April 22nd, 1942

The little bar wasn't bad considering it was in a tourist-trap resort town in the mountains of Northwestern Amestris. Skiing was popular up this way most of the year because the peaks were high enough in some parts to keep snow all year round. It was the end of the season though and a lot of folks were vacating. Jean Havoc figured he had his timing picked just right! He wasn't here for the sports; he wasn't even really here for the scenery, much as he was enjoying it. He was passing through that part of the country and had just decided it might be nice and spend a day or two and see what it was all about. A friend in Creta was waiting for him and they were going to go sailing on the ocean, something Jean had never done but was looking forward to immensely! Yes, retirement was definitely agreeing with him so far.

It was a pretty cute bar, as far as such things went: clean, with well-polished old wood floors and the same wood for the bar top, and wood paneled walls as well. The lighting was actually better than a lot of places, and there was a huge rustic fireplace made of local stone that had a fire going. It filled the room with warmth and the pleasant smell of hickory wood that mixed nicely, at least to Jean, with the pleasant scent of tobacco.

He sat down at the bar and ordered a pint of the local brew – something else he was enjoying on these trips, tasting the local flavors all around Amestris – which was thickly spiced mead he'd never tried before. Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The woman behind the bar was an attractive brunette about his age, maybe a few years younger if Jean had to guess; Brown eyes, good body – really good considering the age – and despite some wear, a ready smile for the apparent regulars who greeted her. His luck with women since he had left Central to travel had been hit or miss, as always, though he'd had a few dates; nothing worth sticking around a town for long term though. A lot of them were younger, and somehow that just didn't strike his fancy at this point. He really liked someone mature enough to have a decent conversation. He remembered to check the hands – no ring!

"You haven't changed much." She startled him with a surprisingly knowing smile as she poured his drink and set it down. "Colonel isn't now, Jean Havoc?"

He looked at her again. She did look familiar; and it only took a few seconds to peer more closely at that face and reverse age it about thirty years. Surround it with flowers and… "Grace?"

"You remember me," the woman chuckled. "I'm impressed. I suppose I should be flattered too, given I didn't give you much of a shot."

Jean chuckled and stuck his cigarette in his mouth. "You're not easily forgettable," he admitted. "Though this is the last place I would have ever expected to see you."

"It's a nice place," Grace shrugged, wiping out a couple of clean glasses and setting them on the bar. "Been up here for years now, tending the bar for old Willie who owns the place and doing the books. A lot of nice folks come through, and a few celebrities, like you," she added with a chuckle and a wink.

Jean was surprised to find himself blushing just a little. He certainly hadn't done that in years! "I'm hardly a celebrity," he countered, picking up his mead and giving it a try. It was a very sweet flavor, and spiced as promised; something he was sure was often asked for 'hot' around here in the winter months!

"A minor one," Grace pressed, not giving up her opinion. "Your name was all over the news during and after the last war, Colonel."

"Retired Colonel," Jean finally thought to correct her. He smiled. "This is excellent stuff." It was the easiest way to cover his unease and remaining surprise at running into an old almost-girlfriend. He'd really liked Grace what seemed like – and really was – forever ago now! Roy Mustang had swiped her right out from under him at the time, and then she had gone on to date someone else. Jean never really had a shot.

"One of my favorites," Grace agreed. Her grin softened into a gentler smile. "It's good to see you, Jean. I don't see too many folks up here from Central that I know. How long are you in town for?"

"A couple of days," Jean shrugged. "I hadn't really decided. I'm heading to Creta, but I didn't tell my friend out there which day I'd be arriving. It's just me, so my travel schedule is my own," he grinned.

"Tell you what," Grace chuckled. "I'll make it up to you for never giving you a chance. I get off shift in twenty minutes. I don't suppose you'd like to walk me home and stay for a while and catch up?"

Either he was the luckiest man in the world, or the universe had a wicked sense of humor. Okay, so the offer came about thirty years later than Jean would have liked, but hey! He wasn't going to be picky. "It's a date," he chuckled.

