Winry pulls a surgical apron over her head and waves at the gurney. "Lie down."

Ed goggles. "Are you crazy? A tune-up? Now?"

She drags a small chest across the floor. "Of course not, idiot!" Throwing open the lid, she rakes back a layer of ice chips to reveal an arm and leg of flesh, little more than child-sized but well-muscled. The skin sags around the joints, freckled with age spots over the back of the hand. Ed recognizes it immediately -- he's been threatened with it often enough.

His stomach heaves and empties itself at Winry's feet.

oOo

"Ed!" She squats beside him, careless of the mess, wiping his face with a cloth. "What's wrong?"

He scoots away and cleans his mouth on his sleeve. "How?" he rasps, throat still clogged with vomit and loathing. "How could you -- ?"

"It's what you want, isn't it?" she answers. "I couldn't waste them -- this chance --"

She reaches for him; he stiff-arms her in the chest and she squeaks like a dog being stepped on. Her morning-glory eyes brim with tears. "I wanted us to stay together," she says. "Granny didn't understand."

Ed doesn't understand either. He doesn't want to.

oOo

"They won't have you like that," Winry continues, glancing furtively at the office door. "The automail: they don't like it."

Ed forces himself to ask, "Who's 'they'?"

The door opens; he's on his feet before she moves, staring at twin intruders whose tattered clothes hang limp on bodies dessicated to coat-racks -- whose skin, tanned leather-dark, strains to cover wasted flesh and unyielding bone.

Ed doesn't recognize them, but he knows them.

He grabs for Winry, but she's already slipped beyond reach. "They couldn't come before," she remarks over her shoulder, smiling. "It was too damp. Not like Ishbal."

oOo

They hold her close, denying him a target, their heads nestled against hers. Winry whimpers and sighs; when she turns to him, her torn cheek and throat quiver, blood-stippled. "I'm sorry," she says. "There wasn't time ... "

The door slams behind her as he reaches it. He pivots, lashing out with his left leg. Don't like automail? I'll give you a bellyful -- !

"Brother!"

The door rattles in the jamb -- once more and he'll have it down --

"Brother! Come quickly!"

Ed claps his hands to his ears, nails scoring scalp till he gasps with pain. Then he does what he must.