A/N: Thanks for all those of you who reviewed! I appreciate all of the criticism and all the encouragement. To those of you who DIDN'T like it, thank you for saying so, your reviews are valued as it says that there is something I need to change. I apologise for the long paragraphs, that's just the way I write. I will try to shorten them, however. Until the next chapter, Goodbye.

3-Gunfire

The company trudged almost lifelessly to another city, the dry wind whipping against our faces like a slave driver whipping his charges, urging them to go faster. The one benefit was the temporary end of gunfire in the background. It had become such a normal sound that I had learned to tune it out. Hearing the eerie silence for a change was strange to the ear.

The sky was cloudless and hazy, a bluish-grey colour almost paralleling the colour of the desert. Major Mustang said he almost wished it would rain; a departure from his usual profuse hate of any liquid that fell from the sky. I had realized early on that he tended complain about quite a lot, but that character trait had emerged at full force when he started complaining about his head burning from the sun on his raven hair, the sand paining his feet in the black military boots and anything to do with the desert, really. I imagined that it was just his way of masking the pangs of guilt that burned him on the inside as we moved from one execution ground to another, but it pushed the envelope of my tolerance.

In the six months that had passed since our the company's introduction onto the field, our eyes had slowly been going blank and our emotions internalized and masked. My brownish-red eyes had gone hard and blank and I was learning to suppress all individuality, becoming an automaton of the army, the perfect little soldier. The one thing that kept me tied to my sense of 'self' was my rivalry with Jennifer and my loyalty to Mustang. I had also seen a change in them. Jennifer had become icier and more detached, aloof. Her turquoise- blue eyes seemed as empty as the brief insults she occasionally threw at me. I had ceased to care long, long before, but our rivalry kept a shred of self awareness tied to our bodies. Mustang had gotten better at masking his frustration, but in his precious alchemy's equivalent exchange, he'd gained a stony expression and hard eyes that peered out at people, but never let them peer back. Kimbley seemed the same as ever; gleeful, suggestive, maniacal. I had come to the conclusion that he enjoyed performing his deadly alchemy. I had witnessed it once. It was disgusting. I'd had to ask another alchemist (Armstrong in this case) about the details. Apparently, Kimbley used the chemicals already present in a person's body and rearranged them into an explosive. Boom.

In our next execution ground disguised as a city, we were once again divided into units. This time, the snipers were to protect the alchemists from a distance. From what I had seen already, however, I hardly thought that they were the ones who needed protection. Despite my opinions, I followed my orders dutifully, like the good little soldier I was. I was assigned to the unit protecting Armstrong. As we left the camp, Armstrong watched as I shoved a new clip into my rifle.

"Women like you shouldn't be out in a war," he told me. I looked up at him sharply.

"Sir, with all due respect, we're just as capable as you men. Just because we are "the fairer sex" doesn't mean that we can just sit by and wait for our men or that dreadful telegram to come home from some foreign country we've never laid eyes on. I have a job to perform, and I will perform it in the hopes that no more young souls like us will have to see what we've seen. Excuse me, Major," I said as I saluted and climbed into a building I'd be keeping an eye from. He sighed and watched me disappear with a pained expression on his face. I could tell that he was not meant to be in the army; his soul couldn't take the pain.

I set up on the roof of a building, watching Major Armstrong like the bird I was named after. I was in awe when he performed his alchemy. He slammed his fist into the ground and it formed a giant crater below him, knocking all the Ishbalans to the ground before it killed them. 'Damn,' I thought, 'Now I really don't think he's the one who needs protection.' However much his show of alchemy tried to tell me otherwise, I had to keep reminding myself that he was still human and therefore susceptible to physical attack. It wasn't just me watching him, though. There were others on the ground watching him, so I could afford a moment's mental slip, but not for long and not many times. Still, it was enough to keep me from having a mental breakdown.

I shot a few civilians, never looking at their bodies again after I'd shot them (one of the few methods I'd used to deal with it). No blood covered my hands, yet I saw it running down the gutters in the street. I looked on with morbid amusement as the people I shot fell and bled. I shook my head to try to clear it of that amusement. I didn't want to be like Kimbley, I couldn't end up like Kimbley; horrible, horrible man that he was. Then I continued the job at hand.

During my temporary lapse of concentration, several Ishbalans had made it past my line of sight. They made it up to my building and began to stealthily climb the stairs while I remained oblivious to their presence. Then, they burst through the door and shot at me. Lucky for me, they didn't have enough time to aim properly, but the bullet lodged itself in my shoulder. I winced and clumsily rolled to one side as they shot at me again. Adrenalin rushed through my system, aiding my speed and numbing the pain in my shoulder. I dove down a nearby stairwell and ran until I couldn't run anymore, hiding in another building.

I leaned against a wall and placed my palm against my injury, wincing slightly when it stung. When I inspected my hand, it was covered in blood. I was bleeding profusely and the bullet was sending waves of pain up to my head. I wanted to cry out, but I didn't dare. I laughed morbidly within. This must be how Ishbalans felt; being hunted like dogs. By this point, my entire torso was soaked in blood.

I leaned my head against the wall and this time smiled on the outside. 'This is going to really hurt' I thought to myself as I drew a knife out of my back pocket. I hesitated before shoving it into the wound and fishing around for the bullet. The pain was excruciating. I ground my teeth together in pain as the blade scratched against bone. I found the bullet and cried out in pain as I pried it out of my shoulder. The bullet bounced across the floor with several sharp 'ping' noises. I felt hot tears from the pain running down my face and the sweat was dripping from my forehead. I tore some fabric from my pants with my good hand and pressed it against the wound to try to stay the bleeding. I had lost too much blood already, however, and soon faded into blackness.

