September 17th, 1996 (STILL)

Clarina swallowed and tried not to appear outwardly nervous as she entered the only way that she knew into the only Arsenic hideout for which she had directions; the one where she had first met up with Vera. She had learned a lot about them in the weeks since pretending to join, and the more she learned, the more conflicted and confusing things got. But her mission had been clear. For one thing, she knew now that Arsenic, such as it was, did not have a single central headquarters or central leader. It was a collection of nests and collectives, a mix of people from many countries, even though most of them were Amestrian. There was leadership, of a sort, but they were scattered across the country, communicating in secret. Technically, Vera worked for them, but Clarina had realized that ever since the failed attempt on Anastas, the politically motivated leadership of the group had lost some authority. Their goals had been to take over the government and make the changes they wanted that way. Vera's goals might be similar, but they weren't entirely in line, and her methods were much messier. Still, it had seemed fairly controlled.

As of yesterday afternoon, everything had gotten worse. Clarina's first clue that there had been a disaster in Resembool was being summoned to Tringham's office for what was, ostensibly, a regular report update. She had arrived to a nightmare.

The description of the fire that had ravaged the Resembool festival, killing dozens, injuring hundreds, made it very clear who was at fault and, even worse, what supplies had been used. There was almost no way some of what they had allowed her to "requisition" supposedly under the table had not been used to create those multi-colored flames. Clarina had not devised the alchemy, but she had aided in it none-the-less in the name of investigation.

Clarina had also not expected Shock to be at the meeting. He was ostensibly, at that time, squirreled away in his office doing paperwork. How he had gotten down to Tringham's office unseen, Clarina had no idea, but he had made it clear that the meeting was classified.

Shock was furious. Clarina had never been close to Closson, even though they had both been State Alchemists for years. Her work as primarily a lab alchemist had meant that while he got her reports, and they spoke occasionally, it had always been purely professional. She had heard he could have a temper, but she had never seen it.

Last night, she had met it first-hand. It was the most miserable meeting of her life. Not that she blamed Closson for his anger and grief. The grief she presumed, since he didn't express it outright. Their plan had led someplace they had not expected, and he had demanded to know if she had had any inkling that the attack was coming. Was there something they had missed? Something she had missed or, worse, chosen not to report.

She did not blame him for the question. Clarina knew, with a clean conscious, she'd had no idea there was an attack on anything imminent, or what it might be. Or even what the supplies—not the rarest—she had provided had been used for specifically. There were many experiments going on in Vera's labs. The few Clarina had seen had been things they mostly already knew about. Vera did not yet, obviously, trust her with anything riskier.

She may not trust me at all. Not when she had been left so in the dark. But had she missed some clue? That was always possible, though she wasn't sure what it would have been, even with the new information.

Still, she had come close to tears she didn't dare shed as Closson had ranted—voice low to keep from being heard outside the room, but still ranted—and grilled her for several minutes. Tringham had been no less upset, but he had been calmer, and after Closson had left, Tringham had assured her that he trusted her, and he didn't blame her for the event. They were all equally culpable, if anything.

What they needed now, was to figure out how they had missed it and keep it from happening again if possible. Clarina had waited until the next day to go looking for Vera. If she showed up too suddenly, or too quickly after a meeting with Tringham, it would look suspicious.

If Vera was responsible—and Clarina had little doubt that she was—it was horrifying to think that the woman who had once been her colleague and friend had been willing to plan for so much collateral damage to hit a target. She understood wanting justice, but this wasn't justice. It was revenge, and it wasn't even carefully aimed revenge.

Clarina wished she could just back out of this whole thing, but she was under orders not to.

She had considered on the way over how to approach Vera, and had decided that the most straightforward was the best. Clarina couldn't fake feelings she didn't have, and Vera would not have expected her to approve. Staying in character was easiest if it remained her own.

It wasn't hard to find Vera. They let her in, she had the right password, and she knew the way to the labs. What she hadn't expected was that Vera would be in her office, looking totally normal as she looked at reports on her desk.

She looked so, completely, normal…

Vera looked up at Clarina. "I was wondering when I'd see you."

Clarina bit back the first words that came to mind. Instead, she squared with her across the table. "Then you know why I'm here."

