FMA: 52 Flavours, Prompt 48
Title: The End of the Line
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme no.: 48. You have set me among those who are defeated/I know it is not for me to win, nor to leave the game.
Pairing: Ed/Winry (…ish?)
Rating: T
Summary: Ed has to adjust after returning to Winry again.
Notes: Second of three updates for
52_flavours , and a direct follow up to Prompt 8 (Dare to Let Go). It’s set post-CoS, and it’s angsty but I’m not sure how seriously you should take it - this was written almost as thumb at the nose of those fics that feature Winry just wasting away as she waits for the brothers to return and just waiting to pick up with them again when they (somehow, inconceivably) return to Amestris from our world once again.I would be remiss in not dedicating this to both evil_little_dog and
lyricnonsense for inspiring the angst, and now that I’ve written it I feel I must redeem myself with more fluff.
48.
You have set me among those who are defeated.
I know it is not for me to win, nor to leave the game
When they got to Rush Valley - after having been informed by Sheska of all people that Winry no longer lived in Risembool - and found her shop, Ed was less than surprised to find it full, packed to capacity with people, all clamoring for her attention.
What surprised him was finding two people working there under the Rockbell name: Winry and her husband.
She’d cried when she’d seen them - of course she had cried, she’d never expected to see them again - and that evening when they’d managed to close up shop she sat with them, tea growing cold in front of them as she alternated between interrogating them about their whereabouts and explaining where she had been in the time since she’d seen them last.
His name was Nathan Carson, and he was a first generation automail engineer, which explained why he worked under the Rockbell name instead of vice versa. He was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed. He and Winry had been married for almost three years, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the pair adored each other.
Al had done most of the talking and questioning in return, while Ed tried to adjust what he was seeing to what he’d been expecting, returning to Winry after over five years.
He was… relieved. All his life he’d cursed his father for leaving his mother, and back in Munich, when he’d actually studied the automail she’d fitted him with underground in Central and realized the labor of love it had been, the guilt he’d felt had been almost overwhelming. Was there no person he cared about who hadn’t been affected by his sin? He was no better than Hohenheim, leaving her behind the way he had.
But Winry was not his mother. Winry hadn’t wasted away, waiting for and wanting something she never expected to have again. Winry had built a new life, and even though she lived in remembrance of the way it used to be - he had seen the childhood pictures tacked up around the workshop - she wasn’t a living monument to it.
It was almost enough to make him feel redeemed.
Later that night he was sprawled across her workbench as she measured him for a new arm - many, many things had changed, but other things never changed, and it appeared Winry’s sleeping habits still included all-nighters to fill important orders - and as she studied the port still anchored in his shoulder she’d glanced up and met his serious gaze.
That was all it took. The next thing he knew she was on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing his shoulders down against the hard bench, the end of her ponytail tickling his flesh arm as she kissed him fervently, nipping at his mouth and demanding access.
It all happened so fast - they made love, in the low light of the lamp above her workstation; frantic, desperate love that left both their bodies slick with sweat and their golden hair tangled as she buried her face in his neck and rode out the dizzying, intense love for him that she’d forced herself to bury long ago.
When it was over - far too quickly, for Ed’s taste - she lay on top of him, panting and still trembling, silent as Ed reflected that her choice of location couldn’t be more appropriate - how much of their shared life had revolved around the bench where she’d taken care of his automail?
And then with a small moan Winry pushed herself up, pulling her bra back down over herself and rolling away from him. He watched her for a moment, unsure what to say or how to feel, and he saw as she bit her lip and looked at the door, the door that led upstairs to where his brother and her husband lay sleeping.
Her husband.
Ed fumbled with the waistband of his boxers, crushing guilt settling over his chest like a lead weight. He’d thought she had redeemed him. He’d thought she could be a savior of sorts, living proof that he wasn’t as bad as his father, that he hadn’t left behind the woman he could have loved to wilt away waiting for him.
He was wrong. In asking her to be his savior, he had instead dragged her down to his level, making her a sinner like him.
Before he could tear his eyes away from her, she looked back at him, and something strange flickered in her eyes as she gazed steadily at him, her face showing nothing but cool, unrepentant acceptance of their actions and calm understanding of his feelings about them. Ed closed his eyes and looked away.
He knew he’d be gone in the morning.
He knew she knew the same.