The most beautiful stories

always start with wreckage.

-Jack London

Winry swallowed a few ibuprofen to help with the pain and ordered some sushi that night as she sat in her apartment alone. 3 hours was a long time to sit in one attitude while having someone drag a motorized needle across your body. Luckily, her artist made it as pleasant an experience as he could, and for that she was grateful. Ed was light-handed, and spoke with a soft strength that helped ground her when her nerves began to take over. She found him strangely comforting, and couldn't shake the image of his bright smile, that shaggy blonde hair, the look in his eyes when he first took her hand in his metal one. Even though she'd only seen a glimpse, she knew from the slightly stiff way he moved that his automail needed help. She craved the opportunity to see more of it, which was why she insisted he stop by her shop sometime that week for her to see what was causing his discomfort. It was the least she could do after he'd worked so diligently on her outline, walking her through his detailed plan for the final product and reassuring her when she saw the finished outline that she would love it when the piece was finished. It wasn't that she didn't see the promise in his abilities, Winry was just disappointed that she'd have to wait a few more weeks before it's completion. She'd already waited so long to cover up the ugly reminders of her pain.

Her phone rang, and she happily answered the call from her friend Rebecca.

*So how'd it go today?! Sorry again that I couldn't be there. It was a good thing I stayed home to study more because that test was a killer.* She said. Rebecca was a brilliant girl with wavy brown hair and endless moxie who went against her family's wishes to become a doctor and instead pursued her passion: engineering weapons for the military. She'd been best friends with Winry since high school.

"It went fine. I have to go back in a few weeks though. He couldn't finish it today." Winry said dejectedly.

*Who worked on you?*

Winry was flipping through options on Netflix and paused at the question, recalling the handsome face, the strong but careful hands, the soothing voice, and straightened up in her chair to attempt sounding casual. "Just some guy. Ed, I think."

*What? No way. Omigod that's the owner, is he as gorgeous in person as he is in the pictures?* Rebecca asked animatedly.

"What pictures?"

*The ones on the Yelp reviews. That place got 5 stars, its why I told you to go there. Answer the question, is he super hot?*

Winry rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes, okay? He was very attractive." She fought hard to stop blushing just thinking about him.

*You lucky bitch,* Rebecca laughed. *You get a custom piece from one of the best artists in the city, and get hours of one-on-one time with his fine ass while he puts his hands all over you. I hate you so much.*

Winry grinned and laughed along. "I wouldn't really say his hands were 'all over' me."

*Well, he probably wanted to cop a good feel just seeing you.*

"I doubt it. More than likely he took one look at me and wanted to run for the hills."

Rebecca fell quiet. *Winry, don't say that…*

"Why not? It's the truth." Winry responded, fighting down sudden irritation. "My body is a mess. He was very respectful and professional, but that doesn't mean he thought I was cute. Nobody looks at these things and wants to stick around."

*Shut up!* Her friend yelled back. *You're gorgeous. You always have been and you always will be! Stop beating yourself up Winry, I can't take it anymore. You've done this for 3 years, it's enough now. In a few weeks the scars will be covered and you'll have to go back to being a normal woman like everyone else, are you gonna be able to do that?!*

Rebecca adored Winry like a sister and would do anything to try and cheer her up, but she had grown tired of being a cheerleader for someone who didn't seem to be getting better, and it secretly killed her. She was terrified that even after the tattoo was finished that Winry still wouldn't be able to shake the lingering damage of what happened 3 years ago. She feared her friend would never trust anyone ever again, would never find love again, would never learn to be happy with herself. Winry gulped and picked at stray lint from the lap blanket she was under.

"I …I think so. I hope so."

*You better,* Rebecca warned. *Because I can't bear to see you like this anymore. I can't stomach seeing you hate yourself when you never did anything wrong. I just want my friend back, I want to see the girl who flirted with boys in high school, who took weekend trips to Fire Island with me in college and wore bikinis unabashedly. Remember when you got your automail apprenticeship? I wanna hang out with the girl who I bailed out of jail when she got so happy wasted she wound up streaking through Central Park. I miss that Winry! I miss that brave chick who took life by the balls.*

Winry began to tear up, fighting the lump in her throat when she recalled the care-free life that had been lost to her.

*I want my best friend back.* Rebecca said. *I haven't seen her in forever, and I hate that she was taken from me.*

The next morning Winry was awoken by waves of pain radiating through her back and shoulders; she had rolled over in her sleep. Sleeping on her stomach was a challenge that should would quickly need to conquer and she sat up in bed only to notice the worst headache she'd felt in a long time. She immediately settled back down on her stomach, deciding that her morning run would have to be skipped that day when the front door slammed loudly. Her awful roommate was home from wherever she'd been all night. Winry groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. She shared a tiny one-bedroom apartment on west 97th street with a girl who was 22, still didn't have a full-time job, and was living off the monthly allowance her rich parents gave her. Winry moved in with her out of desperation, needing to get away from where she was living before and therefore had set up her existence in the living room so the younger inhabitant could keep her bedroom.

Mostly Winry was alone in the apartment, Nellie only came and stayed briefly before running off again on another date or on lavish trip to the Caribbean with her rich friends, but when she was around was when Winry loathed her living situation the most. Nellie was careless. She came home late at night and made noise, she left dirty dishes and never cleaned them, she never bothered to let Winry know when she was coming or going. There were times when she'd bring men back the apartment and have loud sex, completely unnaffected by the knowledge that only a very thin wall seperated them from another person. Winry didn't hate her, but she was never very happy to see her either.

"Hey!" Nellie's voice piped out like a high-squeaking hinge. "It's your turn to clean the bathroom."

Winry sighed, not looking for a fight but pulled the pillow off her head to turn to Nellie.

