February 18th, 1996

Even with being officially retired, Sara never seemed to run out of things to do. Today, one day after a banquet, she had plenty of errands that needed running, people to see, and she felt little guilt about dragging one of their HQ assigned security guards around Central while she did them. Since she was an alchemist, she had convinced them that a regular security officer would be perfectly acceptable. If Sara couldn't handle someone, it was because a gun was needed, not alchemy. That still left another guard outside the house. The young second lieutenant assigned to her was an efficient woman who took her job very seriously, but did not attempt to be overbearing. Neither did she seem too differential, or intimidated by Sara or her reputation. All were good things Sara intended to make sure made it into the lieutenant's next review.

Sara returned from her errands that afternoon to find that Franz was in the living room, sitting on the couch in some of his most worn, comfortable lay-about clothes, listening to the radio. "Anything good on?"

"They re-played a recording of an old drama from the forties earlier," Franz replied, setting aside the snack bag. "But they don't have the selection they used to. I tried television but I couldn't keep my glasses on my nose for more than a few minutes before it started giving me a headache."

Sara came around the couch and bent down closer to look at his nose. While he didn't have to keep it bandaged anymore, the bridge was still mottled black-and-blue. "We should have Ren or one of the other alkahestrists take a look at your nose. She could have it healed up in a few minutes."

To her surprise, Franz scowled. "It's fine. It's not worth bothering her with."

"I'm sure she wouldn't find it a bother." If Ethan were in town, she'd have had him over already to take care of the face and the ankle, but he was still in Creta. Still, it seemed silly to sit there, hurting unnecessarily when he could be getting back to work. Central was buzzing and here he was, sitting at home as an invalid. "It would be nice if she could fix your eyes, too." It could be done, with a combination of alkahestry and surgery.

"I said it's fine," Franz replied quietly.

Sara picked up the large cellophane bag, and grimaced at the contents. Or at least, the contents as listed. The bag itself was entirely empty. "Nothing but salt and grease. I don't know how anyone can eat this junk." It was a taste she had never gotten back after years surviving off the barest meager prison food, and she couldn't say she missed them.

"It was available," Franz replied with a shrug. "I didn't want to risk burning down the house by cooking without my glasses."

"A wise decision." Sara rolled up the empty bag, and decided it might be better not to comment on the fact he'd eaten the entire thing since this morning. "I'll toss this for you." When she returned from the trash can, Franz hadn't moved. He barely looked in her direction, and once more she worried about his eyes, and his mood. As self-sufficient as Franz had always been, even she hadn't realized just how much of a detriment his eyes had become until the attack on the train, and their trek through the Drachman wilds. It must have been terrifying, and humbling, being effectively blind that whole time. Even though Franz hadn't griped, Sara knew she would have hated it too.

While things had been fairly normal getting home, since then, Franz had been… subdued. It worried her. "Krista will be home with the kids soon," she said with a happier tone. "Aithne is having a friend over to play today. Would you like me to help you get dressed before she gets here?"

"This is fine."

Never would Franz have said that old sweats and an untucked undershirt was acceptable guest attire… until this moment. Sara bit her tongue to keep from objecting. "All right. At least tuck your shirt in, then," she suggested. "Do you want—"

"Sara, stop it."

"I just wanted to see if you needed—"

"Sara. Stop."

"—me to get your crutches for you, so you can—"

"Damn it, Sara. Enough!"

He still hadn't moved, but if he could have, Sara had the feeling he'd have been on his feet, and possibly right up in her face, but he couldn't get there, and the frustrated fury of his shout stilled her tongue.

And she waited. She wasn't sure what he really wanted, but offering anything else would not get her an answer.

Perhaps he had been expecting an argument, she couldn't be sure. But the silence simply stretched into the room for several minutes.

"I'm going to take a nap." With that quiet pronouncement, Franz got slowly to his feet and, using his hand to at least get him around the edge of the couch, he hobbled to the bedroom door, opened it, and went in, closing it firmly behind him.

