'Geez, the way she fusses over this stuff. You'd think
these arms were her children,' Ed thought as he tried
desperately to make something out of the mess around
him; his pitiful attempt yielding little more then a shoddy
Ferris wheel.
The alchemist did not notice Pinako walk into the room.
"I suppose I should be grateful that she kept your leg
intact," she said nonchalantly while puffing her pipe.
"Great, you're here," he said, stumbling as he tried to
stand. "Could you help me?"
She took a draw on the pipe before answering.
"I'm afraid not, Ed. This is between you and Winry."
"But this is impossible!" he yelled, mostly to himself. "How
can she expect me to fix this?"
Pinako watched with little interest, her eyes half closed, as
she waited for his fit to pass.
"I personally don't think she expects you to rebuild it. This
isn't the first time you've come home like this. I think she
wanted to vent some frustration."
"But why? I don't mean to break the automail you two
make for me! It just happens!"
Again she waited for him to stop before continuing.
"Ed, do you need your right arm?"
"Of course I do! What kind of crazy question is that?"
"But you don't have one."
There was a moment of silence as he stood with his mouth
agape.
"I don't get it!" Ed cried in frustration. "What are you trying
to say?"
"How many times are you in a position where the only
thing between you and danger is that arm?"
"A lot I guess. Where are you going with this?"
"I'm saying that if that arm fails, it's like Winry also fails."
"That's not true! She's the reason I'm alive today!"
"That's not how she sees it, Ed," Pinako sighed. "Every
time you come back in more then one piece, you bring back
her failures. You drop them in front of her and say 'do a
better job this time' and wait around while she tries to fix
her past mistakes."
She took another draw from her pipe and continued,
"Winry knows that there are times when she's practically
the only thing between you and whatever's out there, and
she's terrified that one day her failure will bring you back
here in a pine box."
These words hit him harder than any wrench.
He never thought of his arm as anything but replaceable.
For the first time, he looked at the pieces surrounding him
as Winry's love and concern. That arm was like having
Winry on the battlefield with him. She always fussed over
each and every aspect because she knew that any
imperfection might cost him more than an inconvenient trip
to Risembool.
Pinako turned to leave before adding an unnecessary quip.
"A tiny pine box."
