Perfect After All: Price of the Past

by Jaya Mitai

Animeverse ONLY. Spoilers through CoS. Edward and Alphonse track a young man on the same path they once followed, and when war looms nearer for Amestris, PM Mustang learns what it costs to be on top. Chapter 43 up, and at long last, the story is complete.

39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

- x -

He loosened his collar gratefully, propping his feet on the coffee table and letting his head loll against the back of the sofa. It was a rather nice shape for it; the gentle curve of the leather supported his neck quite comfortably, and he might have drifted off before he heard the office door close.

There was a long pause, in which the person who entered attempted to determine if he was awake, so he lazily reached for the glass on the end table, raising his head only enough to sip the icy amber liquid.

"Am I interrupting?"

It burned nicely all the way down, and he took another pull on it before replacing it on the end table. Unwinding was prudent. Getting toasted was not.

"You should join me. Amestris hasn't ratified a treaty in almost a decade."

"So this is a celebratory drink?"

He didn't respond, and after a moment he heard the general place a heavy-sounding pile of documents near his feet and pad softly to the refreshment bar. There was no clink of ice, but a generous dollop of something - the port, probably - sloshed into a glass, and eventually the general returned to take one of the overstuffed chairs to his left. Then a not unpleasant silence settled about them, and Roy Mustang opened his eye and studied the shadows on the ceiling.

"Why are you still pursuing the Elrics?"

"You have a hell of a way of celebrating," Hakuro responded drily, and Mustang picked up the glass of bourbon, taking another slow sip.

"When they were twelve and eleven, respectively, they saved you and your family from terrorists. They changed the way basic Amestrian citizens viewed State Alchemists. They fought and even died to save the country from a four hundred year old plot of continuous war." None of this should have been news. "Now one of them delayed a hostile army and the other prevented the annihilation of a town. You normally have more respect for heroes."

"You forgot that Edward Elric saved your life," the general replied, letting the ruby port warm in his hand.

"I didn't think you'd see that as a redeeming moment."

"It's still worth mentioning, since he's done it more than once. One would think the man would learn."

Man. Not boy. "Why do you dislike them?" He didn't put any more emotion into it than before, and the general sighed quietly.

"I don't trust them."

"They saved your family."

"They were the only survivors left standing in a circle that took the lives of seven thousand men," he replied, in exactly the same reasonable tone. "Perhaps they didn't transmute that Stone, and perhaps they did. But if they didn't, can you truly be sure that they wouldn't have?"

So that was it. All this time, he was doubting them for Liore. Roy felt himself smiling, a little sadly. It wasn't his place to reveal that truth to Hakuro, and he wasn't sure the general would believe him if he did. As skeptical of alchemy as he was now, and that had as much to do with him as those two little boys . . .

He nodded, his hair whispering across the leather. "Yes. I can be sure."

"And why does that not surprise me."

Roy weighed the pros and cons of giving this man more information than he already had. "I've seen Edward Elric take a life with my own eyes. He has no taste for it."

He'd seen Fullmetal do everything, even risk taking a blade to the gut, to prevent the death of his mute female attacker. And he was still no more certain than before that Edward would have walked out of that cottage alive if he hadn't been there, hadn't issued that order. Hadn't received that instant obedience.

Hakuro was silent a while. "He seems to have had no trouble mowing down the Cretian forward guard."

"I assure you he took no pleasure in it." Mustang leaned up, letting the rush of blood to his brain fade before he picked up his glass. "Is that why you attacked him this morning? Or was it because I took Alphonse off the table?"

"I was evaluating him."

"He has a physician for that."

"A physician that's placed him on a hold pending a complete psychiatric workup. One he should have had a long time ago." The general nudged one of the folders he'd placed on the table with a booted toe. "I had a few moments on my hands yesterday evening, and I had the Elrics' debriefings pulled from their reappearance last year. You should look over it again."

