Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of the Fullmetal Alchemist franchise and do not profit from this story.

Alphonse swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawned and hoisted himself from the mattress. Those years without sleep had left him unable to wake up without forcing the matter. Not that he minded very much. Sleep, after all, was one of life's great gifts.

He stepped gingerly over to the chair where he had laid down his clothes last night. Folded, not like Edward always left his. He smiled at this thought and began to dress. Yesterday, himself, Major Hawkeye and General Mustang had arrived in Central later than planned. The volume of military traffic on the rail-lines had been heavier than they had expected. He pulled on his shirt and stopped to examine his belt. "I'll need to fix that buckle soon," he mused.

As soon as he had finished tying the laces on his shoes, Alphonse picked up a noise on the other side of the door. "Who is-"

Before he could finish his question the door flew open, clattering against the wall. A moustached giant leapt into the room and forced the shorter man into his embrace. "Alphonse Elric! I'm delighted to see you! It's been too long!"

"Major Armstrong," said Alphonse, struggling to breath in the giant's chest-crushing embrace.

"It's Colonel Armstrong now, Alphonse," replied the burly man as he released the wheezing young man from his grip.

"Oh," gasped Alphonse, hand on his chest. "That's great news, colonel."

Armstrong beamed, glancing proudly at his insignia. "I heard that you arrived yesterday with Major Hawkeye and General Mustang."

Alphonse nodded. "I had just arrived in Ishval when they were about to leave for the funeral. The major spotted me and offered me a lift to Central."

The Colonel nodded in reply and glanced at his watch. "Great Scott! It's half past nine already! Come, Alphonse," he said, turning towards the door and gesturing for Alphonse to follow, "the funeral is at twelve and we must be there for the procession."

Alphonse stopped. "Wait, I can't go to the funeral. I didn't know him personally and I'm not in the military."

Armstrong swung around, regarding Alphonse with a bemused expression. "You are Alphonse Elric," thundered the giant. "You are one of the saviours of Amestris and enemy of the homunculi."

Alphonse winced at the mention of his old foes. Old fears die hard.

"And what's more," continued Armstrong, "you are the brother of the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric. Since you're in Central, it would be a great honour for you to be at the funeral."

Alphonse blinked as Armstrong's sincere gaze fixed on him. "Well, if it's all right."

"Fantastic!" Armstrong grabbed Alphonse's hand and pulled him towards the door. Alphonse barely managed to twist around to close the door as they crossed the threshold.

####

A middle-aged man glanced sideways as he hurried down the steps from Central Train Station. It was lightly guarded. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat further down on his matted hair, obscuring his face. Most of the security personnel were assisting at the funeral of Führer Grumman. His pace quickened as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his tattered coat, nervously licking his lips as he began rummaging.

The man halted at a white van marked "Central Florists" that was parked down the street from the station, pulling a singular key from his left pocket. He placed and turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open, plunging into the driving seat. He pulled a metal object from underneath and gingerly placed it under a floral wreath on the passenger seat. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned. The engine coughed to life, sputtering as the man made to drive.

A single poppy fell from the grooves around the back door as the van pulled away from the pavement, driving slowly towards the intersection.

####

Alphonse glanced down at his weather-beaten clothes. I should have worn something better, he thought, as he watched the wreath-laden coffin pass on its way towards the grave. He immediately regretted the thought. A man had died, the führer no less, and here he was worrying about what he was wearing.

He strained to see General Mustang, glimpsing an expression of solemn thoughtfulness. This will be difficult for him. Taking charge is not an easy task. I not sure if he expected it so soon. As the crowd shifted slightly, Alphonse made out Major General Armstrong further down the line. Then again, maybe he won't have to.

####

The dark-haired man sighed in relief as he slumped into the driving seat of the white van. It was done. The flowers were laid. He took of his hat and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow He hadn't been caught. He'd barely been noticed in the hustle and bustle of the funeral preparations. He breathed deeply and straightened in the seat, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve the key from where he had left it.

"Sir?"

He froze, every muscle in his body tensing, locking his bones tight. Slowly, he turned his head towards the open window, a bored-looking young soldier coming into view.

"Sir, may I see your identification card?"

The man nodded, gulping as he placed a sweaty hand into his coat pocket. He drew a pristine blue and white card and handed it to the soldier.

The soldier thanked him and began to examine the card.

The man gulped again and placed his hands on the sides of his seat, holding tightly. Hours seemed to pass as the young soldier squinted at the card. Sweat began to seep through his pores and onto his clothing, his hands turning white from the pressure as he held on tightly.

"Well, sir," said the young soldier, handing the card back to the man, "there doesn't seem to be a problem here."

The man almost sighed in relief as his fears dissipated.

"However."

The same terror that had gripped the man moments ago returned, flooding his body.

"I will need to check the back of your van. Standard procedure," he continued, noting the man's frown, "nothing to worry about."

The man reached for his key. He froze. No, I can't. There are still parts in there. If he sees them, he'll detain me. He breathed heavily as his mind raced, his arm still outstretched.

"Sir?"

A glint of metal caught his eye. He looked down at wreath on the seat beside him. His expression changed from one of fear to determination. There's nothing for it.

"Sir," repeated the soldier, his tone growing impatient. A look of dull surprise flashed across the young man's face as the occupant of the van suddenly snapped his arm out the window.

'crack'

The soldier crumpled, falling backwards to the ground.

The middle-aged man threw the gun onto the passenger seat and snatched the key, forcing it into the ignition.

The soldier coughed his last breaths, blood pooling around him as the van sped away.