They All Lived Story 73: Outside the Fire

by LadyWordsmith

May-Oct 1996. With new leadership in the Amestrian Military, the internal conflict escalates as the group unofficially dubbed 'Arsenic' uses more violent methods that bring destruction to otherwise quiet corners of the country, killing civilians to get at their targets. Can the State find a way to infiltrate the enemy and stop them before more lives are lost?

3. Chapter 3

May 7th, 1996

The warm, sunny weather was perfect for an outdoor inaugural ceremony, with a grandstand set up on the parade grounds of military headquarters. The cloudless, deep blue sky, and light cool breeze meant that even full-dress uniforms were comfortable. Which was good, Tore, thought, since there were hundreds of people sitting in chairs—and standing at attention around those—for the ceremony to begin. Tore had run his final speech past Charisa the night before, and she had agreed that it was finally ready. It was a little longer, and more pointed, than most in-coming President of the Military speeches on record, but then, Tore had a different agenda than many coming into the office.

Most of his family sat to one side of the front row of the audience: Dare and Lorraine, Brandon and Julia, and Camelia. His grandchildren were not here. They would have been bored senseless in minutes, and probably overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. Lia had offered to watch them for the afternoon.

Charisa sat beside him on the stage, the way Anastas' wife sat beside him, though Charisa looked calmer than Mrs. Anastas. Tore could understand why. Jerome had only been out of the hospital for a week. His recovery had been slow, and Tore couldn't help but be amazed at how effective his own frantic alchemy must have been at expelling the poison that he had recovered much more quickly.

Well, mostly. His digestive system was still more sensitive than usual, though the nerve endings in his fingers were finally back to normal.

The rest of his "cheering section" sat near or behind his family, or at least within the first few rows. It was a sign of respect, as well a formality, that people were there in uniform he had not, necessarily expected.

Retired officers always retained the right to wear their uniforms for formal occasions. Really, in Amestris, a soldier never stopped being one unless they chose to. The same could be said for State Alchemists, even though giving up their certifications was required upon retirement. The name would always stick with them, of course.

Franz, as a retired general and former President himself, was not a surprise to see in uniform. It was a little surprising to see Sara in hers. James and Krista, and Roy and Trisha were near them as well. Of those, only Krista was not military. Their kids were also with Lia this afternoon, if they needed watching.

The big shock was to see Cal there, with Alyse by his side, in his uniform. He had never figured on his friend being willing to put the thing on again. Honestly, he was a little surprise Cal still had it. Of course, it made sense that Alyse would never have let him throw it away. The Whitewater Alchemist was making a very clear statement about his own loyalties.

Jean Stevens and Noelle were seated near his family, with the others of theirs who had been included in the attendance.

Tore was stunned to find Edward, Winry, Alphonse, and Elicia sitting just behind Franz and Sara. Not because he hadn't expected them. After all, he had very pointedly invited them, but because Fullmetal and True Soul had also opted to wear uniforms that Tore had literally not seen on either man since they retired during, and not long after, the Drachman War respectively. Not even for formal events. Both of the Elrics normally showed up in civilian suits, and had for decades. I wonder if any of the brass have noticed, and what they think?

The Chairman of the Assembly stood, and stepped up to the microphone. Immediately, the murmur of voices filling the giant space quieted.

Anyone who decided to try and attack this ceremony would have to be certifiably insane, Tore thought as the Chairman began speaking. For one thing, they'd have to get through exterior security. While there was always the threat that they might have enough men and women on the inside to actually try and stage a coup, their current methods did not lead him to be too concerned about a large uprising. Especially not when their plan had been to quietly take over through Volkhart, without being noticed or having to come out into the open.

Not that Tore, and many others, hadn't taken precautions. One of the alchemy lab's latest creations, an entirely synthetic fiber that could be woven into bullet-proof cloth, made for a useful and more flexible protective layer. It was much easier to hide as an underlayer than steel plate vests, and easier to wear. It wasn't one-hundred percent bullet proof, but then really almost nothing was, and it was better to be safe than to regret it later. Tore, and nearly everyone else on that stage, were wearing underlayers of the stuff as a precaution. It was also really not a bad time at all to give it a basic field test for wearability.

Even Tore's uniform hat was lined in the stuff. If someone wanted to take him out today, even a sniper would have to hit him square in the face to be sure of a killing shot, and the placement of the stage was such that there was no good line of sight within sniping distance from any of the buildings.

The Chairman's first speech was, as it should be, focused on the many accomplishments of Anastas, as he now stepped down as President of the Military after his several years of service, and into full retirement. The speech went on expansively for several minutes about all of the years of Anastas' commendable service in his career.

This was followed by Anastas' short, but very powerful and meaningful speech as he stepped down, thanking the military for all the work they had done on his watch, and his staff and fellow officers for all that they had worked together to achieve.

One standing ovation later, the Chairman stood again to introduce Tore. It was still weird to hear himself described as someone of rank and authority, even though he'd had it for several years now. Somehow, working in the State Alchemist's office, where he knew everyone, it had never felt quite the same. The Chairman went on about Tore's career, from his early stand-out for his work in the Drachman War, and then other work of note as he rose in the ranks to General, and his work the past four years as head of the State Alchemist department. Though much of that included his work that was not just with alchemists, but in collaboration with other military offices. Tore liked that part. It fit in well with what he was about to say, and what he planned to do.

The best way to undermine the enemy's plan, was to put into action one of his own that would subvert their factionalizing of the system. More inter-departmental work. A massive evaluation not just of how well individuals were working, but offices. Reassignments that would make every department run better and make the best use of talents of commissioned and non-commissioned officers, regardless of where they had been previously assigned.

It would, he hoped, encourage better cooperation within the military, while hopefully separating any members of Arsenic, or their sympathizers, more effectively, even if he didn't know who they were. A full investigation was already being done on Volkhart and all of her activities, and associations, for the past several years. Tore suspected that would help root out at least a few more traitors.

The Chairman finished his introduction and Tore took the podium. Time to make a splash.

"Thank you, Chairman, for that flattering introduction. It is truly an honor to have the respect and trust of the Assembly, and my predecessor, as I take this office. Several excellent generals have served in this capacity before me, and I plan to put my full effort into continuing a tradition of excellence and military strength that supports and protects the Amestrian people."

The polite, brief applause that followed was honestly more enthusiastic than he had anticipated, but that was a good sign. He wondered how many would be clapping when he finished. Tore continued, his voice loud and clear, forceful but not aggressive, as if he were stating simple facts of the matter; passionate but reasoned.

"While I'm here, I'd like to say a few words on the subject of our unknown enemy. There are several facts that need to made clear to the entire population of this country, in light of what happened right in Central Headquarters a few weeks ago.

"Our enemy wants us divided and weak. They've been targeting State Alchemist missions with false information for at least the past year. This recently came to light, as the primary purveyor of those false leads turned out to be General Marjorie Volkhart, who—as you know—has been tried and convicted of treason to the State for her leaking of military intelligence, falsification of reports, and nearly successful attempted murder of President Anastas.

"While they have yet to step up and give us reasons for these actions, the actions themselves say quite a lot. They're targeting State Alchemists as well as major military and diplomatic officials, and not just Amestrians. This suggests that they want us weakened, and controlled, and that they want the military in the hands of those who would have us return to the warlike state of existence in which Amestris lived for centuries, expanding into neighboring territories through force and false pretenses. To have a warring state, you have to have someone to be at war with.

"This, I will say now, will never happen. We are stronger as allies with our neighbors than our enemies. Enemies which, I will point out, have done a pretty good job of near-crushing us in the past, and not that far recent. Most of us here have fought in conflicts, many on Amestrian soil. Far better that we be allies, even friends.

"To that end, we must continue to cooperate with whoever is willing to join us. Anyone who does not wish to ally with us is going it alone by their own accord. Fortunately, nearly every neighbor we have has already signed the Accords laid out by the Summit a few months ago, and those guidelines and principles will lead us into years of prosperity and stability.

"The enemy doesn't want this, and they don't want you to know this, but I say everyone should know. It is one thing to disagree with policies, and go through due processes to change them. Amestris does not need to become a country where people fear speaking their minds, even when their feelings and goals contradict the status quo.

"This being chased around stops now. We will hunt down everyone who would seek to actively harm and undermine Amestris, instead of working openly within the system. This country allows disagreement, and a way to change. Anyone who resorts to terrorist acts is not operating in the best interest of the Amestrian people, or the State. So, I hope they're listening. They will be found, they will be arrested, and they will be tried accordingly, and fairly, for their crimes. Unless they persist with violence against innocent people, from any country; if they want a fight, they'll get one."

The words died away with a slight echo of the microphone, and for several seconds, Tore thought he could hear his heartbeat over the hush across the parade grounds. Never had he heard thousands of people quite so silent.

Stay calm, stay cool. Look confident, but not cocky. Look like they're waiting on you, not you on them. You've got all day.

The clapping didn't start from one specific corner or place in the vastness, though he definitely heard his family start among the first. It was more like a ripple, then a wave, that filled the parade grounds with a thundering roar. If there were any who were not truly inspired, reassured, or enthused by his words, they were hiding it well.

He stood, and continued to wait, allowing a small smile to cross his face. Eventually, they fell quiet again.

"Thanks for that response. I expect, as we will need, the cooperation of all of Amestris' finest. You joined up knowing what you were getting in for, and that duty has not changed. Thank you."

He left it there, gave the audience a long, slow look, and then stepped back from the podium.

Anastas stood. "Amestris!" he barked loudly enough the microphone picked it up. Startling given his health. "Salute!"

Across the grounds, the sharp report of men and women snapping to attention and saluting echoed off the buildings.

I'm going to have to get used to that.

May 9th, 1996

Being the officer in charge of the shift was generally one of Charlie's favorite parts of his job. He was trusted, respected, and still got to do a lot of the work he loved most, which was getting into the inner workings of the machines he worked with using his own hands.

