"Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, "Is life a multiple choice test or is it a true or false test?" ...Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, "We hate to tell you this but life is a thousand word essay."
― Charles M. Schulz

There's always been a sort of safe feeling to the country side. So quiet and tranquil. Very few cars ever drove through the dirt roads, and the only real way out of here was by train. Along the rolling hills and fields, the passive sunsets had their own sort of beauty to them. It was normally very warm, perfect for the farms that grew to support a lot of the more urban places.

Considering everything, it was just a quiet, secluded life. A perfect place to raise a family, that was very true. But good luck finding someone who didn't run the risk of being some distant cousin or something. Who even knew in these rural parts anyways?

Allen thought about that as he stared out the 2nd floor window of the house, looking down upon his father's grape vineyard. He was watching the 41 year old man as he inspected the blooms with a fairly trained eye. Behind him trailed his daughter - Allen's sister - Lucille, seeming to be in a very lively conversation with him. At his dad's momentary smile, Allen felt a smirk press at the corners of his mouth and he turned away from the window at his bedside.

That man. He deserved all the happiness life anyone could ever have. There hadn't been a day in years now that he hasn't felt that about his old man. He grew up hard; lost his mom when he was young, then his leg... According to his many stories, he lost his arm too (despite it being there now) and their uncle lost his whole body. Allen remembered the stories of the three years they spent searching and scraping for a way to get their bodies back. His uncle was restored, and his father regained his arm at the loss of the alchemy he once was so well known for.

When he was young, he was remarkably skeptical of those stories despite everyone else in the house saying they were completely true. His view changed when he saw the photos from his mother, of his dad when he was younger than him with an automail right arm and left leg and him usually with a massive suit of armor.

No one told him how or why his dad lost his arm and leg until he and his sister started to learn alchemy from their Uncle Al (naturally, he was on the receiving end of a lot of 'Little Al' jokes despite growing taller than his uncle). The Portal of Truth, as Alphonse had explained, worked through the Law of Equivalent Exchange that alchemists follow. It would show the one who opens the portal truth, and in exchange, it would take something from that person (always something important to them), but most people do not survive it. They were lucky.

Actually, they were very lucky. If it were to happen even a little bit differently, they could have died that night. Funny to think how easily he could have not been born. That thought struck him as he walked down the stairs, as it always did when he considered all the crap his dad had been through in his life.

Stepping down on the old wood floor, Allen glanced over to the kitchen where his Aunt May was experimenting with cooking - making some odd mix of Xingese and Amestrian food (surprisingly, it was normally pretty good, except for the fishy stew gone horribly wrong that she so stubbornly kept making). In the work room, his mother was fitting a customer with a readjusted automail hand. Her long, pale blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail that fell to skirt the backs of her thighs. As always, she was lightly humming as she worked in her casual and steady pace.

Plopping down on the couch in the living room, he glanced at the newspaper on the coffee table. Its pages were a little scattered because whoever was reading it last hadn't thought to piece it back together. Though the front page was in clear view, and in big bold print it read "Recent Peace Attempts with Drachma Failed". He sighed, already knowing that story after reading it that morning.

The Drachman people were very upset with them, have been for more than a couple decades now. They claim that they were tricked by the Amestrians into having a large portion of their army destroyed at Fort Briggs. Fuhrer Mustang has been doing everything he could to try and appease them, but to no avail. At this point, the Drachmans couldn't be pleased with treaties and negotiations. They wanted the blood spilled that day to be repaid with interest - that was something the Fuhrer absolutely seemed reluctant to allow, with good reason.

Still, it seemed like every attempt for peace only seemed to draw them closer to war. Like those snowmen up North seemed to take offense when offered a diplomatic solution. Everyone was on their haunches, anticipating the first time that someone would lash out and a full blown conflict would bring the country cascading down from their few decades of peace. No one wanted the wars to return - he didn't want the wars to come. His dad told him about when he was kid, how there had been a war with Ishval, and the people were almost wiped out on purpose.

But there was more to it than that. In anticipation of any future violence, Fuhrer Mustang had reluctantly held a draft. Anyone whose number had been called on the radio would be leaving to the Central Military Academy to begin training. Allen listened to the station every day all last week to hear the numbers listed off, praying and pleading to a god he wasn't sure he believed in that he'd be spared.

Late last night, he had been listening with his mother and sister, holding his papers and reading his number over and over like a mantra that would somehow prevent him from being summoned. 2061226. 2061226... Sequence after sequence, they listened to the public broadcast.

