Chapter 3

Wendy

AN: Some unpleasant concepts in this chapter, but I was trying to make this environment of early 1900's London seem realistic. Mention of prostitution.

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"I'll be out tonight, so you can have the bed," Wendy smiled, arranging the covers neatly.

Winry looked around. Wendy had led her to a small, run-down house in a grubby backstreet. Then she had led her into the cellar. Apparently, the owners rented the tiny space to her.

And 'tiny' might be giving it too much credit. There two small beds in one corner, a small sink and a toilet shielded from the rest of the room by a sheet. A table and a cupboard on the other side of the room, with barely enough room to walk between them and the beds.

Still, Winry thought she might cry from sheer relief.

"Your clothes are soaking," Wendy murmured, plucking at the sodden material. "Come on, I'll lend you some of mine."

A small pallet was pulled from beneath one of the beds, and Winry was surprised to realise that folded clothes were stacked on top of it. Wendy handed her some, and Winry couldn't run behind the toilet curtain fast enough. She shed her sopping clothes, leaving wet patches on the floor, and sighed with the happiness of feeling dry cloth against her skin. The deep slash on her chest still dripped blood, but she wrung the water out of her shirt and used it as a bandage.

When she stepped out, Wendy was putting Eddie to bed. The boy was yawning profusely, yet still protesting that he wasn't tired, and did she really have to go to work?

Wendy handled him with surprising patience, stroking his golden hair and telling him a story until he fell asleep.

With a fond smile, Wendy stood. "I don't have to work for another half an hour, but it's best to get him settled now."

"How old is he?" Winry asked.

"Three."

Winry raised her eyebrows. "He seems very articulate for a three year old."

"Well, he's very smart. Takes after his father in that respect, my husband was quite the scholar."

"Husband?"

"You're surprised?"

"Well, it's just...I didn't think you were much older than me..."

"I'm eighteen, and we married rather young."

Her voice was wistful, and slightly strained. She sounded sad – did her husband die? Winry decided to steer the conversation away from that topic as quickly as she could.

"I'm eighteen too," she said, as though the whole point of the conversation had been to learn Wendy's age.

Wendy smiled. "Well, you can see where the toilet and the sink are, and the cupboard holds most of our belongings. As for cooking, we share a kitchen with Mrs. Ryini – she's the owner. Our food is in the top section of the cupboard, make yourself at home."

"Actually, I kind of ate beforehand." And it was a miracle she didn't puke it up again after her little trip through time and space.

"Oh, well, never mind about the stove then. I'll come back at about eight tomorrow, so you can have the bed until then-"

Wendy paused. "It just occurred to me that I'm trusting a woman I only met a few hours ago with my home, my food, and my son. But it doesn't..."

"It doesn't seem odd?" Winry supplied. "I know what you mean. It's like...I don't know...it's like I've always known you, but I've only just met you. Does that make sense?"

"Not a bit," Wendy grinned. "But I'm feeling the same thing, so we must both be nutcases."

"We'll shake on it," Winry joked. "I, Winry Sara Rockbell, do hereby vow to be a fellow nutcase with Wendy in our totally unfounded trust of each other."

Wendy mimicked her. "I, Wendy Sarah Enrick, do hereby vow to be a fellow nutcase with Winry in our totally unfounded trust of each other."

They made it that long with straight faces before they doubled over with the effort of trying to keep their laughter quiet. That last thing they needed to do was wake up Eddie.

"See you when you wake up," Wendy whispered, slipping up the stairs.

Winry sighed as she settled down in the sheets. Her toolbox, with Ed's journal tucked inside, had been dumped at the foot of the bed. Eddie's soft, steady breathing provided the rhythm that lulled her into unconsciousness.

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Winry carefully avoided the rickety stair as she descended into the basement. Her throat was sore, but she was pleased that it was far less sore than it had been the first day. Her vocal chords were adapting to the unaccustomed strain.

"Auntie Win, Auntie Win!" Eddie yelled, slamming into her mid-section like a small cannonball, his arms wrapping around her waist as far as he could reach.

"Hey, Eddie, did you feed the squirrels today?"

He pouted. "No. We saw some squirrels, but they ran away, and Mummy wouldn't let me climb the tree after them."

Winry shared a smile with Wendy over Eddie's head. "And it was a good thing she did. What if you fell?"

"I never!"

Winry chuckled, shucking her coat (originally Wendy's spare), and counting the change from the pockets.

She had been here for about three months. She had lived with Wendy and Eddie, staying with him at night while Wendy worked, and making some money during the day herself, in an effort to contribute to the general upkeep of their little home.

