Soldier Blues

V.

The village of Resembool was a quaint place, what with rolling hills of grasses and fields full of wheat and oats, sparse vegetation denoting where a bomb or fire or something of that ilk went off and burned away all life there. But people just ignored these patches, going about their lives as if a war hadn’t been going on, as if the soldiers in uniform were normal, as if the guns and the strange voices heard in the dead of night were an everyday occurrence and had been taking place since the founding of the village. It was simply safer that way, since the villagers were able to go about their normal lives without too much of a hassle from those who watched them like hawks.

This was how Alphonse Elric, younger brother to Edward Elric, was able to sneak out of Winry’s house every day to get down to where the Ishbalan refugees were hiding. He was the only one in Resembool who seemed to care about the refugees’ wellbeing, and as such, brought them medicine and bandages and food and what little else he could. He knew they were grateful, but the Ishbalans were a proud people, and they would never thank him outright. Alphonse simply knew these people needed help and if no one stepped up to save just one life, then all was lost. Besides, it gave him something to do; otherwise he’d be sitting at the window of his attic room and wondering when his brother was coming back.

If his brother was coming back.

The younger Elric shook his head to dispel the awful thought and hurried on his way, hoping to reach the edge of the refugee camp before Winry discovered he was gone. He slipped and slid his way down a grassy knoll, holding tight to his backpack full of supplies. He never really saw the Ishbalans that he helped, since they didn’t really trust him as much as he pretended they did. Still, they hadn’t shot him yet, and it wasn’t like he was making a conscious effort to see them, hoping that simple respect of space kept him worthy in their eyes. Alphonse jogged slowly to the normal meeting place – despite the fact it really was more of a drop off place than a meeting place, it was still nice to call it such – and found the indicated space where he was to place his bag. The younger Elric brother had just knelt down to hide his satchel so it wouldn’t be found by anyone other than the Ishbalans when he heard it. The cold of panic coursed through his blood as he felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of his skull, the hammer cocking back as a bullet was loaded in the chamber.

“What do we have here?”

The voice was slimy, oily, and Alphonse was grabbed up and turned to face a pair of Amestris soldiers, their uniforms dirty and bloody as if they’d just been in a fight. And judging by the bruises and cuts on their faces, they most definitely had been. Alphonse swallowed and simply held up his hands in surrender.

“It’s a Resembool brat.” Said the soldier without the gun, giving Alphonse a terrifying grin. “What’re you doing out here, so far from home?”

“Helping those dark-skinned rats,” said his partner, grabbing up the backpack Alphonse had brought with him, upending the contents of it on the grass. Alphonse held back the groan of disappointment as the clean linen bandages hit the dirt, and the containers of medicine clinked together in threat of shattering. “Look at this. Medicine, bandages, food.”

Alphonse swallowed. “They’re people too.”

“They’re not people. They’re rats. And rats need to be exterminated.” The gun was waved in Alphonse’s face and the boy tensed, hands held high, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the man wouldn’t shoot him. And then the boy’s worst nightmare came true as the barrel of the pistol was pressed to his forehead. “I think you’re a rat too, helping fellow rats.”

“N-no.” Alphonse stammered. “I just…”

“You just what? You just thought you’d take supplies from hardworking Amestris soldiers and give them to the poor, defenseless, Ishbalan rats?”

Alphonse swallowed and nodded meekly. The two soldiers looked at each other and laughed hard enough to cause them shortness of breath for a few minutes. Finally, the one not holding the gun gave the younger Elric a poison smile. “We can’t kill you,” he crooned, “but we can have our fun with you.”

How wide Alphonse’s eyes went when those hands went for his lapels to drag him closer. It was instant reaction, Alphonse’s hands flying to knock the soldier away from him, a well-placed kick to the solar plexus sending the man backwards. His hands shot up to grab the wrist of the soldier holding the gun to his head and twisted, hearing bones snap. The soldier let out a scream of pain and Alphonse let him fall away if only so he could run. A bullet grazed his cheek a moment after the loud BOOM echoed into his ear, and Alphonse fell hard against the ground, scrambling onto his back to try and make an escape. He’d always been the better fighter, Alphonse knew with sickening clarity, but it had been his brother who’d been chosen to go fight. Alphonse didn’t like fighting, and Edward didn’t like it much either, but Edward would kill if he had to in order to protect his family. In order to protect Alphonse. His brother wouldn’t have allowed these soldiers so close to him; he would have fought until the men were bloody pulps. But Alphonse wasn’t Edward, and Alphonse would only defend himself long enough to run so that both parties would live.

In this case, it looked like his philosophy had backfired on him. The hammer of the firearm clicked again as another bullet was loaded and Alphonse shivered, terrified. He cried out when the loud BOOM cracked again, waiting for the blossoming pain, the chill of death. But there was nothing, simply a second whip crack and a dull thud. Alphonse opened his eyes to stare at the two dead soldiers, their blood staining the grass an eerie red and the boy almost panicked. The fourteen-year-old shot straight to his feet only to feel, once again, the cold of metal pressed to the back of his skull. Slowly, he turned around to stare up into the hard ruby eyes of an Ishbalan, an X-shaped scar crisscrossing his face. Alphonse swallowed and again held up his hands in surrender. This time, the gun was de-cocked and put back in a holster, and the Ishbalan sidestepped the boy, moving toward the two bodies. He wasn’t alone, as several more Ishbalans moved out of the forest, each holding a gun of some sort. The obvious leader didn’t have to say a word as the bodies were stripped of everything useful and the corpses were left to rot.

Alphonse shuddered. “Um.”

