A/N- This is a short oneshot written for an FMA Fic Contest prompt on Live Journal. It includes Chapter 108 SPOILERS! I know that you know that I only wish that I had created FMA and these characters. Hiromu Arakawa is the one.

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Three men stood atop the terraced and ever morphing dune, the wind and sand lashing them like punitive whips.

One of them had been born not far from where they stood. He had brought the other two there to see and feel the beauty of the desert and to learn of Ishvallah. It is the only way, he had told the other two, to build a true foundation for our mission. You must learn to understand and perhaps even to respect us.

Of the two other men, one had never seen the land of sands before, despite the fact that some of the blood running in his veins was from the fountain of Ishval. This man in the dark glasses was gazing in wonder. In some ways, the vista reminded him of the snows of the North where he had spent much of his adult life. In other ways, it was too alien for him to begin to comprehend.

The dark-haired third man had, for a time, lived- if one could call it that- in the sand when he was little more than a child. It was because of the terrible things that this good man had done on these sands- so many years ago- that he has returned.

The scarred man was the one who had lived most of his life in this hot and arid land, but, really, he was not the same person who had sat at the knees of the robed scholars, learning the word of Ishvallah. Nor was he the same man who had believed that he had been chosen to annihilate (as they had done to his people) the perverted practitioners of alchemy. His hate had twisted and warped the teachings of the wise men, and he was still trying to undo the delicate tangle that his beliefs had become.

"See," spoke the scarred man, "it's astonishingly beautiful. And real. Life changes like the sands. The city and the tundra only give one the illusion of constancy."

"All I see is the remains of destruction. Blood. Fire. I smell charred flesh and hear screams." These words were from the dark-haired man.

"We both must look through new eyes," stated the Ishvalan. "Like him." He indicated the soldier from the North.

"How is that even possible? How can one…ignore the past… my sins? The people that I've killed cannot be resurrected. These ruins" (the good man of the bad deeds gestures to their left) "cannot be fixed. Ishval cannot be repaired."

"No, but it can be rebuilt. My people can be repatriated. We can change countless lives for the better."

"That's what I had wanted to do in the Army, but I ended up doing the opposite." Then, the dark-haired man's frown transformed into a smile. "No! I may have done the opposite, but I will end up changing people's lives for the better. There is nothing I can do about the past, but we can do plenty about the future."

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A/N- Thanks for reading. Roy, Miles, and Scar request that you review. XD Take care!