Grains of Sand

Nina Elric

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I don't claim to, so don't sue me.

Life was dull. Since the world had moved on, Roy was left feeling a sort of emptiness. It had been a long time since he'd seen the people of his past. No one communicated anymore and it drove him mad. He was lost without someone to bounce off; without someone to tell him he was a jerk… He sighed and wished that things were the way they were.

He had taken to walking now; there was no reason to drive anywhere, he wasn't in any rush anymore. Besides, everything was close enough to his dingy apartment that he had no use to go to such extremities. Walking was good for the soul, at least that was what he thought he remembered. He let it alone.

As his mind began to wander, he remembered that he was out of milk. Milk was a staple of life when you lived alone. Cereal, coffee… almost anything went with milk. So he took a detour from his path to nowhere.

He shopped at a tiny general store that was owned by a war veteran he had become acquainted with. He walked into the shop with the chime of a bell. He meandered through all the shelves until he came to the ice box that had assorted dairy products in it. He picked up a jug of milk and took it to the counter. He handed it to the man who requested it worth in money. Roy handed over what he thought was too much for a jug of milk.

He had always felt a bit embarrassed and ashamed when he entered that store. The red eyes of the people were always on him. He could feel them tearing into his soul. He always put his head down when one of them passed by as though he were trying to hide something. They never smiled at him and they never spoke casually to him. His pale face always stuck out in a crowd. He felt isolated and that was how he liked it.

But he knew they saw him. He knew he made their skin crawl. He had tried to tell him when he first wandered out here that his days of alchemy were over, but that didn't seem to make a difference. They still hated him. He wasn't all too surprised. Though they despised him so, they allowed him top live among them in peace. Maybe that wasn't what he wanted.

No matter.

In his daze, Roy had wondered down the wrong path. He knew where it was, but it wasn't where he wanted to be. He cursed under his breath and opened the milk jug. It was always so hot around here.

As the cool liquid flowed through him his cold sweat began to dry. He stopped a moment for breath and looked around himself. What the hell was he doing here? He was mesmerized by the vast desert that stretched out from the city. Soon enough, his ears were met with the dim sound that brought shivers to his spine. He hoped to God that the sound wasn't what he thought it was. He dismissed it a moment before it continued on. He grunted as he screwed the cap back onto his milk. He'd follow the sound just to prove to himself that the sound wasn't at all what he thought it was.

He followed the sound down a few narrow paths until he came to the reject district. There were brown and white men all over. They huddled in their own lonely corners, refusing to interact with one another. He looked behind himself and saw that he was a few yards out of the main city. He sighed. Of course some one was crying here, there were always sounds of despair flowing form this area. Roy shrugged his previous thoughts away before he turned to leave. As his foot hit the ground a deafening screech rattled through his ears. He put the milk jug in his pocket and dashed in the sound's direction and into a tiny hut constructed of scrap metal and logs. What he saw inside was a figment of nightmares.

A man, a pale westerner was practically smothering an Ishbalan child with his body. He was an ex-soldier, his scars and toned muscles proved that much. The child yelped again as the man grabbed his hair and practically ripped it from his head. Roy's eyes widened.

"Here," the man picked up what appeared to be a belt and wrapped it around the child's neck, "Maybe this will teach you not to scream."

The man pulled the belt as tight as he could before he fastened it behind the child's head. Roy went unnoticed as the man took certain liberties with the child's body. The tears streamed down the child's face as his breath became weaker and weaker. His face was turning redder than his eyes.

Hatred filled Roy's body. When the man picked up a knife Roy was quick to intervene. He had the naked man on the floor with his arm behind his back. The man laughed sadistically.

"Well, well… If it isn't the former Flame Alchemist… We hear a lot about you out here in the boonies…" Roy pulled the arm back a bit more, "We hear that you've converted to Ishbala… Is that… true, Mustang?"

Roy looked into the one eye he could see on the man's face. A sickly grin crossed his lips. Roy took up his fist and slammed it into the man's face.

"What does that have to do with anything? Who the hell do you think you are?" Roy twisted the arm a bit more, "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your sense of honor?"

"Honor," the man grunted, "has nothing to do with it…"

"You were and still are a soldier. Raping children should not even be a thought in your mind!"

"So what? It's not a child. Its one of those things… those red-eyed bastards…"

Roy reached for the nearby lamp and slammed it into the back of the man's head. The man fell unconscious on the floor of the hut.

Roy turned to find the child who was also unconscious, lying limply on the floor. He ran over and removed the belt from the child's neck. He rolled the body over and looked at its pale face. Roy shook. He laid the child down and began trying to breathe life back into his frail body.

The red eyes shot open and stared up at Roy Mustang. The child was alive. The child reached up and wrapped his arms around Roy's neck and cried into his shoulder. Roy rocked the child back and forth. How could anyone have ignored this? How could this have gone unnoticed? Roy pressed the child's head into his shoulder. What was he doing here?

He picked up the child and carried him out of the hut. As they left, the boy looked over Roy's shoulder. His eyes were met with the bloody skull of the man who had attacked him. He whimpered and buried his face back into Roy's shirt.

Roy walked out and into the crowd of people. He stood in the centered and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Whose child is this?"

He was met with a thousand blank gazes. They all looked at him as if he had committed a crime. No one answered.

"Whose child is this?" Roy yelled again.

One Ishbalan woman struggled to her feet and looked into Roy's eyes.

"His parents are dead. They died of infection from the wounds they took on from all of the fighting," she could see Roy's inability to follow what she was saying, "They died and the soldier-man took him in…"

Roy began to bellow again, "Did you know what that man was doing to him?"

The woman looked down at the ground, "We do not like to get involved in the affairs of westerners."

With that, the woman returned to her group and sat back down on the ground.

Roy was beyond disgusted. He repositioned the child in his arms and carried him back into the main city.