The mere sound of his utterance seemed to condemn him, but the scarred leader waved his companions off as he walked back over to the boy, towering above him. Alphonse swallowed and stared up into those red eyes, trying not to show his nervousness or fear. Finally, the scarred Ishbalan raised a hand to put it on Alphonse’s head in a somewhat comforting gesture.

“Go back home. Don’t come here anymore.”

Alphonse shivered at the sound of that voice and watched speechless as the scarred Ishbalan moved back to join his compatriots in the shadows. Only before the dark-skinned man reached true invisibility did Alphonse take a step forward. “Hey! Wait!”

The red-eyed man simply looked at the blonde boy and froze Alphonse to his place. Then he was gone, and Alphonse was left alone in the clearing, trembling. Twice he’d had a gun to his head, twice he’d gotten out alive. He swallowed all his nervousness and turned tail, hurrying back to Resembool where the illusion of safety was strong and real.

Staring at his back was the scarred Ishbalan, his pistol aimed at that retreating back. A hand rested on his forearm then, and he lowered his gun to look at one of his smaller comrades. The man simply shook his head.

“Kid’s the one who brought the medicine to save my girl.” The man heaved a sigh. “Besides, Scar, you let him go yourself.”

The man called Scar just grunted and lowered his firearm, holstering it before he turned away, leading his people back to their new camp. Still, Scar found himself looking over his shoulder for the boy, half expecting him to be returning with a contingent of Amestris soldiers. When dusk began to fall, Scar had no more reason to worry. He simply had a reason to stay behind now, as his people moved on from this area to another, safer place. When they had gone, Scar turned to head for Resembool, walking carefully and quietly in the darkened fields.


Roy watched Edward out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to do something stupid the moment they reached the outskirts of Resembool. He expected the boy to start shouting to give the black-haired Lieutenant Colonel away, to bolt ahead and lose him, or something equally ridiculous. But Ed didn’t do a thing except lengthen his stride in some hope or another, hurrying without trying to seem impatient. Roy smirked, knowing that ever since the lights of the village had been seen in the distance, Ed had been aching to get there, to check on his loved ones and make sure they were all okay. It was dusk when the pair made it to the interior of the village, but Edward didn’t stop at any of the houses there, instead leading Roy on a wild run for another outskirt house, grinning like mad at something only the blonde teenager could see.

“Alphonse!” Edward shouted, increasing his pace when he spotted another blonde emerging from a field, “Alphonse!”

“Edward!?”

Roy watched as the two boys nearly collided in a fierce hug, and he took the moment to catch his breath, sides burning as he fought to draw air into his lungs. The two blondes looked almost identical – same golden hair and eyes, same build, though Alphonse was a few inches taller and had more of a baby-face look than his elder brother. Edward had a harder look, more determined beneath that physical frailty, but most of what made up Edward was hard, wiry muscle. Alphonse, though, didn’t look like he’d been lazy.

“I thought you were on the front lines,” Alphonse whimpered, burying his face against his older brother’s neck.

“I kinda was.” Edward said. “But I didn’t get hurt. See?” He stepped back to show Alphonse his unharmed body, grinning. “All in one piece.”

The younger Elric brother sighed and smiled gently. The smile didn’t fade until his gaze went past his brother to the form of Roy Mustang standing behind the elder Elric, and Alphonse’s face took on a stricken look. As if realizing his brother’s discomfort, Ed stepped back a bit further to introduce the two.

“Alphonse, this is Roy. He helped me get home. Roy, this is my little brother, Alphonse.”

Roy mentally bit himself in reprimand that he had to play the part of a civilian and simply held out his hand to Alphonse. “Nice to meet you.”

Nervously, Alphonse returned the handshake. “You too.”

“With that out of the way,” Ed said with a somewhat forced grin, “Let’s go home. I want to see how Granny’s doing.”

“H-hey! Brother! Wait for me!” Alphonse hurried to jog after his brother, leaving Roy once again by himself, taking a slower pace this time since there was only one house in the direction the brothers were running in. Roy shoved his hands in his pockets and simply lengthened his stride, certainly not keeping up by any means, but fast enough that it would still look like he was a proper escort.

Roy took a moment to survey what he saw, wondering if there were other places like this that had survived the Amestris military’s occupation. Resembool looked just like it had when he’d left it, and the only subtle differences came in the form of new vegetation. The village didn’t strike him as anything but normal, and considering he’d seen worse places on his tour, Roy decided he could relax here.

At least until he heard the yelling from within the house he’d just walked up to, and watched the wrench crash through a window on the upper floor of the abode to crash just before his feet. Roy blinked; a few extra inches and that thing would’ve cracked his head open. He looked up from the weapon and listened to the screaming, picking out Edward’s voice from somewhere beneath an irate girl’s. Slowly, Roy bent to pick up the wrench and resigned himself, moving up to the porch of the house and inviting himself inside. He stopped beside an elderly woman who calmly chewed on her pipe and watched Edward get throttled by a blonde girl. Roy sighed, and held out the wrench to the girl.

“I think this is yours?”

The blonde girl looked up from her victim to the black-eyed Lieutenant Colonel and blushed. Unceremoniously, she dropped Edward to the floor and stepped forward, shyly taking the wrench from the man.

“Thank you.” She bowed quickly before she turned her back on the man and stalked over to her victim. “Edward! You jerk!”

“Winry! Winry, stop!”

“Winry! Don’t hurt Brother!”

Roy looked down at the old woman and asked, “Is this normal?”

A lone puff of smoke escaped her pipe. “More or less.”