June 9th, 1963

Dear Cal,

It would seem trite to ask how you're doing on the front, or ask about the weather or anything useless. We get reports on the war almost daily from Daddy and from Will, and the letters the others send. I know what's going on more than maybe anyone who only reads the news or listens to radio; and maybe that's why I wrote. I know you're okay, or someone would have told me. They know we're friends. But still, I wanted to hear for myself whatever you'd like to tell. Are you sleeping well? What are your feelings about what's going on? I know the city isn't entirely deserted so I'm sure you've been scoping it out. Are there any decent places to get a respite from mess food? Is there any music? How's the company? Take care of yourself. I miss our talks, and your irascible sense of humor. I hope to hear back from you if you have a moment to write.

Fondly,
Alyse

Alyse,

Wow, I wasn't expecting to get any letters up here. Thanks. Other than combat – which isn't so bad really; these Drachmans are pushovers so far – it's not too interesting. No, there's no good music left in North City. There are a couple of decent bars though with juke boxes and pool tables. Company's okay, though it's almost all soldiers and alchemists. The Shock kid's pretty cool, so we pal around some. Actually, the weather's not bad. Hate the wet though. It makes my leg ache pretty awful whenever a new front moves in. I'm getting used to it though. It's not so bad.

Thanks for writing,
Cal


Dear Cal,

Thank you for writing me back. I'm glad my letter got through. I'm sorry to hear the weather bothers your leg. Have you asked Aunt Winry if there's anything to help with that? You know. We've never played pool together. We should do that sometime when you get back. You still owe me for the last round of drinks you know. I hope you're not corrupting Terrence too much. He's a nice young man, even if he is a flirt. He's not as bad as you yet. Though I am glad he has a friend. Things are tense down here, and I have very little work to do lately with everyone on the front or focused on the war. State Dinners are rare in situations like this of course. I'm still planning the Patterson-Camm wedding scheduled for October.

Miss you,
Alyse

Alyse,

I'm not that bad of a flirt! I am offended by your suggestion, Miss Elric, that I am a scoundrel or a cad. Besides, Tore doesn't need my help where corruption is concerned. The boy is a natural on his own.

Drunk on my night off,
Cal


Dear Cal,

Thank you for making my point so well. Arguing with you is so much easier than most people! I'm not sure if your signature was meant to do that, or merely your excuse for the short response, but it seems to work well for both. Seriously though, take care. Promise me you're doing that much at least? I don't want you to die out there because you did something stupid. Or for any other reason. I forbid you to die. If you do who will I talk with when I feel like a night out? Who will I gripe to and banter with? You're so much easier to get along with than most guys. I appreciate our time together.

Don't make me scold,
Alyse


Dear Alyse,

I probably won't be writing for a while. As you'll hear soon if you haven't, my unit and Fullmetal's are going west to block the third Drachman incursion. I'm not sure I'll get mail quickly or have time to write.

Take care,
Cal

Alyse's mind was completely wrapped up in Cal's last letter as she washed the dinner dishes at her mother's house that evening. It was dated four days ago. She knew from a phone call that the units had left on the sixth even though the letter had only arrived that day. It had been Aunt Winry who called her mother.

Alyse had worried about Cal along with her family and other friends ever since they had departed for the front. She had surprised even herself, however, with how much of her thoughts were stolen by those soft gray eyes. Her mind would stray to conversations they'd had, comments he made, moments where they laughed together. After the initial awkwardness of running into each other a few times, Cal seemed to have relaxed, and Alyse knew that they were friends now. At least, as much friends as she could be with any of her ex-boyfriends.

That was the part that had struck her in his absence; just how much she hated thinking of Cal as an ex-boyfriend. She had long ago begun to regret cutting off their relationship so hard and fast. Especially now that the reason no longer matter to her. Even more, she felt guilty. So many of the things she had liked about Vince, she had come to find over the last few months, were things that had reminded her of Cal, or that the two had in common and she hadn't realized. Cal liked jazz music; he really was a good dancer too. She had forgotten, though she'd never seen him dance like that at State dinners. He knew how to ride a horse, though they hadn't gone. He wasn't a sophisticated guy, but he was more cultured than she'd given him credit for initially. Not that it had mattered. The only difference between the two – ironically – had been that Vince was one of those nice gentlemen. He was the clean-cut guy you took home to parents and out to office luncheons.

