December 9th, 1996

Tore had been honestly relieved when the execution of Vera Kollan was quietly scheduled for early in the morning, before a normal weekday shift would begin for most of Central Headquarters. No one would know it had occurred until after the firing squad executions of the rest of the condemned at the end of the day. Part of the deal had been that sentencing had to be carried out before the Courts adjourned and the judges returned to their home countries. No waiting.

At least it would be over with soon.

Tore arrived at the location for the execution well before daylight, with Caroline Flynn and Roy Mustang alongside. Argyros, Marskaya, and Mihalov, as well as the judges required to stand witness to the execution, had arrived as well, though they were seated behind a wall of mirrored glass that would allow them to see into the room, but would not allow Vera to see out. Only three people would be stepping into the room with Vera at any point, and only two would be there for the execution itself.

In front of him, a prison guard opened the door, admitting himself, Mustang, and the prison's physician, doctor Glynnis Lange. She held an injection that should—they hoped—render Vera unconscious before they killed her. While her body was impervious to poisons, their chemical analysis had not suggested she would be unreactive to other pharmaceuticals.

Beside him, Roy looked grim. He had received his notice at the end of the previous day instead of this morning, to make sure he could come in without causing suspicion. He had told Trisha that Tringham had asked him to come in early to plan a special drill with some of the more advanced full State Alchemists. They even did have a plan worked out and waiting for Roy to get back so it could be a first-thing this morning class.

Tore was not expected to arrive at Headquarters until his normal hours.

Vera was waiting for them. She was not yet unconscious, and Tore wondered if it would not have been easier for all of them if she had been. But they could not be sure it would work, or how long it would take her system to metabolize it. Tore was grateful this was not his regular line of work. Putting her unconscious and killing her felt like they were putting to sleep some poor stray dog. She couldn't fight back. She wouldn't even feel it happening. Probably. Hopefully.

Except she was not a stray dog. She was dangerous. She had given up her humanity in the name of destruction and chaos.

She was not smiling this time, though she looked awfully composed and unfazed for someone about to die. Her eyes opened a little bit wider as she took in who had joined her. "Somehow I didn't think you'd have the guts to do it yourself, Shock." Her eyes turned to Roy. "Firestorm I was betting on."

Roy had been instructed not to speak under any circumstances, though it was clear that he was holding himself in hard check to keep his mouth shut.

Tore had no intention of speaking either, unless absolutely necessary. He merely nodded as Doctor Lange approached Vera with the syringe.

Vera watched her, but did not fight as the woman rolled up her sleeve. Vera was tightly bound to the chair. Tore hoped the prison didn't want that chair back. "Funny, they never really tell you how these things go," she continued chatting. "There's no fancy last meal. No request for last words or to try and change someone's mind. Why would there be? Confession's over. I have no regrets. No one I'm leaving behind to give a final message to. Besides you, I guess." She looked up at Tore.

Lange prepped the syringe, and put it into Vera's arm.

"You weren't so bad, compared to the others. Too bad they brainwashed you completely." Vera tilted her head slightly to one side. "You never had a chance though, did you? Or you." She looked at Roy. "Born into a family and given a name like that, what choice would you have? They lied to you from birth. They lied to your father too. Also named after a man who didn't deserve what the military did to him."

Roy looked like he might explode, even though outwardly he gave little sign of it. He didn't even flush. It was there though, in his eyes.

"I guess I should be honored they think it will take both of you to take me out." Vera smirked. "You'd better do it well, because if you don't, I'll make you regret it. I—" Whatever else she had been about to say they would never know as she went quiet and slumped, unconscious, in a couple of seconds.

Tore let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Lange nodded to them both, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

Tore took up his position by the door, and motioned for Roy to do the same. This was why the room was empty. Why the half with Vera in it was only brick. Why they had made sure the glass would withstand what they were about to do to half of the room. Tore felt confident with their aim they could avoid hurting themselves. He would not guarantee anyone or anything else. Both of them had transmutation gloves.

Tore looked at Roy. Roy nodded. They had pre-agreed to go on a count of two.

Turning to look at Vera for the last time, Tore held up his hand in front of his body, aware of Roy doing the same. "One… two."

The end of the room exploded, in a single sudden fury of electric-white blast and roaring flame. Tore's transmutation could be sustained longer, while Roy's required multiple snaps that he got off in such rapid succession it almost didn't look like he had to pause between them. They had determined that to be safe, they would continue to transmute for a solid minute. Better to vaporize Vera quickly and completely and be certain they had eaten up any regenerative power in her stone, than to stop too soon. If there was anything left after that, they would do another minute.