"Still an optimist," Grace chuckled then moved away as another customer needed her attention.

Smiling at his unexpected fortune, Jean finished his cigarette and his mead, just letting himself relax. He watched the patrons. He watched the fire. He watched Grace, who was still friendly and pretty after so long.

There was just one little detail that seemed off. He didn't ask about it until they were outside, walking through the quickly-falling darkness toward Grace's apartment. "I don't mean to pry," Jean commented as they walked. "Especially not right off, but I thought I heard you got married." It was part of why he hadn't tried pursuing her again after Roy or the guy after him. He'd given her up as a lost chance, just like so many others.

Grace sighed, a little puff of white mist rising from her mouth in the chill mountain air. "I did."

"I see," Jean replied when she didn't volunteer any more information. Obviously something had happened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No," Grace smiled up at him, her head framed by the white fur that lined the hood of her coat, which hung down on her back. "It's a reasonable question considering. It's really a fairly short story. I met Orrin about a year after I met you actually. He was military too, a Sergeant, but planning to get out soon and move back out to the West and take over his parents' cattle farm. He was good looking, smart, and quite the gentleman. I'd never really been 'courted' like that." She smiled then, her face lit by the streetlamp overhead. "We got married a year later and, within a few months, we moved out this direction to the ranch a little north of West City."

"Sounds nice," Jean commented. No wonder he'd never had a chance with her; he'd never really been the 'old fashioned' kind of guy, though he had always been polite. Or at least he could be that guy, but he had always figured that wasn't what girls really wanted since it hadn't worked most of the time.

"It was for a while," Grace said as she turned down a side street. "But there was a problem. We wanted children."

"This was a problem?" Jean hadn't thought it would be for a married couple!

Grace shrugged and then opened the door to an old apartment building. It wasn't a really large building, but the apartments had exterior balconies. She led him through the small lobby and up a flight of stairs, then down the hall. "We tried for three years," she said softly as she stopped outside the end apartment and pulled out her keys, letting them inside as she spoke. "But nothing happened. I talked to the doctors, but they couldn't find anything wrong with me. They asked Orrin to come in."

Jean followed her into the little apartment. "And what happened?" he asked as he looked around. It was a little bigger than his in Central actually, clean; nothing fancy but it held a lot of memories he was sure: pictures, a couple of pieces of artwork, an old quilt draped the back of the couch.

"He refused at first," Grace answered as she pulled off her coat and hung it up, uncovering the fitted pants and low-necked, fitted sweater she had worn bartending. Jean followed suit, also removing his snow-damp boots and leaving them by the door the way she did. "He was afraid of what they would find, and he tried to insist it had to be me."

"Guys are kind of sensitive about that stuff," Jean sighed. There was nothing worse than having that area messed with by a doctor, or having their manhood called into question over something like that.

"Sit down and get comfortable," Grace smiled at him. "Coffee? I've got stronger if you prefer."

"Coffee's good for now," Jean returned the smile as he went over to the couch and sat down. She'd invited him home, but he wasn't going to make any presumptions! It was nice just to have someone to talk to.

"Cream, sugar?" she asked as she pulled down cups and put on the kettle.

"Both please," Jean couldn't help chuckling. "You never really stop working do you?"

"Not when I have guests," Grace laughed. "I enjoy it. That's probably why I liked working for old Willie when I first moved here."

"How did you end up here anyway?" Jean asked. There was a definite jump between 'married further South' and living up here in the mountains on her own.

Grace leaned against the wall that partitioned her living area from her small kitchen. "I guess this really isn't a short story is it?" Her smile faded. "Eventually, I convinced Orrin to talk to the doctors, because he wanted children so badly and because nothing else was working. They determined that he was completely sterile." Jean winced sympathetically, for Grace's sadness and Orrin's misfortune. "He didn't want to believe it. He wanted to keep trying but, of course, nothing came of it. He…he didn't handle it well." From her tone, Jean had a pretty good idea of what she meant. "Eventually, Orrin changed. He started staying out late nights after work; drinking at the local bar in town. He'd drag in drunk about dawn most days. A couple of nights he didn't come home at all, and it didn't take much to figure out he was sleeping around."

