Chapter Title: Adjustment
Pairings: None! I can't write romance for the life of me!
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Cursing
Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but I don't. Darnit.
A/N: I'm really sorry this took so long! First a play I was on props crew for sucked my brain out, and then I had writer's block and schoolwork. Blech. Anyway, on with the chapter, the longest one yet!

The woman, Hawkeye, had definitely been the first to get used to Scar's presence among them; he didn't think she'd ever really been afraid of him like the four men had…she certainly hadn't shown it. After Edward had left the room, there had been an extremely awkward silence for several minutes. Then, the woman very calmly reached around behind her back…and too quickly for Scar to even react, had drawn a pistol and fired three times. The Ishbalan froze; he'd felt the bullets pass less than an inch from his skin on both sides of his face and over the top of his head. The room was utterly silent as a few white hairs drifted slowly down to the floor.

"And now you know not to try anything funny, don't you?" Hawkeye stated calmly, locking her rather intimidating gaze directly onto Scar's. The Ishbalan, eyes still wide with shock, immediately gave several, small, very quick nods; he seemed to have temporarily lost the ability to speak. The terrifying First Lieutenant continued, "And you won't give Edward and Alphonse any trouble, will you?" Scar shook his head in the same manner as he had nodded it before, finding himself unable to break his eyes away from hers. Hawkeye's stare intensified, as though she were looking into the Ishbalan's very soul and picking though it for any signs that he hadn't been sincere, and Scar suddenly found himself wishing that he were back in the meeting room with Mustang. But before long Hawkeye gave a small nod, looking satisfied with whatever it was she'd seen, and shifted her gaze, "Second Lieutenant Havoc."

"Ma'am!" the man straightened quickly, looking nearly as nervous as Scar.

"I have to leave early today. I trust you can keep some semblance of order here until the Colonel is finished talking with Edward?"

"Yes ma'am, Lieutenant!" Havoc saluted. Only once Hawkeye had left and shut the door behind her did he relax, letting out something of a relieved sigh. He then turned to Scar, who was still looking a few shades paler than normal, with a grin, "Hey, you did pretty well for your first time. And you got three, too."

"She…how often does that happen?" Scar wondered just what he had gotten into by being assigned here.

"Oh…at least twice a week. But that's mostly at the Colonel, to get him to do his paperwork," Havoc shrugged, "Don't do or say anything that would annoy her, and you probably won't get shot at again."

Scar gave a kind of half nod, still not feeling very reassured. He glanced back over his shoulder at the white wall, seeing the three brand new holes which he was sure would neatly frame his head if he stood in front of them. He hadn't even had time to react…and he hadn't been that intimidated by a single person in quite some time. Yes, he decided, Hawkeye had certainly earned his respect…and perhaps just a tiny bit of his fear, as well.

"Why do you think she had to leave?" Alphonse's voice broke Scar out of his train of thought.

Breda shrugged, "Not sure. Sick family member, maybe. She had to have gotten the Colonel's permission, so I bet he'd know."

"Oh."

Awkward silence. A polite cough from Falman. More silence. Eventually, Breda spoke up, "So…I heard you sat with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Major Armstrong on the train…" when Scar nodded, he continued with a slight grin, "So, just how much do you know about their families now?"

Scar sighed in remembrance, "More than I ever cared to."

Suddenly the soldiers had something in common with the big, intimidating, Ishbalan serial killer: Hughes and Armstrong had given them all the 'family' treatment, and they were all scared of Hawkeye. And in their minds, if he didn't kill Hughes and Armstrong for being their annoying selves, didn't kill Hawkeye for shooting at him, didn't kill Fury for knocking him over, and just in general hadn't shown any aggression, he must not be going to kill them. And now that they were past that mental obstacle, Scar wasn't nearly so scary as he had been.

"So, what did you talk about in there?" Alphonse asked Scar politely, gesturing at the meeting room, attempting to keep up the conversation.

"Mostly about how I'm not allowed to kill you," Scar gave a small shrug; he wasn't going to mention Mustang's 'warning', or his recitation of what had happened on the train…not in his present company of Alphonse and a group of soldiers whom he didn't quite trust. If the Flame Alchemist wanted to tell Edward about the warning, let him do so. But Scar could only pray that the incident on the train wouldn't reach either of the Elric brothers' ears…not ever.

Scar was broken out of this train of thought when the door grandly burst open and in walked Armstrong, "Greetings all! I had heard that the Elric brothers and…ah, there you are!" the man walked over to Scar and slapped a hand on his shoulder; Scar could have sworn that he sank an inch into the floor from the strength of the contact, "So good to see you recovered!"

