A/N: My gosh, thank you so much for all your constructive criticism! I really, really appreciate it. Well-rounded reviews are my best friend! Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Five: Winnie

The next day, I woke up with a hangover. Al left early, so he didn't bother to wake me up, which meant I was late getting to work. When I arrived, Roy just glanced at me.

"Sorry," I said, trying to think up an excuse. My mind was too sluggish to come up with one.

"Quite alright," he said. "It's just one day."

I was silently grateful that the Roy in this world was so different from the one in my own.

I worked slowly, because my head was still pounding, but I made sure to do everything right. Or I thought I did. I only had a limited attention span, to tell the truth.

At one point, however, I heard a loud ripping noise. Automatically, I checked the small exposed portion of my arm, and there it was. A tear in the odd colored 'skin' of my mechanical arm. I sighed, trying to pull my sleeve down to cover it.

"What was that?" came Roy's voice. Damn. I had hoped he hadn't heard.

"Nothing," I said, maybe a little bit too quickly.

He looked at me. "Didn't break anything?"

"No," I replied. "Everything's fine."

He nodded once, then slowly walked around sizing up me and the car at the same time. I continued to work, trying to ignore him.

Suddenly, he let out a low whistle. "Now that," he said, "is impressive."

I already knew what he was staring at. I rolled back the sleeve, exposing the rip. It had only gotten larger, and was more pronounced now.

It was mere seconds before Roy had his eye up to it, inspecting it from every angle. "You weren't in the last war, were you?" he asked thoughtfully. "You seem a little young."

"No, I wasn't," I replied. "Lost my arm when I was a kid."

"This is extraordinary," he said. "How much control do you have, does it stop at the fingers?"

I held up my hand, clenching and unclenching my fist. "It's a pretty good model," I said.

He nodded, without looking up. "I don't suppose you have an extra…I'm sure Winnie would love to see this…"

"Yeah, I have an extra," I said, a thrill of adrenaline running through my system. Winnie. Mechanical limbs…

"Who designed these?" he asked, finally looking at me. "You?"

"No," I said. "My father did."

"Sounds like a remarkable man," Roy said.

I paused for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. He was."

Then, "How'd you lose the arm?"

"It's a long story."

Roy nodded. Then, out of the blue, he asked, "Hey, Ed, do you know anything about rockets?"

"Rockets? Yeah, actually. A fair amount."

His face brightened. "Really? You're not pulling my leg?"

"No – a friend of mine studied rockets back in Europe. I learned a lot from him."

"Well, then," said Roy. "I think I have a job for you."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled. "Officially, I'm not supposed to tell you anything, but to hell with that. See, Ed, there's this top secret experiment going on…"

The tale he spun seemed almost too hard to believe, but he sounded serious the whole time. I agreed and told him I would go with him when he needed to go in a few weeks.

I went home and told Al. He seemed skeptical. But this was just too good to pass up. A chance to work on actual rockets – government rockets! It was…unbelievable.

That night, I fell into a dreamless sleep. It was perfect – everything was perfect.

And the next morning, a Saturday, came bright and early, just as nice as the day before. I sighed and got ready.

Al was in the living room, a pencil in his hand. But he wasn't writing something – no, the lines he was making were too long, too curved…

"What are you drawing?" I asked, glancing over his shoulder.

He shrugged and closed the notebook. "Nothing."

"Aw, come on Al, let me see."

He looked at me, then his notebook again and handed it to me. I flipped to the page he had been working on.

It was an odd, unfamiliar drawing. I looked at it from several views, but I still could not decipher what it was.

"Al," I said. "What is this?"

He shrugged and mumbled something incoherent.

"What?"

"It's me. Or, how I was. Before."

Even with only this meager explanation, I knew what he was talking about. "This isn't what it looked like."

"It's not supposed to be how the armor looked. It's…it's how the armor felt to me, while I was in it. I don't know, it's stupid."

