Whatever divine power that had the magnifying glass loved to point it at his little feelers. A routine inspection of Eastern Command had turned into a war zone as a small terrorist group waged a full scale attack against the building. Roy figured that if he managed to make it out of here intact he'd have to figure out who had fucked up so bad as to allow the rebel group to get in range with weapons of this scale. They should have been stopped blocks away.

The first shell took out his staff, taking away his support in one fatal swoop. The sickening chorus of screams and explosions rattled his ribcage as he grabbed the body closest to him. After forcing the struggling form away from the crumbling stairs, he realized that he had grabbed the small blonde on chance.

He dragged Edward up against the corner, watching the gold eyes round in terror. He'd never been in an actual war, had never hunkered down in a ditch waiting for the explosions to stop long enough to get to safety or to allow backup to save whoever was left. The childlike horror he was nurturing in his mind would cause more trouble if Roy didn't snap him out of it. Fullmetal would work better with orders until his brain kicked in. He might not have been in a war, but he's seen enough small scale battles to know how to handle himself in one.

After taking a breath or two to steady himself, he reached across to grab one thin shaking shoulder, wincing as the blonde tried to dislodge his grasp with a metal elbow. "Get a hold of yourself Fullmetal, now is not the time to be panicking."

The shrimp nodded jerkily, trying to control his breathing as he watched his commanding officer do the same. After a few seconds, for Roy really couldn't give him any more, Roy went to pass on the half-formed plan that he had came up with, which wasn't much.

Find whoever was attacking the building, and then beat the shit out of them. Not hard. And if they could find the rest of the gang while they were at it, big plus.

Simple plans were the best for inexperienced soldiers. And Fullmetal was the worst kind of…

A sharp rattling noise interrupted the alchemist's thoughts, and as he tried to place the increasingly loud and repetitive sound, the wall to the left of him began to splinter even more. Small holes blew inward, accompanied by puffs of white dust. A machine gun, they had a fucking machine gun!

Fullmetal had frozen, obviously not realizing what the weapon was capable of or that it was even a weapon. Snarling, Roy grabbed him by the shoulders, twisting the pair so that the boy was in front of him. Throwing them away from the wall, he had the fleeting recollection of Maes doing the same thing to him after a raid had gone bad. They hadn't had guns of this caliber then, but Roy had froze up just the same.

Something shoved him hard in the right shoulder. If he had been on even ground, and had not been contending with Fullmetal, Roy might have been able to remain standing. But, as circumstances as they were, he toppled forward onto the younger man, ending up in undignified heap seconds before the realization, along with the pain, hit him.

He'd been shot.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to muster up what little inner strength he had left at this point to contain the cries of pain that were clawing in his chest. His arm became a useless hunk of meat as it clumped to the ground.

Screaming was something the Flame alchemist tried to prevent at all costs. And now, he was a beggar made as he cried hoarsely into his subordinate's ear. He'd never been shot before. Stabbed, burned, beaten; but never shot. It was amazingly gruesome how much this hurt more than anything else he could remember. He felt like his whole damn arm was about to fall off. The tearing wasn't clean or sanitary, jagged bits of flesh gapping outward from his jacket that was starting to turn a sickening shade of dark maroon.

He blanked out, he supposed. Surely he had, with the pain in the forefront of his mind he didn't even register being pulled to his feet. But as Fullmetal hollered into his ear at the top of his lungs, the simple words lost on him as the remaining blood that had stayed inside his body pounding in his ears. Something about a bastard and paperwork.

He'd much rather be doing paperwork now. Oh god, would he rather be doing his paperwork now.

His feet left him again, and the pain he thought impassable gained whole new levels as he hit the ground. Things were pattering against his face and chest, large solid things.

Fear he didn't have. Oddly, a sudden calm had came over him, even as his thoughts remained frantic. He couldn't leave his men, couldn't let them fall to the other officers. Not out of greed, as they were good men that excelled in whatever use they had. No, he didn't want them to be used as canon fodder for the higher ups.

Breda, his strategist, needed someone to goad him into action. He was not a man of action on his own, but a man to have at your back none the less.

Falman, damn him, would be lost in the shuffle along with Fuery. Falman might adjust if he got placed in another office, but Fuery didn't stand a chance. The puppyish man would be chewed and spat out if another commander got a hold of him.

Havoc. Stupid chain smoker. Lazy and watch full, he defiantly saw too much to just be forgotten.

Hawkeye. She needed someone to watch over. She was too maternal to just be shoved off into the front lines like any good sniper should have been. But she needed watching, just like the Elrics.

Alphonse, he needed his brother to get his body back. The bright, cheerful little boy in the wrong body. Who never did wrong or saw it. Too trustful.

Edward. God, he couldn't leave the pest to roam free. Central wouldn't survive the week. And no one else would allow the young male the leash he did. If anyone found out about the Elrics, they would never see sunlight again.

The sudden stony precipitation stopped, and the light darkened above him. Panting, gasps of pain littered his as the ground shook. What was happening now?

More pain, and he couldn't help but struggle against the well meaning hands that fought with his clothes and shoulder. One burned his skin while the other chilled, and a gentle prodding at his wound made him arch. No more, please, no more. It hurts too much…

The pain dulled after an eternity of it. Fighting his way upward, he heard sobbing.

Taking in a breath, having to choke on dirt and blood to do so, he got his eyes open to see who was crying. A muzzy picture of Fullmetal came into view and he frowned. He was the only one he could see...but to think that the man was crying over Roy was ludicrous.

"Full…Metal." The title nearly took all of his strength to produce and sent his head swimming.

"Finally!" A tear stained face, it had been Edward crying over him then, and a flesh hand to his cheek came into his small, throbbing world. "I thought I'd have to drag your ass around for the rest of the day lazy bastard!" The words were both fearful and relieved. Gold eyes shimmered behind a curtain of water.

"Funny." Even though he wanted to make a better remark, he found whatever words he possessed free of his mind. Instead, he worked his mouth into an upward curve and tried to move one arm. No go. "Gloves?"

Scrambling, and a frantic Edward tried to shove them into his left hand. "Here." Roy shoved them back. He didn't have the strength to do much more.

"Can't. You…do it."

"But!—The last time I tried I nearly blew up your office!" He wanted very much to say that this wouldn't be the worst thing to happen at a time like this. "Who's to say this won't be worse? Fucking hell, the amount of explosives could blow us to hell before I finish snapping!"

Ah, good point.

"Faith Edo. Like…automail. Extension." The nickname slipped off his tongue without any prodding and he didn't try to fight it back as more pain edged out the strength had kept. Breathing became a forgotten art as his body rebelled against the simple task. Finally, he managed to get out three more words before surrendering. "Be a god."

"But there is no god." The words came too late for the Flame Alchemist to respond to as he slipped into pain free oblivion, but the last clinging thought he had was that if any mortal could succeed in rectifying the youth's belief it would be Edward Elric.