Delilah

You used to gaze upon the stars when you were younger. Anytime you were outside at night, your gaze would eventually fixate itself upon the stars overhead, and you would marvel at the glittering tapestry above you, picking out planets and stars and tracing constellations you’d memorized the names of. You would get lost in the sky for hours, until your neck hurt, or until the chill of night forced you back inside. 

You weren’t sure why you would gaze upon the stars so readily; you reasoned that it was the silent peace that it brought you. That it was in part due to how vast and endless the night sky was, that there was always something new to notice, that it was a constant above you even when the dawn came, and daylight obscured the stars. But as to what first drew you to them, you couldn’t recall. 

Now, they were the only things that you actually recognized. Constant companions that hadn’t changed one bit despite you having been thrust far back in time. There came a lonely comfort in viewing them, one that had you drawing your knees to your chest and contemplating them until sleep embraced you. 

Tonight, you were in the Crimson Mirelands, your camp nestled in the half-moon embrace of trees surrounded by a field of wild, ancient grain. Your back was against a tree, and the distortion you’d fallen through was to your back, saving you from the vision of a broken sky. The fire crackled, occasionally popping as the flames steadily worked through the thick logs you’d built it upon, mingling with the near-silent hiss of wind through the grain stalks around you. The flickering warm glow of it illuminated your campsite in long shadows, casting you in amber-colored light. Smoke from the fire curled into the sky, embers dying upon the wind, glowing almost as brilliantly as the tapestry overhead. The stars shimmered wordlessly, almost as if they were silent guardians, watching over you as you sat alone in your camp. Lonely beyond words, lonely beyond time. 

You were displaced, and you knew you didn’t belong here. In this budding civilization, wearing woven silk garments bearing an insignia that was too similar to another insignia for something far more nefarious, fulfilling a professor’s wish to understand the world around him. And though you tried, you knew that you would never be fully trusted. That there would be those who would continue to look at you with apprehension, that there would be those who would refuse to meet your gaze. What a lonely experience to live in a world so familiar but far more unfamiliar, to live in a world where your home didn’t exist yet and wouldn’t exist until you were long gone. But at least.. You had the stars. 

And, you shifted your position to poke the fire with a decent-sized branch you’d found; there were people who welcomed you. Laventon may have been eccentric, but it was a familiar eccentricity that reminded you of other Pokémon professors you’d encountered. And he always complimented and rewarded your work well, though you really wished there was more on the menu than potato mochi. Rei wasn’t bad either; he just didn’t know how to talk to you sometimes, awkward silences would drag on as he’d look for something to talk to you about that wasn’t fieldwork. But he hadn’t outwardly doubted you in some time. Then there was Adaman… who looked at you like you’d hung the stars. 

Yes, there was Adaman, who welcomed you so readily. And it had been a light in the dark, a spark of hope that you might yet find your place in this new timeline someday. Thinking of it now, you weren’t surprised that you had developed feelings for him. He’d quickly become a confidante, helping you navigate the situation you’d found yourself in with a relaxed intentionality that you needed. You planned to make a visit to the Diamond Clan next time your research took you near their settlement. It would be nice to sleep in a real bed again rather than roughing it another night. You remembered that last time you had visited, you and Adaman had stayed up together, curled around a fire, and spent hours talking about nothing important. It was the most normal you’d felt in a long time, even with your heart hammering against your chest when he’d pressed his shoulder against yours while making a point. 

Sometimes, secretly, you wondered if he ever looked at you the same way that you looked at him. Yes, he looked at you like you’d hung the stars, but was it affection or mere interest that was behind that look? 

You wondered what he was up to now. Was he checking in with Lady Lilligant and her warden? Training into the night with Leafeon, or doing his own patrols with Umbreon? Adaman never wasted a moment of time; there was always an intention behind each of his actions. Did he ever take the time to slow down? You returned your attention to the stars above, eyes tracing a familiar constellation and recalling the story behind it. There was the Teddiursa constellation, and not far from it was Ursaring. If you looked left you’d find the beginnings of another constellation… 

“Aha! Had a feeling it’d be you here!” 

