I'll Love You More, Ch. 2
Title: I’ll Love You More
Chapter: # 2, The Truth Will Out
Previous: 1, I
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for the entire series.
Summary: Ed had never been able to lie to his little brother, and lying and hiding are sort of the same thing.
Chapter Two: The Truth Will Out
He could see the sunlight flooding the room even through his closed eyes; it was turning the last traces of his dreams red-tinted. He pushed his face further into his pillow, not really wanting to wake up. It had been so long since he’d had a dream like this, he tried to sink back into sleep to let it continue just a little longer.
He could feel Alphonse moving in the bed next to him, and curled into his lover’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent. He felt two strong arms wrap around him, and smiled in his half sleep. Gentle fingers were brushing long bangs from his face, and Ed let his eyes open half way, planting a sleepy kiss on the other man’s neck, and then his chin before finally locating his mouth, slipping his tongue between those soft lips.
Alphonse was not kissing back. Ed opened his eyes the rest of the way, seeing what was unmistakably his brother’s face, and realizing in horror that this was the dream in which he was home again, only he was awake now, meaning it was Germany that had been the dream, and he had just kissed his little brother.
He sat up stiffly, staring down at Al’s wide eyes, stuttering out an explanation, feeling his face flush and his heart pound. “I’m sorry, Al, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated, dragging a hand across his lips, as if to wipe the taste of his brother away. “It wasn’t you, I mean, I didn’t think it was you, I thought I was home, I mean, I thought I was back there, and-“
Al touched his arm lightly, stopping his jumbled excuses, and gave a strained laugh. “You awake now, Brother?” He sat up, pushing the covers aside.
“I’m sorry, Al, yeah, I’m awake now. I’m so sorry-“
“It’s okay,” Al said shortly. “You thought I was the other Alphonse, and that’s what you and he- did- right?” he finished hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he admitted, adding quickly, ”but not because I wanted him to be you, god, I’m so sorry, you must think I’m some kind of sick person, I’m so, so sorry-“
“All right, Ed, it’s okay,” his brother said, standing up and waving him off. Then he stood up, turning back to look him in the eyes. “I mean, don’t do it again, but I understand. It was a mistake. You thought I was him.” He turned around again, picking up his towel from where it hung on the doorknob. “Besides,” he mumbled, opening the door, “it’s not like it was a bad kiss, or anything.”
When he returned from the shower Ed was dressed already, sitting on the windowsill and reaching behind his head to tie his hair back. Al followed the limited movement of his brother’s not-quite-automail with his eyes, but it seemed to do the job all right. He was beginning to get used to the artificial limbs, although they had startled him at first; he was becoming familiar with the awkwardly abbreviated way his brother moved, so entirely different from the ball of energy he had remembered training with when they had studied with Sensei years ago. “Al,” he said again. “I’m really sorry.”
Al sighed, falling back onto the bed, his wet hair soaking into the pillowcase. “I said don’t worry about it,” he insisted, not meeting his eyes. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m so tired,” he said then. “I could go back to sleep right now.”
Ed shrugged from the windowsill. “So go back to sleep.”
Al sat up again, going over to the dresser and re-ordering the pictures he had arranged there, moving Ed’s things over to one side. “I can’t, it’s morning. Time to be awake.”
Ed shook his head, smiling fondly, and stood up. “I never had a problem sleeping all morning,” he reminded him.
Al just looked at him. “I know. Neither did I, but we were kids then. Now I’ve got things to do.”
Al, you’re still a kid, what things do you have to do? he wanted to say, but he knew the answer already. His brother wasn’t a kid any more than he was, hadn’t been, maybe, from the time he woke up ten years old again with Ed’s entire life’s mistakes dumped in his lap. “How come you’re so tired?” he asked instead.
“Well, I only woke up four times last night because Kaiya was crying,” he said pointedly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that?”
Ed just shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything, I was asleep,” he said, thinking of his brother’s new tendency to wake up at the slightest noise.
Al combed his fingers through his long bronze hair, and Ed was suddenly struck by just how much Al resembled their mother. How was it possible, he wondered, for him and Al to look so much alike when no matter how hard Ed studied his own reflection he could never pick out any traces of their mother? “What’s wrong?” Al asked, realizing Ed was staring at him.
“Nothing,” Ed said distantly. “You look like mom.” Especially when you smile, he thought to himself, watching an unguarded grin spread across his brother’s face.
Winry had not dared to imagine she might have both brothers under her roof at one time. Her musings had included how she would manage her business while taking care of her daughter, how she would comfort Ed if he returned alone, and how she would comfort Al if he returned without Ed. Now, her wildest dreams were made real, and she hadn’t even had time to plan for them. As she had slipped in to bed the night before, exhausted, she had entertained brief thoughts of pancakes and strawberries for breakfast, before thinking dully before she drifted off that it was winter, and there were no strawberries.
Now she stood, heating water at the stove to warm Kaiya’s bottle, her bowl of cereal becoming soggy on the table. She heard the shower upstairs stop, thinking that was nice, to be able to shower in the morning. She wouldn’t have minded one herself, but once Kaiya woke up she was afraid to leave her alone for any amount of time. Her shower would have to wait.
All she had managed was to take down the purple bowl from the cabinets, the one that had been her grandmother’s, the one they had used for pancake batter on Sunday mornings before her mother and Trisha took the three of them to church, and filled it with tangerines. Pancakes with strawberries this was not, but it would have to do.
“Hi, baby,” she whispered to the bundle in her arms, swaying slightly as she stood at the stove. “Hungry? Want some warm milk? How was your first night at home?”
Kaiya just looked at her, blankly, too young, she knew, to really even see her yet, but old enough to know the sound of her mother’s voice. Winry imagined her daughter as a little girl of maybe four or five, asking where the rest of her family was, and herself taking down the photo album and pointing them all out. This is my mother, and this is my father, she would say. They are your grandparents. They were doctors. She would not tell her they had been killed in the Ishbal war. Five years old was too young to talk about murder. This is my grandmother, she was an automail engineer, like me. This is your other grandmother, she’s your father’s mother. We grew up next door to each other, your father and I. Your father. Was Ed right? Did Al love them both so much that he would forgive them?
He would forgive Ed, of that she was certain. But would he forgive her?
She heard footsteps on the stairs. “Morning!” the brothers chorused in unison, making her smile.
“Would you believe,” Al told her, jabbing Ed in the side, “that Brother slept the whole night through without waking up even once?”
Ed threw up his hands. “I said I was sorry!” he protested.
Winry looked up sharply, almost surprised to see him and not really knowing why. He suddenly looked out of place in her kitchen, standing next to Alphonse, although he had been living with her for… well, for nine months now, not counting the weeks he was away.
She knew Ed did not wake up when Kaiya’s howling roused both her and Al. She knew Ed slept like the dead, she had watched him sleep in Al’s bed in the early hours of the morning, she had found him sleeping at her kitchen table when she came in from a late night in her workshop. When the baby demanded attention, it had been Al, each of the four times during the night, who had appeared silently in her doorway, scooping the child out of the bassinet and rocking her while she went downstairs to heat a bottle. Go back to sleep, Winry, he had said the last time, the moonlight pale on his face. I’ll stay up with her, you just rest.
Ed was standing next to her now, staring at the baby in her arms. “Okay if I hold her?” he asked hesitantly, and she nodded and placed her child in his embrace. She watched him as he held her daughter to his chest, an expression of utter peace washing over him as he carefully studied her like he had the day before. He smiled. “Good morning, Kaiya,” he said softly. “I hear you made a racket last night.” He looked up at Winry. “I’m really sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’ll try to wake up at least once from now on, so you and Al can get a little more sleep.”
She gave a short laugh. “I didn’t know you could try to wake up, Ed.” she teased.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure I can,” he said good-naturedly. “That’s why I said try.”
Al was standing slightly behind him, resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder and looking down at Kaiya. “I think she looks more like Winry than like me,” he said thoughtfully.
Ed just nodded, then he flinched and turned to Al, his expression clearly stating that it was Al’s turn to hold the baby. Once Kaiya was safely in the younger brother’s arms, Ed screwed up his face again and rubbed at his shoulder.
“Brother?” Al asked, concern plain on his voice.
“’M fine, Al, just sore,” Ed assured him. “Must’ve slept weird or something.” He glanced down at the soggy cereal Winry was unenthusiastically stirring with her spoon. “Is that breakfast?” he asked. “Cereal? And oranges?”
Winry glared up at him. “You were expecting something different?” she asked tightly, her eyes narrowing.
He began opening cupboards and taking down pans. He glanced at the coffee pot: apparently Winry’s first thought had been to start a pot of coffee, although she hadn’t had a chance to drink any. He poured the red mug, then the blue mug, and set both on the table in front of her. “Here. For you and Al, while I make us something decent.”
“You can cook?” Al asked, somewhat startled.
Ed looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Win asked me the same thing. Yeah, I can cook. A little. Nothing fancy. I was thinking scrambled eggs.” He looked at the purple bowl on the table, the one filled with tangerines, and added, “Pancakes would be better, but it doesn’t look like you don’t have enough flour. Unless there’s more somewhere else?” he added hopefully, but Winry shook her head, closing her hand around the red mug.
Al smiled. “Yeah, mom used to make us pancakes-“
He was interrupted by the telephone ringing, and all three of them jumped. Ed reached out and picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
“Lieutenant Elric?” asked the voice.
“Um,” said Ed, handing the phone to his brother. “It’s for you.”
Worry crossed Al’s face, and he gave Kaiya back to Winry and took the phone from Ed. “Elric here,” he said into it. He frowned, listening, and stepped quickly into the next room, shutting the door and letting the phone chord snake underneath.