He had no desire to do so, but the general's nudge had sent some of the documents spilling out, and the corner of the page bore Falman's instantly recognizable hand, elegantly describing something unimaginable. "Trying to figure out when the automail disappeared, were you?"

Hakuro looked slightly startled. "And if I truly disliked them, as you put it, I would have gone after the Rockbells, who are doubtlessly covering for him, and would have been the most likely suspects to assist Elric in making the armor look like automail."

Falman had revealed the day before that Hakuro had pulled Sorn out of his sedation several hours prior to the scheduled time, and had spoken to him before Hawkeye had been able to provide the boy his 'official' story of the events. It was no surprise Franklin hadn't thought anything of revealing that Edward's automail had in fact only been armor, and that it had to have happened before the conflict with the Cretians.

Of course, his reviewing that debriefing was rather stupid, since he'd apparently seen the automail port being installed with his own eyes. Hakuro knew damn well that Edward Elric had reappeared in Amestris without the limbs. He would assume, as they meant for him to, that Irving had had an amplifier they'd hoarded away, and Edward had used that instead sometime in the last six months.

"The Rockbells are having a difficult time right now." He put a sufficient amount of warning into it, and took another sip of bourbon as the general inclined his head.

"I noticed. And I'm well aware of your relationship to them." Roy gave him a glare that he ignored. "I was merely using them as an example. And since you brought up the Irvings, I'll use yours as well."

Roy gestured with the glass. "By all means."

"Right after Full Metal blocked an attack meant to take your life, he was caught by Craege Irving. They had a brief argument, and then Alex Armstrong arrived and barely saved Elric's. He was badly wounded, and in no small amount of pain when he unwisely left the hospital to prevent the disbursal of poison-laced newspapers throughout Central."

Hakuro was watching him very closely, port still untouched in his palm. "I assume he was injured even before that, in whatever situation drove you from your schedule and the Academy to deal with personally. Yet he fought anyway, the two officers with him say he was able to move like a regular soldier outside of the sling his automail was in, due to damage causing it to be unusable."

Roy was still, letting his lack of reaction be interpreted as it would. "And this has relevance . . ."

"Pain that would have incapacitated you or me was bearable to him, even after the agony he suffered at the hands of those in the other 'world' the Elrics claim to have visited. This afternoon Sorn revealed that Elric checked out after half an hour of torture. It seems to me," and the general finally took a sip of the port, "that he has yet to recover from his previous experience."

Roy silently applauded the man. So he had figured it out, he knew the limbs had been replaced before automail could be attached. Even if he didn't know the circumstances. Now that he knew automail-reminiscent pain paralyzed Fullmetal, he'd probably also pursue the uranium bomb that much harder, thinking it had been robbed of is power because they'd used it for a human transmutation.

Abruptly it occurred to him that that wasn't the worst deduction Hakuro could make. In fact, it would probably answer all of his questions. "A hundred years wouldn't help. Have you ever been taken as a POW, general?"

The older man shook his head. "Thank God, no. But just a taste of automail-like pain was enough to put him right back into the same condition he was in when Alphonse found him in the enemy base. Frankly I'm amazed he was able to stand long enough to let Havoc shoot him."

Mustang killed the bourbon, then bit one of the ice cubes in half, spitting the larger piece back into the glass. Hakuro rose to his feet a little stiffly, snagging the decanter and setting it on the coffee table, beside the many folders. "If I thought for one second he still had an amplifier of some kind, he'd be fully sedated in a maximum security facility by now. He's a liability, Mustang. You should discharge him."

Edward Elric, a liability. He actually laughed. "He's been a liability since he's been alive, general. I knew that when I put him on that train to impress you."

"I didn't say he was unimpressive. But he panicked over nothing, Roy. He's done. You can't send him out again."

"I need him." He accepted the gesture, pouring himself more bourbon before he ate all the ice. "He's the director of the Academy, and I'm not ready to put Alphonse there just yet. And if you think he's a liability now, imagine what he'd do off a leash."

"You need a certified alchemist as director," the general murmured.

