March 2nd, 1963

Alphonse was not having a good morning. Neither the mirror nor the closet was his friend as he pulled on his only clean pair of uniform pants. With the everyday ones all in the wash, he had figured on just wearing his dress pants for the day. They looked about the same after all.
There was just one little problem – him. There was just no getting around the fact that dress pants were more fitted in style, and right now they didn't fit.

"Al, are you all right?" Elicia appeared in the bathroom doorway, already dressed for the day in simple slacks and one of her soft turtleneck sweaters. "I heard grunting."

Oh great. Why did the dress pants have to be more fitted anyway? It wasn't fair. Al gave up. "Look at this."

Elicia eyed him. "I'm looking. What's wrong?"

Was she serious? "What's… they don't fit."

A look of utterly fake shock came over his wife's face. "You're right! I've never noticed!" As he watched, confused, she circled him rather like a curious cat, then came back around in front of him, bent down and gave his stomach a playful little poke with one finger. "Well it's you all right."

"Elicia!"

She smiled up at him. "Calm down." Then she reached out, just as she might have when the kids were little, and tugged at the waistline of his pants herself. She looked unsurprised when they fell a little short of closing. She giggled! "When was the last time you wore these?"

Al sighed and fidgeted. "Four years ago," he replied awkwardly. It had been the dinner they had attended in Drachma that required full formal dress. He hadn't needed them since then.

"Well then of course they don't fit, Al." Elicia stood up straight, shaking her head. "Why don't you wear a different pair?"

"They're in the wash," Al responded glumly. "And what do you mean of course?" She was taking this far too lightly. "I've been good lately." Trying anyway.

Elicia shook her head. "Honey, this is the weight you put on four years ago."

This conversation was not going well. "How about a little sympathy here?"

"Hey, who's the one who carried both of our kids?" Elicia chuckled. "Have you ever looked at the variety of sizes in my side of the closet?"

"No," Al had to admit. Elicia always looked good to him. "This is embarrassing."

Elicia wrapped her arms around his waist. "Don't worry about it. Most men your age have a little… extra to cuddle with."

Humph. She put it to so nicely. "Ed doesn't."

Elicia laughed, and Al felt even more foolish. "Edward's an exception to just about every rule. Brothers or not, don't go comparing yourself to him."

"Well then tell him to stop teasing me about it," Al smirked.

"I think you're old enough to do that yourself," she winked.

"Are you trying to make me feel old and fat?" He wasn't sure why she found the entire situation so amusing, but it was bugging him this morning.

Elicia's expression softened a little as she hugged him. "Lighten up a little, okay?"

"That's what I'm talking about." He wasn't too fond of her choice of words.

"You know what I mean," she poked him again, in the side this time. "It's hardly irreparable damage. I've known you forever, and you know what to do. You don't need me to tell you, unless you just want to be able to say your wife nagged you into dieting." She kissed his cheek. "If it's bothering you, then just do something about it."

He sighed. "You're right."

"Then why so glum?" She asked as they walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.

"No matter what I do, they won't fit next week," Al pointed out. Maybe if he sucked in and stopped breathing, but that would completely defeat the purpose.

A light of realization appeared in his wife's eyes. "Oh, this is about the inspection!"

"Partly." Al sat down on the bed. Elicia sat down and snuggled up against his side, tucking her feet underneath her. "It's just frustrating."

"Regretting priorities?" She asked the question with a knowing look.

Al shrugged. "Annoyed that Ed's right." Not that he hadn't known that from the start. Elicia chuckled again. "You two never do grow up do you?"

"What do you mean?" He looked over at her.

Elicia smiled knowingly. "I mean you're always like this; always riding the other about something. Quarreling, sparring, tossing words back and forth."

"We're brothers."

"You're a lot alike."

"How do you figure?"

"Have you forgotten?" Elicia moved around behind him and opened his bedside table drawer, pulling out a very small, very old and beat up, journal. "You did show me this, remember?"

