Chapter Sixteen: …Time Can't Heal

A few days went by. I was happy to have settled in so well with this new family. I tried to stay maybe a little more distant from Winnie than usual, for fear of dreaming of Noa again, but other than that, everything was normal. I saw Al again a few more times. It was so weird, like we didn't even know each other.

After a while, one day at the garage, Roy paused in his work and looked at me. Feeling his gaze on the back of my neck, I turned around.

There was an amused sort of smile on his lips. "Yes?" I asked.

"You know," he said slowly. "My wife thinks you've got some magic in you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Magic?"

"She figures, what else would make Lillian and Helena talk to you? You've got to be some sort of magician. There's no other explanation." There was a heavy sarcastic note in his voice.

"And you think…"

He grinned. "I think the girls were so dazzled by your sudden presence that they let their guard down. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about what you did for them… but I don't quite think you're magic."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, wiping my hands on a rag. "But you have to admit, I'm pretty good."

He chuckled. "Not that good, kid." He paused, as if unsure if he should say something or not. Finally, he continued. "I think you should talk to Becca."

"Isn't two enough?" I asked, grinning.

"I'm serious," he said. "She's…different. Let's see what you can do with her."

"But… no, not Rebecca. That's just, not right."

"Not right? Why?"

I waved my hand. "I don't know… it's just… I don't know, Rebecca seems like my brother's territory, you know?"

Roy laughed. "Territory?"

"You know what I mean."

He nodded, still looking amused. "Really, though. If you're such a miracle worker, I would be interested to see what happens with you and Becca."

I grinned and shook my head. "Fine, fine, but you asked for it."

There was a sly grin on his face as he ducked back into the car and got back to work. I shrugged it off. He was just playing a joke on me, I knew it – he had probably already talked to Rebecca and asked her to outsmart me. But I could deal with her.

Somewhere, buried deep in my subconscious, I think I knew why I was trying so hard to help these girls. Mostly, I think it was because, if I could hear the stories of these girls, if I could show myself how worse off I could have been, then my troubles and my past seemed to be less bad than they actually were. I could compare myself to these girls, and think about what could have happened, and what didn't. I could tell myself how fortunate I was.

I don't think it worked, telling myself that. But it was better than just wallowing in my misery, so I went with it. And I was proud of myself for it – I had done some good, I had become someone's confidant…I was happy about it.

So maybe I was just a little bit cocky when I lingered in the kitchen a few moments to talk to Rebecca. She was washing some dishes, her short hair hanging just above her shoulders. It was nighttime, and almost everyone else was asleep. Winnie had left to go to bed a while ago, kissing me on the cheek and whispering, "Good luck."

I stood in the doorway. Rebecca was quiet as she worked. Her breathing was steady and had a sort of calming feel to it. Very strange.

I said, "Rebecca."

She nearly dropped a plate in fright. "Oh, sorry," she said, hastily setting it down on the counter. "You surprised me."

I smiled at her. She looked me in the face for a moment, then rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning the dishes.

"I would have thought you were in bed," she said, without even looking at me, "with Winnie."

Ignoring the derisive nature of her comment, I replied, "What's your story? I know Winnie's, Helena's, Lillian's… but not yours. I think I deserve to know, seeing that-"

She whipped around. "You don't deserve anything," she said scathingly. "I know what you are, Edward."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what may that be?"

"A self-righteous, arrogant son of a bitch with a god complex," she told me matter-of-factly, sounding rather proud of choice of words.

"How long did it take you to come up with that one?" I asked, amused.

She apparently didn't hear the amusement in my voice. "Don't talk to me like that, like I'm a child."

The words seemed familiar. "What-"

"Your brother didn't tell me anything I didn't know already."

She caught me off guard. My eyebrows shot up and I immediately asked sharply, "What do you mean?"

Rebecca leered at me. "I forgot, Alphonse doesn't tell you much anymore, does he?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He told me the truth about you. How foolish you are, how ignorant you are, how absolutely smothering you are. I'm sure he made you out to be better than you actually are." She pretended to yawn. "It was sort of irritating at first. But the more he told me, the more I seemed to see it in you, and now I realize he was completely right. You're selfish, you don't care about anyone else, as long as you reach your goal – 'the ends justify the means', he said, was your motto. At first I thought he was just angry at you, but now I know for sure that you are nothing but a complete-"

"Shut up."

She looked at me, an eyebrow raised. "What, you don't want to hear it? The truth is always-"

"Al never would have said those things about me."

My fists were clenched, and I was staring stonily at the floor. A cold kind of fury was pumping through my veins, to hear this girl talk about what Al said, as if she had any idea…

"You're not much used to having other people in your brother's life, are you? Poor you."

Part of me, a very dominant part of me, wanted to punch her in the face. But I restrained myself – she was just trying to provoke me, for some strange, stupid reason.

