A/N: The title comes from a song by Meiko. I love the song, and I thought I might incorporate some of the points of it into my story. Also, I know that I need to update on "Trust", and "Let Me Be Your Peace of Mind", I'm getting to it soon :). Turtles. UDATE: This is edited, because I'm not the clearest transmutation circle in the research.

How Lucky We Are

Chapter One

"Central"

-

At some point, I stopped the heavy breathing I started when I hopped on the train at home.

I tried to look normal (I had already scared the little girl who sat across the aisle from me), and I was doing okay—until the conductor casually dropped a bomb (at least, for me): "We'll be arriving in Central shortly—I hope you all have a great time in our big city."

All my bags were beside me on the long bench seat, on the window's side, and I slumped against them. The heavy breathing was back.

What I couldn't understand, was why I was so nervous. I didn't do this when I faced coyotes that were trying to attack our livestock, and I didn't feel any hesitation. . .then.

My small panic attack was paused when I thought of the past few years.

I'd been staying at my aunt's house, in a rural area, helping her work on her farm that she'd been managing alone since her husband died.

She'd come to collect me—when my parents died. I'd first met her when she walked up to my friend's house, where I was, instead of my parents house.

At her house, I'd had little nightmares for the first few weeks.

Nightmares about men, storming into our house. Killing the friends we had downstairs. I was found by them, hiding in our pantry cabinet. By someone in charge. The men with guns had still been around, and when I was pulled out of the house by the military men, I'd seen it all.

I'd seen the man, standing there with one of the few bloodied guns, having his shoulder rubbed by another man who looked sympathetic.

He'd called out to me, softly for one second, that night.

It was where my nightmare's all ended—when he said, "I'm so sorry."

I was fearless that night—I followed my father's orders flawlessly, and even though I didn't know what was going on. All I knew was that I had to listen to him because it was important.

Coyotes I could handle. Following my father's words I could handle.

I couldn't handle being in any sort of proximity with then men that killed my parents.

////\\\\

As I saw the rolling rooftops of the city of Central, I pulled my legs up against me. I'd been unlucky, again—my aunt, an old woman who's husband had already died of disease, had left this world peacefully. Her husband was my father's brother, and was much younger than my aunt. She'd died quietly, and I was glad—the only other death I'd experienced was too horrible, because it never gave me time to say goodbye. I think I'd said goodbye and goodnight to my Aunt Isabelle at least three dozen times.

The years I spent with her, I hadn't once cut my hair, and as we flew through a small forest, I noticed how long it was in my reflection. How did it get just past my elbow?

I'd seen pictures of my Aunt Isabelle before her hair turned silver—it was a dark auburn like mine. I couldn't tell very well through the black and white photograph, but I believe that her skin was as pale back then as mine was now. I wasn't sure if the pale skin she had when she'd been elderly was just a sign of age.

Where hers was stick straight, however, mine curled—almost to the point where I had snarls in it every day. I'd once had bangs, about a year ago—now they just framed my face from one side, and stayed out of my eyes, for the most part.

For a moment, I smiled at myself—my aunt was always telling me to never get so thin, like she had been when she was my age. It never helped, she said, to be weak. She liked it when I worked, and then stretched, out in the summer sun on her farm. Told me, more than once, that my muscles would attract a better kind of man.

My skin smoothed over my lean muscles—from days of working out in the field, and chasing after the livestock, I was quick and strong.

I frowned, though, when I saw the first building fly by.

We were in Central.

I'd lost another family member, and was being passed onto the next one, just like before. This time, I wasn't sure if I could handle it as well—I'd been told, by an automail maker in town who went to Central a lot to get parts, that the family I was being entrusted to, my mother's cousins, were a known military family.

I was nervous, too, just because the husband of my mother's cousin was part of the government.

I'd never had to be near military personnel since that day, when my parents died. Now, though, I couldn't see how I could handle just being in his presence. Just as I'd been doing through all the train ride, I thought of possible ways to just avoid him. It would be better than freaking out every time he got close.

I had a bad feeling I wouldn't be able to do that, though.

////\\\\

Sitting in a car in the lot of the train station, Maes Hughes talked to his wife through his car phone.

"Hm, yea, I have a bad feeling about it too—but, hunny, the house is no where near the station, and Headquarters is right by. I have to get those files from Mustang about the boys. I'd feel bad if she still has some sort of fear of men in uniform, but I can't help it."