Al looked at the journal. It was the one he had kept while he was a suit of armor. "Yeah I do. What about it?"

Elicia smiled kindly. "There's a lot of history in there. Almost every disagreement with Ed, your frustrations with being armor… a complete list of everything you wanted to eat when you got your body back."

"What of it?" He still didn't like where the conversation was going, even though it intrigued him to see Elicia as playful as she had been when they first got married.

"Al, if anyone actually managed to eat everything on that list, most of them would be twice your size. You like to eat as much as Ed does; or any other guy," she added. "Mom still jokes that Dad married her for her cooking."

"Is there a point to this little trip?"

"You're being impatient," Elicia scolded gently. "My point is you're making a big deal out of something I know isn't a surprise. These things don't just happen overnight and it's not the end of the world. Just do something about it or stop stressing."

"I take it you'd rather I do the former." Al knew the answer to that. No woman he knew really wanted their husband to not care about his health. In fact, he knew several who complained that their husbands didn't care enough about it.

Elicia hugged him again, this time from behind him on the bed. "Well, while I certainly didn't marry you for your good looks-"

"Hey!"

She giggled again. "By themselves," she finished the statement. "I love you however you are."

"How do I know?" Al asked, though he was teasing her a little back this time. She was trying to cheer him up.

"Because," she gave him a slight squeeze. "If I didn't we wouldn't spend nearly as much time having sex."

She had a point! "That or your taste has gone downhill," he teased back.

Elicia's hands around his middle twitched, and the next thing he knew she was tickling him! Al retaliated, and they spent several minutes tussling on the bed in a full out tickle war that only ended with a pillow to the face and Elicia lying on top of him on the bed, panting and grinning broadly. "Not downhill," she smirked, "just over it." Before he could give offense, she kissed him, and her hands ran across his arms and down his chest. "You're still a great looking guy," she said when she finished the kiss. "You're one of those handsome older guys girls start swooning over at the age of thirteen and never stop."

"Well, at least one girl anyway," Al grunted, though her comment pleased him. "The one that matters."

"You know it," Elicia nodded. "I'm a lucky girl. I get to look into those handsome golden eyes, and run my hands through your hair, and enjoy the feel of your muscular arms around me. Don't sell yourself short, Alphonse. A little extra padding in the middle doesn't ruin the entire package."

"You put it too kindly," Al smiled up at her. Surprisingly, he did feel better. "No combat instructor should have a gut."

Elicia smacked his pectoral muscles lightly with her hand. "Men always pick the crude, unflattering description." She shook her head. "Though I guess you've made your point. You've convinced me."

"Convinced you of what?" Al asked, confused.

"That I'm simply going to have to nag you into your old ways," Elicia giggled as she lay down across him, giving him another hug. "For the sake of your career, of course."

"Of course," Al couldn't help chuckling. "So I guess that settles things for me, huh?"

"Yep," Elicia nodded firmly.

"There's just one problem," Al added after a moment.

"And what's that?"

He snickered. "I still don't have anything to wear to work."

"Hey, Shock, do you know you're soaking wet?" One of the other alchemists in the office snickered as Tore made his way through the room and stopped in front of Colonel Sara Heimler's desk.

"Shock Alchemist, Tore Closson, reporting in." He saluted, though only because he was on duty. He was still getting used to saluting someone he had known informally for years, but that was the price of having passed his State Alchemists Exam just last month. He rather liked the title President Rehnquist had gifted him with – Shock – for his control over electricity and his rather dazzling display to that effect.

Sara looked up from her paperwork and grinned. "Nice look. I take it you were successful?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tore nodded. "Though the next time you need someone to get a cat out of a tree, send the fire department."

The Twilight Alchemist chuckled. "I don't think they could have handled that particular cat, Closson. You have such a way with felines; I figured you were perfect for the mission."

