A/N: Not my characters, fortunately for them. Mangaverse. This probably is my least favorite chapter of this fic, but that's because like Roy, it wanted to go all over the place.

Maes Hughes was never in a hurry to save the world. He knew that the rest of the world, - even the rest of Amestris, for that matter - could have happily forgotten about his little town on the edge of nowhere in particular, and in turn, he was content to ignore them all equally. Geography was for nerds, and glasses aside, Hughes did not consider himself a nerd. The glasses were purely to stave off the ladies. That, and to protect his eyes when he and Mustang ended up in another fight.

Roy Mustang was the reason Hughes would even consider trying to save the world, or at least any part of it beyond his own folks. Roy had grown up in a house four doors down and one street over from the Hughes's place, allowing the boys to see into one another's backyards on a clear winter day, once the leaves had fallen. When he wasn't simply observing those around him, Roy had a tendency to dream of a way out of their town. Hickstown in the Sticks, he would call it, or simply the most backwater place left on the face of the planet. Hughes insisted that this wasn't fair; Roy had no idea if even Central City was half so nice as this place.

"There's the trouble, Hughes," his shorter friend had complained. "I want to go see it for myself. I want go see everything, see what's best in the world, and bring it to the people. I want everyone to get the best they can." Roy's hand pushed aside the map he had been poring over, letting the tense laminated paper roll itself back into a haphazard cylinder and continue rolling until it fell from his paper-strewn desk.

"We can't see everything. Why don't you just read about all these places, if you're so eager to learn about them?" Hughes closed his own textbook and laid it aside unmarked. Even when he enjoyed the subject, (and Maes had never much enjoyed history,) given the choice between writing an essay and hearing out his best friend, homework would always fall by the wayside.

"It's not the same," Mustang replied, leaning back in his seat. "A book won't let you smell the air, hear the sounds, see what's really going on. A book could make even Xerxes sound boring, or this place sound exciting."

"That's because it is, if you know where to look," Hughes interrupted him.

"Or if you know how to cause trouble," Roy acknowledged with a light laugh. "But I know there's more out there than reading could offer about it. Teacher always says you ought to check your sources anyway, right?"

Hughes had grumbled about this, but there was really nothing he could ever say to convince Roy otherwise. Roy was simply too stubborn to change his mind, and moreover, the more Hughes prodded at his friend's decision, the more he was willing to admit that Mustang might have a point. Not that even Roy could convince him that this town was worthless, but perhaps, Hughes had allowed, it would be nice to explore a little further away from their homeland before settling down. At least, before Hughes settled down. He wondered if Roy ever would. And until that distant day dawned, somebody had to watch Mustang's back.

Sure, Roy was fairly strong for his age, (in truth, stronger than Hughes, though the taller boy had always refused to admit this fact without some fresh burden of proof,) but strength and stubbornness alone wouldn't win every fight, let alone prevent them in the first place. Their teacher and their mothers always insisted that Mustang was smart - Maes's own mother had frequently annoyed him by asking why he could never pick up on math and the sciences as quickly as his "bright little friend," occasionally to the point of earning Roy some undeserved antagonism - but this brilliance was sometimes lacking when it came to intelligent things to say around his peers. Roy's mouth was smart enough, certainly, and Hughes found his wit to be plenty sharp, but Mustang had never developed enough common sense to recognize when it was better to remain dumb. Where Hughes saw somebody else's battle, Roy saw a chance to prove his mettle, even if the previously involved parties both significantly outweighed and outnumbered him, and were not particularly interested in the services of an overly arrogant moderator with the build of a mid-weight wrestler on an as yet smaller scale.

Hughes was not one to fight, if it wasn't necessary. If it were anyone else, he would consider the scrapes and bruises Roy ended up with as just deserts - and not in the sense of manfully-earned battle wounds, as Mustang usually did. However, Roy was Roy, so Hughes did put some effort into covering his back. After all, even before the lines of classmate and neighborhood alliances had been scuffed in the sand, Roy had been getting involved with his fights, standing beside him against anyone from the crazy mutt someone had brought in during their first year to their teacher herself. The more Roy stood with him, the more Hughes found it best to finish both his own fights and Roy's before they had properly begun. Mustang had a disturbing flair for attracting trouble, and when left to his own devices, he could not even gauge just how deep he was into it. Rather than wait for Roy to make things worse for all involved, Hughes tried to step in with words, or blades, if necessary.

Around Mustang, Hughes was likely to get hurt and get into trouble, but he was also likely to dream. The taller boy didn't know how Roy managed to be so myopically focused on that vague goal of his without really taking the time to show the same world that he was so eager to protect how much he cared for it. It was up to Hughes then, to make sure that Roy saw the individuals and not just the vague notion of people worth protecting. Hughes would have to insure that whenever Roy finally did get them out of their hometown, he'd be able to see that every part of the rest of the world was Hickstown in the Sticks to somebody.

Hughes was no philosopher or seer or any of that crap, though he thought himself a fair hand at poetry. This revelation concerning his place in Roy Mustang's plans didn't come all at once, but through the years with the scars and scratched lenses and speed of the knives between his fingers. It took but the work of a single conversation, however, for the plan to fall to pieces before Maes Hughes's eyes.

"Who is this Hawkeye guy, anyway?" Hughes questioned angrily.

"Only one of the best alchemists alive today," Roy said, stuffing another shirt into his suitcase.

"I haven't heard of him." Hughes stacked the heavy textbooks and other assorted reading material beside the suitcase on the dresser. If he had had whatever talents this supposed "Flame Alchemist" claimed to possess, the letter on the other side would have a smoldering hole through it from his gaze.

"He doesn't like to go out a lot," Roy said with a shrug, re-rolling his socks in order to stuff them tighter into the overcrowded suitcase.

"I thought alchemists were supposed to serve the people and all that junk. Don't know how you can do that if you never leave your house." Hughes let the next book fall with a slam, missing his pile and sending the book in question tumbling to the floor.

"Well, he's teaching me, isn't he? Master Hawkeye probably has a good reason for not getting out more. Maybe he does, but just does it undercover. You don't know, Hughes." Hughes was about ready to throw the book at Roy, if only to wipe the smugly arrogant expression off of his face. Roy noticed his glare at last and attempted to change tactics. "Hey, think of it this way: I get out, and you still get to stay in Hickstown with everybody you like. You never really wanted to come along. I know you were only trying to humor me. It's okay; you don't have to do that anymore now. I'll be out of your way and not dragging you into any more stupid fights."

Setting the book upon the pile more carefully, Hughes gave in to the basic instinct. "Don't drag yourself in, either. You're too crazy, Roy. Who's going to keep you from getting in over your head?"

"I can watch my own back," Mustang insisted, shoving him in return for the slug that had landed on his shoulder. "Once I learn alchemy, I'll be better at it than you are."

The taller boy huffed in disbelief. "It'll take better eyes than a hawk's to learn to do that."

"Once I'm an alchemist, I can get those." Roy lifted the stack and turned away, shrugging as he dumped them into another bag. "You do what you want, Maes. I'm moving on."

"Go on then." Hughes tossed up his hands and headed for the door. "We'll see how long you last without me."

"Whatever, man," Roy dismissed him. "Just don't die and don't get in my way so you're not a nuisance." Hughes left without saying anything. He didn't come to the platform, either, even though his mother insisted that he join half the rest of town at the train station to see the bright young Mustang off. Hughes spent the afternoon sulking in the car, though he irritably informed anyone who mentioned it that he was simply busy contemplating his place in the world, thank you ever so much.