June 20th, 1996

There were nights it was nice to still feel a little like part of the action, even if the action was just cards and junk snacks on a Saturday night with the guys. When the guys included the President of the Amestrian Military, the general in charge of Investigations, the general in charge of Logistics and Supply, and the general in charge of State Alchemists, it definitely felt like Cal wasn't entirely out of the loop.

Stevens' house was quieter than Cal remembered, but that was because no one else was home tonight. Noelle, Charisa, and Alyse were out somewhere seeing a sappy romantic comedy that Cal had no interest in. Tringham's wife was out with other friends, and Krista was home with the kids, giving James a rare night out. He rarely joined in this kind of fun.

Of course, the last time Cal had been over to Stevens' place specifically, all four of the man's kids had still been living at home. The oldest two were both married. Jay and his wife and their infant daughter had their own house. Julia had just married Brandon, and she'd already moved out of the house before that anyway. Lillian was twenty and living on her own, and while Amelia was still technically living at home, she had just turned eighteen and graduated from high school. Cal wasn't surprised she had vacated instead of spending the night upstairs while a bunch of old guys played cards.

In any case, the five men were the only ones in the house, and Cal was just glad to be included. With everything that had been going on, and the additional security, it had been a while since the last game night. Even for tonight Tore had juggled security with secrecy so that they really did have a private night, but no one else should have had any inkling they had plans to be anywhere other than their own homes tonight. Certainly not fast enough to pull off an attack. So far, it was becoming clearer that it definitely took Arsenic time to set up their plans, and as long as they kept them guessing, it was possible to get away with a lot more. By having most of them go home, and then slip out quietly leaving their own security in place, there was only the one guard on Jean's place, as there should be.

And it was clear that Tore needed a night off. As much as Cal would have liked to have asked a lot of questions that he had no clearance for, one of the rules of game night was no talking work. Which, in this case, meant no talking military. Anything else was fair game. Which was amusing, really, since what Cal would have considered typical cards talk years ago was barely on the agenda. This is what happens when we all get old. Talking about the women they were bedding meant talking about their wives—and not at all about the bedroom on pain of celibacy if they found out about it—their kids and grandkids, their few hobbies or activities outside of work. Which meant that Cal ended up the subject of quite a bit of conversation as they asked questions about the current rugby season, and legitimate questions about the finer points of the game.

They eventually moved on to recent movies or television shows anyone might have caught an episode of—which for most of them was rare these days—and the latest technology, like improved home recorders for television programming using magnetic tape cassettes. The technology existed—Cal knew Franz and Sara had one of the earliest models—but these were different from the previous types. Jean was the first of them to have purchased one, and there was inevitably an interruption during snack refills to look at the machine and see how well it worked.

Even the snacks weren't what Cal would have originally considered cards food. Instead of bar snacks, or the junk they might have eaten a few decades ago, apparently Noelle had left them with several trays of home-made hand foods that Cal could also see Charisa and Alyse's hands in. For one thing, none of it was fried. For another, most of it involved meat, cheese, and vegetables snuck in where-ever possible. There was plenty of it—which was good with multiple alchemists in the building—but it was almost too healthy to be game night munchies.

Not that anyone was complaining. Seeing as he was the only one there retired, and thus no longer a slave to annual evaluations and fitness standards—ironic given his current workout schedule—Cal supposed it only made sense. Besides, James and Jean weren't alchemists, and thus unlikely to burn through it all as fast.

Somehow getting older, and more reasonable, seemed to take some of the gritty edge off of guys night.

Though the thing Cal noticed over the course of the night, but didn't comment on, he considered bringing up later as he and Tore drove home; Tore driving, in a regular non-military car to avoid unnecessary notice. "You know," he said during a break in the general chatter in the car on the way back, "You guys don't have to humor me."

To his credit, Tore didn't ask what Cal meant. He kept his eyes on the road, but he shrugged. "No one's humoring you."

"We just spent an entire night at cards and you're going to tell me that no one drinking anything but tea, coffee, and soft drinks, isn't humoring me?" It had dawned on him about halfway through the evening that not a single guy at the table was drinking. Not the way he thought of drinking on guy's night anyway. There were plenty of beverages… none of them alcoholic.

