Story Seven! Finally, right? Usually, I update this every two weeks or so, so it's actually been (quickly flips through handy dandy calendar) two weeks and six days! Yeah, so it's been almost three weeks; that's good. It just felt like a whole lot longer since I updated to me! Anyway, Bravery is, time wise, the first story to occur in the Little Wonders universe, and it takes place the night Edward gets his automail ports put in. Like the last three stories ("Comfort", "Joy" and "Surprise"), this one comes from inside Winry's head (third person limited) and, unlike any of my other stories that I can think of, Edward has no dialogue except for talking in his sleep. It's sorta just a really cute "Aw!" moment. I'm probably going to make Story Eight come from Edward's view, because I haven't done that since "Faith". As always, thank you everyone, for sticking with me and giving me reviews. You make me smile and feel all warm and fuzzy!

And, as you've probably notice, I'm adding this one on the 10th anniversary on 9-11. Gosh, had it really been that long? I was 6 when that happened...

StarKatt427

Story Seven: Bravery

...Because when it comes to him, she can always find the courage she needs...

Today had been tiring. Not just physically, but emotionally, and Winry sat, drained, at the table, a glass of untouched water her grandmother had quickly fixed in front of her. She stared at it, not really seeing anything, her mind still in the surgery room with Pinako and Edward, with equipment and blood and vomit and needles and wires and screams and things you only should see in nightmares.

Today had been the day Edward had his ports put in.

Pinako had warned him early on it would be less painful to have one put in at a time, but the rehab would be slower, and since he'd given himself a year, time was of the essence. He'd had both ports put in today, not quite an hour ago.

Winry exhaled shakily, her eyes closing, and as she saw Ed pass out, body limp and unmoving and so utterly small, heard his chocked off scream ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes again, but it didn't help block out the memories.

Alphonse clanked into the room and looked back toward the operation room anxiously, having not been allowed in there since the moment Pinako began preparing to install the ports and Edward had firmly requested—demanded, actually—that Al not be in there when it happened. Ed hadn't said it, but Winry knew he didn't want his little brother seeing him weaker than he already was.

Somehow, even though she felt like she was about to drop, she smiled at Al. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied, looking once more to the room where his brother lay, hopefully unconscious. He turned back to her, fidgeting where he stood. "How…how did it go?" he asked timidly.

Winry sighed, knowing the truth would be best. "He passed out cold when we put them in. Don't worry," she amended quickly at the way the lights that were now his eyes had seemed to almost tremble, "that usually happens. Especially since he having both done at the same time, so it's going to be harder on him. But you know Ed; he's strong. He'll be fine."

Though a nervous air seemed to still remain around Alphonse, his metal shoulders seemed to relax at her words, and he put his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, relived. "Thank goodness," he muttered softly, head bowed, almost like in prayer.

She'd said Edward would be fine. But Winry, her heart somewhere in her throat and her eyes burning as she looked down at the blood spattering her smock, found herself wondering if he really would be.

Minutes later, Winry heard the surgery room door open and close, and then her grandmother was in the kitchen, face all wrinkles and small eyes, her own white smock covered in even more blood than Winry's. She began wiping her glasses as Winry and Al stood up, him as quickly as a suit of armor could, both waiting for her to tell them Ed's condition.

The old woman sighed harshly, and from the way her hand was twitching, Winry could tell she was missing her pipe. "He's down for tonight," she began, looking up first at Alphonse, then to her granddaughter. "I gave him a really powerful sedative, so he shouldn't be waking up any time soon."

"Is it that bad?" Al asked softly, almost scared to know the answer.

Pinako nodded once, a quick movement. "In a little while, you can go in there and sit with him," she said, walking up to pat his knee softly, just like she would have done had he still been in his normal body.

"Do you need any help cleaning up?" Winry asked, knowing there probably wasn't much she could do to help anymore but wanting to do something.