"You heard about our latest mission."

"You could call it that." Clarina had to wonder how much Vera actually knew. The news had been surprisingly hushed about the events outside of general information. While casualty reports had come out, no specific names had been given regarding who was alive and who was dead. As far as Clarina understood it, the only people at Headquarters who currently knew about Fullmetal and True Soul's survival were herself, Shock, Genesis, and possibly the related family members. Though they would have found out through private conversations with family directly in Resembool. So, it depended on what information Vera had gotten back from her own people what she knew. "You blew up a festival and killed dozens of civilians who have nothing to do with this. I want to know if it was worth it?"

Vera eyed her a moment, then closed the folder on her desk. "Did we succeed you mean? Well, I've only gotten an initial report, but the results are promising. Why, do you know anything?"

"Nothing concrete," Clarina shook her head. "Tringham called me to his office earlier, but all he wanted to know was my thoughts on what the fire might have been made from. He said my lab would get access to a sample of the remnants if there are any, to analyze it, since we did so well with the explosive." Just enough truth.

Vera smiled broadly. "Excellent. That's one worry I had gone. We can feed them whatever information we want. There won't be much in the way of samples left. Not if it burned out the way I designed it." She stood up and came around the table. "You still look upset. Look, sometimes you have to get a little messy to get your target. I regret that it was necessary, but it definitely made a statement, and it was more effective than the last attack. The supplies you were able to get us were what even made it possible. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now, Clare. You know what you were getting into, and you've been one of my best agents, even though I know you've got a soft touch. Even if you wanted out, I can't let you. You know how this works."

"I do," Clarina replied, forcing herself to stop shaking. With fury… not fear. "I didn't say I wanted out; I'm just telling you I disapprove of this method. I won't rat you out, but promise me you won't use me like this again without at least telling me what it is I'm helping with. If you want me to trust you, you ought to trust me."

"All right, Clare. You're right, but I wasn't sure entirely yet that I could trust you to have the grit for this kind of work."

Clarina nodded, as if acknowledging her words. "Do you trust me now?"

Vera's smile sent a slight shiver up her spine. There was something not quite sane about it. "Of course, I do."

Edward knew it was personal bias, but somehow, he always felt better when it was Ethan who worked on him, over most other alkahestrists. Well, with the probable exception of Ren. His son's expertise, and his calming nature, put him at ease. In any case, after Ethan—followed by the Live Wire Alchemist—had put in a couple of sessions, he felt much better. Still exhausted, but better. His lungs were clear and breathing easily, despite the smoke inhalation the day before.

He had definitely overdone it on the alchemy. Not that healing had ever been his strong point, but in his desperation to save his brother, Edward had put everything he had, even reserves he didn't really have anymore, into trying to keep Alphonse from bleeding out right there in the dirt.

It didn't matter how old they were. Edward would never be ready to lose his little brother.

He looked across the room at the other bed, and was reassured by the sight of Alphonse asleep. He had been moved to Alphonse's room for security reasons, but he found it easier to relax knowing he could keep an eye on his brother.

Not that he was really relaxed. Alphonse had barely survived surgery, and while he had regained consciousness once or twice, he spent almost all of his time sleeping. Most of the doctors who came in to check on them spent their time on Alphonse. Not that Edward was being neglected, but at this point he was an exhaustion case. His minor injuries were healed. Everything else would be fixed with rest and food.

At least, it would if anyone would let him eat.

"You've had enough, Ed," Winry insisted as she removed his now-empty plate and set it with the other dishes on the bedside table. "Give it a while to digest. Unless you want a stomachache."

"You're kidding right?" Edward quipped. "I could eat a whole sheep and I wouldn't be full right now."

Winry's exasperated expression still managed to be half knowing smile. "Hyperbole will not get you fourths."

"I'm not exaggerating." Not that Winry didn't have a point. Edward's body was still screaming that he was starving due to energy depletion, but his stomach was fairly full.

Winry leaned across the bed and kissed his cheek. "I know, but you can't eat all the food in the hospital. You have to leave some for the other patients, like Al, when he wakes up again."

Under other circumstances, Edward might have joked that Winry could just bring him food from home, but given the reasons they were all in this room, he didn't. "Fine," he quipped. "I guess I should leave some for Al."

