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We do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and its characters. Please be informed that this fanfiction has detailed gore, war, death, and mentions of PTSD. Reader's discretion is advised.

Without further ado…

Silver Halo

Chapter 1

The loneliness and fright overwhelmed the pain. Her body felt heavy. Her limbs became lead. Her mouth turned dry. A scream of desperation clawed its way up her chest but only a horrified gasp escaped her lips.

"No," she whispered hoarsely. A new wave of numbness washed over her in disbelief. "No, no, no, Mom!"

Diana jolted. Her eyes flew open to a hazy view. Blue hues covered her vision as she laid on her back. The heat of the sun flared across the skin of her face. She groaned at the prickling sensation dancing across her cheeks. She slowly curled to her side. Her Unit One Pack hung heavily on her shoulders. Dust clouded around her body as she shifted on top of sand and gravel.

A sharp ache pierced her head. She winced, hissing through her teeth. Her eyes screwed shut for a moment. The ringing in her ears started. Just like how she remembered her last memory.

She snapped her eyes open. Ignoring the mounting headache, she swirled around. In all directions, debris and corpses littered the area. A solemn breeze passed through the desolated district.

Amestris and Ishval men laid side by side, pools of blood circled them. A sight only death can see, according to Amestris officiers. Her heart rang hollow as she drew herself up to stand. She stumbled to the nearest body. She bit her lip in frustration as she gazed into the lifeless eyes of her fellow Amestrian soldier.

Although her body cried in protest, she leant down. With a shaky breath, she pressed her fingertips against his cold lids. She closed them. A still foot settled beside one of her squad members. Her gaze trailed upward.

An Ishvalan man sat slumped against a pile of concrete rubble. No doubt from pieces of the building that imploded. She distinctly remembered the loud bang and white noise that came before she roused from her unconsciousness.

Red eyes glazed over as the Ishvalan gripped the blood stained clothes of his chest. She crawled closer to her enemy. She wanted to scoff. An enemy who is exactly like her. Like the men he killed.

A human. A mortal. A pawn in this bloodshed.

Doing the same as she did to her Amestrian brother, Diana closed his eyes. "Be at peace," she muttered as she peeled herself away from the bodies with difficulty.

"I have to keep moving," she mumbled aloud. Her voice pierced through the stillness of death. She limped forward. Her ankle throbbed dully. She powered through, stepping around bodies.

Deciding it was clear to proceed, she turned the corner. She paused when she saw her commander. Or what was left of him from the explosion. She winced but continued.

A weak cough caught her attention from her left. She scrambled to the sound as fast as she could. She looked cautiously over the debris for any enemy.

Over the ruin of a wall, she spotted the source. An Amestris soldier propped his head against the wall. His hand still gripped around his rifle while another was on his leg. His blue eyes took a while to focus on her.

Diana moved closer. She knelt beside him. "Soldier, can you respond?" She asked firmly. She examined the blood oozing steadily from the wound in the middle of his lower leg. It was treatable. She rummaged through her pack to get the tourniquet.

"First Lieutenant Osmund Smith," he croaked. He flinched when she placed pressure on his leg to stop the blood flow from his artery.

"You'll be alright, you hear me," she stated reassuringly. Her eyes held his. "We'll get you out of-"

A wracking cough cut her off. Her eyes widened as she felt warm fluid run down her cheek. Blood bloomed from the Lieutenant's mouth. A wet hand clung to hers.

Her gaze flickered down in panic. His bloody hand that clutched over his leg wound held her free hand. Her heart dropped as she saw behind their clasped hands, in the shadow of the rifle. Lieutenant Smith's wounds weren't entirely treatable after all.

She gulped her tears as she raised her eyes again. Osmund's eyes softened. His voice wobbled as he muttered, "I'm not getting out of here."

"Tell me about your home," she said back. He gave out a shuddering breath.

"Dublith is beautiful this time of year. All the trees are green," he coughed. His face scrunching up in pain. She squeezed his hand tight.

"Is there anything special happening at this time?"

He cracked a smile. Red spilled from his lips. "Yes, there's a festival for the start of spring. I… I used to go with my sister."

Diana nodded, urging him to continue. "What does your sister look like?"

He wheezed a laugh, "Like a firestorm. She has red tight curls that she always refuses to tie. When we would go to the festival, she would run ahead and look back. The sunset made her hair like flames. She would say-" His blue eyes grew dimmer and dimmer.

