February 9th, 1991

Tore still found himself musing about his visit to Cal two days before, as he sat at his desk, ostensibly working hard, but really distracted as his mind went in three directions.

The first, understandably, awaiting news of the return of the Amestrian air fleet. Dare's plane and their supply craft had met up with the rest of the planes that had flown over Drachma, after a rather circuitous route that put them all coming in as though their training exercises had been down in the south-eastern arid regions of Amestris that were more scarcely populated. They would be landing this afternoon, and debriefed. They would have a few days off before Dare and half of the existing planes would be prepared to move to their new North City base which was almost complete. A hanger, maintenance crews, and a runway would be waiting for them. At least his son was coming back alive, but Tore wouldn't entirely relax until that landing gear was on the ground.

The second distraction was the day before yesterday's conversations. While Tore felt reassured that, if nothing else, Cal hadn't lied to him or left him out of the loop, he couldn't find much comfort in the lack of evidence that this plan of Sara and Franz's had been a well-reasoned, sound-minded decision, or who else might have been involved. He was also concerned about his friend's frame of mind. Yes, he seemed to have accepted the situation, and he joked and smiled and had won as many hands as he lost at cards, but he had no real control over what would come next, and his injuries meant a lot of dramatic life changes, many of which were happening quickly. Cal had come to rely on that life stability, that little bit he had. Tore understood that. Like Cal he had lived without it at times in his life; tossed to the winds. Cal was putting a good face on for his family, and for Tore. Oh, he'd vented and griped and been honest about things he didn't want to tell his wife about how he felt about what was going on, but Tore knew that even he wasn't getting a full story. Cal played his emotional cards close to his chest, even now.

Tore's third concern, perhaps the most worrisome, was related to them both. In a very short period of time Headquarters at Central, as well as the civilian government buildings, had hit an entirely new level of intrigue and gossip more complex than Tore could remember in a very long time. He was discovering that it was a very different experience from a General's desk than it had been when he was just a Major. Particularly when the President, and his wife who was still a General, were the topic of much hot debate. The conflicting opinions over the events in Drachma had only gotten worse as they debated how it had been handled; results aside. Tore knew that similar debates were going on amongst the members of the Assembly with seniority to have been on the right committees to know what the military had done. The fact that they had not informed the entire Assembly was particularly telling.

It had become a waiting game, one in which everyone watched, anticipating whether or not the hammer would fall. Would Drachma ever make a public statement putting the attacks on Amestris' shoulders? Did they know? Would the Amestrian public. However secret and classified things were, it was hard to deny that their aircraft had been out of their hangers when several areas reportedly bombed without any clear visual or men on the ground in a foreign country. It was exactly the kind of mission to be carried out by pilots. Military officers who, however close-mouthed they were, might still be found out. Then who would get the blame… really? If it all went downhill, who would be the first to point fingers and throw the President of the Military and anyone who had known about the plan under a bus?

And what was Franz and Sara's plan for how to keep from being run over by that bus? Tore had to presume they had one, possibly several, but he hadn't been privy to any of that. Somehow, he didn't think they would give him a straight answer if he asked either.

A tap on the door made him look up. There was a Second Lieutenant standing in the doorway that he barely recognized. She didn't work for under his command. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"A message for you, Sir, from General Cross." She held out the envelope.

Tore took it. "Thank you. Is he expecting you to wait for a response?"

"No, Sir."

"Then you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

When she was gone, Tore turned the envelope over in his hand. Up until now, he and Cross had never had very much to do with each other. Their commands did not overlap often. Instead of wondering at length what it contained, Tore opened the envelope.

The message was short; a request to see Tore at his earliest convenience, with a pointed note that Cross would be out of his meetings at fourteen-hundred hours. It was almost fourteen-hundred hours.

For a moment, Tore toyed with the option of sending Cross a reply that he would be available at a later time, if only to establish that while he might be the less-experienced officer, with less time at his current position, he was not at Cross' beck-and-call. However, curiosity was stronger than the irritation at being summoned. If it had been a minor concern, the subject would have been in the letter, or something for which Tore could send back an immediate reply. That it was something Cross would only say in person meant he didn't want it down on record anywhere.

Tore did not, in fact, have anywhere else he had to be at the moment. The paperwork could wait. He left the office, and headed for Cross', which was on the other side of the same building and a floor up.

Unsurprisingly, he was expected and motioned in with a respectful nod from lower ranking officers.

Cross was waiting. He nodded, gesturing at the seat across his desk. "Closson. Glad to see you could make the time to come."

Tore accepted the waiting chair. "Oh, I couldn't," he replied with a casual shrug, "But I came anyway." Then he sat, waiting expectantly as if it didn't matter to himself one way or the other what Cross had summoned him here for. He had suspicions, of course, but Cross seemed to underestimate him, which meant right now he needed to play this carefully.

When it was clear he wasn't going to ask why he had been summoned, Cross leaned forward slightly, his hands together on his desk. "Closson… how do you feel about the chain of command?"

"In what way?"

"Regarding the responsibility of the commanding officer of the military to consult with the highest-ranking commissioned officers before making critical command decisions."

Right on the money. "I think it depends on the situation," Tore replied thoughtfully. He did not offer any elaboration.

He wondered if Cross was aware of the twitch in his temple when he got irritated. "Look, I'm just going to come to the point. Several members of the upper brass are, as I'm sure you're aware, displeased with decisions made regarding recent events, without any consultation by Heimler with any of us. At least, so far as we're aware. I haven't had the opportunity to speak with Fischer, for obvious reasons. That said, we are fairly certain we have enough ranking Generals to successfully call for a vote of no-confidence against Heimler." There, he paused, clearly waiting to see Tore's response.

Dangerous ground; Tore nodded, considering, allowing only a little surprise on his face, as if he had been suspecting it but not entirely. "You seem pretty confident about that. Can I ask who all is in on this little alliance so far?"

