August 25th, 1962

"Still working?" Edward asked Ethan as he paused at the bottom of the cellar steps. Over the years the storage area had been used for a lot of things. Most recently however, Ed had finally talked Winry into converting half of it into what basically amounted to a home gym. They had been cleaning it out for years, and there was finally room. He had installed some new lighting so it wasn't quite as dismal either. It wasn't a lot, but it was good for really lousy weather or when he didn't have a lot of time. It was also really helpful with Ethan in the house working on his rehabilitation.

There was a treadmill, a set of weights, and a couple of floor mats for calisthenics or in-close sparring practice. Besides that, Ed knew that with the equipment available it allowed Winry to enjoy easy access to the equipment despite her busy work schedule. Not that he would ever accuse Winry of needing the exercise. Working auto-mail even now was still pretty labor intensive.

Ethan was sitting on the bench working with hand weights. He looked up at his father and grinned. "Yeah, I'm almost finished. You needed something?"

"No," Ed shook his head. "You were just down here long enough I figured I'd check in."

Ethan stood and put the weights back on their rack. "Well as you can see I'm fine," he replied, grinning as he turned around again. "Just doing my part to get ready."

Ed chuckled and couldn't help teasing a little. "Yes, I suppose this matters more than any other aspect of the wedding." Ethan was getting married in less than a month. "So is this for Lia or are you working off nerves?"

"A little of both," Ethan admitted in good humor. "I just want to make good on the promise I made myself; that I'd be able to walk her down the aisle and dance with her. Other than that, I'd like to not look like a shriveled old man in a suit," he added with a smirk.

Ed looked at his son, who was lean, but far from the frail husk he had looked when he first got home a year ago. He was still not as strong as he had been before his illness, but he had put a lot of muscle back on and had worked his way back up to brisk walks, short periods of jogging, and the weights. They'd done forms, but no full out sparring yet. "Well I don't think you need to worry about that."

"You think I'll be satisfied before I can take you on again?" Ethan chuckled, slapping his hand down on Ed's shoulder as he headed for the stairs. "I want that back. I want to be cleared to use alchemy in my medical practice again. That's what I did all this for after all."

That was true. Ethan had originally asked Ed to teach him alchemy almost – was it really seventeen years ago? He had wanted to help people, especially auto-mail patients, using medicine and alchemy. "Well, keep it up and it won't be much longer," Ed smiled and followed him back upstairs. "Though I think the only person you need to be able to worry about keeping up with physically anytime soon… is Lia." He snickered as Ethan stopped cold on the stairs then shook his head and kept going.

"Geez, Dad. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Not possible," Ed quipped. "Ask your mother."

Ethan twitched. "No thanks. There are just some things I really don't want to contemplate."

Ed snickered. "Given what's coming, maybe you'd better start."

"Dad!"

August 26th, 1962

Another Friday night. Alyse walked into the little jazz club determined to enjoy herself. She had been looking forward to the guest band that was playing tonight for weeks. She had dressed for the occasion – as always – in black slacks, a plum purple sleeveless knit top with a v-neck, and matching strappy purple heeled shoes. Her soft brown hair was pulled up in a twist. The attendant at the door nodded her past. She was regular enough that the employees knew her now. Alyse tried to forget sometimes that it was Vince who had first brought her here; introduced her to so many things she had never experienced. Whatever the cause, she really enjoyed the place, the atmosphere, the music, and the dancing.

Alyse walked up to the bar and ordered one of her favorite mixed drinks, made from fruit and wine, and turned to watch the scene. The place was packed tonight. Finding a seat was going to be a challenge, but she wanted a decent place to sit. She scanned the crowd for anyone she might recognize. No one she knew better than in passing so far, but that might be all right. She was a little surprised, actually, that she did not see Vince or Georgia – his new flame – anywhere. Vince loved this particular band.

"Here you go," the bartender slid the raspberry and white wine concoction across the bar. "Thanks, Mike," Alyse smiled and took it, sipping gently. There was one really good seat at a booth along the far wall. Edging her way around she slipped easily through the crowd. "Excuse me do you mind if I join you? There's no seats…" Alyse stopped when she saw who the other person was occupying the small booth.