Your head snapped back down, tearing your gaze away from the stars and straining to see past the dim light of your camp. It didn’t take long for Adaman to come into view, heralded by Umbreon, who was more than happy to see you as she bounded over to you while you stood. 

“Ah, no need to stand for me.” 

“Well, too late. Gotta work on your timing, Adaman.” You smiled, watching him smile and huff out a laugh at your joke, “What are you doing out here so late?” 

“Umbreon and I were just wrapping up our patrol when we saw the light of your fire from the ridge. Thought it might be you. Glad I was right.” He rested his hands loosely in his pockets, shifting his weight into a comfortable standing position, “Doing alright out here?” 

“Just about.” You gave your white lie, suddenly feeling on the spot, “I was actually.. Looking at the stars. If you wanted to join me. That is- if you have the time- I wouldn’t want to waste any of your ti-” “I’d be happy to. Time with you is time well spent.” He said it so casually, like it didn’t just cause your face to immediately burn up and your heart to skip a beat. 

You watched Adaman practically march over to the tree that you had been sitting against, sitting next to where you’d been sitting moments before, and patting the ground next to him as if you were suddenly wasting his time. 

“Come, I want to see what you see.” 

After a moment of hesitation, you sat next to him, shifting your weight to where you were comfortable. It was hard to get comfortable without being pressed against Adaman’s side, but you managed, heart hammering in your chest. Umbreon didn’t join you, instead choosing to stand on the edge of the firelight, eyes gazing out into the dark around you, watching for potential threats. 

Warmth rolled against you from Adaman, steady and scented faintly with the incense they would burn in the Diamond Clan village. The heady scent did little to quell your racing heartbeat or the rising heat that burned the tips of your ears. 

“So, tell me about these stars. Are they much different than where you’re from?” 

“Not much. Brighter for sure. You don’t have light pollution here yet, and the moon is new, and there aren’t many clouds in the sky. So, it’s a good night for star gazing.” 

“I’d say, you looked quite enamoured before I announced myself. What caught your eye?” 

“There's a pair of constellations I recognize, see right there? That bright star there.” You pointed with your right hand, tracing out the constellation for Adaman, “That’s the Teddiursa constellation, next to it is Ursaring.” 

Adaman studied the constellation for a moment, but his gaze secretly drifted to you as you began to introduce more constellations to him. A soft smile settled across his face. There was a spark in your eyes that he rarely saw these days, a genuine smile that met your eyes, the pitch of your voice would get the slightest bit higher, more lifelike when you spoke of the stars. Adaman used to not care much about the stars at night. Nighttime was rarely peaceful for him, though he made it seem like it was. Responsibility weighed on his shoulders, the safety of his sleeping clan rested upon him, and the patrol set up around the camp. But to see you safe enough to look upon the stars in wonder… It got him thinking. And there would be times when he found his gaze drifting skyward on his nightly patrols. It had surprised him the first time he thought of you bathed in the quiet glow of starlight, different from your determined caution and curiosity that you often viewed the world with. He knew two things at that time: The first was that he loved you. The second is that he would fight the heavens if it meant he would get to see that look upon your face as much as he wanted. 

“And that one-” Your sentence died the moment you felt the brush of Adaman’s fingers against your cheek, a strand of hair being tucked back into place. Adaman’s hand lingered, his fingers rough and calloused, but warm upon your face. He made an amused sound, finally drawing his hand away. 

“Which one?” He tilted his head, not at all looking towards the sky but directly at you. How long had he been staring? You slowly pulled your gaze away, searching for the constellation you had been pointing out again. You pointed with your right hand. 

“That one over there, see how it’s a slightly different color?” 

