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Thicker than Rain

Chapter 13: Unwounded Soldiers (Part I)

"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."

~ Jose Narosky

~O~O~O~O~O~

((Flashback))

Roy came home near the end of the summer, along with the rest of the troops that had stayed behind to herd the others out of the Eastern Desert.

So many people had been lost… Even more were wounded, never to be the same.

Arturo would watch as they were brought into the hospital, some missing limbs, others crying out and clutching their sides with clotting blood oozing between their fingers.

Still, more loved ones crowded into the hospital, eager to find those they cared for.

Arturo was healing steadily, though the doctors had told him that he would never fully heal.

The alchemist had just chuckled, waving off the bad news.

"I had it coming." He had replied, "For killing all of those soldiers and innocent people."

Roy had walked in then, his face clean, but unshaven; his eyes sunken in to his young face.

Arturo had given a sigh, hoping Roy didn't hear any of it. His cousin was always the worrier of the family, and getting him worked up over nothing was wrong, so he just smiled pleasantly. Well, as pleasantly as he could, anyway.

The pair didn't say anything at first, only looking around the room with all the awkwardness of a first date.

However, it was Arturo that broke the silence, motioning to his cousin and pulling him into an embrace.

"It's good to see you safe and sound, Roy." He said his voice full of relief, "I was really worried."

Roy's eyes softened, but much to Arturo's disappointment, there was no trace of a smile on his cousin's face.

Roy mumbled something incoherent, and glanced backwards to the common sound of heavy footsteps coming up the hall.

Must be carrying a stretcher.

Roy's fists clenched and he turned away from the door.

Curious as to who was on the stretcher, Arturo sat up and glanced out the door to see a familiar young blonde officer being carried down the hall towards the ICU.

Arturo's eyes widened in shock and he glanced sympathetically at Roy.

"Wh-what happened?" Arturo breathed.

Roy hesitated, his features strained as though he was holding back tears. Arturo was about to take back his prematurely asked question, but Roy blurted out an answer before he could.

"A-a building fell on top of her…a burning one… several layers of her back are completely destroyed." He mumbled, his tone trembling like his hands.

"A building?"

Arturo's breath hitched and he coughed loudly.

He clumsily reached for the water next to his hospital bed and took a sip until his throat settled down.

When he put the water back down, Roy was looking at him with a lamb's eyes.

Arturo smirked, "What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked, trying not to seem defensive, "I'm not dying. I'm just choking on air, that's all… It just went down the wrong pipe."

His cousin seemed to settle back a little bit, but he still seemed on edge. Every small sound would make him jump and Arturo could only sit back and watch helplessly.

War did that to people; made them jumpy and emotional. Arturo had listened to the radio updates on the war every minute that it continued: every alchemist that was read off the list of the fallen felt like a stab into his soul. Because he had killed them.

Arturo gave a shudder; he remembered war and the carnage that went with it. He remembered one dreadful encounter with human destruction… That dismembered head, with the mouth peeled back in an empty, terrified, soundless scream.

He shuddered, the familiar bile forcing itself up into his throat and he reached for his water, sipping at it to keep his sickness down.

Roy was eyeing him again, and Arturo just leaned back against the pillow.

Arturo studied his cousin for a moment.

"Roy… the moment I get out of here, we gotta get back to see mom and her tavern… 'cause I really need a drink." Arturo muttered truthfully.

~O~O~O~O~O~

It was a few days later before Arturo was finally released from the hospital.

He kept his records private and his condition away from Roy.

"I'll tell him later" is what he kept telling himself, but it was just buried in everything else.

Nevertheless, as was promised, they headed to Madame Christmas's tavern together to visit the familiar faces and finally arrive home together.

They met her as she was smoking a long-stemmed cigarette outside of the tavern, and she smiled, seeing her two boys return to her.

"What took ya so long?" she questioned, as she tapped at the cigarette with her index finger and took another puff.

Both officers gave a smile, relieved to find that their mother hadn't changed while they were gone, and the family shared their first embrace since Ishbal had met its end.

"I had a little detour at the hospital." Arturo said, "It took them a while to let me out. Roy stayed with me."

The Madame smiled, "Artie, it was supposed to be you looking after Roy-boy… not the other way around." She teased, "Anyway, come on in. Vanessa and the others have been nothing but train-wrecks since you've left… and the bar has missed you too."