Calvin Fisher looked up from his drink and stiffened slightly. "Hey, Alyse," he said far too casually. He glanced around the room, and Alyse guessed he was checking out her no seats statement. "Sure, sit down," he finally said.

"Thanks," Alyse replied, offering a small smile as she joined him. Given she was sure he purposefully avoided her at Headquarters it was a small miracle. "I didn't know you liked jazz."

"At risk of sounding stereotypical," Cal smirked back, "I didn't think you were the kind of girl to hang out in a place like this." He sipped his beer. "I love jazz, have for years."

Who knew? Alyse shrugged. "I've been coming here for a few years," she replied. "I like it. Though I can't figure out why no one ever brought him here."

Cal shrugged. "No offense, but you're the high class type. No guy expects you want to want to slum it."

"This is not a slum," Alyse sniffed, mildly insulted, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Was it the implication that she was lowering herself, or that she was supposedly too innocent for such a place?

"Yeah, it's not," Cal agreed after a moment. "Would now be an equally inappropriate time to tell you I'm surprised you'd wear an outfit like that out drinking?"

Alyse felt her hackles rise a little. "Are you implying that I'm badly dressed, or that you didn't think I could drink, Calvin?"

At that he actually laughed. "See what I mean; totally inappropriate. You're half right." He finished his beer and motioned the waitress over.

"Which half?" Alyse asked, now morbidly curious if Cal had allowed her to sit here to soothe a long-bruised ego or something equally as pathetic.

Cal ordered another drink before he was willing to answer. "The latter," he commented. "You always seem the champagne at festivities type. The outfit's great."

"Oh." The compliment caught her off guard. Alyse sipped to cover her unease. "Thanks, I think." She was saved from having to reply any further as they announced the beginning of the concert. So she turned her attention to that as everyone settled down for the most part. She finished her drink, ordered another, and lost herself in the music. The beat always took her away. She glanced over at Cal, but decided asking him to dance later was probably a bad idea. This was the first time he hadn't practically run the opposite direction. Given how fast she'd dumped him after finding out about him and Sara, she couldn't really blame him anymore. Funny, that fact didn't seem to matter anymore to her.

Alyse noticed Cal giving her glances when he thought she wasn't looking. What was he thinking? By the end of the third music set, when the concert part ended and people started taking to the dance floor, Alyse was starting to feel brave enough to ask a question she had been pondering for some time. "So, who was she?"

Cal's head jerked and he looked over at her. "What?"

"The girl I remind you of; the one who broke your heart," Alyse clarified.

"I wouldn't put it that melodramatically." Cal shrugged and took a drink. "I don't like to talk about it anyway."

Alyse smiled at him. "You know my story, I want to know yours. I think it's only fair."

"You have an interesting concept of fair," Cal snorted, fishing around in his pocket. Alyse watched him pull out a pack of cigarettes, pull one out, replace the pack, and pull out matches. "What makes you think there was a girl anyway?" He lit the cigarette and took a drag.

Alyse gave him a knowing look. "There's always a girl, Calvin. You're too cavalier about it, and too paranoid about it, for me to think otherwise." He wanted the analysis; she'd give it to him. "You won't get serious with any girl, but I swear that wasn't in the looks you gave me. But I know there's more to it you never told me."

"If I tell you will you promise not to ask ever again?" Cal asked suddenly, his eyes had an intense look she couldn't get a read on.

Alyse's guess was that it was too painful to talk about easily. She nodded. "I promise."

It turned out to be a long story. One that lasted Cal through three cigarettes and two more beers before he was finished. Alyse felt her heart ache for him as the tale unraveled of a high school sweetheart, an unexpected pregnancy that didn't last, the nasty local politics, his abusive father and submissive mother. Leaving home to become a State Alchemist and there the story skipped time. Alyse wasn't surprised. She knew he'd been with plenty of girls since then. When he was done, Cal simply stopped talking, sipped his beer, and looked at her, waiting for a reaction.

It took Alyse a minute to come up with a response. "So, I remind you of this bitch?"

His eyes went wide and Cal almost sprayed beer everywhere. "That's not what I meant," he replied. "It's just one of my rules now. I don't date girls from nice families. It always tends to backfire on me."

