A/N: Just a note – this is an AU fic. So there will be no alchemy, at least not to start with – as in Roy isn't the Flame Alchemist and Ed has all his limbs, etc. Later alchemy may be introduced to them.
Also, I've changed their histories, though not completely – some parts I may take from the anime but a lot I will make up too. Same for the characters.
Okay, you can read on now.

(( Edit )) I've changed Major Colonel to Major General, thanks to reviewers for pointing that out; I guess I didn't thoroughly research the ranks ae n.n;


-- Chapter 1 --


The soldier stood, still and weary, leaning stiffly against the splintered wooden support. It creaked, threatening to bend, but kept its sturdy stance.

All around him, more soldiers of equal or lower rank moved around, tired but restless. It had been a long afternoon, and the job at hand might have been an embarrassment had the commander not rebuked them sharply. "You ignorant fools, the more embarrassing fact is that half of you know not how to look after a truly sick or injured human. And you call yourselves soldiers! A soldier serves for a cause."

Looking down at his bloodied gloves now, the soldier almost laughed. None of them had served for anything or anyone for a long time now. It was almost like the opposition knew that, attacking when their forces were at their weakest. What a joke. "We don't deserve these uniforms," he mused, thinking back to this morning. "We may as well don those cute mini nurse dresses." A passing Lieutenant chuckled.

------Flashback------

"Colonel Mustang, sir?"

The commander sent a wry look at the new Private.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang," the young soldier corrected quickly. "Sir, we have a team ready to head out to the field now, but we need the keys for the –"

"Now? Right now?"

The Private wrung his hands nervously; he didn't like interruptions when he was reporting because he always forgot what he meant to talk about in the first place. "Yessir, the General said we should get out and help the other officers who are also –"

"Are you blind?" The colonel swept aside the curtains in his temporary office, a waste considering all they were presented with was the elaborate view of a dirt wall. "If you looked outside, you would know four bombs have been dropped in the past three minutes in this area. Nerve gas and god knows what else are being released by the tank-full, and you're talking about going out there to risk nine hundred soldiers in hopes of –"

"Five hundred," the soldier informed quietly. "There are only five hundred in your battalion left, Roy. Sir."

"Five hundred," was the shocked echo. "Five hundred?" Roy repeated. "We've lost four hundred men already?"

"Three hundred men dead or injured, another hundred or so unheard from."

"That's not possible."

"Sir, we did a roll call, we checked at all the shelters –"

"The phone lines aren't working, most men didn't even leave their houses today before the bombs came…" He refused to accept that he could have lost so many soldiers in such a short time, without his knowledge either. "I wish to speak to the General."

"Sir, Major General Redford said he contacted the families of every soldier, and told me to report to you with our numbers. At least that means our supplies will –"

"Major General Redford? The Major General talked to you?"

"Yessir," the soldier confirmed, then remembering his original message, "Sir, we need the keys to the cars in…"

Roy stood up abruptly.

"Sir?"

He walked right past the Private without a glance, already preparing an argument to present to the Major General.

"Colonel Mustang, sir? Wait, sir…" The officer was awarded a glare. "Lieutenant Colonel, please, the Major…"

But the colonel was gone within seconds, leaving only a swinging smoke-free door as an indication of his previous presence.

Roy Mustang left the Major General's temporary head-office with contempt, but strode down the corridor with a purpose, and, of course, with new strategies already forming.

"Taisa."

The colonel turned to scowl at the unfortunate soldier who had called him, ready to give out generously harsh orders involving the words toilet and duty.

"I mean, Lieutenant," the woman smirked.

"Oh. Riza," was all Roy could say. First-Lieutenant Hawkeye raised an arm, throwing something to him. It was a mobile phone, small and sleek, but its casing was a shiny hot pink. Roy raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Riza gave a small smile. "Keep in touch."

"Is this yours?" Roy asked incredulously, flipping it open. The phone automatically switched on, a short tune calling out happily. The colonel shut it immediately with a snap.

"Hell no, chusa. It's a friend's, but I figured you could do with an upgrade."

"Brilliant. I'll be sure to show the team before we head out."

"In which case you'd better get going now, before Major Redford sets you more work."

"Tch," muttered Roy. Then he frowned, looking at Riza. "Aren't you coming? We could do with a sniper watching our backs."

"I don't think guns are going to be of much help," she replied dryly.

Roy opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. Riza tilted her head sideways slightly, staring at him like a horse trainer might consider a stallion's worth or potential. The commander wondered how he graded.

"Good day then, lady," he bid her without a trace of humour, though his second in command smiled. "Fare well, and stay true." Those last words he said softly but seriously; they both knew the meaning and history behind it.

"Take care and stay true, Colonel," she agreed. No more words were needed.

------End of Flashback------

Riza had been right of course, Roy thought. None of us needed any weapons at all, more like bandages and antiseptic. The Major General had not specified their job; Roy had assumed they were guarding the medical fort, not tending the sick inside it. But this was their assignment and Roy was going to make sure his team did their job, and well.

By now most of the patients were settled comfortably, as much as was possible anyway in the crowded tent, and some drugged into a dull but restful sleep to keep the pain at bay. The soldiers rotated their duties, some checking temperatures and heartbeats while others were at the disposal of the patients who were clear headed enough to ask for a drink or extra blankets.

Suddenly the tent flap behind Roy flew open, and a group of frantic medics rushed in. They brought in two stretches, and Roy almost blanched at the sight. Two youths, possibly both male, were carefully manoeuvred to a vacant clean bed. The two figures were burnt almost all over; one's body had also been twisted grotesquely.

Roy didn't realise, but he had walked over and stood by the new arrivals, sickened yet never taking his eyes off the two boys. They were only children, he thought sadly. There were, of course, many injured children in the facility, but none of them as damaged as these two. There would be no recovery for them, he predicted.

After a moment of hurried activity and constant orders from one of the doctors, one nurse started to cry. She was only a young girl, Roy observed, when he finally lifted his gaze. Only fifteen, maybe sixteen years at the most; she doesn't need to see this. None of us do.

"Th-they won't make it," an older woman declared softly. "At least… Not that one." Roy didn't look at which boy she had nodded at. "The other… His heart is still beating, faintly. There is little brain activity, the bare minimum, but we will probably lose him too before he might awake."

Here Roy tuned out. The soldier sat down on the stool by the head of the bed, leaning against the wall.

He sat, and he waited.



A/N: Not what you expected? Neither. Sorry, it's not how I wanted it to turn out like but I hope it'll do… I've read through it briefly, sorry if there are any mistakes, I'll fix them later if there are.