"Goodnight, Rebecca," I said, turning away.

"Oh yes, go running back to Winnie, I'm sure she'll understand," said Rebecca sarcastically, despite the fact that I was trying not to listen. "Alphonse told me the real reason you like her."

I stopped and turned around. "How much do you know?" I asked seriously.

She grinned at me. "Everything."

Then, she put the last dish away and brushed by me on her way out. I stood there, in shock for a few moments, wondering what Al had told her. He couldn't have actually told her everything – she wouldn't have believed it. Noa was the only one in this world who would ever believe it, and that was because she saw it, by just touching me.

I sat down at the table and rested my head on my arms. The ache of missing Noa was partly filled by knowing I had Winnie, but then, that made me feel guilty all over again. I felt like a traitor. Not just to Noa, but to Winnie as well, because I couldn't manage to forget Noa, no matter how close to Winnie I got. And I felt traitor to my brother, because of something I know I did, but I didn't know what it was yet. I always thought I had treated Al reasonably well, as a brother should; I didn't know why he was saying all this about me. I felt like I betrayed him, I felt like he betrayed me.

The fury I had felt earlier sparked again, and I ground my teeth. I needed to talk to Al, no, I needed to yell at Al, because why didn't he realize that this was all his fault, and if it were up to me, we wouldn't be separated at all, we wouldn't even be in America, we'd be with Noa, and everything would be alright…

I stood up and started towards the door. But even as I reached out the grip the doorknob, someone put a hand on my back. I stopped.

"Where are you going?"

The voice was soft, and the whisper could have been Noa's. I turned around, and it wasn't Noa, but Winnie who was standing there, looking at me with concern. She looked so much like Winry. I wanted to hug her, I wanted to tell her everything that was wrong, I wanted to trust her and I wanted her to be my friend.

Instead, I just kissed her.

She stroked my hair gently. "It's okay," she murmured. "You're alright."

I kissed her again. Then, without making any noise, I buried my face in her shoulder. I didn't want to think of anything.

Winnie smelled like clean soap and the dried flowers she kept in her room. Winry always smelled like oil.

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to be comparing the two. "Let's go to bed," she said, stroking my cheek. I could only nod.

There was no way I was going to sleep, because I knew that, if I did, then I would have dreams that I didn't want to think about. Instead, I just laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling, beating back all the pain, trying to focus on other things.

The next morning, I was tired and there were dark, heavy bags under my eyes, but it was better than having more visions of the past.

At breakfast, Roy caught my eye, then asked Rebecca, "So how did you sleep?"

"Not so well," she answered coolly.

"Why do you think that was?" asked Roy, grinning amiably.

"I think you know."

Roy raised an eyebrow. The room seemed to have emptied, strangely. Apart from Roy, Rebecca and I, there was only Winnie and Riza, who both exchanged looks.

"I don't believe I do," said Roy. "Would you care to explain?"

She looked icily at him. Then her eyes darted my way. I suddenly became very interested in my spoon.

"Becca, would you care to explain?" he repeated, slower this time, as if warning her.

"They all think you're so special, don't they, Edward?" she asked harshly. "They think you have some sort of magic touch." She stood up and looked at Roy. "He doesn't."

Riza and Roy looked at each other once as Rebecca left the room, then followed her out. Winnie sat down in the seat Rebecca had just vacated. "Ignore her," she told me sincerely, taking my hand. "You were just trying to help."

After a few more minutes, though, it became clear that Rebecca could not be ignored. She wasn't exactly shouting, but she was raising her voice just enough so that everyone could hear her.

Winnie began to play the piano, but Rebecca raised her voice, as if not to be outdone. Everyone seemed rather good at blocking her out, though – conversation resumed as usual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except for Anne, who seemed jittery and uncomfortable. I remembered something Roy had told me about her. She hates it when people argue.

And then, Rebecca shouted something that made all the color drain from Winnie's face.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca yelled. "But I can't help but remember the last one you tried to get me to talk to!"

Winnie picked at the side of the sofa, but I could tell she was straining to hear every word. "Completely different circumstances!" came Roy's voice, not as loud, but just as strong. "Don't talk about that."

"Why not?" replied Rebecca's voice. "Am I the only one in this house who has come to terms with it? You all – all of you just pretend it never happened, you pretend you're okay with the fact that there's someone else in his room now, but, oh, oh God I've seen the looks on your faces, and dammit, Roy, here's the truth: Michael is dead! Dead and buried! And you think – you think you have the right-"

"As long as you live under this roof," came Roy's voice, so quiet I had to strain my ears to hear it, "then you live by my rules."

"That's great!" she said, and her voice was quieter, but more derisive. "That's fantastic! Gives me a reason to finally get the hell out of this place!"

Rebecca stalked past the door of the room we were in. After a few minutes, she passed again, with a small pack in her hands.

