Chapter Text
AC 212 - Colony L1
Ed was 12 when he first met Winry Rockbell. Donning a heavy welders helmet and wrapped in gray mechanics jumpsuit, she leaned against the metal scaffold walkway on one knee as she worked on his Gundam. He hated when people touched his mobile suit. Izumi had taught him how to meticulous care for it since he got it last year, and now there was this child touching it (with a blowtorch of all things) and he was about to snap.
"What the hell are you doing?!" He yelled from the bottom of the Mechanic Bay. He was in his pilot's suit, the red material snatched tightly against his skin, he held his helmet under an arm. His hair absentmindedly tucked behind his ears fell to his chin, gold locks matching the gold of his eyes, which narrowed in anger at the pebble of a person 25 feet in the air fusing something to his machine. "Get the hell away! Stop it before you damage it! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
It took a second for Winry to register someone was talking to her. Err, yelling. The blast of the torch was loud and once she paused, she could then hear the sound of some bug from below trying to catch her attention. She turned off the torch and spun on her knees to see a small boy with an ugly scowl glaring right at her. She lifted her welders helmet up and smiled.
"Don't mind me, I'm cleaning up your door; it looks like someone dented the panel."
Ed growled. He dented it earlier during the training exercise. He was coming in to patch it up before Izumi found out.
"I'm actually done!" She said before she casually jumped off the scaffolding, allowing the quarter-gravity to slow her descent. She landed gracefully on one foot before kicking on her gravity boots and walking straight towards him, a gloved hand in a heavy leather mitten raised up in greeting. "Hi! I'm Winry! You must be Edward, I'm so excited to meet you."
Ed glanced at the hand and ignored it, instead raising his nose in the air and squinting at her suspiciously. "You're just a little girl, why are you working on my Class 1 Gundam?"
The grin slid off her face. "You're kind of a misogynistic jerk, aren't you? Don't question if I can work on a Gundam if you can't work on your manners, little boy!" She shot back, hands on hips, her eyes burning suddenly in annoyance. She looked down at him; he was more than several inches shorter than her.
Izumi walked in, her arms crossed in disappointment. "Enough you two." She stared down at the pair as she entered the Bay. She turned her head and spoke to Ed directly, "It'd be best for you to get along. I asked Winry to repair the panel. I already warned her how reckless you are."
Ed licked his lips and scoffed as he looked away. "I was coming to fix it."
"Let her do it," Izumi commanded. "You need to get back into the training simulator and practice maneuvers. Everyone from here to the Moon heard you hit the tunnel wall. Impressive, since sound doesn't travel in space. No more sloppy mistakes, Ed. Earth will be a lot tougher than this."
Ed was so embarrassed and Izumi's chiding only irritated him more. "Why are you letting her touch my mobile suit?" He whined in protest. "I've been doing my own maintenance and now some little girl gets to do whatever she wants?"
"Edward. This is Winry Rockbell." Ed swallowed his pride, quickly closing his mouth obediently. Everyone knew the Rockbell name. "And she's the one who designed your mobile suit."
Ed's mouth gawped awkwardly, stupidly opening and closing a few times before twisting his head and lifting his chin indignantly. "Whatever. Just make sure she does it right!" He demanded before shooting another cursory glare her way. Swiftly he turned on his heel and walked away.
Winry stuck her tongue at him behind his back.
Days until the Colonies declare war: 2,143
AC 203 - Colony L4: Rockbell Compound
Yuriy Rockbell tapped his pencil against the drawing board as he reviewed Sarah's formula. His wife had a vision overnight of a new method to process GND ore so he was running the calculations to see if it could really work. It seemed to: a fusion of Lunar Titanium and Genetic Universal Neutrally Different alloy bonded in zero gravity would isolate the carbon molecules thus making the material nearly indestructible.
He looked it over again. It would probably work. Sarah was a materials scientist and she was the smartest person he knew. There was only a finite amount of refined Lunar Titanium and requesting a sample would immediately flag the Federation.
Instead, Yuriy quickly emailed his assistant to coordinate a lunar mining expedition to begin the process of locating and extracting some raw samples. If they could process and refine the ore in accordance to Sarah's methodology, this would get them closer than ever to gaining independence.