Ed stared at the closed door for a moment before stilling his expression and turning back to the counter, cracking eggs into a smaller bowl and finding a fork to stir them with. He turned back over his shoulder. “You’re not really mad that I didn’t wake up last night, are you?” he asked when he saw Winry looking at him strangely.
“You didn’t tell him,” she said evenly.
He set the bowl aside and turned to face her fully. “I didn’t get a chance to,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t want to ruin things so quickly…”
“I thought you said he would forgive you,” she said, half snapping the words.
“I said he might,” Ed clarified. “Maybe it would be better if you told him.”
“I’m not telling him anything,” she said, but her voice was uncertain. “He doesn’t need to know. You know that’s what I think, I’ve said it a hundred times.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she looked down at her daughter. “He thinks Kaiya’s his daughter, and she very well might be.” It was the first time she had admitted this to Ed, although he had known it for a while now. “There’s no reason to hurt him by telling him any different.”
“We’re hurting him by not telling him,” Ed hissed. “We’re just being selfish, trying to do the easy thing. I don’t want to do the easy thing, I want to do the right thing.”
Winry looked like she was about to argue further, then she stopped, letting her chin drop to her chest. “What makes you the expert on what’s right, Ed?” she asked, not looking up. She watched him turn away from her again, turning the stove on and melting butter in the pan, giving the bowl of eggs a final stir. Then he set the fork down and rubbed at his shoulder and although she could not see his face she knew he was making the same expression as before. “Ed?” she asked quietly. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said stiffly, pressing his fingers into the sore muscles. After a moment he added, “I should tell him.”
“Don’t,” she pleaded, wishing he would turn around. “ If I have to, I’ll tell him. The whole thing was my fault anyway.”
Ed stared at the solidifying eggs, wide eyed. “Your fault?” he echoed.
“Promise me you wont say anything,” she pressed, her voice hard.
He turned around to face her. “Promise me you will,” he countered.
“You first.”
The door flew open, and Al hung up the phone with a clank and an exaggerated sigh, dropping down into one of the chairs and snatching a tangerine from the bowl. He looked from one blonde to the other, feeling the tension in the air. “What happened?” he asked.
“I told you,” his brother said, turning back to the stove. “Me and Winry fight a lot.”
“About what?” he asked, still puzzled.
“Everything,” came the joint answer.
Al looked studiously down at his tangerine, pressing his thumb into the navel and piercing the peel, pulling it away carefully, keeping it in one piece and setting the hollow not-fruit on the table. Al couldn’t remember what it was like living with two parents; Hohenheim had left them when he was just a baby, so he didn’t know what it felt like when parents fought. Strangely, he thought it might be like this, a tense couple, something unspoken between them, staying silent for the kids.
He shook his head, popping a section of tangerine between his lips. They’re not a couple, he told himself firmly. Don’t imagine things. Winry’s your girlfriend, Kaiya’s your daughter, and your brother loves you. He told you before that they fight. They’ve always fought, he told himself desperately, even though his memory told him otherwise. They fought. Sure, they fought. All little boys tease the girls they like. They fought as an excuse to touch each other, pushing and shoving and tackling and pouncing. You did the same thing. You all fought, all three of you. It wasn’t like this.
The milk was warmed now, and when Al looked up, there was a plate of eggs and toast and jam on the table, and his coffee was no longer steaming. Ed was feeding the baby, that same expression of utter calm on his face, and Winry was spreading raspberry jam on her toast. Whatever had passed between them had cleared, and they were a happy family again.
Al sat on the back of the couch, behind his brother, rubbing his shoulders and back. “Did he used to do this for you?” he asked carefully, working to keep any hint of jealousy out of his voice.
Ed shuddered inwardly, leaning into the touch but cringing at the conversation. “You used to do this for me, Al, when I had real automail. The cold’s always bothered me like this.”
“I did?” Al repeated, puzzled. “But I was armor…”
Ed sighed, feeling just a touch of the guilt he had thought he was rid of. “You could still touch me,” he told him. “I could feel it, even if you couldn’t.”
“But- I’ve seen pictures- I was so huge- didn’t I hurt you?”
He smiled to himself. “No, never, Al.”
It was evening, and they were sitting together in the living room. Kaiya was awake but quiet, following their voices with her round grey eyes. The radio had been turned on, and Ed listened with interest to the news report, afterwards drilling his brother on the affairs of the country for the last six years. Winry was downstairs in the workshop, trying to make a dent in the jobs that had piled up over the past few weeks.
Al tried again, making sure his voice stayed completely neutral. “Do you think he’s all right?” he asked, still careful, intent on coaxing the tension out of his brother’s knotted muscles.
“I don’t know. I hope so,” Ed said tonelessly.
“You don’t know?”
Ed shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“But,” Al pressed, “He was your- you loved him. How can you just say you don’t know? Doesn’t it bother you?”
Ed pulled away from his brother’s hands, turning to sit back into the corner of the couch, looking up at Al, who was still perched on the back, feet on the cushions. “Al,” he said seriously. “All that time, it was you who I didn’t know was all right. It was you who I loved, and you who I thought about all the time. And it did bother me, not knowing whether my sacrifice had worked, whether you were alive or dead or-“ he shuddered “-something else.”
Al climbed down, sitting cross-legged on the cushions, facing his brother. “Were we the same person?” he asked suddenly, not what he meant to ask at all.
Yes, Ed wanted to answer. No. I don’t know. “You met him,” he said slowly. “What did you think?” When Al didn’t answer, he continued. “He wasn’t,” he said finally. “He wasn’t you. He was like you, but he could never be you. He could never share what we shared. He didn’t have our memories, he had a completely different life.”
“I don’t have our memories,” Al whispered. “I’ve forgotten everything.”
Ed dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry, Al,” he said into his lap. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’ll find a way to get them back,” he added, picking his head up. “They must be somewhere.”
Al shook his head. “No, they’re gone,” he said, resigned. “I had a soul, when I was armor, but I didn’t have a body to store memories in. When I got my body back…” he shrugged sadly. “My body can only remember what it experienced. Not anything else.” He looked at Ed, alarmed that the gears in his brain seemed to be whirring into action. “That’s what Sensei said, she couldn’t have been wrong,” he added quickly. “Don’t think about doing anything dangerous, Brother.” Then, to push the conversation back to where he wanted it, he said, “If you spent ten years with him, he has the same amount of memories of you as I do.”
Ed leaned back into the arm of the couch, shaking his head. “I wasn’t with him the whole time I was on the other side. I didn’t find him until I had been there for years.”
“Oh,” Al said softly. “You were with Dad,” he realized, immediately regretting saying it out loud. He wasn’t trying to upset his brother any more than he already had.
Ed nodded, but didn’t seem pained, so Al ventured a question.
“What was that like?”
The older brother pressed his lips together, obviously thinking. “Frustrating,” he said finally. “I hated him, and he was so… disgusting, and evil,” he tried, pausing to gather his thoughts again. “He left us, Al, he left us with mom, all alone. He broke her heart. She died, and he never even knew. Never wrote, never cared. It was hard to let go of that, even after he explained why he left.” He set his chin on his hand, elbow on his knee. “I don’t know if I really ever let go of that. He was a bad guy, Dad was. He did really bad things, even over there. Even to me. It’s not like he changed his ways or anything.”
Al wanted to ask what kind of things, but Ed continued.
“But he did take care of me, when I had no where to go.” He held up his metal hand. “Helped me get this-“ knocked on his wooden leg “-and this, so I could get around. Pretend to be a normal person.”
“Brother,” Al said gently, “you know Winry wants to make you new automail. You should let her. It would be so much better than what you have now.”
Ed just shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “I know. She probably can’t wait to make a new set. But she’s got a lot of stuff to catch up on, she needs to fill the orders for her paying customers first.” He looked off to the side. “Besides, the surgery is hell.”
It was like dancing, Al thought suddenly. It was like dancing in circles around everything.
But after a moment Ed continued. “It was weird, you know, living with a parent after so long without anyone but you. Didn’t really know what to make of it. First time I stayed out late I came home to him sitting up for me. He didn’t yell at me, he just said he was worried, and I could see he really was, it was all over his face.” A trace of regret flitted over his face. “I yelled at him, actually. I was furious that he dared care where I went at night when he couldn’t bring himself to care how we were getting along without him all that time in Rizembool.” He was silent, lost in thought, Al was sure, thinking of his time in Germany. Al was startled when his brother spoke again. “Who called for you this morning?” he asked curiously.
“Ah, about that,” Al hedged. “Don’t answer the phone anymore, Brother. Apparently we sound alike.”
“No we don’t,” Ed scoffed.
“Well, I had a hard time explaining who might have answered the phone that sounds just like me but isn’t.”
“It’s a crime to come back to life?” Ed asked incredulously.
“A lot of people were never really convinced you were dead,” Al explained delicately, clearly avoiding key information. Ed would let that slide, this once. “And it is a crime to fake your own death to avoid reporting for duty.”
Ed folded his arms. “Huh,” he said finally. “But Roy and Hawkeye both know I’m back, and they’re pretty important people these days, aren’t they? They would never give me away.”
Al looked serious. “General Mustang is my commanding officer, and I am loyal to him, of course,” he began. “But… I wouldn’t trust him, Ed. There’s people above him, you know. He might have to tell, eventually.” Or, Al added privately, he might decide to tell, if he thinks it would be worth his while.
Ed just laughed. “I know he’s a slimy bastard, Al, but me and Roy go way back, he’s always been a manipulative shit. That’s what I used to call him, Colonel Shit. Don’t worry, we’re friends. He wouldn’t do anything to get me in trouble.”
