In truth, you have no idea what inspired you to travel to Ishval.

From all that you've heard, the country was barely habitable even before the war. A wasteland of sand and stone… now it's a land full of blood and rubble.

The train screeches to a halt, this part of the journey over. From here, it's a trek across the desert to the ruins of an old city, the former capital of Ishval. You don't know how long it's going to take to rebuild there, but you know you need to be a part of it.

The man next to you taps you on the shoulder. 'Miss? We're leaving for Ishval now. Try to stay with the group, or you'll get lost. The last thing you want is to let the desert take you.' He's right, of course; no one can last alone out in the desert.

You smile, rising from your chair. 'Thank you, Anthony. Do you know how long the journey to Base will take?' 'Base' is the nickname the city has been given while it undergoes repairs; you can't recall it's true name.

Anthony smiles. 'It would normally take about three days, but the Amestrian military have a temporary base of their own about six hours away. They've agreed to transport us the rest of the way.' Six hours of walking in the blazing sun isn't your idea of a pleasant stroll, but it's certainly better than three days. Why did you sign up to this again?

As you make your way out of the train and onto the sand, you begin to recall the exact reason you're here.

After the coup d'état in Central, you'd felt… different. Maybe it was those few moments of losing your soul (something you still find incredibly hard to swallow), but when you'd woken up, you'd realised a few things.

So far, your adult life has been spend working a dead end job for next to nothing, desperately trying to built a better future for yourself. With the countless hours spent watching your life fly by, it's almost a surprise that there was any soul left in you to remove.

As you headed off to work one day, you'd heard a man addressing a crowd. Upon closer inspection, it was an Ishvalan man, and his message was clear; help us to rebuild.

Naturally, still blinded by their ignorance, the crowd had dispersed into nothingness. You'd heard a few murmurs as it did. 'Let the military deal with that!' And 'I'm no soldier. I didn't destroy their homes, so I'll not help rebuild them.' One even had the audacity to say 'well, at least they're crawling back to where they came from now. Good riddance!'

You'd been appalled by the display. From what you've heard, you have the Ishvalans to thank for helping restore balance and safety in Amestris. You'd approached the man, planning only to apologise for the crowd.

Yet for some reason, that's not what you said at all. 'What kind of help do you need?' The words left your mouth before you could stop them, your brain taking control.

The man's face instantly lit up. 'Anyone we can find. Builders, farmers, tailors… any skill you have is a skill we can use to rebuild.' You were uncertain what place a tailor would have in a broken city, but you'd let that slide.

Still, there was doubt. 'And if I had no skills to offer? Would you still let me join you?'

The man smiled. 'If you are willing to help, and willing to learn, you will be welcomed in my homeland.' He'd extended a hand to you, a hand you'd shaken without hesitation.

After that, all you'd had to do was quit your job, and leave a note to your family explaining that with immediate effect, you're leaving for Ishval.

Back in reality, the crowd of passengers assembles outside the station, all of them with one thing in common; they're all clearly Ishvalan.

You turn to Anthony, curious. 'How many people have you taken to Ishval so far?'

Anthony hums. 'Well, this is my third group, and each group is about fifty strong, so about one hundred and fifty total.' That's a lot of people to transport in a few months…

You nod, one again doing a visual sweep of the area. 'Right. And of those one hundred and fifty people, how many were Amestrian?' You have a feeling you already know, but just to confirm it…

Anthony beams at you. 'You are the only one so far. I get the feeling most Amestrains don't want to set foot in Ishval after what happened, but I'm glad we have an exception!' You knew it. You absolutely knew it. So you're the only Amestrian to have volunteered so far? That probably explains the questioning looks you've been receiving…

Doubt begins to creep in. 'Anthony, are you sure this is a good idea? I don't want anyone here to think an Amestrian is interfering with Ishvalan business.' Not after what happened that last time that happened; you have to repress a shudder.

Anthony chuckles. 'It is a wonderful idea. I was instructed by the Head Monk to do so, in fact. Something about wanting us to exist as neighbours, peacefully this time. Besides, there are plenty of soldiers from Amestris helping us also. You are here to help us rebuild because you were asked to do so. You are needed here, if you are still willing.' In truth, this is probably the last chance you'll have of turning back, possibly for years; can you really go through with this?

You nod, more to convince yourself than him. 'I'm here to help. I'll do what I can. For Ishval, and...' For all the people killed so horribly in the war…

Anthony nods. 'I know you will. Trust me, everyone there will be happy to see you. Well, if not everyone, I'm certain my husband will be eager to meet you.' You just hope his husband is the rule, and not the exception…

With everyone now gathered, Anthony leads you into the desert, past the point of no return.

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It ends up taking eight hours to get to the trucks; you lose track of how long it takes them to get to Base.

