October 5th, 1964

It was strange how Alphonse could be so much closer, and yet Elicia felt even lonelier than before. Perhaps it was the need for binoculars. He was so close, and yet she caught only glimpses of him. Sig was surprisingly indulgent of her and never commented when Elicia went down for hours to sit on the beach and stare out across the lake at the little island in the middle; the island where Al had retreated to put himself to rights. Younger girls really have no idea what husband hunting really means. If she watched long enough, sometimes Elicia would see Al on the shore; sometimes just sitting, sometimes jogging by or going through fighting forms. Most of the time, she saw nothing. In the moments when he looked her direction, she would wave her arm above her head, and hope he saw. If he did, she couldn't tell.

A month and a half since Al had surprised her by returning to Central, and told her that he was done with the military. Tamirov was dead… by Al's own hand. She had nothing to worry about anymore. Nothing but you, you sweet idiot.

The late afternoon sun dipped behind her, and the lake began to shift into evening colors. Elicia knew she should head back to the shop. Sig would have dinner waiting. Mason and his wife were coming for dinner, for once without a trail of other relatives. Their family was nearly as extensive as the Elrics with grown children, and growing grandchildren. They had been kind to Elicia; sympathetic and friendly, but it was still a bit strange to be here without anyone else. It wasn't a family vacation bringing her to this beach now. It wasn't a social visit. It was… well Elicia wasn't entirely sure what to call it.

Her cream colored dress flapped in the wind as the cool air shoved her away from the lake shore, almost as if it were telling her she was no longer welcome. With one last glance at the island, Elicia turned and walked back down the near-empty streets of Dublith. Everyone had gone inside to dinner, and lights coming on inside bespoke meals being prepared, families happy together. Her children were home, in Central, and she still hadn't seen them despite calling them on the phone – or getting a call from one or the other – almost every other day. Elicia was beginning to wonder if Will and Alyse took turns.

Sig was in the kitchen, and Elicia could smell roast and vegetables in the oven. Pasta boiled in a pot on the stove. "Not today?"

"Not today." It was almost a code between them now. Before, Elicia knew, Ed and Al had spent a month on the island. It was a place of contemplation and learning in its own way. Al had not said how long he would stay on the island, but Elicia had intuitively guessed that it would be a month; tradition if nothing else.

It seemed she was wrong.

"Maybe tomorrow," Sig nodded gruffly, unsurprised.

"Maybe," Elicia echoed, fighting hard to keep her emotions in check. More than once she had nearly broken down in tears in front of the mountain of a man. It wasn't that she was ashamed to cry; just that it seemed so silly. Al wasn't dead after all. He would come back. "What time are Mason and Irene coming?"

"They're a bit late," Sig replied apologetically. "Irene said Vera was having trouble with the baby." Vera was one of their daughters-in-law.

"Is he sick?" Elicia asked with mild concern.

"Just colicky."

Elicia picked up the tea pot from the cozy on the table and poured herself a cup, sitting down at the little kitchen table. Colic was unpleasant, but nothing to panic over. "I'm sure he'll be fine." I wish I was as sure about someone else. That night, and on the train ride down, they had spoken of so many things, so much that Al had gone through, his concerns and insecurities, his anger with his brother and the confusion it all wrought in his sweet, sensitive mind. "If I have time," Elicia stood again almost at once, her tea still in her hand, "I think I'll take a quick bath. It's getting chilly in the evenings."

Sig nodded, not saying much else, and Elicia took her leave. Sig Curtis, she had learned years ago, was not a talkative man by nature. Still, he had availed himself to make conversation on several occasions to make her comfortable. And, she knew, because he got lonely himself sometimes. Izumi's picture still sat on the mantle and as far as Elicia knew, Sig had never even contemplated looking at another woman after her death.

