“Ed? Can I talk to you?”

Winry stood in the doorway, her hands clenched nervously about a rather large wrench. The scene before her was all too familiar, Ed bandaged and bruised and propped up in bed. How many times now, had he come crawling home bruised and broken and needing to be put back together?

“Eh? Oh, yeah.” He hadn’t been watching the door. He’d been staring out the window, watching some place that Winry couldn’t see - would probably never see, because even watching on the side couldn’t grant her any comprehension of what Ed had and was still going through.

But too often she had seen him fall this shy of death, and death still scared her in ways she didn’t quite understand. The thought of losing Ed - losing him for real - sent something cold and painful slithering down her spine.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, the obligatory question. She already knew the answer, Ed always said he was fine. But she needed to ask. She perched on the edge of the bed, the sunlight from the window strong on her face.

“Fine. How’s Al?”

“He’s fine too,” Winry said. Ed knew that, but he couldn’t go for more than a few sentences without mentioning his brother. Just one more thing Winry could try and understand and even tell herself she did understand but was altogether foreign to her. And it had kept her from this room for hours, sending her to pace and putter and wrestle with herself in her loft, fighting with the reality that there was no room in Ed’s heart for anyone but Al.

“So what is it?”

“Eh?” She’d been lost in thought again, and she smiled sheepishly. “I…” What could she say? She sighed and took Ed’s good hand in her own, idly tracing the nerves that lay underneath the skin. “Ed, I…” What was there to say? It wasn’t as though she didn’t know how this would end. But she had come anyway, and here she was, lost for words. Ed’s hand was warm in her own, the skin surprisingly soft. She dropped her eyes to her lap, for once in her life not able to simply let her words go.

“Winry?” There was concern in Ed’s voice. Of course there was, she was acting like an idiot! But she wasn’t good at simply sitting on things, or ignoring things, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now she wasn’t so sure. What did it matter, if he knew? It wouldn’t change anything. He would still come home, broken and torn apart and one more step closer to never coming home again.

“It’s nothing,” she finally said, her fingers tightening around Ed’s hand without thinking. “I just…want you to be careful. That’s all.” But the words were lacking, and she winced even as they came out.

“Winry?” Ed repeated, but differently. Confusion was now laced with comprehension, and Winry flushed and entertained the idea of running from the room.

“It’s nothing, Ed.” She let go of his hand as though it had burnt her, and moved to stand. But Ed grabbed her wrist, keeping her where she sat. She turned, almost afraid to hope.

“Winry… “ A heavy pause, as though Ed was fighting his own inner demons. He did like to make a production out of these things, didn’t he? “You’re like my sister. I…”

She smiled, then, sudden and bright and she knew it looked sincere. “Oh, I know,” she said, pulling her wrist away. “I told you it was nothing. Really Ed, you don’t have to be so dramatic all the time.” She bent and ruffled his hair, to let him know it really wasn’t a big deal. But it was, which was alright because it wasn’t the end of the world and it wasn’t surprising. He may love her like a sister but it was nothing compared to what he felt for Al. There were just some things that no girl could ever come between, and that much Winry could understand. Still, she paused a moment and glanced over her shoulder, determined to save some small scrap of dignity.

“Besides,” she said as she turned to go, “you’re too short for me anyway.”