Oh God, I did this. Finally. The timing of everything in this story gets really complicated from this point and there's so much going on and I just couldn't get myself to sit the hell down and work on it. Until now, after how many years?

It had been some time since he had practiced the old training forms. After being discouraged from the priesthood, he would still get up early to include them in his morning routine. The rigors of the physical workout helped take his mind off the disappointment. Even during his surgun, he still kept up the practice. That and existing on whatever he could hunt or gather left him lean and hard. It was when he came back from that exile, barely able to even face the day, that he fell out of practice.

Now, in the chilly Amestrian dawn, on damp grass rather than sand, he fell back into the familiar stances, stretches, jumps, and strikes easily enough. He threw himself into them, trying to banish the thoughts that plagued him like flies.

As he always tried to tell himself, he couldn't go back and undo his mistakes. That didn't make them any easier to live with. He also tried to tell himself that all he could do was do better next time. The problem was, every time "next time" came, he managed to still do something foolish. The business with the wine bottles was such a trivial, stupid thing, and he allowed himself to be goaded in starting an argument at the table at which he was a guest. He embarrassed Rose and his brother, and he abused Danika's hospitality.

It had been nearly a week and Rose still would barely speak to him when Mattas dragged him into the coffee shop every morning. He knew he had to apologize. But she did not seem to be ready to hear one. He swept out a leg, landing on the other clumsily, his concentration divided. Pausing, breathing in the cold air deeply through his nose and releasing it slowly through his mouth, he tried to center himself again.

At his best, he could expound on his intellectual passions for hours and hold his listeners spellbound. But even at his best, examining his own heart and trying to say what he found there had always come out haltingly. When he was with Nayela, they didn't seem to need words. He didn't even recall ever having told her that he loved her. He worshipped her, and she seemed to know that. At least, that's what he thought at the time. Now he would never be entirely sure, but these days he tended to look back on his life with a very jaundiced eye.

When he was with Rose, he found it easier to talk, not being dumbstruck with love. Now that she wasn't talking to him, he missed it. He missed it dreadfully. He realized he didn't value her company as much as he should have. He thought about her more now than he had before, and he cursed himself for driving her away.

No, he couldn't go back and change the past, but he still had only himself to blame for his unremitting discontent. Until now, anyway. Now he had someone else he could blame, someone who, simply by existing, was constantly casting stones in the path that he labored every day to make smooth. There was just something about Solf Kimblee that offended nature itself. Everyone had a certain measure of self-centeredness, but Kimblee took it to a new, all-encompassing level. And now he couldn't even escape the man. He had to spend his entire day trying not to come in contact with him.

Andakar tried to channel his fury into his motions, tried to rid himself of it, but it didn't want to let go. Or perhaps he didn't want to let go of it.

Why did Kimblee happen to move into the Pleasaunce apartments? The man's father was trying to buy the building and would surely evict all its tenants or force them out by charging exorbitant rent, only to add to his already shamefully considerable wealth. It was more than suspicious.

Kick. Strike. Jump. Spin. Faster. Again.

And poor Danika! How in Ishvala's vast creation did Kimblee father a child so completely different from him? Why was he making her work when he clearly was in no need of money?

On top of all that, he was forcing his unwanted advances on Rose! Surely Kimblee wasn't so utterly self-absorbed that her disinterest went completely unnoticed! Was he? If it hadn't been for Kimblee, he would have made better progress in regaining the pattern of his life back. If it hadn't been for Kimblee—

The trunk of a young evergreen ash ruptured the still morning air with a loud crack. Andakar froze, his right arm still thrust out and the heel of his hand still smarting, and stared at the tree as the top half of it slowly tipped over. The thick, wet grass muffled its fall, its leaves rustling for the last time.

Andakar straightened up and helplessly considered the destruction he'd caused. Again. It wasn't a very big tree, but that hardly mattered. How was he ever going to explain this to Mattas? How was he going to explain it to the parks department? Would they even believe him if he told them it had been an accident? Would he be cited for practicing a martial art in a public place with no permit to do so?

He sighed deeply and walked away. Mattas would probably tell him to just forget about it. Trees were replaceable. He would probably say that unless anyone had seen him and would bother to report it, they could simply forget about it. Andakar hated to be dishonest, but Mattas was his elder and he would probably end up abiding by his more pragmatic approach. Either way, Andakar sincerely hoped nobody saw that.

Rose stood at her bedroom window, one finger hooked around a section of the blinds, bending them down to look outside. She scowled thoughtfully as she watched the figure in the park below go through some sort of acrobatics. Yeah, okay, for a big guy he could move pretty gracefully. That didn't make her any less disappointed in him. She expected Solf to be a jerk, but not Andakar. That's what really hurt. So she made herself angry to block out the sadness.

It wasn't just the wine bottle thing. That in itself was small potatoes. It wasn't really even the stupid argument or the embarrassment it caused or the fact that she was the one who had to convince everyone else that it was nothing. But it really gave away the fact that there was a rivalry going on. That was so disturbing and completely unacceptable. What the hell? They weren't cave people. Nobody had the right to fight over her when she didn't want to be fought over.

She tried to explain it to Lucy, who didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with it. Lucy had the sort of confidence where things like that didn't bother her. Rose had confidence once, but it had abandoned her. Right now, all she could do was keep these guys at arm's length while she could figure what to do next.

Rose clapped her hand over her mouth as she watched the tree that Andakar had just punched crack in half. Then she let out an incredulous snort of laughter as he stared at it for several minutes then walked away.

