Hello! This is my first fanfic, hope you like it! This came to me one day, while sitting in my bedroom doing nothing (how I spend most of time). Please read and review, hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I, obviously, like all the other people on this website, do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of it's characters.

Word count ( before A/N): 918

The faint silver moonlight gently washed over the tangle of blankets and the sleeping woman, that lay on the double bed in the middle of the relatively small room. Its tendrils of light managed to snake their way into the darkest of the rooms corners, where a golden haired man sat in a creaky wooden chair next to a baby's cradle. His golden eyes were downcast, transfixed on to his 8 month old son, Maes Alphonse Elric. The child snuffled in his sleep, and his father gave a small sad smile. In days gone by, the word small would have made him explode with pent-up rage, but he had grown since then, so now there was no real reason to get angry. He had outgrown the bad habit.

Edward's wife rolled over in her sleep, and was now facing the open window, moonlight still poring in, like water spilling over a steep gorge. Her blonde hair was splayed all over pillow, glistening. How he wished things could have been different, but alas, they never were. Where was the equivalent exchange in this, he asked himself. Did he truly deserve this? Did he truly deserve to be forever alone, to be forever more immortal?

It was all his bastard fathers fault, he told himself, even though he knew this was not entirely true. How had he been supposed to know that the Philosopher's Stone was carried down by the eldest child? But why, he thought bitterly, why him? He was glad to know that it had never passed onto his son, he had made sure to check himself, over and over again till he was absolutely certain that it did not exist in Maes's tiny body. In truth, he had only been waiting around because he was afraid to let go, and he most definitely was. But he knew that if he hung around any longer, Maes would start to remember him, and he didn't want that. He himself had felt abandoned when his father had left, and he thought that if he left before Maes could remember him, that it would be better. It was a unlikely hope, but he wanted it to be true all the same.

His son's downy hair was soft underneath Edward's real fingers, as he twisted the lemony blonde locks around his pinkie. Maes had taken after Winry so much, from the colour of his eyes, to the shape of his face. That was a good thing, Edward thought, at least it won't be like looking at me everytime she looks at him.

Roy Mustang had visited their house in Resembool a couple of times, bringing with him a bottle of whisky that they would share when the sun went down, and the fire was crackling behind the thick metal grate. On one of these drunken nights, while Edward was sober but Mustang was obviously not, the bastard Colonel had commented on how he hasn't changed at all in the past few years. At the time, Edward had laughed it off, and Mustang had forgotten it by the morning, but he had not.

Edward had started to make preparations to leave around that time, making sure that Winry had enough money to last her for a while, even travelling to Central to say casual goodbyes to the military officers that he had become good friends with over the years. It had been hard, but he had to do it, he told himself, he couldn't put it off for any longer, or else people would start commenting about his looks and age, sober or not.

Edward hadn't even noticed it untill now, but the silver moon had disappeared, the pale morning sun taking its place in the cloud-scattered sky. The light of the bright object reflected on the low-lying clouds, making them turn red and orange. He recalled a poem his mother had told him when he was younger, wondering somehow if it was telling him a hidden message.

Red sky at night,

Shepard's delight,

Red sky in the morning,

Shepard's warning.

But then again, he told himself, he was a danger to society, people should be warned. A man that was a living philosopher's stone, that could do alchemy without even clapping? That was nothing to be delighted about. People would probably kill to have someone like him on their side during a war.

The sun had risen even higher in the sky, signifying a new day in the lives of so many people. To Edward, it felt like his last day on earth. He would be dead to everyone from now on, no one would know where he was.

Knowing he couldn't put this moment off for any longer, Edward stood up, the chair creaking as lifted himself of it. His automail arm and leg squeaked, telling him that manteniance was due soon. He sighed, telling himself he would do on the train to Creta.

He turned his gaze to his beautiful wife, Winry Rockbell. He leaned down and kissed her softly on her forehead, whispering quietly, "I'm sorry, my love."

He gave one last glance towards his sleeping son, trailing his fingers along the edge of the cot as he walked towards the door. Edward gave one last brief smile before turning away and walking out the house, down the long and weary path of eternal solitude.

He didn't look back.