Well her point was valid. The cat in question had not been a house cat, but a rare white lion that had escaped from his pen in the Central Zoo. Police had requested assistance from a State Alchemist to hopefully capture the large animal unharmed and return him to the zoo. Tore had managed just that, though he had gotten dumped into a city fountain for his troubles during the chase. "No argument there," he sighed, then shrugged and grinned. "He's back at the zoo and I reinforced his exhibit and made it a little more difficult for him to get out in the future too." Reshaping things using alchemy had been the quickest, easiest, and cheapest way to resolve the problem.

"The Zoo sends their regards."

Sara rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Well it's better than nothing. Find a spare uniform, dry off, and then you can write up your report. Nice work."

It was a simple dismissal, but a polite one. Tore was getting used to things around here. Sara, like most of the people here whom he had known for years thanks to growing up in the Elrics' house, was much more businesslike on duty. Here he was a colleague now, another State Alchemist with work to do, not just a kid, or Edward Elric's student. He was, however, the second State Alchemist ever to pass the full exam under the age of eighteen, even if it was only by a couple of months instead of Edward's impressive several years. So he got a decent amount of notice, most of it good.

Tore made his way out of the room and back down the hallways of Central Headquarters. His spare uniform was in his locker down by the gymnasium, so he might as well go and get it now. While he didn't much care if he was in uniform or civilian dress; he wore the uniform at work. He spent most of his time at Headquarters or running local missions so far, though he knew that he would probably get sent out of town soon. Sara and Brigadier General Kane both seemed pleased with his work. That meant they would trust him with assignments that went further afield.

For now, he was just enjoying the feel of the weight of the watch in his pocket, the curious glances from people wanting to know more about the new, young, State Alchemist and – best of all – the looks from all the pretty secretaries and young female soldiers or officers wandering the halls!

"Well don't you seem to be in a good mood," Ren chuckled from behind him.

Ethan turned around from where he was pulling files for today's patients and stopping humming. He grinned. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well of course not," Ren shook her head. She was standing in the doorway to the reception area of their little clinic. "I was just wondering if maybe you had some good news you wanted to share?"

Ethan shook his head. "Good news?" He knew what Ren was angling at. "Well my cup of coffee this morning was surprisingly fresh tasting. I got out of bed on time this morning and had a leisurely walk to work. Oh, and for once the dog didn't drool in my shoes. How's that?"

Ren crossed her hands under her chest, which only proved to accentuate the slight swell below her arms that was the ever-tell-tale sign of pregnancy. She and Will were three months into expecting their second child, and – as was not uncommon with subsequent pregnancies, coupled with Will's towering stature, at least compared to Ren's petite build – meant she could hardly have hidden it if she wanted to even at that early state. "You know what I mean, Ethan Elric. Now don't mess with me this morning."

Ethan shook his head, but smiled again. "I'm serious. It's just a nice day." Finding out if his wife was in the same situation would have been a delightful way to start the day, but all this morning had actually proven was the opposite. Fortunately they could always try again next month. "If we had news, you know you would be the first to know."

"Even before your parents?" Ren looked skeptical.

"I guess it depends on timing. If I were here, you'd know by the stunned expression on my face," Ethan chuckled self-depreciatingly. "So, are you going to get to work today or do I need to prescribe rest for you and send you home while I manage everything here entirely on my own?"

Ren snickered. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere." Still, she stepped into the room and starting pulling her own patient files. "Though if you can find the pillow for the chair in the back office and find a way to import redberry-leaf tea overnight from Xing I may forgive you for it."

Ethan tapped her lightly on the head with his stack of files as he moved past her. The pillow was easy. The tea – which he had learned was safe for easing the queasy stomachs of pregnant women just as well as small children – was a more difficult challenge. "Far be it for me to argue with such a reasonable request." Yes, today was going to be a good day, he was sure of it.

"Man, can you believe this inspection?" Breda asked Edward as the Fullmetal Alchemist sat down across from him at the lunch table in the Mess.

