Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Misfortune of Knowing

I tried to pat down my anger, but I couldn't manage it. By the sound of it, the letter in my hand was the first one Noa had written. I stood up, and I leaned forward, holding the letter in front of Al's face. "Did you read this?" I asked lowly, dangerously. "Did you read this and not tell me?" He refused to look at either my face or the paper. I looked again at the date on the letter. My lips felt numb. "December," I said, barely able to speak. "She sent this in December. Almost…almost a year ago." Gritting my teeth, I crushed the letter in my fist. "Dammit, Al!" I said, not caring about how loud my voice was getting. "You knew! You knew and you didn't tell me! Al! How could you!"

He looked up at me, his face empty. "You don't understand," he said.

"No, I don't," I said. "Please, enlighten me."

There was silence. He looked down again. A tear slid down his face. Softly, he said, "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have done it if I knew she was going to come."

But that only made it worse. "So you're trying to tell me," I muttered, fighting to keep my voice down, "that you were perfectly content to keep – to keep this a secret from me, as long as she never showed up to screw up your perfect little lie?"

He had this look on his face, like he didn't even understand. He nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. "That's what I'm saying."

"Oh my-" I took an angry, slow breath, trying to stay in control, but it was useless. "You read this, didn't you?" I continued, holding the crumpled letter. "So you must have known! You knew that I'd left her with a child, and you – you still didn't tell me? How the hell can you justify that?"

He was still looking at me. Like a child, his lip began to tremble. He looked down, ashamed. "You would have gone back to her," he whispered.

"Of course I would have gone back," I said heatedly. "What else could-" I stopped. I looked at Noa. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she looked entirely stunned. I sensed that this conversation was only just starting. I sat down again. "Please," I said. "Explain."

He looked at us, the both of us. His eyes were full of tears. "There are too many things that this would have done," he said slowly. "To us, and to you. Everything that had happened would mean nothing if you went back to her."

I couldn't bite my tongue any longer. "What the hell do you mean? Everything would have been easier, so much damn easier if I had gone back, for her and for me! And for you, for that matter, because you would have gotten rid of me earlier, and you'd have been able to go ahead and start your perfect life with Rebecca sooner!" A sound at the door. All of us turned; Becca was halfway into the room, a faux concerned look on her face.

"Alphonse," she said, but before she even finished he cut her off.

"Leave the room, Becca," he said tiredly, and the tears were gone from his eyes. She slid more into the room, almost closing the door behind her.

"Don't let them do this to you, baby," she said quietly. "There's no need to feel guilty. Make them leave, and then we'll go to bed and I'll make you feel-"

"Dammit Rebecca, go away!"

He wasn't looking at her, but he was breathing hard and his hands were shaking. She silenced; looked at us, at him, and then nodded her head, her eyes on the ground. Then, softly, she said, "Of course, love," and she left the room, gently closing the door behind her. I'd never seen Al speak that way to Becca, and it was a little bit unsettling.

"Al," I said, sitting down again. "I think it's time for you to give us that explanation."

He looked at us. His eyes looked like liquid, but he wasn't crying anymore. He wasn't even close. On the contrary, he looked very calm, very collected, and saner than I'd seen him in a while. "I already told you this," he said, looking straight at me. "You don't know what it's like."

A pause. "What it's like?" asked Noa, because she didn't understand.

"To see it," he said impatiently, as if we didn't understand something obvious. "To watch someone you love die. There's no way you could understand, not even you, Noa, because you know that he," he was looking at Noa now, but he jerked his head towards me, "is alive. And then I watched it almost – almost – happen again, barely a year ago. And then this happened." He held up the letter. "But by that time, you'd forgotten about her. We'd started to move on. And I couldn't bring her back into the mix, Brother, please understand! It would just take you back to where we were, and you'd go back to that, to that…" he made a face and spat the word out of his mouth, "depression, and I couldn't stand that. So I just…I just decided to hide the first one."

I wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this. I sat there, with my mouth open dumbly, desperate to tell him that he was an idiot and he was cruel and it was so damn wrong of him, but I couldn't talk. I just had to listen. Maybe something inside of me was trying to believe that he was justified, that he had a good reason for all of this, but mostly I just felt too numb to talk.

