Chapter Eleven

Dashboard

Well, it would've been, could've been worse than you would ever know

Oh, the dashboard melted but we still have the radio

Oh, it should've been, could've been worse than you would ever know

Well, you told me about nowhere, well, it sounds like someplace I'd like to go

"That day" has nearly come to a close. Roy Mustang sits at the head of Granny's worn-out dinner table, and I don't know what to think. They're finally going to tell me the truth. I should be pleased. I should be excited, even.

But all of the sudden, I'm absolutely terrified. Because if what Ed's saying is true, then in the next few minutes, my life might change forever.

Our principal looks even worse than he had this morning, when he had announced Riza's departure in front of the packed auditorium. He won't even look at us; he keeps his head firmly in his hands, and his elbows rest on the table's whorled surface. Looking at him, I suddenly think of Atlas, the titan damned to carry the entire world on his shoulders for the rest of eternity.

Granny's present at our meeting, too, and for the first time, I begin to wonder how much she knows, and how much she's been keeping from me. I feel slightly resentful about that.

Do they not trust me? Do they think I can't take it? Will they lie to me, or water-down the truth?

I shake my head vigorously, trying to get rid of those thoughts with all my might. They're just not worth having.

Al clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. "There's something you all need to know." Despite his usage of the plural, he seems to be looking straight at me, his gentle face lined with worry.

"Ed and I… Well, as you all know, we left Resembool a year ago today. We told ourselves we'd never forget why we did, and we haven't. But we soon discovered that no matter the physical distance, you can't shake the memories that you've already made, even if you try your hardest to leave them behind."

Ed is the only one who hasn't sat down at the table with us. He instead stands in the corner, looking out the broad windows at a moon that doesn't exist tonight. I can see his face by way of its reflection in the glass, but I can't make out his expression.

"A year ago today, Ed and I set our childhood home on fire. Mr. Mustang, you already know why we did this, but…" Suddenly, his eyes are pleading. They bear straight into mine.

"You need to understand! We had no idea what would happen! Please–"

Roy interrupts him with a voice rusty from disuse. "We understand that, Elric. Just continue."

"I…" He draws in a deep breath, slumping back into his seat. He looks totally defeated. "Okay."

Suddenly, Ed peels himself away from the window and comes to sit next down next to his little brother. He extends his metallic arm and whispers something into Al's ear. The latter nods slightly and sits back up a little straighter.

Ed speaks now, which surprises me. "Winry… Do you remember what you said to me on the first day of school?"

"You're going to have to be a little more specific, Edward," I say, and it comes out much harsher than I'd intended.

"We were sitting together in gym class, and you told me that you found Miss Sult's appearance strange."

The memory of that conversation quickly resurfaces, but I'm no less confused. "What does my homeroom teacher have to do with any of this?"

"Do you think that she is… strange?"

I wrinkle my nose, but I catch myself blushing. "Well…" I hesitate. "She is… strangely beautiful, I guess."

Nobody laughs at me for this, so I plow on: "But she seems like a normal human being to me."

"She isn't," Roy says shortly. It strikes me as strange, and I try to understand his odd expression – his dark eyes are narrow and fierce, a dramatic change from their prior emptiness.

"She isn't at all."

"What… is she like a supermodel or something?" I wouldn't be surprised if that's the truth at all, although I would be slightly confused as to why a supermodel would want to teach English at a country high school.

Roy chuckles humorlessly. "No, I mean, she isn't human."

It takes a second for that to register with me, and when it does, I begin to laugh it off. "Is this some kind of joke?" I ask, totally disbelieving. But as I look around the table at their utterly serious faces, my laughter dies away.

"Oh, c'mon, next you guys will be telling me she's an alien from outer space. Isn't it just a bit too early to be pulling April Fool's jokes?"

"We wish it was a joke, Winry," Al responds solemnly. "But it's really true. Miss Sult isn't human, or, at least, how you and I would define a human being. And neither is Mr. Nevy. In fact, we even suspect Mr. Edger–"

That third name convinces me much more, and the incredulous smile slides right off my face.

"Wait, so let's just pretend they aren't human–"

"They aren't," Roy interrupts.

"Okay, but–"

"Why would we lie to you about this?" Ed suddenly thunders, and the entire room goes quiet.

"God, if you want to know everything so badly, aren't you going to give us a chance to explain?"

"Brother–"

"He's right," Granny says suddenly, her thin lips compressed to a hard line. "Winry, these boys are risking a lot for you right now by telling you the truth. Count your blessings now, before…" She trails off ominously, and I shiver slightly, despite the muggy, close heat of the post-dinner kitchen.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"It's okay," Ed replies in kind, looking somewhat apologetic, which is a stretch for him. "Just… listen. Okay? We're doing the best we can."

