/If I start going berserk, you'll stop me... Right/

/Of course I will./

The answer had been so easy, back then. Before we entered the funeral.

I know how much it pains him, yet I still agreed when he said that he wanted to be here. It is his brother's funeral, after all.

/Our brother, Love. Please don't forget that./

He always reminds me that we're family. That I'm not alone anymore.

But with each death, I see him getting more and more lonely.

Al wasn't the first to "go".

Mustang had been.

He hadn't died from old age, but had gotten shot while on duty.

/He wanted it that way.../

We attended then, as well. It had been just as painful.

I couldn't help but think that if Mustang had gathered his courage and confessed his love, things would have turned out much differently.

-I, for one, wouldn't have been standing here, holding a man, I used to hate, in my arms, telling him that it was all going to be alright.

Even though we both knew they would never come back.

I glance to the side, seeing our children standing, comforting each other.

Mustang had been like a Grandfather to them. We even named our son after him.

...Neither of them is crying. They are both adults, though it pains me to realize it.

They look older than us, their parents. And it isn't the first time that we have been mistaken for their children.

I know that we will have to say goodbye to them as well.

We both know, but it's something we have agreed not to talk about.

The sound of the trumpet pierces my thoughts. It's exactly the same sound as back then, when they had buried Mustang.

...The children had been in tears then. But then again, that was years ago.

I force myself to look around.

Many of the people here I know from visiting the HQ, helping out once in a while.

They all look old and gray, and I notice a few hateful looks thrown our way from people who recognize us.

Al hadn't died of old age, either.

A stray bullet had hit him in the chest, during a mission where he shouldn't even have been.

-Officially, anyway.

We had been there. Both of us.

We had seen the soldier, who "in terror" had mistaken our youngest brother for an enemy.

That soldier was standing a few feet away.

The Higher-Ups had gone a good job of covering a mistake made by their own soldier.

The coffin is completely covered now, and people are beginning to head back home.

The soldier just stands still, looking at the fresh grave with no remorse, strangely enough.

-Even the worst of Humans should feel bad for killing someone they didn't mean to harm.

He notices as well, and clenches his fists.

I nod to our daughter, telling her to go on without us.

/We don't want to you know anything you're not ready for, or anything that could hurt you.../

They might be adults, but neither of them should have to see what will happen next.