"And then," he continued, "after that, how could I give you the next one? Or the ones after that? Then I would have to tell you that I hid the first one. By then, we weren't speaking to each other and it was hard to be around you, much less admit that I lied to you. I tried to, a few times. But I couldn't. I was…I was too afraid."

"Al," I said. "You idiot."

He just looked at me, something heavy in his eyes. "Don't blame me," he said. "You left her to begin with."

"I wasn't about to let you leave me!"

"Well, to use your words, it would have all been easier if you had. I would have gotten rid of you and gotten the perfect life I have now earlier. If you had just let me leave."

Something crept into his voice, and somehow I had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't just talking about this anymore. "What do you mean?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

He stood up, walked away, to the windows at the front of the room. "Do you know where you would be if I were dead?" he asked gently. "You'd be with Winry. The real Winry, not this imitation of her. Honestly, that baby would probably be hers, too. You'd be living in Resembool, our old home. Without me. Even now, you can't deny how much you wish that were the reality we were living in."

"No," I said. "Al, no. I want this now. I want you to be alive, and I want to have Noa, and I want to have the life that I can lead here now, with my family."

"So is that why you tried to kill yourself?" He looked back at me, his words stinging, his eyes wide. "Because you wanted to stay here?"

"…things have changed since then. You've obviously changed too. I thought you wanted this."

He looked away. "You don't know what I want."

"No, I don't." I stood up, took Noa's arm and she stood up beside me. "But I do know what I want. And I want to stay here, and I want you to as well. But you've told me a lot already and I need to think about it. I'll be back, Al. I won't leave you alone, I promise. But right now," I looked at Noa. "Come on. Let's go."

I walked out of the room, Noa trailing behind me. I walked to the front door, thoughts pounding in my head, so many that I couldn't think straight. I felt angry, but somehow I was sad, too. Even if I could forgive Al, this was so unlike him. It was like a whole different person. Equivalent exchange, I guess. The moment I find this new part of me, this family in Noa and the baby that will now be a part of my life forever, I have to lose what other family I had left. Of course. We were at the front door when Al suddenly appeared at the door of the room we had just exited.

"I tried to help," he said, his voice breaking. "I tried to give it back to you. All of it. And now you're just walking away, you're walking away from everything. Don't forget that, Brother."

I looked at him. "I'll talk to you later," I said. Numbness overwhelmed me, walking out of Al's home, driving home, Noa resting a gentle hand on me.

Hours later, I was standing over a makeshift cradle in which a baby lay, eyes closed, gently snoring. I watched him for a long time, until his mother appeared at beside me. She touched me again, my thoughts and memories pulsing between us like a heartbeat. She looked down at the baby with a tender, burning love in her eyes. "He'll be alright," she said soothingly, and I wasn't entirely sure who she was talking about.

Without taking my eyes off the child, I asked her, "Why didn't you say goodbye?"

She took pause at this. "Goodbye?" she echoed.

"At the docks. When we left. Everyone we knew was there, congratulating Al. You weren't."

A silence. Then she said, "You were leaving me."

For some reason, this explanation seemed enough.

"You've got to be tired," I said. "You should sleep."

"No, I'll stay awake," she replied. "In case the baby wakes up."

"Don't be dumb," I said with a tired smile. "Go on and lie down. I'll watch him." I paused. She didn't look convinced. Quietly, I said, "I'd like a little time alone with him, Noa."

And she took her hand off of me. She nodded and turned to go to the bedroom, to finally sleep, something that she needed badly. Her hand on the doorknob, she stopped, then looked back at me.

"Edward," she said.

"Yes?" I replied.

"I love you."

A short pause. I looked at her. I blinked. She smiled, and then opened the door and disappeared into the room. I looked at the baby. The words came out of nowhere, suddenly bubbling up from my stomach and into my throat and then into the air, but the door was already closed and she didn't hear me. I let Alfons's tiny fingers curl around my thumb and I whispered, "I know."

It had been so long since I first saw the shores of America. It had been long enough that an entire new life had been brought into the world, and here he was, eyes closed, making quiet, gentle noises of steady breathing. I watched him, almost warily, for a while, and then he sort of hiccupped, except it was more like a cough, and then something gripped my heart tightly. I picked him up and leaned him on my shoulder, walking around the room, rocking him gently. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know how to make him sleep. Part of me wanted to wake Noa, because that tiny little cough had been terrifying. Rationally, I knew that it was probably nothing. It was probably normal. But I couldn't manage to entirely think that way, and it was a long time before I sat down again, lying down on the small couch, the baby splayed out on top of me, my hands resting protectively on him.