When he wasn't doing first-thing-in-the-morning early inspections anyway.

Charlie bit back a yawn as he stepped into the hanger with the gold-and-pink rays of sun following him through the windows above. He didn't always come in this early, but he had wanted to do a last-minute inspection on the aircraft scheduled to launch today.

He had done the maintenance and pre-flight check on Dare's plane himself, last night. There was no way he was going to let anyone else put his friend's family, or his own sister and brother-in-law, at risk. It had been a very quick visit, but it was always nice to get to spend some time with Gloria and Alexei. Especially when she wasn't mad at him.

Which was why he stopped, startled to see the side access fuel panel on Dare's plane was ajar. He was certain he had closed it up properly last night.

Only then did he become aware of the sounds of equipment, and the shifting of rustling fabric. Someone else was here, working on the plane without orders?

While Charlie wanted to think that someone was just trying to get ahead and impress by getting a jump start on work, no one touched the planes without a direct order and assignment, and no one should be working on it this morning. That, and the way things had been going recently, he wasn't about to trust it to someone else's good will and hopes for self-advancement. Not yet.

Walking slowly, hand cautiously moving down near his holstered weapons, Charlie approached the plane. As he came around, avoiding coming into the line of visibility of the other man, his suspicions were confirmed. He did know the man—Specialist Hoff—but he didn't like the look of the siphon and hose the man was using to add something to the fuel tank. Whatever it was, it wasn't plane fuel.

Shooting near an open fuel tank where he might puncture the hull would be folly. Charlie slipped his knife up his sleeve, but he pulled the pistol, and removed the safety before aiming it very carefully. "Step away from the plane, Specialist." In the quiet of the hanger, his voice bounced loudly off the metal around them. The cocking of the trigger was nearly as loud.

Hoff froze. Then, slowly, he set down the container of whatever he was adding, and raised his gloved hands without turning around. "Should have known you'd be early, Sergeant." His voice sounded surprisingly calm and cocky for someone caught in an act of sabotage. At least he wasn't even trying to feign innocence.

"What are you putting in that fuel tank?" Charlie demanded.

"Just a new fuel additive we've been developing, Sir," Hoff replied. "Boosts efficiency."

"There's been no approved new fuel additives, Sergeant."

"I didn't say it was approved, did I?"

Which meant whatever it was, it was bad news. Charlie would bet it hadn't been developed with approval from the military, which meant they wouldn't find anything if they searched Labs One through Four. Not that they probably wouldn't.

He couldn't let the man get away, but he couldn't call for backup from this position either. The rest of the crew would be coming in, but unless someone else was feeling eager, it wouldn't be for another hour.

This was up to him.

Not police. No hand-cuffs. Not an alchemist. There was a length of chain hanging on the wall nearby. Best case scenario, Hoff cooperated with being tied up and detained.

If he was working with Arsenic, then the chances of that were slim to none.

All of it ran through his head in a matter of seconds. "Step back, Hoff. Keep your hands where I can see them and leave everything where it is."

Hoff chuckled, even as he stood up, hands in the air. "Whatever you say." Then, without warning, he spun, and something flew through the air at Charlie too fast to be a knife, but there was no report of a gun either.

Whatever it was whizzed past Charlie's left ear as he squeezed the trigger.

Not that he had time to do more, because Hoff had done the unthinkable. The bullet missed because the man had lunged forward, and was charging him.

Charlie got off one more shot before he dropped his knife into his hand, bringing it up just in time to stop what would have been a likely fatal wound from Hoff's own weapon—it was a knife in size, but the twisted, jagged blade was definitely not military issue.

Instead of hitting an artery, the nasty weapon dug into Charlie's shoulder. He grunted as it pulled free, and he spun quickly on his feet away from it, bringing his arm up underneath the higher strike. His own blade bit the fabric of Hoff's uniform, and caught skin before his opponent avoided worse.

In seconds, it was the first and ugliest knife fight Charlie had ever been in outside of combat training. Thankfully, the Master Sergeant who had taught them had been well versed in dirty tricks, or Charlie was sure he'd have been dead in seconds.

Instead, Charlie gave Hoff as little room to work as possible. It limited his own options, but that was fine. He was better without weapons at all, really. Knives, and ground work.

The fight was nasty, brutal, and short. It ended almost as suddenly and quickly as it had begun, when Charlie managed to block Hoff's knife with his own long enough to get his pistol pulled in between them. The shot went off… and Hoff howled as he spasmed…dropped his knife, and let go of Charlie, falling back against the concrete floor. He twitched, and one hand went to his stomach, which was quickly becoming red with blood.

"Damn it, Sergeant," Charlie tried not to tremble himself as he sat back. "Why'd you do it?"

Hoff spat in his face, then slipped into unconsciousness. He wasn't dead, not yet. He might not even die, Charlie thought, if medics got here fast enough. Though they would have to be quick.

It was then that he became aware of other people in the hanger. If they're with Hoff, I'm dead, he thought. He was bleeding in a dozen places, and the shoulder that had taken the worst knife wound was trembling with painful spasms, and still bleeding freely.

"They didn't waste any time, did they?"

Charlie had never been more relieved to hear a familiar voice. "I don't think they like what the President had to say." He looked up at Dare. "He was putting some kind of additive in the fuel. We need to collect that at once and make sure someone trustworthy tests in the lab. I'm betting on something explosive."

Dare grimaced. "Guess it's a good thing I came early to check out the plane. I could hear the fight as soon as I got near the hangar doors. Though I doubt they could hear it as far as the security at the gate. All I saw of it was you finishing him off though. Let me grab a radio and a medic kit. Can you stand?"

Charlie nodded, getting gingerly to his feet, keeping his weight on his left arm, not his injured right. The man had pulled his knife left-handed. "Get the kit. I'll get the radio."

Within five minutes the hangar was crawling with security, and the military police were on their way. Charlie let Dare patch him up enough to keep from bleeding to death, but he refused to leave with the ambulance that came for him until he'd given a report of the fight to the other officers that arrived.

By the time the rest of the crew arrived for the morning shift, Hoff had been declared dead, and his body covered and loaded into the ambulance. Two privates were assigned to clean up the mess, and all of the equipment that was evidence in the case had been collected by Investigations, except for one container of the additive which Dare had taken possession of to make sure it was delivered straight to his father, and then to whomever he deemed reliable enough to test it.

Finally, Charlie allowed them to talk him into getting onto the ambulance, but only after he had confirmed that everyone who was supposed to be on the flight had been notified of delays so they didn't try to come out to the hanger in the middle of the investigation and clean-up.

His first clue that Dare had made a couple of other phone calls, was that Shelby was waiting at the emergency room when Charlie was unloaded straight onto a flat rolling stretcher and rushed inside. He hadn't thought he was all that bad off, but as the adrenaline faded, and the wounds throbbed, Charlie started to feel every one of them, and his head began to swim a little. Holy shit… I just killed a man in a knife fight. Despite his brief combat experience in Drachma several years ago, he had never actually killed anyone himself.

As they wheeled him down the hall—had he heard them say surgery?—Charlie closed his eyes, and just let the experience flow over him. All he had to do now was stay calm, and it would all be over soon.

---

For just a moment, on the phone that morning, Shelby had thought her heart had stopped when Dare Closson called and told her that Charlie had been injured on duty and was being taken to the military hospital.

Images in her mind of anything from getting burned, or an explosion from working around all that fuel, to slipping and falling… nothing in her mind was good, and the fact that Dare couldn't tell her over the line what had specifically happened only made it worse.

Her Tuesday morning had shattered, but Shelby had leaped into action. Mrs. Perhellion next door, who had retired years ago, had been quite willing to come over and sit in the house until Shelby's mother could arrive to make sure the children got to school.

After calling her mother, and then the library to tell them there had been a family emergency and she would not be in, Shelby wasted no time in scrambling out the door. It took all the willpower she possessed not to speed across town. She arrived only a couple of minutes before the ambulance, and while they let her through, she almost lost her breakfast at the amount of blood she could see staining the blue of Charlie's uniform nearly black.

She couldn't get any closer except that she could tell he was conscious, and she was certain he saw her before they were hurrying him off down the hallway.

"Mrs. Fischer?"

Shelby turned to the female medic standing there who had been with the ambulance. "That's me." A military medic, she realized, not a civilian.

"He'll be fine, ma'am," the medic assured her. "They're taking him back to the surgery because a few of his wounds will need stitching, but he's stable."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Shelby asked, trying not to make it sound like a demand.

"Not here," the medic replied, shaking her head. "I'm not at liberty to speak about it. The physician will speak with you when he's in recovery."

Charlie was injured, and it was classified? "Thank you." Knowing that was all she was going to get for now, Shelby went in to the ER reception area, and spoke with the receptionist nurse. Then she sat down to wait. It was a long wait, but then Shelby knew that she was not anyone's priority at the moment.

It was nearly two hours later that a warm-skinned, dark-haired woman in a doctor's coat approached her. "Mrs. Fischer. I'm Doctor Broussard. Please come with me."

Shelby stood and followed the physician as they headed down the hall, and into an elevator.

As soon as they were alone, Broussard spoke. "Your husband sustained several wounds in a close-combat fight against another man. We have stitched his wounds closed, and he has been given a transfusion for the lost blood. We've started him on a round of antibiotics. He's out of surgery and will be fully awake shortly."

"How serious were his wounds?" Shelby asked. While it sounded like he was going to be fine, that didn't really tell her the full severity of the situation.

"The man he was fighting used a particularly nasty blade. Several cuts were deep, and none of them are simple. We'll have an alkahestrist in a bit later today to see what can be done about the worst of it, though there may be some permanent scarring even so. Still, he came out of it well considering he won the fight."