Sitting beside Alphonse, Elicia smiled softly, despite the exhaustion and strain around her eyes. "I'm sure he'll appreciate your generosity."

There was a brief knock at the door before Ethan came in, closing it behind him.

"Any new information?" Edward asked before anyone else could speak up.

Ethan nodded. "We're leaving tomorrow afternoon, all on the same plane. Though we'll be leaving at the same time as the last supply planes, so we will hopefully sneak you out unnoticed. But I have a question for the both of you." He looked over at Alphonse. "I hate to wake him up, but I really don't think I can make this decision without him."

"What decision is that?" Elicia frowned.

Ethan turned and looked at Edward. "How'd you like to play dead for a while?"

Edward blinked. That was not the question he'd been expecting. "I mean, I'm kind of feeling the part. How dead are we talking?"

"More of a vanishing act," Ethan replied. "Hospital staff and security have been ordered to tell anyone who comes looking for you that you were both reported missing in the fire and that most of the bodies found are fairly unidentifiable. That part, at least, is true. The few townsfolk who saw you come in will keep quiet, and the family is going to pretend that you're missing and presumed dead. The story will be that Mom and Elicia are privately mourning your losses. When we get to Central, both of you will be admitted as patients in the military hospital, in a secure ward where only medical professionals with the appropriate clearance will be allowed."

"This seems rather elaborate," Winry commented.

"It's on Tore's orders." Ethan sat down in a chair near the door, and slumped, showing more exhaustion than usual. Of course, his son had been saving lives for almost twenty-four hours. Edward wondered if he had slept since arriving. "If Arsenic doesn't know you're alive, we don't want them to be able to confirm if they succeeded or not. You'll just…vanish. They can't attack what they can't find."

"Is Tore going to tell the media we're dead?" Edward asked.

"I don't know his plan, but I think he's going to run with the missing and likely dead story if pushed. The goal is to keep any real information out of the media."

"For how long?"

"Until you've both recovered, or Arsenic makes a mistake, whichever comes first. But it might be a while before you can come back to Resembool."

Edward looked at Winry, who nodded. "If it's best for the town, and the family, we should do it," she voiced her opinion.

"That's what I was thinking," Edward agreed, before looking at Elicia.

Elicia looked uneasy. "I'm not speaking for Alphonse, but if he isn't in any shape to do so before we leave, then yes, I'm behind it. This has gone too far."

"Not that Tore was giving us a choice," Ethan pointed out. "But I'm glad you agree. The plan is to only move out the last of the security after the reinforcements from Eastern Command arrive, so that it's not obvious we're moving VIPs."

It all sounded like a solid plan. Let the investigations continue, and extra security search the town thoroughly. As long as there was action down here, Arsenic would be watching. "I think I liked being obsolete better," Edward grumbled. He hated to admit that he had come to enjoy the slower paced life they had enjoyed the past several years. Occasional travel was nice, but being home with his dogs, his books, his comfortable bed, and Winry, was really enough for him most of the time. His desire to get involved with the current danger seemed to have evaporated the moment his brother collapsed.

Even if he had wanted to be more involved, his own exhaustion was just evidence that he was not up to the challenge. Not at the moment. He and Alphonse had been hamstrung in what they could do to stop the fire by the sheer chance of hurting people. There had been too many. If they had done the transmutations needed to put it out at the start, just as many people—possibly more—might have died. Hrafn and his friends certainly would have been among them, given where they had fallen. Reichart and Deanna too…. The more Edward found out about what had happened, the more he knew they'd been fools. They had under-estimated the enemy, and their own importance. Someone hated them personally, or what they represented, enough to come after them twice. This was no longer a political agenda…this was something personal.

Edward just hoped that this was all worth it in the end, and that Tore knew more than they did.

This is what my ego gets me. Edward will kill me if he ever finds out. It was not the first time the thought had run through Tore's head in the past twenty-four hours, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. He hadn't gone home the night before. His entire night and the following day were taken up with the business of getting a handle on the disaster in Resembool. Sending emergency assistance, getting regular reports from the site, waiting for news that the Eastern Headquarters group had arrived so they could pull out the Central group—and their secret human cargo.

