And in the end,
we were all just humans,
drunk on the idea that love,
only love,
could heal our brokeness.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Days passed in which time I'd finally regained the ability to keep down food that wasn't just liquid. I'd regained all my strength and the bruises up and down my arms were beginning to slowly fade. I was still experiencing headaches; there was a hairline crack in my skull from having my head smashed on concrete. When I was finally released from the hospital I was brought out to my Grandmother's car in a wheel chair and we drove to her house in Astoria. The home my Granny kept was the same home I'd grown up in from the time I went to live with her after my parents passed. It was a modest, 3 bedroom brick-front house, smushed between identical neighboring houses as part of a row. She ushered me into the living room and fixed us some peppermint tea, settled down in her club chair adjacent to my spot on her plastic-covered, floral-patterned sofa.

"Now," She said, "If you're feeling up to it, please, tell me everything. I want to hear what happened from your point of view."

So over the next hour I answered all her questions and layed everything on the table. Well, almost everything. I was very careful to not mention Edward anymore than I had to. But my Granny was no fool.

"I briefly met Edward the other day at the hospital." She said.

"I know, I heard you hollering at him. It wasn't his fault, Gran."

"You were awake?" She remarked with surprise.

"Sort of. My mind was present but my body wasn't ready. I was in and out for awhile." She sighed and fixed her gaze on the teacup in her lap.

"Well he'll just have to understand. You're my whole world, child. You're everything I've got. I'm not going to tip-toe around some reckless punk with mental issues just because you've taken a shine to him. He was supposed to be taking care of you."

Tears welled. Everything was so completely fucked up, and I hated everyone coddling me and keeping secrets from me. I wasn't a child. Edward helped me realize that I was in control; I was always the one controlling my fate and I didn't have to answer to anyone. I could live whatever life I choose, and I was taking my life back.

"Gran, do you trust me? You value my opinion right?" I asked. She looked up at me.

"Of course."

"Then I need you to stop blaming Edward for this. He's important to me. Secretary Bradley wanted to see Edward suffer, and that was why he came after me. He probably could have taken my blood from Central easily if he wanted, but he was insane and used me to hit Edward where it hurts. Ed's far from perfect, but he's been good to me. He cares about me. I don't blame him for this, you shouldn't either." She regarded me with caution before asking,

"You two became closer than you should've, am I right?" I blushed and nodded sheepishly.

"Well," She said, straightening up in her chair. "You'll have to work pretty hard to help me see why you think he's so damned special beyond that handsome face." I smiled a bit as hope glowed in me like soft embers, and I knew that with some time, some digging, and some luck, the embers of hope could spark into a blazing new beginning.

I had spent the next two weeks trying to contact Edward. I had never deleted his number back when he told me to, and every text or phone call went unanswered. The weight of worrying fell heavy on me, and soon I could neither sleep nor eat. I felt like a school girl again, nervous to be the one picking up the phone to make the first move. I would find myself pacing frantically in the smoking lounge that was once my bedroom rehearsing in my mind all the different ways a conversation could play out. My heart thumped wildly as my thumb hovered over his name in my contact list. And each time I forced myself to press down I would pace even faster and fidget ridiculously, focusing my eyes on the floor and twisting a lock of blonde hair around my finger, my heart pumping exponentially harder for one ring... two rings... three... four... and then his voice would purr out deep and smooth, *Leave a message.*

Of course I'd never had the balls to actually leave a message. It wouldn't be any good. It would be an awkward, unsexy, flabbergasted, rambling string of fumbled words and run-on sentances. It would make me hide my face in my hands in humiliation. It would be torture. But it had to be done. So when the day finally came and I stood in the lounge with a glass of liquid courage in my hand at 2 in the afternoon, I pulled out my phone, scrolled to his name, pressed down with meaning, and waited. Waited... waited... waited again... boom, there it is. *Leave a message*

BEEEP

"Er, hiiii," Jesus. Two words in and I'd already fucked it up. I shook it away and pressed on. "I need to talk to you. I need to see you, I... I miss you. I need to know if you're alright. I'm fine -well I mean duh I'm alright I've been blowing up your phone enough -GAH!"

FUUUUUCCCCKKKKK.