"Nearly half the senior staff," Cross replied. "But Kyrell and Kollman brought the idea to me. I don't know if someone else suggested it to them first."

Nice way to side-step responsibility, if in fact Cross was truly responsible. "That's an interesting alliance. I didn't think you and Kyrell agreed on anything." Kyrell had disliked Franz' plans for years because she preferred to avoid conflict across borders. Odd, and perhaps idealistic, for a young General. Cross disliked it for not being aggressive enough.

"We have our disagreements," Cross conceded. "However, on this, we agree."
They just wanted to be certain of success without dramatic repercussions before moving forward, and they didn't know where Tore stood. It was a calculated risk to discuss this with him at all. "It's an interesting proposition, but what's your end goal? Remove Heimler? Change military law? What he did, much as I don't like not being consulted either, doesn't break any laws. It'll be hard to convince some people."

"That doesn't make it less of a gross abuse of power."

Isn't that authority precisely what has allowed Presidents of the Amestrian Military the ability to make efficient critical decisions in the past? Not that Tore was going to say that aloud. It was a huge potential liability that he was still stunned the Assembly had never tried to curb after Roy Mustang took the office. Of course, Mustang would have left some of those abilities alone, if only for his own purposes. "So, you want to know where I stand."

"Your face made it pretty clear at the meeting the other day that you disapproved."

Had it? Well, Tore had certainly been bothered that given how involved he had been in the planning up to that point that there were critical things he had not known. "You could say that. Still, this feels risky. What if someone talks to Heimler about it in advance?"

"What's he going to do, court martial a general for following a process determined by law?" Cross shrugged, as if it were of little consequence.

Tore managed not to smile. "Funny, that you'd have enough trust in him for that, when you trust him so little to continue in his capacity that you want to bring it to a vote of no confidence. Even if the vote were successful, it doesn't have the power to remove an appointed President of the Military." It might save the asses of everyone who voted against him if things went badly. Apparently, much of the lack of confidence was in how this situation was going to turn out. There had been plenty of internal disagreement about Amestrian actions over the past few years.

"We've thought through all of that, and there's enough disgruntlement in the Assembly over the entire way Drachma's been handled that the weight of government opinion might be enough to get rid of him."

Get rid of had a finality to it that told Tore what he needed to know; they wanted Franz out entirely, not just out of the office. "So, you're betting on his unwillingness to cause massive internal conflict to continue. It might work," Tore conceded, without implying which way he felt one way or the other. "Am I here for you to tell me I should be voting with you?"

"Consider it a fair warning, a heads-up," Cross leaned back in his chair. "We don't need your agreement to instigate the vote in the first place. We already have it. Just remember that when it's all said and done, the rest of the brass will all know how each of us voted. If you haven't made up your mind, weigh your options very carefully."

Oh believe me, I intend to. "I appreciate the heads-up," Tore replied with cautious sincerity. "I figured things would fall out one way or the other sooner rather than later."

"I'd be worried about your qualifications if you hadn't." Cross looked mildly amused.

"If that's all, I do have work to do, as I am sure you do." Tore stood up. "I assume you want me to keep this to myself."

"For the time being." Cross nodded. "We'll talk again soon."

"I expect we will."

Tore left the office, his expression schooled to neutral, as if this were just any other meeting between two ranking officers. His brain, however, was anything but quiet. His suspicions that it might come to this were confirmed, but what was he going to do about it?

"Hold still, Edward, or this hot pack will slide off your shoulder," Winry griped as she settled the small bag of warmed rice on top of Edward's arm port. "Don't make me tape it on you." She tucked it under his burgundy house robe, but on top of his flannel shirt so it would stay in place.

Tucked into the over-stuffed easy chair under a thick blanket, with a lap full of sleeping cats, and feet covered by dogs, Ed looked up at her with an impatient frown. "I should be on my way to Central on a train right now to give my idiot son-in-law a piece of my mind, not tucked up by the fire like an old man."

Winry kissed the top of his head. "You are an old man. Now quit complaining. I've got the house as warm as it can be and there's hot water in the kettle for tea, and stew on the stove."

"You don't treat Al like an invalid."

"Al hasn't been throwing up half the night from pain-induced nausea." The winter storm had rolled in overnight, bringing with it sleet, coating the landscape of Resembool in freezing rain and a slick layer of ice. Even with medicine, Ed had been in rough shape as it rolled in, and since. The rest of them may be stiff and a little achy in the cold, but none of the rest of the house's inhabitants had auto-mail. With the gas heaters turned on, and the fireplaces roaring, the large house was actually quite cozy despite the storm outside.

It had continued to ice all morning and into the afternoon. Thankfully they hadn't lost power, though the local news radio station—Resembool didn't rate its own local TV channel—had announced that nearly half the town was out of power that morning. She knew that Aldon, Reichart, and Urey had gone to help fix the downed lines, and that some of those homes had power again, but her son had flat out told them all to stay put. Apparently, they didn't want the elderly out in dangerous weather.

The rest of the day had been spent on indoor pursuits, aside from Al's occasional trip out to the back porch to haul in more firewood. Even Jacob and Wilhelm, with their thick fluffy white coats, hadn't wanted to spend the entire day out in the falling ice. They loved snow, but this was insidious stuff that worked its way into their fur, weighing them down and being generally unpleasant. Besides which, the two dogs could sense Edward's discomfort, and they insisted on keeping him warm just as the cats took turns stealing naps on his lap.

Winry and Elicia had spent much of it alternating between preparing meals, and working on projects. Elicia was completing a new baby quilt for upcoming great-grandchild number four. Winry had invited Aldon and Cassie to join them for dinner once the town was taken care of, so they wouldn't have to worry about feeding themselves and caring for Resembool. They were only a couple of months from the end of Aldon's tenure as Mayor, but he wasn't the type to slack off in his duties, no matter how close it was.
"I'm bored," Edward complained from the chair.

"If I turn on the television again do you promise not to rant at the news?"

