Chapter Thirteen: Nothing's Worth This

With Rebecca in the passenger seat, Al drove to our apartment, and I got out, then left to take Rebecca home. He took a couple hours, though, so I assumed they had also had a long conversation. What about, though, I had no idea.

The sun was warming my back as I strode down the street, the next morning at ten o'clock. The ice below my feet was melting slowly.

Winnie was standing in front of the garage, her cheeks flushed, her fingers twisting a strand of hair that had fallen out of her cap. When she saw me, she smiled and beckoned me over. "Good morning," she said quietly, brushing a hand against my arm. I smiled in return. She nodded toward the garage. "I have the keys," she said, holding up a ring of small keys, then finding one and sticking it into the lock. "Roy doesn't know I took them, and hopefully he doesn't find out, because I want privacy."

My heart seemed to beat a little faster as she let us in and took me to the small office. Instead of sitting at the desk, however, she sat on the bench lining one side of the office. I sat down next to her.

She turned to me, looked me in the eyes intensely, and asked, "Do you know why Becca ran away?"

Slightly taken aback, I shook my head. "N-no, I don't, but I thought-"

She frowned. "Your brother didn't tell you?"

"Al? What? No, he didn't say anything."

Now she looked not only surprised, but rather intrigued. "Really? I thought he would have told you first…"

"Told me what?" I asked, annoyed.

She looked at me strangely for a second, then said, "Becca thinks… Becca thinks she may be with child. And – no, no, don't look like that, she's not sure yet, she just – she just wants attention, that's all, she's probably just lying anyway…" She trailed off. I was still staring at her, stunned.

"What?" I asked, barely able to speak. "But… that would mean… Al…"

"Becca told me she left because your brother refused to run away with her. I bet she's lying, again, she lies about everything, but… do you know anything about this?"

I shook my head, still shocked. "No…I had no idea… Al didn't tell me anything…" I looked back at her. Her expression was a mixture between uncertainty and pity. "I had no idea," I repeated.

She sighed, and, to my surprise, she took my hand and carefully leaned her head on my shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered. "Brothers can be like that."

As much as I loved being this close to her… it didn't feel right. There was something tense and uncomfortable about her head resting on my shoulder, and her hand was clutching mine, unnaturally stiff.

Slowly, quietly, she said, "If someone had told me, after Michael was killed, that it wouldn't even be a whole year before my heart was mended… well, I'm not sure what I would have said, but it would have included lots of swear words." She gave a tiny chuckle. "But… for some reason, Michael's death…" I turned my head, so we were facing each other. She stared into my eyes, and then slowly put a hand on my cheek. "Michael's death doesn't seem to matter anymore," she said softly.

There was an awkward pause. Then I turned away. She didn't move.

"That came out wrong," she said.

"Yes," I agreed. "It did."

There was a short silence, then it sounded like the door of the garage opened. Winnie's eyes widened. "Oh no," she said. "I didn't lock the door!"

For a second I was scared it might be a robber, or else Rebecca's step-father. Then an unfamiliar voice called, "Winnie?"

Winnie let a sigh of relief. "In here, Irene."

A tall, skinny woman with big dark brown eyes and bony hands appeared in the doorway. "Oh, thank goodness," she said, shaking her head. "I'm so glad I found you. Riza's not happy." The girl glanced at me. Then she smiled slyly and looked back at Winnie. "And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Ed," said Winnie, rolling her eyes. "Ed, this is Irene."

"Nice to finally meet you," said Irene, shaking my hand briskly. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" I said blandly. "Well, I should be going. Thanks, Winnie. Pleasure meeting you, Irene."

Irene said nothing as I passed her and left the building. It was very quiet outside, despite the warm weather. As I passed that same old shop that I had gotten the wooden transmutation circle at, I saw two boys outside the shop. One was wrenching up ice from the ground, trying to make a snowball out of it, and the other was shivering and complaining. "Let's go home, it's cold, please, this isn't fun…"

I smiled.