All you know is that by the time you make it, everyone is dead on their feet, yourself included. You'd trade a kidney for a warm bath and a soft bed, but you know that neither are likely on offer here; water is too important, and luxury bedding in the middle of a broken city is beyond unlikely.

Still, you're all still alive, so you'll take that.

Anthony himself is is the only one fighting off visible signs of fatigue, but you suppose he's used to that. 'Right, everyone listen! Form two lines for me. Everyone here gets basic eating utensils, some clothes, and a sleeping bag. Be sure to label them with the equipment provided.' Too tired to ask any further questions, you make your way into the line, watching Anthony as he walks off to join three men watching from the sidelines.

As you collect your things, the woman in charge of handing them out smiles at you. 'Welcome to Ishval, stranger. I hope you don't find desert life too difficult.' It's already difficult, but you expected it to be.

You smile back at her. 'I won't let the sun stop me from helping. I'm sure I'll learn how to live with it in time.' You can't read the answer in the stranger's eyes, but perhaps you're better not knowing.

With your things collected, you head towards the area designated as the female camp, when a voice calls out for you. 'Hey, come here a sec, would you? I have some people here that want to meet you!' You turn around to see Anthony, waving you over to his group of four. You'd love to sleep right now, but you can't exactly ignore him; it would be stupid to upset the closest thing you have to a friend.

As you approach the group, you take in their appearance. While two of the men are dressed in traditional Ishvalan clothing, the third is in a military uniform. It makes sense that there is a military officer here to oversee things, but you weren't expecting them to be an Ishvalan too; there are no more Ishvalans in the Amestrian military, are there?

Clearly yes.

To your dismay, all three men are frowning at you, but Anthony's smile never falters. 'Here she is! Our first Amestrian aid worker! I'm working on the title. Introduce yourself.' Not for the first time, you're beginning to wonder if you really belong here…

Not two seconds after saying your name, you're cut off my the largest of the three men, a broad-shouldered man with a cross-shaped scar on his forehead that seems… familiar. 'Bringing an Amestrian here was a mistake. Ishval should be for the Ishvalans to build. Her help is not needed.' It's as you'd feared. You're not wanted here…

The smaller robed man, while his brow is still furrowed, seems softer. 'I almost hadn't expected any Amestrians to answer the call for assistance. That you came at all is remarkable.'

The military man barks a laugh. 'You asked for Amestrian help, and an Amestrian came to help. I'd say that was the desired outcome.' You're glad one of the frowning men is on your side…

The scarred man isn't satisfied, eyeing you with what feels like malice. 'Why did you come to help us? This isn't your county. You have no reason to help.'

You try to steady your nerves, a difficult thing to do under circumstances that don't involved being stared at by an imposing man. 'I want to help. Isn't that reason enough?' Anthony said it was. Why don't they think the same?

The scarred man takes a step forward, never breaking the intense eye-contact. 'No.' The word terrifies you to your core. If you were any more scared, there would be a puddle beneath you right now. You have to fight to stand your ground, legs weak with fear.

It's the smaller robed man that moves first, pulling his fellow Ishvalan away from you. 'You have worked with Amestrians before. Why now is this such an issue?' He has? You would never have guessed…

To your relief, the larger man seems to soften. 'That was necessary, and they were exceptional. I was willing to cast my anger aside to save lives, even if they cost us so many in the war. I was curious to see if she shared any of my conviction.' You're not sure what he means by that, and part of you isn't certain you want to…

The military man smiles. 'Well, she did hike out into the desert with a group of strangers. If we're debating it, I'd say that's conviction enough to let her stay.' Stay? They really are considering throwing you out?

The smallest man hums. 'I wasn't aware that was up for debate. After all, we can't expect a lone woman to walk into the desert and survive. I think it would be wise to let her decide for herself whether or not she belongs here. Anthony, you leave here in two weeks, yes?'

For the first time since calling you over, Anthony speaks. 'That's right. There are still camps of people I have yet to bring home, though some of our people are choosing to remain in Amestris during the repairs.' Not a bad idea, really, especially for the very old and very young…

The smaller robed man nods once. 'It is decided then. You are to remain with us here for two weeks. If you decide to leave, Anthony will take you back to your home country.' After only two weeks? Do they think you that frail?

You nod. 'And when I decide to stay? Will you be willing to treat me as an equal?' You have a feeling you know the answer…

To your surprise, the large man nods. 'If you work and live as one of us, we will treat you as one of us. Do not be surprised if some people here are hostile, however. There are some wounds that will never fully heal.' You have a feeling he's one person that you'll never get along with, but he's only one man. You think you could settle here, in time.

So you smile. 'Very well then. Might I ask you for your names?' The large man flinches as if you've hit him, and you wonder what you've done wrong.

