June 1st, 1984

If he had realized he would get to spend even less time with Minxia when they got back to Creta than he had in Xing, Thrakos would not have been so eager to get home. As it was, the women in his family—and Angelique—were always running off with her somewhere making wedding plans. There were so many plans! He had been to enough formal functions in his life that Thrakos wasn't surprised or overwhelmed by the sheer amount of details involved in deciding everything for themselves, but it was much more complicated than watching and showing up in a suit.

However, it seemed that the women in his family expected him to only do just that. It was only Minxia who would ask his opinion on matters. What did he think of various color schemes? Which set of really expensive china that the palace had available did they want the wedding dinner served on? Did he have a preference on the food, the wine? At least the tasting day had been enjoyable. Even with nibbles and sips he had come out of that full and slightly tipsy.

The lack of immediate involvement left him at loose ends several times. Since he had taken time off his other duties to go on the trip with Minxia, he didn't have to be anywhere.

"You look bored."

Thrakos looked up from the magazine in front of him on the table to see a familiar male face. "Uncle Ziro!"

"The one and only," Ziro grinned as he dropped into the chair next to him. "We just got back from visiting Larise's family in Bueaire."

"That sounds fun."

"Actually, it was," Ziro chuckled. "I got lucky. I like my in-laws." He gave Thrakos a slap on the back. "And lucky you, huh? You finally talked your Minx into coming home."

"After Xing, it wasn't too hard," Thrakos shrugged. He also wasn't entirely sure how long Minxia would be happy in one place, but that was one of the things he loved about her. He would find a way to keep them both happy. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy traveling around to sites with her, as long as they didn't get drawn into international incidents.

"Don't sell yourself short." Ziro smiled in understanding. "A spirited girl like that isn't going to be frightened into settling down by a little danger."

"Yeah, well, Mom and the girls may scare her off," Thrakos made a face. "I'm beginning to think a scandalous elopement might have been less trouble."

"I think Minx can handle a little girliness."
"Yeah, well, if I have to hear one more gushing conversation about shoes or altar cloths I may scream."

"Getting quietly drunk is easier," Ziro assured him.

"Is this your idea of good advice?" Thrakos asked his uncle.

"No, it's my idea of survival." Ziro chuckled. "Just don't tell your aunt I said so. I enjoy being married."

"Took you long enough."

"I wasn't lucky enough to find the right girl as young as you did."

Thrakos shrugged, but his uncle was smiling still, so the comment was made in good humor. Not that he ever really saw his uncle in a bad mood. "I'm lucky," he nodded. "Minxia's amazing. I just wish we had a little more idea of our life direction, where things are going after this, besides together of course."

"Well, it's not like the family is strapped for cash, so you've got some time to figure that out. Your job's pretty flexible at the moment. Hers… is somewhat freelance. I assume you're not planning to live in the house with your folks."

"Hell no," Thrakos shook his head. "I love my folks, but I'd prefer a place of our own."

"Have you looked at places?"

"A couple. We haven't had much time to ourselves." When they had, Thrakos preferred actually having time to themselves to talk, and cuddle, rather than running all over the city even more. Though they had looked at a couple of nice little places; two townhouses and one fairly spacious apartment.

"Are they big enough for a family?"

Thrakos nearly choked. "Does a first place have to be?"

"Depends." Ziro grinned wickedly. "One positive of marrying later, that wasn't a worry."

"You didn't want kids?"

"Not when I was your age." Ziro shrugged. "It's a little late now, but we do a lot of traveling, work for Arius and good will ambassadorial work. That wouldn't be a very stable life for a kid. It was challenging enough being a president's son. You know that as well as I do."

Thrakos nodded. His grandpa had been the first President Argyros. There had been one unrelated President between him and his father winning the elections. His father had run mostly unopposed since, or won by a landslide. "I have no idea what that would do to our lives right now."

"Add more chaos, and probably a lot of joy when you get past the shock?" Ziro teased. "But I'm kidding. You've got more than enough on your mind with just getting married and settled into a place and figuring out all of this other life stuff."

"That's for sure. Anything else I should know?" Thrakos was almost afraid to ask.

"There's one thing. Being around your Minx has greatly improved your Amestrian."

Thrakos blinked. It hadn't really occurred to him that they weren't speaking in Cretan. Of course, Ziro spoke not only Cretan, but Amestrian and Aerugean with almost perfect fluency. "Yeah, but lately what I've worked on most is my Xingese!"