"Oh it won't be that bad," Ed grinned, setting his lunch tray down. "It's not like it's not within Rehnquist's rights to order it anyway. It hasn't been done in a long time." President Rehnquist had called for a full inspection of Amestris' military, to begin next week with no further warning. Which units would be inspected when had not been mentioned. That meant that everything had better be absolutely perfect for the entire week; artillery and weapons, offices, paperwork, training, uniforms, and the soldiers and officers themselves.

Breda grunted and picked up his sandwich. "That's because it's a hassle for everyone and a lot of work."

"Worried about failing?" Roy Mustang snickered as he dropped down next to Ed with his own lunch.

"No," Breda snorted.

"You're obviously not," Ed commented, eyeing Roy's plate. "Did you grab anything off the line that wasn't fried?"

"You mean there was food that wasn't?" Roy laughed. "I don't have to worry about this inspection. It's called retirement. Ever heard of it?"

Of course Ed had. Roy had been the one who tried to force it on him over twenty years ago. Then Ed had been on the other side of things a few years later, when Roy had to make that decision for himself. "Yeah, I think I may vaguely recall something about that," Ed gave him a pondering look. "Oh yeah, that's for old people right?"

At the look on Roy's face, Breda almost sprayed sandwich across the table he started laughing so hard.

"Did I miss something?" Alphonse asked as he sat down across from Roy, next to Breda.

"Ah, and here's my brother, the good little rabbit," Ed grinned as his brother sat down with a tray that held a large salad, and a side of apples and cottage cheese.

"They have cottage cheese now?" Roy looked surprised. "What is this, a health spa?"

Al seemed to ignore both sets of comments. "It looked good," was his comment as he started eating.

Ed decided not to press the issue. Antagonizing his brother was the last thing he really wanted to do now that they were entirely back on good terms. Ed went back to eating, but he had only gotten a few bites in between general chatter before a Lieutenant Colonel appeared at the end of their table, panting and looked directly at Breda and Al.

"General Breda, General Elric; President Rehnquist requests your presence in his Conference room, now." The Lieutenant Colonel looked up then and noticed Edward. "You too, Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir."

"What's this about?" Al asked as they stood, leaving their trays where they were.

"A matter of State Security," the Lieutenant Colonel replied.

"What about me?" Roy looked mildly offended.

Ed turned and gave him a jaunty wave and a grin as he left the Mess. "That's one of the perks of active duty!"

His smile faded as they hurried upstairs however. The Lieutenant Colonel was not the only one looking concerned. They passed other folks in the hall, including Hal Brewster and Marcus Kane. All Generals, all heading towards the President's meeting room. This could not bode well.

"What do you think is going on?" Al asked softly.

"I don't know," Breda frowned. "But I doubt it's good or about this Inspection coming up. He wouldn't need all the Brass for that. He'd send a memo."

Ed nodded. "Well we'll find out soon enough."

Indeed, all of the top brass were gathering in the meeting room when they arrived. Alan Rehnquist stood at the head of the table, looking dour. Generals lined the room. At this point in life, Edward knew every one of them personally; himself, Al, Breda, Hal Brewster, and Marcus Kane were those he knew best. Other than that, the newer Generals assigned to Central HQ, all lower ranking – Rask, Tamlin, and Lyre – seemed even more ill at ease. There were still several Generals not in attendance of course, those assigned to the four other Headquarters, but that meant only that they could not have arrived in time. Otherwise, Ed was sure they would have been here judging by Rehnquist's face.

It was a little frightening to realize that nearly every other General older than Breda had retired. Brahm and Morroh were long gone now; retired since the Aerugo War. Olivia Armstrong was, amazingly, still ruling Briggs despite her age. No one seemed to want to mess with her while she could do her job perfectly well. Alex Armstrong and Roy Mustang's absences were keenly felt though, given how many times Ed had seen them in here over the years.

"Gentlemen," Rehnquist began as soon as they were all seated, "We have a problem." He picked up a sheet of paper and passed it around. "That is a copy of the wire I received no more than an hour ago, confirmed, informing me that as of this morning, Fort Briggs was overrun and taken by Drachman forces."