I take a deep breath and nod.

Al picks up where we left off. "Winry, you should know that Brother and I left home to live in Central on Principal Mustang's orders."

"Wh-why?" I ask, swinging my head in Roy's direction. He merely rolls his eyes.

"And you troublesome brats just had to show back up again, didn't you?"

Ed ignores this. "He wanted us to do a bit of an investigation. See, Mr. Hughes was beginning to uncover some… stuff while working for the Fuhrer. Documents that had passed through unknown hands, important forms lacking Bradley's signature, and a name that kept appearing everywhere."

"What name?"

"Um, well…" Al looks uncomfortable, and Ed turns away with a grunt.

"It was Hohenheim. Van Hohenheim."

"Your dad?" Whoa. "But… why? I thought he left the country! Went to America, or something!"

"Apparently not," Al says with a noncommittal shrug, although I can tell that he's just as bothered as I am.

"Unless someone's using his name. We still don't know that it's him."

I look over at Granny, and her beady eyes are rock-hard beneath her round spectacles. She was good friends with Hohenheim, I think, remembering. She doesn't want him to be the bad guy.

But is there even a bad guy? "What does this all mean, then?"

"Many of the papers passing through Hughes's office weren't even government-issued. Instead, they were all marked by something called the Homunculus Company. And our da – I mean, Hohenheim, he was listed as its chairman. The head executive."

I frown. "What does homunculus mean?"

"It's an ancient alchemic term. You know about alchemists, right?"

"Yeah, weren't they those crackpot medieval scientists? They wanted to make gold, extend their lives?"

Ed snorts loudly, making me jump a little in my seat. "Well, now, that's just rude!"

Al gives him a look. "Based on everything Hughes found… And we helped him do it, all throughout this past year. Based on everything…

"We think that this Homunculus Company is manufacturing fake human beings. And Hughes must've been caught investigating, so they had him–"

"Murdered," Roy interrupts, and takes a swig from a cup of something that looks too dark to be coffee. I wonder offhandedly where he got it.

"But why would they, er, murder him for something like that?" Suddenly, the implications of what the brothers are telling me hit me full in the face.

"You think your dad murdered Mr. Hughes… don't you?"

"At least indirectly," Al murmurs, staring down at his tightly-clasped hands.

"Why…" I trail off. I think back, long ago, to the one day I spent with Van Hohenheim, before he disappeared from our lives forever.

He'd taken us three to the park, and then bought us ice creams from a colorful truck. Later, when Ed and Al fell asleep, he'd given me Ed's cookie sandwich to finish and told me a fantastical story about his life as a young man in a distant land called Xerxes. I fell asleep, too, listening to him, and when I'd woken up…

He was gone.

"Your dad wouldn't do that," I say firmly, surprising myself. Granny perks up, looking interested. "He would never do that."

A shadow passes over Ed's face. "He abandoned us and our mom, Winry. And that's what killed her in the end, you know. Not the fainting spell, not the flu, but his own cruelty." He pauses briefly and looks to Al, but his brother won't meet his eyes.

"He's a bad man, Winry."

For awhile, we all sit in silence, and I listen to the infinite questions rolling around noisily in my head like the clattering of the numbered cubes in Granny's bingo spinner.

"So Principal Mustang sent you to Central because he wanted you to help Hughes dig for information," I begin, breaking the silence. I turn to Roy, and by the look of his red eyes, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that he is, in fact, drunk.

"Why would you do that?"

His answer surprises me greatly. "I want to take that bastard Bradley down, that's why."

"Fuhrer Bradley? That's crazy!"

"His name never came up anywhere, the whole time," Al reminds him gently. "He's innocent until proven guilty."

"Someone who orders a genocide isn't an innocent man, Elric."

"The Ishval War wasn't a genocide!" I protest. "They had weapons stockpiled! They were weeks away from invading us!"

Roy rolls his eyes and takes another swig. "I'm glad at least one of us pays attention to that asshole's bullshit propaganda."

"Hey–"

"We don't know if that's true, either," Ed comments with a frown. "But we do know that the Homunculus Company, whatever it is, means business."

There's one final question that refuses to budge, and I know that I need to ask it.

"So why are we all in danger, anyway?"

Ed slams his metal fist into the table, and with a tiny groan, a series of nuts and bolts spill from its beautiful interior.

"What the hell, Ed?" I exclaim angrily. "You realize how long that took me to finish, right?"

"Sorry," he replies, although he looks anything but. He rubs his jaw, and then asks, "Do you want me to answer your question or not?"

"Ugh," I say about nothing in particular.

He takes that as a yes. "Winry, you need to know why Al and I…"