A.N.: I will be posting the links to the "unexpurgated"chapters on my author info page. Feel free to stop by and leave me messages or comments. Note: If you're under the age of consentin your particular country, you're not supposed to read the unexpurgated chapters. In other words, there is an issue of trust.
Chapter 10
Alphonse looked up from the notebook as Winry paced around the room. Her eyebrows were knotted together, her hands gesturing as if she was carrying on a conversation. She wasn't saying anything, at least not so he could hear. "Winry?" He repeated her name twice before she actually heard him, coming to sit next to him on the bed. "I think I've figured it out."
He hated the way she looked with dark circles under her eyes and deep lines around her mouth. Alphonse was sure he wasn't in any better shape. Neither of them had been sleeping well. He knew Winry could pull all-nighters; she'd complained of them often enough when working on Ed's automail. But now she seemed to be running on the ragged edge of nervous energy, not quite able to stop. Since Colonel Mustang and his men had dragged Al out of the suit of armor that had once been his body, he'd only slept when exhaustion managed to claim him. Neither of them had completely succumbed since they'd heard what had happened to Edward.
"What is it, Al?" Winry asked, trying to compose herself. She tangled her fingers together though her right leg bounced with the effort to keep still.
Alphonse knew that feeling, too; the desire to run until you left everything behind; all the memories and the sorrow and the pain. Sighing, he opened the book to the first page, moving so he could lay it across their laps. "Colonel Mustang was doing research into forbidden alchemy," he said quietly. "I can't read his notes, Winry, they're in code." He pointed to scribbles about women and their likes and dislikes. Winry's frown deepened. "But here," Al turned towards the back of the book, showing her an alchemic array drawn out, "this isn't translated. He left this as is." Raising his head, Al waited until Winry met his eyes. "There's more," Alphonse said, flipping the pages. "He doesn't write in code here." Al tapped the page lightly, drawing her attention to the words.
"That – those are my parents' names," Winry breathed. She reached out tentatively then jerked her fingers away, as if she was afraid they'd be burned.
"Uh, huh. And there's this." Al reluctantly turned two more pages, showing her a photograph.
Winry swallowed, recognizing herself as a child in the picture, the paper gouged and scarred and bloodstained. "Oh, god."
Alphonse silently flipped through the book, stopping on another photograph, this one of Maes Hughes and Mustang, both of them smiling broadly. It took a closer look to realize that Hughes' grin was decidedly wicked and that the butt of a rifle appeared over Mustang's shoulder. Whatever they'd been up to just before the picture was snapped, it was obviously no good. Al turned to the final page in the book, where a furious Edward snarled at whoever had interrupted his meal to take a picture of him. Winry contemplated the photo for a few seconds then raised her gaze to Al, her eyes full of the answers to her unvoiced questions. "Al," she said, drawing out his name, as if she'd already started putting the pieces of the puzzle together and just wanted his confirmation before sliding the last piece into place.
"You said that Colonel Mustang told you he'd considered using this book three times," Alphonse said quietly, turning back to that first alchemic array that had been drawn in the book. "This is the same array that Ed and I, that we used to try to bring back Mom."
Winry bit her lower lip. "He thought about bringing back Mom and Dad," she murmured. "And Mr. Hughes." She flipped through the pages, pausing at each photograph, the tips of her fingers hovering over the paper, finally turning to the last page, though she didn't study the picture of Ed as she had the previous two photos. Instead, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, standing up and walking away from the bed. Alphonse alone stared at his brother's indignation, frozen forever on a piece of paper.
"Edward wouldn't have wanted to leave you," Winry said to the door, or maybe the wall. It was hard to tell, with her back to Alphonse. "But he made his decision. It was a good one." Alphonse wasn't sure if she tried to convince him or herself or was just saying the thought out loud, testing whether it was something she'd be able to repeat later. Regardless, her shoulders squared and her head came up. Winry wiped her eyes again and turned around, her hands tightened into fists.