"So you left him?" Jean hazarded a guess.

Grace shook her head. "Not then. We'd been married for six years at that point, we owned the ranch, and I still loved him. I know he still loved me too. That was part of why it was so hard for him to accept what happened. I said we could adopt but that didn't make him feel any better by then. No," she met Jean's eyes with her own, the sadness in them fresh, it seemed; an old wound that would never fully heal. "I didn't leave him until it was a lot worse. I could live with him drinking himself stupid at night. I was even willing to put up with him sleeping with other girls. I figure he just hoped to find some way to prove the problem wasn't him; if he'd managed to get some other woman pregnant he'd have proof wouldn't he?" He could hear her throat constricting, but then she shrugged. "His temper got worse and, eventually, instead of taking his frustrations elsewhere he started taking them out on me. At that point, I knew that the man I loved was gone. So after ten years, I told him I was leaving and I walked out."

Behind her, the kettle started whistling, and Jean was saved from having to say something immediately. How could he respond to a story like that? 'I'm sorry,' was hardly appropriate, as often as people said it, it seemed inadequate. Grace turned around and poured the coffee, mixing cream and sugar into both before joining him on the couch.

"Thanks," he took the cup and drank. It was a rich brew and well made; not the near-tar like stuff he'd spent years living with when he made it himself, or in the offices in Central. "Wow, that's good."

"Like you said, I never stop," Grace smiled, shrugging. "I'm sorry if the story makes you uncomfortable. I can stop."

"No," Jean shook his head. "I'm the one who asked. There's no need to apologize, Grace."

"You wanted to know how I ended up here," she continued then. "Not much to tell. I needed to go somewhere after I went down to the local records office and informed them that Orrin and I were no longer married. I didn't want to go home to Central with my life a mess, though I missed the culture, the theatre, the night life, and a lot of friends." She shrugged. "I'd chosen to give that up for something more rugged; something I thought would be an adventure and a good way to live. So I headed up this way. Got here at the beginning of the winter and got this place with what money I had saved that was actually mine. The first night I was here I wandered into Willie's Bar down there. I was just planning on getting a drink, but when I walked in one of his regular girls was out sick on a busted ankle –slipped on the ice – and I asked if maybe they could use me for the evening instead." She grinned. "Willie's son, Kenny, convinced him to let me have a try. I think he just thought I was cute and wanted me around for the evening really."

Jean chuckled. "You were cute. Err…I mean, you are!" he caught himself, feeling stupid. "I just mean that then you were well, you know…"

Grace started laughing. "You really haven't changed a whole lot." Her smile made it apparent, to his relief, that Grace actually seemed to like that fact! "I know what you mean, Jean, and thank you. Well, that's pretty much exactly what Kenny thought. He didn't know I'd just left my husband a couple of weeks before. After that first night, they kept me on until Marianne's ankle healed, and then afterwards too as the season got really busy. When Willie found out I could manage the books because of my previous jobs and working the ranch, he was thrilled to have someone else who could handle the paperwork too, once he trusted me enough." She sipped her coffee. "Kenny seemed to take my recent heartbreak as a challenge though. He was determined to help me 'get over' my troubles."

"Did he?" Jean couldn't help asking, though he blurted it out without thinking.

"You're being awfully forward," Grace teased. "He certainly tried. For three years he worked on me. He'd walk me home and he'd offer to buy me dinner. He taught me to ski. Finally, I agreed to 'see' him, for real." The question hung in the air between them then, and Jean didn't really want to ask. Where was Kenny now? Grace's smile faded a little again. "That could have been something I think. He was a real sweet guy too, a bit of show off," she chuckled wistfully. "But he was also rescue on the mountain, and during one incident half the team didn't make it." She didn't have to say which half he was on either.

