Chapter Twenty-Nine: Blood

The next day, everything suddenly felt normal and easy in the way that only Roy's family could manage. They welcomed Noa and I back into the house and once again, and Noa sat with the women, getting to know them as they were desperate to get to know her. Winnie sat with her, but she rarely talked. Winnie, who knew Noa's face better than any of them. She had seen her picture beside my bed many times.

Noa held Alfons in her arms, but she let some of the other girls hold him. I wouldn't have thought it, but it seemed a kind of relief to her, to let someone else carry the weight of her child for a few moments. Again, when I thought this, I felt guilty.

We were all sitting in the living room of the house; it was late and already getting dark outside. Winnie sat at the piano, playing short, simple tunes. Margaret carried the brunt of the conversation; Roy and Riza, who were usually busy doing something else, sat with the rest of us. Tom, their son who couldn't have been older than six years old, sat in Roy's lap, resting his head against his father's chest. The little boy's eyes kept closing, but with a little shake of his head he would always open them again, desperate to stay awake. Riza occasionally reached out a hand and ran her fingers through his black hair silently.

Irene was holding Alfons when Tom sat up and leaned forward, looking at the baby. Margaret, sensing that no one was listening to her anymore, finally shut up just as Irene asked quietly, "Do you want to hold him?"

Wide-eyed, Tom looked up at his father, who glanced at Noa. She nodded, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Go ahead, Tommy," said Roy, a little smile on his face. Irene held out the baby; Roy placed his son's hands on the baby and pulled both children close to him, helping Tom to cradle the baby in his arms.

Riza stood up and silently left the room. Roy looked after her, his chest rising and falling in a silent sigh. Then he handed Alfons back to Irene and stood up, setting Tom down on the couch. "Sorry," he said, heading after his wife.

But then Noa said, "Um – Mr. Mustang?"

He looked back at her. A gentle smile broke across his face. "Call me Roy," he assured her, looking at her the same way he would look at any of the other girls.

She said, "I'm sorry. I – I didn't mean to upset her."

"You didn't do anything, Noa," he said. "Of course you didn't. She's just sensitive about some things."

Silence. Roy nodded at us and left. Irene gave the baby back to Noa; Tom leaned his head against the back of the couch, his eyes closing. I looked at all of the women I had come to know so well in the past year. It seemed that, just for a moment, everything was falling into place. Could things really work out?

Roy appeared again, in the doorway to the room. "Ed," he said. "Can I talk to you?"

I looked at Noa and she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Sure," I said. I followed him into the kitchen, where he nodded at the table.

"Go ahead and sit down," he said. I did so, a little nervous.

"What did you need to talk about?" I asked cautiously.

There was a short silence. Then Roy said, "Things are going to have to change."

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

He sighed a little bit, running a hand through his short hair. "I don't want to have to be the one to tell you this, but somebody's got to, I suppose." There was a short pause. Then he said, "Look, you're more than welcome to continue to work at the garage, but I get the feeling that with two more mouths to feed, that's not going to be enough. As much as I want to help you out…" he trailed off, looking at me.

I thought about this for a moment. "I guess so," I said. "I hadn't really thought of that. So…what should I do?"

He leaned against the countertop. "Well, the way I see it," he said slowly, "you have two options." He held up one finger. "One, you get a second job and you work your ass off twenty-four hours a day." He grimaced and held up a second finger. "Two – and it pains me to say this, it really does – you leave."

Silence. "Leave?" I echoed.

"There are better opportunities out west," he continued. "And, believe me, New York is not the best place to raise a child." He smiled wryly. "I would know."

I returned the smile. "What, trying to get rid of me already?"

"Of course not," he said, taking my light tone more seriously than I had intended. "If it were entirely up to me, I'd keep you here for the rest of your life. For the benefit of the girls, of course." A grin. "But it's your family. And ultimately, it's a decision you have to make."

I looked around the little kitchen, the place I knew so well. "You really think I should leave?"

A pained look passed across his face. "I think that's a question you should answer for yourself," he said. "But then again, I think a lot of things. You don't have to listen to me."

