A/N: Hey all! This is something I've been wanting to write for a while now. Starts off tame, but will eventually have the rating changed to M. Hope you enjoy :)
The fierce sun pierces through your tent, waking you without sound. You rise slowly from your makeshift bed, unwilling to face the day ahead.
You've been living in a refugee camp for months now, another faceless victim of The Ishvalan War Of Extermination. You're lucky to have escape your homeland with your life; too many others cannot claim the same. The people in this camp are just like you, all homeless, hungry, and hopeless. You try your best to keep spirits high for the countless orphans who populate the camp, but it's so difficult that everyday has become a hardship. It breaks your heart to see your people like this, but there's nothing you can do to help them.
Well, almost nothing.
You've been acting as assistant to the camp's only medic, helping him patch up as many ill or wounded countrymen as you can. You've even had some Amestrians come to visit you lately, including a shifty-looking man with a moustache by the name of Yoki. He's going be trouble, you can feel it. He's the kind of man who'd sell his own mother if the price was right.
You dress for the day ahead, putting on the cleanest shirt and trousers you can find. You've never really been one for skirts, finding them greatly impractical. You'd sooner risk looking like a man than getting the fabric of your skirt into an open wound. That could cause a severe infection! Trousers are most definitely the safest option. You pick up a jacket as well, as East City is far colder than your homeland. Oh how you'd love to return home to Ishval, and bask in the glory of the sun. Alas, that's all gone now… you shake your head, as if you're trying to shake out all the negative thoughts in your mind. You have to put on your happy face again, for the sake of the children.
For the sake of your latest patient, too.
You exit your tent, ready to face the world again. The slums are a hive of activity as always. Children are chasing each other around the tents, laughing gleefully at each other. There's a group of women all cooing over a pregnant lady, while her husband watches proudly. A small cluster of people are checking the food supplies, scarring their heads as they try to determine the fairest way to divide the meagre amount of food the camp has. Life is going on all around you, the same way it always has. It's remarkable that people can still go on like this. It's enough to give you hope.
You head over to the healer's tent, eager to check on your patient. He is actually your patient now; the healer has tended to his wounds well enough to let you nurse him back to heath on your own. It's rather nice, actually having a patient of your own. It makes you feel important, like someone actually needs you. That, and your patient is a very handsome man, although the healer doesn't need to know that.
You reach the tent, and pull back the curtain, smiling as you see your patient; he's sat up in bed, with a weight in one of his hands. He's in remarkably good shape, especially those arms of his. He looks like he could lift up every member of the camp! You'd like him to start with you…
You push away those thoughts; you have to put on your healer's assistant hat. He looks up at you, finally realising that he has a visitor. Before he can speak, you cut him off with your own words. 'I see your arm is getting stronger.' He looks at it, and for a split second you swear you see a smile on his lips.
'It's considerably better than I was. You have my thanks.' You blush slightly, his words taking you by surprise. You end up looking to his red eyes, trying hard not to focus on the scarred face to which they belong. He has a very intense gaze, one that's filled with anger. It's a look that contradicts his words, leading you to think that his soul may be even more scarred than his face.
Actually, you're sure of that, given that he's a murderer.
Despite what some people might say, you're far from stupid; his appearance perfect matches the Amestrian's description of a man killing off State Alchemists. At first you'd been apprehensive about treating him, before remembering your personal vow to help your fellow countrymen whenever they need it.
He'd been unconscious for the first few days, and for a while you'd been concerned that he'd never wake up. When he finally did, the relief was palpable. He'd looked around the tent, before asking you where he was. You'd explained that he'd been found floating in a river by some of the refugees, before being taken here. You'd told him straight away that you knew who he was, but told him that no one here would report him to the authorities. He'd seemed equally relieved and surprised after you'd told him that, before you reminded him that all Ishvalans are like family to each other. Before he'd had a chance to respond, you'd left the tent, looking for more supplies.
