Still April 10th, 1964

Such was the way of things. Somehow, in some way, eventually everyone and everything would line up for combat as if by some undetermined schedule made without coordination between either parties. Lined up on either side of the line, they stared across at each other in anticipation of an invisible signal that neither knew, but would be evident when it decided to show itself. Gone were the days of meet me at the hill at three o'clock for a fight old boy, if such days had really ever existed.

Yet here they stood, and waited, and glared at each other across a distance that seemed vast, then closed in, and then they knew would seem much larger once more when they had to cross it, at speed, under attack from alchemy and hot lead.

When the clash came, it came with sudden ferocity, like a battle of armies in the days before gunfire, if they had known what to make of alchemy. They did not clash entirely with swords – though weapons were certainly in evidence – instead, they clashed in power. The Amestrians brought experience and – though barely – still numbers. The Drachmans brought willingness to the slaughter, chimeras, and a hint of desperation. The bear had become the hunted, and it wasn't going to take that lying down.

"Another few seconds and we've got them!" Sara heard Marcus Kane shout to her left. On her right, her cousin Will and Derrick Tringham were circling around. Maes, on the other side of Kane, was doing the same despite the chaos through which they moved, attempting to get around three very large, very angry, very terrifying chimeras that seemed to be a combination of bear, musk oxen, and woolly elephant of some kind! Snarling, howling, and swinging their jaws and long unwieldy noses like whips, they had trampled more people than they had actually injured with any purposeful attacks. They simply ran people over! When they didn't though, they were still dangerous.

The unit closed, Sara far too aware of bullets whizzing in their direction from time to time as Drachmans, unable to be comfortable with the enemy within firing range, took aimed shots with snipers to avoid hitting their own alchemists and chimeras…within reason.

While the beasts were still was the best time to capture and take care of them permanently. If the little herd held still just a few seconds longer…

A spout of flame shot up from seemingly out of nowhere and the largest of the chimeras trumpeted and squealed. One of the smaller ones made a break for it.

"What the hell was that?" Sara darted in with the alchemically made ropes they had put together just a minute before.

"Mustang!" She heard Kane bellow. That had obviously not been part of his plan at the moment. Not until they were immobilized. Running flaming chimeras would not help the situation!

"Look out!" Will dodged a swinging trunk and ran in, Derrick behind him. The chimeras turned and wheeled and began to trample back across fallen Amestrians and Drachmans alike. "They're getting away!"

"Not for long!" Derrick shot forward, his rope swinging in a near-perfect lasso.

Panting, Sara shot after them. She saw Maes and Kane closing with her. "What'd you do?" she asked Maes breathlessly as she skidded to a stop and slapped her gloved hands together. A large wall of wind smacked into the chimeras from the front, halting their stampede.

"I… " Maes gasped, looking flustered and embarrassed.

"Oh never mind," Sara moved forward again. "Explain yourself later!"

Kane had neared the group. A colorful explosion in their faces made them wheel, but they had them now. Sara's rope was around one. Then she saw Kane's on another, and Derrick and Will's ropes around the third – the big one.

The large chimera, however, had no intention of holding still. He reared up and began to toss his head. In moments, both alchemists were in the air! "Weigh him down!" Will shouted.

Struggling with her own chimera, Sara glanced at Maes. "I've got this one! Get that one under control!"

To her left, Kane's chimera seemed to have actually settled down some under the rope, aside from being angry that the others were upset. Then suddenly there was an explosion of lights and colors about its head again, and it began to topple over.

Maes ran towards the other Chimera, and what happened next Sara wasn't quite sure. His rope went up, as it should, and caught the largest chimera – male Sara thought by the tusks – only it slipped down onto the tusks themselves.

The creature spun violently and Sara winced as Will and Derrick were tossed again. Shots ringing out all around them, suddenly both ropes broke and the two alchemists went flying!

Shit! Sara wrangled her chimera, looking for some way to actually subdue it, when Kane got to that for her, using the same trick. She wasn't sure what he set off, but the animals' brains were exploding! Ignoring the mess that resulted, Sara let her rope slack as her chimera fell. "That's gross." It was all the comment she had time for before she headed for the big one.

"Not my fault," was Kane's grim-faced reply.

The large Chimera burst into flames at the same time it's head burst.

In the wreckage of dead animals, Sara sprinted for the prone forms on the ground. "Will! Derrick!" She crouched beside her cousin, reaching him first. "William?"

Will lay on the ground, unmoving, but breathing. He was alive if nothing else! But his left arm looked broken, and there was a gunshot wound through the flesh on the upper side of the same arm. "Wow Sara… you haven't called me… William… since I was eight." He opened his eyes, his expression blearily unfocused. Still, if he could respond coherently, his head was fine.

Sara felt a rush of relief despite the occasional bullet still whizzing overhead. "Damn don't scare me."

