A/N: Guess what? It's an update! Within a week! Woo! I love Spring Break. And this is the tenth chapter! DOUBLE DIGITS! :D
Scott: . . . :(
Leah: Uhh . . . Ghosty man? You okay?
Scott: . . . No.
Leah: What's wrong? D:
Scott: No one returned my ghosty hugs last chapter . . . –sulk-
Leah: Well, there were only two reviews.
Scott: They hate me.
Leah: No they don't! Right guys? Right?
Scott: They do. –goes off to emo corner-
Leah: Oh noez! Now Scott is all sad! Well, you guys read the chapter. I'll try to cheer him up. And I only own my OCs.

"Name please?" The soldier who was managing the Communications Department sounded bored out of his mind. I didn't blame him. It didn't seem like an exciting job.

"Major James Campbell," I said warily. My confidence had already started to wane. I was now getting anxious for this phone call.

He glanced through a stack of papers before finding whatever he was looking for. "You still have thirty minutes this week. Go ahead and use line two."

I walked over to the phone he had pointed out. We had strict regulations on phone calls because we were so far up north that the lines could experience issues from time to time. Not only from the cold, but the sheer distance to Central, where most of our orders came from. In Briggs, it was dangerous for several people to use the phones all at one time or too often. That was why we were only given half an hour to talk to our loved ones on the phone. They preferred to have us communicate by letter.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number I knew well. I realized my hands had started to shake, but just barely. I was definitely scared now. What had happened in my absence? Did my father still hate me? What would he say to me? I heard the dial tone twice before someone answered.

"Hello?" the familiar voice said.

"Mom!" I exclaimed in relief. I had a feeling that if my father had answered, I might have just hung up. But I knew I could talk to my mother.

"Oh, James!" She sounded relieved to hear my voice. "Oh, honey, I'm so glad you called! Is everything okay? Are you warm enough up there? Are they treating you alright?"

I smiled to myself. That was my mother. Always so concerned for others. "I'm fine, Mom. And you know that these uniforms were designed to keep us warm, so stop worrying."

"I'm sorry, you're just so far away," she said. I could almost see the look of worry on her face. I wished I could give her a hug.

"Yeah," I agreed. "So, h-how—" My voice suddenly stopped working without my consent. My hands were really shaking now as I tried to force my question out.

"What is it, dear?" my mom asked, sounding even more concerned.

"How . . . how is Father?" I managed.

I was answered with silence.

"Mom?" I was starting to feel panic welling up inside of me. "Mom, what happened?"

There was another silence. Then she answered. "He's had another heart attack."

I felt my stomach drop. "What?" I breathed in disbelief.

"It was the day before they were going to let him come home, so he was in the hospital when it happened, but it still isn't good. He's in critical condition. I was only able to talk to him once since then. Either he hasn't been awake, or they've been running tests when I come to see him."

"Do they know if he's going to be okay? Did he say anything? Do we know what is going to happen to him?" Questions came pouring out of my mouth. I couldn't stop them.

"They don't know anything yet." Her voice was full of worry. And something else. Defeat? "But when I talked to him he did say something . . . about you."

"Me? What did he say about me?"

"Well, you know he's been through a rough time, and he was they had him on painkillers and other medicine when he said this . . ." She was avoiding my question.

"Mom, what did he say?" I said firmly, though I couldn't feel my hand that was holding the phone anymore.

"He . . ." she hesitated, "he said . . . that . . ."

"Tell me!" I demanded harshly, wanting to get this over with.

"He said, 'If I die, it is because that disgraceful dog we call our son betrayed me and this entire family!'" she finally burst out. I could hear her crying softly over the phone. I immediately regretted my abruptness.

"Mother . . ." I had nothing to say.

"I'm sorry, James," she whimpered.

I heard a click as she hung up.

So, I thought as I hung up the phone with my numb hand, nothing had changed. My father still hated me, even when he was on the brink of death. Not even leaving home could change how he felt about me. I couldn't think of anything I could do to win back his trust, besides quitting the military. But I couldn't do that. I was doing this for Scott.

