March 23rd, 1964

"This feels kind of weird," Aldon admitted as he shouldered his pack and waited for his mother to join him.

"Invading Briggs or going on a military secret mission with your mother?" She smiled at him as she picked up her own bag. Winry hoped her son would relax a little. Things were going to be rough at times, almost assuredly, but the purpose of this particular mission was not to engage in major combat; just to destroy things.

"Both," Aldon nodded as they left the room and headed downstairs. "Not that I mind you being there," he added with an abashed smile. "I've gotten used to getting shot at while I work on projects, and working on a team, but now we're invading a formerly impenetrable fortress, now overrun by enemies….to destroy the inner-workings I used to help maintain." For that brief, blissful year and a half that he and Cassie had lived at Briggs, with Ollie and Kit and their other friends, he had learned how to build all sorts of things and improve his designs. Now, he was going to destroy, to some extent, his own work. "I just hope we find people still alive."

Winry placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "I'm sure we will. Ollie was always resourceful, and they're survivors at Briggs. If they've made it this long, I'm sure we'll find plenty of folks ready to help us when we get to the fort. Though I'm nervous too," she admitted. "It's been a long time since I've done something like this."

"Not that long," Aldon teased, his expression brightening.

Winry winked. "You still had one son."

"Okay…so maybe it has been a while," Aldon laughed.

"Have you heard from home recently?" Winry couldn't help asking as they crossed the street and walked the couple of blocks to where they were to meet the trucks. They would take them from the little town just behind the current front lines out into the wilderness, and winding up to Briggs on obscure back roads. Winry had come up from North City two days before to meet the rest of the team there.

"Got a letter yesterday," Aldon nodded. "Long, but they always are. I don't think Cassie can tell me everything that's going on without at least half a page for each boy."

Winry understood that feeling. "And what does she say about each boy?"

"Little Edward's growing like a weed," Aldon began his litany on one of his favorite subjects. Good. He would hopefully forget about being nervous for a bit. "Walking now, and he's talking a little too. She says his favorite words right now are 'doggy' 'brothers' and 'no no mine!'"

"Ian and Urey can't seem to agree on how to keep their room clean or decorated or anything lately. Urey's still a bookworm, but Ian's picked up on sports even more than before. Cassie says he's always outside lately; running around, playing at games with the other kids, or dragging the rest of his brothers into practicing with him."

"What sports?" Winry asked curiously.

"Baseball, soccer, anything he can do even decently," Aldon grinned proudly. "He's quite an athlete really. Apparently he's also in the play they're doing in the school this spring. He's got a speaking part."

"An actor too, how multi-talented." Winry chuckled, but couldn't help feeling the same pride in hearing about the accomplishments of her grandsons.

Aldon nodded. "Not that he's the only special one. Cassie says Urey scores nothing but top marks in school this year so far. He's likely to finish the books in Amestrian and history before the end of the year. So the teacher says she'll let him start on the next grade's work and just go at his own pace."

"Reichart's been doing more paintings with Cassie. She says he's really got a natural eye and his technique is improving. She's had him working with watercolors mostly, but she thinks he's about ready to try oils. He's also been helping out at the clinic after school sometimes." Which made sense, given Winry knew that the second son was interested in medicine already.

"And Coran?"

At that, Aldon's expression slipped slightly, though the smile was back in a moment. "He's still convinced he's got to take care of everyone else. Cassie says that's about all he does anymore. He gets up in the morning and helps make everyone breakfast, then afterwards makes sure the others have done their homework. He nags them about chores, though he's apparently doing his own. Then he helps with dinner and getting everyone herded into their rooms on time."

"What does he do for himself?" Winry wasn't sure she needed to ask though. That behavior sounded familiar.

"She says he's kept my shop spotless, but he hasn't touched any of the projects we were working on," Aldon admitted as he stopped outside the trucks and they waited for the others to finish loading stuff so they could load theirs. "He says he's waiting for me to come back so we can do it together. That's what he said in his letter too," he added. "He sent his own, as usual. The envelopes are starting to look like they hold books instead of personal correspondence."