Ziro grinned wickedly. "What matters is, which language does your lady prefer to be wooed in?"

"Does it matter that much?" Minxia spoke four.

"It might when you're in bed."

Thrakos hadn't thought of that. Or, for that matter, the best way to ask that question.

June 3rd, 1984

There were occasional times when Ian managed to find time to hang out with Bonnie outside of work, just as friends, however tenuous that friendship still seemed at times. Mostly because she wouldn't put up with his natural flirtatiousness getting out of hand.

Ian rather liked it when she put him in his place. Maybe that was why he kept setting himself up for it.

Tonight he was helping Bonnie with getting her design portfolio finalized, and she had in turn agreed to help him read through a scene he had coming up that he really wanted someone to practice with who would be brutally honest about his performance.

They were at Bonnie's; a rare occurrence. The annual Amestrian Music Awards were on the little television in her apartment and take-out Xingese sat on the counter. The only table was covered in Bonnie's design and pattern drawings.

Not that Ian was of much help. He had mostly brought the food, done the dishes, and listened to her murmur aloud to herself as she bent over her work until she handed him a stack of images and said "there are fifteen different images in there, but they aren't collated. I need them sorted out into individual stacks. Then, you can do the same with these." She set a second stack beside him. "They are labelled with the same number code as those. So they should be in the same order."

Ian didn't entirely understand, but her system for organizing her work seemed simple enough to follow. So he got to work, sorting out papers. As he worked, he kept an ear on the Music Awards.

"Think you'll be there next year, after the film comes out?" Bonnie asked after several minutes.

"What?" Ian looked up. "Oh, there?" He looked over at the television. "I doubt it. We're not that good."

"Don't you think so?" Bonnie asked. A slight smile played on her lips.

"Compared to real singing stars?" Ian shook his head. "I mean, we're okay. We're on key and it's good enough for film work, but a film soundtrack going up against the real deal?"

"And what makes you less the "real deal" just because your band came together to shoot a film instead of playing in someone's garage first?"

Ian stopped. He hadn't thought of that. There wasn't one way to become an actor, so maybe there wasn't one way to become a music star. "I still don't think it'll happen," he admitted after a moment, shrugging. "Not that it wouldn't be nice, but I just don't think I'd feel like I'd earned it. I've worked for years to develop my reputation and career as an actor. Jumping straight to an awards ceremony for one singing gig? It wouldn't seem fair."

"In the cutthroat world of entertainment, you're worried about fair? Isn't it up to what people like?"

"Why does this amuse you?" Ian was watching Bonnie's expression now. She looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"Oh, I suppose I just like it when you're insecure."

"Gee, thanks." But maybe this was just the moment he'd been looking for. Bonnie was at ease, at least around him, not wary, and she was less stressed working on her designs than she usually was on set in the middle of preparations for costuming or make-up. "If you want to see me really insecure, you should come to my cousin's wedding; Tons of relatives who know my every flaw and embarrassing story."

Bonnie chuckled. "I can imagine. I enjoyed meeting your cousins, actually," she said, referring to the time Ian had brought her over to Great-Uncle Al's. "They seem nice. It's Minxia who's getting married, right? It was a common topic of conversation."

Ian nodded, feeling heartened. She hadn't shut down on him yet. "So are you interested in coming? Just as a friend-" he clarified quickly. "It's on July 20th in Pylos. We're done filming by then."

Bonnie's pencil paused mid-sketch, just for a moment.

It was just long enough for a warning to go off in Ian's head.

"I'm sorry, Ian, I can't."

"Look, if you don't want to-"

"I didn't say that." Bonnie looked over at him. "I'm working another job that week."

"Oh." Well, that was better than the usual turn-down. "Fair enough. I don't suppose you'd come to the Premier of Rock Hard Hitters with me?" It was his most recent release; a supporting role, but a good one, as the clever and spunky younger side-kick of a rough, long-time-on-the-beat police investigator. It was premiering right there in Central at the end of June. He was leaving right after to go to the wedding.

Bonnie shook her head as she stood and picked up a glass of water from the counter. She took a sip and set it down again before turning to look at him. "You couldn't pay me to come to one of the premiers on your arm, Elric. You're welcome to stay home and watch it with me though."

"Stay…" Her face told him she was dead serious. He didn't question it out loud. "From the premier of one of my own movies?"

