February 1st, 1984

Cal circled around his opponent slowly, his boots scraping briefly on the hard-packed dirt of the practice yard. His eyes never left the cool, pale blue gaze of his opponent. He ignored the drop of sweat moving slow down towards his left eye. The ground around them was already pocked and pitted from a full on alchemy-approved sparring session. The Tremor Alchemist was formidable, and talented, but a little crude with his technique. Of course, with as much experience as he had, Cal was biased. He had actually pulled two shots in the past five minutes, just to see what else he could draw out of the muscular young man with the rest of the class watching.

He was glad Tore hadn't minded when Cal asked to step in for a few matches. Technically, this one was Tore's class.

Tremor twitched, and Cal refrained from smiling. The guy was probably decent at poker, but when it came to alchemy, his tell gave away his moves. The ground rumbled and Cal jumped into the air and sideways as a pit formed underneath his feet. Pulling moisture from the air, he solidified it into small, near-solid droplets and sent them hurtling at Tremor with enough force that they smacked, stinging hard into skin that would feel painful, not quite like bullets smacking the man, and hit with force, but not enough to do more than leave tiny bruises for damage.

Tremor gasped, lost concentration, and doubled over.

Cal moved in with a rush, and came down on his opponent's back, pinning him to the ground and easily getting him in a quick choke.

"I give," Tremor… Larry Pullman, Cal remembered his name was, coughed out, his mouth half buried in the dirt.

Cal nodded and eased up immediately. "Good fight," he said as he offered the other alchemist a hand to his feet. "You're still telegraphing."

Pullman looked irritated, but he shook Cal's hand, clearly more annoyed at himself than his superior officer. "Thanks for the match, General."

"Whitewater," Cal corrected with a cheeky smirk. "Out here, it's Whitewater, Tremor."

"Yes, Sir."

Cal moved away then, back to the bench where he had left his uniform jacket. He felt warm enough now he certainly didn't need it, despite the brisk, cloudy weather. He felt pretty good. Tremor had been his fourth fight, and he had won them all, though not by so much that he was worried about the ability of the younger State Alchemists. He was just glad he was on form himself.

He would have liked to have taken the Training program on after Sara's death, but Kane had insisted Cal remain his second-in-command, and had given the program to the Azurite Alchemist, Torra Song. She was not a woman Cal had worked with often, given she had most often been assigned to diplomatic endeavors, and she had passed her exam while Cal was still in auto-mail rehabilitation after it had been blown off in Aerugo. She was Alyse's age, calm, and competent, but excellent in a fight, even if she did have a tendency to fight fair.

"Nice work," Tore commented quietly as Cal walked off the field. "Though I wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon."

"Frustrating morning. Bad news in the office. I figured it was better to work it out here instead of in the mess." Cal replied quietly. "Meeting in Kane's office at four o'clock. Be there."

Tore's expression flickered with surprise for only a moment before it returned to a professional, neutral expression. "Of course, Sir." Then he turned back to his students and started barking orders.

Cal watched all eyes –including the familiar gold of Ted Elric- turn back to Tore as Cal wiped his face, grabbed his coat, and headed indoors. It was going to be a long afternoon.


Tore tossed his jacket over the back of the couch with a little more force than probably necessary, but it fit the irritation he felt.

"What happened?"

He looked up to find Charisa standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, an expectant expression on his face, arms crossed loosely. Insightful as ever, she had immediately sensed his mood.

Tore crossed the room and greeted his wife with a hug and a kiss. "Had a meeting in Kane's office this afternoon," he informed her. "They finally got a scouting team up in the area where the Hashman Syndicate had their base in south-east Drachma."

"I'm guessing it didn't go well."

"The place was abandoned." Tore snorted in annoyance. "No one there; no supplies. The few solid buildings had been knocked to the ground."

"Where did they go?" Charisa's eyes widened in surprise.

Tore released her as they moved into the kitchen. "Signs and rumors indicate they may have pulled back into the desert, to Xing, or possibly Lamor." Lamor was the country north of Xing, though it was nearly as flat as the desert, and cold as Drachma. Not that they knew much about it. They were mostly a nomadic people, though Ren had assured them that there was a capitol city somewhere up there on those frigid plains. They were on neutral terms with Xing at the moment, and preferred to be left alone.

"So they found nothing at all?" Charisa looked disappointed as she poured them both cups of coffee.