His wife sighed, and said, "Ms. Gardens said that she didn't have to deal with any people of the military out where they lived, because it was so rural and a self sufficient town. She didn't know if Paisley had any problems with them—but she said that in the first few weeks after it happened, she was having nightmares."

Hughes sighed. "Geez, that doesn't help." He looked at his watch, seeing he still had a half hour before her train rolled in.

However, he could almost hear his wife smile on the other side of the line before saying, "Well, I believe that the only way to get her to be comfortable in Central is to get her to adjust to you. Just be yourself, I know you have no problem with that, and don't worry—she'll come to like you sooner than later."

Hughes laughed. How did his wife always know?

///\\\

In the span of the few minutes it took the train to fly through Central and work it's way to the station, I'd made a resolution.

After a while, I was still thinking about Aunt Isabelle. She'd never talked about my mother's cousins, or anyone she might have known from the military. I just knew, however, what she would say if she saw me acting so anxious.

I had decided long ago not to hold any malice against anyone—not even the military.

I'd seen my Aunt Isabelle take in people who had cheated her in the prices she paid for her supplies, and I'd seen her give away vegetables and fruit to people who she knew, had once stolen from her fields.

She was always preaching forgiveness, and I'd taken it in over the years.

So, I steeled myself for a moment as the train hummed to a stop, and then relaxed. I could handle this. I should. I would.

As I walked off the train, the first person I saw, without having to look, was a man in full military uniform, leaning on a pillar across the station, trying to catch my eye. So, I smiled at him.

Almost laughed, too, when I caused him to startle for a moment. The shock was evident on his face for a small moment. I hiked the bag I had on my shoulder up higher, and grabbed the suitcase I brought with me, before walking towards him. "Hello," the man said, "are you Paisley Harris?"

My smile widened, as all my fear had washed away with my thoughts of Aunt Isabelle, and I said, "Yes, and you must be Mr. Hughes, am I right?"

His answering smile was blinding, almost, as he exclaimed, "Oh, my, you're the cutest! Mr. Hughes, indeed. You can call me Maes, Paisley, and I'm sure my wife wont mind if you call her Gracia. Speaking or which, would you like to see pictures? My wife and my daughter Elicia are just the most adorable pair!"

I nodded, before shooing him away from picking up my bag, and said, kindly, "I can carry my bags myself, Maes."

He just agreed with me, before we walked towards the end of the train. Along with numerous merchants waiting for their supplies to be let out of the end car, we stood watching for my things.

Some men who recognized my cousin helped us carry everything to his car, that was nearby. He was saluted, and I just raised my eyebrows to myself.

I did my best not to let any doubts about my state of fearlessness seep in when he said, "Look, I know this might not be the best time, but I need to go to my workplace to pick up something from my boss. I would need for you to come inside with me."

By workplace, he meant whatever military building he worked in. There were probably, I realized, going to be more than just one military personnel walking around.

However, I just nodded, and said, "Alright," quietly.

////\\\\

Roy Mustang sat in his office, doing paperwork under the watchful eye of Riza Hawkeye. "You know," he said, "I really don't have to be doing this now. I can all wait until later." She sent him a sharp look that stopped him from saying anything else at the time, and said, "You've had most of thing piling up since the beginning of the week. Do you have the folder for Maes on hand?"

His eyes furrowed. "I thought he got it earlier from you?"

Her face, still serious, but not surprised that he forgot. "No, he's coming about now to get it from you. I think he has to bring his cousin, too."

Riza was surprised, though, when he dropped his pen on the pile of work, and held his face in his hands for a second. He didn't make a sound, or move, for a little while. She shouldn't have to see him.

No, he thought, it wasn't for her. She wouldn't remember his face, it was too long ago—she probably remembers what happened, but she couldn't possibly know his face. He'd changed a little, too, since his younger field days.

Since the war.

Really, he just didn't want to see her. He hadn't even told Maes yet—he should have, too, because then he wouldn't be bringing her here. Mustang admitted to himself that he wasn't okay with seeing her face, her eyes. She couldn't remember him, but he remembered her face, and her eyes. She was the first person who's seen him just after he killed her family.

At the time, even though it was an order that he had to follow, he'd said those words to her as the commanding officer dragged her out of the house.