She knew just how well now how wrong she had been on that score. Just because Vince was all those things hadn't meant it was a perfect match or meant to be. So why was Cal any worse of a choice? Okay, so there was a litany of faults; he smoked, he drank… a lot; he had a list of former – and sometimes not so former – lovers longer than the guest lists for some of the weddings Alyse had planned. He was brash, stubborn, flirtatious, moody…

So why did she have the horrible feeling she was falling for him all over again… for real this time?

"I think that dish is going to disappear if you dry it any longer," Ren chuckled from the kitchen doorway.

Alyse looked down at the plate in her hand. It was long past dry. "You're right," she felt sheepish as she set it in the rack and picked up another. There weren't many left. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Ren came over and joined her, picking up a fluffy, sage green dish towel. "Here let me help finish. You seem pretty distracted."

"I got a letter," Alyse admitted, willingly stepping over to make room for her sister-in-law…and her unborn niece or nephew. Ren was almost seven months pregnant now, and like last time, she was beginning to resemble a ball more than anything, though it was all baby. Ren was even more health conscious than Alyse sometimes, and normally trim and elegant. The transformation was rather dramatic. "From Cal Fischer."

"I see," Ren smiled. "Anything interesting?"

"Not particularly," Alyse replied, "Mostly an apology that he wasn't going to be able to write for a while because of being sent west with Uncle Edward and the others."

"So why the lost in thought?" Ren's expression said she had a clue.

Alyse had wanted to talk to someone about this for some time. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about with her mother though, or her grandmother. Sara might have understood, strangely enough. Lia was her first choice these days for most private chat; or the three of them together, her, Lia, and Ren. However Lia hadn't come over for dinner tonight. Friends of hers and Ethan's had invited her over and Alyse would never begrudge anyone a little outside of family socialization! Lia had even taken Trisha and James with her since her friends had a little boy who was five. "Because I'm afraid of repeating myself."

To her credit, Ren did not say something flippant or clever. While she was clever, she rarely said anything without considering the options and the situation. "Did you ever stop liking, Cal?"

"Well… no," Alyse admitted. It was something she could do now. She hadn't thought about him much during her four years with Vince, other than regret that he kept dodging her attempts to be friendly. She'd burned him badly, but she'd thought her regret had just been guilt. Now, she suspected she had been wrong. "I didn't, and I haven't."

"Are you still interested in Vince?"

"No!" Alyse replied sharply. He'd begged her to come back to him, and she'd declined. She still felt like that had been the right decision. Vince Miller had moved on. He hadn't pressed the issue after that either so she doubted he was any more in love with her now than he had been then; which was to say, clearly not enough. Alyse had learned the hard way what that type of infatuation could lead to. She'd let herself love Vince, tried to offer everything, and gotten burned.

"Then I don't see much of a problem," Ren replied sensibly. "Despite the rather striking resemblance; Cal Fischer is clearly not Vince Miller. From what you've told me he tells you straight up how he feels about things, and he's friendly enough now."

"But I… I'm afraid of trying to get closer," Alyse picked up the stack of dried plates and put them away in the cupboard. "He's so skittish I'm afraid he'll run again. I've got no reason to think he's still interested in me like that, even if he was before." He'd all but admitted it. "It took so much just to be friends. I want more, but…."

Ren's hand rested gently on her forearm. "It sounds to me like you're both dealing with issues of trust," she pointed out. "Right now though, he is learning to trust you. You also need to learn to trust you. A person doesn't really get to choose the emotions they do or do not feel, even if they control them. If you still feel that way about him, eventually the truth will be apparent. He's been honest with you. You need to be honest with him."

It made sense. "If I knew exactly what I wanted that would be easier," Alyse admitted. She couldn't ignore the strong attraction she felt. The odd ache she felt with him away, even after just a few short months of talking and hanging out as friends. But neither was she ready to throw herself fully into declaring she was in love with someone again. She'd been wrong once. There was nothing to say she couldn't be wrong again. Besides…. What kind of a match would that be? What kind of a husband would he be? A father… eventually that would probably happen. Alyse wanted children.

"If anyone knew exactly what they wanted I'd be amazed," Ren chuckled. "How was I to know what I wanted before I met Will? It never occurred to me growing up that I would fall for an Amestrian; let alone a man like Will. He's much more laid back than any of the boys I considered growing up."

"Considered." That was an interesting way of putting it.