"Next time…I'll fly instead of fall," Will snickered.

"Let's get you out of here." Sara looked around, frantic to find someone helpful in the chaos of alchemy flying all around them mixed with hot lead! A medic! She waved him over frantically. "Can you get him back to the line?"

"Sure," the medic first looked at Will's arm and immobilized it. Will grimaced, but did not complain otherwise.

"See you later," Sara promised before she turned to find the others. Will would get back with the medic's help. If he didn't, they were all likely already in more trouble than they could handle.

Maes was putting the other two chimera bodies to the torch, with Kane crouching nearby. Sara blanched as she got closer, and stopped. She had never seen a neck at such an unnatural angle before. "Derrick…"

Kane looked her way and shook his head briefly. No, Derrick was dead… on impact almost certainly. "How's Will?"

"With the medic. He should get out of here. His arm's broken and he's been shot, same arm. He'll live." Sara reported briefly.

"Let's go." Kane turned and motioned to Maes, who left off with the burning, and they hurried back into the fray.

"What happened back there?" Sara asked, biting her tongue to keep from accusing Maes of anything. What had caused him to set off flames right then?

"Something attacked my leg," Maes replied flatly, still looking embarrassed.

At least there was a legitimate reason. Sara nodded simply and followed Kane as they went after the next knot of marauding carnivores attempting to eat through the Amestrian State Alchemists.

"This was not part of the plan, Shock!" Kieleigh commented as she stood back-to-back with Tore in the middle of a swarm of small lizard-rat like chimeras with dripping fangs and terrible breath. On Tore's best guess, the things were at least highly poisonous. He could smell it.

"Well then we make a new one!" Tore argued, grinning broadly and hoping it was infectious. Maybe then he'd feel it too. They hadn't meant to get cut off from the rest of the unit, but they had been herded after a combatively dueling pair had hurtled between them and almost shoved the two of them into the swarm of lizard-rats. He dropped to the ground, grateful for the large flat rocks that covered a good portion of the area, and sketched frantically. His gloves had been ripped in the struggle. A moment later a ring of electricity killed all fourteen of them.

Kieleigh grinned as he stood. "Nice work, Closson. Maybe you're not useless after all."

"Never have been," Tore countered. "You could have blown them up you know."

"This close, I'd have gotten us too," Kieleigh shook her head, then looked around. "I don't see the others."

"Then let's go take out a few Drachmans," Tore suggested. It wasn't like they were helpless kids, no matter how young or new to the military! "Before something else decides to eat us."

"Sounds good." Kieleigh smiled. Then, before Tore could blink, she kissed him squarely on the lips.

For once, he was caught off guard. "What… what was that for?"

Kieleigh laughed, "Other than to shock the Shock? Call it a thank you. I kinda like my body without teeth marks." Then she winked and pointed. "That one!"

Tore spun and a bolt of electricity hit the ground inches from the alchemist Kieleigh had pointed at. Not a perfect strike, but electrocution at that distance was still assured! The Drachman alchemist stumbled and fell, smoking, to the ground.

"And a little extra charge," Kieleigh teased.

They darted off into the crowd, and made an excellent team, Tore discovered. Even more than usual. They tag-teamed another alchemist – an ice specialist who quickly found himself dead when his ice shards exploded in mid-air and his supply of water made a great conductor for Tore's current. Then they moved on to another one. It was safer working as a pair, and Tore couldn't have asked for a more willing or cooperative partner; not who was also an attractive member of the opposite sex anyway!

Braving the field to bring in the wounded started early, and it was an experience Ethan would never forget. He had been dealing with triage and critical patients for over a year now; so it wasn't the gore that got to him, or the wounds themselves. In fact being able to do critical healing with alchemy on the field itself – better than any other first aid – felt good. He knew he had saved several lives fairly quickly just for being able to be there in minutes instead of waiting for them to get off the field. Then there was dragging them back behind the line so they could go on to the care of the other doctors, turning around, and going back.

No, what really got to him was the immediacy of death; the sounds of gunfire and the feel of alchemical energy ripping around him non-stop; the shouting, the screaming, the groans of the injured. The place reeked of smoke, of ionized air, of blood… of death.

"Elric, over here!"

Ethan turned and scrambled low across the ground towards the other medic, who was next to a downed man. It turned out to be another soldier, shot while covering the alchemists. He was breathing quickly, but the only wound seemed to be in the flesh of the arm. He would live. Ethan helped hold him steady while his partner for the day, Doctor Ted Loreno, bound the wound. "All right, let's go."

Together they carried, half-crawling at times, the man back behind the line. From there, as had happened since combat started, they turned the soldier over to the waiting medics and headed back out into the violence.