"Only if they stop saying things that make me angry."

"Edward."

"Fine. I'll try not to scare the cats this time."

"Close enough." Winry smiled with a patience born of decades of experience, and turned the television back on for the first time since the morning news. There wasn't much new to report regarding Amestris' involvement now that they were out of Drachma, and no longer had a member of the press corps or any kind of news reporters in Petrayevka directly. All of the information coming in from Drachma was on Drachman stations, which only a small portion of the population—almost entirely in the northern portions of the country- watched. So, information was once again a bit delayed, and came to them in translated and interpreted pieces designed to inform the general public. Which meant nothing Ed wanted to know was on the television. "What would you like to watch that isn't a news broadcast?"

"Whatever's on the movie channel then I guess." Edward looked like he wanted to argue, but not like he wanted to move from the chair enough to change the channel himself. Which meant Winry had won for now. She set the knob and went to the kitchen to check on the kettle.

The back door closed, and Al stomped in with another armload of firewood. He looked at Edward and the television and grinned. "That looks cozy."

"There's plenty of warm furniture to be lazy on." Winry gestured expansively. "Go warm up. That's enough wood to last until this evening. I'll make Aldon bring in the next load. As soon as the tea's ready I'll bring you a cup, too."

Al chuckled. "Does your son know he's bringing in the wood?"

"He should expect it by now."

Al placed the wood in the rack by the fireplace, and left his shoes in front of the flames to dry. Then he grabbed a quilt off the back of the couch and wrapped up in it. The moment he hit the couch, Al's cats abandoned Ed, leaving only the two youngest, to go curl up on their favorite human. Al settled in, leaving them room to snuggle up half-under the quilt with him, their heads poking out of a fold as they went quickly back to sleep.

"Traitors," Ed mumbled.

"You don't get to hog all the warmth." Al shrugged, then reached for the end table between them and grabbed a few small crispy pretzels out of the bowl. "Or all the snacks." He dipped the pretzels in the small container of spicy brown mustard before eating them.

"Both of you had better save enough room for dinner," Winry scolded as the kettle started whistling.

"Don't worry about that," Al assured her. "I always have room for stew."

"And apple pie?"

Two heads turned at odd angles to look in her direction. If they'd had ears, they would have perked up. "You didn't tell me you were making apple pie," Ed accused.

"You sound like you're complaining about it." Winry finished setting cups and the teapot on a tray, next to the cream and sugar, and carried it over as she rejoined them. "It still needs a few minutes to steep," she warned as she placed it on the low living-room table.

"Which gives me plenty of time to fill everyone in on news from Central," Elicia chimed in as she came out of the upstairs craft room.

"Off the phone finally?" Winry grinned.

Elicia came down the stairs. "Alyse had a lot to tell me, as you can imagine."

"Anything from Headquarters?" Ed blurted, turning further in the chair to stare at Elicia as she joined them.

"Be patient." Winry glared at him.

She made him wait until they were all settled comfortably in chairs and the tea had been poured. Only then did Elicia tell them about what she had been talking to her daughter about on the phone which proved, of course, to have next to nothing to do with what was potentially going on inside the halls of military headquarters, except that Charlie had been called back to work, so that probably meant that their pilots would be back soon. Gloria and Alexei—aside from having been on the news several times—were swamped with work, and their respective employers were simply paying them to write from Central for now. That made it easier for Gloria to stay near her parents, and they were also now staying at the family home, like Charlie, at least for the short term. Eventually, they'd be going home to North City.

Charlie and Shelby were on general civil speaking terms, but it was still unclear if they would be able to mend the relationship. Alyse was hopeful, but realistic. Shelby had the rest of life well enough in hand despite the insanity, and apparently, she and Bonnie and Anika had started hanging out on occasion—an interesting combination of friends if there was one even if it did make sense. Their newest would all be in the right age range to be playmates, and every mom needed other supportive mom friends. Of course, that was true of parents as a whole.

Winry wondered briefly how Bonnie was doing, and made a mental note to ask Cassie later. Bonnie and Shelby were both due in April, but Winry hadn't heard anything about Bonnie in at least a week. Surely Cassie had spoken with her more recently than that.

"Alyse didn't have any really useful information about politics or military secrets," Elicia finally clarified at the end, giving both Alphonse and Edward a pointed look. "She said Sara and Franz have been keeping things very quiet outside of Headquarters, and she's done everything she can to keep anyone from pestering Cal about it, or giving him information that would be stressful."

"I don't imagine that's working well," Alphonse commented.

"It isn't. She's sure Tore has been telling him plenty, but apparently even he doesn't know everything about this most recent plan. Or so he insists."

Winry watched Edward turning that over in his mind, and she was sure he would be calling Tore as soon as he wasn't hurting. He might not even wait that long. "Then I suggest we put it out of our minds until someone decides there's something they can tell us, or it explodes all over the news. Franz and Sara wanted our names out of this for a reason, and either we trust them or we don't. I'd prefer to trust them." It was that, or worry incessantly that somehow both her daughter and her son-in-law had collectively lost their minds, or at the very least severely miscalculated.

She was grateful when Edward decided not to argue. "Fine," he sighed. "Is dinner ready yet?"

"Any minute now."

Shelby wished, just once, she could come home from one of her long days and have dinner waiting. It was something she wished every few days as she came in after a day that included shuffling children to daycare, her job, classes, and a doctor's appointment. That did not include the grocery shopping that needed to happen soon. The kids had been at her folks' place with her mother today, so at least they weren't starving. "Wash up and put your things away," she told Abigail as she and Cameron ran through the door as she opened it, closing it against the cold behind them. Summer squirmed in her mother's arms. "All right. Just hold on and I'll get something going for dinner," she promised the baby. Teething again, Summer had been fussy for the past couple of days.