The sound of someone knocking carried upstairs. Alphonse heard voices, recognizing Mrs. Hughes and Colonel Mustang. Closing the book on Ed's photo, Al laid it gently on the bed. Getting up, he joined the girl standing in front of the door. Winry was strong, Al knew, and nearly as scary as Teacher when she got angry. Now, she trembled, her hands clenching and unclenching. "Winry, can you do this?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded fiercely. "We'd better get downstairs. I heard Colonel Mustang. He wanted to see us and Granny before the others got here." With a final dash of her hand over her eyes, Winry opened the door and stepped through it.
Al glanced at the book on the bed, returning to pick it up. He wouldn't leave it out for Mrs. Hughes, or worse, Elicia, to find. Tucking the slim volume under his arm, he followed Winry down the stairs to the front hallway, where Colonel Mustang stood with Mrs. Hughes. Al didn't quite hesitate on the stairs but it was something of a shock to see the Colonel out of his military clothing in black slacks and a white button-down shirt. Lieutenant Hawkeye was with him, her hair loose around her shoulders, dressed in warm shades of brown and tan, a gold chain around her neck.
"Hello, Alphonse, Miss Rockbell," Mustang said, raising his head at their approach.
"Colonel," Al said, "Lieutenant Hawkeye." He rested his palm in the center of Winry's back, urging her on down the stairs.
"Hi," she said, not quite looking at any of the adults. "Um, Mrs. Hughes, I thought I'd get some tea or coffee started?"
"Why don't I do that, Winry? You two can show our guests into the study." Mrs. Hughes smiled at Winry and Al. "Roy said that he'd like to talk to you and your grandmother. I'll get her for you." She left them in the hallway, a knot of discomfort.
"I'm sorry I haven't stopped by earlier, Winry, Alphonse," Hawkeye said, reaching out to take their hands in her own.
"Maybe we should go into the study," Al said hesitantly.
"I'll go help Gracia," Hawkeye said, squeezing Al's hand. She nodded to Winry and to Mustang and walked away.
"It's this way." Al gestured with his head, leading the way into study. When they were seated, Alphonse laid the notebook on the table between them. "Colonel, Winry showed me your book."
"Yes, I asked her to," Mustang said, crossing his legs. Somehow, he looked at ease. Al wondered just how much that cost the older man. He could read people well but looking at the Colonel was sometimes like looking at a mask. "Miss Rockbell," he turned his dark gaze to her, "I hope it explains a few things."
Out of the corner of his eye, Alphonse saw her bob her head abruptly. "As much as that can answer anything." Her voice was tight.
Mustang lowered his gaze slightly, a faint smirk showing; his mask firmly in place. "I suppose it isn't exactly the information you wanted, Miss Rockbell. I apologize for that." He folded his hands, pressing his forefingers against his mouth.
Alphonse had seen that particular pose many times before, usually across a desk, with Edward fuming beside him. The pang of that memory struck through him like lightning and he swallowed. "You said that you needed to see us," Al managed to say past the knot in his throat.
"Yes, that's true." Mustang glanced at the notebook. "Where is the folder, Miss Rockbell?"
Winry glanced at Al. "I'll get it." Leaping to her feet, she hurried out of the room. Alphonse could track her progress by the sound of her running up the stairs.
"How are you doing, Alphonse?" He blinked, surprised, turning towards the Colonel. Mustang studied him closely and Alphonse put up with the scrutiny. "That well," Mustang said.
"There's so much," Al said quietly, staring down at his hands, entwined in his lap. "So much to deal with. I have a body again." He raised one hand up in front of his face, turning it, flexing it, reveling in the actual feeling of movement of muscles and joints and flesh wrapped over all of it. "It's amazing. To feel the sun on my face, a breeze in my hair. To be able to taste Mrs. Hughes' pies." He inhaled deeply. "To recognize that smell of motor oil and metal shavings." He tilted his head back, as if he could look through the ceiling to see Winry, rummaging around to find the folder. "I just thought my brother would be here to share this with me."
