AbhorsenSabriel87: Well, despite the reviews, or lack thereof, here is the second chapter of this story.
Ser: Don't you think you're being a little hasty?
Sabriel: Not really. People want me to update fast, I'll update fast.
Ser: --sighs-- AbhorsenSabriel87 does not own anything in relation to FullMetal Alchemist.
Sabriel: Exactly. Okay, this chapter is going to be about two years before Mäes' death. There will be plenty of flashbacks, so don't worry about it too much if you get a little confused.

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---A young blonde man stared blankly out one of the many windows of the library, nestled comfortably in the window seat. His eyes were hidden behind old sunglasses, his light and short hair brushing his tan cheekbones gently. He seemed lost or distant, though a book on medicine lay over one propped up leg and his back was straight as always. The silver pocket watch of a State Alchemist gleamed brightly against the sapphire tones of the army uniform in the left breast pocket, the chain latched onto the same flap. Hands adorned in fingerless gloves with white alchemic seals sewn into them rested lightly on the pages of the book in his lap, almost as if he was merely thinking about an equation in the book and did not want to lose his place.

---Turning his stony expression from the window, he returned it to the book in his lap. No one could tell if he were actually reading it or not, as his eyes were hidden, but in truth he wasn't. Too many memories floating up to concentrate on what the best treatment for a gunshot wound was.

---He looked up from the book, sighing to himself. That was so long ago now... what, two years? In that time, he'd risen to the rank of a State Alchemist, even a Second-Lieutenant, though he still had yet to reveal his secret to anyone. He wished to desperately, especially to Colonel Mustang, considering all the commanding officer had done for him over the years. Standing from his position to his modest height of five foot five and glancing about the library, he decided it would be best to perhaps study in his quarters, so that he would have less chance of disturbing anyone.

---Unfortunately, he never got that far.

---"Second-Lieutenant Maverick!" The young man started as his name was called out by a woman's voice, firm and demanding. He knew that voice well, and knew also that if he tried to hide from it, things would only get worse. So, despite the chance of getting half a dozen holes blown in him, he stood from his table, picked up his book, and walked out of the corner of the library he'd shoved himself in. As he entered the main area, he was able to confirm his previous assumption on the voice.

---It was Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, and she was looking more angry than normal today.

---At a height of five foot six, Riza was a pretty intimidating figure for most men with her piercing amber eyes and strict attitude towards the rules. Among these men, Second-Lieutenant Maverick was definitely one of the top three who feared her.

---The other two happened to be Lieutenant Colonel Mäes Hughes and Second-Lieutenant Jean Havoc, with Colonel Roy Mustang and Major Alex Louis Armstrong as a close fifth and fourth respectively.

---"Yes, First-Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir?" Maverick replied, keeping his youthful voice calm as he stood at rapt attention in front of his superior officer. Though his accent was less profound than when he first arrived, he now knew enough of their language to keep it from slurring his words.

---"Colonel Mustang wants to see you," she quipped, making it seem as if she had been sent to run this pointless errand on an order. "I suggest you hurry it up. He's been trying to find you for an hour."

---"Yes, First-Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir!" the boy exclaimed, saluting to the higher ranking officer before darting out of the library, book still clutched tightly in his hand. As he rounded the corners of the base and darted down the halls, he cursed himself for having forgotten about his meeting with the Colonel. Too busy reminiscing, he supposed dryly. That was actually the last thing he needed right now; more time in the past.

---Right now, he had to get to the Colonel's office before Hawkeye shot him!

---Noticing the familiar back door to the office, the young man slowed down in time for the door to bang open and two people two walk out, one fuming and the other seeming almost defeated. Maverick smiled; it was the Elric brothers. He'd always been too awed by them to talk to them directly, but he knew about them from what anyone could tell him… or how much Colonel Mustang complained about Edward "FullMetal" Elric.

---As soon as they had left down the hall, Maverick slipped into the room and saluted the figure at the desk. "Second-Lieutenant Sal Maverick reporting for duty, sir," he declared, standing perfectly still.

---"At ease, Elemental," the calm voice replied. "Have a seat." The alchemist did as he was told, choosing to sit in a chair directly in front of the desk, apparently used to being called by his alchemic title. Patiently, he waited for his commanding officer to speak again. As he waited, he used the opportunity to study the man across from him like he always did, determined to predict what he was going to say before the Colonel could even think it.