"0236567, 4832435, 2843256, 9835023...

...2061226..."

He swore that then his heart had stopped, and all he could do was gape at the radio as the list concluded and was repeated again. At first, he thought it was all a mistake, but then he heard the dreaded number again. He wasn't mishearing anything. It was there.

Of course he didn't say a word at first, he just turned off the radio and slumped down on the couch with such a defeated look. He would be leaving. His mother tried to comfort him, but he did nothing but give her the cold shoulder. Not a word came from him that night until Lucille stood up and with a face set in her stone resolve declared that if he was going then she would go too.

Those words broke their mother's heart. She was always a strong woman, but at that moment, there seemed to be a look of horror on her face. Almost like she was seeing some terrible memory over again. But she didn't shed a tear and asked how they would break the news to their father.

Allen sighed, letting his head press into the back of the couch. He knew how he would. Today, his dad would be getting his leg back on after his mom had finished readjusting it, so he would tell him when he wouldn't be able to possibly kill him.

... Well his father wouldn't kill him. His father never killed anyone. But he would surely chase him down and shake him around and scream. He didn't want that. He wanted his dad to sit, and listen to it, not protest as he would normally. So telling him before he got his leg attached was his safest bet.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he snapped his head back to meet the typically calm, gold eyes of his Uncle Al. The man smiled and leaned onto the couch from behind. "What's on your mind, kiddo?"

Allen rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just... eh... I've got a lot on my mind, you know?"

The smile faded a little, but that kind tone hadn't. "Right. Winry told me about that this morning. I wish there was something I could do."

With a nod, Allen looked down to his lap. "Uncle, you and dad have been through a lot of fighting. Any advice?"

Alphonse thought long and hard about that. "If you're looking for help with guns, I can't. Never fired one, and I don't think your dad has either. But I can tell you that there's nothing a lot of hard work and practice can't help. We spared all the time."

"You still do," Allen pointed out with a knowing smirk.

To that, his uncle mocked an innocent face and shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he very obviously lied. He then thought for a moment and said, "Other than practice, use your alchemy should you be in a tight spot. Trust me, it helps volumes when you're being chased."

Allen nodded again. "I'll keep it in mind."

Alphonse gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. "That'a boy."

The rest of that day went by very uneventful. As the sun arced through the sky, a blanket of thick clouds followed suit. Soon evening came and Allen found himself standing at the doorway with the feeling of a stone in the pit of his stomach as he watched his dad take off the temporary leg and his mom start carefully aligning the automail one.

He took a deep breath and decided it was now or never. "Dad?"

His dad looked up from his wife's careful hands lining the metal leg with the port and looked him over with a bit of a careful stare. He had easily picked up on the uneasy tone, and returned it with his own uncertain look. Angular gold eyes were pressed down by his furrowing brows and a frown creased his lips. "Yeah, Allen?"

With a nervous chuckle, Allen rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh... I got some news for you." He looked away from him now, his heart thumping heavily.

His mom had lined up the ports now and said, "Alright, Ed, I'll connect the nerves on three."

Ed nodded in response to his wife, and looked back to Allen. "What?"

"One."

Allen shuffled a step back and bit his lip.

"Well?"

"I... uh... You see..."

"Two."

"Allen?"

A deep breath. "I got drafted for the military."

"WHAT?!"

"Three!"

Allen watched as his dad was taken off guard by the sudden connection of his nerves. He hadn't listened to the warning, and prepared for it like he usually had. Edward bit back a scream and grabbed at the port on his thigh like it were something trying to kill him.

For the briefest of moments, Allen thought he chose the best time to bring it up, when his dad couldn't shake him down for answers, but he was dead wrong. He misjudged how quickly his dad could get over the pain. In a matter of seconds he got up and went to him. Allen tried to flee but found his dad grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back.

"How long?!"

"Huh?" The question couldn't have been more obvious, but Allen was too shocked to really process it.

"How long have you known? When are you leaving?!" There wasn't anger in those eyes, but rather panic and some hurt feelings he'd never begin to understand.

"I heard my number last night," Allen answered, grabbing his dad's wrists to get him to let go. "And I need to leave this Saturday for Central. My plan though is to try for the State Alchemist title."

Uncle Al took hold of Edward's shoulder and spoke firmly. "Brother, please. Calm down."

Edward took a deep breath and let go. The years had really curbed his aggressive tendencies, and all that seemed to show now was the sorrow. "Damn it. Damn that Colonel bastard."

Lucille seemed to take this as her chance to speak up too. "Dad, I'm going with him for that title too."