"What the hell?" Ed couldn't help blurting it out. This was ludicrous! There was no way that Briggs, of all places, could have fallen so quickly that they didn't have days of warning. Even more than that; how had an entire Drachman force made a move like that without notice? Amestris had intelligence agents and diplomats in Drachma!

"My thought exactly," Rehnquist nodded over the collective gasps of the other men in the room. He definitely did not look like he was joking. "That report, already followed by several more from soldiers who managed to retreat, or locals who witnessed the event from a distance, has been confirmed as true by our best intelligence. This morning at oh-eight-hundred-hours, communications at Briggs was cut, and the Fort was stormed, the wall breached, and General Olivia Armstrong summarily executed as soon as she was found, along with the rest of her command staff as best we can tell."

As the report, followed by others, made its way around the table, the general disbelief in the room turned to horror. Disbelief turned quickly to focused fury.

"But how did they manage all this?" Breda shook his head. "Blowing holes in the Briggs wall? That thing is several feet thick and solid concrete and stone. And it'll take more than a lucky bullet to get anywhere near Olivia."

If Ed had thought Rehnquist's expression could not get any direr, he would have been wrong. "The Drachmans took Fort Briggs in less than three hours, Gentlemen. And they did it using what the newest report claims was a military unit of no less than three hundred alchemists."

He was hallucinating. He had to be. There was no way Ed had heard that right! "Alchemists, Sir? Drachma's state doesn't have alchemists. Last we heard they couldn't even agree whether to antagonize them or court them!" It had only been four years! "How would they train up that many alchemists in so short a time without our knowing about it?"

"Obviously they have managed somehow, Fullmetal," Rehnquist replied flatly. "As for how, we will have to determine that. I sincerely doubt it's really three hundred alchemists. More likely three hundred soldiers with alchemical backing. Frankly, I was hoping you might have some insight." Even Amestris did not have three hundred alchemists. Ed was fairly certain the current count numbered less than a hundred.

All eyes turned to him. Racking his brain, Ed tried to think of any reasonable means of training up that many alchemists in so short a time. "It might have been a secret project," he suggested first, "something they never told us about; something not going on in the Capitol. Maybe not even something Akhatova knew about. It's not like everyone in a government lets their superiors know what's going on." He let his eyes and tone convey what he meant.

Rehnquist and anyone old enough to remember Bradley at all obviously understood. He nodded. "Especially in Drachma," he shifted it away from thoughts of Roy Mustang's own plot within the divisive government back then that had caused the shift in regime to what they had now. At least that had proven a good thing and lasted. Drachma was never so stable. "Well it's a theory at least. However they did it our intelligence operatives in the area, those who have reported in anyway, will be trying to determine more exact numbers and intent. At this time we have received very little further information from those who apparently managed to escape Briggs." He sighed and shook his head. Ed felt a little sorry for him. Obviously Rehnquist had hoped that he might get to be the first President of the Military to not have to deal with a major conflict. No such luck. "The Assembly and myself will be calling meetings as information comes in. The fact that Briggs was attacked and overrun in such a short amount of time is hardly classified information, but let's not go inciting panic. We will first begin preparations to evacuate any civilians within that immediate vicinity even as we organize soldiers to mount a counter-offensive."

"Do we have any idea if this was a move to merely take the border, or a precursor to invasion?" General Rask asked, a scowl set deep in his dark face.

"The walls of Briggs are in rubble and you feel the need to ask that?" General Tamlin's response was outraged.

"I think," Breda cut in, "That no one in their right mind would attack Briggs, murder Olivia Armstrong outright, and do it with that much of a show of force unless they were prepared to back it up with a full scale invasion."

His declaration cut through the argument like it wasn't even there. No one else apparently wanted to argue with the great tactician. Ed agreed with the assessment whole-heartedly. "Not with alchemists of all things," he added.

