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It was Garfiel who noticed it first.
Winry had just taken a seat in the shadows of his workshop, a glass of ice-cold sweet tea in her hands, when her former mentor and dear friend looked at her and said:
“Oh, another one already?”
“Another one?”
“Another hellion, of course. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary yet!”
Garfiel’s smile was almost a smirk, thin lips following a path well-travelled, the faint lines around his eyes bearing witness to years of friendship and laughter. The workshop was quiet in the late afternoon sun since most of Rush Valley chose to spend the hottest hours of the day far away from the dusty roads and oppressive heat accumulating in the crevices between stone and houses older than her late grandmother. Winry herself had only left her own shop to visit Garfiel because she knew Lin and Maja – two of Paninya’s adoptive children – were old enough to take care of her business on a lazy afternoon like this, even without her there to watch over them.
Now that Garfiel mentioned it, though… Winry had felt heavier those past few weeks. Nothing noteworthy, she’d thought, just some side-effects of the latest heatwave settling over Rush Valley like a familiar, worn-down coat. But it wasn’t just the heavy feeling settling deep in her bones, was it?
“You really think so?” Her voice was careful, the blush creeping up her neck unrelated to the heat pressing down on sandstone and clay.
“I’m no doctor, love, but I’ve watched you go through this three times before, and so far it’s always started like this: a healthy glow and absolutely fabulous skin, more frequent breaks during the work day, and an almost desperate thirst for sweet tea prepared by yours truly. Because-“
“Because it helps with the nausea, you’re right.”
Garfiel saw the frown on her face, and the joyful expression on his face dimmed. Winry was unable to put into words what this realization meant to her. The old wood of the chair bit into her naked thighs, grounding her, since she’d exchanged the usual work coveralls for a bright floral print dress in yellow and pink. It had been a gift from Paninya, the other woman smiling brightly as she gave it to her not too long ago – Winry wasn’t quite sure why her train of thought had let her down this particular road.
Distraction, maybe? Desperation?
“Oh, darling… I didn’t mean to make you sad! I thought you knew! I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d-“
“It’s fine, Garfiel. It’s… thanks, actually. I’m not sure I would have noticed on my own, if you hadn’t…” Winry’s voice trailed off.
It was the truth. Winry was a horrible workaholic, worse than Ed (if you asked him), prone to forgetting anniversaries and birthdays if someone (or her trusted calendar) didn’t remind her of them. Now that she was trying to think back, it was quite obvious that her period was awfully late, her cycle usually right on schedule. But if Garfiel hadn’t said anything, how long would it have taken her to notice anything wrong? Two months? Three?
Not that any of that explained the despair cursing through her veins. Wasn’t she supposed to be overjoyed? Then why were tears threatening to spill down her cheeks?
It certainly weren’t tears of joy, Winry knew that much, when she swallowed them back down.
“You know what, darling? You drink that sweet tea in your own time, while I’ll call Paninya and then the two of you can work it out.” Garfiel stopped in the middle of reaching for the outdated rotary phone on his front desk, a new thought sparking behind his expertly styled eyebrows. “Is it because Edward’s not here?”
Ed had left seven weeks ago together with their son James to join a diplomatic envoy to Xing. It had been a hassle to get them out of the house on time, James their least adventurous child, and Ed prone to forgetting his automail maintenance kit. Winry still remembered that last lingering kiss before the door shut behind her husband and son with a finality she had come to expect.
He’d been home for four months before leaving again, and while she enjoyed his cooking (and his humour and touch and presence and, yes, the sex) the independent businessowner in her had joyfully prepared for the days when it was just her and two of the kids again.
That’s how they worked. That’s how they loved.
But then something like this happened, and suddenly Winry wished her husband had only travelled to Dublith, instead of crossing an entire continent just to visit his brother and annoy the emperor of Xing.
“I’ll call him tonight. It’s fine, Garfiel. Really. I’m just surprised. I’m almost thirty-five, I didn’t think I’d ever be… you know… again.”
When she was twenty-three, she’d been in a rather similar situation. Ed had just left for the Cretan border on some errand for a former ally, when Winry – a young professional, who just earned her own surgical license – figured she was pregnant. Back then she’d been scared, her future a giant uncertain mess. Granny had been dead by then, so Winry couldn’t even call her, and while Paninya was a life saver, she wasn’t experienced in child rearing just yet. Winry had been utterly alone – that is, until she realized that she had dozens of friends in Rush Valley, that the LeCoulte family would gladly help her, that Tinko and Pam from down the road were never more than a phone call away… and that Ed would do anything for her.
