Chapter 2

The hospital was a large, rectangular, single-story building, whitewashed to reflect heat. Bougainvilleas thick with brilliant dark pink bracts grew on trellises along the wall facing the street, and a curved gravel path lined with rocks led up to the arched entrance.

"Thanks, Atash," Miles said as the boy halted and lowered the shafts to rest on the ground.

"You want me to hang around for the trip back, Colonel?" Atash went over to help Winry step down.

"If you would. Go in and get some water and take a breather," Miles told him. "We'll be a few minutes here."

Miles escorted Winry through the arched entry and into an open area landscaped simply with potted plants, mounds of brightly flowering lantana, some benches, and a few shade trees. In the center of this garden stood a tall stone statue. Winry stepped up to it and leaned back a little to gaze at it. It was a graceful, very simple representation of two people, their arms joined as if moving into an embrace and their heads bent close to each other. Despite its minimalist design, there was a pleasant serenity to the statue, a feeling of comfort. A ceramic plaque was set into the front of the stone base that the statue stood on, and Winry crouched down to read what it said. As did pretty much every sign she'd seen here so far, there were three groups of text: One in Ishvalan script, one with the Ishvalan transliterated into Amestrian characters, and one in Amestrian. As she read it, she felt her eyes sting with tears.

Those who follow the call of their hearts will not be led astray.

"It's an old Ishvalan saying," she heard Miles say from behind her.

Winry's eyes traveled back up the statue. "This must be the memorial for my parents!" she breathed in wonder.

"It is," she heard a familiar voice reply. "I'm so glad you came to see it!"

Winry spun around to see the wizened features of Dr. Marcoh crease into a smile as he approached her. She gave a cry of delight and ran up to him, throwing her arms around him. "It's so good to see you!"

Dr. Marcoh patted her back affectionately. "You, too, my dear girl! I've been wanting to invite you here, but here you are already!" He stepped back and held Winry at arm's length. "Look at you! You're so grown up now! Is Edward with you? Alphonse has been and gone, and he looked amazing! Such a handsome young man! Mei will be beside herself!" He stopped and gave a little embarrassed laugh. "Listen to me babbling! Forgive me!"

Winry giggled and hugged him again. "You can babble all you want, Dr. Marcoh! I'm so happy to see you again!"

"You dear, dear girl!" Marcoh chuckled, then exclaimed, "Oh! Where are my manners!" He stepped aside and Winry now noticed the pregnant Ishvalan woman standing next to Miles, his arm around her shoulders. "Or perhaps I should say, Colonel, where are your manners?"

Miles smiled and turned to Winry. "Miss Rockbell, this is my wife, Vesya. Vesya, this is Miss Winry Rockbell."

Winry grinned excitedly and thrust her hand out. "I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Miles!"

Vesya took Winry's hand in both of hers. "I'm honored to meet you, Miss Rockbell!" she said warmly.

Winry shrugged. "Oh, you don't have to be formal! Winry's just fine!"

Vesya gave a little giggle and glanced up at Miles, who gave her a wink. "All right! Winry it is, then!"

"So how's the prognosis?" Miles asked, giving his wife's shoulders an affectionate squeeze.

"Everything's fine!" Vesya replied, laying her hands on her belly. "The baby's growing and so am I!"

"Yes, you're both progressing well," Dr. Marcoh added. "I'll expect you next month for your next visit."

"Sima's coming in to see you later, isn't she?" Vesya asked with a knowing smile. "Better brace yourself, Dr. Marcoh!"

"It's all right," Miles said. "Benji's back from Resembool, armed with a bag of taffy."

Vesya rolled her eyes. "It'll take more than that to calm Sima down. She doesn't seem to realize that you're supposed feel sick. Poor Benji!"

"Well, pregnancy affects women differently," Marcoh said patiently. "Once I convince Sima that she's not dying, she'll be all right." He raised his hands. "But I shouldn't violate my doctor's oath by gossiping."

Vesya laughed. "Don't worry! We'll do all the gossiping for you!" She gave a nod toward the statue. "Do you like it?" she asked Winry.

"It's beautiful!" Winry turned back to gaze at the graceful figure. "I'm so glad I was able to see this!"

