Chapter Eighteen: Grown Up

It was hell I was going through. I knew it. What else could have created this kind of torture for me? Thoughts, memories, unbearable memories, all because of a single incident. Even after all those years, Nina Tucker's smile, and the sight of her blood splattered across the wall was burned into my mind like it had happened yesterday.

Irene wasn't sure why I was acting so strangely, but she obviously knew it had something to do with my meeting her husband and daughter. She didn't say anything, though, and I was grateful for that. I was afraid that, if someone asked, I would tell them everything. And to tell someone everything, to admit that to someone who had known nothing of it beforehand, it was too much. Nobody would ever believe me.

Noa did, I thought.

Noa was different, though. She might have been the only person on this earth who was able to understand what I went through. When she touched me, she had a direct link to my thoughts, feelings, and even, sometimes, my future. Our future.

I shook my head. Our future had disappeared the moment I stepped onto the boat with Al. Noa hadn't even come to say goodbye. I never would have thought she hated me that much.

So I couldn't even think of her. I couldn't think of her or imagine her face or pretend that, when Winnie held my hand, it was Noa. I had to forget.

But I knew I couldn't. I couldn't forget about Noa the same way I couldn't forget about my life before. That same yearning to remember, that was what had drawn me to Winnie in the first place, right? I had seen her, and thought of Winry, and since I missed that damn woman so much, I had had to speak to Winnie. And, when I found that Winry and Winnie were not that much alike, after all, it hadn't deterred me, had it? I loved Winnie for who she was, not who she reminded me of.

In fact, my desire for familiarity turned out to be a good thing, didn't it, because it led me to Winnie, who is, in no way at all, Winry.

So, justifying my thoughts this way, I shook my head and got up, out of bed. It had been more than three days since I had seen Nina. I had to keep moving forward.

Yes, that was it. It's impossible to move on. But I always must move forward.

Irene must have talked to Winnie, or something, because Winnie was always there, next to me, holding a hand. I was glad for her support, and at the same time she was killing me with guilt, because of Noa, and a painful kind of longing, for Winry. Sure, I had felt it before, but it was now worse than ever.

At least I didn't have the dreams anymore. I had figured out that if I fell completely exhausted, I wouldn't have any dreams. I stayed up, alone, at night, trying to find something to do. After a few hours or so, I would lie down, close my eyes, and go to sleep. In the morning, I didn't remember any dreams at all.

I didn't think anyone noticed, until, one day at the garage, Roy was in the office with Winnie, sorting through some paperwork, and I heard a violent 'psst!' from the door of the garage.

I straightened up and looked around, frowning. Rebecca was halfway hidden in the doorway, glancing at the office. "What are you doing here?" I asked, but she put a finger to her lips, then beckoned me over with her other hand. With a furtive look around, I hurried over to her. She pulled me out of the garage, into the sun, where it was rather warm. She looked worried.

"Ed," she said, her hands drawn around herself. She looked at me. "I-" She hesitated. "You look terrible."

I smiled and put a hand to my head. "Thanks."

She shook her head. "Right, well, Ed, I didn't want to come see you, but I'm…" She paused and looked around, then leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. "I'm scared."

"Scared?" I asked, puzzled. "What, why? Did Al do something?"

She bit her lip. "I am so, so completely sorry for this, but I lied to you before, Ed."

"You lied? When? About what?"

"I said Al had told me everything…apparently, I had only seen the tip of the iceberg."

I felt all the muscles in my body tense. He didn't…

She looked at me helplessly. "Ed, your brother thinks that everything he wrote in his book is real. He told me all about it, and some things that weren't even in the book, and it's like he's created this whole fantasy world for himself to live in… I don't understand, is he crazy, or something? Please…I need your help."

For a few seconds, I didn't answer. I remembered Alfons. He never believed me either.

I shook my head, grinning, then asked, "I thought you didn't trust me. I thought I was – what were your words? – oh yes – a self-righteous son of a bitch. Something like that."

She shook her head. "Yes, I know, and I sincerely do apologize for all that." Her bottom lip jutted out slightly, making her look much younger than she was. "But, really. I don't even know… is he unstable, or what? You know him better than I do, after all."

"You think so?" I asked airily, looking over Rebecca's shoulder. "Why don't you just ask him?"

At that moment, Al reached the garage and put a hand on Rebecca's arm. "Becca," he said to her. "I woke up and you weren't there, I thought-"

Rebecca was still looking at me, as if willing me to say something to Al. I was silent, but Al still saw the look.

"…what's going on?"

"Your brother has something to say to you, Alphonse," she said gently, putting a hand on the back of neck, ruffling the back of his hair upward, tenderly. It seemed to be a gesture that Al was familiar with, because he didn't even bat an eyelid. Just stared at me, expectantly.

"You told her," I said simply. He took it as a question.

"Yes. I did."