She understood. Alyse winced. "And all I did was prove that didn't I?"

Cal held up his cup in a salute. "You got it." He drained the last of his beer. "Don't take it too personally. I knew I was in for trouble when I dared to try and go out with you in the first place."

"Gee, do tell me how I'm not supposed to take that personally," Alyse sighed, sipping her drink. "If you knew you shouldn't, why did you?"

The jaunty grin faded a little from Cal's face. For a moment, Alyse thought he might actually answer. Instead he waved the waitress over and ordered another drink. "Call it a moment of hopeless optimism."

She was beginning to think it might be time to head home. "I'm still sorry, Calvin. I meant it then and I mean it now. I just wasn't ready to deal with all that. I didn't know how."

"And now?" Cal asked humorlessly.

Now? She hadn't expected to have to give that answer tonight. Let alone any of this conversation. She had given up on trying to be friends with Cal when he made it abundantly clear he didn't want to be around her. That hadn't meant she ever stopped liking him.

She had barely opened her mouth to speak, however, when a hand hit the table in front of her so hard she jumped and squeaked! Eyes wide, she looked up at the man standing over her. "Vince?"

Vince Miller stood above her, leaning on the table, and if his breath was any indication – not to mention the look in his eyes – he was drunk. "Hey 'Lyse, can we talk? I really need to talk to you."

Alyse tried to refocus her direction of thought. First a deep conversation with Cal and now suddenly Vince – whom she had not spoken to more than once since the night he broke up with her – was right there in her face practically begging for attention. "Talk," she sighed. Cal, watching, looked sadistically amused. "Where's Georgia?"

Vince's expression flared from crestfallen to angry. "On her way to Creta by now probably," he snorted. "She ran off with some rich millionaire bastard. Forget her. I wanna talk about us."

This was really not her night. "What us?" Alyse asked coolly. She would keep her composure. "You broke up with me. You're not in love with me, remember?"

"Aaa-bout that," Vince looked sheepish. "I was wondering if you'd give me…another chance? I know I was an idiot, but Georgia she…"

"You had feelings for her you just didn't for me," Alyse remained calm, sounding almost detached as she simply repeated his words back at him. "What we had was friendship to you as I recall. Or am I misremembering?"

"No you're…" Vince faltered. "'Lyse, please. I miss you."

He was really drunk! Alyse had never seen Vince drunk. Not in four years had he ever done so in her presence. "When did Georgia leave?"

Vince looked like he didn't understand why she asked. "Yesterday?"

One day and here he was, plastered, begging at her feet. "So the girl you thought you were in love with leaves, and in less than twenty four hours you're pleading for a friend to give you another chance? Doesn't that sound wrong to you, Vince?" She sighed. "I mean, if you were sober at least I might believe you were sincere."

"But I am!" Vince replied, "Sincere I mean."

At least he wasn't too drunk to claim he wasn't. Alyse felt sorry for him but, it was odd to realize that as much as she had cried over him a few months ago, she didn't want him back. Not anymore. It was oddly liberating. "Maybe you are," she looked up at him, meeting his eyes easily. "But so am I. I was in love with you, Vince. I honestly thought you were going to propose to me that night. What I know now is I read too much into things. If you'd been in love with me, Vince, you'd have known it. Now I… I'm not in love with you either. I'm sorry, but you were right. We were great friends, but we didn't see it the same way."

She was sure no man had ever been so sorry to be right. Vince swayed a little, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "You… you don't want me."

Even knowing she was saying what she honestly believed, it was hard. "No Vince. Right now I'm still not even sure we could be friends. I totally misread the situation once. I don't want to risk doing it again. It's you and it's me."

Vince's expression fell. "I… yeah. I'm sorry Alyse." He didn't say anything else, just turned and staggered away.

Alyse watched him go, waiting until Vince was out of sight and hearing before she let her frustration loose. "That idiot!" she huffed, finishing the last sip of her drink. "I can't believe he had the gall!" At Cal's smug expression she glared over at him. "Why didn't you say something?"

