November 15th, 1990
"I still don't like this."
Sara refrained from rolling her eyes as she packed another pair of thick wool uniform socks in her duffel. They'd had this argument last time, and they were clearly going to have it again now, for the hundredth time. "Franz, you already agreed to it."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it." Half-way dressed for bed, Franz sat on the edge in blue checked pajama pants, the shirt in hand, hair freshly damp from the shower.
"No, but since you're not going to talk me out of it, how about we don't argue tonight?" Sara closed the bag, and moved it off the bed. She had already showered and changed into her own nightgown, and now everything was packed and ready for tomorrow. "I'd much rather do other things."
That got a weak smile out of her husband. "Like the old days, huh?"
She sat down and leaned across the bed, tugging him closer. "Or as near as we can manage." When he leaned closer, she kissed him fiercely.
Tomorrow, she was leaving on another mission; a much more real, and far more dangerous mission than the one to deliver Gavril Mihalov to Drachma. The free Western Drachma movement had spread like wildfire with Mihalov and Niki Marskaya at the helm, with the support of local leadership, and it hadn't taken them long to declare independence loudly and openly, and set a hard border. That in itself was fairly simple given the layout of the mountains. But now they were embroiled in combat, and they had called in their new allies, which meant that now Amestris, Kartos, Creta, Aerugo, and Xing were all expected to prove that their support in the "non-aggression" pact meant something.
For now, that meant direct support from the bordering nations. Creta and Kartos were sending troops; Amestris had specifically been asked for Alchemists. Sara—to her chagrin—had been requested specifically by name, even though she would only be one of a dozen State Alchemists being sent as support. Of course, a dozen state alchemists were worth a couple hundred soldiers in those mountains, where there were mostly narrow passes and few areas for armies to clash in traditional formations.
The Alchemists going were a varied mix of skills, but most of them had experience working together with at least some of the others. Sara wasn't sure how she felt about some of those assignments, but for the same sentimental reasons as Franz, and she would rather have them by her side if it came to it. For one thing, Cal Fischer was coming, officially in command of the Alchemists. Having Whitewater along made her feel better. Aside from him, however, the two of them were by far the oldest alchemists in the bunch. Trisha was coming, and Ted, along with Felix Tringham and the rest of Ted's team from before he'd run off to Drachma. From what Sara understood, they had been surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. The other alchemists coming along were not ones Sara knew, having all come into the program after her disappearance, but she had been assured by her daughter—who had trained them—and Tore and Cal, that they were top-notch.
Based on the descriptions of the terrain, and what combat had occurred along the borders so far, the Alchemists would likely not be standing on any traditional front lines. Which suited Sara just fine, since her skills were best from some distance anyway, especially the two-alchemist transmutations she and Trisha had been working on. That did not mean, however, that there would not be risk involved. Combat was unpredictable no matter how good the battle plan.
Not that she was going to bring that up tonight. Before her kidnapping, Franz would have accepted the dangers as a matter of course. They'd have missed each other, but he would never have tried to talk her out of a mission.
Sure, Sara still had nightmares, and no, she couldn't run as long and hard on her leg as she could before. Without the advances in medical care she'd probably still be hobbled in a wheelchair instead of getting ready to charge back into danger. Without the advances in psychological counseling, she'd be more of a mess, but she wasn't going to let what-ifs, might-have-beens, or not being young and whole keep her from doing what needed to be done. What was her purpose in living if not to help fix this mess?
Tonight, was the last night they would be together, probably for months, and while she couldn't keep Franz from fearing for her, or herself for worrying a bit about them both, they could make the most of it. When the kiss broke, she pulled Franz's sleeping shirt out of his hands. "You won't be needing that for a while."
His still-dark eyebrows climbed towards the silver hair above as he smiled. "Yes ma'am."