"My cousin made the statue, and my brother and I made the plaque," Vesya explained.

"Really? Is your cousin a sculptor when he's not being the governor?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Vesya replied, considering the statue with a smile. "But I think he did a good job."

"I'll say." Winry shook her head in wonder. "I'm just kind of amazed that he'd go to the trouble."

Dr. Marcoh stepped up beside Winry. "Our khorovar is a man of great heart and formidable talent," he remarked.

Winry gazed at the sculpture.

It was Mom's birthday. They had just finished the wonderful dinner that Grandma had made, and she was helping to clean up the kitchen. From the living room came the sound of music from the radio, and she peered through the kitchen door. Grinning, she watched her parents slow dancing, their heads touching, gazing into each other's eyes.

"I think I'd like to meet this gentleman."

Miles made a comment, speaking in Ishvalan, and Dr. Marcoh looked back at him for a moment, then replied quietly in the same language. They continued to converse briefly, and Winry got the distinct impression that they were trying to come to a decision or an agreement over something. Finally, Miles nodded and turned to Winry with a smile.

"I think that could be arranged, Miss Rockbell."

The administrative center of Ishval was not a particularly large building, and it was dwarfed by the Great Temple, which took up most of the area. The district of Gunja lay at the center of Ishval, Miles explained, the province's heart and mind. Within its boundaries were not only the temple complex and the offices of the civil government, but also the school. It wasn't too far from the hospital, which lay near the northern edge of Kanda, so Miles and Winry walked there, letting Vesya take the rickshaw home.

The temple still had scaffolding around much of it, but it was already an impressive structure. The front doors stood open, and from the street Winry could see some of the intricate carving in the dark wood. She went up the steps to take a closer look and Miles followed her.

"This is beautiful!" she exclaimed, running her fingers over the rich, intertwining patterns.

"You won't find work like that anywhere else in Amestris."

Winry looked at Miles, but he wasn't the one who had spoken, and he was looking past her. She turned toward the interior of the temple to see an Ishvalan man standing in the doorway. He had a handsome face, but a somewhat jaded, cynical expression. The man greeted Miles with a curt jerk of his chin.

"Miles."

"Stanno. Laying your sins at the altar?" Miles asked pointedly.

The man gave a smirk. "Some other time." With a slight tilt of his head in Winry's direction, he said. "So, introduce me."

In a less than enthusiastic tone, Miles said, "Miss Rockbell, this is Stanno Dreva, chieftain of Kanda. Stanno, this is Miss Winry Rockbell."

The man grinned. "See? That didn't hurt." He turned back to Winry, his eyes giving her a subtle once-over. "Rockbell, eh? Like the…" He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the hospital.

"The very same," Miles replied.

"Nice to meet you," Winry said, although she wasn't quite sure just how nice it was.

"Likewise, Miss Rockbell." Stanno gave her a startlingly brilliant smile. "Doishteve!" He tapped his knuckles against the surface of the door. "One of my better pieces," he said. "So glad you like it."

"Oh…uh…yes, it's lovely."

"I even did it for free."

"Oh…that's…"

"Atash is horning in on Yoru's turf again," Miles cut in. "Would you speak to him, please?"

Stanno shrugged. "What for? I like the kid's initiative." His grin grew again. "Survival of the fittest, isn't that the Briggs motto?"

"Just tell your pullers to keep it fair or I'll go over your head," Miles warned. "We're going to the khorovar's office right now, as a matter of fact."

"Are you?" Stanno gave Winry's shoulder a companionable nudge as he stepped past her. "You lucky girl!" He laughed and continued down the steps, waving over his shoulder. "Tell him whatever you like, Miles! The 'shaws are here to stay!"

Miles shook his head and muttered something in Ishvalan. He gave Stanno a head start, then he turned to Winry, his smile returning. "This way, Miss Winry."

Winry followed Miles back down the steps of the temple and across the street. The building they approached was similar to the hospital, only smaller. To one side of the arched entryway, a brass plaque was set into the wall.

Offices of the Provincial Governor of Ishval

This Building Dedicated on

May 15, 1917

By Fuhrer Montgomery Grumman

and

Khorovar Andakar Ruhad

"That was a big day," Miles remarked.

"It must have been," Winry agreed.