Winry smiled. "Well they certainly look like books. Coran has turned into quite the serious and devoted brother hasn't he? He sounds like your father."

"I can see that," Aldon grinned. "I can just see him bossing Uncle Al around and making sure he got to bed and got things done even if he didn't need the bossing."

"Oh Alphonse gave as good as he got," Winry remembered those days fondly. Their turn came and she handed her pack over to the soldier already on the truck. Aldon hefted his up himself, then offered her a hand up. She followed easily, refusing to seem weak or old. She was perfectly fit and capable, thank you very much!

"I bet he did," Aldon sat down and Winry sat down beside him at the end of a bench. This was just one truck full of soldiers. There were two trucks for the mission, each carrying ten people; all of them soldiers, munitions experts, or engineers. There was also a unit of alchemists – most of whom Winry knew only in passing – assigned to the group. "Coran's just proving he's like the rest of the family. He hates staying behind, but he'll do his duty."

"He's just more patient than some of us," Winry pointed out. Under them, the truck roared to life, and the bench began to vibrate. "Even if that isn't much sometimes."

"That's the truth," Aldon said. "I just feel bad. He can't come, and he shouldn't, but he's also at a tough time in life for most kids and I'm here."

"And worrying about it is only going to give you premature wrinkles and a stomach ache," Winry teased. "Coran is not going to turn into a rebellious teenager and run off with a girl while you're gone. What's really the worst that could happen?"

Aldon's responding chuckle was accompanied by a weak smile. "I don't know. I just hope he's better at keeping his head on his shoulders than I was. Frankly, I'd be happy if he continued to ignore girls till he was twenty… at least."

"Keep dreaming," Winry shook her head. "If he's anything like you than maybe you'll get lucky and he'll find them frustrating and an unwanted distraction longer than you did."

"I'd rather not be a grandfather before I'm forty," Aldon agreed with a vehement nod.

"Good," Winry agreed. She had to admit, needling her son on this was pretty amusing. No wonder Edward enjoyed it. "Because I am far too young to be a great-grandmother yet."

"You've got that right, Mom."

Winry gave in and gave him a quick hug with one arm. "I knew we let you live for a reason."

March 25th, 1964

In less than five minutes, the entire front of the Drachman line was going to be buried under several tons of mud and rock. At least, that was the idea if this plan went off the way it was supposed to. Not that Alphonse had any reason to think it might fail. While the western front had been successfully pushing but fighting hard, and on skimpy rations, the eastern front was a bit different.

With plenty of fresh supplies coming up from Eastern command, their units had been well supplied, and their part of the mountains was a bit wetter, but not as biting cold, as the upper-west area where Al knew Edward had been stationed. Now, with the spring rains dumping in once again and the mountain thaw going according to pace – which was to say, barely – was the perfect time to make a final push against the Drachmans on this end. They had been driven steadily back – slower because of the rock-and-gully riddled terrain – to this point, and with bridges gone, alchemists gone. Every chimera that came their way had been summarily slaughtered. The Drachmans were running out of options if they wanted to keep pressing. If they were smart, they would retreat and meet back up with their main forces.

"If they were smart, they would have retreated months ago."

The comment came so much on the heels of Al's thoughts, that he almost asked Roy if he was reading his mind. Instead he nodded in agreement. "Well then their stupidity deserves what it gets," he commented, running through the plan one last time in his head. There were some new elements to this one, though the same tactics had worked over and over again so far. This time, the Drachmans would not be expecting what they got.

"Let's hope history does not say the same of us," Alex Armstrong commented from the other side of him. "Are you certain you can do this, Alphonse?"

"No sweat," Al replied, sounding fully confident and, funny enough, he felt that way too. "Guiding a mudslide can't be that difficult."

