(East City - Outside the Train Station)

**Nicole P.O.V**

        After Armstrong and the Elric brothers departed, I seized the opportunity to make my way to the Eastern Command Center before my train's departure. Navigating through the bustling throng, I finally emerged onto the street. I didn't even have time to try and hail a cab before a sleek, black car pulled up right in front of me.
        "Get in, Healer." Mustang's gaze pierced through the cracked window, his voice carrying a weight of seriousness.
        I quickly threw my pack in the back and slid into the passenger seat as Mustang pulled away from the station.
        "I saw that interaction you had with that couple at the concession stand. You're supposed to be dead, Healer; I thought you were supposed to be lying low!" He yelled, glancing at me.
        "So I'm just not supposed to help people!" I shot back, my emotional heat causing me to quickly retract. I turned my gaze to the street outside, adding softly, "But you’re right, sir. I apologize."
        A thick silence settled in, punctuated only by the soothing hum of the engine. I absentmindedly ran my thumb along my watch, watching the scenery blur past.
        Then, Mustang took a deep breath, his tone softening. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? When I heard what happened, I feared the worst... I'm just relieved to see you safe."
        I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his sudden admission.
        "I'm not saying not to help people either; it warmed my heart seeing you interact with that couple like you were old friends. Offering to help others simply out of the goodness of your heart makes you a damn good soldier. I'm glad you take pride in your work; just remember to consider your own safety from time to time."
        I realized, to my delight, that my cheeks were starting to ache, not from tension, but from a genuine smile after what felt like days.
        "Thank you, Colonel Mustang, sir," I replied, my voice soft but sincere.
        He nodded and pulled the car to a stop, shifting the car into park. I glanced out, expecting to see the Command Center. I felt a dull expression form across my face.
        "We just drove around in circles? I thought we were going to HQ." I asked, looking back into the train station.
        He smirked, "You know only a handful of people know you're still kicking, and unlike you, I'm trying to keep that under wraps."
        With a sigh, I went to retrieve my stuff from the back seat. I hoisted my pack over my shoulder and went to retrieve a small box from my bag of treats.
        Presenting it to him with a bow, I said, "Here, take this as a token of gratitude."
        Mustang appeared momentarily surprised before accepting the box, a soft smile breaking his usually stoic demeanor. He nodded appreciatively, and I felt a surge of warmth in the exchange.
        "Now, I've been hearing things are escalating up in Liore. Keep your guard up, be careful, and promise me you'll come back in one piece, Healing Alchemist."
        I took a step back and saluted him. "I won't make promises, but I will stay safe, sir. Hopefully I'll be able to come back soon."

~~~***~~~***~~~

(Train - Ohpihezba)

        As the final hours of my train ride dwindled, I approached my last stop in Posterim. Gazing out the window, a wave of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Even from a distance, the flicker of firelight danced against the night sky, while plumes of thick black smoke spiraled into the air. Mustang had been right; the situation had clearly escalated. If I could see the devastation from this far away, I could only imagine how much worse it must be there.

(Liore)

        I was strapped into my seat, pulse racing, being driven down the streets that had erupted into a battleground. We drove through the street, seeing the shambles of crumbling buildings and strewn debris. I could see groups of rioters clashing in the streets, their faces twisted in rage, wielding makeshift weapons, while others fled in terror, eyes wide with panic; an unimaginable reality that has turned this once seemingly peaceful town into a war zone.
        We came to a stop in the middle of a large base camp. The second I stepped out, shouts and screams mingled with the sound of breaking glass and the distant crack of gunfire. The air is electric, charged with tension and fear.
        Officers in full riot gear usher me into a makeshift triage center hastily thrown together and housing what felt like miles of people. Men, women, and children lie on gurneys, bloodied and bruised, many barely conscious, victims of unwarranted violence.
        My attention immediately went to a young woman, no more than twenty, in severe shock, with blood pouring from a gash on her forehead, her body growing paler by the second. I could see she was going in and out of consciousness from blood loss.