The entryway led into a small enclosed garden, which had a fountain standing in the center. Miles followed a flagstone path that lead across the courtyard to an open door on the other side. He tapped on the door frame and stepped inside, entering a small office with a desk at one end. There was another door set into the facing wall, and it was flanked by a row of filing cabinets and bookshelves.

A young man in his early twenties turned around from where he stood at the open drawer of one of the filing cabinets, and he gave a slight bow of his head. "Colonel Miles! How are you—" He paused as Winry stepped out from behind Miles and smiled at him. "Oh!" The young man gave a slightly deeper bow. "Doishteve."

Winry gave a little wave. "Hi!"

"Is he in yet, Stoyan?" Miles asked.

The young man continued to gaze at Winry for a moment, then shook himself slightly and glanced at a clock on the wall. "He should be here any minute. The morning classes are over."

Miles turned to Winry. "The khorovar doubles as the school's headmaster as well as one of the teachers," he explained. "He would only take on this job if he could keep the other one."

"Zhaarad Andakar is a man of great dedication," Stoyan added solemnly.

"Zhaarad Andakar is a man who doesn't know how to delegate," Miles replied. "Stoyan, this is Miss Winry Rockbell. Miss Rockbell, this is the khorovar's secretary, Stoyan Dimitar."

Winry drew in a sudden, ecstatic gasp, startling the two men. "Is he really?" She gazed at Stoyan. "Are you really? You're with Spirit of Ishval! You play the flute! Oh, I've heard you on the radio and I've wanted to go to one of your concerts for—gosh!—forever!" She gave a little squeal, pressing her hands against her cheeks. "Oh, I think you're wonderful!"

Recovering from his initial surprise, Stoyan's tawny features colored and he looked down. "You're very kind, Zhaarana."

"Dejan praises you up and down," Miles said with a grin. "But you never blush like that!"

Stoyan frowned slightly, his face growing slightly redder, then he looked up toward the door. "Ah, here he comes!"

They could hear the tread of feet on the flagstones outside. A tall, broad-shouldered man, his hair cut close to his scalp on the sides, leaving a thatch of silver on top and a short ponytail down the back, stepped into the office. He carried a stack of thin booklets under his arm, and he had another open in his hand that he was reading. He frowned as he did so, his brows puckering at the center of a large scar that spread from his forehead to his cheekbones.

Winry's heart slammed against the inside of her chest as she stared at him. He had changed and yet was unmistakably the same. He still had a presence that filled the room and washed over her like waves of heat.

He turned slowly to look down at her as she knelt on the broken pavement. The killer of her parents suddenly had a face. All this time she had only been able to picture nameless, featureless figures during those rare, angry moments when she even wanted to picture anyone.

He glanced up from the book in his hand and acknowledged Miles, and in nearly the same glance, his eyes fell on Winry and he grew utterly still.

Miles cleared his throat quietly. "Miss Rockbell, may I present Andakar, son of Turyan, of the house of Ruhad. Stoyan, come walk outside with me."

The young man stood looking from Winry to the khorovar with puzzled concern. "Zhaarad—"

"Stoyan!" Miles hissed in a whisper, jerking his head toward the door. The young man reluctantly followed him outside, looking back over his shoulder. Miles gripped him by the elbow and pulled him along the flagstone path and past the fountain.

"Colonel! What's going on?" Stoyan demanded in a low, urgent voice. "Is something wrong?"

Miles looked back toward the office door, which was now closed. "No, I shouldn't think so."

"But…why…"

"It's all right," Miles assured him.

"But that girl!" Stoyan struggled with his confusion. "What is she—"

"They're old friends," Miles explained. "Of a sort. They were just surprised to see each other." He smiled. "Very surprised."

Stoyan grudgingly accepted Miles' words with a nod. He looked back across the courtyard. "That girl," he said. "Miss Rockbell. Is she…" He paused for a long moment. "Is she promised to anyone?"

Miles stared at him then rolled his eyes . "You've got girls practically swooning every time you walk down the street, and the first one you ever notice is Amestrian!"

Stoyan frowned stubbornly. "Is she promised to anyone?"

"I'm pretty sure she is, yes," Miles replied. "I know the young man in question, and I think it's a pretty safe bet."