Rebecca took her hand away from Al and stared between him and me.

"You're both crazy," she said incredulously.

"It's complicated," he told her.

"Very complicated," I added. "Not to mention unbelievable."

"Well, I already don't believe it, thank you very much," she said, regaining her composure. "And you know what, Al, if you're going to straight-out lie to me like this-"

"I'm not lying," he said to her. "Every single thing I told you was true, Becca."

"Oh, please, it obviously wasn't. A world where – where magic is possible! Why would you even tell me that?"

I felt like I was intruding upon something private, and like I shouldn't be there, but I stood, rooted to the spot, for some inexplicable reason.

Al was saying, "Come on, I swear to God it was the truth-"

"Quit the act, Al," I said suddenly. "You aren't fooling her."

Al looked at me, a question written all over his face. What are you talking about?

I put a hand on Rebecca's back and led her softly a few steps forward. Al followed. "You see, Al's a writer – but of course you know that," I told her. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but some deep, brotherly instinct told me I had to cover for Al. "And… he sometimes likes to pretend that his world is real… it, well, it makes it more real for him, so he can, you know, get more into character, right?" It was turning into a believable lie. Rebecca started to nod slightly, as if I were making sense. "And, since, he' s, um, he has to talk it over with someone, to make sure it'd make for a good story, right? And so, you know, don't believe him when he goes all crazy like that, he's probably just thinking all about his book. He's been doing it since he was a kid."

"Oh," said Rebecca. "Well, that makes sense, then. Why didn't you just tell me, Al? I would have understood that." Al mumbled something incoherent. Rebecca sighed and turned back to me. "That's so much better. I suppose I was a tad too harsh on you before."

"You could say that again."

She looked at Al again, something I couldn't exactly place in her eyes. Something like...greed? No. Something else. "Thank you, Ed."

"No problem, Rebecca."

She was holding Al's hand, and was turning away, about to leave, but then she turned back, that same almost-smile on her lips, and said, "It's Becca. Call me Becca, Ed."

It was contagious. I smiled too. "Whatever you say. Becca."

She grinned, and pulled Al's hand. She didn't look back, but he did. And there was nothing at all that I recognized in those eyes of his. There was none of that childish laughter, none of that soft-hearted little boy I knew. He seemed so much like an adult, so much more grown up than I had ever known him. Had Becca done this to him? Or had he become this way after I moved out? Or maybe it was neither, and the truth was that Al was grown up, and he had been, and I had just been too selfish to notice.

Whatever it was, I hated it. He acted like I was an adult as well. And, whether that was true or not, it felt wrong. Because the fact remained that we were brothers, and some loud, obnoxious voice in my head kept shouting, brothers don't just forget each other when they grow up. He and I were bound by some invisible force; the same flesh, the same blood, no matter how old he seemed… In truth, when I looked at him, when I watched him walk away, I realized that he not only acted older, but looked like it too. Despite his body only being around eighteen years old, his face, and build made him look so much more mature. I saw our father in his height, the broadness of his chest, his shoulders, and especially in his eyes. There was an atmosphere of firmness around him, like you could trust him or depend on him to do anything. That came from our father. But, in the make-up of his face, I could still detect traces of our mother's face, as well. He was tall, but lithe. A perfect blend between them.

Then what would that make me? Short, stocky, but brawny and hot-tempered…the unlucky one.

Putting that aside, I realized that Al had left with Becca, and I was still there, empty-handed. He hadn't even lingered a moment. I wonder… was he angry at me for making up that story? He couldn't be jealous of me, no… Was he afraid of me?

And a small voice in my head whispered, Are you afraid of him?

And I realized that I was. I was afraid that he would say something, something true to me, for once, and the truth would be too much. But then I clarified. I wasn't afraid of him, I was afraid of what he would say. Not the same thing. Of course they aren't. They couldn't be. There was no way I was afraid of my own brother.

But then I thought, he isn't even my brother anymore. Despite what I would hope and wish for, the simple truth was that Al and I...just because we shared flesh and blood didn't mean we shared anything else, at all. Rational, responsible adults sometimes have to let go. No matter what we went through, it wasn't enough. People grow up, develop, mature, and move on.

Which brings me full circle to my realization that I couldn't forget about anything. Did that mean I was an anomaly? Was I the only person in the world who could not move on?

Suddenly, there was a hand on my back. I turned around quickly, almost too quickly, expecting to see his face there…

But no. It was just Winnie, looking concerned, as usual. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh…Becca and Al just stopped by," I said.

"Really?" asked Winnie, glancing over my shoulder. "I missed them?"

"They left pretty quickly."

She sighed. "Too bad. Maybe I'll go over to your brother's apartment later. To talk to Becca."

"Yeah," I said. "She'd probably like that."

Winnie's brow was furrowed, and she was looking at me with something even more than concern in her eyes. "Ed," she said finally. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I told her.

