March 6th, 1952

"If this goes on much longer we're not going to be able to retreat!" Alphonse gasped as he dropped back behind the berm the alchemists had erected for their men to hide behind.

"It's already too late to retreat," Ed replied, cursing under his breath as he slammed his hands to the ground again and somewhere on the other side of the berm there was shouting as the ground exploded around them – nothing but dirt, but it was enough to shake people's nerves and make them stop firing.

They had been given bad information, it was as simple as that, and now they were fighting in the worst possible terrain. It was broken and uneven and it was impossible to hold proper formations together, though the men were doing an admirable job given the situation. The problem was, apparently the militia had decided that the Amestrians made a more tempting target than the local dispute they had come to quell. Al didn't know if they had been tipped off that the Brothers' division was out here or had merely gotten lucky, but Al was sick of jungle fighting.

Ed had a point. This was the second day since they had first been attacked, and the combat had been going on consistently since early that morning. With the afternoon sun blazing overhead somewhere above the canopy, it was hot under the trees, muggy, and Al kept swallowing tiny insects if he opened his mouth for too long.

"We've got to figure out how they keep changing positions," Al replied, panting as he clapped his hands together and sent small whirlwinds of air up the hill and into the midst of the enemy. He couldn't make them too large here, the natural air movement was entirely wrong for it and it took a lot more energy than it would have in the more open plains and deserts of much of Amestris.

"Actually," Ed replied, taking a moment and wiping the sweat and dirt from his face with his sleeve. "I have a theory about that, Al."

Al ducked down as a bullet whizzed past his ears. "Now would be a very good time to share it."

"Well if you wanted to move people from one place to another in hostile territory without being seen, how would you do it?" Ed asked as he began to sketch something in the dirt. As Al watched, he recognized it as the area they were in. Ed began drawing a couple of new lines as well, connecting the areas soldiers were coming out at, and then the same troops – there was no way Ed and Al could be fooled enough not to tell when some of them were the same officers – were appearing in places they shouldn't be able to without having been seen by the Amestrians or going right through their ranks.

"Tunnels!" Al exclaimed as he realized what Ed was getting at. "You think they're using tunnels. That would make sense," he nodded. The soil around here under the trees, and the style of tree roots, would allow for surprisingly easily tunneling he suspected, compared to other forests. "But how would they have had time?"

"The tunnels were already here," Ed shrugged. "You've heard the same stories I have. The locals have had conflicts for generations over different things, and these areas haven't always been friendly. What better place to hide or better way to hide your movements?"

"Can we locate them?" Al contemplated the lines. "It shouldn't be hard since we know where they would be likely to be able to put them, and where they're attacking from."

"Let's get scouts on it tonight when things quiet down," Ed agreed.

It was the only break through they had had since getting caught on the low ground in thick forest and more spread out than they would have liked. "When we get the chance, we really should move out into more open territory," Al voiced the opinion he had held for a couple of weeks now that it was actually an option.

Ed scoffed, again. "I told you, Al, all that will do is make us even more open targets. You think they'll come out of the forest just to shoot at us when they can continue to hide in the trees and do it with less risk?"

"Let's just send out those scouts." Al didn't want to argue with Ed about this again. Not right in the middle of a fire fight. They should locate the tunnels and take them out. It was a sound strategy that would fix their much more immediate problems.

March 7th, 1952

Things quieted down at night. Even the enemy needed to sleep sometime. As the Officers sat blearily over cups of early morning coffee before dawn, the scouts returned, and it turned out that Ed's theory was entirely correct.

"There are entrances here and here for certain," one of the scouts, a Sergeant, tapped her fingers in two places on the local map they had picked up at their last stop. "Probably one here as well," she indicated a third location, but it was much further away and behind a lot more of the enemy line; the part that hadn't moved since they had been stalled in this hell hole.

"So all we have to do is sneak in to those points and blow the tunnels," Ed grinned.

"You make it sound so easy," Brewster yawned and drained his coffee, refilling it from the pot on the table. It was thick, dark sludge that Alphonse didn't much care for, but it was better than nothing when they were as short on sleep as they were and worn out from constant combat.

Ed really didn't look much better than the rest of them, but either he was hiding it or, perhaps as usual, Ed was just ignoring the signals he was getting from his brain telling him he was tired. His brother had always been good at pushing himself well beyond normal human endurance. Though it would come back to bite him later. "It wouldn't be that hard to sneak in two men. We should use alchemists," he added only a second later. "Setting explosives takes too long and alchemists could collapse the entire tunnel system without having to locate the entire thing for certain."

"It's just a matter of finding the weak points and exploiting them," Al agreed. He didn't much like the idea of catching soldiers inside and burying them, certainly sending them to their deaths, but if they collapsed the tunnels at night when the men weren't moving, than all they did was make it much easier to pin down the enemies movements. He could live with that, since it seemed to be the plan.

"There's just one complicating factor," the scout sighed a moment later.

"What's that?" Brewster asked.

"Apparently they've got civilians in custody," she frowned. "One of my men heard voices in one of the tunnels. Men sure, but also women and a couple of children. The best we can tell, they were dispensing a little local justice when they decided to come out here and have a little fun with us."

"We can't collapse the tunnels with children inside them," Al shook his head vehemently. No way! They couldn't go killing innocent people. They'd have to find another way.

"We may not have a choice," Ed said, shocking him, though his brother looked grim. "We should try to find a way to get them out first if it's possible."

Al was glad to hear that. "Would it be possible to sneak in while they're not using the tunnels and get them out?"