November 16th, 1990
It was still dark when Ted kissed Anika a tender farewell in the living room of their cozy home. Nikolai, who had just finished his early-morning feeding, was passed out on her shoulder. It felt weird to be going back to Drachma without her, and heart-wrenching to be separated from her and their baby boy. It was barely three-months since his court martial hearing, and Ted found it ironic that it was that brief a period before the fact he could not leave the Amestrian borders except under direct military order had already come into play. Still, he had been dragged into it, him and his entire team, and he was just grateful they hadn't taken it too personally that he'd run off to find Anika.
Apparently, they hadn't even been that shocked and hadn't held it against him much.
Anika added a quick kiss to his cheek as they separated. "That's for Niki."
Ted chuckled. "Well, I hope you won't mind if I pass it on as a hug, or a handshake." He wasn't kissing his brother-in-law on the cheek.
Anika grinned. "That will do. I wish there was some way I could come too."
"Me too," Ted bent down and picked up his duffle. That was another thing that felt weird; going into Drachma with all of his State Alchemist gear. There would be little chance of needing stealth on this mission. Not that he hadn't stuffed at least one Drachman civilian outfit in the bottom of the bag, and his fake IDs, just in case. "But you'll be more use here, helping coordinate communications with the resistance."
"I will," Anika agreed with a smug, sleepy smile. "Don't worry. I won't let Amestris fall apart while you're gone and you know, everything here."
"I'm not worried about the house. I know that will be fine. At least I know both of you are safe." He reached out, very gently caressing his son's cheek with one finger; not enough to wake him. "I just hate leaving you to take care of him alone when he's still so small."
"We'll be fine," she assured him. "Besides, I won't be completely alone. Mrs. Valhov and the rest of our friends will be over often to help me out, and plenty of your family is here in town. If I need anything, I promise I'll ask."
"Good." That was all he could ask for really. The last thing Ted could afford to do right now was put even a toe out of line with his orders. Outside, he heard the honk of a car. Felix Tringham's wife had offered to drive them both to the station. Ted gave her one more quick kiss. "I love you."
"Love you, too. Be careful."
"I'll do my best." After all, he had a lot to come home to.
The plane's interior seating had been modified to accommodate more people, though that made the interior cabins much more cramped, Cal noticed as he stowed his duffel in the storage compartment. Already not a huge fan from his last flying experience, he hoped the flight was, at least, smoother. He definitely preferred his feet on the ground, but getting to where they were needed in Drachma quickly meant the best way to deliver them was by use of the plane. In the not-too-distant future, it would not be the only plane either, not that it was common knowledge. In fact, it was highly classified that Franz had finally green-lit the development of further aircraft. History had already proven that they would be fools not to expect their enemies to be developing more of them, and they couldn't allow someone like the Hashman Syndicate, or the Zinovek Regime, or any other similar group to gain air superiority. Besides which, if anything did happen to the one they had, they would be hard pressed to build another quickly enough.
An old factory not fair from the storage area they had been using as their make-shift airfield for months was already being changed over for the task, though from what little Cal knew, the designs were still not entirely finalized, though they were currently based on recreating the one in which he now stood, with mostly interior modifications, better defensive weapon systems, and for use with a more efficient fuel that was being quietly developed in Alchemy Lab 2.
The plane full of alchemists began to fill up quickly now, as most everyone had said their goodbyes at their own homes. Everyone here was here on deployment.
How do I let myself get ordered into these things? Retirement. He was supposed to be retiring to a life of relaxing and spending time with Alyse. Instead here he was, ostensibly, the commanding officer for this mission, even with Sara along. Or maybe it was because she was along. Cal wasn't entirely convinced Franz hadn't put him on this mission specifically because Sara wouldn't buck his orders, and because she had been out of commission long enough that Cal was now, on paper, her superior officer and functionally much more in practice.