Arturo and Roy both went into the tavern, taking their usual seats at the bar.

The girls smiled, and pulled them into well-deserved, well-missed hugs, congratulating them and praising them for coming home. Even some "thank-you's" were thrown into the mix of their busy chatter.

Madame Christmas poured them their drinks and set them down on the bar as she leaned heftily against it.

"So boys… how does it feel to be home?" she asked, looking at them intently.

Arturo gave a shrug and spoke first.

"It feels pretty good." He said, "But Roy spent more time on the field… I had gotten sick, so the Fuhrer had sent me back."

Her glance then shifted to Roy who looked extremely uncomfortable. The Madame knew not to ask.

"Well, let's not meddle on the past." She said, pouring each of them another drink, "I'll let you boys settle back in, and I'll see you in the morning. I'm gonna get the girls settled in for the night."

Arturo and Roy both mumbled their good-nights and turned back to nursing their drinks as she turned off the main lights.

Things were quiet now as the rest of the bar cleared out, leaving the two officers to their peace. Closing time at Madame Christmas's tavern was usually lonely, as they saw the locals return to their homes and the wives that were awaiting them there.

The fireplace began to dim as they sat there, disappearing like the footsteps that had, seconds ago, filled the room.

Arturo stood up wordlessly and threw another plank into the fire that had given him warmth so many years ago.

He stared into the fire for a few moments, and Hawkeye's condition came back into his memory and he gave a sigh.

She had become like a sister to him, even after they had broke up for unverified reasons.

I just don't think this would work out for either of us.

Of course, he had found out later on through the subtle hints she gave him. It was her love for Roy that led to the end of their relationship… something about the pair just seemed to fit, and even their mother agreed.

"Have you visited her at all?" Arturo asked, turning back to meet eyes with his younger cousin.

Roy looked startled at first, almost taken aback, but then his expression softened and he gave a quiet nod.

"Yeah… sometimes I go to visit her." He said, his voice quiet, "She get's really lonely sometimes. But I haven't gone lately."

Arturo returned to his seat and glanced over at Roy.

"Why not?" he asked, "She doesn't have anyone else, you know…What's stopping you?"

Roy tensed.

"I'm just…afraid to see her when she wakes up." He said, "She's been on so many medications that she's been out cold… but she'll be waking up soon, and I'm afraid to be there…"

Arturo's expression instantly changed to one of obvious confusion.

"Why would you say that?" he questioned, "She'll need you there when she wakes up. If they have her on so many medications, I'm sure she's in a lot of pain… It's not like you did it to her."

It was then that Roy looked up, tears streaming down his face and he bit back a sob.

"I lied," he cried, "There was no building that fell on top of her… I was the one that caused her injuries. She asked me to burn her back because of the alchemy that was concealed on it, so I did… but I didn't think she'd be in so much pain after-wards. I wasn't ready for her screaming and crying."

He broke off and wiped his eyes furiously as though he was a little boy again.

"I wasn't ready for any of it… l-like the whole fucking war…" he wept.

He rested his arm against the bar and leaned his forehead against his elbow, crying into it.

Arturo sat next to him, rubbing his shoulders.

In his mind, he fumbled for words, but was unsuccessful. He hadn't thought that it would destroy Roy's life... then again, he hadn't thought of how long the war was going to be either.

A couple of months… that's all it was supposed to be. They were supposed to be in and out, especially with the Alchemists being put on the front lines.

But seeing Roy like this… jumpy, nervous and emotional… God… he was a veteran at age 20. Most kids his age were still going to school to jumpstart their careers… but not Roy. Roy always knew what he wanted to do… and he went for it. Head on.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the older alchemist comforted his cousin until he calmed down.

"I'm sure she isn't angry at you. Riza isn't one to hold a grudge; you know that. And you did it for her own good. You were protecting her, and she asked you to do it." Arturo said, "You had a good intention… that's enough to hold back anger, right?"

Roy sniffled, "Yeah, I guess."

Arturo pat him firmly on the back, giving a soft, encouraging smile, but it disappeared slowly.

"Besides… you're not the only one who makes mistakes." He said.

Roy managed a grin.

"Yeah, no kidding Artie… you make plenty of 'em." The younger teased.

Arturo gave a slight, yet forced laugh.

"Yeah… I really do." He admitted darkly, "Maybe too many."