I nodded. He didn't want to see me go, I knew that; I could tell as much. But he was looking out for me. He was giving me advice. Good advice, too. I had, many times in my life, left everything behind and tried to start over somewhere new. But looking back, the reasons hadn't always been the best. My choices had always been biased, colored by the circumstances and my own opinions and staunch beliefs. Now, it seemed that the opportunity was arising again, but for the first time, this looked like the best thing to do. Not for me. It didn't matter what I wanted anymore; I wanted to stay here and keep the life I had. What I needed more than that – more than anything – was to give a life to my son that was better than that. That need eclipsed everything else, and so although I didn't say it right then, my mind was made up. I would have to leave, because the life that I was used to before Noa appeared again with my child in her arms was over. Things would not be the same. So it would be best for all of us if we found somewhere where we could keep our family and settle down. Maybe for good this time.

As far as I knew, it could be as close as the outskirts of the city or as far away as the West Coast of the United States. Regardless, at that moment, I knew that I would have to go.

The front door opened and closed. Roy raised an eyebrow, until he heard the sound of a familiar voice. "Oh, fantastic," he muttered, grimacing. "She never can stay away for too long, can she?"

Just as Roy started towards the door, Becca appeared, hanging onto Al by the arm. She giggled. Al didn't look me in the eye.

"Well," breathed Becca, her eyes shining. "Hello boys."

I almost rolled my eyes; Roy actually did.

I stood up. "Al-" I began, but then he shook his head and turned and walked away. I tried to follow him but Becca stood right in front of me, blocking my exit. She smirked at me.

Roy said, "I should probably go warn Riza." I glanced back at him; he met my eyes, silently asking me for permission.

"Go ahead," I said. "I can handle her."

Roy brushed past Becca and me. She reached out and brushed a hand along his chest, but he swept by her, without even pausing.

"So you can handle me, can you?" she asked, with a devious grin. "Yes please."

"Go away, Rebecca. I really don't want to talk to you right now."

"Not even a hello?"

"Hello. Now will you let me go?"

"No," she breathed, running her hands along my chest. I took her by the wrists and forced her hands down. I tried to push past her again and she laughed. "You are too funny, Edward. You think you can leave before we finish our conversation?"

"Rebecca, if you want to say something, say it. I don't want to play your games right now." I paused, waiting for her to say something. She looked at me for a few moments, her eyes slightly narrowed, as if considering her options, choosing what to do.

Finally she said, "So it seems that we're all paired off, aren't we? You and that ugly gypsy, and me and Alphonse." She sighed dramatically. "It's such a shame." She paused, waiting for me to ask her why it was a shame. I refused to play her game, and my silence forced her to continue speaking. "You know, I would've so much preferred you. You're older, more handsome, and you kiss better too. I have to admit something to you, Edward, love. I always had that little hope that I could leave him for you. Shame she had to come back, like I said. If she weren't here, oh, Edward, I have no doubt that you'd finally realize that you love me – because you do love me, Edward, I've seen it in your face and once you think you love someone you never stop. Ordinary people don't, anyway." She grinned. "It's a damn good thing I'm smarter than ordinary people, though, because I know love doesn't exist and that means I can move just as fast as I want to." She sighed, as if stunned at her own genius. "Yes, I know. You wish you'd figured that out years ago, don't you? Well, you're very welcome. I live to enlighten people on the subject."

My lip curled in disgust. "You're just so goddamn jealous, aren't you?"

Her thin eyebrow rose. "Jealous?"

"The only reason you talk like that is because you've never felt love. Which isn't surprising, considering you're such a heartless bitch."

She pretended to hiss at the insult. "Oh, no need for name-calling. Let's be civil about this, shall we?"

"Let's be done," I said, and tried to push past her once more, but she stopped, her thin hand circling my arm, tugging me back in front of her.

"Now, now," she said, and there was something dangerous in her voice and in her eyes. "Edward, I want you to know that everything you always do to your brother, every time you try to convince him that I'm bad for him and he needs to grow up and get out of my dangerous claws, it didn't work. It won't ever work. And now you're never going to speak to him again. You're too caught up with your own family," she spat out the word with as much condescension as she could manage, "to pay any more attention to him. And you know what that means?"

I stood there stonily, trying to pat down the urge to hit her.

Behind her, there was the sound of the door opening and slamming shut again. She didn't even glance around; she kept her deep eyes focused on mine, staring intensely. She reached up and touched my face gently, her fingers sliding through my hair. I hoped so much that Al would walk out and see her and finally come to senses about what she was doing to him. Although I knew that even if he did see, she would somehow manage to worm her way out of trouble with him, I still wished that he would see this, and then maybe a miracle would happen and he'd snap out of the stupid spell she had over him.

She leaned forward and put her lips to my ear, her breathe tickling my skin.