Elicia turned on the hot water to fill the bathtub and went to the room she and Al had shared on previous visits. It somehow seemed even stranger here not to have him beside her at night. Probably, she guessed, because she had gotten used to him not being there at home; but never had she come to Dublith without him.
If she looked out the window, she could almost see the lake. At least, she knew the direction Al was in as clearly as if he had been the moon and she the tides. Stay well, Alphonse. It's getting chilly. You should come inside where it's warm. "As if you can even hear me," she sighed aloud and went to her drawer to pull out a clean change of clothes for dinner. I just hope you figure out what you need to soon.

October 14th, 1965

"Not that I object," Cal commented with an abashed grin, "But I'll understand if you don't want to drag your stuff over here every afternoon." He stepped aside as Alyse sashayed into the room, laden as always with her planners and books and a basket that was guaranteed to hold some tasty treat. She never showed up without something to feed him.

"Your thoughtfulness is appreciated," Alyse chuckled, "But I want to be here. It's not like you can take care of yourself." She set her things down on the little table in his rooms in Cal's quarters. "Yet," she amended as she turned around and kissed him.

Cal gave up on the argument for the moment, preferring to put all of his energy into kissing her. She wasn't wrong after all either. He'd only been out of the hospital for two weeks, and he was still healing. All letting him go home meant was they trusted he could get up and down on his own and wasn't going to split himself open trying to get out of bed in the morning. "Lucky for me there's this gorgeous babe who does that for me."

"For free no less," Alyse giggled. "Though if you want me to go, you only have to say so."

"And get my girl mad at me?" Cal shook his head. "I didn't live this long pissing off beautiful women."

"Just homely ones?"

"Ouch," Cal winced, even though he knew she was teasing him. As sweet and charming and sophisticated as Alyse was, she had as much bark and bite as any other Elric when she wanted to. This was something he had learned quickly in the months before the war. It was also one of the things he liked about her. "Harsh, but fair."

Alyse's expression softened and she kissed him one more time before opening the basket she had brought. "I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for. I've got a spinach quiche in here for dinner, but if you're hungry now there are cheese biscuits, summer sausage, and almond cookies."

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" Cal accused playfully, putting his arms around her slender waist from behind. "I'm beginning to understand why your brother and your Dad are always griping."

"And every other married man in Central," Alyse laughed lightly as she tilted her head to look at him, her delicate chin at a playful tilt. "I'm afraid you've caught on to the female conspiracy. If you addict men to your cooking, they always come back for more."

"Brilliantly diabolical," Cal nodded sagely.

"I'm glad you agree," Alyse turned in his arms and poked him in the chest with her finger. "And the answer is yes, to a reasonable extent. You're nothing but ribs these days. You're almost as bad as Uncle Edward."

"Some guys might take that as a compliment," Cal couldn't help chuckling. Privately, he felt soft and lazy after weeks of lying about with minimal physical activity. At least he was cleared for exercise again. "I have to know. When do you find time to make all this stuff?"

Alyse shrugged casually. "In between decisions, phone calls, and cat naps. Really, they don't take that long."

Cal shook his head, bemused. "You're really something else."

"Thanks, I think." Alyse stretched up and kissed him again, her arms sliding around his neck. They stayed locked like that much longer this time.

"You're welcome," Cal grinned when their lips parted again. "So was there anything in particular you wanted to do this afternoon?"

"Well if you want to help me recommend colors for the Claris-Nichols wedding you're welcome to help me contemplate shades of teal and aquamarine," Alyse replied with an almost straight face.

Cal snickered. "I like my uniform. It means never having to match colors. If you want my opinion I'll give it, but I don't promise it will be helpful."

"The male perspective is always informative," Alyse assured him as she pulled out of his arms gently. "Tell you what, how about I get this finished up, and then I'll trounce you at cards."

"That's what you think," Cal countered, though he looked forward to the challenge. They had played quite a few hands in the hospital, and she was a surprisingly good player. "I won't go easy on you."