He had not given any other public statements regarding the incident outside of the fact that it was being investigated, reported casualty numbers, and that the fire was out and the situation was now under control. Everything else was classified until the investigation was completed. That wouldn't keep reporters from showing up in Resembool itself, of course, but it would buy them time. He wanted to control the narrative as much as possible. The less information Arsenic got from any sources outside their own, the better.

Tore only wished they had more information, or that the hunt to take out Arsenic was going faster. The money-trail in West City had led to the man they expected, but there wasn't yet anything to tie him or his activities to his military family member that would stand up in any court, martial or otherwise.

The fact that Alabaster hadn't heard anything that seemed like an imminent attack or activity had lulled him into thinking they had more time. She had seemed as sincerely shocked and upset as he and Tringham had been when they called her in, and Tore didn't want to doubt her. He didn't want to doubt anyone, but they already knew of at least one State Alchemist working with Arsenic. Clarina had been friends with her once. While that was part of the whole reason that he had sent her in, he was beginning to be concerned that it had been a bad call. Not because she wasn't a good person, but because she was. What if she was too sympathetic? Or what if she just got in over her head? She wasn't trained in espionage.

Her initial report back to Tringham after her meeting with Vera had come just before Tore left Headquarters to go home for the first time in two days. Vera was pleased with the outcomes so far, and had considered it an acceptable loss to have killed so many people going after Fullmetal and True Soul, who it seemed were the specific targets in that incident. An incident that had taken, at the very least, weeks of planning.

What other attacks were in the planning? What had they missed? What was this a distraction from? The types of attacks had changed a little, and now he was beginning to piece out why. If Vera was no longer acting only under orders from other higher ups, and choosing her own targets… no State Alchemist was safe. Which meant their families weren't safe either.

Franz, Sara, Ted, Anika, their boys, Charisa, Dare, Lorraine, their kids, Gloria, Alexei, Charlie, Edward, Alphonse, Winry, Elicia, and every single other member of the Elric family who lived in Resembool… almost all of Tore's family had now been directly threatened. It was a miracle none of them had yet been killed. They had already lost several State Alchemists, some before they even knew what was going on with Arsenic.

How much did they even really know about Arsenic? A lot more now, and yet it didn't seem to be getting him anywhere. He knew that they had no one central leader. The group didn't even have a name they used out loud, only the symbol. So, it didn't matter what they called the group, and the name Arsenic still seemed appropriate. No one had reached out to correct them.

Tore's best guess was that with the failure of Volkhart to take out Anastas and replace him—having already failed to do so when Franz stepped out of the office early of his own will and had his hand-picked replacement ready—whatever faction of Arsenic that had been in charge had lost some control over constituent members, and possibly whole factions. They were still officially one group, but Vera was working under her own rules as much as she was blowing up things other people wanted her to. Destruction and revenge were where her real interests lay, whatever her uplines wanted.

Tore wondered if Arsenic had any real control over her anymore or not… or if she was the one making the decisions now. Which, honestly, terrified him more than some shadow-military elements.

Arriving home by military car, security waiting quietly at the door, as always, Tore was surprised to see lights still on upstairs. Charisa might still be awake.

He nodded grateful to the security guard before going inside. The hallway and downstairs were dim, but the light was still on so he could make his way upstairs. The rooms off the hall were all dark. Tore left his boots and uniform jacket in the hall before going upstairs.

The bedroom door was cracked open, and the only lights upstairs came from it. Pushing the door open, Tore peeked in.

Charisa was curled up in bed, reading a book. She looked up and gave him a knowing smile. "You could have called and told me you were actually coming home tonight."

"I didn't know until about five minutes before I left," Tore admitted. "I thought you'd be asleep already. I didn't want to disturb you."

Charisa closed her book and set it aside. "After last night? I could barely sleep. Though you'll be pleased to know the Assembly has more extensive civilian aide heading out for Resembool in the next few days."

Tore crossed the room without bothering to undress, and leaned over and kissed his wife. "And I bet I know who's responsible for that."

"Only one of many," Charisa assured him. "I passed on the plan you told me to give Cal and Alyse and all of our family, and as many of the Elrics as I could reach. They're all on board. I hope this plan works."

