Alternatively titled: Riza Hawkeye dies in her sleep and there's nothing anybody could have done to prevent it.

I came across a prompt that simply said 'imagine one half of your otp dies' and this is the result. This is easily one of the most difficult things I've written simply because I've killed Riza and she doesn't deserve this.

Last year I had a mate die in their sleep and let me tell you that fucked me over a ton bc he wasn't even 21 - I wasn't aware SADS (Sudden arrhythmic death syndrome) was a thing.

Each chapter will focus on one character in particular in the aftermath of her death and the lead-up to her funeral. I don't know if I'll write from Mustang's perspective yet.

Title taken from Kimbra's song Wandering Limbs

warnings: major character death, a lot of sad feelings, mentions of suicide

Winry is putting the finishing touches on a cake for the new family that moved a few kilometres away when Edward answers the phone. Almost ten minutes pass before he walks into the kitchen, the colour completely gone from his face.

"Captain Hawkeye's dead," he says finally, and Winry drops her piping bag onto the ground, lilac buttercream frosting flying everywhere.

"What?" she asks, moving from behind the kitchen bench to where he's sat down on the couch. "What do you mean she's dead?"

"They found her in bed," he answers hoarsely, hardly noticing that she's taken his hand in hers and is gripping his fingers tightly. "She didn't turn up for work so they went to check on her and they just...found her."

She sits there for a while with him, trying to process what seemed impossible – Captain Hawkeye was a person that simply could not die. Did not die.

Was dead.

"I should go to East," Ed says eventually, sniffing and rubbing at his eyes. "The General- fuck, the General..."

"He didn't tell you?"

Ed shakes his head. "No, it was Lieutenant Fuery. I never even thought- fuck, I need to organise a ticket right now-"

"I'm coming with you," Winry says softly, squeezing her husband's hand. "You're not doing this alone-"

"Who's going to take care of Oscar and Nina-"

"I'll call Keira, I've sat for her kids before, it'll be fine-"

"The funeral's not until Thursday-"

"It doesn't matter when the funeral is, I'm coming with you to East and you're not saying no." Winry interrupts firmly, fixing her husband with a stern expression.

He stares at her, before his faces softens. "Thank you, Winry," he says quietly, kissing her forehead gently and squeezing her hands briefly before letting go.

She follows him onto the porch, where the tack and saddle are stored and watches as he prepares the horse.

"Do you want me to call Al?" she asks as he settles himself into the saddle.

A stricken look crosses Ed's face. "Fuck, I don't know if Lieutenant Fuery knew where to contact him. I..." he trails off, looking in the direction of the train station in the distance. "Can you call him? Tell him I'll call him tonight if he's available."

Winry nods, and strokes the mare's neck. "Be safe," she says softly, and watches as he canters down the lane.

"Mummy?"

She turns with a practiced smile for her son. "What is it, Oscar?"

"Where's daddy going?" Winry notices that his hands are covered in lilac buttercream.

"The train station," Winry replies, picking the boy up and walking back inside towards the kitchen. "Your dad and I have to go to East City this week."

"Why?"

"Something very sad has happened," she explains, setting him down by the kitchen bench and grabbing a wet cloth from the sink to wipe up the buttercream mess on the floor. "I don't think you remember her, but your father and I just found out a friend of ours has died. We're going to her funeral."

"Is she on the board?"

Winry pauses in her cleaning up. "I think so," she answers. "She has blonde hair like yours and she's wearing a blue uniform."

Oscar walks out of the room for a few minutes before returning with a photograph of General Mustang and Captain Hawkeye, Ed's crudely drawn moustache still prominent. "Is it this lady?" he asks, pointing a buttercream covered finger at the picture.

Winry wills herself not to break down in tears just yet. "Yes, that's her," she replies unevenly.

Oscar looks at her for a moment before tugging on her apron. "Sit down," he commands imperiously and Winry can't help but laugh a little. But she does as she's told and Oscar settles himself down in her lap and pats on her arms that naturally curl around him in a reassuring fashion. "She's very pretty," he says, cocking his head to the side to see the picture better. "But her hair looks different to mine. It looks more like daddy's."

Winry presses a soft kiss into her son's hair.

"When will you and daddy leave?" Oscar asks.

"Tomorrow, probably," she answers, feeling her eyes prickling and her throat beginning to close up. "You and Nina will go spend some time with Mrs McKinnon, okay?"

"Okay!" he says brightly and it is then that Winry breaks down, trembling and sobbing into her son's hair. Oscar is a little confused, but strokes her hair softly and tries to sing the lullabies that she sings to him when the thunderstorms get too loud.