"I don't expect you to," Alyse grinned. "Though I might go easy on you."

Work first, play later; that was how Alyse worked and Cal found he really wasn't jealous of the attention she paid to her accounts and the people involved. She loved what she did, and he wouldn't put a damper on that for anything. As she settled to work he dug into the basket, pulled out a couple of cookies, and returned to the bed where he picked up a set of arm weights and started on a set of reps. The sooner he was fit for duty again, the happier he would be.

It was funny how quickly he had grown comfortable with Alyse coming over. There was no expectation that he should be the host, or that they would do anything other than whatever they felt like doing. If he was tired – a highly regular occurrence still – he could nap, or read a book, or have a snack, whatever he wanted. If he wanted to rest quietly Alyse would pull out her books and get to work like she was now.

Cal had to admit, he loved watching Alyse work. When she focused on the schedules and color swatches and invitation designs, and a thousand different details before her, she got the most adorable focused look on her face; delicate, like a painting, and she would often tap the tip of her pen just under her bottom lip, or it would bounce lightly off the tip of her nose.

Her presence improved the room, like she did everything else in his life. Even when Alyse was gone, she had begun to pervade into every corner of his space, his being. She had visited every day in the hospital, and now she spent all her free time in his quarters. She had even helped him with his laundry and the dishes when they ate, though she didn't do everything. Alyse liked him to do what he could. She had even put flowers on the table – just a little potted hibiscus with bright red blossoms that she watered regularly. It got plenty of sunshine where she had set it and it was a startling bright spot in his otherwise sparsely decorated space.

It was all so domestic. The funny part was that Cal was quickly learning that he really liked life this way!

October 15th 1964

"It would have been nice if we could have stayed in Buzcoul a little longer," Tore griped to Kieleigh as they sat beside each other in the back of a troop transport truck stuffed with nearly half of what remained of Amestris' State Alchemists.

"What so you could screw around and be lazy?" Kieleigh snickered.

"The first kind of excludes the latter," Tore argued with a laugh and a cocky grin. "There's nothing lazy about it."

Kieleigh rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Hopeless."

Tore shrugged and leaned back against the wall. No one around them was paying much attention. They were all cat-napping or having their own quiet conversations. Tore was content to let quiet fall. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to talk about Noelle, especially not with Kieleigh. He had mixed feelings on the subject. She wasn't just some one-night stand. As short as it had been, their few meetings in the past couple of weeks had been more than that. He had taken her out to dinner as promised, as often as he could get the time. She had only agreed to sleep with him one more time; the last time before he couldn't get away again before shipping out. No, that wasn't a fling, however short; it was the closest thing to a real relationship he'd had since before he dropped out of school.

And that made it dangerous. He had made no promises, and she'd asked for none thank goodness. Tore couldn't promise he'd be alive, or that their time together would come to anything, which had made him oddly uneasy about the whole thing. He'd been her first, and he knew that he meant more to her than to any other woman he'd been with. She wanted more, and he had the feeling that if he let himself, he could fall for her.

And what would be so wrong with that? She's a sweet, intelligent woman?

She's not going to leave off with her Aunt and Uncle, especially not right now. And I'm sure the hell not asking for a transfer up North after this mess…. Assuming I survive. Besides, there was the little matter of the other girl still very much enmeshed in his heart. He wasn't sure he wanted to let go, and it wasn't fair to pursue anything serious, anything real, with Noelle when he was fairly certain he couldn't give her what she deserved. It would be better for her if I was nothing but a fond memory, maybe a distant friend.

Is that true? The irritating voice in his mind argued, as it had half a dozen times already that week. Or will she be sorry she gave in to that charming sweet-talking soldier who took what she offered and then left her behind?

Man, even his own mind was an ass. No wonder Cal had his rules all those years; never without protection Tore had understood immediately, but honest intentions and never a virgin had never made so much sense until now. It wasn't the girls who weren't looking for love that were the problem. Admit it, you feel guilty for taking her virginity. You never worried about the others.