That was it then. Nothing. No actual complaint. No reason why he didn't want the assistance, or reassurance he could handle it himself. Not even a reason for his frustration, though Sara could guess that well enough. Still, it just wasn't like him to bottle it up, or to refuse a small offer.

He didn't want to be followed, that much was clear, and it was probably best to give him that space. After a rest he would probably feel better and be ready to talk.

The door opened, with Krista, the children, and Aithne's friend Moira from school.

Krista, thankfully, seemed to pick up immediately that there was an odd vibe in the room. She looked curiously at Sara, who nodded towards the bedroom.

Krista nodded in understanding. "Aithne, why don't you take Moira up to your room to play, or play in the yard? It's a surprisingly nice day."

"Yes, mommy." Aithne turned to her friend, and they headed upstairs, chattering about the latest critical things in elementary life. Jeremy vanished upstairs as well while Krista started to make their after-school snacks.

"Would you like some help with those?" Sara offered.

Krista smiled. "That would be great. I have a pile of grading to do this afternoon, but I want to make sure they're all taken care of first, and get dinner on."

Sara followed her. "I'm glad someone could use my help."

"Is Franz in a mood?" Krista looked mildly concerned as she pulled out fresh carrots, and a couple of apples.

An interesting phrase. "You could call it that," Sara acknowledged as she took a knife and started coring and peeling the apples. "Not that I can blame him, after everything we've been through lately, but he won't talk to me about what's bothering him either. All I can make are inferences, which he won't discuss to confirm or deny."

"What do you think?" Krista asked, starting on the carrots.

"I think that getting injured in Drachma scared him more than he wants to admit," Sara mused her thoughts aloud. "Not only was he injured, but he was effectively blind for several days, in a hostile environment. I know I would have been scared, and frustrated. Not being able to help in an emergency situation is a horrible feeling. But he won't talk about it, and now he's… well he's just not acting quite himself. I get that it's something he probably feels he needs to work out for himself, but I wish he would express that, instead of clamming up." He used to be much more communicative.

"So… a mood." Krista nodded, looking as if that was something not entirely unexpected. "Maybe he's still just overwhelmed and trying to process it all before he says something. Sometimes I'm amazed how much, as adults, we're still like little kids. Complicated feelings aren't always easy to work out."

There was certainly truth to that. "Well, I'll be here when he's ready. Though for his sake I hope that time comes soon. In the meantime, we should make sure to leave some easy, ready-made food available. He didn't eat much of anything today because he was afraid heating it while he can't wear his glasses might be hazardous."

Krista smiled. "Oh! Well, that's easily fixed. I'll make sure to put together some cold dishes for the rest of the week. I have salad, and pasta salad fixings."

"Thank you. I'll help." Then, at least, he wouldn't have to resort to nutrient-lacking junk to survive.

February 21st, 1996

It was frigidly cold, especially for early afternoon, as Tore stood by his car out at the Central Airfield, waiting for the plane that held the most precious cargo. Dare had gotten permission to fly the mission—approved by Anastas—to bring Assemblywoman Charisa Closson back to Central, having been released from the North City Hospital.

Tore had refused to assign the task to someone else. He would be Charisa's security and escort home, and no one else. When he had to leave, then, yes, he would have security assigned around the house, but no one else was getting between him and his wife. The winter uniform coat cut the cold from most of his body, as did the gloves he wore, though his head was bare, the wind whipping the wind. He hadn't wanted anything to obscure his vision from seeing the plane the moment it appeared, and from keeping an eye out for danger.

While only a handful of military personnel knew that Charisa was being flown home, and not taking a train, that did not preclude the possibility of a leak. And if there was, he would know damned quickly who was at a fault, because it would be a very short list.

He heard the plane before he saw it, a silver flash in the cloudy sky. It came around in a smooth turn, and descended, landing with a deceptively light looking touch on the ground. Tore couldn't help smile a bit. His son was an excellent pilot.

Tore waited until the plane taxied down the runway and came to a stop outside the hangers before he approached, waving one hand in the air.

In the cockpit, Dare waved back. By the time Tore reached the hatch, it was open, and Charisa was smiling down at him, swathed in her winter coat, hat, and a scarf, but her red hair was blowing in the wind anyway.

