Full Metal Alchemist: A First Encounter

"Goodbye."

The thug raised his gun. The helpless onlookers gasped. The black haired and weaponless target stood stoically …

And then suddenly a figure from the crowd jumped forward, grabbing the gunner's arm and throwing it wide and down. The gun discharged, shooting into the concrete ground. The black haired target, a newly promoted Captain Roy Mustang, let his jaw open slightly in surprise as the newcomer, a well dressed man with short brown hair and glasses, struggled selflessly with the gunman who was slowly overpowering him. Mustang recovered himself quickly, a look of anger creeping into his features.

"No!" he exclaimed and darted forward to get the do-gooder out of harm's way. He reached out for the gunner's arm to try and control the weapon, but when the gunner saw him coming, he panicked. The gun fired once. Twice. And then the gunman was turning towards Mustang, but he was not quick enough. The captain struck him hard across the face with a back fist, then reached for the hand with the gun, twisting it painfully into a lock and forcing the man to let go. As he continued to apply pressure the now gun-less man was forced to drop to his knees. Mustang noticed too late, that the man's free hand was reaching into his pocket. Instinctively he applied more pressure to the arm he held, but the criminal seemed ready to sacrifice his wrist to go through with his move. The man withdrew a switch blade from his jeans, flipping the blade out with incredible speed and against all logic moving into the pain that Mustang's lock caused, stabbing upward towards Mustang's gut-

But the blade never reached Mustang. Only a few inches from the captain, the criminal ceased up, grunting in surprise and pain, then dropping to the ground, a small throwing knife in the back of his neck. Surprised, Mustang dropped the dead man's wrist and looked around to see the figure that had jumped out of the crowd, now lying on his side on the ground looking over at him. Through a look of pain the man gave him a thumbs up.

Mustang only looked at the man sternly, confused about the whole thing. And then he saw the blood. Red splotches bled through the stranger's shirt at his abdomen. He'd been hit.

"Oh hell," Mustang growled as he hurried to his savior's side, kneeling down beside him and examining the wound. Then he looked up at the several surprised and motionless onlookers. "Don't just stand there, go get an ambulance!"

As several people moved away to get help and others approached the pair, Mustang looked back down to the man, who was examining his gunshot wound with a pale expression.

"You idiot," Mustang growled. "I had it all under control. I didn't need your help."

"You're welcome," the man replied, laying his back flat on the ground. Somehow a smile made its way to his face. "Not much for thank yous, huh?"

"I mean it. You shouldn't have done that. I could've handled it."

"Well make it more obvious next time and maybe a guy won't have to get himself shot trying to do the right thing." It could have come out sounding bitter, especially considering Mustang's apparent lack of gratitude, but the captain was surprised to find that it sounded almost light-hearted.

Mustang shook his head unhappily, placing his hand over the wound to keep the blood from pouring out. "Who are you anyway?"

"Just a guy," the bleeding man replied, his face looking paler by the second. Where was that ambulance?

"Seriously. Where's 'just a guy' learn to throw daggers like that?" he questioned as much because he was truly curious as because he wanted to keep this guy awake.

It was a long couple moments before the stranger spoke. "Wow… this hurts a lot more now…"

"Where did you learn?" Mustang asked, getting in the man's face to catch his drifting attention.

"Military… Well… I knew how before that… but they trained me… more…"

"You're in the military?" Mustang asked in surprise.

"Yeah… 1st Lieutenant Maes Hughes…"

"I am military too. Captain Roy Mustang. Flame Alchemist."

"Long title…" the man replied with a small, winded laugh. "Sounds like you… enjoy saying it…"

Mustang smirked, the expression remaining on his face… until Hughes closed his eyes.

"Hey! Don't you die on me. The last thing I need is someone to have lost their life because of me."

Mustang's eyes were hard and serious, at least to the casual observer. If one looked more deeply they would find something close to desperation and realize that the demand had been more of a plea. Though the often gruff captain would never say so, a deep fear of his since he'd joined the military and had seen battle was having someone die to protect him. It had happened once and it had torn the then young lieutenant up inside leaving a scar and a terror that had never really gone away. He never wanted to feel that again.

The man, Hughes, did not respond.

"Hughes! That's an order!"