Al thought that he and the General went way back as well, after all, it was Mustang who had convinced the government to even let him take the State Alchemist exam, and he thought he knew the man fairly well, even better, perhaps, than Ed, although he couldn’t be sure. He had the utmost respect for the man, but respect and trust were two entirely different concepts. He chose, however, to keep his concerns private, at least for the time being.
“Winry?”
She put down the piece of machinery she was working on and jerked her head up. “Look, if you’ve come down here to lecture me, I don’t want to hear it. No, I haven’t told him yet. Believe me, you’ll know when I do.”
Ed looked taken aback at her response. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She threw her hands up. “Is it really right, Ed? Is it really right when all it will do is make us all miserable?”
We’re already miserable. Or, I’m already miserable. Maybe No, it’s not right, or Don’t tell him, Winry. Even I don’t care if it’s right, I’m going to tell him because I have a guilty conscience. All of these were responses she could have expected, but instead he was silent. His eyes were strangely sharp and bright and his skin had an unhealthy pallor to it. “I don’t like lying to Al,” he said quietly, “But I told you, I don’t want to talk about that.”
She tilted her head. “We’re not lying,” she said, equally quiet. “What did you come down here for then?”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “D’you have any painkillers?”
She frowned. “They’re in the bathroom cabinet, you know that.”
He shook his head. “That’s just aspirin. Do you have anything in here? You know, that you give people after automail surgery?”
“I have morphine, Ed, but I can’t give you that-“ she nearly launched into her standard lecture about how automail usually did cause pain and it was important to discuss this pain with the mechanic to determine whether it was caused by a malfunction of the automail or it was simply something the patient would have to get used to, but he held up his hand and shook his head again.
“Fine, I’ll just take an aspirin,” he said dejectedly, turning to leave the workshop.
“Edward,” she growled, making him spin around again. “Get back in here, something’s wrong with that piece of crap arm of yours, isn’t there?” She stood, hands on her hips, eyes blazing.
He took a step back, seeming to go even a shade paler, if that was possible. “Eh, put the wrench away, Win,” he said weakly. “It’s nothing, go back to whatever you were doing. I said I’ll just take an aspirin.”
She grabbed him by his flesh arm, jerking him into the room and pushing him down on her workbench. “There’s no need for you to be all macho about this; if you hurt, you hurt! I’m a mechanic, let me see what’s wrong!”
Ed clutched his makeshift automail to his chest. “It just gets like this sometimes, it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. It’s not that bad.”
“You are going to show me what’s going on,” she said dangerously. “I’ll tell you if it’s not that bad or not.” She began to pull at the collar of his shirt, and he grabbed her wrist with his good hand.
“I said no!” he shouted, standing up again and shoving her away.
“Don’t push me,” she yelled back, blocking his way to the door. “Stop being stupid and sit back down, you idiot!”
He folded his arms in front of himself, the motion in his shoulder making him flinch. “If I show you my arm right now, it will just make you worry,” he said crossly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s just- it’s been snowing, and-“
Her glare cut through his excuses. “It snowed two days ago,” she snapped, her eyes narrow. “It’s perfectly sunny and dry today. What is the matter with you?”
He sighed, not seeming to have the energy to continue the argument. “It looks really bad, Winry,” he said finally. “But I swear, it’s not that big of a deal. It gets like this every so often. It’s completely normal, but there’s not really anything you can do about it. So just leave it alone.”
“There’s not anything you can do about it,” she retorted. “I am the mechanic here, what do you know about what I can and can’t do?” She softened. “Ed, sit down, just let me take a look at it. I promise I won’t freak out. There’s probably something I can do about it, and if not, I can give you something if you’re really in that much pain-“ which judging by his looks he obviously is, she thought to herself- “but I need to know what’s causing it so I know what to give you. Please?”
He slumped down on the workbench with another sigh. “I know you, Winry. You’re going to freak out,” he accused.
She shook her head firmly. “No I won’t. I swear,” she assured him, and he reluctantly undid the buttons of his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his mechanical shoulder.
This is me not freaking out! she screamed inside her head. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to breathe deeply. You promised not to freak out, she told herself, if you scream at him he will never trust you again. “How- how long has it been like this?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. The areas where flesh met metal were swollen and streaked with red, puffing out around the edges of the steel plating. Automail ports could get irritated, but not like this. Not swollen enough to actually dislodge some of the metal parts, which was what it looked like was happening here. She touched his skin gently and he hissed, drawing his lips back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Well?”
“A few days,” he said under his breath.
“This is really bad, Ed,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “It looks infected.”
“A doctor in Germany gave me some cream to use when it got like this, and some pills. Don’t you have anything like that?”
Winry frowned, hands on her hips. “That’s not very specific, you know. I have some antibiotic cream, but-“ she hesitated, not wanting provoke another shouting match “-look, you’re not going to like this, but I know what I’m talking about, so just hear me out, all right?”
“Okay,” he said warily.
“I understand that where you were, automail didn’t exist, so you had to use whatever was available,” she began slowly, “but I would never dream of using this type of metal for automail, and there’s a reason for that: it irritates the body. I think you should let me remove it completely, like I’ve told you before, and I know you don’t want to do that right now. But at least let me detach it, to take the strain off your nerves because they’re irritated enough as it is.” She lightly fingered the plating that was pressing into the flesh, and looked at him questioningly. “I’ll leave the port mostly intact, at least where it connects the nerves, but I really want to remove the supports, and if the limb isn’t attached you really don’t need them. You built this, these plates can come off separately, cant they?”
He groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead. “I thought you would say something like that,” he grumbled. “I never had to take it off before.”
“Well I don’t know what that doctor gave you, but it’s not anything I have, and it’s my professional opinion that leaving that arm attached while it’s irritated like this could permanently damage you,” she said firmly.
“Win, you said that when it wasn’t like this too, and I told you, it’s fine,” he protested.
“You don’t know that,” she snapped. “You don’t know what it’s doing to your nerves, and neither do I, but I can guess.” After a moment she added, her voice low, “there’s also the possibility that what worked in that other world works differently here. How long did you say you’ve had this?”
“Eight years, about,” he said through gritted teeth.
Winry shook her head. “It just seems impossible that your body could tolerate something like this for so long.” She ran her fingers over the bolts digging into his shoulder again. “I think I can see how to detach it-“
He twisted his head around, trying to see the back of his own shoulder, and reached his human hand over to feel what he couldn’t see. With a heavy sigh, he gave in to her insisting and indicated a small mechanism sunken down into the back of where his shoulder blade should have been, saying, “turn this notch first, it disconnects the nerves.”
He felt her warm, lightly callused palm on his forehead and his eyes flew open, sitting up before he was completely awake. “What are you doing?” he demanded hotly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Winry laughed at him. “I’m checking to make sure you don’t have a fever,” she said lightly, crossing the room and yanking the chord that opened the blinds, flooding the room with mid morning sun. “You don’t, by the way, so get your ass out of bed.”
He glanced at the empty space in the bed next to him. “Where’d Al go?” he asked, still not fully awake.
“Al got up a few hours ago, like a normal person,” she teased. “He went to pick up some groceries at the market. How’s your arm?”
His eyes narrowed. “I dunno, I assume it’s still sitting in your workshop, why don’t you go check on it?”
She sat down on the bed next to him, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt until he pushed her hand away. “You know what I meant,” she protested. “Lemme see.”
Without a word he pulled the shirt off with his one hand and looked at her challengingly. “Well?” he demanded.
“Better,” she proclaimed. “Take some more of those anti-inflammatory pills I gave you.” She pressed lightly on the pale, shiny skin that had been hidden under metal until the previous night. “The swelling’s really going down. We can put it back on tomorrow as long as it doesn’t get worse again, but I don’t see why it would.”
“Fine,” he said under his breath, grabbing his pillow and laying back down. He reached for the blanket but she snatched it away.
She grabbed the pillow with both hands and yanked it out from under his head. “You are not going back to sleep, Ed!” she said, laughing.
He sat up again, fuming, and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her, with his pillow, down onto the bed and wrestled it out of her grasp, but it was clear that going back to sleep was a lost cause.
Suddenly the wrench appeared in her hand, where did that come from? he wondered vaguely, and he ducked, dodging her half hearted blow. She didn’t really intend to hurt him, but she did wake him from a perfectly blissful sleep, and that was offense enough, he decided. He had her wrist pinned to the edge of the bed with his knee and was attempting to pry her fingers from their death grip around her precious tool, but having the advantage of having two hands to fight with she snaked her other arm around and poked him sharply under the ribs where she knew he was ticklish.
He yelped and involuntarily jumped, freeing her hand and nearly toppling off the bed. He reached out to grab hold of her again, snickering when he realized what part he had managed to get a hold of. The wrench came crashing down on his head before he could even remove his hand from her breast, and she sat up on her knees in the middle of the bed, fury radiating from her being. “Quit fighting dirty, Edward!” she yelled, shaking the wrench above her head.
The sight was so comical that he collapsed down onto the tangle of sheets and blankets, cackling maniacally, and said, “Oh, come on, Win, you didn’t object last time I did that!” He narrowed his eyes haughtily. “You know you liked it.”
Her expression froze for a moment, and then a giggle escaped her. She flopped down on top of him, trying to suppress her own laughter. “Don’t tempt me, Ed…”
“Besides,” he continued, his lips twisting up in a smirk, their faces almost touching, “who’s the one who’s fighting dirty here? I’m the cripple, what exactly is fair about you attacking me like that?”
“Well I wouldn’t have to attack you if you’d just get out of bed,” she retorted, laughing, but making no move to get up.
Ed laughed dryly and pushed her off, leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve the wooden leg and began to untangle the straps. Winry reached up from where she lay and moved her fingers lazily across his back, through the ends of his hair, wishing suddenly that every moment between them could be like this one.