The seconds seemed like an eternity. Tore could see nothing of their target except the incredible glaring. He could hear nothing but explosions, fire and the crackle of electricity. It snapped, screamed, echoed, filling the air with a wall of sound.

Still, Tore made himself watch, counting down the seconds in his head. At sixty they stopped in unison.

Blinking, slowly, Tore began to see through the flashing white turned colors that flickered across his vision. The room seemed incredibly dim in comparison, with only a small, recessed lightbulb in the ceiling that had somehow not been destroyed. Their aim was that exact.

Nothing remained of chair, or body, save a pile of ash. One almost too small to have included a body. Save that as it slowly disintegrated, it still held a vague form of humanity. Still, it was little but dust. The metal of her chains was slag, glowing red as if freshly forged.

The smell was unpleasantly familiar—ozone, char, and burnt flesh. It made Tore want to vomit, but he did not. Instead, he made himself approach the pile. A close inspection should be enough. He did not touch it. Behind him, he heard the door open, and Lange returned, with two assistants. They examined the remains closely before they seemed satisfied.

Tore turned away as they began to collect the remains and scoop them into a container.

Roy still stood by the door, bloodless and pale. An odd color for one who had inherited some of his mother's tanned complexion.

Tore placed a hand on Roy's shoulder. "It's done. It's time for us to leave."

Together, they walked out of the room. They took nothing with them, except the memory they would never lose of a moment they had shared. A horrible moment that, unfortunately, should not be forgotten.

Roy could not remember ever spending a day where he felt more disconnected from the rest of the world. Not when he'd shown up to work hungover—which was rare and years ago—or after an injury, or after returning from battle, or after other loses. Even losing his father, which was still raw and clawing at his heart, did not feel quite the same. It was as if, today, he could not step back into the rest of the world. Some part of him was still in that room, watching someone he used to know, who had become unknowable, turn to ash at his hand. There was no way of separating whose attack had finally been the killing instant, and it did not matter. He had chosen to be part of her execution. He had felt that he needed to do it. Not because he would feel better, because he had known he would not. Not because he was the only person who could. He was one of a small number, but somehow, he had felt the need, the draw. His grandfather and father had both done large, powerful, incredible things with alchemy at the end of their lives. Yet he did not feel like he had done it out of a need to live up to a family legacy, or even for revenge. Not entirely. There hadn't even been any satisfaction in scorching the woman responsible for the attack that had been responsible for his father's death, and the death of friends and colleagues. An attack that should never have happened.

He could not explain the drive that had pushed him to insist on being included, if possible. It was duty… yet it wasn't. There was nothing clear about his purpose, but a need. Roy could not really say why, but he had appreciated that Tore had asked, and had apparently gotten permission to include him. His arguments had been sound. The homunculus was definitely gone.

She was dead, and the world was going on today as normal. He ran the advanced alchemy training with Tringham that he had been asked to supervise. Then he finished going over reports that he needed to turn in, and helped Trisha with some sparring training for the program students that were not yet State Alchemists, but would be testing in a couple of months. He followed that with his own workout in the gymnasium, and then took some time looking over available assignments to see what he might choose as his next mission.

Except that it all felt separate, like he was only partially present. Not that anyone else appeared to notice. Part of the directive for today had been that he had to act normal. No one, save those who had attended, and Felix Tringham, were to know he had been involved, or that the execution had already taken place. The fact that he could not tell Trisha, not until the okay was given, was the most difficult. Pretending it was just a normal day around his wife was tricky, because if anyone could tell he was off, it would be her.

Fortunately, she was too busy with her own work for them to do more than say a few sentences to each other. There were no private moments, and by the end of the day, he was off first. So, he went home to start dinner while she finished up her own reports, and helped SJ with her homework and a short alchemy lesson, and Gabriel with a report. Rosa was on shift at the fire station, so he only set the table for four. Then he fed the cat. Trisha arrived home in time to eat, and then the usual evening activities ate their time until the children had gone to bed. Not that either of them was immediately asleep. They went to their rooms at least an hour before bed each night, when they could finish homework, or read quietly. These days, Gabriel was usually up later working on school projects. SJ still fell asleep a little earlier.

Which left him alone with Trisha, who honestly did not seem any the wiser that he had executed a former State Alchemist this morning.