"Probably," Ed nodded thoughtfully. "If we went in early enough, just before dawn maybe, after they've finished moving for the night." The fact that they switched up the way they did implied a pattern of their major movements all being at night. "Can you lead us to where they are?" he looked at the Sergeant.

She nodded, looking mildly concerned. "Yes, General."

"By we you mean whoever we send right?" Al asked, as that warning feeling he sometimes got tickled the back of his neck.

Ed grinned as he looked up. "I mean you and me."

"There are other alchemists in this army, Ed," Al frowned. Not that he didn't want to save them himself, but now wasn't the time to be playing hero. "Why do you keep insisting on doing things yourself?"

"Hey, they've got their hands full as it is," Ed shook his head. "Most of what you and I have been doing any of them can handle. This is not about rank or talent. It's about experience. You're the one who insisted we have to get them out," he pointed out, already analyzing the map.

Al wasn't sure he liked Ed's tone. "Are you saying you'd rather just let them die?"

"Of course not!" Ed's head snapped upward so sharply Al heard his brother's neck pop. "What kind of an idea is that?"

"It just sounded like it from the way you …oh never mind," Al sighed and drank his coffee. It wasn't worth the argument when Ed was hyper-focusing on the mission at hand. "So we're going in."

"I'll take one entrance, you'll take another," Ed nodded. "We hit after they've finished their movements and before they're getting ready in the morning. The goal is to limit their movements after all, not mass slaughter." From the look in his eyes, Al knew that Ed was expecting him to say something else contradictory.

While the plan was risky, Al hadn't thought of anything better, and he didn't think Ed was turning into some opportunistic warmonger; whatever his brother's suspicious little mind might think. Al didn't respond to Ed's look, he just nodded. "Sounds good to me."

March 9th, 1952

Ed crept through the pre-dawn darkness with all the stealth he possessed. Years of practice were not enough to make him overly confident. He did not dare think for a moment that he was better at moving in this terrain than the people who had grown up here or trained here regularly.

The Aerugean camp was quiet and Ed had little trouble avoiding their guards. Cautiously he made his way to the tunnel entrance to the north of their own camp. The one Al was taking sat further to the south, and between them they should be able to hamper the enemy's movements and hopefully open up the way so they could get their own men to continue south-west down the river. He was sick of his men being stuck in between the low ridge-lines of the hills and picked off. At least it was good to know that their losses were minimized by the use of the State Alchemists. So far they had lost only four hundred men. While Ed hated to use the word only, he knew it would have been a couple thousand by now most likely without them.

Ed crept a couple of feet into the tunnel, ducking out of view of anyone who might glance at the entrance and squatted down, listening in the quiet. The tunnel was pitch-black at this hour, and it smelled of dank, rich wet earth. He waited for several minutes until he was sure he hadn't been spotted. He could hear his heart, and then the sounds of murmuring voices somewhere in the tunnel. Yeah, that sounded like a child being comforted by a woman's voice; the mother probably. Then he heard another sound that quickly overwhelmed it.

That didn't sound like prisoners. It sounded like marching feet. But they had verified the positions of every unit they had been fighting for the past few days. That meant….shit, reinforcements! Ed ducked out of the entrance and behind a tree just in time as more men started to come out of the tunnel. They were clearly fresh troops, their unit insignia not one of the several they had identified among the enemy.

They were coming out faster. It was now or not at all. Damn it, damn it, damn it! "Now, Al!" Ed bellowed, his heart aching as he tried not to think too hard about the people below, and slamming his hands together before hitting the mound that was the tunnel entrance. This wasn't a finesse job. The entire area was bathed in brilliant blue light as it raced down the length of the tunnel and off into the woods, accompanied by the sound of dirt collapsing inward at an ever increasing pace.


Alphonse was hidden near his own entrance, listening to the quiet, soothing sound of a mother singing a lullaby to her crying child when he heard the sound of footsteps. At first he thought they must be above ground, but then he realized they weren't. They were underneath, and coming from a southern direction. Reinforcements? He was just about to go into the tunnel after the prisoners when he heard Ed's first shout.

Now? No. If he collapsed the tunnel now over two dozen innocent people would die!

"Damn it, Al, that's an order!" Ed shouted again and Al heard the sound of gunshots being fired. The alchemical light on the other side of the ridge vanished.

Al darted for the entrance. He could get them out before soldiers arrived surely. But he had to work fast if he wanted to help out Ed. He froze momentarily as soldiers began to come out of his entrance as well. It was too late to get inside. He hesitated, then dodged behind a tree as one of them spotted him and shouted an alert, a bullet flying in his direction almost immediately.

Without another moment's hesitation, Al clapped his hands together and dropped to the earth practically on top of the tunnel. Blue light flared once more in the night, temporarily blinding the soldiers coming out of the tunnel. They continued to shoot in his direction.

Al was sobbing as the tunnels collapsed beneath his hands. Not too far underground, muffled by the earth, he heard the sounds of screaming. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'm so sorry.


Ed got away from the Aerugeans, if just barely. His uniform had holes in it from where bullets had winged him, one leaving a bleeding scratch on his right thigh that stung worse than it actually was. He limped back to camp after nearly a mile detour around the Aerugean encampment that had been between him and his men after dawn. Any elation he felt at having succeeded in the mission was dampened by exhaustion and the fact that the adrenaline rush was long over. All he wanted now was a bath and a hot meal, and then some sleep. They wouldn't be moving today anyway. On the other side of the ridge he could hear the Aerugeans moving, obviously preparing to retaliate, but without their expected reinforcements, who now lay dead underneath tons of dirt.