Ethan felt something hot sizzle by, and had the feeling – as he dodged – that he had just lost an inch or so off the end of his hair. Glancing to his left, he saw an alchemist slinging what looked like burning rocks; a Drachman. Ethan had to fight down the urge to go take him on. Another alchemist did it just a second later as he watched.

I'm not here to fight. I'm here to save lives. If he wasted his energy as just another combatant, than he wouldn't have it when it was needed to save other lives. And he would be doing this possibly for hours. The good news was, with the Xingese alchemists here, there were enough Alchemical doctors on the field and in the infirmary that he would not be needed more than he was.

He came upon other bodies, two dead, before he found one alive and groaning. "Let me take a look at you," Ethan said, seeing the blood leaking from the man's side. He got a silent nod in response, and proceeded to check the wound. It wasn't pretty but it did seem to have avoided hitting anything vital. Ethan set his gloved hands on the man's side and let alchemical energy flow through them both, stemming and clotting the blood so he could simply bind the wound. Who needed tourniquets when you had alchemy?

Alyse could not remember the last time she had felt in imminent danger of vomiting… repeatedly. She couldn't close her eyes but she was kept hopping from one doctor to the next running dozens of errands – fetching, carrying, finding, - for several doctors. She got clean bandages, she brought needles and syringes, she fetched needles and thread for sutures, she brought water, and sterilized instruments.

All of that was fine. It was the other parts of the job; it was when she had to carry away used swabbing red with blood, or help pull the blood-soaked clothes off a wounded soldier, or hold a man's arm down as the doctor stitched a wound closed. These were things she had not had to face except in rare moments in the hospital in North City. The military nurses had done those jobs. Now, faced with immediate combat, she got them before they were cleaned up, and she heard the un-medicated screams and groans that came with them; some men raving, other men pale and clammy in shock.

Even when she was sent into the auto-mail ward there was no release. She discovered she was needed to help assist with cleaning and instruments during an emergency auto-mail surgery! Port surgeries had to be done as soon as possible when they were damaged to avoid critical infections that might require a full reattachment or removal of more damaged tissue.

Alyse wanted to close her eyes, her ears, and her nose. She gritted her teeth, swallowed, and kept working, aware that her face was probably green. What do they expect? I'm no doctor! She was barely an assistant, however much Ethan said they appreciated her. A pretty nurse here… what did it matter? Half the patients were unconscious or unaware of their surroundings.

In a very momentary lull, she stopped and patted her face with a cool damp cloth. Calm down. Keep cool. You're never flustered in public remember? You've faced down snotty Assemblymen and ferocious brides' mothers alike.

In the tiny mirror attached to the wash basin, she noticed she still looked pale and greenish. Her hair was a little ruffled, the shortest layer falling loose from the pony-tail into which she had yanked her carefully layered locks. She took a moment to pull it back again. It needed to be out of the way.

"Let me help." Two hands appeared in the mirror and Alyse paused, until she recognized the female face behind her; serene, though not relaxed.

Mei Xian pulled a couple of sticks out of her pocket, twisted Alyse's hair deftly, and jabbed them in. In a moment, even with the stylish layering, her hair was up high in a neat, completely non-mess Xingese bun.

Alyse smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"I need you with a patient," Mei replied with a kind smile. "I'm assigning you to the post-care ward. I have permission. Come with me."

Wards were divided only by canvas walls, but Alyse felt calmer the moment they stepped out of the triage and surgical section into the quieter end of the tent. Here, the wounded had been moved to beds in rows, but were stitched and patched, healed with alchemy as necessary, and cleaned up. They still needed care however; temperatures monitored, bedpans changed, dressings checked, help drinking water to stay hydrated, and all those tasks to which she was much more suited.

Alyse felt a momentary wash of relief, until she saw the patient to whom she was being led first. At the end of the row on her right, was a familiar face. "Will!"

Her brother, his left arm up in a sling, and looking a bit bruised and battered, was sitting upright in one of the beds. He smiled weakly. "Hey, Sis, I guess I'm stuck with you."

Humor at a time like this? Alyse almost slugged him. Instead, she hugged him. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Let's just say Chimera bronco riding won't ever catch on as a sport," Will chuckled, hugging her back with his one arm. "Shot and busted, but it'll heal up in a few weeks."

"As long as you rest," Mei pointed out with a stern expression that Alyse suspected was half for show.

"Yes ma'am," Will replied to his mother-in-law. "I expect I'll be sent back to Central after this," he admitted then. That was probably true. Alyse had noticed that anyone not already military before the war was unlikely to be nursed on the front if their injuries were going to take them out of combat at a time when they wouldn't be useful anymore. With this push, Will would no longer be useful except as canon-fodder.

"Good," Alyse nodded. "Then I won't have to worry about you all the time."

"I'm touched," Will snickered, "I didn't know you cared."

