February 1, 1990

Charlie Fischer wasn't sure that he was actually happy to be lucid as the train pulled into Central and jolted to a halt that sent pain shooting up his arm. He grimaced, but it was pain he was already used to. He had spent most of the trip back in varying states of unconsciousness, or fuzzy-headed, with pain that vacillated from excruciating to almost bearable. The only blessing had been that he had not had much time to think until now.

For which he had been grateful, because consciousness brought feelings he would rather not feel—besides the pain—like guilt, helplessness, shame… that he had failed, that he hadn't fixed it fast enough, that he had been crippled for life because of it.

How was he supposed to prove for his family if he couldn't work? Oh, sure, they kept assuring him that he could have auto-mail, but that was still years of physical therapy and pain when he wouldn't be bringing in money. Shelby wouldn't blame him, because she was too good that way, but they couldn't live on her part-time work, and she was just going back to school…and now she not only had three children but a useless husband.

Charlie wondered if they would just knock him out again if he asked, so he could stop letting the doubts and fear run around in his head. He doubted it, and was just grateful that they had painkillers, because he did not want to know how he would feel without them at all at present.

Now that the train had stopped, he heard lots of quick footsteps in the hallway between berths, and within a couple of minutes, the door to the one he shared with one other patient—who was currently unconscious and completely useless as a conversationalist—opened, and two medics he had come to know as Joe and Mexo came in. "Welcome home!" Mexo grinned. "Thank you for riding the Amestris Express from the Drachman mountains right to Central. Please enjoy your upcoming stay in the spacious Central Military Hospital, where the drinks are complementary and the nurses are cuter than me."

Charlie snorted a short laugh that ended in a wince as his muscles tightened. The hand might be what was gone, but the rest of him still ached all over from the blast, even with the expertise of the medical alchemist. "That's not hard," he croaked.

Not that Mexo was bad looking, he just wasn't Charlie's type, and he knew the man was just trying to make him feel better with his banter. He was one of the most upbeat medics Charlie had met yet.

"Are our families here?" Charlie asked. They hadn't been told very much on the way here other than they would be going back to Central and admitted to the hospital until they were well enough to go home.

Joe shook his head. "They asked all families to meet you at the hospital. They will be let in to see you once you're checked into your private suite."

Charlie hoped he got a room to himself. Given his hand, no one wanted to listen to him whimper all night long. Still, he felt guilty at the relief he felt that no one would be here to meet him. It gave him time to mentally prepare himself for Shelby and his mother, worrying and fretting over him.


Alyse had been mentally preparing herself for this moment ever since she had gotten the call from Franz telling her about the bombing, and that Charlie's hand had been blown off, and that he was on his way home. While she couldn't have expected Cal to beat him home at the time, that had proven to be a great relief. She had not known Cal without auto-mail. The first day they met had been his first back on duty after almost three years of rehabilitation. Still, he knew how it felt to go through what their son was going through now, and having him there made her feel steadier, more reassured. Like Cal, like Uncle Edward, like Ethan, Charlie could have the functionality back in his missing limb. It would take time, and pain, and effort, but the technology had come a long way, and she knew it would be easier on him that it had been on them—even if easy was extremely subjective.

That did not mean she was ready for the sight of her son in a hospital bed—again—looking battered and beaten, with the stump of his right arm swathed in bandages. Alyse was grateful her parents were staying with Shelby's children, because that meant the three of them could see Charlie first. They were too little to understand.

Shelby was the first one across the room, clutching Charlie's left hand as she sat down on the edge of the bed, murmuring words of concern Alyse could barely make out. So she waited her turn with impatience she tried not to show. Shelby should talk to him first, and Charlie did not look surprised to see them, but he also did not look too happy. Of course, that might just be because he was here, injured, in the hospital. His eyes were riveted adoringly on his wife.

It was only after several minutes that his eyes turned in their direction. "You going to lurk in the corner?" he asked a little louder, his voice rough.

"Just giving you two a little privacy," Cal chuckled heartily as they moved across the room to Charlie's bedside. "I know I'm not the one you want to see first."

Charlie smiled, but it was small and forced. "How did you get home before me?"

"I flew."

"Be serious."

"I am." Cal shrugged. "I'll tell you all about it later, but it's a pretty long and complicated story."

Charlie nodded. "Later's good. I'm really tired."

"Of course you are." Alyse moved in, nudging Cal out of the way so she could give her son a very gentle hug, doing her best to avoid his injured arm, or anywhere else where she could see bandages. She had to fight to keep from fussing over him. He looked terrible, even when she knew he had been operated on and seen to by good doctors. "I'm just glad you're home. Maybe now we can finally be done with this mess in Drachma."

"Done with it?" Charlie frowned. "What about Gloria?"

Alyse smiled. "Safe and here. In fact, she and Alexei are in the waiting room down the hall. They wouldn't let us all in at once."

"How…" Then Charlie glanced at Cal, who nodded once meaningfully, and he closed his mouth. It was all part of that really long and complicated story.

