August 15th, 1964

"Is that more comfortable?" Alyse asked as she adjusted the pillow underneath Cal's head. The berth into which he had been transported on the train was small; one of the ones with four beds, stacked two atop each other, with Cal tucked away on one of the bottom bunks. There was another patient being moved into the other bottom bunk, she knew, and a male military nurse would be bunking atop one of them. Their bags were stored on the other bunk already – the one above Cal. Still, it didn't seem particularly comfortable, and Alyse wished they would have more privacy. It couldn't be helped though.

"Better," Cal admitted with a weak chuckle. "You don't have to make a fuss over the pillow. I'm not likely to be any more or less comfortable if my pillow isn't all that fluffy. Now, if you could find a way to make my insides that comfortable," he teased.

Alyse shook her head, but couldn't resist smiling. He was charming even as an invalid. Perhaps even more so, given that there was something just as attractive about helpless men that she knew made girls want to take care of them. "I'm doing what I can," she replied.

"I know, and I appreciate it, really," Cal assured her. "Next time I'll try not to get shot."

"Next time?" They were going home, but his words stirred a worry she had tried not to think about. He and Marcus Kane had talked more than once in the last couple of days, and both times she had been politely asked to leave his bedside for a few minutes. "So you're not being discharged then."

Cal shook his head. "No. I'm on leave, but Kane promised he wouldn't force me out if I didn't want it, not when I'll make a full recovery in a couple of months."

"You don't want it." She just wanted to be sure. It wasn't that Alyse didn't want him to do what he wanted… she just wanted to understand.

"What else would I do?" Cal asked with a shrug and another small smile. "It's what I love… as long as I avoid prolonged wars," he added. "Why?" A worried furrow appeared in his brow. "Is that a problem?"

No, it just makes you like every other man in my family. Alyse shook her head and reached out, squeezing his hand. "Not if that's what you want," she assured him. "I'm kind of used to it," she admitted. "Just please, be more careful?"

"I'll try." He squeezed her hand in return. "It means a lot that you're okay with this."

Alyse privately wondered if near-death experiences made all men this open. Not that Cal had ever been shy about voicing what he thought about things… except where she had been concerned. She hoped it lasted. "Well it's not like I want you to be someone other than who you are."

An impish grin crossed his face. "Does that mean you're gonna smuggle me a drink on this trip?"

Alyse couldn't resist poking him in the nose as she shook her head, trying hard not to smile. "Not on your life, mister."

The train was almost loaded and ready to go. Alyse was on it, Alphonse knew, tending Cal with all the care and affection a guy could ever hope to have from any woman. Al hoped Cal appreciated it. The train also carried Will, who had been in good spirits when Al spoke to him earlier; ready to go home to his wife and children and grateful to be done – forever he added insistently – with military endeavors of his own. He was ready to get back to his family and his research. Both of Al's children were going home alive and mostly whole, out of danger. Al almost envied them.

The person he wanted to speak with, however, was standing on the platform watching the loading. In a couple of hours the army would be preparing to push North again, using the valley as their new base camp. Holding it now, they had no intention of giving it back. It made an excellent natural fortress with its high walls and narrow northern entrance.

Breda looked tired, like he would rather be in bed at this early hour but wasn't, and that he had gotten used to the fact that he was never in bed as late as he wanted to be. Still, he smiled as he turned away from the soldiers who had just finished with him and spotted Al approaching. "I figured I'd see you here. Saying goodbye to the kids?"

He extended his hand for a shake; but Al had something else in mind. As his own hand extended, he dropped his pocket watch into Breda's outstretched palm. "Not exactly."

Breda stared at the watch a moment, then frowned. "This is a joke right?"

Al shook his head. "No. I'm done, Breda. I'm getting on the train and going home."

"If this is about the other day-"

"This isn't about Ed," Al snapped. "Or about Tamirov. Okay, maybe it is. He's dead. I did what I came to do. Anyway, I'm not talking about done with the war. I'm out of the military. Send whatever papers you want to my house as far as discharges go and I'll sign them when I get there."

"You're serious." Breda stared at him, dumbfounded, his hand still open, the watch perched there, the chain dangling in the air. "You'd be back on duty in a few more days. Don't tell me you're walking out now? Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain. I'm no good to you anymore," Al insisted flatly. He had given this thought for days. "I don't belong here. Court-martial me, discharge me, I don't care which. I'm not doing this anymore."