Arriving home was always a flurry of chaos. Finally, coats were hung, and Abigail and Cameron were playing in their rooms, Summer secured in her high chair with a toy to bang to distract her, books and bags put up for the moment. Shelby turned towards the refrigerator, to find a note stuck on the door. She recognized it after a moment as the one she had left on the counter that morning. She had agreed to give Charlie permission to come into the house to help out, after he asked several times to be allowed to help out around the house. It had to be while the children were not home, for now, but he hadn't argued. So, she had left him a list. Picking it up she looked it over. The items were all things that normally she could handle on her own, but were difficult in her third trimester: fixing the leaky pipe under the sink, changing the highest lightbulbs, those types of chores. Everything was checked off and there was a little note at the bottom.

Hey, beautiful. I finished everything on the list, and saw that the bathroom door was sticking. It swings properly again now and won't squeak. Also the loose gutter pipe is fixed, and I vacuumed the living room and did the dishes. I saw the fridge was pretty empty, so I asked Mom what you normally buy and went shopping. I hope everything's right. There's a pan of dinner prepped and ready to go in the oven when you get home (it's pre-cooked, just warm it up!), and a pint of ice cream in the freezer that's for you. There's also a package of chocolate crackers for the kids, but I put it on the top shelf in case you didn't want them to see them. If there's anything else you need, just let me know when and what. Love you. Charlie

Well he certainly wasn't being subtle about his feelings, but he had definitely gone above and beyond today. Curious, Shelby poked her head in the refrigerator. It was stuffed full of fresh produce, meat, milk, eggs; everything she would have gotten on an ideal week if she worked extra hours. There was also, as promised, a baking pan covered in foil. When she looked inside, she found it to be full of sliced sausage, cabbage, carrots, and thin-sliced potatoes well-herbed, and cooked. It smiled good.

In all the years they had been married, Charlie had never put this much thought into their meals. Oh, he'd helped cook if they were both home and she asked, but nothing like this. I guess we'll see how long it lasts. Shelby pulled the pan out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter before pre-heating the oven to warm it. The ice cream would wait until later, when the children were in bed, though she would certainly let them have a sweet as long as they got ready for bed without fuss. Thankfully that was usually the case, and on the nights it wasn't it was rarely more than one of them fussing, unless they were sick.

Shelby wished she dared hope that adding a fourth would not add too much more chaos to her life. Part of her wanted to cave and just let Charlie move back in. Having another adult in the house, even just in the evenings, and to split errands with, would make things so much better. That was, as long as the other adult in the house behaved like a responsible adult. He was doing his best to change; but time would tell if those changes were permanent. If they weren't, his coming back into the house would only cause more disruption and heartache. At least he knew that too. That was why he had agreed to follow her wishes in regards to how they did this.

That, in itself, said quite a lot.

The conversation from earlier in the day turned over and over again in Tore's mind for the rest of the afternoon. He replayed every word, every gesture, looking for any hints of meaning he might have missed. By the time he met Dare out at the airfield that evening, he was convinced that he had been told of this possible plan at least partially as a test of his loyalties. They wanted to see if he would rat them out to Franz. He did not know how many other people they might have told, or might tell in the future, but if Franz found out, there was a good chance the other senior staff of Central would be convinced Tore had played some part in it. Which meant that at least some of them had not completely forgotten their ties beyond the military chain of command.

He would have liked to have talked it through with someone, but that was where things got problematic. Until he was certain of the way the winds were blowing, he could not simply take this to Franz or Sara, or really any of the rest of the Elric family.

If Cal were out of the hospital, under other circumstances Tore would have dragged him out for drinks so they could mull it over together. As it was, Alyse and his doctors were like police dogs, and any conversations they had were likely to be overheard if they were more than a few short minutes.

He also could not talk it over with Charisa. With her background in law, and her position as a member of the assembly she would almost certainly feel obligated to mention it to other members, even if it were just those who were senior to her in committee positions. Besides which, this was a military matter. The Assembly was the civilian body in charge of the day to day running of the country. It had been that way ever since the military had returned civil authority to them after the removal of Fuhrer Bradley. The President of the Military stayed out of general day-to-day civilian matters unless requested by, and working with, the Assembly. They never had, however, had the authority to overrule the President of the Military in matters of security and war.

There was no need to have the backing of the Assembly or any involvement from them whatsoever for the Generals of Amestris to decide that their commander had overstepped his bounds. Though, historically, in the terms since Bradley, it had never been necessary. The reason, Tore surmised, was that most of their decisions in times like these—however impulsive or bold—had been generally popular with the rest of the senior staff. Getting involved in Aerugo had gained Amestris resources, and new allies on civilian and military fronts. It had also meant a secure border with no concern of invasion. They had been invited into Xing, helping another ally. The defeat of Drachma when they invaded Amestris itself had made all involved heroes in the eyes of the people, even those who had already retired from terms as President of Amestris.

Possibly the only border they hadn't had a war with in recent decades was Creta, and that was simply because Amestris had stopped expanding once the true reasons for its expansion were exposed, and the giant transmutation circle under the country had been destroyed.

Of course, not everyone knew that. It only made sense that many of them would still see it as reasonable that Amestris should be looking into expanding its resources and lands further as the country grew; not locking itself within an immoveable border.

There were also many who lost their taste for expansion, and for aggressive military tactics, after the war with Drachma had nearly destroyed over a quarter of the country.

Now, a President had made a decision controversial enough that Generals on both sides of that line were talking about siding together to have him removed.

Tore supposed he should be grateful they weren't simply plotting a coup the way Mustang and his followers had; the Elrics included. Damn, those must have been different days.

