Allan sat at his desk, tapping the fountain pen against the clay pot of utensils that lay beside his lamp. He barely used that lamp, but it was a gift from his parents back when he was five. It had taken then several weeks savings to buy for him, putting aside the groceries, and taxes they'd have to pay off. The desk itself was something of an heirloom. Auntie Pinako had used it as a little girl, and she'd finished her first book of poetry on it when she was only sixteen. The wood was splintered here and there, and the brown of colour had worn out, but Allan wouldn't have it any other way. It was something that held memories. What better place to let his imagination flow? And after all, he now had an idea of where to go from where he'd left off the previous morning. Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, Allan took a deep breath and began to glide his pen across the sheet of paper that had brainstorming ideas and characteristics of each of his characters. It was 6:11 a.m sharp on a May day. The perfect time to write.
Her name was Winifred Rutherford. She enjoyed maple ice cream with chunks of walnut inside. Her hair was strawberry blonde, but more red than yellow. Her eyes were a bright green, but the heterochromia in her right eye caused the area around her pupil to have a yellow tint. She had more freckles on her nose than on any other part of her face. Her passion was art. Her hands would create, and never destroy. She had the smile of a sun, and if it stretched far enough, you could faintly see a dimple on her left cheek. She loved dancing on her tiptoes the most, and her favourite dancing style was folk because she loved the part where she'd get to spin and have her knee-length floral dresses (which she'd sewn herself, might I add) be whisked through the air in liquefaction. She had a collection of sunhats in which she'd keep on a coat rack that stood proudly at the corner of her room, right across from the door so that visitors could get a clear outlook on her style. No matter what she'd do, she'd have that stray twinkle in her eyes, and that spring in her step. She was the kind of girl you'd want to have conversations with, the kind of girl whom you couldn't bring yourself to think ill of. Winifred Rutherford was the glimmer of hope in her loved ones' hearts. She was just that kind of girl. The kind of girl anyone could easily fall in love with.
"Allan?" Pinako's voice came from behind the closed door. The old woman twisted the doorknob open.
"Auntie. Good morning, how are you feeling?" Allan asked, placing his pen down.
"Fine as ever dearie. Ye got the basics down of the new girl?"
"Y-yeah. But only the good stuff. I still need to get to the flaws, of course..." Allan chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. Pinako nodded, picking the paper up. Her face remained still, but Allan was more than used to it by now. It was until Pinako had read it midway that he'd realized-
"Rutherford."
"Y...Yeah... Sorry. I should change that."
Pinako shook her round head. "No. If it came from the core, ye should never give it up."
Allan lowered his gaze to the ground. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and before he knew it, the usual knot began twisting at the pit of his throat. Pinako sighed, placing the paper down and lifted her nephew's chin upwards with her index finger, rubbing his cheek softly with her thumb. The curly haired boy didn't bother trying to hide the tears that had begun brimming the edges of his eyes.
"She reminds ye a lot of her, don't she?"
Allan nodded weakly.
"Perhaps we shouldn't have accepted her." The old woman mumbled softly. Allan's expression suddenly turned alarmed, and he shook his head furiously.
"No, Auntie! No, it isn't fair to punish others for our own sake." Allan said. "Mother always said that. Miss Winry has shown me – us – nothing but kindness, even though we've known her only for two weeks."
Pinako stared at her nephew for a long time. Finally, she turned around on her heel, and headed for the door.
"Go wash yerself up for breakfast, dearie." She called. "I'll make yer favourite pancakes. We got th' maple syrup as well."
Allan smiled. He glanced back at the page, and considered revising for a minute. He shook the thought away as quickly as he could. It had come from the heart. And in the heart, it shall stay.
"Allan! I think Winrys here! Why don't you go down and greet her?"
Allan sprang up from his chair, bounding down the stairs one by one. He reached the door leading to the shop just as the blonde stepped through the front door. She smiled at him warmly.
"Good morning, Allan!"
"Good morning, Miss Rockbell. Hope you're doing well today. Granny and I are making pancakes upstairs. Come join us!"
Allan led Winry up the stairs into a small living area with an open doorway leading to a kitchen, and a narrow hallway with three doors. Pinako walked out of the open doorway towards the dining table, holding a plate of pancakes. She smiled at the blonde.
"Welcome to our humble abode, Winry. Hope ye like maple syrup."
Winry nodded, trying not to show her wavering smile. She was unsure of whether she liked maple syrup or not. Had she ever had it?
The three settled into their meal, eating in silence for a short while. The syrup was sweet, unlike anything she'd had before. It didn't taste familiar in the least, and Winry wasn't a very big fan of sweets. Regardless, she slathered a small amount over top of her pancake.
"Only one, madam?" Pinako asked.
"I had breakfast before coming here, Pinako. It was very kind of you two to invite me, though."
