Looking back on it, no one was really sure how it happened. Apparently one minute the train was peaceful, and then an explosion occurred and it derailed and piled up the next. There were fires all over the place and the structure of the cars had become very unstable.
It was reported to me that Edward had gone through the cars one by one helping everyone he could find out of the mess.
As the train crashed just outside East City, it didn't take very long for us to notice and show up.
When we got there, a group of maybe six or so people was climbing out of the train. They were being helped by a small kid. The kid turned to look at us and said something to one of the other passengers and then jumped back in the train. The passenger came over to us and relayed the message that the kid was going back in to look for more trapped or injured passengers.
I walk through the huddled passengers, taking names, trying to find Edward. I know he was on this train. Someone gets my attention when a lone, small figure appears on top of the pile. In-between clouds of smoke I can tell who it is. His hair is singed and face and clothes covered in soot, but it's clear to me it's Edward. I remember I was so happy to see him uninjured. I pity his sensitive nerves, though. That automail's got to be pretty hot.
And then, in a burst of heat and light, my world shattered.
The train must have been carrying a rather large amount of explosives. And the fires had to have just reached them.
Edward, who had started to climb down the pile, didn't stand a chance. When my eyes cleared I looked around for him. I found what was left of him amid a sea of blood and crushed under a part of the side of a train car.
It should have been hot from the fires and noisy from the panicking passengers and soldiers. But it wasn't. When I saw him, my world became cold and silent.
Why am I so damn useless when he needs me the most? There was that time with Scar when it was raining and now. Adding a fire to a fire storm doesn't help matters any.
His automail arm and leg were gone. Probably in a million parts between here and the wreckage. All he had left were the ports. Glass from the windows had cut his skin and clothes to ribbons. But the killing blow had been from a metal pipe roughly two inches in diameter. It was still in him. Where his heart should have been.
It started raining. It must have. Because there was no way I could be crying. So it had to have been raining.
I think I fell in love with his eyes first. They were exotic and determined and full of emotion. Now they were blank and unseeing and I would never wake up to see him watching me. That was truly a treat. The one night we spent together was amazing. I never would have expected that from a fifteen-year-old virgin. I had let him top that night, expecting to show him when he got back from this mission what a more experienced person could do on top.
I don't think we know how we discovered we loved each other. I think it just kind of happened. We were arguing over something again when suddenly I had an armful of Edward and he was pressing his lips to mine.
When no one was looking I gave him one last kiss.
When he was buried he was promoted to lieutenant colonel; he was the first civilian to get that high. Only later would I find out that he wasn't a civilian when he was buried. The damn military wanted a hero and so they made one.
I didn't cry again until I got home that evening. It was hard. Not crying. I wanted to mope and cry and throw a tantrum like he would have. All I have of him are my memories now. No pictures, no personal items.
"Oh Edward. Why me? Why am I the only one you will ever have?" I whispered into the empty house. My sobs were the only answer.