Ficlet: It's Not Luck

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

It's Not Luck
S J Smith

Disclaimer:  I am not now, nor have I ever been, Hiromu Arakawa.

Summary:   Edward doesn't believe in luck. 

Rating:  Teen

Fandom/Pairing:  Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell

A.N.:  Second ficlet inspired by the fic_variations prompt, 'luck'.   Speculation for the end of the series but no real spoilers.  Much thanks to cornerofmadness for the first read-through.

A.N.2:  For netta_sloan.
 

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Luck was not something Edward Elric believed it, not it nor fate nor destiny.  Those words, he thought, had nothing to do with him.  If he even considered that his life was preordained in any way, it would lead to a bleak despair that he might never be able to crawl out of.  And Ed prided himself on not being the type of person who gave in to despair.  He was a scientist; there were no odds or angles, things worked simply because they did; there was an equation and a law to back him up on everything. 

Rolling dice?  Blowing on them had no effect.  The real trick was the weighting of the die.  Cards?  A skilled dealer could manipulate them.  It was up to the person holding the hand to play it properly.  Flipping a coin?  Any number of variables could explain how it would land, either face or tail up.  People?  They came into your life one way or another; it wasn’t luck or fortune.  Just something that happened. 

It was, Edward thought, his own stubbornness that started Alphonse and him out on their journey.  Had they not been so sure they could bring their mother back to life, especially him, he knew, taking that blame squarely on his shoulders, their lives would have been extraordinarily different.  Destiny had nothing to do with that, any more than luck had to do with him passing the State Alchemists’ exam at the age of twelve.  He was smart, considered a genius, but Ed gave credit where credit was due, at least under his breath.  Had he and Al not attempted human transmutation, Ed thought that neither of them would be quite the alchemists they were.  Granted, they were clever before they tried to bring their mother back to life, but without the knowledge the Gate passed on, without what Truth itself offered, Ed had the feeling that they would’ve been considered prodigies but not true geniuses.   (He tried not to consider what traits the bastard’s bloodline might’ve given them.  Bad enough he had to claim relationship to Von Hohenheim.)   They continued on their journey after losing so much because it was what they had to do (Ed also didn’t want to consider that the other bastard, Mustang, had something to do with galvanizing him into action); it was the path that led to Al and him getting their bodies back. 

Neither he nor Al had expected it would take so damned long to do what they’d promised each other they would so many years ago.  Ed liked to think that he’d grown a lot along the way (not just in height, either, though that was really important) but he realized that there were still things he needed to learn; there were still quests for knowledge he wanted to go on.  He was, after all, still a scientist, and there were still plenty of mysteries to be solved. 

Ed told himself it wasn’t fate or anything of that nature that led him to the place he was at now; destiny didn’t lend a hand.  It was all cause and effect, not luck of the draw, no more fatalistic than neighbor children growing up together and falling in love.  He looked down at the young woman in his arms, the mystery that kept him coming back, again and again, giving Winry a little squeeze. 

Lifting her head from its resting place on his shoulder, Winry gave him a smile.  “I was just thinking how lucky I am,” she murmured, reaching up to kiss him sweetly. 

Ed couldn’t help but lie as he said, “Me, too.”    

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