He had the feeling she knew it too, because she kept giving him sidewise glances that were knowing looks, as if waiting for him to say something. Not that she said anything as the other alchemists began to file in, and load their stuff, the plane filled with chatter. Trisha joined them, heading for the cockpit with her co-pilot. Cal was grateful they had at least taken the time to train others in the flying and basic maintenance of the plane. Sara had learned much on her and Trisha's last mission to Drachma, but the newest co-pilot was one of their youngest State Alchemists, a pretty little redhead who was just barely out of the program and hardly looked like a military officer even in her uniform, but useful for this assignment in more ways than one. Aside from having trained very quickly as a pilot, she was not only generally trained in alchemical combat, but her area of expertise was in alkahestry. While Amalea Finn looked like a child, she was twenty-three and had trained to be an alchemical doctor under Ren and Ethan before choosing to become a State Alchemist like her father before her. Her alkahestry skills, and affinity for using small static energies to keep trauma patients alive and restart hearts had earned her the name Live Wire Alchemist.
Ted Elric, Felix Tringham and the rest of their team—Pulse, Glacier, and Sensation— filed on and were stowed and ready to go with efficiency and a steady patter of banter, despite the early hour. Having seen their work previously in Drachma, he hadn't been about to split up that team. Pulse gave them another alchemical healer with an electrical bent, though her combat skills were much stronger than Live Wire's. Glacier was a no-brainer with the ice and snow they'd be dealing with, and Sensation's skills while far more subtle, were the type the enemy would be unlikely to expect.
The other three alchemists Cal had hand-picked for the mission weren't quite as new as Amalea, but none of them had yet to attain the rank of Captain or Lieutenant Colonel, and had not been teamed up together before either. Still, they rounded things out nicely.
The Rapid Alchemist, Ryan Wilkes, was in many ways that Cal could appreciate, not unlike himself in his younger years; twenty-five, cocky but good-natured, and his alchemical specialty was also water, hence the name. He didn't have Cal's finesse or experience, but he was good at handling a lot of raw power. The biggest difference between them that Cal was aware of, was that Ryan came from a very supportive home life, with parents who had given their only son everything they could with what little they'd had.
The Marble Alchemist, Misty Parkwaller, was a geological specialist. Cal had a hunch that given the mountainous terrain they would be in, and some of the defensive and offensive uses they had already found useful in that terrain—especially from Ted's own reports of his time fighting in the mountains—she might be incredibly useful, even if she was probably the most serious, down-to-earth person on the team.
Finally, to round out the team, Cal had picked one of their more unusual talents; the Molecule Alchemist. While the art of alchemy was always taking it apart, changing it up, and turning it into something else, Wren Muniez had made an art out of fine-tuning at the invisible levels. Cal had seen her warm the air around her simply by speeding up the rate at which the very atoms in the air were vibrating, instead of waiting for the air to warm naturally. She could change the temperature of things to cold as well, through direct control and manipulation, and it was something she could do incredibly fast and with surprising precision. Beyond that, she had the same set of general alchemical combat skills as any well-trained State Alchemist.
The only thing they didn't have was a fire alchemist because, well, they had exactly one of those, and he was staying home with the kids while his wife flew this mission. Besides which, fire would be of more limited uses, and for now, they were going with a dozen. More might be needed later, but for a first wave, Cal had wanted the most efficient and capable team possible, that could also be split into a wide variety of combinations for whatever needs they might have.
As much as he was ready to be done, Cal had to admit that being the lead on what was entirely a mission of alchemists again was far different from being in charge of units of infantry. This was what he had lived for in his early days, before the promotions, before the desk job. Tactics and alchemy, combat against a clear enemy. Being General Fischer took a backseat here. Even in command, it was because he was Whitewater.
"Ready to go, Boss?"
Cal turned to find Sara had come up beside him, and was giving him a smug little grin. He nodded. "Whenever our pilot tells us we're ready for take-off."
"We will be as soon as you get in a seat…Sir," Trisha quipped from where she and Live Wire were running through the pre-flight check. The engine was already on and the plane rumbled around them.
"Then let's get in the air," Cal replied as he and Sara took the two remaining seats, on the end of the row nearest the cockpit, and buckled in. "We have allies waiting for us."
