Disclaimer- I own nothing, FMA belongs to the writers and aniplex, and square enix.
Summary- This is written as if it was Trisha Elric who went away instead of Hohenheim. Based on the episode Mother, only written as if it was about the boy's father instead. Might turn into a series of short fics, will see how it pans out. Hope you enjoy.
I was born on a warm Sunday afternoon you said. Little bigger than a fish you could buy from the local market. You were terrified you'd accidently break me, I was so small I could easily fit in the palm of your hands. I had your eyes and your hair, gold as the sun. But, I had her smile. You told me that for years, long, long after she went away. You were there for my first words, mama, papa, and held my hands for the terrifying first steps. Al was born on a Tuesday. He looked like Mom. He had her hair and her face. You loved him all the more for it. I want to think she loved him too. I want to think she loved any of us. Mom left on a Monday. You said Mom would come back one day and we'd all be one big happy family again. You kept saying when she'd come back…,but she never did. It was just the three of us. But we were happy. We were happy in our country house in Risembool with our friends the Rockbells. Sometimes you would stare off into the distance, like you were seeing something we could not. Every time we talked about her you'd get the same far away look in you eyes. I made me angry at her. I hated that she could cause so much pain. Al couldn't be angry, he had no memory of her so he would cry every time I said how much I hated her. You'd tell me that I shouldn't say such things, mom had to go away for a while to do important research. She'd come home once her research was done and until then I was to be a good boy, mind my manners and watch over Al. Winry's parent's died on a Thursday, and a funeral was held on Friday. I felt horrible for her, I wanted to hug her and tell her it was alright, but she was so broken up she refused to let anyone near. Al told her he could understand, mom was gone too, she yelled at us then her parents could never come back and mom had just run off. That's when I first got the idea for a homunculus, Pinako warned us even then of the dangers of human alchemy. We should have made that the last of it, but fate had other ideas.
You got sick on a sunny Wednesday. Al and I had been sent to pick up some fruits and vegetables while you were going through your books to find some new things to teach us. It always made you so happy to teach us new things. You had been a state alchemist once, they used to call you the Light Alchemist and I wanted to follow in your footsteps. Mom was a great alchemist to, better than anyone else you always said. You had retired from the military and had settled in Risembool where you met Mom and married her. I wish she had stayed, perhaps she could have helped us. Maybe she would have been a pillar of strength for us to cling to in that dark hour. Al found you first. You were collapsed in your study, a pile of books and papers around you. You were so cold, your skin was like ice. The doctor said you had been sick for a long time, but what is a long time to a child, it could have been days to us, weeks maybe, but we couldn't imagine beyond that. In your sleep you whispered for mom, whispering 'Trisha, Trisha' over and over. I hated her even more then, it burned me on the inside. We looked through the letters that people had sent her and wrote a letter to each location praying that she'd answer and come home. I didn't really want her home, but you needed to see her, your life was wasting away waiting for her. I thought, I hoped that if she came back you 'd get better. But she never came.
You died on a stormy Sunday. Al and I were with you at the end holding your hand as you were leaving us behind. You told us you had some money put away for us to use when you were gone. I laughed and told you not to be silly, we'd all use the money together. You gave me one last gentle smile and asked if I could transmute one last thing for you, a circle of flowers to give to mom when she came home. You told us that when you were younger you always used to make them for her. Now I understood why you always smiled at us when we did alchemy, it reminded you of mom. You died then without another word. You warm amber eyes glazed over and shut. You were gone and it started to rain. I missed you, but I couldn't cry.
We buried you on a chilly Monday. We stayed by your grave long after the service was over and everyone else was gone. That's when I swore I would get you back.
We left for training on a cool Saturday. We came back several months later on a Tuesday. That's when we did the ultimate taboo, we treaded on God's territory. We tried to create life. I lost my leg and arm. Al lost his body and was bound to your antique suit of armor. I saw what I created, but it wasn't you. It wasn't human. It was a pulsing mass of flesh, it wheezed a few quick breathes, it may have even spoke, but it was horrible to look at. I wanted to kill it, destroy it. My sin was too much to bear so I tried to destroy it, but some things can never be undone. We learned that the hard way. That's when Mustang found us, told Pinako he'd been looking for our mom for some time, but he was willing to divert his attention to us because we'd done a successful human transmutation and even more was impressed by the successful soul attachment I did with the armor and Al's spirit. That's was when I got the idea to join the state military. Perhaps if I joined them I could find a way to set things right, maybe find a way to balance the equation.
We burned down the house today and are leaving for Central. We won't come back anytime soon, that much I can promise. As we walked away I swore I saw you standing there by the tree next to the old house, but we both know that the dead don't come back. This is the last of what I have the time to write,2 0perhaps there will come a day when more shall find its way to paper, til then nothing is written except what others may write. Good-bye Father.
-Edward Elric, October 3, 1910