(A/N I doubt anyone remembers this. But here you go, I'm coming back.)

He never knew what to say, especially in situations like this. Words never ever formed correctly, and instead, now, replaced by tears. Tears of joy, sadness, relief and love. So much love that had lived within him, dormant for hundreds of years. With all of the people he'd met, all the the thousands of faces, lives beginning and ending before his very eyes. None impacted him as much as the little girl from Risembool who dragged his sorry ass out of the mud and taught him how to live.

"Oh don't worry about him Trish. I've known that man for ages. He's tougher than he looks."

"But! Pinako! What was I supposed to think when he was passed out in the rain! Soaked to the bone and starving? I couldn't just leave him!"

"Would never ask you to. But leave him be. He'll be fine."

"But what if he gets a fever!"

"Don't worry about it. There's something up with that man. I've seen him get hit over the head with a beer bottle and come out no worse for the wear."

"Fevers aren't the same as beer bottles."

"Suit yourself."

"I will." And there she remained. All night while Hohenheim's body relentlessly repaired itself. She was still young, but veracious and heartfelt. Toughened up by the years, but it only made her kinder. It always just made her kinder.

"Trisha, the least I could do would have been to keep my promise. But you left me behind." The picture in his hand, all he'd ever have left of her. The one who taught him to care again.

"I'll never understand why. But, I guess that's love. It's funny like that. Never adhering to any rules or laws." An alchemist, always. "Even when I was human, I never really fell in love. Well, Esther maybe, but I owed her too much. She'll never let me forget any of it either." The soul of that woman, a fellow slave, now just a voice in his head. On among thousands.

Like Trisha. She's one amongst millions. Yet I saw only her. It's truly a miracle.

"You were my Miracle Trisha, so rare, and so fleeting."