She shook her head. "You haven't slept through the night for a whole week. There's something on your mind."

"There's always something on my mind."

"There's something wrong this time."

I raised an eyebrow. "You think something's wrong with me?"

Still holding me by the arm, she took a deep breath. "No, that's not it. There's nothing wrong with you, Ed… it's just…"

"What are you trying to say?" I asked dumbly. "What is it, Winnie?"

"Why won't you talk to me?" she asked weakly. "You'll get the other girls to talk to you, but you won't even… you won't even answer any of my questions. Why do you think you have to suffer alone?"

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm not doing this alone," I murmured. "I just…I need more time."

She looked into my eyes. She whispered, "How long?"

I let her look for a moment longer. Then I shook my head, and went back into the garage. I could tell that, for a while, she stood out there, alone. She didn't know what she was doing, no more than I did.

I was quiet, when we got back from the garage that day. Roy didn't try to start a conversation. I could only assume Winnie had said something about me. In fact, no one talked to me at all until Riza said to me, "Could you go find Shauna? Tell her supper's ready."

I nodded and, without a word, slipped upstairs. Slowly, I knocked on Shauna's door. No answer. I opened the door, to see if she was asleep.

She wasn't in the room. But it was an interesting room nonetheless. It looked like she had upturned a whole inkwell onto her dresser, and then dipped her hands into it, and made handprints all over her walls. She had written her name on one wall. Shauna, it said, in curly, connected letters. The ink had long since dried, but the general effect was charming.

After leaving the room again and closing the door, I turned and headed to the stairway that led to the roof. Shauna was the only one in the house who ever spent any time on the roof, but the door was still always unlocked, inviting anyone to go up there.

Up the steps, through the door, onto the cold, concrete roof. The wind was blowing, making it feel like the sun wasn't showing, after all.

I looked around. Shauna was sitting on a corner of the roof, one leg dangling off the edge, one tucked beneath her. I couldn't see her face, but it looked like she was staring into the sunset.

"Shauna," I said, walking up to her. "Supper's ready."

"I'll be down in a minute," she said. I sat down next to her.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked her.

She hesitated, then, without looking at me, said, "What do you think of Roy and Riza?"

Slightly taken aback by the random nature of the question, I replied, "Well…they're good people. They're doing a very good thing. Why do you ask?"

She shook her head, closed her eyes, smoothed her hair back. "They could have been a normal family. With this place – they could have rented it out, or something, and became successful. Maybe even rich. But they didn't. Instead, they chose to help people who could never repay them, people who had nothing to give them. All we do is take their kindness and use it. Why did they ever even let any of us into their home?"

I didn't know what to say. "Well, like I said," I told her. "They're good people."

"Good doesn't mean selfless," she said thoughtfully. "I consider myself a good person, in general. Maybe not always, but for the most part. But still. I would have kept everything for myself, instead of having to struggle to feed all these hungry mouths."

She paused. Before I could say something, she continued, "I mean, think about it. The normal human thing to do would be to keep everything you have and use it for yourself and your family. They must not be human, or something."

There was a long silence this time. Then I said, "Do you think about this a lot?"

She laughed, and shook her head. Beginning to stand up, she said, "I guess. I think about everything when I'm up here. Sorry if I bored you, or something. Sometimes it's just good to say what you're thinking."

"Not always."

"I know. Not always, but sometimes." She started down the stairs. I followed her. "What about you? What are you thinking about right now?"

I smiled. "I'm wishing I had your courage."

She grinned at me. "Where did you learn flattery? You're awful good at it."

I shrugged. "It's just something you're born with."

"Damn genetics."

"Tell me about it."

She laughed. "You're not as bad as I thought you were."

"Please don't tell me you judged me based on anything Becca said."

Shauna smirked and put a hand to her lips. "Don't worry. I won't tell you."

There was a genuine grin on my face now. "I like you, Shauna."

"My goal in life."

She looked at me. She was smiling, laughter on her face, but it didn't reach her eyes. She wasn't the kid she appeared to be.

We walked into the dining room, and she sat down next to Margaret, and I sat down next to Winnie, but I could still feel it. It was strange, not exactly like anything else I had experienced here. Shauna didn't have to look at me once, or say anything more than a goodnight after eating, but it was still there, and I knew she felt it too.

She was my friend.

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Excuse the filler chapter. I found it was very hard to write after finishing Chapter Seventeen. Bear with me, I promise next chapter will be better :D. I decided not to post Noa's chapter because I just made a huge change in the end of the story, and I didn't want her to ruin the surprise.

Had a family reunion this week. It was fun, but I didn't get around to writing anymore, so I'm still stuck in the middle of Chapter Twenty-Two. Probably going to post two chapters this week because I want to leave you all with a major cliffhanger when I go on vacation next Sunday (for two weeks!). Thank you so much for reading!