Ren shrugged. "It's difficult to date when your brother has the authority to behead any of your suitors he doesn't like. Most of the young men I knew either wanted to marry me or were too afraid of Mao and my mother to try. I didn't have a lot of casual dates, and given my goals to be a doctor, that put off a lot of the more serious boys from more traditional families." Her expression softened to a fond smile. "Will was never affected like that. He took meeting my family so well. He didn't mind that I was a member of the Imperial family. To him, I'm me first. I went looking for an immaculately dressed, studious, serious, medical type Xingese male, and I found something so much better."

Alyse couldn't help giggling. "It's funny to her my brother held up as better than that, though I'm glad. Vince was everything I thought I wanted… and he wasn't. So I guess that means that really that wasn't necessarily what I wanted even if I thought I did, because I don't want it anymore. Or maybe," she clarified, realizing how strange that sounded, "maybe he wasn't really what I actually wanted…or needed, at all."

The dishes were done. "Maybe," Ren agreed simply, then stretched a little, then grimaced. "I think I may take Minxia home and turn in early tonight. This one likes to do gymnastics," she sighed, rubbing the side of her stomach.

Alyse gave her a sympathetic smile. "Then I bet Will will have a blast trying to change diapers," she chuckled. "Thanks for the insight. I feel better." She still had a lot to think about, but at least her head wasn't quite so jumbled. Besides, if Cal was unlikely to receive letters for a while, he wouldn't be expecting one. She had time to decide what she wanted to say next.

"You're welcome," Ren smiled back. "Would you like a ride home?"

"No thanks," Alyse turned the offer down gently. "It's a nice evening. I think I'll walk home a little later."

"All right," Ren nodded and headed into the living room. "Come on, Minxia," Alyse heard her call out. "It's time to get ready to go!"

Alyse followed her back into the living room, where Elicia and Minxia were playing a game of checkers. It looked to Alyse like her niece was winning.

Minxia helped put the game up without argument before following her mother out the door. When they were gone, Alyse sat down in one of the comfy chairs. "Did Aunt Gracia leave already?"

Elicia nodded. "She wanted to get a couple of things done at the house before Lia brings the kids home." Aunt Gracia had, for all intensive purposes, partially moved back into her old house most nights of the week to keep an eye on Trisha and James. It had been less traumatic that way, though some evenings Lia stayed there, or Ren, or her mother. Alyse had done a few turns sleeping over as well. They did their best to keep it fun for the kids, who obviously missed their mother and father.

Alyse sighed. "This might sound selfish, but I wish everyone would come home."

Her mother smiled. "We all wish that, everyone who's up north right now included."

That was true. "Still, I hate it when things like this happen. The last war, Aunt Winry and Uncle Edward almost split up, Dad was a mess when he got home, and it took a couple of years before anything felt normal again. I actually wish Dad were here to try and scowl and tell me who I can and can't date. Silly isn't it?"

Elicia chuckled. "Not at all. Having someone else make a decision does tend to simplify matters. So, did you and Ren have a nice talk?"

"We did," Alyse nodded, then glanced suspiciously at her mother. "Did you hear it?"

"No," Elicia shook her head, "But I could probably wager a guess if you wanted me to."

"That's okay," Alyse replied. Really, she wasn't ready to talk about any of this with her mother yet. It was an odd feeling, given they had talked about just about everything most of her life. But right now, she still had more thinking she wanted to do first. "There wasn't much to it. So, you said you were going to show me the new quilt you just finished, right?" It was one she knew her mother had been working on for months.

Elicia grinned and stood, letting the subject slide. "Of course! That pattern took me forever to pin right."

Alyse stood and followed her mother towards the project room. Her mind, however, drifted back a little. Dear Cal, how was trip west? I had dinner with my family the other night…

June 10th, 1963

The town of Larendon looked little different from the last time Tore had been up that direction, though the circumstances of his arrival were drastically different, and it was now much more clogged with people; refugees fleeing the Drachman invasion. Tore couldn't help but wonder how many had stopped here, and how many were trying to keep going. Trains heading North had all but stopped the last few months. Was Lilah even still here?

Beside him, Cal looked irritable, much as he had ever since they left North City. The phone call to his mother had gone unanswered, and while Tore assured him that probably meant Cal's mother had vacated like so many others, Fischer seemed unconvinced. His frail, shy, mother was apparently his only remaining relative; at least the Cal seemed to give a damn about and vice versa. When pressed he admitted to having a couple of cousins on his father's side that he never talked to. Cal had been sending part of his military pay to his mother for her to live off of for years. "I told her she should have moved to Central years ago," Cal muttered under his breath around an unlit cigarette in his mouth. It was the fifteenth time he'd said that, or something like it, in the past few days.