He couldn't ask Dare anything worth asking about his mission before they got home, and once they did, it had to wait while Charisa and Camelia fussed over Dare, and everyone ate a big family meal together. During the meal Dare told them only the vaguest things about his most recent mission—about the rest of the crew on his plane, and what it felt like to fly, and some of the challenges of flighting at night, or how to fly into the sun without being completely blinded and how the instruments worked. Nothing classified, and nothing about the actual mission. Everything he told them could have happened over the remote expanses of Amestris the training mission was supposed to be over. While Tore knew better, and he knew Charisa did as well, they were still all pretending for now, for Camelia at the least, that Dare had not just flown the mission he had actually flown. Then Dare cleverly changed the conversation by telling them his entirely non-classified good news; that Lorraine was pregnant. Tore noted that their fourth wedding anniversary hadn't been all that long ago, but he didn't make any comments.

After dinner, while Dare took a shower and Camelia worked on homework, Tore washed the dishes.

"Are you going to ask him about it?" Charisa asked quietly as she put the leftovers away.

Tore did not look up from the plate and cloth in his hands. "I plan to."

"Good." For a moment, Charisa hesitated. "Will you be able tell me what he says?"

"As much as I can." It was all Tore could promise, without having any idea what Dare was going to tell him about the mission.

For a moment, she looked irritated, then Charisa kissed his cheek. "I've got some reports to go over. I'll be upstairs if you need me." Then she left him alone.

Tore had finished the dishes by the time Dare came back downstairs in casual sweats and an undershirt, hair still damp. "Feel better?" he asked, with a knowing smile. There was nothing quite like the sensation of that first real shower after a mission.

"Worlds," Dare grinned. "I'd forgotten how good the showers in this house are. That water pressure is indulgent."

"The perks of decades of hard work: decent water pressure and a functioning shower head." Tore opened the refrigerator. "You want something to drink?"

"What do you have?"

"Depends on what you're in the mood for." Tore leaned down and reached in. "Do you want a Mom approved beverage or a post-mission-I'm-glad-didn't-kill-me beverage?"

"Definitely the latter." Dare nodded. "Something with a little heat wouldn't go amiss."

"Given what I heard at work, I'm surprised you're not still chilled through the bone." Tore kept the comment casual, but he forwent the beer and grabbed glasses and ice instead, then went to the cabinet for the bottle of pear brandy that had been an anniversary present a couple of years back. The bottle was fairly large, and still mostly full. "How about this?"

"Nice to know I mean enough to my parents to rate the good stuff."

"Well you had us worried for a while there." Tore poured out two glasses, the handed one to his son. Together they went into the living room where it was more comfortable. "I've had about enough of that frozen wasteland trying to eat my family."

"Well there was that bear."

Tore almost choked on his first sip. "A bear? You're serious?"

So, he listened as Dare told the story of their emergency landing for repairs, and his rather painful experience with chasing off their grumpy ursine neighbor. He managed not to laugh too hard as Dare wincingly described his landing on the ice. "Let's just say it was a tender flight home."

"I can imagine." Tore relaxed a little further back into his favorite chair. "You know, they didn't tell me where specifically they'd sent you. Not until it was all over."

Dare's expression became apologetic. "They only told us the mission the day before we flew out, and made it very clear that whoever leaked a word would be looking for a new line of work, after a little time in prison."

Which was about what Tore had honestly expected. He nodded. "So aside from the combat damage, how did the mission run? Is there anything you would change or add if you'd had to run it again?" They might have already asked him that in his debriefing, or they might not, but Tore was curious.

"Honestly, Dad, we really could have used an alchemist." Dare surprised him. "A combat alchemist with any kind of talent for distance, like your electric abilities, or Trisha Mustang's wind, would have been great in combat. More importantly though, if we'd had an alchemist, the emergency repairs wouldn't have taken nearly so long. An alchemist could have simply temporarily reattached and reshaped the broken components in a few minutes. They wouldn't replace a real mechanic, but ours could have shown them what needed to be done, and it wouldn't have taken us days."

"Has anyone else asked you about that yet?"

Dare shook his head. "No, but it's in our report. There's not a lot to do in the air, so my team wrote ours up on the way home."

"Not a lot to do except fly the damn thing." Tore scoffed.

"Well, there is that." Dare shrugged as if it were nothing. "It's an amazing sensation, being in control of a vehicle that flies. It's like being a bird, but a million times cooler… and more deadly. Seriously, even I didn't know we could pull off some of the moves we did until I was in the middle of making them."

"I appreciate that you succeeded. So, does this mean you're done for now? Are they permanently reassigning you down here to Central?" Tore had not been told anything about the future plans of the project, since his part in it was mostly confined to the work coming out of the alchemical research labs in materials and fuel development. He wouldn't mind if Dare and Lorraine moved back to Central. Though he would be just as happy to see his son assigned back to something a little bit safer.

Dare shook his head. "Actually, during our debriefing they told us that now that our primary training is done, they'll be stationing half of us in the new facility that's being built up at Northern Headquarters, mostly to fly the border patrols that they've been talking up to the public ever since the project was announced. I'll still be flying, but I'll be home again in just a couple of weeks, as long as nothing goes horribly wrong between now and then."

Horribly wrong would require someone to attack Amestris directly, Tore was certain. As long as Drachma didn't explode again, or declare war against Amestris, they should be all right. "I'm sure Lorraine is ready to have you home."

Dare's expression warmed. "Yeah. She said as much when I talked to her."

She had probably said quite a few other things as well. It had been a few weeks since they had been together. "Well you'll have plenty to keep you busy when you get there."

"That's the truth." Dare had made it clear over dinner that he and Lorraine were both very happy with their impending parenthood, which was not a surprise. "And outside of anything unexpected, even flying border patrols should be fairly routine, so I'll be home when she needs me."

There was one question Tore hadn't asked yet, one he was almost afraid to know the answer to, but given what was going on at the higher levels, it might be important. "And that's what's important. Dare, I need to ask you something, and I can't tell you why, but it's important that you give me your full and honest thoughts."

Dare paused, sipping his brandy slowly, thoughtfully. "All right."

"Do you think it was the right decision to use your squadron to drop bombs on the targets you were assigned to destroy?"