Scar glanced around, seeing the others very slowly and carefully inching away from him and Armstrong as though they were afraid of being the next 'victim', "Yes…?" he ventured in response to the Major's statement.

"Excellent!" Armstrong boomed in his usual dramatic way, then noticed Al and turned his attention upon the animated suit of armor, "Alphonse Elric! I trust that you are getting along well with your and Edward's new charge?"

"Er…yes, Major…" Al replied in the tone that was especially reserved for those talking to Armstrong. Scar was fairly sure that, even if he and Alphonse really had only just met earlier that day and weren't 'getting along' at all, the answer would have been the same; Major Armstrong had a way of doing that to people. Fortunately they were all saved from the Major and his sparkles by the entrance of Ed.

"C'mon Al, Scar," Ed was looking rather sulky about something as he headed directly to the room's exit, glaring directly ahead and not really looking at any of the room's occupants, "We can go now."

"Niisan…" Al sighed, but followed his brother out. Scar walked after them silently, glad to leave the room full of soldiers. The lot of them seemed harmless and friendly enough, but the Ishbalan's distrust and anger towards those wearing the Amestris military uniform was too deeply ingrained to be uprooted easily.

Once the trio had left, Fury said thoughtfully, "He's not so bad, I guess."

Armstrong crossed his arms and nodded in a very Armstrong-esque way, "I believe that he will get along well with the Elric brothers," he struck a pose, "This instinct for determining good relationships has been passed down the Armstrong family line for generations! At any rate, I must be off now, so a temporary farewell to you all!" the big man left, a trail of pink sparkles in his wake.

After a group sigh of relief was voiced, Havoc continued the conversation, "He looked a bit nervous, actually. Didn't want to get anywhere near us."

"Well, this must be pretty hard for him to adjust to. Up till today we were enemies," Breda shrugged, "Can't expect him to like us right away."

There were general murmurs of agreement, and after a few seconds Havoc spoke again, "Hey, remember when you were first assigned with us, Fury? You were kinda nervous and jumpy too. And remember how we fixed that?" he grinned.

Breda let out a bark of laughter, "We could!"

"Tomorrow night should be a good time for it," Falman nodded, "We can all go then."

And so these mysterious plans concerning Scar began to be laid out with much laughter, most of it vaguely evil.

Ed was silent until he, Al, and Scar were all inside their own room with the door closed. Once these conditions had been met, he proceeded to fall backwards onto the bed, lying slanted with his the lower half of his legs hanging over the edge, and looked up at the ceiling with an annoyed expression, "That arrogant bastard…" he muttered to himself.

"Niisan, what is it?" Al asked, and Scar heard the unspoken 'this time' at the end of the sentence.

"He's put us on the easy, boring missions again," Ed grumbled, "We're leaving for Central three days from tomorrow to inspect some of the research laboratories there."

Al tilted his head in confusion, "But why can't someone who's already in Central do that?"

"Hell if I know," Ed glared at the ceiling, "I bet he just enjoys making my life miserable."

"What…kind of research laboratories?" Scar questioned, an uneasy frown appearing on his face; he was pretty sure that he already knew the answer, and he didn't like it one bit.

Ed opened his mouth to answer, then his eyes widened in sudden realization, and he groaned, "Damn, I didn't even think about that," he continued with a sigh, "They're alchemic labs."

Scar was silent, turning his head slightly to the side to stare at a suddenly very interesting bit of wall; his brow was furrowed, but other than that his expression was completely unreadable. Nobody spoke for nearly a minute, and the silence was close to deafening. Finally, the Ishbalan spoke, his voice so quiet that it could barely be heard, "I don't want to go into a place like that," he closed his eyes, frown deepening; he didn't have a choice in the matter, and he knew it. This was some kind of test, it had to be; he didn't think that the military would go to the trouble of waiting for himself and the Elrics to get all the way to Central just to inspect some labs, not when it would be far easier and faster to simply get someone who was already there to do it. They were testing him…no. They were testing the Elrics, testing the pair's ability to control him.

"Niisan, maybe you could talk to the Colonel…" Alphonse sounded concerned, "Maybe you wouldn't have to go in with us, Scar-san…"

"No," Scar sighed and opened his eyes, "Even if I had that choice this time, what about the next? And the next? I wouldn't be able to avoid it indefinitely," he paused and swallowed dryly, "I'll have to…" he narrowed his eyes, upper lip curling slightly as though every word disgusted him beyond reason, "…have to get used to it."