Tore's expression tightened. "That's exactly what I'm telling you. For one thing, if there was a military emergency tonight, or a major attack, none of us can afford to be compromised. Even off duty, we're not really off duty these days. You know that as well as anyone. Can you imagine what would happen if we had to wait for a car to come get us in an emergency because we couldn't get to headquarters?"

"So, you have a designated driver," Cal pointed out. "No one there tonight is such a lightweight they couldn't do their job after a couple of drinks. Shit, most of us have." He didn't say all, because he honestly didn't think James Heimler ever showed up drunk or hungover. He knew Tringham and Stevens had once or twice on a very rare occasion, mostly in their younger days. It was probably better not to discuss how often he or Tore had done either.

"Not anymore." Tore countered. "There's no room for mistakes right now, not even small ones. We have to rebuild people's trust in the military, not just outside, but inside as well. I'm trying to hold together, and repair, rifts that have been there for years. Arsenic would rip us apart and throw us back into civil war if they could. I can't let that happen. We can't, and we're in positions where everything we do is going to be scrutinized and noticed. We're not majors in the rank-and-file."

"That's not what I meant." But Cal had rarely seen Tore so intent, or focused. Of course, he'd never had this kind of weight on him before. Everyone handled the position of top of the Amestris military differently, and Tore was not coming in at a point for a smooth transition. Cal got that. He sighed. "Sorry. Forget I mentioned it."

There was a long silence. "Alyse told Charisa."

He didn't have to say what, though Cal felt a twinge of irritation. Not that he was surprised. He had expected it. That was why he had made assumptions about the lack of strong drinks in evidence tonight. "Yeah, well, that's my problem, not anyone else's. Don't worry about it."

Cal was not prepared for Tore to pull over into a parking space and slam on the brakes. Nor was he ready for the look of hurt on his friend's face.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Tore glared at him.

Now Cal really wished he knew how much, and specifically what, Alyse had told Charisa. "It means I don't want anyone doing anything different around me. I get it, but it's not necessary."

Tore didn't quite look disgusted, but Cal wasn't sure what his friend was thinking. "You telling me if I'd offered you a beer that you'd have turned it down?"

"Sure, I would." The words came without hesitation, but even Cal had to admit he doubted their veracity. He'd have tried, but he couldn't say he wouldn't have been tempted.

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"Man, you think after all the years we've been friends, partners, stuck with each other on missions for months on end that I can't tell when you're lying?"

Cal wasn't even sure what to say to that. "I meant it," he objected.
"You're lying to yourself, too," Tore shook his head, "If you actually believe that." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "And don't tell me it's not anyone else's problem. How long have we been drinking buddies? How many times have we hauled each other home cause the other was too blitzed to stand on his own two feet? How many times have I brought you booze behind Alyse's back while we were hanging out? Don't tell me I don't have some responsibility in this."

Tore felt responsible? "I asked you to. No reason you should have known when I didn't." Cal tried to smooth it over. "Not like you forced me to do anything." It ought to be the other way around, given how their friendship had started, but Tore had years ago insisted that he'd asked, and those had been his own decisions. But Tore had quit much sooner too… smoking first, and he really didn't drink much at all anymore that Cal had seen.

"Like a drug dealer doesn't force his customers to buy?" Tore arched an eyebrow. "I'd never have done if it I'd known… if I'd ever really thought about it."

Cal grimaced. "You tried to talk me out of stupid plenty of times."

"Not that you ever listened." Tore shook his head, and some of the fury drained out of him. "Damn it. No one's humoring you. Hell, the other guys don't even know."

"They don't?" Well, that was news.

"It was my suggestion that we not drink tonight, for most of the reasons I told you earlier. But… shit. You think I could sit there having a good beer in front of you? It'd be like waving a smoke under a guy's nose when he's trying to quit."

An experience they both knew. Cal sighed. "All right. I'm sorry I said it wasn't anybody's problem. I just… I've hardly told anyone. It's hard, and I was going to say something eventually. I just didn't want to put this on anyone else, especially not you."

Tore shrugged, and Cal knew the apology had been accepted. "I know. I've got plenty to worry about. Don't make me worry about you, too." He put the car back in drive, and pulled out again.

"I'll do my best," Cal promised. It didn't sound like much, but it was all he could really say. He'd never meant to put Tore in a position where he felt guilty for just being a friend.

