June 5th 1996
Ian was relieved when he finally got a break from filming. The new movie was almost done, but they had shifted almost entirely to afternoon and night filming, and he hadn't gotten to see his family nearly as much as he wanted. Thank goodness for his parents and their constant presence and help. Things should be getting even easier, since Bonnie's parents were due to arrive on the evening train from West City. He was looking forward to seeing his in-laws, though probably not as much as Becca Walsh in particular was looking forward to being here for the birth of her newest grandchildren, and to help take care of her daughter.
Not that Bonnie would admit to needing as much as help as Ian thought she needed these days, but he suspected she would accept a little coddling more from her mother than from him. Especially once there were five children to take care of, and depending on how the delivery went.
The delivery that was scheduled for two weeks from now, if the triplets stayed in place that long. So far, they had made it to thirty-four weeks with all three still growing and healthy, and no immediate signs of imminent early labor.
"You won't believe what Joanna asked me this afternoon," Bonnie commented as they sat on the living room couch together after dinner. Ian's parents were handling bath time again tonight.
"What was that?" he asked curiously. Joanna asked all sorts of interesting questions.
Bonnie smiled, though it was almost half grimace. "She asked if my tummy was going to explode."
Ian refrained from chuckling. "What did you tell her?"
"That babies can't make tummies explode."
Leaning over, Ian kissed her gently. "Given the circumstances, it was an understandable question." No matter that he saw Bonnie every day. He was still stunned lately every time he looked at her. He'd had no idea just how much human skin could stretch.
"I'm beginning to wonder if I accidentally lied," Bonnie admitted. "I feel like I might explode. How do they keep making more room?"
"The amazing mystery that is the female body?" Ian suggested. "It won't be too much longer. You're doing great." The doctors had made it clear that if she made it to thirty-six weeks, they would be inducing at that time rather than risk further stress on Bonnie, or on the babies. They would be better off spending a week or two in the NICU if needed. If she was still doing all right then, and the babies remained in good positions, like they were now, they had agreed that with Ren assisting as an alchemist, Bonnie could try for a natural delivery instead of surgery. Only with alchemical assistance had there been much success in that vein, but Ren had assured them that she had been researching and updating her knowledge on assisting in multiple-deliveries beyond twins, and that over the past several years, it had happened in Xing on multiple occasions with minimal complications.
Bonnie's expression said clearly that not too much longer was still too much longer. "I can barely waddle to the restroom. I can't help with the chores. I can't get upstairs to help with Joanna and Zach at bedtime. All I do is eat, barely sleep, and I swear I can see myself expanding if I hold still and watch.
Ian risked a little smile. "Well, truthfully, that's certainly possible. I still think you're beautiful."
"And I'm convinced you've lost your mind… though I appreciate it."
Ian did not admit that he might have to agree with her. He was saved from having to come up with a clever reply by the expedient timing of the doorbell. "That must be your parents," he grinned. "I'll get the door."
Bill and Becca Walsh were beaming as the door opened, and Ian found himself enfolded first in an enthusiastic hug from his mother-in-law. "Ian! It's so good to see you."
"We're so glad you're here." Ian assured her, then shook Bill's hand when Becca released him and vanished down the hall. The exclamation of joy and shock told him she had found Bonnie.
"We're glad to be here," Bill assured him with a chuckle. "Though it doesn't look like the place needs much done to it at this point. Nice house."
"I'll give you the full tour in the morning, but for now, let me help with those bags." Ian showed Bill into the room right there near the door, which was Bonnie's workroom but, for the next few weeks until his parents left, the secondary guest room. Bonnie had insisted on straightening it and putting things up herself, and the pull-out guest beds made a decent sleeping accommodation, even if the room itself was a little snug. The rest of the house was roomy enough.
By the time they joined Bonnie and Becca, the initial gushing seemed to be over, but they were already deep into a discussion and comparison of what it was like to carry multiples verses singletons, and his mother-in-law was fully engrossed in the conversation.