"Do you want to see her?" Alyse offered. "We can send her in when we're done visiting."

Charlie hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I'd like to see her. We did go to Drachma to save her after all."

He sounded more than tired; he sounded frustrated, and a bit bitter, though Alyse thought that had more to do with his having been sent home wounded rather than getting to actually be a hero and rescue Gloria. She had seen that look on a lot of soldiers' faces over the years. That did not make seeing it on the face of her son any easier.
It was not a long visit. Mostly because there was not much to say. Never a family for trite comments, Alyse did not try to make small talk. They learned when the doctor joined them that Charlie could be expected to be allowed to go home in a few days. They wanted his body to have more time to heal before they did auto-mail surgery on him. Even with today's modern techniques, it was still a strain on anybody's system. So, they weren't recommending it for anyone until he was ready to handle it, and the physical therapy afterwards. Their estimate was that the surgery could take place in six to eight weeks if he continued to heal as well as he was currently. As Alyse understood it, that was fairly quick.

Cal seemed pleased by that diagnosis certainly, while Charlie just nodded acceptingly, having already heard it.

Finally, she and Cal left, leaving Charlie and Shelby alone for a few minutes.

They paused in the hallway. Cal looked at her. "You okay, 'Lyse?"

She nodded, taking a deep, cleansing breath. "I will be. I've just…never seen him so still. Well, not since the last time I saw him in a hospital bed. Even then he was more spirited." Growing up, Charlie had never been still. Even lying on his bed reading comics he looked like he might spring into action at any moment.

Cal's eyes were full of sympathy. "Give him time. Losing a limb, it's… well, it's not like other injuries. You get shot, sure it hurts, but they remove the bullet and you heal up and everything is mostly normal. Maybe you have a scar and it takes time for the muscles to heal, but unless there's permanent nerve damage, you go mostly back to normal. A limb… pain aside, it takes time for the brain to even figure out its not there, and for you to remember that you can't use it. Processing it all, it's hard to focus on much of anything else. That and they've probably got him drugged to the eyeballs in painkillers and antibiotics. Even when he gets home he'll probably sleep a lot for weeks." He paused. "Then there's the rest of the trauma of the experience. It's not something you prepare for. Just one minute, boom, and you're in agony, and you can't figure out why you can't get up properly and your body's taken a nasty shock." He stopped, then gave himself a quick shake. "Just, give him some time."

"Of course." Alyse accepted a quick hug. "Let's go tell Gloria she can go in, then we can figure out what we'd all like for dinner."

"I'll take us all out," Cal offered. "Presuming you and your daughter can agree on a restaurant."

"You make that sound difficult." Alyse smiled, just a little.

"One that won't break my bank account."

"Oh, I'm sure we can manage."


Franz had been waiting for all of the Amestrians officially in Drachma to be safely beyond the borders before making this speech. The train of injured may have just arrived in Central, but he had received a report earlier that morning that the rest of the troops in retreat had crossed the border and were now safely at Briggs. The only Amestrians there now— beyond a scattering of private citizens who might still be making their way back—were Ted and Roy who should, by all accounts, be on their way home presuming they weren't dead.

The intelligence that there had been a successful breakout in the Petrayevka prison the same night as a huge explosion at the airplane factory had not been something the government could hide from everyone, particularly not when Franz' people knew to be looking for both. If nothing else, that told Franz that both men had survived at least to the explosion. The fact that they had not been paraded out as prisoners or reported as dead enemies also gave him hope they were still alive.
Which meant it was time to make another official statement.

So once more he pried himself away from his desk to go to the government press and media room. They had allowed the major news networks to know he was going to be making a statement, so pre-vetted press were already seated, along with a few members of the Assembly, and both of the rescued Ambassadors, who would be presented on television as proof that they were safe. He tried not to smile as he waited for everything to be ready, because Gloria and Alexei—both wearing press passes—were also present. Given their prominent visibility on international television and radio of late, they would also be excellent evidence that the rescue had occurred. They had stepped in at the last minute. Franz knew they had been visiting Charlie in the hospital.

Then it was time, and he was on. "This afternoon I have good news, for the people of Amestris and Creta. A successful rescue was made regarding all parties from both of the Embassies to Drachma. Everyone has been extricated without any further loss, thanks to Gavril Mihalov and those members of the Drachman government who continued to honor their alliances made with Amestris and Creta. As Amestris promised, we did only what we intended. We rescued our people, and Creta's, and have pulled back behind the border, removing our military presence from Drachma. We have kept our word to all sides. To our allies, I wish you the best of luck."

That was it, simple and effective. Franz allowed a moment's silence to let it sink in. "I'm sure you'd like evidence that these claims are true, so I will be turning over our remaining time to our rescued friends and family members, so they may speak for themselves. They will also be happy to answer questions from the Press. First, Ambassador Lita Chalmers." He stepped back as the audience applauded politely.