Shelby hadn't even paid attention to if there was anything else, or anyone else, in the ambulance. She swallowed at the tone in the physician's voice. Had Charlie killed the other man?

Well, she would know soon enough.

Charlie was already in the room she was led to in recovery, lying in bed, but blinking groggily. He definitely hadn't been awake long. It made Shelby feel a little better that they had come for her so quickly.

"I hear you've been doing a terrible job of making friends," she quipped glibly as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

Charlie blinked, then smiled at her. Definitely a good sign. Most of her experiences rushing to his bedside had not involved smiles. "He definitely didn't play well with others," he retorted.

"I'll give you two a minute." Doctor Broussard backed out of the room and closed the door.

Shelby appreciated the privacy. "So, what actually happened? No one will tell me anything except that you got in a fight… with knives?"

Charlie reached out for her hand on the bedspread, and she took it, holding it tight and getting reassurance from its warmth and steady grip. "I caught someone trying to sabotage Dare's plane."

For the second time that morning, her blood ran cold. "Can you tell me what he was doing?"

"Not really. They're still investigating," Charlie replied apologetically. "But I told him to stop and, instead of letting me take him into custody cooperatively, he attacked me. It wasn't a long fight, but it was pretty nasty." He grimaced; the smile gone. "He's dead. I didn't want to kill him, but if I hadn't, he would have killed me."

Shelby leaned over, taking him gingerly in her arms for a hug. It was hard to avoid the bandages on his right shoulder. It was harder to imagine Charlie killing anyone, but as much as he was an engineer with an incredibly safe technical job, he was a soldier. "Was it…hard?" she asked.

Charlie hugged her back with his left arm. "In the moment? Only because he was an excellent fighter. I was just trying to stay alive, and training took over. I did what I had to do. But now… yes. I wish I could have taken him down without killing him. It was… someone I knew. Someone I wouldn't have expected. Part of my crew. I think I'm more scared now than I was in the middle of it, honestly, now that I have time to actually think about how close it was. But… it's over, and I'm still here, and everyone who was supposed to be on that plane this morning is still safe."

"Which is what matters," Shelby agreed. "If you hadn't gone in early, this would have been much worse."

"I wouldn't have known," Charlie nodded. "And then when the plane went I… well, I'd have always wondered if it was something I had missed doing the maintenance and pre-flight inspection."

A guilt he would never have been able to live through. Shelby kissed his cheek. "Thank goodness, then. You get to be a hero instead."

"I'm sure I'll feel a little more like a hero when I feel less like a half-eaten sandwich."

"That imagery is awful, even for you," Cal Fischer's voice came from the doorway.

So much for privacy. Shelby hadn't even heard the door open. She slowly released Charlie and turned around. Her in-laws, and Gloria, had arrived.

"Doesn't make it less true," Charlie retorted. "For my first—and hopefully last—knife fight, I don't look half bad."

Alyse grimaced. "You're almost as bad about getting hurt as your father. Don't make a habit of it."

"I won't, Mom. I promise."

"Good. I'll second that, and hold you to it," Shelby added. Though this was not nearly as horrible as him losing his hand, she really hoped they never faced worse. As an engineer, Charlie was generally not in the line of fire.

"Hopefully your word is better than mine," Cal added with a lopsided smile, though Shelby could see strain behind his eyes. Her father-in-law cared deeply for all of his family—herself included—and worried, even when he tried not to show it too much. Of course, as many times as he had almost died, she couldn't blame him.

"My track record is still better so far," Charlie teased. As tired as he looked, he was in fairly solid spirits for someone who had been through so much already today. Shelby knew he would need some time to come to terms with having been attacked, and having had to kill a man. Charlie's good heart was something she loved, as long as he didn't dwell too much. He was much better about that now than he had been when they were first married, though this was the worst that had happened to either of them in that time, with the singular exception of the battle that had taken his hand.

"Yes, well, we'd better come up with a kid-friendly version of this story before I have to go home and explain to our children why Daddy is all cut up and can't roughhouse with them for a couple of weeks, at the least."

Charlie's smile returned. He chuckled. "Maybe we should ask the family writer."

"I write news, not fiction," Gloria reminded him. "Though I do suppose telling them you tripped and fell down a flight of stairs would be fairly unbelievable." She smirked.

"Can we just say there was an accident at work and it's been fixed?" Charlie suggested. "I don't want to give them nightmares about people with knives, and I don't want to have to try and remember some complicated story."

"That should work." Shelby didn't expect any of their kids to ask too many probing questions. Calling it an accident was a bit of a stretch, but she didn't have a better idea, and Charlie hadn't gotten attacked on purpose. "Though Mom's getting them to school, so I don't have to leave until it's time to pick them up." She could ask her mother to handle the afternoon as well, if needed, but Charlie would be fine, and the children would still need reassurance and dinner and homework help for the older ones.

"That's good," Charlie nodded. "Though don't feel like you have to stay all day. They're supposed to be bringing in an alkahestrist in a bit to see about speeding up recovery, and I'm pretty tired, so I might take a nap here in a bit. Not that I'm trying to run anyone out," he added quickly. "Just saying today's probably going to be pretty boring in here compared to what's probably going on over at headquarters. They might also still send someone over from Investigations to ask me more questions."

"That's almost a given," Charlie's father replied thoughtfully. "There's an awful lot of questions that need answering in a situation like this one." Shelby wondered if he knew—he certainly suspected—more about this she was going to be told.

It occurred to her that Charlie might want to tell his parents—or at least his father—more than he was comfortable saying in front of her, or could. While she knew her father-in-law no longer had the military clearance he'd had before retirement, there were still things he and Charlie could discuss that maybe he wouldn't feel like he could otherwise. "You know. I ran out the door early this morning. I think I'm going to step down to the cafeteria and find a cup of coffee. Does anyone else want a drink?"

Cal ordered a coffee, Alyse water, and Gloria offered to join her.

"It'll give Charlie some time to give Mom and Dad the full details," Gloria nodded knowingly as they walked down the hall.

Shelby smiled. "I was thinking the same thing, actually. I know he wishes he could tell me these things, but then I don't think he really wants to tell me all of it. Especially not until he knows what he can say, and what's going to end up classified."

"I'm sure we'll know that soon enough. The President will have an official statement for the news by this evening. Investigations will be all over this case to figure out as much as possible as quickly as they can," Gloria nodded. "Especially considering how fast it happened after the inauguration, and the things he said. It almost makes me wish we weren't going home. I would love to cover this."

"Do you know when you'll be leaving now, considering?" Shelby asked as they reached the elevator. She pressed the button.

"Not yet. When Dare called he said be ready to leave whenever we get the call, so it might still be today, or it might be tomorrow. With something like this, they now have to check every engine fuel tank."

Shelby hadn't thought about that, but it made sense. Just because he was sabotaging the plane that they knew was supposed to fly that morning didn't mean it was the only one he had gotten to before Charlie found him. "Any idea how long that takes?"

"All of them? Probably days, but that doesn't mean they can't have at least one cleared for the trip with all due speed. The faster they can get one ready to go, the less chance of additional interference." It was clear that with all of Gloria's experience, both as an investigative reporter, and growing up the daughter of general, she had an excellent grasp of what was going on.

"So, where's Alexei this morning then?"

Gloria grinned. "Covering as much of this as he can before we have to go. I would have loved to go with him, but I had to come check on my brother first."

"Hoping he'll give you the real scoop?" Shelby teased.

Gloria chuckled. "You know it."

---

If alchemy manifested the way magic did in the books Tore's daughter had enjoyed reading when she was little, then the skies of Central would have been thunderheads, with lightning lashing from every towering mountain of clouds. As it was, Tore could almost feel the tingle of electricity around him in his fury that had stalked him through the halls of Central Military Headquarters since the call from Dare that morning about the sabotage attempt, and Charlie Fischer's valiant thwarting of it, along with his sustained injuries. Unfortunately, the soldier-turned-traitor had died from his wounds, and no one else had been found in the vicinity as an accomplice to question. Still, Investigations was digging up everything they could on Specialist Hoff and anyone they could connect to him in any way.

Tore had thrown down the gauntlet, and Arsenic had answered. In truth, he had half wondered if they wouldn't simply go back to laying low and refusing to be baited. That someone had felt the need to retaliate so directly against him was, in its own way, a shift in how they had operated to this point.

Or perhaps not. They had been willing to go after Franz, and failed only due to fortunate planning. They had almost succeeded in taking out Anastas, except for him. Now, he was the one in the chair that seemed to be a clear target, but this strike wasn't against him. Of course, it was always possible that it had to do with taking out the generals from Briggs and North City in one go, but Tore would bet that if Dare hadn't been flying that mission, they might have waited on that target, or chosen another.

In any case, he wasn't going to let them get away with it. Despite the fact that the event had happened early in the morning, on an air field with restricted access, by late morning there were reporters from news broadcasters and the papers wanted to know about the rumors surrounding an ambulance seen coming into town from that direction, and a wounded soldier and a possible body being brought into the hospital. One of the reporters had asked if it was true that one of them was Sergeant Fischer, having apparently seen Cal, Alyse, and Gloria arriving at the hospital. If anyone was identifiable, it was the Whitewater Alchemist, one of the foremost event planners in Central, and their highly news-visible daughter.

Tore could have cursed the sharp instincts and skills of those investigative reporters. He should have them working for Investigations. In any case, he had told Caroline Flynn to tell them that he would have a brief press conference that evening during the evening news broadcast to make a statement, but they would get nothing else until then, and anyone seen attempting to investigate too closely might find themselves questioned by Investigations for possibly impeding the investigation and suspicion of collaboration with the enemy. The Sensation Alchemist had shaken her head at that, but had accurately conveyed the information.

