Disclaimer: Rowan tosses a coin into a wishing well and says, "I wish I had created FullMetal Alchemist! I wish Edward were mine!" There you have it: hasn't happened yet, but she's waiting patiently for the well to come through for her.
AC (Author's Claim): The OC in this chapter belongs to me, got it? Julie Hakuro is my character! Yay, some things here are totally and completely mine!
Note: This is not being updated on a Tuesday, and thatis because of two things: 1- a huge project in my history class took up all my time and so I only just finished this chapter; and 2- I won't be updating next week. I'll be away, and so won't have the opportunity to write chapter Nine. However, that will be up o the 18th, which also happens to be Rowan's birthday! Speaking of Nine, that is the official last chapter of this story, so that means Darling is nearly over! Ten will be more of an epilogue than anything else, but I anticipate the epilogue being very long, so I'm sure you'll all enjoy that. Meanwhile, on to Chapter Eight!
BTW- Before we begin, remember that longest review thing? Well, Tiama, since I can't contact you, please contact me, because you won! Oh, my email is: whitedragon0235 yahoo. Com- without the spaces, of course. Alright, on to the chapter! Enjoy!
Darling
Chapter Eight- Ima demo kono mune no oku
It was raining hard and Julie had forgotten her umbrella at home, but she did not mind the raindrops falling upon her, plastering her clothes to her skin. She thought briefly of turning back, in case she caught a cold, but a moment later dismissed the idea. What was the point anyway? she thought bitterly. What did it matter if she got sick? Nothing was worth nothing, and since she'd lost Alphonse, everything was nothing to her; everything but him, and he loathed her now.
"But it's all my fault anyway," she muttered under her breath as she continued walking down the street. It was the time just before dawn; the sky above the buildings was turning a dusky grey, the sunlight fighting to get through the heavy storm clouds crowding the sky. A futile battle, she thought, and yet there was the sunlight just beyond the clouds and if she peered hard enough, she could imagine the sun was shining on the distant horizon. But Julie bent her head down into her chest, her eyes on the wet pavement at her feet, as she drudged down the street.
Soon, she stopped before a shop, into which she cautiously stepped inside. A bell rang above her head and a rather sleepy young man stepped up to the counter at the end of the tiny store. Julie approached the man, her clothes hanging like wet laundry off her thin body.
"Good morning," the man greeted her when she was close enough. He wore a smile on his face, either glad to see another human being, even one as bedraggled as Julie, or he was paid to be friendly. Julie did not care, nor did she even notice. "How may I help you?"
Julie sagged against the counter, leaning her elbows on the wood, her soggy hair dripping on the surface. "I need the cheapest bottle of wine you have. Nothing fancy; I don't even care if it's good. Just as long as it has alcohol in it."
The man frowned at her. "Are you sure that's wise, miss?" he asked her kindly, a touch of concern in his otherwise fatigued voice.
Julie snapped sharp green eyes at him. "I don't care if it's wise or not; just do your job and get me some wine!" The man jumped at her shout and hurried into the back of the store. Julie scowled after him, tapping her fingernails impatiently against the wood counter.
The man returned a moment later, carrying a bottle of red wine. "Here you are, miss," he said, setting the bottle on the counter. He calculated the price and she handed him the correct coinage. As he placed the green bottle in a brown bag, he paused and scrutinized Julie closely. "If you don't mind my impertinence, miss, but...do you plan on drinking this?"
"Of course I'm going to drink it!" she exclaimed. "What else does one do with wine?" The man shrank back from her short-temper. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get going, so..." She indicated the brown bag in the man's hands.
"Oh! Here you are," he said, handing the wine over reluctantly. "Pleasure doing business with you. Good morning!"
Julie grunted in response, grabbing the brown bag at the neck of the bottle and sweeping out of the place, her red hair following behind, leaving a showering of sprinkles. She left like a soggy butterfly.
It was still raining outside, though the sky had now brightened to a brighter silver and somewhere, Julie imagined, the sky was bright with color. But like her heart, she probably would not be able to see them anyway. Quickly, she made her way back home.
The apartment was well-furnished, everything had a place. There was no dust to sneeze at here, and yet it had the air of loneliness. Only someone as lonely as Julie would find the time to keep the place neat.