In the morning, I was awake when Noa walked out. She looked at me, the bags under my eyes. And then she asked, "Did you sleep at all?"

"No," I replied. In lieu of an explanation, I told her, "He coughed once."

She nodded, almost amused. Tenderly, she said, "I knew you'd feel it too."

A silence. Then I sat up, carefully handing the baby. "Does it ever go away?" I asked, knowing the answer to the question already. But I needed to hear it from her lips.

She shook her head. "No, Edward," she replied. "Not since he was born."

I hesitated. Then, "I – I wish I could have been there when-"

"Why don't we go back to see your friend Roy Mustang today?" she asked soothingly, refusing to let me finish my question. I said nothing more about it. It was clear she didn't want to think about that, and it hurt.

Soon after that, we were driving to Roy's home. I was a little nervous about Winnie, but I also knew that nothing was going to change if I didn't go back there and talk to her.

It had been gray and drizzly for several days now, but as the car skidded through the wet streets, it became apparent that what started off as a heavy mist was turning into a full-blown storm. I stopped in front of the house and, taking Noa's hand, I quickly led her to the door, which was indented slightly so that we were out of the rain. Before I knocked, though, a small noise came from the corner of the stairs, below where we were standing. "Just a second," I told Noa, and I stepped back into the rain to lean over the banister. Sitting there in the corner, curled up into a ball, her bright orange hair plastered to her bone-white skin, sat Anne, her eyes fixed on something in the dark, dry corner. "Anne?" I asked.

She glanced up, wincing a little as she did so. She wouldn't look me in the eye. "Edward," she murmured, then she looked down. I glanced back at Noa, who had a little smile on her face.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" I asked, striding down the steps and towards her. She glanced my way, then pointed a pale, gaunt finger into the corner. Wrapped in a small, thin scarf that looked so gaudy it had to have been Rebecca's at some point, was a small, shivering kitten, little enough to fit in the palm of my hand. "Oh," I said. For a moment I looked at the poor thing, shivering in the cold, its big eyes closed, completely covered by the scary except for its black head. Then I looked back at Anne. They were both vulnerable; they both needed help. But the girl sitting on her ankles in front of me needed me more.

I took off my coat and gently placed it around her shoulders, even if she flinched away from my touch. "Come on," I said. "You'll catch your death outside here, Anne. Bring the cat inside, we'll find something to feed it."

Anne shook her head, still sitting on the wet ground. "Roy doesn't allow cats in the house," she breathed. "Tom gets sneezy around them. He feeds a stray dog every night, but never a cat. Not even a little kitten." For the first time, something like strength crept into her voice.

"Oh," I said again. "Sorry. But you're more important than the cat. Come on, stand up." I took her arm and she didn't pull away; she simply let me pull her to her feet, then tug her up to the door, her eyes fixed on the kitten the whole time. "Anne, this is Noa," I said, although Anne was still staring at the cat. "Noa, this is Anne."

Noa reached out and touched the bare skin of Anne's hand. She started slightly, but allowed herself to be touched. After a moment, a wide smile broke out on Noa's face. "Anne," she said. "A very beautiful name."

Anne turned beet red. "Th-th-thank you," she muttered, and I wasn't sure if it was the cold that was making her teeth chatter, or something else.

Once inside, we paused at the kitchen. Roy was sitting with Shauna, who looked like she was sulking. His expression brightened somewhat when he saw Noa and I. "Ed!" he said. "Good to see you're back. Thought you might've left for good after what Winnie said to you."

"No," I replied, with a grin. "You can't get rid of me that easy."

"I'm glad," said Roy. "Noa, it's good to see you too. And the baby, of course." A smile and a little nod.

Noa seemed a little more confident than usual. I thought it was because she knew this man almost as well as I did; she had seen him many, many times before in my memories.

"I hate children," sniffed Shauna.

"You are a child," said Roy, glancing at her. She made a frustrated noise. I noticed Noa smiling at this.