"What?" She whispered.

"Big brother, hurry up. You're a slowpoke. Mah, fine, I'll wait for you…" Diana steeled herself when Smith's eyelids fluttered close.

After a moment of silence, Diana shifted Osmund's body off the wall. A content look graced his forever sleeping face, facing the blue sky that his eyes mirrored. She closed his army jacket over his exposed entrails.

Aside from the red stains, First Lieutenant Osmund Smith looked like a pristine soldier. The peace on his face was something she hadn't seen for months since she was deployed from the Academy.

She pulled out the dog tag necklace from beneath his shirt. Her thumb lingered over the engraving of Lieutenant Osmund's name. She wiped away the fleck of blood that marred his military number.

Placing the tag securely around his neck again, she moved on. Her chest knotted as she passed through the quiet battlefield, closing eyes of Ishvalans and Amestrians. She hated that this was all that she could do. Not a single pulse was found.

When she heard the rustling of movement, she pressed her back against a crumbling house. She didn't know the status of this district. According to the brief before being deployed, a State Alchemist and his unit handled this section. From the sun in the sky, this area should have been cleared hours ago.

She peeked over the corner. Surprise flooded her senses. A lone man stood in the carnage. Black soot clung to his uniform and the ground around him. The smell of burnt bodies lingered in the air. She watched as the man staggered to the wall.

He clasped his blue clad thigh. Blood dribbled down the side of his face from his temple. She recovered quickly. She made her way closer to him as he unsteadily walked forward. One agonizing step at a time. In his shock and blood loss, he didn't notice her presence coming up to him. She heard him muttering in phrases.

"Hold off… they have to get back… I'll push them back." Diana reached him in time as the State Alchemist lurched forward to a stop.

His black hair casted a shadow over his foggy dark stare. "Got to hold them off…" He muttered again before his body pitched forward. Diana bore herself against his weight.

"State Alchemist," she tried to rouse him. "Stay with me. Major Mustang." She lowered him to the ground. He groaned lightly. Diana continued to shake him.

His eyes cracked open ever so slightly to peer up at her. Hovering over him, Diana frantically tried to keep him awake. "Major Mustang. Please stay awake. Major, stay with me! Roy. Roy Mustang!"

As his eyes fluttered close, Diana leapt into action. She dragged him to a secluded area. A pain shot up her leg as she pulled the man twice her weight to a corner of a ruined house. She hissed in effort, settling him down.

She checked his bleeding. He has a wound on his temple, hip and calf. She stripped him from any guns, radios, magazines and fire starters. She removed his gloves. She didn't want to be burned to a crisp if he woke up delirious and mistaken her for an enemy.

She slumped over him, the side of her face over his lips, eyes on the Major's chest. The steady puff of air blew on her cheek and the rise and fall of his chest urged Diana to continue swiftly. She made quick work of placing a nasopharyngeal airway down his nostril to secure his breathing.

Next was his wounds. The cuts on his temple and shoulder weren't bleeding as much as his thigh. After sanitizing her hands, Diana removed his jacket before tearing through his shirt. A bullet went through his hip completely, narrowly missing his bone and artery. She packed the wound with as much combat gauze she could hold. She pressed down on the area to stop the bleed.

She sighed in relief as she examined his trunk. No discoloration meaning no bones were shattered or broken. Little cuts littered the span of his chest but none that needed any stitches. She hooked up an IV drip and plasma bag to a metal pile that stuck out from the crumbling wall. She injected morphine into his system.

She doused the deep wound with alcohol. She cleaned it as best as she could. She brought out her needle and thread. Her hands shook but she took a deep breath.

Diana sighed deeply while she watched the rhythm of the Major's chest. The crackle of the small fire she made burned in the silent night. She hid them behind a huge remnant of a house, away from the line of fire and decently tucked away from any sniper view.

She studied the Major's face. Dark circles underneath his eyes similar to hers suggested that she wasn't the only one having trouble going to sleep. She heard the rumors that Roy Mustang was the youngest State Alchemist to date but she didn't expect him to be this young.

He looked not much older than she was. Her chest twisted when she reminded herself that he carried a lot of burden and responsibility in this war. He had more of a reason to have sleepless nights than she did. Then again he had more reason to rest. She buried her head into her bent legs.

Guilt gnawed her insides. She was supposed to stop men from dying but here she was the last one remaining from her unit. How could such a disaster fall upon her within the three months she was deployed? Is she doing the right thing?