---The man had a timeless look to him, eternally young but shaped slightly by age and the wisdom of his years. Short black hair fell lightly on his forehead, and equally fathomless eyes were closed in concentration. Wearing the standard officer's uniform as well as a silver pocket watch (which you could only obtain by being a State Alchemist), he seemed relaxed but forever intimidating.

---"Do know what today is, Second-Lieutenant?" The question was asked calmly, almost lazily, and Maverick knew he had to be cautious when answering.

---"Friday, September 21st," the younger answered. "The autumn equinox, a ¾ waning moon, and the starting date for all alchemic and military applicant training." Seeing that the man across from him was not quite satisfied, he added one more thing.

---"It's the second anniversary of the day you found me, sir." The dark haired man smiled at him, a ghost of a grin that held something mischievous in its depths. "That it is, Sal," he answered briskly. "Tell me, did you forget that we scheduled this meeting today?"

---Sal Maverick shook his head, adding to make it clearer, "No, sir, I did not. I will not make excuses for my behavior. I lost track of time, sir."

---"You do that often, don't you?" The lesser officer stiffened, the movement of his body distracting anyone watching from the fact that his tan cheeks has just turned a rather rosy bronze. "Yes, sir," he muttered, relaxing a bit as his cheeks turned back to their normal hue.

---And speaking of hues…

---The door once more burst open, though this time someone came in, looking rather cheery. Sal jumped at the noise, but was quickly pulled into a very tight hug by someone who also had short dark hair. "Kid!" the intruder said happily, "It's great seein' you! Wow, you've grown quite a bit since I last saw you! C'mere, lemme take a look at you!" The man pulled away, holding Maverick at arm's length away to get a good look at the boy. In this time, Sal also managed to get a proper look at him.

---He looked older than the Colonel with a fatherly face that seemed more square than the Colonel's more delicate features and was in definite need of a shave. He was bright and cheerful and full of energy, and the only thing that really showed his age were the gold-rimmed rectangular glasses perched on his nose, framing his dark but mischievous eyes. A big grin showed his excitement about seeing the recently promoted second-lieutenant, and as he looked over the boy he exclaimed, "Wow! You really have grown! I guess I'm going to have to tell Elysia that you're too old for her now."

---Sal once more blushed lightly, a bit amused and embarrassed by this declaration. It had been a long standing joke that Elysia would marry Sal, considering the boy was one of the youngest military officers and therefore one of the closest to her age. But then, no one thought to even mention the Elric brothers in that matter…

---"Mäes, let go of my alchemist," the Colonel said lazily, his amusement showing through easily. "You're taking all the seriousness out of my inquisition." The other man looked up and released the lad, pouting a bit as he did so. "All right, Colonel," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders melodramatically. "You win this time. So, how about we get on to what this is really about, then?"

---Riza walked in, shortly followed by a blonde man with a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip and a tall, tank-like man who was mostly bald except for a large tuft on his forehead and a gigantic blonde moustache. Both were dressed like the Colonel and Mäes, though the taller one was the only one to have a pocket watch chain. Each held a brightly wrapped gift and pronounced in each of their distinctive voices, "Happy birthday, Sal!"

---The second-lieutenant gaped in shock. He didn't expect them to do something like this at all. Last year, he was taking care of something in Leore and hadn't come back until well after All Hallow's Eve. He'd thought they wouldn't even think to celebrate it, as it wasn't even his birthday either.

---Then again, Mäes could be rather pushy when it came to parties…

---The heavily muscled man came forward first, tears streaming down his face in what Sal could only assume to be joy and little pink sparklings floating around by his head in the same manner (no one ever knew where they came from or why they were there, but then again, who really wanted to ask?!). "Major Armstrong, sir?" Sal asked, wondering why the big man was looking as such when suddenly a small box was placed in his lap by the rather large man. "Happy 15th birthday, boy," the major answered, his voice filled with the emotion that caused the tears to run rampant down his manly face.

---Sal's smile was one of uncertainty and embarrassment, but he accepted the box anyway and opened it. Within lay a small and very worn book, bound in old, soft leather. Surprise and humility filled the boy as he thanked the older man profusely for the thoughtful item. Before he was halfway finished, the Major waived him off and another box was suddenly balanced on the Second-Lieutenant's head. Maverick looked to his left a bit to see the other blonde man grinning at him and demanding he open the gift. Once more, Sal's cheeks turned a rosy bronze as he lifted the box from his head. Upon further inspection, it was revealed to be a new set of rather good boots straight from the military storeroom. Once more, thanks were given (as Sal needed a new pair of boots after his last mission tore his old ones to shreds), and Riza approached.