Lucy stuck her head into the room. "Come on, Rose, we're running late! What're you looking at?"

Rose quickly took her finger out of the slats of the blinds, letting them snap back into place. "Nothing!" she replied breathlessly, unable to stop grinning as she grabbed for her jacket.

Alonzo Garfiel considered the rumbling engine before him with a furrowed brow. The ticking sound it was emitting was no mystery; he knew exactly what it was. The mystery involved the owner of the car, who was standing a few feet away from him, watching him with a guarded look of concern.

The mystery began to unfold yesterday afternoon when Gar checked his email after his second period class.

Solf Kimblee sjkimblee echs . edu

To: AG Alonzo Garfiel

Car issue

Good morning, Mr. Garfiel,

I was wondering if I could bring my car over at a convenient time, perhaps tomorrow morning before classes. I have heard other members of the school staff call on the benefit of your expertise regarding automotive repair. I would like to hear your opinion.

Regards,

Solf Kimblee

Assistant Principal

Gar had stared at the email for several minutes. The almost painfully formal language would have been seriously funny if not for the fact that somewhere buried in there was a cry for help. Not just car troubles cry for help, either. Why would the type of person who could afford to buy a new car every year still have a three-year-old car?

If for no other reason than to appease his curiosity, Gar sent back a reply.

Alonzo Garfiel echs . edu

To: SK Solf Kimblee

Re. Car issue

Not a problem. I'll be here around 7:30 am if that works for you.

Gar

Solf's painfully formal reply made it a date, and Gar could hardly wait for the next morning. He resisted the temptation to tell everyone at lunch, possibly out of a modicum of charity even for somebody like Solf.

"So…what do you think?"

Gar blinked out of his thoughts and turned to Solf. "Sounds like your secondary shutter valve."

Solf absorbed this news quietly as though someone had just told him his dog had to be euthanized and he didn't want anyone to see his heart break. "Okay." He nodded and shifted his feet a little. "Is it fixable?"

"Of course it is!" Gar said easily. "I just have to take off the upper intake manifold and drench the valve in engine cleaner. Do you do much highway driving?"

This clearly struck Solf as a non-sequitur. "Uh…not really, no. Why?"

Gar gave a nod. "You should, every now and then. Just get out there and let 'er rip. Get over 70, maybe even push it to 80. It'll help keep your valves cleared out."

Solf nodded. "Oh."

Gar nodded toward the car. "You can shut it off now."

Solf reached in through the driver's side window and turned the key, killing the engine. "So, when do you think you'd have a chance to get to it?"

"Oh, it'll be ready by the end of the day." Gar tapped his chin and said, a little cautiously. "You know, Solf, I happen to know your usual mechanic, Ernest. He's pretty good. Did you and he have a falling out?"

A shadow of a scowl passed across Solf's face. "No."

"Okay." Gar decided to dig a little deeper. "I just can't help wondering why you came to me or why you didn't just go to the dealership. Your warranty should still be good, right?"

Solf folded his arms and tried to look as neutral as possible. "It may have expired."

Gar nodded noncommittally, which seemed to prompt Solf to explain himself. "I didn't originally expect to have it this long, but I kind of got attached to it." He took a breath like he was going to say more but stopped.

Gar waved a hand. "I get that. It's a nice car. While I've got it in here," he added, "is there anything else you'd like me to check?"

Solf looked like he hadn't considered that. "I don't know. I mean, if you notice anything. I'd need it back by four."

"I'll let you know. Worse comes to worst, you can bring it back tomorrow."

"I suppose I could do that." Solf cleared his throat quietly and went all formal. "May I ask what you charge for your services?"

Gar bit back a loud laugh. Then he thought for a moment. "You know, Solf, I'll make you a deal. I'll only charge you for parts, if any—" He turned to meet Solf's somewhat incredulous, wary expression "—if you tell me what the hell is eating you."

Solf flinched and his eyes widened. Then his expression shut down. "I don't know what your talking about," he replied tersely.

"Oh, come on!" Gar snapped back impatiently. "You've clearly had a monkey on your back for the past month or more! I can tell!" He raised his hand solemnly. "I swear to you I won't tell anyone. I'm the soul of discretion and I'm very good at listening." He chuckled a little. "My partner Liam—you've met him, right?"

Solf looked clueless and shrugged. "Sure."

"Anyway, Liam is always telling me I should do an advice blog or something. He says I'm a natural."

Solf seemed skeptical but also like he just might crack.

"C'mon, Solf," Gar coaxed gently. "Tell Uncle Gar your problems."

Solf scowled and looked back at his car. "I'm just working through some stuff. It's not a big deal. Thanks anyway."

Gar sighed. "Sure. Well, then, how about this. Let me use your car as a teachable moment for my students."

Now Solf looked truly horrified. "You're not going to let them touch it, are you?"

"Of course not!" Gar retorted. Well, may just Miss Winry. "I'll treat your baby like gold. Trust me," he added emphatically.

Solf regarded him with a mild frown. "Okay. Sure. That'll be fine," he said, although his heart clearly wasn't in it.

"Great!" Gar lowered the hood. "I'll shoot you an email if I come across anything else plus a rough estimate for parts, if any. Sound good?"

Solf seemed a little reluctant to leave. "Um, yeah. That'll be fine." He paused and added, "Thanks. I appreciate this." It came out like something he was not used to saying but actually sounded like it was verging on sincere.

Gar smiled. "My pleasure."

With a final gaze at his car, Solf tore himself away and left. Gar chuckled softly and sighed. "Well, I tried," he murmured, heading for his small office.