Tore took his black. "Not quite. They searched the wreckage and found a half-box of papers that didn't entirely burn. Not much of use, except that half of them were in Xingese. Badly soaked and scorched and muddled, but definitely Xingese. Investigations will be taking a look at them and having our linguistics specialists translate what they can."

"Well I guess I'll hear some interesting things at work tomorrow," Charisa sighed, blowing lightly over her own cup of coffee, cut with milk. "Was Franz there?"

Tore nodded. "Yeah. He had already heard from Rehnquist. He wasn't happy." Not that anyone was, but the remaining General Heimler had his nose very deeply in that case. There was a fire behind his eyes that was only there when he thought they were moving towards his wife's killers. Outside of that, aside from smiling less often –and a lot more gray hair- he was very much the same Franz Tore had grown up knowing. He sighed, and sipped his coffee. "Where are the kids?" It was too quiet in the house for them to be home, but he didn't usually beat them.

"Brandon and Camelia went over to play with Gavin and Damian this afternoon," Charisa told him, smiling as she mentioned Coran and Gale's two boys. Gavin was just a little older than Brandon, and Damian was the youngest of the lot. "We can pick them up at Ethan and Lia's though, since everyone will be there for dinner. Unless, of course, you forgot about the party tonight."

"No, I didn't forget." Though it had definitely fled his mind for a bit. Tore smiled. Edward and Winry were in town, and tonight was their wedding anniversary. Though the party was sort of an anniversary, multiple birthdays party, since Edward and Elicia both had theirs in two days. And, while no one was saying much about it, the day between had been Sara's. "What about Dare?" Not that he was too worried. His seventeen-year-old son was usually busy up until dinner time these days, and out more often. He had plenty of friends from school –certainly a better lot than Tore could admit to having hung out with most of the time- and his grades were good.

At that, he got a mysterious little smile from Charisa. "He's studying… with a girl."

"At her house?"

Charisa nodded.

"Which girl?"

"Lorraine Mathwin,"

Tore knew that name from a couple of sources. For one, Dare had mentioned her more than once in his circle of friends. For another, Lorraine's mother worked in the Assembleyman's office next the one for which Charisa worked. He grinned. "Well, I hope they have a good time."

"They're supposed to be studying Calculus."

"I didn't say I hoped they had a good time studying."

A dishrag smacked him in the face as Charisa tossed it at him. "You're incorrigible."

Tore dared a smug grin. "Isn't that why you married me?"

He dodged the pot holder.


"I can't believe it's been fifty-nine years," Winry commented softly, for Ed's ears alone, as they snuggled on the sofa in the living room of the house they had bought together, nearly as many years ago. Then, they had just been starting a family. Now, the family was too big to comfortably fit in the building when they were all together. Of course, that was why they had built the hill house in Resembool to the scale they had.

"So we'll have to do something particularly romantic and immature for sixty next year," Ed suggested with a chuckle, his arm tightening in a squeeze around her shoulders. "Something crazy."

"I think we've run out of crazy," Winry teased him. "I don't want to try and top eloping in France, three kids, and everything else we've done." The sun was already long down outside the windows, and most of the family had gone home.

"Funny how you lump us in as crazy things you've done," Ethan commented as he leaned over the couch and grinned at his parents. "Though as the youngest, I have to say I appreciate how crazy you were on that score."

"You owe your existence to it," Ed agreed, snickering. "Now how about you continue it by seeing if there's cake left in the fridge for your old man?"

Winry shook her head. "I don't know how you can eat another bite," she commented as Ethan laughed and vanished into the kitchen.

Ed shrugged. "I've got room? And unlike some of the family, I don't have to worry about military evaluations this month." This last was said quite smugly.

"What's the matter, Ed?" Al asked, grinning from across the way on the other couch, where he snuggled with Elicia. "You don't think you'd pass?"

Ed snorted. "Please, Al. It would be just as easy today as it was fifty years ago. I just don't want to put all those younger alchemists to shame." He took the plate from Ethan with a nod of thanks as his son returned, and started eating the rich chocolate cake Gracia had made.

"Do you think you still could?" Elicia asked, sounding sincerely curious. "I mean, I know you keep in condition as much as Alphonse does, but you're talking about fighting men in their prime, learning from methods you developed. Could you beat Cal, or Roy, or Ted?"

"The last two half asleep," Ed replied, but Winry could see that the joking had left his face. "It doesn't take brute force to beat those who lack inexperience. Besides, that's never been my style anyway, unless we're using alchemy." As for his own former students, those now running things… "It would be better fight with Cal, or any of that group, but I still think I'd win. Which means, of course, that Al could take them all without breaking a sweat." The grin returned as he looked at his brother.