The flight was fascinating for the first hour or so, Ted thought. It was his first time in the contraption, since he had left Karmatsk by other means. Take-off was fascinating and a bit thrilling, and once they had stabilized at high enough altitude and were flying straight Trisha told them if they wanted to unbuckle and look out the front or the small side windows that were not designed for great visibility with their extra seating. So, most of them took turns poking their heads out and watching the world pass by far below with a variety of different reactions. Most of which involved awe, and maybe a little fear, though some were outright delighted. Ted noticed that Fischer opted to remain firmly in his seat.
"Not a fan, General?" he asked as he re-took his seat.
"I prefer my feet on the ground," he admitted with a casual shrug, though Ted could see tension in the way the man sat. "And for the duration of this mission, it's Whitewater. We're all alchemists, and it will keep there from being any confusion when we're out on the battlefield with soldiers from three other nations."
"Yes, Sir, Whitewater." Ted grinned, refraining from making any snarky comments. Nearly everyone who knew him knew how much Whitewater hated desk work. Most State Alchemists were action-driven, preferring to be out on a mission than writing their reports. Whitewater was legendary for his exploits in combat, but most of the alchemists in Ted's generation or younger had never seen him in a full out fight. Oh sure, he came down and trained with the other alchemists when he could, but that was hardly the same thing, especially since they were discouraged from destroying Headquarters. "I'm sure we'll have enough trouble keeping orders straight when they're being shouted in four languages."
"Well, you might," Rex Neil, Glacier, quipped grinning at Ted. "Make sure you don't start barking our orders in Drachman, Proteus."
"I think I can keep the languages straight," Ted retorted, though there was no bite in it. He'd been putting up with a bit of good-natured razzing from most of his team ever since he got back from Drachma and he had been allowed to tell them he was back and somehow not court martialed. He had been relieved that they not only weren't really too angry with him, but seemed delighted by the fact he had brought Anika back with him—they had all liked her before—and seemed to feel that having lived rough in Drachma and now enjoying the pleasures of being a new father were enough punishment. His first team would never have been so forgiving. I hadn't earned it from them though. He was grateful to be going into combat with them once again.
The other alchemists he didn't know quite as well, since they hadn't been assigned to anything together before this, and most of what he knew was from word around the office. None of them were incredibly new. Whitewater would never have assigned them to this otherwise. Still, it was an interesting mix, and he wondered what working with them would be like. Rapid was probably the one he knew best, because he'd made quite a splash—pun intended—with some of his earliest missions. He was brave, a little reckless, and had the luck a State Alchemist needed to pull off things that seemed crazy to anyone else. There was talk he was the next Whitewater. With both of them on this mission, Ted had a feeling he'd see soon enough for himself.
The group had a wide variety of talents and specialties—two alkahestrists too, he'd noticed, which he hoped would not be needed, but was almost certain they would—but Ted had also noticed that there were seven women, and five men. He was certain that had nothing to do with why anyone had been chosen, but it did speak to changes in the people applying to, and getting through, the State Alchemy program these days as officers, and not just research alchemists. He'd seen pictures of the State Alchemists from when Aunt Sara and Whitewater had graduated, and from when Grandpa Ed and Great-Uncle Al had started the program, and even before, when Grandpa was first an alchemist. While it had been that way for as long as Ted had been a State Alchemist, it was an interesting shift in the mentality of the Amestrian military, and a good one in Ted's mind, given the alchemists he got to work with.
The only thing missing was Anika, with her rifle, guarding his back. He had gotten so used to having her along, that it felt more than a little wrong to be going out to fight again without her, especially so soon after fleeing Drachma, wondering if they would ever see it again. Yet a small, selfish part of him was relieved. The part that had driven him to defy orders and race into Drachma to find her could rest more easily, knowing that Anika and their son would be safe far behind the Amestrian border.
"Hey… Proteus…" A sharp nudge in the shoulder came from his left.
Ted looked up at Rex. "What was that for?"
Glacier grinned. "You're musing."
