Scar had heard the news of the Fullmetal Alchemist's death even from the Ishbarite camp in the south. It felt like unfinished business, and he took his leave of the elders, heading out that same night.

It was shortly after the funeral that he arrived and he waited, some distance away, as various members of the military left. Even five years later, there was a price on his head and there was no man who would be pleased to see him. He was not safe there, even with a hood hiding his face and its distinctive markings.

Eventually, there was only one person left at the grave and he showed no signs of leaving. Scar emerged then, walked down the hill towards him, stopped and waited.

"Alphonse Elric?" he asked, and the boy looked up. Seen like this, bronze eyes tired and startlingly long hair pulled back in a braid, the family resemblence was uncanny.

"Mister Scar," Alphonse said, voice shaking. "You-"

Scar scowled down at the name written on the stone. "I came to pay my respects."

They were silent for a few long minutes.

"I'm cold," Alphonse whispered. His voice was thick with tears and shock, as if the feeling itself were something unexpected and new, as well as its cause. "And hungry."

Scar let his unmarked arm drop so his hand was resting on Alphonse's skull. The boy drew a shuddering breath.

"Come," Scar ordered. "I have rented a room in town. It is large enough for two and they have food available."

Alphonse shuddered again, fighting tears. "I have a place," he said. "My brother and I-"

"You won't want to return there," Scar said with the assurance of one who has lost a brother.

"No," Alphonse agreed, and covered his face as he sobbed.

When he had finished, Scar offered a hand to him. Alphonse wiped his eyes, then reached to take it. Scar lifted him to his feet, clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Come," he said again, and turned to go, waiting, back turned, as Alphonse said his farewells.

Together, they walked into town.