She’d called him back then as well, and he’d dropped everything he was doing to come back to Rush Valley for her, not leaving until Melli was six and a half and their youngest had already celebrated her second birthday.
The only difference was… well, when she was twenty-three – alone, young, frightened – she had also been happy. The news of her pregnancy had filled her with excitement, the fear never strong enough to drown out the happiness she could feel at her core.
She wanted to be a mom, just as she knew Ed wanted to be a dad.
The same excitement was scarily obvious in its absence now.
“Oh honey…” With that rather pitiful exclamation Garfiel left her to the glass of sweet tea sweating in her palms, as he grabbed the phone to do what he set out to do: call Paninya. Winry couldn’t even be mad about it – and why would she? It was a Rush Valley Truth: if your life threatened to fall apart, you called Paninya. She would have done the same, had Garfiel appeared in her own shop asking for help with something she wasn’t capable of giving.
Because that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? Garfiel couldn’t help her for a multitude of reasons. For one, Winry didn’t even know what she wanted, so how was he supposed to know what words would sooth her soul and which would burn her. Secondly, while Garfiel was a wonderful friend and lovely human being, his experience with women was strictly contained to his female employees and friends. And thirdly, while both Garfiel and Winry had surgical licenses and broad medical knowledge, neither of them was a) a doctor or b) knew people in the profession who could handle this discreetly.
That’s what Paninya was for.
(Rush Valley had taught her a lot of things, and one of them had been to never judge someone for the way they love – Freak Town was just one of the monikers Rush Valley bore, and while that certainly described the amputees and automail lovers, it also embraced all of those who were simply other)
The ice cubes in her sweet tea had melted, and yet they seemed to be the only indicator of change. As uprooted as Winry felt, she found it distinctly unfair that nothing else mirrored her internal chaos. The sun was still shining, no cloud pushing in front of the burning gas giant, and Garfiel’s Atelier was just as clean and orderly as it had been when she stepped inside not even half an hour ago. Her dress fit just as well, even if Winry couldn’t shake the strange sensation of cotton irritating her skin and seams pressing against sensitive spots.
It was all in her head, she knew that, and yet she could barely refrain from scratching her skin bloody.
It was that or crying, and for once in her life Winry really didn’t want to cry.
Lin and Maja were probably wondering where she was. She had to get back to them. But how could-?
At least the kids were still in school – Melli, at eleven years old, slowly nearing the end of her public education, and since she was her father’s daughter (her mother’s child as well), she was looking into apprenticeships most days after school. It would be some time before she made her way back home, and even then, Winry knew Rush Valley would keep an eye on her. Aster had recently made friends with a boy in her class, and if Winry remembered correctly her daughter would go to his place after finishing her first-grade classes for the day.
Neither of them would be home to watch her break down – it didn’t help, not really, but at least it soothed some of the panicked thoughts running through her head.
(if Winry was compartmentalizing the fuck out of this situation then so be it – it was her body, and her panicked response to something she hadn’t realized she didn’t want to hear)
And there was no question in Winry’s mind that she would break down. Something had to give, as soon as all that rationalizing failed her, as soon as her normal emotional self returned from the shallow corners it had hidden in.
There was something growing in her stomach, and Winry didn’t love it.
Paninya chose that moment to step into Garfiel’s Atelier.
“Hi Winry… you look as if someone set your favourite set of automail on fire. Come on, let’s get you home.”
Her hands were gentle, the calluses on her palms familiar and comforting. Paninya had grown into a woman, her shoulders broad, her arms muscled. Gone was the lanky teenager with her large eyes and penchant for trouble, instead a steadfast pillar of the community had taken her place. Which didn’t mean Paninya didn’t still have her fingers in some sticky situations, but these days easy competence and a trustworthy personality made up for most of her teenage thievery.
Which was a long-winded way to say that Winry trusted Paninya.
Best friends and all that.
“Yes… yes, let’s do that. And thanks for the sweet tea, Garfiel.”
“Oh, don’t you worry – Paninya get her home save and make sure she actually calls her Boo.”
The warmth in Garfiel’s voice carried them out of his shop and down the street, Paninya silently holding onto Winry, her support emotional rather than physical. Winry could walk on her own just fine. She just didn’t want to be alone – couldn’t be alone right now.
They had almost reached Rockbell Prosthetic Outfitters And Automail by the time Paninya broke through the oppressive churning of Winry’s thoughts.