Dare took another, much longer drink. It was obvious from his expression that a dozen questions of his own were running through his mind based on the simple fact that his father, who was not his direct commanding officer though he did outrank him, had asked a soldier his opinion on an order, when he knew full well that his job was not to question his orders, merely to carry them out. Dare clearly wanted to know why he was being asked, even though he had to know why he couldn't ask that question. "I think Savahin needed to die," he answered finally, simply. "I think Savahin having control over a force of aircraft was dangerous to Amestris and every ally we have and it needed to be destroyed, or at the least delayed indefinitely. I think our mission had the best chance of success, on both counts." He smiled apologetically. "It's not my place to have opinions on if I think my superior officers made the smartest decision politically, and despite the hubbub I've been assured we made in the papers without anyone knowing for sure or being able to prove it was us, the official story is we were never anywhere near there. No one in Drachma seems to be complaining very loudly either, do they?"

"They don't," Tore acknowledged. Drachman news had shifted rather quickly to being entirely focused on every minute move made by their tentative and interim governing body with its multiple heads, it's scattered remains of the previous representative government, and the new emergency officials elected to replace those who had died so everyone could have a say in this new scenario. Never before had Drachma been split apart. It was novel enough that no one was quite sure what to do with it yet, and everyone was still just breathing a sigh of relief that there weren't shootings in the street and kidnappings in the night. It was surprising how quickly the manner of execution of their dictator had been swept away in the tide of the new. Tore wondered how Mihalov had managed it.

"Then if people on the ground aren't making a fuss, I don't think there's a reason for the rest of us to." Dare finished his drink. "That to me either means someone made a call and got very lucky, or thought this whole thing through much more thoroughly than I could have. I'm not even an officer… yet. I don't suppose you know if there's truth to the buzz that they're talking about giving pilots officer rank do you? Not as high as State Alchemists, but we wouldn't be enlisted anymore."

"I had heard that." Tore let the topic shift. Given they had pulled their pilot corps from all different branches and offices of the military, regardless of rank, it was only fitting. No one would be demoted, but if they were expected to work together as a team, they should be closer to equivalent. He'd place money on it ending up in the Lieutenancy. "They're still debating what it would be, but I expect you can expect a promotion of some sort in the near future."

Dare grinned. "Good. I could really use the pay raise."

February 10th, 1991

Sara felt guilty for how long it had taken, but she finally managed to take off early on the way home that afternoon, and swing by the hospital to visit Cal in person. She knew Tore had been by to see him more than once, and he'd had plenty of other company. It was more surprising to find no one else around besides hospital personnel when she arrived. They showed her to his room, then left her there.

Cal was propped up against a pile of pillows in the bed, which was tilted up so he could be in a semi-upright position. He was reading a book, but looked up when she appeared in the doorway. Despite his haggard appearance, he smiled. "I was wondering when I'd see you."

"Sorry it took so long," Sara apologized. "Things have been…complicated."

"So, I've heard. I see Franz isn't with you."

"Very complicated." Sara wondered just how much he really had heard. What had Tore told him? While the paperwork was going through for his retirement, technically filling Cal in on what had happened wouldn't count as letting out any classified information. Technically.

"Then you should sit down and join me," Cal nodded at the chair by his bed. "The only thing complicated in this room is me. It's incredibly dull."

"Somehow I doubt you could ever be dull." She took the offer and sat down, wondering at the awkward feeling in her stomach. The last time she had spoken with him had been before the combat that had nearly killed him. "It's so good to see you awake again. You look—"

"Old and hideous?" Cal supplied when she hesitated.

"Actually, I was going to say you look loads better than the last time I saw you," Sara countered. Given the last time had been right before the loaded his barely-stable body into the plane to fly him home, almost anything was an improvement. "A lot has happened since then."

"I've been told, in bits and pieces. For some reason everyone seems to think that I'm too fragile to know what I missed out on by missing the rest of the mission." Cal eyed her curiously. "I was hoping that maybe, you'd be willing to tell me what no one else would. I mean, I survived being blown up and dropped in a Drachman river in midwinter. Surely that's worth something."

Apparently, he wasn't going to bother with small talk. Not that she and Cal had ever been ones for small talk. Sara grimaced. This was not the place to have that conversation.

"I know full well this isn't a secure location," Cal grumbled. "I've already heard it. I'll try to ask non-classified questions, okay?"

Sara supposed she could do that. "All right. Then I'll tell you what I can." She found herself spending the next half-hour regaling Cal with the details of his own rescue mission, and the storm that she and Trisha had learned to whip up by working together. Given a lot of what had been covered in the news, she was able to tell him some of what Ted and his crew had gotten up to further North with their alchemically produced mythological monsters, and how they had pushed back Savahin's men. They hadn't lost any other alchemists, not on this mission, "though I'm afraid to tell you that a certain young lady no longer has a crush on you."

Cal looked briefly confused. "Care to elaborate?"

"I've been informed by my daughter that Live Wire and Rapid are now dating." Amalea Finn's schoolgirl crush on her superior officer had not gone unnoticed by Sara, or Cal, even back then.

Cal chuckled. "Good for them. You know, I owe her a thanks for keeping me alive."

"I'll let her know you'd like to talk with her," Sara promised. It wasn't as if Cal would be hard to pin down. "Anything else you want to know that I'm allowed to tell you?"

Cal's expression sobered. "Just tell me one thing."

"What is it?"

"Was there any way you could have made your crazy plan happen early enough to have spared me this nightmare?"

Sara grimaced. Her crazy plan. That was enough to tell her that Tore, at the very least—it could have been someone else—had told him about the bombings, and even if they hadn't told him how it came to be, he'd have been an idiot not to have figured it out. "No. I wish there had been. We had to rush things at the end to make it happen as it was. If I had known what I knew a few weeks later… but there was no way. We didn't even have the information to act on at the time."

Cal relaxed. "Good."

"Why good?"

"I'd hate to think I almost died for nothing."

