The fifth parade. Alphonse was approaching his twenty-first birthday, and only had a few months to go before he qualified as a doctor. Mei had come to visit a few weeks ago and stayed to watch the parade from the stands; Roy invited her up onto the podium when he learnt she would be there, but she declined. She was standing near Cathal – the man they used to call Scar – and kept glancing over at Alphonse throughout the parade. He in turn kept looking over to her, and Roy missed none of it. Fuhrer Mustang always preferred watching individuals to watching parades, and this one was no exception. He could gather good information about people by watching them when they thought no-one was looking – it was the only reason he had managed to understand the Elric brothers so well when they were under his supervision. The speeches passed by Roy without much notice; he gave his obligatory five-minute one – a slightly altered version of the one he gave two years ago – and a few other people Roy only saw at this time of year also spoke. He tuned it all out, even his own script. There was a twisting in his gut, a feeling of something about to happen, but he couldn't figure out what and that made him anxious.

A shifting somewhere to his left caught his attention, and he saw Alphonse glancing over at him then staring back out at the crowd. Roy reached behind Hawkeye to tap Alphonse on the arm.

"Are you getting that too?" he whispered.

Alphonse nodded.

"Getting what?" Hawkeye asked.

"I don't know," Roy said. "But I don't like it."

"We can't do anything, though, can we?" Alphonse was frowning as he looked out at the mass of soldiers surrounded by civilians. "If we call an end to the parade now and get everyone out, we've either saved a few people or caused unnecessary panic; that panic could get people hurt for no reason. But if we don't call it and something does happen, a lot more people could get hurt."

"I know. Wait, for now. If it gets any worse, we'll get everyone out."

"If what gets worse?" Hawkeye asked again.

"I don't know. Something in the air, I guess. But it feels big."

"It's making me feel sick," Alphonse murmured. "And scared. Really, really scared."

Roy nodded and turned back towards the soldiers. He kept his gaze on the state alchemists, watching each of their faces to see if any of them noticed. Armstrong was standing at attention, everything focused forward except his eyes – he was watching Roy, and nodded once when Roy met his gaze. A few of the other alchemists were shifting about and glancing up to the podium too. When Roy looked over to Mei and Scar – Cathal – they were both staring down at the ground with wide-eyed concern.

"I'm calling it," Roy muttered. "Hawkeye, once I've got the rest moving get down to the alchemists and tell them to move to civilian exits in case they need to make them bigger if anyone panics, then get Fuery to call the mess hall and tell them they need to arrange some damn fast catering for the civilians. Al, get Mei and Cathal over here." He stepped up to the podium and muttered an apology in the speaker's ear before turning to the microphone. "My apologies to you all, but I must call an end to proceedings due to unforeseen circumstances. Complimentary tea and coffee will be served in the mess hall for anyone who wishes to go. Commanders, please ensure your troops head back to their designated areas. State alchemists will stay and await further instruction. Thank you all for your attendance."

Soft murmurs fluttered through the crowd as the commanders began giving orders and marching their troops out of the parade grounds. Hawkeye left the podium to relay orders to the alchemists, and Alphonse moved across the stage to a better vantage point, where he motioned at Mei until she saw him and then jumped down from the stage to meet her and Cathal halfway. Roy himself left the podium to find one of his Generals before they left. He saw General Hawthorne first, and waved him over.

"What is it, Sir?"

"We're not sure yet. I want two battalions at the mess hall with the civilians, and one troop to accompany me. Find Havoc, Breda and Falman and send them to me. Keep the remaining men in one place and await further orders."

"Yes, Sir. Though those three don't appear to need me to find them."

Hawthorne saluted and returned to his own men as the trio of Breda, Havoc and Falman jogged over to Roy. Most of the soldiers had now left the parade ground, though a lot of civilians were lingering and trying to see what the fuss was about. Roy watched Alphonse walk over and talk to the biggest group, ushering them gently towards the exits and smiling all the while. As soon as they were on their way out and Alphonse turned away and headed back over to Roy, the smile dropped.

"What's going on?" Havoc asked as they all got within earshot of Roy.

All of Roy's old team had begun taking off their dress jackets, and Roy followed suit; the troop that had been ordered to stick with Roy gaped at their lack of formality, before shrugging and taking off their own jackets.

"We don't know, but-" he glanced at Alphonse, "-I think it may have something to do with the Gate."

"How come?"

"None of you feel any different to how you usually do, right?" The soldiers around Roy all shook their heads. "Look at them." Roy pointed over to the state alchemists, who were still near the exits. They were all shifting and glancing about, and a few were rubbing their arms like they were cold. "Something's going on that only alchemists can feel, which leads me to believe it's the Gate."

Al looked up. "Do you think it's-"

"I don't know. We need to check it out, though. We'll head over to-"

The ground shook as the sky darkened and bright blue flashes tore through the air. The flashing centred around the Fuhrer's estate – exactly where the Gate had opened five years ago. Roy heard Havoc say something, but he was already running. He could hear footsteps right behind him but didn't look to see whose they were until he was close enough to the estate that slowing down was necessary for safety. He had to grab Alphonse's shirt to stop him running straight into trouble. As Roy stared into the grounds, he heard the other men catching up but couldn't look away to see who had followed and who had fled.

The Gate was standing in the centre of the gardens, tall, imposing, and surrounded by blue lightning. It was generating its own wind that was creating a small tornado of dust and dirt. Through the dust Roy could see the Gate opening and a figure stepping out, and as the door closed the small brown cloud settled and Roy could see clearly who it was.

He was dressed in odd clothes, but it was unmistakeably him.

Father.