Franz took a seat off to the side, paying careful attention to the speeches and responses to press questions as Chalmers, followed by the Cretan Ambassador, and finally a more journalistic and non-political take by Gloria and Alexei –complete with a few choice photographs shown on the screen behind them— detailed their experiences in Drachma from their harrowing escape from the city assisted by Mihalov's loaned vehicles and security, and their treatment in Karmatsk and their first-hand experience watching the exiled government at work. Afterwards there was a panel of questions.

"Well, that went well," Tore Closson commented when the broadcast was over and the press was being released from the room. "Savahin must be pissing bricks right now trying to figure out how we got everyone right out from under his nose."

"Especially since not a single one of these people answered the question directly of how they got out of Drachma." Franz nodded, pleased by that, though they had all agreed in advance that they would simply respond with the fact they could not say, because it was classified information. Obviously, since they were here, they had gotten out, and that was what mattered. "Very satisfactory and successful mission… officially."

Tore nodded. Of course, he knew as well as Franz did that Firestorm and Proteus were still somewhere up in Drachma, hopefully making their way home from their other mission which—according to news reports out of Petrayevka—had definitely gone down successfully. There had been a massive prison break, and several explosions at a factory just outside the city. While the news was somewhat vague about details, Franz and his team had been expecting both, so it was hardly a surprise. "I can't wait to hear the rest of the unofficial story first hand."


Roy had given up on hoping they might have time to pull over and sleep before they hit the Amestrian border. While he had given their initial pursuit the slip by ducking back and forth across the countryside, even spending some time weaving through the southern suburbs of Petrayevka proper again to avoid being noticed, that did not mean that it was safe. At one point, they had stopped long enough to rent a vehicle using some of the money Mihalov had given them for the mission, giving them the comfort of an enclosed truck, and the advantage of an unfamiliar vehicle that would help keep them camouflaged from whoever might still be on their tails.

Not that they would ever manage to return the rental. They had agreed to leave it at the border and hope it got returned by someone else. Though they had to finish driving home first. Other than one stop for gas and a couple of driver swap-outs, they had kept moving consistently south all night. Roy had appreciated the couple of naps he had managed to get during Ted's driving shifts, but they had not been long, because neither of them had gotten enough sleep to pull a long haul.

Now, as the sun was going down again, Roy was back behind the wheel. They were eating cheese-stuffed sausages on buns picked up at a convenience store, covered in pickled cabbage. They were surprisingly good, though Roy did not think they would become a personal favorite.

Ted seemed more absorbed in his thoughts than his meal; a rare circumstance, though Roy was almost certain he knew why. Ted's expression was a dead giveaway.

"I'm sure they got away just fine," Roy commented when he got tired of the silence.

"Huh? Oh…yeah." Ted took a sip of his steaming cup of coffee.

"Don't give me that. I know you're thinking about Anika." Roy glanced over briefly, but quickly put his eyes back on the road. "You know you're just going to drive yourself nuts if all you do is think about her until this is over."

"How good are you at keeping Trisha off your mind?" Ted asked, sounding slightly guarded.

"When she's in danger? I've gotten better at it," Roy admitted, "But it's hard, and this is not the same thing. I know, she's smart, and beautiful, and she even seems to like you, but you barely know each other and her family is full of Drachman patriots and we're leaving the country. Doesn't sound like the best way to start a relationship."

Ted grunted "I appreciate the concern, but we can make our own decisions thank you. The war won't last forever."

"Decisions makes it sound like you've talked enough to do more than flirt at each other." Roy shook his head. "What'd you do, double-time dates with all that strategic planning?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ted grin a little. "No, planning was planning. I wasn't even entirely sure she felt the same way I did, to be honest, until we were cleaning up the tiger cage."

The tiger… Roy tried not to think too closely about that. "I had no idea cleaning tiger cages could be considered a romantic date."

"It is when the tiger doesn't mind you borrowing her bed."

Roy almost slammed on the breaks. "Shit, man!" he yanked the wheel just a bit too hard and had to even it out, bringing them back to center. He was grateful no one else was on the lonely stretch of highway.

Ted chuckled. "It wasn't that risky. Anika hand raised the tiger; she's pretty much a giant housecat when she's around."

Roy had never given thought to trying a romantic interlude someplace as public—or potentially deadly—as a predator's cage in the zoo. "Unless she thinks you're hurting her person." Of course, he might be over-reacting. "You didn't do anything to provoke her did you?"

"The tiger or Anika?" Now Ted was grinning.

Roy did not need mental images. Still, he supposed Ted had as much right to a terribly thought out war romance as any other soldier. He did not ask how far they had gotten… he didn't want to know. "You know what, you're crazy, and I don't care. All I care about is getting home in one piece, to my family."

"Lucky you."

There went sulking. "Look, maybe, when this war is over, it'll work out. I don't know. Crazier things have happened, and look how my parents got together? But if you don't stop moping around I am going to throttle you before we get home, and if that happens you will never have any hope of sharing a tiger cage with your Drachman friend again."

"You're a lot more fun when we're drunk."

"Yeah well, even in Drachma it seems like a dumbass idea to drink and drive."