---"Here," she stated, her voice still as stiff as always as she handed the small box to him. "Take it already." Though as distant as always, Riza seemed more embarrassed now, rather than her usual uptight self.

---"Gracias, señorita," he replied humbly, taking the item with both hands in respect. Picking apart the paper as carefully as always, Sal's breath caught in his throat as he stared in wonder at the item before him; a perfectly carved bokken the size of a wakuzashii blade, engraved with alchemic seals to bind carbon to it and make it stronger.

---"It is a gift that Mäes, the Colonel and I created," she stated, glancing away in embarrassment. "Don't break it like your last one."

---Sal couldn't speak. All he could do was smile and be grateful that his sunglasses hid the sorrowful gaze in his eyes from the rest of them. While Mäes began his usual rant on how beautiful Elysia was, Sal watched with a distant fondness his new family, the one that had taken him in after everyone and everything else had thrown him aside.

---((The man turned about sharply as he realized Sal was somewhere behind him, his fingers poised to snap.

---"Por favor," Sal muttered, staggering forth. The man seemed stunned to see him, his nearly black eyes wide with shock. "Liberate me..." Sal fell forward, having lost all of his strength.))

---He blinked once, the flash of the memory gone as quickly as it came. Why had he seen it again? How could he still remember it with such clarity?

---"You all right there, kid?" Sal glanced up at Mäes, tilting his head upwards so his eyes would not be seen. The elder man looked down at him, worry present on his features. "This is a party," he stated, giving a lopsided grin. "Your party, actually. You should be enjoying it." Sal nodded, agreeing that he should while admitting that he was at the same time. As the grin grew broader, the father grabbed the boy and pulled him to his feet, instantly inserting himself into the center of attention once more.

((Later that night))

---Sal returned to his room later than usual. Much of that was due to the party throwing off his timing schedule, but other than that it was all his own loss of time. Though he wasn't upset over the whole affair, he couldn't help but feel guilty about everything he'd kept from them. Only a handful had figured out even fewer of his secrets, and he intended to keep it that way… at least until he finished his study of this country's laws. Sitting on the bed heavily, Sal stared at the book in his hands for a moment, the same one the Major had given him only a few hours ago. The thought of having a family again intrigued and frightened him. Even though it made him feel wanted, the sense of dread never left his heart, nor the constant worry for their lives.

---Shaking his head, the alchemist placed the book gently on the bedside table, removed his boots and jacket, and fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Something nagged at his mind, something he seemed to have forgotten, but he couldn't place it. Seeing no sense in worrying over it, he pulled the sunglasses off his face, flicked them shut, and placed them on top of the book. Heaving a great sigh, he turned off the light and fell asleep.

((2 years ago))

---Trudging through the desert, Sal distantly wondered if the howling winds would kill him where he stood. He didn't doubt it; two bullet wounds, one to the chest and one to his leg, and numerous gashes from the sand and before alike had grown infected and painfully tender. He could feel the fever rushing from the injuries to his head, but he had to keep moving. Once he was lost in the desert, there was no way anyone would ever find him again. And if he died now...

---He shook his head, forcing himself to keep on, squinting behind the dark sunglasses that hid his eyes from both the sun and any who could possibly come across him. The wind was dying; a relief, considering that desert winds carried sharp and fine particles of sand that could not only infect his wounds but create new ones as well. He had been heading west, to the land his mother had come from. She talked about it all the time, especially to Sal. Somewhere where he wouldn't be hated for his abilities... If only he could reach such a place...

---He looked up again from the ground and noticed that the hallucination he thought he'd had was no longer a hallucination. A grove of trees, directly in front of him! Trees meant fresh water, shade, and food! Stumbling through the sand at a slightly quicker pace, his spirits lifted through the burning pain everywhere in his body. He was going to make it there! He may just live yet!

---Just a bit further, he'd be in the shelter of the trees soon... Ah! He made it! But he could not collapse yet, no; he had to find water and food, someplace where he couldn't be seen from the desert. Struggling along, his wounds aching even more ferociously and the shade making him realize that he was badly sunburned. This made him smile, though his lips were dry, cracked, and bleeding. She said he would never get sunburned, like her, because the desert was kind to those who asked for its protection. For the first week, that had been true. Apparently, it now thought he was a rather unwelcome visitor who had outstayed any welcome at all.