What happened ten years ago felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like it just could not possibly have been nearly seven years since …

'Since we were children' doesn't seem appropriate here. I remember once, a homunculus called Lust told me that when I decided to join the state alchemists, I gave up all claims to childhood for power… I said nothing to contradict her. Because I knew it was true. I can try to justify my actions by saying I was young, or I was foolish… but even that would be a lie. Well, I was young, yes, but I knew full well what I was doing, and the consequences of my actions, but I decided to do it anyway. It seemed like a wholly rational decision at the time, and if, under those circumstances, I had to make the same choice today, I would do the same thing I did last time. But now, when I'm not obsessed with getting my brother's body back, I realize how stupid I was being.

I have considered, sometimes, that I really lost my childhood when I tried to bring my mother back, or even before that, when she died in front of my eyes and I could not do a thing to help her. But then I remember that pang of hope I felt, despite the physical pain of limbs being torn from my body, and the mental pain of not knowing where my brother went, when I heard something breathing in the room where we had attempted the transmutation… I remember my words, my feelings, so vividly. Its image haunts me to this day.

Still, I was a child. Even weeks after that, when my automail had become familiar, and Al didn't scare me every time I saw him, I was a child.

When I became a state alchemist, I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew I was a soldier; I knew very well that I was then a mere dog of the military. And I joined despite of that, just so I could continue my wild goose chase for the legendary Philosopher's Stone.

I say I instead of we because I don't ever think Al was as devoted to the cause as I was. I know he wanted the Stone desperately, but he's naturally such a selfless person that he only wanted it so I could have my body back… he pretended being cold metal wasn't that bad…

Al… Rebecca….

I knew Al and Rebecca were together, but I didn't think… I never saw Al as the type… Rebecca couldn't be pregnant. Impossible. Simply impossible. There was no way Al would ever allow something like that to happen. But then again, Rebecca isn't the best influence in the world… I thought it best to be honest and ask him about it. Actually, I hadn't even considered the fact that Rebecca might not have told Al. Maybe he just didn't know.

When I walked into the apartment, I saw Al sitting on the couch with his feet up, frowning slightly as he sketched something in a notebook.

"Hello," he said, not even looking up. "I thought you had work today."

"No," I replied. "Not today… I thought you were at a class."

"Cancelled," he said nonchalantly. "The professor's sick."

"Ah…" I murmured, and I suddenly felt stupid. I didn't know what to say to him; I had no idea how to bring up what I needed to ask. I hovered awkwardly in the room for a moment, causing him to glance up at me.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly, giving me that look he gives people when they interrupt him while he's drawing. I was reminded of a time where Noa and I would try to imitate his expression, and laugh hysterically when we failed.

I opened my mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Then I sighed and sat down across from Al.

His expression quickly changed into one of concern. He put his sketchpad aside and sat up straight. "What is it?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," I said. "It's… I just talked to Winnie, and she… well, she said some things, and I don't know if they're true or not."

"Some things?" he asked innocently. "Like what?"

"She said…" I paused. "She said Rebecca ran away because you told her you wouldn't run away with her."

He looked at me for a second, then nodded and looked away. "Yes. I didn't take her seriously. I should have-"

"She also told me," I continued, feeling less awkward, "something else about Rebecca and you."

He looked up. For a moment, there was silence, then he said lowly, "You know, then?" I nodded. He sighed. "I should have said something to you. I'm sorry." He paused, then continued, "Rebecca says she thinks she's about two months along, but I don't think so, I mean, she doesn't look it, and… I don't know. I just don't believe it."

Hearing this confirmation of my fears, coming from my own brother's mouth, was shocking. I just stared at him for a few seconds, eyes wide. He kept glancing down at the couch, at his sketch, at the wall, the ceiling, the painting on the wall – anywhere but my eyes. Finally, I managed to force out a few words.

"How could you be so – stupid?"

He said nothing.

"Really!" I said. "What were you thinking? I want an answer!"

He was still silent.

"Alphonse, I'm talking to you-"

"Don't talk to me like that," he said, looking me squarely in the face at last. "Don't talk to me like you're Dad. I hate it when you do that."

"What?" I asked him. "What are you talking about?"

He stood up and let out a sigh of frustration, then, heading towards his office, he muttered, "I'm not going to spell this out for you."

I stood up as well. "Wait, this conversation isn't over!"

He turned around instantly, and there was something different about his eyes, something I had never seen before. I couldn't quite decide what it was.