"Done already?" A dull voice droned. I realized that my numb legs were carrying me out of the room. I turned my head nodded at the soldier, not bothering to stop. "Alright, I'll log your time."

I continued through the halls, but I felt like a ghost. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going or who passed by me. I was lost in the despair that was disappointing my father.

I didn't want to be a disappointment. In fact, that was the last thing on my list. All I had wanted to do was honor Scott's memory. I had explained this to my father, but apparently he didn't understand. He hadn't given Scott a bad time when he had joined the military. In fact, he was proud of Scott. Maybe he was only giving me a bad time because the war had taken Scott away from us. Maybe he didn't want to lose me the same way he lost Scott.

Maybe he acted like he hated me only because he loved me.

But I knew I wouldn't go the same way Scott had. I would be too scared to do what he did. I would have second-guessed myself, and then it would have been too late. I would have let those people die because I wasn't good enough.

I shivered as a cold breeze blew across the back of my neck. I pulled up the collar of my coat, realizing for the first time where I was.

I could still see the shattered ice that I had knocked down earlier today. The ice that had almost killed my commanding officer.

I stared at the ice for a second, studying the light from the lamps that reflected off of it in unusual patterns. Patterns that almost looked like a transmutation circle if one arranged them the right way.

I thought about that for a second, and I remembered that I hadn't used alchemy since I had first arrived here. Alchemy had always been a way for me to relieve stress, so I decided it might be helpful to work on some simple transmutations for a few minutes. I pulled out a small piece of paper and a pencil for my pocket. I liked to carry these things around, just in case. It was an old habit. An alchemist habit.

I sketched out a small circle on my scrap of paper, keeping it simple. I swept the ice into a pile, kneeling next to it. I set down my paper, activating the circle and watching the ice glow.

The light faded, leaving an ice flower the size of my fist on the ground and a smile on my face. Seeing the flower made the day's events fade from my mind. I began to relax as I added a few symbols to my circle and changed to flower into what looked like a frozen fire, then into a graceful ice-deer. How could I feel like a failure when I could create such works of art?

I then had an idea. I had been named the Guardian Alchemist, so I should at least live up to my name. My mind was racing as I formulated a circle in my head. How could I manipulate the ice so it could save someone's life? Could I make ice bulletproof?

I carefully drew a circle on a fresh piece of scrap paper, adding different symbols to fit my needs. I set the new circle on the ground and piled on some shattered ice. I activated to circle eagerly, wanting to see the result of my experiment.

I ended up with what seemed to be a quarter of an inch thick square of clear ice. Anxiously, I picked up the square. It felt like normal ice. I stood up and held it above my head, and then I let it go. It made a loud clunk when it hit the ground, bouncing back up a couple times before settling on the ground. I picked it up and examined it.

It was completely unharmed. Not even a tiny crack or chip.

I grinned and began putting it to the test.

I threw it against the wall as hard as I could, and I barely managed to stop it from falling off the edge when it bounced back. But that didn't do anything to it. I held one end and bashed the other against the railing, seeing if I could break it in half. Nothing. I found an ice pick, and hacked away at the square. It was perfectly fine. The ice pick on the other hand . . . Well, I had to draw another circle to fix that.

After healing the ice pick, I left to return it to its home. I came back for my square that I had left, but I was shocked to find the Major General waiting for me, with my square in her hand.

She was examining the square closely, turning it over in her hands. "You made this?" she asked. I couldn't hear any emotion in her voice. Was she upset with me? Impressed? I couldn't tell. So I just nodded wordlessly.

"Catch," she said, throwing the square at me. I instinctively followed her order, and when I looked up from the ice, I saw that she had drawn a gun on me. "Don't move."

She fired.

I closed my eyes, cringing, expecting to feel a white-hot pain from the bullet hitting some part of my body, but there was nothing. Maybe I've blacked out? I thought to myself. I tried opening my eyes, and they opened easily enough.