Mustang was saved having to answer as Pinako walked into the room. She nodded curtly at their visitor. "Colonel Mustang."
He rose politely. "Doctor Rockbell."
"My granddaughter said that you needed to see us before whatever it is that she's set up for this evening." Pinako hopped into a chair, her face settled into dark lines.
"Yes. I appreciate you allowing this meeting." Mustang sat back down, rolling up the cuffs of his shirt so he didn't have to look at either of them.
"I don't think that Winry would've let me say no." Pinako gave her granddaughter a resigned look as Winry returned to the room, the folder in hand.
"Here it is," she said, handing it to Mustang before she sat on the sofa next to Alphonse.
"Thank you." Mustang opened it, turning it so the trio would be able to read the information. "This is in regards to Edward. I know this is difficult to discuss for you. It…isn't any easier for me. I know you probably won't believe that but it is the truth."
"I believe you, sir," Alphonse said, ignoring Pinako's glare. Winry just twisted her fingers together.
"Thank you, Alphonse." Mustang regarded the file between them. "The papers in front of you are in regards to the pension for Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric."
"Ed has a pension?" Pinako asked, leaning closer to the paperwork and adjusting her glasses.
"What does that mean?" Winry asked, glancing up at Mustang.
"It means that, as Edward's surviving family, Alphonse is due recompense for the death of his brother, in the form of a monthly pension. I took the liberty of getting the paperwork together."
Alphonse sat stunned, trying to understand what the Colonel was saying. Beside him, Winry made a choked noise and he automatically reached for her hand. "So," she said, her voice bitter, "this is the apology for Ed's death?"
"Winry," Pinako said tiredly, "listen to what the Colonel has to say."
"Thank you, Doctor Rockbell." Mustang inclined his head to her. "Miss Rockbell, this is not an apology." He sounded sardonic as he said, "The military doesn't apologize, after all. This is a way to help Alphonse." He paused, reaching over to tap the paperwork. "And you, too."
"Me?" Winry scowled.
"When Edward completed the paperwork naming his beneficiaries, he listed both Alphonse and you." Mustang turned to Pinako. "Doctor Rockbell, as their guardian, the funds will come to you in their names."
Al and Winry exchanged long looks. "Winry?" he asked softly.
She shook her head, blinking her eyes rapidly. "It doesn't seem right," she whispered.
Pinako picked up the folder, studying the paperwork closely. "Everything looks in order," she said, flicking a glance over the top of the papers at Mustang.
He nodded. "My staff are very thorough."
"It's like blood money," Winry muttered, not quite under her breath.
"You can use it however you wish, Miss Rockbell," Mustang said. "For all I care, you could give it to orphans." He shrugged eloquently. "The fact remains that Edward wanted you to have the funds if anything should happen to him."
Alphonse squeezed Winry's hand. "Brother was trying to take care of us. It…it's a good idea." He hoped he didn't sound as dubious about it as he thought he did.
"If nothing else, we can put it into a bank," Pinako said, "if you two don't want to use it. Someday, maybe it'll come in handy." She closed the folder and motioned for Alphonse to take it. He obeyed but put the folder on the table on top of the notebook, not really wanting to hold on to it.
A knock came at the door and Mrs. Hughes called, "Could someone get that, please?"
"I'll go," Alphonse said, rising quickly. He went down the hall and checked through the peephole, seeing Lieutenant Havoc watching the street, a trail of smoke marking his position. Opening the door, he forced a smile. "Hi, Lieutenant," Alphonse said, "come in."
"Thanks, Al. It's nice to see you again." Havoc tossed the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out, leaning over to pick up the butt. "Mrs. Hughes hates cigarettes," he said. "Doesn't want 'em around Elicia. Not that I blame her." Patting Al on the shoulder, he entered the house, glancing around. "Anybody else here?"