Like everyone else in space, Yuriy Rockbell was born on Earth but remained a permanent resident of one of the colonies. He lived on the L4 Colony Cluster. It might be better to say, he owned L4. L4 was the founding colony built by his great-great-great grandfather nearly two centuries ago, effectively launching Rockbell Enterprises which remained one of the—if not The—largest and wealthiest corporations in the solar system. As co-chair of Rockbell Enterprises, Yuriy had near-unlimited resources at his disposal, and with the gumption he inherited from his mother, he alone had the ability to propel humanity into a new era: one of freedom and peace.
For the past fifty years, the Federation had enacted a tight grip on the citizens of Earth and the colonies with exacting restrictions aimed specifically at colony citizens, who numbered in the billions and were mostly poor, disenfranchised, and given limited opportunities for any sort of personal or financial growth. Twenty years ago there was an internal coup inside the Federation and the Fuhrer rose to power, subsequently enacting a series of policies that further stunted and controlled the colony citizens.
The Rockbells hated the Federation.
The Federation who used bio-terrorism tactics against the colonists, wiping out entire sectors of civilians as a method for population control.
The Federation who touted a lottery system for procreation but only selected candidates that qualified under their eugenic ideology.
The Federation who taxed high and used the funds to support deep-pocketed oligarchical families on Earth who pledged their fealty to the regime's methodical erasure of human rights.
His grandfather founded Rockbell Enterprises on the principal that science would forever propel humanity forward; however, the current regime was hellbent on striping away basic human liberties and holding humanity back. It was wrong, barbaric even.
Small waves of revolution whispered throughout space for decades now and the Rockbells covertly fanned its zephyr with a hope to encourage a return to freedom and justice. Yuriy personally felt that the wealth afforded to him made him responsible to fund good for common mankind, after all, it's what his parent's taught him, it's what his grandparent's taught them, and it's what he was teaching to his daughter.
Sarah walked into the study holding the hand of a little blonde, bright-blue-eyed girl who beamed the biggest smile as she entered the room. Winry was three years old, generally very happy, and talked all the time about the products she imagined in her head and then would spend most mornings designing in her playroom, which was fully equipped with a builder set and tool bench to make those ideas into reality.
Today she held a prototype of an extendable arm for her doll, its design complicated by a series of cantilevers and ball bearings, which she proudly held up in her other hand before saying, "wook, Daddy, wook!" Yuriy turned around in his chair, ruffled her hair as she sat in his lap and let her tell him all about her newest creation. Then he carefully explained in a way that only three-year olds would fully appreciate that it's important to build products to help people and for all the good you do for the world, the world will reward you tenfold.
Days until the colonies declare war: 5,410
AC 208 - Colony L1: Hospital Sick Bay
Edward and Alphonse Elric held their mother's hand as she passed away. The two little boys watched her steady breathing slow down, her chest rattling with each struggled gulp, until her eyes glazed over and her grip loosened inside theirs. The brothers held each other as the tears fell.
Izumi Curtis sat in the corner, her arms folded, and swallowed hard. The boys had been in her care since Trisha's admission to the medical ward last year, along with so many others who fell victim to the epidemic. The medication never made it, it never would: Earth controlled the supply rations and despite the many, many, many promises of delivery, it would never be sent. It was intentional as part of their efforts to control colony population. Earth, a territory of only 500 million people could not counter the sheer volume of the colonies, each cluster hosting over a billion each. The Federation understood that if there was ever a rebellion, the colonies would win by their extraordinary numbers alone, which ushered their coordinated effort to to control population growth over the last fifty years.
It's one of the reasons why Izumi never had children. It was nearly impossible to get pregnant in space, less than a 1% chance in fact, and even then the chances of the baby coming to term was about 8.8%. For those few who could afford it, test tube babies had a 38% chance of successful development; but most families relied on the lottery ran by the Federation. If selected, the family would reside on Earth for insemination, pregnancy, and the two years it took for the child to become old enough for spaceflight. Most children who lived in the colonies were typically born on Earth and at some point transferred home.