Tore had personally headed down to Laboratory Two, where the confiscated suspicious additive had been given over to an alchemist team of his own choosing for analysis. Under normal circumstances, he probably could have walked the corridors fairly unremarked. At least, if he hadn't permitted the cadre of guards that security, and his new position, seemed to dictate. Or, perhaps, if he had not stridden down the hallways with no attempt to hide his presence at all, boots clicking firmly on the floor, and allowing the thundercloud that was his mood to flash behind his eyes. Why pretend he wasn't angry? Let them know they had infuriated him. He wasn't scared, or unsure, he was steaming mad, but not at all out of control. If they wanted to wake the storm, he would give them the storm.

The Alabaster Alchemist, Major Clarina Harper, and her team were waiting for him upon his arrival, with a completed analysis. "The detailed written report, Sir," Harper handed over the sheaf of papers on top of the envelope they would go into shortly.

Tore nodded, taking the file in hand, though he didn't look at it for the moment. Instead, he met her eyes evenly. "Summarize your findings for me, Alabaster."

"It's an explosive agent," she replied without hesitation. "A potent mix that should have impressive explosive power, but mixed in with the fuel would still take time to reach the heat and pressure needed to go off."

Tore didn't like the sound of that at all. "How much heat and pressure, Major?"
"As much as the fuel would reach about seven to nine minutes into flight with a high-altitude pressurized aircraft. At least, that's our estimate, Sir. Without testing, I can't narrow it down more than that, and this is definitely not something we want tested." Her expression was calm, but there was a hint of both horror and mild disgust in her tone. "Whoever made this was incredibly specific in what they needed it to do, and had the information they needed to make calculations."

Of course, they did. They already knew they had a leak problem within the military. It was also possible that whoever had created it was working directly for the military. They might even be in this building. "In your professional opinion, Alabaster, could this have been synthesized in any of the four State Alchemy Laboratories?"

"No, Sir," she replied again, startling him with her immediate response.

"Why not?" He would really love a valid reason, but she seemed almost too confident.

"The compound contains minute traces of Antimony and Polonium, Sir. Neither element is currently stocked in any of our labs by the State Alchemist Department, and we have never stocked Polonium, given its volatility and difficulty for containment. For those reasons as well, as you know, it's foolishly difficult to transmute. That said, we have a team of State Alchemists investigating all the labs at this moment to look for any contraband containers of either substance, or trace amounts anywhere in the buildings. If someone brought it in illegally, we'll know soon."

Which was about the best he could ask for. Tore demanded to know the names of the chosen team investigating, and nodded in approval when she was done. They were all State Alchemists he considered trustworthy. "Keep me informed. When the search is complete, send me the results by runner. Is there a safe way to render the compound useless?"

Harper nodded. "It's difficult, but if we go slowly, it can be done safely with alchemy. Are you sure you want it destroyed immediately, Sir? It might be… useful later. As evidence if nothing else."

"I won't keep it around," Tore shook his head. "It's too dangerous to risk someone else getting their hands on it, or the temptation to use it ourselves. That said, no one outside this room needs to know that it's being disposed of. Let Arsenic believe we still have it. It might…dissuade them from more rash decisions."

Harper saluted. "Understood, President Closson. We'll get it done."

"Thank you, Major." Tore nodded approvingly, before making his exit.

His next stop was back to Headquarters, where he had summoned every ranking General still in Central for an emergency meeting of the Senior Staff. While he had just formally met with them all for the first time within the past forty-eight hours, he wasn't done with them yet. In fact, as much as he had made it plain that he had no intention of stepping softly or trying to placate and play the peacemaker in their first meeting, he had a feeling they weren't going to like the even ruder awakening coming.

All of them—plus the four who had been scheduled to be on the plane that morning—were standing at attention when Tore strode into his personal conference room. As one, they saluted, as Tore moved to the head of the table. He waited for several seconds, meeting several eyes that were studiously looking straight ahead and not at him, before nodding. Not that he said a thing about taking their ease, or sitting. He wasn't interested in either.

"This morning, a terrorist attack that would have killed four of the ranking military officers standing in this room, plus the pilot, and several civilians, was thwarted by the industriousness of a single Sergeant in our Engineering corps, who decided to show up early for a shift.
"Which means that a single man, with a substance designed to take out or most effective military weaponry, was able to get into the middle of a secure and guarded area without being questioned, searched, or suspected. It has been standard security for months that all bags, even carried by soldiers and officers, be checked at the standard security points for confirmation of contents. Everything found at the scene of the incident should have raised suspicions.

"Which means we still have a serious security breach, and additional traitors in our midst. Both, we knew, if not to what capacity and what their next actions might be. The fact that it got that far despite current security measures is unacceptable, and I am holding every officer in this room, myself included, responsible. You are the leadership of the Amestrian Military, and you will demonstrate that you have the ability to keep your own subordinates in line and following the rules. If you cannot clean out your own ranks of these insurgents you will find it done for you.

"And if it ever comes to light that anyone in this room has been in league with the dissenters, or has withheld critical information from the rest of us, you will regret it. We will not devolve into the back-biting self-aggrandizing egotists that made up the military leadership under Fuhrer King Bradley. I will not permit it. Allowing the military to fall apart, to allow the type of authority that Volkhart and her compatriots were after, still are likely after, not only violates the purpose of the military as a whole, but the oaths we all swore when we took our commissions.

"If you have legitimate argument with the way things are happening, as I said before, I expect you to speak up openly. I know every man and woman in this room. I know your feelings on nearly every matter we may ever cross words over." Not that he claimed they knew his. He had very clearly made it so that never happened. They had shown their hands to him too many times, assuming he could be swayed, that he was a neutral party who could be bought, or at least convinced. "It is not complaints about legitimate issues in the structure of the military, or opinions over philosophies that concern me. Traitors turning Amestris back into an authoritarian state concern me, and they should you. No one came forward to save Volkhart, or even defend her, when she failed. It stands to reason if someone as important as her can be cut free, then anyone can. If you've had any sympathy for this cause, it should end now."

If they had ever had any illusions that he could be controlled, or that he was going to do this in the vein of Anastas, or Heimler, or even Rehnquist, they had just been rudely disabused of that notion. The steel in his voice, tempered hot, had several sets of eyes wide. Only three faces in the room did not look at all surprised—Felix Tringham, James Heimler, and Jean Stevens. For several seconds, no one moved. No one, apparently, dared to speak. Perhaps, Tore thought with a bitter twist of amusement, it was because he had placed his hands on the table in front of him, with the transmutation circles on his gloves showing.

"Does anyone have anything to admit or divulge here and now, before we go on with this meeting? This is your one free chance to do so without being immediately stripped of rank, arrested, and tried, should you be found to have abetted, or been, the enemy later."

Silence. Not even the sounds of breathing. Everyone studiously seemed to avoid looking at each other.

Not that Tore had actually expected any confessions. He nodded. "Very well then. Let us move forward on the presumption that anyone here is, from this moment forward, holding true to their oaths and their commissions. You may be seated."

The only sounds were that of chair legs scraping and uniforms rustling as they all sat, himself included.

Tore turned and nodded to James. "General Heimler, your report."

The report from Investigations was short, to the point, and only informative if you didn't already know what had transpired that morning. It did report the name of the officer caught in the act, that it was Sergeant Charles Fischer who had been injured in the ensuing fight, before being forced to shoot Hoff in self-defense.

"The autopsy and medical reports on both Hoff and Fischer corroborate Fischer's account of the fight," James continued. "Fischer was debriefed at the scene before being taken to the hospital. All of the material evidence at the scene has been confiscated, investigated, and identified." He looked over at Tringham, who took up the report.

Tringham had the same information Tore had just gotten straight from Harper's mouth. Not that he went into the detailed alchemical breakdown and information in the report, but just what it could do and the basic science was enough to raise eyebrows. Then, he did something Tore did not expect.

The Genesis Alchemist pulled out a small vial of the substance—a clear vial, showing that the explosive was nearly a blood red near-black color not unlike motor-oil—on the table.

Tore hoped that it had already been rendered inactive by Alabaster and her team. He couldn't imagine her handing Tringham a live sample to bring to this room. Or that Tringham wouldn't have checked it himself before setting it down.

But no one else in the room knew that.

You might have thought he had placed a live adder on the table.

General Schmidt, head of the Engineering Corps, went pale. "Are you insane?"

Tringham snorted. "It's not a danger in here. Added to fuel, in a pressurized fuel system, yes, but not at this table. Not unless someone wants to set the room on fire. I mean, I suppose if you really tried you could set it off with fire, or heat from a burst of electricity, but that in front of you, at least, is harmless."

Tore wasn't sure whether to thank Tringham for that last bit. At the word electricity, multiple pairs of eyes glanced at him, then darted away. "With this secured, and the rest of the planes checked out clean, we've minimized the threat from that direction, for the moment. Security on the airfield and hangars will be doubled, and they will be expected to report in regularly. Those reports will also be double-checked, and they will be inspected on a rotating and irregular schedule. This change will occur at all security points until the situation improves."

Once again, no one argued. He hoped he had them off-balance enough that this agreeableness lasted for more than a meeting. Not that he expected it.

Tore went ahead and continued. "According to the alchemists who analyzed the compound, it's their opinion that it, at least, was not made in our laboratories. We don't keep some of those materials stocked, ever, and so far, searches of the labs have turned up no evidence or residue to suggest they were brought in illegally, or worked with in the labs here in Central. The smaller labs at other military installations have been ordered searched as well, and we will have those results back by tomorrow at the latest. If we do not find anything, that implies that there is someone working out of a laboratory somewhere privately who is using prohibited, dangerous elements. It also gives us something to start searching for."

"You can't mean to search every private residence that might host an alchemical lab in Amestris?" Harkis looked disgusted, scowling.