He sighed, his face still in his hands.

"I'll find it."

////\\\\

I was amazed at all the buildings by the time we reached his Headquarters. Being from a spaced out suburb with my parents, and then in a rural farm country with my Aunt Isabelle, I'd never seen so many large, stone and brick buildings put so close together in one, huge space.

Maes laughed at me as I gazed out the windows, gaping at the large groups of people walking in, around, and beside the cars that drove by.

"How does it all work together without anyone getting hurt?" I asked, aloud, without thinking. He chuckled a bit, before pointing out a man who stood in the middle of the street in a uniform similar to the one Maes was wearing now. "He conducts all the cars to go where the want to go at the right times, along with the groups of people. Most are pretty good at it, and everything goes smoothly."

"Whoa," I said quietly, thinking about how the officer looked like a conductor.

We parked, and soon I was just following behind Maes like a lost puppy, swinging my bag around by my feet as we walked through the halls to what was supposed to be his bosses office.

His name was apparently Roy Mustang, as I'd been told my Maes, and I was to watch out and make sure that he was never behind me. He wouldn't tell me why though, so I just smiled and said, sure.

I felt out of place in my cotton dress—I wasn't sure of the weather here, so I had but this on to look presentable, and then kept a sweater and umbrella in my bag. My shoes were adorably practical white, thin sneakers, that were small enough to show the tops of my ankle socks.

It had been warmer than I thought it would be, in fact, any my hair was now drawn up into my favorite green clip; my bangs were still flying around my face.

I came up behind him when we stopped at a large door, and came in with him tentatively. There were people at desks that Maes waved to when he walked in, and I nodded at, to not be rude.

A woman walked out of a door at the other end of the room, and her eyes lit with recognition. She didn't smile, and looked more professional than all the men in the room combinded. I liked her—my father always had respect for professional people.

"Ah, Riza," Maes said, saluting her. She saluted him back, and said, "Mustang had the folder ready for you."

He nodded and headed towards the door. I didn't follow, not sure if I should, and sighed in relief when he turned and said, "Hey, Paisley, why don't you just hang around with these people for a few minutes—I need to talk to my boss."

I agreed with a smile, and he nodded back at me, before slipping into the room.

I couldn't hear any noise from his office, and noticed that the blond woman who had been in there before was trying to catch my eye, very surreptitiously. "Oh," I said, slipping back into formal recognition of Maes "Sorry. I'm Paisley Harris, Mr. Hughes' cousin. I'll be staying with him and his wife for a while."

"It's nice to meet you," she said, her voice just as professional and monotonous as her crisp appearance, "I'm Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye."

I nodded low to her and sent her a small smile, which I was surprised to see she returned. A man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth lifted his feet off his desk, and stood up.

"I'm Jean Havoc," he said, leaning in to shake my hand. I noticed how he didn't tack on his title (if he had one, which I presumed he should), so I didn't give him my smile. He seemed completely disrespectful, and as I took his hand, I pulled him close. Then, with just a quick smirk, I ripped out the cigarette from his mouth.

"That's an awful habit, and is completely unacceptable in large public places—especially, I would think, your work, Mr. Havoc."

I was glad to see that I got a small chuckle out of Lieutenant Hawkeye, and went around to shake hands with the rest of the people who looked like they worked regularly in that office.

Mr. Havoc didn't pull out another cigarette when I was there, but I was pretty sure he would after I left.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise from the room that Maes was in. I sent a wondering look to Lieutenant Hawkeye, but couldn't ask a question about it, because soon Maes was jumping out of his office, taking a stumbling man by the hand, yelling, "Oh, but you must meet my adorable cousin, she's the sweetest, most adorable little farm girl you'll ever meet."

I sent him a look for the 'farm girl' comment.

Then, though, was when I saw the man's face.

////\\\\

A/N: I didn't want it too long—sorry for stopping it right there. That, and I have to get ready for church. I'm going to try to write the second chapter when I get home, later. Maybe I'll post it today, but I will probably save it for tomorrow. Then, this story and my others will get updates at least once a week, because I'm finally up to date on all my work, and I have the time. Oh, and I'm basing this on the 2003 anime. I had to choose one, because the manga and anime are totally different. Although, I haven't memorized anything, and I might have a lot of gaps in my story. Please, inform me if you find a rather big one, and I'll try to fix it!