The car was quiet for several minutes after that. They were nearly to Cal's house when Tore finally spoke again. "Thanks for coming over to Headquarters last week. What you said seems to have made an impact on most of the alchemists. Tringham and the Mustangs have all reported hearing them talk about it, and they're definitely more serious about training." His smile grew a little smug. "They'd appreciate it if you came back and soaked the cockier ones in practice again."

Cal had to admit, he had enjoyed that part of the day much more than the portion where he had talked about his experiences on the battlefield, and his injuries. It was the most alchemy he had done in years, and it was nice to know he still had the skills. Not that he had gone full out, but it hadn't been necessary. Still, watching the younger alchemists practice, he could see that Trisha was doing an excellent job training them. Even the more experienced alchemists benefited from continued and consistent work when they weren't on missions. "I could do that."

"Good. And if you've got time for that in your busy schedule, Rapid and Glacier are more than ready for some advanced training."

"What about Deluge?" Cal asked. He was hardly the only experienced alchemist who specialized in water or water-related alchemy.

"I've got her keeping an eye on a few people at South City Headquarters," Tore replied without further elaboration.

Cal supposed that couldn't be helped. Despite the fact that the majority of State Alchemists had been consolidated more towards Central for assignment after their decimation in the Drachman War, a large number of them were out on missions in other regions. The ones at the regional Headquarters needed training too. Though from the way Tore said keeping an eye on implied that Rochelle Wales—the Deluge Alchemist—was keeping an eye on people that concerned Tore politically as well.

In any case, that didn't leave anyone else with his decades of experience, though after what he'd seen the other day, Neil and Wilkes were already far better than they had been when he'd worked with them during the civil war in Drachma. They'd also both grown up a bit in the last few years. Cal had been glad when Rapid had married Live Wire a couple of years after the civil war. They were good for each other. He had helped her confidence, and she had helped steady and calm him down some. Glacier was still as chill as his name, and flirty besides, but he seemed to have engaged a social filter somewhere in there. There was something about him that reminded Cal a lot of himself, but without as much emotional baggage.

Both of the young men were incredibly hard working, talented alchemists. If Cal could contribute anything that would keep them alive longer, how could he do otherwise? "Sure, count me in. Just have Whisper contact me and I'll work it out with her." Cal managed a grin. "Including my training fee."

For a moment, Tore's expression went blank. Then he laughed. "Just don't bankrupt the military."

"No promises."

June 24th, 1996

Major Clarina Harper was used to being one of the last alchemists, if not the very last, to leave the Lab in the evenings. Being in charge of Section Five of Lab Two meant being certain that everything was also cleaned up properly before the end of the evening. It was forbidden for alchemists to leave experiments in progress without someone around to keep an eye on them. While there was always security assigned to the labs, even at night while the cleaning crews were doing their work, a lot of their work could be dangerous.

Clarina didn't mind working late most of the time, and there were others who could handle the evening check and lock up on the occasion when she actually made plans, but she enjoyed the work, and the responsibility. There was no one waiting at home for her anyway except Gold and Copper, her miniature Xingese golden carp, in their tank. Taken care of properly, the fish could live for up to a couple of decades, and they were only four. Though the breeder she had gotten them from had made sure she knew they would start spawning behavior this year or next, and so there was the possibility of babies. If Gold—the one female—did lay, there would be dozens, potentially hundreds, of eggs. Fortunately, only about forty percent would hatch, and they would be incredibly tiny. At that point she would take them out of the main tank and put them in a raising tank until they were big enough to go back to the breeder, who would sell them for her with a small commission fee on his part. Clarina appreciated that. She didn't need hundreds of fish! She was fairly sure they had bred though, given the behavior in the tank recently, and Gold was starting to look distinctly chubby despite their strictly monitored fish diet.

The fish also didn't mind her comings and goings. So, on a night like this, when she stayed late to finish her own experiment and report before leaving, they wouldn't scold when she got home.

Clarina was just turning off the lights in her lab section when she heard voices down the hall. The cleaning crew most likely, she presumed.

"—hurry with that. UV will damage us if we don't deliver," one voice said in an unusually hushed tone.

Clarina paused just inside the doorway with her hand on it. The cleaning crew never bothered to whisper.

"And if we drop it, we'll be in worse trouble," the other replied. "Shipping's waiting to deliver."

"Won't they notice the paperwork missing?"

"Nothing missing. I used light alchemy to flash burn the text onto a fresh page below, and brought the paper in with me this morning. Nothing missing from inventory."