The only amount of chaos in the apartment was at the table in a small room adjoining the kitchenette. At one end, the end of prominence, sat a typewriter, and surrounding it, an army of paper. Some were blank, some had words swimming across the white surfaces. Julie set her bottle of wine at the other end of the table, pulling the damp bag off the green glass. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a goblet from her cabinet, returning to the other room and placing the glass beside the wine.
Slowly, Julie brought her hand to the cork at the top of the bottle. Hesitating a moment, she let her fingers trace the top of the cork, then set her mouth in a thin line and gripped the cork tightly in her fingers. Gently, she coaxed the cork out of the mouth of the bottle, pulling it out with a resounding pop. Julie lifted the bottle, placed the top against the lip of the goblet, then paused and set the bottle back down on the table. She glanced down at herself, at her bare toes on the cold wood floor. She walked over to the typewriter and ripped out the page half-written. She scanned the sheet and scowled, then crumbled the page into a ball and dropped it on the ground. Julie picked up the papers spread out on the table and stacked them together in one pile, placing it neatly beside the typewriter. She smiled bitterly.
Julie then crossed back over to the bottle of wine, her green eyes intensely fixed upon it. But it seemed as though her eyes were looking through the bottle, past it to some distant vision. As she drew closer, her reflection appeared against the verdant glass, the unfamiliar surface contorting the shape of her body. Her eyes met her strange shadow's eyes, and they grinned bitterly. But it was as though she did not see herself, for she frowned, glared at her reflection, at whatever it was hiding behind herself. Her hand reached out and grasped the neck of the bottle, her knuckles growing white as she clutched it in her hand.
"What a foolish woman I am," she muttered, her eyes darting suddenly to the typewriter on the other side of the room. "Damn you, Alphonse," she whispered bitterly, then lifted the bottle in the air and flung the wine at the typewriter. The bottle sailed above the machine, wine spilling over the white pages as it flew, then crashed into the wall behind it. The red color stained the paint like blood, like some wretched thing had exploded from the inside against the wall. Julie stared at the stain for a moment, triumphant, but then her eyes shattered like the glass shards scattered across the floor, and she too crumbled to the ground, her body bent within itself, as she began to sob.
It was the sound of the rain outside his window that roused Alphonse from his sleep. Blinking, he slowly accustomed his eyes to the dim light creeping over the windowsill. He sighed. Al hated rainy days; they made him feel cooped up inside. He closed his eyes and rolled over, deciding that there was no way he was getting up now, but that rainy weather meant sleeping in.
Only there was a something wrong about his bed. As Al rolled over on his bed, he felt something hard under his shoulder. Glancing up, he saw the blonde tangled braid hanging down Ed's back. Al blinked, then realized he had rolled onto Ed's automail arm. His sleep-veiled mind did not question why his brother lay beside him in bed, but rather lingered on the arm under his shoulder.
Al moved back to his previous spot on the bed, his back to the window. In the faint amount of light that streamed in through the glass, he could vaguely see the outline of Edward's metal arm. This was the arm that Ed had sacrificed to keep Alphonse with him, even if it meant trapping his brother within a suit of armor. It had been a selfish act rather than one out of selflessness, for Al knew that Edward was willing to give up much more than simply one arm to keep his brother with him. Yet Alphonse had never seen it as such, for while he hated the clunking body that was both his anchor and his prison, he never blamed Edward for his existence. Back then, it had been just good enough to be with his brother still, to know he was there to watch over him. With all the trouble Edward got himself into, it was comforting for Alphonse to know that he was there to help him.
Al brought his right hand to Edward's silver one, and gently placed their palms together. Reflexively, Ed's fingers clenched Al's hand, but it was so gentle the way Ed grasped it that Al barely noticed the cool fingers resting against the back of his hand. Al lowered his head down until his breath tickled the tiny hairs on his knuckle. He smiled softly, sadly, fearfully. He recalled the time he had accused Edward of creating him, his memories, his identity, and how Ed had been so afraid to tell him something…how what he feared to ask him was whether Al blamed him for the existence Ed had given him. Al shook his head. No, he had never blamed him for that, could never blame him for that; there was no room for all the gratefulness within him.
But Al had a fear too. Was there any time that…did Edward ever…regret losing his arm in exchange for his soul? Did he ever glance down at his automail arm and wish that his real arm was there instead? Al knew that sometimes he would look at Brother with his metal limb and wonder how he could possibly be worth that. Especially remembering all the pain he had caused Edward…unwittingly, unknowingly killing him from inside. Would it have been easier for Edward if he had died that day, easier down the road for Ed to fall in love with someone else? For all Ed had sacrificed- his arm, his childhood, and his heart- would it have been better for him? Ed might be married to Winry right now, and they would name their first son after him, and their daughter after their mom, and they would be living happy lives, no military, no Philosopher's Stone, no yearly check-ups trekking all the way to Resembool. No heartache, no sorrow, no death.