"It's not about the fame and the glory right?" She crossed her arms and, as usual, Ian had to look very hard at her eyes not to look at what her doing that always did to her chest. "So it's not a big deal. It's not like everyone goes to all of them. You don't need to be constantly in the spotlight. You've got tons of publicity. So skip it. You want to see what happens on the carpet, stay home and watch it on television with me."

"Can we have popcorn and sodas?" he asked impudently, but with a look of sincere hopefulness he knew she wouldn't buy.

As expected, Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Yes, we can have popcorn and sodas."

"Then it's a deal," Ian replied, "But, I have one condition. There has to be a concession on your part."

"What did you have in mind?" Bonnie looked immediately wary.

"When your costumes get nominated for a film or television award, you have to promise to let me pick what you wear and you have to go to the awards show. You don't have to go with me-" he added very quickly given the look on her face, "but you have to go."

Her expression also said she didn't expect that to happen. Finally, though, she sighed and shrugged. "All right, sure. It's a deal. You skip the premier, and I'll let you pick what I wear to the first film awards if they ever give any of my work a nomination."

Ian stuck out his hand and they shook. For that, he'd consider it a win. Besides, watching everyone on the red carpet with Bonnie might be fun. He imagined there would be a lot of snarky comments and the ability to talk about what people were actually like, instead of pretending that everyone was the best of friends and filming had gone perfectly. He couldn't help the cocky grin that spread across his face, though he tried. "I look forward to doing your wardrobe for a change."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "As if that will ever happen."

"It's at least as likely as me making it to the National Music Awards."

The look of sudden worry on her face was worth it.

June 12th, 1984

Resembool in the summer looked a lot like paradise, Ed thought as he strolled from the train station through the bit of town that reached out that far now, then past the sheep pens, and out into the countryside with Winry beside him. They hadn't bothered to call for a car. Walking was still the way they preferred to see Resembool. However much the town grew, the walk home was always the same length.

The arrival was always warm, too.

"That's my boy," Ed laughed as he dropped to his knees to wrap his arms around the fur of the large barking pile of white that otherwise would have bowled him over with enthusiasm. Mal's lashing tail and wet tongue were about the best welcome he could have hoped for, except of course, for the hugs of family that followed.

"Good thing he hasn't forgotten you," Aldon teased as he offered Ed a hand up from the ground, which Ed took gratefully.

"He's too smart for that," Ed grinned, giving his son a big clapping hug. "I see Resembool hasn't imploded in my absence."

"Nope, in fact it's been exceptionally quiet the entire time."

"Very funny." Ed shook his head. "What's Mal doing at your house? I thought Urey was watching him."

"He is," Aldon replied as they walked towards the old yellow house. "But Mal likes to come down to our place to play with Yurian, and Art's kids when they come over."

"What dog doesn't love little kids?" Ed looked at Yurian, who was currently in Winry's arms giving his great-grandma a very enthusiastic hug. "Any change?"

Aldon's smile slipped slightly. "No. I'd hoped this whole international incident would shake him out of it…somehow, something, but you'd think nothing had happened in the world."

Ed didn't like that. Urey hadn't been the same since Yurian's birth. Of course, Ed didn't blame his grandson for the sorrow over the loss of his delicate wife, but over five years later, Urey still seemed stuck emotionally. Not in the first agony of loss, but the depression that seemed to have gripped him since his return from his vanishing act. He was alive, but he wasn't doing much more than surviving, and he still avoided Yurian as much as possible. "What about Yurian's birthday?"

"The same as usual," Aldon sighed softly. "He came to the party, then left as soon as it was over, went into town, had a few drinks, then left. I found him passed out on her grave, like every year."

"What happened after that?"

"Nothing," Aldon looked bothered by that too. "Eventually he woke up and went back to Hill House. I didn't even ask him about it. The last time I tried, he didn't come over for a week. It's killing me, Dad, that I can't do anything to help him. He won't talk. He doesn't want anyone to listen. It's like… like he wants everyone to pretend it never happened. Except for Yurian… I almost wish they'd never gotten married." There was heavy guilt in that admission.

Ed wished he could object more strongly, but it had been a very fast and passionate relationship. Its sudden and tragic end had shocked everyone.

He shook his head. "Well what's passed is passed. Do we get to see the newest family member today?" While they had been gone, Art and Deanna had brought their sixth child, another girl, whom they had named Dessa, into the world. She was already three months old and Ed had yet to lay eyes on his latest great-grandchild.

"Art and Deanna will be over a little later with the swarm," Aldon assured him. They stepped inside and closed the door. "I still can't believe they've tied us… beaten if you consider that Deanna's carried them all."