Izumi, who was already physically unable to become pregnant, never even bothered applying for the lottery. It's not like she nor Sig were candidates for the Federation's secret eugenics program anyway. Instead, she fostered. She loved children and felt compelled to advocate for their safety and security. So, when Trisha was hospitalized early last year, Izumi was surprised to find not one but two children who needed placement.
The two boys, then 7 and 6 respectively, looked up at her as they sat on the hospital chairs kicking their legs under them in boredom. Sweet little Al and feisty Ed evaluated her critically with their exotic ochre eyes as she bowed before them to introduce herself and her new role in their lives. It took no time at all for her to open her arms out to them permanently.
Trisha Elric was an earthling. She was the daughter of a diplomat and her husband, Van Hohenheim, was an unpopular candidate for government head within the Federation who was a staunch pacifist and humanist. When their boys were small, Hohenheim evaded several consecutive assassination attempts. However, Trisha's two boys were five and four years of age when security informed her that the entire family was now being targeted. That night she begged Van to drop his platform and run with the horde in order to protect their children. He shook his head sadly no, repeating his keynote beliefs that everyone deserved peace and that sacrifices would always have to be made to ensure peace happened. If they wanted a world where everyone could live free, they had to be the face—and possibly martyrs—of that movement.
Four days later, Trisha flew away from Earth on a passenger spaceflight carrier with her sleeping little boys. She left their manor in the middle of the night, took their private plane to a spaceport two countries away and emigrated from the Earth sphere. She never heard from her husband again.
Van Hohenheim died three months later. Authorities considered his death accidental.
Days until the colonies declare war: 3,383
AC 210 - Colony L4: Rockbell Compound
Winry Rockbell was ten years old, an only child, and spent most of her time in her workshop tinkering with gears and bolts and wires and coming up with all sorts of novel inventions that bemused her. Then she'd show her grandmother, another engineer, who'd smiled kindly and wonder out loud what other neat considerations they may add to improve the design.
A knock on the door prompted Winry to turn around at her desk. The pencil dangling from her mouth dropped as she broke into a smile when her father entered the room. Her parents were often absent, traveling for work or for their charitable foundations, therefore leaving her with Grandma as her sole caregiver. Well, except for the governess, and her security, and the rest of the house staff that made the Compound function as both a household and a state-of-the-art research lab.
Yuriy planted a kiss on his daughter's head, before commanding the home computer to pull up the plans onto Winry's worktop. "Is that what I think it is, Dad? Let me see!" She beamed brightly, turning back to the worktop and lifting the monitor before her to have a better advantage.
The blueprints loaded across her screen, sixteen pages of diagrams that provided a full-scale workup of the internal and external configurations of the mobile suits. She squealed with delight as she looked at the schemata before her, touching the screen rapidly as she flipped through the layers of pages.
"Winry," he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning over her to look at the monitor. He sounded excited himself. "I'm sure you've been thinking about how to personalize this. Every single one of these suits needs to be slightly different than the others. Your mother has 02. Grandma is working on 04. Make sure your design will benefit the pilot. It'll keep the Federation guessing."
"Of course!" She answered positively. She flipped a few more pages. "Do we know anything about the pilot yet?"
Yuriy nodded. "He's still young, actually your age. I think he's four or five months older than you."
"Really? Do you think we might be friends one day?"
He squeezed her shoulders. "I don't see why not. Wanna go visit them sometime?" She nodded vigorously, confirming the idea. Winry was mostly excited to not be alone anymore. He rubbed his hand over her hair. "That's my girl. Work on your designs, come ask me any questions."
Days until the colonies declare war: 2,699
AC 211 - Colony L1
The Gundams were being unloaded from the transport ship and the boys hopped up and down excitedly. Their large, golden eyes sparkled as the trucks lifted the giant bundles from the cargo hold, tilting them upright and in a dramatic flourish, pulled away their tarps.
Before them stood two shining mechas, one coated in flaming red, the other in sky blue. Ed grinned wickedly, turning to his brother whose clutched fists shook in anticipation.
"I can't believe they're here!" Al whispered.
