January 12th, 1965

Fort Briggs was little more than a shell. After the valley was surveyed and remains hauled away – in the Drachman case buried together – the available State Alchemists not already there headed up to Briggs to take a look for themselves, and help with necessary restoration that would otherwise takes months or years to complete.
They really had their work cut out for them, Edward realized, when they walked through the echoingly empty halls he remembered well. Other than the layout – which was in shambles in places thanks to the Amestrian sabotage – there was little difference, just lots of damage and a dearth of supplies. The Drachmans had left nothing functional if they could avoid it.

"Too bad it doesn't take long to fix things with Alchemy," Tore grinned at him the afternoon they finished restoring the electrical systems to good-as-new functionality. Plumbing and heat had taken a little longer, but with alchemists working with the engineers and technical experts the interior was set to rights in a matter of days.

The walls posed another problem. The southernmost wall was singed but otherwise undamaged. The northern wall had been repaired to general usability by the Drachmans, but since they had no reason to defend against themselves, they had merely shored it up and made sure that it wouldn't collapse or leak out heat.

Kane got a team together – which Ed volunteered for – and they spent a couple of days transmuting the walls of Briggs until they were as good as new, and better: Infusing the concrete and stone with extra bars of steel, and making them even thicker and more impenetrable than before.

The one thing Ed had little to do with during that time was the remaining Amestrians, now rescued, and the Drachman prisoners of war, which had all been brought up from their holding locations in order to be exchanged or released. So he wasn't prepared when a dark-skinned Colonel walked up to him and requested his presence down in the cells.

"Who are they?" Edward looked down the line of disheveled, chained men he was supposed to be looking at, though he had not yet been told why. They were lined up a hallway for his inspection.

The Colonel cleared his throat uncomfortably. "The captured Drachman alchemists, Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir. Generals Breda and Kane said that you would know what to do with them."

They hadn't said a word to him. Ed almost said so, but he stopped before his mouth was half open. He did have an idea. "That's correct, Colonel. Could you please locate Alchemist Mei Xian and request her presence for me?"

He looked concerned, but it was quickly done. Mei grinned at him when she arrived. "I'm not used to answering summonses, Edward."

"My apologies," Ed chuckled. "But I could use your assistance in dealing with these gentlemen."

The Drachman alchemists, once sullen, now looked confused and concerned.

"And what would you have me do to them?" Mei's delicate brow furrowed.

"Help me relieve them of their use to Drachma by use of alchemy," Ed replied. The idea was simple, but it seemed much more effective than other punishments he could think of. "It seems dangerous to let them go able to do alchemy, however limited."

Mei seemed to get his meaning. "Where should we put the mark?"

"Behind the ear?" Ed suggested. It was someplace no one was likely to want to try burning or defacing a circle. "I know how to draw the circle; I'm just not sure how to embed it in the skin without tattooing it on. If you think it will work."

"What," one of the Drachmans finally asked thickly, "What will you do to us?"

Ed looked at them again. Clearly they all knew who he was. ::Drachma has used you,:: he spoke up so they would understand him easily, ::To harm others, and with little or no knowledge of the laws of alchemy yourselves. This is not entirely your wrong-doing, however, I cannot let it go undealt with. Half-trained Alchemists are dangerous. This just proves it. We are going to make it so that you are no longer capable of doing alchemy. Anything you attempt will simply fail. We won't hurt you.:: They looked skeptical, but still afraid. Ed turned back to Mei. "If you can do one first, I can follow."

Mei smiled. "Nice to still be the teacher once in a while." She moved up to one of the men at the end of the line, and Ed stepped close. It took Mei only a minute to prepare, and then seconds to do the transmutation. When it was done, Ed could see the anti-transmutation circle he had used a variety of times over the years, only now it was a permanent discoloration of the skin on the back of the ear and extending up into the hairline on the ear-joint. "Your turn," Mei smiled.