"Scar…" Ed trailed off, not quite sure what to say. It was only right then actually hitting home with him just how terrible a punishment this was for the Ishbalan; he'd had something of an idea before, but it had taken the look in Scar's eyes, his expression, his tone in that one moment…

Al spoke up, sensing the tension in the room, "Scar-san, you look tired…would you like to go to sleep?"

Scar gave the boy a grateful look, nodding slowly. Perhaps sleep would relieve him of worry about the upcoming 'mission'…at least for that night. Not to mention he really was tired; two hours of sleep was nowhere near enough to remedy over two weeks of sleep deprivation. But there was one problem, which he voiced as soon as he realized it, "Where?"

"Oh, right…you can take my bed tonight; you need it more than I do," Al said smilingly, gesturing at the bottom bunk of the bed, "And before you ask…yes, I'm sure. Tomorrow we'll probably be able to get you a bed of your own, so it's just for tonight."

Scar opened his mouth to protest, but realized that there would be no arguing Alphonse out of it, and sighed, "What about you?"

"I can just sit and read tonight," Alphonse nudged Scar forwards, "It's okay, really. You need sleep, and I don't. Niisan, that means you too!"

"Hey, don't you order your older brother around!" Ed gave a mock glare, but climbed up onto his bunk anyway.

"I'll order you around all I want!"

Scar nearly smiled, glad of the brothers' presence. No, Colonel Mustang needn't worry about their safety. Not while he was around.

The next day passed without much incident. Scar stayed in the room for the most part, feeling no need to venture outside of it; since he wasn't allowed to be alone, Alphonse and Edward stayed with him. Hughes and Armstrong came in to visit at one point, staying to chat for nearly an hour before they had to leave and catch their train back to Central. About half an hour after the official military 'workday' had ended and most of the soldiers had either gone home or otherwise, there was a knock on the Elrics' door. Ed got a vaguely evil grin on his face, looking very much as though he already knew who was on the other side and what they wanted.

"Hey, Scar, you're closest. Why don't you answer it?"

If Scar had seen Ed's grin, he never would've gotten anywhere near the door. But he didn't see it, and didn't have any suspicions as he walked a short distance to the door and opened it. He was greeted by the sight of Lieutenant Havoc, behind whom stood Breda, Fury, Falman, Mustang, and Hawkeye. All of them were in civilian clothes, and all (with the notable exception of Hawkeye) were grinning like idiots. Before Scar could retreat, Havoc had grabbed his left arm and begun to drag him out of the room.

"Hey, we're stealing your Ishbalan now, okay?" he called into the room.

But instead of protesting and rescuing poor Scar as the now highly confused Ishbalan had hoped he would, Ed just grinned and waved as Scar was dragged completely out into the hallway and Havoc closed the door, "Okay! Have fun, Scar!"

Scar's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Nervous crimson eyes turned to look on the group of soldiers, but as soon as his head turned, a strip of thick white cloth was wrapped around his head to create a very functional blindfold. Now Scar found his voice, "What are you doing?" he nearly shouted, trying to back away.

"Kidnapping you, what does it look like?" Havoc's voice said cheerily as two different peoples' elbows linked tightly with Scar's, preventing him from escaping.

"Calm down, you're fine," Breda's voice joked from somewhere to Scar's left as his captors began to frog-march him down the hallway.

Scar did not want to calm down. In fact, he rather wanted to yell for Edward and Alphonse, but something told him that they not only wouldn't come, but that they'd known about this in advance. Although this in turn meant that the pair was certainly going to have some explaining to do once he got back, it also meant that whatever the soldiers were going to do with him couldn't be that terrible or Alphonse, at least, would have protested. But he still wasn't very happy with the situation, and he decided to make his displeasure known, not by undignified shouting or thrashing, but simply by planting his feet and resisting any kind of forward movement. When his captors only managed to get him a few inches over the course of five minutes, they stopped their futile shoving and he hoped that they'd given up in frustration. But that was not the case, as he soon found out.

"Fury, Falman, get his feet," Mustang's voice stated calmly.

"Yes sir!" the response had a distinct undertone of amusement, and a few seconds later Scar was aware of his feet being lifted off the floor. And so the procession continued on its way.

"Hey, put me down!" Scar protested mightily to this recent development, but his objections fell on deaf ears, "I'll walk, I'll walk!

"Too late," the Colonel's voice came from Scar's right, and the Ishbalan just knew that the man was grinning, "And if you keep yelling like that, we'll be forced to gag you, too."

