Young

AN: Wow, it's… been a while. Wow. Anyway, I have no idea where this came from, and I don't know where the title came from, either.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

It was a small, quiet funeral.

Urey Rockbell stood beside his mother, clothed in a hastily tailored black suit. Pinako's face was blank – her jaw was tight, but it did not quiver, and her body was still. The only signs of her distress were the tears that silently slid down her face.

Urey clutched Sara's hand and watched his mother through the corners of his eyes. He knew perfectly well that Pinako had fooled around in her time – but when she had met Kimball Rockbell, she'd devoted herself to him. His mother wasn't the most expressive or affectionate person, but he could always tell that she loved them, him and his father. It was the little things that counted – a pat on the head, a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day without him asking, staying up late so that Kimball wouldn't have to go to sleep alone.

He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his mother's shoulder. His throat was tight and his insides felt as if they'd been tied in knots, but he knew he needed to be strong for his mother. He would let out his own tears later.

Urey watched solemnly as his father's casket was lowered into the ground. Pinako shuddered a bit under his hand, but he tightened his grip fractionally and she grew still. Trisha let out an anxious sound and moved closer to Pinako to grasp her hand firmly. Urey appreciated the gesture and made a note to thank Trisha later.

"Mom," he spoke softly as they walked away from the cemetery and towards their house, "I've decided I'm going to become a surgeon. Just like you and dad." Pinako glanced at him tiredly, and Urey worriedly noted how frail she looked. She seemed to be stooping slightly, and the smile she gave him was half-hearted.

"That's good to hear," she responded. "I'm proud of you, and your dad would be, too."

Urey swallowed. "I'm going to make sure you never cry again, mom."

Well, he'd tried.

Pinako Rockbell, now much older and wiser, laid flowers on the grave of her son and his wife. It was terrible, she mused, that a parent should have to bury her child. It was awful that she, wrinkled old thing that she was, had had to bury so many young ones. They'd been so eager and full of hope, ready to take on the world…

She sighed and got to her feet, drawing one hand over her eyes. Urey, Sara, Trisha… she hoped they were all resting peacefully.

It wouldn't be long before the world would belong to the young again.

AN: 439 words.