Slowly, Breda's thick fingers closed around the watch, and his hand lowered. So did Breda's expression. "If you're sure."

"I am," Al nodded, glad Breda wasn't going to argue the issue. "Oh, one more thing. Don't… don't tell Ed yet, all right? Not until after I've left. I want to get out of here without a scene."

Breda shook his head, clearly disappointed and unhappy with the situation. "I don't like it, but I'll do it. Go home. I'll take care of the paperwork and… see you in a few months, I hope."

"See you in Central, Breda." With that, Al turned and climbed up into the nearest car. He had a small bag slung over his shoulder. It held his letters from family over the past year, his toiletries and other personals, and a change of clothes. He didn't need much. Everything he really needed was already on the train, or waiting for him back home. He turned down the train aisle and sniffed around for a few minutes looking for the right berth. Eventually he found it; benches, not beds, but he could live with that.

There was only one other person in there at the moment; William.

"Dad," his son grinned, surprised. "Come for another goodbye?"

Al shook his head as he dropped his bag. Will's expression changed almost at once. "More like hello," Al tried to sound casual. "I'm coming with you."
Surprise turned to shock, though if there was disappointment Al couldn't be sure; Will hid it quickly. Al wondered just what his son had heard, beyond Al's informing him that Tamirov was dead. "Mom will be thrilled to see you," Will commented instead, a smile coming back to his face.

Al smiled back. "I hope so."

"So, have you heard anything from Elena recently?"

Maes shrugged, and avoided meeting his father's curious gaze. "Sure. I got another letter just last week." He leaned back against the mess hall table.

His father didn't blink. "How's she doing?"

"Good. Really good," Maes replied. Why had Roy decided to bring her up now? "She says Aerugo has agreed to send troops finally. She doesn't know when they will get here, but they have actually begun mobilizing."

"That sounds like what Breda said yesterday," Roy nodded. "So the mission was a success."

"Yep." Maes smiled, trying to feel the pride in his expression. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of Elena. He just wasn't sure why he felt funny about it. "She said she's going to enjoy a few more days with the others in Bueáire and then they're going home."

"I bet the kids will be glad to see her," Roy smiled.

"Things will definitely be a little more normal when she gets back," Maes agreed whole-heartedly. He liked the idea of having Elena home, safe, and away from the dashing Miguel with his yachts on the sea and flashing white teeth. Or so his grin always seemed in Maes' imagination.

"Then it's just a matter of getting the rest of us home," Roy nodded. He picked up the last fried potato wedge on his plate from lunch and ate it.

"It can't be too soon." Maes looked around. "Where's Mom?"

"Having a word with a few enlisted about sloppy gun maintenance," his father chuckled, a fond expression coming over his face. "She hasn't lost her touch."

"You find Mom's drill sergeant act attractive?" Maes asked, feeling a twinge of amusement.

His father laughed outright. "If I didn't, would I have married her?" He shrugged. "She's the only person in my life, other than superior officers, who doesn't have a problem dressing me down, even in public. It's hard to resist fire like that."

"And here I thought you liked Mom for her body instead of her mind," Maes teased.

Roy snorted, still grinning. "Don't tell your mother, all right? My reputation hasn't come this far to be spoiled by our son." For a moment, Maes wondered if his father would ruffle his hair like he had done to him when Maes was a boy. The facial expression was right, but his hands didn't move.

"I won't," Maes promised. The entire conversation was making him uncomfortable, though he hadn't entirely figured out why. Or rather, he didn't really want to think about it any deeper. "Hey, Dad… have you ever worried about… Mom cheating?"

It was a mistake the moment his father's eye focused on him with a worried scowl. "Never. Why?"

"Sorry," Maes apologized, backtracking. "Stupid question. I was just… wondering."

Roy smiled a moment later and gave him an elbow in the arm. "Relax, kid. Elena's wild about you, and she'd never do anything that would hurt you or the kids. You know that, and as soon as you get home you'll stop worrying."

"You're right," Maes was getting pretty good at faking sincere smiles. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem." Roy stretched as he stood. "I think I'll go see how your mother is doing. If I don't intervene eventually those poor soldiers will never hear the end of the lecture."

"Sure. See you later." Maes watched his father stroll off, casual and confident as ever. He did not doubt his wife. He didn't even doubt Maes' wife. So why did Maes? Because it's not her you're really worried about, is it?

