April 24th, 1982

Death shouldn't smell like cotton and bleach.

It shouldn't hurt like fire either.

Blackness blurred to gray, and slowly Cal became cognizant of light outside his eyelids. Sound returned, and it took little to recognize the beeps and soft voices of the hospital. The click of shoes in the hallway, the whir of wheels on beds and wheelchairs.

His own soft breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears. I guess I should be grateful I'm alive to feel this crappy. What did I do this time?

It all came back in a rush, a blur of gunfire and water, pain and tears, and a boy screaming. A boy.… "Charlie!"

Cal sat bolt upright, and nearly doubled over in agony as his shoulder exploded, and he fell half-sideways over himself on the bed.

The door to his room flew open in a heartbeat, and there were two nurses –both male- straightening him up, holding him in place, easing him back against the bed.

"Where's my son?" he gasped.

"Calm down, General," a doctor entered the room, his expression firm but not unkind. "He's down the hall. Now lie still before you do further damage to yourself."

"Let me see my son," Cal growled.

"Yup, he's fine," one of the nurses grunted, earning him a grin from his partner and a dirty look from the doctor.

"You won't be going anywhere just yet," the doctor continued. "We've relocated your shoulder, but the muscle damage will take a few days to heal, and you won't be walking far with that," he nodded, and Cal looked down, only then realizing that the lower half of his auto-mail leg was completely missing, shattered. "You were very fortunate that the only bullet wound you sustained was a graze to the ribs."

Cal put a hand to his side, and felt the bandages on his left. It was his right shoulder killing him. "Lucky… right. Get me crutches. I want to see my son."

"You can't use them with that shoulder," the doctor objected. Cal grimaced. He wished the man –if he'd just damned well introduce himself properly- would do what he asked.

"Then get me a wheelchair!" Cal boomed.

"Calvin?"

He looked up to see Alyse standing in the doorway, wide-eyed. Clearly she'd been crying, though it must have been some time ago, her face was dry, and she looked exhausted. "'Lyse?"

She crossed the distance between them like it wasn't there, and suddenly she was on the bed beside him, her arms around him ever so gently, but sobbing into his chest. "Cal… thank goodness. It's been hours…"

"Hours?" What time was it anyway? Cal became aware that his little room had no windows.

"It's… it's three in the morning," Alyse explained, looking up and seeing his confusion. "We've been waiting since five. They wouldn't let me in."

We. "Gloria's here?"

Alyse nodded. "And Mom and Dad and Will. Sara was here earlier, and Tore, and Ren." She looked away, and her eyes glistened.

A feeling of dread welled up inside Cal's stomach. "Alyse… how's Charlie?"

The tears began to flow. "He's… oh, Calvin… I don't know. First they told me he was in surgery and now… now Ethan's with him."

"Ethan?" Cal almost bolted out of bed again. "What's wrong?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor said. "Your son is in the intensive care unit. He sustained a gunshot wound to the right side, and one that grazed the side of the head."

"I will not calm down!" Cal shouted, ignoring the constant throbbing that grew worse as he moved. He had to get to Charlie. He had to.

"Calvin." Alyse's tone startled him. "Please… stop shouting at Doctor Hensley."

Cal shut his mouth, and took a deep breath. "How's Gloria," he asked again, more softly.

"Terrified," Alyse replied. "She arrived at the school just as they grabbed Charlie. She couldn't have gotten to him, but she blames herself for not being there sooner."

"If she had been, they'd probably have grabbed both of them."

"She knows that. It doesn't help." Alyse was trembling. Cal held her closer, he didn't care if his shoulder hurt. "I'm scared."

"Shhh." Cal kissed her cheek. "If Ethan's in there, Charlie will be fine. You'll see." Only he wasn't so sure. Just as he had been perfectly willing to lie to the Syndicate. He would never have gone quietly, even offering himself up in exchange. Maybe they had known that. Maybe his overconfidence had cost him his son. Maybe… "Ethan won't let him die." Charlie's strong, and young. He's got a will like a bull. C'mon kiddo… oh… hell…

The doctor left them alone, and Cal cradled Alyse for another several minutes before Will brought Gloria in, and then the tears started all over as Cal hugged his daughter, and held her while she cried. Eventually, Gloria fell asleep right there on the bed. Cal wouldn't let the nurses move her. Alyse settled into a chair beside them and they waited for word…

Even though he'd been unconscious for most of it, Cal couldn't remember a longer night.

His internal clock told him the sun had come up well before a nurse brought in a breakfast tray that Cal had no interest in eating. He felt bad enough for having dozed off and on, but he blamed the heavy dose of pain medication they were pumping into his system using an IV; pain meds and antibiotics.

It was Alphonse who appeared even before the doctors, looking tired and pale, and older than Cal thought he had ever seen him. "Winry will be here soon," he said. "She's got a replacement for your leg, and Doctor Hensley has approved the re-connection."

Then he'd be able to walk under his own power. Cal nodded. "Good. I'm ready whenever she is. How's Charlie?"

