Nothing Left to Give

Author's Note: Okay, so I finally set myself down and forced myself to start writing again. It seems I've been suffering from Procrastinator's Disease or something, but luckily it seems to have (for the moment) passed. We'll see how long it lasts this time, ne?

Hope is both the easiest and most indispensable

Virtue inherent in the state of being alive.

If life is to be sustained hope must remain,

Even where confidence is wounded,

Trust impaired.

-Erik H. Erikson

Chapter 5: All That I'm Living For

"At ease, soldiers."

The forty men regiment all fell to said position, their chests puffed out and their arms folded behind their rigid backs. All eyes stared straight ahead in the presence of their new Commanding officer as the new recruits sought to impress the acclaimed militiaman with their newly learned skills. To the regiment's right stood their Training officer, the man who was singlehandedly responsible for overseeing every aspect of their conditioning. The Trainer's heavy gaze could be felt by every man that stood stiffly in line, each recruit knowing that any error on their behalf would reflect badly upon their training officer. It was for this reason that every man was on their best behavior.

Or at least, that was the reason.

Upon setting sights on the man that would now be their commander the recruits had felt a knew kind of fear, one that even their Training Commander had not been able to instill upon them. Just one look at the newcomer could tell a man that the Commander was nothing like any other man that the recruits had met. He had an air of danger around him and his stance was that of a man who was very confident in both himself and his abilities. The eye patch that covered the Commander's left eye gave him a dangerous edge that intrigued many of the younger men, but it was the look in the man's eye that shook the recruits to their very core.

It was the look of a man who had looked death in the eye countless times-- a man who had witnessed firsthand the gruesome atrocities of war. The emotionless, detached gaze that the Commander held forced the younger men to fight the urge to squirm when directed under it's intensity. The very presence of the older officer caused an air of foreboding to fall across the recruits.

And all of that was before he began to speak.

"I guess that introductions are in order." The newcomer spoke at length as he began to slowly walk down the line of assembled soldiers, his gaze not so much as straying to the men as he passed them. "For those of you who don't know, my name is Roy Mustang-- You may call me General. Nothing else." He paused as he reached the end of the line, turning on his heel and actually allowing his one-eyed gaze to shift to the soldier nearest him. "I'm not your savior, nor am I your friend. I am your Commanding Officer and soon to be your one way ticked to hell. As you well know your training has come to an end and to the State that means that you're ready to be sent to battle."

Not a soul missed the derisive tone in the General's words, though none dared to comment on it.

"Thus far I've found that the State has their heads too far up their asses to think straight, but I hope you men prove to be the exception to this pattern." His eye lingered on a particularly small teen that was visibly trembling under the older man's gaze. Mustang shook his head before moving on, his signature smirk firmly in place though the expression had become much darker over past years, having morphed into something that closely resembled a sneer. "I doubt you will."

"Our orders are to make way to Drachma immediately to join our comrades on the front line. As you well know, Drachma is the heart of the enemy territory and the Naturalists' current base of operations. In all reality the chance of our survival is slim." The wide eyes of the new recruits finally drew the General's attention and he allowed a grim smile.

"Over the years I've found that it's best to get straight to the point with new recruits. I won't fill your heads with false ideas or hopes, but I will tell you this; Know that I will do all within my power to make sure that you survive the oncoming battles. Causalities are an inevitable side effect of war, but they are a side effect that I will do all I can to prevent. I won't hesitate to sacrifice my life to save any one of yours. I hope you will do the same for your comrades. Prepare to move out, we leave within the hour."

Mustang nodded dismissively and then turned to rejoin the small group of officers that had accompanied him. He heard the Training Commander begin to issue his final orders and farewells to the young soldiers but did not register a word that the man was saying. Instead he turned his attention to the Lieutenant closest to him, meeting Jean's gaze with his own. The General felt a small tug of satisfaction at seeing the approving look he received from his friend. Though it was painstakingly clear to all who knew Mustang that the alchemist was firmly building a wall between himself and the new recruits to avoid attachment, it was also obvious that he was making a genuine effort to keep the troops down to earth and well informed.

In current times, those two simple things could be enough to save a man's life.

"Nicely said, Commander."

Roy did not acknowledge Jean's words accept for with a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. The General's thoughts had begun to drift without conscious effort to the early days of the war, no doubt as a result of the small breakdown he had suffered through the night before. The affect was almost immediate; Roy's body stiffened visibly and his single working eye focused on a faraway spot, darkening to the deepest shade of onyx as he became immersed in memories that were best left in the past.

The others noticed the change almost immediately and moved as one to startle the General from his trance. They had witnessed the change undergo Mustang far too many times in the past years to not know it was never a good thing to leave Roy alone with his thoughts when he had that look in his eye. That look always meant danger, it always meant that he was thinking of that night.

The tension of the moment was broken when one of the recruits ventured over to their small group wearing a congenial smile. Jean arched an eyebrow as he watched the woman close the distance between herself and the commander, a slight scowl shaping her features though it was doubtful whether or not she realized it. The woman came to a stop before their group, easily sliding into a stiff salute as she waited for Mustang to acknowledge her.