“Mr. G didn’t say what’s the matter, and you know me, I’m never one to pry, but… what’s going on, babe?”
Winry smiled at Paninya’s bold faced lie, knowing full-well that that had been the other woman’s goal. Paninya had her nose in everyone’s business, which made her good at her job: fixing things. Be it rooftops or automobiles or people, Paninya put them back together once they broke down.
“Garfiel thinks I might be pregnant. And I agree… all the signs are there.”
“Oh.” And then, “A fourth one? Wow.”
And finally, Winry understood the whirlwind of emotions pressing down on her chest.
She wasn’t twenty-three anymore, she was almost thirty-five. She had three children of varying age and temperament and a husband she’d been in love with since she’d been a child herself. She had her own business, two patents at the Amestrian Office of Innovation, four apprentices, and an upcoming spot as a guest speaker in South Area’s first medical and surgical science conference.
She didn’t want another child.
She liked her body and the way she looked, she loved her children and husband, she cherished her friends and family, she breathed for her job and the automail parts she slaved over day and night… the thought of having to stop all that to have another child was sickening.
Actually, physically sickening.
“That’s the problem.”
“How so?”
“I don’t want a fourth one. Three are already trouble enough. I love them. Fuck. I love them so much, Paninya. But just… another pregnancy? What if it’s as dangerous as when I had Jamie? What if there are other complications? I’m no longer in my twenties – if I die, my kids wouldn’t have a mother anymore, and for what? Someone who’s not even a person yet.”
“Winry! Take a deep breath – you’re spiralling.”
Suddenly – when had they moved? When had they stepped into her shop’s backroom? Not that it mattered, dark furniture and the dusty smell of metal shavings and old wood mixed with automail oil a comforting familiarity – Paninya’s hands were on her shoulders, pressing down. It was the perfect balance between pain and strength, grounding when everything else had failed to bring Winry back to herself.
The sun was probably still shining outside, but Winry couldn’t be sure. She didn’t quite remember their walk here, things as commonplace as the street she lived on vague in her memories. There was just the panic – just the thought of another pregnancy, another six months she couldn’t work, another life-altering change to her body and mind.
“Where’s Lin and Maja?” Winry’s words were painfully mundane, her chest still aching from the quickness of her breath and the panic chasing her heart.
“I sent them home. Once they saw your chalk white face, they didn’t really question me on it.”
As she spoke, Paninya guided her into Ed’s favourite chair, an old thing they had inherited from Granny, which could only be called a rocking chair by lack of a better definition. Even after two months away, it still smelled like Ed – cheap soap, leather, and old books.
Winry missed him like a limb, a physical ache at the back of her mind.
(they both knew a thing or two about missing limbs)
“Thanks.”
“Oh, come on. Just because those two will one day inherit Rockbell Automail doesn’t mean, I can’t still boss them around. I’m their mom – I’ve got to have some sort of authority over them.”
“Well, I’m their actual boss, so I think we’re pretty even when it comes to the whole authority thing.”
The truth of the matter was, of course, that Winry had helped raise all of Paninya’s adopted children, Lin and Maja (and Jesse and Marco and Luka) as close to her heart as her own brood. The familiarity of the exchange made breathing easier, even if the underlying issue was far from being resolved.
Paninya knew that as well.
“So, you don’t want that, then?” she said, pointing at Winry’s stomach.
“No. I don’t think so. I mean… no.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“What do you expect me to say? I’m a woman in her mid-thirties. My kids are street kids I adopted on my own, and my sex life is a great mystery that certainly won’t leave me pregnant. I’m a Rush Valley native, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m just here to find a solution.”
Rush Valley was different than the rest of Amestris, Winry knew. She knew that other towns weren’t as open to the Mr. Garfiels of the world. The Paninyas, and Georges, and Tinkos out there, those who wore dresses and beards and loved whoever they wanted to love. Hell, the rest of Amestris wasn’t even particularly open to the Eds and Winrys running around, those who broke the rules in much smaller, safer ways.
And yet…
“Maybe I’m overreacting. I’m not even sure if I’m actually pregnant. I mean… I’m just basing this entire panic attack on something Garfiel said. He could be wrong. Maybe he’s wrong.”
“Guess we’ll have to go to the doctors then, just to make sure.”