They went down the line, and it didn't take long to render all fourteen men incapable of successfully transmuting anything unless they found a way to break the circles that most of them didn't know where they were, and damaging them would be painful. Ed didn't tell them that it was a transmutation circle either. They didn't really need to know did they? Not if they weren't smart enough to figure it out for themselves.

"That was very just of you," Mei commented as they walked out of the eastern prison wing a bit later. "Now Drachma can't abuse their talents."

"Minimal as they were," Ed nodded. "Really I let them off lightly given what they've done." It wasn't too hard to learn to live without alchemy. He had done it before after all, and not always by choice. "I just hope that someday they appreciate it."

January 15th, 1965

Tore hoped Noelle wouldn't hate him when she got the letter. He had written it the day he arrived back in North City. He had foregone the option of any kind of stop in Buzcoul. He, like many of the State Alchemists, was getting shipped back to Central, and while he knew it was a convenient excuse, he just didn't think he could face Noelle right now given the decision he had come to. It took over an hour to get it down right on paper.

Dear Noelle,

See, I promised I'd write. I wanted to let you know that I'm fine. The last fight was really something, but I have to admit I didn't have a whole lot to do with the victory. It was all the Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang's doing really. It really was as fantastic as rumors probably say.

Anyway, I'm sorry that I won't be back in Buzcoul anytime soon. They're shipping us home already, and it's going to take a while to get settled. I didn't even have time to move into the officers' quarters after making State Alchemist before the war started.

I wanted to let you know anyway just how much I appreciated our time together. Your support and that time was something I needed; it bolstered me when I was down, and made me feel hopeful. You were someone who could remind me what we were really fighting for when all we did day after day was kill. What we had was great, but

I'm not in a good place for more of a relationship right now. Not mentally or emotionally, and I'd be lying if I tried to pretend otherwise. I just hope you don't feel like I took advantage of you. That was the last thing I ever intended.

It just wouldn't be right to rearrange my life, or ask you to rearrange yours after only a couple of weeks together, no matter how amazing. You're needed where you are, especially right now, and I have my assignment. Please know it's not you. I'm not ready for a real relationship with anyone right now. Not after everything that's happened the last couple of years. I need to get myself sorted out first before I can be a good partner for anyone.

So if you find someone else, please don't hesitate to leap on the chance, or feel guilty. I want you to be happy. You more than deserve it for all that you do. I will always consider you, whatever happens, a good and true friend, and I hope you feel the same.

Fondly,
Tore

P.S. The return address is Fullmetal's in Central. If you reply I will get it there, and send you my new address if you tell me you want it.

January 17th, 1965

Home; it had been almost two years since Edward left Central. There hadn't been a single leave time when he had made it closer to home than North City. He'd had too much to do. But he was glad it was done. No more sleeping in tents in the cold. No more using latrines – or sneaking out behind a tree. No more mess tent slop for meals.

Beyond the Observation car window he saw almost nothing except his own reflection against the night landscape beyond, and the occasional spot of light of a lonesome farm or a small town in the distance. It wasn't too late, just a little before ten, but the car was nearly empty. Surprising, Ed thought, since he had rather expected the soldiers and alchemists who got to head home first to still be reveling. Or perhaps they had just taken the parties to other cars.

Sara and Franz were tucked away quietly in their birth. Ed was glad his son-in-law was healing well. His fever had broken quickly, and while he was still coughing and blowing his nose regularly, his breathing was easier. Once he had rested up some, most of his burns had been healed outright by alchemists. Ed contemplated checking in on them, but suspected they would rather not have company when they finally had time all to themselves.

He had seen Ethan on the train earlier, chatting with some of the guys, and Tore hanging out with some of the other alchemists closer to his age. The Tringhams were on the train too, though Ed had seen nothing of Russell since the end of the fighting, and little enough of Fletcher, who he knew was doing his best to help his brother before he went home one son less than when he left. Ed felt for him. Losing family was tough, and he knew the fear of losing a child. The actuality would be tremendously painful.