And he'd thought he'd had it tough! As many times as Jean had felt hurt over losing a girl, or even a chance at one, he'd never been through anything like what Grace was describing. "So you've been here since."

"I've been here ever since," Grace nodded. "I've got a lot of friends, and I like my work. No kids, but it's a little late for that now anyway." He saw sadness in her eyes, but it wasn't fresh now. The past was back in the past where it belonged. "But what about you, Jean? The last time I saw you, you were tailing around after Mustang. I know what happened to him, but other than that big deal with you and the Fullmetal Alchemist in the news with the war and all, I've heard nothing."

"There's really not much to tell, Grace," he admitted with a shrug and a short dry laugh. "I made it up to Colonel, still working in Mustang's office through the mess with Bradley and when Roy became President. I've spent the last twenty-something years doing paperwork for the most part, except when I was needed for anything more direct. Then yeah, I went out to the front as Breda's second, and there was that whole 'held captive and tortured' thing." He shrugged, trying to play that off lightly. He still had a couple of scars from that encounter that reminded him of things he would rather forget. Though he had nothing on Edward. "We got out of that and when Mustang offered me full retirement, I jumped ship. I've done my duty, and I wanted to see the world a little while I was still whole enough to enjoy it," he smirked. "No really amazing adventures, no tragic lost loves, just the story of a military man doing his duty."

"That's not nothing, Jean," Grace shook her head, the bun that held back most of her long hair bounced a little. "That's character, and devotion, and a lot of hard work. Most people don't stick with anyone or anything for that long. That's a great career isn't it?"

"That's what they told me when I retired," Jean shrugged. "And I believe them. I enjoyed what I did and I didn't really care about doing more, so I guess it all worked out. After the war though, I was glad for a way out that wouldn't look like I was running."

"I won't ask what it was like," Grace nodded, her expression sympathetic though. "No one should have to recount horrors they'd rather forget."

"Then I should be kicked out now for making you tell yours," Jean chuckled dryly, finishing his coffee.

Grace shook her head again, laying one hand on his knee as she set her own empty cup down on the table. "You assume I told you the worst details," she pointed out. "So," she said again after a moment. "No lost loves?"

"Nah," Jean shook his head and smiled. "I got tired of losing after a while."

Grace leaned in then, her hand sliding up his leg. "Then no one will mind if I do this?" She stretched up just a little and kissed him.

Jean's eyes bugged, startled, but he didn't pull away. Quite the contrary! He closed his eyes and kissed her back, putting his arms around her still-slim waist and losing himself in the heat of this rare moment that he certainly wasn't going to waste. He didn't open his eyes until she pulled back, watching him with calm curiosity; smiling too. Jean licked his lips and smiled lopsidedly. "Well I know I didn't mind!"

"Obviously, I didn't know what I was missing," Grace chuckled then, leaning in to kiss him again.

Jean didn't resist. He was still too stunned at the turn of events this impromptu 'date' had taken! A beautiful woman from his past in a bar in a rugged little western mountain town, who invited him home and practically fell into his arms; it read like a bad romance, or old western story or something! Not that he was complaining. He held her close as they fell back on the couch. She landed squarely on top of him.

He was hardly inexperienced, and neither was she, but he was still surprised every few moments by her willingness, and how strange it was to find himself not having to do any chasing! As her hands went for the buttons on his shirt though, he paused, one hand going to her face. "Are you sure this is what you want, Grace?" he found himself asking softly. "I mean, I'm flattered but—"

"Would you deny a woman a little company?" she asked with a soft chuckle. Her hair had come loose and fell around her face as she looked down at him, their faces only inches apart. "I missed out on you once after all…."

Despite his eternal search for dates, Jean rarely went looking for this particular end to an evening. He only occasionally got that lucky, and despite his rakish behavior at times, that had been so much bravado for the most part. It had actually been a long while, though he'd never have admitted it to the guys back home! If she were still young, still innocent, he couldn't have done it, but the look on the face above him was of a woman who knew what she was asking. She knew he was just passing through, that he wasn't staying, but it was a connection she craved, and that was enough for her. He pulled her down on top of him. "I could never refuse a request from a beautiful woman."