"Yeah, well, we've got hours to kill up here. You entertain yourself your way, I'll entertain myself mine." Besides which, it was better to get it all out now, before they hit the battlefield.
Apparently the others felt the same, because he saw understanding in their eyes, especially Felix Tringham's, and his Aunt and Whitewater; the ones who had families back home they were responsible for. Sure, they all had families, but most of them didn't have children. Heck, none of them were married. Ted used to think that didn't make as much of a difference, but he'd very recently learned otherwise.
"I've got an idea." Vastillia reached into her pocket. "Who's up for a game of cards?"
As much as Franz was inclined to spend the day fretting, there simply wasn't time. With the alchemists in the air, on their way to meet up with Mihalov's forces in the Western mountains, and the troops coming in from Creta and Kartos by truck or train, Franz had a long list of reports, meetings, and orders that were going to eat his day, and many days for months to come.
The alliance had made an official statement of support two weeks before, and Savahin had reacted precisely as expected, which was to say he had declared a state of war between Drachma and all of the allied nations. A foolish move, and one Franz could not see how he could even hold up, given a large portion of the military under Zinovek rule was caught up in fighting the Western Drachman liberation army, or trying to hunt down Marskaya and his resistance fighters in the Eastern mountains. All he really held was most of the frozen North—if it could be called having control over an area that was mostly small towns that were isolated and self-sufficient—the North-Eastern most areas, where Karmatsk was, and the central valley region.
Still, on the day the declaration had been made, Franz had given the order for nearly half the soldiers at Northern Headquarters to move up to Briggs to reinforce the patrols along the border they shared with Savahin's Drachma. While Amestris had not opened its borders to refugees, they could now flee into the western portion of Drachma, and he had reports that it was already happening.
War with Drachma again in his lifetime, on his watch. Franz didn't like it, but at least this time it was on their terms, and for now the fighting might never come near Amestris' border. At least the Assembly had stopped hesitating and fully gotten behind the military in taking a hard stance against how the new regime was handling things. It made his life just a bit easier not having to argue the very basic necessity of Amestris' involvement in Western Drachma's bid for freedom with the members of the Assembly on a daily basis.
Not that there wasn't plenty of other things to debate with them on a daily basis. Though the more things blew up in Drachma, and the more screwed up and dangerous it became, the more cooperative the Assembly was with Franz, and with the new alliance. Which was why he was even on the way to the meeting he was now, right before lunch.
His meeting room held only a small group of people, and one with whom he did not have to be overly formal; Lieutenant General Morel Bridges, who was in command of the Engineering Corps, and directly under him on this project, Colonel Simon Ryker, who was in charge of the currently very small but determined group of military engineers—and a handful of State Alchemists—with the clearance to be on the team bringing the Amestrian military into the future of flight. Sitting with them were the project advisors; the four people in Amestris with the most experience with aircraft or the mind for it that Franz knew.
He felt only mildly guilty at having kept family from returning home to Resembool, but without them, this project would have taken far longer. Edward and Alphonse had, in particular, the most experience with the mechanics of flight and planes, thanks to their time on the other side of the gate, where the world had been developing that technology decades sooner due to the state of warfare that seemed prevalent there. Winry was here too, because while she hadn't spent as long, her mechanical expertise on them was just as impressive. Between the three of them, they had pulled quite a lot of information out of their private library; a surprising amount of which Franz had been able to lay hands on in military files he wasn't sure any President between him and Roy Mustang had even known existed.
Then there was his brother-in-law, Aldon, who had put on a show of being irritated at being pulled away from his duties as Mayor of Resembool—not that he would be for much longer, since he wasn't running in the upcoming elections—but had clearly been intrigued by the project.
"So, where are we?" Franz got right to the point as he sat down at the head of the table.
All eyes went to Colonel Ryker, since it was technically his project. "The factory renovations are nearly complete, Sir, and I have the updated plans here for approval." He pulled out a roll of blueprints. "Based on the improvements suggested by the design team, and the alchemists designing our more efficient fuel, both of the new designs should be nearly twenty percent more efficient."