Pinako looked at her, almost like she was trying to decide if she could handle whatever she was planning on having her do. "Actually, there is. Come on, I need to talk to you." She motioned for her to follow, and then walked into the hall.

Winry stopped beside Al, placing her hand on his arm in a comforting way. She smiled. "It's fine, I promise," she said, then quickly followed after her grandmother.

When she found Pinako, she already had her pipe lit and was puffing away vigorously. "Granny?" Winry asked softly.

"He's okay, really. I wasn't lying," the woman said, leaning against the wall, keeping her voice low in case Al was listening. "But he lost a lot of blood. It's not enough to be life threatening, no where near as much as the night they came here, but it's more than I excepted. The risk of infection's low, thankfully, so he should be alright. He's just going to be in a lot of pain for the next week or so, maybe longer."

"Is there anything I need to do?"

Pinako eyed her gently, yet firmly. "Honey, I thought you were about to either throw up or start crying when you saw him bleeding, and then when he—"

"I know, I know," she cut her off, embarrassed with herself for acting that way. She'd seen blood countless times, so it shouldn't have bothered her to see another patient bleeding out. But this was Edward, her best friend, and, in truth, she had been closer to crying than getting sick. "I'll do better next time, I promise."

Pinako smiled proudly. "I know you will. You're still young, and you weren't as prepared as you thought you'd be."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, child," she scolded, blowing a ring of gray smoke into the air. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. "There is something I need you to do, but it's not cleaning up."

Winry's felt her breathing catch for just a second and, even though she loathed to admit it, she was scared of the assignment her grandmother was about to give her. "Yes?"

"Even though I gave him the sedative, those ports are going to be killin' him when he wakes up. The pain won't be as bad, though, if we keep hot rags on them for a little while and have them on when he wakes up." She looked up at Winry. "Keep the rags hot and make sure they stay on the ports. That's what I need you to do."

Winry wanted to scream, to tell her No, I'd rather do something else, anything else, but that wasn't the type of person she was. She'd been ready to go in and clean up any stray blood and towels and put away needles and syringes, but…not this. Not taking care of Ed, not when he was like this. She was scared she'd end up bawling.

But she was a Rockbell woman, and Rockbell women were strong. She thought of her mother for a moment, the countless time she'd heard her say that with a proud smile on her face, blue eyes bright and alive, brave and determined.

That was who she wanted to be.

"Okay."

Somehow, Pinako was able to keep Alphonse in the kitchen, even after he'd found her in the bathroom running steaming hot water into a small tub. Winry wasn't sure how though; maybe she'd just scared him enough. That was just who Granny was: strong-minded and scary as hell when she wanted to be, a solid presence.

Now, she stood with her grandmother outside of Ed's room, her carrying several rags and Pinako with the tub of water. Winry felt the old woman watching her, waiting to see if she'd chicken out.

She was terrified, not only of what she'd see, but what she'd hear. Her legs were shaking, as were her hands, and she swallowed thickly, praying Granny couldn't tell she did want to wimp out.

Rockbell women are strong.

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply to clear the fear that was growing, and then glared at the door. She was ready.

Winry didn't see it, but Pinako smirked approvingly.

Without wasting another precious moment, Winry opened the door and walked in.

The smell of blood was the first thing that hit her, wet iron and sharp as in flooded her nostrils, and then she smelt the vomit and had to keep herself from gagging. She smelt alcohol, antiseptic and that hospital smell that she was gradually getting used to. The room was warm, tinged with sweat, and Winry could already feel her clothes sticking to her skin.

Pinako passed her and walked right to the bed a few feet away, quickly kneeling down to set the tub on the floor. Winry followed after until she was standing at Ed's bedside, looking down at him with large blue eyes.

Edward lay in the bed under a thick blanket, so, for the moment, she couldn't see his body. On further inspection, Winry saw he was shivering, the fever hitting him in waves, causing him to be cold at one moment and burning alive at another; now it seemed he was freezing, even beneath the quilt. His face was slick with sweat, shining in the lamplight, his expression somewhere closer to being relaxed than in pain thanks to the tranquilizer.

