Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist in any way whatsoever.
The night beckoned, silent and watchful, like an eagle perched on a precipice. The golden-haired boy climbed out of bed, having made numerous but futile attempts to drift off into the state of blissful oblivion called sleep. He slipped quietly into a long cream-coloured coat and left the house with a celerity that suggested he had something urgent on his mind.
Edward Elric did not suffer from insomnia. Nor did he go out at night on a regular basis to steal and stir up trouble. He was an alchemist, and the fact was that he had made a valuable discovery in the early hours of the past day, and it was this revelation that prevented him from sleep tonight.
The grass was wet with lingering traces of the rain that had fallen during the day. Edward's shoes sank into the soft mud with little sighs as he took brisk steps across the desolate field. The night was calm and still, as if the trees and animals were holding a collective breath, waiting for the solemn deed that was about to take place. There was not a breath of wind in the quaint town.
Edward's footfalls quickened as the silhouette of the blackened tree drew nearer, pulling him closer to it with an invisible force, its fragility making his heart churn with bitter sadness. He shut his eyes momentarily – he could almost feel the heat of the flames as they stuck out their luminous tongues and licked his old house with malignant relish before consuming it entirely. The memories of that day were still clear as glass and fresh as a raindrop in his restless mind – and while they were sorrowful, he had sworn he would never forget them.
The moon offered him guidance, urging him onwards with its gentle light. Finally he knelt before the ruins of the house that in the past had held so much warmth and loving embraces. He reached out and ran a hand over the freshly overturned earth at the base of the unnamed grave, under which lay the inhuman being he had brought into existence back in his days of utter ignorance. He laughed softly.
"I'm an idiot," he whispered to the gravestone. "I can't believe it took all this to realise what I'd forgotten to do."
The stars blinked down from their banner of deep blue velvet, reminding Edward that he had to move on. He brushed the dirt off his hands and brought them together before him, feeling the cold, hard steel of his right hand against the tough, calloused skin on his left. He slammed both hands on the tightly packed earth beneath his feet. Almost at once, vehement gusts of wind rose, disrupting the serenity and stillness of the night. Edward's hair, which he had neglected to tie up, was whipped against his face. His coat flapped about in the sudden gale. Bright blue light danced in a snakelike fashion, engulfing him as two slabs of stone rose out of the earth.
Within less than ten seconds, the tranquil ambience of Resembool had returned. Nothing, save the two new graves standing proud beside the nameless one, suggested that an alchemical act had taken place. Edward made to stand up, but frowned slightly, as though trying to recall something that had slipped into the depths of his sea of memories. Then, a barely perceptible smile playing across his lips, he clapped his hands once more and engraved an epitaph onto each gravestone.
A bird chirped from its perch on the burnt tree. Edward looked up, over the hazy mountains, at the lightening sky. Dawn was breaking.
"I'll be back," said Edward, taking once last look at the headstones, "so wait for me."
He said the words with a tone of finality; then he turned on his heel and set off across the verdant field and along the lonely lane, heading for home.
And when the sun peeked over the horizon and the first morning rays landed apprehensively on Edward Elric's creations, each and every meticulously embossed letter was plainly visible. On the first gravestone was written:
Nina Tucker
1910 – 1914
She brightened up the darkest times
With laughter like the sound of wind chimes;
She never cowered: she was bold,
Yet her heart was made of purest gold.
And on the second:
Alexander
– 1914
Full of mischief, full of mirth,
From the moment of his birth;
Even now, not in vain,
These qualities still remain.
Although their physical beings were elsewhere, from now on the little girl and her big dog could rest peacefully.
So, too, could Edward's heart.
Perhaps the wounds inflicted through witnessing a great injustice were too deep to heal completely – but the scars marked something else he would never forget. He did not need a silver pocket watch to remind him of poor Nina's tragic end, brought about by her own father's selfishness and cruelty.
He would never forget.