He turned and headed down the car. There was one person sitting at a table there, and as Ed came level with it he had to stop, and stare, and shake his head. The entire table was spread with a veritable feast! "Where do you think you're going to put all that?" Ed commented with mild amusement.

Breda looked up at him and smirked. "Where do you think?"

Ed shook his head. "You eat like that all the way home and Nancy's going to have a fit."

"I've been living off the same field swill as everyone else for a year and a half," Breda objected with a snort. "And that's not the extra rations-and-a-half you alchemists get either. I'm going to enjoy a real meal and when I'm good and stuffed I'm going to sleep and if anyone wakes me before noon tomorrow there had better be a damned good reason!"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ed chuckled.

"What are you doing wandering around this late?" Breda asked, as if realizing only then that Ed was alone. "And where's Winry?"

Ed tried not to let his smile fade. "She's asleep. I wasn't ready so I left to give her peace."

"Well you're welcome to sit down and join me," Breda offered. "There's more than enough, even for you and me."

"I don't know," Ed shrugged. "Dinner wasn't that long ago."

"Well have a late night snack," Breda quipped. "This is my dinner. It's the first peace and quiet I've had in months. Don't tell me you're going to pass this by? This is some prime steak here."

Ed gave in to the offer and sat down, though he only carved off a small section of the steak. He really wasn't that hungry, though it had nothing to do with how long ago dinner had been. "Thanks." It was definitely tasty. He fell quiet again, his mind drifting back to dwelling on thoughts of family. They had gotten letters from almost everyone recently. Everyone… except Al and Elicia.

"Is something on your mind, Ed?"

"Is there ever anything not on my mind?" Ed asked.

"Point made, but you're dodging the question."

Ed shrugged and took another bite. "I've been thinking about Alphonse," he admitted. "I haven't heard from him since he left, and it still seems off that he left as suddenly as he did, even though I think he should have."

Breda looked guiltier than Ed had seen in quite some time. "Ed… Al resigned."

His forkful of potatoes stopped half way to his mouth, forgotten. "What do you mean resigned?"

"He turned over his watch and his commission the day before he left on the first train," Breda admitted. "He said he wanted out of the military."

The world felt like it had fallen out from under Ed's feet for a moment. It took conscious effort to think. "And you let him do it?"

"Of course I did," Breda nodded gruffly. "It was Al's decision and frankly I think it's the one he should have made. You're the one who removed him from duty, Ed. Why are you surprised?"

Guilt made Ed look away for a moment and he focused on the food. "I didn't think he'd quit over it."

"What makes you think that's why he did it?"

"Why else would he?"

Breda shook his head. "This isn't about fault. Al's reasons are his own, but given the last few years, I honestly expected him to leave a long time ago. After Elicia was hurt I really thought he'd retire, but he never did let his work slip and he seemed to need it."

"So why the hell didn't you tell me about this earlier?" Ed stared at Breda.

Breda stopped cold, and Ed knew he wasn't going to like the answer. "Al asked me not to tell you until after he'd gone."

"That was months ago!" Ed pointed out.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I couldn't think of a good way to bring it up or tell you, and things have been busy." Breda looked decidedly apologetic.

Ed wanted to get angrier, but he couldn't blame Breda for not wanting to tell him or focusing on the work that needed to be done. "They have," he sighed. "Damn it!"

"Ed, if you're feeling guilty about what happened, don't you think apologizing would help? I mean, this is Al we're talking about."

Breda really didn't have a clue did he? "I tried," Ed explained, feeling the frustrating welling. He had been trying to hold it back for months. "He avoided me after the fight and he wouldn't talk to me unless he had to. It's not like we've never been mad at each other before, or gotten into fist fights," he smirked humorlessly, "But I know he's resented me for years over what happened Drachma. This… he's never been angry with me for this long before. I'm worried about him. His silence concerns me."