This threat quieted Scar instantly; he didn't need his dignity being shredded any more than it already was. And so he fumed in silence as he was carried through the halls, outside, and eventually pushed into the middle of the back seat of a car. There was the sound of everyone else climbing in as well, the doors shutting ominously, and the motor being turned on. And then they were on their way to God-knows-where, with the soldiers laughing and joking about people and things that Scar knew absolutely nothing about. They attempted to rope him into their conversations several times, but their efforts were met with stony silence; Scar was far from pleased with the whole business. He'd always had somewhat of a mild phobia of not being able to see, and was steadily getting more and more uncomfortable with the blindfold. But finally, the car stopped and he heard the doors opening.

"Now, are you going to walk this time?" Mustang's voice questioned, and Scar could hear an undertone of both amusement and slight smugness.

Scar nodded silently, and hands guided him out of the car and into the night air. They were on a somewhat crowded street, if the noise was any judge, but he had no idea where. And then his captors turned him around in circles until he could barely tell which way was up anymore, and led him in a zigzag path until they (apparently) reached a door and led him through it.

"Guess where we are!" Havoc said happily.

Scar had known the moment they stepped inside the building. The smell of alchohol was strong and unmistakabe, eliciting a small grimace from the Ishbalan, "A bar."

"Yes!" shouted several voices, and the blindfold was removed. They were in a small but lively bar, with fairly nice interior decoration.

"So…why are we here?" Scar questioned, curious, as the soldiers led him to an empty table and sat him down in a chair.

Breda answered, laughing, "We're going to get to know you better!"

A few minutes later, everyone except Hawkeye had a drink in front of them (she said that she was just there to keep them all somewhat under control). It took a slight bit of coaxing to actually get Scar to drink his, but it wasn't long before the insanity truly began.

"I hope they're getting along okay…" Al worried out loud. It had been several hours since Scar had been dragged off, and Al was practically pacing, "Niisan, did they tell you where they were taking him?"

"Nope, just that they were and that we couldn't come," Ed shrugged, "Oh, and that it was all harmless fun."

"Okay…" Al sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, but springing right back up when someone knocked on the door. Of course, what he saw when he opened the door was not what he expected.

"I believe this is yours," Hawkeye pointed to the opposite wall, against which was slumped Scar. The Ishbalan was deeply asleep, and as Al watched, a quiet snore escaped his partially opened mouth.

"Oh, um…yes, Miss Hawkeye. Thank you for bringing him back," Al gave a grateful nod, then in a slightly worried tone he asked, "He's all right, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's fine," Hawkeye gave a small, amused smile, "I'll have to be going now; there's still some of them that need to be driven home," she turned and walked back down the hallway, barely containing a laugh as she remembered several minutes ago when she'd been prodding a former serial killer who was twice her height down this same stretch of hall. He'd kept trying to just curl up and go to sleep in the middle of the floor, but fortunately she'd managed to keep him moving until they'd reached the Elrics' door. And she still had to get Havoc and Mustang back to their homes…but at least they were awake, so it shouldn't be that difficult. She glanced back one last time, and saw Alphonse gently lifting Scar off the floor and carrying him into the room. She smiled again; perhaps the brothers' kindness would do the man some good. He needed it.

Meanwhile, Al was laying the practically comatose Scar down on his new 'bed'; it was actually just two military cots tied together with a mattress and blankets on top, but it was only temporary after all, and it was the best they could do on short notice and with very limited space.

"Oh, for the love of…they got him drunk!" Ed groaned upon seeing (and smelling) the Ishbalan, "Damn, he's gonna have one hell of a headache tommorrow…"

True to Ed's prediction, Scar awoke with a splitting headache. And for the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon he mostly just lay there in the dark, occasionally making use of the large bucket Ed had 'found' for him (actually, Ed had transmuted the bucket, but had decided that what Scar didn't know couldn't hurt him). But he wasn't only concentrating on the headache, no, he was also thinking about the group of soldiers. Although he knew he still remained aloof from them, and they were a far cry from being considered friends, he was no longer wary or distrustful of them. They were not his enemies. The rest of the military, however, remained the same in his mind as they always had; if they wanted his trust, they were going to have to earn it.

It was the morning of the last day of Scar and the Elrics' stay at Eastern Military HQ. Later that afternoon, they would be on a train headed for Central. Scar wasn't sure whether or not he considered this a good thing or not, knowing what awaited him at the end of the journey, but Ed was ecstatic.

"Finally, we can leave! I'm so sick of this place that it was about to drive me over the edge!" Ed had been in a good mood since the previous night, and was suddenly getting quite a bit of energy, "Hey, Al, wanna spar? I haven't gotten much exercise since we got dragged out here."

