I know it's late. I'm a terrible lazy person. Still, this is the finale of Operation: M. (I couldn't think of a title)Enjoy.

Operation M: Part Two

by BattleJoy W

It is said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

It seemed certain that the universe believed this. There were so many examples he knew of. Such as an innocent pair of boys wanting their late mother back. Or a traumatized boy turned terrorist, trying to do the work he felt God compelled him to do. Or a simple alchemist officer that dared to dream about the position of Fuehrer...

"I have this morning's mail. Already checked, " Breda brusquely plunked down the already opened stack, with barely disguised anger. Normally, Roy would have a hissy fit at having his correspondences tampered with, due to the invasion of his professional privacy. But Hawkeye had insisted on some precautions for safety's sake. "They even brought in a dog to sniff 'em." Breda frowned and glared at Roy extra balefully at the last sentence, as if it was Roy's fault that he disliked dogs.

"Thank you. I see you separated all the hate mail into one section. How very thoughtful. You may go now." Roy said crisply as Breda saluted and turned to leave.

After his subordinate left, Roy allowed himself a sigh of defeat. All his carefully laid planes were in ruins. Had he really been too greedy to not have waited longer? Couldn't any of them see that he had a dream?

Maybe he really should have waited until he was Fuehrer. But when a report that said the female uniforms were on the west side of the storage depot, it was just too big of an opportunity to pass up.

It had taken months of planning. Well connected dinners and favors had led to some closed door meetings revising the dress code. A whole new set of uniforms was called for. There was nothing too dramatically different about them, except a slightly different cut and maybe a deeper blue, but they would give a new fresh look to the military. After all, it wouldn't do to have the military in worn rags, he had eloquently argued. Still there was some opposition from some old war-horses who never liked change, so Roy had been forced to convince his superiors to implement a strict 'no uniform substitution' policy.

When Fullmetal had burned down the factory and depository, it was supposed to happen a couple weeks before the newly ordered uniforms were issued. Roy was to sweep in like a hero, and quickly acquire the rights to a very convenient shipment of well-made yet very reasonably priced miniskirts out of Xing. It was all so perfect.

Maybe it was too perfect. How was he supposed to know that the MALE uniform pants were accidentally shipped to that side of the depository and not the female ones?

Roy frowned as he quickly sorted out the section of his mail was actually important and set it down on his desk. Standing up, Roy straightened his attire and walked out of his office with his facade of confidence properly in place.

Making a bee-line to Hawkeye's desk, he handed the stack of death threats to his second-in-command. "Could you shred these, please?" Hawkeye nodded and stood as Roy glanced around the main office.

The other members of his team were huddled around Fury, who seemed to be weeping into his hands, despite the other three men's efforts to consol him. Havoc happened to glance up and give Roy a look of undisguised loathing that was soon shared by Farman and Breda as they stared daggers at him. Hadn't they got his memo entitled, "Don't think of them as mini-skirts. Think of them as MANLY kilts"?

Hawkeye nodded as she calmly slipped a folder from her desk into the stack of mail Roy handed her. Seeing her commander's taken-aback expression, she walked up and supplied, "The only person that seems to be vocally appreciative of the new male officer uniforms is Major Armstrong. There seemed to have been a discussion about the Major's new squat machine."

Roy had an involuntary shudder as he imagined the poses that naturally followed such a conversation.

"I'll be in my office." He said as he returned to his office, wishing but already knowing that Hawkeye wouldn't let him go home early.

Winry Rockbell was getting impatient.

The boys' visit back to Risenburg was too brief. They had enjoyed dealing with the simple joys that Winry nearly took for granted and the three of them had made so many plans. It was a bit mysterious why Ed had been called back to Central to give a report to some higher ups on the results of a mission he had done right before he left.

When Winry asked him he merely responded, "I don't want to talk about it. It was stupid. That's it."

Luckily, Winry had been able to tag along since Ed figured he still had some leave time and the three of them could get back to their vacation right after he discharged his irritating duty.

Not that Winry really minded too much the change in plans. Central, with its metropolitan charm, had far more things to do compared to the innocent streams and fields of Risenburg. Once Ed finished his shower and gave his report, they could probably go to see a play or something. Still, Winry impatiently waited as she wondered about that letter she had gotten earlier.

"Al," Ed shouted as he was about to walk out of the bathroom damp and only in a towel around his hips until he noticed Winry look up from the living room. With a blush, he retreated back to call to his brother from behind the door. "Al! Where are my clothes?"

"It's in that box. They sent over a set of the newly issued uniforms. There was a note saying you were required to wear them," Al carefully explained.

"I don't want to wear their dorky uniforms," Ed protested.

"But they sounded pretty upset about what happened at the factory last time. What if it's a formal inquiry?" Al worried. "Maybe you should wear the uniform just this once."

Ed grumbled as he went into the interior of bathroom to get dressed. He had done the best he could with all the random crap that was given him. If they were pissed off at him, better not thumb his nose at them by not wearing their stupid uniform.

Winry couldn't help but hear a bit of the conversation from the living-room of the small suite. "Wow. I've never seen Ed in a uniform before. I wonder why he never wears one. They are kind of dashing."

"Well, you know how Big Brother likes doing things different," Al turned to his friend. "But it's kind of good that he wears that uniform today. I sent out the rest of his clothes with the laundry service just a minute ago." It was so nice the laundry truck came early this week. They normally did pick ups on Thursdays in this area.

The two sat in companionable silence as they waited for Edward to emerge. Winry was still wondering why she had gotten that letter. She trusted 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye but what kind of 'once in a lifetime show' was here at Central?

Then her thoughts were interrupted by the horrified shriek from the bathroom, "WHAT THE- I'M NOT WEARING THIS!!"

Hawkeye ever so discreetly watched her commander's retreat and the slight sway of the fabric showing off the lean length of his legs. Of all the variety of men in her office, Hawkeye had to note that the Colonel had the nicest calves of them all.

With a clean about-face she walked out of the office and down the hallway to the copy room. Intent on her goal and her normal stern posture, no one would ever dream that they had mistakenly thought that they saw Hawkeye's eyes wander.

When she reached her destination, she glanced about to make sure no one noticed the file that she had slipped into the pile of death threats earlier. With a fond smile, 2nd Lieutenant Liza Hawkeye tossed the file into the shredder, thus destroying the last traces of evidence.

Needless to say, it was not only going to be a nice working environment for the next few days until everything got straightened out. Still, she had to admit that 'Operation: Men in Skirts' had been a resounding success.