"It's only temporary," Tore promised. "Eventually either they'll figure out Ed and Al are alive, or the fact that they're missing may end up being attributed to Arsenic and a kidnapping instead of them being presumed dead. The public outcry would be immense." He had several ways they could swing this. Arsenic would know they didn't have them, but he could ruin any chances they had of taking over if he could make sure they didn't have sympathizers. "But I didn't come home to my beautiful wife for us to talk about work."

"It's an unavoidable hazard of the job."

"Your mother didn't talk about politics with your father all the time, did she?"
"Mom wasn't a member of the Assembly." Charisa shook her head. "She did everything she could to try and help ease Dad's stress when he came home. I think she was more focused on just holding him together. From what I remember of watching Riza and Roy Mustang, it was much the same there as well."

"Am I as bad?"

"Not yet." Charisa reached out and pulled him down closer by his shirt collar until they were nose-to-nose. "And you won't be… not if I have anything to say about it."

Tore couldn't help a small smile; despite the situation they were dealing with. "Whatever you say. Just give the order."

"Get a shower, change for bed, and get in here with me where you belong."

"Is that an offer?"

"As you just asked for, it's an order." Charisa let go of him. "You look like you're about to fall over. I know you're worried about what's happened, and what might still happen. They're family. I love them, too. But you can't let it eat you up or you won't be able to keep doing the job that all of Amestris needs you to do, which is keep it together, lead the military, and find a way to bring Arsenic to its knees. And the first part of that, is keeping yourself together."

Tore nodded, and straightened up. "As always, beautiful, you're absolutely right. And as I would hate to offend you by coming to bed dirty, I will abide by your wishes." Damn he was tired, to be talking like that.

Not that Charisa minded. She was used to him when he was a little punch-drunk from not enough sleep. Better than being actually drunk. A state he could no longer afford to be in, and he was beginning to wonder how older Presidents of the Military had managed. His wife smiled softly. "I knew I loved you for a reason."

September 18th, 1996

"Thanks for helping me get the room ready," Coran said to him as Ian helped rearrange the room that had been Gavin's until he moved out to get his own place. While Damian still lived at home, the oldest son had been out of the house for a couple of years. In that time, the third bedroom had turned into a craft and catch-all space. Now, it was quickly being turned back into a guest room for Hrafn's arrival and stay.

"It's the least I can do," Ian insisted, "After hogging Mom and Dad for months."

Ted, who was moving boxes out into the hallway closet, snorted from the doorway. "Don't worry about that. You might have made it to the status of Mom's favorite son for giving her three grandkids at once."

"It's not like we didn't see them plenty while they were here," Coran agreed, as he tucked in sheets on the bed in the corner near the window. "Besides, better you than us on triplets." At that, he laughed.

Of course, he could, Ian thought, both of Coran's boys were grown. Even though the youngest lived at home, he was nineteen and independent. He was working in the auto-mail shop, so not moving out yet made sense.

"Yeah well, we're done," Ian assured him as he rearranged the boxes in the closet to make more space for Hrafn's things. His nephew might only be staying a few weeks, but Ian didn't know how much he would be bringing.

"I should hope so," Ted chuckled. "Let Art keep the record."

"Says the one of us still having kids," Coran quipped. "You'd better hope you don't have Ian's luck."

"You can bet the first thing we did was have Ren confirm there's only one in there," Ted replied, picking up the next box. "But Anika's on cloud nine even though this is the sickest she's ever been early on."

Ian was glad his brother sounded happy about it. He looked around the room, which was shaping up surprisingly quickly. He was glad Bonnie hadn't minded him coming over to help tonight. They had so few free nights with his work schedule lately, that as much as he tried to be home with her and the kids, sometimes it felt like they had no personal time to themselves. Still, he wouldn't trade any of his children for more time. Even after just a couple of months, he couldn't imagine life without Leith, Samantha, and Donovan. While he definitely didn't want more, he could see how Reichart and Deanna had wound up with seven. Of course, they had done so with full intentions. "Has anyone talked to Art today? Do we know what time the plane's arriving?"

Coran nodded, and the mood of the room lost some of its brotherly camaraderie as they all sobered. It had been a horrible shock to hear that the Harvest Festival had been attacked, going up in unnatural flames. There were so many casualties. As much as Ian wished he could rush home, he wouldn't really have been much use other than another pair of hands, and his family needed him working. Coran couldn't give over the auto-mail work that long, and Ted was a State Alchemist. He hadn't been assigned to the mission, so he couldn't just take off and go.