"No, it's not," I said, even though I really did think it kind of was. "It's not stupid, Al. It's just… different."

He took the notebook back. "I had a dream last night," he said quietly.

"Oh yeah? Wanna tell me about it?"

"I was back the way I used to be," he said. "But I was here. And everyone was normal. Except for me. It was…scary."

I frowned at him. "Why scary? What do you mean, was it like a nightmare?"

He shook his head. "No, no, that's not it. It was just unsettling." He glanced at me. "I didn't actually like having to walk around as a suit of armor for four years, you know."

I murmured, "Thanks." But he didn't hear me.

He stirred his tea, looking at something beyond my shoulder. I shook my head and got up. I had to be at the garage in half an hour. "You got any classes today?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said. "But I don't know if I'll go in."

I clapped him on the back. "Come on, Al, it's just a dream. Don't let it ruin the day."

"Look who's talking."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to work now. 'Bye."

He nodded and I left.

When I got to the garage, there was a small 'closed' sign in the window. I frowned, then knocked on the door of the small office attached to the garage.

The door opened a tiny bit, and Roy said, "Can't you read? We're clo- oh, Ed!"

He opened the door all the way. "I guess I forgot to phone you. Well, come on in, since you're here."

I raised an eyebrow, but followed him in anyway.

"Who is it?" came a terse voice.

"Just Ed," called Roy in reply. "It's okay."

I started to get a little nervous. What was so important that he had to close down the shop? And what did he mean by 'it's okay'?

Half curious, half uneasy, I followed him into the garage.

The sight that greeted me when I entered the garage was nothing at all like I had imagined. Instead of some sort of strange occult gathering, there was someone rummaging around under the hood of a car. It took me only half a second to realize who it was.

"Winry likes to inspect the cars now and again," Roy explained. "She's still learning, but… you know. Can't hurt."

Winnie pulled herself out from underneath the hood of the car and rolled her eyes. I frowned. "Did you really have to close down the garage just for this?"

For some reason, I received a few strange looks for that one. "I don't know how things are in Germany, or wherever you're from," said Winnie, one eyebrow raised. "But things don't work that way here."

I opened my mouth, just about to say something, but Roy shuffled me forward. I noticed, for the first time, that we weren't the only people in the room.

"Ed, this is my wife, Riza," said Roy, motioning to a woman holding a little boy. She smiled at me, and there was a weird sort of exhaustion in her eyes. She looked a lot like the Riza Hawkeye on the other side of the Gate, except this one was noticeably thinner, almost stick-like, and her hair hung freely to her waist.

"I've heard a lot about you, Edward," she said, that same odd smile on her face. I smiled back at her.

"And this is our son, Tom," said Roy.

Even though son was the most logical reason for the miniature version of Roy Mustang in Riza's arms, it still had not registered until Roy said it out loud. My jaw dropped, and half a second later I shut it again.

"Say hello, Tommy," murmured Riza. The little boy buried his head in his mother's shoulder. She glanced at me. "He's a little shy."

Much to my disbelief, I actually managed to smile.

Roy wheeled me away again before anyone said anything else. "Becca finally found your brother's book," he said cheerfully.

"Oh yeah?" I asked distractedly, still trying to digest everything.

"Yes. She can't put it down."

"My brother's a very talented writer," I said. "He's got a weekly column in the New York Times now."

Roy did a double take. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's pretty excited."

He laughed. "He should be. Becca's been vying for a spot in the Times ever since we found her."

"Roy, hand me the wrench," came Winnie's voice. He did so.

"The Times is stuck in the last century," said Riza, shaking her head. "Becca'd have better luck with the Tribune."

"I think that's why she refuses to back down," said Roy. "Because she knows she'll never get it."

Riza sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Why won't she get it?" I asked.

They all looked at me.

"Where were you before you came to America, Ed?" asked Winnie.

"Germany."

"Tell me: how do they treat women in Germany?"