"You look well," Scar observed. He turned away to set the booklets on his desk.

Winry gave a little jump, startled at the sound of his voice addressing her. "Uh…thanks." The idea of him having martyred himself for the cause had been a much more comfortable one to live with, but she couldn't help but wonder, sometimes, what if? Now that what if was standing right in front of her and she wasn't ready for it. "You, too," she added, because, frankly, it was true.

"Considering you must have thought I was dead?"

"Well…yeah…"

There were several moments of painfully awkward silence while Winry stared at the man's broad back. He turned back to her and she forced herself to look at his face. He still towered over her. His gaze, something she always remembered as being so angry and intense, was now thoughtful. No...polite. Deferential, almost. It was disorienting. There was no feeling of menace or danger to brace herself against. This was a different person. Despite appearances, this just wasn't Scar. Winry felt herself weave slightly, and she felt a hand gently grip her elbow.

"Sit down." The hand carefully guided her to a wooden bench against the wall and helped steady her as she dropped down on it.

Don't stand over me! Winry thought in a moment of panic. Who are you and what have you done with Scar?

Scar stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. "I didn't plan this," he said. "I hope you believe that."

Winry felt herself pulled back to reality. "No…I…I realize that." She glanced up at him, her eyes flicking up to the scar that she almost thought might not be there. No, there it was, plain as day, just like the pretty solid man who bore the scar. Her odd feeling faded away. "I didn't plan this either. I mean—" she added quickly. "I mean—I did—sort of. Just not this part. I just—wanted to go somewhere on my own. I didn't know you were even alive! Honestly, I didn't!"

"Very few people outside of Ishval know that." He regarded her for a moment. "Are you disappointed?"

He didn't even say good-bye. That bothered her more than it should have. At least Dr. Marcoh turned and waved with a brave smile. Despite the fact that she was still in the company of Alphonse, two powerful chimeras, and Mr. Yoki (for whatever that was worth), she had an oddly uneasy feeling as she watched that broad back disappear into the snow-covered distance. Even odder was the fact that she couldn't decide whether her unease was for herself or for him.

"I…uh…no," she replied awkwardly. "I'm just surprised." She frowned. Was she surprised or relieved? Truth to tell, she felt just a little cheated. "But I don't understand why Alphonse didn't say anything about you. Did he just not see you?"

"No, he did," Scar replied. "We talked for a while. I asked him not to tell you or Edward about me. I didn't think it was necessary."

"You didn't—" Winry scowled angrily. "Well, maybe it mattered to m- -to us to know!"

"That's what Alphonse seemed to think. I would have thought I was a part of your life that you would want to forget."

"You don't know that!" Winry flung out her arm, pointing toward the door. "You sure didn't forget! You put up a statue for my parents, for cryin' out loud! Didn't you think I would want to see it? You could have let me know!"

Scar was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly, "I suppose I wasn't ready." He gave a slight bow of his head. "That was selfish of me. I apologize."

Winry's mouth opened, then she closed it. She rubbed her arm self-consciously. "Um...okay," she said finally. Tears sprang unaccountably to her eyes. "The statue's really nice!" she muttered. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it."

Winry sniffed and quickly wiped the corner of one of her eyes with the back of her hand. "I met your cousin at the hospital. She's really pretty."

"I can't take credit for that."

A smile tugged at Winry's lips. "She said you made the statue."

Scar gave a small, dismissive movement of his shoulders. "If you look closely, you'll see transmutation marks."

Winry looked startled. "Seriously? But I thought…"

"I didn't want to let my brother's legacy go entirely to waste," Scar explained. "I keep to very strict limitations on how I use his alchemy."

"Oh." Winry fell silent for a moment. Outside there came the staccato squawking of a bird.

The wood was a little damp, but it would have to do. They were able to find dry pine cones underneath a blanket of needles. She had found a real trove of them and gathered up as many in her arms as she could hold. The night before, they had heard the sound of army transport vehicles on the nearby highway, and Scar urged them deeper into the thick forest and wouldn't let them light a fire. The next morning, the chirping of a bird woke her, and she opened her eyes to see that he had draped his coat over her.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

Winry looked up with a start. "Uh…no…I…I don't." She felt a little embarrassed. "I didn't really plan that far ahead," she mumbled.

