Although outside the wind howled and wayward branches tapped eerily against the window pane, the room was warm and safe. Passive rays of sunshine filtered in through a small rectangular window near the ceiling, brightening the dull clinic walls. Caleb and his father had already taken off by the time I woke up the next morning and immediately I could tell that it was going to be one of those days where everything is moving a mile a minute and you're still stuck on pause.

The night nurse was asleep at the front desk. Her head was titled back and a few drops of drool trickled from her open mouth. Roy and Riza had arrived-just as they had said-first thing in the morning. I jumped, caught off guard by the loud clang of the cow bells attached to the front door. Winry burst in, breathless. The nurse's eyelids twitched, but didn't open as a much disshelved Winry stood frazzled in the doorway.

I caught a glimpse of Alina outside behind her, playing with Cora and her baby outside of their boutique-the three of them completely indifferent to anything that was going on.

"He…he's here?"

Mustang nodded and gestured to the nearest room. I had overheard him tell Winry the full truth no more than a half an hour ago. She had hung up before he even thought of muttering 'good-bye'. I watched as she took a deep breath to gather her composure before she crossed the threshold of the clinic. I stepped outside, deciding that the coming moment was meant for them alone. I had been given my fair share of time with my father, and now it was time for hers.

The room was still as the door slowly creaked open. Edward blinked sleepy-he had found that his eyelids were the only muscles that he could move without his aching body screaming in protest.

"Edward?" the voice was distant and soft, as if he were in a dream.

A quiet, rather feminine gasp ensued, "it is you…"

He was now fully awake, listening to the footsteps as they approached his bed. A shadow fell across his contently whimsical face and he narrowed his eyes, "Winry?"

"Hah!" he chuckled, "this is a dream!"

"Huh?"

A smug smile crossed his face, "I can do whatever I want and nothing will ever hurt! Oh, I love drea-ahhh." Ed had attempted to push himself up off of the bed only to fail and sink back down, his head placed awkwardly among the pillows. "Okay…so maybe I can't do anything. This dream is terrible."

His limbs still throbbed in pain from his rash movements and a very childish Edward pouted, "This is stupid-oh!" his face brightened, "but Winry, you're here! This dream isn't so bad after all."

"Ed," Winry murmured, brushing her fingertips against his heated forehead.

"Oh," she fretted quietly, "I forgot that they still have you on drugs…the effects of the anesthetic probably haven't worn off yet…"

"Eh? Drugs?"

Winry's smile was curiously gentle as she nodded, "Mustang told me about your surgery…"

His golden eyes narrowed once again, "surgery? Don't say these things-this is a dream! Relax, have fun! In a little bit I'll have to wake up and…and…"

Ed's sunny, albeit delusion, demeanor seemed to shatter and he glanced up at Winry. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he continued-his voice like that of a disappointed child's, "I'll wake up…and you won't be there."

Winry's pale pink lips twisted into a frown as she fell back into the chair beside his bed with a sigh. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked curiously, giving her a side-ways glance. "Oh, Ed," she rested the back of her hand against her forehead and he couldn't tell whether she was smiling or crying, "how do you get yourself into such messes?"

"What? This is one cracked up dream-"

"This isn't a dream, Ed."

Ed slowly closed his open mouth and an unsettling silence fell between them-leaving only the beeping of his bedside monitor to fill the air.

He wriggled uncomfortably, attempting to shake his head in disbelief, "Silly Winry, that's not possible-what is this then? Where else could I possibly be?"

"No one told you?" Winry's voice trembled as the tears began to spill down her flushed-pink cheeks, "Edward…you're home."

My father hadn't seemed too off of his rocker when I first spoke to him after his surgery during those late hours in the night…maybe that's why his sudden state of denial was such a shock to me. The clinic wouldn't release him for a few more days and despite our constant attempts to bring him back to reality during those three days, it still took him a week to fully be able to differentiate between what was real and what his drugged sub-conscious was dubiously creating for him.

Our reassurances and demonstrations were met by his stubborn rebukes that there was absolutely no way that this was anything but a dream. His explanations behind this logic were long and often times they became sillier as the day progressed-ranging from this must be a dream since it just wasn't comprehendible that his innocent little girl could walk among alchemists to this must be a dream since there's no way Mustang could ever have a son because he never gets laid.