"At ease." Roy said sharply after responding with a salute of his own. "Is there something I can help you with, soldier?"

"Not at all, sir. I was just going to compliment you on your wonderful little speech." The woman replied with a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice. "Very inspirational."

"I try my best." Mustang responded, seemingly unfazed by the less than hidden bite in the enlisted soldier's words. In fact it looked like the woman had managed to intrigue the General judging by the ever so slight arch to his visible brow. The two militiamen stood there for a moment, each visibly sizing the other up and in doing so amusing those close enough to witness their exchange.

The female officer did not so much as look unsettled when under the General's scorching gaze, and in return Roy seemed genuinely unaffected by the bold woman's stare.

"Do you have a name, Corporal?" Roy inquired with a smirk.

"Marta." The woman replied briskly with a slight incline of her head. The movement caused a short lock of blond hair to slip from beneath her cap, proving that she was indeed a woman despite her overall gruff appearance. Two tattoos stretched across the right side of Marta's face that almost looked like red claw marks, but a closer look would reveal that they were in fact no more than tattoos. The design stretched to her right shoulder where they swirled decoratively in a design that was snake-like in make.

"Marta...?"

"Just Marta." Her firm voice left no room for questions.

"I look forward to fighting alongside you, 'Just Marta'." Roy replied with a hint of amusement lacing his voice. No one in the group missed the slight quirk to his lips that was the beginnings of the General's genuine trademark smirk. It was clear that Mustang found the younger woman's presence intriguing, no doubt due to the familiar air of confidence that Marta held.

Her cocky nature reminded them all of one person in particular; a young teen who had singlehandedly shaken up the military by his skill alone.

Looking at Marta was like looking at Edward Elric again.

"Same to you, General." Marta claimed before leaving with a parting salute to her superiors. She then left the group behind without so much as a backwards glance, moving to rejoin her fellow comrades as they gathered their supplies before they moved out.

"This could turn out to be interesting after all." Havoc quipped as he placed a cigarette between his lips, though making no move to light the cancer stick. The cigarette shifted to the side of the Lieutenant's mouth as he allowed a grin to form. His eyes studied Mustang carefully as the General responded without bothering to tear his gaze from the blond woman's retreating form.

"It could indeed."

R-2-F

The building that served as Resembool's makeshift hospital could only be described as something short of chaotic. The structure itself seemed strong enough despite it's visibly crumbling support beams and walls; a spiderweb of cracks even decorated the unremarkable ceiling. Overall the building was rundown and didn't look as if anyone had lived in it for countless many years, however the halls milling with people and the busy corridors proved that this was no longer the case.

As the quartet walked they literally bumped into several nurses and medics. The scrambled aids would hastily ramble out an apology over their shoulders as they continued hurriedly on their way, leaving the others baffled in their wake. Russel and Edward shared a confused look over the top of Fletcher's head, but neither had any answers to offer the other. Seeing as this was the case Russell was the first to speak up.

"Did something happen?" He inquired carefully as he craned his neck to attempt to catch a glimpse inside one of the rooms off of the main hall that appeared to be jam packed with people-- presumably the injured. The blond's gaze strayed to the elderly man that acted as their guide, his brows now furrowed slightly in uncertainty. "Was there some sort of battle here?"

"Battle? Good heaven's no!" The elderly man exclaimed with a hand to his heart. He fell back beside Russell and turned kind eyes to the younger man. "Resembool is neutral territory so neither the army or the Naturalists dare set foot on our soil."

"Then why all of the patients?"

"Though we're neutral, we aren't ignorant to the war going on around us, sonny. We fight in our own special way by offering medical aid to the injured from either side and to those victimized in their battles. Resembool has become a safe haven to those seeking refuge from this pointless war."

The three younger men all nodded slowly in understanding. Yet again, Russell and Edward shared a look, only this one of silent admiration for the townspeople. In present times it took guts to take a stand such as theirs. Many cities that claim neutrality eventually are forcefully drug into the dispute between the Naturalists and the Military, leaving the town in ruin and the people's numbers depleted. Even more common in medical-aid offering towns are the occasions that fights break out between patients who come from different sides and a small scale war is begun inside the very hospital that nursed them back to health.

Neutrality was a risky stand for even the strongest of cities, and for a small farming town like Resembool to so much as consider taking up that banner was virtually unheard of.

"That's pretty noble for a town full of farmers." Ed said at last, his mind reeling from this new bit of information. The brunette felt a surge of pride for his hometown upon learning of its people's bravery, but closely following that emotion was an intense wave of guilt that Ed himself was not a part of the struggle. Had he returned to Resembool after leaving Central Ed would have surely been actively involved with the town's neutrality efforts. However, had he returned the ex-alchemist would have surely been found by either Mustang or members of the military who would have quickly put him to death for deserting their ranks.

Even now, eight years later and in the midst of a large scale war, Ed could not find it in himself to enjoy the comfort of coming back home.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say what we do is noble," The elderly man rebuked with a toothy smile. "But it's right by us, and that's what matters."