"…Yo! Grunt! Wake up trooper!..." a familiar voice snarled in my ear. I faded in and out of consciousness, catching glimpses of light in the perpetual darkness, hearing voices speak to me.

"…You had better wake up Hawkeye, that's an order!..."

"…Second Lieutenant…"

When I finally came fully to, the tent ceiling was dark, signalling that it was night out. I blinked to focus my eyes when I realized that –oh, my god- I was staring straight up at the cross sign on the med tent. My eyes widened as I realized 'Oh, GOD! My shoulder!' I tried to lean over, but I found that I didn't have the energy. Frustration built up in my chest and I tried to push myself up, only, this time to be gently pushed back down. I turned my head to see a fairly "high-and-mighty" looking Jennifer. I sighed and spoke in a raspy voice.

"Bitch. I wake up and you're the first thing I get to see?" I laughed weakly. She smiled and patted my hand.

"Glad to see you're still yourself," she laughed. I smirked and shook my head.

"God, I hurt so much," I complained, trying to move my arm which only resulted in waves of pain to swamp my brain. I swore into the air like… a soldier.

Jennifer looked rather pained, "I'll be back shortly." That was all she said before she upped and left. I got a nurse to prop me up as I tried to remember what happened. I remembered running into the building and prying out the bullet, but nothing beyond that. I supposed that I had passed out, but the pain and the blood loss were enough to account for that. Jen later returned with a blond soldier with blue eyes and a cigarette clutched between his teeth.

"Riza, this is Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. He and Major Mustang found you and took you back here," she introduced the man, who nodded his head in greeting. I returned the gesture before asking what had happened to me.

"The Major and I were heading back to camp when an Ishbalan happened to run into the building you had hid in; possibly to try to find you. Once he made it inside and found you, he pointed a gun at you and almost shot. The Major was furious. Luckily, he torched the guy before he could shoot you. You almost bled to death, but fortunately, you won't get lead poisoning. Since you were already unconscious, he cauterized the wounds to stop the bleeding, but, like I said, you almost didn't make it. You are one lucky bitch," he said with a wry smile. I sighed and glared down at my errant arm, wondering when it would heal. I voiced my thanks, then asked to sleep. Havoc and Jennifer left the medical tent with brief 'get well' blessings. I nodded weakly before slowly receding back into darkness.

Later, I slowly woke up again to the sunlight filtering through the tent's canvas ceiling. I turned my head and glanced at the other patients, some of which I knew, some of which I didn't. The doctors seemed to crowd around one bed, the head doctor giving the occupant CPR as the machine connected to the guy continued to flat-line. Eventually, they gave up and disconnected the machine, the doctors patting each other on the back before pulling the sheets over the man's head. I stared back up at the ceiling and drew in a deep breath. I raised an arm to call the nurse and I asked what the date was. I sighed when I found out that it had been a week since I was shot. A familiar voice drew me out of my staring contest with the ceiling.

"Hey, Hawkeye. How are you?" I looked up at the Major, who was standing beside the medical cot. I raised my good hand in a salute and smiled slightly.

"Apologies for saluting with my left hand, sir," I said. He waved it off and restated his question.

"How are you?"

"I'm doing fine, thank you for asking, sir."

"I hope I didn't fry you too badly."

"Don't worry, sir, I like my meat well done." He laughed at my feeble attempt to lighten the oppressive air of the med tent. I sighed and shook my head, "Honestly, sir, I owe you my life. Thank you," I closed my eyes and gingerly touched the linen bandages on my shoulder.

"Get better, alright. That's an order," He told me, teasing me slightly. I nodded without opening my eyes, falling into an uneasy dream. He left the tent, pausing slightly to make way for the dead man being carried out, his dead weight bearing down on the soldiers that carried him. Mustang waited for them to pass and headed off to do whatever it was he did in his spare time.

The wind ripped past me as I stood on the northern beach in my dream, the cold seawater swirling around my feet and the moon gazing at its reflection in the mirror of the ocean. Jutting rocks gave the wind a voice as it made its way through the crevices in between them. I shuddered and hugged my body in an effort to stop the cold wind from biting my flesh. I was clothed in only a thin shirt and a skirt that waved around my knees like the water at my ankles. Slowly, the thunder of the ocean turned into the thunder of distant gunfire echoing across the desert and in this case water. The sound of the wind screaming through the craggy rocks of a northern beach turned into just that... screams.

They tormented my ears with cries of "Murderer!" and "You killed me, you BITCH!" and "My family's dead because of you!" I covered my ears and bent down to the water to find that it was no longer cold seawater that swirled around my ankles, but hot, vermillion blood. The moon was a large and ominous orange, glinting down on the crimson waters below it. A large wave dragged me into the expanse of blood that had once been the sea. I tried to cry out, but bitter blood filled my mouth instead. I was drowning in the blood of the people I had killed. The last thing I saw was the orange moon, glittering up above me in a purple velvet sky, teasing me, making fun of me, before I sank in the thick, vermillion blood.

I awoke again as the sun was setting over the tent. I sighed and wiped the sweat from my face with me good hand. It was going to be a long recovery.