Hey, I liked Angela!

But you knew she didn't want it serious. You didn't really want that to be long term either. You weren't risking your own heart there. You've got feelings for this one.

Of course I feel guilty.

You're not planning to see her again.

It wasn't a question, but it should be. It was lower than callow just to cut her off and never talk to her again, even when he had thought it might be kinder. His brain kept contradicting itself until Tore wasn't really sure what he wanted! Let alone what was best.

The truck came to such a sudden stop Tore went toppling off the bench onto the floor.

"Bracing yourself helps," Kieleigh snickered, though she sounded like she wasn't entirely situated herself.

"What the hell was that?" Tore sat up and realized that nearly half the alchemists had been unseated by the stop for which there had been no warning. Outside, he heard voices and sudden commotion. "Let's go find out."

He didn't have to make that suggestion twice; half the alchemists were on their feet already and heading for the back of the truck. Tore scrambled upright and followed, dropping to the ground and hurrying around the front of the truck –

- to see the entire vast swath of miles of ground between the last rise in the road and the sheer, almost glacial metal and concrete walls of Fort Briggs; the majority of which was covered in a maze of trenches and absolutely swarming with thousands upon thousands of Drachman soldiers!

"Where the hell did they all come from?" Someone gasped behind him, but Tore had no tongue to answer with. Obviously some critical information had not gotten through! The only thing he was aware of, was that there were far more Drachmans at the base of Briggs than should have been left in all of Amestris. Not only had they pulled back and converged, they had somehow brought in a huge number of reinforcements!

"Even with the Aerugeans and the Cretans, how are we supposed to take them out facing an extra two divisions of Drachmans?"

That was the question wasn't it, Breda thought as he looked at the recently updated map in the hastily erected command tent. The Amestrians had the high ground, but Drachma had the plains, the whole of Briggs to fall back upon, and once again they had the sheer force of numbers. If they had supplies, which seemed likely, than they might sit for months, picking off Amestrians as they tried to pick back. There was nowhere else to push but to make them retreat from Briggs, or cut them off on their own border. "We outlast them."

Around him, he saw a lot of skeptical looks, but also curious and hopeful. Breda could almost read the thoughts in their faces. 'He's got something up his sleeve.' 'General Breda always has a brilliant plan that works.' 'If he says we can do it, we can.'

Breda just wished he had a brilliant plan. All he had was history, tactics, and a damn lucky streak of right decisions. At least, that was how it felt sometimes.

"How are we going to do that?"

He had been expecting that answer. Breda tapped his finger in the center of the map. "We focus our offense here, in the center. They've taken over the whole valley, but there's no really good area of attack anywhere else. We can't approach from the hills directly, and they won't expect us to."

"Which means you want them to think that's the only direction we're attacking from." Leave it to Edward to see it immediately.

Breda grinned over at Ed, who stood with Kane and Mustang. "Isn't that why we have Alchemists?"

The rest of the orders were not all that complicated. The best way to begin dealing with the problem was to look like they were going to play along. The Amestrians would dig in and entrench as expected; block the train and road ways from Briggs south to keep the Drachmans from making any moves around them. Given where the army was there was little chance of either side even attempting a flanking maneuver… all they'd hit was mountain cliff sides. No; they would entrench and start the inevitable months of shoot-out to see who would tire first.

Only Amestris wouldn't leave it that way. They would rally for more troops, and they would put their alchemists to work, harrying the flanks and doing everything in their power to make the Drachmans sorry they had chosen to camp out in Briggs' back yard.

When the meeting ended, Breda waited until the tent was almost empty before leaving himself. It wasn't late, but darkness had fallen. Breda could hear the sounds of digging and alchemy – more obvious from the distinct glow not too far off – as trenches and bulwarks and towers went up along the rocky hillsides and down into the first parts of the valley below that weren't covered by Drachmans. They were too far away for the high ground to be much of an advantage to the Amestrians, but even so Breda's mind couldn't help combing through thousands of war scenarios and texts all long stuffed into his memory, trying to find some new way to apply what he knew to the given situation.

