I saw a friend that I once knew at a funeral,
He took the time out to be seen.
His eyes kept glancing to the hour hand on the gold watch
that he'd been given by a magazine.

He didn't cry when the priest gave the sermon,
just pulled up the woollen collar on his fleece.
Crossed his arms, gave a sigh and checked the time again,
as he sat inches from the wife of the deceased.

The silence was comfortable. No one wanted to speak; it wasn't a reluctant quietness. The breeze whistling through the trees, and blades of grass dancing to the sound of its tune was the only sound. It was autumn; September fifteenth to be exact. The air wasn't too cold, but the atmosphere made them shiver. Winry smiled gently at her parents' graves. Edward and Alphonse hadn't bothered to tell Winry it would be okay, or that she would get through this. So what it had been years? No one is expected to get over losing their parents.

They were joined, unexpectedly, by someone, clad in a black coat and a vibrant blue military uniform. Although his attire was impressive, his expression seemed exhausted; dry. Winry knew it was him. She didn't dare turn – didn't dare grace him with her beautiful blues. Edward acknowledged the General with a nod, as did his younger sibling. Mustang smiled – a daring mood in such a dreadful place.

"Winry," Roy muttered, nodding as he joined her, glancing down at the graves. His expression seemed stern – as if he regretted coming to see his victims. Winry glowered at him from the corner of his eye. How dare he show his face here? She thought to herself.

Mustang raised a gloved hand, fiddling with a shining, golden medal, hanging from his breast pocket. It glistened wonderfully in the sunlight – still in perfect condition from the presentation from the Fuehrer.

He catches raindrops on his window, it reminds him how he falls,
From the stars back to our cities, where we've never felt so small

Rain drops from his window making puddles in his hands,
He sees how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands

When he turned, walking away from the graves, he didn't share a parting word, or present wonderful flowers like Winry, or his subordinate and his sibling. Edward followed Mustang back to the main pathway, muttering something about information that Roy had promised to provide him, concerning the Philosopher's stone.

"And Alphonse?" Roy asked, glancing down at the child from the bottom corner of his eye.

"Staying here with Winry; she doesn't want to be alone tonight…" he drifted off, avoiding eye contact with General Mustang. He grunted slightly in understanding, noticing his car parked up ahead.

He felt disgusting. What had he become? It was despicable. He'd spent so many years of his life trying to get to the top, pushing himself to become higher up in the world. And what had he gained from it? Power, maybe – but the subordinate he respected greatly wouldn't even look him in the eye because of what he had done to get there. He felt like throwing up.

He took a chauffeur driven car back to his hotel,
Passing through the city streets where he was born
He said "Driver, what's happened to these buildings?
They all look run down and so forlorn."

He took a shower in the bathroom of his penthouse,
Put the Do not Disturb on his door
When the maid came in the morning
She found him shivering on the bedroom floor

Edward and Mustang sat, leaning into the car doors, on opposite sides of each other, as if some invisible force was pushing them away. Edward kept his chin and lips buried in his hand as he gazed, absent minded, outside the window. Mustang sat cross-legged, his gloved fingers tapping his knee with a steady rhythm. The tall buildings loomed over the black car as they drove through Central in the late hours of the night. Havoc flicked his cigarette bud out of the window, glancing at his superior in the rear-view mirror with almost pity. Roy noticed this and smiled back at his friend.

He said, "Havoc, what's happened to these buildings? They all look run down and so forlorn."

There came no response, the smoker only tensed ever so slightly, before he shrugged and mumbled, "I just hope someone will find a way to restore them soon, before they crumble and fall." Roy chuckled, realising Havoc had seen through him like glass. He glanced over to Edward, who still seemed unresponsive.

They shortly arrived in the large mansion Roy had been acquired with from the President, along with his title. Edward still avoided eye contact with his superior, muttering a short 'thank you' as he stepped into the house, as Roy held the door open. Havoc saluted Mustang gently, before getting back in the car and pulling out of the driveway.

"The books I've got for you are in the guest room. It's late; just sleep there tonight; no one will take a late night booking. You want anything to eat?" Roy slipped his gloves off, sliding them into a drawer beside the door. Edward shook his head, his back to Mustang, and seemed to wipe his eyes. He made no effort to comfort the blonde child; it was no use anyway – his efforts would have been frowned upon.

He took a shower, washing away the unclean feeling from him. His entire body quaked with anger as he took in what monster he had become. He'd never felt lower before. Tears ran down his eyes, with the dripping of the overhead shower. He yelled furiously, something totally incoherent, and pounded his fist against the white tiles. Again and again, his fists smashed into the white as he wept, sobbing words self hatred. Slowly, red began to run down from his hands.

"Why?" he whimpered, biting down on his lip.

He dried himself quickly, not caring if the cold air stung at his skin, throwing on a pair of pyjama bottoms, his eyebrows creased furiously as he continued to cry. The pain, of being this hideous creature became almost too much for him. He hated himself to no end. He was falling into a bottomless pit of despair and sorrow.

* * *

Edward hadn't bothered to read the books that night. He wasn't in the mood for research. All he wanted to do was think about the Rockbells. He didn't stay up late, and dreamt about nothing. His body felt empty; there was nothing inside of him that pushed him forward. No amount of research could ever bring back Winry's parents; and he'd learnt that the hard way.

Morning came quickly, the day seeming far too bright to fit his rather dim mood. Wandering downstairs, he didn't see Roy anywhere. Maybe he was still asleep? No… it was nine-thirty already; he's normally awake by eight. Perhaps… the late night wore him out?

He tip-toed to Roy's bedroom, knocking politely. When there was no response, he presumed that the General was asleep, so he pushed the door open. What met his eyes, however, was unexpected.

Roy's figure lay curled up on the floor, beside the bathroom door on the other side of the room. He shivered uncontrollably, his hair still dripping wet from the shower he had last night. His skin was blue, as if he'd been sitting there all night.

Edward didn't know what to do.

He catches raindrops on his window, it reminds him how he falls,
From the stars back to our cities, where we've never felt so small

Rain drops from his window making puddles in his hands,
He sees how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands

"Havoc?"

"Yeah, chief?" Havoc looked up at Edward from his paperwork, balancing a cigarette between his lips. Edward had rings under his eyes – nothing out of the ordinary, but his eyes looked wistful; distant. He looked Havoc straight in the eyes, locking his bright, dazzling golden eyes with his.

A moment passed, their eyes never breaking contact.

"Never mind," Edward finally whispered, glancing back to Roy's empty desk. Havoc noticed this, and sat back in his chair, glancing at the desk too.

"You're wondering about Flame?" Havoc asked. Edward didn't look over, just nodded; almost sadly, "he's…" he began, before correcting himself, "he wants the world to be perfect. He wants everything to be fair. The irony is, that he's been made to do the most terrible things, and he doesn't know why. He's tearing himself apart because he doesn't understand what's right and wrong. Think of it like rain,"

Edward looked up, raising an eyebrow. Havoc smiled and continued;

"He catches raindrops on his window; it reminds him how he falls, from the stars back to our cities, where we've never felt so small. Rain drops from his window making puddles in his hands, he sees how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands."

YES I KNOW IT'S SHORT IM SORRY IT LOOKED NICER ON MY WORD DOCUMENT DDDDDDDDD:

Please review :D They are like my little bundles of joy - I lock them in a jar and open them on a rainy day :D

LOVE YOU LIKE THE SUN.