April 23rd, 1942

The morning sun was filtered and soft, a pleasant surprise when Jean opened his eyes and turned his head. He couldn't help smiling. He'd gotten used to waking up in strange beds with his recent frequent travel; but not until this morning had he found himself in the company of such sweet beauty. Sometime last night he recalled moving from Grace's couch to her bed and having an evening of love-making that ranged from frantically eager to sweet and slow as the night grew late.

When they'd been too tired for anything else Grace had curled up beside him and they had talked some more until they fell asleep. Jean couldn't have said who drifted off first. It was nice to wake up like this; Grace was still curled up by his side, her skin warm and smooth against his under her blankets. With her hair down and her face relaxed in sleep, he could easily see the younger girl he had been infatuated with still there in the more world-weary woman who had handled him with incredible skill and pleasure last night.

Jean could have stayed there forever, he thought, if he didn't feel his body crying out for two things. He crawled reluctantly out of bed, relieved himself in the bathroom, and then pulled on pants and socks, going out on her little balcony to light up a cigarette. Her home was clean and he hadn't asked last night if she cared, so he figured he should err on the side of caution.

He took a long drag, letting the smoke blow out slowly, and leaned against the railing. The view outside Grace's apartment was, in a word, breathtaking! Her building was perched right up along the edge of the ridge, and he could see out across half the mountain range. The craggy peaks surrounded them and the forests below of pine and trees seemed out of place as their leaves budded bright green amongst the remaining snow. The mountain laurel were blooming down this far too, the flowers still pink and not the white he had heard they would turn later. No wonder Grace said she liked living here.

What fortune had made him decide to stop here Jean wasn't sure, but he was glad he had. What a night! He was sore, but surprisingly well rested. Below, people were moving around, heading for work most of them he suspected. Of course, he reasoned, Grace wouldn't have work this early; the bar wouldn't be open until at least mid-day. What a lovely world of smoky old pool rooms and clear mountain mornings.

Jean finished one cigarette, and lit another as he contemplated his luck and his circumstances. What was a man to do when fortune dropped this kind of opportunity in his lap? There was still a connection there; really, he knew there was more of one now than there ever had been before. Grace wasn't the girl he had known, and he wasn't the man he'd been then, though he knew he hadn't changed nearly as much. There hadn't been much reason for it. But they seemed more compatible now maybe. Was he foolish enough to just up and leave it at this: a conversation and a memorable night together?

A warm, robed body pressed against his back, arms coming around and wrapping around his chest. "Mmm…morning," Grace chuckled softly. "Up already?"

"When nature calls," Jean chuckled, gesturing out at the landscape, cigarette in hand.

Grace shifted, coming around to his side. "When I saw the view for the first time, I knew I could look out at it for the rest of my life and never get tired of it."

"It's stunning," Jean agreed, slipping his arm around her shoulders. He had forgotten until yesterday just how petite she was in comparison to him! "Sleep well?"

"Best in years," she teased, leaning against his side, still looking a little sleepy.

"You know what I mean," he smiled.

"And I answered you," Grace chuckled softly. "It's been a long time since I've been loved like that."

Loved; not 'slept with' or 'been with' or anything so typical. Jean felt warm inside. "You deserve it," he replied softly. "You're too good for anything less."

"No one's spoken to me like that in years either," she replied. "How is it that you're still single, Jean?"

He shrugged, sticking his cigarette back in his mouth and inhaling. "Most of the women my age are taken," he pointed out after he exhaled. "And the younger ones well, they see the stars on the uniform, or the paycheck. They're still young enough to want to play games and…I couldn't take doing that to my heart anymore." That was the truth. Really, he had just stopped trying to find 'the one' and been happy with any evening out in a lovely woman's company and been grateful.