"You're doing it again!" he said, loudly. He put his hands to his head, as if he were ready to tear his hair out. "God, it's so irritating! You act like you're this high and mighty force just because you're my older brother! I know it's hard for you to accept, but we're actual adults now – I'm an adult! So it doesn't matter which one of us was born first, you have no right whatsoever to talk to me like that!"

I gaped at him. "I have everyright!" I countered. "I am your family, and that means that you have to listen to me!"

He let out a wild, manic laugh, and I realized that expression in his eyes had been anger, real anger… "No, that's where you're wrong! See, this wonderful, beautiful place we're in right now, it's a free country, and that means I have no obligation at all to listen to what you have to say!"

Alarmed by this uncharacteristic reaction, I asked, "Is this all because I mentioned Rebecca? Are you angry at Rebecca?"

"No," he said, exasperated. "I'm not angry at Rebecca, I'm angry at you! I've put up with everything from you thus far – and believe me, you have thrown everything at me – and I'm just sick of it! I need to have my own life! I'm not going to pretend to care about what you think of everything I do forever!"

He paused to take a breath. I said, "Al, it's okay if you don't want to talk about Rebecca right now, I understand. I know how it feels, I've had ex-"

"Oh great," he said loudly, rolling his eyes. "Great! Now you're going to come up with a cute little anecdote to point out once again that you have just had so much more experience than I have had, in every single aspect of life. Go ahead! I'm all ears!"

I stared at him. "Is that what this is all about? Al, when it comes to women, I have, neither in this world nor our own, more experience than-"

"And that," he roared over me, "is the second thing I hate the most about you! You always have to bring up 'our world!' It's always got to be about 'our world!' Here's a new flash, Ed: this is our world now! Get over them! Move on with your life! It's possible – I'm living proof it's possible! I am so close to being happy! So close! But then there's you, there's always you, to make me forget about how good things are getting, and remind me that our past is not history, nor will it ever be history!"

"Wait," I said, frowning. "I thought-"

"Nothing you think is ever true!" he screamed at me. "Nothing you believe is right! You have these stupid theories about everyone you know, and you think you know how I'm feeling and you think you're so right and you think you can understand! Let me tell you something, to see if it can penetrate that thick head of yours: YOU'RE! WRONG!"

After bellowing these words, he grabbed his coat and threw himself out the door.

I stared at the spot he had just vacated for what felt like hours, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened… I didn't know Al had been so fed up with me. I didn't know he felt that way at all… I reached for my coat and followed Al's footsteps out the door. The car was still there, so I knew he couldn't have gone far. I was not entirely sure what I was going to say when I found him, or why I needed to find him so badly anyway, but I just knew if I did, then everything would be okay. I walked quickly, my head turning around and around, hopelessly trying to guess where he would be. I walked nearly three blocks before I found him.

There was a church on the edge of the street. I couldn't say what drew me towards this place, but I suddenly was sure I knew where Al was. I approached the tall wooden doors slowly, cautiously, as if someone was about to jump out at me from behind them. Then, I reached out a hand and, little by little, I pushed the door open.

The floor was stone and my steps seemed magnified in the silent church. The only windows were stained glass, and they threw dancing, colored light on the floor. There was a huge cross at the front of the church, as well as a pulpit that was empty at the moment. Al was sitting in a pew three seats from the front. I slowly began walking toward him. All sound from the outside was muffled strangely in here. It made me very uncomfortable as I sat down next to him.

There was silence for a few minutes. Al's eyes were fixed on the cross. I was about to say something, when Al muttered, "Do you remember the first time we went to Lior?"

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. "Of course. That was the first time we met-"

"Rose, yes," he said, finishing my sentence for me. "Do you remember that false prophet we unmasked? Father Cornello?"

"Yes…why?"

He paused for a second, then continued. "Everyone thought Cornello was a messenger from their god because of the miracles he performed using alchemy. It was those miracles, and those alone, that made them believe." He paused again. "Alchemy is impossible here. No one is fooling anyone with fake miracles. But the people here… they still believe. Why?"

I looked at him oddly. "Well it's basic human nature, Al; all people want to believe in something."

