She watches from a distance, a year later.

She'd stood by his grave for a while earlier, but had started to burn a little. It is cooler down here, under the tree, restful. Her cotton dress has filled with wind and billows around her legs. It's been a few minutes so she calls again, to check: "Alicia!"

"Here, Mama!"

Alicia is playing among the tombstones, a game of hide and seek with someone only she could see, and she leans out from behind a stranger's grave now to wave her arm, her grin visible from here.

A year is a long time at that age, Gracia reflects.

Comforted, she looks back towards her husband's grave, where the Fuhrer kneels, and raises her eyebrows as another figure approaches.

***

Ed's face is set in stone as he walks up to Hughes' grave and stares at it. He turned seventeen two days earlier. He'd heard the news yesterday.

He looks at the name written in stone, and looks at the Fuhrer. "Goddamn you," he says. "Why didn't you do anything?"

Fuhrer Roy Mustang rises, face blank, and just looks at Ed. "Why didn't you?"

"I wasn't even here! I was on a train-!"

Roy nods. "Yes." He looks relaxed, damnably relaxed, though Ed notices that his hands are balled and shaking.

He looks away, kneels, puts a flower on the grave. "You should have done something."

"I've done everything I can," Roy said, voice bleak.

"What, used his death to get himself a promotion?"

Roy laughs, and there's no warmth in it. He sits beside Ed on the cold earth. "If you put it in those terms."

Ed had returned to find the military changed beyond recognition. For the better, maybe, or maybe for the worst; it is too early to tell. "It doesn't change anything," he tells Roy.

The Fuhrer is silent.

Slowly, Ed puts his left hand on his right arm and squeezes, feeling soft flesh shift. "I am so fucking selfish," he whispers.

He's startled by a hand on his shoulder, looks up to see Gracia there, standing with feet firmly planted, her other hand on Roy's shoulder.

"He wouldn't want this," she says, and the sun behind her makes her seem to glow.

Roy makes a soft noise, and Ed doesn't look at him. "Well, what am I supposed to do?" he demands angrily, then tries to tone his voice back. Gracia doesn't need his anger. "What am I supposed to do?"

Gracia squeezes both their shoulders. "Live," she says, and lets go, stepping back.

Ed stares at her, feels his shoulders sag. He won't cry, he tells himself. He hasn't cried for years.

After a moment, Fuhrer Roy Mustang rises. "Well," he says. "I kept your dorm room. Let's go."

There's nothing he can say, so he lowers his head and follows Roy away from the grave.

***

Gracia watches them go and allows herself to smile.

"Alicia!" she calls.

"Here, Mama!"

"We have to go now, darling."

The girl runs up, little legs pumping, and latches on to her mother's legs. "But Mama, I'm still having fun-!"

Letting her hand drift across the girl's head, Gracia ruffles her hair. "I know, sweetbee. But dinner will be finished cooking, and if we take too long, we'd have to eat burn-yuck."

Alicia wrinkles her nose. "Ew!"

"So say goodbye to Daddy, and we'll get back home before dinner gets yucky."

After a moment considering this, Alicia gives a firm nod and runs over to the gravestone. "Byebye, Daddy," she says, seriously, and gives the 'M' in his name a kiss. "Good luck on your work! I'll see you soon!" She runs back to her mother, turning back to wave. "I love you!"

Gracia takes her daughter's hand and squeezes it as they walk away.