Watching Bill, Ian caught the momentary eye-widening as his father-in-law got a look at his daughter. Once again, Ian was glad Bill wasn't the kill-and-bury-the-son-in-law type. After all, it wasn't anyone's fault they'd been caught with surprise multiples.
Bonnie looked up and reached out her arms, her expression delighted. "You're going to have to come to me, Dad."
"I can see that." Bill crossed the room and hugged his daughter. "You should leave the foaling to the mares."
"Daddy!" But instead of possibly being insulted, Bonnie started laughing.
"That's terrible, Bill," Becca scolded, but she was smiling too.
Ian was pretty sure if he'd ever made a similar comment his wife would have smacked him. He decided the best thing he could do in this moment was let Bonnie enjoy having her parents here. "Can I get anyone drinks, or a snack?" he offered.
"Tea would be lovely," Becca said.
"Water's fine," was Bill's reply.
Ian fetched both, glad his mother usually kept a pot of water hot most of the day, so it only took a few minutes to heat back up enough to steep tea. By the time he returned, the main gushing part of the conversation and reassurances from Bonnie that, all visual evidence to the contrary, she was doing quite well.
At that point, his parents joined them. "Joanna and Zach are both in bed," his mother told him quietly.
"We can see them tomorrow," Becca assured them all. "If we did now, they'd never get to sleep."
Ian was so grateful that neither of their sets of parents had turned out to be the nightmare grandparents some people talked about. There was no spoiling his children. No selfish demands. "That's the truth."
"Sit down and relax," his mother shoved him lightly towards the couch. "You've hardly had a night home. This is supposed to be your time to enjoy yourself too."
While Ian knew she was right, he was finding it hard to just relax. Perhaps it was because he hadn't done much that was relaxing at all in the past few months. With moving, the kids, the pregnancy, taking on extra work with filming on top of his daytime directing to shore up their finances, Ian was sure he had never worked this hard in his life. Maybe he had forgotten how to relax.
Not that he was going to argue with his mother. Ian rejoined the group, and was only slightly surprised that his in-laws made room for him to sit next to his wife. He would not have blamed them for claiming her more fully to themselves for a bit, seeing as they rarely got to see her.
The conversation had shifted from Bonnie and the babies to catching up on news from the farm and family. Not that Bonnie didn't talk to everyone fairly regularly by phone, but all the local gossip and detailed news that took longer to cover was always best told in person. Ian did his best to pay attention, but he had to admit that the long hours and his current shooting schedules were catching up with him, and he found himself half-way to dozing more than once before others started yawning, and everyone decided to call it a night.
Ian helped Bonnie up from the couch, before bringing down anything she wanted from upstairs which, as usual, was little more than her nightgown of choice. All of her personal items were in the downstairs bathroom, and only her clothes lived up in the bedroom at the moment. He knew she was looking forward to being able to take the stairs easily again, but seeing as she was far too uncomfortable and unwieldy now to sleep on her back on the bed, the reclining chair had become bed as well for the duration. Depending on how the delivery went, it might be for longer.
The pool, which had been finished in possibly record time, was her only real relief from the strain, and she spent time floating out there every day. Ian knew that his mother usually spent that time out there as well, for safety as much as companionship.
Just a couple more weeks. Ian helped her settle comfortable, then gave her a long, lingering kiss good night. "Our bed has way too much room," he murmured. "I miss having you in it."
"I miss being able to be comfortable in it," Bonnie assured him. "But I'm looking forward to having more time with you soon."
Ian had been assured that shooting for the film would wrap up before the scheduled induction date, and he already made plans for his Assistant Directors to take over for a couple of weeks so he could be home with Bonnie and the kids while they all settled into their new way of life. "Everything's still on schedule," he promised. "There's nothing I'm looking forward to more than to get to spend time with all of you, except for some alone time with just the two of us."
Bonnie chuckled. "Somehow I think that's going to be in very short supply."