For just a moment, Tore's throat tightened with emotion. Then he refrained from jumping into the plane. Instead, he offered her a hand to come down. "Welcome home, m'lady."

Charisa's face flushed as she took his hand, and allowed him to help her down with a slow dignity that he suspected had more to do with her still-healing injuries. Her other arm was not in a sling, but the way she held it made it clear there was still a cast of some sort holding the bone in place. Her ribs might still hurt as well.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, dignity went out the window as she grabbed his shoulders, and pressed her lips firmly to his in a passionate kiss.

Tore pulled her tight against him, enfolding her in his arms as he breathed in the essence that was Charisa. The warm, solid feel of her body in his arms, the heat of their lips… the scent of soap. He could have drunk her in and drowned in her presence the happiest man to ever exist.

"Pretty sure there are regulations against PDA on military property, especially on duty."

Tore waited until the kiss ended before looking up at his smirking son. "Want to get written up for insubordination?"

Dare laughed. "Not today, thanks." He handed down Charisa's suitcases, and garment bag, before hopping down himself. "That might delay my flight home."

"You're not staying a while?" Tore asked, feeling a mild disappointment.

Dare shook his head. "I have to be back in North City tonight. I'll be here long enough to refuel, report in, eat something, and head back out."

Tore released Charisa just long enough to give his son a quick hug. "Thank you for bringing your mother safely home."

"Hey, it was my chance to take care of Mom." Dare shrugged. "Next time I see you, hopefully there won't be hospital visits involved."

"Trust me, I have no intention of needing one again anytime soon," Charisa promised, giving Dare a brief hug. "Have a safe trip home."

"You too."

Tore took Charisa's luggage, refusing to let her carry any of it, as they headed towards the car. He would have rather had his arms around her, stupid luggage. As soon as it was loaded in the trunk, he kissed her again. "I have missed you more than plants miss the sun in winter."

Charisa chuckled, resting against him in his arms. "How poetic. I missed you, too. I think I definitely prefer my adventures to have you in them."

"If I'd been there… well, I'd like to think it would have turned things in our favor," Tore admitted. It might not have, too. "I'm never letting you go where I can't protect you again. If you died… I couldn't stand it."

Tore hadn't meant to cry…especially not in a parking lot, but his eyes overflowed.

Charisa didn't look at all surprised, but nearly as misty-eyed. "I believe I've ordered you not to die a few times over the years. I guess it's only fair you get to do the same to me."

"You also told me not to change," Tore reminded her quietly. "A task at which I failed spectacularly."

"In the better, in the long run." Charisa smiled. "And not as much as I thought when we were young. The parts of you that are still my best friend haven't changed."

Tore felt one of her hands playing with the back of his hair. "The part of me that is terrible at coping without you hasn't changed either," he admitted in a gruff voice, little above a whisper.

He didn't need to get more specific. The look in his wife's eyes told him she understood without words. "Well, I'm home now, so you have me. And I am ready to go back to the house and relax where I don't have people lurking over my shoulders and monitoring me constantly."

"Except me?" Tore smiled. "I'm not sure I can keep my eyes off of you."

"Well, you'll have to long enough to drive home."

"I guess I can manage that long."

Charisa managed to refrain from asking Tore political questions about the Summit until after they had driven home, and he had taken her things up to their bedroom, and made her get comfortable in the living room while he brought her a late lunch and tea. He reheated a roast with vegetables that Brandon had made the night before, which was delightful after a long trip and the cold outside.

"Comfortable?" Tore asked as he joined her on the couch.

"Luxuriously," she assured him with a smile. "It's a little ridiculous how much I missed just sitting in my own house, with my own furniture. The only thing missing is the kids."

"Brandon and Cami will both be here later tonight, after work," Tore promised. "And I don't have to be at headquarters late tonight. I'm not the only officer monitoring security. If they need me, they'll call. So, I should be all yours."