Winry watched Al shrug, clearly pleased by the compliment though, as he smiled. "Oh, most likely," he said, with a subtle note of humility. "But that's under ideal conditions. Even I can be beaten if it's an off day. So can you. Toss in a cold day, driving rain, and they come in at a distance…"

Taking advantage of Ed's auto-mail, the sensitive ports, arthritic joints… and his need for glasses to see at a distance, and it would be a different fight. Winry was still certain Ed would probably come out the victor, but she was glad that wasn't something they had to risk anymore. It was all an academic question these days. She cuddled into his side.

Ed nodded. "Fair enough," he conceded the point, before his jaw cracked loudly with a wide yawn. "Or they could try attacking me in bed. Which…I think it where I'm ready to head. What about you?" he looked at Winry.

She smiled. "So early?"

"Well, since my little brother has pointed out how decrepit we're getting," Ed quipped. "I thought we might retire… unless you don't want to join me."

"I didn't say that," Winry chuckled.

"Good." Ed set down his already empty cake plate on the coffee table, and stood, offering her his arm. "My lovely lady?"

"Guess that's our cue to head home," Al laughed.

The evening broke up amicably enough. Winry knew that the grandkids were not yet asleep upstairs. Eamon and Lily would both still be at homework, and Aeddan was probably nose-deep in a book on animals, or alchemy, or soccer. Lia was just now pulling out a pile of papers to grade.

"I'm still surprised you wanted to go to bed this early," Winry commented to Ed as they closed the door to their downstairs room. It wasn't past nine-thirty!

That was when Ed gave her a very familiar wolfish grin that almost made her groan, even as she should have known. "I didn't say I wanted to sleep, did I?"

Winry did not argue as he closed the distance between them, and gathered her into his arms with all the ardor of younger days, though not as forcefully as he might have then. "You didn't," she admitted with a playful smile of her own. "But we should keep it down. I don't think the teenagers upstairs want to know just what their grandparents are still capable of."

"Well then," Ed kissed her neck. "We'll just have to be very…very quiet."

February 2nd, 1984

Ren didn't usually run home on her lunch break from work. Kamika was in high school, Michio was in college, and Minxia was, as usual, off running around the world enjoying her career as an archeologist and anthropologist. They got phone calls and letters from some of the most interesting places.

It made things far quieter around the house; especially with Will's teaching schedule. Though this semester had been a nice change of pace, since her husband was on Sabbatical so he could focus entirely on his research. Today he was, supposedly, making them both lunch.

Which was, of course, why she only rolled her eyes when she entered to find Will on the couch, in sweat-pants, eating out of a bag of potato chips with the television on. "Does your department know they're paying you to lie around eating junk food?"

Will looked up at her and grinned. "What do you think most tenured professors do on Sabbatical?" he teased.

"Research."

"If it makes you feel any better, I did three hours of that this morning." Will popped another chip in his mouth and grinned. "Care to join me?"

"Is lunch anything more than that bag of grease and fat?"

Will snickered. "As a matter of fact, I made fresh Cretan salad and brewed iced cinnamon tea. It's ready to be eaten whenever you're hungry."

"That seems a far better idea, for both of us," Ren teased as she moved past him towards the kitchen without bothering to sit down. "I'm not buying you a whole new wardrobe if your clothes don't fit next semester, professor."

"Oh don't worry about that," Will's laugh was a short bark as he stood easily. "I went for a run this morning before I spent the rest of it hunched over my desk."

"It was a surprisingly nice morning." Ren smiled as they went into the kitchen together, and relaxed against Will as his arm slid around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. This time of year, she often found the mornings too early, and too cold.

Will's grin widened. "Hopefully I can make it a surprisingly nice afternoon."


There were very few things that Thrakos Argyros considered more beautiful and fascinating than ancient ruins. That was a good part of why he had taken to lobbying for historical site preservation so readily at home in Creta.

The Xingese temple site at which he found himself was as beautiful as, and possibly even older than, many of those sites he had appreciated back home. Though the view he had at the moment was both lovely and frustrating at the same time.

"Do you see the detail on this?" Minxia Elric almost cooed over the half-buried gem-encrusted chunk of statuary they had uncovered that morning.

I would, except that your exquisitely shaped backside is blocking my view. Thrakos would normally not have complained, but he had agreed to come on this trip –almost begged- with the distinct ulterior motive of spending weeks –even months- alone with his girlfriend, without half of Creta peering around corners spreading rumors about their relationship.