"I know. That's why I intend to make very good use of our parents' time while they're here."
June 6th, 1996
Tore was glad he had an excuse to leave on time at the end of the day. He and Charisa had invited Cal and Alyse, and Maes and Elena over for dinner. Not that it was information he had spread widely, but even so, as long as they had all known each other it wouldn't seem odd or out of character. Okay, so perhaps he wasn't as close with the elder living Mustang as Cal and Sara were, but they had served together, when Maes outranked him, just as Tore had eventually served over the man's son. Though they were keeping dinner small. As much as it was for socializing with old friends, Tore was also hoping those old friends would be amenable to a little unofficial work in their retirement.
He only felt slightly guilty about the fact he was about to ask them anything related to work, but he also had a feeling that, since he had stepped into this role, they wouldn't be at all surprised. They might even be expecting it.
Tore had just enough time when he got home to hit the shower and change into something more casual, though the shower was definitely needed. As he had told Charisa, he spent most of his days on the move, even though he still managed to spend two or three hours a day—never at the same time it seemed—going over important paperwork. He made a point of checking in with different departments on a daily basis. Not formal inspections, just informally showing up and checking on things, asking specific follow up questions, seeing how things were going, talking to the soldiers and staff. That included hitting the gymnasium and talking to soldiers while he trained alongside them, and today he had shown up to Trisha's advanced alchemical sparring drills that all State Alchemists even the lab-focused alchemists, were taking part in, for additional self-defense in some cases, and for those who served in regular risky missions and combat, the offensive capabilities were being pushed. They needed to be good enough to kill, or not kill, with alchemy at a moment's notice and with pinpoint control. Capturing possible informants without risking their own lives was important to finding and dismantling Arsenic.
Seeing as those practices were often out on the parade grounds, which could be alchemically repaired at the end of any particularly destructive sessions, Tore hoped that anyone watching was reporting back what they were seeing, because the alchemists had been instructed only to use their best, and most unique moves, in the private alchemists training ground. The practices on the parade grounds were real, but less destructive—mostly—and almost more like staged exhibitions for the sake of anyone watching to see what the State Alchemists were capable of.
He was fairly certain no one had been ready for a lightning storm in the middle of a sunny afternoon, but he had decided to put on a bit of a show himself, taking on a group of four State Alchemists—all of whom were younger than himself but still with several years of service—at once. He'd had them leaping about like a plague of frogs. Not that they hadn't put in a good showing themselves, and he hadn't pulled that stunt out immediately. Starting on the defensive he had gotten in a good workout himself before turning the tides in a moment.
While he had wiped down afterwards, this was his first chance to relax and soak, and he let the steaming hot water chase away the worries of the day. Not, he had found, that it was entirely possible to lay down the job. It was always there, even when he wasn't actively working.
He didn't know if Charisa had seen his electrifying display earlier, but the dinner spread when he got downstairs definitely said feeding at least one starving alchemist. He decided not to tell her he had barely had time to eat lunch. There was plenty to fill him up tonight. "As much as I would believe you if you told me, you somehow cooked all this on top of work today, please tell me you didn't work that hard," he said as he looked at the appetizers, salad with nuts and apples and tangy vinaigrette, freshly roasted beef and root vegetables, and what looked to be a citrus flavored custard that was still resting in the refrigerator when he pulled out a pitcher of lemonade to get a drink.
Charisa, who had beaten him home, smiled and shook her head. "Your confidence is appreciated, but you're right. Fortunately for us, even though he's moved out of the house, Brandon's restaurant will do take-out orders if you schedule in advance. All I did was a quick re-warm on the meat dish and put everything in serving dishes."
"Why do I get the feeling we may never eat anywhere else?" Tore teased as he poured a glass for himself and, when Charisa nodded, one for her as well. "The only positive to giving in to letting them stuff us back into that drafty old mansion would have been government provided kitchen staff."
