The ghost that haunts romantics,

is not what was,

rather what could have been.

-Michael Xavier

Riza Mustang sat on the edge of her mattress at 2 am with her service dog in her lap. The nightmares were coming less frequently, but that didn't make them any easier to endure. The years she spent at war serving alongside Edward would play over and over in her mind, but the PTSD she suffered from was worse than what some of her fellow soldiers were dealing with. They had all seen battle. They had all killed. But Riza was a top-level sniper, and spent extended periods of time hunting her prey from a distance, analyzing their faces in her scope and looking directly into their eyes before pulling the trigger. It was a hard life, only made harder by hearing the news from back home that sent her and her fellow soldiers into a tailspin; the news that shattered Edward's world. She was still haunted not only by the news, but by the look on Edward's face.

Her husband was no stranger to the signs of depression and anxiety, and while he'd found his own methods for healthy coping from his days as Riza and Ed's Commanding Officer, he'd noticing the trouble his wife was trying to hide. She easily concealed her emotions from many, but nothing got past Roy Mustang. He slid out of bed and walked to her side, not bothering to turn on the lights.

"Is he helping at all?" Roy asked and he smoothed a hand through his wife's blonde hair. The small black and white pup was a gift to his wife, with the hopes it might ease some of the tension hardening around her heart. Riza rubbed her tired brown eyes before looking back at her husband's worried face and messy mop of black hair. She gave a small shrug in response.

"Maybe. I'm not quite sure yet, but I like him. He's warm and soft."

"Does he have a name yet?"

Riza nodded before standing to peck her husband's scruffy cheek.

"I think I'll sleep easier now."

Almost on que, Roy's cell phone began to ring from its spot on his nightstand, and his heart fell heavy as he crossed the room to answer it. Being the police commissioner was a vastly interesting job, coming with intriguing cases, high connections and a decent salary. But when his phone rang in the middle of the night it only meant that a long and difficult day was ahead of him. Detective Denny Brosh was on the other end.

"Sir, I'm afraid it's Noah again." He told Roy. Mustang sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, wondering when the woman would get her shit together and just leave Edward be. The man had suffered enough.

"What did she do this time?" Roy asked, thinking back to 6 months prior when Noah's coke-fueled adrenaline helped her throw a brick through Ed's 2nd floor storefront window. Roy was Ed's Commanding Officer, and while at war was dealt the heavy blow of having to deliver Edward the news that essentially ruined his life. It was 4 years ago, and the sound of his subordinate's sobs of anguish still flooded his mind on occasion.

"She's in handcuffs downtown at an automail shop. I got a radio from officer Breada requesting backup after he responded to a distress call. Apparently she broke in and attacked an engineer."

"Does Ed know?"

"No, you're the first person I've called."

Roy shouldered his phone to his ear as he began pulling pants on. "I'll meet you at the precinct."

After hanging up he pulled on a white button-up and looked longingly at his beautiful wife, whom he'd loved in secrecy for nearly ten years before retiring from the army and finally marrying her. It had been years since they'd become civilians, and at times it was still an adjustment. Roy touched Riza's cheek.

"Don't wait for me, Noah's causing trouble again. I have to call Fullmetal and fill him in."

A warm kiss fell on Riza's cheek and she returned to bed with her puppy as Roy left. As she sat scratching the pup's ears, she thought of Edward and then of Noah, and how as much as she empathized with Noah for being a woman beyond help and so lost with grief that she couldn't pull herself out of her destructive behavior, she felt even worse pity for Edward. Edward had been too good to Noah for many years; he'd treated her far better than she deserved and the best thing he'd ever done was attempt again and again to sever all ties, but Noah just wouldn't let the poor man be. Riza had never been a deeply religious person, but even more than praying to hold onto her own sanity, she prayed for Edward's ability to retain his. On nights like this she would pray as hard as she did at war 4 years ago, when she watched Edward's face change to a horror she'd never witnessed before as he realized his life was over.