"So that's it, huh?"

Breda paused but didn't bother to turn around as Roy Mustang stepped out of the darkness. "You were expecting something else?" Breda asked with a shrug. "If you can come up with a better strategy, Mustang, go for it. I've been cooking up the strategy for these things for over forty years. I'd love it if someone else came up with something for once." He was tired; so tired. He hadn't seen his wife and kids in a year and a half, and with this new obstacle, who knew how much longer the war could last.

"I will, if that's how you're going to be about it." Still, in orange light of camp fires – the first lights lit – Roy looked more concerned than critical. "We'll come up with something."

Breda nodded and tried to feel a smile. "We always do, don't we?"

Roy nodded, his one eye catching the light with a determined glint. "It's amazing how a generation or two will make men forget how viciously the enemy bites when it's threatened."

Breda snickered. "I've got a better saying; old dogs, new tricks."

"And what a pair of old dogs we make," Roy replied after a moment. He chuckled then and slapped Breda on the back. "A one-eyed hound and a nose-less old hunter."

"My nose works fine," Breda argued with a chuckle. "I can smell dinner cooking a quarter mile away." To demonstrate he pointed in the direction of the mess tent. It was too dark to see it, but he knew it was there. "Care to join me?"

"Given that's the only food available, do I have a choice?" Roy snorted, falling into step as Breda started walking. The dark night glowed in swatches of black, orange, and occasional blue from the snow. It might have been pretty, if not for the fact that it signified cold nights, bad sleep, and more deaths to come.

"You could fast," Breda pointed out.

"I will when you do," Roy quipped.

Breda snickered. "Then I guess you'll never have to worry about it."

October 18th, 1965

-So that's about all of my little camping adventure. They wouldn't even let me in the Amestrian Border during the summer break. No civilians are allowed into the country right now; just out. It's ridiculous! It's not that I didn't have fun with Lexandra and Isabelle and the guys on the camp out, but it's hard not to think about home, especially on breaks when I don't have work to keep me busy. At least I have that right now, and plenty to keep me busy. Lexandra's an expert at inventing distraction social engagements. We're going to the Opera with Antigonus and Raul. I'm pretty sure she's trying to set me up with Raul at this point. It's almost worse than high school. I like the Opera though, so I'm sure I'll have fun.

Take care and don't get shot again.

Charisa

Where was someone to talk to when Tore could really use one? Lying in his tent with nothing to do until his unit was told to move, he had thought Charisa's latest letter would cheer him up. He didn't get them often. Unfortunately, it hadn't; not with the number of times Raul Valentino showed up in it. All Tore knew about him he had gleaned from Charisa's letters, and none of it was good even though she said she wasn't dating the guy. His family had money; lots of it. Not old Cretan noble money, though there was some of that somewhere almost certainly; but international-antiques-and-furniture-dealing kind of money. Apparently Raul was heading for a top spot in the family business. If her roommate was trying to hook Charisa up with him, Tore already wanted to dislike him. I just want to protect Charisa. She's having it rough right now; she's vulnerable.

Noelle's having it rough right now. She's vulnerable too.

Shut up.

It wasn't the same thing. Tore folded the letter and tucked it away safely in his pack with the others. He wasn't in the mood to reply yet. He wasn't entirely sure what to say to some of her letters lately. They showed friendly concern, but nothing more that he could find. Not that he expected to read in any letter from her anything that might count as an outpouring of devoted romantic emotion; that wasn't Charisa's way. Her words were also expressed best in person. Especially if it was personal.

You're deluding yourself.

Maybe, but I think I prefer it to the alternative.

There were more important things to worry about. Women – all of them – could wait.