At least someone else was brave enough to speak. "Not without probable cause, of course." Not that this, in itself, wasn't probable cause, but Tore did not want to alienate every civilian alchemist in Amestris by barging into their homes and private spaces looking for these elements. "Besides which, they're extremely rare, difficult to get a hold of given their status on the markets, and expensive." They would do better to follow the paper trails. Find the sellers, find the buyers, find the labs. It was highly likely the sources were working across borders. They could also check all the mine reports from inspections, looking for inconsistencies that someone like Volkhart might have placed there. Though anyone down to the ground level could have been involved. Such things were supposed to be reported, not sold. More criminal charges that could be effectively levied if needed. Right now, Tore wanted answers more than to remove people they could track once they were identified. Not that he was going to give anyone the whole plan right now, at this table. "Investigations will get to the bottom of this." He put an edge in his tone, that implied punitive measures if they did not.

Heimler played his part perfectly. For a moment there was the smallest flash of nervousness in his eyes, then he nodded briskly. "Of course, Sir."

After Tore pried what little was left to be had out of every other General at that table regarding anything they might know, and other measures they could affect in their own departments to make sure nothing like this happened again, Tore was off to the promised press conference.

Technically there should have been dinner between, but he wasn't getting home, and he wasn't going to eat in the Mess. Apparently, that was just not acceptable when you were the ranking General of the Amestrian Military.

Tore was startled to find, when he swung back past his office before heading down, that there was a meal waiting on his desk.

"This is why you have staff, Sir," Caroline Flynn smiled at him as he stared at the tray, on which sat a sandwich, sliced fruit, and steaming mug of coffee, alongside the ever-present pitcher of water and a glass that somehow never seemed to empty.

"I feel spoiled," Tore admitted with his first smile—if only half of one—of the day. "While I stuff this in my face you can give me the report on the aircraft situation?"

Flynn nodded. "The short version, Sir, is that since all the other aircraft checked clean, even after having their tanks emptied, and the fuel checked by alchemists, and refilled, they've already been able to undo all the potential damage. To be safe, however, the contaminated plane will receive an additional scrubbing of the tank and fuel lines, and a different plane will be used for the flight. But, as you requested, they'll be going out this evening as soon as the Generals arrive from the meeting, to minimize time for any potential second attempts."

"Is there any reason to expect one?" Tore asked between bites of sandwich. After missing lunch, it was by far the tastiest thing he had ever eaten as far as his stomach was concerned.

"Not so far as the report from Investigations or the Engineering crew indicate. We're just being cautious."

Given who was going to be on that plane, Tore was all for caution. He already owed Charlie more than he could ever repay. Of course, Charlie would never see it that way. "Good. They can leave as soon as they're ready then." He finished shoveling the last few bites down, sipped on the coffee, and snagged a slice of apple out of the pile. There would be time for more later. Tore stood, wiping his hands on a napkin that he then left on the desk. It felt odd, but he knew someone would clean up after him even if he told them to leave it. "All right, let's go."

Sensation, and two junior officers assigned as security—approved by James Heimler—followed him down the hall, two flights of stairs, and around to the press room from which official statements coming from either the President of the Military, or the Assembly, were televised and sent over radio, though there was less call for radio these days.

Tore entered, and moved to the podium that stood in front of, and just below, the green-gold-and-white flag of Amestris, with its rampant dragon. The room, already full of reporters, quieted down aside from the sound of camera shutters clicking. The film cameras were, he was sure, already rolling. Those news broadcast stations would be cutting to him now, if they weren't already live.

Flynn had run him through the proper protocols for this kind of announcement earlier. Tore had a good idea of exactly what he wanted to say, and how to present it.

His one clue that the plane was not leaving immediately, was spotting Alexei Deviatovski in the audience. Tore had to refrain from shaking his head.

Instead, he looked calmly, if seriously, around the room, before focusing directly in front at the camera he had been told to face. "This morning, at roughly oh-five-hundred-thirty, an attempt to sabotage Amestrian military aircraft was thwarted by the quick actions of Sergeant Charles Fischer of the Engineering Corps, Aeronautical Division. Thanks to his quick thinking, and combat skills, lives were saved today, and valuable intelligence about the capabilities of the Arsenic terrorist group, was collected. Sergeant Fischer will receive commendation for his bravery and his actions.

"As to how the saboteur got on site, the answer to that is one that pains me, as the would-be killer proved to be a soldier, turned against his duty and his oaths to the country he served. No one outside the military managed to get past security. Still, the matter is being investigated in detail, and anyone else associated directly with this attack will be tracked down and dealt with. No military property was damaged or destroyed, and the only life lost was that of the would-be saboteur, who refused to surrender and attacked his fellow soldier.

The military will continue to remain alert, and consistently reevaluate our security measures for optimum efficiency, so that nothing interferes with our duties to the citizens of Amestris. I will now accept five questions from the press."

This was a practice Flynn had insisted was critical, because it meant that among them, even the press had to decide which were the most important questions. The Sensation Alchemist herself, as Tore's assistant, would actually call upon the representative members of the press at each session, making sure that they got equal opportunities to ask questions, but also in keeping track of who had what opinions on which issues, help guide the discussion positively.

The questions themselves proved easy enough to answer. Tore was not at liberty to answer questions related to the investigation itself while it was ongoing, in order not to inhibit it. The matter was classified until it was completed. So other than confirming a few more details about the incident itself, and the methods of investigation, there was nothing earth-shatteringly controversial. After the fifth, he thanked the press, and everyone for coming, and left.

"Well done," Flynn complimented when they reached the hallway back to his office. "You didn't even go off script once."

In this case, the script simply being what they had previously discussed as appropriate, and the best way to handle the most likely difficult questions. Tore had a public face to put forward now, and he needed to make sure he didn't lose his cool—unintentionally anyway—in public, unless it suited him. There was a fine balanced line between well controlled fury and coming across as unhinged or unfit for the job. A calm, even handed report in a tone that said everything was well in hand stuck differently, and would hopefully also keep the enemy off balance. "Too much is counting on it," he replied. "Your advice was exactly on point."

"That will depend on the outcome, but I appreciate your confidence," she replied matter-of-factly. "It is nice to work with someone who actually takes my advice."

"From the information I got, I was under the impression all of your previous colleagues who have worked with you closely found your advice apt and useful."

Flynn smiled a little at that. "I didn't say they didn't listen. Some of them just took…creative liberties with the execution."

That definitely sounded like Proteus. Tore did not fish for additional information. "Well, a lot more is riding on it now. I wouldn't have appointed you if I didn't think you were more than up to the task."

"And I wouldn't have accepted if I didn't feel the same about you, Sir." She startled him.

Tore suspected it was a good thing the Sensation Alchemist was far too young to have ever witnessed Tore in his much earlier, rougher, in-progress stages. She only knew him as the experienced officer and alchemist. "I'll do my best to live up to your view of me then." He managed a real smile. "It's the least I can do for my country."

---

Growing up in the house of a General, and for some time President of the Amestrian Military, Charisa knew better than to expect Tore home for dinner the evening after a major event like the one that had occurred that morning.

Not that Charisa had an early day either. The Assembly was in nearly as much of a perturbation as the military over the whole incident, even if there was less that they could actively do. Investigations, the officers, and ranks of military police were already involved. So, the Assembly's daily agenda, punctuated with additional discussions about security and what measures might be needed when they figured out the nature of the enemy—if they were foreigners, did other matters need to be taken regarding borders?

That was a direction that concerned Charisa, given how hard they had been pushing to get more open and agreeable borders. Not that anyone was seriously suggesting closing off Amestris yet. She hoped it didn't go that way. That was precisely what the Arsenic faction had wanted. That was what they might have gotten with Volkhart in charge of the military. Thankfully, Tore would never let that happen.

I wish you could see him, Dad. I think you'd be as proud as I am right now. Her father and mother both. Her mother had always liked Tore, and had seemed aware that Charisa's feelings for her dearest friend had never entirely gone away. Her father had truly only been mad at Tore about as long as he had been mad at Charisa, the night of that fateful party in high school. Which was to say, for maybe a week. Not that Tore had stuck around long enough to realize it. Still, he had done a lot of growing up in those months. There, and then in the war, and eventually they had both become people who could not only be friends again, but more. When they had married, her father had been entirely supportive, and he and Tore had gotten along very well for the years they had all lived together through the end of her father's life. He would have been proud, she was sure.

The press speech was short, to the point, and factual. No one who didn't know would have been able to tell that it was Tore's own son who should have been flying the plane. That their family would have lost so many if the plane had been allowed to take off. It wasn't just a military attack, it was a personal one, and only a fool would think that it hadn't been meant as a statement that way. A response to the fact that it was Tore calling them out.

Charisa had picked up take-out on the way home, stopping by a nearby deli that was on the way, and getting her favorite soup and salad. It had allowed her to get home just in time to watch the news report, and then the rest of the coverage and commentary that followed. Refusing to pull out more paperwork tonight, she took a long, hot shower, watched the late-evening news analysis reports with the cat on the couch, and was heating water for tea when she finally heard footsteps and keys in the door.

She met Tore in the hallway, her already in her pajamas and house shoes, as he basically shut the door in the faces of his security team, and sagged against the door. He hadn't really, of course. Those who had accompanied him home using the military car would have left as soon as he stepped inside, and the night security guard who had ridden with them would have spelled the one who had come home with her. On a normal morning, Charisa hoped at some point they would be able to just go in together, saving cars, drivers, and security officers the hassle of having to deal with them separately.

Tore had already flatly refused the suggestion that the old Fuhrer's Mansion on the grounds should be repurposed back to its original use as the residence of the head of the military. For one thing, it would be a logistical nightmare, for another he refused to run in fear, or move out of the house that had been perfectly acceptable as the President of the Military's residence for Breda's entire tenure.

Charisa agreed with him. "Hot tea?" she offered first. "Water should be ready soon."

"Please." Tore didn't move for several seconds. Then he opened his eyes again, and straightened up, removing his uniform jacket and hanging it in the closet before sitting on the bench beside it to take off his boots. "Anything earthshattering happen between my speech and now?"