"The doctors weren't entirely certain you didn't die," Sara admitted, "At least briefly. It was an insane day, though possibly the most complicated and successful rescue in State Alchemist history."

"I'm pretty sure that was yours, actually," Cal countered. "Or some of the crazy ones Ted and Roy have pulled off. Pairing up a Mustang and an Elric always produces effective and flashy results."

Sara smiled. "That does sound a bit like my grandchildren."

Cal paused, taking a moment to follow the other line of reasoning. "Given what we've gotten so far, I'm a little afraid of what a State Alchemist carrying both Mustang and Elric blood would do. Remind me, are any of Trisha and Roy's brood interested in alchemy?"

Franz hated it when work kept him from a family activity, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped, and Rosa had assured him she understood that her grandpa couldn't be there for her school choir performance this time. He tried to make as many of her activities as possible, and was just grateful she was mature enough to understand that his job didn't always let him.

The concert had already started by the time he arrived home to an empty house. Sara had, of course, gone to the concert, excited to attend since it was the first time she had gotten to see any of their grandchildren perform or compete in anything. James, Krista, and Aithne had gone as well, so the only living creatures at home when he arrived were the cats and dogs.

He changed out of his uniform, and had just put leftovers in to warm when someone rang the doorbell. Who the hell could that be? Family wouldn't ring, and he couldn't imagine who would be expecting him at home. For a moment, he considered the possibility it might be political, but he knew that there were military security personnel stationed discretely around his home. There always were, and the wall around the property did help keep people out. So, whoever had approached the door had not been an apparent concern.

That still did not prepare him for the sight of Riza Mustang standing in his doorway when he opened it. "Riza! Ma'am, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Despite her advanced age, Riza remained a formidable presence. She stood straight and tall, the only admission of her long years the cane she sometimes walked with—like tonight, which was cold and the ground a bit icy from recent sleet. She was swathed in a thick wool coat that could have been military, except that it was a deep green.

"We need to talk," she said without preamble as she stepped into the house, allowing Franz to close the door behind her.

"Am I going to be grounded?" Franz asked with a bit of cheek as he took her coat, and hung it up. Her tone had been precisely what his mother had used on him as a boy, particularly when he was in trouble.

"I suspect that will be the least of your worries." Riza crossed the living room and paused, sniffing. "Your dinner seems to be ready."

"It probably is. Can I get you something?" Franz offered as he returned to the kitchen.

"A hot cup of tea would be nice," she replied as she lowered herself into a chair at the table. "I had to take a taxi over, and it was a bit drafty."

"Tea coming right up." Franz did not ask her intended business until he had pulled out his dinner, and brewed and poured the tea. Then, finally, as he sat down across from her, he brought it up himself. "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I wanted to remind you that you are not my husband."

From any other woman over one-hundred, Franz might have been concerned about senility. Instead he frowned. "I take it you don't approve of something I've done." The fact that there was no one who should have told Riza anything about what was currently going on aside, he had very little doubt that she somehow likely knew almost all of it, or at least enough to make that statement.

"I know you think you've been clever, Franz, but I didn't spend a lifetime with Roy and not learn how to tell what I'm looking at, or which way the wind is blowing." Riza gave him a don't patronize me expression. "In a relatively short span of time you have completely altered the entire political playing field on an international level, mostly through some clever manipulation and the incredibly good fortune of your wife's extended family's ability to have married well and made a lot of very powerful friends across the continent. Nothing to be ashamed of; that's how these things usually work. But this most recent move, the mysterious deaths of certain parties in power in Drachma, and use of certain new resources at our disposal… it was a daring plan, this thing you and Sara and have created—and don't try to tell me she wasn't a good part of this—but it's gone as far as it can."

Riza had come to give him political advice. Now there was a first. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," he replied vaguely, cautiously.

The scowl leveled in his direction would have made lesser men cower. Franz still felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Drachma may not be particularly concerned with how Savahin was removed at the moment, but you've got a much more pressing political mess to deal with here at home if you don't want to be the next Fuhrer Bradley."

"I wasn't planning to turn Amestris into a giant transmutation circle anytime soon," Franz assured her glibly.

Riza looked like she wanted to hit him. Instead she took a sip of her tea. "I meant you're breeding the perfect political storm for a coup yourself, if you're not careful. When I joined the military, the people of this country had no idea that their leader was a homunculus. They followed him, and they rarely questioned our expansionist agenda. It was all for the public good, it was all against smaller states that had quarreled with us, or created uprisings against us within our own borders. That, at least, was what we were told. An entire generation of soldiers believed that what they were doing was right, even if they didn't like it. Many never questioned. Those of us that did, well, history almost turned out very differently for us. By all rights, Roy should have been court martialed and executed, and many of us along with him. However, when we restored the balance of government, we were reprieved and lauded as heroes because of the sheer insanity of the truth."

"And you think the situation is that bad now… or you think I'm that bad now?"

"I think you're playing a political game you don't have the charisma and sheer audacity to pull off," Riza corrected. "There's a certain amount of pure grit and mild insanity you almost need to have to do something like this; a vision, an incredible pull of loyalty. You don't have it. Breda didn't have it. Rehnquist didn't have it. Neither of them, however, ever tried to rock the boat as much as you have in a very short period of time. I don't need to have military clearance to smell dissatisfaction in the air. Some of them may want a more isolationist policy against Drachma, and others more expansion, but I imagine none of your senior staff are particularly pleased with the specifics of how Amestris was involved in Drachman business. The country is going to tear itself apart internally if you don't do something about it, and quickly."

She wasn't wrong. "And what would you suggest I do?"

"Resign."

The word was a slap to the face. That had not been the answer he expected. "Why the hell should I?"

"Resign. Retiring completely would be best, but at the very least appoint your successor and step out of the office while you've got some semblance of your reputation and the country intact."

"Won't that be as bad as a public admission of guilt?" Franz pointed out.