"Would you mind taking care of it this time please? I'd do it but I'm feeling horrible right now, I think I have a cold or something."

Nellie looked as though someone had asked her to join the Taliban.

"Are you kidding? I'm never here. Why should I have to clean up your mess?! Why haven't you stayed on top of it?! My father pays an awful lot of money for us to live in this building and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate you letting mold grow in the tub."

God forbid the girl do something for someone else once in a while. Winry forced herself to roll out of bed despite her throbbing head and the chills wracking her body and shuffled to the bathroom. She had no intentions of cleaning it that day, she simply stood there behind the closed door and waiting for the moment the front door slammed, signaling her roommate's departure once again. Winry wasn't a slob by any stretch, however she was an incredibly hard-working and busy woman who came home most nights too exhausted to clean the house and she usually hired a service to do it. She hadn't had the cleaner come in two months because she was scraping together money for the tattoo she so desperately needed. She had resorted to skipping meals, selling most of her possessions and even digging in the couch cushions for spare change to save up the 600 dollars she gave Edward for her outline. He didn't know it, but she could've cried tears of joy when he handed 200 of it back to her with a smile saying how he was the owner so he didn't take tips. Now she had about a month to scrape together another 500 to finish the piece.

She stood in the bathroom and pulled her shirt off to examine her back in the mirror. It looked alright, it hadn't started itching quite yet but had the beginnings of scabs which she recalled him saying were normal and not to be touched. Winry was then presented with a new problem; how to clean it by herself. As she stood trying to work out the situation a new wave of aching pain rolled through her body and she instantly gave up, pulling her shirt back on as she shuffled back out of the bathroom and made a beeline for bed. She'd have to come back to the issue after a nap.

Hours later the front door slammed again and Nellie strutted in wearing a string bikini and high heels with a sarong slung low on her hips and a mai-tai clutched in her left claw. She'd been sunning herself on the rooftop with her friends and getting day-wasted yet again, and she loudly clacked her way to the bathroom. A scream followed by a loud shatter sent Winry flying up in bed only to wince in pain from her body aches and splitting head.

"You didn't clean the fucking bathroom!" Nellie screeched as she stormed back to Winry's bedside. "You stupid, lazy bitch! I can't believe what I put up with from you!"

Nellie would make a wonderful wife someday.

Winry rubbed sleep from her eyes and breathed hard to reduce her pounding heart. "I said I'm sick, I'll take care of it tonight okay?"

"That's not good enough! You've been laying here all goddamn day!" The wide-eyed brunette with the overly-large forehead yelled.

"You've been on the roof getting plastered in the sun all day." Winry bit. "I don't have the energy. I have a cold. But you've got all the time in the world since you spend your days shopping and drinking with your little trust-fund friends instead of working 60 hours a week like I do. I'll take care of the stupid bathroom, just get out of my face for awhile okay?! My whole body aches, my back is killing me—"

"Oh your back?" Nellie scoffed. "You expect me to sympathize with you because of something you did to yourself? You're not sick you're just bitching about a little back pain! Well I told you not to get that stupid tattoo, they're not pretty they're for criminals and you're never gonna get a real job with one."

"I have a real job…" Winry quaked, feeling her face burn with fury.

"What, making robots all day? Stop fooling yourself, you barely make any money doing that work so how can it be a 'real job'? Automail is UNNATURAL. It isn't right for humans to have metal limbs, there are people who fashion them into guns! They're entering our school systems and workplaces with weapons attached to their bodies! I desperately hope they pass the A.R.A. and force those abominations to identify themselves, because they're a threat and you're just part of the problem. But you know what? I guess I can't expect rational thinking from a woman who's obsessed with 'fixing' people's broken bodies and thinks a hideous tattoo is gonna fix her own broken body."

Winry no longer felt control of herself. She didn't feel the muscles in her legs propel her out of bed. She didn't feel the wooden planks under her feet as she thundered across the room. She didn't feel her hand connect with Nellie's cheek until the slap rang out loud and clear. Time sped up, and before Winry was able to right her position after the follow-through, she felt a hard blow land directly between her shoulder blades and she screamed. She lost her footing and fell to the floor, only to feel her shirt pulled up and a second later the sharp sting of skin on skin as Nellie struck her healing flesh again, and again, and once more, Winry's screams reaching new heights with each blow. Her mind flashed dark, then only seeing the lighting striking outside the rain-pelted windows, no longer hearing Nellie's curses and only picking up the crashing thunder that shook the floor boards, her screams that no longer came from sharp stings and instead burst from torturous slices. Her tear-filled eyes blinked back to the sunlight pouring in the windows when the weight was dragged off her by a young man in a bathing suit, Raybans and Sperrys.

"Whoa girl!" He said laughing as he pulled the furious Nellie off of Winry. He grabbed her flailing arms to hold her still and grinned at her, kissing her cheek. "Save that energy for the bedroom, tiger. She's not worth it." He grabbed her ass, effectively distracting her and a second later they were both gone, leaving Winry alone again on the floor with her back crying out in agony and tears running down her face.

Just like that night 3 years ago.

A/N: It feels so great to be posting material again and hearing from you all. The response I got for the first chapter of this was thrilling and really revived me in ways that are hard to explain at the moment. For anyone curious about the fanart that inspired TATOS you can find it on my blog if its not showing up as the cover image. I tried a few times to upload it here, but from my end it doesn't appear very cooperative. On that note, I also have no idea if this story is posting to the site's page along with all the other stories of the world. I seem to only be able to see this story on my page or if I type it in the search, when usually a new upload would go to the first or second page of stories in the M rating. Let me know either here or on the blog if you guys can see the cover image and/or the story on a main page without having to come directly to my page.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Chapter 3 is on it's way.