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Fire destroys. All flames leave behind are devastation and grief. They leave behind the lonely relatives of the victims they ate up. The flash of red and orange hues is quick but painful. The extent of its damage is vague, uncontrollable…except for him.

Many think his flames also compare to the aspects of his life but none think the same way he thought of them.

Some said they were the women that fell at his feet, women he messed around with. Rather degradingly, people called these women his toys, things he did not take seriously, like the way he always played with fire.

Other's say it was his job. Such a high, influencing position that could bring peace or war to anything he wishes. A great gift and also a great danger was fire to the world. That's how they thought of having Roy Mustang in that kind of position to rule.

In his mind, the only opinion that he really thought mattered, he thought differently. He, himself was the flame. Swift, impulsive, quick to come and even faster to leave, that's how he found himself. Like the fire he created, he would tale no notice of the pain he caused while he caused it and only realized all the grief after everything was done, when everything was too late.

That's exactly how he felt…like everything was too late.

Of course, this was a state his ego could not permit him to admit. Still he fought, like a true soldier, to fix what he had so finely broken. He would continue until his conscience gave him peace.

The thing was, he usually had an embodiment of his conscience, in the form of his good friend Riza Hawkeye nagging him about the things he was doing wrong. Now that she had relieved herself of that duty, how would he know what he was supposed to do?

Sometimes fire finds itself out of oxygen or out of precious fuel. At this point the flame has nothing else to do but disappear. Though in its will to live, it will look for a way but mostly it just feels like a lost young child with nowhere to go and no idea of what he should be doing.

Roy Mustang is like the flame he holds.

He was bored. The trip across the dessert was a long, uneventful one. There was nothing to do and no one worth speaking to. Well there was someone, but she didn't seem like she even wished to look at him, hence, he was bored.

The morning dragged on into noon and it went on until the sun was a romantic shade of pink.

He looked out the window into the golden abyss.

'How could someone survive in a place so dead? More so, how could anyone even bare hiding out here to have a war?' There were just some principles not even his twisted mind could comprehend.

Whatever their reasons were, they were snatching him away from precious lazy time he could be having behind his desk right now. After all, there was no one to reprimand him anymore.

'Bah!' As much as he tried to veer his thoughts away from his current social problems, his mind kept returning to that same time, that same person. When he tried to make light of the situation, he doesn't fool himself for even a moment.

He doubted a sandstorm, an earthquake, a bloody transmutation circle or even a miniskirt would catch his attention for very long.

Soon enough, his eyelids grew heavy and the gentle winds outside lulled him off to sleep.

Later…

The dusty desert breeze was the first to greet her when she got down from the train. Aside from the station, which miraculously still stood, the rest of the town was in ruins. Half the buildings were already reduced to rubble and those left in a substantial state had their roofs blown off or their window smashed in.

Amongst this depressing scene, she spotted a couple of children playing with some stones by a small trickle that she guessed used to be a fountain. She let their innocent laughter distract her from her grim duties for a moment.

She had been enjoying watching the children's game when she felt a firm hold rest on her shoulder. She jumped at who she feared it was only to realize it was only the Strong Arm Alchemist looking down on her with clear, blue caring eyes amidst all that muscle.

"I heard of your little welcome speech to the general." He said kindly, minding his tone.

"hmm… Perhaps I overreacted a bit." She softly admitted.

"Nonsense. He needed a slap in the face and I doubt he would have listened if it had come from anyone else. You gave him quite a little shock." He teased.

"I just thought a reality check after that runaway stunt he pulled would do him good." She said guiltily.

"I was good for him. And maybe a bit of field work will be good for all of us."

"How could war be good for anyone?"

"We're not here to fight a war. We're only here to suppress a rebellion."

"That's what they said about Ishbal…and about Lior." She whispered bitterly.

"There are no more Humuculi to trick people into war. We have learned." The large man pointed out, keeping an optimistic air to his words.

"People never needed them or any monster to be selfish. We can do that just fine all on our own."

And they were silent.