Sometimes Al imagined life would be like that, if he had never been pulled back from the Gate.
But he liked life the way it was now, even with all the pain, the sorrow, the frustration. Hughes was dead, but Al was here and Al had Edward, and Al had life, and slowly Al realized that he even had happiness. There was a reason home would never be home without Edward there. It was probably because Alphonse loved him…
Al pulled his arm back suddenly and moved to the edge of the bed, his eyes wide. Wait, wait, he thought. That's not right, I can't love Edward! He shook his head, then flipped over so his back was to Ed. There is just no way, he denied to himself. Once, long ago, he had had a boyhood crush, but that's all it was! A crush, a crush, a crush! Nothing more...and he was over that now! He was nearly twenty-one and could no longer blame any of these thoughts on hormones...unfortunately...
Al shook his head. No, no, it had to be the growing pounding ache behind his eyes, clamped to the back of his head that made him think such things. Like he could ever...he could ever...but Al gave up, exhausted. It was all bull shit anyway, and Alphonse was a very bad liar.
Al rolled onto his back, his grey eyes staring up at the dark ceiling. So, he loved Edward? He asked himself. Obviously, when he said love, he meant that kind of love, but...it was such a strange and sudden thought...well, no, maybe not even that. Alphonse knew there was a reason why he could not concentrate while on dates, his mind constantly going back to the heart-breaking look in Edward's eyes every time Al left. There was a reason his heart fell at the sadness in his brother's eyes, the grief, the pain, the restraint. And Al could not deny that sometimes he dreamed...often he dreamed...oh, but what did dreams mean? They would say more about Al's lust than true heart feelings.
The rain was beginning to thin, and yellow spears of light fell to the carpet below the window. Al blinked up at the brightening ceiling, his face red. So...he was in love with Edward. Was he?
Al glanced over at his slumbering brother, whose golden bangs fell across his shut eyes. He seemed so peaceful, so free of trouble; he could have been a little sleeping angel, the gold strands of his tangled hair glimmering in the sunlight looking like a halo hanging about his face. Al smiled, felt tempted to kiss that sweet young face, but resisted. Still, he was not sure. His heart swelled as he realized that only he had ever seen this side of Edward; this Edward was his and his alone. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Al turned his face back to the ceiling.
Was he in love with Edward? Al felt that he was and felt the desire to make Ed's dreams come true, but hesitation, uncertainty kept him from waking him. What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if this was sympathy? Or worst, what if Roy had been right, and all Al needed was to get laid? That this was just lust? He couldn't let Ed's hopes up, then.
Al nodded. To protect his brother, he would just have to hold onto these feelings- whatever they were- until he was sure or not, until certainty told him to tell...or to let Edward on with healing.
Al looked back over at Ed. He was unusually attractive when his eyes weren't glaring at him, or sighing with sorrow. Al reached his hand out to brush the hair out of Ed's face, then leaned softly over and kissed his closed eyelids.
Suddenly, beneath him, Edward began to stir. Al panicked, flew back to his side of the bed and pretended to still be asleep. His heart was racing, though, and he feared that Edward could hear it. That was so close, he thought as he tried to calm his breath. Al steadied his racing mind, opened his ears, and listened.
Edward seemed dazed as he sat up in bed, groaning as the sun hit his eyes. Glancing over, he saw Alphonse beside him, gently sleeping. Ed smiled at his brother's innocent face. But the day was beginning and, reluctantly, Ed realized he would have to wake him. He did not look forward to Al's reaction, knowing, just knowing, that Al would forget everything that had happened. He just hoped his brother would not kill him for sharing his bed.
Ed leaned over Al and shook Al's shoulder. "Alphonse. Time to wake up."
Al's eyes opened halfway, and Al glanced up at Ed. He smiled and closed his eyes again, then suddenly jolted up in bed and their foreheads bumped together. "Ow!" they cried in unison, Edward moving away from Al, each nursing their head, but Al with a terrible look of agony on his face.
"S-sorry, Al," Ed muttered.
Al looked up at Ed on the other side of the bed. "B-brother! What are you doing here!"
