A/N: The long overdue EdWin, and some Royai. Hope you enjoy!

Rev. 12/19/20 [setting changed for Riza's scene]

chapter 7: hopes & dreams

UCLA, Los Angeles, 11:45AM

Winry embraces him with such intensity Edward can barely breathe. Her head is tucked into his neck, gripping the shirt at his back. And he realizes how easily he can rest his chin atop the crown of her head, something he hadn't been able to do the last time he saw her. He frowns at the fact; it has been that long since they last saw each other.

He draws her away, just slightly, taking note of the change since the last time he had seen her. Her flaxen hair has turned darker with age, and he remarks the new helix piercing at the top of her ear. Winry seems to have also lost a bit of weight, all skin and bones below her clavicle.

Then Edward feels her watching him, her head tilted. He looks up and meets blue eyes, and his cheeks redden.

He wills himself to calm down, feeling like a lovestruck high school teenager all over again. Under his breath, he mutters, "Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium... Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen…" Not that it helps because Winry is still staring at him.

She chuckles. "Ed, what are you doing?"

He stammers, "Oh- uh, nothing?"

She shakes her head, laughing. "Wow, you really haven't changed."

He squints his eyes, glowering. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you recite the periodic table, you nerd!" she says, her one hand over her stomach, holding laughter.

"I'm not a nerd!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Well you're a gear nerd!"

"That's not true!"

"Of course it is! You've always got a wrench in your hand!"

She pauses and thinks for a moment. "Okay, I guess that's true." She saunters over to the sofa and plops herself into the cushion. Then her mouth ripples with mirth. She points at him and accuses him of doing the one thing he dreads, "You got taller. Did you start drinking milk?"

Edward scoffs, perching himself next to her. "Hell no. I don't need milk to get taller."

She shrugs. "You probably would have been six feet tall if you drank milk. But instead, you'd just take the milk and chuck it into the river in your backyard…" Her body shakes as she giggles.

"Yeah. Al yelled at me for doing that."

"He had every right to. You were such a brat."

"Hey!" he calls her out. But he can't help him but laugh, seeing Winry doing the same with both of her hands clutching her stomach now.

For as long as he can remember, they've always been together—causing mischief, turning Pinako's face red and sharp-lined, wasting time under the large oak tree in the Armstrongs' backyard. It had been a different time then, a simpler time where the demands of adult life are a great fantastical.

Winry stares at him and smiles. "You've grown up, Ed. You've figured out what you want to do with your life. I'm really happy for you."

His face turns crimson, but he keeps his eyes on her. Sheepishly, he admits, "You helped me get there, Win."

Her brows furrow. "I did?"

"Yeah… Remember after my mom passed? I kept crying... but you checked up on me everyday. And then you said I'll never be alone as long as you live…. You were just a kid then, like me… but that's-" he scratches the back of his head, suddenly shy, "well, that's something else."

Gingerly, she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. Her smile is glad and grateful. "I'm glad I could help. You've always been there for me too, Ed. I honestly don't know where I'll be without you," she chuckles, her cheeks pink and her lips plump.

With her admission, his heart thumps, elated, excited. The sudden urge to hug her overwhelms, and he pulls her into his chest. The shock is making her gasp, but she returns his embrace, clenching his shirt again.

He sighs, thinking it's time he becomes honest with his feelings. He's been keeping it to himself for far too long. Twiddling with the shirt fabric at her neck, he mumbles into her ear, "Winry… I, uh… how do I say this… I care about… yooo-" This is much harder than he thought, he thinks. And fear of being rejected is slurring his words and trembling his limbs.

Confused, Winry leans back and peers at him. "What are you trying to say, Ed?" Still, she looks completely clueless.

Gathering courage, he takes a deep breath and grasps his jeans, bracing himself. "Winry… I, uh-" he swallows, "I care about you." Heat rises to the roots of his hair, and he feels like bolting, run out the door and far away from here. But he continues, finishing what he started, "Let me take care of you… will you let me take care of you?"

His confession freezes her in place. While she hasn't said no, she isn't saying anything at all. And it worries him. It makes his heart gallop beneath warm skin.

"Winry…?" he asks softly, quietly. "Are you okay?"

Her chin drops to her chest. She is no longer looking at him but at the ground, making him breathless.

He stammers, "Was it... was it what I said, Winry? I'm- I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear. But I thought- I thought I should be honest with myself… and with you..." and he goes on and on, letting his mouth run to mask the sting in his chest.