Izumi clapped her hands upon their shoulders. "They were designed for you." She affirmed. "Al, yours is Zero-Two. It's known as the Knight in Shining Armor Gundam. KISA for short."
"That's such a sick name," Ed muttered.
"Ed," Izumi started, "yours is called Fullmetal. Zero-One."
Ed's mouth dropped in mild disgust. "Fullmetal? What the hell kind of name is that? Al gets a kickass name and mine is Fullmetal? More like Full of Shit."
"You're full of shit," Al smiled slyly. Izumi smacked both of them on the back of the head.
"Enough. Be grateful. We have seven more years of data to collect. But, now with the Gundams in our hands, we will be able to calibrate your biometrics more precisely than ever before. Look at me boys."
The two turned around to face her. Echoes of their red and blue Gundams shadowed behind them. Izumi leveled herself to their height and looked at them sternly. "You are the future. You will do this. And no one will be able to beat you. But you must be fully committed to peace and you must believe in the cause.
"But most of all, you must absolutely believe in yourselves." She set her hands on the outside of their forearms, gripping them tightly, transferring the strength of her faith to strengthen their resolve. "Because we believe in you. You are our greatest hope."
Days until the colonies declare war: 2,532
AC 214 - Colony L1
Since first arriving on L1 two years ago, Winry seemed to always be around. Izumi loved her chipper, hardworking attitude. Al loved how kind and patient she was. The crew loved her sweet and thoughtful nature. Sig always gave her three head pats while the boys only got two.
Ed, now fourteen, and four months older than her, was still four inches shorter and kept track of every single misgiving he had about the Rockbell girl. She had already stayed with them for three months for this visit, and despite how often he asked Izumi when she will go home, Izumi reminded him that there was no such thing as a painless lesson. He's click his tongue and walk away. He hated when Izumi philosophized with him.
Winry had a lot to say about anything and everything. It seemed she just knew sooooo much and it annoyed Ed endlessly. She was now the lead mechanic for the brother's Gundams, so she attended and observed every training. Sitting next to Izumi, who often smashed the commlink button to correct the boys, Winry now competed for the quiet space in-between Izumi's directions.
"Ed! Get your thrust to 35. Why are you at 19? Thirty-Five!" Winry yelled.
He groaned and gritted his teeth in a scowl. The stupid idiot girl didn't even know that he WAS pushing it but the throttle was stuck.
"If you would just shut up for once I can tell you that your propulsion shaft broke, Gearhead!"
"WHAT?" She screeched. "Did you damage my mobile suit?"
"No, I didn't break anything on MY mobile suit!"
Then they continued arguing over the commlink as Edward flew the machine back into Mechanic Bay.
And they continued arguing as he opened his cockpit door and threw off his helmet while she floated over to his scaffolding.
Then they continued arguing as she'd grip him by the sleeve of his jumpsuit and tossed him off the walkway, watching him float in rancid anger as he fell because he he always forgot to activate his gravity boots.
She could still hear him as she leaned backwards into his pilot's seat, peering critically at every square inch of the cockpit to see how that reckless fool messed with her machine again.
Days until the Colonies declare war: 1399
AC 215 - Colony L1
Winry was back again. Lately she stayed for months at a time, usually spending every waking moment testing ideas, running mock simulations, or fussing with code as she hooked her computer up to the cockpit. Whatever it was, she always found something to tinker with.
Ed had long since given up arguing with her about it because he began noticing how smooth his sync with Fullmetal had become. The gears felt seamless, as if the suit expected his movement. His turns were more fluid, as if the suit mirrored his natural posture. Aiming and striking with his laser lance was eerily accurate, as if the suit's hand were his own. guiding the weapon. Ed felt like he had an armored second skin that was 50 feet tall, impossibly fast, and as powerful and smart as he believed himself to be. Fullmetal made him feel confident and superior; it fanned his ego in all the ways that pleased him. Ed felt like he had control over everything.
Everything…except for one thing.
Sometimes Winry would sit next to him at dinner and her leg would press against his, so he'd begin sweating bullets that rivaled in caliber to those of KISA's Gatling gun.