Shut up, he told the voice in his head. When I want my own opinion I'll ask for it.

This was getting ridiculous, Edward thought as he finished another lap around the alchemist camp. They were pulling out again tomorrow and he couldn't find Alphonse anywhere to talk to him. His brother had all but avoided him for days, only ever being available when they were both required at the same meeting.

Well enough was enough. Ed hadn't checked the command tent yet. Maybe Al was hiding in there pretending to look at battle plans or something. Or maybe Breda had some idea where his brother might feasibly be.

The command tent was relatively quiet as far as it could ever be. The only people inside were Breda, Falman, Feury, and Franz; in other words, minimal office crew. Feury looked up from the communications reports. "Hey, Ed. What's up?"

"Has anyone seen Al?" he asked without preamble.

He might as well have asked if someone's kitten had died given how quickly Feury's smile slipped and he looked down at his papers. Falman seemed intent on filing something. Franz looked honestly perplexed.

Breda looked like he knew something. He was also the only one still looking directly at Ed. "I saw him this morning."

"Well where is he now?" Ed asked curtly. It wasn't like Al could just disappear.

Breda looked reluctant, but he replied. "He's on the train to Central."

That… was unexpected. "You didn't discharge him?" There was a sudden pit in his stomach.

"No," Breda shook his head. "I didn't do any such thing. He wouldn't have deserved it. Al went of his own free will."

Ed still felt guilty, but it was almost certainly for the best. Tamirov was dead and the Drachmans were falling back by the day. It was only a matter of time before they were ousted all together; at least, that was Ed's thought. At least his brother hadn't been discharged or court-martialed for what he had done. Ed wouldn't have forgiven himself, even if Al had. "Good," he smiled weakly after a moment. "He belongs at home with Elicia now anyway."

Breda nodded, and the others in the room relaxed. Had they really expected him to explode? Al deserved some well-earned leave! Hopefully the war would be over before he was needed again. "Anything else you needed?"

"No," Ed shook his head and turned to go. "That … was it."

It was just so quick. When had Al decided to go? When had he been able to finally tear himself away from the war? Ed knew that his brother had barely taken any leave at all in the past year. Perhaps it was just that, with his obsessed goal removed, he could finally relax.

Ed was feeling slightly dazed by that turn of events when he got back to the tent. It took him a few moments to realize that Winry was lying on her back, a pillow over her eyes, napping. He had thought she was working this afternoon. Quietly, he sat down on the other side of their two-cots-turned-bed, trying not to disturb her.

It didn't work. "Nnnn…." Winry shifted. "Ed?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was trying not to wake you."

"It's all right," she replied, one hand moving up to move the pillow from over her eyes. "I was hoping you'd join me." Her lips quirked into a tired smile at the ends, just briefly. "It's been a rough day."

"I'm sorry to hear it." Ed lay down next to her, to accommodate her desire, and laid his arm across her midsection, pulling her close. "More patients?"

She nodded and curled into his side. "Two emergency surgeries on patients I hoped we wouldn't have to operate on," she sighed. "One was a reattachment, and the other a new surgery on a leg that didn't want to heal otherwise."

Ed winced and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry to hear it."

"At least they'll both make it. Did you find Al?" She asked.

Ed shook his head. "No, he left on the train this morning… for Central."

Winry's eyes came fully open. "He left? Without saying anything?"

Ed shrugged. "Maybe it was easier. Besides, Will and Alyse were leaving. He's better off at home with the family anyway."

"That may be," Winry nodded. "But I can tell you're upset."

"Of course I am." Why bother to deny it? "He wouldn't even speak to me after the fight, even after Breda told him he'd be back on duty in a few days. I thought he wanted to see this through but…"

"But you called him a murderer," Winry pointed out. "What did you expect Al to do? That had to hurt, coming from you of all people."

Despite the lack of accusation in her tone, Ed couldn't help but feel like she might be anyway. "Because I'm his brother… or because I wouldn't have hesitated to kill him either?"

"Both," Winry replied. "You go against orders and kill enemies and do whatever needs doing without a second thought sometimes, but you act like Al's supposed to be the model of the perfect officer; always the nice guy, always the considerate one who doesn't get his hands dirty."

"Al is a nice guy," Ed countered.

"So are you," Winry tapped his chest with one finger. "But you hold him to a completely different standard, even if you don't try to, and then you went and treated him like one of your students."