He did his best not to think about the dead civilians as he paused, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. Running through the dark jungle dodging bullets was not his idea of a good party.

Ed didn't know who spotted him first, but within a couple of minutes Matthias Wood approached, a deep frown furrowing his face under his short blond hair. "Thank goodness," he sighed. "We were beginning to wonder. It's been too quiet up there for way too long."

"Only a couple of hours," Ed smirked then winced when he chuckled dryly. There was a winged shot that had clipped his ribs too. His throat was parched. "The tunnels are collapsed as far as I could make them. From the sounds of it, if we did it right they should have caved in back at least a couple of miles."

"That sounds about right," Matthias nodded. "Need a hand?"

Ed shook his head and made himself walk upright on his own, much as a shoulder to lean on would not have been unappreciated. "A couple of scrapes isn't enough to cry over. If you're ever carrying me into camp I'll probably be dead."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Hal Brewster winced as he joined them. "It sounds prophetic."

"Well it's a good thing I don't believe in fate or tempting the gods then isn't it?" Ed quipped. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized someone very important was missing. "Where's Alphonse?"

"Safe," Brewster replied. "He got back over an hour before you, and not a scratch on him despite having to fight off a couple dozen men."

Ed's chest unclenched with unspeakable relief. "Good. He took long enough to pull off his end I was worried for a bit that they got him before we even started, but that was some work on his part." Brewster and Wood exchanged looks. "What? What's wrong? You said Al wasn't hurt."

"I said there wasn't a scratch on him," Brewster replied softly.

Wood sighed. "He's pretty upset, Ed." It was a sign of the seriousness that he didn't even bother with Fullmetal. "He kept talking about how he could hear them screaming as they died… the civilians. I took him back to your tent after Doctor Knox took a look at him to make sure he wasn't hurt."

Of course Al was upset. He was a gentle spirit by nature, and that would shake anyone. Ed still felt a heavy guilt weighing on him about things turning out the way they had. "He'll be all right," he replied.

"You should talk to him after you get cleaned up," Wood shook his head. "I've never seen him like this."

"Al's pretty sensitive," Ed said reassuringly. He was sure Al would be fine.

Wood looked less than convinced. "I offered him the fifth of rum I picked up in Leraro, Ed, and he accepted it."

Okay, so maybe it was worse than he thought. Ed wanted to head straight for his tent, but Wood and Brewster both insisted that Ed see the doctor first and get his wounds looked at, no matter how minor they might be.

"Scratches indeed," Doctor Knox snorted as Ed sat in nothing but his shorts and undershirt on one of the medical beds thirty minutes later as the old man finished stitching up the gash in his leg. Ed didn't think it was that bad, but Knox took his time and it took ten stitches to hold it tightly closed. His side had been declared shallow enough to be cleaned, slathered in a salve that would keep out infection, and bandaged. "With commanding officers like you who needs enemies? You get yourselves killed off given enough opportunities."

He was gruff and relatively irritating, but Ed had found that oddly reassuring. The man was a little like Stevenson had been, but without the sense of humor. He didn't care about rank either. A patient was a patient. "You speak from experience?" Ed asked as he was allowed to stand up and pull his pants back on over his freshly bandaged leg.

"I was a medic during the Ishbal campaign as well," Knox nodded and said nothing more.

Ed didn't press. He rarely did. From the man's tone, he knew that Knox was one of those old soldiers who knew exactly what kind of a fight Ishbal had really been. "You must have been treating Mustang," he chuckled wryly.

"Several times actually," Knox replied humorlessly. Okay, so his dour disposition could get old quickly. "Stay out of combat for a couple of days and command from the back where you belong. If you pop those stitches I'll see about having you sewn to the bed instead."

"Yes, Sir," Ed nodded. "Thanks for the patch job," he added with a smirk as he pulled the rest of his uniform back on, yanked his boots on and stood, tapping them on the feet a couple of times to get his feet settled into them. After this long, they almost felt like a second skin, though they were getting pretty worn out.

"Just try to stay in one piece," Knot sighed as Ed left. While Ed wasn't sure how the old man did it, he had to still be in pretty damned good condition to keep up with the rest of them for this long in this kind of terrain. All Ed really had was respect for the man, not that he would tell him that!

Ed was waylaid one more time as he hobbled past the Mess and the smell of breakfast was simply too much for him to resist. Screw will-power; he was starving after all that high-energy alchemy and running for his life. He wolfed down three bowls of oatmeal with slices of local fruits, and probably could have eaten a lot more, except he filled up temporarily by slaking his thirst with plenty of fresh water.

It was two hours after Ed made it back to camp that he finally got back to his tent. By then, he could hear gunfire a quarter mile distant to either side as the fighting began again for the day. Brewster would be out there giving orders and handling things. Ed was glad to have so many competent officers under his command. It meant that, for the moment, he could get some much needed rest.

Ed ducked inside quietly in case Al had fallen asleep. Neither of them had slept the night before. It had taken most of the night just to get into their respective positions. As he expected, Al was curled up on his cot in his bedroll, his back to the entrance. The little flask of rum was definitely empty. It lay on its side on the table without a spilled drop; silent testament to the guilt and pain that had to be racking his brother. Standing perfectly still, Ed could see that Al wasn't asleep. His breathing wasn't even enough. "Alphonse, you okay?"