Finally, after days of fire and hypnosis and verbal death matches, my father came to his senses and slowly began to crawl out from under the shadow of his anesthetized self.

I leaned against the kitchen counter and watched my father sitting at the dining table. Winry, who had seldom left his side (which was something, I'd noticed, that he never seemed to object to), sat beside him looking rather distressed.

"He's almost back to normal," I commented with a small smile. For the first time in weeks the house was quiet-Roy and Riza had gone back into town in hope of some news from the military's Headquarters while Alina had dragged Ava out to pick some flowers…things were good. Even Pinako was up and about, shuffling through an old pile of scrap metal.

Winry said something and my father stuck out his tongue-something so childish that it seemed out of place on a grown man. Rolland raised his eyebrows, "As you were saying?"

I sighed, "Key word: almost."

I caught a glimpse of his smirk out of the corner of my eye but chose to ignore it, my mind wandering off once again. I had made a habit of doing that lately, zoning out to pull up old memories-studying past conversation as if I'd find some hidden meaning if I listened closely to every word. This time it was a particular sentence that stood out to me.

"So much for going through the gate without consequence," my father had chuckled after explaining to me the absence of my cousins and uncle.

"Really, Ed? All this time later and you still won't drink your milk?" Winry's alarming tone brought me back to reality and I blinked, startled.

"Huh?" I turned to Rolland, hoping for some answers.

He laughed, "You haven't heard this before? I swear it's some kind of bit between them, it's been going on for the past day or so."

"What has?" my eyes narrowed out of curiosity.

Rolland shrugged, "I guess your dad has a thing against milk? It drives Winry crazy."

"That's what this is about?" I glanced back at them and sure enough, she was nudging a glass of white liquid closer to his food.

"If you just drank your milk you wouldn't have such an issue with your height!"

"Ouch," Rolland muttered beside me. I watched, beyond confused, as the tension rose between them. "I'm taller than you now!" my father retorted, his face flushed red.

I ran a hand through my hair, completely lost, "…but…doesn't she know that he's allergic to milk?"

"What?" amusement lingered in Rolland's dark eyes, "really?"

I nodded as my dad folded his arms across his chest, "that stuff is disgusting anyway."

It had taken some time, but finally, a light bulb went off in my head. My jaw dropped as I pointed an accusing finger at my father, astounded by how truly childish he could be, "LIAR! You told me you were lactose intolerant!"

Winry's cerulean eyes widened in surprise and she slowly turned her gaze from me to my father, "what…?"

He quickly snatched his fork from the table and began to guiltily shovel food into his mouth.

"Edward!"

"It was a little white lie! Never have I made her eat or drink anything that she doesn't like!" he was pointing at me now.

I sighed, brining my hand to my forehead, "that doesn't count-I like everything."

"What sane person wants anything to do with liquid excreted from the uterus of a cow? It's not right!"

I squinted, studying the contents of his plate before casually commenting, "Eggs are chicken menstruation and you don't seem to have a problem with those."

Winry cracked a smile as my father's face wrinkled in disgust-it was too late, in the heat of his defense he'd swallowed the scrambled eggs that he'd been stuffing into his mouth. He pushed the plate of fried yolks an arms-distance length away from him, "I think I just became vegan."

The door opened as a giggle escaped my throat. Within heartbeats the atmosphere dropped into a state of utter gloom. The sound of Mustang's heavy boots against the wooden floors echoed throughout the house and we all fell silent.

His face was grave as he stood in the doorway, Riza just behind him, her concerned auburn eyes fixed on Rolland. "Fullmetal," the general nodded.

My father stood up, suddenly regaining the familiar macho persona that I knew and loved. He smiled lightly, his golden eyes sparking with the adventure of his past, "It's been a while since I've heard that name."

Mustang's mouth twitched into a brief smirk before he slipped his hands from his coat pocket to reveal a tattered piece of paper that had been folded into a minuscule square. "A letter arrived from headquarters yesterday," he said solemnly, "we have a lot to discuss."