Ed winced, hurt. He knew it. "Y-you…you don't remember anything from last night, do you?" he asked.
Al blinked, his face blank. "Huh?"
Ed shook his head, his face covered with reserved gloom. "Oh…nothing." But Al's mind was racing. What happened last night? he wondered. He hoped he hadn't said anything…or done anything…that he really ought not to have done. Al lifted his head to speak, when-
"Um, when I said you guys needed to get laid, this was not what I had in mind."
Ed and Al swung their heads toward the door, where, once again, they were surprised to see Roy leaning on the frame. They blushed and scooted even further away from each other.
"I-it's not what it looks like!" Ed squeaked.
Roy smirked. "Well, no, I didn't think so," he said, walking into the room. Under his arm, he carried a dripping brown package. Al's eyes focused, curious, on the bundle and Roy, seeing his eyes on the package, laughed and laid the soggy thing on the night table beside him. "I came over to see how successful you two were and found that thing on your doorstep."
"Who's it from?" Ed asked, getting out of bed and leaning over the parcel. "Oi, Al!" Ed glanced up, his eyes wide. "It's for you."
"Me?" But that made sense. Not too many people knew that Edward was living with him...Al blushed. Suddenly, the idea that Ed lived with him, that the too of them lived alone together, and the idea that it was some sort of secret sent a shiver down his spine. Fear? But it felt more like a thrill of excitement. Al shook his head quickly and got out of bed too, walking around the foot of the bed and joining Roy and Ed by the table.
Picking the package up with care, trying not to get the wet wrapping on his wrinkled clothes, he untied the twine and pulled the paper off, only to find a large bundle of papers. On top of the white pages was a tiny note, the words starting to run together, but on the whole, readable. "There's a note," Al said, placing the stack of damp papers on the table again. "It's from...Julie."
Ed's eyes snapped up, them darted over to the pile on the table. "Do you suppose...she finished it already?" he whispered.
"I don't know..." Al replied. He handed the letter to Ed. "She doesn't say."
Roy frowned at them. "Julie who?" he asked Al. "Finished what? What's going on?"
Ed read the letter, then handed it back to Al. He turned to Roy, a grim, worried- no, scared- look on his face. "Julie Hakuro. Al used to date her...a while back."
"Julie Hakuro!" Roy exclaimed. "General Hakuro's niece?"
Al nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
Roy stared at Alphonse in incredulity. "Haven't you heard? Hakuro's niece is pregnant! It's been a huge scandal throughout Central these past few months!" Roy glared suspiciously at their blank faces. "You guys really don't get out, do you?"
"Julie's...pregnant!" Al gasped. "H-how long?"
"Six, maybe seven months. Why?"
Edward looked sick to his stomach; Alphonse had paled sheet white. "She's...that's...my child," he muttered.
Roy blinked at him. "What?"
Alphonse brought his hand up to his face, then dropped it carelessly on top of the stack of papers on the table. His round eyes fell down, unseeing, upon the pile. Slowly, his grey eyes focused on the pages beneath his hand. "This..." he whispered. "Her novel?" He turned the top page and scanned the page below, then skimmed over the next few pages feverishly. "But why did she give it to me?"
Edward could not stand the white look on his brother's face any longer. "Alphonse-" he called, reaching his automail hand out to Al's back.
Al straightened suddenly, as though from a trance, and peered over his shoulder at Ed. "Brother...?" Alphonse kept his eyes on Edward's forehead, not able to bear the look in Ed's eyes. "I...need to go." Al frowned in thought. "Yeah." He picked up the manuscript and, nodding vaguely at Roy, left the room.
Edward scowled at the door, then turned away when the front door closed with a click heard barely over the water dripping outside the window. Roy watched him curiously as Edward made the bed, pulling roughly on the blankets and pounding the pillows into shape with his iron fist.
Laughing, Roy sat down on the freshly spread blanket. Edward glared at him, but seeing the easy smile on Roy's face, relaxed somewhat and sat down on the other side, his back to the Colonel. "FullMetal, what was that just now? You looked so...jealous." His smile slid down his face a little. "Is it because...you are in love with Julie Hakuro?"
"No!" Edward said too quickly, turning his head around to face Roy. His eyes were wide and wild. "I mean," he said more slowly, "it's not that. I just...Julie used Al, that's all. It's upsetting that she hurt him, still has the power to hurt him." Ed's shoulders sagged and he sighed. "That's all. Just being overprotective, I guess."