I yelped when I stubbed my toe on the coffee table's leg from all my frantic pacing. "Sorry I, uh, hit my foot. So um yea, just seeing if you're okay and um, call me. Please. If you want to. OKTHANKSBYE!"

Christ.

Hanging up I knocked back the rest of my whiskey and stomped out to the living room. A pathetic message like that wouldn't be enough to draw out results, and I knew that greater action must be taken.

"Gran I need to go to my apartment for some things. I need to get out of the house." I announced. She stopped her tinkering with an auto part on the kitchen table and looked up in surprise.

"You haven't eaten today, please eat something while you're in the city. I thought you hated going out."

"I don't hate it so much anymore. I've been wanting to be more independant for a long time, and I'm ready to start. I'll be back later."

"And what brought all this on?"

I grabbed my metro card and slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans with my phone and looked back at her from the front door.

"Edward showed me." I closed the door and marched toward the subway in determination. I wasn't heading home, I was heading to 5th avenue and then I was heading to Central. I had a plan, sort of. But I needed honest answers about Edward, and Roy Mustang was going to give them to me. I also needed a really hot outfit.

I marched into Central with enough new-found confidence and no-nonsense attitude to rival my Grandmother, and made a bee-line for Roy's office. He was alone and on the phone. I had stopped at Rag & Bone and swapped out my usual leggings and baggy sweater for something else just incase I should run into Edward; luck favors the prepared and boy did I look lucky. Tight black jeans to flaunt my long legs and curves, a white cotton t-shirt with a dangerously low V-neck that was just loose enough to skim over my silhouette and make a man curious, and a tailored black leather jacket. Very clean, very sleek, very New York. The sound of my Frye boots heavy against the floor brought Mustang's attention to me, and his eyes widened a fraction.

"Winry, you're looking well. Have a seat. How are you feeling?" I took a seat in front of his desk.

"I'm feeling better. My head still hurts, but I suppose having your skull cracked will do that." He smiled weakly at my morbid joke.

"I'm assuming you're here about Edward." He presumed. "Have you heard from him?"

"I've been calling him, he hasn't responded."

"Well, it sounds like that's your answer." He said cautiously. I sighed.

"I know you said he may not want to see me again. But I have the right to ask him questions about what happened. I feel that I have the right to know about him." I could see the wheels in Roy's head turning, cogs fitting together in synchronized fashion and he formulated his thoughts.

"You're right." He said, looking at me. "You have a right to know. Maybe knowing more about his past will help you understand why having a relationship with him is so difficult. Being with a State Alchemist is no walk in the park, Riza and I would know all about that."

'So they ARE together.' I thought to myself.

"I have my own demons that I've been trying to drown for years, but they're nothing compared to Ed's. Perhaps knowing what his are will help you decide if that's a path you're willing to go down."

He pushed a button on his phone and said, "No calls or interruptions for the next hour please."

A woman's voice unknown to me responded with a friendly 'you got it'. I sank further into my seat, getting comfortable as Roy started.

"I met Edward 17 years ago."

"I was a Colonel, spending my days working closely with Hughes investigating the disappearances of nearly 300 children who all went missing in a matter of a month. It wouldn't have seemed unusual because of its global scale, but the demographic caught our attention. We learned they were all boys between the ages of 12 and 14, in good health, and all were straight A students. Months of searching finally led us to a warehouse just outside the city limits near Helsinki, Finland."

A little flag waved in my head. Didn't Edward say he left my apartment because of something he had to take care of in Finland?

"I've been to war and seen my share of horrible things, but nothing could've prepared me for what we found in that warehouse. Outside it appeared abandoned, but the inside was a full-scale, experimental medical facility. Hundreds of people: doctors, surgeons, mechanical engineers and scientists had all banded together for one purpose. To create an army of unstoppable assassins. They had abducted kids so they could brainwash them to forget who they were, replace their limbs with machines their bodies ultimately rejected and turn them into ruthless killers."

"How could someone do something like that? Who would be so sick?" I asked, blinking back tears.

"We could find no information on anyone working in the facility. The computers had been wiped, I'm guessing by Bradley himself or whoever was working for him, now that we know he was the one behind it from the start. When you have a seat of power like his, it's very easy to cover things up. When my garrison arrived, the walls and floors were a fresh coat of red. We were too late. Everyone in the building was dead, except for one. The first time I ever laid eyes on Edward he was sitting in a pool of blood, surrounded by his victims. He was 12 years old."