The four men continued walking, finding a staircase and climbing it to reach the second floor of the rickety building which the youngest three men all feared would give out with every step they took, before they finally came to a stop in front of a room that was somehow even fuller than the ones they had seen downstairs. The doors leading into the room were shut most of the way and hindered the group's view of those who were inside. What they could see of the room they could view only through the small crack left between the two heavy doors.

"Well, this is it." The elderly man said with his ever-present grin. He turned to regard Ed through half closed eyes, his face giving nothing away to his inner thoughts. Therefore it took the brunette completely by surprise when the man suddenly reached inside of Ed's threadbare jacket and retrieved both his revolver and dagger. The old man shoved the revolver into his own back pocket but paused to unsheathe the knife.

He switched the dagger from one hand to the other a few times before holding it up to survey it in the light shining through a small hole in the roof. The light glinted from the blade's pristine surface, casting small rays of light onto the walls surrounding the group of men. The elderly man allowed a small smile to stretch across his face as he studied the dagger intently. "This is a mighty fine knife you have, boy." He stated offhandedly before switching it to his other hand once again. "You take good care of it. A family heirloom, maybe?"

Edward eyed the man carefully, his eyes narrowing into a frown. "It's just a knife, old man." He stated flatly as he took a step forward. The brunette stretched out a hand with his palm facing up towards the older man. "But I would like it back, if you don't mind." Though he attempted to act nonchalant there was no missing the sudden stiffening of the brunette's back as the older man admired the dagger.

Russell and Fletcher both exchanged a look; the brothers knew exactly where that blade had come from. Once, long ago on a night that was rather insignificant in itself, they had asked their friend the same question only to learn that it had belonged to the brunette's father. In their several years together the brothers could only recall Ed having so much as mentioned his father so scarcely that one could easily count the number of times on a single hand. This being the case, both Russell and Fletcher were able to remember this fact quite easily.

The old man laughed, seeming completely oblivious to the tension that had fallen over the three younger boys. "Have it your way." He replied easily with a grin as he held out the unsheathed blade to Ed. However, when Ed reached out to take the dagger the man moved suddenly, jerking his hand away from Ed's only to adjust his hold on the knife and plunge the blade into Ed's side.

Ed gave a disbelieving groan of pain as the old man withdrew the dagger and took a step back, his smile still firmly in place even as Russell tackled him into the nearest wall. Ed stumbled back a step as his hand automatically rose to press gingerly against his side. He felt the warmth of blood begin to pool against his fingers and drew his hand away to stare dumbly at the crimson fluid now staining his palms.

"Ed!" Fletcher cried as he rushed to his friend's side. The younger blond's gaze followed Ed's and the Tringham's face visibly paled upon seeing the blood. Green eyes searched their surroundings frantically in hopes of spotting a nurse or medic passing by, but as luck would have it they were the only ones in the hallway of the second floor. Panic filled Fletcher's voice as he began to shout for help.

"Somebody help! We need a doctor over here! Please!"

An instant later the heavy doors closing off the room they had been studying earlier were thrown open, revealing a woman dressed in a lab coat. The woman's serious gaze quickly took in the scene before her before she demanded shortly, "What happened here?". Her voice held a degree of danger about it that made the youngest Tringham shake in fear. Luckily for him, Russell seemed to be completely unaffected by the woman's tone or was either too enraged to pay heed to such a thing.

"This bastard," Russell seethed, emphasizing who exactly he was referring to by viciously jerking the old man away from the wall only to slam him back against it once again, his angry gaze straying towards the woman for only a second. "Stabbed my friend!"

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously as she took in the old man's appearance before she shifted her gaze to Ed's hunched form. Her eyes did not soften even a fraction, though it was clear her anger was not directed at the bleeding man but at his attacker. She moved forward with quick and efficient steps, her heels clicking noisily against the wood flooring as she crossed the floor to stand directly in front of the brunette. "Let me see." She commanded, moving Ed's hand away with a surprisingly gentle touch so that she could inspect the wound.

Ed reluctantly allowed the woman that was presumably a doctor to look at his side, though his eyes didn't raise to meet hers until she spoke again.

"The wound doesn't appear to be too deep." She said at length, her eyes still fixed on the bleeding cut. "However it needs disinfecting and treatment immediately. Come with me." The woman turned on her heel and began towards the room from which she had come but hesitated when she noticed that Ed had not moved an inch. She turned once again to fully face the brunette, her eyes revealing concern for the first time since she had entered the hall. "Can you move?"

"I..." Ed began but failed to finish his thought, his eyes transfixed on the woman's face and all thought fleeing from his mind. His mouth suddenly felt terribly dry and he swallowed heavily, but even that did nothing to sooth his suddenly parched mouth. His silence earned him a concerned look from both the Fletcher and the doctor, and even Russell chanced a glance over his shoulder to peer at the brunette inquisitively.

Finally Ed managed to form one word, the single word that raced through his brain and caused every other thought process he was capable of to shut down.

"Winry..."

R-2-F

Author's Note: Okay, so I'm an evil little git for leaving the chapter there, but if I continued I would end up dwarfing the other chapters I've put out! Therefore, for the sake of keeping the chapters roughly the same length and keeping increase in their lengths gradual, I'm going to leave this chapter where it is. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I sure did!