"It's not the same as moving a suit of armor," Roy pointed out; not the first time he had voiced this particular objection. "Mud doesn't have arms or legs or empty eye slots."

"I've put my soul in other inanimate objects too," Al pointed out. "And in this case, I don't have to move the mud, just take it over long enough to move it the way we want and make sure it hits the right target." The last thing they wanted was for the slide to get out of control and hit the wrong army. "Besides, I've practiced with other items, and the transmutation should last long enough to finish the mission." It lasted for several minutes, and in the end, he was whole and complete. Not that he used that particular talent much anymore; but lately it had come in very useful. This would be his first time being part of something quite like this however.

"Let's hope so," Armstrong nodded.

They needed to make this too costly for the Drachmans to keep pushing. Today's goal was to convince them that this was too costly. "Okay. Here I go." Al closed his eyes and began the transmutation.

It was, indeed, a bizarre sensation to be not quite solid. Al was used to the feeling of being two places at once; his body still where it was, seeing, moving, capable of talking and reacting. Still though, he was used to putting himself into objects with a defined shape. In the misty, drippy afternoon he felt a small part of himself slipping, sliding, and waiting for the downpour that was going to come from the productivity of two other alchemists to give the already thick muck the shove it needed to go tearing down the mountainside and drown a good chunk of the Drachman encampment.

"Will it work?" Roy asked, though it sounded distant as he focused.

"I think so," Al replied somewhere outside of himself. "Give the signal." He was aware, still distantly, of how quickly his body was soaked as the air above them seemed to split, and the heavens burst with rain. It was kind of a strange sensation as the rain hit the muck. He felt slick, but thick and sludgy; runny in spots, and cold on top as the water ran and plunked into him. Over all, it was a rather disturbing sensation. He couldn't really feel any more than he had as armor, but his human body was cold and soaked even in its coat, and the strange bending and moving of the body of muck made for an odd dichotomy.
It came in a rush; the hill giving way, his entire being sliding and slipping and bouncing as he began to tumble sideways. He felt his body lurch, and he clung to control of his temporary housing. Time to steer; slowly he took control, correcting moves, avoiding rocks, choosing turns that took him away from the Amestrian line as he picked up speed, hurtling forward. It was exhilarating! Almost like sledding… but without the sled and no fear of falling off.

He heard Drachman voices, and before he knew it he was upon them, passing them, shoving into them and around and through and over…knocking them down in such a rush he could barely register one before there was another. Frantic shouts, screams, muffled gasps. They were lumps like the rocks; felt yet not felt. He was pushing them, shoving them- there was resistance even without a sense of touch; just as he'd had when he lived inside a suit of armor.

The screams turned to terror when the mud, seemingly with life of its own, banked sharply and Al headed back through the camp…searching out the alchemists and what chimeras might be left…slurping over everything in his wake as he bowled over tents, soldiers, trucks, anything in his way.
Behind him, under him, inside him…. He could feel them struggling, wriggling like a muscle spasm under numb skin after an injury. Some gasped and half inhaled bits of the mud that was and was not Alphonse…and expired. One by one they died. Some struggled free, but many didn't. They were only subtle in Al's consciousness however, as he pushed on, eager. He could hear them…. Chimeras!

There, tents with cages, dozens of not-yet used monstrosities, none of them even close to human. The first and second level alchemists he had gotten used to seeing – those who had sheets with circles drawn for them, and those who could draw their own, but only one and were fairly weak – were what made up most of the alchemists in the camp.

Mud-Al mowed them down. Searching…finding… there, in that larger tent. He shoved right through the doors without waiting for an invitation. I've got you! A small, wizened looking old man with pens, inks, and plenty of paper. This one had the look Al would have associated with an alchemist, even though he looked almost like a wizard out of an old children's story.

And there Al slammed past and into the stone wall that had been the back of that section of the encampment, his swath of destruction, the channel the mud had followed, was filled and done. There was nowhere else to go. Now what?