Pinako chuckled. "Not at all, madam. Ah, speakin' of which, Allan, why don't ye show Winry yer character outline? Ye did base the character offa her after all, didn't ye?"
Allan nearly choked on his mouthful, coughing and pounding his chest several times. Winry chuckled.
"Don't worry, Allan. You don't have to show me if you don't want."
Allan shook his head hurriedly. "It isn't that, Miss Rockbell! I, uh..."
Pinako caught his eye from the opposite end of the table. She sighed, and looked down at her meal. Allan's eyes fell in unison with hers.
"I'm not finished yet, is all."
Winry nodded, placing her last forkful into her mouth. "Well, thank you for the delicious pancakes. I should go down and open the shop right about now. We have a few orders to book by tomorrow."
"I'll come and help." Allan said, picking up his plate. He avoided eye contact with his aunt as he passed her on the way to the kitchen. He could hear her faint muttering as he followed Winry down the steps towards the shop. The blonde handed him his apron, and tied her own at the back with a tight not. After flipping the sign over so it read 'open', the two of them began unpacking the new books that they'd had come in the previous day.
"We should begin labelling first." Allan suggested, motioning towards the first pile. Winry nodded, picking up the clipboard that had the charts in which each book was listed under in alphabetical order and genre.
"Okay, this one, 'Dust and Nobles', crime fiction."
Winry raised an eyebrow, and scribbled the information down.
"Take West, psych horror... Rattle Grit, science fiction, Amos apocalyptic dystopian, Charles Falls-"
"How do you know all this by just looking at the book cover?" Winry breathed. Allan, glanced upwards, a blush covering his face.
"Er... I've probably read every book there is to know, Miss Rockbell. Most of these, I just remember off the top of my head."
Winry's jaw dropped open. "Wow. That's amazing Allan, for a boy your age to know so much about something. How old are you? Sixteen, seventeen?"
"Eighteen, actually, Miss Rockbell."
"That's wonderful!" The blonde exclaimed, glancing back down at her clipboard while scribbling away. "You're one of those people whom I can predict will go far in their future."
"If only Auntie were as confident in me as you are." Allan chuckled. Winry shook her head.
"Your Auntie is very confident of you, Allan. I think she just wants you to be just as confident. She wants the best for you."
"I know that, Miss Rockbell. She just puts a lot of pressure on me sometimes. I know I'm talented... I just... I need time."
Winry gave him a sympathetic look. If one weren't to know him, they'd think Allan was joking. It was a little unordinary to see a rather fit, tall young man such as himself speak in such a way. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Winry placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Sometimes, people who care about you put pressure on you because they think it'll help. They do it for your own good, even if you don't understand what's really going on. But, I guess... You just have to trust them, right?" Winry's eyes grew downcast momentarily. Allan shifted slightly before placing down the stack of books in his arms.
"Wait here, please." He said, before rushing back up the stairs through the back door. Winry sighed, staring down at the novels. One in particular caught her eye briefly. The blonde bent over, scooping the book up as she scanned the back teaser. It was a hardcover novel, with many recommendations from apparently large publishing companies on the back. Turning it over, her eyes scanned down the cover which had a green dragon encircling a trigon-like ruin, eventually leading to it eating its own tail. The book was entitled 'Fall of Ouroboros', and written by a man called Fritz Lang.
Winry frowned. She'd heard that name before somewhere. It was several weeks ago in the newspaper Kain had been reading. Winry turned the book over once again, reading the back. The book was seemingly about a dragon figurine heirloom that had been passed down a family line for several generations, eventually leading to it falling into the possession of a man who failed to see its significance and losing it, only to be faced with multitudes of misfortune upon committing the deed due to a curse of grudge. It then followed the story of how he came to retrieve it, and continue the cycle his family had placed upon him.
"That's a great book," Allan said, walking through the doorway with a sheet of paper in his hand. "Although I haven't a clue what gave him the idea to write a book about that."
"Really? I didn't know he was an author as well. Kain told me he was a film director." Winry replied, glancing back down at the book.
"He is. That's the only book he's published or even thought about writing," he said. "Apparently, he said he had to write it because it was inspired off of a green dragon he'd once saw and wanted to make a film with. The guys crazy, I'm telling you."
Winry smirked, glancing at the paper he held in his hand. "What's that?"
"Its... my character's outline so far. The one I based off of you, kind of."
Winry nodded. "May I?"
Allan paused for a moment, then nodded, handing the blonde the paper. He immediately turned pink, and grabbed the clipboard, scribbling away furiously.
A smile slowly shadowed over Winry's face as she progressed through the character outline. She finally looked up with a giggle.
"I must say, I'm flattered."
Allan shrugged, turning red. "It was just first impressions turned into words kind of. She's a combination of two people actually, you and somebody else."
"I could tell." She replied, rereading over it. "I'm not a big fan of sweets, dancing, or sunhats and I don't have heterochromia. I've also never had a partner."