Looking at Paninya, Winry realized that maybe, yeah, the next step was truly as easy as going to the doctors. It didn’t ease the panic in her heart, it didn’t tell her what was right or wrong, if she was veering off the straight path laid out before her, or if she was simply discovering a new road to travel on. It didn’t give her any answers, but it gave her something new – something concrete – to focus on.
“Okay. You’re right. We’ll just have to make sure.”
“We will. I promise. And then we’ll figure out the rest.”
And, once again, Winry believed her.
Five days later, the kids sleeping in their respective rooms, Winry stared at the phone in front of her, trying to find the courage to call Ed. The workshop was silent around her, only two gas lamps illuminating her favourite space. During the day wonders happened on the well-loved work benches lining the walls, the wood smoothed out by hundreds of hours of careful automail calibration. Right now – for maybe the first time in her life – the half-finished arms and legs looked almost creepy. Metal casings, usually comforting in a way the best food didn’t manage to be, suddenly looked lifeless, wooden prosthetics cruel in their simplicity.
Winry shook her head.
No. It wasn’t the familiar that scared her – it was the unknown that awaited her on the other end of this call.
(Winry hadn’t cried since getting the news and that frightened her. She cried freely and openly, her vulnerability one of her strengths, but ever since Garfiel had told her… something chocked her before any tears could fall)
All that waiting was useless, she finally decided, her hands as steadfast as any automail mechanic’s should be when she dialled the first of many numbers. There was no direct line of communication between Amestris and Xing yet, so Winry had to connect internationally first by calling a switchboard operator before getting the clearance to phone directly into the Imperial City of Zhōngxīn Chéng.
What followed was exhausting, useless, and humiliating, and by the time one of Ling’s attendants had found (and woken) Edward, Winry’s energy had been sapped away by needless bureaucracy and the annoying “please hold” signal bridging every individual call.
She wanted her husband; she wanted Ed.
(she wanted for none of this to have ever happened in the first place)
“Winry? You’re there?”, Edward’s breathless voice echoed down the line, the thousands of miles between them audible in the static accompanying ever word he said. He was sick with worry, not even the horrendous quality of the connection could hide that.
It was the best thing Winry had ever heard, at least since Garfiel had accidentally changed the course of her life five days ago.
“Ed…”
And finally, she was crying. Tears almost a week overdue spilled own her cheeks, heaving sobs threatening to force her on her knees. It was like a localized thunderstorm, finally cleaning Winry of sorrows she had swallowed down against her better knowledge. It was harsh, ugly, dangerous – it was refreshing in a way Winry had learned to embrace as a young teenager.
Crying helped, that’s why she usually allowed herself the freedom to do just that.
“Winry? Are you hurt? Are the kids hurt? Is everything alright? Please… Winry!”
How horrible it must be to exist on the other end of this call, unable to do anything but scream as Winry finally gave into her urge to grieve. And it was grief that haunted her. Grief, for something she hadn’t yet done; grief, for a decision she’d made but wasn’t strong enough to act upon – at least not yet, at least not without talking to Edward first.
“Please, please… you have to say something, Winry. I’ll- I don’t know what to do! I can’t- please.”
“I’m pregnant.”
The minute hand of Granny’s grandfather clock moved three times, before Ed managed a strangled “oh”. Winry wasn’t surprised, just glad her words had made it all the way to Xing – snot and tears made her voice sound flat, and she wasn’t sure if she could repeat herself should Ed have missed her confession.
“Oh.” Ed repeated, his voice so near, his body so far away. “How long…? How far along-? No, um… okay. Okay, Winry, what do you want from me?”
It was always strange to remember Ed as a boy, only to love him now as he had finally become a man.
“A bit longer than two months, I’d wager. The doctor said something similar. Too soon to say anything else, that’s for sure.”
“But you’re crying.”
In all her pinning for Ed, she’d forgotten one simple truth: Ed loved children. He loved the three terrors they called their own, and he loved Paninya’s assortment of adopted kids. He regularly bonded with strange children on his travels, and he was bothering Al and Mei needlessly about having kids of their own. The first time he’d seen a baby, he’d exclaimed “awesome” with so much joy it had almost seemed out of character for him. Back then Winry hadn’t known Ed could be this happy – and then he’d proven himself capable of even greater happiness and joy each time one of their own babies was born.
Edward loved children, and Winry didn’t want to have this one.
A whimper escaped her.
How could she have forgotten something as intrinsic as this?
“Winry? You’re crying, so tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
He still hated it whenever she cried, but over time he’d grown up in his discomfort with her emotions. He knew her better than she sometimes knew herself, and the same could be said about her knowing him.
