ROCKBELL AUTOMAIL

Ed stared up at the sign, a feeling of dread hanging over him like his own personal raincloud, and he pulled his coat closer against the cold; winter was at its peak in Central, with New Years' fast approaching. This hadn't seemed so daunting when he and Roy had talked about it, and when Havoc had given him a life to the shop, he hadn't been worried at all. But now, standing outside Winry's store on the crowded sidewalk in the snow, he couldn't get over the feeling that he should rethink this.

It had been five years since he'd last seen her; five years without a word from him. He had no clue how she'd react—he was guessing she'd start throwing wrenches at him and call him names, just like she used to, but he didn't know how things had changed. Roy hadn't known much about what she'd been up to, only that she'd gone back to Resembool for a vacation just in time for him to come crashing back into Amestris and had gotten back shortly before his bandages had been removed for good. Hopefully, everyone had kept their mouths shut like he'd asked them to, but he was worried that maybe someone had let it slip he'd come back. Winry would be so pissed when she found out how long he'd been home without telling her.

Then there was the matter of Al. Oh, Alphonse. Five years without his little brother had been brutal. They'd always done everything together, and it had hurt like nothing he'd experienced before when he'd had to start a new life without him. Alfons Heiderich had been good to him, but he hadn't been Ed's Al, no matter how similar they looked. How would Al react when he learned that Ed had been in Central for almost three months without telling him? And not just not telling him, but specifically asking everyone to keep it a secret. Al had called Roy about two weeks after Ed had starting staying with him, ranting about how he had his memories back, Ed must be back, you have to help me, what do you know about his whereabouts? Ed knew that Al had called everyone he knew in Central and asked the same questions, and on his request, no one had told him the truth. Ed felt like shit for lying to his brother, even by omission, and the disapproving looks he kept getting from Hawkeye didn't help, but he had his reasons. He'd wanted to heal on his own before facing the brother he'd abandoned.

Another thing was that he wasn't sure how he felt about Al's relationship with Winry. Sure, he was glad Al and Winry had found someone, and no, he wasn't surprised it had been each other. Still, the three of them had grown up together, and Ed had always figured that Winry considered Al her brother, and vice versa. The guys—Havoc, Fury, Breda, and Falman—had all been convinced that Ed and Winry had been involved, and if not Winry then certainly Rose, and apparently, someone had lost a lot of money when they learned that Ed was gay and had never (and never would be) interested in women.

He sucked in a breath and put a foot on the stairs, swallowing the lump in his throat. He told himself to stop being such a coward, it was just Winry, and the sooner he got it over with the better. Telling himself that it was either face Winry or face Pinako, he sucked it up and shouldered open the door; this was the lesser of two evils. An annoying little bell rang, and he scowled; he'd always hated that. A cheerful voice called from somewhere behind the counter, "Be right there!"

While he was waiting, and counting down the seconds to Doomsday, he looked around the shop. It was small, but then he was sure she had more rooms in the back, and the shop was crammed with chunks of metal and tangled wires, and more stuff he was sure he couldn't name; he recognized a few pieces from his work with rockets, but for the most part, it was as alien as ever. The counter was polished, and showcased some examples of her work behind a sheet of glass. He whistled; she'd gotten better. There was a picture of the three of them—Winry, Al, and himself—hanging on the wall alone with others: a photo of Winry, Sheska, Gracia, and Elicia; Pinako and Den; Al and Ed, taken during one of their trips to Resembool for repairs. He could see a flight of stairs through the doorway into the back, leading up to the apartment above the shop that she shared with Al.

He smiled with nostalgia. The three of them looked so happy in the picture, so innocent. The ones in the picture had no idea what was coming. Oh sure, Photo-Ed was a dog of the military, and oh sure, Photo-Al was a seven foot suit of armor, but for them, life had yet to take a turn for the nightmarish. How things had changed so quickly, Ed would never know.

CRASH!

He looked towards the noise. Somehow, Winry had come in when he was busy reminiscing, and she'd dropped the box of parts she'd been carrying. She stood there, frozen, her expression caught between shock and disbelief. She'd definitely finished growing into the beautiful young woman she was, and he stopped himself from smirking. Way to go Al. Slowly, as if scared he'd disappear again, she approached him, until she was standing only a foot away. She looked him up and down, and he didn't blame her for the alarm.

"…Ed?" she finally managed to ask, her voice small and scared.

He dropped his bag on the floor at his feet. "Hey, Winry. Nice shop you've g—" SMACK! Pain exploded in the side of his face, but he didn't lift his hand to the red mark. She'd had every right and more to slap him; if she hadn't been a lady, he would've done the same thing if their positions were switched. That was another thing Alfons had drilled into his skull: you treat a lady like fine china unless told otherwise, and you never raise a hand against one.

"ALPHONSE!" she hollered, "GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"

Ed swallowed as he heard a crash upstairs followed by the thunder of footsteps pounding against the floor; apparently, and predictably, Winry wore the pants in this relationship.

This was going to be fun…not.

His eyes widened when Al reached the bottom of the steps. Dark blond instead of platinum, amber eyes instead of blue, tan instead of pale—the differences between Alphonse and Alfons were clear, and that had been why Ed could think of them as different people. He was dressed just like Ed used to, in the black leather and the red coat with the Flamel signal on the back. The way Al was gaping back, Ed figured he was doing the same thing, and sanity knows that he'd changed almost as much as his little brother. His hair was shorter, much shorter, and he himself was taller—he was a little taller than Winry now, something he would take great glee in at a later date. His features were sharper, and on more than one occasion, he'd been told how he resembled Van Hohenheim.

He grinned weakly. "Hey, Al. Lookin' good. Glad to see all our hard work paid off, huh?"

His attempt at breaking the tension didn't work, and his smile quickly dropped off his face. He sighed, running his human hand through his hair. "Just get over here and give me a hug, you dummy."

That was the right thing to say, because the next thing he knew, Al had bounded across the room and thrown his arms around Ed, pressing his face into Ed's shoulder as his own started to shake with suppressed sobs. Ed wrapped his good arm around his brother and held him tight. After a moment, he felt another pair of arms wrap around them both, and together, the triad sank to the floor.

Alphonse…I'm back, for good this time.

He buried his nose in Al's hair and smiled, holding his brother in his arms—holding his human brother in his arms—as Winry cried into his shoulder.

"I'm back."