They both jumped at the sound of his voice. “I thought you said you’d have him up by the time I got home,” Al said from the doorway, his eyes dancing. He leaned, arms folded, against the doorframe. “How’s your arm feel, brother?”
He wasn’t expecting the oppressive silence that immediately settled over the room, or the brilliant shades of red that crept up both their faces. Winry sprung up off the bed at once and started fussing with the curtains that she had already pulled back.
“What’s with you two?” Al asked, puzzled. “You’re acting like I caught you in bed together or something.”
Ed pulled sharply on the buckle that held his prosthetic leg in place and stood up, making his way to the dresser and jerking open one of the drawers. “Well, technically, you did, Al, although all Winry really wanted from me was the opportunity to bash me in the head while I couldn’t fight back, on account of being short two limbs,” he said darkly, not looking at him. “Like the selfish bitch that she is,” he added, pushing past his brother and heading down the stairs, not even bothering to put on the clothes he held bundled up in his hand.
Winry stood by the window, staring at his back as he left, her expression hurt, and Al crossed the room, wrapping a hesitant arm around her. “He didn’t mean that,” he assured her after a moment. “He’s just hurting, it puts him in a bad mood.”
She didn’t speak up to correct him, deciding it was better to let him think that than to tell him the truth.
Ed was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, shaking the brightly colored wooden keys above Kaiya and smiling to himself as he watched her kick her feet and wave her hands at them, squealing adorably. She was perfect, he thought to himself. Absolutely and completely perfect. Her hair was starting to grow in, and it was a light bronze color, a little lighter than Al’s, but her eyes seemed different every day. Sometimes it looked like they would be a light, luminous grey like Al’s, but other days he could see flecks of gold in them, almost like his own. He remembered his mother telling him once that Al’s eyes had been blue until he was almost two, but that his had always been gold.
Alphonse knelt down behind him, pressing his chin to his brother’s good shoulder. “You should apologize to Winry,” he said softly. “I think you hurt her feelings this morning.”
Ed set the keys down on the blanket next to the baby and turned to face him. “Did she say that?” he asked.
Al shook his head. “No, but I could tell she was upset.”
“So let her be upset,” he muttered, looking down at his lap.
“Ed,” his bother protested, “how can you be that mad at her just because she wanted you to get up? It was almost noon, for god’s sakes!”
Tell him, the voice in his head pressed. Tell him, he’s your brother and he loves you. He’s not going to let this come between you. “She knows why I’m mad at her,” he said distantly. You never could lie to your little brother, what makes you think things will be any different now?
Al sat back on his heels, regarding his brother intently. “Something’s not right between you two,” he said finally. “I can tell. What’s going on?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Ed said bluntly, not at all expecting the response he got.
“I did,” Al said simply. “She told me to talk to you.”
“She did what?” he sputtered, anger rising again. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell him, she made me all but promise to lie to my only brother, and now she puts this all on me? “That bitch,” he said through clenched teeth. “She’s the one who told me not to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Al said, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Ed stood up, using the arm of the couch for support. “Do you think Kaiya will be all right if we leave her upstairs for a while? We could turn on the mobile or something,” he said, his voice strained. “We should go for a walk.”
Al frowned. “I guess so. If she starts crying, Winry will probably hear, although she might be mad when she realizes you’re not watching her. She doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s working. Why do you want to go for a walk though?”
“She’s going to be mad either way,” he muttered, not answering. The baby was watching them from her blanket on the floor, her eyes round as saucers. “Kaiya, you like your mobile, right?” he said to her. Then he turned to Al apologetically. “Al, can you pick her up? I’m afraid I’ll drop her with just one hand.”
Al knelt immediately, picking the baby up gently and wrapping her with the blanket she had been laying on. Wordlessly, Ed followed his brother up the stairs and watched him lay Kaiya in the crib and switch on the mobile. Her expression immediately brightened and she began to coo as the bright shapes passed through her vision. He leaned over the bars of the crib, looking the baby in the eyes. “Now, you’re happy, right? Cause I wouldn’t put it past you to start crying as soon as me and Al leave, just to get me in trouble. I bet you think it’s funny when your mother yells at me,” he accused fondly, and Al giggled nervously.
“Brother, she can’t understand you, you know. She’s only a few weeks old,” he protested.
Ed held his finger out to the baby and let her grab it tightly. “I bet she does. Don’t you notice how happy she gets when Winry whacks me with that wrench?” He turned around. “Let’s go.”
Once they were out of the house Al said, “What’s going on, brother? What is such a big deal that we have to go outside for you to tell me?”
Ed sighed. “There’s a little stream by the forest at the edge of town. I know you like to sit by the water when you’re upset.”
“Am I going to be upset?”
“Yes.”
The brothers walked in strained silence through the center of town. Ed seemed oblivious but Al noticed the stares they drew from the people they passed. Maybe it was Al they were staring at, as they sometimes did. There were probably a few stories drifting around about their resident State Alchemist, after all. Maybe it was Ed’s missing arm that caught their attention, or maybe they saw the resemblance between the brothers and made the connection if they hadn’t already and would feed the rumors that had begun to circulate about the return of the Fullmetal Alchemist.
After a tense half hour they arrived at the stream Edward had spoken of, and sat down side by side on a huge tree stump by the water’s edge, eyeing each other warily.
“I’m not mad at Winry for waking me up this morning,” Ed started, looking out over the trickling water. “I love Winry, almost as much as I love you. And she loves you. And neither of us want to do anything to hurt you. I didn’t mean to hide this from you, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t think Winry wanted me to tell you.”
Al’s expression caused his heart to ache, when would he ever stop hurting the people he loved? “Tell me what?” Al asked urgently, his brow creased with worry.
Ed looked away again. “I know you and Winry have a relationship. I’m not trying to come between you two-“ liar, his mind accused, but he forced himself to press on “-but,” he raised his eyes to face his brother, and took a deep breath. “The night I came home,” he began, “Winry and I, we, ah, we slept together…”
“Oh,” Al said softly, and Ed stopped. He watched his brother counting mentally backwards. “Oh.” His eyes widened. “Oh.”
Each waited for the other to speak.
“That’s not what I thought you were going to tell me,” Al said finally.
Ed frowned, glancing over at him. “What did you think it was?”
“I knew you both were hiding something from me,” he said slowly. “but I thought-“ his head dropped down into his hands. “It was always you and Winry. When we were kids I had such a crush on her, but I always thought she would pick you. It felt so wrong to me that I was with her, when you were gone, and I was so afraid it was because she was pretending I was you or something, but she said she wasn’t, and I tried to believe her. I thought you were going to tell me that she really does love you more, and now that you’re back you want to be together, but you didn’t know how to tell me.” He looked up, pleading with his eyes for Ed to tell him that wasn’t true.
Most of the time he was with Al, Ed didn’t really feel like he was ten years older than his brother. They were so intent on making up for lost time and usually he felt like he, too, was seventeen again. But in this moment, he suddenly felt those extra years weighing down on his soul. “Al,” he began, not sure exactly how to explain what he knew to be true. “There are a lot of ways to love someone,” he said finally. “I do love Winry. And… I love the “other” Alphonse,” he said, using his brother’s term for the man who had been his lover. “I’ve loved a lot of people, I guess. But no one even comes close to the way I love you. You’re everything to me. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” He sighed, searching his brother’s face for some kind of understanding. “I would never do anything to hurt you,” he said desperately. “You’re my entire world. It was just that one night, Al, and I swear to you, I didn’t know about you and her. If you’re angry -and you have every right to be angry- if you’re angry, please don’t be angry with me. You need to talk to Winry about it.”
Al was twisting his hands in his lap, his teeth pressing into his lower lip. “I’m not angry with either of you,” he said, standing up. “It was just that one night.” He frowned. “It’s so weird,” he said then, and Ed raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Every time I looked at Kaiya, all I could think was how she looked so much like you.”
“She doesn’t,” Ed protested. “And besides, she could still be your daughter-“ he started, but Al shook his head.
“Maybe not,” he said firmly. “Maybe she’s yours. Every time I saw you two together, it was like you shared something with her that I just couldn’t. I thought it was because I’m too young to have a child, and you’re so old-“
Ed drew his eyebrows together. “I’m not that old!” he protested.
“But you’re an adult, brother, and I thought maybe that’s what it was, but its not. Maybe she’s yours and Winry’s daughter, and that’s why I feel like that.”
Ed shook his head. “Don’t say it that way,” he protested. “Who knows what it’s supposed to feel like? I feel like I’m too young to have a daughter too, I’d probably make the worst father in the world, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s… she’s ours, I guess,” he ended lamely, knowing that was the most unsatisfying, insufficient conclusion but unable to come up with anything better.
Al held his hand out to his brother, and Ed took it, standing up. “I love you, Ed,” he said, pulling him in close for a hug. “I always will, there’s nothing you can do to make me stop. We’ve been through worse things, right? You didn’t know,” he said firmly, making himself believe it. “She didn’t tell you. Maybe it’s just something she… I don’t know. Felt like she had to do. She missed you so much.” He turned, not facing his brother. “Let’s go back home.”
You’re an adult too, Al, Ed thought to himself. You’ve always been the adult, not me. Even with ten years between us, you’re still the mature one. I always wanted to take care of you, but it’s always been you taking care of me.
“I just wish Winry had told me,” Al said, interrupting his thoughts. They walked side by side through the town in the late afternoon light.
“Yeah,” said Ed. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Author’s Note: No, that’s not the last of it. Al’s a nice guy, but he’s only human, not a saint. It’s easy to say something’s all right; it’s much harder to actually believe it.