"It would have been easier," Charisa agreed as she accepted the glass he handed her. "But we'd never have privacy again, with all the staff needed to keep that house running." She didn't say the other thing he knew she was thinking. It would be easier if she were available to take more care of things at home the way her mother had, instead of spending most of her own time in the halls and offices of the Assembly. But Tore had refused to let her give up her career. They had hired a cleaning service to help keep the house in order with dusting, mopping, bathrooms, and the like, and so far, that kept things in order enough for Tore. It just meant that meals were sometimes still a bit scrambled even though they cooked on the weekends.
"It's worth it to have time with you all to myself," Tore agreed, leaning in to kiss her warmly. If only friends weren't showing up at the door any minute… he would have happily put off dinner for some of that private time.
As if summoned, the doorbell rang, and the kiss ended.
"I'll get the door." Tore went down the hall and opened the door to find that both couples had arrived at the same time. "I can't remember the last time you two were this prompt," Tore chuckled at his friends as he stepped out of the way and everyone entered.
"It's only because we're here," Alyse assured him, nodding between herself and Elena.
Elena chuckled, and Maes just shrugged.
"Can't make a bad impression on our lovely dates," Cal agreed as he rolled down the hall. "Smells like we arrived just in time. Just tell me you cooking it isn't what they reported from headquarters this afternoon."
Tore hadn't heard that. "It made the news?"
"Lightning storm out of nowhere they could see from almost every point in Central?" Cal was grinning broadly. "You bet they did. I figured it had to be you because the city didn't get the power blown."
"I've got better control than that," Tore scoffed.
"We know," Maes nodded. "That's why we all assumed it had to be you. None of the few other alchemists in the State with any electrical abilities have the skill to pull off anything that big. Though I got most of my info from Roy," he admitted as they all headed into the dining room. "Called him before we came over, and he told me what it was like from the front row."
"If you're ever bored enough you want to show up and take me on, just say so." Tore sat down at the head of the table, as everyone took other seats around the table. "I'm sure the rest of the alchemists would love a good show."
"Watching you kill me would not be a good show," Maes quipped.
"Oh, you'd live," Cal disagreed. "It might just be terribly embarrassing."
"As if you'd fare better," Maes chuckled.
"I wouldn't be dumb enough to try."
Tore enjoyed the chatter as everyone filled their plates and began to eat. The playful jibes eventually faded into more meaningful conversation, and topics that were of more interest to the entire table as they ate and just enjoyed having some time together. Maes and Elena were staying in Central for a few more months, unless Elena got an emergency assignment back to Aerugo, or elsewhere. It had been a long time since they had spent any considerable amount of time in Amestris, and they were enjoying catching up with all of their children and their families, along with seeing old friends.
Cal and Alyse didn't have any major travel plans coming up, at least not yet, but Cal's rugby pre-season had started up for the year. The amateur leagues ran for pretty much the whole year, with the exception of the worst months in the winter, when the players mostly met up a couple of times a week to work out in the gym, keep in shape between, and socialize. Tore was relieved to hear that Charlie's recovery really was going as well as reports told him. He had been more concerned about how he was handling the events mentally than his ability to heal physically, but he seemed to be adjusting to the reality of having had to kill a man in self-defense and the line of duty better than Tore had. Tore still remembered kneeling in the mud, shaking, and cracking up at the end of his first experience in combat, having come face to face with the bodies of the recently living. Being home with Shelby and the kids probably helps a lot. All Tore had had for support at the time was the availability of Cal's cigarettes and stashed flask of whatever-alcohol-he-could-find-to-fill-it.
Gloria and Alexei were doing well, safely back at home. Tore had made sure that there was security assigned to them from Northern headquarters—them and Dare and Lorraine—and after the events with the plane, the generals from North City had been determined to make sure some of their best security officers were assigned the jobs.
When everyone was done with dinner, they retired to the living room with coffee and dessert. Tore's opportunity to talk to Maes and Cal about his ideas came when Charisa, Elena, and Alyse stepped out into the back yard afterwards to look at the new garden lighting they had recently had installed. While it was all decorative, it also served as an additional security measure since no one coming over a back fence would be able to hide.