Alphonse.

Who?

"Al! True Soul. Snap out of it!"

He was shaking. No wait, someone was shaking him. Not strung out him, real him.

Al blinked and opened his eyes, separating himself from the bit of his soul still floating around down in the muck. It would return in time. He was drenched, and his body was shaking. The rain had become a natural downpour; icy and unyielding. "It's…done," he managed through chattering teeth.

"Good." Roy bent down and offered him an arm. Armstrong had, apparently, transmuted an umbrella out of something, and held it over them both now. "Get up. The shooting along the line's over."

Al shivered, remembering the odd sensation of people dying inside of him. It's just a little like being a philosopher's stone, he mused to himself. Only dead bodies aren't living souls. No, they were much creepier. He stood, and followed Mustang and Armstrong back away from the muck. The other alchemists were gone; their jobs accomplished.

In the long, mucky walk back, Al caught himself sneezing more than once. Well if the worst our side gets out of this is a few head colds, it's got to be worth it. "So it worked."

"Perfectly," Roy nodded grimly. "They were screaming about demon mud. Your performance was very convincing."

Al couldn't help chuckling. "Well it didn't help that the main road formed a perfect channel. I ended up smashing right into the alchemists' end of camp, smothered all of them, I think, and the chimeras. At least, any of them that was there instead of on the line." He didn't know how many that was. "I'd say there were at least…fifteen?"

"Really?" Roy looked startled, then pleased. "Excellent. Command will be glad to hear it. Let's report."

"Right." Al hoped it didn't take long. He was tired, physically and emotionally, and he really wanted to get into dry clothes and get something to eat. While the soul transference was a surprisingly easy transmutation, the rest of the alchemical energy needed to control the mudflow – not his usual medium- had been highly taxing. "What I wouldn't give for a hot shower."

"Don't expect it often," Roy offered with a twist of a smile, "But if you bed maybe I'll boost the heat on the camp shower water."

Away from the city, they did have a shower tent, with gas heaters that heated the pitiful trickle of water that came out – at least if you didn't want it cold. "As long as it doesn't mean sharing shower space," Al quipped in return.

Roy snickered. "No thank you. I can stand outside. Inside is a pleasure I only share with a particularly lovely sniper."

The banter was enjoyable. It helped put the rest of what had just happened out of Al's mind. "Thank goodness."

April 2nd, 1964

Edward was not expecting a reception committee when he stepped off the train in North City again, this time without having to wonder when he would get shipped back west. Of course, they wouldn't be in the city long either. Soon enough he was sure his unit – what remained of it – would be heading to join the rest of the front to the north.

So it was a pleasant surprise to see Ethan and Alyse standing under an umbrella in the falling early evening drizzle. "Here I thought everyone had abandoned me," he chuckled as he stepped down. Fletcher and Finn weren't far behind him.

"A few of us are still stationed here," Ethan chuckled, giving him a brief hug. "You want me to carry your pack?"

"No, I'm good." Edward didn't really care one way or the other, but he didn't feel like handing it over now. It seemed silly after the hard work of the last few months. Still, he appreciated the offer. He could see gentle concern in his son's eyes. He really has turned into a doctor. "Ports don't bug me much," he replied with a confident grin. "Maybe I've toughed up some, but after this winter, the rain doesn't seem nearly as bad."

"For my hand either," Ethan admitted, relaxing ever so slightly.

"Can we chit-chat out of this weather?" Alyse asked, though she came forward and hugged him too. "It's good to see you, Uncle Edward."

"You too," Ed smiled. He had heard that Alyse had come north. The news had been in Winry's last letter. It hurt that he had missed her and Aldon leaving on their mission, but there was nothing for it now but to trust them to do their best, and worry himself into an ulcer. "Let's drop this stuff off and hit the mess. I'm starving." He glanced over at Finn and Fletcher. "You want to join us?"