Charisa liked that idea, though she doubted they would be taking full advantage of it tonight. While she was feeling much better, she was still tired and sore. The pneumonia was gone, and most of her injuries were nearly healed, but it had taken a lot out of her. "Good, then tonight I expect a full report on the state of the Summit. Though I'd really appreciate it if there's anything briefly you can tell me right now. I've been told the doctors won't clear me to go to work for a few days yet, and it's killing me not to be there for these negotiations."

Perhaps not the best choice of words, as Tore winced. Though he nodded. "Honestly, things have been fairly quiet. At least from a security standpoint there hasn't been anything suspicious, and nothing more problematic than an inebriated attaché at the banquet who got a bit lost trying to find his way back to the car to be taken back to the embassy afterwards. As for the negotiations themselves, well I haven't been in the room for any of it, but from what I've heard, most of the reaffirmation of old deals in general has gone rather well. The first hang-up seems to be the border tariffs."

Charisa felt puzzled. "Does someone think they're too high?"

"On the contrary, the Cretan delegation seems to think that Drachma's should be higher." Tore sighed. "In fact, they seem to be the sticking point on almost every disagreement so far. The change in leadership in Creta is, so far, not working in our favor."

"Well, Minxia and Thrakos aren't fond of him," Charisa pointed out. "He's from the opposition party to the Argyros family. So, I guess we should expect their delegation to reflect those policies." Charisa could not blame Arius Argyros for stepping down, given his health concerns, but the timing had proven inconvenient for more than just Creta.

"I just hope it doesn't derail anything you've accomplished so far." Tore sounded concerned, though more for her wellbeing than the outcome.

"There's only so much I can do about it, especially until I can go back to work." Charisa fully intended to call her staff and have them send paperwork directly to her house. "Our people have the skills to take care of things." She took a few more bites of the meal.

"As long as you don't push yourself too much and relapse into pneumonia again." Tore leaned in and kissed her cheek, sliding one arm around her shoulders.

"I'll do my best," she promised. Not that she expected it to be a serious concern. She was still tired enough that she napped during the day. "I'd hate to delay a proper reunion."

Tore took the teasing as expected, with a broad, hopeful grin. "I don't suppose we could have a little… preview, before I go back to work?"

Charisa chuckled. "I don't see why not. But you'd better take off that jacket, General. It wouldn't do to get you too mussed before you leave."

Tore removed his uniform jacket with enthusiastic speed, so he was just in the lower half of his uniform, and the tight black shirt that went under the jacket. Then he leaned in, cupping her face in his hand as he carefully avoided her injured arm, and kissed her with the ardor that had been evident in his eyes from the moment she got off the plane.

Charisa's hands were on the hem of his shirt when the doorbell rang. "Who's that?" she gasped, breaking the kiss.

Tore looked tragically disappointed. "Probably your security for the afternoon," he admitted, grumbling. "I'd dress them down for timing…but then I'd have to admit to making out with you while I'm technically on duty."

Charisa touched his cheek. "I promise we'll pick this up later. Now, you'd better go answer the door."

February 24th, 1996

Franz knew Sara was irritated he had insisted on going into work today, but over the past days, he had done a lot of thinking. Thoughts he had mused on since even before the train incident, but had stuck with him as constant companions every day since. Now that he could walk—with crutches—and at least wear his glasses again, even though the bridge of his nose was still sensitive, it was time to get to it. The bruising had finally faded away, so the remaining healing was invisible.

Franz stood at attention in front of Anastas' desk, in the office that had once belonged to him; in an office in which he had worked for decades. He had managed to get a meeting requested during one of the brief periods where Anastas was in his office, and not in the negotiations that were still passionately being discussed in the Summit meetings.

The dark-skinned President's expression was stern, but also slightly curious. It had been Franz who requested this meeting, without any prior discussion as to its intent. Anastas heard him out, and while his expression barely changed at any point, Franz got the feeling the man was disappointed, but not necessarily surprised.
"So, you're submitting your retirement."

"Yes, Sir, and I'd like to recommend Volkhart to the position as head of Investigations. She's more than capable of doing the job, and as you know she has proven entirely trustworthy through all of our more recent, and sensitive, investigations."

Anastas sighed. "While I agree with you, I could wish you had picked a better time for this. But you've more than served your time."