"Otherwise I'd be defeating the purpose. The Academy is designed to continue attracting alchemy talent to Amestris as well as keeping our other science disciplines occupied. You may not trust him, but thousands of people who don't know him as well as you do." He listened to that sentence echo in the air a moment, then put the bourbon down.

The general chuckled. "Thousands of people who don't know you trust you as well. Yet I seriously doubt you've ever given me an entire truth in your military career."

"I would prefer to continue a cooperative relationship with you," he said slowly, relaxing again against the back of the couch. "But with Creta well and truly out of the way, and with Drachma playing so nicely with us, I can't see anything on the horizon that would actually force our hands."

Hakuro was silent a moment, then a tiny slurp echoed across the darkening room. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Mustang. I'll be more than happy to cooperate with you until your resignation. Depending on the circumstances, probably after as well," he allowed, and Mustang barked out a laugh.

"That will be a long time coming. Are you certain you can commit to that?"

The general hmmed noncommitally, and Roy opened his eye again, noting the shadows were much darker than before. There really wasn't some angle of Hawkeye's assignment he'd missed, was there? He wasn't the kind of man that would threaten her outright like that, and if he hadn't stooped to it in all these years he wouldn't consider taking her life-

"No need to be alarmed, Roy. It's already done. I would be astonished if you actually chose to run in the next election, and even if you do, I can wait a few more years."

Mustang refused to be ruffled, watching the ceiling. "Had you already celebrated with your generals before coming to see me?"

The general's laugh was quite pleasant. "Do you know why I don't like you? I'm certain we've never discussed it, but I've never hid my feelings on the matter."

"You liked me well enough when it was your career I was bolstering."

"Indeed." The general's voice was almost fond. "Then, when I had garnered the Fuhrer's favor and was poised to have the position I now hold, only before it was castrated, you assassinated him." He sipped the wine, and Roy was content to let him continue. "And claimed he was a monster created through alchemy. After using one of your own officers to operate in your place and start a rebellion that eventually sparked the people to demand a representative government once the Fuhrer was gone. So not only did you undo all my hard work, you obliterated any chances of my rising to power in the same fashion again."

Mustang considered grabbing the bourbon again. That did explain the persistent dislike of Havoc, as well, for playing the part. "You were far from mind, if that's any consolation."

"It isn't." The general's voice was only slightly more stern. "On to round two, shall we? After demoting yourself and making it nearly impossible for me to make you more miserable than you already were, you made a hero of yourself in the Thule Invasion - once again based on preposterous alchemy and the Elrics, I might add - and rose in the new ranks as quickly as I did. Also making it nearly impossible for me to make you miserable. The election race was neck and neck but I did have the added bonuses of being more experienced and a family man. Two things which have been your downfall, whether you've realized it or not."

Mustang blinked. Surely Hakuro wasn't going to start on him for not being married. Surely. He'd scream at Maes' grave until he was hoarse for ever putting the idea into any of their heads if the general's next words were 'get a wife.'

"I am confident I would have won. But, yet again, improbable alchemy and the Elrics arrived in the nick of time, with the promise of the most powerful military weapon the world has ever seen. One my own scientists tell me to this day could have been everything it was billed as. Oddly impotent, though, when it mysteriously detonated." He paused. "Although, in hindsight, the fact that it didn't go off when the Elrics arrived is a miracle, if Alphonse damaged it like he claims he did getting it here in the first place."

He knew it wasn't wise, but he was fairly amused at this point. "You truly have no idea how lucky we were."

"But this time, this time I have you by the balls. Indirectly," he allowed, and Roy gave up, glancing over at him curiously.

"What do you possibly think giving Hawkeye a good job will accomplish? Besides make her happy?" If he was going to threaten her safety outright, he might as well have it now.

The general's look was positively pitying. "You've heard it so many times from so many different people that I feel ridiculous myself telling you. So let me put it this way." He upended the glass, and Roy was surprised to see the port was gone. "I am insanely proud of my career, Roy. I have done a truly exceptional job and I see the fruits of my labors every day."