He had no idea how to shake the daze he felt, the odd distance that kept him from thinking too deeply about his actions. Alcohol might do it, but he did not think even drinking himself stupid would be enough to bring him out of it, and it would definitely clue Trisha in that something was wrong. Maybe some other distraction would work.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?" Trisha asked him. "I don't have anything else I have to do before tomorrow. Do you?"

"I don't," Roy replied, turning to face her. Trisha looking alive, and vibrant, and as if she'd had a perfectly good day. So beautiful and alluring. Maybe there was something else he could do tonight that might make him feel here again. He stepped closer to her, gazing into her eyes. He made himself smile, and reached up and touched her hair. "But I do know what I'd like to do. The doctors have cleared me for full physical activity again after all."

Trisha smiled, and reached out a hand, taking the one he had held to her face. Then she stepped into him, pressing against his chest. "Then, by all means, let's see what you're up for."

Of all days, today had to be one of the ones where Tore had to work late. It was a normal day, but still full of international guests, government sessions, meetings with various members of the Senior Staff, paperwork, and topped off at the end of the day with having to attend the firing squad execution of the other criminals sentenced to the death penalty. By the end of it, Tore was dragging. Not that he let it show in his posture, his expressions, or his words. He was grateful that the formal reception for the end of the Accord Court Proceedings was not until tomorrow night, because he did not think he could have attended a celebration tonight, not after what he had done this morning. It would have felt too much like dancing on graves. It still might. Not that they had planned a particularly lavish or loud affair.

Still, he did not feel like celebrating. He suspected few people who truly understood what was happening here did. Still, it was an important triumph in international diplomacy and law.

All he wanted to do tonight was step out of the world again for a little while. At least Charisa had known, so he hadn't had to pretend to hide it from her. Not that he saw her all day. Without additional hearings to have, their paths did not cross. She had several important Assembly sessions today, and he'd had all of his own work.

The evening's executions seemed almost anticlimactic after what had happened this morning. Still, Tore made himself watch as the firing squad took out the sentenced in a matter of seconds. Those soldiers chosen for the opportunity had no way of knowing which of them had actually shot or not shot whom, and that was always the point. The decision had been made by choosing from the highest marksmen scores among the most recent reports, and then by lottery. It was a comfort, he hoped, to them that none of them could actually be sure if they had been the one to kill their target. Unless they were the sort who would want to claim it. Despite the efforts of generations past, there were plenty of men in the military who were proud of their work and Tore couldn't blame them. A marksman was used to knowing if they had killed. Snipers rarely missed. The public, and their colleagues, would not know, however, and perhaps that was also for the best.

Tore had no such comfort. He knew Roy did not either. Though at least with the both of them, it had been mercifully quick. With her unconscious, it had hopefully been painless.

By the time he got off work, Tore had to admit that nothing would have been more therapeutic in that moment than finding himself a good dive bar where no one would recognize his face, and getting shit drunk with a friend to drag him home afterwards.

If there was ever a time that I needed my drinking buddy. But Tore could never ask that of Cal. Not now. To sit there, and watch Tore drink, unable to join him but surrounded by temptations. He wouldn't do that to his best friend.

Nor did he think Charisa would be up for a bar crawl. In all the time he had known her, he had never seen her legitimately drunk. Not once. Not hungover. Not even more than a little tipsy really. If she had ever gotten that way in college, he'd never heard a story about it. Though given how furious she had been at him after the Drachman War, he doubted there were any such stories to tell.

There were other friends who might be willing to tag along, but most of them were as recognizable now as he was. Jean Stevens. Felix Tringham. Franz or Sara. Somehow, he couldn't see himself drinking with either of them. Sara was more the type who collected you when you were too far gone and then chewed you out about it. In fact, Tore was sure he remembered stories of her doing that very thing to Maes Mustang in their early days as State Alchemists.

There wasn't really any use in letting his mind meander down that path anyway. The President of the Military did not go drinking in common bars. At least, not now. Tore thought he remembered stories of Mustang meeting up with people in the back rooms of establishments in Central, but those had been much different times.

Tore had not reached a satisfactory conclusion by the time he got in the car to go home for the night. Charisa had gone ahead, and it was late enough that the Sensation Alchemist had ordered Tore up dinner from the mess that he had hardly touched before the executions. If there was one thing he did not have today, it was an appetite. He wasn't sure he would ever get the smell of scorched flesh out of his nose ever again.