Riza laid on her side to sleep once again, and the dog happily curled into her as she patted it.

"Good boy, Black Hayate."

Edward stood at the bar in the William Barnacle Tavern sipping on a glass of Grande Absente with a dark scowl and an even darker mood. Every second he stood there waiting for her made him feel like a bigger idiot, and he was lashing himself internally for thinking things had been resolved. Winry didn't trust him —if she did she would've shown up. Yet here Edward was, in a dark and narrow bar watching silent movies projected onto the back wall and drinking absinthe alone. The woman tending bar was flirting with him mercilessly as she dripped ice water over the torched sugar cubes perched on absinthe spoons over goblets; her efforts never faltered by his failure to engage, and while he admitted to himself that she was pretty his eyes continually swerved to the arched doorway hoping the evening summer breeze would blow in a far more beautiful being. Edward's hopes would be dashed. He'd received a response when he texted her where to meet him, but when he called after the first half hour, the second half hour, the third half hour he'd gotten no answer. He downed the rest of the green, anise-flavored liquid and thumbed out a few bills onto the bar when his phone vibrated in his pocket. His heart leaping, Ed pulled out his phone frantically only to be dissapointed again when the caller wasn't Winry.

"Your ex-wife needs to be locked up. Or labotimized. Maybe both." Roy said upon Edward's greeting. Ed sighed heavily and raked a hand through his hair.

"Jesus… what now?"

"She attacked someone. She's in a holding cell downtown, says she needs you to bail her out?"

Ed nearly snorted in response at the absurdity. "That's a lie, she's got shitloads of money —provided she hasn't pissed it all away on drugs and vodka. She's a trust fund kid, let her bail herself out."

"And if she doesn't have the money?" Mustang asked. Ed rolled his eyes, thoroughly done with the day and already partly over the day to come.

"Then let her rot there. I'm sick of picking up the pieces just so she can come stomping in to send it all down in flames again. Some people just can't be saved, and she's never gonna get her shit together if she's not held accountable."

"i agree." Said Roy as he looked at the disheveled mess that was Noah sitting on the floor of the holding cell. "I was really just calling out of courtesy. Are you at the shop?"

"No," Ed responded as he exited the tavern and began to walk home. "I've been chasing the green fairy. I was supposed to meet up with a friend but she never showed. I think she's kinda pissed at me."

"Anyone I know?"

"Nah she's a client, her name's Winry."

Roy stopped his pacing and looked back at Noah in the cell. Winry was not a very common name.

"Is your Winry an engineer by chance?"

It was Ed's turn to halt in surprise. "Yea. She's fixing my arm for me in a few days. How'd you know?"

Mustang's mouth set in a grim line when the pieces all clicked together. Noah wasn't talking without her legal counsel present and Winry was at the hospital so he hadn't gotten the full story yet, but now the picture was becoming clear.

"Shit…" Roy said. "There's the connection. Unless I'm somehow wrong, it looks like your friend is the person Noah attacked."

Panic sliced into Edward.

"Fuck! Is she okay?!"

"I believe so, they took her to Beth Israel a few hours ago." Edward hung up without a final word and began to run up the length of St. Marks Place. Whizzing past the neon signs of punk stores, head shops, and ramen takeout joints, he stopped when the street turned into 8th and crossed over Cooper and Lafayette, and looked around frantically for a cab with it's light on. As he waited he tried Winry's cell again, receiving no response and his heart thumped in double-time, and as much as he feared for her well-being he was equally fearful that after that night, she would never want to see him again.

3 days had driven Edward to near psychosis with worry for Winry, having been turned away by hospital staff when he arrived because only family members were admitted to see patients in ICU. Hearing the term 'ICU' only increased his panic and half a dozen phone calls to the hospital, Mustang and Officer Hymans Breada gave Ed enough information to piece together what happened. He was mortified, horrified —absolutely beside himself with anger when he'd learned that a large iron wrench was Noah's weapon of choice to use against Winry's skull. Noah could have killed her. As he had suspected, Noah was trying to get Ed to post her bail but posted her own money when she realized he wasn't coming for her and as much as he wanted to ask why she would do this, Edward knew he would never get a coherent response from her and he'd only leave wanting to wring her neck. It boiled his blood further when he'd learned from Mustang that Winry had no intention of pressing charges.

