Author's Note:
A few weeks after the Ishvalan Restoration Field Office is set up. I think this fits into The Toll, but I'm not sure. "Little Brother" is what people call Scar in my fic "The Toll."
It was around 1000 when Jean stepped into the Ishvalans' meeting tent for the first time since it had been set up. The Headman was there, having come in from Central City. The others were the usuals: Mistress Shan, High Cleric Bodizar and Little Brother. Major Miles was there, too, as he often was, and there were also a couple of other Ishvalan men he didn't know. They were all sitting on rugs and cushions on the ground, since no one had seen a need to bring in Amestrian-style furniture.
"I lost another one this morning," Jean announced from inside the entrance flap, arms crossed.
"Second Lieutenant Havoc," said Miles, the only face in the room to soften, if only a little, "I told you to keep your men in their tents today. We're talking about yesterday's shooting right now."
"Which is right where he was when he shot himself, sir," snapped Jean. "You know the suicide rate is higher when they're not working."
"Havoc," said the Headman, standing up, "you're not wanted here. Get out!"
Jean didn't move. "I'm not?" he said quietly. "Then you guys better figure out what you do want. Do you want our help or not? You just lost two good workmen in two days."
"So?" said one of the Ishvalan men Jean didn't know. "Two murderers dead. Should we mourn at their gravesides?"
Jean took a couple of steps inside and sat on his haunches, still much closer to the entrance than to the others. "So were you planning on picking up their shovels? We're two short now. Two men who were clearing the rubble so that you could build." Then he sat on the ground himself, cross-legged.
Now there were angry glances, and muttering in Ishvalan. Not all of the glances were angry, but none of them were kind.
The Headman sat down again and looked like he was arguing with the Cleric. Mistress Shan looked over at Jean, disapproving, and Jean finally lowered his eyes. But he stayed there.
Finally, Miles held up his hand to quiet the room. "Anything else, Second Lieutenant?" he asked, thinking to dismiss him.
"Just one more day," Jean said. "We're all under a death sentence, we know that, but put it off just one more day. One more day of work, building, fixing. And then one more day after that. And then after that and after that. And maybe if we have enough of those, we can make some things better."
The room became very quiet.
Then Little Brother came over to Jean, and reached down to pull him up. "One more day," he agreed, and shook the hand he was still grasping, in the Amestrian style.
Later that day, back at the Ishvalan Restoration Field Office tent, Jean started to apologize.
"No, Second Lieutenant," Miles said, stopping him. "You did very well. We weren't making any headway at all until you showed up. That was something, what you came up with on the spot."
"Oh," said Jean. "I didn't come up with that then. It's just something I say to my guys. Seems to help. Not good for weekends, though."