Sometimes Winry would ask him to hand her a tool, then her hand would slide against his when she reached for it and he'd reel back and snap his hand away as if he just touch fire.
Sometimes they would sit in Olivier Armstrong's lecture on diplomacy broadcasting from 1.5 million kilometers away, and she'd fall asleep leaning upon his shoulder. He'd sit there frozen stiff in panic, growing red from holding his breath as if he just got sucked out into the vacuum of space.
He couldn't function around her. She looked ridiculous in her gray boiler suit, half zipped down and tied around her waist with some handkerchief strapped across her chest that did barely anything to conceal every single curve and contour of her figure. A figure he never ever ever glanced at or looked at or felt his eyes drawn too or thought about constantly every waking moment (and the dreaming moments too). No way.
If Winry wasn't in that tomboy outfit, she was in something beautifully soft and feminine. She often sprayed this scent on her that was intoxicating and made him feel drunk and stupid and without brain cells.
Izumi always complimented Winry no matter what she wore because Izumi loved how strong and capable she was, too. She'd always touch her shirt, fingering the material gently, telling her how lovely she looked or how beautiful she smiled or how great her hair was, and Ed would frown hard because it's the only expression he owned at the moment.
But he'd take the opportunity to look too and pretend he didn't admire that beautiful pink dress with a low neckline and bouncy capped sleeves. Or a flowery patterned halter top with cross straps in the back and a long maxi skirt that seemed to flow in the breeze despite wind being absent in the colony. Or some citrus-themed crop top with blue jean shorts that reveled the cutest little belly button in the entire world whenever she leaned back and crossed her legs. Ed couldn't explain why but he was dying to know what pressing his face against the delicate softness of her skin in that most fortunate gap might feel like.
However, Ed could not admit anything to himself. He was just a stupid teenage guy. While Izumi complimented her, gave her hugs, or caressed her clothes, Ed would say something like:
"Yeah, nice outfit if you're trying to attract middle aged women. Try harder if you want guys to actually look at you."
And Winry would toss the nearest item at his head. Then Izumi would run him drills for an extra hour and add forty more pounds to his barbell squats as retribution.
Because the only only only only only way he could ever talk to her was to insult her.
"Hm, didn't know you could use words bigger than two syllables, Gearhead. I just thought you hit the mobile suit with a monkey wrench until something clicked," or "Wow, you read books? Like actual books? I thought you read instruction manuals for the microwave for fun."
His attempts to annoy her worked. Whenever she'd get irritated, he'd smile at the crinkle in-between her eyebrows as she squished her face in anger.She was just too cute. Or, if he told her she dressed like a tomboy, sometimes she wore even shorter skirts and even prettier frilly patterns that were mesmerizing to see with his own eyes. Or, sometimes, she'd smack him playfully and he'd flex his arm or pec where she hit, hoping that she'd be impressed by what she had casually felt.
Because if he paid her one compliment it was over. No way could over-emotional-wears-his-heart-and-nerves-on-his-sleeve-Elric hide what he felt for her otherwise. It was dangerous for her to know how much she occupied his mind. No way would he tell her how much he missed her whenever she left or how excited he was once she came back. It was unfair to let her know that he had real, difficult, complicated feelings for her and that he thought she was the most interesting person he had ever met and that she was amazing at everything she did.
Right now, he was loathe to let her know any of that. Cutting her down at the knees was a lot easier, anyhow.
Days until the colonies declare war: 1,019
AC 216 - Colony L1
Ed heard her crying in her room walking past one day. The door was closed, which was strange, but he could tell she was sobbing heavily in-between deep, huffy breaths. He told himself that he didn't care, which was a lie—he paid a lot of attention to her lately.
As she worked on the Gundams, he'd hover around her, peeking his head into the panel to see what she might see.
As she sat on the couch getting her hair braided by Izumi, he'd glance quickly at her, desperate to memorize the nape of her neck, the four earrings on her ears, the upturn of her nose, and the sweet smile on her lips.
As she was coding in her room, he'd slide in through the open door, gripping the back of her chair as he leaned over her to squint at her code - proudly letting her know whenever she forgot a bracket or that her commands were too convoluted and she could halve it with a conditional command.