Franz nodded. "Show me what you've got then."
Ryker unrolled the designs on the table and began a detailed discussion. The designs that had come out of this particular think tank were similar to the plane that Franz had seen, but there were some noted differences in the design that Edward and Alphonse had insisted were necessary to make it more aerodynamic. At present they were designing two types of aircraft. The first were troop transports, which were the most like their existing plane, designed to hold up to twenty passengers, with plans for a larger transport if the concept proved itself. While it had defensive weaponry capabilities, it was primarily meant to haul people or—if they removed the seats—supplies.
The second design was a sleeker model made more for stealth, or combat as needed, though it could still sit a crew of up to eight people. Franz had tabled the idea of a true fighter plane as Edward called it, like the ones Drachma had already been designing. There was no way that was anything other than an offensive weapon, and until it was necessary, Amestris did not want to be the ones to make it look like they approved of, or were interested in, taking combat to the skies. The smaller planes, which would have the ability to drop bombs if needed, and did have machine guns in case of running into Drachmans in the skies, were more than adequate for now.
They just needed to get them made, and that meant a lot of proof of concept, testing, and building something that even though it was made of metal and wires, was more complex than anything his engineers had created before.
"How long before we have the first of each type ready for a flight test?" Franz asked when the explanations were done.
"About a month, presuming everything stays on schedule," Ryker replied. "The new fuel is already in testing and we should have a ready supply by the time the planes are ready to go up." The new planes were also designed with additional fuel storage, to avoid having to refuel in enemy territory.
Franz nodded. "Good. How are we doing on pilot selection?" For that, he looked to General Bridges.
"I've asked every commanding officer to send me the names of their top five officers or soldiers with the best reflexes, and mental capabilities for learning and implementing a lot of technical data quickly and reliably. From there, I've started conducting interviews to weed out those who aren't suitable. Fullmetal and True Soul have been assisting with the determination of criteria and looking over the applicants with me," he added with a nod towards Edward and Alphonse. The General looked a bit uncomfortable just using their Alchemist titles instead of referring to them both as Generals, but Franz knew that in their retirement, they would have been perfectly happy to just go by Ed and Al. That, however, seemed to make the younger brass even more nervous and compared to Edward and Alphonse, they were all younger.
Franz nodded approval once again. "If there are any problems or delays I want to hear about them immediately. They're to be expected with something experimental like this, and I'd rather have that note on my desk rather than find out about it later. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Sir," Ryker replied, and everyone else nodded.
The meeting wrapped up fairly quickly afterwards, which meant Franz might actually have a moment to grab a bite to eat, and he had a feeling his in-laws knew it, since they and Alphonse waited until everyone else had left the room, including Aldon, who was talking with Ryker as they left.
"Mind if we join you for lunch?" Edward asked without preamble.
"Not at all," Franz replied. "Though I have trouble believing you miss eating in the mess."
"Oh, I never said that," Ed chuckled. "I was thinking of hitting Antony's down the street. If we're early we'll miss the mid-day rush, and I haven't eaten there since we got back to town, especially since you've had us all the way out in the boonies working on this project."
Despite the sardonic tone, Franz could tell his father-in-law was actually pleased to have been asked to be involved in yet another project and was actually enjoying it, no matter the reasons it was necessary. For one thing, he was grinning. For another, he was clearly relaxed. "Sure, I think I can squeeze that in before my afternoon meeting."
Winry smiled. "Good, because we weren't giving you a choice."
"Is this a you don't trust me or Sara doesn't trust me to eat properly while she's gone?" Franz asked, though he kept his tone light as they left the briefing room.
Alphonse shrugged. "Can't we just enjoy the pleasure of your company?"
"Now you see, I'd believe that of you, and her," Franz nodded towards Winry, "But I know for a fact Fullmetal always has an agenda, or an angle he's working."
Ed chuckled. "As a matter of fact, I don't have either at the moment."
