Author's Notes: An open request fic done for one aoifehime. FMA does not belong to me.
Remembrance
White marble; countless rounded, smooth headstones stretched out over trim green fields.
Rows upon rows, arranged systematically, orderly, cleanly.
Blue skies and white clouds in the Heavens above.
The scarred man's boots tread softly on the crisp grass; reverent and respectful of where the dead rest eternal, returned to the ashes from where they were created.
He knows many lying here came by the work of his hands; today, he keeps his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.
His shaded eyes take in the field, the lush grass, the white headstones, the flowers people leave before the graves. He sees the loving memory with which Amestris treats their dead.
He remembers mass graves carved out of red, clay like soil in a country far away, an entire nation reduced to ashes and laid to rest, his nation; his people in those unmarked graves.
But like those lying here, they are all no more, and he will not begrudge their release from this sad world, no matter who they were in life.
A flash of color catches his eyes; a single long stemmed rose, red, and a handful of daisies, pink, resting atop a white slab of granite in the ground.
Someone loved and remembered rested here.
Not a state alchemist. "Brigadier General… Maes Hughes." Died young, younger than he was, killed in action, "Gone but not forgotten," said the inscription.
A fortunate man.
A presence behind him, and Scar turns to see the large state alchemist he confronted before on a rainy day in the city, blonde mustache and strong jaw unmistakable. They eye each other, him in deep blue uniform and dress cap, hands in front, carrying a large bouquet; Scar's hands remain in his pockets, and the big man's gaze softened.
There will be no blood-shed today, not upon this hallowed ground.
"Come to pay respects, Scar?"
"Came to see those whose sins I absolved."
Armstrong lowered himself until he was crouching before Hughes' grave, putting his bunch of flowers at the foot of the slab, respectful distance away from the two flowers lying in the center. Scar watched the man expose his back to him, but made no move. "A comrade?"
Armstrong nodded, slipping off his officer's cap. "A superior and a friend." The large soldier's vision lingered on the single stemmed rose and the handful of daisies. "A husband and a father."
The scarred man watched as the large man knelt before the grave, sadness in his clear blue eyes.
Here was someone loved and remembered, but no more.
Unfolding his arms from before his chest, the Scarred man removed his dark glasses and bowed low, reaching for the ground and coming up with a handful of earth.
As Armstrong watched, the Ishbalite loosened his fingers, scattering the soil into the wind, after which he palmed his hands and closed his eyes.
"May God in his infinite mercy give sweet rest to his soul and comfort with cherished memories those he left behind."
-End