Mustang snorted. "You blindly obeyed orders - orders you knew were wrong - for at least half that career."

"Probably more than half," Hakuro allowed. "And some of those orders led to disaster, I'll grant you. But the consequences of not obeying those orders would have been far, far more severe, and not just for me. Those barracked with me suffered the same as I."

And that was just as untrue. "A true officer protects his men."

He got a nod of the glass. "That's true only when your commanding officer isn't also your unit's mother."

Roy just stared at him, and the general sighed. "I wanted - and still want - to be Prime Minister because it's the last promotion left to me. My daughter is expecting. I'm soon to be a grandfather."

Reality fell away, and Mustang watched the general - more stiffly, it seemed - rise and bring the port over as well. Roy waited until the glass had been poured, then raised his bourbon. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." They drank, and Hakuro settled back into the chair. "You've done everything in the opposite order, Mustang, and that's not necessarily wrong, but you're running out of time. You put all your effort into this career and largely ignored the other. Oh, you made your gestures, to the Elrics, Elysia, and Sorn, you dated and played the social scene, but you didn't have time for more than a glance in the window." He smiled, and it occurred to Roy that he'd rarely actually seen the man smile. Not in over twelve years had he seen the older man smile like that.

"My CO is a beautiful, wonderful woman, and I wouldn't trade my children for anything. I knew why you wanted those alchemists, and even as young as they were - children, they were barely older than my own - I wanted to repay them for protecting what was dear to me. You were young and impetuous, and frankly you still are, but I knew of Hawkeye from my own assistant, and I knew she'd keep an eye on them. I knew you'd protect them as you have traditionally protected your subordinates. And I knew after Laboratory Five that I had made a mistake, both with them and you."

He studied the glass in the dying light. "You've made a mistake, too, a pretty grave one, and I think you knew it when you made it. You thought the consequences would be better, given two losing battles, and you made your decision the way you always do. Carefully, thinking of logistics and gains and losses. But there are certain decisions that can't be likened to war, or chess, and while I may call my wife my commanding officer and she certainly is, in every sense, our relationship is much simpler than rules and regulations."

He was. He was telling him to get a wife. And like Tolya, he had already picked the woman. Mustang almost groaned. "Are you finished?"

Hakuro gave him a rare amused grin. "Has it sunk in yet?"

"We just got done enumerating all the reasons you don't like me."

"I don't," Hakuro agreed. "But I do respect you, particularly after these last two weeks. And I can guarantee you that once you hold your own son or daughter for the first time, you will begin to resent the time you have to be in this office, wiping the asses of Parliament because they're too tender to do it themselves. I have every intention of encouraging that resentment, and trust me when I say that you will be thanking me when you step down. Don't get me wrong, you'll still be wiping asses," he added. "But it's a much more rewarding investment."

Roy began to laugh. He laughed until he was fighting back tears, and once he got ahold of himself he downed the bourbon, in case it happened again. "You're going to force your way into the Prime Minister's position by marrying me off. That's why you created that sniper division." And he'd submitted for it almost six months ago, so it had been a long time coming. "I had no idea things were that desperate."

"Well, you're impossible to assassinate and every time I have you dead to rights one or more Elrics or alchemy seems to bail you out," Hakuro grumbled, but Roy realized it was good-natured. "There are few people historically who seem to have more control over you, and quite unfortunately one of them isn't here to agree with me." It was much more sober. "My options are limited, and my chances for success high. Don't screw up."

It almost seemed unacceptable, that Hakuro would even remember Hughes, let alone mention him, and maybe it was the alcohol in his stomach or the release of all the stress of waiting on Creta, but for one truly bizarre moment, he really wanted this to be resolved. As if it could be that easy, he and the general could part with a permanent cease-fire of their own.