As he continued, his eyes were wide and slightly starry. I was unsure what was happening. "I'm human," he breathed. "At last. I want to believe in something."

"Al…don't kid yourself. You – you believe in plenty of things," I replied, but I was feeling more uncertain by the minute. He finally looked at me.

"Like what?" he asked simply.

"Well, like…science. Newton's laws. Einstein's theories…equivalent exchange."

"No," he said, shaking his head, turning away from me. "You believe in equivalent exchange. I thought you would have figured this out by now, Ed. Life isn't fair."

"What?" I asked, confused. "I never said it was!"

"Yes, you did! That's the whole concept of equivalent exchange! In order to gain something, anything, something of equal value must be lost. All life is balanced and fair. That is the theory of equivalent exchange."

I had nothing to say. I could only stare at him.

"And that's all it is, too!" he said, shaking his head. "A theory!..." He stood up. "You know," he continued clearly. "I asked Becca why people believe. Do you know what she told me?" he paused, staring at the cross. "She said, 'That's what faith is, isn't it? Believing in something you can't see'…" He said nothing for a few moments, then turned and left the church. I stared at the cross for a second, then I, too, rose and followed him out.

Faith. Believe in something you have no physical proof exists… I have vast amounts of faith. I believe in my own world, although I can't see it. I know it's there, and I know my friends are growing up without me. I know that world exists, on the other side of the Gate.

What was the Gate, anyway? Was it knowledge? Was it the truth? I had seen nothing about a supreme God in the Gate… there was no proof any omnipresent being had ever existed… unless…

What were those things in the Gate? Were they evil? Or where that all part of a single, larger entity… what if the Gate was God?

I shook my head and hurried down the street. What a stupid idea. There was no God, and even if there was, to appear in the form of a Gate between worlds would be just too far-fetched.

I was thinking so hard, I almost passed Al by. He was leaning against the wall of a shop close to the church, obviously waiting for me. Without saying anything, we began walking together. We both began to talk at the same time.

"Al, I'm sorry-"

"Brother, I shouldn't have-"

We stopped talking and looked at each other. He sighed and said, "You go first."

I took a deep breath, then said, "I'm sorry. I realize I have probably been holding you back lately. I mean, I understand you have to live your own life, it's just… I don't know. I'm finding it hard to let go of…"

"No, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't mean anything I said to you. I'm the one who should be sorry, I shouldn't have blown up like that. And you have not been holding me back, not at all, and it's fine if you can't, or don't want to let go of our past. Our past is who we are, and if we ever forget it, we'll just be lost."

I glanced at him. "So you didn't mean anything you said?"

He hesitated. "Well… I'm not going to lie to you. There were a few things I meant. One or two."

There was a short silence. Then I asked, "Like what?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, sometimes you do act like I should take all of your advice, just because you're my older brother. And though I certainly do respect that…it's old-fashioned thinking. That time has passed, the only thing that binds you and I together is our shared past… and I will never let that go."

The silence lasted longer this time. He was avoiding my gaze, but I was frowning at him slightly, trying to figure this out. "So, basically, what you're saying," I said softly, "is that the only reason you put up with me is because of all that crap we took together back in…"

"Our own world, yes," he muttered distractedly. Then, as I gave him an odd look, he froze, and said, "Wait a second, I didn't-"

"I get it," I said coolly.

"No, that's really not what I-"

"Tell you what," I told him. "I promise you that I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can. When I get paid, I'll move out and find my own place. Okay?"

"No, of course you don't have to do that-"

"I want to do this. I'll be fine on my own." He still looked unsure. "Come on, don't be like that. I'm an adult now, too. I can take care of myself…besides, I think it's time I gave you a little space."

Neither of us said anything for a while after that. Then, finally, Al said, "I'm sorry. I was wrong to say those things to you."

I smiled softly and patted him on the back.

"I forgive you," I lied.

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Can you tell I like writing arguments? And this one was very fun.

So, some questions to ponder: Is Rebecca actually pregnant? Is Al okay? Were his arguments justified? Were they right? What will become of Winnie and Ed, when they are so close... and yet so far? What is Irene's story?

As usual, please review: I would really like some constructive criticism on this chapter, to see what I could've done better. Thanks so much for all your support, I really appreciate it!