Years of automail engineering had left Pinako Rockbell with a steadier hand than most women her age. Precision work wasn't as difficult as one would expect, and although her hand would shake occasionally, she was able to steady it when it mattered. She bent over her current project, the prosthetic arm of a farmer from Resembool, carefully making adjustments. The project was almost complete; all that was left were the finishing touches.
A timer went off, and Pinako glanced at the clock. Four o'clock. Time to start dinner.
She didn't feel much like cooking for an empty house, though. Might as well keep working- her client needed this arm repaired as soon as possible, after all.
Pinako, honestly, didn't enjoy cooking. Having the boys and Winry around had always motivated her, however, and she'd become pretty good at it. Without them here, she found herself eating out of her canned goods, as well as throwing together other convenient (but less-than-healthy) recipes, not wanting to put the effort into making anything that took longer than fifteen minutes or so to prepare.
Suddenly, her hand slipped. Her oil can tipped, coating her work space with a sticky black mess. Drat. Pinako swabbed at the mess with a rag. Evidently, she needed a break from working. She thought that she'd get up, take a walk around, get something to eat.
Pinako glanced at the clock. Seven already? How time flies when you're working.
The shadowy halls to the kitchen seemed larger than usual, each footstep sounding an echo, every floorboard uttering an ominous creak. She passed by Winry's room. A strange feeling of aloneness arose in her at the sight of it, empty and dark, a thin layer of dust lying overtop of Winry's equipment.
She'd been gone longer than Pinako had expected, and the house seemed so empty without her.
Maybe it would be a good idea to go in, wipe away the dust. It was always best to keep your tools clean, after all, and Winry would be cleaning them herself if she were home.
Flipping the lightswitch, Pinako surveyed the room. It was plain and simple- Winry had never been much for frivolities (other than her weakness for jewelry)- and there was very little mess. Pinako smiled, remembering the days when she had needed to lecture Winry on keeping her room clean. Those kinds of reminders were no longer needed, it seemed.
There was a familiar little box sticking out from under the bed, and Pinako knelt, pulling it out. She opened the lid slowly, wanting to see if it really was what she thought it was.
"Look Grandma, tools!"
"Yes, Winry. They're just toys, though- you're too little for real ones."
"That's ok. Someday, I'll be allowed real ones, right?"
"As long as you're responsible with your toy ones, then you can have some real tools."
Pinako examined the wooden toys in the bin- several sizes of hammers, screwdrivers with a variety of heads, and a slew of other tools, all hand-carved by a craftsman in the village for a birthday present for Winry. Winry had been careful with them, putting them away as soon as she finished 'fixing' her friends' limbs. Den would often hold still for her, allowing her to tinker with his automail foreleg. And, as promised, Pinako had given Winry real tools for her next birthday, beginning engineering lessons the very next day.
Winry was such a talented girl- an eager learner, someone who graciously accepted mistakes being pointed out to her, and Pinako was proud to have her as a student, as well as a granddaughter. Soon, she wouldn't have anything left to teach her-
The phone was ringing. Pinako dashed across the house, nearly tripping over Den in her rush to get to the phone. She picked up the receiver.
"Hi, Grandma!"
It was Winry. Her voice was so joyful, but Pinako thought that she detected a hint of reservation. "Hi, Winry. Did you get Ed's arm fixed up yet?"
"Yeah. I'll bet that he's going to break it again pretty soon, though- I mean, how many times has he broken it already? He's so dumb, sometimes."
Pinako wanted to keep talking to her, to just enjoy her company like she always had. But she knew that something was different, that there was something that Winry was reluctant to talk about. "That's good, Winry. But there's some other reason that you called, isn't there?"
"Well…" Winry's voice trailed off. "Yeah. Actually, well… will you promise that you won't get mad at me?"
"It depends, Winry. Did you do something that I'll be disappointed in you for?"
"I… I don't think so." Winry took a deep breath. "I actually got an apprenticeship in Rush Valley. Do you mind if I stay here?"
Rush Valley. An automail engineer's dream town. It would be wonderful for Winry to get the opportunity to work there- she could learn far more from the least of the engineers there than she could ever learn from Pinako.
But she was just a little girl…
No. She was, if not a grown woman yet, well on her way to being one. She should take this chance- who knows when she would get such an opportunity again.
But she would miss her so much.
"... and after I helped with the baby's delivery, I realized that I just couldn't let Ed and Al carry the burden all by themselves. I have to help them out the best that I can, so I really hope that you don't mind!"
Poor girl- she'd been rambling on, and Pinako hadn't even been paying attention. But Winry didn't need to convince her of anything.
"Of course I don't mind, Winry. This is a fine opportunity for you, and I wouldn't have you turn it down. But…" her voice caught in her throat. "Call sometimes, okay?"
"Of course, Grandma! And I'll come home sometimes, too, I promise."
They talked for a while longer, and once final goodbyes were said, Pinako hung up. Den rubbed up against her leg, and she looked down at her faithful friend, rubbing the dog between the ears.
"Well, Den. I guess that it's just going to be us two for awhile, now."
Den stared up at her with longing eyes, and, suddenly, Pinako remembered that there was someone else to cook for, even when the boys and Winry weren't home. "Come on, Den," she said. "I think that I have something for you in the pantry."