He was not at all prepared for what awaited him when he got home. Charisa was already dressed for bed, but under her warm house-robe of velvety blue, he could see the straps and silken shimmer of one of his favorite of her nightgowns peeking out. There was also a plate of his favorite chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies and a couple of bottles that looked like wine and rum. The cookies were inexpensive, grocery store desserts, but Tore had to admit he did not care. His wife knew they had been one of his favorite comfort desserts since he was a little boy. They had been one of the few treats his mother could afford when he was little. Once every couple of months, when she could afford them, she would bring home a box, and they would parse them out over several days, just a couple of them at a time. They had been special. When he'd moved in with the Elrics, at one point when shopping with Winry, he had expressed that they were a favorite. From then on, every so often she too, would pick up a box. Somehow, it was one of the few things Edward had never devoured out of the pantry, as if he knew they were there for Tore and they should last. Even though they had homemade treats all the time, and even now with a son who was a gourmet chef, there was something about those cookies.

Tonight, he might just eat the whole box. It wasn't like he hadn't burned off enough energy this morning.

Tore crossed the room, pulled Charisa into his arms, and kissed her soundly. "You…are an angel of mercy."

Charisa blushed, smiling as she held him close. "Difficult days require the most gentleness, with ourselves and others. I had a feeling you might need a little pick me up this evening and, perhaps, a distraction."

No question. "I'd say you're prophetic, but I know I'm an easy read." Tore kissed her again. "Today has been… so hard. But I did what I had to, and I know I could not have put that on anyone else. The only thing I can promise, is that she never felt it. I gave her the cleanest death I could. It's the rest of us who have to live with what happened."

"I understand." She held him tighter. "Someone has to do the worst jobs, and I'm proud of you for not foisting it off on someone less able to deal with it, but I hurt for you, too."

"I'll live," Tore promised. "Someday, this will hurt less, though it's a lesson I will take with me through the rest of my life. We can't let something like this happen again." He loosened his grip when he realized how tightly he was holding his wife. Though she wasn't complaining. "So, you offered comfort and distractions."

"What do you want first?" she asked, her tone turning slightly coy. "Sweets, alcohol, or me?"

A question that on any other night would not have been at all difficult. But after today… he hoped his answer didn't hurt her feelings. "Forgive me, 'Risa, but I'd appreciate it if we cracked open that bottle of rum first. If I'm still lucid a bit later… I'll take you up on the rest of it."

To his relief, his wife did not look disappointed or disapproving. She nodded and, in a rare gesture, reached up and ruffled his curls. "As long as you eat with it. We've still got responsibilities tomorrow, and it would be a pretty poor showing if the President of Amestris showed up to a reception hungover."

"You didn't provide me enough liquor for that, my love, and you know it." Tore felt a small smile crack at the edges of his mouth. She was too smart. "Far be it for me to turn down an order to eat cookies, however."

"I had rather hoped you'd take the more sensible option," Charisa admitted then, though without venom. "But you do what you need to do. I'm here for you."

"A fact I still marvel at and appreciate on a daily basis." Tore finally released her and went over to the table. The wine was a very nice one, but his mood wanted something a bit more potent. Though he noticed then, that there were two glasses on the table. "Are you planning to join me?"

Charisa came up beside him. "I will share one drink with you. I know better than to try and keep up with a General."

"Are you calling all Generals drunks?" Tore teased.

"Possibly." A coy little smile followed the statement. "My father and General Mustang were certainly something in their cups. Not that Daddy ever let me see that when I was younger." The smile slipped. "I still miss him… and Mom."

"So tonight, a drink in their memory." Tore opened the bottle and poured a measure of rum into each glass. "And I hope your father would approve of what I've done."

Charisa picked up the other glass, and held it, looking contemplative. "He'd be proud of you, for all you've accomplished, for everything you've saved. I can't say proud is the right word for what you had to do today, but he'd understand it. He knew what the State Alchemists suffered in Ishval, and as dogs of the military. He saw his friends suffer. He fought and suffered himself. For all that he was a soldier, and a general, Daddy was not a violent soul. He was so gentle with me, so jovial and friendly outside of work. He cared. He would understand why you couldn't let someone else do what you did today, and I think he would have approved. He would have sympathized. He'd probably have prepared an even bigger feast, more alcohol, and gone through it all with you." She held up the glass and gave a little salute. "Your choices are always for compassion, and justice. You didn't hesitate to order soldiers to fight in defense of Central, but you didn't do so recklessly, or for anything other than the protection of the people. You gave Vera the most humane death you could. So, don't dwell on regrets. Focus on healing the part of you that hurts now."

Tore clinked his glass to hers. "I'd call this little intervention of yours an excellent start."