"Colonel Mustang is in the study and Lieutenant Hawkeye's helping out Mrs. Hughes in the kitchen." Alphonse led Havoc towards the study.
"Where's the kid?" Havoc fished a toothpick out of a pocket and tossed it into his mouth as a replacement.
"Upstairs with Sciezca, reading." Alphonse nodded towards the stairs.
"I hear this is supposed to be something big," Havoc said, cocking an eyebrow at Al.
"Yeah, well, we want to get everyone together before we talk about it," Al said, rubbing his neck. "You might as well go into the study." He popped through the doorway. "Lieutenant Havoc's here. I'm going to check on Mrs. Hughes and see if she needs any more help."
"Hey, Boss," Havoc said, stepping into the room. "Miss Rockbell."
Alphonse could hear Winry say, "Lieutenant Havoc, this is my grandmother, Doctor Pinako Rockbell," as he hurried on to the kitchen. It felt good to get away, even for just a few seconds, to not have to deal with the tension in the study. Al entered the kitchen, seeing the two women holding steaming cups, obviously in the middle of a discussion. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" he asked.
"No, of course not, Al," Mrs. Hughes said, beckoning to him. "Riza and I were just catching up. Girl talk." She smiled at Lieutenant Hawkeye.
"I just wanted to let you know that Lieutenant Havoc is here," Alphonse said. "I guess everyone else should be coming soon?" He raised his eyebrows at Hawkeye questioningly.
The lieutenant set her cup on the counter. "If Havoc's here, the others shouldn't be too far behind. What can I do to help, Gracia?"
"The cake needs to be cut and, Al, if you could get the sugar bowl and creamer out of the cabinet over there?" Gracia indicated which one with a nod of her head. "Oh, there's the door."
"I can get it," Al said, heading back to the front door.
More knocks came and eventually, the rest of Mustang's command appeared. Sciezca and Elicia came downstairs to say hello and have a piece of cake. The small talk was stilted and came in fits and starts. Elicia insisted on sitting on Winry's lap while she ate. Alphonse thought it was a good thing, keeping Winry focused. It made him wish Elicia had wanted to sit on his lap. She might have kept him from thinking about the things that had happened before Edward worked his last alchemic transmutation.
Alphonse closed his eyes tightly at that. "I can do this," he said, so softly that his voice didn't carry.
Mrs. Hughes eventually pried Elicia out of Winry's lap and led her upstairs. Sciezca trailed after, having volunteered to keep Elicia busy while the others talked. Winry collected the plates and brought out fresh coffee and tea for those who wanted it. By the time Mrs. Hughes returned to the study, the room had fallen tense and silent, with glances being exchanged or avoided.
Somehow managing to ignore the tension, Mrs. Hughes cut across the room to take her seat next to Lieutenant Hawkeye. Sitting and arranging her skirt, she picked up her cup and took a sip of her coffee. "Well, Winry? Everyone's here now."
Her mouth tight, Winry stood up. Tangling her fingers together, she took a deep breath and said, "I wanted everyone here to tell you something that Sciezca and I saw," Winry shot Mrs. Hughes an apologetic glance. "Sciezca was trying to figure out who shot Mr. Hughes."
"I told that girl to leave it alone," Colonel Mustang growled, his hand clenched in a fist.
Winry shrugged at Sciezca's disobedience. "When I was last in Central, Sciezca told me what she'd found out – that Mr. Hughes was researching someone named Juliet Douglas." Slowly, Winry began walking around the room, her head lowered so she didn't have to meet anyone's eyes. "Juliet Douglas was the person who's credited with starting the war in Ishbal."
"Credited," Havoc said almost at the same time as Hawkeye said, "Fuhrer King Bradley's aide is named Juliet Douglas."