What really made her chest ache was just how small he looked, a little boy swallowed by blankets and surrounded by the smell of his own blood.

Pinako stood straight now, looking down at Edward as well. "Get them ready."

Winry knelt down to the tub and dumped two of the rags under the water, then nearly drew her hands back at the hotness of it of her skin. Ignoring the burning heat, she forced herself to make sure the rags were completely wet. She lifted them and quickly rung most of the water out, one by one, and then she rose from her knees to look back over Edward.

Pinako reached down, placing her hands on the edge of the quilt. "Winry, be ready," she warned. "Don't waste any time."

She nodded, and then Pinako pulled the blanket back.

And Winry felt her heart stop.

She stood still, eyes wide and terrified, because no matter how many times she saw Edward bleeding or unconscious or bandaged, it always made her think back to the night Al had dragged him in, the dark sticky lifeblood pouring out of where his arm and leg had earlier been. Now, though, he wasn't bandaged or even bleeding. Instead, metal leeches clung to the stump of his leg and the place where his right shoulder would have begun, clinging greedily to the raw skin and pulling at it, making the areas around the ports red and already inflamed.

Winry had thought Edward looked small under the blankets; now, he looked not only small, but so helpless and damaged that her eyes watered and she had to fight the tears that steadily built up as she quickly bent in and covered the ports with the rags, first placing one on his shoulder, then covering the one on his leg. As she put the last rag on, her hand brushed one side of the port, and she bit her lip as at tear trailed down her cheek. She hurriedly lifting her shoulder and wiped it away, hoping her grandmother wouldn't say anything.

As soon as she pulled her hands away, Pinako had the blanket back covering Edward, and then she was watching Winry, making sure she wouldn't break down. She didn't say anything, and Winry nodded, assuring her she would be okay.

But she wasn't. Seeing the metal on his skin, feeling it, had made everything strikingly clear, and it hurt seeing him like this; defenseless, broken. Her stomach was churning, but not in the way that signaled she was sick, and her eyes burned with both tears and exhaustion.

Edward, though he never would have admitted it, screamed for someone to take care of him, to at least try to heal the darkness in his heart, to try to save him from himself. And that was why she was here.

"You alright to stay in here for another hour or so?" Pinako asked softly.

Without even considering it, Winry said, "Yes."

The older Rockbell woman exited the room a moment later, leaving Winry with the tub of water beside her and the rags already submerged in the water, waiting for when she would need to change them again. Winry looked at the door for a moment, then knelt on the floor and rested her cheek on her hand, elbow on the bed, as she watched Ed's sleeping form. Thankfully, he no longer shivered.

He wouldn't wake up tonight, but would that really be a good thing? She'd heard his nightmares, heard him cry out and scream, voice filled with tears. What if he had one tonight while he slept, and there was nothing she could do for him?

It wouldn't matter, because Alphonse would be in here in a little over and hour to sit with him for the night, and then he would be the one comforting Ed, just like always. Winry smiled slightly at the thought, crossing her arms on the mattress and pressing her forehead onto them, wanting so badly to sleep but trying to keep her eyes open.

She must have dozed off, because the next time she lifted her head, it was ten minutes later than when she'd sat down according to the clock. She forced herself into a sitting position, her eyes stinging with the strain of keeping them wide and alert. I can't sleep, she thought, keeping her back straight as she watched Ed. I have to stay awake.

From what she could tell, Edward hadn't moved; his right cheek was still pressed into the pillow, his breathing coming deep and steady, lips slightly parted. Winry reached out and pushed a piece of his bangs off of his face, tucking it behind his ear, and smiled.

He really was adorable when he slept, but she'd never tell him that. She leaned back over and propped herself up, watching him, sometimes brushing her fingers through his hair.