“I don’t think I see it. Here. Why don’t I put my head on your shoulder, and you can point with your left arm, I’m sure to see it then!” He was already moving closer to you, giving you little time to adjust your arm so you could accommodate him. 

He rested his head upon your shoulder, and you silently whispered a prayer to Arceus that he wouldn’t hear the way your heart practically leapt into your throat when he did. 

“Hang on-” His right arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, “There. Which one was it?” 

You pointed out the constellation to him, your left arm guiding his eyes with care. You were sure you were absolutely red from the neck up and that there was no possible way that your heartbeat was only being heard by you. Indeed, Adaman could hear your heartbeat, and it only made him want to pull you closer, to fall asleep listening to it. What peace that could bring him… 

He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and stopping you in your tracks again so that you could turn and look at him, wide-eyed and unable to form a sound, as if struggling to register what had happened. He sat up, his left hand reaching over to gently cup your face, kissing you on the lips. You hesitated at first, but melted into his kiss moments later, sighing as tension finally left your shoulders. Your hands found his face, fingers brushing lightly against his hair but never fully committing to touching him. 

Adaman pulled back just as you settled into the kiss, sighing in content as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“I’m not dreaming.. Am I?” You whispered slowly, finding your words. 

Adaman only shook his head, “It would be a kind dream if it was, but no. Not a dream.” 

“Oh, good.” You kissed him again, your hands finally cradling his face, “I don’t want it to be.” 

When you pulled away, Adaman coaxed you onto his lap, your back against his chest, and his arms wrapped around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, leaning his head against yours. 

“Tell me more about the stars.” He hummed, “This is a good night for stargazing.” 

Promised Day. A day of death.

The very thought makes his stomach turn. Even with all the skills and manpower in the world this could go horribly wrong. And they definitely do not have either of those.

Their team is small and the opposition is monstrous.

…literally, Ed thinks with a dry chuckle. Against beings like Pride and Wrath the chances of their failure are far, far higher than that of their success.

And the costs are so high. He opens his eyes just slightly, staring through the slits at the automail hand he holds up to the sky. If he and Al don’t manage this, they will lose everything.

Their friends, their family, their home, their chance at getting their bodies back and their very motivation to do so.

He – Ed swallows against the lump in his throat – he will lose her.

“Ed!”

As if she has heard his thoughts from afar, Winry’s voice carries across the lawn.

“You forgot the blanket!”

“What?” Ed shoves himself up onto his forearms, frowning. “Why do we – oof!”

The object in question comes careening off of the porch and comes down upon him. For a moment the world is narrowed to gray fabric and a nose-clogging musty scent. Then, he manages to tackle the hefty thing to the ground.

Winry has walked down the stairs by that point and is standing in front of him when he scowls up into the sun. He pointedly ignores how her hair glows in its golden rays.

“Did you have to chuck it at my head?!”

“You can’t have a proper picnic without something to sit on.”

She grabs the blanket out of his hands. With a hearty shake, she sends it floating down to the ground.

“Did you get the sandwiches?”

Grumbling under his breath, Ed reaches for the basket.

“Yeah, yeah I got them.”

Now that he thinks about it, maybe suggesting a picnic was not the best idea. He’d believed it would be a great way to get out of the dark, stuffy house and get to spend some time with his best friend soak up some sunshine before it all goes down. And it still is, probably. Or it would be if Winry wasn’t being so nagging.

She takes the food he hands her and sets it out on the blanket. Then, she pats the spot beside her.

“Why’re you sitting over there in the grass? Come sit with me!”

Sighing, he drags himself up off of the ground and shuffles the two inches it takes to reach the blanket. It’s sizable enough for two people to sit on it, but only if they are seated closely. And when Ed sits down, he finds his shoulder brushing up against Winry’s.

Instantly, his cheeks heat. He can feel her warmth through the sleeve of his shirt. The smell of her wafts to his nostrils — automail grease and the hearty bar soap Granny always buys.