"We'll find her," Tore reassured him again. "Someone probably got her out of there already."

Cal snorted. "In that hell hole?"

Tore dropped the subject. He was tired of arguing it in circles. They'd find his mother one way or another, dead or alive, and then it would just be done with.

"All right," The order came down through the car, "Everyone off the train!"

Tore stood up and gave Cal a shove so he could get past him. "Come on, let's go."

It took several minutes to wend their way off the train and meet up with the Emerald Alchemist, Fullmetal, and the others. The regular soldiers that had been able to be on the train the same day as them had already moved to a large open space usually reserved for trucks and loading and unloading goods on the train. They were unloading vehicles from the last few cars of the military train as well, already loaded to bear with supplies. They would bivouac here tonight, then head North in the morning. It was already late afternoon.

"We'll be camping with the soldiers," Fullmetal informed them, "Though we'll be going on ahead first thing in the morning to scout things out. Our orders are to find the Drachmans' specific location and do anything we can to stall them and rescue captives until the front can catch up."

"Hey, shouldn't military intelligence already know where they are" Finn , one of the alchemists on Edward's team, asked?

"We have a rough idea," Fullmetal gave him a slightly irritated look, "But they're moving quickly, and given the lack of communication we get from those back-water towns, they're probably cutting the phone lines or capturing people before they can get somewhere with a reliable radio."

Not that radio signal traveled well out here either. Tore had been surprised by how technologically scant the rural areas got. "So what are tonight's orders…Sir?"

"Enjoy your last free evening for a while," he replied with an ironic smirk, though the look he gave Tore specifically told Tore that he wasn't the only one who remembered who lived in Larendon. "Report back in by midnight and be at the trucks in the morning. We're taking two of them."

That would easily carry the ten alchemists and necessary equipment, though Tore was a little nervous about being the fore-front team. How were a couple of handfuls of alchemists supposed to hold an entire Drachman army at bay if they found it before the soldiers showed up?

He was still wondering that when the meeting broke up and he looked around. They had time before tents would be set up. One of the perks of being Alchemists – they often didn't have to do their own grunt work. The same crew that set up the officers' tents set up theirs; though they were sharing two and three to a tent. "So, you wanna get a drink?" He probably didn't even have to ask given the look on Cal's face.

"Sounds good." Cal paused and looked around. "Where should we try?"

"That one's good." Tore pointed towards the very building where he had met Lilah almost two years ago.

"I take it you've been there," Cal gave him a momentarily startled look.

"Yep." Tore responded simply. "Come on." He led Cal over to the building and walked inside. It hadn't changed much; clean, half empty in the late afternoon though he was sure it would be full of soldiers later. Right now it was more crowded than Tore remembered, but he would bet that a lot of the clientele were refugees. They certainly looked like it. Tore headed for empty seats at the bar. The barkeeper – Theo, Tore remembered his name was – turned around and looked at them both with an unreadable expression. "Soldiers huh? What'll it be?"

"Two mugs of the local dark wheat beer," Tore replied, remembering what he'd tried the last time he'd been in here.

Theo looked a little surprised. "You been here before?" He turned and poured the beer off tap.

"Came through a couple of years ago," Tore nodded with a small grin. "Wasn't in uniform then. Just passing through."

Theo gave him a long, hard look as he handed them their beers and Tore went ahead and paid for both. "You do look familiar."

"I'm an alchemist, if it helps," Tore offered as he took a sip.

Recognition lit in Theo's eyes. "Ah yeah. Don't get many alchemists up this way. I remember you now." He looked between them. "Both of you State Alchemists then?"

Cal nodded, picking up his beer and taking a long sip. "We are. Here with the troops outside to make sure those blasted Drachmans go back where they came from."

Tore became aware that they had the attention of most of the people in the room. He hoped that was a good thing. He knew there were at least a few Amestrians who'd rather toss the alchemists to Drachma in the hopes Drachma might go away. Obviously that wouldn't happen, but not everyone had realized that fact. "Say, is Lilah around tonight?"

Theo blinked, half way to a smug smirk before it faded and he shook his head. His expression was one of concern instead. "Sorry, fella. Lilah went north to visit family for a bit. She was supposed to be back over a week ago."

Tore swallowed. "How far north?"

Theo's expression was grim. "Koldspur."

Beside him Cal gasped. "Wait a minute… Lilah…Peterson?"

"You know her too?" Theo didn't seem surprised. "You come through this area before?"

Cal grimaced but he shrugged. "No… I…was a local, way back."

Theo gave him a sharp look. "You don't sound it."

