do now?"

Ed nodded, apparently deeply embarrassed at having to ask – as though he expected himself to just know. Only Edward Elric would think the lack of telepathic powers was a serious flaw.

"I want to keep it light," Winry confessed. "The kissing is nice...maybe a few dates now and then...but..."

She took a deep breath. "I don't want it to get too serious – at least, not for a while yet. I mean, the way I am now...if I go into something heavy, I'll probably screw it up. We should probably just take it one step at a time."

"One step at a time," Ed agreed.

"Does that answer your question?"

Ed nodded. "I think so."

"Good. Now let's go back to sleep."

Winry promptly snuggled into Ed's chest and shut her eyes, and he decided to follow her example.

But just before his eyes closed, he couldn't help but reflect on how Winry's decision sat with him. And Ed decided he liked it. Most of his life had been a rush – it would be nice to take something slowly for once. Especially something as important as this.

"Ed, the spinning wheels of your brain are keeping me awake," Winry mumbled into his shoulder. "Sleep now, think later."

He smiled. "You first."

Winry blinked up at him, then rolled her eyes, gave the long-suffering sigh she had often employed when dealing with Envy, and settled herself back down, preparing to drift off again. Ed was surprised when her breathing evened out almost immediately – it spoke volumes of the trust she placed in him.

That was when Ed knew it was going to be alright. It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be perfect...but it would be alright.

oooooooo

AN: Once again, a huge thank you to LaughingAstarael, who beta-ed this chapter. Now there's only one more to go before the story is finished - hang in there, people!