Rumors that were far juicer than reality, Thrakos had to admit. Not that he wouldn't have minded if the intimacy so commonly assumed were true. Oh sure, reunions were steamy, but getting Minxia into his bed was not so easy as half of Creta seemed to think.

If you'd just settle down a bit, my little butterfly, instead of flitting across the world at every single opportunity.

"Thrakos?"

He blinked. "Sorry. And no, I can't really see from this spot. Can you move?"

"Oh, Sorry." She didn't even look up, but she did move her knees over about six inches, and he could wedge in comfortably close beside her for a better view.

Thrakos happily took the opportunity, resting one hand lightly on her back to steady himself as he lowered down in beside her. "That's better."
Minxia gave him a brief, sideways glance that said she knew what he really meant. So perhaps she wasn't as wrapped up in her work as he had thought. At least, not at this particular moment.

They had only been at the Kanxai Temple site for two days. Thrakos was doing his best to be patient. "Since I'm not the expert on Xingese temples," he teased, "Why don't you tell me what I'm looking at?"

"This looks to be the hem of the dress of an ancient temple priestess," Minxia explained eagerly. "See these carvings here below the line of jade insets? They're a traditional pattern woven into the trim of temple priestesses robes, and only the females. This particular temple was devoted primarily to women, and only women lived here."

"Does that mean I shouldn't be here?" Thrakos teased.

"Only while they were alive." Minxia brushed a little more dirt off the edge of the carving. "Since this temple took in young girls, often orphans who would have died, it was known as the Temple of Virgins."

"Sounds terribly dull."

"Should we go looking for the Temple of Lusty Bimbos?"

There was an edge to her tone that Thrakos recognized at once from years of experience. "No, no, that's not what I meant. And you know it." He didn't give her time to actually get angry. He elbowed her playfully, then leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Minxia sighed. "Why did I invite you along again?"

"You enjoy my company, and my excellent wit."

"Funny." The gleam in her eye went from anger to dangerous amusement. "I thought it was because I like looking at you."

"I'll take that." Thrakos removed the brush from Minxia's hand and pulled her up onto her knees so he could kiss her more easily. His voice felt lower, huskier. "I'm told I'm quite handsome."

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Thrakos looked at her.

A small shower of dig dust smacked him in the side of the head, and Minxia chuckled as she wrapped her arms around him. "That's better." Then she kissed him soundly.

Only his girl preferred him coated in the dust of ancient finds… Thrakos returned the kiss, as electrifying as any alchemy. If ancient ruins turned her on…

::Miss Elric!::

These guys have as bad a timing as my countrymen.

Minxia broke off the kiss. ::What is it Huan?:: she shouted at the Xingese archaeologist, one of half-a-dozen currently working other parts of the same temple site.

::We've found another entrance! We think it may be to the underground sacred rooms!::

Minxia almost bounced out of his arms, grinning with excitement. "Did you hear that, Thrakos?" Then she replied to Huan with a bright, ::We're coming!:: and vanished out of the hole they had been in and over the next mound of dirt.

Thrakos was left alone on his knees. Grumbling, he stood and followed. I'll get you for this, Huan. It had better be worth it.


Happy Birthday, Belle. Franz Heimler saluted the photo of his wife that sat on his home office desk, took a sip of his coffee, and went back to trying to focus on the papers in front of him. The three stars on his shoulder sparkled in the lamp light, but he noted them only because the light caught on the rim of his glasses as he turned his head. He hadn't bothered getting out of uniform when he got home, but had eaten dinner –leftover rice and beef from the refrigerator- and gone right back to work.

There was something missing about this Hashman case. Franz couldn't put his finger on it just yet, but he was sure there was something they were all missing and it was gut instinct –or more likely years of living with Sara's gut instincts- that had convinced him that it was time critical. Not that he really thought he would find something that the boys down in Investigations, including his own son, hadn't seen but, well, he didn't trust that another set of eyes wouldn't find something that everyone else had missed.

That, and it was better than spending the evening thinking about the fact that it was the second one of Sara's birthdays where he wasn't taking his beautiful wife out on the town. The Syndicate had killed her. Plotting their demise seemed like a perfectly appropriate way to spend the evening. Justice… revenge… whatever anyone wants to call it. I'm afraid it's the only present left I can offer you, my love. Just you wait. I'll get them for this. They will all answer for their crimes.

He reached for his mug, but it was empty.