"Then a lot of women have no idea what they missed," she replied. "And I've only just found out. But, if you don't want to play games, what are you doing here?"

"You're not a game, Grace," Jean turned to look down at her more directly. "At least, not to me, and I don't think you're playing games with me either. We've both learned too much for that. This…this is the best thing to happen to me in years, even if it's just right here, right now." He certainly wasn't expecting or asking for more. Though he craved it; and at this point in his life, he wasn't one to question a real attraction to a woman. He knew a lot more now than he had known then about what love was, and what was just attraction. This…it could be more.

While Jean was sure she'd had other lovers in the intervening ten or fifteen years they hadn't discussed in a lot of detail, she had admitted it hadn't been many or serious. Obviously none of them had treated her well enough. Grace smiled at him then, as if really seeing him for the first time. Maybe in his face she could read what he was thinking. He had never been great at hiding his feelings.

"Then for right here, right now, would you rather have coffee and breakfast, or come back to bed?" Grace asked with a playful gleam in her eyes. "I'm not usually up this early, given my work hours but…for you, I could be persuaded."

As if it was even a question!

Jean made a point of going back to Willie's bar that evening, playing a couple of games of pool with one of the local lumberjacks, and poker with a couple of the miners. He waited until Grace got off shift, walked her home, and spent another night in the embrace of the woman he was coming to think of as a fallen angel because, surely, there was no other explanation for him to find her here and now, when they both seemed to need each other's company so badly. The strength of his own feelings surprised him, but he really didn't think Grace was aware of just how much she affected him. He certainly didn't know if she felt even remotely the same way, despite the way she talked.

April 24th, 1942

The next morning they sat in her little apartment drinking coffee and eating a breakfast of hot sugared oatmeal, since that was all she had in her cupboard. Not that Jean minded.

"How much longer do you think you'll be in town?" Grace asked when they talked about his travel, and his plans.

"How much longer would you like me to stick around?" he grinned playfully, not daring to get too serious for fear of scaring her off; much as she didn't seem to be the type too easily scared at this point. Still, he tried to be sensitive to her feelings.

Grace rolled her eyes and smiled sadly. "You're sweet, but I know you have to go sometime, Jean. I'll miss you though."

"I'll miss you, too," he admitted without hesitation. Then he had an idea. She would probably say no, but it was worth a shot. "Come with me," he suggested then hopefully.

"What?" Grace blurted, looking up at him, startled. "Don't you think that might be a little dramatic?"

Jean laughed. "To Creta. I'm traveling remember? I'm going to spend a few weeks in Creta and a friend of mine in Pylos and I are going sailing. I mean, tell Willie you're taking a vacation and come with me. It's the end of the season for you right? You could come and see Creta with me: the museums, the theatres, sailing on the ocean. I'll make sure you get home safe when it's over," he held her hand up to his lips and kissed it. "I'll even make sure you don't run short on the bills if he won't give you that much time." He had the money for it now. "On my honor."

Grace's face flushed pink. "That sounds like such a lovely idea, Jean but…"

"But what?" he asked, his expression serious. "There's nothing wrong with living, Grace. I know you loved those things when you lived in Central. There's no one keeping you from going out and enjoying yourself. What's wrong? Are you afraid that if you leave this won't be enough for you anymore?"

From her hesitation, Jean suspected he's guessed right. This was familiar now; this was safe, and she didn't want that uncertainty in her life again. But she was lonesome, just like he was.

"If you don't take the chance, Grace, can you honestly say you won't regret it later?" he asked softly.

She looked uncertain for another minute. Then finally she nodded. "You're right. I would regret it. I'd love to come with you."

He smiled then and let go of her hand. Now, he had a little more time to spend with her – at least a month – and, he hoped, to find a way to convince her that she wanted to stay by his side. That was where he really hoped she wanted to be, because that was definitely where he wanted her.

Author's Note: Awwww. Yeah, Havoc needed some happiness!
Anyone want to try and guess how many Country music writers (or specific songs) went into the inspiration for this chapter?