By the time the smell of the room no longer affected her, she noticed sweat breaking out across his forehead as the fever hit again, this time making him hot, and she pulled the quilt down to where it was just below his shoulders, allowing the air to kiss his skin. Winry was tempted to completely drag the blanket away, but she knew that would be useless, possibly even make his condition worse, so she left him covered even as he continued to sweat. After a few minutes of this, when the sweat was now running down his face, she carefully leaned over him, slightly unsure if this would help in any way but willing to try it, and she blew onto his face, praying that would give him at least some relief.

It seemed to work, because the moisture cooled on his face, even though it didn't stop appearing in fresh beads. She kept this up off and on, pushing his hair back off his forehead, blowing at his hairline, over his cheeks, and, for some reason, enjoying herself and the way she got to listen to him breathing, liking the way he inhaled gently.

Edward was strong; he had been for as long as she'd known him. Still, Winry couldn't help but worry that this would be more than he could handle, too much too fast.

And so she continued, covering him when he grew cold, blowing on his face and neck when the heat took over, the whole time trying to keep herself awake and praying that he would be okay.

Forty-five minutes into her watch and two rags left, she heard Edward mumble, a deep, lethargic sound in his sleep. She jerked up, alert, and she waited, afraid he would either wake up or would start screaming due to some God awful nightmare that attacked him.

He didn't wake, and he didn't scream; instead, a soft moan exited his throat, and he turned his head toward Winry, face scrunched, not in pain, but something deeper than hurt that she wouldn't understand.

He was dreaming, she realized, and she was lost, not sure what to do, if she should go get Alphonse or what. Deciding to wait, she remained where she sat and continued to watch him.

Nothing happened for a few minutes; it seemed the dream had left him be for the moment. His face relaxed and his breathing settled just as the chills took over, and Winry pulled the blanket up to his chin. She looked at the clock, wondering when Granny would come back in, and she once again propped up on her elbows, trying to keep her eyes from slipping shut and failing.

They jerked open when Edward groaned again, a painful little gasp of air that ripped from his throat and tore at her heart, especially when she saw that his face, instead of pulled into pain, was terrified, even in sleep. His bottom lip trembled for a moment and he mumbled again, burrowing his head deeper into the pillow, his eyes quivering.

It was physically painful, seeing him like this, and it came as a shock to Winry when she realized just how much it hurt. Careful to not disturb his healing port, she got on her knees and leaned over him, placing her hand on his hair and brushing through it in what she hoped was a comforting way, her other hand pulling the blanket closer around him. It didn't do good for long though, because he seemed to grow more fretful than before, his little body seizing up and then relaxing, only to lock up again moments later.

Winry was growing steadily more frantic, scared, because she didn't know what to do. Granny could give him more medicine or maybe Al could calm him down and make him feel better and—

A pained little whine, so soft and breathy, locked everything into place, and Winry gasped quietly.

So this was the real reason Pinako had sent her in here: she'd known, somehow, that there would be a time when it would be up to Winry to figure out how to comfort Edward, to make things better. This was her job, her task.

Taking a deep breath that allowed most of the fear to seep out of her body and for the courage she needed to flow in, she placed her hand against his face, cupping one of his soft cheeks and brushing her thumb over it comfortingly. At the contact, Ed gratefully leaned into it, whining again, and then she put her free hand on the other side of his face, stroking over his jaw and forehead, into his hair and down his neck, the whole while watchful of the ports. He breathed in harsh pants, and when Winry pulled one of her hands away to check the rags covering the metal ports, he moaned again, moving his face as if seeking the warmth that had just fled him. She quickly made sure the rags were still warm enough, then put her hand back on his face.

It was strange, to say the least. Strange, but enjoyable. She'd never dreamed of touching his face like this, as a form of comfort, and it made her heart flutter in a somewhat nervous manner. Not worrying when her own hair fell into her face, she focused solely on Ed, brushing his bangs away and stroking over the harsh lines that were his eyebrows, making gentle, soothing sounds when he began to cry out.