He liked engaging with her. She always got so annoyed. And he had not stopped teasing her. Now it was even funnier since he was finally taller than her. Like earlier today, when Winry walked into the galley after he poured the hot water into his tea cup, he set the box of teas on the highest shelf and watched as she got frustrated trying to reach it. He leaned his hip against the counter and looked at her with a puzzled expression as his tea steeped. He just couldn't figure out the cause of her frustration. "Why are you so irritated? Is it your luteal phase?"
"You're such an asshole! And gross!" She'd charged, looking as if she could slap him. "I'm telling Izumi you said that."
"Be my guest," he said slyly, shrugging his shoulders with an air of indifference. "She's the one who taught me to be mindful of women's cycles."
"ERR!" Winry screeched. She was still so cute when she got mad. Ed laughed before reaching up to hand her the box. She chucked the tea towel at his head before she walked away.
But now, not even three hours later, she was crying… Crying like someone had died.
He knocked on the door. After a second's pause, he heard shuffling, surprised to see Izumi hold open the door.
"Edward," she looked at him softly. Izumi—tough as nails, terrifying in combat, unimpressed by nearly everything—was also one of the gentlest, sweetest people he had ever known and he trusted her with his feelings wholeheartedly. "Winry…will need some time, if you don't mind."
"Oh, sure. I was…just checking on her." He said quietly hoping not to bother the small crying girl. He could see her lying flat on the bed with her face buried in the pillow to muffle her cries. "I'm here if either of you need me," he confirmed as he looked sincerely at Izumi.
She reached a hand out to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You're a great kid, Ed." Then she closed the door.
Two days later, Ed found out that both her parents died on the Red Cross civilian ship that was sending medical aid between Earth and the Colonies.
The official news reported that it was shot down by a terrorist mobile suit pilot, so therefore the Federation was placing the Colonies on limited travel in order to assess the situation. However, Izumi clarified that it was a Federation soldier who took the shot on their orders. The purpose was twofold: the Federation got wind of insurgent forces developing mobile suits and they were looking for a reason to tighten security on the Colonies. Additionally, the Rockbells were targeted specifically due to their influence and power as the richest family in space whose loyalty to the Federation was in question.
Whatever the reason, Winry's parents were dead.
On day five, Ed nudged her door open with his foot as he carried her lunch tray in. He set it on the desk next to her uneaten breakfast, which he went to pick up and take out, when a quiet voice said, "hi."
Ed turned around. Winry was sitting in her pajamas, one leg curled against her chest while the other pressed its toes against the floor. She smiled warily from her bed.
"Hey," Ed started, leaning his back against the desk. He tried to cross his arms in a cool way but actually lost his balance, tilted, readjusted and then crossed his arms again straightening up.
"Thanks for the food, I appreciate it." She yawned then sniffed, bringing the end of her sleeve up to her nose to wipe.
Ed shook his head as he walked over with a napkin from the tray. "Here," he handed it to her. "Don't use your sleeve."
"Mm, okay," she took it and dabbed at her face. "I must look a mess." Ed, thought she looked as pretty as always. She craned her neck and looked at herself in the mirror above the desk. "Yeah," she smiled. "A total mess. Sorry you have to see me like this."
Ed's lips tightened. He kneeled down before her and locked his eyes with hers. "Never apologize for this. I get it."
Winry glanced at him curiously. She hardly saw this side of him. "What do you mean?"
"You…really don't know?" He asked confused. Winry shook her head then patted the bed, beckoning him to sit across from her. As Ed sat down, mirroring her with his knee bent against his chest and his toes pressed against the floor, he adjusted one more time before looking away and admitting. "Our mom died when we were really young. It's why we live with Izumi and Sig, she adopted us from foster care. We owe everything to them."
"Really?" Winry asked politely, she wiped her eye again. She didn't know the story and knew better than to ask—but she was always curious of the circumstances. "How old were you?"