December 10th, 1996

Trisha awoke before dawn, and left Roy sleeping in bed as she got up and made breakfast for the house. Normally they both woke around the same time, but after last night, she suspected he could use the extra recuperation. In truth, she would have enjoyed sleeping in as well, as late as he had kept her up, but the world did not stop for lovers. There would still be work today, and the children still had school. Tonight, was the farewell reception for all of the visitors from other countries. She was looking forward to it. It had been a shame that Gavril Mihalov had not been able to bring his wife and daughter along, but she looked forward to seeing their friend again before he left.

She hoped that Roy enjoyed it. Yesterday… well, she wasn't about to tell him that she had suspicions about what he had been up to yesterday. Yes, he'd had perfectly good reasons for going in early, and those reasons had actually happened. She'd seen the session he put together. However, she didn't believe that was where he'd gone so early on short notice.

Yesterday had been the executions, and only a very great fool would have not suspected that they might ask the only remaining true flame alchemist to help in destroying a homunculus. Not that she had said anything to him about it. He'd been acting normal all day. At least, normal if you weren't his wife. Still, if he had not said anything, he probably had orders not to. Executions were rare in Amestris these days, but the protocols did not publish who was responsible for someone's death, for the safety of the person given the task.

In the few interactions they'd had during the day yesterday, Roy had been wound tight, and entirely job focused. He hadn't smiled or cracked a joke all day. Not that she expected anyone else had noticed. He didn't joke with students when he helped her. Still, she had noticed. And last night, he had seemed very determined to be distracted. Even more-so than since the battle, and his father's death. She had thought he was doing all right afterwards, considering. Now, she was not so sure. She wanted to ask him about the execution. Had they assigned him to it? Or had he volunteered? If the former, she might have to have very sharp words with a certain President. If the latter, those sharp words might be with her husband directly.

Except that for now she had to pretend to know nothing, and she didn't like that at all. So, she made sure to make some of Roy's favorites for breakfast. That, at least, wouldn't seem out of place. Besides, if he had done what she thought, he had used a lot of alchemical energy yesterday and could probably use the boost.

He certainly looked bemused enough when he wandered into the kitchen as the children were finishing eating and putting their plates in the sink, to find that there were still sausages, fresh fruit, and egg-filled fried arepas that Trisha had learned the recipe for from Elena. They were a traditional Aerugean breakfast food she had made for the kids growing up.

"You didn't wake me," he commented, looking bemused.

"In my defense, you were very out this morning," Trisha replied with a smile. "Sit down and eat. You can finish anything that's left. The rest of us have eaten."

Roy's eyes widened a little, though he pulled out a chair and sat down. "I don't think I could finish all of this if I tried."

Gabriel and SJ disappeared upstairs to grab their school bags.

Trisha closed the distance between herself and Roy and kissed his cheek. "Well, you did burn a lot of energy last night," she said quietly into his ear.

Roy smiled even as he shook his head. "Not enough for that level of gluttony, I assure you. Though this seems to be quite an elaborate breakfast for a regular morning."

"You looked stressed yesterday," Trisha admitted. "After everything that's happened lately, are you going to object to a few breakfast favorites? I just thought you might need a little cheering up."

"Well, I could at that," Roy acknowledged, as he began filling his plate. "Though you probably shouldn't make these too often. I can't resist them."

"I won't, and I know that." He had eaten little the night before—another sign that she'd clued in on—and they wouldn't hurt him. "That's why I made them."

For just a moment, Roy looked guilty, then he smiled and stuck one in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Well, they're delicious, so thank you."

"I'm glad they turned out well. Now eat, then get dressed. Unless you were planning on going in to work in your shorts?" Not that she would mind looking at him in his black boxers and blue t-shirt all day, but it was hardly regulation anywhere but in the gymnasium. Even there it might be questionable outside the locker rooms.

Roy looked down at himself. Normally he dressed before coming to the table. "I wasn't planning on it." He started to eat a little faster.

Trisha went to finish getting ready, and hoped that they would be able to talk openly about it sooner rather than later. Dancing around the topic pretending she didn't have suspicions when he couldn't tell her one way or the other was frustrating as much as it was understandable. Don't worry. I'm here for you either way.

"More coffee, Sir?"

Tore looked up from the pile of paperwork in the center of his desk—an unfortunate casualty of having sat in on many days of court trials over the past couple of weeks—at Caroline Flynn, who stood there holding a fresh steaming pot, and with a too-professional expression on her face. It was enough to make him wonder if Charisa had called ahead and spoken with his assistant, or if his discomfort this morning was perfectly plain to anyone who knew him. Of course, she was one of the few who knew what he'd had to do yesterday, and perhaps she was just trying to ease him into the day.