It's the military man that explains. 'In Ishval, names are considered a gift from Ishvala, and some choose not to share that gift with strangers. The man on the end is the Head Monk, so you should address him as such. My standoffish friend here used to go by Scar, but since the war, he has dropped that name, along with the one he was given at birth. He says he'll answer to anything, but I'd advice you to stick with something like 'Ishvalan'.' Two men with unknown names? Today is getting strange, and you don't think it's the exhaustion talking…

Wait, what did that larger man was called?

All the blood drains from your face. ''Scar'?! The 'Scar'?! The one who murdered all the alchemists?!' It's a coincidence, surely. He can't be the same man. He'd be in prison, surely!

The surly man growls. 'My past is behind me. I am no longer the man that vengeance shaped me into. I seek only to help my country rebuild, nothing more.' And here he is questioning your intentions! Are you even safe with him?! After all, it wasn't Ishvalans he brutally murdered…

… That was the alchemists. You really don't belong here, do you?

You must look terrified, because the military man's look become deadly serious. 'You are in no danger. Ishvalan is a different man now. He's our cultural minister. As stern as he is, I swear, he is a kind soul. You need not fear him.' Easy for a man with actual combat training to say!

Swallowing your fear, you subtly edge closer to the camp, but not before remembering something. 'You didn't give me your name. Should I call you Sergeant Sir? General Guy?' Making shitty jokes right now is a stupid idea, you feel it in your guts…

Ishvalan answers first. 'You are closer than you think. He is Major Miles. If you have anything that requires military attention, he is the man you contact. You will find that the two of us are either together, or with my former master here. The three of us, four for the time that Anthony is here, are the people you come to for help. We are in charge here. Remember that.' He's staring again, and it's still terrifying; you need sleep, and fast.

So you bow, grasping your things tightly. 'Nice to meet you. If you'll excuse me, I need sleep. I'll be no use here if I don't sleep.' You don't wait for a reply, not even from Anthony; you just want out of this situation.

You don't know if you'll sleep easy tonight, but hopefully, exhaustion will take you as soon as you hit the floor.

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The four men stare dumbfounded after the Amestrian woman, all of them a little surprised by her sudden departure.

Anthony sighs. 'Shit. She was the first Amestrian that even listened to me asking for help. If she leaves…'

Miles adds a sigh of his own. 'Yeah, I think we screwed up. I know that at least one of us owes her an apology. You can be a really jackass, my friend.' He looks pointedly at the scarred man next to him, making sure his contempt is visible.

To Miles' surprise, the scarred man smiles. 'We panic over nothing. She is not leaving here with Anthony in two weeks.' The three other men stare at him dumbfounded; how can he be so sure?

It's the Head Monk that vocalises first. 'I might have agreed, before she discovered your identity. Now I am not so certain. It would be a great blow to lose any ally so early, especially one with this level of political significance.' A significance lost on no one; even with everything that happened in Amestris, the attitude towards Ishval amongst the average civilian is still toxic at best.

Ishvalan shakes his head. 'We will not be losing her. She will stay. I don't doubt that she will avoid me, given my past, but she will remain in Ishval. If her convictions were fleeting, she would have suggested returning home as soon as there was trouble. Her silence was answer enough. We should treat her as we would anyone else, disregarding the political implications.'

Miles raises his eyebrows at that. 'You sure about that? I thought you hated Amestrians?'

Once again, the scarred man shakes his head. 'I might have once, but as I said, I am not that man anymore. As long as she treats us with kindness, we should do the same. It is the least we can do for someone willing to cast aside their life to help us.' The man he was a year ago would scoff at such a notion; the change must be deeper than he'd thought.

The Head Monk nods. 'Well said. For now, we must all get some rest. There is much to be done tomorrow, and we have many new people that need tasks. My former pupil, might you be the one to assign tasks? I'm afraid I have need of Miles and Anthony tomorrow, for I wish to discuss the transportation situation.'

Ishvalan nods once. 'Very well. I shall take care of it.'

The Head Monk smiles. 'Wonderful. While you are at it, perhaps you will consider choosing a name for yourself. After all, I am certain Ishvala would be happy for you to take a new one, for all the good that you are doing in his name.' The scarred man shakes his head; he does not deserve a name after all the wrongs he has committed.

The atmosphere becomes tense, only for Anthony to break it. 'If our chat is concluded, I do believe there's a man here that needs my full attention. Until tomorrow, gentleman.' Everyone bids the man goodnight, before all deciding to head their separate ways for the evening.

As the scarred man eats his rations for the evening, he thinks back on the Amestrian woman, and the things he said and did. Perhaps he does owe her an apology? Was he too harsh? Has he done nothing to help improve any image she may have of him?

He shakes his head; nothing will improve that image anyway. To the world at large, he will always be the man that murdered so many alchemists.

All he can do now is try to help others rebuild, even if he can never rebuild himself.

He has no idea why he's even allowed to be here.