The color seemed to drain from his face for a moment before he turned to her and exclaimed, "The hell?! You too? Were you drafted too?" So much for his curbed aggression.

She shook her head. "No. I'm doing this on my own."

A silence fell upon the room for what could have felt like hours to Allen. He could see the stunned look on his dad's face shift to horror and then absolute anger. His fists were clenched tightly enough that the knuckles were going white.

"Brother?" Alphonse seemed a more than a bit worried now - and that made Allen more so. His uncle was normally very cool, but hearing him this unsure and uneasy with his own brother was nothing but a bad sign.

Another few seconds passed before Edward shook off Alphonse's hand and went outside. And as the door slammed shut behind him, there came a bright flash of lightening, and the clash of thunder very soon after. They stayed still for the longest of moments, and then as the heavy sound of rain on the porch begun to resound in the room, the realization of what just happened seemed to sink in.

His dad had just walked out into a thunderstorm.

"The person who says it can't be done
is almost always interrupted by the person who is doing it."
― Shannon L. Alder

Paperwork. Seemed like it followed her dad like some stalker he could never shake. It's been like that for as long as she could remember; he would sit at the dining room table for hours and hours on end doing work until her mom would eventually decide he should take a break. If she didn't, then he would end up like he was now; passed out at the table only to wake up at some point to panic about falling asleep on his work.

Well, he hadn't woken up yet. He was still fast asleep with his head buried in his arms, and a low snore raising from the back of his throat like a growl. Irene sat down at the opposite chair and rested her chin on her forearms to stare at him. His parents were always a bit eccentric, but that was to be expected of seasoned soldiers, and seldom did she ever see them actually sleep well. At least not her dad until recent years, when he finally went ahead and asked his doctor for a sleep aid.

Does he even need a sleep aid, she wondered to herself, paperwork does the job just fine.

Her eyes went over his salt and peppered hair, coming distinctly from his age of 55 years. Actually, he might have been the youngest looking old man she's ever seen. There was always some sort of younger-than-he-looks quality he possessed that seemed to make him age with such grace that any celebrity would want to know his secret. Though he could easily have passed for late thirties or early forties, there was something always in his dark eyes that seemed to give him a haunted look. He seemed to see more frightening things in all his time than he ever dared to tell her. Almost as if he feared that all those horrible sights would crawl from the deep caverns of his mind to exact vengeance for even invoking their names.

He never told her too much about his life aside from that he was one of those involved in the Extermination of Ishval, and for most his career he had made his way up to take power and change the country for the better - which he eventually did accomplish.

Except that peace was coming to their waning months as Amestris prepared for the inevitable day when Drachma would finally lash out. For as long as she remembered, the Parliament had been in control of the government since her father restored that power. But now, in anticipation for war and under the stress of their citizens for protection, they passed power back to the Fuhrer so that he could lead the country through the war. Even those diplomats knew just as well that they couldn't waste time trying to agree, especially not in wartime. It had been in the country's best interest that someone who understood war be the one to lead them through it.

And it had been the last thing her father had wanted.

She sighed and thought for a moment. That evening she was going to leave for the military academy and she hadn't told him yet. Actually, she wasn't even sure what she would say. 'Hey pops, I'm off to get myself killed'? No. She didn't want to give him reason to thing that she was just being a stupid kid.

Better sooner than later, she decided and nudged his arm to wake him up. An involuntary snort broke the snoring as he sat up fast and looked down at the table. After a second, he groaned and ran his hands over his face. "I'll never have any of this paperwork done... it's like it multiplies when I'm not looking..."

Irene smirked to herself at her dad's grumblings, and recalled one of the few things he did love to tell her about when she was a younger - how he had a subordinate by the name of Edward Elric, and how he was the cause of half his paperwork then. "At least you don't have the Edward factor. Right dad?"

"No. I just have the everyone else factor now..." He grunted, and stood up to go make some coffee. "I mean, really, since the draft started, it's like everybody and their brother is signing up on their own to join the military - and a fourth of those people are going for State Alchemist... Really... why?"

"I guess people don't like being forced to go," Irene said, "maybe they want to make the choice before the government can. And maybe people are hoping that things have changed for the State Alchemist title."

Her father looked at her with tired, unamused eyes. "Things haven't though. I tried to have that changed, but even though everyone hates that damn title, they want these people in the military so that they can protect the country... and then there are the ones who are signing up, who I'm sure are just trying to be like Fullmetal."

"People can dream right? And maybe they thought things were changing since he showed up," she pointed out.