---Stumbling through the trees, he heard distant sounds of gunfire. He panicked; guns!? Guns meant metal, and metal...

---Shaking his head, he stumbled further, now aiming for the source of the noise. If it was a skirmish, he may well side with the victor, but if it was a massacre he would die. Heh, he was already going to die anyway; may as well have someone put a bullet through his head so it would end quickly.

---Staggering, he neared the edge of the forest, now dark with the impending dusk. On the edge, he realized he was in a rifle target range. Fortunately, the sounds of gunfire had stopped, and the grounds were deserted... save one man starting to walk back towards the camp. Relieved, Sal urged himself forward, no longer bothering to keep quiet. The man turned about sharply as he realized Sal was somewhere behind him, his fingers poised to snap.

---"Por favor," Sal muttered, staggering forth. The man seemed stunned to see him, his nearly black eyes wide with shock. "Liberate me..." Sal fell forward, having lost all of his strength.

---As Sal collapsed, he heard the man rushing towards him, his boots pounding on the grass as he ran. He spoke in words Sal could not understand, but recognized as a tongue his mother spoke sometimes. Even in knowing this, Sal could not move or speak; he was in too much pain, his injuries too great and his exhaustion too high. Two gloved fingers touched his neck, feeling the pulse that beat faintly there. The hand disengaged, closely followed by the man turning him over into his arms and picking him up. Sal cried out quietly in pain (the man had placed pressure on one of his wounds), and the man ran towards the buildings he was nearby. He shouted in the language again, bringing a young, pale, blonde woman running to his side. He said something to her, his voice earnest and worried, and she nodded, running off elsewhere as he brought Sal down to a white room.

---Inside the room was a young woman dressed in white, a red cross stitched into the arm of her short dress. The man holding him put Sal down carefully on one of the many beds in the room, telling the woman something as she pulled a small rod out of her pocket and bent over Sal. She smelled of chemicals, and her hands were gentle and cold as she checked his pulse and tapped the rod. A beam of light shone from it, and she reached for Sal's sunglasses.

---Fearfully, he grabbed her hand, shaking his head. "No, por favor," he breathed, frightened that she would not treat him once she saw his eyes. The woman said something to him, but when he refused to release her hand, she looked to the man with the white gloves. He shook his head, and she pulled her hand carefully from Sal's grip, instead sticking it into another pocket and pulling out a small pair of scissors.

---At that moment, another woman and man entered the room, the woman also dressed in white and the man dressed as the first was, though he was without gloves and wore gold-rimmed glasses on his face. He took one look at Sal, gaped, the spoke to the other man as the first woman cut away the remains of Sal's shirt and handed it over to the second woman. The gloved man shook his head, choosing only to glance down at the boy before him. The doctor took one look at the boy's injuries and shook his head. Though he could not understand most of the words the doctor spoke to the dark-haired men, there was one word that was the same in every language; automail.

---Instantly, Sal jerked upright, latching onto the gloved man's arms in panic. "No!" he pleaded. "No automail, por favor!" The doctor and nurses shouted, prying the panicking child from the man and forcing him onto the bed. Looking around wildly, Sal realized he was bleeding badly. In a rush of inspiration, he touched his fingers to his leg wound and, while the doctors were not looking, drew a seal on the white sheet. Once finished, he tugged gently on the man's sleeve to catch his attention.

---"Usar éste," he urged, pointing at the seal. "Usar éste." The man looked at the seal, his eyes widening for a moment before he looked back to the boy and nodded once, curtly.

---Sal smiled slightly, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Gracias, amigo," he whispered, his vision growing dark as sleep descended on him. "Me llamo... Sal Maverick..." Then, all was dark.

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Sabriel: Wow, that was long and drawn out…
Ser: And it took you longer than you thought it would.
Sabriel: Well…. That's because I started the chapter, then actually had to use my free time sleeping to catch up on lack thereof during the weekends.
Ser: --looks to audience-- She had Color Guard keeping her awake during the weekends for her shows.
Sabriel: Yeah. Though it's over now… unless I decided to do Winter Guard…
Ser: --sighs-- Review please.
Sabriel: Oh, wait, I had 1 reviewer...
Ser: She was adding something that she forgot in a review of another of your fics.
Sabriel: --curses darkly-- Well, whatever. If anyone catches a Spanish grammatical error, tell me, okay?