Chapter Three: Conversations in the Dark
Chapter: # 2, The Truth Will Out
Previous: 1, I
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for the entire series.
Summary: Ed had never been able to lie to his little brother, and lying and hiding are sort of the same thing.
Chapter Two: The Truth Will Out
He could see the sunlight flooding the room even through his closed eyes; it was turning the last traces of his dreams red-tinted. He pushed his face further into his pillow, not really wanting to wake up. It had been so long since he’d had a dream like this, he tried to sink back into sleep to let it continue just a little longer.
He could feel Alphonse moving in the bed next to him, and curled into his lover’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent. He felt two strong arms wrap around him, and smiled in his half sleep. Gentle fingers were brushing long bangs from his face, and Ed let his eyes open half way, planting a sleepy kiss on the other man’s neck, and then his chin before finally locating his mouth, slipping his tongue between those soft lips.
Alphonse was not kissing back. Ed opened his eyes the rest of the way, seeing what was unmistakably his brother’s face, and realizing in horror that this was the dream in which he was home again, only he was awake now, meaning it was Germany that had been the dream, and he had just kissed his little brother.
He sat up stiffly, staring down at Al’s wide eyes, stuttering out an explanation, feeling his face flush and his heart pound. “I’m sorry, Al, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated, dragging a hand across his lips, as if to wipe the taste of his brother away. “It wasn’t you, I mean, I didn’t think it was you, I thought I was home, I mean, I thought I was back there, and-“
Al touched his arm lightly, stopping his jumbled excuses, and gave a strained laugh. “You awake now, Brother?” He sat up, pushing the covers aside.
“I’m sorry, Al, yeah, I’m awake now. I’m so sorry-“
“It’s okay,” Al said shortly. “You thought I was the other Alphonse, and that’s what you and he- did- right?” he finished hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he admitted, adding quickly, ”but not because I wanted him to be you, god, I’m so sorry, you must think I’m some kind of sick person, I’m so, so sorry-“
“All right, Ed, it’s okay,” his brother said, standing up and waving him off. Then he stood up, turning back to look him in the eyes. “I mean, don’t do it again, but I understand. It was a mistake. You thought I was him.” He turned around again, picking up his towel from where it hung on the doorknob. “Besides,” he mumbled, opening the door, “it’s not like it was a bad kiss, or anything.”
When he returned from the shower Ed was dressed already, sitting on the windowsill and reaching behind his head to tie his hair back. Al followed the limited movement of his brother’s not-quite-automail with his eyes, but it seemed to do the job all right. He was beginning to get used to the artificial limbs, although they had startled him at first; he was becoming familiar with the awkwardly abbreviated way his brother moved, so entirely different from the ball of energy he had remembered training with when they had studied with Sensei years ago. “Al,” he said again. “I’m really sorry.”
Al sighed, falling back onto the bed, his wet hair soaking into the pillowcase. “I said don’t worry about it,” he insisted, not meeting his eyes. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m so tired,” he said then. “I could go back to sleep right now.”
Ed shrugged from the windowsill. “So go back to sleep.”
Al sat up again, going over to the dresser and re-ordering the pictures he had arranged there, moving Ed’s things over to one side. “I can’t, it’s morning. Time to be awake.”
Ed shook his head, smiling fondly, and stood up. “I never had a problem sleeping all morning,” he reminded him.
Al just looked at him. “I know. Neither did I, but we were kids then. Now I’ve got things to do.”
Al, you’re still a kid, what things do you have to do? he wanted to say, but he knew the answer already. His brother wasn’t a kid any more than he was, hadn’t been, maybe, from the time he woke up ten years old again with Ed’s entire life’s mistakes dumped in his lap. “How come you’re so tired?” he asked instead.
“Well, I only woke up four times last night because Kaiya was crying,” he said pointedly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that?”
Ed just shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything, I was asleep,” he said, thinking of his brother’s new tendency to wake up at the slightest noise.
Al combed his fingers through his long bronze hair, and Ed was suddenly struck by just how much Al resembled their mother. How was it possible, he wondered, for him and Al to look so much alike when no matter how hard Ed studied his own reflection he could never pick out any traces of their mother? “What’s wrong?” Al asked, realizing Ed was staring at him.
“Nothing,” Ed said distantly. “You look like mom.” Especially when you smile, he thought to himself, watching an unguarded grin spread across his brother’s face.
Winry had not dared to imagine she might have both brothers under her roof at one time. Her musings had included how she would manage her business while taking care of her daughter, how she would comfort Ed if he returned alone, and how she would comfort Al if he returned without Ed. Now, her wildest dreams were made real, and she hadn’t even had time to plan for them. As she had slipped in to bed the night before, exhausted, she had entertained brief thoughts of pancakes and strawberries for breakfast, before thinking dully before she drifted off that it was winter, and there were no strawberries.
Now she stood, heating water at the stove to warm Kaiya’s bottle, her bowl of cereal becoming soggy on the table. She heard the shower upstairs stop, thinking that was nice, to be able to shower in the morning. She wouldn’t have minded one herself, but once Kaiya woke up she was afraid to leave her alone for any amount of time. Her shower would have to wait.
All she had managed was to take down the purple bowl from the cabinets, the one that had been her grandmother’s, the one they had used for pancake batter on Sunday mornings before her mother and Trisha took the three of them to church, and filled it with tangerines. Pancakes with strawberries this was not, but it would have to do.
“Hi, baby,” she whispered to the bundle in her arms, swaying slightly as she stood at the stove. “Hungry? Want some warm milk? How was your first night at home?”
Kaiya just looked at her, blankly, too young, she knew, to really even see her yet, but old enough to know the sound of her mother’s voice. Winry imagined her daughter as a little girl of maybe four or five, asking where the rest of her family was, and herself taking down the photo album and pointing them all out. This is my mother, and this is my father, she would say. They are your grandparents. They were doctors. She would not tell her they had been killed in the Ishbal war. Five years old was too young to talk about murder. This is my grandmother, she was an automail engineer, like me. This is your other grandmother, she’s your father’s mother. We grew up next door to each other, your father and I. Your father. Was Ed right? Did Al love them both so much that he would forgive them?
He would forgive Ed, of that she was certain. But would he forgive her?
She heard footsteps on the stairs. “Morning!” the brothers chorused in unison, making her smile.
“Would you believe,” Al told her, jabbing Ed in the side, “that Brother slept the whole night through without waking up even once?”
Ed threw up his hands. “I said I was sorry!” he protested.
Winry looked up sharply, almost surprised to see him and not really knowing why. He suddenly looked out of place in her kitchen, standing next to Alphonse, although he had been living with her for… well, for nine months now, not counting the weeks he was away.
She knew Ed did not wake up when Kaiya’s howling roused both her and Al. She knew Ed slept like the dead, she had watched him sleep in Al’s bed in the early hours of the morning, she had found him sleeping at her kitchen table when she came in from a late night in her workshop. When the baby demanded attention, it had been Al, each of the four times during the night, who had appeared silently in her doorway, scooping the child out of the bassinet and rocking her while she went downstairs to heat a bottle. Go back to sleep, Winry, he had said the last time, the moonlight pale on his face. I’ll stay up with her, you just rest.
Ed was standing next to her now, staring at the baby in her arms. “Okay if I hold her?” he asked hesitantly, and she nodded and placed her child in his embrace. She watched him as he held her daughter to his chest, an expression of utter peace washing over him as he carefully studied her like he had the day before. He smiled. “Good morning, Kaiya,” he said softly. “I hear you made a racket last night.” He looked up at Winry. “I’m really sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’ll try to wake up at least once from now on, so you and Al can get a little more sleep.”
She gave a short laugh. “I didn’t know you could try to wake up, Ed.” she teased.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure I can,” he said good-naturedly. “That’s why I said try.”
Al was standing slightly behind him, resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder and looking down at Kaiya. “I think she looks more like Winry than like me,” he said thoughtfully.
Ed just nodded, then he flinched and turned to Al, his expression clearly stating that it was Al’s turn to hold the baby. Once Kaiya was safely in the younger brother’s arms, Ed screwed up his face again and rubbed at his shoulder.
“Brother?” Al asked, concern plain on his voice.
“’M fine, Al, just sore,” Ed assured him. “Must’ve slept weird or something.” He glanced down at the soggy cereal Winry was unenthusiastically stirring with her spoon. “Is that breakfast?” he asked. “Cereal? And oranges?”
Winry glared up at him. “You were expecting something different?” she asked tightly, her eyes narrowing.
He began opening cupboards and taking down pans. He glanced at the coffee pot: apparently Winry’s first thought had been to start a pot of coffee, although she hadn’t had a chance to drink any. He poured the red mug, then the blue mug, and set both on the table in front of her. “Here. For you and Al, while I make us something decent.”
“You can cook?” Al asked, somewhat startled.
Ed looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Win asked me the same thing. Yeah, I can cook. A little. Nothing fancy. I was thinking scrambled eggs.” He looked at the purple bowl on the table, the one filled with tangerines, and added, “Pancakes would be better, but it doesn’t look like you don’t have enough flour. Unless there’s more somewhere else?” he added hopefully, but Winry shook her head, closing her hand around the red mug.
Al smiled. “Yeah, mom used to make us pancakes-“
He was interrupted by the telephone ringing, and all three of them jumped. Ed reached out and picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
“Lieutenant Elric?” asked the voice.
“Um,” said Ed, handing the phone to his brother. “It’s for you.”
Worry crossed Al’s face, and he gave Kaiya back to Winry and took the phone from Ed. “Elric here,” he said into it. He frowned, listening, and stepped quickly into the next room, shutting the door and letting the phone chord snake underneath.