She narrowly escaped death by being in the rear, where every combat medic was positioned. Behind the security, behind the rest of her unit. A bitter taste filled her mouth. She failed her duty. She was unable to save anyone in her squad.

She pressed her chin against her knees. The jacket draped over Major Mustang's chest steadily rose and fell. At least, she made it in time for him.

The flickering flames extended the shadows to greet her closely. The unnerving silence and fear that someone else lurked around the corner kept Diana awake until the break of dawn.

She must have nodded off when she heard rustlings closing in on her position. Kicking the smothered embers away, she quietly shuffled closer to the opening to see the plaza.

Ishval soldiers slowly drew closer and closer. Taking a deep breath to calm her spiking adrenaline, Diana pressed her back against the stone and cement. Her hands firmly gripped her rifle. She reloaded the magazine with the ones she picked up on the way.

She cast a glance at the sleeping Major. She was in no condition to run while carrying the man. And he certainly was in no condition of waking up; much less, making a run for it anytime soon.

Her gut twisted. Her hands shook as she curled and unfurled them. Her vision grew fuzzy. She swore to herself ever since that fateful day to never take another life for her own sake. She took a breath. She glanced at the unconscious State Alchemist. But it wasn't just her life. They slowly came closer and closer, looking around rubble and debris. They stepped around their fallen brethren.

They were searching for someone, Diana concluded. They didn't stop to mourn their fellow Ishvalans. They're looking for someone important.

Diana glanced at her superior officer. They were looking for him. Her stomach dropped to her feet. She had to make a stand. Right here, right now. The Ishvalans drew closer.

Shakily, she crouched behind the wall. She aimed the gun at the incoming Ishvalans. The sun peeked over the horizon. The sudden light bounced off her gun. She cursed when the Ishvalans caught the reflection and dove behind piles of rubble.

A whiz of a bullet lodging itself against the stone beside Diana, making her jump. She ducked for cover as bullets rained in her direction. Luckily, she wasn't hit anywhere. Mustang remained safely hidden away from sight.

She managed to shoot an Ishvalan in the shoulder. She watched, horrified, as the man collapsed. Blood gushed from his wound. Disoriented, she fired another bullet which embedded itself in the ground.

More Ishvalans kept coming, slowly closing in. She dove for cover again as bullets bombarded around her. The sound of fast approaching footsteps made her stomach turn. She breathed heavily against her post. This is it, she thought.

To her surprise, gunfires went off but none reached her. She peered cautiously at the sudden silence. She sighed in relief when blue clad men carefully made their way to her. Their guns raised readily as they inspected the scene.

"Ninety-one whiskey!" She announced her title to the soldiers. She cautiously raised her white armband with a red cross in the middle. "Master Sergeant Diana Franklin. I'm coming out."

She raised her hands first, showing them that it was empty before stepping around the rubble slowly. A knot in her chest unraveled when the Amestris soldier lowered their guns.

"Franklin," A major stepped forward. His stern stare fixated on her. "What are you doing in this district? What about the rest of the Thirty-fourth Infantry?"

She lowered her head, "I am the only remaining, sir." One of her saviors gasped in disbelief.

"How?"

"An explosion took the squad, sir, and half of the building for rendezvous." The superior cursed loudly. He shook his head wearily, "That is why we are here, Master Sergeant Franklin. We were given orders this morning to head over to the Thirty-fourth district. But, we were given instructions to look for the Flame Alchemist first."

Diana hummed. She jabbed a thumb to the direction behind her, where the Alchemist was laying. Her next words finally lifted a fraction off of her shoulders. "I believe I can help you with that, sir."

Author's Notes:

"She pulled out the dog tag necklace from beneath his shirt. Her thumb lingered over the engraving of Lieutenant Osmund's name. She wiped away the fleck of blood that marred his military number. Placing the tag securely around his neck again, she moved on." They don't take the dog tags because when the soldiers get buried after, they need the identification of the body.

Diana Franklin is a minor soldier as a Master Sergeant. First Lieutenant Osmund is three ranks above Diana. During this time (around 1908), Roy Mustang was just promoted to Major, five titles above Diana.

Ninety-one Whiskey (91W) is derived from the real life title of US army combat medic specialist, 68 Whiskey. The main job of combat medics are to provide emergency medical treatment at point of wounding on the battlefield, limited primary care, and health protection and evacuation from a point of injury. They give patient care and emergency medical techniques for soldiers.

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