"Clever," the first voice chuckled. "Too bad we can't just copy this part."

"I doctored the inventory. No one should have a clue, as long as we get it out of here."

"Well, UV might kill us if we don't so, let's get this done."

"Relax. At this hour no one's ever here."

The two voices passed the lab, and Clarina ducked out of line of sign of the window in the door. When the shadows moved by, she peeked up ever so slightly to try and catch a look at who was stealing from the Lab. Her first instinct, unlike many State Alchemists, was not to leap in and stop them.

From the back, Clarina could not easily identify both of them, but they were both male. After a moment, one turned his head just enough that she recognized one of the younger State Alchemists, the Strobe Alchemist, Leon Fenberger. He must have been the one making copies.

"How many more of these drops do we have to make?" the other one asked.

"Two to get it all. UV wants the next one by the fifth. Best time to snag that is probably the second then. Everything's supposed to close down early that night for that scheduled deep clean. Place'll be deserted."

Another quite chuckle. "So much for all that security."

Clarina waited until the footsteps faded down the hall, her mind racing. She knew who was stealing from the State Alchemy lab. Or at least, two of them, and how. Not that she knew which lab yet, but she had a name and she had… a contact at Arsenic at the very least; a codename. UV.

A name that made her blood run cold, because she had a feeling that she knew who it belonged to. She had to report this to Genesis. There might be a way to use this situation to their advantage, and she only had a few days to set up the plan that was already forming in her mind.

June 25th, 1996

Tore had gotten only the simplest, most obscure message that morning by virtue of a note left by Sensation with his morning coffee that she had brought up herself from the State Alchemist's office, which suggested he should make an unscheduled inspection stop by the main State Alchemist's office at fourteen hundred hours. There was no signature, but Tore immediately recognized Tringham's handwriting.

Whatever the Genesis Alchemist wanted Tore to know, he wanted him to hear it in person, and not be written down. He also didn't want anyone knowing the meeting was happening, necessarily. Tore looked at the agenda for the day that Sensation had left him, and saw that time slot as scheduled already for roving random inspection of choice. Tore just nodded at her while she waited expectantly. She nodded back, and stepped out to let him start his morning's work. Tore had allotted an hour this morning for paperwork before a morning full of meetings with the Senior Chair of the Assembly, and General Bridges over the military's department of Engineers.

By the time those were over, Tore had just enough time to wolf down a late lunch before making his way down to the State Alchemist's offices with Sensation in tow, though he took a slightly circuitous route so his end destination wouldn't be immediately obvious.

When he stepped into the State Alchemist's office, he noticed—as he always did—that the reaction was not exactly the same as it was generally in the other offices. For one thing, no one jumped to their feet to stop all the work for his arrival. He had made it very clear that he would not permit work to be interrupted simply due to his presence. If they were not called to attention, they should keep working. So far, some of the offices were still struggling with that concept. Oh, they had to salute often enough, but there was far more important work to be done than stroking his ego. Tore found it amusing that some of the other Generals found it irritating, while some were just relieved that everyone wasn't being interrupted. Especially since he was likely to show up at least once a week in every major office, and sometimes random minor ones.

It was a trick Tore had read that Fuhrer Bradley was known for (and Edward had told stories about times it had happened to him), and he had to admit he found it incredibly useful. Though everyone jumped to attention when that man had shown up, and he had expected it.

The State Alchemists did look up to see him come in, registered he was not expecting their attention, and went back to work. A couple of them smiled. They liked having a State Alchemist in the office of President.

Tore made a point of pausing and talking to one or two on his way through, commending a recent mission that had turned up in a report, or asking after others. This part needed to look like nothing was out of the ordinary. After a couple of minutes, he stepped into the office that used to be his—and Cal's before that—and found Felix Tringham, not alone.

Sensation stayed outside, closing the door behind them.

Tore looked at Genesis, and then at Alabaster. "I take it you've got something important to tell me." He focused on Tringham first. "That was the most excellently vague not-quite-order to show up I've ever received."

Tringham shrugged. "It worked, and yes. Though the one with the big news here is Alabaster. She's discovered a couple of our leaks, who also appear to be thieves, and the possible identity of one of our enemies."

Tore gave the Alabaster Alchemist, Clarina Harper, his full attention. "Report, Major."

