If Edward had known it would be like this, he would have never let her transmute her self along side him.

The blond alchemist watched as Sapphire gently placed the glass plates in their respective cabinet. It had been three years and Edward found it harder and harder to remember the Sapphire that found the strength to throw Armstrong into the air, the energy to keep dancing after two hours of sparring with Izumi and the conviction to think that transmuting her self would send her home to Letophia. But more important then any of that was her ability to keep smiling brightly even after all she'd known to be true was torn apart.

The Sapphire that stood in the kitchen now had none of those traits. Her eyes lost their sharp color, had turned dull; her smile held a note of sadness, no matter how happy she tried to look. She'd taken the engagement ring she wore religiously off her finger, choosing to wear it on a chain under her shirt. Nothing was the same about her, Edward thought.

Well, almost nothing. She still rejected the mentality of 'women wear skirts' and kept her color scheme of blue black and silver…no, not silver. There was no silver here, just gray. She would walk by the beer hall and the men would ask her if she even owned a skirt like a normal girl. Edward would watch as she gave them her sad smile and move on without answering.

But Alfons, poor Alfons, he hadn't known the original Sapphire, the 'real' Sapphire, like Edward had. And, poor Alfons, had fallen head over heals in love with the black haired girl with the dull blue eyes.

"I'm gonna tell her," he would say, eyes blazing with determination, "I'll make it perfect! With roses and candy and love songs and everything."

And Edward could never find the heart to tell him she had long since been taken.

Sapphire came home one day to find the apartment empty, which was unusual. Normally at least one of the boys was sitting around somewhere, reading or doing some odd mathematical equation. She noticed, with suspicion, that her door was closed. She reached for the handle and cautiously opened her door.

She was greeted with the sight of rose petals and violin music in the background. And there was Alfons, sitting at her desk. The boy jump up at the sight of her and ran to embrace her. She stiffened, but Alfons took no notice as he professed his love.

"Sapphire, oh Sapphire," he murmured, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Then he kissed her. And she cried. Quietly at first, as if she didn't even realize the tears were there. Then her shoulders began to quiver and when Alfons pulled away, she wailed. Long and hard and heart wrenching, clinging to Alfons as if to let go would break her.

And Alfons, poor Alfons, couldn't seem to understand why.