April 6th, 1979 (Continued)

Crying.

A thin wail was coming from somewhere off to one side, but all Urey could feel were tears. Hot, salty splashes that fell down his cheeks. "Cayla? Sweetheart… you did it." His voice cracked. The last few minutes had been one long nightmare. "You did it." He reached out, one hand gently bringing a lock of hair off her face. She had gone so very still. "Wake up."

The cry was the baby… Cayla's baby, his mind told him, in an odd abstract way.

"Urey."

He ignored the hand. "Cayla, stay with me. Please!" The last became a sob.

"Urey."

"Do something!" Urey looked up at his uncle, whose hair was matted down with sweat. "Damn it, save her!" She wasn't dead. Just moments ago she'd looked at him.

Ethan's sympathetic look made him want to smack his uncle's face. "I did everything I could," he said softly, his voice pained. "I'm sorry, Urey."

"Sorry?" A rage he had never felt welled up inside Urey, and he found himself on his feet, with no memory of standing, staring his uncle in the eyes. "She's dead! Oh… gods… she's dead! You did everything? Are you sure? She was here, just here…" Just moments… but she wasn't asleep. Cayla was gone. His love was dead. He had killed her by trying to give her the only thing she had asked him for…and it had killed her.

"Urey." His mother's voice this time, though softer than he'd ever heard it. "Urey… your son is crying."

A son… Cayla's son. The baby that killed her. Urey's eyes blurred and burned. He felt as if he might pop out of his skin with heat, and anger, and loss, and a thousand other feelings that made it hard to think. His mother was holding up a small, squalling baby.

"Urey, you should hold him."

"No!" The shout came out loud, far louder even than he had expected. "No!"

Cassie stared at her son, stunned. In her arms, the newborn's cries turned to a shriek at the loud noise, and she pulled him back, cradling him against her chest. "Hush now," she said softly, without looking down. "What do you mean no?" she asked Urey. "He's your son, Yurian." That was the name she knew he and Cayla had agreed on for a boy. Her own eyes threatened to overflow with tears, but she held them back. She and Lalman and Ethan had done everything possible, and still Cayla had slipped away from them. But the baby was alive, and healthy. He needed his father.

"No," Urey barked again. "If it weren't for him… for me… Cayla would be alive. I… I can't." He staggered towards the door, breaking into a run before Cassie could break out of her shock enough to call after him. Even Lalman and Ethan seemed stunned into momentary inaction.

"Urey?" Cassie tried to call out, but her voice broke, and her eyes finally filled with tears that overflowed. She cuddled the crying baby to her. Poor baby. Give your daddy time. He loves you. He's just hurting. Her baby was hurting.

SCENE BREAK SCENE BREAK SCENE BREAK

Ethan watched Urey storm out of the room. In the aftermath, he turned to the unpleasant side of the job, the part that made him want to cry, even when he couldn't. Though in this case, he knew he would later. He had done everything he could, and it hadn't been enough, and now his nephew was suffering. He didn't need Urey's ringing accusations to make him feel awful about the situation, nor did he blame him for them. Grief was not a rational thing.

Urey had not returned by the time he and Lalman had gently taken care of Cayla's body, cleaned up the room, and seen her properly taken to the little funeral home in town. Lalman left with her, leaving Ethan at loose ends.

"Ethan?"
He turned and looked at his mother, who now stood at his side with a concerned expression. "Are you all right?"

Ethan folded his mother in a hug that she returned tightly. Sometimes, there was just nothing that could express all the heartbreak and need for comfort, and have it immediately returned, than a hug in the arms of someone who understood. "I couldn't have done more," he whispered softly. "I tried, but she just slipped away, Mom. She wasn't strong enough."

"He'll understand it's not your fault," Winry assured him. "Later, with time. Now come away from the door and sit down." She straightened up. "I'm amazed you haven't fallen over already. You're exhausted. So sit, and I'll find you something to eat and drink."

Ethan gave her one more squeeze before he let go. The only hug that could have been as therapeutic would have been Lia's. At that moment he desperately missed his wife and children. "Thanks, Mom."

