Hmm. So, I don't know what this is, really. My first foray into Fullmetal Alchemist (the manga and the second animé). Let it be said that I am obsessed with this show.

A note to my other readers: it's been a long time, hasn't it? Nearly a year, I believe. For those following my HTTYD story "Finding Me," I haven't abandoned it. I will still be writing for it, but I've lately been re-evaluating my writing style and might change up a lot of what I have. I'm really sorry for the year-long hiatus, but I will strive to post more frequently.

Onto the story!

Lan Fan should be bursting with happiness.

She watches as doctors finally make their way on scene, a large group heading towards Alphonse and Edward. Both of them are grinning and teary, and Lan Fan's heart lightens somewhat with the knowledge that with the hell those boys have gone through, they have something to make up for it. Not just something, she thinks, everything.

She couldn't be happier for them.

She turns her head to the side a little, eyes still trained forward, glancing at the Young Lord and the little sniffling pink-clad figure next to him. They are trading stinging insults even in their newfound alliance; Lan Fan can tell that this will become a regular thing, noting the slight gleam of satisfaction in both their eyes. She smiles slightly, and the Young Lord looks up, catching her eyes.

She looks away immediately, the faintest of blushes rising in her cheeks. She is not his equal, she reminds herself, for so familiar a gesture. She is his bodyguard, his vassal.

Her heart falls, not for the first time since she was placed under his service.

Lan Fan knows that soon they will be returning to Xing. She is so glad that her master got the Philosopher's Stone; if they make haste, they can return in four days' time.

But once back, the Young Lord will have much to do. To somehow correct the political instability in Xing, to build up a healthy relationship between the clans, to gain enough favour to reduce the chances of being overthrown—or worse, assassinated.

And throughout it all, Lan Fan will have to stand by his side as a shadow, unable to do anything to ease his pain, to offer him some comfort.

She will also have to stand by his side as he chooses and takes the women of the 50 clans as his brides.

Yes, Lan Fan is a guard first and foremost, and she will go to any lengths to remain that way, her master's ever-loyal, vigilant, competent soldier. She is fast, fearless, has experience that no other guard of Xing, she can now safely say, can rival. She is the perfect warrior.

But she is a young woman, too. A woman of unfortunate circumstance.

"Lan Fan?" A warm, rich, though considerably weak voice calls her name and she looks up, startled.

A pale Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye looks at her, leaning heavily on her commanding officer's (Colonel Roy Mustang, she recalls) side. They are both trembling, his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist. They look exhausted; Mustang's hands are weeping red in earnest and Hawkeye's shirt and hair are stained crimson.

"I don't have a lot of time," Hawkeye says, "before the doctors come over here. I just wanted to tell you something to remember for your return to Xing." She glances at Mustang, lowering her voice ever-so-slightly.

"It never gets easier, but always remember that they are more important than we could ever hope to be. We are nothing without them, and they nothing without us. Their protection comes before everything. Everything."

Lan Fan is startled–and irritated. She is about to retort, of course, she knows that! She's made it her priority to live by that rule her entire life!

But then she looks closer, sees the sadness in Hawkeye's gaze. She sees in a new light why the sharpshooter and the colonel are shaking so much even in each other's holds; for the reason that anyone else would think, a lack of strength, but also from the effort of not holding on too tightly to each other. Because even on the battlefield, even though both have just barely escaped with their lives and God knows what else, they are still military. He is still her superior, and she his subordinate.

Lan Fan nods, tucking Hawkeye's words away in her mind for later. She realizes that even though her life has been shaped around the Young Lord's importance, there will be dark moments where she will question herself. A reminder from another will carry her through the moments where her own reminder won't.

She bows. "Thank you."

Hawkeye gives her a slight smile and begins to guide her superior away toward an approaching doctor.

"What was that about?" her master says, coming to stand beside her, Mei Chang in tow. Automatically, Lan Fan moves so that she is a few steps behind them, feeling the Young Lord's disappointment at the action. They are going back to Xing, however, and whatever breach of formality she had allowed herself in Amestris must now be amended.

"Nothing, Young Lord," she says, bowing deeply, feeling again his displeasure. She quashes the regret she feels.

Their protection comes before everything. Everything.

Lan Fan realizes, with a dim sense of sadness, that Riza Hawkeye is the only person who could even begin to understand how she feels.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant," she mutters to herself, "And good luck. May you have better fortune than I do."