But the moment passed, and he gusted out a sigh. "Well, to be frank, general, as concerned as I am about the Elrics, I'm really not in any shape to date-"

The general choked on laughter, actually coughing a few times when he was done. "Glad to see you still have your sense of humor. Alphonse did me a favor, I have no intentions of doing anything more than going through the motions. And I doubt Edward will risk losing his limbs again, not . . . in his current condition." All the mirth was gone. "They're your responsibility, but as you said, they're heroes."

It was too good to be true, but for the moment, it had been nice to pretend. "I'm supposed to believe that a half-hour of torture has changed your perspective that much?"

Hakuro was watching him, now, completely serious. "I had a fifteen year old son. And I may live long enough to have a fifteen year old grandson. All you've had is the Elrics and Elysia Hughes. Do you think I or the other men on that panel would have been any more comfortable with putting a child to death than you?"

Unbidden, the girl in Liore came to mind, but Mustang quashed that thought long before it could make it to his tongue. "So that was Al's favor. All Edward did is try to kill you this morning."

The general's more predatory smile was back. "I have something in mind for him, and I have a feeling you won't disagree."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted him discharged."

"I do, but you don't agree, and unfortunately there's nothing I can do about that short of pursuing human transmutation." It seemed to occur to him where the question had been headed. "He would have done anything to restore his brother, Roy. That made him dangerous. While he seems mild in comparison, the same goes for Alphonse. If Edward is fully restored and does not have the equivalent of an alchemy bomb at his fingertips, ready to detonate the next time someone looks at him the wrong way, then he's your loose cannon. Who will be credited with holding back an army and will shortly be the Alchemist of the People all over again. I can't think of a way to make myself less popular."

Roy just blinked up at the shadows, now completely obscuring his ceiling. It all made a frightening amount of sense, or perhaps he had lost his tolerance for bourbon. "Because you think you're going to be running for my job in four years." And now he was going to be hands-off the Elrics, in the hopes they'd blow it and the fallout would be blamed on him.

"And if you screw up, I can always prosecute him later."

Ah. There was the Hakuro he so missed.

- x -

"He gives a damn. Trust me."

Russell Tringum curled an eyebrow. "Seriously, Al, he doesn't. He has absolutely no faith it'll work. And even if he only says three words to her, they'll be 'ain't gonna work'."

"He'd never use an improper contraction," Ed murmured dismissively, toying with the brake on his right wheel. It made a very unpleasant squeaking sound, and the more he manipulated it, the more annunciation he could get out of it. It would probably be maddening to his companions, if they'd stop bickering long enough to listen.

Fletcher, for instance, was just patient standing behind him, leaning against the wall, unbothered by the waiting, the arguing, the griping, or the squeaking. His arms were folded across his chest, though one was still wrapped more to hide the scars on his skin than to prevent infection. Apparently that layer was sloughing off and would reveal a less damaged layer beneath, but until then it looked a little like he was in the last stages of a flesh-eating disease, or someone had boiled his arm for a few hours and then put it back on him. It also smelled a little weird, even at this distance, and Ed slowly cranked the brake down.

"That's true. I forgot," Russ growled sarcastically. "Five words, then. He's not accurately representing the chances of success and if he figures out what she's afraid of, he'll exploit it to the max-"

"He's really not that bad," Al interrupted, still trying for a patient tone. "I mean, he's an ass, but he doesn't want to see her die. He's highly respected. I've asked around/"

Squueeeeeeaak.

"Patterson picked him. Said I'd like him even though his bedside manner is shitty." Ed released the brake, noting that the halls were pretty level; he didn't start rolling anywhere. "He was right. I do like him. And he might not think it's going to work, but what other option is there?"

"I think that's really the question." Fletcher's voice was soft, but they were alone in the hall, and Al and Russ had fallen silent at the mention of Patterson. "Quality of life. If we fail, this is it. If we don't try, next week, next month is it. Go for that guaranteed time and accept the inevitable, or risk losing all of it for a bigger chunk of time? And at her age, what's to say that's going to be that much longer?"