"Where are you going to go?" asked Roy, and this time their voices were coming from the front hall.

"Alphonse's. I may not have a family with him yet but it's damn well bound to be better than here," said Rebecca calmly. "Goodbye."

The door opened and closed. There was silence in the house. Irene got up to talk to Riza. Shauna and Margaret exchanged dark looks. Winnie was clutching my hand. I put my arms around her.

The day was quiet, with a sort of tense mood. Despite the fact that Rebecca had, at one time, irritated everyone, the realization that she had actually left, maybe for good, was bizarre.

And to think that she was going to live with Al…

That evening, Riza caught my attention. "Roy's emptying Rebecca's room – so it can be the nursery, when Daley's baby gets here. Do you think you could go and help him?"

I nodded. "Alright." Riza stayed with Winnie.

Roy was in Rebecca's room. The walls there were a pale yellow color, and there were three photographs on them – the first one was of two girls who both looked very much like Rebecca, only they looked to be about ten years old, and the second was one of Winnie, Rebecca, Riza, Irene, Margaret, Shauna, and three or four other girls I didn't know. There was also a baby in Riza's arms. The third photo was of Rebecca and another boy. Neither of them could have been older than sixteen. The boy looked a lot like Winnie, and was smiling slightly, arm-in-arm with Rebecca. I realized the boy was Michael.

"They look so alike, don't they?" I looked around to see Roy, smiling painfully at me. "Winnie and Michael, I mean. Everyone thought they were twins."

I didn't know what to say. "Oh…yes…"

He looked at the photograph for a few more seconds, then shook his head, sighed, and took the photo off the wall. He took all three of them off, and handed them to me. "See if Winnie wants that one," he told me, pointing out the one with Michael in it. "And give the rest to Riza, please."

I nodded and left the room, the photographs in my arms. Winnie took the first one, and Riza took the rest off of me. I went back to the room.

It seemed like Roy had left, but there were several boxes that he had just begun taking out of the closet, and sorting through. I pushed them to the side, and then one small wooden box caught my eye. I picked it up. It was completely plain, and it looked like the lock keeping it closed had just broken. That was probably why Roy had left the room.

I went to put it back down, but it slipped out of my hands and tumbled open onto the floor. Hurriedly, I knelt down to pick it up, then froze in astonishment.

Several dull medals had fallen out of the box. Military medals.

'COLONEL ROY MUSTANG' said every one.

I stared at them disbelievingly. I knew that he had been in the last war, but I thought… well, whatever I thought, I hadn't expected this.

The floorboards creaked outside the door and I turned around. Roy stood in the doorway, looking surprised at first, then his expression turned grim.

There were so many things I felt like I needed to say. I wanted to explain, and I wanted to ask him why he never told me, but all I could force out was a weak, "Colonel?"

"That was a long time ago," he muttered, scooping up the medals and shoving them back in the box, then putting a new lock on the box and putting the key in his pocket.

"Barely ten years!"

He threw the box into another larger box, a little too aggressively. "I was a younger man then," he snapped. "Thought I could rule the world if I earned enough medals…"

"But… Colonel…"

"What of it?" he asked, and I realized he was challenging me, daring me to say something.

I decided to tell him the truth… or as much of it that I could anyway. In slow, halting speech, I said, "I…I once knew someone who…who you remind me of…and he was…high-ranking… in the military, I mean."

Roy looked at me. "Well it sure as hell wasn't me," he told me gruffly. "Because if you had known me then, you'd have hightailed it out of here a long time ago."

"People do foolish thing in times of war," I said sagely.

He smiled bitterly. "Tell me about it."

He took the larger box that had the case with all the medals in it, and left the room. I stared after him for a few minutes, then shook my head, and tried to get back to work.

Roy had an old-fashioned cradle that we put in the room. Tom almost cried when we moved it, but Riza just told him, "You're too big for that old thing anyway, Tommy."

Roy didn't say much. He seemed troubled that I had found the medals. He avoided me, seemed shameful in front of me – and I didn't understand why. There was nothing wrong with serving and defending your country. If anything, he should have been proud.

Before night fell, I found Roy in Rebecca's old room again. He was smoothing the sides of the cradle, silently, slowly.

I said, "There's no reason to be ashamed of what you did. It was for an honorable cause."

He didn't even look up. "You weren't there. You…you can't understand."

The way he spoke – his expression, of pain and disgust – it was so powerful…

I began to think that what I went through wasn't that bad, after all.

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Another song! "Forget It" by Breaking Benjamin IS AL'S SONG. Go look it up. If it's not clear yet how it's his song, hopefully it will be in future chapters, and if you still don't get it, gosh darnit I'll break it down for you.

Review, please, and tell me if this chapter made any sense.

I've updated the Author's Note in my profile, for chapters 15 and 16. Go check it out, if you're interested. Thanks a lot!