Pausing, Winry met the Lieutenant's gaze levelly. "The same Juliet Douglas has been in the military records since the war."
"But I've seen Lieutenant Douglas," Fuery said, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
"Yeah, she's gorgeous," Havoc said, yipping when Hawkeye elbowed him.
"Sciezca and I decided to try to find out more about the lieutenant," Winry said. "We hooked into her telephone line so we could listen in to her conversations."
"Do you have any idea what the penalties are for bugging a military line?" Mustang asked, though the question carried a darkly humorous note.
Her chin lifting, Winry went on. "We thought we might find out something about Mr. Hughes. Or about some of Lieutenant Douglas' telephone calls. They didn't make sense. She was making calls to Lior." Her hands fisted at the name of the city. "But somehow, someone knew that we were listening. What found us," Winry's voice trailed off and she shook her head, as if trying to erase some image from her mind. "We were in an access shaft beneath the building." She stopped behind Alphonse and he craned around to look at her. "Some…thing got in the shaft with us. It looked like a living body of water."
"A what?" Breda asked, his eyes widening.
Alphonse sucked in a breath. "A homunculus," he said, barely breaking a whisper.
Winry swallowed, meeting his eyes. "I didn't know how to get in touch with you and Ed, Al. I wanted to tell you because the water changed its shape while we were trying to get away from it." She moved her hand so it rested on Al's shoulder. "It had a face like your Mom's."
"I knew it." Alphonse grabbed her wrist, holding it tightly. "I told Edward. I told him." He turned back around to the room. "We saw her, heard her voice. She could be Mom's twin." He paused, adding bleakly, "She could be Mom."
"Your mother's dead, though," Falman said, leaning his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows lowering.
Breda, next to him, shuddered violently. "The Fuhrer has a ghost for an aide?"
"Not a ghost, a homunculus," Alphonse said, letting go of Winry. "There're reasons why human transformation is forbidden to alchemists." He sighed. "When we tried to bring Mom back, we got something that wasn't human."
"I buried that," Pinako said, her mouth worked, "that mistake."
"You did, Granny," Alphonse said in agreement, "but we'd brought something else to life. Sort of life. When an alchemist tries to bring someone dead back, a homunculus is formed. Brother and I met some – Envy, Greed, Lust and Gluttony."
"And Miss Izumi's little boy," Winry added.
"Teacher didn't tell us not to try to bring Mom back. Even if she had, we may've tried anyway. We missed Mom so much." Al folded his hands together. Almost everyone in this room had lost someone equally as important in their lives. Surely they understood the pain he and Edward had felt. "After Lab Five, Brother told Lieutenant Colonel – sorry, Brigadier General Hughes about the homunculi." Al glanced back at Winry. "He must have figured something out, maybe the same thing that you and Sciezca did."
"And you didn't tell this to anyone else?" Mustang asked through clenched teeth.
Alphonse shrugged. "We weren't sure who to trust at that point, Colonel. Besides, we were told not to talk about it. But there's more." He waited a few seconds, trying not to think, just to be able to speak. "The chimera, Martel, she was helping me and Edward. She wanted to kill Kimbley because he murdered her friends. While she was chasing after him outside of Lior, something happened. Martel saw something and she came back to tell me. She was scared, really frightened," Alphonse had to take a breath before he could go on. "I – I told her to hide in my armor and she said she saw something and she wanted me to tell Brother. Before she could tell me what she'd seen, Fuhrer Bradley, he," biting his lip, Al hoping the pain would steady him, "he came up and thrust his sword down into my armor and, and," his voice trickled off.
Winry leaned over the back of the sofa, wrapping her arms around him. Alphonse caught hold of her hands, holding them tightly. So much blood, he thought; so much blood, pouring out of his armor. He hadn't even felt her inside of his chest cavity, hadn't been able tell when she died. Martel had died trapped inside of him, a place he'd thought she'd be safe.
