Al ignored the rattle of the train wheels to scowl over his notebook,
\n certain at the bottom of his heart that his notes weren’t going to
\n do him any good. Plenty of people wrote about the Stone, but as far
\n as he could tell no alchemist, in four hundred years and more, had
\n written down anything about the Gate. Given his own experiences, he
\n supposed he couldn’t blame them, but still…! And Sensei must agree
\n that his books were a dead end, or she wouldn’t have loaded him on
\n the train for a visit home without a single book to his name except
\n one volume of poetry he’d bought a year ago and hadn’t opened since. <\/p>\n
The whistle announcing the next stop was a welcome interruption. Even
\n more welcome was the sight of both Rose and Winry waving at him from
\n the platform.<\/p>\n
"Winry!" he called, grabbing his suitcase and jumping down the stairs
\n as the train slowed. "You got a break too!" He grunted as she more
\n or less tackled him into the side of the train, and grinned. He was finally as tall as she was.<\/p>\n
"Of course I got a break!" She hugged the breath the rest of the way
\n out of him. "You wrote and said you were coming home to visit, what
\n else was I going to do?"<\/p>\n
She took him by the shoulders and held him off to arm’s length to look
\n him up and down.<\/p>\n
"You look good," they said at the same time. There was a pause
\n and then laughter, and Al was glad for that, because his observation
\n had been a bit shyer than hers. Winry was wearing charcoal
\n overalls, instead of her old light blue ones, and she
\n looked… older. Which she was, of course, and she’d always been a
\n little older, but now she was a lot older and… <\/p>\n
Well, she looked it.<\/p>\n
Rose came to herd them off the platform, laughing softly herself. "Come
\n on you two, let’s go. I left bread in the oven, and you know Pinako-baachan
\n won’t remember to take it out if she’s working on that new knee for
\n Peter."<\/p>\n
Al swung his suitcase as they walked, noting the little changes in the He got through dinner and the dishes, which he’d volunteered to help Al sat back and looked at his folded hands for a moment. "I’ve made progress Rose set the teapot on the table and kicked off her sandals as she sat Al drew a finger down the side of his cup. "Sensei is pretty sure I’ve "Al…" Winry frowned. "What kind of dreams?" she asked softly.<\/p>\n Al’s mouth twisted and he took a quick drink to keep her from seeing. "So nothing mentions this Gate at all?" Rose asked, curiously.<\/p>\n Al slumped bonelessly over the table, stretching his arms out along "Well, you could ask the Ishvarites," Rose pointed out.<\/p>\n Al opened his mouth and then stopped with his jaw hanging there until He closed his mouth, pausing only to stick out his tongue at her for "You’re not asking about alchemy," Rose stated. "You said it yourself; She looked up, herself, as laughter and excited barking drifted in the Al thought maybe she wasn’t talking about alchemy or the Gate any longer. Rose shook herself. "Well, good then!" She poured Al another cup of tea and smiled at Winry. "Any problems you have that I should solve while I’m at it?"<\/p>\n Winry laughed. "I’ve gotten better! I haven’t even forgotten to eat because I’m working more than once in the last couple months." She paused. "Well, maybe twice." Another, slightly fidgety pause. "Definitely not more than three times!"<\/p>\n Al relaxed in the warmth and laughter of the kitchen, and the thought that he might have a way forward again.<\/p>\n End <\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Al visits home and tells everyone about how his studies are coming,
\n fields by the road, listening to Winry talk about the new alloy mixes
\n she was experimenting with. It was good to be home. Sensei was great,
\n but this<\/em> was home. <\/p>\n
\n
\n Rose wash, before Pinako-baachan beckoned him back to the table with
\n the stem of her pipe. "And how’s your work going these days?" she asked.<\/p>\n
\n this year," he said at last, quietly. <\/p>\n
\n down, curling one foot up under her. "You don’t sound very happy about it." <\/p>\n
\n already made the breakthrough I need. But you couldn’t tell it by me;
\n as far as I know, all I have is some really strange dreams." He shrugged,
\n rather uncomfortable with the whole thing. "So, um, don’t worry if
\n I get kind of… loud when I’m asleep. It’s nothing."<\/p>\n
\n "Well. Sensei thinks I’m actually reaching the Gate when I’m asleep.
\n That I’m seeing my own memories." He attempted a light tone.
\n "So I guess I have something back: memories of the dreams, some of them." He winced at the
\n darkness in Winry’s eyes and groped for a way to get off the topic
\n of his nightmares. "If the things the Gate takes away include memories,
\n I can see why there isn’t more written about it, I suppose, but," his
\n mouth tightened in genuine irritation, fear buried in scholarly ire,
\n "you’d think scientists would know better! I mean, honestly, it’s the
\n most basic experimental good sense to keep notes of everything, even
\n if you don’t know what they might be good for yet." He crossed his
\n arms and scowled, reminded all over again of just how unproductive
\n the past months had been. <\/p>\n
\n it, comforted by the familiarity of the smooth, battered wood under his hands. "Nope." He sighed, drawing
\n concentric circles on the wood with a fingertip. "The only books
\n that mention anything like it are old Ishvarite philosophy texts, and
\n they’re not about alchemy." He frowned and tapped his finger. "I’m
\n not really sure what they are about, actually. Just that it’s definitely
\n not science<\/em>."<\/p>\n
\n Winry tapped him on the head. "Al? You still in there? A bug’s going
\n to fly into your mouth, you know."<\/p>\n
\n old times’ sake. "Rose-san, you’re brilliant!" He chewed on his lip,
\n and muttered, "Only the Ishvarites never talk to alchemists, I wonder
\n how I can get them to…"<\/p>\n
\n you’re asking about philosophy." She smiled at him. "You and Winry
\n are just alike, you know. Always so focused on the practical. Sometimes
\n you forget to look up."<\/p>\n
\n window. Al thought her little Christopher was probably playing with
\n the new dog Al had helped Winry pick out two years ago; Den sounded
\n a lot gruffer than that, these days, and was too stiff to run around with a young boy. Rose’s mouth tilted. "Sometimes
\n the problem isn’t what you think it is," she said quietly. "You
\n don’t want to miss the moment it turns into something else, just because you
\n were concentrating too hard on what it used to be." <\/p>\n
\n But the tightness in Pinako-baachan’s face indicated that might
\n not be the best thing to point out right now. "I’ll try not to," he
\n promised. <\/p>\n
\n and Rose talks sense to him.