"The world is not dangerous because of those who do harm but because of those who look at it without doing anything" –Albert Einstein

At first the world had panicked. Who wouldn't? A strange and different nation had only appeared out of nowhere—there was no reason to lose your head over something so simple.

Of course America had been the one to welcome and communicate with the new nation. He had dibs on any "aliens" that might happen upon earth, so he had traveled to the nation the very hour it had mysteriously arrived.

But what he found had shocked him.

He had arrived, dressed nice (blame England) with a welcoming basket of big macs and everything one might need to survive a Sunday, only to find a land devastated and blood-soaked.

As he entered the strange land the familiar sight of war was everywhere. It clogged his nose with the rusting scent of blood, made his eyes dim with grim reflection, and his gloved hands tighten into fists.

But what he least expected to see was a single black haired man standing in a sea of dead bodies.

The man stood staring up at the blue sky, his hands drenched in blood and tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

America made his way through the corpses; trying not to stare into the lifeless eyes of people he would never get the chance to share the wonderful invention of a big mac. Carefully, he approached the young man, setting down the welcoming basket and gently setting a hand on the quivering shoulder before him.

The man twitched as he awoke from his own lifeless trance. Black hair fell over the darkest set of blue eyes America had ever seen as the man turned to stare at him.

America searched for some inspiring and noble words, he was the hero after all, but only found one. "Hello." In the end, it wasn't all that inspiring, but it did its job.

The blue eyed man snickered. "Fuck—"the next word came out more as a small laugh, "hi."

America was surprised. The man knew his language. Not only that, he also knew the swear words! "I'm America," he paused, "Who are you?"

The man sighed and raised a hand to wipe tears from his cheeks. Before he could wipe away the now drying tears he stopped and stared at the blood. "I'm Amest—" he paused as he stared at the dead around his feet. "Hmm, well I was Amestris, but half my people have died due to my carelessness. I don't think I deserve to be a nation . . . I don't deserve to be anything."

America knew the feeling.

"I'm Roy . . . only Roy."

Okay, so I had a sudden epiphany as I walked around my house today: Wouldn't it be wonderful it Edward was Amestris?

Then I logged on to fanfiction and saw that other people have had the same ideas. Drat!

So, I went to my next idea and made Roy Amestris. He's a good guy after all, and I wouldn't mind him representing my nation.

I'm not use to writing such serious(?) stories, so it was new to me, and fun in a sad way. I hope to continue this idea and hopefully get a good reaction from my fellow anime/ manga lovers.

Please read and review. I want to know what you think!

I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia or Fullmetal Alchemist!