"Nothing more than the usual picking apart every word looking for additional information, and a hundred theoretical possibilities that Investigations and your staff will have detailed reports over for you in the morning," she assured him. "As analysis goes, the speech itself actually went over well. No one seems to be questioning you. Which is excellent really."

"I can't imagine I'll be that well thought of forever, but it's good to know." Tore pulled off his second boot then stood again, stretching. Charisa heard several joints cracking. "Tea first, then I'll shower."

"Are you hungry?" Charisa asked as they headed toward the kitchen. "I don't think we have much other than the last of Brandon's last masterpiece that he shared with us, but we also have cheese and some fresh cucumbers he bought for us at the farmer's market the other day." Even though Brandon was married and moved out, he hadn't stopped thinking of his parents, and how much crazier their lives were now. The Cretan vegetable dish in the refrigerator was made mostly of the first pickings of squash and tomatoes of the season.

"I did have dinner, thanks to my staff, but I missed lunch. Honestly cheese and cucumbers doesn't sound half bad." Tore sounded a little surprised. "Probably better than digging into the bread pudding."

"Definitely better." Charisa poured the hot water into the pot to steep the tea, and then went to the refrigerator and pulled out the nice, mellow white cheese and a garden cucumber, cutting them both up. "If your staff fed you dinner, why didn't they also feed you lunch?"

"Probably because I wasn't in my office until dinner," Tore admitted as he dropped into a chair at the little kitchen table. "I don't think I stopped moving all day, except for meetings. If every day is like this, I'll never need the gym."

"Only you could promote into the ultimate desk job and do it entirely on the go." Charisa chuckled as she kept chopping. "I'm sure things will settle down eventually, but being seen as involved and in charge, and people not knowing when to expect you to show up in person, will definitely keep folks on their toes."

"It also makes me a harder target to hit." Tore nodded. "Though honestly, I prefer this to being stuck behind a desk half the day. Even if it does mean at some point, I'm going to have to lock myself in that office and pour through the final paperwork before anything gets signed. Or to make sure I'm not missing anything important."

Especially if it might not be a clue in the puzzle that was Arsenic. Charisa understood that. "Well, I can't say I'll complain. Daddy preferred to do his thinking in a chair. It worked, obviously, seeing as he was a genius, but it was awfully sedentary."

"I've never been good at holding still that long." Tore chuckled, though there was deep exhaustion in it. "I also outlawed large boxes of fattening pastries from the office, except on pre-approved special occasions. It's amazing what having full control over what goes in the break room feels like."

Well, if that didn't make it clear he was a different breed, Charisa didn't know what would. "Well, I hope you didn't disappoint your staff too much with that declaration."

"Actually, I think most of them were relieved." Tore managed a smile that she saw as she finished chopping and turned around to bring the plate to the table. "Not that a few donuts wouldn't be very tempting right now, but this looks better, and I need to sleep tonight. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Charisa leaned in and kissed him lightly before setting down the plate. "If anyone has earned a little late-night snack for their hard work, it's you." She went back for the teapot and cups.

"Don't make it sound like you weren't working hard all day too," Tore countered. "I know how up in arms the Assembly is about all of this. The Senior Chairman wants every piece of information I can pass on, and plenty that I can't yet. Mostly because we don't have it."

"Oh, it was chaos on the floor today," Charisa admitted. "Though it's probably a good thing no one knew that the pilot for that mission was our son, or they might not have listened to a word I said. They'd have written it all off as a mother's clouded judgement."

"Only if they don't know you at all." Tore picked up a slice of cheese and a cucumber, and popped them both in his mouth at once. "I left word with Dare pretty much ordering him or Lorraine to call when they get back to North City, just to let us know they arrived safely."

"You left orders for your son to call home. I'm not sure if that isn't an abuse of power," Charisa teased lightly as she joined him at the table, finally able to relax with her tea. Tonight's blend was a nice non-caffeinated herbal, blended for relaxation. Neither one of them needed to be any more wired tonight. "I'm glad they were able to get out of here all right. What time did they take off?"

"About half an hour after my speech ended. Alexei was with the rest of the press, and the report says he was in the same car with the Generals going out. Another car took Lorraine and the kids, and Gloria, to the airfield. It picked up Gloria at the hospital." Tore ate two more slices of each and took a long drink of tea. "I feel a little guilty not getting over there today to visit our new hero."

"He doesn't need that much attention, and you'd have an entourage all over the hospital. It's probably better you wait. Not that you had time today." There were simply some things that needed to be prioritized. Charlie's commendation and the verbal recognition would have to be enough until they could find time to spend with family. "Maybe you can find time tomorrow to at least give Cal and Alyse a call. A private family visit after Charlie gets out of the hospital will probably be much easier to manage anyway."

"I hope so." Tore reached across the table with a free hand, and rested it on top of hers. "Every day can't be as chaotic and unpredictable as today was, but I suspect a lot more of them will be than we'd like until we can get Arsenic dealt with. Then, we have to hope there isn't someone else immediately after that who wants to take a shot at revolutionizing Amestris."

"We'll handle it." Charisa turned her hand enough to grasp his lightly. "You were great today. We had an emergency, and all anyone saw was a confident, capable leader taking care of business, and trusting his subordinates and colleagues to do what needed to be done, and the military responding as it should. I hope you know I'm proud of you."

Tore's face flushed. "Honestly, of all the opinions out there that I have to care about now, yours will always be the one that matters most."

"Does that make me your number one constituent?" Charisa teased. "I'm not your subordinate."

"Or my boss," Tore retorted with an equal grin. "No, but you're my partner, and still my dearest love. With you, I know I've got this."

So sweetly romantic. If only it weren't so late… "We've got this," she agreed. "I may not literally stand beside you with a weapon, but I'll always have your back."

Tore blinked, then chuckled. "That's probably a good thing. With my luck, I'd say something foolish to get in your cross-hairs."

"Doubtful. It's been years since you said anything that made me that mad. I don't think you're fool enough to start again now."

"I'd like to think I'm wiser than that. I've got enough people who'd probably like a shot at me now anyway." Tore squeezed her hand, and then his jaw opened in a huge, cracking yawn.

"Finish your tea and shower," Charisa suggested. "As much as I would rather spend every possible moment that we have awake with you, morning will be here far too soon."

Tore nodded, and picked up his tea cup again. "Yes, dear. Just let me know as soon as Dare calls, even if I'm still in the shower, all right?"

"You got it."

---

By the time Cal and Alyse got home that evening, it was late, and Cal had to admit he was emotionally and physically spent. He had already been awake that morning when Dare called the house, but only because Gloria and Alexei had been up early and packing and nearly ready to head over to the hangar.

The news that Charlie had been in a knife fight, of all things, and was on his way to the hospital, had been bad enough. The realization that if Charlie hadn't caught the man in the act, Gloria and Alexei, and their unborn baby girl, would likely all be dead now was even worse. He could have lost both of his children today.

When Shelby and Gloria left the room, Charlie had told them the full story, from finding the man to the fight itself, and how he had ended it by shooting the man in the stomach at point-blank range as they rolled on the hangar floor.

They had only left in the afternoon when the alkahestrist—not one with whom Cal was familiar—had come in to treat Charlie.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening had been spent getting Gloria and Alexei to a plane once one had been cleared for flight, and they, Dare and his family, and the Generals were on their way back to North City. That was followed by helping Shelby with dinner and the four kids. By the end of it all, they were both drained.

With everyone gone, the house seemed very quiet this evening.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," Alyse said, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "Unless you wanted the bathroom first?"

"No, I'm good right now," Cal assured her. "I'll feed the cats." Given the way they were mewing at his legs, he had a feeling in the chaos of the day they had not gotten their usual early dinner feeding. As she went into the bathroom, he turned the chair and went into the kitchen.

It didn't take long to give the cats their dinner, and when they were happily eating from their little dishes on the kitchen floor, Cal dug out the small bottle he kept tucked in the far back of cabinet that held the tools for general fixes around the house. One of the few cabinets Alyse rarely touched, and everything she used regularly was right at the front. He was almost certain she didn't know about his little stash. If she had, he was sure it would have disappeared sometime in the four months it had been there, or the several months it had taken him to go through its predecessor.

He took one good, long, deep swig before capping it and putting it back. That friendly, familiar burn warmed him through, and as it hit his system, he felt the worst of the edge of the day's anxieties easing away. Not all of it, but it would have to do.

Cal made his way back into the bedroom, and by the time Alyse came out of the bathroom, showered and dressed for bed even though it was a little early yet, he had gotten out of his chair, changed, and was ready for his turn to brush his teeth and the rest of the bedtime routine.

When he returned to the bed, Alyse was sitting up, reading the latest novel she had been enjoying in a series of mysteries. It was one of her preferred ways of calming down for the night before bed.

After the day they'd had, he couldn't blame her. He might have preferred something a little more physical, but the book out already meant Alyse wasn't in the mood, and he knew better than to ask. Instead, he got under the covers, and turned off the lamp on his side of the bed. "Read as late as you want," he told her when she looked up. "I'm just going to crash."

Alyse smiled. "Sure. Sleep well."

"I will." Or at least, he would try. Cal rolled over away from Alyse and the other lamp, and closed his eyes. If he was lucky, he wouldn't dream tonight. Or at the very least, it would be something unmemorable. All he wanted tonight was a quiet mind, and minimal pain.

May 10th, 1996

Over the years, Alyse had gotten used to waking up at odd hours of the night, even if only for a few minutes. Cal had been a restless sleeper the entire time she had known him. Unsurprising, given what he had experienced and lived through before they together, and after. So, it only took a moment for her to become aware that the sounds that had awoken her this time was a startled shout, and a gasp, and Cal rolling irritably beside her.

