It was stupid, completely idiotic really, that it had never occurred to him that this could happen again. That the cosmos would gleefully take another opportunity to fuck with them again. That there really was nothing in his and Al's lives that was allowed to be safe, to be sacred, to be home.

Another epidemic in Risembool.

The same epidemic, in fact, that had carried off Mom, but a different strain. Which was exactly why it hadn't even occurred to Ed as a possibility—a vaccine had been developed after last time—but the illness had returned, with a vengeance, and had once again devastated the already-scarce population of Risembool. And all while Ed had been safely tucked away in some damned library in East City, sucking down coffee and complaining about the rain outside.

It took Winry.

By the time Ed got the call from an unnaturally quiet Granny, a sick feeling in his gut that he desperately tried to ignore for the entire duration of the train ride home told him that it was already too late, she'd be gone or very nearly so. The train ride took two days. For Mom it had only taken a day and a half. Al must've been thinking the same, because he barely spoke a word the entire trip. Once, though, when Ed had come back from the bathroom, he'd come back into the train car to find Al with his helmet pressed up against the window, a soft, desperate sobbing noise coming from somewhere inside him. Ed put a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing about it. There was nothing to say, really. It was beyond his capacity to even attempt to offer comfort at this point.

It turned out they were right. By the time they arrived, Winry was so far gone, Ed doubted she knew they were there. She looked terrible. 48 hours had completely ravaged her—her skin was drawn and gray; her cheekbones sharp. Her eyes were open and glazed, roving aimlessly around the room, lips moving soundlessly, fists clenched weakly around the sheets. Her chest rose and fell with what seemed to be a tremendous amount of effort, and she wheezed a little each time. She looked like she couldn't have moved if she tried.

Ed tried to say something, but behind the surgical mask he'd been required to put on before coming in here, his jaw worked silently—he couldn't make the words come. His eyes were burning, and he felt a little dazed. No. Wrong. This is all wrong….this wasn't supposed to happen. Not to her. She was supposed to be safe here.

"Winry?" Al finally said, timidly, behind him.

Winry's eyes did focus a bit at the sound of his voice, as if some part of her mind were trying to place it. At that small shift in her expression, Ed suddenly, finally felt jolted into the need to do something, however pointless it might wind up being in the end. If he could get this stupid mask off, she might actually be able to recognize them, at least one of them.

But if Ed caught the epidemic, nobody would be around to get Al's body back. His hand clenched at his side. He did, however, manage to walk over to the bed and sit down. Granny would probably make him burn the clothes he was wearing later; he didn't care. He put a hand on her forehead, her cheek. "Winry?"

This time, he did get a bit more of a reaction from her. Her eyes rolled towards his general direction, and she made a vague sound in her throat, which turned into a wet cough. Something in Ed's chest ached. His hand didn't leave her face. "Hey. It's Ed. Al and I came to see how you were doing." He wondered how in the hell he managed to keep his voice so damned calm and even and reassuring—he'd been sure that it'd have been Al who'd be doing all the talking anyways when they got here. All of a sudden the air in the room felt very hot, stifling.

Winry blinked, once, twice. "E-ed?" she finally managed. Her eyes didn't focus, and her voice was completely wrecked—it sounded like it was coming from a throat full of gravel.

His eyes stung, but he nodded and smiled, even if she couldn't see it behind the damn mask, even if she wasn't seeing anything right now. "Yeah. I'm here. We both are."

And then her eyes were closed. Screwed shut, more like, a hard crease between her eyebrows. "N-n-nnn…."

"Winry?" He and Al both said it, alarmed, and in two giant steps Al was right next to Ed, looming over both him and Winry.

"N-n-no," she finally managed, her voice a weak moan. "N-not here."

"Yeah we—"

"East C-city," she breathed. "Safe." And then, as if a switch had been flipped, her eyes were bright, and the words were tumbling out in a rush. Her hand, trembling a bit, reached up to grab onto Ed's with surprising strength. "T-told Granny not to t-tell and th-they never come anyways u-unless f-f-f'r automail stuff…." And then her hand was falling back on the bed, her chest heaving hard. "Safe…t-they're safe…." She sounded winded.

"Winry, we came to see you." Al's voice sounded small over Ed's head, devastated. Ed nodded.

Winry was shaking her head. Something at the corner of her mouth looked suspiciously like blood, and Ed's stomach lurched when he finally noticed the stains on the wadded-up tissue in her hand that was farthest from him. Now that he was looking for it, he could see a tinge on the very edge of her nightgown's collar, and a few dark spots in her limp, colorless hair. "Dream," she gasped out.

"No—" Ed began, but Winry cut him off.

"D-dream," she insisted, "B-b-b't good one…" Her bleary eyes finally zoned in on his face. "S-stay?" She broke off into another coughing fit at that, and by the time she'd finished, there were flecks of blood on her chin, her chest. Her eyes were closed.

"Course we will." Above him, he knew Al was nodding.

Damn it all…

"'M-m-m g-gonna s-sleep now, k-kay?" She gasped out, after a minute of nothing but increasingly labored breathing. "D-don't leave," she repeated.

"I won't." His voice cracked.

A sigh, and then she was gone.