"N-no, those things are what I've taken from someone else."
Winry's eyes shifted from the paper over to Allan. "Oh? Do you mind me asking?"
Allan fidgeted nervously, but he seemed more distraught than embarrassed.
"H-Hey, Allan, you don't have to tell me if you-"
"I really don't get it, Miss Rockbell." He whispered. Winry stared at the boy, unsure of how to react.
"She was a friend of mine, Miss Rockbell. She was the niece of Mr. Rutherford, the grocer next door. Her name was Freya. Freya Rutherford of Hampshire. Her family was close with ours, and she'd visit here every summer. Every single one. She wouldn't miss it for the world. Even though she was supposed to be helping her uncle out, and I helping my aunt, instead, we'd often run off and catch a bus to the hills where we'd spend all day just laughing and joking about the year we'd been apart for. She'd tease me for the fact that I hadn't gone to school for several years. Then, at around seven every night, we'd meet up with several friends at the local hang out joint where we'd laugh and dance all night long. She'd always make me buy her a glass of maple ice cream, and if the waiter dared leave out the walnut chunks, she'd begin to chant 'Here comes a candle to light your bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head', a morbid line from Orwell's book 1984. It was always a stupid move, because the waiters would get scared and call their manager over, who had to explain to every new employee that she was kidding, and she'd done the same thing the previous summer. My friends and I would laugh, but scold her afterwards. She'd always just chuckle and tell us we were overreacting. Freya was really something.
It was two years ago when I realized I was in love with her. My childhood friend was all I ever thought about anymore, and I found myself growing impatient for summer to approach. When it finally did, I got scared. I almost didn't tell her. And then, the night before she left, I kissed her. My worries vanished only when I realized she wasn't pulling away. When I looked at her afterwards, she just smiled and said 'You're supposed to ask me to marry you now, Allan'. So I did."
Allan paused for a long while. Winry bit her lower lip, realizing this story wasn't going to have a happy ending.
"Allan..."
"Miss Rockbell, please be alert when you walk home at night..." He began, his voice growing shaky. "We were, her and I. But that little boy across the street wasn't. And his poor grandmother, too old to be able to do anything. The driver was too drunk to care, and Freya... too selfless to care. "
His shoulders began to shake, and Winry gasped, dropping herself onto the floor in front of him and gathering the boy into her arms. Allan wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his head into her shoulders as sobs erupted from his fragile throat.
"Miss Rockbell, I don't understand, you look just like her." He hiccupped, more tears streaming down his face. "Miss Rockbell, you've brought her back to me, even for a brief second..."
Pinako stood in the doorway, watching as his nephew cried in the arms of the woman who bore the face of his lost love while the sheet of paper lay on the floor next to them with two stains of tears on it. One over 'Rutherford', and the other acting as a period for the last sentence.
Noah stared out the window for a long time after Kain and Winry had disappeared out of sight. She sighed, glancing back towards the dining table that needed to be cleared up.
Life had certainly taken an odd twist for the Roma woman. She'd seen the girl die, but there she was, walking on two legs, living under the same sky Noah lived under, breathing the same air Noah herself was breathing. For heaven's sake, she was living with her now. Noah had suffered migraines several weeks prior to Winry's settlement into her home, similar to the ones she'd suffered mere months before meeting Edward. But as of now, her headaches were practically gone.
It must be the transition between worlds that affects me so, Noah thought to herself. The connections of alchemical capabilities and her own visions tore the limits of how close the two worlds truly were. There wasn't supposed to be any true intersection point of the two – it would cause an unneeded paradox that would throw both worlds into catastrophe. Luckily, the actions of the Thule Society hadn't been recognized by many. As for Winry's world; she was unsure. They had caused lots of conundrum.
It worried Noah, the possibilities that Edward, Winry, and Alphonse's existence in this world would create calamity. They were unsure of what had become of the remaining members of the party after Eckhart's fall. Noah decided not to think on it for too long.
The sky was growing darker. Winry would soon be home, and Kain would as well. The Roma decided to begin making dinner. She took the lamb leg out of the freezer, and placed it on the counter to defrost. Noah felt an odd tingle in her chest all of a sudden. It crawled towards her stomach, and then up to her head.
How odd... What is...
Suddenly, it came to her. A scream, a man, a porcelain hand falling limp to the side. Noah felt her breath hitch and her head begin to pound. Oh, no, no, no. Not again.
Noah's eyes widened, with the name 'Winry' on her lips.
A.N: Freya is Winry's doppelganger. My theory is that when the people from Amestris cross over to the alternate world, their doppelganger in that world dies somehow. Therefore, when Winry showed up in this world, her doppelganger Freya was killed. (Alfons Heiderich died from illness right before Al entered the world, Ed's doppelganger was killed by a zeppelin falling on him, both happened in the 2003 FMA/Movie CoS)