Chapter 3


There were too many people, Winry thought, her head bowed so her bangs fell over her eyes. It seemed…wrong, somehow. A travesty. Through the net veil of her hat, she could look out and pretend that they didn't see her. She wasn't sure if they noticed her anyway. They were all focused on the pastor speaking words over the freshly turned earth and a coffin, empty except for an automail leg and an automail arm. A stone rose starkly out of the ground; a name, two dates and a rank on it, more stones lurking around it. Winry snuck a glance at the young man standing next to her, sliding her hand into his.

He blinked, exchanging a long glance with her. His soft brown eyes were worn and weary and she wondered if they were mirrors of her own. She, at least, had the option of that veil; what was in his face couldn't be hidden. Winry could see the tears waiting to spill in Alphonse's eyes; felt her own well in empathy. But neither of them would allow that emotion, not now. They both turned to the pastor as if coming to the same conclusion. Not yet.

The pastor talked of Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric, some brave young man called away too soon from his friends and family. Edward, the pastor said, had given his own life so that others might live. Alphonse's hand tightened on Winry's then, so much that if she hadn't been numb already, she might've cried out. Edward Elric should be considered a hero for everything that he'd done; for the love he offered to his brother; for saving so many military men from a fateful attack in the city of Lior. The pastor raised his eyes from his book, smiling sadly at the people gathered around the grave and asked for everyone to join him in a prayer for the soul of Edward.

Winry bit her lip to keep from screaming that Edward didn't believe in God; that he would've considered this to be a mockery of almost everything that he'd lived for. Everything Edward had done had been to get Alphonse his body. It wasn't about Lior or the soldiers and she knew it and Alphonse did, too. Al's grip shifted in hers as if to offer her strength this time and she lowered her head obediently. Beside her, Granny Pinako sniffed once but Winry couldn't tell if it was in sorrow or in disgust.

More words spilled out of the pastor's mouth, extolling Edward's soul to its final rest, calling forth blessings upon the young man and all those he'd loved (Winry closed her eyes and swallowed hard at that phrase), speaking finally the last rite and closing his book in finality. Military men in blue uniforms shoveled earth onto the top of the casket. It boomed hollowly and Winry flinched at the sound. Sunlight seemed to curl along the headstone, caressing the letters and numbers carved into it and Winry felt like shouting that the day should be grey; should be dark. Edward Elric's memory shouldn't be consigned to the ground on a sunny afternoon.

Someone said bitterly, "It isn't fair."

"Shh." Pinako's narrow, bony hand pressed into Winry's back. "Shh, Winry."

The dirt slowly filled up the hole, the men mounding the soil up over the coffin. They turned as a unit and marched away. Someone was talking, a low voice filled with pain. Winry waved her free hand at the voice, like shooing a bee. She could hear Pinako answering, sounding angry. A faint smile settled into place. Granny would take care of it. Granny would make sure everything was all right. Winry reveled in that dream for a few seconds before someone stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the headstone.

"Mr. Elric," the person said and went on talking.

Winry couldn't even drag her eyes up to see who spoke; her vision filled with an expanse of blue decorated with gold and with colored ribbons. Alphonse's grip on her hand tightened again and she found she could look at him. His expression was horrified, his throat working. He pulled back away from Winry, their arms stretching between them like a ribbon. Slowly her head swung to face that expanse of blue and Winry held out her free hand. "I'll take it," she heard herself say and felt something cool and smooth landing in her palm. She curled her nerveless fingers over it tightly, wondering just what she held.

There were other voices, a blur of sorrow that she couldn't quite take in. Pinako seemed to be handling it so Winry let Alphonse drag her away. They stumbled through the stones together, still joined by their hands, the whatever it was still clutched in Winry's fingers. Someone called to them or Winry thought she heard a voice but she was lost in the sunlight winking on Alphonse's hair, the way his shoulders heaved with each step he took.

"It shouldn't be sunny," she heard someone saying in her voice. "It's not right. I don't want to see the sun and think of his eyes."

"Winry," Alphonse moaned.

"You could burn out your sight, staring into his eyes. Like looking into the sun."

Alphonse turned to her, wrapping her in his arms. They were nearly the same height, she thought; Al was even a little taller. A giggle fought to escape her at the thought that Edward would be so jealous as she slid her arms around Al, the hand without the box clutching him tightly.


Fuhrer Bradley watched the blond girl get tugged away by Alphonse Elric, the medal box still clutched in her hand.

"That was a good thing you did, Fuhrer," Colonel Archer said, studying the pair with cool eyes, a faint smirk evident on his face.

Wondering what Archer was planning, Bradley said, "I could do nothing less. After all, his brother died a hero. A shame, really, that all that talent is gone." He folded his hands together, surveying the rest of the people, mostly military, scattered about the cemetery. "It really is a beautiful day, isn't it? Much too lovely for a funeral."

Archer tilted his eyes towards Bradley. "Some would say that any day is too beautiful for a funeral, sir."

"Hmm, they'd probably be right." Bradley nodded as he took his leave of Archer. "Excuse me, Colonel. I need to speak to Mustang." He took off across the rich green grass, manicured closely. "Colonel Mustang. If I might speak to you?"

"Sir." Mustang and his cadre saluted as Bradley approached.

"At ease." Bradley smiled, taking note that Mustang had paused next to a stone marking Brigadier General Hughes' grave. "If I could borrow you for a moment, Colonel?" He waved Mustang over.

"Yes, sir?" Mustang nodded at his people, who disbursed. The colonel's mouth was pulled tight, his eyes like black chips of ice. The tension thrummed through his body, most visible in his fists, one of which kept clenching and unclenching involuntarily.

"It's always difficult to lose a man," Bradley said, dropping a heavy hand on Mustang's shoulder in a show of sympathy. "To lose one so young." He shook his head, guiding Mustang away from his pack, though his blonde aide followed discreetly. "It's all right to grieve, Colonel." Turning to look through the trees, Bradley nodded towards the two young people holding each other tightly. An older woman trudged towards them slowly, as if she bore all the sorrow on her shoulders. "Alphonse Elric."

"What about him, sir?" Even Mustang's voice was tight.

Bradley sighed. "It isn't fair that that boy had to go through all this."

"Sir?" Now he just sounded confused.

Squeezing Mustang's shoulder, giving it a little shake to make sure that he had the colonel's attention, Bradley said, "I want you to make sure that Alphonse Elric receives his brother's pension." He smiled down at Mustang companionably. "It's the least we can do."

"Yes, sir," Mustang said. He straightened and saluted. "Thank you, sir."

"Your thanks are unnecessary, Colonel. Appreciated but unnecessary." Bradley turned back towards the mound of fresh dirt, at the white stone marking it. "It's a sad day, Colonel."

Mustang swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"A very sad day." Bradley shifted his gaze towards the trees, narrowing his eye at Alphonse Elric.