"I've been gone a while," Cal replied, following the statement with a long slow swallow. He looked at Tore when he was done. "You never told me you knew Lilah Peterson."

Tore wasn't fazed. "I told you about the girl who worked up this way. You didn't ask who she was. Besides, how did you know her?" He was fairly sure Lilah was a few years younger than Cal. But if they were both from the same town, that wouldn't mean much.

Cal snorted. "Her Dad was the foreman for the big coal mine. He got himself crushed in a cave in two years before I left. She and her little sister used to come in to pop's place to get groceries." He fell quiet then and finished off his beer.

Lilah was from Koldspur and over a week late coming back. That didn't bode well for anyone. "Are there any refugees from up that far?" Tore asked the question Cal hadn't.

"Not a one," Theo shook his head as he picked up a cloth and began wiping down a section of the bar. "Furthest north we've seen make it down this way is Porto and Tivoli. I think most of both towns have come through here the last few days. As well as half the other towns north of here. No one wants to be in the way when that army hits, even if it means no one's blocking their way."

"Well that's what we're here for," Tore assured him. "To head up and find the bastards and get them to go back where they came from." That was the long term plan anyway.

"Well said," someone commented from behind him.

Tore took another slow sip and waited to see if the room exploded or not.

Apparently it wasn't going to. The people fleeing before the immediate Drachman invasion clearly didn't care if they were State Alchemists or not. If they were part of the forces that would save their homes and families, they were welcome. It was, oddly enough, a friendlier reception that Tore remembered getting up near Tivoli. That was where he'd almost been beaten to death. Now didn't seem the time to bring it up though.

They had another round of beers before deciding to call it an early evening. It wasn't like there wouldn't be a lot to get done even if they technically didn't have to, and getting sleep before long days of travel was probably the smart thing. Tore left a gracious tip when they left. "So you knew Lilah," Tore commented absently as they
headed back towards the now pitched campsite. "Did you ever…."

"Of course not," Cal shuddered. "She's four years younger than me. When I was chasing girls, Lilah was just a kid. Funny to think of her becoming a prostitute though. She didn't strike me as the type."

"Me either," Tore replied, feeling an odd bristling inside him, even though he knew it wasn't something Lilah would be upset to hear. "She's nice; sensible, seems like a pretty regular girl honestly."

Cal eyed him with some amusement. "Actually, I meant she had chicken-skinny legs and no chest to speak of, but yeah; she really always was too sensible too."

The alchemists' tents were pitched near the edge of the camp, with the trucks they'd be taking parked beside them. Tore, Cal, and Polansky shared a tent; Fines and Kieleigh shared the other for their unit. Polansky wasn't in the tent when they got there, but sitting out around a campfire drinking with Finn and Lordes, two guys from Fullmetal's unit with which he was close friends. Tore paused. It looked like fun. "Let's join them," he suggested. He wasn't ready to sleep yet, and it was just getting dark.

"No thanks." Cal surprised him, shrugging. "I think I'll take a walk, then hit the sack."

"Sure." Tore wasn't going to argue with him. He didn't really blame Cal for being worried about his mother. Tore still remembered how frantically he had wanted to find his when he was a little kid; though that seemed a long time ago even if it was only seven years. "Don't get lost," he added with a teasing chuckle.

Cal snorted and wandered off into the falling dusk. "I never get lost."

"Funny," Tore sighed to himself as he sauntered over to join the others, "I used to say the same thing."

As he lay in the darkness hours later, trying to calm his mind enough for sleep, Cal wondered if he should just give up trying. He had lied earlier. He could get lost…in the twists and turns of his own mind. He couldn't care less what happened in Koldspur. At least, that's what he'd always told himself. He did care about his mother. She loved him, however incapable she had been in protecting him from his father. Melvin Fischer had been a hard, bitter, stubborn man, several years older than Violet; a sweet quiet woman he had cowed easily. Cal had been their only child, something he was sure Melvin blamed on his mother.