Winry smiled gently as she turned towards the refrigerator, "Someone has to take care of the doctor."

April 8th, 1979

It was still raining two days later. Edward thought the dismal weather was more than appropriate for a funeral, especially given the tragedy that had led to it. He stood beside Winry, holding the umbrella for both of them. Only a few feet away, Aldon and Cassie stood in similar form. Yurian, swaddled in black, was in his grandmother's arms.

Urey didn't seem to notice he was standing in the rain, soaking wet. He had refused all offers of cover with a shake of the head, and no words. He had barely spoken in two days. Aldon didn't think Urey had eaten a thing. He refused to acknowledge Yurian was even there, and attempts to get him to hold the boy resulted in Urey disappearing from the house for an hour or more.

Ed had come close to knowing that loss, but he had always been grateful that he had never felt it. He'd lost enough. But his heart ached for Urey, and for that poor little boy, whose birth should have been cause for so much celebration; whose first days were to be surrounded by tears and sorrow. It wasn't Yurian's fault.

Reichart and Deanna's kids looked los, and a little scared by how serious everyone was. Ed thought it probably still didn't seem real to them.

It was too real to him. He pulled Winry closer and she leaned into him. "I wish there was something we could do for him," Winry said softly, though Ed doubted Urey could hear her over the pattering rain.

"We're here," Ed pointed out just as softly. "And we will continue to be here, whether he thinks he wants us to be or not."

There was a small gathering at the Rockbell house afterwards, for anyone to offer their condolences, but it didn't last long before all that was left were family, and then even Deanna and Reichart took their kids home to change. Urey said little, not even voicing an opinion when Cassie changed clothes and started dinner. Aldon watched her bring Yurian back out, no longer swaddled in black, but in a clean blue pair of baby pajamas. "Will you hold him while I cook?" she asked Urey. Ted was setting the table, Callie was pulling out ingredients.

Urey jumped as if startled and looked at the baby as if it was a snake that had almost bitten him. "I told you, I don't want to hold him." It was the longest thing he'd said in two days. But the hurt and disdain in his voice brought Aldon to his feet.

"He's your son," he said. "You've got to hold him sometime."

Urey came to his feet. "I don't want anything to do with him!"

"Urey!" Cassie stared at their son with an expression of horror.

"You can't be serious," Ted snorted in disbelief.

"That… that killed Cayla!" Urey shouted. "She's the one who… who wanted him."

Aldon felt his blood go cold. "Are you telling me you never wanted him in the first place?"

An odd hush fell over the room. Everyone was staring at Urey, whose face had turned a very vibrant shade of purple. Then it faded. Urey looked at each of them in turn, then back at Aldon. "Yes. That's it. Exactly." Then he turned and vanished into the dark hallway. Moments later, Aldon heard the back door slam.

"He… he didn't mean it." Callie was the first to break the silence, her voice quavering. "He can't mean that."

"I don't know." Ted shook his head, but he didn't look much steadier. "He sounded serious."

Cassie was in tears.

Aldon crossed the room, stuffing down the seething fury he felt, and gathered her close, then took Yurian into one arm. "He'll come around. Shhh… he will," he soothed Cassie, hugging her with his other arm. He wished he felt as confident as he sounded. But he and Cassie had been feeding the boy for the past two days with bottles of formula –though Ted and Callie had been surprisingly helpful in taking turns- and they would take care of him for as long as they needed to.

You'd better not have meant it, boy. Your son is your responsibility. Cayla would hate to see you treat him this way.

April 13th, 1979

Urey didn't come home until late. Late enough that Aldon almost snuck downstairs to check for burglars when he heard the door. It was the key that told him it was Urey. In the morning, Urey –looking bleary-eyed and distant- showed up dressed for work at the dairy with an expression that almost dared anyone to question it. Aldon didn't. Keeping busy was better than sitting around, and Urey had never been one for doing nothing.