I had no words. I stared at Roy in utter shock, and he dipped his head down towards a nearby cabinet and resurfaced with a couple highball glasses and bottle of amber liquid. He poured us each two fingers.

"This helps. It may not be considered a healthy way of coping, but I dare some self-righteous psychiatrist to say anything about it after hearing this story. Telling it never gets easy."

I took a swallow as he continued.

"There were files on all the kids who were taken, detailing who they were and where they were from. But we searched high and low and never found any information about our lone survivor. Edward has no memory of his life. He's told me his earliest memory is waking up on the operating table with machines for limbs and completely losing control. He has no idea where he's from, when he was born; his age is an estimation made by medical professionals, we're not even completely sure his name is Edward. There was a band on his wrist when we found him with his height, weight, and blood type. The only name was listed as E.V.H. Elric. He only suspects his name could be Edward."

I was beyond floored. How in God's name did he manage to carry on? The loneliness of my life paled in comparison to his suffering. To wake up surrounded by strangers, dismembered with no memory of who you are or how you got there; to be the only known person in existence with such an abnormality, something no one else could ever relate to. That was true loneliness.

I pushed down the lump in my throat, telling myself 'no more tears'. Ed wouldn't want it.

"I saw first glimpses of King Bradley's insanity when he took aim at Edward, ready to execute him for his obvious crime, maintaining that the child was a monster and a serious threat to society. It was Riza who stopped him. She lept between them, held Ed with no concern for her own safety, and begged Bradley to reconsider. I managed to convince him to let us work with him and train him up to become a soldier. It was easy to see his unique abilities as a powerful asset to us. After two years of intensive therapy with child psychologists, he had improved so rapidly that I pushed for him to be employed as a State Alchemist. He wanted to be a force for good, instead of the destructive purpose he was created for. He works almost exclusively with counter terrorism efforts; he's responsible for thwarting countless terrorist attacks all over the globe. He's helped maintain a level of peace the world is completely unaware was even at risk, and he does it all in secret because of his abnormality. The world has no clue what he's gone through to help others because he doesn't open up to people. He hides himself away, much like you do."

It made so much sense in that moment, the reason we were so drawn to one another. We were exactly the same.

"There's a few things I don't get." I said, "If Kimblee was working with Bradley, why did he warn me about Ed at the charity function?"

"My guess would be to frighten you. Making you afraid of Ed would make protecting you very difficult. It was a great way to get to you psychologically and Edward emotionally."

"I supposed that makes sense. What about Bradley's accomplices? The ones making the bodies and whatnot?" I asked.

"All dead. They were in the room with Bradley and his goons, watching you get tortured. Edward didn't take kindly to it." Mustang said.

"How did you even find me? I was terrified no one would come in time, considering I'd already been held hostage for two days."

Mustang blinked at me.

"Winry we found you and got you out of there in less that 5 hours. Edward chased the van you were in and lodged a tracking bullet in the bumper. You were in a warehouse near Chelsea Piers. We're still waiting on toxicology reports, but it sounds like in addition to being criminally insane, Bradley was probably on his fare share of drugs if he thought it had been two days."

I slumped a little in my chair and downed the remaining contents of my glass.

"You're up to speed now," Roy said. "What are you going to do about Edward? If you walked away no one would blame you. He knows that a life with him comes with insane baggage, it's absolutly the reason he's avoiding you." I contemplated his words for a moment.

"Do you know where he is? Can I see him? I just...I just really need to talk to him." Mustang regarded me cooly before responding.

"You're a remarkable person, Winry Rockbell. Despite everything you've seen and learned about the Fullmetal Alchemist, you're not afraid of him. In spite of everything that's gone down, you still care." He gave me a small smile. "I don't know what he'll say, but I think you two could do eachother a lot of good."

He drained his glass, stood, and walked me to his office door.

"Take the elevator furthest to the right and punch in the code '503'. Go to the 7th floor. Good luck."

The thrill of anxiety and excitement rushed through me, and I took off running.

A/N: I'm sorry it took me longer than usual to update. This needed to be a perfect setup for the next chapter, which is coming very soon, and is my favorite one. Can't wait for you to see it.