Armstrong followed her gave to the children and cracked a smile.

"Our scouts should be back soon. Maybe we came here for nothing after all." He finally said.

"mmm hmmm…."

Suddenly the whole troop heard loud, frantic yells coming their way. Indeed their scouts had return but not with the new Armstrong predicted.

"It's empty! The town's got no people in it!" One yelled hysterically.

"None alive! Bodies! Only bodies! Everyone's either gone or dead!" The other screamed with his partner.

Their words struck horror down their fellow soldiers spines. One idea seemed to echo through all their minds: We're too late.

Riza snatched her gaze back to the two kids. She planned to run to them and ask them if they knew what had gone on, and to take them into her care. They were probably the last people around.

But when she turned to look at them again, they were no longer alone. An adult, or maybe an adolescent, she wasn't entirely sure, had crawled towards them. From what she could make out, the soldier guessed it was a woman. She was in horrible shape, blood oozing down her robes from her stomach.

She could only stand and watch as the lady reached out to the two children, muttering something she couldn't understand, until the soldier recovered from her shock and yelled.

"Survivors!"

Even in the desert, her words rang through the camp like an echo. In less than a minute their were a dozen other soldiers and doctors who had come to assist the woman and children.

The young soldier, her long blonde hair kept neatly in a bun and her uniform well kept, sat at the bedside of an older woman who had garments less proper. Beside her, two boys kneeled by the foldable bed wearing warm towels over their shoulders and worried expressions on their faces.

They watched her every move as she fed sips of water and spoonfuls of soup to the woman who did not say a word of thanks nor complaint.

Soon two more people joined them in the small tent; Major Armstrong, her earlier companion and Brigadier General Mustang, her superior.

"How is she?" The latter asked sincerely.

"Her health has gotten better but she refuses to talk to me." She explained patiently.

"Maybe she is a mute?" Armstong suggested.

"Certainly not. I saw her talking to these children before I came in. She just…doesn't feel up to speaking to us. Are you?" Lieutenant Hawkeye looked at the woman with genuinely kind eyes. She smiled but the woman only looked away.

"Maybe the kids know something."

"I doubt it." Riza said flatly.

The two only gave her baffled looks but they quickly erased them when they saw her flash an annoyed face and motion them not to bother the children. The truth was that she truly doubted they'd be aware of such a tragedy the befell their town. Not after how happy they were when she first saw them. How could anyone seem so naïve after seeing something so horrible, even if they were children?

She was decided on their innocence so she brushed the issue away.

"What are our orders?"

"We wait." Said the general. "They're sending a squad to survey the outskirts of this city within a 10 mile radius. Until we hear from them, we wait here."

There was an awkward silence after the lack of a new topic.

"What I don't understand is…" the larger man tried to break the hush. "Is why the townspeople ended up in such a state. If this were a rebellion, then why does it look more like a mass man slaughter?"

"A division among the people maybe?"

"Maybe…"

The woman on the bed suddenly started to shake her head violently as if to disagree.

"No!" She finally spoke. "There was never a rebellion here."

Later, when it was just after sunset and the blazing desert heat became freezing cold, Riza Hawkeye found herself taking a stroll around the camp fro no apparent reason.

There were so many stars out here in the open. All the flashiness and shimmer of Central City blocked out the more beautiful glitter.

She spent about an hour just looking at them until the sky had turned almost pitch black if not for them. Stared in awe at the number of them but did not make a single wish. Apart from being a very practical person not to believe in superstition, she also knew that no matter how many stars there were, no matter how many times she wished it, her one true plea would never be granted.

"Lieutenant."

Riza made an automatic salute at the sound of her name. It came from a young, short, messy haired soldier with glasses whom she didn't really know well.

"The Brigadier General called for you in his tent." He conveyed.

"Oh? Uh…ah… yes… alright I'm going."

In the silence of the night she towards a tent near the center of camp, larger than the one she shared with a fellow female soldier. She hesitated a little before pulling aside the curtain and entering.

"Sir?"