You've become almost friendly with him at this point, actually enjoying his company. Well, enjoying it when he's not taking about revenge all the time. You'll be sad when he inevitably decides to move on, seeking vengeance again. You almost wish you had the guts to go with him, but you know your place is here in the slums. Maybe you could convince him to give up his mad quest for vengeance? No, he wouldn't listen. He's too far gone. He won't stop now until he is physically stopped.
It almost makes you cry, thinking about his doomed future.
He looks at you, confusion on this face. It occurs to you that you've been so busy reminiscing, you've neglected to do anything other than stare at him for a good few minutes. You cough loudly, trying to cover up your embarrassment. You should probably say something to him.
'It's really the healer you should be thanking. I haven't actually done much.' You drop your eyes, the ground suddenly becoming very interesting. He notices your reluctance to look at him, but speaks anyway.
'You've still been very helpful. If there's any way I can repay you, you have but to ask.' You're about to tell him that you don't want anything in return for helping, someone else enters the tent.
'Sorry for interrupting, but the patient has a visitor.' A visitor? For your patient? Who could that be? You open up the tent again, revealing an elderly man in traditional Ishvalan clothing; a priest maybe? You bid your patient a quick farewell, assuming that he'll want to speak to his visitor in private. You decide to grab your ration for the day, feeling rather hungry all of a sudden.
As you make your way towards the food tent, you see something that sets you on edge; two Amestrian guards, speaking to Yoki. You watch on as Yoki points them towards the healer's tent; that little rat has sold out your patient! You try you best to intervene, reaching them just before they reach the tent.
'Can I help you two gentlemen with anything?' You say, trying to hide your fear. With any luck, the patient will hear your conversation, and slip out of the tent at the back, finding somewhere else to hide.
The two men sneer at you. 'We know full well that's you're hiding a fugitive in there. Step aside, or face the consequences.' One of them tries to shove you to the side, but you stand firm, refusing to be bullied by them. Amestris has taken much from you, but your tenacity remains.
'The only people in there are an old man and a patient of mine, so I suggest you back off. We don't have who you're looking for!' The guards look taken aback, clearly expecting you to back down. Then one of them smiles, before grabbing you and throwing you onto the ground behind them. They walk over to you, before spitting on you.
One of the men speaks to you. 'You Ishvalans should really learn your place in the world.' You're about to speak back, when the tent opens behind them; your patient is out of bed, and standing tall.
'Leave these people alone. That includes her.' As grateful as you are for his intervention, you can help but worry where it's going to lead. Will they fight? Is he strong enough? Or will they drag him back to Central in chains, to await execution?
The two men turn their backs on you, slowly approaching him. 'Well, well. It looks like Yoki was right after all.' The refugees watching the skirmish all start hurling verbal abuse at the ratty-looking man, who looks somewhat pleased with himself; you only hope the reward money is worth the price of betraying the people who have cared for you.
Your patient tries to walk away, but the two guards won't let him. A fight breaks out, and you watch as he kills them using only one arm. He sets his sights on Yoki, who begs for his life like a coward. Scar spares him, before making to leave the refugee camp for good. Yoki follows after him like a lost puppy, and you continue to sit on the floor. You watch as they walk away, too scared to chase after them. That is, until your patient's visitor helps you to your feet. You thank him, an he says something to you that ends up changing the course of your life forever.
'Go after him. He needs guidance, and I think you could be the one to give it to him.'
You'd like to be able to ask why a complete stranger would think that, but you don't have time; not with the two men rapidly fading away into the distance. You thank the old man again before giving chase, desperate to catch up to them.
You manage to make it to them in record time, breathlessly announcing that you'll be joining them wherever it is they're going. Yoki smiles lecherously at you, before your patient silences him with a look.
He continues walking, and you follow in silence, taking one last look at the refugee camp. It feels like you're abandoning them, heading off with two men you barely know. Then again, hadn't you just been thinking about how hard life was in the camp? How hopeless? Maybe things will be different on the road.
The camp eventually fades from view. Your new life as a fugitive's accomplice has now begun.