Sitting up, Alyse turned on the small bedside lamp as she rolled over to get a better look. For once, Cal wasn't even awake. He was caught up in a dream, a nightmare if she had to guess, from the way he whimpered and tossed and twitched. He had his back to her side of the bed. Then she noticed the glint of wetness on his cheeks. He was crying in his sleep. It happened, but that was rarer.

Alyse hesitated only a moment before reaching out and resting a hand on her husband's shoulder, without leaning in close. She had awakened him before. He preferred that. "Cal… sweetheart. You're dreaming. It's not real."

Cal jumped, gasped, and his eyes came open. For a moment, he stared, coming to awareness. Then he rolled over, looking at her with an agonized sorrow that rent her heart. "'Lyse? Oh gods…" He reached for her, pulling her almost forcefully into his arms as he hugged her against him. The tears kept coming.

She held him back, letting the sobs that wracked his body run their course. Sometimes he talked about his nightmares, and sometimes he didn't. If she waited, she had a better chance of finding out what this one had been about particularly, though they all seemed to have similar themes. Several were recurring. Many were memories.
It was minutes before Cal shuddered, and finally quieted. Alyse said nothing about the soaked mess of the shoulder of her nightgown. Or Cal's nightshirt, which was soaked from sweat. Definitely a bad one, though it had been a while since the last. "I'm… thirsty," he said finally, in little more than a whisper.

"Water, or would you prefer juice? I can make tea," Alyse offered.

For a moment, Cal looked indecisive and—haunted? He shivered, then nodded. "Tea, please. I… think I'm going to take a shower."

Alyse nodded. "It will be ready when you get out." She kissed his cheek, and eased out of his arms as he stood up on the other side of the bed.

In the kitchen, the half-grown kittens poked their heads in to stare at her, as if Alyse was crazy for making tea at three in the morning. She wondered if the cats thought they were weird on a regular basis. When she was clearly not getting them anything, they sauntered away again.

The water was boiled and the tea on to steep well before she heard the water turn off in the bathroom. Cal always took his time with showers after a nightmare, even beyond the fact they took longer since his injuries. The fact that he hadn't needed her help into the shower either meant he was feeling physically all right, or he just didn't want to show even more weakness than he had by crying. He so rarely cried.

Cal joined her in the living room as she set the tray, with tea pot, cups, and honey pot, down on the table. He moved slowly, but he was using the cane, not the chair. He had changed into clean pajamas, though he didn't look particularly refreshed. He lowered himself gingerly onto the couch, then accepted the cup of tea she held out to him, before she sat down beside him.

Together, they sipped quietly, and Alyse waited.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Cal finally admitted after finishing the first cup. "This… needing to be guarded all the time….and people trying to kill our family. I thought we were done with this but…. Gloria… and then yesterday… okay they weren't after Charlie…this time, but they still tried to kill him."

He didn't say more, but he didn't need to. Alyse thought about the last time an enemy had managed to get explosives onto Headquarters grounds. She'd been in the building, and had received head injuries and broken her ankle. Or when the Hashman Syndicate had taken Charlie as a hostage, and shot both him and Cal in the rescue. Or when Charlie had gotten his hand blown off in combat. She didn't even need to run down the litany in her head of every time Cal had been hurt, or nearly killed, in combat. And even outside of those kinds of dangers, she had faced cancer. It was a lot, and every day she was grateful they were all still alive. "It's hard," she agreed. "Was that… what you dreamed about?"

Cal reached for the teapot, refilling his cup with the liquid, then sipping it straight. "Not memories. Not this time. I…" his voice broke in a sort of strangled sound. "You died… and it just… broke me. It was so real, and I just… I can't live without you."

Alyse reached out and squeezed his free hand in hers. "You don't have to. I'm right here, I'm healthy, and we're well protected."

"I know that, but… I mean it. There was nothing unbelievable or over the top in this one. Nothing… out of place, or out of character. You were just gone, and there was nothing left for me."

"Then it's a good thing I'm over a decade younger than you." Alyse didn't smile. This wasn't the moment for smiles, but she did lean comfortingly into his shoulder. These were not new fears, but clearly there was something this time that had hit him differently, or bothered him in a new way. "If it will make you feel better, I will promise—again—to do my best to outlive you, even though going on without you would hurt me just as much."

Cal squeezed her hand, though he was still staring into the depths of his tea. "But at least you'd live."

Well, that was cryptic. "So would you."

Cal shook his head, vehemently. "No. That's just it. 'Lyse… without you I just gave up. I was just waiting to die. It felt… it felt just how it did about half-way through my auto-mail rehabilitation only… I knew it would never get better."

A period of his life that had immediately preceded their meeting, and yet Cal rarely spoke of. Alyse knew, through inferences and the rare statement, that it had been a very rough time. He had been mostly alone, outside of rehabilitation, and the assistant that had come around in the earliest days to help take care of him. Many of the people he had thought were friends, weren't interested in coming over if he couldn't come out with them to party. The darkest period of his life, when he had spent much of it in a deep, lingering depression.

A little shudder of fear ran through her. "What happened… in the dream?"

A fresh tear ran down Cal's cheek, and he set the teacup down on the table. Only then could she see his hand was trembling slightly. His words, when they came, were barely audible. "I gave up. I just… drank myself to death…and I couldn't stop. I didn't want to feel that agony."

Several seconds of silence followed that pronouncement. Fear and shame written plainly across his expression.

Alyse set down her cup and lightly ran her hand down Cal's arm, the way she had rubbed the kids backs when they were little and not feeling well. It was something she did with him just as often, though she wasn't sure he had noticed. That was definitely a distressing nightmare to be trapped in. "That's awful," she agreed quietly. "Thank goodness it was just a dream, even if it was a terrifying one."

Cal shook his head. "That's just it." He took a deep breath, and looked over at her. "It's not."

The knot in her stomach tightened. "I would think it's good that the idea terrifies you. It means… it's not something you want to happen."

"Of course, I don't want it to happen. Not right now, when I have you." Cal frowned. "'Lyse, if anything ever happens to you, the problem is I won't care anymore. I… won't want to, and I won't be able to. It felt real because… losing you would kill me inside. There's no way I could stand that pain and…" He looked away again, angry…. And he stopped. "Damn it… why can't I say this?"

Because what he was trying to say was too painful, too personal… and Alyse wondered if he realized she already knew what it was. Still, she waited. Now was not the time to interrupt.

Cal tried to gather himself again. "Even after all these years… that's the only solution I have for dealing with emotions I don't want to feel, thoughts I don't want to have… situations I can't face."

"You should give yourself a little more credit," Alyse suggested softly. "You're better at dealing with hardship than that."

"Only because I have you," he replied, deadly serious, as he moved to grasp her hands. "I fall apart without you. You keep me grounded. You're half my conscience."

"Only half?" She tried to say it lightly.

"Giving myself some of that credit you told me to," Cal replied, though he didn't return her attempt at levity. "But if I'm being honest with myself….and what I just woke from was brutally honest… if you… died tomorrow, I would curl myself up around a bottle again and never look back. And that… terrifies me… almost as much as losing you." His eyes seemed to be searching her face for a response.

Alyse sat for a moment, stunned, taking in the weight of the admission that had just come out of Cal's mouth. It was only when he turned from anxious to stricken, that she felt the dampness on her cheeks, and realized that now she was crying, if softly.

"Oh, 'Lyse… no…I … damn it—"

"No." Alyse shushed him, softly shaking her head. "Don't apologize, and don't take it back." Not now that he had stepped across that line. She held his hands firmly and refused to let him pull away. "I've known who you are, quite well, from long before I agreed to marry you. In all of our life since then, we've had ups and downs, and we've faced a lot of things…and worked through a lot of them. Right now, here, I'm still with you, and you're still with me. It's okay to be scared. Just… let me help you through this."

He listened, looking a bit stunned. "You just looked so disappointed and… surprised."

He thought what? Alyse had to school her tone to calm. "Surprised that you said it… not by the facts of the matter." One of the very first complaints she had voiced when they started dating seriously, had been her concerns about his addictive habits. Concerns that had turned out to be, in her mind, mostly unnecessary. He had eventually quit smoking all together, starting from the time they started having a family. He had drunk very little, outside of socially, for most of the two decades their children were young and living at home, outside of a few notable nights that usually coincided with something particularly stressful, or a rough patch between them. He was right that his usual response to stressful stimuli was an unhealthy preference for strong drinks, but that—she had rightly assumed apparently—was why he had given over on letting her have control these past couple of years as far as what was in the house, and how it got consumed. Not that either of them had ever put it into words to each other this directly.

"I've still disappointed you."

"No, and I'll thank you not to make that assumption." Alyse met his eyes firmly, not quite daring him to look away. He wasn't now, at least. "I love you, and the very idea that my life ending would effectively end yours is unacceptable to me. Charlie and Gloria, and our friends, our grandchildren, would be just as devastated to lose you. Or worse…to have to watch you fall apart. I appreciate that you feel that deeply about me. I love you with every fiber of my being. But if that's really something you're afraid will happen, then we should find a way to head that off, don't you think?"

Cal looked wary now, and drained, but she appreciated that he didn't contract her immediately. "What did you have in mind?"

Even if they'd had all the time in the world, Alyse had never really imagined being in a place where she could reasonably make this suggestion without setting off a storm. And she might… still. "Well, the most straightforward answer would be to fully quit drinking, wouldn't it?" Get over it now, while there was still time. It wasn't like he was actually drinking heavily on the regular at all as it was anymore. She had been very careful about that ever since the time several years ago when she'd found him most of the way through a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the afternoon, and realized how out of control that was getting again. At least, she didn't think he was. The way he was acting…

She might have slapped him with a wet fish for the shock on Cal's face. Odd, she thought, given it would have seemed like the most obvious thing she might have suggested. He looked like he was starting to shake his head, but he stopped. "It's not that easy."