"You don't know what to do about it."

"If I did I'd have done it by now," Ed continued. It felt good to get everything out in the open and talk to someone. Winry knew how he felt, but that wasn't really the same thing. "I don't think I can ever stop thinking of him as my brother. I didn't think it was interfering with the military or my decisions regarding him, but he does."

"So that won't be a problem anymore," Breda pointed out reasonably between bites.

"Except that now we're not even talking," Ed shook his head and ignored the mental suggestion that he could really use a drink. "I just don't get him anymore." Maybe when he got home, they could talk things out. Al had months to cool down. But then why didn't he write?

"He feels like you've been holding him back."

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"Think about it, Ed. He's been in your shadow his whole life. No matter how much he's accomplished as the True Soul Alchemist, he tends to take jobs in the background or as part of the team. When the people of Amestris think of Alphonse they think of The Elric Brothers; always the both of you in conjunction."

"What's wrong with that?"

Breda smiled wryly. "You're the Fullmetal Alchemist. Al tagged along on your adventures as your little brother. He wasn't assigned to them. Only those of us who knew you both know just how involved Al was with that. It was all about you to the public. Then he was focused entirely on getting you back; that was his life goal. Then you were reunited, and you were even older than he was right? You've had tons of adventures over the years, but when you got back, you got offered four-star, Al only got offered Brigadier General. He's worked his way up since then, but always you're the one the public looks to. His older brother is a living legend and that's got to be hard to deal with when you do things. In Drachma, you denied him justice. Or at least I bet that's how Al felt about it."

Ed nodded reluctantly. Al had made that fact painfully clear. "I'm not trying to hold him back. What the hell would he have accomplished if I did anything differently than he has?"

"Maybe nothing physically," Breda shrugged. "But it's perception, Ed. If Al feels like he's lost something because of your actions, than that's what matters right now isn't it? You did relieve him from duty and his command in the middle of a war, and that fight was entirely public. No one in the military doesn't know about that by now. You made it open knowledge that you didn't trust his judgment or approve of his actions. If you don't trust him in command, how is anyone else supposed to?"

"I already feel lower than a worm. Thanks for rubbing it in," Ed grumbled. Breda seemed to have a perfect read on this. "That wasn't because he's my brother."

"Wasn't it? Would you have been nearly as upset about any other soldier killing the enemy on the battlefield?"

"It's not the death; it's the how and the reasons behind it."

"Which you only know because he's your brother. With anyone else you would only know the actions, not the reasons. Likely you wouldn't have been there at all to witness it. He'd just be another dead body. So isn't it because it was Al that it bothers you so much?"

"Shit." Ed couldn't think of anything more appropriate to express the heavy feeling of self-loathing that suddenly crashed down on his head. "I just never wanted him to have to deal with all the crap I've had to," he admitted brokenly. "Al's always been the stronger one of us; more emotionally durable, better with logic, a better fighter; maybe not by much anymore but we've always done things together. I thought… I always thought he wanted it that way." They had both agreed long ago that they were what the other had; they were a team. But had Ed been the one who broke that team? Or did Al want that disassociation for other reasons? "Damn this is complicated."

"I wish I could help," Breda replied sympathetically. "But I'm not sure I can offer much other than moral support."

"The insight is worth enough," Ed smiled weakly. He didn't want Breda to think he wasn't grateful, as much as the truth hurt. "Even if it doesn't help until Al's willing to stay in the same room with me for long enough to talk."

"Try telling him what you told me," Breda suggested. "What's probably hurting Al most right now is how much he still loves you as his brother. This can't be easy." He leaned back, and then smirked. "What happened to not hungry?"

Ed looked down at the empty plate in front of him and the one next to it. He shrugged and smirked. "Full stomach usually helps a full head."

Breda snorted. "Tell that to Nancy. She's never believed me."

"Probably because you never seem to empty out either," Ed chided.