And it had indeed become home in a surprisingly short amount of time. There were moments when she would find herself almost physically sick in longing for Pinako, for her friends back in Amestris, but she had become so close to Wendy it was, quite frankly, almost ludicrous. Considering that she'd known her for only a few months, yet already Winry found herself trusting her more than Nelly, who she'd known since childhood. She'd never experienced this sort of instant kinship before.

In fact, Wendy was more like a sister than a friend.

Yes,' Winry reflected. 'I think I definitely fell on my feet here, at least, as much as it's possible in this world.'

At first, she'd tried to peddle her skills as a mechanic, and quickly learned about this world's attitude towards women. No one would have anything to do with her, believing that because she was a female, she was automatically inferior.

Winry had been frustrated, yes, and angry – hadn't they ever heard of equal rights? But raging about it did her little good, so she'd resorted to the only other means of income available to her. Street-performing.

She knew next to nothing about magic tricks and sleight-of-hand, and in dancing she had about as much rhythm as a one-legged dog having an epileptic fit. But her voice was pretty good. So she learned a few basic songs, and gone out on the streets, singing with a upturned hat next to her feet. She made some money, not much, but enough to make a significant contribution to their income. And she was working on expanding her repertoire.

And while she was working, Wendy was at home. Sleeping firstly, and then later in the afternoon she would go out with Eddie, before coming back to the basement and teaching her son. Even with Winry's input, they didn't make enough money to send him to school, but between the two of them, they could give him a pretty well-rounded education. Winry dealt with physics and biology, and she had a working knowledge of mathematics and chemistry. Wendy taught him spelling, grammar, writing skills, history and geography.

While Eddie was being educated by Wendy and Winry, Winry was receiving her own education about the world she'd dropped into. She was learning about the streets of London, about England, and countries of Europe. She often wondered where Ed and Al had been dropped into. It wasn't London – she'd asked around, as discreetly as possible, and she was fairly certain that there were no Elrics living anywhere near here. So where were they?

"Still sore?" Wendy asked as Winry swallowed, massaging her throat.

"Only a little. I never sang all day long before I came here. It's taking a while, but the vocal chords are adapting."

"Are we having dinner now?" Eddie piped up. "You said we'd have dinner when Auntie Win got back."

Eddie had dubbed her 'Auntie Win' in about the second week of their living arrangements.

"Yes, we're having dinner now. We've got potatoes, leeks, onions...anyone for soup?"

Both Winry and Eddie nodded.

Wendy smiled, and walked up the stairs to the kitchen. "Ah, vegetable soup, the dinner of the cheap yet cultured."

And in her time with them, Winry had also learned about Wendy and Eddie.

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Wendy had been born a bastard, that is, a child out of wedlock. The result of a lord's brief indiscretion with a mistress. Her father had never shown an ounce of interest in her, and her mother had died giving birth to her. She'd been raised by her grandmother, living in London. That was when she met Edward Enrick.

They'd been friends from almost the start, but Wendy told Winry it soon developed into something more. But his parents forbid him to have anything to do with her, saying that he would have an inheritance when they died, and they weren't going to see him waste his life by becoming tangled up with some lord's bastard daughter.

But Edward Enrick hadn't cared. He and Wendy were in love, and nothing in the world was going to stand in their way.

He persuaded Wendy to elope with him, saying that if they went to the country and married, by the time his parents found out, it would be too late. So, they'd left late one night, and arrived in the countryside by morning. An old priest had been located and swiftly persuaded to marry them. And at fifteen years old, Wendy Rackdell became Wendy Enrick.

They'd spent almost four months in a small holiday house, before Ed received a letter from his father, saying that his mother had died. Ed had returned to London, and she'd heard briefly that his father was trying to reconcile with him. It was as though Hohenheim were a totally different person, to be frank. Then Ed had been killed when a zeppelin fell on him. Leaving Wendy widowed...and pregnant.

So, she had returned to London, only to find Ed's father had disappeared as well. Wendy had gone to her grandmother, confessing the brief marriage and the resulting pregnancy. She'd been forgiven and taken it once more.

Then her grandmother died (Winry was beginning to learn this world had a high mortality rate), and Wendy had absolutely nowhere to go. No one would employ a woman with a child, and Wendy had been left with only one option to feed her growing son.

Prostitution.

Winry tried not to judge, tried to understand that a woman would stoop to almost anything to feed her children, but every time Wendy said she was going to 'work' she couldn't help cringing. What kind of world would force a teenage mother to sell her body to keep food on the table?

The world she was in now, apparently.

And in spite of her success so far, Winry wasn't sure she could survive in it.