For nearly a minute, there was silence, and Ed began to think that maybe Al really was asleep after all, or just refused to answer. "I could hear them, Ed," he finally said softly, his voice cracking in a way Ed hadn't heard since they were boys. "They were crying out, and they screamed before they died." Al was still crying now, Ed realized.

Ed picked up the flask and tipped it over, which did nothing but confirm that Al had finished it. He set it back down as he sat down on the edge of Al's cot, and turned slightly to rest his hand on Al's shoulder. "We didn't have a choice," he replied just as quietly, his own regret clear in his voice. "There was nothing you could have done, Al. We didn't have time. You followed an order."

"From you," Al replied with a surprising vehemence. "That's not following orders, Ed. If I hadn't done it you wouldn't have done anything to me and I know it." There was a bitter twist in his words. "I know it had to be done. That doesn't make it better. That doesn't make those deaths right."

"No, it doesn't," Ed agreed with a deep sigh, rubbing Al's shoulder absently with his hand. His brother was shaking. There was no point in voicing his other observations. They had saved thousands of lives at the cost of enemy soldiers and only a handful of civilians. Likely they had saved themselves days, if not weeks, more of fighting. They could break things now and move on. But Al knew all of that as well as Ed did, and it was right that they should mourn the blood they spilled – the blood of innocent people.

Ed hadn't stopped feeling the pain and guilt that came with killing; he had just gotten used to it.

March 12th, 1951

Five months and nine days; not that Winry was counting. All right, so she was counting. No matter how busy she tried to keep herself, Winry couldn't manage to lose track of the days for even twenty-four hours. Her business trip to Rush Valley had been a pleasant and much needed distraction.

Five months without as much as a word. Okay, so they were maintaining strict radio communications silence most of the time, but Elicia had gotten several short messages from Al; little things, sometimes silly. Elicia shared them when they talked. Al missed her, he loved her, he promised to bring her flowers.

From Edward? Nothing. Not that Winry should have expected any differently. Ed had never been a good correspondent in the best of times. She just went about life as usual, keeping busy and waiting for her wayward alchemist to come back in through the door with a cocky grin and dozens of new stories of danger and death-defying experiences. It was enough to drive her crazy.

Today she was having the girls over in the afternoon for tea and talk. They still did it at least once a month, if only to make sure everyone kept their sanity given the current political situation.

"I'll be at the hospital, Mom," Ethan smiled at her as he came downstairs. He was growing again, Winry noted; the hems of his scrub pants were at least a quarter inch too short. "Before you ask, I've already finished my homework, sorted out my laundry, and given Bounce her bath."

Winry closed her mouth and smiled. "Thanks, sweetie. Have a good time and I'll see you later." She knew he wouldn't be back until well after dinner. He never was when he had the time to volunteer at the hospital. Especially right now. The injured that could be transported up from Aerugo were – mostly to Southern Headquarters – but more and more were starting to come up to Central, especially the ones in need of auto-mail. Winry had been part of three auto-mail surgeries that week alone; one foot, one arm from above the elbow, and a hand. The hand had been particularly difficult because of the nature of the injury.

"I will. Enjoy the chatter box," Ethan teased as he headed out the front door.

Winry just smiled and turned back to the paperwork she was looking over for the newest contracts for Rockbell Auto-mail. Business was booming, but there were moments when it seemed slightly overwhelming lately. She finally set the papers down, closed the leather folder they were in, took off her reading glasses, and rubbed her eyes. The girls would be over soon so she might as well get the teapot steeping. She had no doubt that Ethan would be perfectly happy to be out of the house instead of listening to a bunch of middle-aged women having girl talk.

Riza, Elicia, and Nancy were coming this time. Sciezka normally came but was out West visiting her son and his family to see her newest grandchild, though poor Vato was stuck at home hard at work at HQ, unable to take leave. Gracia, as always, was busy with one of her clubs' fundraisers. Winry was glad she enjoyed being a part of things; personally she couldn't imagine keeping up with so many different activities! Alyse definitely got it from her grandmother.

"I'm so glad you're back," Elicia chuckled as she came in the door with a tray full of small fruit tarts in hand. "It was so dull last week! How was the trip?"

"Fantastic for business," Winry chuckled as she set the teapot on the stove to heat and began pulling out cups, the sugar, and the creamer. "Murder on my diet."

"Travel is supposed to be like that though," Elicia grinned wickedly as she set down the tray. "What's the fun if you don't have a great time that you'll regret for months after you get home?"

"You know, when men say that it usually means something entirely different," Winry smirked at her friend.

"Isn't it nice to know ours aren't like most?" Elicia smiled knowingly, though her expression was a little wistful.

"Sure," Winry nodded, turning away long enough to rinse out the cups. She knew that, whatever Ed was doing, it almost certainly wasn't having a great time.

Elicia seemed to take her silence for missing Edward. "Oh I'm sure the boys are fine," she said as she uncovered the tarts and pulled out the dessert plates from the cabinet. "You know Edward and Alphonse. If anything was wrong we would have heard something. They're probably in some little scenic village somewhere wondering if we're worrying about them, or so wrapped up in their work that they've temporarily forgotten our existence."

"Edward maybe," Winry shook her head. "Al hasn't. He's the one making the radio reports isn't he?"

Elicia nodded. "His little notes you mean? You know Al. He's probably convinced that I'd feel slighted and abandoned if he didn't get something in, though he ought to know better by now. Edward's got command of the whole mission. I'm sure he's just busy."