Then I realized that I hadn't been shot. The Major General was walking over to me, holding out her hand for the block of ice. I handed it to her.

She examined it. "Good work, Campbell. There isn't even a dent on this. It's no wonder they call you the Guardian Alchemist."

"Uh," I was still shocked that she had actually shot me. And without even the slightest warning. And how had she even found out about my transmuting? Had she been watching?

"You were wise to hide your alchemic abilities. There are some here who would try to exploit you if they knew what you could do."

"I wasn't trying to hide—"

She cut me off. "Don't tell anyone else of your ability to create bulletproof materials. I don't want any spies to know that we have you protecting us. You are not meant to work in the kitchen, so I am assigning you a new duty. You are to become a member of the Outer Patrol. You will create bulletproof armor for yourself and the other soldiers who serve as Outer Patrol. Your job is to protect our perimeter from Drachman spies and other enemies. You start immediately. Go to the ground level of the fort and you will find a special meeting room for the Outer Patrol. It is room 345A. Show the soldiers in there the ice you have there. You will receive further orders after that. You are dismissed."

And with that she strode away, probably to scare some of my fellow soldiers.

I stood in a daze, staring at the doorway that she had left through. She had said everything so fast, could it be true? I decided not to wait for her to come back and shoot me again.

I made my way to the nearest elevator and pushed the button for the ground level. The anticipation for my new job began to build as the elevator slowly made its way down the mountain. Why was everything happening so fast today?

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. I gripped my square of ice as I made my way through the halls and eventually to room 345A. I could hear a quiet buzz of conversation outside of the room, so I knocked on the door. The voices went silent, and footsteps came over to the door.

The man with the arm that could probably eat me, the first person I had met up here, opened the door. I had learned that he was called Captain Buccaneer, and, quite frankly, he scared me almost as much as Major General Armstrong.

I shrank back from his scrutinizing glare.

"Major Campbell?" he questioned, glaring down at me.

"Th-the Major General sent me here," I stuttered. "I've been assigned to the Outer Patrol."

"For what reason?"

"Uh, this," I said, holding up my ice.

He gave me a look that questioned my sanity, but took the ice from my hand. "Then you should come in."

I followed him into the room, glancing around at the dozen or so other soldiers that were in the room. The room was filled with lockers. Most of them were open, revealing white winter clothes, boots, rifles, snipers and everything else one would expect a winter soldier to have. Several of the men were sitting on benches, unlacing snowshoes from their white boots, brushing snow from their uniforms or tending to minor cuts along their arms and legs. They must have just returned from their patrol shift, and it looked like it had been rough.

"So," the captain said, and I returned my attention to him, "What is so special about this ice?"

"Try to break it?" My tone turned the statement into a question.

The captain gave me a disapproving look, set the ice on the ground, and stomped on it with his foot.

His expression turned confused when he realized he hadn't done anything to the ice. He lifted his foot and bent down, this time smashing his metal claw onto the ice with impressive force. He tried several other methods, including using one of the soldier's rifles before declaring the ice unbreakable.

"That's quite a talent you have there." He seemed to be impressed.

"That's how I earned my state certification," I admitted.

"No wonder they call you Guardian. Well, what did she tell you to do?"

I didn't even have to ask who he meant by "she."

"I'm supposed to make armor for the Patrol, and accompany the troops as their guardian."

He chuckled to himself. "Just in time too. We've been having major issues with a small camp of Drachmans we found right inside our border. They are heavily armed and we can't get too close without casualties."

"I can get you close." I was surprised by my own confidence. It seemed strange to me, but not necessarily bad. Besides, I was telling the truth.

"There is one problem though." I gave him a questioning look, so he continued, "Wearing ice armor would probably lead to frostbite."

"How much plastic to you have lying around the old fort?"

I hope you liked it! It was a long chapter . . . Yay! So you should review now. Because I like reviews and they make me want to write more. And Scott is sad and needs hugs. GIVE HIM HUGS PEOPLE. Because depressed ghosts wandering around my house are no fun. I'll update soon! Bye for now!