This is possibly the oddest pairing I have ever read/done. Yes, this is an Elysia fic, but…it's got a special green-haired Homunculus in it too! No flames please, for I shall be sad. -Totschafe
Nothing could have been more heart-breaking to Elysia Hughes like the news she received that her father had been murdered. She was too young to really understand, and she didn't want to understand. Who in their right mind would have wanted to kill him? And why? Her mom was sobbing and hugging her tightly, telling her that it would be alright. Elysia couldn't cry. The tears would want to come, but she wouldn't let them. Her daddy always told her that she should be strong when bad things happened. And strong people don't cry. Her daddy was strong and he never cried. She had seen Mr. Mustang a little bit after the news got out and he didn't cry either. So why should she?
The funeral was worse. There were men all around her, and a few girls, dressed in the uniform daddy always wore. They were all standing still, like statues, solemn and stone-faced. Mr. Armstrong was the only one who really broke down. She didn't see Ed there. Maybe he didn't know or he just didn't want to go. But the leader of everybody was there, daddy's main boss, the man with the eye patch and the mustache. He was very nice to her and daddy. And now, like everyone else, he looked like a statue. Why were they doing this? Why didn't they move? She understood that they must be strong if they weren't crying. But Mr. Armstrong was very strong, and he was crying. Nothing made sense here.
Then she saw all the men bringing in the big wooden box with the flag on it. Mom told her daddy was sleeping in the box. Maybe they were putting him to bed. He might have worked too hard. They placed him in the deep hole the men had made for him and began covering it up with dirt. That was when Elysia couldn't handle it. She began to cry. She pleaded to them not to put him there, not to cover him up. He still had to work! How could he work if he was in the hole! Mom held her, whispering her name and crying. She glanced around once to see everyone else looked very close to crying. No one looked like a statue anymore. They were shifting and looking down. Mr. Armstrong looked terrible. In that moment, she began talking to daddy in her mind.
"Daddy, I'm so sorry! I tried to be strong like you but I can't. I don't know why they're doing this. Why are they putting you in there? Why are they crying? Why did you leave?"
There was no answer, only the sniffs of the other people and the wind blowing past them. Then she realized, there never would be an answer.
A tall and thin figure stood against the base of a tree, watching the funeral from a distance. It was absolutely pitiful. All of these people, sobbing over someone they knew would never come back. He sighed. Sometimes people were just dumb. They hadn't done this when he died, did they? He hoped not. He looked at the tree bark and ran his claws down it, making deep scratches in the wood. His teeth were now clenched angrily.
"Why did you tell me to do this Dante? You know it would turn out like this."
He turned around to see them again. He saw the little girl, the daughter of the dead one. She was sobbing into her mother's shoulder, asking why did they put her father in the hole. She was near hysterics. He knew that she was too young to understand, and loose her father. No child should have to go through with that, even if they were close to the FullMetal Pipsqueak. He could deal with everyone else crying, but for some reason, he couldn't stand seeing her cry. She struck something deep within his long-dead body, something that he hadn't felt for many years. He could feel what was left of his heart breaking, and it hurt horribly. He scratched the tree again angrily.
"C'mon Envy, get a hold of yourself. She's just a little human, nothing more."
Yes, nothing more. But even though he told himself that, he still could feel the sadness in him. He wasn't supposed to feel anyway, so why for this girl?
She saw it, a dark figure move away from a tree far away, leaving the funeral, if he even was part of it. She could see his outline. Long hair and a long coat. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't. No one would care. Only she did.