That was true. He had pulled that particular strategy on angry students dozens of times over the years. It was actually surprising that it had worked with Al, but that had been part of what had convinced Ed of Al's change in personality and possible mental instability. "That's why I've been trying to talk to him." He wanted to apologize… again. He was beginning to think it wasn't going to do much good. "I guess I'll just have to write him at home."

"That's a good idea," Winry smiled. "You shouldn't leave things unsaid too long, and who knows when we'll see him again."

Who knew if they would ever see him again. The thought came, unbidden, and Ed quashed it quickly. He had no intention of letting either him or Winry die in this. They had made it this far, and the worst seemed to be nearing its zenith or over. He couldn't imagine it being much worse than the last battle. "I'll do it this afternoon," he promised, kissing the end of her nose and then pulling her closer for a deeper kiss. "Right now, I'd just like a little peace and quiet."

"How out of character for you," Winry chuckled around the kiss. "Not that I don't intend to enjoy it."

"Good." Ed tightened his grip a little, and felt his eyelids droop. He was emotionally drained more than physically, but a little nap with Winry was sure to cure both. "You know I love you, right?"

He received a drowsy, "Yes, dear. I love you too," in reply. They were beautiful words.

The sun was going down on the North. For Will, the sun was going down on his war experience, and he was grateful for it. The war wasn't over, but he'd have been a liar if he had claimed he wanted anything more than to go home and kiss Ren and hug his kids. Michio was ten months old. Minxia was almost five years! Ren's visit on his leave months back seemed a lifetime ago. Sometimes he couldn't decide if life had rushed by without him, or slowed to a crawl.

The mountains to each side of the train turned golden, then blue, then black as the sun vanished behind them. A day on a train had taken them past North City already, where the train had stopped to take on more passengers – mostly injured being transferred to Central or elsewhere to ease the over-crowding of the North City hospitals. Then they had sped onward. Every clack of the tracks beneath him made Will feel that much closer to home.

He just wished his traveling companion seemed nearly as excited. His father had settled down across from him hours ago, and other then stare out the window or lie down and nap, he had barely said two words, even when Will tried to start a conversation.

Will had heard about the fight between his dad and Uncle Ed. It was hard to believe, but even Aunt Winry had confirmed for him when he asked that it had happened, and that his father had come within a hairs-breadth of attempting to strangle his brother.

Of course it hadn't happened. Alphonse wasn't that type of person. Or at least, Will didn't think anything could change his father so drastically; not permanently. He had certainly been calm since. In fact, he was downright apathetic.

Will's arm itched under the bandages, and he did his best to scratch without making it hurt any worse than it did. He didn't want to pull it out of the sling. On top of that he needed to relieve himself, and he was thirsty. It was well past dinner, and he wouldn't mind a snack either. Scratching, he stood. "I'm going to the dining car. Want something?" It was a hopeful question. His dad hadn't bothered with dinner, or lunch either, which was as bizarre as it was worrisome. When his father was upset, normally he had more of an appetite, not less.

"Anything's fine," was the non-committal answer. He continued to stare out the window.

"Then give me a clue," Will smiled. "Soda? Sandwich? Beer? Hot dog? There might be some rice and pork left." That had been the train's idea of military food for everyone. Will hadn't complained, even if it was cooling quickly when they took it on board in North City.

He had to wait and repeat the question before "a hot dog and a beer sounds good," came out of his father's mouth.

"Great, I'll be back in a bit," Will promised as he left the berth and headed down a couple of cars. He was grateful that this was one of the trains with closed connectors between cars. They were more common these days than when he was a kid.

The dining car was not full at nine o'clock. It was mostly empty. Will ordered a cup of coffee – heavy on the cream and sugar – and turned to pick a table to sit at. It was then that he spotted Alyse, sipping a steaming hot cup herself, peering out into the darkness even though it was hard to see now, with the reflections of the inside of the train bouncing off the large observatory windows. "I thought you'd be with Cal," he chuckled as he sat down across from her.

"I was ousted by his roommates," Alyse replied with a shrug. "They wanted to give him a look over before bed."

"So where are you actually sleeping?" Will asked curiously. He hadn't figured they would let her sleep in the same berth with him. It was all men in there.

"In a corner of a berth I'm sharing with a female nurse and two civilian passengers," Alyse replied, then colored slightly. "I wasn't up there half as long as you, and I already sound military."