Winry was ready to return to work by the end of the week having never spoken to Edward; every call and text from him would go unanswered because she knew if she picked up the phone, she'd only start screaming at him. She'd acknowledged to herself that Edward obviously didn't control the actions of other people, but she was more than curious to know exactly what he had done to inspire such rage in the woman who claimed ownership of him. She'd asked detectives if they knew the relationship between Edward and Noah, to which they all curtly responded "No.", and yet when she became more specific and asked if Noah was Edward's wife, Roy Mustang, Denny Brosh, and Hymans Breada all gave the same short response. No. Nothing else. Just "No".

It pissed her off immensely, knowing she was being lied to. Adding to her fury were the flowers. Every day little hand-written cards with 'I'm sorry' and 'I can explain' came nestled in pink tissue paper that lined inside the crisp white boxes of long-stem roses which where delivered to her apartment. Every. Single. Day. Her phone was filled texts from Edward asking if she was alright, begging her to answer his calls, and as the hours ticked by during her first day back to work she burned with anger as the images of Noah standing over her flooded her thoughts. Noah's crazed eyes as she screamed at Winry only shot her back to the hollering she'd heard from her ex-boyfriend, and the way he used to knock her to the ground as a show of dominance. In attempt to drive away the haunting imagery from her mind, Winry kept herself immensely busy even working through lunch with her eyes set firmly on her goal of not allowing herself to cry about it. So busy in fact, that she didn't notice the bell chime over the shop door as someone entered, and as she turned around to grab a screwdriver she was stopped in her tracks by wide and fearful golden eyes.

Edward could swear his heart nearly stopped and his hands raked into his hair at the sight of her. Common sense escaping him, he strode behind the counter and reached for Winry only to be shot back into rational thinking by her equally frightened expression as she lurched back from him, her screwdriver clattering to the floor as her back met the wall. Nothing was said. More than once Ed opened his mouth to speak, but found words failing him as he looked at Winry. What seemed like the obvious reason she had to avoid him before was suddenly paired with a new reasoning as he watched her frighted eyes morph to anger and then something so much sadder. She didn't want him to see her this way. Ed was more careful in his next movements, reaching out slowly with flesh fingers toward her, silently asking permission to touch her. The pounding of Winry's heart wouldn't allow her feet to move or her back to leave the wall it pressed against, but as Edward carefully reached for her she found her eyelids becoming heavy, and rested her head back as her eyes slid closed and Ed's warm fingertips softly skimmed the purple and yellow bruise lining her temple and occipital bone. Even more alarming to Ed were the spots of blood from broken vessels in her eye, sullying what was normally such a clear and radiant blue. She looked at him again, unsure of what to say or what to expect. He surprised Winry as he took her hand in his steel one, his movements still slow and careful, and raised it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles, never breaking his eye contact with her.

"She's my ex. I divorced her 5 years ago. …Winry …I'm so sorry…" He said softly before waiting, silently begging her to say something. The anger Winry felt bubbling under the surface instantly quieted upon seeing Edward standing before her with horrified eyes, and the embarrassment she felt for appearing weak to him quickly shifted to sadness when she thought of how he must feel. That was always her problem; every psychologist she'd ever seen said she cared too much for the feelings of others and spent so much time trying to fix everyone else that she rarely stopped to care for herself. Suddenly, she didn't care if she cried; not for herself, but for him. It would destroy her if her ex hurt someone she cared for because of her, and it was unmistakable that the feelings she had for Ed were mutual. As he softly apologized and stood waiting for her reaction, Winry felt a new force surge her away from the wall. Something desperate, something painful and longing, and as she gripped Ed's hand and fell into his arms she realized what the strange sensation was: the need to be cared for. She'd spent so long being far too altruistic -so much that she'd forgotten what it felt like to surrender to vulnerability willingly, and with that knowledge releasing its tight grip around her heart, Winry buried her face into Ed's strong chest as his arms came around her and a tear fell down her cheek as he spoke again.