He swigged the rest of his drink and put the empty mug on the counter of the bar, pushing it to the side.

Roy blinked, unsure of how to respond as his cousin gave a huff, staring into space.

"A-Arturo?" He asked meekly, "Is there something you wanna talk about?"

The older tensed up.

He wasn't sure how to respond… he really wasn't.

How do you put the murder of thousands of innocent people, into words?

"You can't…" Arturo muttered to himself, "You just can't…"

"I can't…what?" Roy asked.

"I-I don't know where to start." Arturo answered.

"Well, start from the beginning." Roy said, "That's always a good place."

Arturo nodded blankly, his mind only halfin the current conversation.

"It started with that meeting…" Arturo said, "You know, the one with the upper division officers."

Roy's face turned scornful.

"Yeah, that's when that bastard suggested that the State Alchemists be sent to Ishbal to kill all those innocent people." Roy spat.

Arturo felt the stone in his stomach sink lower into his intestines and he swallowed again.

"Um… Roy… There's something I have to tell you about that bastard that sent the alchemists…" Arturo said, passing the point of no return.

Roy turned towards at his cousin at once, still holding a half-empty mug. Even though he didn't speak a word, his intense gaze was enough.

"I-I was the one that suggested the alchemists to the Fuhrer."

An awkward silence passed between the two alchemists and until there was a sound of breaking glass, nothing was said.

"Y-you're joking, right?" Roy asked, fumbling for the words through his disbelief, "This is another one of your sick, twisted jokes, right?"

Roy tried to break into a smile, but there was no hint of it on his cousin's face.

"No, Roy… not this time."

The Major just stared, then his half-hearted smile melted into a sneer.

"It's not right to kid about that war, Arturo." Roy snapped, "A lot of good people were lost out there on the field, and you're joking about it? I-"

The older Mustang stood up, towering over his cousin.

"I AM NOT JOKING ABOUT THIS, ROY!" He snapped, his fist clenched and to chest level.

He paused, glaring at Roy with a deathly rage, took several deep breaths, and lowered his fist slowly.

"I'm not kidding about this, Roy…" he said, calmer now, "I was the one who told Bradley to send out the State Alchemists."

Arturo hung his head, ashamed of the confession as he collapsed onto the bar-stool.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said, "I just want it to be over with…"

Roy shook his head like a wet dog,

"Well, I'm sorry… but it'll never be over with…" He said grudgingly, "Not for me… not for Riza… not for the families that lost their loved ones! I-I mean, Riza looked at me, wondering why I had become this murdering machine… and I had no answer to give her, Arturo. NONE! In addition to that, saying 'I was following orders' just won't cut it…"

Arturo couldn't speak. He just coughed and tried to think of a response, but none came to him. Everything Roy said was right.

"Are you finished?" Arturo asked, glancing up at his cousin tensely.

Roy gave a growl, "I'll never be done." He snapped, "I-I just can't believe my own flesh and blood would do something like that… especially you, Arturo. I thought you were better than that."

Arturo just stood up and walked out of the tavern without another word, slamming the door behind him.

~O~O~O~O~O~

Word seemed to spread fast about the war and Arturo's part in it. Both alchemists and non-alchemists turned again him and anyone that interacted with him.

As Arturo pushed roughly through the crowd, he heard Roy give a yelp from behind him.

A rock had been thrown at him, hitting him square in the temple. A small trail of blood trickled down the side of his face, gathering in his ear.

Arturo gave a snarl, pushing the man aside and pulling Roy through the crowd, all the meanwhile, putting pressure on his cousin's head.

"I've had enough of this…" He snarled.

Guilt and anger sank into his gut and he pondered ways of protecting Roy and possibly their adoptive mother.

What's in a name…well, everything.

And that's what he had to change.

Going to the main office, he filed a report for a name change. If he could shed the Mustang name and clear it of all his wrongdoings, Roy should be safe…

Right?

He wrote the letter to the Fuhrer and after it was sent, all he could do was wait.

~O~O~O~O~O~

A week of hell passed and nothing came in the mail.

Arturo paced back and forth, refusing to leave his office until his request was granted. He knew Roy wasn't going to like it, but the Madame would understand… or so he hoped.

"Um… Brigadier General, Sir?"

A young officer stood at the door, his hand snapped at the usual forty-five degree angle against his forehead.