"Only if you play it badly." Riza sipped her tea. "Presidents of the Military have chosen their time of stepping down and their preference of successor ever since Roy took the position. Choosing the end of an era after a conflict as a time to make that change isn't unprecedented. In fact, it's fairly common. It's not like a monarchy, where you have to die to be replaced. Which is good, given someone would probably have offed you by now. I presume you have given some thought as to who amongst the current generals you would choose to succeed you as the next in the office?"

"I have." In fact, he had already discussed it with that officer once, though it had been right before everything broke out in Drachma, and only in reference to sometime in the future.

"Good. Then I suggest you revisit that conversation, tomorrow."

"Riza, do you know something I don't?"

"I know a lot of things you don't." Riza's stern expression softened. "But if you're asking if anyone has divulged information they shouldn't, then the answer is no. I've been at this far too long not to be able to put together a fairly solid idea of what's going on based on what is being reported, and what isn't, as well as the military's incredible inability not to gossip when they don't think the old lady who still sometimes comes to the shooting range is listening." At that, she smiled. It was a cunning expression. "My ears still work nearly as well as my eyes, even if those and my mind are really all that's left working properly these days."

"Is it happenstance or by design that you've come here while my wife isn't home, to convince me that I need to resign?"

"I'd say the same things if she were here," Riza insisted. "However, I expect there would be more shouting than the conversation we're having at the moment."

Franz couldn't think of a valid argument to counter that with. "There are a lot of things she still wants to do; things she hasn't been able to since the Zinoveks and the Hashman Syndicate stole years from her."

"Your decision whether or not to stay on a longer term as President of the Military should not be tied in to your wife's career choices. You resigning may, most likely, protect her goals. That said, have you considered that the way you might both serve your country best, now, would not be from strictly within the military?"

"Not in the light of what we've been trying to do…no." Franz had to admit it, but he couldn't see how they could make the changes needed and keep the country together without authority to do so. That was, of course, unless his replacement was someone who still trusted them. "How would that work?"

"For one thing, private citizens don't obey orders." Riza reached for the teapot and refilled her cup as she spoke. "As long as they obey the laws, they can go anywhere and do whatever they feel is in their best interests. Or they can work through civilian channels to make their thoughts heard. Once the border is open, there would be nothing keeping you or Sara from going back to Drachma to champion say, her cause of reforming their prison system. I imagine General Marskaya and Gavril Mihalov would be delighted to have you as their personal guests, whether you managed to convince the government to send you as official dignitaries, or just as private citizens whose names will always hold a lot of sway, presuming you leave the office in good stead."

That was a big presumption at the moment. "Which means stepping down now, during the lull, while things are quiet." Franz still wasn't sure retiring completely was his best bet, but trading over power right now was something he had debated over. Riza apparently saw this as an issue with little reason for debate.

"Before anyone else can decide now is a great time for a regime change without following the standard process. Not that I think anyone will stoop to what happened in Drachma," Riza clarified, "But there are ways to remove a military leader."

"And, I would rather not be the first in nearly a century." Franz sighed, and finally remembered to take another bite of his meal.

"You aren't convinced."

"Not yet, but you make a good point, and only a very great fool would not consider very carefully anything spoken as advice by a living legend."

"Yes, he would be a very great fool."

So much for flattery. "I appreciate that you felt strongly enough about all this to come over here in person. Do I dare ask your opinions on the actions that have brought us to this point?" Part of him had always sort of imagined Roy Mustang's voice in his head when he made these calls, but it hadn't occurred to him to ask Riza, the living person who had known Roy Mustang better than anyone else ever could.

"I'm really not sure you want to know," Riza answered honestly. "But consider my decision to come over here tonight the best way I have ever found to pay you back for what you did for me, and for Roy, twenty-six years ago."

"Would he be giving me the same advice?"

"Probably not," Riza admitted. "But that's because, if he were here, he probably would have done something very similar himself, or backed you, and he'd be using every ounce of his legendary status and ego to blow this entire mess over because that's the kind of thing he did. None of us are Roy, and we simply can't be Roy. The world has changed, and like it or not, sometimes the best action is not the one we would have preferred to take, or the one that would have made the best story in the history books."

A fair appraisal. "Well, thank you for your candor. I'll definitely give it some thought." He was going to have to give it a lot of thought.

Sara did not like being sidestepped. She'd had no idea that Riza planned to stop by their house that evening, and she was certain it had been on purpose, since she would have known that most of the family would be at Rosa's performance. Perhaps Roy or Trisha had mentioned that Franz wasn't going to make it. Still, she came home to a very pensive husband, who calmly detailed out what Riza had said to him before he offered to drive her home instead of making her take another taxi.

Still, she couldn't deny that she would have had a lot of more forceful opinions on the matter that she wouldn't have kept to herself if she had been there, so Riza's decision to speak with Franz alone was at least, understandable.

"She has a point," Sara admitted as they sat on the sofa long after the rest of the family had gone up to bed. She was leaning back against Franz, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Which one?" Franz asked with a slight note of humor in his tone.

"All of them, but I meant the one about how you shouldn't make this decision based on my career. Your political authority is not my authority, or my job. I requested a return to active duty for my own purposes, and that has taken me about as far as it's going to take me in this direction. She's absolutely right that any other causes I want to champion are probably better done as a private citizen. I love the State Alchemy program, but it's not mine anymore. There are plenty of younger, entirely capable officers handling things. There's not a hole waiting for me to return and fill it in the military, and if I want to go over and spar, no one's going to stop me. It makes sense for me to go ahead and retire, quietly."

"What about me?"

Sara shook her head. "You would go crazy at home with nothing to do. I don't think you should retire unless you want to, if you feel like you're really done. Your original plan is still a good one, that is if you feel you can still trust Anastas to follow through on it." The General in charge of Intelligence had been Franz' first pick in his mind as a potential replacement for longer than Sara had been home. Or so he'd told her.

"That's what I intend to find out tomorrow."