"None of this was supposed to happen. I've been trying to get away from her for years and she just… none of this was supposed to happen Winry, I swear to you."

An exhausted Winry pushed open her apartment door that night around eleven-thirty and shuffled in with yet another long white box that had been waiting with the doorman upon her arrival. She made a mental note to tell Ed to stop spending so much money on flowers for something that wasn't his doing. Kicking off her boots once inside Winry unzipped her jumpsuit halfway, pulling the arms to tie around her waist and stood in her makeshift bedroom clad in her bra. Her window ac was broken and she didn't have the money yet to fix or replace it, and the 88 degree weather was only making life harder. She pulled open the white box to another long-stem pink rose: a slim satin ribbon tied a small notecard to its stem and she couldn't stop her smile. They had sat together in the shop garage after closing and Ed explained that he hadn't seen Noah for 3 years, and was trying whatever he could to sever all ties from her. Unfortunately Noah's on-going battle with the bottle was making her unafraid to leave rambling messages about killing herself on Ed's voicemail and she often boarded the amtrak from Philadelphia to New York's Penn Station solely for the purpose of showing up to see what Edward was doing. The divorce did nothing to affect her feelings of ownership over Edward, and he'd done everything short of filing a restraining order to get her to leave him be.

"She's officially gone too far this time." He said to Winry that night at Garfiel's. "I'm asking you —I begging you to please file a restraining order. Please Winry. I can't act as a supporting witness but Officer Breada saw her attack you."

Winry'd had enough painful experience in the past with incompetent government officials refusing to approve her requests for restraining orders against her ex, and asked Edward why this time would be any different.

"I have friends in high places. I know Breada and Commissioner Mustang personally; now that Noah's actually hurt someone I know they'll push through whatever paperwork you want."

Winry's mood soured at the memory as she dropped the rose on her bed and moved to the kitchen to microwave leftovers. It would appear that having friends in high places could get you anywhere in life. Her ex was a cop, so no one bothered to help her when she told them she feared for her life. At first she never had bruises, only his drug-induced threats that kept her up at night. Having friends in the government was great if you needed evidence that would put you away for life to suddenly disappear, allowing you to claim insanity for your actions and therefore become eligible for parole. Winry wondered if these high-ranking friends of Edward's would help him lie in order to live two secret lives; one where he was single and one where he had a distraught wife at home waiting for him to be good to her.

The microwave beeped and Winry removed her hot food to sit on the counter and cool for a moment, and as she waited she walked back over to the pink rose on her bed. It was beautiful, half-bloomed and smelled of springtime, and she decided to call Edward to thank him for the floral onslaught, secretly hoping that would be the end of it. He answered on the second ring.

*Is everything alright?* He asked.

"I'm fine," Winry said, rolling the rose between her thumb and index finger carefully between thorns as she slowly shuffled across the wooden floors. "I just wanted to thank you for checking in on me today, and for sending all the roses. They're lovely."

Winry breathed in the bloom's scent as she waited for Ed's reply, but was met with stale silence.

*What roses?* Curiosity piqued, she looked toward the vase on her bedside table with the accumulating collection of pink roses she'd gotten.

"The pink ones, Ed. You've been sending them everyday." Winry smiled as his attempts at modesty as she looked down at the flower she held. More stale silence.

*Winry…* Ed started as Winry held up the rose to angle it and see the message typed on the card. *…I didn't send you any flowers.*

Her blood froze in her veins as she read the card:

'I'm watching you.'

A/N: thank you all for the wonderful feedback, more soon!