"There will never be a good time," Franz pointed out. "But continuing to sit in that chair because of stubborn pride is not serving the military, or the country's, best interests. I'm not needed, and given the direction things are going, I'm probably more of a liability."

"I wouldn't have said that," Anastas replied.

"But that doesn't make it less true, and I probably should have retired when I stepped down as President four years ago. But we've done a lot of important work since then, that I don't regret. In any case, with everyone focused on the Summit, including the media, I can bow out quietly, which seems best for all concerned."

Anastas nodded, and took the papers Franz had left on his desk. "I'll get it processed, though as busy as things are, it may take a couple of days to finalize paperwork. Thank you for your service, General Heimler. I hope retirement treats you well."

"What do you mean you retired this afternoon?" Sara stared at Franz across the dinner table, shocked, and double-mad that he chose to announce it with the entire family present. With Aithne and Jeremy at the table she couldn't say half of what she wanted to, even if most of it was questions.

"I spoke with Anastas, and it's done," Franz continued as he filled his plate, his tone as calm as of it were something of no consequence.

Neither James nor Krista seemed to have a clear idea of how to react as well. From the startled faces, Sara knew they hadn't had any idea this was coming either. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better, or more concerned.

James managed to speak first, offering up a quickly-recovered smile. "Congratulations, Dad. It's about time you got some deserved relaxation."

"Yes. Now you'll finally have time to enjoy your hobbies, and spend more time with the rest of us," Krista added.

"I'm looking forward to it," Franz replied with a smile that looked tentative, though Sara supposed that was more because it still hurt his face for him to be too expressive. Then he diverted the conversation by smiling at their grandchildren. "Aithne, didn't you tell me you were working on a new art project in class?"

The moment the girl started talking, Sara knew she wasn't going to get a word in until later. Though she had quite a few things she intended to say.

Franz was prepared for the fight to come when they reached the privacy of their bedroom that evening. He knew there was no way she wasn't going to bring it up, and so he was unsurprised when she turned to him the moment the door was closed.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

That… was not the question he had been expecting. "What do you mean?"

Sara crossed her arms. "Oh, don't give me that. You've been depressed and out of sorts for a while now. Or did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"I'd rather not discuss it." Not that he thought there was any real hope of her agreeing.

"Well, we need to, because I'm worried about you." Sara shook her head. "And I know this didn't start after the attack, but it's been much worse since then. There's something, or several somethings, bothering you, and you won't talk to me about any of it. You didn't even tell me you were retiring!"

"We've been talking about my retirement for years."

"As a hypothetical. Why would you retire right now, in the middle of possibly the most fascinating and important negotiations in the history of Amestris and Drachma? Do you have any idea how much I would give to have had the chance to be in those rooms?"

"That's you." Franz gestured, generally, in her direction. "I'm over it all. I'm just… done. What I learned on this last trip was that I really am past my prime, and I don't have anything left of critical use to offer Amestris. There are plenty of officers more capable than I am to continue carrying out that work, and I'm less of a liability to Anastas retired than sitting in Investigations."

Sara clearly wanted to object, but she didn't interrupt him until he finished. "I know what we went through was difficult, and terrifying…"

"I was dead weight," Franz replied sharply. "I was completely useless; nothing but a liability. I couldn't even take care of myself."

"You weren't the only one injured."

"A General is supposed to lead, not be led around by the hand because he's effectively blind and can't even shoot."

Sara's expression softened. "Franz, if that's what's bothering you, why don't you let them do the surgery?"

Franz shuddered. The ophthalmologists had started pushing the need for eye surgery three years ago, when the cataracts started getting progressively worse. If it had been something they could do entirely with alchemy, he would have considered it, but Ethan and Ren had both made it clear that, even with an alkahestrist specializing in eye-care to make sure everything went well and without complication, the surgical procedures themselves were still necessary.

The idea of someone coming near his eyes with sharp objects…

"No."

Sara uncrossed her arms, reaching out to him with one hand. "I know, it sounds scary, but—"

"No!" Franz took a step back, rebuffing her hand. "It's not happening. So just, stop. I'm not a child. I don't want to be comforted, and I don't want to be coddled."