Ed stared at the closed door for a moment before stilling his expression and turning back to the counter, cracking eggs into a smaller bowl and finding a fork to stir them with. He turned back over his shoulder. “You’re not really mad that I didn’t wake up last night, are you?” he asked when he saw Winry looking at him strangely.
“You didn’t tell him,” she said evenly.
He set the bowl aside and turned to face her fully. “I didn’t get a chance to,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t want to ruin things so quickly…”
“I thought you said he would forgive you,” she said, half snapping the words.
“I said he might,” Ed clarified. “Maybe it would be better if you told him.”
“I’m not telling him anything,” she said, but her voice was uncertain. “He doesn’t need to know. You know that’s what I think, I’ve said it a hundred times.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she looked down at her daughter. “He thinks Kaiya’s his daughter, and she very well might be.” It was the first time she had admitted this to Ed, although he had known it for a while now. “There’s no reason to hurt him by telling him any different.”
“We’re hurting him by not telling him,” Ed hissed. “We’re just being selfish, trying to do the easy thing. I don’t want to do the easy thing, I want to do the right thing.”
Winry looked like she was about to argue further, then she stopped, letting her chin drop to her chest. “What makes you the expert on what’s right, Ed?” she asked, not looking up. She watched him turn away from her again, turning the stove on and melting butter in the pan, giving the bowl of eggs a final stir. Then he set the fork down and rubbed at his shoulder and although she could not see his face she knew he was making the same expression as before. “Ed?” she asked quietly. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said stiffly, pressing his fingers into the sore muscles. After a moment he added, “I should tell him.”
“Don’t,” she pleaded, wishing he would turn around. “ If I have to, I’ll tell him. The whole thing was my fault anyway.”
Ed stared at the solidifying eggs, wide eyed. “Your fault?” he echoed.
“Promise me you wont say anything,” she pressed, her voice hard.
He turned around to face her. “Promise me you will,” he countered.
“You first.”
The door flew open, and Al hung up the phone with a clank and an exaggerated sigh, dropping down into one of the chairs and snatching a tangerine from the bowl. He looked from one blonde to the other, feeling the tension in the air. “What happened?” he asked.
“I told you,” his brother said, turning back to the stove. “Me and Winry fight a lot.”
“About what?” he asked, still puzzled.
“Everything,” came the joint answer.
Al looked studiously down at his tangerine, pressing his thumb into the navel and piercing the peel, pulling it away carefully, keeping it in one piece and setting the hollow not-fruit on the table. Al couldn’t remember what it was like living with two parents; Hohenheim had left them when he was just a baby, so he didn’t know what it felt like when parents fought. Strangely, he thought it might be like this, a tense couple, something unspoken between them, staying silent for the kids.
He shook his head, popping a section of tangerine between his lips. They’re not a couple, he told himself firmly. Don’t imagine things. Winry’s your girlfriend, Kaiya’s your daughter, and your brother loves you. He told you before that they fight. They’ve always fought, he told himself desperately, even though his memory told him otherwise. They fought. Sure, they fought. All little boys tease the girls they like. They fought as an excuse to touch each other, pushing and shoving and tackling and pouncing. You did the same thing. You all fought, all three of you. It wasn’t like this.
The milk was warmed now, and when Al looked up, there was a plate of eggs and toast and jam on the table, and his coffee was no longer steaming. Ed was feeding the baby, that same expression of utter calm on his face, and Winry was spreading raspberry jam on her toast. Whatever had passed between them had cleared, and they were a happy family again.
Al sat on the back of the couch, behind his brother, rubbing his shoulders and back. “Did he used to do this for you?” he asked carefully, working to keep any hint of jealousy out of his voice.
Ed shuddered inwardly, leaning into the touch but cringing at the conversation. “You used to do this for me, Al, when I had real automail. The cold’s always bothered me like this.”
“I did?” Al repeated, puzzled. “But I was armor…”
Ed sighed, feeling just a touch of the guilt he had thought he was rid of. “You could still touch me,” he told him. “I could feel it, even if you couldn’t.”
“But- I’ve seen pictures- I was so huge- didn’t I hurt you?”
He smiled to himself. “No, never, Al.”
It was evening, and they were sitting together in the living room. Kaiya was awake but quiet, following their voices with her round grey eyes. The radio had been turned on, and Ed listened with interest to the news report, afterwards drilling his brother on the affairs of the country for the last six years. Winry was downstairs in the workshop, trying to make a dent in the jobs that had piled up over the past few weeks.
Al tried again, making sure his voice stayed completely neutral. “Do you think he’s all right?” he asked, still careful, intent on coaxing the tension out of his brother’s knotted muscles.
“I don’t know. I hope so,” Ed said tonelessly.
“You don’t know?”
Ed shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“But,” Al pressed, “He was your- you loved him. How can you just say you don’t know? Doesn’t it bother you?”
Ed pulled away from his brother’s hands, turning to sit back into the corner of the couch, looking up at Al, who was still perched on the back, feet on the cushions. “Al,” he said seriously. “All that time, it was you who I didn’t know was all right. It was you who I loved, and you who I thought about all the time. And it did bother me, not knowing whether my sacrifice had worked, whether you were alive or dead or-“ he shuddered “-something else.”
Al climbed down, sitting cross-legged on the cushions, facing his brother. “Were we the same person?” he asked suddenly, not what he meant to ask at all.
Yes, Ed wanted to answer. No. I don’t know. “You met him,” he said slowly. “What did you think?” When Al didn’t answer, he continued. “He wasn’t,” he said finally. “He wasn’t you. He was like you, but he could never be you. He could never share what we shared. He didn’t have our memories, he had a completely different life.”
“I don’t have our memories,” Al whispered. “I’ve forgotten everything.”
Ed dropped his head into his hands. “I’m sorry, Al,” he said into his lap. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’ll find a way to get them back,” he added, picking his head up. “They must be somewhere.”
Al shook his head. “No, they’re gone,” he said, resigned. “I had a soul, when I was armor, but I didn’t have a body to store memories in. When I got my body back…” he shrugged sadly. “My body can only remember what it experienced. Not anything else.” He looked at Ed, alarmed that the gears in his brain seemed to be whirring into action. “That’s what Sensei said, she couldn’t have been wrong,” he added quickly. “Don’t think about doing anything dangerous, Brother.” Then, to push the conversation back to where he wanted it, he said, “If you spent ten years with him, he has the same amount of memories of you as I do.”
Ed leaned back into the arm of the couch, shaking his head. “I wasn’t with him the whole time I was on the other side. I didn’t find him until I had been there for years.”
“Oh,” Al said softly. “You were with Dad,” he realized, immediately regretting saying it out loud. He wasn’t trying to upset his brother any more than he already had.
Ed nodded, but didn’t seem pained, so Al ventured a question.
“What was that like?”
The older brother pressed his lips together, obviously thinking. “Frustrating,” he said finally. “I hated him, and he was so… disgusting, and evil,” he tried, pausing to gather his thoughts again. “He left us, Al, he left us with mom, all alone. He broke her heart. She died, and he never even knew. Never wrote, never cared. It was hard to let go of that, even after he explained why he left.” He set his chin on his hand, elbow on his knee. “I don’t know if I really ever let go of that. He was a bad guy, Dad was. He did really bad things, even over there. Even to me. It’s not like he changed his ways or anything.”
Al wanted to ask what kind of things, but Ed continued.
“But he did take care of me, when I had no where to go.” He held up his metal hand. “Helped me get this-“ knocked on his wooden leg “-and this, so I could get around. Pretend to be a normal person.”
“Brother,” Al said gently, “you know Winry wants to make you new automail. You should let her. It would be so much better than what you have now.”
Ed just shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “I know. She probably can’t wait to make a new set. But she’s got a lot of stuff to catch up on, she needs to fill the orders for her paying customers first.” He looked off to the side. “Besides, the surgery is hell.”
It was like dancing, Al thought suddenly. It was like dancing in circles around everything.
But after a moment Ed continued. “It was weird, you know, living with a parent after so long without anyone but you. Didn’t really know what to make of it. First time I stayed out late I came home to him sitting up for me. He didn’t yell at me, he just said he was worried, and I could see he really was, it was all over his face.” A trace of regret flitted over his face. “I yelled at him, actually. I was furious that he dared care where I went at night when he couldn’t bring himself to care how we were getting along without him all that time in Rizembool.” He was silent, lost in thought, Al was sure, thinking of his time in Germany. Al was startled when his brother spoke again. “Who called for you this morning?” he asked curiously.
“Ah, about that,” Al hedged. “Don’t answer the phone anymore, Brother. Apparently we sound alike.”
“No we don’t,” Ed scoffed.
“Well, I had a hard time explaining who might have answered the phone that sounds just like me but isn’t.”
“It’s a crime to come back to life?” Ed asked incredulously.
“A lot of people were never really convinced you were dead,” Al explained delicately, clearly avoiding key information. Ed would let that slide, this once. “And it is a crime to fake your own death to avoid reporting for duty.”
Ed folded his arms. “Huh,” he said finally. “But Roy and Hawkeye both know I’m back, and they’re pretty important people these days, aren’t they? They would never give me away.”
Al looked serious. “General Mustang is my commanding officer, and I am loyal to him, of course,” he began. “But… I wouldn’t trust him, Ed. There’s people above him, you know. He might have to tell, eventually.” Or, Al added privately, he might decide to tell, if he thinks it would be worth his while.
Ed just laughed. “I know he’s a slimy bastard, Al, but me and Roy go way back, he’s always been a manipulative shit. That’s what I used to call him, Colonel Shit. Don’t worry, we’re friends. He wouldn’t do anything to get me in trouble.”