He had never gone back to Koldspur except once, briefly, thirteen years ago when his father died unexpectedly in his sleep. Cal had only been a State Alchemist five years then. He'd tried to convince his mother to move to Central with him, but she had smiled and refused. She had been born in Koldspur, and there she would stay. It had been hard enough to convince her to take portion of his pay he sent for her to live on so she wouldn't have to keep slaving away. She sold the store and lived quietly. Though they had written regularly, and she had finally gotten a phone a few years ago. There had been new life in her by then, Cal noticed. His mother talked about her hobbies; knitting, quilting, having tea with other ladies in town. She had an herb garden and helped bake for the town festivals. Not an exciting life, but full of joy for her now. She talked of friends' grandchildren, and gently prodded from time to time, asking how he was; if he was behaving himself; if he had anyone special.
It was only in those moments that Cal felt like he had failed her in some way even though he knew his mother didn't mean it like that. She knew he wasn't his father. She wanted him to be happy, to find someone to take care of him. The way, he knew, she had always wanted to take care of his father, of him; her only child. Really, he knew she wanted him to find someone stronger than she had been; a real partner for life. She never said it; but he knew she wanted to see him married, settled, with kids.

Laughable really. Cal couldn't imagine it, not anymore. He'd tried with Valeria and that had been a disaster. When he'd finally dared to think he might really try again… he'd been dumb enough to let himself start to fall for another good girl. No, it would never work.

So why did he keep Alyse's letters in his pocket?

Because she's the only friend who cares enough to write at all. It was a pathetic excuse, he knew that. Back when he'd griped at Sara for telling Alyse the truth about their liaison years back, he'd told her he'd lost a chance at love. He'd been hung-over at the time, but he hadn't been lying. Before that, Alyse had seen him as something special, someone decent with a lot of qualities other people seemed to overlook. After… well now he wasn't sure.

.He tried hard not to think about the three weeks he had enjoyed the full attention of the lovely, unattainable Alyse Elric. Only afterwards had he realized how fast and how hard he'd grown complacent, falling into those deep green eyes. It had only made him feel like he'd been right all along.

I should have had more to drink; maybe I wouldn't be contemplating this. What did it really mean that Alyse took the time to write him? How familiar her words were and how much he craved them? She had apologized before, and more than once, for hurting him. She had offered friendship despite his running from it for years. Now he couldn't help but enjoy her company. When her relationship with Miller ended he had tried to tell himself he hadn't been jealous of the guy. He was just mad that Alyse had gotten hurt. She was such a sweet girl. He had savored that innocence even though it had been what made her dump him in the first place. Now, she was a little older, a little wiser, a little sadder. Yet there was that endearing innocence. She was sophisticated and elegant, but playful too. She wasn't afraid to laugh a little, dance a little wild, or tease him. She didn't balk if he made a slightly crude joke. Or if she did she smacked him on the arm and told him to stop it. Yet there were lines she wouldn't cross, and he respected that. He hadn't been trying to get her in bed when they started going out before, no matter what he'd been accused of. He wasn't now either.

I'm always prepared. I never force a girl or lead her on, and I never touch virgins. He'd been repeating that mantra for years. It always kept him safe. Or at least, that was what he had kept telling himself. It hadn't worked. What he should have said was I never risk a real relationship where I might get hurt, because I'm a coward and a fool. Alyse was right there. They hung out two or three nights a week sometimes and it was simple, easy. There was no tension… except in his mind and the fact he was certain she wanted more than that but was afraid of chasing him off again. She was good at diplomacy and dealing with people, but he was so used to seeing past people now he could still read her easily. She didn't put up walls around him, and that scared him more than anything else.

Am I really all that people say I am? Just a fly-by-night cad who can't commit? He wasn't old. He was only in his mid-thirties. Plenty of soldiers he knew were still single at his age; hitting the bars, chasing skirts, not a care in the world outside of their next paycheck and a night's enjoyment. So why wasn't that enough for him anymore? The painful truth was it never had been, no matter how hard he tried to make it be. How many of the girls I've been with could have really been something? He didn't know. They hadn't been any more serious about it than him as far as he knew; but they could also have just not said anything when he didn't show further interest.

Great, now I'm second guessing every fling I've had since I was eighteen. That truly was pathetic. He hadn't slept with all of them, but he supposed that really didn't mean much at this point. The past girls really shouldn't matter. It was the one in front of him he needed to deal with.

The one hundreds of miles away in Central, who wrote him letters signed fondly and miss you. The one who looked like she wanted to gag every time he pulled out a cigarette, and never got more than slightly tipsy on a single cocktail. Yet she had somehow not ranted or raved even though he was sure it drove her crazy. What did it all mean? Was that a chance? More importantly, did he dare try and risk being shot down again, or hurting her in the process? He knew heartbreak. Now, so did she. He didn't want to do that to her again.

Later. I can think about this later. Right now he had time. He had a mission and his mother to save so she could continue to nag him about how he never brought a girl home to meet her. Maybe then… maybe… he would make a decision.