A/N: I don't own FMA…Still. The ending of my last chapter felt incomplete, so I've taken the liberty of fleshing out the rest of the story. Begin!

Red Rain Falls

"You're an idiot, Solf, you know that?"

She stated it simply, easily. It was the first time seeing Diana for a long time, and he was still high on the buzz of his latest masterpiece, and the warm feeling of the Philosopher's Stone in the pit of his stomach. The only emotion he could detect on her face was slight amusement. She didn't feel bad for him or lament his fate or even attempt to empathize as many teachers would do with a former student. As he studied her carefully, taking in each difference in her face, he noticed two or three strands of shimmering silver in her hair.

Diana smirked, and the slight flash in her hazel eyes told of an understanding. Diana knew how he felt; what it was to do anything, even submit to imprisonment, to protect the symphony.

Solf knew if anyone in the world could understand him in his completeness, it would be Diana. As she had said so long ago, they truly were alike. Diana did not judge based on fear, attachment, or fuzzy moralities. She simply watched and understood and took joy in his symphony as he did.

"It is war," she would say. "Many things are seen as justified in such scenarios that otherwise would not be. But what gives politicians and generals jurisdiction over when killing is acceptable? It either is, or is not, altogether, and each person must decide which way he believes. If you are not prepared to do what is required, don't put yourself in a position where you will be called to do so!"

Well, she wouldn't say such things to most people. But when he'd told her of the reluctance of his comrades in Ishval to do their jobs, she had responded that way. As usual, she was herself only with him. She knew, in truth, exactly what she wanted and how to act to get it. It was an art she had passed on to him.

"Pay attention, Solf," she said sternly when his charming smile began to slip.

Wearily, the ebon-haired youth nodded. Diana just sighed and laughed, placing a hand on her student's shoulder and whispered in his ear conspiratorially.

"Now, now, think of it this way… I want you to pay close attention to everything these pompous windbags," he almost laughed at her description, "say. The more you hear of philosophies you disagree with, the more you discover exactly what your own views are. It cements your beliefs in your mind. Ok?"

"Alright. I'll do my best," he replied.

"That's my student!" Diana laughed, and sashayed off to speak with another guest.

"You sure made a fool of yourself, didn't you, Solf… What was it all for, anyway?"

It was a rare occurrence that she question him. But she wasn't accusing. Still, as before, curious, amused. He could almost hear the curiosity, and the guards outside the cell leaning in to listen.

"You know what for," he laughed at her. "But you're right, there was something… Precious involved, or I wouldn't have had to go so far to protect my symphony."

She looked even more intense, but was composed enough to not lean in like an overeager child. Diana was a very dignified woman, after all. He knew that the best of anyone.

"It… It was…"

Even he, who was so cultured and eloquent after so much training in etiquette from Diana, could not find the words.

"Magnificent," Solf breathed at last. "It was absolutely incredible. It magnified my symphonies to… Impossible proportions. Simply wonderful…"

Diana's eyes lit up, and she grinned fully for the first time.

"I see."

"You know, Solf, I never got to hear it."

It was an offhanded comment, seemingly, on Diana's part. But her glance was irritated, expectant.

That very day, Solf requested a ream of paper. The prison security was reluctant to give him even a scrap, but he was able to convince them at last. The conditions were that he have only the pencil and paper, that his cuffs not be removed, and that ten guards be posted around the room to watch him closely.

It made him smirk. He wasn't going to pull anything. Sooner or later, the government would need him again, and he would get out. What would be the point in breaking out and tarnishing his good name? Well… Good enough. Not even the government would be able to smooth things over if he blew up the prison, after all, and Solf was content to reflect on his symphony and speak with Diana. It was idle but fulfilling.

In any case, at last the warden was assured that there would be no funny business by the former Red Lotus Alchemist, and he was given the utensils he required.

It took many days and many sheets of paper, but Solf was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world, and his perfect memory would let him rewind again and again to those clear and beautiful notes of utter destruction.

At last, it was ready.

The completed score was thick and heavy, but Diana received it with joy. She flipped through the pages for a few seconds and smiled.

"Thank you, Solf," she said sweetly.

Unacceptable. It was completely unacceptable! His symphony was incomplete! It wasn't finished!

Solf Kimblee was something of a perfectionist, and missing only one note—the death of that scarred Ishvalan—ripped a gaping hole in the genius of his symphony! Leaving such a disastrous score in Diana's hands was out of the question.

So, though he took his work seriously and though he was anxious to start his assignment, Solf requested that his homunculus driver stop at Diana's house in Central before anything else.

It was smaller than her home outside South City, but just as tastefully decorated—Diana was a very classy woman, after all.

Envy appeared to be quite miffed at the interruption of his plans, but to be honest, Solf didn't care. He had never once felt himself below these 'homunculi', these artificial humans, who saw themselves as super-advanced. Solf was Solf, and all that mattered to him was his symphony.

She answered quickly when he knocked, and though her eyes betrayed her shock at seeing him, she invited him inside with a calm air. He could see the sheet music for his symphony resting carefully atop her piano.

He quickly grabbed it and turned to leave.

"Solf…?"

"It's not finished, Diana."

She laughed.

"How unlike you. Well, bring it back once it's done, will you?"

She leaned in her doorway, amused, and waved him off as he stuffed the envelope into his suit jacket and entered the waiting car.

He didn't know it then, but it was the last he would ever see of her.

He was dead—quite dead. And it was an utter shame. She knew he had wanted to finish his symphony, but he became so incredibly reckless in the process.

She laughed right in the face of the nondescript officer who expressed his condolences, and accepted the sheaf of music.

She actually hadn't opened it before Solf had come to take it back, hadn't even read the title. She pulled the music from the envelope reverently.

Crimson Symphony for Diana in D Major

There were five movements. Crimson Lotus, Lotus Blooming, and Ishval I, II, and III.

It still wasn't finished. That's what he had told her when he took it back. It still wasn't finished. The scarred Ishvalan man was still alive. But, then, it was finished—the scarred man hadn't died, but the last death of the symphony had truly played out.

Solf's death.

Diana laughed, added a phrase. Set aside the accompaniment parts and turned to her spotless white piano.

Though there was no one there to play the orchestral accompaniment parts, they still danced in the air around her as she played, filling the room with the glorious noise of explosions and screams and fire. Solf's final legacy.

And Diana was right there with him, in Ishval.

She was singing to a symphony of blood.

And the blood sang back, bursting into bloom like the blossoms of a flower and dying in a rain of crimson petals.

A perfect symphony of destruction.

A fitting end for the heretic of devastation known as the Red Lotus.