There is a basement underneath the main building in Central. Its purpose has not changed in several hundred years. Though most of the military's records are kept in Central Branch of the library, in the basement are kept a unique collection of records. Neat rows of photographs are displayed, the walls lined with the faces of long dead State Alchemists. State Alchemists are not the only ones on display here though. One row holds the faces of the youngest to achieve some goal, another displays the oldest. And another row holds causality figures.
Few now come here, quiet though it may be, for there is always a feeling of disquiet, coming down here to look upon the faces of the dead, and always the caretaker watches.
Most of the pictures have been preserved amazingly well, excepting those that were taken hundreds of years ago, when photography was new. The colour portraits from the beginning of the colour era are faded beyond repair, and even some of the black-and-white pictures look faded. However, there are some pictures that look as if they have never been cleaned, like those in the causality area. Most people around Headquarters say that it is because the caretaker is a pacifist, or just doesn't like being reminded of certain things.
The pictures do not change much, as few people are willing to try to change the causality figures and to try for the records of oldest in a certain position requires a lot more luck than most people have. But several times, the new recruits have tried for the records of being the youngest. It's almost amusing how the newest picture to have been added was one in the section for the oldest people. Major Renalds had not been pleased when he had passed that particular milestone. He had been hoping to be promoted before then.
Very few people indeed these days want to be remembered as an alchemist. Every once in a while there'll be someone who offers their services as an alchemist to the military, and once they join up they often do their best to hide themselves away from the world. In this day and age alchemy is almost feared, no longer regarded as a science. Most people think this particular downward trend started soon after the Fullmetal Alchemist's story came out in the public. No parent wants their children's fate to be that of his.
The gallery is not the only thing that does not change. The caretaker of the photo gallery has lived under the stairs for as long as anyone can remember, and a lot longer than that. When people come down the stairs he has enough advanced warning to turn on the lights and be standing among the pictures before anyone reaches the end of the stairs. If anyone cares, he also has stories to go along with most of the pictures. The only time that he leaves anyone alone is if the visitor moves to one row, and one picture in particular. He moves incredibly quietly considering who and what he is.
If you head towards a certain photograph in a certain row, the only row that the caretaker ignores, that certain picture is the only one in the row that look at all cared for. The photo is unique among all of these portraits, especially among these records, unique in the fact that it was taken only days before this record was set. It depicts several people standing in an office, with another photo attached over one of the group. The covered person can easily be discovered because an almost identical picture sits in the caretaker's room. The one in the caretaker's room is not labeled, but most of the people can be identified from the record in the adjoining room. In any case, several of the people are also depicted in other records. The official caption names all of the people, their rank, and in three cases, the name given to them when they became State Alchemists. Their names are set out so orderly, as if the people they record were always their ranks. Roy Mustang, Brigadier-General, Flame Alchemist. Riza Hawkeye, First Lieutenant. Jean Havoc, Second Lieutenant. Heymans Breda, Second Lieutenant. Cain Fury, Sergeant Major. Vato Farman, Warrant Officer. Alexander Armstrong, Major, Strong Arm Alchemist. And Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist. In both pictures, Edward Elric glares at the camera, like he doesn't want his picture taken, or he has other things he could be doing. The picture of Armstrong is pinned next to Edward, but the caretaker's picture shows the covered person to be a suit of armor, one that any visitor to the archives will recognize.
The official record name is slightly ambiguous; "Most People Killed In An Incident During A Time Of Peace", but the caretaker can describe exactly what happened. That a bomb had been placed in Mustang's office, and that the bomb had gone off just after Edward had given a report. How Ed had just been turning around to yell an insult at the Colonel, but he hadn't had a chance to say anything before... And after saying that much, the story would never continue, the incident still too fresh in his mind, even after such a long period of time. The date given by the record is 1915. No one is certain exactly how many years have passed since then, but everyone knows that that was several hundred years ago. When the newer recruits hear the story, most of them are amazed that anyone still remembers that, after all, no one can be that old. And the older soldiers who have heard the story before will always point out that a suit of armor does not age.
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Alphonse Elric is alone. He has been ever since his brother's death. There are always visitors to the archives, but that just isn't the same. Less people come every year, and even less want to talk. Al has often wondered why he continues to stay in Central, wondering why he is still alive. It would have been more appropriate to die with his brother. Is he here to keep alive memories of another time? Alphonse doesn't know. He hasn't known since a cool fall day, when his brother was sixteen and was reporting to Roy Mustang on something he had been asked to investigate.
A/N This was just some
random idea that came to mind one day, and I didn't get around to
writing it up until recently. And no, I have no clue how to end it.
Dangit, I hate my keyboard.