"Art is very lucky she's an understanding woman," Cassie smiled at her husband as she lifted a hot kettle off the stove. "And that they both wanted a large family."

"Are they done?" Winry asked as she set Yurian down and he went back to playing with the pile of blocks in the corner of the living room.

Aldon sighed. "Honestly, I have no idea. Art wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked."

"That means no," Ed told his son with a wicked grin even though the idea was a little boggling even to him. Rhiana, their oldest was twelve, down to the youngest boy, Lochlan, who was a little over two, and now the new little one. Art and Deanna's house was as lively and loud as Aldon and Cassie's had been several years before, though having an oldest daughter did change the dynamics just a little bit. "Though at least they've managed two girls, against the odds."

"I'm happy with the quieter house," Aldon admitted as he sat down at the table.

Ed chose to ease himself onto the comfort of the couch. Of course, if not for Yurian, Aldon and Cassie would be essentially child-free. Callista, like Eamon and Lily, had just graduated from High School and would be going off on her own in the fall.

Not that she would be vanishing completely. Callie had decided to go to ECU in East City to study photography with an eye towards working for the news media in the future, as well as selling more artistic work to magazines.

"No reason not to be," Ed nodded, taking the cup that Cassie offered him a moment later with a grateful smile. "Thank you. I have to admit, a little peace and quiet is pretty nice after the last few months. Where's Callie?"

"Over at Art and Deanna's practicing taking photos of moving children." Aldon grinned. "Are we going to get to hear the details of your latest misadventures? The news has nothing but tidbits, and I know you haven't told them much of anything at all that would ever be useful or accurate."

"Of course not," Winry chuckled. "He'll save it for novels as usual."

"You'll hear all about it," Ed promised. "Though if you don't mind, it'll wait until I've enjoyed this cup of your wife's excellent coffee."

"I think we can wait that long."

June 18th, 1984

Franz was glad his vacation was over. Not that he hadn't enjoyed his days off –and coffee four times over the past two weeks with Wendy- but it was nice to be back in the office where he belonged, at his desk in President Rehnquist's office, where Brigadier General Wessen had been temporarily handling his paperwork to keep it from breaking the desk under its weight.

This meant that while there was plenty to do. Everything was current and—thanks to Wessen's skills—in a working order and organization that Franz had no trouble getting back into the swing of things by mid-morning.

Which was good, since he would be leaving again in just a couple of weeks for Creta for Minxia's wedding.

It was right before lunch when Rehnquist called him in to his back office. Not that it was at all unusual. Franz had already spoken with the President twice that morning briefly on consequential matters. "You wanted to see me, Sir."

Rehnquist nodded, gesturing to the chair across from his office, which indicated a meeting of more serious nature.
Franz sat.

"I have a serious matter I wish to discuss with you," Rehnquist commented, though his expression, while stern as usual, was not dour. Franz had served three Presidents of the Military directly during his career, and each had been vastly different in their methodologies and their mannerisms. Rehnquist was, to Franz, the most politic and professional in the way government officials might expect. Which was probably why the Assembly had always been generally cooperative with him.

"What matter is that, Sir?"

Rehnquist looked at him for a moment. "I'd like to appoint you as my replacement."

Stunned would have been an understatement for how Franz felt in that moment. Run over by a bus might have been more accurate. "You want me to be President of the Military?" Of course, he had known for some time that Rehnquist was looking to retire but… "Me?"

Rehnquist did not look surprised by his response. "Who better? You've served under three, and you handled Xing commendably."

"I took advantage of situations caused by the enemy and unruly subordinates."

"Exactly, and you assisted in a critical peace-keeping mission that aided a foreign ally. You know more about the inner workings of this office than anyone else in Amestris, possibly even me. You'd be really good at this job, and the suggestion got near unanimous approval from the Assembly."

"Only near?" Franz asked with a wry smirk.

"Old man Wiggins thinks you're too young because you're under sixty." Rehnquist shrugged. "Since that describes almost every President we've had when they took the job, I'm not inclined to take his comments too seriously."

"I'm going out of country for a few weeks," Franz pointed out. "May I have that time to consider this?"

"Of course. Minxia's wedding certainly comes first," Rehnquist smiled. "At least I don't need to worry about putting in any kind of political appearance. I'm sure Amestris is already well represented."

"I'd say so," Franz agreed. "Thank you, Sir. I'll give you my answer when I return."