Ed didn't want to think about it that way, but in the end, all they were talking about were chunks of time. Probably something that had been on Fletch's mind a lot in the last week.

"It's not just about that, Fletch-"

"Oh, I know. We could learn a lot." He pushed off the wall, unconsciously picking at the wrappings on the back of his hand. "But when it comes down to it, she's looking at a basket with two apples in it, and risking gambling that basket for a basket with six apples in it. Then there's the added therapy and rehabilitation, and I know, she can guess that better than us-"

"And we can make it less-"

"But keep in mind most healing alchemists don't toe the line like we do."

"Most alchemists don't know where the line is. By the time you find it, you've crossed it, and not many come back from that." Al said it lightly, well aware that anything they were saying might be overheard. "That'll be her main concern. She won't want anyone to get hurt helping her." Oddly, Al glanced at him, and Ed returned the look curiously until they all turned towards the opening door.

It was Ackernath, and he didn't even acknowledge them. The slim folder he'd entered the room with was in his hand, and there was a pen in his coat pocket, so clearly the decision had been made. He angled between them without even a nod, and the four waiting heads swiveled back to see Winry closing the door gently behind her.

Winry didn't make them wait, and didn't ignore them "She said yes."

Ed was unsurprised when all of them smiled, but there was no whooping, no cheering. Ackernath had agreed to assemble a surgical team and go along with the procedure if the patient okayed it, and now that the patient had, all it meant was that Russ and Fletch were booked for tomorrow afternoon, and would spend a sleepless night studying their asses off and checking and rechecking their math.

This was just the first step.

"So he-"

"He explained it fine, obviously," Fletch cut in, almost gently. "C'mon. We need to get excused from tomorrow afternoon's session."

Russell's mouth never closed, but he'd been successfully redirected. "Parliament's long dismissed. Do you have Daugherty's number-"

"Sheska will."

Russell pushed off the wall. "Sheska's got everyone's phone number."

"She's handy like that," Al quipped, giving them a quick grin that communicated far too much. Gratitude. Hope. "I think Sorn's booked all day tomorrow for panel examination anyway, I doubt they'll protest too much." He turned and pulled Winry into his arms, giving her a hug strong enough to crush her into his chest, and Ed stifled his surprise when she didn't exactly return it. "I'll get Ackernath's timetable, to make sure the Tringums are back for a round of discussion before the surgery."

Good thinking. They'd probably have a lot of questions, assuming the doc himself wasn't the lead surgeon. He was a break specialist, but he seemed pretty adamantly certain this was pushing healing alchemy far outside its bounds. And it was.

But Patterson had seen what they'd done for Al. What they'd done for Fuery and Breda, when the hospital's other healing alchemists had managed less. He knew what they were and were not capable of, and knew that they wouldn't accidentally cross that line again.

Not even for him, if he was willing to off himself less than fifty yards from them.

Al let Winry go, and Ed pretended not to notice the way he let his right arm trail down hers to find her hand and give it a squeeze. Her hair was down, partially obscuring her face, but when she turned to face him, it was with a smile, a bit tarnished on the edges but otherwise intact.

"Then I guess I'm stuck pushing this one around."

The words were on his lips. I'm perfectly capable. Instead he gave her a quick smile. "I'm the only one who hasn't done anything, dunno why I'm so wiped." It was the truth. The sedative he'd been given that morning had never really worn off, and he believed Dalyell when she said he'd done a number on himself. He ached in a way the water therapy had never made him. Maybe there was something to it, moving around without having to support your own weight.

And maybe there was a reason she was volunteering for it, and she wasn't returning that hug. Maybe she needed a few minutes to get herself together. They'd just handed her the possible key, the possible miracle that she'd probably never thought was coming, because Pinako was no Elric, because she was a wizard with automail but not with life. Pinako had to have expected something like this, and Winry should have, but they hadn't told her until pretty much now, just in case, and after the promise of full disclosure . . . he wasn't doing so good on that one.

"I'm amazed you were awake when we came out," she teased him, and the Tringums laughed as they waved and headed off for the exit.