Winry sighed. She didn't want to vent, but maybe she needed to. Elicia, if anyone, would understand. "There wasn't even anything for our anniversary last month." Wow she sounded like she was whining. Or at least, she thought so. "And I still feel guilty for how I acted before he left."

Elicia's patient smile told Winry that her friend understood, though she found Winry's worry amusing. "Edward's a big boy. I'm sure he's not holding it against you. I mean, you were angry with him, and you had every right to be. I wasn't all that happy with Alphonse either, but I couldn't very well make him stay home after how terrible he felt not being there to keep an eye on Edward during the Xing War. Blackberry or Cherry?"

"What?" Winry turned around, thrown off momentarily by the non sequitur, to find Elicia holding up one of each of the tarts.

"You sound like a woman in need of a pick me up," Elicia smirked.

Winry eyed the two. "I really shouldn't," she sighed after an indecisive moment.

"Oh it can't be that bad," Elicia rolled her eyes. "You were only gone a couple of weeks. Or is it that you're worried that Ed would even notice an extra pound or two?"

She knew Elicia was teasing, but that didn't help. Winry shook her head. "It's not that," she disagreed, though she didn't point out that – as she had mentioned once in a previous gripe session – Ed had noticed before he left. "Sugar just hasn't really agreed with me recently. Not consistently, but on and off."

"That bug you had last month maybe, where your temperature kept going up and down?"

"Doubtful," Winry shook her head.

"Then it's just stress because you're worrying too much," Elicia replied decisively. "Ed and Al will be home safe and sound in the next couple of months and if you're still feeling guilty you can drag him upstairs and keep him there until neither of you can walk if it will make you feel better."

"I think we missed the more interesting part of this conversation," Riza commented with a droll smile as she joined them. Winry hadn't heard her come in, but noticed that Nancy was with her.

What a perfect segue for a chance of topic! "Hardly," Winry smirked. "Elicia was trying to tell me how to handle Edward."

"Given you're the only person who can, that seems rather unnecessary," Riza chuckled. "I hope no one minds that I brought cucumber salad instead of a dessert. Lately Roy seems to think he's twenty-five again and I'm tired of having to order him to eat vegetables. If I see another take-out junk dinner in my house again I'm going to scream."

"I'm glad he's enjoying his work," Winry smirked. "And no, I don't mind. Some ladies have no sympathy for the problems of their friends," she eyed Elicia, who shrugged and gave an impish laugh.

"She'll catch up eventually," Nancy chuckled softly. "Then she can complain along with the rest of us."

Winry had to admit, while she had long ago stopped thing of Elicia as a much-younger sister, that twelve years seemed to mean a lot more as they got older as far as the other end of health issues went. Elicia was still only in her early forties, and hardly looked it. As much as she wasn't usually that vain, Winry couldn't help being a little jealous. Normally, she wouldn't have cared. But up until recently, she'd never had trouble maintaining a weight she was happy with either.

"No thank you," Elicia shook her head. "Besides," she chuckled. "It's not like anyone here has much to complain about." Well that was true too in the grand scheme of things. Winry suspected Riza was probably the fittest of the girls, but she worked at is as much as the rest of them. Winry privately wondered if their husbands were aware of just how hard their wives worked at keeping healthy and fit on top of having borne children. Given how health conscious the boys had to be in their line of work – especially now – it seemed interesting to realize they might not.

"Except our husbands?" Nancy teased as she set down her own contribution on the table: fruit salad. "Poor Heymans. I've stopped baking almost entirely lately. He tries to be good, but the war has him tied up in knots and when he stresses I could bake for all of Headquarters and we wouldn't have leftovers."

"I seem to recall he likes fruit too," Riza chuckled sympathetically. "And just about anything else for that matter. How did you get this out of the house?"

"I bought it and made it today after he left for work," Nancy shook her head ruefully. "I figured I could leave any left for Ethan or Elicia could take it home to feed Will. Growing boys seem to be the best place to dispense with unwanted leftovers."

"Isn't that the truth," Winry chuckled as the tea kettle whistled and she pulled it back off the stove. Almost like a signal, the girls all sat down around the table. "Ethan's growing again but it all seems to be vertical. Finding anything that fits him in store-bought clothing is getting to be a bit of a challenge."

"I think Will's finally about done," Elicia sighed, smiling with obvious relief. "If I have to buy that boy another pair of pants before the end of school he'll have to deal with me tacking on brightly colored bands around the bottom out of my scrap fabric."

"Well that would be an interesting fashion statement," Nancy smiled.

"Speaking of," Winry looked at Elicia. "Where's Alyse this afternoon?"

"Still at school, swamped with meetings as usual," Elicia shrugged. "Right now her big project is the spring formal dance. She's the head of the committee so every decision goes through her. It's coming up in just a couple of weeks so I don't think I'd see her at all if she didn't have to come home to sleep, bathe, and pull something clean out of her closet."

"She's got quite a talent there," Nancy nodded. "Is she keeping up with school?"
"Straight As," Elicia confirmed. "Or I'd have made her cut back on the activities long ago. I know she drives Will a little nuts. He's so stressed out about this last term and his application to University that her enthusiasm and how easily she seems to do everything irritates him."

"Does she have a date?" Winry asked the question that she was really wondering. While she knew Ethan could probably have told her since he saw his cousin every day at school and this year they had half of their classes together, it wasn't exactly a mom-asks-son kind of question.

"She does," Elicia nodded. "He's a nice enough boy. One of Will's friends from the Astronomy club actually and he's on the soccer team. That's part of what's bothering Will," she chuckled. "He doesn't like the fact that his friends don't see Alyse as his baby sister anymore."