"So," I began. "Is Winnie still…?"

"No," Roy told me. "She's calmed down. She was playing piano all of last night, though. I finally had to force her to go to bed. Which is unusual for her."

A pause. "Then she's still upset."

"Well, of course," said Roy. "Upset, yes. Likely to punch you in the face, not really."

I laughed slightly. "Where is she now?"

"In her room. You should talk to her. Noa, why don't you join the girls in the sitting room? Riza's with them."

"Yeah," I said, turning to Noa, who was clutching the baby close to her chest. "How about it, Noa?"

A small nod. "Yes," breathed Noa. "That sounds nice."

With a nod to Roy, I led Noa to the sitting room, where she and I paused in the doorway. Riza was sitting with Margaret, who was holding Faith in her arms. Lillian, a huge smile on her face, sat beside them.

"Hello Edward," said Riza, a thin smile on her face.

"Hi girls," I replied. "Do you mind if Noa joins you for a moment? I have to talk to Winnie."

"Not at all," said Lillian brightly. "It would be a pleasure!"

I smiled and squeezed Noa's hand. In her ear, I whispered, "You know Riza, don't you?"

She nodded slightly, the hint of a weak smile on her face. I left her sitting down with the other women.

Upstairs, I passed Fiona's door; I could just make out Irene's frustrated voice trying to calm Fiona, who sounded frantic and unintelligible. I heard a sigh and creak of floorboards from Daley's room. And then I was at Winnie's door. Silence. I raised my hand and knocked.

She opened the door almost instantly. The look on her face was calm, but disdainful. "Look who it is," she said. "Mr. Father of the Year."

Her words stung, but I didn't let her know. "Can I come in?"

"To my room? What would your beautiful wife think of that?" A pause. "Oh, wait," she said softly. "I almost forgot. You didn't even have the decency to marry her before you-"

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked her, a hard note in my voice. "Because I will. I'll leave you alone if you keep talking like this. If you want me to, I will, but don't expect me to come back this time."

She said nothing, only searched my face with her deep blue eyes. Then she sighed and walked away from the door, inviting me in.

Same as ever. A few photographs on the walls. A bed. A desk. A chair. Austere, but functional. I walked a few steps in, observing the pictures hanging on the walls. Winnie sat down on the bed, looking at me expectantly. I got the feeling I should say something, something to convince her not to be angry at me. So I said, "I love her."

Accusingly, she asked, "Then why did you leave her?"

"You know why," I told her. "Because I had to come here with Al."

"And look how well that turned out."

"Winnie, please," I said, turning to look at her. "You wanted to know why I left her, I'm telling you why. So just listen."

Silence. She glared at me. "You're actually telling me," she murmured dangerously, "that Al was more important than she? That your brother meant more to you than the woman you love?"

"Yes," I said, even though I almost felt guilty for saying it. "I am saying that. I had to choose between them then and I… at least I was honest. Come on, Winnie. Between – between being with Michael and being with someone you love, who would you have chosen? Who would you choose now?"

She held my gaze, then looked away. "Mike," she muttered. "Mike, a thousand times over." Pause. "But that's different. My brother is dead."

So should my brother be, I wanted to say. But I didn't. "What can I say, then? What could I say to make you stop hating me as much as you think you do?" She looked at me silently. I sighed and looked around the room. "Winnie," I said. "I should have done a lot of things differently than I did. But I didn't. And look at me. Even with one fake leg, I've managed to get up and keep going, living with my mistakes. You've got two strong legs. I'm asking you the same thing: keep going. And please, try to live with the mistakes I've made."

A long, painful silence. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate to find reasons for something, anything. And then she looked at me. "I know that you love her," she said. "I've known that for a long time. You love her more than you love me, I know that and I understand that. It just…" a pause. She looked hopelessly around the room. "It just seems like everyone has somebody they love more than me."

I wanted to let her know, somehow, that I did love her best. I loved her more than anyone else I had ever met. I loved her more than Noa because she was first. I'd known that she and I were meant to end up together since we were infants. I felt so useless, completely unable to convey to her just how much I could love her. How much she meant to me. She was sitting on the bed. I knelt down in front of her, taking her hands, looking up at her face. She wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Winry," I said. "I love you, too."