"You don't know what she saw, Al?" Hawkeye asked, her voice seeming to come from a great distance away.
Dragging himself back to the present, Alphonse shook his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Martel didn't have a chance to tell me. But…maybe it had something to do with Lieutenant Douglas. What if the Fuhrer knows she's a homunculus?"
That question stopped everyone for a few seconds, each person considering that implication. Finally, Havoc pointed his toothpick across the room at Alphonse.
"Why do these homunculi want anything to do with you, Al?"
"They want the Philosopher's Stone," Winry said when Al didn't answer immediately. "Ed told me at the hospital, when I was working on his automail."
"But I don't need it any more." Alphonse leaned back, feeling Winry's hands on his shoulders again.
"That may not stop them from hunting you down, Al." Mustang's expression was grim. "Have you even tried using your alchemy since we found you?"
Feeling a cold chill, Alphonse said, "No." He could hear Teacher's voice, asking Edward, "Have you see that thing?" The Gate loomed large in his memory, a sudden thing, as perilous as Galahad's chair. The images, everything he saw through the opening, suddenly exploded behind his eyes again. Alphonse shivered and stood up, feeling everyone's eyes on him as he stiffly walked to the fireplace. Laying a log on the hearth, Alphonse clapped his hands.
The power jolted through him, heady, addictive. Had Edward felt this, Alphonse wondered, had his brother felt as if he could touch the sky; change the world? Al knew he'd never know the answer but could not mourn, not now. And yet, the feelings came through in what his alchemy carved from the wood – Edward's image; shoulders thrown back, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his cocky, familiar, beloved grin turned towards the world. Alphonse dropped onto his backside, slowly turning to face the rest of the room.
Colonel Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off a headache. "Alchemy without a circle."
"It's beautiful, Alphonse," Mrs. Hughes said wonderingly. Al tried to return her smile as best he could.
"You're now their best chance to get the stone, Alphonse," Mustang said, dropping his hands onto his knees. "You're not a part of the military so assigning you guards is out of the question. Central isn't the safest place for any of you." His gaze took in Pinako and Winry.
"You think they'd use one of us to make Al do what they want?" Pinako leaned forward in her chair, her fingers tightening on the armrests.
"Without a doubt, Doctor Rockbell," Mustang said, his mouth a grim line.
"Lust had me as a hostage in Lab Five," Alphonse said quietly, "trying to get Brother to make the stone then."
Pinako clenched her jaw. "That's it. Winry, Al, you and Sciezca are getting out of this city tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Winry squeaked.
"You're going home, all of you. I want you out of range for what happens next." Pinako's beady eyes fixed on Mustang. "You know if we're gone, they'll come after you, Colonel. You're the one who recruited Ed. You found Al in that city. You've tried to keep them safe." Pointing at the Colonel, Pinako said, "Next to Al, you might be the one who knows the most about that damn stone."
Hawkeye turned her penetrating gaze from Pinako to Mustang. "Not to mention your investigation, sir. If someone even has a suspicion about it, it could go badly for you."
"We've been careful," Mustang said, rising to his feet as if he couldn't stay seated any longer. He moved jerkily to the fireplace, squatting next to Alphonse. Reaching out to the statue, Mustang didn't quite touch it, his fingers skimming the air around it.
"Maybe not careful enough, sir," Hawkeye said. She touched Mrs. Hughes' wrist in apology. "Your friendship with Brigadier General Hughes was too well-known."
"You've been investigating Maes' death, Roy?" Mrs. Hughes asked softly.
Across from Alphonse, Mustang's mouth curled. "Only in the most oblique ways, Gracia. It seems that Miss Rockbell and Sciezca are far better detectives than I've been."
"Colonel, you can't let yourself be taken, either," Alphonse said seriously.
"Or you need to make them think that you know nothing, that you aren't a threat to them," Pinako said briskly.
"How do you propose that?" Mustang asked, not even bothering to turn around.