"So, what's your crafty plan to recruit us?" Maes asked without preamble, grinning from ear to ear, as he relaxed back into the soda and sipped the remnants of his coffee.
"I've been wondering that myself," Cal agreed.
"That obvious, huh?" Tore looked between them.
"It's the nature of the job," Maes replied with a shrug. "I watched Dad do it for years. There was never a person—friend or otherwise—that wasn't potentially useful, and he'd use them if he needed them. Especially if they were friends or colleagues."
"Breda was the same, he was just more subtle about it." Cal nodded. "They've all been that way to one extent or another. So, while we are fully aware you enjoy the dubious pleasure of our company, we're also not offended if you have plans to try and talk us into something."
"Fortunate for me, since I can't give you orders." Tore felt something inside him ease he hadn't even realized had been tense. For some people, at least, his being in this position would not change a damned thing. At least they could just get right down to business. "But I do need people that Arsenic wouldn't expect, and the fact that neither of you have been up to anything that might be noteworthy to an enemy in a while works in our favor."
"I'm not sure whether that was a compliment or an insult." Maes looked amused though. "But I get it. It's pretty much public knowledge that I could barely do alchemy at all after my breakdown, and that's part of why I retired from the military. No one would consider me a threat." Maes shrugged, no pain or regret in any of those words, merely statements of fact. "They might not even recognize me at this point. I haven't been photo-in-the-news worthy in years."
"You still look enough like your old man I'm not sure you could get away with not being noticed," Tore pointed out. "But the fact that publicly you're only ever seen supporting Elena's ambassadorial work counters that. Though the way you said that… can you do more alchemy now?" Just because he hadn't seen Maes transmute anything in, literally, decades, didn't mean the man no longer did. Though he had barely been able to transmute even when he and Elena had returned from their year in Xing, what felt like a lifetime ago.
There was a twinkle in Maes' eye as he grinned. "Not what I could handle before, and I haven't tried messing around with flames much, but I keep in practice. It's still not as natural as it was, but it's better. Beyond that, I've kept up with combat drills, so I'm not exactly helpless."
"No, you're not," Tore agreed. Or he would never even be asking them to get involved. But the fact that Maes was willing to say he could reliably use some level of alchemy was actually more than he had been hoping for. "Though if you're as good at what I need as I think you'll be, no one will suspect you enough for you to need to fight anything. While the Summit's over, and we did successfully complete basic negotiations and new treaties with several countries, including Drachma, we have a roadblock."
"Creta." Maes nodded without hesitation. "What do you have in mind?"
"I hate to cut into your time in Central, but we've finally gotten the Cretan government convinced to at least let us open a set of negotiations with them directly to convince the current Cretan President to sign the treaty and trade agreements his diplomatic team made in good faith before they were killed by Arsenic."
"This your way of telling me you're putting my wife back to work?"
Tore knew Elena was considering retirement, and he didn't want to force anything, but he really wanted her expertise on this one. "Charisa's talking with her about it right now, probably," he admitted. "So, yes, but not for long. Callius is insisting the meetings be at the Capitol in Creta, and we've agreed."
"Don't you already have unofficial spies in Creta?" Maes asked with a sly grin.
"They're in Pylos, not the Capitol, and they're officially on a private family trip." Not that Franz and Sara's trip wouldn't prove fruitful when it came to information, because he knew them too well, but there was nothing at all official about it. Two retired officers were visiting an old friend. Seeing how long the Elric family had known the Argyros', and the family tie with Minxia's marriage to Thrakos, there was nothing all that odd about it. They had also kept it very quiet. All Tore knew was they had specifically requested not to take Amestrian security with them, to make them less noticeable, and Tore had agreed. Those officers were needed elsewhere, and if Sara and Franz couldn't take care of themselves, then there was little a couple of the other people he could send with them would be able to do. Nothing had been said anywhere near official channels, so there should be no leaks of their travel plans, and he did know they had arrived safely in Pylos. The Argyros family's own security and staff could protect them from there.