Arturo spun around quickly, causing the young man to jump, his hair standing on end like that of a frightened cat, making his unease even more obvious than it was before.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned to the young man.

"At ease, soldier." He said, calmly.

He stifled a cough in his throat, and stood up straight.

"What message have you brought me?" he asked, his gaze strong and unyielding, hiding his weakness.

"A-a message…f-from the Fuhrer, Sir." The officer replied, holding out a thin, cream-colored envelope.

Arturo snatched it quickly out of the young man's hand. Seeing the officer recoil, he offered a thin, grim smile of assurance.

"Thank you." Arturo replied, "You're dismissed."

The man snapped to attention once again, and scrambled down the hall.

Arturo closed the door of his office and his attention focused fully on the letter.

On the back was the crimson seal of the Fuhrer. He smirked as he broke it with a papery snap and carefully went to his desk to read the letter. After he finished it, he leaned back in his chair.

Arturo sat still for a moment feeling stunned and unsure of how to respond. Sure, he was glad that everything he requested was granted, but another promotion? Other officers already hated him enough for what he did, and having jealous rivals, beating down his door wouldn't help anything.

He shook his head, trying to scatter his own thoughts like mice. He had other, more important things to ponder, such as his new assignment up at North Briggs. He smirked. It was going to be exciting; besides, he heard that the Brigadier General Armstrong was quite a hottie.

Life isn't all that bad, I suppose…

~O~O~O~O~O~

He left early in the morning. To think, it was the last time he'd be leaving the tavern, and Roy and their mother weren't even there to see him off.

Though he was disappointed, he was also glad. To tell the truth, he was never good at saying 'good-bye', cliche as it was. The last thing he needed was to have second thoughts.

He slung his things over his shoulder and headed out the door, not looking back. A terrible rock sank to the bottom of his stomach, but he wouldn't cry… no, he liked to think that he was too tough for that.

Little did he know that Madame Christmas watched from the shadows behind the bar. She always knew that this day would come… but she didn't expect it to be here so soon.

~O~O~O~O~O~

Mechanically, he walked to the train station. Central City looked so different from what he remembered. Every small detail seemed to jump out at him screaming and crying of the murders he had committed. Soldiers and their families often lived in Central City, and it stung to realize that almost every family in this city had lost a loved one. Ishbal had been a massacre… and not only on one side.

Further and further, he was being pushed out by his own thoughts. He had grown up in this city, and it hurt to leave… but it had to be done. For his family's sake, it had to be done.

Finally, the train station came into view and, after purchasing his ticket, he took a seat on one of the benches placed on the platform.

The train came soon enough, and he was off, seemingly, for the last time.

~O~O~O~O~O~

Station by station, people got off the train, until he was the last passenger left.

I'm gonna have to get used to this…

Breaking into a violent coughing fit, he suddenly could feel the temperature drop and his blood start to freeze.

Pulling his jacket over his shoulders, he tried to adjust himself. He had heard plenty about Briggs Fortress. It was the least-requested place to be assigned and only the toughest of officers made it.
"Survival of the Fittest" was the rule up at Briggs; that well-known fact excited a part of him. It'd be a challenge, and it would help get his mind off everything that happened. A new start, if you will.

When the train stopped, he gathered up his belongings and, shivering slightly, stepped off the train.

He glanced around, and a frozen wind rushed past him.

He winced and suddenly a form emerged from the darkness. She was a tall, blonde woman, with no-nonsense eyes that matched the very snow and rock that surrounded them.

Arturo grinned.

They were right! She is a major hottie!

"You must be Brigadier General Armstrong." He said, saluting her properly, "A pleasure to meet you."

She returned the salute and snapped it back to her sides.

"And you must be Brigadier General Ligue." She said stiffly, "and the pleasure is yours."

They stood silent for a moment, each examining and studying the other, and then she spoke.

"Come, I'll send one of my subordinates to show you around." She said, "And wear this… you'll need it."

She tossed him a black, fur-lined jacket that reached down to the top of his boots.

He chuckled sheepishly, slipping it on over his uniform.

"Thanks." He replied.

She didn't respond right away, but only gave a huff and continued walking back towards the main gate.

He watched her for a few moments, the Mustang smirk crawling over his face.

Oh yeah, I'm gonna get to like her... he thought, completely amused