"I was 8, Al was 7. We were originally from Earth and mom brought us here when I was 5. Like always, there was an epidemic. It occurred during Earth-sanctioned medical rations and we couldn't get the medicine in time. Losing a parent is terrible, I can't even imagine losing both. I'm so sorry, Winry." He looked at her straight, she met his steady gaze. She hadn't seen a sincere side of him…maybe ever? And she knew him pretty well by now, it'd been four years since they first met and she noted every single thing he said, and did, and smiled, and laughed, and she…uh…had paid a lot of attention to him, so she was sure this was the first of him being sincere.
She reached forward and grabbed his hands, holding them in her own. "I'm sorry too, Ed. That's awful. Poor you and Al, you guys didn't deserve it."
Ed raised his chin. "No one deserves it." He confirmed. "And that's what we are doing, Winry," he added softly, rubbing her hands within his own, her soft pretty hands that were often hidden inside large leathery gloves. "We are trying to save a lot of people. Everyone should have a chance to thrive. The Colonies are suffering and Earth is hoping we will fold." He squeezed her hands within his. "I won't let it happen. And now your parents too, we'll get those bastards, Winry. I promise."
She met his eyes. His fiery eyes that shone like molten metal in their determined fury. She squeezed his hands back. "I know we'll do it." For the first time in a week, she smiled directly at him. "Because I have complete faith in you. I always will."
Days until the Colonies declare war: 701
AC 217 - Colony L1: Mechanic Bay
Sometimes Ed had trouble sleeping and as he rolled around in his bed under the covers, listening to Alphonse snore under him in the bottom bunk, he'd get a tiny, tingling sixth sense that propelled him to visit Mechanic Bay.
Mechanic Bay, a disused factory that'd been stripped of its machines 70 years ago, now housed the Fullmetal and KISA Gundams permanently. He loved visiting his Gundam. Fullmetal loomed large and looked terrifying. Bright red metal panels accented by black tones and holding his weapon of choice: a spear with a laser tiphead, Fullmetal looked like a kick-ass devil. Fullmetal was sick as hell.
He was beginning to feel restless knowing how much closer they were getting to completing the adaptation of the biometric data. Once the data was collected, they would invade Earth, declare war on the Federation, and restore democracy to mankind. He was getting pretty excited about the prospect.
There was only one thing Ed liked more than Fullmetal and she was standing before the mobile suit, leaning inside one of the open panels, crossing wires to and fro. Despite his many digs at her attire, she still dressed in her handkerchief top and low-riding boiler suit. Her hips, belted with the arms of her mechanic jumper, jutted to one side in thought. Her long hair was pulled back by the bandana she always wore, which she tried to match with the color of the suit she was working on. Today, like most days, the bandana was red.
Ed snuck up quietly behind her. She was halfway inside the panel cavity with her butt sticking out. "Hey," he whispered in her ear.
She shrieked and jumped up, hitting her head against the metal roof and letting out a string of curses in a hiss. She rubbed the top of her head with one hand and smacked him playfully on the arm with the other. "You asshole! Stop doing that!"
He smiled. His smiles were easier these days. It seemed she was always around.
"Can't sleep?" He'd ask as he leaned back and sat on his bottom. He tossed a water bottle her way before taking a sip from his own as she sat across from him.
"Yeah, I had an idea," she started. She always had an idea.
And Ed listened to while she talked about voltage and pressure and hertz and neurons and code, but he was only half paying attention because he just liked watching her talk. She'd look up in the air thoughtfully, smile at herself as she worked out the problem aloud. Sometimes she laughed and it literally sounded like angels. He couldn't help smiling as he watched her. He looked in her eyes. He'd watch her little nose wiggle as she smirked. He was mesmerized by her lips.
"I, uh, appreciate how much attention you're giving my Gundam—"
"You mean my Gundam" she corrected him.
He rolled his eyes. "The Gundam that is synced to me and has been for the last 9 years? The Gundam that doesn't turn on unless my heat signature is present?"
She took a sip of water and smirked. "The Gundam that I coded to do so? I could wipe it out tomorrow—er, later today rather." She absent-mindlessly scanned the large room for a computer. "Gee, what time is it?"
A computer pod answered her from afar. "3:57AM, Ms. Rockbell."