But for some reason, Roy was not inclined to believe him.
Alphonse ran the few blocks to Julie's house. Chances were, even five months later, that she still lived there. The papers under his arm struggled to fly away in the wind, so Alphonse hugged them to his chest and sped up his tripping feet. He needed to know…to know… but thinking slowed him down, so he bent his head, bit his lip, and concentrated on his feet on the wet pavement.
In a moment he was there, standing on her doorstep, knocking on the door. There was a hollow feeling behind the door, but Al didn't care, didn't bother to think, only pounding harder on the door, begging for her to be there. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say, only that he would know when she opened the-
-door. Al dropped his fisted hand and swallowed when he saw the shadowed green eyes peering through the crack in the opening of the doorway. The eyes blinked, and Al blinked back. "Julie?"
Julie stepped back and pulled the door with her. "Alphonse?" she whispered, her eyes puzzled. "Come in."
Julie stepped away from the door and as she turned, Al saw her stomach, like a melon, hiding under the vast tent of her dress. He sighed and followed her inside, the manuscript clenched to his chest not forgotten.
They passed through what appeared to be the study, and Al winced at the reminiscently gruesome stain on the white wall, reminding him of a particularly rainy night a long time ago. Julie let him through the room to the other side, into a cozy but sparsely furnished parlor, the tawny colored armchairs and the mahogany table between them taking up most of the room. Here, Julie collapsed into a chair, her brown sprinkled with sweat, her hand massaging the small of her back. Al remained standing, thrusting the rain-spattered manuscript in her face.
"Are you going to publish this or not?"
Julie stared at the paper in Al's hands, and slowly she broke into a bitter giggle. "So that's why you came. You're not worried about me or your baby…you only came for Edward." She tore her face away from the pages and turned it towards the floor. "I should have known better."
Al frowned at her. "You left this on my porch. Why? Isn't this your only copy? Or are you telling me that you've finished it already?"
Julie shook her head. "I…couldn't bring myself to finish it. I…" She stood and walked over to the window filled with grey sky. "I couldn't bring myself to hurt you."
"Why not?"
"Because…" Julie smiled and placed her slender hand on her round belly. "Because I love you, Alphonse."
Al shook his head and tossed the manuscript on one of the chairs. "It's the baby that makes you think that. You don't really love me, you only think you do."
"What do you know of it!" Julie shouted, spinning around suddenly and glowering at him. "What do you know about anything? You don't even know what love is, Alphonse! And you know why? You know why you can't understand a…" Her eyes were wild, yet they held within their depths a clarity that astounded Al.
"All right, why can't I understand?" he challenged when she didn't speak.
Her lips trembled. "You can't understand the love of a woman because you're in love with Edward. You love your brother and always have. I…" She looked back out the window. "I didn't think until now, but…but you do."
Alphonse shivered, then glared and pushed Julie around to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said, voice sharp with denial. "I don't-I don't…I couldn't…" he looked away, thoughtful.
"You do," Julie whispered bitterly. "And for that alone I could finish that book, but…but I love you too much, Alphonse. I do not…want to see you hurt. I thought that revenge on the both of you would make me happy, but if you are happy…even without me…" she stepped back, her eyes on Al's shoes. Suddenly, she began to laugh, hysterical sob-like laughs. Al looked up, his eyes grazing over her expansive girth, that thing that was his…his child. Julie watched the wonder in his eyes. "You know, I wanted to kill this baby. I thought about throwing myself down a flight of stairs, or drinking exorbitant amounts of wine so that the baby would be deformed." She paused, a tiny smile on her lips. "However…at least, I can give you life, Alphonse. I can be useful to you. I could give you a strong son, or a lovely daughter whom you will love more than you could ever love her mother. I can give you…what no one else will."
Al swallowed, his eyes huge with the thought of fatherhood. "Could I…when the child is born, will you let me...see him?"
"Oh!" Julie thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose so, Alphonse. I mean..." she looked away, a blush on her face. "I'd get to see you then, wouldn't I?"
Alphonse nodded. "I...yeah, I guess you would."
She smiled. "That would make me happy."
Al bit his lip and turned his grey eyes down. "And Edward? Could he come too?"
Julie stiffened and moved away from Alphonse. But Al's eyes shone and she knew how proud Al would be and...wouldn't she get to flaunt it then? Something Edward could never have with Alphonse. "He... is the baby's uncle," she admitted. Al grinned at her. Julie inwardly scowled at her weakness.