Al thought that he and the General went way back as well, after all, it was Mustang who had convinced the government to even let him take the State Alchemist exam, and he thought he knew the man fairly well, even better, perhaps, than Ed, although he couldn’t be sure. He had the utmost respect for the man, but respect and trust were two entirely different concepts. He chose, however, to keep his concerns private, at least for the time being.
“Winry?”
She put down the piece of machinery she was working on and jerked her head up. “Look, if you’ve come down here to lecture me, I don’t want to hear it. No, I haven’t told him yet. Believe me, you’ll know when I do.”
Ed looked taken aback at her response. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She threw her hands up. “Is it really right, Ed? Is it really right when all it will do is make us all miserable?”
We’re already miserable. Or, I’m already miserable. Maybe No, it’s not right, or Don’t tell him, Winry. Even I don’t care if it’s right, I’m going to tell him because I have a guilty conscience. All of these were responses she could have expected, but instead he was silent. His eyes were strangely sharp and bright and his skin had an unhealthy pallor to it. “I don’t like lying to Al,” he said quietly, “But I told you, I don’t want to talk about that.”
She tilted her head. “We’re not lying,” she said, equally quiet. “What did you come down here for then?”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “D’you have any painkillers?”
She frowned. “They’re in the bathroom cabinet, you know that.”
He shook his head. “That’s just aspirin. Do you have anything in here? You know, that you give people after automail surgery?”
“I have morphine, Ed, but I can’t give you that-“ she nearly launched into her standard lecture about how automail usually did cause pain and it was important to discuss this pain with the mechanic to determine whether it was caused by a malfunction of the automail or it was simply something the patient would have to get used to, but he held up his hand and shook his head again.
“Fine, I’ll just take an aspirin,” he said dejectedly, turning to leave the workshop.
“Edward,” she growled, making him spin around again. “Get back in here, something’s wrong with that piece of crap arm of yours, isn’t there?” She stood, hands on her hips, eyes blazing.
He took a step back, seeming to go even a shade paler, if that was possible. “Eh, put the wrench away, Win,” he said weakly. “It’s nothing, go back to whatever you were doing. I said I’ll just take an aspirin.”
She grabbed him by his flesh arm, jerking him into the room and pushing him down on her workbench. “There’s no need for you to be all macho about this; if you hurt, you hurt! I’m a mechanic, let me see what’s wrong!”
Ed clutched his makeshift automail to his chest. “It just gets like this sometimes, it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. It’s not that bad.”
“You are going to show me what’s going on,” she said dangerously. “I’ll tell you if it’s not that bad or not.” She began to pull at the collar of his shirt, and he grabbed her wrist with his good hand.
“I said no!” he shouted, standing up again and shoving her away.
“Don’t push me,” she yelled back, blocking his way to the door. “Stop being stupid and sit back down, you idiot!”
He folded his arms in front of himself, the motion in his shoulder making him flinch. “If I show you my arm right now, it will just make you worry,” he said crossly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s just- it’s been snowing, and-“
Her glare cut through his excuses. “It snowed two days ago,” she snapped, her eyes narrow. “It’s perfectly sunny and dry today. What is the matter with you?”
He sighed, not seeming to have the energy to continue the argument. “It looks really bad, Winry,” he said finally. “But I swear, it’s not that big of a deal. It gets like this every so often. It’s completely normal, but there’s not really anything you can do about it. So just leave it alone.”
“There’s not anything you can do about it,” she retorted. “I am the mechanic here, what do you know about what I can and can’t do?” She softened. “Ed, sit down, just let me take a look at it. I promise I won’t freak out. There’s probably something I can do about it, and if not, I can give you something if you’re really in that much pain-“ which judging by his looks he obviously is, she thought to herself- “but I need to know what’s causing it so I know what to give you. Please?”
He slumped down on the workbench with another sigh. “I know you, Winry. You’re going to freak out,” he accused.
She shook her head firmly. “No I won’t. I swear,” she assured him, and he reluctantly undid the buttons of his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his mechanical shoulder.
This is me not freaking out! she screamed inside her head. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to breathe deeply. You promised not to freak out, she told herself, if you scream at him he will never trust you again. “How- how long has it been like this?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. The areas where flesh met metal were swollen and streaked with red, puffing out around the edges of the steel plating. Automail ports could get irritated, but not like this. Not swollen enough to actually dislodge some of the metal parts, which was what it looked like was happening here. She touched his skin gently and he hissed, drawing his lips back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Well?”
“A few days,” he said under his breath.
“This is really bad, Ed,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “It looks infected.”
“A doctor in Germany gave me some cream to use when it got like this, and some pills. Don’t you have anything like that?”
Winry frowned, hands on her hips. “That’s not very specific, you know. I have some antibiotic cream, but-“ she hesitated, not wanting provoke another shouting match “-look, you’re not going to like this, but I know what I’m talking about, so just hear me out, all right?”
“Okay,” he said warily.
“I understand that where you were, automail didn’t exist, so you had to use whatever was available,” she began slowly, “but I would never dream of using this type of metal for automail, and there’s a reason for that: it irritates the body. I think you should let me remove it completely, like I’ve told you before, and I know you don’t want to do that right now. But at least let me detach it, to take the strain off your nerves because they’re irritated enough as it is.” She lightly fingered the plating that was pressing into the flesh, and looked at him questioningly. “I’ll leave the port mostly intact, at least where it connects the nerves, but I really want to remove the supports, and if the limb isn’t attached you really don’t need them. You built this, these plates can come off separately, cant they?”
He groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead. “I thought you would say something like that,” he grumbled. “I never had to take it off before.”
“Well I don’t know what that doctor gave you, but it’s not anything I have, and it’s my professional opinion that leaving that arm attached while it’s irritated like this could permanently damage you,” she said firmly.
“Win, you said that when it wasn’t like this too, and I told you, it’s fine,” he protested.
“You don’t know that,” she snapped. “You don’t know what it’s doing to your nerves, and neither do I, but I can guess.” After a moment she added, her voice low, “there’s also the possibility that what worked in that other world works differently here. How long did you say you’ve had this?”
“Eight years, about,” he said through gritted teeth.
Winry shook her head. “It just seems impossible that your body could tolerate something like this for so long.” She ran her fingers over the bolts digging into his shoulder again. “I think I can see how to detach it-“
He twisted his head around, trying to see the back of his own shoulder, and reached his human hand over to feel what he couldn’t see. With a heavy sigh, he gave in to her insisting and indicated a small mechanism sunken down into the back of where his shoulder blade should have been, saying, “turn this notch first, it disconnects the nerves.”
He felt her warm, lightly callused palm on his forehead and his eyes flew open, sitting up before he was completely awake. “What are you doing?” he demanded hotly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Winry laughed at him. “I’m checking to make sure you don’t have a fever,” she said lightly, crossing the room and yanking the chord that opened the blinds, flooding the room with mid morning sun. “You don’t, by the way, so get your ass out of bed.”
He glanced at the empty space in the bed next to him. “Where’d Al go?” he asked, still not fully awake.
“Al got up a few hours ago, like a normal person,” she teased. “He went to pick up some groceries at the market. How’s your arm?”
His eyes narrowed. “I dunno, I assume it’s still sitting in your workshop, why don’t you go check on it?”
She sat down on the bed next to him, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt until he pushed her hand away. “You know what I meant,” she protested. “Lemme see.”
Without a word he pulled the shirt off with his one hand and looked at her challengingly. “Well?” he demanded.
“Better,” she proclaimed. “Take some more of those anti-inflammatory pills I gave you.” She pressed lightly on the pale, shiny skin that had been hidden under metal until the previous night. “The swelling’s really going down. We can put it back on tomorrow as long as it doesn’t get worse again, but I don’t see why it would.”
“Fine,” he said under his breath, grabbing his pillow and laying back down. He reached for the blanket but she snatched it away.
She grabbed the pillow with both hands and yanked it out from under his head. “You are not going back to sleep, Ed!” she said, laughing.
He sat up again, fuming, and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her, with his pillow, down onto the bed and wrestled it out of her grasp, but it was clear that going back to sleep was a lost cause.
Suddenly the wrench appeared in her hand, where did that come from? he wondered vaguely, and he ducked, dodging her half hearted blow. She didn’t really intend to hurt him, but she did wake him from a perfectly blissful sleep, and that was offense enough, he decided. He had her wrist pinned to the edge of the bed with his knee and was attempting to pry her fingers from their death grip around her precious tool, but having the advantage of having two hands to fight with she snaked her other arm around and poked him sharply under the ribs where she knew he was ticklish.
He yelped and involuntarily jumped, freeing her hand and nearly toppling off the bed. He reached out to grab hold of her again, snickering when he realized what part he had managed to get a hold of. The wrench came crashing down on his head before he could even remove his hand from her breast, and she sat up on her knees in the middle of the bed, fury radiating from her being. “Quit fighting dirty, Edward!” she yelled, shaking the wrench above her head.
The sight was so comical that he collapsed down onto the tangle of sheets and blankets, cackling maniacally, and said, “Oh, come on, Win, you didn’t object last time I did that!” He narrowed his eyes haughtily. “You know you liked it.”
Her expression froze for a moment, and then a giggle escaped her. She flopped down on top of him, trying to suppress her own laughter. “Don’t tempt me, Ed…”
“Besides,” he continued, his lips twisting up in a smirk, their faces almost touching, “who’s the one who’s fighting dirty here? I’m the cripple, what exactly is fair about you attacking me like that?”
“Well I wouldn’t have to attack you if you’d just get out of bed,” she retorted, laughing, but making no move to get up.
Ed laughed dryly and pushed her off, leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve the wooden leg and began to untangle the straps. Winry reached up from where she lay and moved her fingers lazily across his back, through the ends of his hair, wishing suddenly that every moment between them could be like this one.
