Author's Notes (or ramblings rather)

Okay (or rather ok, as that really is how it should be said) so after 10 minutes of flipping through my 7 notebooks of random shit (the green one claims that it is a chemistry notebook but I'm starting to believe that it's a filthy liar: I can find math, creative writing, fanfictionous stories, drawings, doodles, and yet not a single page of chemistry anything. No, my chemistry notes reside in the yellow one that say's it's for math.) I finally found the story that I was looking for. Yay.

So now I'm sitting here typing Authors notes because I'm having a hard time getting down to the actual writing of the story, so right now you're gonna have to deal with my pissy ANs. Well, unless you just skip to the non-bolded section, but in that case, screw you.

As far as disclaimers, I see no reason for them. It's not in official ffdotnet policy to include them, and honestly they're not needed. Unless of course you're mentioning OC's and telling everyone to keep their hands off. So, everyone, Ivan is mine and you can't have him (unless you ask nicely), but I'm sure you already knew that.

So, while talking about Ivan, does anybody know the name of the country that is based on Russia? Me thinks it's Creta, but imnotsure. Oh, and concerning the countrys, I'm not just gonna say "Amestis represent's Germany like I've gathered the anime suggests (didn't finish it though so I can't say for sure) but rather Western culture in general, just as Xing is going to be Eastern culture and Creta (?) is Russian.

Please review and such, and be harsh if the situation calls for it, which it almost certainly will, but love is always appreciated. Just be realistic. Oh, and to all of you lovely people who showed love for Two Ranks and added me to author alerts (I love you guys so much) erase any expectations you might have because this is NOT in the same style as that. So yeah.

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Theme: Military Personel

Eternal Flame

Standing at the grave of Fuehrer President Roy Mustang, Riza felt peace, sorrow, and happiness. The Eulogy had started with a beautiful blue sky, but had steadily gotten cloudier and cloudier until the very sky itself seemed to weep with the passing of a fallen leader.

"How fitting," the old woman said when the preacher asked her to give her last words, "that as our beloved Fuehrer is lowered into his eternal resting place, the heaven's themselves acknowledging the passing of the Colonel Bastard. He always was useless in the rain." Snickers could be heard from grandchildren who had clearly heard stories, whereas reminiscent laughs could be heard from their respective grandparents.

The trumpets roared, Twenty One shots were fired, and the very earth itself trembled when the casket struck the earth. Their son-in-law was the one who brought torch to light the eternal flame atop his tomb.

After the services, strangers came to her to give their respects, soldiers saluted her, regardless of whether they were a newly appointed Private or a Four Star General, and old friends came to hug her and share old memories. They would laugh at the good times, and reverently reflect on their fallen comrades.

Her son-in-law, Ivan, had taken it upon himself to care for her in her elderly years. All of his children were long gone, some making children of their own and he claimed the company would be good for both of them.

"I don't have a room specifically chosen for you, but I have four empty rooms, and I figure you're more than competent to choose for yourself." Riza turned around to have said son-in-law come into her vision. He had cleaned himself up for the formal occasion, wearing the black sash for such occasions, and the golden saber that was appointed to Generals. Every one of his medals was polished to perfection, and his normally scraggly beard was trimmed neatly.

"You know, I don't officially have to move out of the Fuehrer's mansion until a new one Fuehrer is appointed, and I doubt they'll kick me out even then."

"Out of fear that the late Roy Mustang will rise from the grave, and fry them to a crisp?" Riza smirked.

"Or worse…"

"Oh? How many pistols do you still carry?" Her smirk widened.

"Just one." Ivan looked at her disbelievingly. "Well, and a sawed off in my purse. Old habits die hard."

"You know, 30 years ago I would've been surprised." Riza could see a hint of sorrow as memories of his late wife passed through his mind.

"Rachael told me you went beet red when she outshot you so terribly."

"My house is filthy, mom," Ivan said, quickly driving the conversation elsewhere.

"Still burnt by that, huh? Well then, you would evict a poor old woman from her beautiful, clean house into your pigsty? What's that supposed to do for me?"

"For you? What are you talking about? My house needs a ladies' touch. I'm doing this for me, woman!" Her smile turned to a laugh at his retort. She enjoyed bantering with her son-in-law, even if it had taken a while to get used to his odd sense of humor. She knew it was inevitable anyway. Roy and Ivan had ganged up on her for the decision. For some reason if she was the first to pass then he would get to stay in the Fuehrer's Mansion, but if he died first, the she would have to go live with Ivan. Stubborn Roy. We both knew you would pass first...

"I'm glad it's like this." He looked at her with understanding. "If you would have told me 60 years ago that I would be standing here, old as a sponge, at the funeral of my husband, Fuehrer-President Roy Mustang, I would have told you 'a woman can dream, can't she?' and then cried in my sleep."

"No one can say that your lives have been anything short of incredible."

"This is how it's supposed to be. Old enough to take bets on who's going to kick the bucket first, not 30 and waking up in fear, not sure if the day before was the last day that you would see a loved one. Arguments on living arrangements, instead of reprimands for giving up when all hope seemed lost."

"Life brings a lot of sadness," Ivan said, thoughts turning, once again, to Rachael. Riza bent down to pick up one of his own grandchildren who was tugging at her pant leg, and his mouth turned to a smile. "And a lot of happiness."

Ivan bent down to place the bouquet of flowers he had been carrying onto his father and Fuehrer's grave. "And so it goes." Riza put her great-grandchild down and swung the long rifle off her shoulder's and placed it next to Ivan's flowers, and murmured her own agreement.

"And so it goes."

For the record, both Audioslave and Morphine are incredible band and work very well for mood casting. I love them.