Sara scowled. "Be reasonable. You don't have to go on like this. There are answers."

"And it's my decision."

"This is what I'm talking about. You're being awfully obtuse. It's just not like you."

"Where do you get off saying something like that?" Franz was aware his volume was raising, but he was so… damned… tired of being compared to someone he just couldn't be. "These are long thought-out decisions, not some spur-of-the-moment whims. I am who, and what, I am, and you can just deal with it."

"But, I know—"

"Maybe you don't!" he shouted, aware that his eyes were wet. His hands were trembling. "You have this idea in your head, of who I am, or who I should be, and I'm not that man! Not anymore… sometimes I'm not sure I ever was. I can't keep up with you, Sara. I'm old, and I'm tired, and I just don't give a shit anymore about trying to be anything else. I don't have the energy, or the motivation. I don't want to get up at five in the morning and go running before spending all day at Headquarters. I'm retired. No one's ever going to care about my run times or if I can drag myself through an obstacle course again. Just… let me be what I am. I am old, and broken, and out of shape… and I just need you to be okay with that."

There. He'd said it, and from the look on Sara's face, Franz had the feeling she had never regretted hearing the truth more than she did in that moment. There was shock there, and sorrow, and a million unspoken objections. And tears…. Tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

And now I feel like an asshole. But he wasn't going to take it back. It needed to be said.

The silence stretched out between them for a minute, then two. He wasn't used to Sara speechless. It was far more uncomfortable than arguing.

Finally, Sara wiped the corners of her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. "I'm… going to need some time to process this." She turned her back, and reached for the bedroom door. "But… I've always loved you exactly as you are… no matter what that was. If you really think I'm that shallow I… I don't even know what to say. I'll be back in a bit." With that, she stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door.

I don't think that. He quashed the urge to run after her that surged through him. She said she needed time, and maybe he did too. It wasn't an easy conversation. Besides, she was in the living room, not running out on him. They had argued before, and they certainly would again.

Sara didn't think she could sit still. It wasn't all that late, and the weather wasn't bad. Getting the leashes, she took the dogs out for a brisk night walk around the neighborhood. It was only a little after nine—when had nine become late enough for bed?—and many of the houses on the street still had lights on. In the shadows on the windows, she could see neighbors going about their evenings. She didn't know all of them now, even though she knew more of them than she had four years ago. A lot of people had come and gone while she was in Drachma. Many of them were younger families, more the age of James and Krista, or even younger. At this time of night, little ones were usually in bed, or trying. On a second floor a father walking the floor with a baby crossed the curtains. In another house, someone was bent over a desk, working on something. In a third, with extra cars outside, there was an evening gathering, and she could hear the murmurs of noise—a soft roar of laughter—as they socialized inside.

The crisp, fresh air was good for clearing her head, and the dogs were happy to go where-ever Sara wanted. She headed up towards the small park a couple of blocks away, let the dogs drink from the fountain, and then began to head back, taking a longer route that let her stretch out her legs and gave her longer to think.

She felt awful, but she never liked it when they disagreed. What hurt was the idea that he really thought she might either be denying that they were getting older—which was ridiculous—or that she somehow cared more about appearances than the things that really worried her, like his mental state, or his heart. She might never stop worrying that something like that would take him away from her again.

He had been badly rattled by what had happened to them, but it had never occurred to her that he might have resented her protecting him because she could. Having his back was as natural as breathing, and she'd been helping protect all of them. Franz had saved her life, and more than once, and she had saved his. That was just how a partnership worked… wasn't it?

Whatever he said about the decision to retire today, Sara had trouble buying that it was a reasonably thought-out decision, even if it was too late to change it. He had deliberately not told her that was his intention when he'd gone to work that morning, or any of the opportunities he could have had to bring it up while he was healing. Surely, he had been thinking about it for some time. The fact that they had been talking about it on and off for years made it even stranger that he had felt the need to keep it from her until it was done.

Sara still didn't have all the answers by the time she got home, but she thought she at least had her brain unknotted enough, and her emotions calmed enough, to try and soothe things over before bed.