"I admit, it almost makes me glad Maes is an only child," Riza stirred sugar into her tea and sipped. "He would likely have had similar issues in that kind of situation."

"And with a brother?" Winry asked. After all, Ed and Al had a very different sibling relationship; and her own three children were just as different in how they interacted with each other.

"It would depend on personality," Riza admitted. "But chances are we would have ended up with at least one of them even more like Roy, and that just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Should I tell Roy you said that?" Nancy asked, sipping.

"Please do," Riza nodded. "He could use the reminder of his mortality."

She was joking of course. They all joked about their husbands a lot of the time. It helped keep things light, and in perspective. Winry listened as Riza told them about Roy's latest hair-brained schemes, and Nancy talked about Breda and the kids. Charisa and Niam were both in school now, and this afternoon playing at friends' houses, but Nancy had plenty of stories about what the two were doing.

It was nice that they could all talk openly. At least mostly. It wasn't unusual for one of them to vent, to express concerns over relationships and other life problems. Winry had voiced her own frustrations about Ed's taking the mission the first time they had gotten together after Ed and Al had left, but she hadn't brought it up since. There didn't seem to be much point. If she couldn't even figure out her own feelings at this point, the others seemed to be out of ideas.

So she lost herself in general pleasant conversation, laughed at the funny stories, and nibbled at the treats everyone had brought. What was wrong with her lately anyway?

"So what's really bothering you?" Elicia asked after Riza and Nancy left a while later. She turned to her with a sympathetic expression.

Winry paused, caught off guard by the change in tone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're not normally this self conscious, and you haven't said a word about Edward since the others got here."

Winry shrugged. "It's just that every time I think about the situation before he left I get angry at him all over again," she admitted. "Really angry, and I try to think through it rationally and figure out why I'm so mad, and why things were strange, and I can't." She wiped her face with one hand. "It's like I'm just finally starting to realize that something's not working; like noticing a mechanical problem only when it starts to make noise, but it's been a flaw in the design from the beginning."

"A flaw?" Elicia frowned.

"I don't know if it's just me," Winry sighed, "Or Edward, or maybe both, but he's made it clear time and time again that he'll do what he wants when it comes to his work no matter how I feel. I mean, he came home expecting a fight!"

"Well you've never stood in his way," Elicia pointed out patiently. "In the end you've supported all his decisions."

"I know," Winry nodded, trying to calm down again as that strange irrationality threatened to take over. "I guess part of it's just that I'm not convinced he meant it this time. There are plenty of men who could have led that mission. He didn't have to go, and if he hadn't, Al wouldn't have either, and I'm scared for them both and mad and I … I don't know what to do anymore. It all used to make sense, and now it just doesn't. Do I sound like I'm going crazy?"

"Only mildly," Elicia shrugged. "If it's bothering you that much, you should talk it out with Edward when he gets home. If he knew how much it upset you, don't you think he'd stop?"

"No, I don't," Winry replied, more bitterly than she had intended. "We've had this talk a dozen times at least, if not more. I've lost count. He always gets stubborn and stops listening, like he's a teenager again." That was what bugged her the most. Ed was normally reasonable, understanding, and fairly attentive and caring. But anytime it came to duty or an opportunity to run off into danger and he wanted to go, than he would insist that was the way it had to be and nothing would change his mind. "I don't know how to make him stay home, and I'm sick of being the left behind to wait and worry and take care of the children."

That was what hurt, she realized all of a sudden. It was the promise he had made in Metz so many years ago. Ed had promised that he was done running off on missions without her, and she would be able to decide if she stayed or went with him. But ever since they had come home to Amestris, she had been left behind. It wasn't always Ed's fault, but he had stopped even asking for her opinion. He hadn't asked her about this. He hadn't really been asking permission to go to Xing to study, and he had never asked about the Xing War, or the trip to Aerugo,…she could go back almost mission by mission with a catalog of times Ed had given her that look that said I want to go and you're the only thing that could stop me, but I want to go. Convincing him once he had his mind set was nearly impossible and often not worth the fighting. And it always came to a fight if she pressed.

"You need to take a stronger stand," Elicia replied confidently, cutting into Winry's ever down-spiraling thought process. "The next time you get to speak with him about it, just tell him you're not going to put up with it anymore and that's that. What you need," she grinned then, "Is some fun. Why don't we go out?"

"I'm not really in the mood to try on clothes," Winry grimaced.

"Who said anything about clothes?" Elicia rolled her eyes. "I was listening to you earlier. "We should catch a movie or a play or something; eat out, maybe see that new History of Tools from around the world exhibit at the Museum?"

Winry couldn't help smiling. "That sounds like fun. Let's do it." And when Ed got home, she would remind him of just what promises he had made, and she wasn't going to put up with him running off without her anymore.

March 24th, 1952

The Amestrians still held the city but it was a very interesting position being on the receiving end of a siege. The first days had been intense, constant fighting until the Aerugeans temporarily ran out of large-scale ammunition and it had gotten into more traditional fighting. Or at least, close to it. The Aerugeans realized after a few days of throwing their men away against the defensive capabilities of Amestrian alchemists that they were simply piling up the losses without making headway. So things had settled down to a fight every couple of days, but they were waiting for more explosives and for the city of Havah to run out of supplies. Given the nature of the city and how much emptier it had become they were in for a long wait.