She looked at me. Her eyes welled up with tears. And then she fell forward, onto her knees, throwing her arms around me, holding me, a sob escaping her lips. After a moment, she said, "Congratulations, Ed. Congratulations on finding her and – and your baby, Ed, I…" She blinked, wiped her eyes. She pulled away and tried to laugh. Then she looked at me, a sad look in her eyes. She reached out and touched my face. "I hope I find someone like you," she whispered. "But nobody could ever do as much for me as you have."

I embraced her. "Don't say that," I told her. "If I've learned anything, it's that you never know how much someone can change you. You never know what could happen."

She nodded, her eyes still swimming in tears. "You're a good man, Ed. Thank you. For everything." She wiped her eyes, then stood up. Stronger now, she said, "Now go back to her. I'm sure she hates to be without you. I would."

I stood up, kissed Winnie on the forehead. "I should be the one thanking you," I said. "I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met you."

She said, "Go."

I hesitated. She smiled, nodding at the door. I told her, "I'll be back."

"I know."

I turned to the door and left. As she closed the door behind me, I saw a glimpse of her face. Sad. But she wasn't angry. Not anymore. I stood there for a long time. If only I could do the same for Winry. If only I could hold her and tell her I loved her as well.

For a single second, a part of me wished entirely that I could go back. Then I remembered that crazy look in Al's eyes and the journal full of scribbled notes, and the sensation evaporated. I didn't want to go back. Not at that cost.

Downstairs, Margaret and Lillian were in an animated conversation. Apparently in the few minutes I had been gone, they had decided that my son was going to marry Faith when they were grown up. Noa looked amused, but a little uncomfortable. Riza was smiling slightly bitterly, looking from Alfons to Faith. Two tiny babies. I was reminded of what Winnie once told me about Riza: she and Roy had had a daughter a few years ago who had died as a baby. This Riza had always seemed a little more meek than the Riza on the other side of the Gate. The idea of losing Alfons washed over me. It occurred to me suddenly that the loss of a child could do that to a person. Break them down.

It was a few hours before we left. Riza talked softly to Noa, unlike Lillian or Margaret, who laughed loudly. Noa slowly seemed more comfortable with them, and she even let Riza hold Alfons, just for a few moments. Winnie didn't come downstairs to see us before we left. But I knew she would be all right. She was strong.

Before we did leave, Roy stopped us. "Ed," he said solemnly. "I just want to make sure that you remember what Rebecca said to you."

I raised an eyebrow at me. "You mean when she threatened me?"

Roy nodded. "Exactly. I know you probably didn't take her seriously, and that's a mistake. She knows people in the right places to make that a reality. To be honest, if you were still on your own I probably wouldn't bother warning you." His eyes rested on Noa and the baby. "But you've got a family to think about now. And I can't help but believe that Rebecca is really low enough to try to hurt your child."

"She wouldn't do that." Roy turned. Riza strode up beside him, placing an arm protectively around his. She had a sort of gleam in her eye.

"You don't think so?" asked Roy doubtfully.

She shook her head and calmly said, "She knows that if she ever threatened a child, I would kill her. It's very simple, really."

A short pause. Her eyes were on the baby.

"Look after your son, Edward," she said softly. And then she turned and walked away.

Roy looked at me with an expression that said he needed to go after her, so I nodded and

Quickly said, "Right. I'll remember that. Thanks, Roy."

"No problem. Come around anytime, you know that."

"I know. See you."

He turned and walked away, hurrying after his wife. Noa looked at me. "Should I be worried?" she asked quietly.

I shook my head. "I don't think so. Becca's not the type of person to go through with these threats. It's just another way she manipulates people."

Noa nodded, deciding to trust me. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the sky was still gray. Before we got into the car, I glanced back at the house. Beside the staircase, the kitten was gone, but Becca's gaudy scarf was still there, lying ragged and dirtied on the wet ground.

It feels SO. GOOD. to have this chapter done. Thanks for all your support.

Your thoughts on Al? On the baby and Noa? On Winnie, and Riza? This chapter actually has a purpose; it will come up later. I dropped plenty of hints and/or foreshadowing, I think. Tell me what you think.

I'll be in Poland this week so I won't write much but I am SO EXCITED for the next few chapters. That will motivate me, I hope.