The dogs went straight to the water bowl when she took them off leash, and Sara headed back to the bedroom.

Franz was in bed under the covers, and the lights were off except the small lamp on her side of the bed. He didn't seem to be asleep, but he was quiet as she undressed, and slipped into her nightgown before joining him. Sara turned out the light, then cautiously snuggled close to him under the covers.

She felt a moment of relief when he didn't try to pull away. If he was asleep, she would talk to him in the morning. If he wasn't, well, she would just wait and see if he was ready to talk.

"Good walk?" he finally asked in the darkness.

"Nice night," Sara agreed. "Bit chilly, but nothing a nice warm bed doesn't fix." She slipped one arm over his chest, enjoying the warmth that radiated from him, pre-warming the sheets and thawing the bit of chill in her feet. "And good company." She kissed his cheek.

"I'm not sure you'll find the latter this evening," Franz replied quietly.

"I'll be the judge of that." Her hand slipped under his shirt, and ran lightly down his chest and stomach.

Franz didn't object, though she felt his stomach muscles tighten under her hand, and she wondered if she's tickled him… or if it was instinct.

"Did you really just try to suck it in?" she asked, keeping her tone lightly amused.

There was a silence, and then an embarrassed, "It was reflex."

"Clearly, since I can't even see you in the dark." Sara felt him loosen again under her hand. "I've told you before, I don't mind."

"I guess that's just hard to believe."

"Did I say anything about your suits on the trip?"

Another moment's hesitation. "You… said I looked distinguished."

"Was I critical?"

Franz sighed. "No. but I just thought you didn't notice."

"Of course I noticed." Sara smiled. "I spend a lot of time admiring you. You're as handsome to me now as you were when we started dating."

"Not the first time you met me?"

"You were even handsomer than that by the time we started going out." Sara hugged him close. "I will always love you, exactly as you are. Though, if you start to look Breda-esque, expect me to say something."

"I'm not sure how the General would feel with his name being used that way."

"It makes the point." Sara shrugged. "My only worry is that you're healthy. I'm not losing you until I have to. I never meant to make you feel like you needed to keep up with me. It never occurred to me that you felt like you were somehow behind, not as much as I've slowed up."

"Belle… your family's idea of slowing up or getting old is not a standard the rest of us could ever hope to keep up with."

He was using Belle. That was a good sign. "So don't worry about it. Though I wish you'd said something sooner." About that, and a good many other things. She did not mention his eyes. That was a fight they might have to finish another day. "About any of what's been bothering you. I'm not mad that you retired. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me."

Another deep sigh. "Honestly, I'm not even sure myself at this point. I guess… maybe I thought you'd try to talk me out of it."

"Well, I might have suggested at least waiting until the negotiations were over," Sara admitted. "There will be people who wonder about the timing, but given it comes after what we went through, hopefully it won't be remarked upon much. And just to assuage my curiosity is not enough reason to keep you on longer. Besides, anything I really need to know I'll get from Charisa eventually, or James."

"You could always come out of retirement," Franz suggested with a tone that made it clear he meant it ironically.

"Don't tempt me." Sara chuckled, relieved that he seemed to have relaxed a bit at last. "I am also quite fond of not getting up at five in the morning. Though I hope this doesn't mean you're going to start forgoing our romantic strolls."

"Oh, you know, I thought I'd just spend the rest of my retirement sinking into the couch."

Sara poked his stomach with a finger, making him jump. "That would be an excellent way to find yourself with a lot of cold, lonely nights, when you finally have all the time you could want to spend with a beautiful woman in your bed."

She felt Franz turn underneath her hand, and then felt the warmth of his breath before he kissed her. Grinning, she leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck as best she could in the tight space between them, letting him feel the sincerity of her passion, even though she did it gingerly, so as not to hurt his still-tender nose. She would always love him. No matter if they fought. No matter how old or broken they got. She needed him to know that, in the depths of his soul.

When their lips parted, he whispered. "Was that an offer?"

Sara chuckled. "Do you really need to ask?"