Not dead... just writing thing of too high a rating for this site. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Ed wasn't sure why the plain bouquet of three daffodils had caught his eye when he strolled past that little flower shop on the corner of the street where Al and Winry now owned their own automail store. He passed that same shop every time he visited them, and had for the most part completely ignored its existence until that day. Perhaps it was the way the flowers were wilting slightly in the summer heat, with energy lost that no amount of water or care could reimburse. Perhaps it was the plain, pale blue cellophane keeping the flowers safe, or the royal blue ribbon keeping them together. Either way, Ed had walked into the shop, the damp ends of the stalks running rivulets of water over his automail fingers, and paid for the flowers.

The only problem now was that he had no idea why he had bothered in the first place, or even an inkling as to whom they may have been for. He had nowhere to go back to except for his hotel room (where he would put the flowers in the small vase on the table in place of the hideously bright fake ones that usually rested there, from where the plants would undoubtedly mock him mercilessly) or to Al and Winry's apartment (and her certainly didn't want to put up with Winry's prying as to who they were for, and Al's gentle amusement). So instead, he wandered the streets and roads, carrying the damned bunch of flowers with him, fully aware that he probably looked ridiculous, carrying a bunch of flowers around town with the most perfectly bitter expression on his face.

He probably should have remembered that Central City tended to suffer constant stormy weather during the summer; after all, in his army days he had never let Mustang forget. Apparently, his current predicament had provided him with some sort of violent distraction, and when he first heeded the rumble of thunder overhead he knew he shouldn't have been surprised.

'Al is right; I really did need to think things through better prior to acting,' Ed begrudged himself as thunder rumbled overhead and the skies gave way, soaking him to the skin in a matter of minutes and knocking petals off the bunch of flowers in his hand. By then, he was running with his thin jacket tugged over his face with one hand, the damnable bouquet still clutched tightly in the other. By the time he stopped, it was too late to realize the neighbourhood he was in was actually vaguely familiar to him.

Nothing about her apartment had changed; the same plain white daisies were still flourishing in their pot on the kitchen windowsill, the dark green paint on the shutters was still cracked and chipped from years of time unable to be wasted on such a trivial matter, the little gold numbers on the door of her apartment were still slightly lopsided and the knocker was still rusted down.

He went to knock on the front door, but before his automail hand could make contact with the wood the door was open, and former Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was standing in front of him, a leashed Black Hayate at her side.


"Err, hello Lieutenant."

"I'm not a Lieutenant anymore, Edward," Riza stated evenly, reaching down to hold Black Hayate back by the collar, "You know that. In fact, that was the last time I saw you, until now."

"Yeah, well," Ed started, eyes darting about sheepishly as if looking for something to keep the conversation going, "I quit the military. There was no reason for me to stay after that."

"We were all worried about you, you know," Riza replied, "You didn't even come to..."

"Come to what?" Edward asked, curious as to why she had trailed off.

"Never mind," Riza smiled briefly, "What brings you here today?"

"Err, well, umm..." Ed mumbled. Damn, this wasn't like him.

"Are you alright, Edward?"

"Aah, well... here, these are for you!" Edward spoke so fast he was almost sure Riza hadn't understood what he was saying, but the violent thrusting of the bouquet in her general direction would probably be enough to get the message across.

Hawkeye took the daffodils, and in the space of a heartbeat, her face seemed to gain all of its colour and then lose it just as quickly.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ed replied, all too conscious of her reaction and feeling like he was speaking through someone else's mouth. The pair stood in silence for a moment that stretched far too long, before Ed hastily excused himself, explaining he needed to return to his hotel room to check out.

"Well, thank you for stopping by."

"No problem," Ed murmured, before giving Hawkeye a final wave and disappearing down the stairs.

Riza stood at her open door for a moment, the flowers in her hand, Black Hayate curling around her legs. She eventually shut the door when Black Hayate made a valiant break for freedom, and headed back into her apartment, Hayate bounding ahead of her.

Once she got back into the bedroom, she thought that she should probably mention to Roy I again /I that Hayate wasn't allowed on the bed, but when he wrapped his arms around her waist she felt too perfectly secure too care; far too perfectly.

Linking their hands and thumbing the small diamond ring on her left ring finger gently, Roy could hardly help but ask what had made his wife so upset, where the flowers had come from, why she wasn't telling him off for letting Hayate on the bed.

"What happened? I thought you were taking him for a walk..."

Receiving no response, Mustang prompted further.

"Who was out there?"

Riza Mustang, nee Hawkeye, simply looked at the withered bouquet in her hand and bit her lip.

"Nothing. It was nothing."


The daffodil, when given to one person by another, means the receiver is the only person for the giver. Ironically, it also strongly symbolizes unrequited love.