"If you think I didn't worry about my own brother," Alyse smiled back. "Then you really are touched."

Cal ducked the blast of icy air the alchemist in front of him sent at his head. It was so cold he felt the ends of his hair on his face stiffen momentarily and break off as he pulled water from the moist air around them and sent it back in the direction of the frosty alchemist. ::You missed,:: he taunted in Drachman, as the other man dodged his icy-cold water bomb, which splattered against the ground and soaked his legs. Not that it did much good that way. If he'd smacked him in the head it would have worked better.

Frosty grumbled and lunged, spears of ice whipping out of almost nowhere as his hands hit the ground and the circle he had drawn.

Cal flipped over it, then ducked and came in for a punch. Why not get physical? The Drachman alchemists - and these were better than their predecessors Cal had dealt with so far - did not seem as creative when it came to physical moves. They were trained like soldiers if anything. State Alchemists did a lot of things that were not conventionally soldiers' maneuvers. His punch connected before Frosty could move, and while he managed to deflect some of the damage, he stumbled and Cal came down on him, pulling water up from the ground and smashing Frosty's face into the bubbling mud that they were soon both an inch deep in. Frosty struggled, and Cal brought the water higher. It was a nasty way to do someone in, but the best he had given the circumstance!

When the body stopped moving, Cal staggered to his feet in the muck and looked around. Close by he saw Polansky dueling it out with an earth-based alchemist who kept flinging dirt clods and rocks the size of bowling balls. Cal sprang to his feet and ran to the aid of his fellow State Alchemist. He was less than twenty feet away when a bar of what seemed to be solidified mist shot through the air like a javelin in front of him, missing only by the barest margin as Cal skidded, slipped, and fell on his backside. Damn that was close! Struggling to his feet, he turned and saw the culprit in question, shooting wildly at any Amestrian Alchemist in range. Growling, Cal determined to deal with him later.

Polansky was falling back against the other alchemist's onslaught for simple lack of time to make a circle. His hands were bare save for the merest shreds of what had been gloves once. Cal didn't have time to move before Polansky froze… and began to fall backwards, no longer fighting. Cal took several lurching steps before the blossom of blood in Polansky's throat registered in Cal's brain. That weird moment where time seemed to slow and the air gel lasted much longer to him before the clamber of battle came back with a harsh sudden jerk.

Cal charged the closer alchemist, intent on killing the man who had just turned to find another target. He didn't know where the man was who had shot Polansky in his distraction, but Cal couldn't get at the gunman from here. So he ran, as fast and hard as he could, feeling for the water underneath them. There was an underground river. He could tap into that and bring it up in the middle of the basin if he wanted, but too much draw would flood it and he would kill allies as well as friends. He couldn't do that. But he could -

- His thoughts were interrupted by a howling scream he realized belatedly to be his own as he pitched forward, agony crawling from his side into his extremities! He rolled as he fell, landing jarringly on his left side - the side that wasn't hurting as badly only by fortune. Everything blurred, sound receded again as everything became pain, white hot and focused. Not again! Oh hell not again. No explosion but he remembered the boom, the ripping agony as his leg was blown to bits, then lying there in the dirt, shooting all around. His leg had gone in war and he lay now, dirt and grit in his face, that same agonizing pain in his side, only his heart was pumping harder, his breath coming in gasps. Stupid sniper. I'm going to make him wish he'd never learned to hold a gun. Right now... I just wish I knew healing!

He tipped involuntarily, falling flat on his back. Above him was only sky despite the chaos. It was funny, how there could be something as simple and uncomplicated as a few floating, fluffy gray clouds hanging lazily above such a bloody, battered field. His agony seemed to recede slightly, a detachment that his mind made from the pain so awful it was numbing. He'd been shot in the side... the abdomen he thought. One hand came up to find the hole; his uniform already slick with blood.

The occasional bullet whizzed by overhead, but he seemed to have been forgotten for the moment. Or left for dead more likely. Why not? That's what's happening. He was dying, lying here in the chilly grass with pebbles digging into his skin. Funny, how he even noticed the pebbles with his side throbbing his life slowly out of him. If he died, would they call him a war hero? Or would he be just another body, another soldier dead in the line of duty; nobody special with no family to mourn at his graveside?

Alyse will cry. The thought rose out of the fuzziness around the edges of his brain. She would, he knew. Alyse was sensitive and caring. She would cry for him, and for the fact he had left her alone again; worse, for breaking his promise. He had promised to live and come back. Now, he didn't think that was going to happen. He was consigned to a slow death. If he wasn't dead already it would be slow. Gut wounds that weren't quickly fatal were the worst. The whole wasn't near an artery was it? No... Had it missed organs? No way of knowing except for timing how long it took for him to expire.

A small bird winged by overhead. Despite the noise, Cal could almost hear it calling mournfully.