I was about to say, "Just fine," but then I remembered that… they don't. I was thinking of my own world. There was no prejudice towards women in that world; at least, none that I ever detected. But in this world…

"Well, it's different here," said Winnie, misinterpreting my pause. "We're not allowed to do anything, just because we can't lift as much weight as a man could."

Roy glanced toward the ceiling with a look that said help us and Riza muttered, "Oh, God."

"This country is a lie; all of it, all of it is a lie! Supposedly, we're the land of freedom, but that is not true! I mean, sure, you're free – but only if you're a white middle or upper class male. Other than that, well, the government effectively says screw you! and you're left to find your own way in this world that is so hell-bent on exterminating every free-thinking woman! It is unreasonable and oppressive! It's not fair!"

With the last word, she threw the wrench at the ground. I barely dodged the rebound.

There was a second of silence, then Roy asked, "Are you done?"

She sighed, an exasperated look on her face, then got back to the car.

"Sorry," said Roy. "She does that sometimes."

"Winnie's got a hot temper," murmured Riza. "But I guess we must allow her that."

From the tone of her voice, I could tell there was some reason why, and they weren't going to tell me. Instead of asking, however, I shook it off.

"Anyway," said Roy. "You'll be paid for today as if you were working, Ed. You're welcome to stay, but…"

I could tell he would prefer it if I left. I nodded. "Thanks, but no thanks. I have to…" I realized I didn't have an excuse, "…go."

He smiled and nodded. "Okay. How about you come in next week, alright?"

"Sure. Right. Next week."

They bade me farewell and I left. On my way home, my mind drifted, and I saw again: the little boy who Riza was holding. He had the same dark hair and eyes of his father, and his skin was just as pale as Roy's. It was a funny thing: to imagine the Roy in my world with a son. A tiny, little son.

The Roy in my world…

He hadn't exactly seen like the perfect father type. I mean…I couldn't see him with a kid. Yet here it was, right in front of my eyes….Tom Mustang.

But no. That wasn't the Roy in my world. This is Roy of Mustang's Mechanics, not Roy of the military. And since when had I called Roy by his first name? Well, not this Roy. I had only ever called this Roy Roy. But the other Roy – I mean, in my world – that Roy had never been Roy, only ever Mustang.

I shook my head. I was confusing myself.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I trudged through the snow. A light flurry of snowflakes settled on my head and shoulders. It was still the middle of the day, and the streets were as clear as was possible, but there was still only a few people out. A small crowd was darting in and out of a few stores – I glanced into the windows and realized what day it was.

December twenty-fourth. No wonder Roy's garage was closed. It was Christmas Eve.

Strangely enough, I found myself sidling towards a small shop on the corner of the street. I looked through the windows for a second, counted the money I had, then slipped into the store.

I began to peruse the first shelf I saw, when someone said, "Can I help you, sir?"

Slightly startled, I turned around quickly. An old man, hunched over with age, was smiling gently at me. "Er – no, thank you, I'm just…I'm just looking."

He nodded, with that same happy look on his face, and turned and left me alone. I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding, then went back to the shelves.

It was a simple little shop; everything was handcrafted, most of it wooden. I was the only customer there.

I don't really know what attracted me to that specific shop, but it paid off. I found the perfect thing, without even knowing I was looking for it.

The man at the counter wrapped the small piece in dull paper and tied a ribbon around it. I paid him, and he smiled at me as I left.

When I got home, Al didn't look up. He was too deeply into a book, his eyes flying across the page, an intense look in his eye.

It wasn't until I said loudly, "What is this?" that he looked up.

He immediately looked sheepish. "Oh. It's…well it's a tree, Brother."

"It's not a tree," I said with disdain. "I mean…to call it a bush would be too kind."

He sighed. "That's not what matters. What counts is what's under the tree."

I glanced down. Wrapped in brown paper was a large, rectangular object. "Oh, Al," I said softly. "Please tell me you didn't."