"I didn't say it was easy. I said it was the most straightforward answer. You were able to quit smoking, and you've managed never to go back to that." To her knowledge anyway, and she would certainly have noticed if he, or any of his clothes, ever smelled of it. He had told her he quit decades ago, and she had no reason to doubt him.

"I did," he nodded. "But it's not the same." His eyes begged her to understand, and in that moment, she thought she did.

"As I have been telling you since we were nearly as young as our children are now, you are not your father. Admitting that you sometimes drink too much and use alcohol as a problematic coping mechanism for emotional stress does not make you more like him either. You've never been, in all the time I have known you, abusive or uncaring. I have watched you for decades. You've tried very hard not to fall into that trap, or that pattern. It's one of your driving qualities. So, yes, we have a problem to solve, and no, it won't be easy, but this is the first time I've ever even heard you really willing to talk about it."

She paused long enough to take a deep breath, and managed a very small smile at him, despite the tension in the room. "I'm proud of you for being able to say it at all. What you said, it scares me too. But if that's what you really feel, then I believe you, and I will do anything within my power to help you get past it."

Cal grimaced. Not quite the response she had hoped for. "I don't know. I mean… you're right. That would be smarter, and better…. Academically, I get it. I'm just afraid, and it's stupid, but I'm not sure what I'll do if I try…and I fail."

Alyse, still gripping his hands, shook her head. "If you don't try… you just admitted that you see failure as the only and inevitable option. Do you really want to walk down that road, eyes open, blindly hoping the worst doesn't happen?"

Another verbal blow that seemed to land hard, even though she wished it didn't have to. Cal deflated in front of her, his grip on her hands going limp, though he still held on. "This… is going to sound like the worst thing I could ever say in this moment…. It probably is but…. 'Lyse, it feels like asking me to cut off a whole part of who I am. And yes, I'm aware that's a very good argument for why you're entirely right. There's just no way to do this… without everybody who knows me noticing. I mean, when was the last time I turned down an offer of hospitality… from anyone?"

That was an argument Alyse was ready for. "Cal… do you think anyone who knows you that well wouldn't also be entirely behind this decision?" She couldn't imagine a single one of their close friends, or family, who would be anything but supportive. She also couldn't imagine most of them not agreeing it was a smart decision.

"No," Cal admitted. "I just feel… ashamed, and weak."

"Have you ever considered talking to Uncle Ed about this?" The thought was out of her mouth even as it came into her mind. "He's been where you are, and he's been sober for decades. He might have some suggestions."

Cal blinked, and almost objected, but then she watched him stop, and think. "As long as he doesn't want me to try Xingese meditation again… I might be willing."

It was a start. Alyse leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You don't need to make that decision tonight. It's going to be morning much too soon, and I think sleep would do us both some good. That is, if you want to come back to bed."

"Sleep… is a good idea," Cal agreed. "I think I'm more exhausted now than I was when I went to bed. This was… hard."

"Still proud of you." Alyse let go of his hands so they could get up, and stood, waiting in case he wanted or needed her for balance. She decided not to point out that Cal was, typically, only this verbose about his innermost thoughts—especially the darker ones—when he was not sober. In that way alone, tonight was a first and, to her, a sign that he could do this if he put his mind to it. "Now, let's go snuggle up before the cats steal the bed."

Slowly getting to his feet, using the cane, Cal finally managed a small smirk. "We're probably too late for that."

"Then I guess we'll just have to share."

---

The next morning came too soon, though when Cal awoke again it was clear that he had slept in far past the normal hour. The sun was up, streaming through the windows, and Alyse's side of the bed was empty. At least of her. Butterscotch and Molasses were sprawled out in a tangle of slow-blinking lazy kitten, purring contentedly in her spot. The bedroom door was open, and he could hear sink water running, and smell a waft of breakfast: sausages, eggs, something sweet, and the good coffee. Alyse was going all out this morning.

This is about last night. His momentary pleasure at the scent of breakfast died as he remembered just how much he had said in the shaken aftermath of that horrifyingly real dream. I never meant to tell her any of that. Yet the words had come out of him, and the truth had hung there, ugly and shameful… and still Alyse had found the words to soothe his pain, and had proved again just why he needed her in his life so badly. Love…and common sense.

She was right, logically speaking, that it shouldn't be that hard. He didn't actually drink that much these days, and Alyse had banished hard liquors and any of the quality, potent things from the house years ago. The ones she knew about anyway. She knew. Of course, she knew. On a day-to-day level, everything was under control.

For now. With her. When he felt like it.

Yet the idea of just quitting it all, of not having it around when he really wanted—needed—something. Losing out on the pleasure of a really fine beverage…the taste… the relaxion…the comfort. The release… the oblivion…

The nightmare had been terrifying, because he had been not only fully immersed in it, feeling the horror, the pain, the desperation for it all to end…but because he had been somehow apart from himself too, watching as he simply lost the will to live… to care… despite the begging of family, of friends.

His safety net. His way out of dealing when things got hard. It was easy to play at Alyse being the one making the decision. It made it easier… if only to keep lying to himself.

Well, it was too late for that now. His deepest fear, his darkest truth, had come to light and there was no going back. He wouldn't be surprised to go out there this morning to find that Alyse had already removed everything even remotely alcoholic from the cabinets, save the vanilla, and maybe the cooking wines that were so cheap and salty he wasn't sure he'd ever be desperate enough to use them. Except, that in his dream, he might have.

I know how to say no when it doesn't matter. But what about if he stopped caring? What if he wanted to drown himself in it? There were times when he just didn't want to be sober. I may not be my old man, but that doesn't mean I haven't ended up in the same trap.

He might as well get up and face the day, even if he had no idea what else it might bring. The rugby team had an early season practice this afternoon, and he wasn't about to miss that. They were counting on him, and it was one of the few normal things going on in their life these days. A bit of routine in the chaos.

The kittens ignored him when he went to the bathroom, but jumped down to follow him out into the living room, like little furry bodyguards. Cal knew they were probably just hoping for treats.

Breakfast—or brunch he supposed, given the hour—was sitting on the table. Alyse smiled at him as he came in. "Oh good. I was going to come get you if you weren't up soon. I hope you're hungry."

His stomach rumbled its agreement, and Cal nodded. "Famished, apparently. Though I think you could feet half a unit on this."

"We don't have to finish it all in one sitting," Alyse pointed out. "I just thought you might want something solid in your system before practice this afternoon."

"You're right." Cal took his seat, and started filling his plate. Everything did smell delicious.

Alyse smiled playfully at him. "I usually am." Thank goodness, if nothing else, Alyse was acting perfectly normal.

Of course, it was too much to hope that she had forgotten even a syllable of last night's discussion. Alyse had never liked when he smoked, or how much he drank… or when. None of that was new.

Alyse didn't bring up any of it over breakfast. By the time Cal had filled his stomach, and drained three cups of coffee, she had given him the update on Charlie from Shelby, who had called that morning to let them know he was already being released from the hospital that afternoon, and he would only be off duty for about a week, thanks to excellent doctors and alchemy. "Tore also called this morning," she added at the end, smiling. "He said Charlie's going to receive a commendation for his work in preventing a disaster that would have caused several deaths, and stopping a traitor."

"Do we know what Charlie thinks of that?" Cal asked. His son had never much cared that he'd gotten a medal for being wounded in combat in Drachma. Of course, Cal had never cared about his either.

"Apparently Charlie's amused more than anything, but he's a lot more enthusiastic about this one. Shelby hopes he'll stop retelling the fight like it was a sporting event."

"Always tell your best stories." Cal smiled a little at that. He certainly had plenty of battle stories he had regaled people with in the past. None of them were the ones where he was wounded or nearly died. "I'm glad he's feeling okay about the whole thing. He deserves the recognition. Anything else from Tore?"

"Just that he's got Investigations doing everything they can to hunt down anything they can on the soldier, how he snuck the compound in his was using, where it was made, anyone else who might have been involved; he's furious."

And probably as terrified as Cal was, to be honest. If that plane had blown in midair, it would have taken not only several important generals, but Cal's daughter and son-in-law, and Tore's son, daughter, and grandchildren. Charlie was a hero. "When we get these guys, they're going to regret ever messing with us," he growled a little, as he refilled his coffee mug.

"We?" Alyse looked askance at him across the table.

"You know what I mean." There really wasn't much of anything Cal could do, other than be a good little potential target and make sure he followed the security measures currently in place. Fortunately, going out and about wasn't any riskier than being a sitting target in his own home, so the occasional date night with Alyse, and his time out with the team were not in danger of being cut out of the schedule yet. Still, if there was anyone that he would consider doing a little alchemy work on the side for, and a situation where he might… it was Tore, and this one. Not that he had done much alchemy since then, but he still remembered how.

She nodded. "They'll be dealt with eventually. They always are. Do you want anything else?"

Cal shook his head. "No, thanks. I don't think I could eat another bite. Everything was delicious." He sat back a little in his chair, and sipped his next cup a little more slowly.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I guess I'll clean up then."

"I can get it," Cal objected as she started to stand. "It's only fair. You cooked."

There was a slightly bemused expression on his wife's face. She stood. "All right. If you want. I was going to get the flowers into the beds out back this morning before we go see Charlie later." Coming around the table, she bent over to kiss his cheek. "This will definitely save me some time."

Cal wasn't sure what to think of this morning. Everything was… perfectly normal. "Alyse," he said before she could move away. "You… haven't said anything about last night."

"Did you want me to?" She asked, looking like she knew the answer, though she was still calm and cheerful as she had been a moment before.

"No," he admitted, feeling awkward at even asking. "Not really."

Alyse rested her hand on his shoulder, and smiled. "Then we don't have to talk about it right now. One day at a time, my love."

Cal nodded. If he thought about it all too much, he'd get his head all in a tangle and make things worse. "You're right. One day at a time."