"What, rush to your defense?" Cal snickered. "I don't see why. You were doing quite a nice job of cutting him down all by yourself. I'm impressed, Princess."

"Impressed huh?" Alyse sighed and made herself relax and let the anger flow out of her. "That was hard."

"I bet," Cal replied. "No more than he deserved though. A guy should always be upright about his intentions." He dropped a tip on the table and stood. "Speaking of which, I intend to walk home and sleep until noon. It's been an interesting talk."

"It has," Alyse nodded, setting her own tip down. She really ought to head home. It was getting late. At least she didn't have to be anywhere in the morning. "Thanks for talking to me. I appreciate it."

"Thanks for actually listening to what I said," Cal replied, fidgeting slightly. "Sorry I've been avoiding you all this time. You're a lot more mature than the last time we talked."

"Nice of you to notice," Alyse smirked. "So does that mean if I say hi to you in the halls at Headquarters you'll stop diving into the men's room or pretending to have errands in the other direction?" If nothing else, being on civil terms was a huge improvement over the past few years.

He turned and headed for the door. She followed a couple of steps behind. "I'll think about it."

September 4th, 1962

"Did you hear the news?" Breda asked as he dropped down at the lunch table in the mess next to Edward, Alphonse, and Roy – who had a habit of showing up like he still owned the place when he had the opportunity. He had a valid reason for being there of course; he was still helping out with the classes in the alchemist program.

Ed looked up from his sandwich, nodding as he finished the bite in his mouth. "About Drachma?" He had seen the paper on his desk this morning. The cover story was that Drachma had a new government head. "Yeah, Akhatova's no longer Chairman."

Al and Roy were both nodding. Obviously they had read the article too. "Do we know anything more than what's public knowledge?" Al asked what Ed knew they were all thinking. Government intelligence had to know more than the newspapers did.

Breda nodded. "I just got out of a meeting with Rehnquist actually. It's not really classified, but it looks like they ousted Akhatova for his revisionist and radical policies."

Ed snorted. "Like what, the alchemist thing?"

"Not sure," Breda shrugged. "But this new guy, Peotr Radikov, is apparently both younger, and the blood of one of the old noble families. Do you guys know him?"

"I know of him," Roy spoke up almost at once. "The Radikov name is like Akhatova's. There's a long list of Radikov's going back in the Drachman military for generations. Their estates are far North though, a couple of weeks from Petrayevka even by train, so their usual representation in the government is pretty weak. At least, I thought so until now. I've only ever met old Vladislav Radikov, but he makes Ed here look like an infant."

"Hey!" Ed snorted.

Breda and Al snickered. "Peotr is Vladislav's grandson," Breda informed them. "Or so the intelligence reports tell us. The old man's pretty popular in the Capitol. Retired there for the most part and sticks his nose into things. Apparently he returned to his estates recently and sent Peotr in his place. He's even more popular."

"Obviously," Ed nodded, taking another bite. "If they made him Chairman. What are his policies like?"

Breda shrugged. "So far all his speeches talk about bringing Drachmans together despite Akhatova's failures to do so. He claims Akhatova had good ideas but didn't know how to implement anything effectively. He hasn't implemented any new radical policies or anything yet though."

"Well at least it's quiet," Roy commented as he also went back to eating. "That will be a first. Perhaps it's a good sign. Creta's had three quiet Presidential changes; no one in Aerugo has assassinated anyone else in a few years. It's about time Drachma came along quietly and started to play nice."

"Xing has been downright peaceful since the new regime," Al pointed out, grinning. "Could it be the world is just finally calming down?"

"At least our part of it," Breda nodded. "Let's hope it lasts."

"It's going to be downright dull around here," Roy snickered. "No one to fight with, scheme against, or worry about."

"Wow," Breda grinned. "Sounds like retirement."

"No it doesn't," Roy argued. "I've got plenty to fight, scheme, and worry about."

"That's because you're not doing it right," Ed assured him with a laugh.

Roy shook his head. "How would you know? You've never done it."

"Tried it," Ed argued. Okay, so he'd been forced to take time off at times, to heal up. But he had been always trying to get back on duty. "Really didn't like it."

"Maybe," Roy snickered, "You weren't doing it right."