But Urey didn't come home until late again the next night, and the night after. When asked, Reichart didn't know where Urey was going either. The answer was not difficult to find out. Reichart followed his brother after he left the dairy the next evening, and found Urey at the cemetery, sitting in front of Cayla's grave, working his way slowly through a small bottle of whiskey. Reichart watched until Urey stoppered it without draining the bottle, stood, and left.

Aldon couldn't say he was happy with the news, but it could have been worse. Trying to talk to Urey about his pain usually set off an explosion that died as fast as it started, but left everyone feeling awkward. Usually, it made the baby cry, or Cassie.

A week after the funeral, everyone got together for dinner at his parents' house. Aldon was glad for the invitation. They all needed some normalcy. It was the best way to move through the grief, his own included. Cayla had come into their lives unexpectedly, and as much as things had been disrupted, she had been such a warm, kind person that it had not taken long for Aldon to let his guard down, to put most of his reservations behind him.

This was not at all what he had expected.

Aldon wasn't sure if Urey would even come, but he had actually come home after work, showered, and changed. Hoping this was a sign of improvement, Aldon had felt a little bit of encouragement as they walked up to the hill house.

Reichart and Deanna were already there when they arrived, and Deanna and Winry were half way through dinner preparations. Rhiana, Owen, and Cailean were curled up on the couch looking at books. Rhiana, who was nearly seven, was reading out loud to her little brothers. Owen, who was almost five, could follow along and even read most of it. Cailean, who was barely three, was still working on it, so he was happy to let his older siblings do most of the work.

Aldon smiled as he watched his grandchildren giggle at a particularly brightly colored book.

"Nice to see a smile around here," Ed commented.

Aldon turned to his father. "Nice to have a reason to smile," he replied as he gave him a hug of greeting. "I don't think a week has ever felt longer."

"It seems that way," Ed agreed. "How's Urey?" His eyes flickered briefly in Urey's direction.

Aldon watched his son take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the television and fireplace, but he seemed to be looking off into space more than anything else. "Not good," he replied. "It's like he's in a fog. He goes to work, he goes to Cayla's grave, he comes home. He doesn't eat much. Most of the time he's just quiet."

"Has he held Yurian yet?"

"No." The word came out almost as a low growl. Aldon tried to stifle anger and disappointment. "Cassie's stopped asking the last couple of days. All it does it make him yell, or send him out of the house. Either way it makes everyone upset. Yurian's doing all right on formula."

"You should like you could use a good night's sleep."

"Given how long it's been since I spent a week in a house with a newborn?" Aldon sighed. He did need sleep. His little girl was thirteen. He hadn't planned on raising another baby. Helping out was one thing, but this was entirely another.

"Well at least we can get a good meal in everyone," his father said, and smiled. "We'll keep trying with Urey. He'll snap out of it eventually."

Edward was glad to sit down to dinner. The meal Winry had planned consisted of a lot of old family favorites, including a hearty bowl of stew, thick crusty hot bread, and apple pies baking in the oven. The house smelled about as much like home as was possible, and he couldn't say he'd mind the comfort food.

He also hoped the good news they had received from Central would help brighten the mood.

Winry brought it up over pie and coffee. "We got a call from Sara this afternoon," she said casually as she filled cups with coffee or tea. The kids had chocolate milk.

"What's up in Central?" Ted asked curiously.

"Oh, plenty," Winry said. "James has been assigned to investigations like he was hoping. Krista is still enjoying university. She's decided to double-major in early education and social sciences."

"Good for her," Cassie smiled, patting Yurian's back as he burped on her shoulder.

Ed watched Ted perk up at mention of Krista. He kept quiet and ate his pie.

"Trisha and Roy were over for dinner last night," Winry continued. "Rosa was all excited. She was showing them she could count to ten and say her alphabet."

"That's great," Callie grinned. "She'll be reading before Cailean at that rate."

"Nuh uh!" Cailean objected. "I can too read!"

"She's just teasing you," Deanna said calmly. "Any other news?" she asked with a look of expectation.

Ed grinned at Winry, who nodded. "Just a bit. Sara did say Trisha told her they were expecting their second child in December."

