Winry woke with a start.

She had been dreaming – and very deeply too. That was rare luxury with a 4 week year old baby. She vaguely registered that it was raining outside, and that it felt chilly in the new house. She wrapped her duvet closely around her shoulders and rubbed her tired eyes until the crust of sleep had been chipped away. She realized the reason she felt cold and empty was that Edward was not lying asleep beside her. He was missing.

There was a strange heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt uneasy – like something was wrong. Perhaps it had been her dream? She couldn't remember.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar and Winry could see a dim light coming from across the hall –the baby's room.

She got out of bed, taking the duvet with her. As quietly as a mouse she crossed the hall into the small nursery they had set up. Baby Maes had slept in a bassinet next to their bed at first– but starting three nights ago they had transitioned the infant to his mahogany crib that his father had made him. Winry grinned as she slowly peeked her head into the room. The sight before her brought warm affection and longing into her heart – and also exasperation. Edward was holding his son close in the cradle of his arms, rocking him in the chair by the window and humming a low, soft melody. He was staring down sweetly at his son's infant face with a look of utter amazement and contentment. He just couldn't resist. If anyone has having a problem adjusting to moving the baby across the hall, it was Edward.

"Ed. If you hold him while he sleeps every night, he will never learn independence." Winry whispered softly, coming fully into the room and standing before her husband, one had on her hip.

He looked up slowly, his eyes bright. He smiled.

"I don't care." He continued to rock his son softly and gave the small back a pat of his hand. "You go on back to bed and get some good sleep. I'll feed him in an hour or so."

Winry shrugged and let out a sigh. For a moment she just watched them. Maes was snug and secure in his father's arms – the tuft of his fine blonde hair sticking up like a proto-antennae. One small thumb was stuck in the clutch of his baby lips and he was slightly sucking onto it – the beginnings of a childish habit. He looked like his father already and it made Winry feel out of control with love. Edward grinned as he watched his wife's face soften. He knew she couldn't be mad at him for something like this. Well, at least not yet.

"He likes to hold onto hair." He whispered, looking back down at his son. "It kinda hurts"

"I know." Winry replied. "He'll just get stronger. You and I will need to start tying our hair back when we feed him.

"I don't mind it."

At that moment there was a loud slam from the living room. Someone had rushed into the house and not given a care as to how loudly they did so. The sudden noise woke the baby, and Ed scrambled to soothe him as a large wail escaped his tiny mouth.

"What the FUCK!" Edward cursed – and then immediately regretted it….he was going to have to start watching his mouth before his son could understand him.

"I don't know!" Winry cried worriedly and rushed from the room.

It was Alphonse. As they rushed to the dark living room to find the culprit of the sound, they found the youngest Elric shaking and trying to catch his breath.

"Al!" Winry cried coming to him and patting his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

It was when Alphonse glanced up into her eyes, sadness and concern etched in every facial muscle, that Winry realized something was horribly wrong. There WAS a reason she had woken suddenly and felt that sinking feeling in her gut.

"What is it?" she said – panic etching her face. She heard Edward come running into the room, holding the crying baby, slightly bouncing him in his arms to try and get him to quiet.

"Winry." Alphonse breathed, his eyes meeting his brothers for only a hair of a second. "Winry. It's granny."

"She's…Winry, She's died."