Ian was grateful that Tore was having family flown back to Central for safety, though he felt horrible for Hrafn, and for his brother and Deanna for having gone through the horrible experience of almost losing their son. It would be hard on the rest of the kids too. Ian could imagine how it would have felt if it had happened to one of his brothers. He still worried, but the only one of them that had regularly been in danger until these crazy people started blowing things up, had been Ted, and he was very possibly more dangerous than the enemy they were fighting, if he wanted to be.

"He didn't know what time, but they should be arriving tonight. They're purposefully keeping the flight plan vague to avoid anyone setting up an ambush of some kind at either location, or trying to shoot them out of the air." Coran smoothed the dark blue blanket over the sheets. "Grandpa Ed and Alphonse will be transported straight to the hospital, where we're not supposed to visit because we're supposed to be pretending that they're missing and either kidnapped or dead. Granny will be staying with Uncle Ethan and Lia. Elicia will be there too just until Alyse and Cal get back. They're supposed to be on the train today, so it'll only be a couple of days."

"Is Hrafn going to the hospital first?" asked Ted.

"Only for a couple of days. Art said Ethan thinks he's healing up fast enough he'll do better in the quiet of the apartment, and with people around to distract him, but who know how to take care of him."

Since Coran and Gale worked with auto-mail patients all the time, both before, during, and after surgeries, it really was the perfect place for Hrafn to be. He and his older cousins also got along fine. Apparently Hrafn very much did not want to be treated like an invalid, even though he was still adjusting to the reality that his arm was gone.

"I'm sure we can be as much distraction as he needs." Not that he thought his sixteen-year-old nephew would want to spend time with his youngest cousins, but there was plenty to do in Central once he was well enough to go out, and no one who didn't know him would look at him twice, even without an arm.

"That's what Art is hoping." Coran moved to putting on fresh pillow-cases.

"Will he be enrolling in school up here?" Ted moved the last box that was going out of the room from the stack to the door. Even standing out in the hall he could hear the conversation.

"That…remains to be seen." Coran frowned. "He won't be well enough to attend classes for a couple of weeks at least, and he's probably not going to be emotionally ready for longer than that. For now, that's not the biggest concern. Hrafn's smart. He can make up any time he loses, or study independently. I'll make sure he keeps up with some of his studies, but this is a lot to handle. Everyone mourns the loss of a limb differently, and it really is a mourning process. On top of the fact that he lost a friend and went through a traumatizing ordeal. We'll just have to take things with him a day at a time."

Alphonse could not remember the last time he had been so exhausted, or generally useless. He was aware of time passing, and of moments of clarity when he was awake and talking to Elicia, and occasionally Winry, Edward, and Ethan. He had been conscious for being wheeled down to a car, and all of them had moved to the airplane that was taking them back to Central. Then, even though he had rarely flown, he found himself dozing for most of the flight, waking when they got ready to transfer to the vehicle that carried them quietly through the night streets of Central to the hospital.

It was only a little over forty-eight hours from the time he was shot to being stowed, in secret, into a private room with just himself and Edward again, but in the Central hospital that was far too familiar. He and Edward had spent enough time there over the years. Though somehow some of those memories were clearer than the past couple of days. He remembered being at the performance, then Edward shouting, and transmuting, then pain… and it went fuzzy.

Still, he was feeling more alert as they got settled in. Winry and Elicia were with them the entire time, and Alphonse felt oddly reassured by the security at the doors to the hallway. He knew, because Ethan had been very frank with him about how narrowly he had avoided dying in surgery, that he was in no condition to fight and would be an invalid likely for weeks, even with alchemical treatment. He couldn't protect anyone else, so this was really the safest plan for everyone. He had agreed to it, even if it meant playing dead. He'd rather miraculously 'come back from the dead' than actually get killed. No one was changing their legal paperwork. It was all a ruse.

Yet it was difficult to accept. Sure, Alphonse had known for years that he and Edward couldn't do what they had in their prime, or even in their sixties or seventies, but he had never expected anyone to go to this extreme to get them, or to get the drop on them with something as simple as a gun outside of an active combat zone.