“I don’t want it. I don’t want another child. I’m happy with the ones we have. I don’t- I just don’t. There’s no good reason for it.”
“Oh.”
And then he was silent for a long time. Winry watched the arms of the grandfather clock move on, the weight on her shoulders slowly evening out. She’d said it. The worst part (for now) was over, even if Ed hadn’t answered her yet. Tears were still running down her face, but the storm had moved on. She’d said it, and no matter what happened next, nobody could take that away from her.
It was strangely calm, the shapes of half-finished arms and legs comforting once more.
(for a split second she was almost glad that Ed was half a continent away)
“Okay.”
“Okay?” repeated Winry, the sense of DeJa’Vu washing over her.
“I- I’m not gonna pretend that I understand why you’re- No. I… I love you, Winry. And I don’t ever want to hear you cry the way I was- was forced to listen to you cry just now. I don’t get it. I can’t pretend I get it. But… I love you.”
Now she was the one who could only offer a weak “oh”.
“I just… are you listening, Winry?”
“Yes.”
“I just wish I was there with you. I don’t- I’m so sorry I’m not there for you right now. I want- I can’t even come back right away. Fuck. The soonest I can manage is… three weeks? Four weeks? Shit. Dammit. I want to hold you, hug you so bad right now.”
“I love you, too.”
Where did that leave them? Ed couldn’t physically come back to her, not whilst in Xing – not while he was a member of a diplomatic envoy. Three weeks at the earliest, he’d said, and Winry knew that was a best-case scenario, one in which the desert railway actually ran properly, and the supply lines were open and secured. Something that rarely happened thanks to years of clan warfare and burned bridges.
Not to mention James who would have to travel with Ed – and their boy was too young for the rather uncomfortable accommodations Ed had grown used to during his own travels. James couldn’t ride horses for hours at a time, or sleep on benches under the endless sky.
“What do you… what do you want me to do?”
And Winry swallowed down the “come home” that sat oh so heavily on her tongue. It wouldn’t help them – wouldn’t solve her problems for them. It wouldn’t absolve her, and it wouldn’t magically transport Ed back to Rush Valley.
“Keep on loving me. Don’t hate me.”
“I could never.”
It was the truth – Winry could hear it echo through her entire being, a soft glow of decades spent next to each other nestling in the cracks of her armour, healing them – healing her.
“What’re you going to do?” Ed’s question was almost swallowed by the cackle of the connection.
“Paninya knows someone. Someone who can… who can get rid of it safely. A lady doctor if you will. I think… I think I will take her up on that.”
The silence was back, love a constant companion. But not even all that love could quite carry the heaviness of the unspoken words each side carried within them. They would be okay, Winry knew that, but they would also be fundamentally changed by this experience.
“At least it’s not a coat hanger.” Ed was trying to joke, but the bitterness of his words – their truth – carried over the distance separating them like an ugly secret. Something everyone knew about, but nobody wanted to acknowledge.
“Yeah, at least it’s not a coat hanger.”
Winry knew that she was lucky Paninya knew someone, knew that the girls and women in the villages around Resembool had resorted to coat hangers and home remedies should they try and end a pregnancy, at least one of her mom’s schoolfriends dying after trying to take care of the issue at hand herself. She wasn’t naïve – she knew Rush Valley was special. She knew it was still dangerous, even at the hands of a doctor who knew what she was doing.
But she couldn’t deny that she still planned on going through with it.
“I’ll come home as soon as it’s safe to do so. If nothing else works… James can stay with Al, and then they can both come down together the old-fashioned way, while I travel ahead. That’s a promise, Winry. Okay?”
Knowing Ed as well as she did, Winry knew he meant every single word he’d just said. Her tears tasted a touch sweeter as they continued to run down her face. Being alive was complicated, and right now Winry was overwhelmed – and strangely calm, hell, almost secure in the decision she’d made.
“I know. Thank you. I love you.”
“Please be safe.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“I love you, Winry. And I trust you… please don’t die. I couldn’t-“
“I know. Stay safe as well… and tell James I love him, too, yeah?”
“Of course.”
Winry didn’t wait for Ed to say something else – she put the receiver down, knowing what she had to do. Knowing that Ed couldn’t quite understand why she came to this decision; knowing that he would support her anyway.
Knowing that something had changed but accepting that change into her life.
And then she called Paninya to tell her to make an appointment with that lady doctor of hers.
There was grief, and there were decisions she had to live with – this was one of them.