"It means I've won, love. And there's nothing you can do about it."

She laughed, taking her mouth away from my ear. She swept her hands along my arms and shoulders and chest. She was always touching, her fingers always fluttering across my body. I hated it, and I wanted nothing more than to strangle her.

But instead I just asked, "Are you done?"

She looked mildly affronted, then waved it off. "Yes, I am. But thank you so much for asking, love. I appreciate your concern."

I pushed past her, tearing my arms out of her grip. I went into the living room; Roy and Riza were still gone – as was Noa, which seemed strange. "Where's Noa?" I asked.

"Talking to Riza," replied Shauna. "Is Becca here?"

Becca appeared behind me, and Shauna's eyes lit up. "Yes, I am," she said, and before she spoke again I walked away to find Noa.

I hadn't turned the corner to the hallway that Riza had gone down before Roy stopped me, holding out an arm. Then, silently, he pointed down the hall. Noa was quietly talking to Riza, a hand on her arm. Riza looked close to tears. I stood there for a long moment. Riza reached up and dabbed at her eyes. I glanced at Roy. His expression was tender and affectionate and he couldn't tear his eyes away from Riza. I looked back at the two women. I wondered shortly if the Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye on the other side of the Gate could possibly be in love as much as this Roy and Riza. They probably were. But their situations were different, and always would be.

I suddenly felt like I had forgotten something, like something was missing. A deep feeling of panic rose in my chest but for a moment I couldn't understand what was going on.

And then it hit me, and ignoring Roy trying to stop me, I walked forward down the hall. "Noa," I said. She turned around. "Noa."

"What is it?" she asked, and Riza turned her face away, ashamed.

"Where is Alfons?" I asked her, and instantly her face went gray. I could tell she felt the same way I did; it was like a chill ran down both of our spines simultaneously. Riza looked back at us, the tear tracks still visible on her face.

"I left him with in the room, with Shauna."

I wanted to say, He's not in there but I was trying to convince myself that I was wrong, so I turned around and quickly walked back to the living room. The girls were all sitting there, Shauna right next to Becca, soaking in her every word.

"Noa," I called, as she rushed towards me. "He's not in here!"

A deep, overwhelming panic settled in my chest, constricting my lungs so I couldn't breathe. She was instantly by my side, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Shauna," I said, interrupting Becca. "Where is the baby?"

Shauna glanced at me. "Al wanted to hold him. Being the uncle and all, I thought that'd be okay with you." A worried look began to creep into her expression. "Didn't Al give him to you? He said he was going to talk to you…"

Winnie had stopped playing the piano. The room was dead silent. Riza let out a slow, shuddering breath.

I remembered the slam of the front door when I was talking to Becca and suddenly it hit me, like a ton of earth collapsing onto my head. I couldn't breathe as I slowly turned back to Noa, who had a terrified look on her face.

I said, "He took him. Al took him."

"Al?" she asked, and I could tell she couldn't believe me. But I didn't have time to explain anything to her. Roy called my name as I ran to the door, but I didn't stop. I was out the door and turning on the car, revving the engine, but it wouldn't start.

"Dammit!" I screamed, and I took off running, and as I headed towards the place where Al lived, hoping to whatever higher power I believed in that he would be there, everything started to fall into place in my mind.

A long time ago, my father explained to me how to summon the Gate – the method that Dante used, at least. I didn't know if that worked the same way on this side of the Gate, but Al was desperate and as good as crazy, and I wouldn't put it past him to think of that, at this stage. As Al had said before, everyone has a Gate inside of them, but as we age, we become attached to the physical world and lose our awareness of it – and thus our ability to summon it. But with someone still new to this world, someone whose link is still strong, say perhaps a baby…well, it would be more than possible. Dante proved it was very nearly easy.

I had relayed this to Al after he crossed over, when I was catching him up on what had happened to me since I had crossed the Gate.

Al had been planning, as far as I had known, to use Becca to summon the Gate. And then came along the answer he had been looking for, carried in Noa's arms. I had the feeling that he didn't entirely expect this to work. But he had taken my child, and I wasn't about to take that lightly.

I ran as fast as I could, my legs and my blood pumping. What if I was too late? Whatever happened, whatever was going to happen, those what ifs, they horrified me. Alchemy was possible in this world, possible enough to open a Gate. Al had laid it all out for me, explained everything, and he believed it needed a sacrifice, and, goddammit, did he really expect to use my child, his own flesh and blood, to selfishly get himself back to his home?