"Ethan's still with him."

"That doesn't answer my question, Alphonse."

Alyse gave him a startled look. Cal almost never called Al by his full first name.

His father-in-law nodded. "They won't let anyone else in yet. All they'll tell me is Ethan is with him, and his vitals have stabilized for now."

"For now?"

"Cal, calm down." Alyse put a hand on his arm. Gloria stirred. "It just means they're refusing to make absolute statements. Right, Dad?"

Al nodded. "I'm sure we'll get good news soon."

Cal wished he were certain. He ate the breakfast, but tasted none of it, and would have tried to hurry Winry through his auto-mail repairs if he thought that griping would have made things take a moment less time.

He was grateful that she was efficient, and didn't mind his bad temper. He even managed not to curse when she reattached his leg. "There we are," she said with more cheer than necessary. "Good as new. Please try not to get any more legs blown off."

"At least this time it was already auto-mail," Cal pointed out before realizing that might not be the best thing to say.

Winry gave him a funny look, and then smiled. "I suppose that is better," she agreed. "When you feel like you can stand, go ahead and try it out and I'll make any necessary adjustments."

It took a while, but Cal eventually got up, slowly, and made a circuit around the room. Winry's work was, as always, superb. It was his side and his shoulder that hurt. Once the agony in his port faded, his leg was the least painful part of him. "All right," he said with a nod. "Let's go."

"Calvin—"

"I'm not waiting any more, Alyse." He turned for the door. "I have to see my son."

This is my fault. They were his enemies. It was his mission. He'd used his body to shield Charlie, and still his son had been hit twice.

Charlie lay unconscious in a small glassed-in room, hooked up to monitoring equipment and an IV. He looked pale and still.

Cal's insides had twisted up into knots. Charlie wasn't supposed to be still, or quiet. He was a bundle of incurable curiosity and boundless energy.

"Tell me they got the bastards."

"A lot of them," Alphonse spoke softly. "Current report is ten Syndicate members dead, four wounded, and two more in custody. We don't know if any got away."

We also don't know if that's all of them. Cal nodded, his good arm around Alyse's shoulder, which he squeezed gently. "And our side?"

"Two dead. Five wounded, including the two of you."

There was that much at least. "Something to be said for training then." He'd have to commend a few people later. He hoped Vanns was all right.

Hang in there, Charlie.

Ethan was still in there, sitting stock still and silent, his hand on Cal's son. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel the very subtle presence of someone using alchemical energy nearby. Ethan looked exhausted.

Cal felt his knees beginning to tremble, and not from the auto-mail. Damn it. He didn't have time for weakness.

Unfortunately, Alyse noticed. "You need to sit down."

"Fine. Bring me a chair."

"Cal—"

"I'm not moving until they let us in."

Al fetched a couple of chairs and apologized to the nurses at their station for the inconvenience. He, of all people, wasn't about to try and dissuade Cal and Alyse from moving away from Charlie. Gloria was back out in the waiting room with Elicia. Seeing her brother had sent her back into tears. Al felt bad for everyone, but his heart went out to his granddaughter. He knew the pain of feeling like you'd failed a sibling. He knew the pain Ed had suffered every time something happened to him and the reverse.

So after fetching chairs, he went back out to the waiting room, and took his turn hugging Gloria while Elicia went to find them all something to eat.

"Grandpa," Gloria sniffed after a while.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

There was something incredibly young and vulnerable in that face, yet old at the same time, as Gloria wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her cotton-knit sweater. "Is Charlie going to die?"

Of course not. But the lie wouldn't come. A younger Alphonse would have flat out insisted that the only answer was the best outcome. But he couldn't lie to her. "We don't know," he admitted gently. "But he's alive, and we're not going to let him go without a fight."

"I don't want him to die." Gloria clung to him tightly.

"No one does."

"I should have tried harder to stop them. If I could have just done something."

"There were too many," Al pointed out reasonably. "You did the right thing, running for help immediately. If you had been right there, they would probably have taken you too, and as talented an alchemist as your father is, getting both of you ought would have been an even more improbably task. You know, Ed and I have been through situations like this a lot of times. Usually, it was me sitting out here while they patched up my brother."

"Great-Uncle Ed's one of the healthiest old people I know… besides you," she added loyally.

Al chuckled. "Well, thank you. I'm sure he'd be glad to know you feel that way. What I'm saying is, I know what it's like to not be able to do something to help your brother, or to be sure you could have done something differently. You shouldn't spend all your time dwelling on what happened. You did exactly what you needed to do. The police got involved, and a lot of bad men were dealt with, and if you hadn't, Charlie would probably be dead at their hands and we wouldn't even be here worrying about him. What you did saved him as much as what your father did. He's very lucky you're his older sister."

He held her as she hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Grandpa. I just wish he were right here to tell me I'm being stupid, crying about him, or something. Anything. I'd give up anything to hear him right now."

"We all would, sweetie," Al assured her, the lump in his throat tightening again. "We all would."