After a while though, this wasn't enough, because his face twisted up in something beyond pain, and he pushed himself farther into her hands until he was against her shoulder, hot tears leaking out from his tightly closed eyes and running down his cheeks.

Winry took a deep intake of breath as her eyes glazed over with tears of her own, and then her hands were back to soothing, one on his face and the other cradling the back of his head, whispering soft words that she wasn't even sure were coherent. "Shhh, it's okay, Ed, it's all okay. You're fine, and Al's fine. Shhh, just sleep."

A hitching sob shook his frame and Winry held him closer, putting as little pressure on him as possible, resting her head on his as her tears finally spilled over.

Edward should never be like this. He was the tough one, the one that never cried, brave and arrogant and confident and so annoying at times that he made her want to kill him. But then he could be nice, but only when he wanted to be, and that always made up for the times she felt like bashing his skull in. He was strong; he didn't need protecting, and he would tell that to anyone who tried to say otherwise.

But, right now, he did need a shield, someone to take care of him, and that was Winry.

"Al," Ed's voice cried softly, his face in the crook of her neck, and then he called out for Al again, a desperate sob and plea, the sound tearing at Winry's soul.

She buried her face in his hair to muffled her own tears. "Hey, it's alright," she whispered soothingly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Al's safe, and you are too, and he loves you." She felt his tears soaking into the surgical dress she wore, and she continued to pet his hair. "He loves you so much Ed."

He hiccupped harshly, still calling for Al, but also for someone Winry had heard him scream for earlier, and that was why she'd had to leave the room: "Mom," he wailed softly, sobbing even harder.

Winry's throat was so clogged that she could barely speak. "She loves you too. Your mom loves you, Ed." Her fingers were gently wiping over his cheek, pushing the hair that stuck to his face away, while her other hand move to his good shoulder so she could hold him better. "It's okay, sweetheart. Sleep," she said, voice hitching only slightly as her tears began to lessen.

Edward hiccupped again, but he seemed to calm down; he didn't move though, his body still relaxed against Winry's, and he turned his face more into her shoulder. She kept her hand on his head, stroking through his hair the whole time, now smiling because she was holding him, Edward of all people. And she liked it, liked him needing her, even if he wouldn't remember any of this when he woke. Still, she couldn't get how naturally calling him 'sweetheart' had come to her.

The door squeaked open behind Winry, and she looked over her shoulder to see Al leaning in, and, for some reason, her cheeks grew warm, almost like she was embarrassed to be caught with Edward cradled in her arms and her hands in his hair. She brushed it off though as she watched him, saw the way he stood, like he was asking for permission. "Come on," she mouthed, taking the next few moments to begin placing Edward back the way he'd been laying. She moved carefully and slowly, and when she lifted Ed up from her neck and shoulder, she couldn't help but smile at his weak whine of disappointment.

"Let me or Granny know if you need anything," she told Alphonse softly, taking one last moment to touch Ed's cheek, then pulling her hand back.

And so quiet that most people would have missed it but loud enough to draw Winry's attention, she heard Edward mumble softly, "Winry."

She froze, wondering how he could still be asleep and calling her name but knowing he somehow was. Cautiously, she put her hand back on his cheek, and he sighed softly, leaning into it. "Winry."

Her eyes were wide in amazement, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but she tried to keep it contained. Taking her hand back and glancing at Edward once more, she stood up and face Al, giving him a slight smile. From the way he watched her, even without a real human face, she could tell he'd heard.

"This is our secret," she said softly, and he chuckled.

"Okay."

Winry stood in the door for just a moment, watching as Alphonse sat beside Ed's bed, and then she shut the door softly. Once she was alone in the hall, she pressed her back against the door and found herself grinning like an idiot.

Because Edward had called for her in his sleep.

Which meant he thought about her more than he led on.