        I threw my pack onto the ground, not even getting a chance to breathe as adrenaline started to surge through my body. I grabbed a handful of bandages and began cleaning and putting pressure on her wound. Luckily for her, her skull wasn't damaged, only the skin and muscle.
        I took in a deep breath and placed another hand just above her wound. She tried to shake her head away when the red glow came into her view; fear grew in her eyes.
        "No, wait. I'm healing your wound. Please, don't move." I said softly, pulling the blood-soaked bandage away as the rest of her wound healed up.
        She continued rolling in her bed, glancing from me to the entrance behind me. Her breathing seemed to quicken.
        "What if they come in here?" She kept repeating.
        I tried to calm her down, placing a cool compress on her forehead, and called over a doctor to administer something to help her.
        I had moved down the line, scanning for people who could be quick fixes, hoping to get them out to the refuge area and free up beds for more patients.
        Just as I began to stabilize another person, the tent flaps flew open, and I heard my name being called out. I sprinted to the group of medics who were carrying in a man with a caved-in chest, riddled with shrapnel. His eyes were closed, but I could just barely see his chest rising and falling. I placed my hands across his chest, waiting to feel something, anything, from him.
        The faintest bit of Chi flowed through me; I felt a flicker of hope, but just as quickly, it faded. I could see the panic setting in on the faces of the medics surrounding us. I struggled to find that feeling again, but it was weaker this time. I had to pull my hands away and shake my head. As I turned away, I heard a sheet being draped over the man. I walked through the tent, returning to the other people who were still alive and in need of my help.

(The Next Day)

        I had lost track of time while tending to the wounded. A laceration here, a broken bone there, and gunshot wounds—everything was blurring together. I reached an older man who had a deep cut running up through his chest, surrounded by dark bruises. As I knelt beside him and extended my arms, I realized I was shaking badly.
        "What do you think you're doing?" The man muttered as he noticed me approach him, "Don't you dare touch me; I happily gave my life for Leto! If he wants me to live, then I will; if he wants me to die, then so be it! I don't want help from an outsider."
        "What makes you think Leto didn't send me to help you so you don't die?" I shot back, my mind a muddled mess.
        His anger flared. "How DARE you! An outsider would know better than to speak so casually about the great God Leto!"
        Suddenly, he grabbed my arms and shoved me to the ground... I couldn't muster the energy to fight back.
        Then the sharp sound of a gun clicking echoed, and the entire tent fell silent.
        "She's here to help you! Let her go, now!" A soldier barked, causing the man to release me and push himself.
        I quickly scrambled to my feet, clicking my heels together and bringing my hand up to my temple in a salute. "Thank you for that, Lieutenant Colonel Hargrave."
        She approached me, gaze sweeping over me. Grabbing my cheeks and chin, she moved my head around as she examined me.
        "How long have you been awake, Major Tucker?"
        "I've been here since I was dropped off yesterday, ma'am," I replied, struggling to suppress a yawn.
        She let go of my face and shoved some rations into my hands, pointing toward the exit of the tent. "I'm not going to have your safety compromised because you've pushed yourself past your limit. Go rest; if this happens again, you won't like the consequences. Do I make myself clear?"
        "Crystal, ma'am." I saluted her once more and ducked out of the tent into the blinding sunlight.
        Outside, explosions and gunfire reverberated through my bones; people in the streets were crying out for help, making it difficult to just walk past, but I wasn't about to disobey a superior.
        I arrived at a large bunker, navigating through rows of triple-layered bunk beds, where some were either sleeping or killing time before being called out again.
        My eyes finally fell on an empty cot with my pack resting against it. A wave of relief washed over me; I had been worried I’d forgotten it back in triage. Thank you to the kind soul who brought it here for me. Feeling a bit of my energy return, I fixed up my bed and hung my pack on one of the metal hooks jutting out from the frame, all while fighting the urge to sleep as I ate through the rations provided to me.