Alphonse walked over to the discarded manuscript on the armchair, lifting a few scattered pages that had fallen on the floor and placing them all in a neat pile on the nearby table. "So, Julie, why did you give me your manuscript, anyway?"
Julie shrugged as she eased herself into the other chair. "I had nothing better to do with it and...I thought it would be a good way to tell you that I was not going to publish the book. Didn't I say that in my letter?"
"Perhaps, but the whole thing got soaked, so all I could read of your note was your name at the bottom. That's why I came here."
Her eyes narrowed. "Meaning, of course, that had you known what the package meant, had you not had doubts of my intentions, you would not have come."
Al opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. "...I also just found out about the baby...my baby."
They were silent a moment, the ring of possession in the air. Then, Julie raised her head and spoke, a mere mutter of a sound. "Alphonse?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be a father to our child? I know I cannot expect marriage, but...don't abandon your child?"
Al smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Julie. I won't leave him." Alphonse knew what it was like to grow up fatherless. "The question is, where will the child live? With you, I suppose, but how will you support the both of you? Of course, I could help out, give you money and the like, but even I don't make that much..."
Julie frowned in thought, then her eyes lit with an idea that made her turn her head towards the floor. "Our child could...always live with you, Alphonse. You and Edward," she said reluctantly.
"What?"
Julie lifted her head. "State Alchemists...they make good money, do they not? If you and Edward...raised the child, there wouldn't be any financial problems." She sighed. "I don't like the idea, but it would solve that problem. And...it would make you happy, wouldn't it, Alphonse."
Al walked to the threshold, his steps agitated. "L-let's talk about this some other time. Thank you, Julie, for not publishing that book. And...take care of yourself, for my child's sake." And then he left, and Julie felt like crying.
So she did.
"Riza! I'm back!" Roy called loudly as he and Ed entered the house. Roy strode into the living room and over to the couch, but it was unoccupied and his face fell. "Riza, where are you?" Edward, standing in the middle of the doorway, wondered how he allowed Mustang to kidnap him.
Well, no, he knew that. Roy, convinced at least that Edward was useless when it came to women, and Roy, realizing that his skills as a womanizer would never rub off on Ed, decided that Ed should get the advice of a woman (though he had offered to set Ed up with a few of Roy's "acquaintances." Edward coolly declined.) So Roy dragged Edward back home with him to get some advice from Riza. But apparently, Ed noted, Riza was nowhere to be found.
Edward glanced down the hall, curious as to where Hawkeye- for she would always be Hawkeye in his mind- really was. Roy was too busy circling the couch to use his common sense.
A door at the end of the hall- the bathroom door, to be precise- opened just as Ed glanced down that way, and Riza paused as she tried her hands on the towel, staring blankly at Ed. Then, blinking, she smiled and came down the hall. Ed smiled back.
"Edward, I can't find her! She must have sunk between the cushions!" Roy's panicked cry suddenly bursted from the living room, and Riza crossed her eyes at the sudden exclamation. Walking quietly passed Edward, she stepped up to Roy, smirking playfully down at him as he stuck his head behind the sofa cushions.
"Roy, what are you looking for?" she asked after a moment. Mustang sat up suddenly and grabbed Riza around the knees.
"There you are, Riza! I thought I lost you!" Roy pulled away and stood up, his face furrowed with a worried frown "Where were you, anyway?"
"…I had to go to the bathroom, Roy." Her tone was serious, but her smile gave her away.
"Oh." Roy sobered, now that he knew where Riza was Ed recognized him again as the calm colonel he had come to loathe…and befriend.
Riza kissed him on the cheek and the settled back onto the couch, Roy bending over and tucking the blanket over her lap. Reverently, he placed his hand on her belly and glanced up into his wife's bright eyes, then kissed her and stood back up. Edward, feeling awkward, stared at his feet, and tried not to feel too jealous of them. Not that he was jealous so much as he wanted what they had, but wanted them with Al. Regret, more like, and sorrow, and a tiny fluttering wish like a bird caged within his chest.
The moment was broken and Ed was rescued from the ocean of his thoughts when he heard Roy say his name. "Riza, I want you to help Edward. He's no good with women, so we thought you might know…something, that could help him in the slightest?"
Riza glanced at the door to Ed, who unconsciously blushed and tilted his head down. Hawkeye had the certain quality to her that made him feel she could read his mind.