This was no longer their fight. They would have to trust the younger generations to take it up and fight for them. He wondered if Edward felt the same way.

Still, it left Alphonse with questions.

He waited until Winry and Elicia had gone for the night, and Edward had dozed off, before he asked a question of Ethan that he had been waiting to ask since he first woke up in the hospital in Resembool. "Why did you do it?"

His nephew looked confused. "Why did I save you?"

Alphonse nodded. "There were dozens of critical patients after the explosion, and the fire. Elicia told me the numbers. They rushed alkahestrists down to deal with numbers, and many people lived, but not everyone. As long as they had me in surgery, they could have been working on someone else. You could have been working on someone else. While I appreciate you saving my life, I'm just one old man."

Ethan sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his legs. "With all due respect, Uncle Al… you're not just one old man. At least, not to me. Not to our family. There was nothing objective about my decision. I couldn't have chosen another patient over you if it meant losing you."

"Not even Edward?"

Ethan tensed. "Don't ask that kind of question. You know it's not fair."

He had a point. "I'm sorry."

Ethan shrugged. "Mom and Dad would be devastated to lose you. Aunt Elicia would be heartbroken. We'd all miss you. I couldn't just let you die, or let these bastards win. It's one thing to lose a patient when everything has been done. It's always an awful experience, and you always wonder what you could have done differently. But treating family… it's a step even beyond that. Ever since Cayla died, I haven't had the same objectivity I should have as a physician; not when it comes to family."

Alphonse watched his nephew, who looked about as rung out as Alphonse had ever seen him, outside of Ethan's own near-death experiences. He had given everything he had to heal Alphonse's insides after the bullet had punched multiple organs. Then, he had turned around and gone right back into surgeries for others for most of the next day-and-a-half until they had flown here. "None of us has that kind of objectivity when it comes to this family," he replied softly. "Perhaps Ed and I most of all. I know I haven't forgotten what it was like to only have Ed, and Winry and Granny, even though we didn't realize when we were young how much they were already family. We would do anything for any one of you."

Ethan gave a wan smile. "Well, you certainly did this time. According to the State Alchemists I was working with, if you two hadn't done what you did to slow down the fire, hundreds more would have died."

It was something, at least. "That's good to know." Those weren't his only questions, and he might not have much time to ask. "While Elicia's not here, I want you to level with me, Ethan. How long am I really going to take to recover? How much am I going to recover?" However long they kept Edward and himself hidden in here, under military protection, had nothing to do with how long they might actually need hospital care.

Ethan's expression sobered again. "Your organs all work, and you're not in danger of reopening anything as long as you rest for a couple more days, but even with additional healing I don't know what percentage of permanent damage has been done. The shot hit your spleen and a kidney. You know how much alkahestry is involved in healing organ damage. At your age, the fact that you survived Dad's emergency patch job, and what I had to do to keep you with us during surgery… I wouldn't have thought it possible. We'll keep giving you treatments, but it's going to have to go slowly. You don't have the reserves to survive something intense, like when they treated Dad's heart in Xing."

At least everything still worked. Alphonse was impressed he still had the organs in question. They could have removed them, even if it wasn't ideal, and he might have survived. "Is it worth the effort?"

"To you, or to other people?" Ethan knew him too well. "Personally, you still have several years left in you, I would think, as long as you make it through the next couple of weeks, which you should. Outside of unexpected severe illness or someone else trying to kill you. For others, you're not taking treatment away from someone else who needs it, if that's what you mean. And as best I can tell, Tore not only wants you alive for purely familial reasons, but the fact that the military has you both, and Arsenic doesn't, will probably be very important for the country at some point. That's my guess anyway. Tore sent word through Charisa to Lia that he plans to come see you in the next couple of days. He makes the rounds of the hospital to speak with injured soldiers and other patients a regular part of his rotating schedule, so it won't be odd for him to be over here for a while."

So, Tore would be coming to see them. Alphonse hoped he was willing to talk freely with them. Or at least, as freely as he was able. He and Edward had gotten far more information out of Presidents of the Military with whom they were close than otherwise, though not as much in recent years. "I'll look forward to it."