Mustang sat down on the hard stony earth and closed his eyes, releasing all of his pent up exhaustion and frustration with a single weary sigh. For the first time in years, it seemed, doubts were nagging at the fringes of his mind. The determination and assurance he had carried with him into the war was slowly abandoning him. All of the goals and dreams he had set before him as a child were rapidly dissipating. What was wrong with him?

He clenched his jaw. He had expected all of this, hadn't he? He had expected the worst and sworn to himself that no matter what he went through, he would come out of the other side with flying colors. Whatever they forced him to do, he would accomplish. He would rise above it. Change the world. This much had been clear to him since he was a child. He was destined to be great, the greatest. Why was he doubting himself now?

He leaned his head back and thought hard, letting his mind wander into old memories of his very first lessons with Professor Hawkeye. These were the ethical and theoretical lessons, the philosophical and moral questions. Mustang had grudgingly plowed through the work, complaining all the while that it was a waste of his time and would prove nothing but useless in the practice of alchemy. But the Professor was relentless in his convictions as a teacher and as perceptive of his pupil's character as, well, as a hawk's eye is in the dark. He was not about to throw away a priceless art to someone lacking in conviction, principals, and a thirst for truth. Mustang had none of these.

Here resided the heart of his struggle, the source of his doubt. He opened his eyes and stared up at the night sky. The stars were brilliant and clear. If only the truth resided in writing there. Tonight he would be able to read it.

"This is stupid, Professor!" Mustang's childish voice rang in his head and his mind heedlessly took him back to the first day he had ever dared talk back to his teacher. "I hate it!" He shouted, flinging his ink and pen across the room. "You don't want to teach anyone your precious secrets, do you?"

He glowered hatefully up at his Professor with his keen black eyes, challenging him. Professor Hawkeye said nothing and only stood there, studying his student with those deep brown eyes of his. Mustang's insides had quivered. Did nothing ever shake him? Not breaking his gaze with Mustang, the Professor had finally spoken up.

"Roy, when you first came to me, you told me you wanted to learn everything I had to teach you."

"I thought you were an alchemist, not some philosopher!" Roy spat.

"Is there a difference?" The Professor queried, not raising his voice in the slightest.

"What do you mean?" Roy was taken slightly aback. "Of course they're different. One's a scientist and accepts facts at face value. The other's a...a guy who doesn't do anything but contemplate the origin and meaning of life."

"Insightful answer," the Professor chuckled. Roy scowled. The Professor averted his gaze and drawing up a chair, he sat down opposite Roy. Listen, Roy. My purpose in these seemingly pointless lessons is to get you to think." So now he was calling Roy stupid? "Truly think about where your convictions lie, because if you are planning to be an alchemist you cannot merely be driven by the facts you see at face value..."

Something had changed in Roy Mustang that day, something beyond his mere mind and way of thinking. For the first time, he had caught a glimpse of what the Professor had been driving at all along, the change that needed to take place within himself before he endeavored to change the world. But even after that, the Professor was continually holding back. He was hesitant and fearful to teach Mustang more and when it came to his greatest secret and power, he never ever entrusted that to Roy.

Should Riza have been as perceptive and knowledgable of Roy's character as her father had been, she would probably not have unleashed the secret to him either. Roy blinked, bringing himself back to the present. He lifted up his gloved hands and studied the alchemy circles on each. Right now he was the most powerful weapon of the military. He had risen to the rank of a Colonel. And yet the continual gnawing of his conscience told him he had fallen a whole lot farther than he ever dreamed of climbing.

Here and now when it was too late, he finally understood what Professor Hawkeye had tried to teach him so very long ago. The facts of life, his clear road to success, had led him here where he was degraded to the lowest life form a person possibly could be, a human weapon. A dog at the end of a short leash, a murderor and a byword among the citizens of his own country.

"And they'll give me a medal of honor for all this." He laughed coldly to himself.

Really think! Always, always, always question yourself. If you're sure of yourself, then you're 9 out of 10 times probably wrong. That's what's really wrong with you, Roy Mustang. You're too confident in yourself, too self-absorbed to see that your means of accomplishing your goals may not be wholly right.

"All right, Roy," he told himself. "Are you ready to change this country now that you know what it really needs?"