When he finally does stop, Winry sneaks a clammy hand and hovers it over his. She looks up, slowly, full of fear or anxiety, making his heart stop.

"Ed. I need to tell you something… but please promise me you won't get mad…"

He clasps her hand, reassuring. "Winry, are you alright?"

"Ed, promise me!"

He backs away and lifts his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! I promise."

He sees her swallow thickly. Wrapping her trembling arms around her body, she utters a squeak that sounds nothing like the fearless girl he knew as a child. "Something happened… Ed. I was-" she closes her eyes and tightens her lips. Her breath is ragged beneath her shirt. "I was… attacked."

His ears perk up in shock. This is not something he had expected her to say. Edward jerks to a stand, his voice rising with his mounting fear, "Winry, what do you mean attacked? Who attacked you?"

She gulps, her lips quivering. She isn't looking at him anymore, as if ashamed of her weakness. "Someone attacked me… at a party."

All he could do for a moment is stare in horror. Fear morphs into rage, and he clenches his hands into fists. "Who's the bastard who attacked you? I'll fucking kill him!"

She reaches for his sleeves, attempting to pull him down beside her and failing. "Ed, please sit," she begs.

Never has he felt so angry in his life. His tongue rolls on with a bitterness, his green-blue veins bulging underneath his pale skin. He looks at her, shaky and scared, and he inhales desperately and wishes for rationality to take over again. She pleads again, asking him to sit. Finally, he relaxes his fists and lowers himself beside her.

"Sorry, Winry. I just… I lost control."

"Ed, it's okay," she says calmly.

"Winry, did you report this to the cops? Did you tell anyone what happened?" he asks promptly, still stunned by the whole thing.

"No, I didn't... and I won't. I don't remember much, to be honest... I still had my shirt and pants on… The only thing I got when I walked out of there was a bruised temple..." She pushes away at her bangs, showing him, telling him what had happened.

He leans in and studies her purple skin. It's already healing, the edges blurred and pink. Winry then presses at her temple, rubbing the spot with her finger, telling him it does not hurt anymore. But seeing her downplay her injury only infuriates him. He bites his inner cheek and prays no harsh words will let themselves escape.

"Does Riza know?" he murmurs. "Does Olivier?"

She shakes her head. "No. I haven't told anyone else…"

He takes another deep breath. "Look, Winry, I really think you should report this. You can't let this guy do the same to someone else. But I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do. God knows you've been through too much." And the terror of losing his best friend, the girl he's always loved and admired, brings tears to his eyes. They fall and smear black dots on his jeans. "Please tell me what to do, Winry…. Please tell me how I can help you…"

Her own tears spill, and she begins to sob, "Don't waste your time on me, Ed."

He slides down from his seat and kneels in front of her, cradling her wet hands. He looks up and stares into bright, blue eyes. "Winry, I'll stay with you until you're better. As long as it takes," he vows.

Winry jerks her hands away, rejecting him. "Ed, you can't do that!"

In a final act of desperation, he lays his forehead on her knees, begging, praying, "Winry, I love you. I'm afraid I can't do what you asked."

Her body stills. Winry is crying still and her hands tremble. But she has not refused, and she has not pushed him away.

When Edward finally glances up, he finds a bright face and a radiant smile, bright and promising, followed by a single nod of agreement.

Little Tokyo, 2:12PM

This really is a terrible idea, Riza thinks.

Roy's dress shirt and casual jeans hug his sinewy body, making her stare and spinning her head with regret for accepting. Her fingers fiddle with the pleat of her dress as she peeks at the informative text beneath Wollstonecraft's unfinished novel in front of her. It is difficult to focus on reading when what is supposed to be a short hangout at an exhibit becomes a full blown lunch date and possibly dinner, too.

Not that she couldn't say no when he asked.

Roy stands inches beside her, his chin jutting out as his eyes thin to read Austen's delicate cursive behind the glass case. He turns to her, making her mouth open a touch wider, and smiles.

"I can't read a word she wrote. Too small and too… slanted," he chuckles. "Did you try reading it?"

"Um, yes," Riza says unconvincingly. Then she scrutinizes the text and echoes his sentiment, "You're right. It's too slanted."

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks.

She nods quickly. "I do. I grew up around books and I've always wanted to do this myself." And her abrupt and sincere admission to someone who would be grading her a two or a five on "performing her duties with utmost excellence" surprises even herself.