"No thanks, Fullmetal, sir," Finn shook his head. "I'm going to crash, I think."

"Fletch?"

"I think I'm going to go see if I can find my daughter," Fletcher replied. "I heard her unit might be on leave right now. If so, she should be around here somewhere."

"That's great." Ed turned back to his son and niece. "Let's go then."

The room seemed empty without Winry, or most of what little stuff she had brought north, taking up residence. Ed was grateful for the heater in the building though. He almost hated having to go back out in the cold. "So, food."

"Dinner's just starting in the mess building," Ethan assured him with a smile. "And I'm off duty tonight, so we don't have to rush."

"Good," Ed chuckled. "Because I'm not leaving till they're out of food or I'm stuffed, whichever comes first."

Alyse shook her head in amusement. "There are other people eating. You won't be allowed to eat everything."

"That doesn't mean his statement is any less true," Ethan grinned. "They could run out before he's full, or he could decide he's had enough while others are still eating. Just get used to it, Alyse. If you haven't yet, you might as well. Alchemists are all alike in some things."

"Is there a particular reason she should?" Edward asked curiously. After all, it wasn't like Alyse hadn't been helping cook Elric family meals for years. She knew all about alchemists; she was one herself, though in a very different manner.

His first clue that he had stumbled upon juicy news was the blush on his niece's cheeks.

Ethan grinned wickedly. "My dear cousin has chosen to pursue another alchemist. I've merely been reminding her of just how difficult and disagreeable we are."

"Oh stop that," Alyse laughed, nudging Ethan with an elbow, though she did not look particularly displeased.

"Well that is news," Ed looked between them curiously. "Who is the new guy?" It was almost a definite he knew the man, unless it was one of the most recent recruits. If then, he'd at least know the name and a face.

"He's not… new, exactly," Alyse replied with slight hesitation. "It's Calvin."

"Fischer?" For a moment, Ed could do nothing but stop dead and stare at them both. Ethan looked startled, and Alyse worried… as if she was afraid he would disapprove. Both expressions were too funny. He broke and laughed. "I spent months in combat with that rat and he never said a word. Does Tore know?"

"He's the one who told me," Ethan admitted with a sheepish grin.

"I'll kill him," Ed snorted and shook his head. "I'm the last person to know anything!" Or maybe not. "Al doesn't know, does he?" He would bet a week's pay his brother didn't.

"Not yet," Alyse replied as they started moving again. It was too cold and wet to just stand there. "There was nothing until I got here and his unit transferred back this way," she explained. "We've been friends for a while and, well…" Her cheeks flushed again.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Ed smiled a little more gently. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised either." He remembered that Cal had saved Alyse in a dark alley one night, and had taken their breakup years back pretty hard. A rare thing for Fischer, who never seemed interested in settling down. He was a bit rough around the edges, but he reminded Ed of Jean Havoc from time to time. Maybe that was why he found it easy to put up with and work with the Whitewater Alchemist. "As long as he treats you right."

"You think she was royalty," Ethan chuckled. "You should have seen them, Dad. It was so cute it was sickening."

"Ethan!"

Ed snickered. "I'm sure I'll see soon enough, but that particular description matches most every couple in our family… present company included," he gave his son a pointed look. Ethan and Lia could rot flowers for sweetness.

"Yeah, I know," Ethan grinned, not even remotely ashamed; a change that had happened only since his marriage. Amazing what that did for a guy's self-confidence. "Doesn't mean I can't comment."

"True enough," Ed grinned. He and Winry certainly weren't any better, and after this long, he hoped they never had to deal again with the rough times; not between each other. Though if any girl in their family got treated like a princess, it was ironically Alyse more than even Ren… who was one. The waft of food distracted him as they entered the building that housed the mess. "Oh that's nice." He picked up his pace.

Behind him he heard Ethan. "See what I mean?"

"Oh hush, Ethan."

Ed chuckled. It was always nice to be back among family.