"Hey, I'm doing much better-"

"Yeah, you are." She moved behind him, grabbing the handles, and he checked to make sure the brake was still up before she started pushing him.

They walked in silence for a moment, then she chuckled half-heartedly. "You used to hate it when I'd push your chair around."

Before the automail. He'd hated a lot of things back then, mostly himself. Even though he'd been so sure he'd get out of it, one way or another, he hated having to rely on someone. Needing to rely on someone had been the reason, indirectly, that he'd been there in the first place. "I'm sorry that you'll have to push Aunt Pinako's, at least for a while." The Tringums could take a bit out of that rehab time, but bones were bones and they'd need to heal on their own. The pins would offer a hell of a lot of support, but it was inadvisable to have her walking so soon after being laid up so long.

That and the surgery would weaken her, even if it was as successful as they all thought it would be. Ackernath probably explained it well, but they needed to know it wasn't going to be an instant fix, like Alphonse had been.

"She's lighter than you," Winry observed, turning the corner for his wing. "And she'll be on crutches soon enough."

The tone was perfect, light and hopeful, and the words were nothing out of the ordinary, and Ed knew something was terribly wrong. Had she not actually agreed . . .? Had there been some stipulation Pinako had added that Winry knew and wasn't telling them? Or had Winry made the decision for her?

"Weren't you working on some creepy-looking mechanical spider earlier?" He couldn't distract her with his own automail, not anymore.

A snort, finally sounding a little more like her. "It was not a creepy-looking spider. And I was thinking maybe I could, sort of like a bar she could lean on that moved with her . . ." She trailed off, all too soon arriving at Ed's door, and he reached forward with a perfectly flesh arm, grabbing the knob. The wheelchair never stopped; she would have run him into the door if he hadn't moved, but of course she'd expected him to. He held it open for her even once he was past it, needed to stretch the arm out anyway, and it turned him enough to see her face.

She was far too good at crying with everything but her voice.

He was out of the chair before he even realized it, and she was staring at him in surprise, too close to the door, too likely to escape. It crossed his mind that she was Winry, not him, and therefore not afraid of letting people see her cry, but he pulled her to him anyway, lest she flee at the last second.

Just like with Al, she didn't put her arms around him. "Ed . . ."

It was much more awkward this time than the last, even though that had been a far more intimate gesture, because now he was hugging her pretty much in the closed doorway of his room and they'd both have to stand there unless he dragged her to the bed again, so he pushed her away to arm's length, so he could see her face. "You okay? With all this?"

There were only a few tears, shining on her cheeks, but she wouldn't meet his eyes, and she didn't struggle, either to pull closer or move away. She just stood there. "Yeah. I'm okay." That smile that looked painful even when he'd been a boy, when she'd sent him away cheerfully and been afraid he'd never come back.

"Those don't look like happy tears to me."

The smile faltered. "Go to bed, Ed. I'll be fine."

"I think we can both see you're not fine."

She turned her head away with what he was afraid was not a laugh. "Please don't. It's okay, really-"

He caught her wrist as she did try for the door, stopping her too easily. Instead of saying anything else, he pulled her mostly unresisting to the chair beside his bed, and he sat on the mattress across from her. Something about that gesture seemed to be far more powerful than touching her - she bowed her head, her hands fisting into the fabric of her skirt, and this time he heard the tears in her voice.

"I'm not gonna make it, Ed, I'm not, I just can't . . ."

Hopeless Winry he was familiar with. Hopeless Winry he could help. "It's a risk, but they wouldn't try it unless-"

"I . . . she's all I have left." Her head slipped lower, her blonde bangs hiding everything. "She's getting smaller and smaller in that bed, and there's nothing I can do."

He knew exactly what she meant, and unfortunately there wasn't much to say that could comfort her. He wanted to tell her it would be fine, but he couldn't. He wasn't the one that would be performing the alchemy, and neither was Al. This was out of their league, at least currently. Al was talented at it, and he should have been, as much human transmutation as they'd done, but he couldn't get the experience this would need in time. There was a reason most alchemists specialized in something and he was putting her life willingly in the Tringums' hands.