Sara couldn't remember ever having to pull so many long-hour shifts actively doing alchemy in her life. Defending the soldiers, shoring up and repairing the walls, and any other number of tasks that took time and energy; and all of that was on top of her other duties as a Battalion commander. Her units had been out in front of the walls several times, and keeping them alive and making sure they had everything they needed and all her reports were filed was a lot of work. She found herself losing sleep to get everything in, and being beat on her feet by the end of the day.

Tomorrow, thank goodness, was one of her few days of leave – barring anything critical that required her attention or alchemy – so tonight she was relaxing and, on a rare occasion, socializing with people other than the State Alchemists who were her usual companions. Cal and Maes were both on duty tonight, so she was playing cards in one of the lounges with a couple of the soldiers she had come to know outside of her units.

"No one ever warned us you were such a card shark," Second Lieutenant Vin Masterson chuckled as he lost the first hand.

"You're lucky we're not playing for real money," Sara chuckled, shuffling the cards. It wouldn't have been really appropriate to fleece subordinate officers of what little real money any of them had left without pay coming down from Central, so they were playing for chips… literally. There was a stack of potato chips in front of each of them. Sara's had just doubled.

"At least the drinks are real," Major Corinne Raines giggled as she sipped a bright green beverage that Sara had only ever heard of. It was her second already and Sara was pretty sure she wouldn't be any threat at cards.

Sara own glass contained iced tea. "Be prepared to lose," she smiled enigmatically as she dealt the next hand.

"So sure of yourself," Masterson grinned wickedly.

"I don't usually lose when my competitors are drunk," Sara shrugged. Actually, she'd never lost a hand when the people she played with were drinking.

"It's rather dangerous to assume your competitors are drunk without proof though isn't it?" Masterson' grin broadened and he slid his own glass across the table. "Try it."

Sara eyed his cup suspiciously then slid it closer and sniffed. It might have had alcohol in it, but with the amount of fumes coming off of Raines' glass next to her, Sara couldn't tell. She took a tentative sip. It was sweet, smooth, and milky, not unlike the cream liquor she enjoyed on rare occasions, but without the bite. Really it was very gentle, though there was alcohol in it she was sure. It was good! "What is it?" she asked, unfamiliar with the beverage.

"The locals call it Dulce de Leche," Masterson shrugged. "It just means it's got milk in it."

"And how can you not get drunk off of that?" Sara slid his glass back across to him.

"There's just enough rum in it to keep the milk from souring in the heat," Masterson replied, taking the drink back and finishing it. "Hardly enough to knock someone out; you want one? This is supposed to be your night off right?"

The expression was almost challenging, but Sara laughed and shrugged. "Sure, why not?" she said. Just one wouldn't hurt, and she had tasted it for herself.

"That's the spirit," Masterson grinned, looking down at his hand as he waved the bartender over.

It was a satisfying and relaxing evening. Sara was beginning to think she might have found a favorite beverage to keep stocked at home in place of the cream liquor that had been sitting in her cabinet for years. She had two glasses before it hit her – literally – that either Masterson had a much higher tolerance than she did, or he had seriously underestimated hers and understated the potency of the drink… because about half way through the second glass the alcohol hit her system. She was looking at her cards when they suddenly blurred in front of her.

"Lieutenant Colonel?" Sara heard a voice – Raines she thought – sounding concerned, but that was all she registered before she completely passed out.


Maes hated night shifts, but there were always alchemists on the city walls. The Aerugeans had proven they weren't above night time attacks, and someone had to defend. He and Cal had just come off their shift, and he was looking forward to crashing in his bed and forgetting the rest of the world existed for a few hours.

"You dead yet?" Cal asked as they tromped through the lobby of the hotel.

"Not yet," Maes replied, yawning.

"Damn."

"Sorry to disappoint."

They were half way to the stairs when Maes thought he heard voices.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know! She didn't have that much. What is that stuff?"

"It's not that strong! I swear!"

Maes looked at Cal. "Should we investigate?"

Cal sighed. "Do we have to?"

"Someone should. If they're subordinates we'll get in trouble later," Maes pointed out. It sounded like someone was drunk, so it probably wasn't a big deal, but still.

"Fine," Cal turned and they both stuck their heads into the lounge.

Maes was immediately very glad they had. "What's going on here?" he asked sharply, doing his best to sound alert and commanding. The Major and Second Lieutenant standing on the other side of one of the tables jumped and spun, both snapping immediately alert and saluting. If it weren't for who Maes saw passed out at the table, he would have smirked at being saluted by another Major so deferentially. As it was, he scowled. "What happened?"

The Second Lieutenant swallowed. "I'm not entirely sure, Sir. I offered the Lieutenant Colonel a drink. While we were playing she just passed out….Sir."

Even Cal was frowning now. Maes knew that the other alchemist was aware of how little Sara drank usually, and why. He didn't even ask what the Lieutenant had given her. He just came around the table and picked up Sara's glass, which was half full he noticed, and took a sip. Well, shit. Given how little he could taste it – and he knew what it was – Maes had no trouble believing Sara hadn't realized how much alcohol was in it. "Were you aware, Lieutenant," he growled, "That the Lieutenant Colonel doesn't drink often."

"Well yes…" the man stammered. "She looked stressed so I figured she might need help loosening up. I just thought—"

"You didn't think," Maes spun and glared at the man. He was tired and he was pissed off. "Did it occur to you to find out why? Or that maybe you should be very clear as to how much alcohol was in that stuff?"