"Yeesh," Winry said as she wiped her eyes. "I guess I forgot to go to bed again. Why are you up?"
He shrugged.
"You seem restless, Ed. Is everything ok?" He shrugged again. If she was really concerned, she could read his data from the mobile suit. She probably had already.
"I'm fine."
She smirked again. "You're such a crappy liar." She nudged his foot with her own. "I'm your friend, you can tell me what's wrong."
He looked away.
Her eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Ed…" she started softly. She shifted over to sit next him an brought her hand over to reach for his. He moved his hand away.
"I'm fine Winry, really. You're so emotional."
"So are you.." she started softly.
He rolled his eyes. "Still reading my data?"
She caught his eyes, looking stern and serious. "I stopped doing it like two years or so ago. I only check the sync ratio; you're still a top performer. You and Fullmetal are 98.9% accurate. Al's still behind you by 0.2%. Top of the class as always." She grinned.
He shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn't going to let her know he was pleased as shit.
"Anyways," she continued, "it's your data. I will only look at it if you want me to. I figure you need some privacy in your life. I'm a teenager too. I get it. Shit's…weird."
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks, I guess." He took another sip. "I don't care if you read it or not. It's probably as uninteresting as ever." He started getting up. He reached a hand over to help her up too. "Only because my simulations are perfect and it's hard to improve perfection."
She threw her empty plastic bottle at his head, the quarter-gravity slowing its arc. Ed swiftly dodged it still smiling. "Come on, Gearhead, let's get you to bed."
He lead her to her room where she pressed her hand against the doorpad to slide it open. He gave her a small wave farewell before heading to the room he shared with Al.
Winry quickly showered and changed, sighing heavily as she rolled under the covers. Without being able to contain her curiosity, she pulled up Fullmetal's data on her palm pad.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she scanned the data. The word appeared again and again and again and again. It jutted in-between sessions, staccatoing his chart more frequently than any other measure. At first she assumed it occurred while she monitored their training or interrupted with questions about performance; but it went back weeks—months even. And it occurred during periods when she wasn't even on the Colony. Plus, she realized, Ed had gotten so good she hardly interrupted him at all, not like she used to when they were kids.
The biometrics computed an affinity, one laced with protection, admiration, and goal-oriented drive. Fullmetal felt unending joy and confidence whenever he focused on this motivator, ultimately correlating to an incredible 15% surge in accuracy for the pilot. Overall, the unit designated it as a core purpose. Simply, it mattered to him. A lot.
It was just the one word, over and over and over.
Winry.
She pressed the palm pad to her chest and smiled. Her heart beat furiously. That stupid moron.
She…really liked him too.
Days until the Colonies declare war: 183
AC 218 - Colony L1
Winry was sitting on the patio of the bar. Dressed in some terribly hot mini skirt and drinking a beer, her nails tapped the glass of the bottle she was holding. She stared out over the green hills of the adjacent park. She was smiling, like always, and she looked so beautiful.
Inside that brain was the smartest person Ed ever met in his life. She was rattling on about the newest discoveries in fusion propulsion and she was thinking out loud of the ways to incorporate a more infinite core source into his mobile suit. He couldn't stop focusing on every which way her lips moved as she talked, so he leaned forward and set his lips against hers.
Lost in the world of Newtonian physics, Winry wasn't paying attention. He had set his mouth against hers mid-word so she puttered and snapped her head back in shock. She glanced up and down at him quickly, only really taking in his eyes and his lips, before she set the beer down and jumped into his arms to return his kiss. He caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her little frame as she pressed herself further into his chest, their lips meeting in a sweet eagerness that simultaneously grounded them in place while also slinging every single brain cell into outer space.
Al threw a napkin on top of their heads, laughing with Ling and Lan Fan that they needed to get a room.
What possessed Edward Elric, eighteen and horribly ashamed of any physical expression with another person—especially Winry Rockbell—to make the first move? The Colonies were declaring war at the end of the week. The Gundam's first mission only had a 62% chance to succeed. It was their only, best chance.
Ed figured his odds with Winry Rockbell were 50/50. It was his only, best chance too.
Days until the Colonies declare war: 5