Clarina, who was standing at attention, if not too stiffly, nodded, briefly recounting an overheard conversation the night before. Tore felt his eyebrows crawling slowly into his hair as he listened. "When I realized I knew who they were likely talking about, I knew this was too big an opportunity to miss, Sir," Clarina finished. "If they're going to try and steal materials and papers out of the labs at least twice more, and we know the first date, this might be a chance to find out for sure who we're dealing with and… possibly a way in. If it's who I think it is, I think I could convince them that I've decided to turn sides and… they might believe it."

Tore frowned. He wasn't sure he liked that part, but Clarina was a State Alchemist, and so far, he had no reason to doubt her honesty. "Who do you think it is, Alabaster?"

Clarina looked almost ashamed even as she met his gaze with a certain determination. "I heard one of them reference a person as UV. It was clear that was who wanted the paperwork and whatever else they've been stealing. The reference was made several times."

Tore felt the light go on, even as his stomach turned. "You think it's Ultraviolet?" The two female alchemists had been teamed up together, along with Proteus and the ill-fated Tremor Alchemist, years ago. The team had ended during the Xingese Civil War, when Tremor had died in combat, Alabaster had lost her arm, and Ultraviolet had quit the military. She had left mourning Tremor's death, and with a noted grudge against Proteus. That might extend to the State Alchemists as a whole, though he would have thought she'd have moved on by now.

"I think it's possible that she's involved." Clarina nodded. "Whether she's the mind behind the fuel explosive, I can't be sure, but the reference doesn't feel like it could be coincidental."

"What would we need to set up to convince her, or her allies, if she has them, that you might be approachable?" If she wanted to attempt to infiltrate Arsenic, she was a much better prospect than any of the more public front-facing alchemists who were regularly in the news. The lab alchemists were much less well known, and Clarina had been friends with Vera once. If the Ultraviolet Alchemist was involved somehow… that was both bad, and good, depending on how things played out.

Clarina looked even more uncomfortable. Clearly this was not part of the job of State Alchemist that she had to deal with often. She had been in the labs since she finished her auto-mail rehabilitation years ago. "Honestly, I think we need to bring Proteus in on that. The last time Ultraviolet spoke to me, before we lost touch, she still hated him and blamed him for Tremor's death."

"And when was the last time you spoke?"

"On a phone call, over ten years ago. She hadn't written in a while, so I called the number I had for her to check in. She sounded glad to hear from me, but told me she was really busy with work, so we kept it short. Then, she never called or wrote back, and I got the feeling she wasn't interested in hearing from me anymore. She just wanted to move on and forget this part of her life. But, now that all this is happening, I'm beginning to think I should have asked more questions about this new work of hers then." "

"So how do we convince her that you hate Proteus enough to consider changing sides?" Tringham asked directly. "Presuming you don't actually hate him and aren't planning on turning double agent, if you haven't already?"

Clarina's fair skin turned a deep red and the fire-flash response was one Tore was certain was genuine. "I would never. Shock, Genesis, you know I wouldn't!" Not a flicker of eyes away from his face. No tells of nerves or lies. Not that he had ever caught Clarina in a lie. Probably because she had a reputation for being one of the most honest and rule-abiding alchemists in the State. "But, if you want them to think I might be open to recruitment, Proteus is our best bet."

Tore glanced at Tringham. "Is Proteus available? I didn't see him outside."

"He's on the grounds," Tringham nodded. "He's usually sparring at this hour when he's not on assignment. I'll have him summoned."

"You want me to what?!" Ted stared at Tore, Felix, and Clarina—who was the last person he had expected when Tringham summoned him to his office—wondering if the world had gone insane.

It was Tringham who answered. "We want to plant a known and reliable agent among Arsenic's forces. Alabaster has offered to be that agent given certain information attained recently about possible moles in the Lab. There is some evidence that the alchemist we may be looking for, may be one with a strongly emotional personal grudge against you."

Ted opened his mouth to object that no alchemist would have any reason to have a personal grudge, before he shut it on the thought. He had never tried not to make enemies, and while the State Alchemists had been the only group of officers in which not a single one had voiced or expressed distrust of Anika or her colleagues who had come with them from Drachma, that still left at least one. Could she still hate him after all this time? "You think Vera's behind this?"