Breda didn't seem to mind the teasing. "This is the first time in months I haven't been half empty," he chuckled between bites. "As far as I'm concerned, we've earned it."

Ed picked up the glass of water next to him and saluted Breda with it. "We sure have."

January 20th, 1965

Alphonse left Yock Island late in the afternoon on purpose. He waited until the tiny speck in the dress on the shore turned to walk, once more, back to Curtis' Meats. Almost four and a half months of primitive hermit life had done, as best they could, what he could have asked of them. He hadn't figured everything out, but he yearned, more than ever, to be back among the living, and he supposed that mattered most.

It was full dark when he landed the boat on shore, tied it to its mooring, and began the walk back through town that he had just watched Elicia depart on. He knew that she had come, every day, to spend some time staring out at the island. If he was on the beach, he saw her, a mere speck in the distance. But her regularity and her hair in the wind told him who it was. It waved longer now, silky, as if to say I am Elicia.

He felt guilty for leaving her alone so long, but by giving himself no alternative, he had been forced to face himself, and the world, as it was; just as he had as a boy. It had been too long when all he had to do all day was provide himself with food, shelter, and plenty of time to devote to thinking and righting himself in mind and in body.

Al felt like he had made pretty good progress on both. As he rounded the last corner and saw the lights on in the house behind the butcher shop, he smiled and hurried his steps. His hand touched the door knob, which he turned as he walked right inside.

Elicia and Sig were sitting at the little kitchen table drinking tea. Their faces both turned towards the door as soon as it squeaked. There were several moments before Elicia's eyes widened, and then she squeaked and leapt from her chair, flying into his arms.

Al caught her willingly, eagerly holding her close to him, kissing her with the eagerness and relief and pleasure that – he felt – had been missing in his return from the war, but that should have been there.

"Alphonse," she gasped, "I missed you. I had no idea when you were coming back."

"Neither did I," Al admitted with an abashed smile. "But you gave me such a funny look."

Sig chuckled as he stood up and put his tea cup in the sink.

Elicia laughed. "Well, you look pretty different." She turned him towards the little mirror hanging in the kitchen, and Al immediately understood why it had taken her a moment to react to his return. His face, a little heavy on arrival, was thinner, maybe even a little more than necessary, and covered with a thick beard. He hadn't bothered with shaving often on the island. It wasn't worth the trouble. Well, I don't look quite like Dad. He chuckled. "Yeah, I do. I'll shave tonight."

"Oh I don't know," Elicia giggled. "I kind of like it. Not the scruffiness, but I think you might look very dashing with a bit of beard. Maybe something trimmed down more, like Breda or my father."

Al turned back to his wife. "Tell you what then. You can shave me tonight and do whatever you want with my face."

"Now there's an interesting offer a girl doesn't get every day," Elicia brought one hand up, stroking his cheek. Her expression softened. "Did you figure out what you needed?"

"Some," Al assured her. "Not everything, but I couldn't stay out there forever. I missed you too much."

"Or at least my cooking," Elicia teased, her arms going once more around him. "You look like the survivor of a shipwreck in one of those Cretan novels."

"I thought you'd be glad I lost weight," Al smiled back, kissing the top of her forehead since it was the closest part of her in reach.

"I didn't say I wasn't," Elicia said. "But I think you might have over-done it just a little."

"Well it's pretty easy when you're living off fish, roots, and berries," Al pointed out. "Speaking of which, please tell me I haven't missed dinner." His stomach was rumbling in protest, since on the island he had normally gathered his dinner by now.

"Not at all," Sig grunted from the kitchen, near the stove. "Your wife makes fantastic meatloaf."

It took Al a moment to realize that he didn't smell much. He sniffed the air again, until Elicia chuckled. "We just put it in. You have time. Why don't I get you cleaned up?"

Not why don't you go bathe, but we. Al kissed her again and gently steered her towards the hallway and the stairs. "Yes ma'am!"