;A; I thank you very much to chris3169512, ;A; My first reviewer. TAT And with that, I update another chapter. This has more of a plot than a song. The chorus at the end is not supposed to be there, but I put it in anyways.

Jean Havoc

He couldn't believe it. Why? Why did it have to be him?

His very first accident.

The first ever since he learned to drive.

Why did it have to be in his thirties? It was still way too early in life to be living the rest of his with guilt. He wasn't thinking, he was just returning from the very late night drink with Breda… very drunk and apparently driving. His hands trembled from the handles, and his mind forewent the process of hanging over. Jean Havoc, age 35, lieutenant-colonel and a new murderer, had just witnessed a crime… or a coincidence, as his mind would proteset... committed with his own car.

Under the street light red blood stains the eye the horrible stare, with limbs twisted apart

It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, his mind was whirring again and again, eyes refusing to see the red liquid that was starting to flow down the cracked glass of the car.

Why? WHY? WHY did Mustang have to jump in the street like that? Why did he have to be driving at full speed? Why did there be a flying woman right in front of his car?

The unknown corpse at the end of an empty street, I hold my breath hiding from God's eyes as she lie in the trunk

He was driving; he didn't do it on purpose… He was driving, to get to his house just in time to get a shower and a change of clothes to go to work. It was Mustang's fucking fault for running out on the road like that… it was not his fault for steering away from his boss, as an attempt to save the leader of this country… Only to run into another person, who seemed to be floating in the air when he did turn.

His eyes didn't catch much of who was there, trapped in the quickness of the motions taking place. Now all he could see through the red glasses and dented front cap was a foot, a boot. A booted foot, a black boot with a silver ring with red markings…

Oh god. Boss's boot.

He just killed his boss. His direct boss. His friend. His… his love. He couldn't believe his luck. Or the lack thereof. He heard someone shouting something… probably Edward's name. The name he'd learnt to love. Edward.

He first thought she was a he, just like everyone else. He also had the mouth-dropping session when Mustang had declared Edward as the youngest and the first female state alchemist ever to pass. He watched from afar how the small, temperamental brat grew to be a beautiful, gorgeous woman. He had seen the nigthly meetings between Boss and Mustang. He'd also been there when right after sending Edward on a mission, Roy would head straight to Riza. How others remained unaware of Mustang two-timing both his lovers, he didn't know. He'd been woken up by Boss when she'd been dumped, and had been with her during her sleepless, tearful nights thereafter.

Holding the handle I hold my head down because of the hidden crime. The fast gasps pollute my lungs.

He learnt to love her the way she was; it didn't matter to him that she had Mustang's child. Jean was going to intersect Edward, confess to her before she got to work. To say that he loved her… to say that he loved her more than Mustang ever would.

He got out of his car, trembling, hoping even after what he saw in the car, hoping that it wasn't the Boss. His eyes unconsciously trailed slowly towards each characteristics of the person, unintentionally checking every valid point for the person to be Edward Elric. Perhaps it was just another person with the same boots… some other blond with those boots… just another person with blond hair… black boots and black leather pants and- and golden irises… tainted red with blood.

Still drunk the road is pitch black, I bury the body in the marsh at the riverbank at the end of the road

He heard someone crying. Perhaps it was his. Perhaps Mustang's. It didn't matter. Edward was dead. She was dead staring in his eyes, reddened gold into his pale blue. Mustang was already at her side, glaring up daggers at him. It didn't register, however; nothing did except for the red-gold, blank eyes that proved that Edward Elric was no longer in this world.

I wake up then, and sigh with relief

that it's only a nightmare during before going to work

Havoc opened his eyes. A dream. Thank god. He was still in his dirty uniform from the day before, he still smelt like alcohol. He didn't kill Edward. It was all just a bad dream. He could still make it to the woman and confess to her, hold her tight, because he knew that if he let go, she would disappear on him again. He'd never been so afraid before.

Jean checked the time; 0800. Just in time for a normal day of work. Perfect. He was in his best set of uniforms already, including the hat he almost never wore. A bit crumpled up after sleeping in the car, but presentable nonetheless. It would take some time anyways, because he didn't recognize the place he had parked his car. He must have spent a long night driving; he didn't see any iconic big shops or buildings like he did on most mornings after a good drink.

Havoc dismissed the details like he did the dream, and started planning his own daydream for the ride back. Perhaps he should just pluck the girl out from the office and ask her out? Or maybe he would just blurt out his confession to the whole office, right after the morning meetings? It wouldn't be the most romantic one, but it would still be best if he hurried it, before Ed got any 'ideas' like she did in his dream, after being dumped … broken up so suddenly.

Perhaps a box of chocolate would be best if she didn't feel much better. She always did love chocolates. Smiling and wiping off the dry tears, he reached for the keys to start the car, accidentally dropping his immaculate military hat onto the floor with his car keys. When he leaned over to pick them up he noticed the black jacket and pants draped over the assistant's seat next to him.

He felt blood drain from his face, and started to whisper his mantra all over again: "Oh god no. Please no. It can't be. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't…" He jumped out of the black car, and started searching all over the front wheels, searching for any indication that his guess was right, for confirmation… and at the same time dreading the already too clear of an answer in his head. Then he found it, the red stain, under the car, in front of the left wheel, constantly whispering iron scent of blood.

But it's kind of funny how I ignore it as a dream but why do I feel that weight as the car moves?

Jean mentally bashed himself to an invisible wall for being so… selfish? Idiotic? Immature? None of the words he knew seemed to be enough to describe his foolishness. How could he forget? How dare he wave it off? It wasn't a dream. It was never a dream.

"Edward…" Blinking back stray tears, Jean threw the fallen hat to the backseat, started the car, and began driving towards Risembool Cemetery.

Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?

Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still hate me?

Would the breathing stop? Would the heart turn cold?

Would she watch me from somewhere? Would she still follow me?

The military funeral with the empty casket was yesterday. He had to attend… not only as Mustangs' (Jean passively remembered how Ed always cringed at whenever he said Mustang's') driver but also as one of Edward's closest colleague. Today… was the real funeral. With the people of Amestris as they would mourn the death, not of the Fullmetal Alchemist, the alchemist of the people, but of Edward Elric, a friend, a family, a mother.

Of course. It wasn't like he could erase the tinge of blood out of the tiny spaces in his car that easily.

The tears started flowing again.

AN: Poor Havoc. But I like the idea of a tearful Jean.

mrawgirl09