And that he could say. "I trust them."

"I-I know. I don't know why I'm crying, it's stupid, nothing's happened yet-"

He reached forward, giving her a long time to react before he picked up one of her curled hands. He had to lean out of the bed a little far to do it, but she looked so terribly lonely. "A lot's happened, Win. Everyone's got a breaking point."

Another laugh that might not have been. "Funny, coming from you." She twisted her wrist slightly, as if wanting it free, but he didn't release it, and after a moment her head came back up, expression a cross between exhausted and confused. "What are you doing?"

"What you were doing when I was sleeping. Reminding you you're not alone."

The hand finally uncurled, and she seemed content enough to let him hold it. "You hate physical contact."

That wasn't exactly true. "Depends on the person."

A tiny smile, but genuine. "I guess Al is always the exception, huh."

Again, the right tone, the right words, yet it was wrong. "Family's the exception."

"I'm not family." An odd little twinge that might have been bitter. "I guess maybe that distant cousin you only see when you need something."

He felt like he was treading on incredibly thin ice, and he didn't even know where he was headed. Of course she was upset that he'd decided to get rid of the armor, but he hadn't really had a choice. His arm and leg had been as good as discovered, the armor was only ever a temporary solution. "It's not like that, Winry . . ."

"Annoying sister, then? I was around a lot when you were little-"

Completely uncertain, he leaned closer to her, and when she didn't recoil, he kissed her. It was light and chaste, not deep enough to taste, and he watched her eyes widen slightly, watched another tear take the opportunity to escape.

"Oh," she said, and though he was having to stand on his right foot to keep his balance, he stayed right where he was, close enough to do it again if he needed to.

"I'm the girl next door?"

Trust her to be the one to talk too much. "Yep."

She watched him a moment, then dropped her eyes, and it was hard to tell if she was pleased or unhappy at the gesture. "I told you we had to have a proper friendship."

"We do."

"You call this last year a proper friendship?" There was some amusement in her voice, and that gave him a little hope.

They'd corresponded regularly. He'd told her more than just about everyone but Al. True, he hadn't gone to see her just to see her, because you didn't just 'see' her if you were wearing her automail, armor or not. And that wasn't exactly his fault. "Do I do anything properly?"

A laugh, finally, one he was certain of. "You have a point."

His right leg was starting to tremble from the strain so he leaned back again, still holding her hand, and she turned it over in hers, brought over her other one to run her fingers over the back of his hand, exploring it.

"You know, I was toying with designing a system that would move heat through the surface, both to cool the mechanism and make it feel . . . like this." She inspected his blunt fingernails, running a thumb over them one at a time. "Or at least closer."

"Automail's not supposed to be like flesh. It's supposed to be better, remember?"

Another smile, another tear. "It is better."

"It wasn't bad."

He expected a thwack, was shooting for one, but she didn't stop her examination of his right hand. "I'm sorry I can't protect you anymore. Not even this."

He stilled her hands with his other, so that they were trapped one on top of the other. "I don't think I'm going to be doing anything like that for a long time." Not if his still-trembling leg was any indication. "Maybe I'll take it easy for a while like the rest of you, see what it's like."

A loud, unladylike snort. "Was that an insult, Edward Elric?"

"Maybe."

"That's a good example of doing something improperly."

- x -

Author's Notes: I know, I know. I don't usually go for shipping. And I don't want to get bricked, but if I didn't resolve some of this stuff I'd just be opening myself up to yet another sequel. And for some odd reason a perfectly good plot-driven scene just wandered off into . . . well, that. And took up all the chapter space so I had to bump something else to next chapter . . . imagine that. ; )

As always, posted without a beta. If you see anything, let me know! And didn't I tell you I'd make you all fans of Hakuro? ; ) Even JChrys!