They both jumped at the sound of his voice. “I thought you said you’d have him up by the time I got home,” Al said from the doorway, his eyes dancing. He leaned, arms folded, against the doorframe. “How’s your arm feel, brother?”
He wasn’t expecting the oppressive silence that immediately settled over the room, or the brilliant shades of red that crept up both their faces. Winry sprung up off the bed at once and started fussing with the curtains that she had already pulled back.
“What’s with you two?” Al asked, puzzled. “You’re acting like I caught you in bed together or something.”
Ed pulled sharply on the buckle that held his prosthetic leg in place and stood up, making his way to the dresser and jerking open one of the drawers. “Well, technically, you did, Al, although all Winry really wanted from me was the opportunity to bash me in the head while I couldn’t fight back, on account of being short two limbs,” he said darkly, not looking at him. “Like the selfish bitch that she is,” he added, pushing past his brother and heading down the stairs, not even bothering to put on the clothes he held bundled up in his hand.
Winry stood by the window, staring at his back as he left, her expression hurt, and Al crossed the room, wrapping a hesitant arm around her. “He didn’t mean that,” he assured her after a moment. “He’s just hurting, it puts him in a bad mood.”
She didn’t speak up to correct him, deciding it was better to let him think that than to tell him the truth.
Ed was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, shaking the brightly colored wooden keys above Kaiya and smiling to himself as he watched her kick her feet and wave her hands at them, squealing adorably. She was perfect, he thought to himself. Absolutely and completely perfect. Her hair was starting to grow in, and it was a light bronze color, a little lighter than Al’s, but her eyes seemed different every day. Sometimes it looked like they would be a light, luminous grey like Al’s, but other days he could see flecks of gold in them, almost like his own. He remembered his mother telling him once that Al’s eyes had been blue until he was almost two, but that his had always been gold.
Alphonse knelt down behind him, pressing his chin to his brother’s good shoulder. “You should apologize to Winry,” he said softly. “I think you hurt her feelings this morning.”
Ed set the keys down on the blanket next to the baby and turned to face him. “Did she say that?” he asked.
Al shook his head. “No, but I could tell she was upset.”
“So let her be upset,” he muttered, looking down at his lap.
“Ed,” his bother protested, “how can you be that mad at her just because she wanted you to get up? It was almost noon, for god’s sakes!”
Tell him, the voice in his head pressed. Tell him, he’s your brother and he loves you. He’s not going to let this come between you. “She knows why I’m mad at her,” he said distantly. You never could lie to your little brother, what makes you think things will be any different now?
Al sat back on his heels, regarding his brother intently. “Something’s not right between you two,” he said finally. “I can tell. What’s going on?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Ed said bluntly, not at all expecting the response he got.
“I did,” Al said simply. “She told me to talk to you.”
“She did what?” he sputtered, anger rising again. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell him, she made me all but promise to lie to my only brother, and now she puts this all on me? “That bitch,” he said through clenched teeth. “She’s the one who told me not to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Al said, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Ed stood up, using the arm of the couch for support. “Do you think Kaiya will be all right if we leave her upstairs for a while? We could turn on the mobile or something,” he said, his voice strained. “We should go for a walk.”
Al frowned. “I guess so. If she starts crying, Winry will probably hear, although she might be mad when she realizes you’re not watching her. She doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s working. Why do you want to go for a walk though?”
“She’s going to be mad either way,” he muttered, not answering. The baby was watching them from her blanket on the floor, her eyes round as saucers. “Kaiya, you like your mobile, right?” he said to her. Then he turned to Al apologetically. “Al, can you pick her up? I’m afraid I’ll drop her with just one hand.”
Al knelt immediately, picking the baby up gently and wrapping her with the blanket she had been laying on. Wordlessly, Ed followed his brother up the stairs and watched him lay Kaiya in the crib and switch on the mobile. Her expression immediately brightened and she began to coo as the bright shapes passed through her vision. He leaned over the bars of the crib, looking the baby in the eyes. “Now, you’re happy, right? Cause I wouldn’t put it past you to start crying as soon as me and Al leave, just to get me in trouble. I bet you think it’s funny when your mother yells at me,” he accused fondly, and Al giggled nervously.
“Brother, she can’t understand you, you know. She’s only a few weeks old,” he protested.
Ed held his finger out to the baby and let her grab it tightly. “I bet she does. Don’t you notice how happy she gets when Winry whacks me with that wrench?” He turned around. “Let’s go.”
Once they were out of the house Al said, “What’s going on, brother? What is such a big deal that we have to go outside for you to tell me?”
Ed sighed. “There’s a little stream by the forest at the edge of town. I know you like to sit by the water when you’re upset.”
“Am I going to be upset?”
“Yes.”
The brothers walked in strained silence through the center of town. Ed seemed oblivious but Al noticed the stares they drew from the people they passed. Maybe it was Al they were staring at, as they sometimes did. There were probably a few stories drifting around about their resident State Alchemist, after all. Maybe it was Ed’s missing arm that caught their attention, or maybe they saw the resemblance between the brothers and made the connection if they hadn’t already and would feed the rumors that had begun to circulate about the return of the Fullmetal Alchemist.
After a tense half hour they arrived at the stream Edward had spoken of, and sat down side by side on a huge tree stump by the water’s edge, eyeing each other warily.
“I’m not mad at Winry for waking me up this morning,” Ed started, looking out over the trickling water. “I love Winry, almost as much as I love you. And she loves you. And neither of us want to do anything to hurt you. I didn’t mean to hide this from you, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t think Winry wanted me to tell you.”
Al’s expression caused his heart to ache, when would he ever stop hurting the people he loved? “Tell me what?” Al asked urgently, his brow creased with worry.
Ed looked away again. “I know you and Winry have a relationship. I’m not trying to come between you two-“ liar, his mind accused, but he forced himself to press on “-but,” he raised his eyes to face his brother, and took a deep breath. “The night I came home,” he began, “Winry and I, we, ah, we slept together…”
“Oh,” Al said softly, and Ed stopped. He watched his brother counting mentally backwards. “Oh.” His eyes widened. “Oh.”
Each waited for the other to speak.
“That’s not what I thought you were going to tell me,” Al said finally.
Ed frowned, glancing over at him. “What did you think it was?”
“I knew you both were hiding something from me,” he said slowly. “but I thought-“ his head dropped down into his hands. “It was always you and Winry. When we were kids I had such a crush on her, but I always thought she would pick you. It felt so wrong to me that I was with her, when you were gone, and I was so afraid it was because she was pretending I was you or something, but she said she wasn’t, and I tried to believe her. I thought you were going to tell me that she really does love you more, and now that you’re back you want to be together, but you didn’t know how to tell me.” He looked up, pleading with his eyes for Ed to tell him that wasn’t true.
Most of the time he was with Al, Ed didn’t really feel like he was ten years older than his brother. They were so intent on making up for lost time and usually he felt like he, too, was seventeen again. But in this moment, he suddenly felt those extra years weighing down on his soul. “Al,” he began, not sure exactly how to explain what he knew to be true. “There are a lot of ways to love someone,” he said finally. “I do love Winry. And… I love the “other” Alphonse,” he said, using his brother’s term for the man who had been his lover. “I’ve loved a lot of people, I guess. But no one even comes close to the way I love you. You’re everything to me. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” He sighed, searching his brother’s face for some kind of understanding. “I would never do anything to hurt you,” he said desperately. “You’re my entire world. It was just that one night, Al, and I swear to you, I didn’t know about you and her. If you’re angry -and you have every right to be angry- if you’re angry, please don’t be angry with me. You need to talk to Winry about it.”
Al was twisting his hands in his lap, his teeth pressing into his lower lip. “I’m not angry with either of you,” he said, standing up. “It was just that one night.” He frowned. “It’s so weird,” he said then, and Ed raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Every time I looked at Kaiya, all I could think was how she looked so much like you.”
“She doesn’t,” Ed protested. “And besides, she could still be your daughter-“ he started, but Al shook his head.
“Maybe not,” he said firmly. “Maybe she’s yours. Every time I saw you two together, it was like you shared something with her that I just couldn’t. I thought it was because I’m too young to have a child, and you’re so old-“
Ed drew his eyebrows together. “I’m not that old!” he protested.
“But you’re an adult, brother, and I thought maybe that’s what it was, but its not. Maybe she’s yours and Winry’s daughter, and that’s why I feel like that.”
Ed shook his head. “Don’t say it that way,” he protested. “Who knows what it’s supposed to feel like? I feel like I’m too young to have a daughter too, I’d probably make the worst father in the world, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s… she’s ours, I guess,” he ended lamely, knowing that was the most unsatisfying, insufficient conclusion but unable to come up with anything better.
Al held his hand out to his brother, and Ed took it, standing up. “I love you, Ed,” he said, pulling him in close for a hug. “I always will, there’s nothing you can do to make me stop. We’ve been through worse things, right? You didn’t know,” he said firmly, making himself believe it. “She didn’t tell you. Maybe it’s just something she… I don’t know. Felt like she had to do. She missed you so much.” He turned, not facing his brother. “Let’s go back home.”
You’re an adult too, Al, Ed thought to himself. You’ve always been the adult, not me. Even with ten years between us, you’re still the mature one. I always wanted to take care of you, but it’s always been you taking care of me.
“I just wish Winry had told me,” Al said, interrupting his thoughts. They walked side by side through the town in the late afternoon light.
“Yeah,” said Ed. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Author’s Note: No, that’s not the last of it. Al’s a nice guy, but he’s only human, not a saint. It’s easy to say something’s all right; it’s much harder to actually believe it.
Chapter Three: Conversations in the Dark