And here's the final chapter! Thank you to everyone for reviewing/faving/reading!

Warnings: Language, some mentions of vomit
Characters: Pinako, Al
Timeline: Early series

"What's he doing?" Pinako asked into the phone, kicking her feet up on the stool in front of her. The winter winds rattled the windows, but she had the fire going strong. Not to mention a good bottle of that peach whiskey from Old Man Tru to keep her warm.

"Um," Al paused, presumably to figure out how to politely phrase his brother's most current bodily activities. "Throwing up."

Pinako sighed. This wasn't the first phone call like this she'd gotten from Alphonse since the boys had left Resembool. Edward was barely past the two-year mark for his automail rehab. Normally, he'd still be at home, not out in god-knows-where straining his system past its limits. But then, the boys could hardly be considered normal. "Does he have a fever?"

"I- I don't know, Granny."

Well shit, of course Al wouldn't be able to tell. Pinako topped off her glass and mentally kicked herself. "Okay, go stick a thermometer in his mouth when he stops hurling for a minute." Everything Al had described so far matched up with simple overexertion that happened with automail- soreness, low-grade fever, nausea. Nothing really to do but take some pills and sleep it off.

She listened to Alphonse shift, the metal scraping against itself. "We don't have one," he finally admitted, voice small, like he was bracing for a scolding.

Don't yell at him, she told herself. It wasn't Al's fault his brother couldn't be bothered to take care of himself. She'd give Ed an earful about watching his limits and resting his muscles the next time he came home. Or better yet, let Winry do it. "You at a hotel or the dorms?" For all she knew, they were camping out in someone's backyard and Edward was busy losing his dinner in their vegetable garden.

"Hotel," Al replied. He sounded relieved over dodging a lecture.

"Ask at the desk and see if the concierge will go buy a thermometer for you. Charge it to the room, the runt can pay for it."

"Okay, Granny."

"Call me back when you get it sorted."

Al agreed and hung up the phone. Pinako sighed, long and loud, and reached for her pipe. Keeping Ed on his feet had been a full time job when he'd lived under her roof- clearly that hadn't changed with him leaving. It was just her that evening; Winry had gotten held up at the Kitterings' farm when she'd gone over to help repair their tractors. It was sleeting out, and they were hardly expecting her to go tromping through that when a warm bed was open and available right there.

Pinako had taken the opportunity to put her feet up and have a good smoke. She'd even been thinking about digging out her knitting basket and finishing that scarf that'd been long forgotten. But clearly Edward had a way of crashing her evening's plans without even being in the same town.

Part of her wondered why they hadn't gone for a doctor in town, instead of calling all the way out to Resembool. With the military, they'd have open access to all the state's hospitals and clinics. But she knew Ed wouldn't tolerate some random doctor poking at him and a doctor unfamiliar with automail was likely misdiagnose him. Pinako, on the other hand, could figure out Ed's problems half a country away.

It was almost an hour before the phone rang again. Unsurprisingly, it was Alphonse. "Took you long enough," Pinako said in greeting.

On the line, Alphonse sighed. "Brother is not very cooperative when he's sick, Granny."

He's hardly cooperative when he's fine. Pinako kept the comment to herself; Alphonse knew that fact better than anyone. "What's his temperature?"

"Just under a hundred."

Yep, she'd called it. "Sounds like it's just exhaustion. You boys got anywhere to be anytime soon?"

"We have to get back to East City, but not till next week."

"Well, stay put then. If that fever's not broken in two days, go to a doctor."

Alphonse made a frustrated noise. "I don't think he's going to sit still for that long."

"Then transmute him to the bed. Sit on him. Hell, slip him something in his drink."

"Granny!"

Pinako cackled, unable to help herself. He sounded so horrified at the thought of drugging his brother.

"But...What if he doesn't get better? What if he's sick?"

The emphasis on sick wasn't lost on Pinako. 'Sick like Trisha' didn't need to be said. "He's fine. He'll be cranky for a couple days, but he'll get over it. Make sure he drinks water." This wasn't the first time Al had been overly worried on Ed being sick. The first time Edward caught the flu after Trisha's death, Alphonse had been absolutely convinced that his brother was dying.

Pinako sighed, shifting in her seat. "You'd know if he was that sick, Alphonse. This is normal with automail. It'll happen until your brother learns to pace himself."

Over the line, Al sighed. Clearly he didn't hold out much hope for Ed ever learning to "pace himself."

"Listen, ask for a doctor's phone number. I'm sure the hotel has one they keep on hand for calls. If Ed gets worse of if his fever doesn't break, call for the doctor to come look at him." It was common sense to her, but Al wasn't even a teenager yet. He was out of his element and his guide was currently hurling his stomach into a toilet.

"If the doctor thinks he needs to go to the hospital, then go. But don't stress yourself out about it."

Alphonse hummed quietly in understanding. "Thank you, Granny."

"And come visit. Winry's almost got some new finger joint designs finished. Ed'll like them. And we need to yell at him about watching himself. And you need a babysitting break."

"Okay, Granny!"

They said their goodbyes and Pinako leaned back in her chair. Quiet nights to herself were welcomed, but she'd be a liar if she didn't want her family with her. Even if all they did was yell at each other over dinner.