"I did," he said. "And by the look of it, so did you."

I glanced down at the package in my hand. "I guess I did," I said, laying it down to the bigger present. Then I looked at the small green thing above it. I sighed. "A Christmas tree?"

"Well, I know that we don't celebrate – that is, there's no – but it's just… Brother, I just thought it would be nice if we exchanged gifts on the day that pretty much everyone else does. Just to…to be normal, you know?"

"We're not normal," I said.

"Can't we pretend that we are? Just for one day? Please?"

I rolled my eyes. "And you didn't even think to ask my opinion before you did this?"

"Oh, Ed – you said that I didn't have to ask you about everything!"

"Yeah – well – this isn't, like, going out to a luncheon with your buddies." I glanced at him. "What is with you?" I asked. "First it's Bible passages, then church, and now this?..."

"I didn't say that I believed any of this. I just don't see anything wrong with giving presents to one another on a specific day."

I shrugged. "Fine."

There were a few moments of silence. "So, what happened?" asked Al. "I thought you had work today."

"The garage is closed for the day," I replied. "Roy's giving Winnie a lesson on automobiles."

"Oh."

There was more silence. I looked at the Christmas tree. "Christmas isn't a real holiday anyway," I said. "I heard Americans just use it as an excuse to buy things."

Without looking up from his book, Al said, "I thought that was our excuse."

I glanced at him. "I can't believe you Al."

"Oh…get over it."

I raised my eyebrows. "Are you okay? You're acting sort of weird."

"I'm fine."

He obviously wasn't. But there was no use in pressing him if he wasn't going to tell me. I shrugged and began to walk away, but then…

"Hey…Ed?"

"Yeah, Al?" I said, looking back at him.

"I was thinking…" he began, avoiding my gaze. "And if there's a counterpart for everyone here… then wouldn't there be a counterpart for, you know… Mom and Dad?"

I looked at him for a second, then sighed and sat down opposite him. "Yeah, I guess there must have been, at one time," I said. "I think Dad's counterpart must have died a long time ago, but there probably is someone out there just like Mom. Why do you ask?"

He shook his head. "I was just thinking about this world versus our own. You know."

"Right. Of course."

He didn't say anything, only smiled a tiny bit. I wondered what he had been getting at.

Later, he tried to get me to put up stockings, causing me to look at him skeptically and ask, "You do know that there is no such thing as Santa Claus, right?" which in turn caused him to turn red in the face and throw a sock at me.

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Oh, Alphonse. I love you so much.

Developing Winnie's character. There will be more of that. And Tom Mustang; I KNOW RIGHT? Hahaha.

Also, I feel that now is a good time mention some songs. "Far Away" by Nickelback is basically how Ed feels about Noa. "One Step Closer" by Linkin Park is very much Al, although mostly how he feels in later chapters. "Please Don't Die" by Robbie Williams is a lot like how Ed feels in general. Also, "Open Your Eyes" by Sum 41 is, in my opinion, about Ed and Al. I LOVE that song. I think of the boys whenever I hear it.

Funnily enough, when I wrote the next few chapters after this one, I put in a lot more narrative and a lot less dialogue, which is just what a reviewer suggested. I wrote them a while ago, but still. :D Thanks!

One last thing: I just wrote a short little chapter from Noa's point of view, who is still in Europe, thinking about Edward. If I were to post it, I would probably do so around chapter fifteen or sixteen, but the thing is, it might give away a very important detail that is important in the end of the story (if you get it, since it's only heavily hinted). I don't think it would feel right putting it at the very end, but would any of you mind if it gave something away? It's pretty well-written, very much Noa-like. Remember, it would be more than ten chapters from now. You can review at a later chapter and tell me if you've changed your mind, I'll post reminders after every chapter or so.

So what is your opinion? On the chapter I've just posted, and the one from Noa's point of view.