He wouldn't do it. Of course he wouldn't; there was no way he could kill anyone, much less a baby. But that didn't stop me from running as hard as I could, because somewhere in the back of my mind I was terrified, and I wouldn't stop being terrified until I had my son safe in my arms again.

I skidded to a halt when I got to the right street, slipping and falling, but scrambling back up and moving my legs as fast as I could towards his house. I barged into the door, expecting it to be locked – but strangely, it swung right open. The house was dead silent. A shiver went through my body. What if he wasn't even there?

"Al!" I called. "Al! Where are you?" I opened doors, one after the other, until suddenly I heard the sound of a baby crying. "Al!" I yelled again, and I didn't even know which one of them I was yelling to. I rushed towards the end of the hallway, to the next door, and I ripped it open and-

Al was sitting on a bed. When I opened the door, he whipped his head around and looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. Lying on the bed, in the same bundle he had been in in Noa's arms, laid the little baby Alfons.

There was silence in the room.

I said, "Al. What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing," he murmured. "And I'm glad you came."

Silence.

"Stop it, Al. I can't believe what you just did. Do you realize-" I took a step forward, shaking my head, trying to slow my heart rate, when Al's eyes widened even further.

Suddenly, somehow, he pulled a knife and he said, "Stop, stop, stop it. Don't move, I'll activate the circle!" He pressed the knife against his palm, holding it above the baby. "My blood, Ed, that's all it needs! My blood and then this baby and this we go home, then you go home, don't tell me you don't want it! Don't tell me you wouldn't trade Noa for Winry in a second, don't lie to yourself, this isn't the life you want!" He was breathing quickly and heavily, tears streaming down his face.

"Al!" I shouted, but he screamed over me.

"I don't care!" he screeched. "I don't care if this is what you want, this is not what I want and I don't care anymore, I just want things to be like they were! Isn't that more important? Aren't I more important?"

He dug the blade into his hand and I threw myself at him, knocking him off the bed. The baby cried as I pinned Al to the floor; his chest heaved with manic sobs. He looked so terribly pathetic that I had to force myself to keep him restrained, and a sick feeling rose into my chest when I realized how far gone he really was. He seemed completely out of his mind – he wouldn't have done any of this if he wasn't, and as his body shook and tears ran down his red face, I took pity on him, my own brother, and I let up slightly. Wildly, he threw his arms into the air, waving the knife at me, and suddenly I was covered in blood and there was a spluttering, hacking sound to Al's coughs and I couldn't believe it – I couldn't believe that Al would do this to me, would really go as far as to injure me, to dig that knife into my flesh and spill my blood, and in that moment I truly believed that, if I hadn't gotten here in time, he would have sacrificed my child for his own sake, to get back to the world that he lived in without being constantly manipulated and used. I believed that he had lost all traces of his sanity, and with tears in my eyes I pressed his arms into the ground and put a knee on his chest and there were more, louder heaving, gross hacking noises and then…

And it was then that I let go of him and fell to his side and stared at my blood-covered hands, horrified. Al dragged himself to his hands and knees, his feverish coughing wracking his entire body, blocking out the sounds of the baby crying, and he looked at me with eyes full of pain and regret and then he whispered, "I'm…sorry…" and then he collapsed into the pool of blood below him.

Trembling, I looked at my hands once more. The knife had never touched my skin. The blood staining my skin and caked beneath my fingernails was not my own.

Instantly, with shaking hands, I put my fingers to Al's neck, scrambling to feel a pulse, my mind slowly soaking in what had just happened, just as the blood from his coughs soaked into my skin and my clothing. My brain was falling apart. I couldn't remember where I was, or why there was a baby crying, or why the hell I had just been pressing my knee against my brother's lungs…

I felt so incredibly helpless as I let the tears fall, searching desperately for a pulse, looking for some sign that I hadn't lost him forever. I could never get him back, not this time. Not if he died here.

The baby stopped crying and I sat there holding my breath, waiting for the sound of Al's shuddering inhale.

There was silence.

this is why my readers hate me

I have had the roughest 5 months of my life, trying to adapt to life in a completely new country. I'm working on the next chapter at the moment. I don't know when this will all be finished but it has become a personal project. It will be done. I can't apologize enough and I can't thank you enough.

Yes, Al is very much different and that will hopefully be addressed in due time.

Happy New Year. Hello, 2011.