This is the first chapter in a long challenge between me and Redd, whose story will also be placed in this account. The challenge is fifty alternative universe themes, where we're to write a chapter based on given prompts. The winner will be based on reviewers so please help us. Or rather help me.

Pairing: Roy Archer, Fullmetal Alchemist

Prompt: Arabia

Title: Unification and Segregation

"I've always had this theory. It keeps me going through all of this, after everything that has happened…"

"Remembering does not do me any good. Sometimes I tell myself that this is how life has always been, that there was never any change. Change does nothing for me as you know. But I have my own theories. Let's put off scavenging for the evening and humor each other…"

"What else can a couple of street rats do?"

They weren't accustomed with one another. Through out the years at the palace they never had to work with one another.

"The human race is split apart in many ways, to many to get into. Don't really feel like it. But despite our differences the sun is something we have in common. It treats us all the same, regardless of who or what we are. Every morning our skin is warmed by the touch of the rising sun, no matter how clean or filthy it is. Every night it falls to remind us that no man can challenge its strength, that no man can control it. The sun brings unification"

One was a soldier. His life called for a cold blade and a heart of ice, to protect his Saltin and his kingdom at the expense of others. He did not follow this trend and refused to bleat. Warmth glimmered behind almond eyes. Faint wrinkles arched around a broad smile. There was something honorable and passionate, a fire roared in the pit of his stomach that made him as wondrous as he was dangerous.

One was an advisor. His life called for a broad vocabulary laced with sentimental what not and courageous expressions, to convey their victories against the enemies surrounding the Arabia in the most prestigious way possible. He did not refuse, per say, he was just uncreative. Telegraphic sentences, one after the other, containing less passion then a desert. A rebel with a cold shoulder.

"While that is probably the most in depth and credible piece of work I've ever heard from you I disagree. The sun is worthy of admiration, but the moon is truly symbolic. For one it represents night. In short darkness. It creates a barrier amongst us. Those who have homes go inside to retire for the evening. Those who have palaces sit on their royal asses as they always have. Those who have nothing do nothing. It conveys our differences. It depicts a fortress, while metaphorical, strong and cold as stone. The moon brings segregation"

Neither could have foresaw their faith. Though both would have agreed that it was outrageously unfair. To label them as anarchists went against everything they had ever stood for, everything they had ever done for their kingdom!

This hadn't been good enough. Weeks later they began to dig through the same trash cans; exchanging bitter words of the Saltin.

"We're very different from one another aren't we?"

"No. We are different from everyone else. No one could accept us for who we are. But we accept each other don't we? Despite our differences…"

"Yes, you're right… you know why the sun rises every morning and falls every night?"

"Why?"

After a certain point they began to exchange something more.

"Because it's chasing after the moon…"