It is a familiar scent that makes something twist painfully inside of him. A knot he didn’t fully register being there wound tighter, begging to be undone.

She smells like comfort and safety. She smells like home.

“Ed? Are you okay?”

Winry is looking at him, her face so close to his that if he wanted to he could lean forward just a bit and…Ed’s cheeks grow even hotter. He must be as red as his coat by now.

“What?” His voice cracks at the end, squeaking slightly. He shakes his head, clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Definitely fine.”

Desperate to distract himself, he grabs his sandwich and takes a bite. It works about as effectively as reciting the periodic table.

“You’re thinking about the Promised Day, aren’t you?”

Ed pauses mid-chew, turning to Winry. She is gazing down at her own sandwich, long strands of golden blonde hair hiding her face. But the tension in her shoulders tells him all that he needs to know.

She is as scared as he is…and trying desperately not to be.

She is as scared as he is and yet, she believes in him nonetheless.

That knot within him clenches again, harder this time. Ed gnaws his lip.

“You’re leaving for Amestris tomorrow.” She raises her head, looks at him. A small, sad smile lifts her lips. “Right?”

Ed gazes down at his lap. His shoulders hunch slightly. It feels as though an immense weight sits upon them. Far more than even that of solely regaining he and Al’s bodies.

He sighs. “…yeah.”

It is quiet for a moment. Then, her hand finds his. She squeezes and he drags his eyes up to hers. Gold meets blue, fire and fear in both.

“You’re gonna win, Ed!” She says, voice tight with emotion and determination. “I don’t care what doubts are in that head of yours. I know you will! You’re gonna save the world and get you and Al’s bodies back!”

Ed swallows, hard. His throat is horribly tight. His stomach is a mess of butterflies.

But Winry’s hand is warm and steady in his, a comfort and a reassurance. The callouses upon it tell of the lives she has saved.

…his included.

Ed sets down his food and places his other hand over the top of their entwined ones. Tentatively, he rubs his thumb over her skin. He can’t feel her with this one — his automail is as unreceptive as Al’s armor. But his every sense is alive anyway.

They are so close now that it’s agonizing.

“I want…” He breathes in, breathes out. He is certain that his grip is horribly clammy. “Winry I…”

It is pure torture. The words won’t come. Ed shakes his head.

Why is he so bad at this?

He looks at Winry and she looks back. He feels paralyzed by her gaze.

“Yeah, Ed?” She cocks her head. “What is it that you want?”

You.

The thought pops into his head before he can stop it, taunting like Riza’s voice proclaiming his love. His entire face flushes red.

“Ed?” There is a question in those beautiful blue eyes now, one Ed can’t seem to answer.

But there is something he has to do regardless. Because he might not be alive to do it later.

He steels his resolve, leans forward, and kisses her.

Winry makes a little surprised noise. And Ed wonders if maybe she doesn’t want this after all, if maybe he’s overstepped and messed everything up and this will be one of the last memories Winry will have of him — Ed being an absolute idiot.

But then she is leaning into him and her hands are free from between his and they are on his face instead, cupping it as though he is something precious to her. Something more important than even the automail she adores.

He brings his hands up too, brushing her hair behind her ears, brushing his thumbs lightly on her cheeks.

They only pull back when they are both breathless. And then, they merely sit for a moment, foreheads pressed together, both blushing madly and grinning like they have already won the coming battle.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d do that,” Winry says, at last, matter of factly.

Ed sits back with a start. His eyebrows dip into a frown.

“You’ve been waiting for me to kiss you? For how long?!”

Winry shrugs. “Since your promise at the train station.”

Ed gawks. “You’ve known since that day?! And-and you didn’t — ”

She doesn’t let him finish.

When they separate the second time, it is with even more reluctance than before. Somehow this has made his leaving all the more terrifying, and certainly more painful.

And it seems Winry feels that too.

“Come back to me, Edward Elric,” she whispers, as they sit close beneath a smiling sky, food forgotten in the rush of this moment.