"You wanted to do this yourself as in, you want to become a writer?"

Is this something she should be telling her boss, she wonders.

"Um, yes," she murmurs.

"Then why are you working at Bradley's? Your experience there is not going to take you to where you want to go," he remarks.

This is true, and Riza knows it. But Olivier was quite persuasive with her (and Winry) about being financially independent. There is no money for an aspiring writer who has less than half a manuscript completed. Riza, however, had listened where Winry had not.

"I mean, it's a hobby, too," she tracks back the moment she realizes she might just lose her job for being too honest. What would Olivier say then? "I enjoy just coming up with a story and writing it down. I don't have to do it for, you know, a career..."

His eyes glint with a smile. "What are you writing about?

"Murder mystery."

"Going to be the next Christie?"

She chuckles, "Except mine is infused with a little bit of romance and a lot of fantasy."

He nods, conceding. "It sounds like you know what you're doing."

They stroll past another exhibition. Kafka. One that Riza has been waiting for but is now forgone for a conversation with his strange company. Riza clasps her hands behind her back, ambling beside him. "Yes. And it's my turn. You're young, and you're obviously very ambitious. What are you doing working for Bradley?"

"It's for the experience." He turns to her, smiling. "Believe it or not I do have higher aspirations. Bradley has a lot of experience with affordable housing."

Her head tips sideways. "And you want to get this experience… why?"

He laughs. "Will you believe me if I tell you I want to run for mayor eventually?"

Smiling, she shrugs. "Why not?"

Then Roy leans in, so close she can smell his aftershave—a sweet, woody scent, dizzying her head again. "Then how about this," he begins. "How about we both work towards our goals together? This is very important to me, and I'm sure yours is extremely important to you, too. How about it?"

It is impossible to hold in a smile. It doesn't take long for her to decide. Being an author is what she's always wanted for herself. And if she can make money while doing it, perhaps Olivier will be supportive then.

She extends her hand, and Roy takes it, shaking them. "Deal," Riza says. "And how do we keep each other in check that we're really doing what we're supposed to do?"

"I've got a whole wall at home with post-it notes. It's my ten year plan," he reveals, grinning his excitement. "I usually work on that on Sundays. Maybe we can go to a coffee shop somewhere. You can work on your masterpiece while I work on mine. That way we both make sure we're doing what we're supposed to do."

One corner of her mouth tilts up in consideration. And then Riza nods. "That sounds like a good idea."

Armstrong Residence, 9:30PM

Winry's hand is clammy beneath his, but Edward doesn't seem to mind. He holds it throughout their walk home, which surprises her and makes her cheeks burn everytime she thinks about it.

Apartment 611 is only a few doors down at the end of the dimly lit hallway. Ed slows in his gait and turns to her, giving her hand a squeeze.

And she couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks for walking me home, Ed."

"Anytime, Winry," he murmurs, rubbing the back of his head, averting his eyes.

Softly, Winry chuckles, patting his hand, grateful and glad. "Now you can get back to Al."

As if Ed's realized what he's done, he pulls his hand away. He pats her shoulder and chuckles, his face a deep shade of red. "Ahaha… Al can wait."

"You know, I've always been envious of you and Al," Winry says suddenly. As children, Ed and Alphonse were always together, two peas in a pod, one unseen without the other. Now, as adults, they are still together and enjoying it. They might as well have been twins. "You two get along so well-" she adds, letting out a mock-laugh, "not like me and Olivier."

He turns to face her and holds her arms gently. There's reassurance in his grip. "This whole family thing isn't all or nothing, Win…. Remember what I said earlier? You can always work on your relationship with them, because I know they care about you. Liv's probably just too proud to say it."

Her heart warms at his words, and she replies, hopeful, "Well, I hope you're right."

Then Ed pats her head as he had done when they were children, smiling. Leaning in, he drops a tender kiss on her forehead and grins. "I know I'm right, Winry. Now go on. They're waiting for you."

She rummages through her purse for the house key, finding it in an instant. Her throat is a desert as she considers what she will say tonight. She's going to make Olivier understand… and tell both of her sisters what had happened to her, as she had promised Edward. Her fingers twist the key in the lock, her breath held, and she prays for the best.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Next chapter is the halfway point. Please let me know what you think by leaving comments/reviews :).