"You've been working for them longer than I have," Will disagreed with a grin.

"Planning parties and diplomatic dinners is not the same thing," Alyse huffed slightly.

Will sipped his coffee. "No, it's not," he admitted. "But I bet you're looking forward to going back to it."

"Hell yes!" Alyse exclaimed, then flushed at the outburst. "Sorry. I know I didn't do as much as some, but I'm ready to be home. This was… a challenging experience."

"It's a war," Will said. "You're not a warrior, though I'm proud of you for sticking it through as long as you did. I often wonder how Ren and Ethan can deal with even a couple of really bad off patients at a time. That infirmary was a nightmare."

"I know." Alyse's voice quieted.

Will smiled again, hoping it would help his little sister feel better. "Besides, I think you'll have your hands full at home nursing Whitewater back to health."

Alyse chuckled. "He's always a handful," she replied. "Usually in a good way," she added quickly.

"I'm not judging," Will promised. "I'm just glad you're happy."

"I'm glad," Alyse said. "I've been worried that you and Dad would give him a hard time."

"Well I didn't say we hadn't," Will winked. "But I already told your beau that I approve, so I'd be a liar if I didn't tell you the same thing."

"That's one of you," Alyse smiled. It faded a moment later. "How's Dad? I haven't seen much of him lately, not even today. I was sure he'd come by."

Will sighed and drank. "He's been quiet," he told her. "Mostly he's looked out the window all day. He seems like he's got a lot on his mind."

"I'm glad he's going home," Alyse replied softly. "Mom's good for him."

Will chuckled. "Yes, she is." Wasn't that why most guys got married?

What was he ever going to say to Elicia? The question circled over and over in Alphonse's mind along with a dozen others. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how it should have happened, or who he was… was it? He hadn't expected accolades. Tamirov was dead. He would no longer haunt their dreams and their thoughts. Still, to see Edward's face…

Al shuddered and continued staring at his reflection in the glass. In truth, he was barely aware of anything beyond the window, especially since the light began to fade. If there had been vigor and determination in him, he couldn't imagine where anyone had seen it. It wasn't there now. All he could see in the reflection was a defeated, end-of-later-middle aged guy. His eyes looked flat, his hair speckled, his face a little more lined, and yet a little rounder, than in previous years. He looked like too many battles, too many restless nights and forced marches, too much alchemy and coffee in place of sleep. War did that, but it wasn't just the war. There was something wrong.

The problem wasn't physical… it was something in his head. He was almost sure of it now, though the outward signs were certainly a symptom. When he had learned, years ago, and abided by since, the idea that to train the mind one must train the body; the reverse was also true. Quality and health in one reflected in the other, in both directions.

Hi, Elicia. It's me. Tamirov's dead at last. I killed him myself. Then I almost really hurt my brother and I look like hell. I'm a nutcase again, maybe worse than after Aerugo. At least I didn't have to kill innocent people this time. So… how've you been?

The door opened, and he saw Will reflected in the glass, returning. He had no idea how long his son had been gone, but he was holding the promised hot dog and a bottle. "Hey, Dad. Sorry that took so long. Alyse and I got talking."

"It's all right," Al assured him, taking the hot dog – with relish and mustard, just like he liked them he noticed – and the beer. "I didn't really notice." No reason for Will to feel guilty about it. "How's your sister?"

"Glad to be going home," Will smiled, sitting back down across from him after digging a blanket and a pillow out from the rack above the benches. He made an impromptu bed and lay down, his head towards the window so his left arm could be on top since he couldn't sleep on it. " Worried about everyone but herself as usual."

Al took the statement to include himself, and probably Will, as well as Cal Fischer. "She's like her mother."

Will chuckled. "Yeah. It's going to be good to see Mom."

Al took a bite out of his hot dog, and marveled at how easily Will had managed to suck him into a conversation after a day of relative silence. "So, should I tell her I'm coming too, or let it be a surprise?" That was something else he hadn't been able to decide. So he smiled, and hoped his son had a helpful opinion. There were so many things Al wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he could do them face to face, but didn't want to say them over the phone either.

"Definitely a surprise," Will replied as he relaxed and closed his eyes. "She knows Alyse and I are coming home. You'll be the best surprise yet."

"Then I'll do that then." Al let his son go to sleep as he finished eating and sipped his drink. He would be a surprise, and he hoped that the things he had to tell her would not ruin his homecoming.