Pinako eyed the back of the Colonel's head. "I'm going to request an inquiry into Ed's death."
The words fell like a stone into water, the ripples of them touching everyone in the room. Al hugged himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He could hear the reactions, first the silence then the buzz as everyone spoke at once. Al couldn't make out the individual voices, the noise soft but overwhelming.
"I think it's a good idea," Mustang's words cut through the chatter, though he barely spoke above a whisper.
"Sir?" Havoc asked, shocked. "What about your plans?"
Mrs. Hughes cleared her throat. "Roy, Maes would say that your life is more important than any plans you might have."
Alphonse opened his eyes, finding himself staring directly into Mustang's. The older man didn't even seem to notice him. "You're right, Gracia. He would want me to live, wouldn't he?"
Hawkeye sounded stern as she said, "You know what this could mean to your career, sir."
"Oh, yes." The Colonel met her eyes directly across the room then turned his gaze to Pinako.
"But, sir," Breda said, scowling ferociously. "There has to be another way."
"If you can think of it, Breda, please let me know." Mustang got to his feet as if he were suddenly older than Pinako. "I believe there is nothing more to discuss tonight." He reached out to Mrs. Hughes. "Gracia, you are a wonderful hostess, as always. Thank you for allowing us to meet here."
"You know that you're always welcome here, Roy," Mrs. Hughes said as she rose, obviously determined to provide a point of stability in the room. She held the Colonel's hand in both of hers, smiling at him. The rest of the men got up, making their goodbyes, thanking Mrs. Hughes for her company. Havoc offered to pick up Elicia and take her to the park one day. Fuery asked for the recipe for the cake for his mother. It almost seemed to Alphonse as if they were trying to make it normal, knowing that from this second on, it never would be normal again.
Lieutenant Hawkeye waited for the Colonel as he said his farewells to Pinako and Alphonse, hesitating in front of Winry. She slipped past him, picking up the black notebook and holding it out to him. "Maybe," Mustang said, his voice dry, "it would be best if you kept hold of that for the time being, Miss Rockbell." He nodded once more and turned on his heel, following Hawkeye down the hall and out the front door.
"What's that?" Pinako asked as Mrs. Hughes went after to close the door. She eyed the notebook suspiciously. "Why's he giving it to you?"
Winry let out something like a strangled laugh. "I guess so he doesn't do something stupid." She cradled the book against her chest, shaking her head.
Alphonse went to her, touching her shoulder. "C'mon, Winry. I think it's time for you to go to sleep." He nodded at Pinako and Mrs. Hughes. "I'll be back down to help clean up," he said to the older woman.
Pinako's face sagged. "It's all right, Al. You probably need the rest, too. You'll need to be up early to pack anyway."
Guiding Winry up the stairs, Al sent her into the room she shared with Sciezca. "Try to get some rest, Winry." He couldn't, wouldn't tell her that it would be better in the morning. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his wrist, holding him in the doorway.
"Al," she whispered shakily, "we can't really bring anyone back, can we?" Winry held the book out between them.
Swallowing, Alphonse shook his head. "No, Winry. Not even as much as we want to, we can't bring someone back. Life only goes one way." He gently pushed the book back towards her. "Teacher said that people who die have to live on in the memories of those who loved them."
Winry nodded, her bangs hiding her eyes. "That's what I thought." She cradled the book against her again. "But I had to ask, Al. Don't be angry at me."
"I'm not." Al cupped her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Go to sleep, Winry. I'm right next door if you need me."
Bobbing her head, Winry stepped back into the room and Al pulled the door to behind her. He rested his forehead against the panel for a few seconds, hearing a childish voice chanting in his mind, "Hydrogen, ten percent. Carbon, eighteen percent…." With a low moan, Al pushed away from the door and went into his own room. He dropped onto the bed, covering his head with the pillow in hopes of drowning out the voices in his memories.