"Well, I'm no expert, but I'll try to help, if that's what Ed wants."
Ed shrugged. "Thank you, Hawkeye."
She smiled. "You can call me Riza if you want, Ed. I'm not in the military anymore, so there's no need for to be so formal."
Edward pulled up a chair nearby as Roy left the room. "I forgot. Habit, I guess."
"I understand." Riza leaned back and studied Ed for a moment. "So, Edward, you wanted some advice?"
Ed nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. He sighed. "I'm not really concerned about…dating. It's not something I want to do, right now. I just came to humor Mustang."
Riza shrugged. "That's what you say, but I'm not so sure I believe you, Edward. You think you're a good liar, but you're really not. Well, at least not with your friends." She tilted her head to the side in concern. "What s it that's bothering you?"
Ed shook his head. "Nothing, honest. I-no, nothing."
"You love someone? Afraid to tell them, perhaps?" Edward glanced up quickly at the womanly intuition in Riza's eyes. Pregnancy, Ed decided, did strange things to women.
"What makes you say that? You sound as if you know, but you're wrong, Hawkeye. There's no one."
Riza was quiet a moment, and Ed wondered, as she stared at her toes, if he had spoken too harshly, gave anything away. He was affronted to think that she knew he was lying, and tried to prove to himself that he could lie, that he could hide his emotions. He was good at it by now; at least, he ought to be.
"Alphonse, maybe?" It was an internal whisper spoken aloud, a question in Riza's head that Ed heard, and feared, and shivered when she asked.
"No, it's not-" Ed shook his head quickly. "Why would it…?"
But that look was in Riza's eye again, the one that said she could read his mind, and his heart as well. She knew, Ed thought. She knew, and she knew he was still, even now, denying it to himself, even when he knew Al was the only one for him.
She nodded, as though to confirm his racing thoughts. "I know, Edward." Her eyes, soft, were also sad. "And I don't want to give you false hope, but is there anything wrong with loving someone if you love them purely?"
Ed bowed his head. "'Pure' isn't exactly what I'd call it," he admitted.
"But it's true, is it not? You truly love him, for all the reasons there are in the world to love a person, you love him. Why shouldn't that be pure?" Riza smiled. "And why shouldn't he love you for loving him? That's what worries you, Edward. Am I right? You're afraid he hates you for loving him. But all we want in this world is to be loved."
"Hawkeye, I-"
Riza laid her head against the side of the couch, her eyes half-closed, as she listened to the sound of Roy in the kitchen, probably making tea or coffee, the kettle only now beginning to whistle. "I think Roy was surprised when he first realized that someone in this world loved him. And so fiercely, too. I don't think he ever expected so much affection, devotion, or loyalty."
"But Alphonse is so easy to love. Everyone-" Ed protested, knowing that the hope he never wanted was blossoming under Riza's words.
"But he probably doesn't expect so much love from you. I'm sure he has times when he thinks that you…regret him."
"What!" Edward exclaimed, heat in his heart protesting such an idea. "I'd be nothing without Al! How could he ever think that?"
"The heart does funny things to us, makes us think irrational, stupid things of the people we're most afraid to lose. It's so, in the end, we don't get hurt. Though, we don't realize that those walls are usually what pushes them away in the first place."
Ed thought for a moment, then turned and walked out of the room. "Thanks Hawkeye," he said, pausing in the doorway as he left. "I think…I needed that. Promise you won't tell anyone?"
She nodded. "Promise."
Chapter Eight- Even now, deep within my heart
You know, I was less cruel than I imagined it would be. The scene when Al wakes up was totally not what I expected would happen. I really wanted him to freak out. This way was better though, don't you agree? Another interesting thing I noticed I wrote this chapter was that everything that happens occurs in one morning, while Chapter six covered five months. My favorite thing about this chapter, I think, was writing that first scene with Julie and the wine bottle. Speaking of, the stain on the wall is a allusion to episode seven/eight, when Scar kills the chimera of Nina and Alexander. I'm not sure if Al says that specifically, but that's why it unnerved him. Oh, and Julie is pregnant! I bet none f you saw that coming, did you? So, what ever is Rowan going to do in the last chapter? I'm excited that I actually got this far with the story; that makes me so proud that I will actually finish this story! Thank you all for the reviews; it makes me so happy that, of all my stories, this one has the most hits (and by a lot, too!) Thank you all, and until next time- Rowan