"Though I do have a question," Winry commented as they reached the stairwell, which was empty save for the four of them.
"I'll answer it if I can," Franz promised, wondering what she wanted to know.
"Why did you let Ted go on this mission?" Winry asked as they descended. "And how did you ever convince the rest of his command upline to go along with it?"
It was a fair question. Even though Franz had the authority to override pretty much anything if he wanted to push the point, he almost never did. "Well, given the specific phrasing of the court's decision, he could be sent out of the country under military orders. As far as why I sent him, both Whitewater and Sara demanded that he go."
"I can see where he'd be useful, given his recent experiences," Alphonse mused.
"Though Sara's exact words were pretty much I need an Edward Elric, and I'm better off taking the one who follows my orders."
A loud snort startled him, and he turned to see Edward doubled-over on the stairs, holding on to one railing… laughing. "I bet she did too," he gasped.
Well, at least he wasn't offended. "He's inherited your brilliance and luck for improvising plans that look insane and somehow work," Franz continued. "Based on his reports of his time in Drachma, on top of what we've already seen, and his knowledge of Drachman tactics, the political situation, and his credibility with the locals after helping rescue Mihalov and fighting for the resistance movement, he's a useful asset."
"Where I'm not." Ed nodded as he straightened up, regaining his breath.
"That isn't what I meant," Franz objected.
"Still, it's true." Ed shrugged, and continued moving. They all started back down the stairs. "Brilliance only gets you so far these days. Even if you had offered me the mission, I'd have turned it down. Besides, I'm much better off helping you here with this project."
"We all are," Al nodded.
"I'm lucky to have experts I can trust, with knowledge no one else has." Franz knew that without the three of them, this project timeline might have been years, not a very short few months, even with the good fortune to have had their hands on a functional plane from which to design and build new ones.
"Not for long though," Ed pointed out. "We're teaching military engineers how to build them right now, and others to fly them. Mustang and I agreed to put that knowledge away as a secret decades ago because it was dangerous. Now, want to or not, the enemy has it, and we'd be fools not to make use of what we know."
"The fact that you approve means a lot."
"If we didn't with everything we know, we'd be putting Amestris at a distinct disadvantage, and serious risk."
"We can't put up a defense against an air attack without having the capability to match them," Alphonse nodded. "What other choice do we have really? At least this way, we can make sure that the first generation does it right, and will hopefully pass that down to the next."
It was true, none of them would be alive forever. There were moments Franz was impressed that the three of them were still alive. Impressed, and grateful. Both of his own parents had passed, and while his sister was alive, they didn't get to see each other often. "We can hope," he replied to Al, "and do our best."
SCENE BREAK SCENE BREAK SCENE BREAK
"You've been back and forth so much, it's almost like you haven't moved away," Alyse admitted to her mother as they sat at her dining table in the mid-afternoon, sipping tea. With no meetings today, it had been quiet since Cal left early that morning, and she was grateful her mother was still in town to talk to.
Elicia smiled. "Retirement isn't nearly as quiet as many people seem to think. Of course, your father and Edward are a terrible example of what to expect."
"Do you know anything about this project they and Aunt Winry are working on that's keeping you here longer?" Cal hadn't told her anything about it, and had insisted it wasn't part of his job to know. Alyse didn't entirely believe him, but if he was keeping his mouth shut it was not only classified, but it apparently wasn't specifically a State Alchemist related job, even if her father and uncle were involved.
"Officially, probably no more than you," her mother replied, stirring honey into her tea. "Unofficially, I know they sent for some of their notes from the house in Resembool. Since Winry's involved, and they've dragged Aldon in on this, I'm guessing that those notes are not related to alchemy, or at least, not primarily. I'm guessing that they're probably engineering notes from a long time ago, during their travels. They had encountered some of the technology we're seeing now, in its experimental stages. It's still a guess though."