"That doesn't mean they aren't sniffing around everywhere they don't belong," Cal chuckled. "I'm not sure those two understand the point of a vacation."
"In any case, they're not who I would send to negotiate with Callius anyway." The Cretan President had made it clear that he openly disliked many of the agreements that had been made during Franz's tenure as President of the Military, and had not appreciated them continuing under Anastas. He was pushing Tore. He only wished he had the time to go personally, but being a moving target was one thing, leaving the country right now was not in the question unless the situation became dire. Besides, Callius wouldn't be personally at those negotiations either, not for most of them, and he had not extended Tore an invitation. "Elena is the perfect choice. She's one of our seniormost diplomatic ambassadors, and her track record is impeccable. So yes, we're sending the two of you to Creta, with her as the head of the diplomatic team. The Assembly is all for it, too, so I didn't even have to be all that convincing." Technically, Tore didn't have the ability to simply force anyone into a diplomatic job of any kind, since diplomacy was, primarily, an Assembly matter. But there were also gray areas in there, given the dual nature of Amestris' government, and the fact that sometimes the military had to negotiate as well, and provided all the related security. Tore had presented the plan to the Assembly as a strongly worded request. They had agreed with a surprising lack of discussion or disagreement.
"Well, I can't disagree that my wife is perfect for anything." Maes shrugged. "And it doesn't sound like I have room to agree or disagree on this one, if it's already decided. What do you need me to do, specifically?"
"Keep an ear open, ask cleverly innocuous questions. I want to know what the Cretan investigations really found after Arsenic blew up the train; how active they might be outside of Amestris' borders seeing as they managed attacks in both Drachma and Creta. Also, the public opinion in regards to how that's being handled, and if there's anything people want done about it. Whatever Callius thinks, it's possible that more of Creta than its President would prefer a little Amestrian assistance. If you can talk anyone around to getting them to allow our teams inside, or even share their information, it would be something." It was all discussion and careful convincing that would happen not just during official talks, but during unofficial conversations over dinner, and during receptions. The real business was not always done at the negotiation table. Maes had mastered being the diplomat's husband over the past couple of decades. He went with her everywhere now that her kids were grown, ostensibly as her head of staff as well, but he was always there charming, innocuous, winning the crowd and seeming to be what the public thought him to be. There was nothing overtly military about him now. He never pulled out alchemy in public. All most people knew was that he had suffered a break down years ago, gone through years of therapy, retired from the military, and become a devoted house-husband while their children were growing up. His career appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be supporting his wife's career. And he was, though he was much more involved than most people thought.
"I can do that. No promises on outcomes of course, but if there's even an inkling of information out there that I can get us, I'll work on it."
Well, that was one concern off Tore's mind, at least for the moment. "Thanks, Maes. Amestris is counting on you both, in more ways than one."
When Maes stepped out to use the restroom and get more coffee, Cal was not surprised that Tore turned his attention to him immediately. It was clear that his friend had a plan that involved him too, and Cal wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, it was nice to think that someone didn't think he was useless. On the other… almost everything he had done of consequence in the military over his career had involved getting shot at, and usually hit.
Tore grinned at him. "Any chance I could talk you into showing up at Headquarters?"
"What for?" Cal asked suspiciously. The only time he had set foot, or wheel, on the grounds in years had been for Tore's ceremony.
"Our newest alchemists haven't had as much real-world experience. The same goes for a lot of the new regular recruits as well, and they think they're invincible. You know, the usual stuff. Our deployment into Drachma several years ago involved very minimal troops from an Amestrian standpoint, and before that the last major engagements were in Xing. They've run a million drills, and they've handled small missions, but they're not ready for this kind of threat. Mostly because we rarely have to deal with enemies this unknown and unpredictable. Traditional Amestrian military strategy is war tactics, for wars they haven't fought, and traditional combat for most of them."