Clarina stepped forward, nodding. "I have reasons, yes, based on conversations I overheard recently. In any case, we need to convince them I might have a valid reason to change my views on the current military, or at least some of its members enough to look convincingly recruit-able. So… if it is her, I figured the easiest thing to do was hit her in her blind spot. If she thinks I want revenge on you, or at least justice…"

The suggestion made Ted uncomfortable. They had spoken very rarely, and only professionally, for years, when Clarina had made it quite clear she really didn't want anything to do with him. She had been politely cold about it, and he had respected her wishes. "If it's for your mission… What do you need me to do, Alabaster?"

"We need to start a rumor that you made inappropriate advances on me, and I'm mad about it."

Just when Ted thought things couldn't get worse. "What the hell?" the words burst from his mouth before he had a moment to think.

Clarina put up her hands in a placating gesture, suddenly nervous. "Hear me out! I'm not asking you to actually do anything. We stage a scene, after hours, when there's almost no one around except the two I expect are the moles. I've heard them talking. Certainly, they'll take word of it back to her, if it is her. Even if it's not, if I act disgruntled enough, and like I'm doing some sneaking of my own, making more dangerous compounds for unknown reasons, they should approach me on their own."

"What if someone else hears this little act?" Ted wanted to help, but the idea of rumors—however false—of him hitting on a woman who was not his wife, and trying to pressure her. Would Vera believe it? Probably. She had blamed him for Tremor's death even though no one had been able to block the explosive that killed him. Vera had also been furious with him for his careless treatment of Clarina's feelings in those days. "I want to help, but if there's any possibility it's going to hurt Anika, I have to decline." His wife would be crushed, and furious, if she didn't know. Though what would she say if he asked her? She understood the importance of a mission, and she knew he would never really cheat. Not that he ever had time, seeing as every night he wasn't out on a mission she had him in the bedroom lately. The months since the train wreck had not made her any less insistent that she wanted a third child.

"No one should hear it besides them. There's almost no one in the building, and the night they're supposed to be there we're shutting down early for cleaning. I can give you the schedule, and no one has to see you come in to the lab. We wait until we hear them coming, and then we stage our show… and see how it goes from there. The only people who should hear about it would be their own uplines. After all," she smirked in a way Ted had never seen her do so before, "They can't very well admit what they were doing in the building after hours, either."

Ted didn't like it, but both of his superiors didn't look like they were about to give him a choice. This was important. He sighed. "All right. I'm in. But I want permission to warn Anika about what's coming just in case. Not all the details just… that there might be rumors that we're planting on purpose and that they're definitely lies, but she can't say anything that might contradict them too badly."

It was Tringham who nodded. "Approved. Keep it to the necessary information only. Now, let's work out exactly how you're going to pull this off."

Anika thought her eyes might pop out of her head as she stared at her husband that evening as they did the dishes after the boys were in bed. He had dropped a bomb on her, and she wasn't entirely sure how to take it, other than she didn't like the implications at all. "Let me get this straight. For a mission, you need to make the enemy believe you are cheating on me with another woman?"

Ted grimaced. "Basically…yes. We're trying to plant a spy, and it's possible that one of the enemy we're dealing with is someone who hates me."

"An ex?"

Ted snorted, and shook his head vehemently in a way that was at least reassuring. "Never! She blames me for the death of her boyfriend because he died when we were fighting together in Xing. It's a long story, but I swear we were never involved."

Anika believed him, mostly because Ted had been very honest about his previous dating history in the months that they were working to save Drachma, living under the mountain, and getting to know each other better than they had before their passionate night in Myrda's cage. "Is there a chance this other alchemist has feelings that might be a problem later?"

Ted shook his head. "None. The plan is her idea, but she's also someone who turned me down, repeatedly, in the past. I'm a tool for the mission, nothing more, and we've worked it out so that no matter what happens, we're not going to cross any lines. It's all an act. Though I wish I could ask Ian about it. He could probably give me some acting tips. I'm not sure I'll be very good at playing forceful."

Anika set down the last dish and turned to him with a coy smile. She didn't like the idea of possible rumors of infidelity, no matter the cause, but if there was anything she had learned over the years, it was that the mission came first. With her family, with her, and with her husband. "Then perhaps I should drag you upstairs and make you practice."

Ted blinked. Then he chuckled. "When you're the one dragging me, it's hardly force on my part."

Anika reached out and took the collar of his shirt in her hand, pulling him close. "Then maybe you should work on that."