caught in a sea of despair

Character: Isaac McDougal

Summary: And there is no way out.

Ishbal was the hell on earth to him and anyone else who had had a few shreds of sanity left.

The destruction, the killing, the sin of slaughtering a peaceful people.

To Isaac McDougal, the former Freezing Alchemist, the pain and the guilt had stuck to his skin ever since they had been allowed to leave the desert behind and he had turned to drinking.

He had travelled to SouthCity, hoping to find a job because he had been looking for a purpose ever since the war had ended and in a dark and suspicious bar, he met one of the state alchemists who have continued to serve the army after the war.

"It has been a while, Lightening," he said with a short nod.

"Freezing," she replied with a little smirk which had been her trademark for as long as he had known her. "I heard that you left the army…"

"I am surprised how well you are informed."

"I am in the Investigation Department before they find a constant assignment for me," she explained, staring at the whiskey in her glass.

He wondered how she moved on after the war, how she dealt with the days when guilt was heavier than anything else. They had been relatively close during the war and he remembered that she had told him how she feared that she could not be able to look into her husband's eyes afterwards but the ring on her fourth finger is still gleaming.

Maybe he should ask her to tell him the secret about how to keep going, how to keep moving – how to keep breathing after all they went through. They had been in Ishbal, they had fought in the worst war of the entire century and they had failed an entire country. They were not the heroes so many people claimed them to be. They had simply slaughtered innocents.

"You seem to be lost in thoughts," she stated calmly as she looked up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he lied with a faint smile. "How are you doing it?"

"I work pretty dedicated, plus, I am on the list of state alchemists who are obligated to attend psychological counsel appointments," she explained. "Also … I keep telling myself that it was not our fault. We all were mostly first time officers – we played far out of our league. I keep going to make up for all the corpses that form the ladder to my success."

"Pretty morbid," he added and he remembered that this had always been her way. She had told him to keep going at any price because otherwise, it would hurt too damn much. She had still a purpose and he did not doubt that she would continue to serve Amestris loyally even though she frequently turned up somewhere in Creta's colours. Doubts were not meant for her.

For a moment, he wondered whether she had been approached by the woman in black as well, whether she had been given a little red stone as well – then he remembered that she was not out of the game yet. He had lost, he had broken beyond repair in the desert and the only thing he might still do was to assassinate the man who had brought this despair over all of them.

They were caught, all of them, Mustang and Armstrong just as much as Comanche and Kimblee. Loyalty was the tie that bound them, the noose that chocked them. In the end, none of them had found glory and fame. The way of a state alchemist was the path of despair.

The red stone in his hand shone.