Between Friends and Lovers
By Kurama-sweethart (Moe Shmoe)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Mystery, Romance
Warnings: Alternate Mangaverse, spoilers for the manga and anime, language and yuri.
Words: 957

The history books that littered classrooms in Amestris told, in grand detail, the tale of the Ishval Massacre from beginning to end, leaving not a name or date misplaced. Schoolchildren grew up knowing more about the war than they did any other historical accomplishment to date.

Even some adults were ignorant to what went on in West City nearly a decade before anyone even thought about the possibility of an eastern rebellion.

It had started innocently, as most violence does, with a middle class businessman building a warehouse in uninhabited savannah grassland very close to the border between Drachma, Creata and Amestris. West City, then, had very little industry; relying mostly on it's agricultural market to hold it together. The townspeople and officials were very pleased with the decision; hoping it to be a step forward to building a larger economy based on the manufacturing of metals and fuel, and thus had no qualms about expanding their small, rural city as far as country lines allowed.

However, it was just about that time that the Prime Minister of Drachma had been planning on building a rather large trade route from Drachma to Creata through that very area. Quickly, border disputes arose between West City's government and the Drachmian monarchy, which caused several Amestrian military officers to be killed as a result.

Almost a week later, a rally of West City locals brought out their rifles and pitchforks, invading the camp in which the Prime Minister was staying, just over a pass through the foothills of the Briggs Mountain Range. Almost five hundred Drachmian natives were killed in their sleep that night, and almost five hundred more were injured and left to die.

Furious, Drachma declared war immediately, a dispute that would last until well after the Ishval Massacre had seen it's final battle, finally ending when a treaty was signed. The treaty officially declared the location of each nation's borders with explicit attention to latitude coordinates, to prevent dispute in the future. Amestrian Government heard nothing from their northern-border country since, save the occasional caravan crossing the border for exports.

As a result, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Stevenson had been declared military hero during the Western Border Disputes (or as it was officially documented, the Northern War) and promoted to the rank of General for overseeing hundreds of soldiers during more than three-dozen battles.

Now, their only problem was that Creata had decided to follow in the footsteps of Drachma; rebelling against Amestrian officials that were stationed along the far western border and demanding freedom and dignity from the confines of their overbearing ally.

General Stevenson assumed that their new skirmishes were about borderline locations, and in an almost instantaneous decision, sent an urgent SOS to Central. He requested knowledgeable and experienced snipers to assist in keeping the Northern War from repeating itself.

He requested, conveniently, that the officers sent to be hand-chosen by the Fuhrer himself.

Only a half hour after the departure of Lieutenant Hawkeye and Ross' train, a confidential meeting was held within the Western Headquarters Ballroom. Thirteen of the Western Military's most respected, high-ranking officers sat amongst each other, sipping coffee and mulling over important topics of interest for the month.

"In two days, two soldiers straight from Central's Border-Defense Bureau will come to join the ranks of Western HQ, taken from under the command of the now deceased Brigadier General Hughes and, as I'm sure most of you remember, war-hero Colonel Roy Mustang." Reported a crisp, pressed General at the head of the table, wiry eyeglasses perched at the tip of his nose.

At the mention of the Brigadier General, a hushed murmur befell them, each having their own story or rumor of his death to relay. Tales of murder, conspiracy and torture danced across the table.

Clearing his throat, the General continued. "And although the eastern cities have been blessed with female officers for almost half a century, these two will be the first women to join the ranks of West City. I expect all of you to treat their presence with respect and dignity, as with any other soldier."

Once again, the other twelve whispered amongst themselves, keeping more vulgar words to nothing but a wordless look of disgust. West City was, and always had been, a infamously conservative area, believing women had no more right to serve than men had to nurse infants.

"I am going to assume," General Robert Stevenson went on, quieting all talk within the ballroom. "That all of you know and understand the situation that required these two to be sent as reinforcements from Central, as well."

Nods of approval swelled throughout, each affirmative accompanied by raised eyebrows and curling lips. "Yes, yes."

"If there isn't anything else," He snapped, directing his eyes to pierce each member of his sect. "You are dismissed."

At the end of the table, one younger officer who had an excuse in his pocket and a salute on his sleeve, stood. "If you don't mind my asking, sir," He began coolly, "I'd like to know the current state of our Jackrabbit Operation."

"The Jackrabbit Operation," The General said haughtily, "Is in full motion and, to date, has been run smoothly by our Defense Bureau."

The colonel smugly sat back down. "Perfect."

TBC.

Sorry for the length (or lack thereof) in this chapter, but I despise long chapters with a passion, so I broke this part up into Chapters 2 and 3. The next installment should be posted within this week.