A very likely one. Alyse could see why they would be useful then, even if she wasn't entirely sure what the project entailed. She'd place bets though that it had to do with creating another flying machine like the one that almost no one was supposed to know about. So, of course, it was no longer a secret, at least not in certain circles. She was frankly impressed that it hadn't leaked out as more than rumors, or that Savahin hadn't mentioned it in one of his broadcast tirades against Amestris. Perhaps he was hoping to keep people from thinking about them for his own purposes. "I'm sure we'll find out once the project's finished. If it's for use in this conflict, they won't be able to keep it secret very long."
"This is true." Elicia picked up her cup and sipped. "Now, have you heard anything new about Charlie?"
Alyse shook her head. "Only what you know already. Shelby got a second envelope last night, right on schedule, with the same amount of money as the first one. Charlie's note wasn't any more informative than his first one." It was, however, something. The first envelope had arrived in town almost the same day as their return from Gloria's wedding, setting aside at least the fear and uncertainty of knowing if Charlie was even alive. It didn't take away the pain of him having simply left, but Alyse had been relieved to know he was, at the very least, not dead and that somewhere he had found work, just as he had promised. In fact, that had been the entirety of the text of the note that came with the money. As I promised. I'm sorry it took so long to find work. I get paid every two weeks. That was it. No return address, no signature, but clearly Charlie's handwriting. Shelby had called her, crying all over again, as much from relief as sorrow.
"What did the second note say?"
"Almost nothing. Just I made a little extra this week. It explained why there was a little more money, but that's it." Not a personal statement, an emotion, a miss you. "Of course, we've given one of the envelopes to Tore. Cal's had him quietly trying to at least find out a rough area for Charlie's current location. If we can even figure out what town he's in maybe we can find a way to at least send him a message, or something…." What would they even say to him? Alyse had spent several sleepless hours trying to figure out what she would put in a message to him at this point that would at the very least not make the situation worse.
"At least it's someplace to start," her mother offered hopefully, ever the optimist. "He did what he said he would do, and he's somewhere alive and employed. These are positive things, and hopefully that means he's figuring things out. At the very least, he cares enough to provide something."
"There is that." Alyse tried to remain positive these days. Life was settling into a new pattern, but one that allowed her daughter-in-law to continue both working and attending her college classes, while still taking care of her children; the three she had, and the fourth coming, which had been a startling surprise. "All I can do is try to keep everyone's spirits up. Is it wrong that I feel conflicted about the fact that the children have adjusted so quickly to not having him around?" Sure, they missed their father, but in the day to day rush of life, the little ones were easy to distract, and caught up in discovering the world and learning and play. They had their mother, who was the one who spent the most time with them anyway, and their grandmothers to take care of them when she wasn't home.
"It's never easy, when a parent disappears out of your life, no matter the reason," her mother replied with a wistful expression. "They know he's alive, and all they know right now is he's working far away. He's not dead, so there is always that possibility that he'll come back, but that's enough for them, I think. They're so young, but not too young to understand. When my father died, it was terrible, and final, but at least it was that… final. Moving on was the best thing for us, and I know my mother did everything she could to make me happy, and help me get over how much I missed him. It doesn't matter to me that he was only in my life for an incredibly short time; I will always be his daughter, and I still miss him. Right now, the best thing for them is to encourage them to be happy and live with the new situation until we know how things are going to change. The unsurety is worse than having a certain answer."
Alyse, who could not imagine growing up without both of her parents in her happy home, with her brother, had heard plenty of stories from her mother and father about their own childhoods. "And, Dad and Uncle Edward had a good relationship with their father there at the end, didn't they?" Even though Hohenheim had left for his own reasons, and returned much too late.
"Well, a better one," Elicia shrugged. "They came to understand each other. In the end, they will learn to live with or without him in their lives, and they'll still turn out okay."
Alyse noticed her mother stopped there, and decided not to ask what happened if a child didn't turn out okay. She felt bad to think it of her own son, who had grown up in a stable family, with parents and an old sister who loved him. Yet here they were. "I hope so. I'm doing everything I can to make sure that happens." All she could do was hope it would be enough.