"You know I can't teach combat, right?" Not that Cal was entirely helpless, chair or no chair. The rugby team workouts in the gym included more than just weights. When they weather didn't let them practice, they still met and worked on other things. He had been only slightly surprised to find that the retired military—and a few others—including sparring as part of the exercises. No one liked to feel defenseless, especially not the men who had been used to being at their physical best. One of them was a former combative teacher, and there were several modified moves Cal had learned for in and out of the chair, even without most of the use of his legs.
"I mean, you could, even if you weren't demonstrating," Tore disagreed anyway, "But that's not what I'm asking. I do want you to toss some alchemy at all of our alchemists. The combat drills are running more heavily into alchemist-on-alchemist combat, because it's clear that, at some point, that's a likelier possibility. And I'm positive that with your skills, none of them can touch you. Not that I'd have them attacking you all out. I'm concerned about them surviving against a wide variety of alchemical attacks. So that…and if you're willing… to just talk about the kind of stuff you've been through. They need a dose of reality from people who've been there, and who they can respect for it."
"Why would they listen to me?" Cal asked, bemused.
"For one thing, a lot of them idolize you a bit. You're a hero, and you're still alive against impossible odds. If you tell them what it was like, and how invincible we are all not, they might understand. You know, the way Fullmetal and True Soul did."
Cal could remember sitting in the alchemist classrooms at headquarters, as a potential, and then a new, State Alchemist. He had never felt quite as invincible as he had always pretended to be. He had never wanted anyone to have any idea that the confident Cal Fischer was a runaway from a shitty situation, with a whole lot of baggage at barely eighteen. But he remembered, very clearly, when his class had earned the right to hear the story from Edward and Alphonse's own mouths, about losing their mother as little boys, and learning alchemy for the express purpose of breaking alchemy's biggest taboo, through how everything had been resolved with Bradley and Mustang and the coup. Cal knew far more about it now than even what they had been told then, but it had definitely had an impact. The fact that Edward had never regained his limbs, but still considered it a fair exchange to have his brother, had not been lost on any of them. Alchemists got hurt. Alchemists took risks. Sometimes, alchemists died. But there was also a fine moral line they all walked that was all too easy to cross.
While Cal's own experiences were different, the lessons were much the same. Presuming he felt brave enough to admit all of it to all those young soldiers and alchemists, especially the ones who had been serving while he was still active.
"What do you think?" Tore looked slightly uncertain for the first time since the conversation had started. "I know what I'm asking isn't easy, and you aren't the only one I'm asking, though I think you might be the best for this."
"Who else have you asked?" Cal couldn't help being curious. Of course, he hadn't been the only one.
Tore grinned. "Edward and Alphonse of course, while they're right here in pocket. Half our newer recruits barely believe they're even alive. Not that I'm asking them to run combat drills," he added with a chuckle. "Ed pretended to be offended when I told him it would just be a guest lecture."
"How could you tell he wasn't really offended?"
"He wasn't mad enough, and he didn't curse at me." Tore snickered. "I think they were a little relieved actually. For as incredibly good shape as they are for their age, they only spar with each other anymore, and Winry's said it's usually not at full speed, and never with alchemy. Alchemy practice is separate, and they mostly keep in shape in less dangerous ways." He shrugged. "I can only hope I'm that spry when I'm ancient."
Cal just hoped he was still as mobile as he was now at that age. He nodded, though for a different reason. "I'll do it. I don't want anyone letting their guard down because they underestimate the enemy, and regretting it for the rest of their lives, or losing them." Retired General, Whitewater Alchemist, reporting for duty.
His friend's face lit up with a relieved grin. "Thank you. I know you're just who they need to hear from."
"Well, me and the other old farts," Cal pointed out. "Though I suppose I should be honored getting grouped in with Fullmetal and True Soul at this point."
"Funny, that's what they said about being included in a group with you."