A/N: Hi guys! Hope you are enjoying this series so far. I honestly just wanted to write this because I was super unhappy with the Conqueror of Shamballa ending, so that's why it seems kind of jumbled and weird.. Therefore, in hope of making things less jumbled, I'm figuring I'm probably going to go back and revise lots of things from the beginning and throughout the series. Just thought you'd want to know :D :P
August 19, 1926
Grandma Pinako finds me asleep with my face pressed against the window the next morning.
"Winry! Get up off of there!" she nags, swatting me with the newspaper she'd been reading, "You're going to get the window all dirty with your drool!"
"Huh?" I mutter, still half-asleep.
Grandma sighs. "Winry, please don't tell me you pulled another all-nighter working on some automail again. It's not good for a girl of your age."
I yawn, and stretch out my arms. "No, Grandma, I went to bed at a reasonable time. And even if I didn't, I'm not a little girl anymore—I can stay up if I want to."
She smiles. "Ah, but you'll always be my little girl."
I stand up and smile back, but it feels empty. I can't forget the nightmare I had last night, and it haunts me.
"Come on now," Grandma calls to me as she hobbles from the room with her walking stick, "Let's have some breakfast."
I help her down the steps and find myself salivating as I smell the scent of good food wafting through the halls. Grandma always knows how to cook, almost as well as she knows how to make automail.
I sit down at the table and help myself to generous servings of bacon, grateful for the food. Den gently licks my foot, trying to get me to slip him a few crumbs.
"So," Grandma starts, looking down at her newspaper while nibbling at a piece of toast, "What do we have to do today?"
"I think we have to repair Mr. Trindle's prosthetic today," I comment through a mouthful of bacon, "Oh, and we should definitely finish the automail for the Irene's cat. We've kept her waiting too long now."
Grandma looks up from her newspaper. "Is that it?"
I close my eyes, trying to remember. "Yeah, I think so. What's wrong?"
She sighs. "It's not enough."
I look at her, puzzled. "What do you mean, not enough?"
She looks at me directly, slamming her hands on the table. Her eyes are angry and seem slightly crazed, as if she has just changed into a completely different person. "You know very well what I mean! Ever since those Elric boys left and stopped coming here, we've been slowly falling into debt! There's not a lot of business in Resembool, you know!"
I stop eating, my fork still in my mouth. I didn't expect Grandma to just explode like that, but it's becoming more common nowadays.
Doctor Gillingham called it dementia, and something that we needed to fret over, as she was going to die from her brain deteriorating in 2 months.
It's been 2 years since then.
She suddenly hunches over and starts to cough into her hands, little specks of red flying out from her cupped fingers. I immediately run over to her and pat her on the back, handing her my napkin. She accepts it quickly, burying her face into it and heaving. I watch with agony slowly building up in my chest. I hate seeing Grandma like this.
After her coughing spat is done, she takes a deep breath, settling back into her chair.
"I'm sorry," she wheezes simply.
"Don't be," I say, taking her cold hands into my warm ones.
"You know I don't have much time left," she says.
"I still think we should call the doctor again," I tell her, "He'll know what to do. Maybe he can help you."
"You already know what his answer will be, Winry," she states sharply, "You know there's nothing anyone can do for me now. Just a whole bunch of bullshit medications that'll elongate the pain."
I look at her sadly, knowing this to be true. Even with the quick examination of her throat I gave her with my amateur doctor skills a few weeks back, I knew that her lungs had already been destroyed past redemption. She is right. There is nothing anyone can do.
"Winry," Grandma says firmly, "When I die, I want you to sell this house."
My gaze snaps to her suddenly. "What?! Why?"
She smiles. "I can tell you right now, you will get depressed and lonely here without anyone besides Den to keep you company."
Den nudges my foot affectionately, as if to argue Grandma's point.
"I-I don't know if…if I can do that," I say honestly, looking away.
"But you must," she replies, squeezing my hand slightly, causing me to look back at her.
Her eyes are filled with tears.
"Winry, I want you to go out into the world for me. Explore it. Find new automail techniques. Find new people. Find a new meaning of life," Grandma says to me, "I know that's what you want too. I've seen that ever since the minute those boys left." She smiles. "You want to find them, don't you?"
I nod, a tear running down my face.
"I want to find them too," she says, "They are like my sons, after all."
She clasps both her hands around mine. Their cold is chilling, but her eyes are filled with a determined fire that makes them feel warm again.
"So…won't you find them for me?"
I nod, the tears now coming down like a waterfall, a waterfall that is both freeing and sorrowful. "Of course, Grandma," I say, hugging her frail body. She seems to relax as soon as I say that, as if a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders.
She starts to stand up, and I have to stop hugging her in order to help her up. She pushes me away when I try to do this, though. She is determined to go on her own.
"Winry, I would like to work outside today, if that is acceptable."
I nod. "Of course it is, Grandma. I'll go and get your tools, so you just go outside and wait for now."
She smiles at me. "You'll always be my little girl," she says out of the blue.
I smile back, realizing that's her way of telling me that she cares for me. "I love you too, Grandma."
She sighs softly, and starts to slowly make her way to the front door. I dry the tears from my eyes as I watch her head out the door, and then head to her workshop to grab her equipment.
Once I gather the most necessary tools she needs to make her automail, I put it all in a box and start to head towards the front door. The box is heavy, so I struggle with trying to open the door outside, and end up having to push it open with my knee.
The day outside is beautiful. It's that time of the year where every day is beautiful in Resembool, where summer is at its peak, and the air is soft and cushioned as the wind brushes through the trees. The air is warm and fuzzy like a blanket, and the world is wonderful.
I turn on the porch to find Grandma slumped over in a rocking chair. She seems as if she is about to fall asleep, but her eyes still signal that she is awake.
I set down the supplies next to the chair. "Grandma, I got your stuff."
"Well," she says quietly out to horizon, "I wasn't expecting this."
"Expecting what?" I ask, kneeling down.
She turns to me, her eyes focusing. "Winry, it appears I have to go now."
I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this. "What do you mean? Grandma, where are you going?"
"I am tired. I'm going to sleep."
She may be tired, but I am confused. "But…wait! You were just…you were just fine! Just a few minutes ago, you were fine!"
She smiles, and closes her eyes. "Winry, you and I have been expecting this for a while now. It's my time."
"But you can't leave me!" I protest helplessly, starting to cry again, "Grandma, don't go! Not now, please!"
She squeezes my hand a little. "I love you, my little girl."
"Grandma…grandma please," I beg desperately. I feel like my brain has known that this was coming soon, but my heart aches, yearning for my Grandma.
"I believe in you…Winry…" she sighs, and breathes her last breath.
I feel her hand. It's ice cold.
She has left me all alone.
I put my face in my hands, beginning to sob. Den comes out of the house and begins to whine at grandma, trying to wake her up.
My dream was right about one thing, I realize.
Everything is gone.