"We'll know more when the Northern Headquarters boys get there," Kane commented, speaking up for the first time. "Have we heard anything at all on motivation?"

"Do they need more?" Rask asked. "They've complained about our policies and agreements for years."

"I expect we'll hear something soon," Rehnquist replied. "But no, we've had no official statement from the Drachman government yet. Nor have we heard anything at all from our operatives within Drachma itself. I suspect some of our intelligence in Petrayevka itself has been compromised."

"What about Groves?" Al asked.

Rehnquist's eyes took on sincere concerned. "I've heard nothing from Ambassador Groves either. I expect we probably won't for some time unless they plan to use his presence there and continued good health as a bargaining tool."

"Not that it'll do them much good," Breda snorted. "They have to know we won't just sit by and take this."

Ed scowled. "They're probably counting on us to attack," he realized after a moment, speaking even as the idea came to him. "With alchemists? It'd be like walking into a slaughter. The only way to combat them is…." He looked up at Rehnquist, a feeling of horror creeping through his bones.

Rehnquist nodded grimly. "You see the dilemma, and hopefully the necessity. Nothing will be decided this afternoon unless we hear something more definitive. The Northern Command is responding in all haste. We expect to send Central troops to assist them as needed within the week." He looked around the room. "Rask, Lyre; prepare your men." Then he looked at Marcus. "Kane, we need alchemists fit for combat; every one you've got. I don't know when we'll be sending them, but have them ready."

Kane nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Excuse me," Al spoke up again. "What do you want us for?" His expressive glance included Ed in the statement. "The students just starting the program are hardly ready to be pressed into that kind of service."

"Well of course they aren't," Rehnquist agreed. "However, you two were on the last major diplomatic mission we had with Drachma, and concerning alchemists in particular. I want your input, and very likely your alchemy skills."

"You want us to fight." Ed understood immediately. He may not be an active command position anymore, but he was still technically a General, and he was still the Fullmetal Alchemist. He was the leading alchemical combat expert in Amestris. He had also trained nearly every one of them in how to fight personally. If he hadn't, Al had.

"It looks like it will probably come down it," Rehnquist nodded, looking like he wished he could be saying almost anything else in that moment. "I never wanted to see the day Amestris used alchemists in true offense again, but the time it seems has likely come."

"Not offensive, Mr. President," Al objected. "Defending Amestris is not an offensive position."

"It may not be," Breda grunted, "But we'll make it one."

"That's why I want you in charge of overseeing things directly, General Breda," Rehnquist looked down the length of the table at him. "All of you should expect to report to a full meeting of the Assembly tomorrow morning first thing, if you don't hear anything before then." He sighed heavily. "We need to move quickly and decisively before they can get seated at Briggs. If they dig themselves in we may never get them out. Dismissed gentlemen."

Elicia was worried when she saw the deep scowl on Alphonse's face as he came through the door that evening. Not that it surprised her. There had been buzzing news on the radio all day about a reported attack on Fort Briggs. Reports, mostly from a distance, put the Fort in flames, with dark billowing smoke, loud explosions, and chaos. "Alphonse, is this true what they're saying?" She asked as he took off his coat.

"It's true," Al replied softly. "Drachma's invading."

Elicia froze, her heart pounding more forcefully as those words sunk into her brain. Drachma, that cold, dangerous, frightening hell that she had forced from her dreams, spent years trying to forget, was now encroaching on the safety of her family, her friends; her country. She began to shake. "This, this can't be. It can't!"
Al turned around so quickly she barely registered it before his arms were tightly around her. "It'll be all right, Elicia," he replied, perhaps too forcefully. "We won't let them get any further. There are already soldiers going to meet them at Briggs and push them back. They won't come any closer. I promise, it will be all right." He was shaking too, she noticed, but with fury.

Elicia sniffed back tears and allowed herself to be comforted by his strong presence. He needed her comfort too. "I believe you, Alphonse. If you say it will be, it will be."