Alfons Heiderich was not lonely, he was not. He was just getting used to living on his own, that was all. Well, he'd lived on his own for the past year while he helped out at the warehouse building rockets. He was pretty sure that he would be getting a job there in the very near future, but just in case, he'd kept on at University.

The only thing was that now, he was in debt. He paid a small rent on his flat owned by Miss Gracia, which had not previously been an issue. His family were not by any means rich. No one was in Germany at the moment, what with no one having a job, and then the bloody war. But since his father had died at war six months ago, and he'd lost his mother to consumption in June, just last month, there was little way for him to pay his rent. His parents had paid half of it, as his job at the warehouse just didn't bring in enough money for him to pay rent and live. Fortunately, Miss Gracia, being the angel that she was, had insisted that he didn't have to pay his rent for as long as, either he got properly into the rocketry industry, or some other option arose. On top of that, she'd practically looked after him for the past five weeks. Bless her.

At the moment, Alfons was looking over the design for the latest rocket fuel prototype and trying to keep focused. At new face had showed up that morning at the warehouse. A tall man with glasses and long blonde hair with a beard. He had spoken to the manager and wandered around in one of the other rooms, so Alfons had never got a good look at him, but he had been waiting for him to leave so that he could have a good look, and the man had given him a very strange glare, as if he was surprised to see him, but trying not to show it. He recognised that man from somewhere, like the friend of a friend, but he couldn't think whose friend.

Alfons jumped in surprise when he heard a loud knock on the door to the shop downstairs. It was six o'clock. The shop was closed.

Alfons tried not to listen and stretched over the paper scattered across his little kitchen table and lay there like a student sleeping in a lecture. He was so lonely.

Downstairs, Gracia's voice came through the thin walls as it raised into her worried tone, and the deep voice of a large man came though. Alfons might usually have been mildly interested in the conversation, but just couldn't find himself to care. His mother was dead, Germany was in a crisis and there was a war going on. Who gave a shit about some guy downstairs?

He heard Miss Gracia's gentle knock on his door.

"Alfons? Are you busy? There's a Mr Hohenheim here who wants a word."

Alfons peeled his face away from the table and unfolded his tall frame from his chair, walking slowly towards the door. It was only when he began to open it that he realised that he was in no state to greet a stranger. His hair was probably sticking up at one side and his work shirt and trousers were rumpled from slouching over the table for so long. Not to mention that he probably looked like he hadn't slept for days.

But it was too late, because he'd already opened the door.

The man from the warehouse was standing slightly behind Miss Gracia though he looked quite terrifying this close up.

"Goodness, Alfons, you look terrible, are you okay?"

Alfons nodded. "Fine thank you. What's going on? Is something wrong with work?"

Gracia smiled at him. "No, no, this is Mister Van Hohenheim. He's um… Well he's got something to…" Gracia turned to Hohenheim for assistance, evidently not knowing if she was delivering the story correctly.

"Alfons Heiderich? I apologise for the inconvenience. This is purely coincidence. I happened to stop by your place of work earlier today, but this isn't about that. I understand your current situation in that you are struggling to um… find funds?"

Alfons panicked. How did this man know that the owed Gracia a month's rent, and who was he? This was so abrupt, no letter of warning, nothing! "Ah… I am- b-but I-"

"I'm not about to evict you or something like that in case that's what you were wondering, Mr Heiderich. In fact, I can solve your financial issue in a way, but it's a two way deal."

"What is it, Mr Hohenheim?" he prompted, wondering what he was letting himself in for. He felt as if he were doing something shady and illegal for some reason, which was all the more daunting at the current state of Germany with the Nazis roaming around all over the place.

"It's about this flat. I am leaving for good in a week or so, and unfortunately I will be leaving behind my sixteen year old son Edward."

"Can't he go with you, where you're going?" Alfons asked. The man had a strange accent. His German was good, but it wasn't his first language, and didn't sound like his second either.

"No. He can't come with me, however Edward is a little… He's a bit… Odd-"

"Is he Jewish, Mr Hohenheim?" Alfons asked outright. Not that he, personally had anything against the Jews, but the last thing he needed to happen was to be caught hiding one, and that would do no good for Miss Gracia either.

"No, I wouldn't ask that of you, but he does fit some other… undesired categories. Anyway, if you could allow him to flat share with you for a while until he gets on his feet, I will be happy enough to fund both Edward and the rent on this flat."

"I don't mean to be rude, Mr Hohenheim, but I feel like I don't know what I'm letting myself in for here. What exactly is it about your son that is 'odd' and why is he being left behind? And where are you from? You're not German."

"I apologise, Mr Heiderich, I am being a little demanding, but you just caught my eye. No, I'm not German. I suppose you could say I am. I have lived here for a while. Edward has been here little over a week, however. I suppose you could say he is English. He speaks little German, and has no idea of the political situation. In fact, he may seem completely clueless, but I can assure you that he is in fact very clever.

But he refuses to socialise and is quite… depressed… might be the term. He's quite charismatic, at least. He's also quite badly… crippled, though it's not very apparent. Edward is not someone who can be summed up in a sentence, if you understand what I mean, Mr Heiderich."

Alfons nodded. "I… think I'd be happy to take him in… Can I maybe meet him first though? That is, if it's okay with Miss Gracia." He added hurriedly.

"Oh yes," she chipped it. "I thought the company might do you good too, Alfons."

The young German hid his blush. "When can I meet him?" Alfons started. "I'm-"

"Oh he's just downstairs if you want to meet him. I didn't want to leave him by himself in case he went off on a walk and got lost again."

Alfons decided not to comment on that last bit. Edward sounded as if he was not all there.

Van Hohenheim began to lead the way back downstairs, Alfons following behind Gracia. What the hell was he doing? He had been sleeping at his table only moments ago.

In the back room of Gracia's little flower shop, a startlingly blond boy was sitting on a little stool playing with the corner of his dark jumper. He looked up, seeming bored as they entered the room and looked back down as if he were choosing to ignore them, though much to Alfons' surprise, slowly stood and held out his hand to Alfons.

"Edward Elric," he informed the taller blonde, looking into his soul with his oddly yellow eyes.

"Alfons Heiderich, pleased to meet you," he replied in German, hoping that Edward would understand what he was talking about.

"Er… Hallo." Edward responded, which made Alfons think that possibly he had no idea what he was talking about.

Hohenheim stepped between them and spoke to Edward.

"Edward, this is Alfons Herderich and hopefully you can just stay with him, while I am away? Edward?"

Alfons tried not to be intrusive and just watched Edward glaring at his father like he was the most despicable person in the world. He nodded, once, bluntly at the man, gave Gracia a slightly 'rabbit-in-the-headlights' expression and pushed past Alfons up the stairs and slammed the door.

"Like I said, he's quite charismatic." Hohenheim added weakly.