This made the ghostly white faced man open his yellow-green eyes, half way anyway, and though he did not make eye contact, at least it was something. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of his lips and when he spoke and his voice trembled as he forced the words out.

"You can't… order someone not to die," he replied. Only that tiny smile let Mustang know that he was amused. That hadn't been his intention. He hadn't really known what his intention was. He'd just said what had raced into his worried mind.

"Of course I can," Mustang replied, allowing himself to smile as well. "And when I give an order to a subordinate, I expect it to be obeyed."

Hughes coughed, or perhaps it was a laugh. "Oh," he replied, that tiny grin still there. "Well in… that case…"

Hughes coughed again, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth just as Mustang became aware of the sound of sirens and then those glazed, half open eyes closed.

"In that case… I'm sorry," Hughes all but whispered.

Mustang frowned. Sorry?

Then Hughes went limp beneath Mustang's hands, still pressed against the wound, and the captain's eyes widened with an atypical look of alarm.

"Hughes?" The captain questioned softly. "Hughes!"

.-.-.-

Mustang awoke when something jabbed into his arm. He opened his eyes angrily only to be looking into the pale face of Maes Hughes. He started and moved as far back against the chair his was sitting in as he could in surprise, while the pale faced lieutenant only chuckled and stepped away.

"Just wanted to be sure it was you. The doctors stole my glasses," he replied, scratching his head and glancing slowly around.

Recovering from his surprise, Mustang stood to look the slightly taller man in the eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ok I guess. Kinda shaky…" the man trailed off and his face went a little paler than it had already been. Mustang grabbed the man before he collapsed, setting him gently onto the chair he'd just evacuated. "Kinda dizzy too…"

"Why'd you leave your room?" Mustang questioned in a scolding tone.

"What, like it was a long walk? The room's right behind us. I just wanted to see if I could move… Then I saw your head through this lovely glass window here so I came to see what the heck you're still doing here. It's morning you know."

Mustang shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you'd be all right. You did save my life after all."

Hughes grinned, but said nothing for a moment.

"Well I'm ok now, Cap, thanks to that transfusion and several shots of pain-killer so if you've got some place you need to be…" Hughes said after a moment.

Again Mustang shrugged. "I have an appointment with the General later today, but I'm not from around here so I don't have anywhere to go anyway."

"Oooh an appointment. Sounds interesting," Hughes replied with sarcasm.

"Yes, actually. It's about a job," Mustang told him, somewhat annoyed with this man's flippant attitude.

"What, here?"

Mustang nodded and Hughes laughed.

"Are you sure you still want to? What with the crazy gunmen about and all," Hughes said with a wink. The Captain found his annoyance eased, despite the fact that he tried to hold onto it.

"As I told you before, I can handle it."

"Whatever you say, Flame Alchemist."

Mustang gave a short laugh and crossed his arms, in an attempt to maintain his composure. "That's Flame Alchemist, Sir."

"Ha, right!" Hughes laughed, "I can see how this little working relationship will turn out. You'll forgive me if I don't stand and salute. The whole loss of blood thing is still making me dizzy, though I suppose I could make it to the ground if you'd prefer I kneel."

Mustang shook his head and rolled his eyes at the strange man. Then he remembered something.

"Hughes, I found a number in your wallet and called it. I figured I should inform your family. But I only found the number of your girlfriend, so she should be here any time now-"

"You called Gracia??" Hughes questioned, with voice and posture filled with a newfound enthusiasm.

"Uh… yeah."

"And she's coming here?" he questioned with wide eyes.

Mustang nodded slowly, unsure if he'd done something wrong.

"Oh, Gracia! How I love her so! You talked to her right? Doesn't she have the voice of an angel?" Hughes questioned the confused captain. Before Mustang could even think of answering, Hughes had reached up, grabbed him by the jacket, and pulled the man into the seat next to him simultaneously pulling out his wallet (which Mustang could only assume he'd found on the table next to his bed) and opening it up to reveal a tiny photo album of the woman Mustang had called. "Here, since you've got nothing to do, let me show you these pictures of the most beautiful woman in the world!"

"I saw them already," Mustang replied. "I went through your wallet for the number-"

"But you probably didn't get much of a chance to look at them! Here, I'll show you. This one is from our first dinner at this little restaurant downtown! And so it this one. And this one is from…"

fin