"What they don't get is that he was a kid, and there was no way in my right mind I'd ever see him in a battlefield." Glancing down at the coffee machine, he took a breath. "Besides, they seem to forget what a State Alchemist is called upon to do during wartime."

She watched him making his coffee and asked, "Weren't you a State Alchemist?"

He looked down, and his hand fished for something in his vest pocket. Out he pulled a silver pocket watch, with the military crest over the front. "I still am. If I'm to ever send those poor kids out to battle, I'm not going to send them alone."

That was something she never knew. "So you're still the Flame Alchemist. Even after all these years?"

"It's because of my position as a State Alchemist that I even became Fuhrer," he said, and poured the black liquid into a mug. "Why would I throw away a position I earned for myself?"

"I don't know," she said. "It just seems a bit unneeded."

"The salary I would get is unneeded," he corrected, "that's why I don't receive grants for my research anymore. No time and no need for it."

"Well if you don't do research, then why bother?" She asked.

Her dad smirked and tapped his head. "Probably because I want to keep a reason for remembering all these nifty little alchemy tricks I got."

Irene rolled her eyes. "Yes, because any child's birthday party isn't complete until someone's eyebrows are burnt off."

They laughed a moment as he considered whether or not to leave his coffee black, and finally just took the dark drink back to the table. "There's some more in the pot if you want it. Just save some for your mother."

She shook her head. "That's okay. Hey, dad, I've got something to tell you."

He gave her a momentarily glance up from his mug. "I'd better not hear anything about grand kids from you yet. I'm not old enough for them."

She laughed and shook her head. "No no. Nothing like that. It's just that I've been thinking about what I was going to do now that I graduated from school, so..."

It wasn't like she was trying to hide her plans, and he was starting to catch onto what she was going to say.

"I enrolled in the Central Military Academy," she said.

His jaw could have easily fell to the table then. Then he turned in his seat and called out, "R-Riza!"

A moment later, her mom came out to the dining room with a curious look on her face as she buttoned her shirt. "Yes?"

Her dad pointed to Irene in an almost childish way as he stammered, "She- did you?! Why?!"

Her mom's eyebrows further tugged together, and she crossed her arms. "Roy, just calm down and say it."

He took a deep breath and then finally asked, "Did you know about Irene signing up for the Military Academy?!"

Riza blinked, a bit stunned herself. "She didn't tell you already?"

"No!" He stood up, almost knocking his coffee over in the process. He then turned to Irene. "Who talked you into it?"

Irene held her hands up a bit defensively and answered. "Nobody! I decided for myself that I wanted to help you and the country. And the only way I can do that is if I'm in the military."

That seemed to shut him up for a moment, and he took a step back, as if ready to faint. Riza hurried over, seemed to think the same, but her dad remained on his feet. "My daughter...? But you could be killed!"

She stood up and said, "Then I'll die for something I know is right, defending my home. If you're so worried about death, then why did you and mom sign up?"

Riza sighed. "You know, she's grown up more like us than anything else."

Her father turned away and faced the window looking out on the courtyard. "Fine. Listen to your instructors well, and make sure the barrel isn't pointed at you."

Irene blinked with a bit of surprise. He was letting her off so easy for this. She thought he'd demand that she drop out before she got in. "I will." And then she went to her room to finish packing what she was sure she'd need.

Later that day, her father came into her room while she was packing, and peered over her shoulder. "You know, you can only bring one case."

She glanced up at him. "Oh. Right."

"Besides. It's not like you need to pack everything. You still live here," he said, and pushed on of the two cases to the side. "See if you can fit what you need in one. And leave some extra space."

"Why extra?" She asked, curiously.

"Trust me, you'll really want it later on." He said, and watched as she started to pull things out of the cases to fit what she was sure she'd need in one. When she was sure she was done, she showed him, and he fished a small notebook and a box of chalk out of his pocket. "I know I haven't shown you very far beyond the basics of alchemy. But you never know when you might need it."

"Thanks." Irene accepted the gift with a smile. "I'll be careful, so stop worrying about it, dad." Then she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, and tried her best to assure herself that she'd be fine. "Love you."

He tussled her hair a little, and smiled softly, and sadly. "Love you too."

And so concludes the first chapter.

Just to explain, this is a story idea my little sis mainly came up with, and we decided we would do a fanfic, comic duo production. I'd write it, and then she'd make the comic version of this story. I'm really excited to see how this chapter will turn out in comic format, so please support both by keeping up and following the story!

I'll tell you all where to look for the comic next chapter, but until then see you soon!