"Calm down, Mustang," Cal looked over at him then. "It's not like it's uncommon for subordinate officers to underestimate their superiors." Maes almost punched Cal in the face when he heard that, but he was too far away. Then he realized that Cal's scowl was directed at the two officers as well as he strode up to them and got in their faces. "Not everyone who abstains does so for the same reasons. Misrepresenting or neglecting to fully declare the full content of a beverage could be considered sabotaging a superior officer or dishonest conduct." Neither of the other officers was even stammering now. The other Major had simply stood silently, looking unhappy about the entire situation.

"The Lieutenant Colonel has a notoriously low tolerance," Maes cut in then quietly. "At least she's mature enough to handle it properly and take care of herself. It has nothing to do with loosening up. Now, neither of you will say a word to anyone outside of this room about this except the person I am going to make you report to, is that understood?"

"Yes, Major Mustang," the female Major nodded. From the way her face was flushed, Maes was pretty sure she was drunk.

"Yes, Sirs," the Lieutenant Colonel also said. He looked to be the more sober of the two at the moment, even if he was mouthier.

"Good," Maes nodded. "Tomorrow morning the two of you will report to Brigadier General Kane and explain that this entire mess is your fault. You will take whatever punishment he gives you and you will never tell anyone about this."

They both squeaked affirmatives again and were relieved when he gave a nod of dismissal.

When the two were gone, Cal smirked at him across the table. "Geez, you'd think you loved the girl or something."

"Shut up, Whitewater," Maes snorted. The truth was he'd gotten over Sara a while ago. Well, mostly. He would probably always have a small part of him that wished she had loved him back. That didn't mean he didn't still love her like a sister, and that he wasn't protective of the one friend who had stood by him when she had the most reason to hate him. "Help cover all right?" He bent down and shifted Sara's unconscious form. He knew she wouldn't wake for a while. Gently he adjusted her until he could scoop her up in his arms. She was small enough compared to him that he could cradle her almost like a sleeping child. "I'd like to get her back to her room without anyone seeing. She'll be embarrassed enough tomorrow as it is."

Cal, to his credit, nodded and didn't say one word of protest. "I'll keep anyone occupied. Just give me about a fifteen second lead on you."

It was probably the best teamwork the two of them had ever displayed, Maes thought with irony as he walked down the halls and up the flights of stairs to get Sara back to her room. He was panting by the time they got there, but to his credit, Cal had distracted and steered four different people out of the way with them none the wiser.

When he reached Sara's room, Maes got her key out of her pocket and let himself in, then tucked her into bed after taking off her boots. He left her shirt and pants on. She'd kill him later if he even tried to get her into nightclothes and she found out about it. Blankets were good enough.

"She's going to feel that in the morning," Cal commented quietly from just inside the door.

"Then we'll just have to take care of it," Maes shrugged. "It's a good thing tomorrow's her day off." Otherwise it would have been a lot more difficult to come up with a viable excuse, because he knew she wouldn't be fit for duty tomorrow.

March 25th, 1952

Sara came back to consciousness slowly, her fuzzy mind aching as she tried to figure out where she was and what time it was. She didn't remember coming back to her room, but she was curled up in bed. She had been playing cards, and there had been something…. A sudden frantic urge rose in her and she sat up and leaned over the bed just in time as whatever she'd had last night made an encore appearance.

Disgusting as it was, nothing hit the floor. Sara opened her eyes and focused on the bowl that a pair of hands was holding under her head. With a groan she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and collapsed back onto the pillows. "Am I dead?"

"Sorry, Twilight," Maes replied sympathetically. "You're still in this living hell with the rest of us."

"How comforting." There were plenty of things in the world that were worse than being hung-over, but Sara couldn't think of any of them at the moment. The night before was coming back to her. "Masterson's going to pay for this," she grumbled, lying still and keeping her eyes buried in the cool darkness of the pillow while her stomach churned.

"That would be the Second Lieutenant from last night right?" Maes chuckled. "Yeah he and his friend sure will when Kane gets through with them."

"You told Kane about this?" Sara tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it. "What were you thinking?"

"That you were going to be too sick this morning to handle any emergencies that might come up," Maes replied with surprising patience. "And that he's not just our commanding officer, but a friend too. I talked to him this morning and he's pretty concerned. Don't worry, no one else is going to find out. Well… .except Cal."

Could this get any more humiliating? "Why Cal?"

"He helped me get you back up here without anyone seeing you," Maes replied.

He did? "So only…six people know about this?" She thought she had the math right.

"That's right," Maes confirmed. "No one else is ever going to find out. If anyone asks, you've got a cold and you're taking it easy. That's the story and we're sticking to it." He sounded mildly smug.

Sara turned her head again and opened her eyes. This time she realized he had the lights turned down low and the curtains drawn even though it was clearly bright morning outside. "I feel like an idiot. I had no idea it was that potent."

"I figured you didn't," Maes smirked. "Or you wouldn't have had it." His expression was one of sympathy as he picked up a glass and pitcher from the bedside table and poured water. "Let's see if we can get you fixed up, okay?"

"Thanks, Maes," Sara smiled softly. She still felt like hell, but at least her reputation wasn't completely shot and the humiliation was left to a very small handful of people. "I'm glad you're here."

Maes looked momentarily uncomfortable, but covered it by chuckling. "Yeah well, that's what friends are for right?"

Sara made herself sit up slowly. Once she was sure she wasn't going to vomit on the bed, she took the glass and rinsed her mouth out and spat into the bowl before drinking. "It is," she finally agreed after finishing the glass. She looked into her friend's face. So many other people she knew, even people she liked, would have told the story a hundred times over and never let her live it down. "You're one of the best."