"Sure, niisan. Scar-san, do you want to come too?"

Scar nodded, realizing with a slight bit of guilt that he hadn't trained since he was captured, even after he'd arrived in East City. So he followed the pair outside to an empty, flat patch of ground; there wasn't anyone around either, which suited the trio perfectly. The two brothers went first; their fight was almost like a rehearsed dance, what with Ed's acrobatics and Al's weaving and blocking. Eventually, though, Al proved to be the victor.

"Hey, Scar, let's see if I'm any match for you when you're not using that arm of yours," Ed grinned once he'd gotten up.

Scar shrugged, "Very well. If we are to work together for a year, it would be wise to learn each others' fighting styles," he stood, stretched, and walked over to the makeshift practice ring, "Let us see if you've gotten any faster."

Ed smirked and unconsciously fell into a pre-fight pose, while Scar did the same. After a few seconds of opponent evaluation, the two sprang into motion. Ed started half a second slower, and Scar pressed this to his advantage, using this time to cross the distance between them and aim a punch at the boy's side. Ed only just barely ducked out of the way, falling to the ground and swinging his legs around in an attempt to knock Scar's feet out from under him. It was at too close a range for Scar to dodge, so he let it happen, but instead of falling all the way to the ground he landed on his hands and used his arms to propel himself back onto his feet.

"Clever move, but not quite fast enough to catch me off guard," Scar stated calmly as he rushed towards Ed once more. It had been a long time since he'd fought without the intent of harming his opponent; it was more difficult than a real fight. But he also found that he was thoroughly enjoying this exercise; there was no real danger in it, no pressing need to end the match as quickly as possible before he was injured or killed, no threat of unpredictable and deadly alchemy. As the fight progressed, Scar realized that they had somewhat of an audience. Nearly twenty passing soldiers had stopped to watch, and a quick glance at the building revealed quite a few people looking out windows. He could hear whispered bets being placed, some on Ed but mostly on him. But at the moment they were of little consequence to him, and he tuned them out, returning his full attention to the fight. As Ed aimed a jumping kick at his chest, he got an idea; grabbing onto the outstretched leg, he twisted it so that the the surprised boy was facing the ground and then swung around in a complete circle, twisted him rightside up, and let go. As he'd thought, the unexpected twisting and swinging had made the boy too dizzy to catch himself or flip, and Ed flew several feet before hitting the ground.

"Okay, okay, you win," Ed propped himself up on his elbows, "Nice trick, there."

Scar nodded in thanks, then reached down and lifted the boy up by the collar of the red coat he'd refused to shed in 'public', placing him back down on his feet, "You're still slow."

Ed 'hmph'-ed, then looked around; apparently he'd only just noticed that they had quite the audience, "Looks like we're not getting any PRIVACY," he shouted the last word over his shoulder, "around here. C'mon, let's go get our stuff together so we can get to the train station on time."

Al sighed, Scar shrugged, and the trio began the walk back to their room. They were almost there when they were stopped by Mustang, "I would like to have a quick word with you, Scar, if you don't mind," the Colonel stated calmly, looking directly into the Ishbalan's eyes.

Ed opened his mouth to speak, but Scar waved him off, "Go on ahead, it's fine," he waited until they'd gotten out of hearing range before speaking again, "What is it?"

The Colonel gave an amused smirk, "I watched your little match with Edward just now; it was quite good. But that's not why I'm here," he lowered his voice, "Those men from the train were put on trial the day after you met with me. They were accused of deliberate, independent, and unprovoked cruelty and torture of their charge…and found very guilty indeed. Add all the other factors, and they wound up with quite the sentence. Five months probation and a demotion of two ranks, and I highly doubt they'll get any kind of important or interesting job for a while."

Scar was so overwhelmed that he couldn't think of anything to say for several seconds; when he did find his voice again, he was almost too quiet to be heard, "You have my thanks, Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang."

He gave a short laugh, "You don't need to call me by my full name and title, you know. At any rate, how have you been doing?"

Scar thought on this for a few seconds, "Adjusting."

A/N: Ack, this was horrendously late. My apologies. I hope the next one doesn't take so long. But anyway, this chapter turned out to be almost a full eight pages long, which I'm slightly amazed about. In other news, I've found something of a theme song for this story: 'So Far Away' by Staind. The lyrics match the story pretty well, and it's a good song, too. Oh, and also, starting with this chapter I can start replying to reviews again with that new reply thing.