"Then you'll stay with me," Scar replied decisively. "That is…" he added, this time a little hesitantly, "if you would care to. I have an extra room, and I would be honored."

Winry glanced up at him with an uncertain look. That might be just a little too weird. "I…wouldn't want to impose."

"Miss Rockbell, it's the least I could do, and I'd like you to meet my family."

"Your—" Winry gave a sudden start and she pointed at him, wide-eyed. "You're the governor of Ishval!"

Scar gave her a slightly puzzled look. "I thought that had been established."

"No, it wasn't!" Winry replied irritably. "Everybody's been going on and on about the khorovar this and the khorovar that but nobody ever said, oh, you remember Scar? He's the governor of Ishval!" She scowled. "I think it was a dirty trick and Dr. Marcoh and Colonel Miles planned it as soon as they saw me."

Scar looked away slightly, but Winry could see the hint of a smile he was trying to hide. "Possibly."

"Well, they did!" Winry's frown was tempered slightly by a look of wonder. "You're married?"

"By the mercy of Ishvala."

"And you have kids?"

"I have been blessed, yes."

She gave him a grudging look of admiration. "You've been busy."

Scar lifted his shoulders slightly in a somewhat resigned gesture. "You have no idea. But as I said, I would be honored if you would accept my hospitality."

Winry stood up. "You're sure that would be all right? What will your wife say if you bring a strange girl home?"

"She knows who you are," Scar replied.

"She does?" Winry asked cautiously. "You told her?"

"I told her everything about me, Miss Rockbell, in as merciless a light as I could. She still married me."

Winry deliberated silently for a few moments. If nothing else, she was compelled by sheer curiosity to observe the private life of this man who had gone from being a cold-blooded killer and a fugitive to being a man of means and importance with a wife and kids and a house with a spare room. She had to see this for herself because she simply wouldn't believe it otherwise.

Outside, Stoyan was leaning against the fountain with his arms folded and a frown on his face. As soon as he saw them emerge from the office, he headed toward them.

"Zhaarad Andakar," he began, looking from one to the other a little anxiously. "Is everything all right? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm leaving for the day, Stoyan," Scar replied, adding with a slight nod toward Winry, "As you can see, I have a visitor. There's nothing pressing, but if anything urgent comes up I'll be at home."

Stoyan looked surprised. "Yes, Zhaarad."

As an afterthought, Scar added, almost hesitantly, "Those copy books I brought in. Would you take a look at them for me? They're just the fourth year Ishvalan grammar exercises. As soon as you're finished with that, go ahead and lock up."

"Oh." Stoyan recovered from surprise once again. "Of course." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Would you like me to call one of the pullers?"

Scar shook his head. "No, I'm sure to trip over one as soon as I leave. Oh…" He turned to Winry. "Did you have any luggage?"

"Yes, it's at the fort."

Scar looked back at Stoyan. "Ask one of the boys to get Miss Rockbell's things."

"I will, Zhaarad."

"Thank you. I'll see you later, Stoyan."

Stoyan nodded, then he turned to Winry with a little bow and the hint of a shy smile. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Rockbell."

"Thank you, Stoyan," Winry replied. "I think I will."

As Scar led the way out through the entry way and onto the road, Winry asked, "Are you ditching work just for me?"

"I'm not ditching work," Scar replied. "I'm fulfilling an obligation. For one thing, you're an unaccompanied young girl, and you need looking after."

Winry frowned up at him. "I don't need looking after. I'm not helpless, you know. I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that, Miss Rockbell," Scar said. He turned to regard her solemnly. "But I'm the reason you've had to learn to take care of yourself. That's where the obligation truly lies. That being the case, I would be seriously neglecting my duty. At the moment, though," he went on, considering the street before them, "if I'm bringing a guest home, I should stop by the marketplace."

"Sure, that's fine," Winry replied. She found herself envying Scar for the apparent ease with which he had accepted this situation. In the space of maybe fifteen minutes, he had spoken to her more than he ever had during the weeks their little band of fugitives had traveled across Northern Amestris together. Then again, although this man was obviously Scar, he wasn't quite. He had become someone else. A puzzle that needed unraveling.

All over again.