Reichart chuckled. "Well isn't that a coincidence."

The general exclamation of pleasure and surprise turned to several funny looks in Reichart's direction.

"Something you wanted to tell us?" Ed asked his other grandson. Again, Art?

Reichart and Deanna shared a look, and then Deanna smiled. "Well I suppose there's no reason to keep quiet now. We're due in January."

Ed watched Cassie's eyes light up as she leaned over and hugged first her son, then her daughter –in-law, even though it meant getting up with Yurian in her arms to do it.

"And here I thought you might just be done," Aldon teased his son.

"At only three?" Reichart asked.

"Only he says," Ed couldn't help snorting.

"Don't be too hard on him," Deanna smiled across the table at her father-in-law. "It was my idea."

Aldon shook his head ruefully. "You're both crazy."

It was only movement in his peripheral vision that made Ed turn his head in time to see Urey leave the table, heading for the back porch door. His heart sank. As wonderful as the news was, given what had happened, to Urey it probably sounded anything but good. Quietly, Ed absented himself from the table.

Urey hadn't gone far. He was just out on the porch, staring out into the trees and stars. He didn't even turn around when Ed joined him. "You should be inside," Urey said after a minute. "Celebrating with the others."

"So should you," Ed replied. "We could all use something to celebrate."

"Why should I?" Urey replied harshly. "What they're all so happy about… I hate it. I can't sit there and listen to them talking about it. It's just…" his voice broke, and he stopped.

"It's not fair," Ed finished. "You're right. It's not. But that doesn't mean we stop living, or caring. It doesn't mean that life stops being precious."

"It just stops meaning anything."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. And I don't want to hear any bullshit about equivalent exchange or how one is all," Urey added sharply. "Cayla never did anything to deserve what she got… not any of it. Not being sick, or weak, or… just leave me alone."

"All right." Ed bit his tongue on his temper. Now was not the time to lash out, no matter how much he found himself wanting to beat some sense into his grandson. Urey was a man grown, and he was still grieving over a fresh and horrible loss. "But not forever. The world keeps turning, and like it or not, we have to keep moving with it." He turned and went back inside, to where he could hear laughing and chatting, and life. He hoped Urey could hear it. He hoped Urey would decide sooner, rather than later, that he still wanted to be a part of it.

...

June 3rd, 1979 (almost three months later)

"What do you mean he's gone?"

Aldon didn't like the accusing, scared look in Cassie's eyes as she stared at him.

Aldon swallowed. "I mean he's gone. There's a suitcase missing, and about half of his clothes. And he left this." This was a short, handwritten note that Aldon had found on the kitchen table when he came back from the office for a quick lunch between meetings.

Cassie snatched the note out of his hand. Aldon didn't need to read it again to know what it said, or when she reached the end. Her face told him that.

I'm sorry. I can't take being in the house anymore, or in Resembool. The memories hurt too much. I've taken a job elsewhere. Please don't look for me. I'll be fine. Take care. Urey

"A job? But where? Why wouldn't he say where he's going?" Cassie's heartbroken expression made Aldon want to throttle his son all over again. First he refused to have anything to do with his own son, and now after two months, he'd just run off.

"Well we'll try and found out of course," Aldon assured her. "We have plenty of resources. We'll find him."

"But he says he doesn't want to be found."

"We're not giving him a say in it," Aldon replied, a little sharper than intended. He pulled Cassie into a tight embrace. "He'll come back. Even if we don't find him, eventually he'll come back. This is home."

"I'm scared, Don," Cassie whispered. "There's something wrong with him. This is worse than just grief. What if he doesn't come back?"

You mean what if he kills himself. Aldon did not say aloud what he thought. The letter didn't sound, to him, like a suicide note. That didn't mean he wasn't worried Urey wasn't going to go out and do something stupid. Or maybe he just wanted someplace he could drown his sorrows without people giving him dirty looks, someplace no one knew him, or cared. "He will," he told Cassie as he patted her back with one hand. "Urey's not the type to run away." But then, I didn't think he was the type to abandon his own son either.