Cal is going to laugh his ass off when he finds out I passed out before we got to bed last night. Maybe he would just omit this particular story from their next hang-out. Tore had finished the entire box of cookies, and all of the rest of the bottle of rum, on his own last night. Charisa had only had the one glass, and a single cookie. The next thing Tore had been really aware of, it was morning, and his head and stomach had both been incredibly displeased with their state of existence. He hadn't eaten much of anything for breakfast, and even half a pot of coffee into the day, he felt full and vaguely nauseated. In his twenties, or even his thirties, he would have sloughed off the entire thing with ease. Thankfully Charisa had not scolded or teased him this morning.

"Yes, please," Tore answered her question. "What else is on the agenda for today?"

Flynn refilled his mug. "Stevens would like a moment of your time this afternoon for a meeting on supply requisitions to restock what was used in civilian repairs and aid in the city. There's also been more requests from the press for released official statements regarding yesterday's executions. Though I've drafted some responses, if you'd like to see them."

"I would, thank you." The last thing he wanted to deal with anymore was the executions, and if she had saved him some time, he would absolutely take her up on it. The faster things moved on, the better everything would be for Amestris. "Anything else?"

"For the moment, that's about it until tonight's festivities, aside from your usual schedule," Flynn assured him. She set down the coffee pot and pulled papers out from a folder tucked under her arm. They proved to be the promised drafted press release statements. Tore looked them over, relieved to find that they were pretty much word for word what he'd have wanted if he'd taken the time to write them himself. He made a couple of minor changes, and handed them back. "They're perfect. I appreciate you taking care of those for me."

"It's my duty, Sir," she reminded him, though she smiled as she said it. "I appreciate that it's what you wanted."

"It's almost certainly better then what I would have come up with. Especially on short notice." It would have taken him all day to work that out, the way his brain felt this morning. "If that's it, tell Stevens' office I'll meet with him at fifteen-hundred hours. By then, I might have this mountain taken care of."

Hopefully by this evening, he wouldn't feel as if that mountain were sitting on top of him.

Amalea had been a little surprised to find out that she and Ryan had been invited to the farewell reception for the visiting national leaders, and their legal representatives who had all taken part in the court proceedings. Not that she had any doubts it was deserved, but it rarely happened when the guest lists were more exclusive. When she'd asked Tringham about it, he'd given her a look that said he felt it was absolutely appropriate as he'd explained that the President had asked for them personally. The two of them had, according to Closson, been indispensable in their work during the Drachman train incident, Resembool, and the attack on Central.

Her husband had been out of the hospital for three weeks, and was technically cleared for duty, though he hadn't had an assignment more interesting than helping with the massive amount of paperwork Tringham was working on related to all of the State Alchemist involvement not only in the battle, but the clean up afterwards, and related missions as people were still hunting down the last hiding remnants of Arsenic, and anyone else who might have been peripherally involved. While they were certain that the major offenders were all now dealt with, leaving enough loose ends for them to regroup, or be snatched up into yet another dissident group, was not something anyone wanted to risk.

Not that Amalea had been given any major assignments in the past month either. Nothing outside of regular rounds at the military hospital to help with healing, and helping with the paperwork and organization in the State Alchemist's office. That said, she had only been permitted quarter time of her usual work at the hospital, due to her own condition. She needed energy for herself, and the baby. The coming child who would, thankfully, know their father. She'd almost lost him, right at the start of their family. She was grateful that it would be a while before either of them was thrust into danger again unless it was absolutely necessary.

Tonight's invitation was a recognition of their hard work, and also a chance to relax a little and enjoy the evening. They were not the only State Alchemists in attendance. In many ways, this was a triumph for all of them.

Dress was not formal, so uniforms were not required, and in fact they were encouraged not to wear them, which Amalea appreciated. While she still didn't look particularly pregnant, a loose flowing dress was much more comfortable than her uniform. She had opted for green tonight.

"You look fantastic." Ryan joined her in the bathroom, dressed in a nice, dark-gray suit, with an ice-blue tie. "We should get invited to receptions more often."

"We might, if you keep being incredibly heroic." Amalea turned, and accepted a brief kiss.

"You're the one saving lives," Ryan pointed out, smiling. "I just soak things."

"With style and skill." Amalea took his hand and squeezed it. "Enjoy tonight. Who knows when we'll have the chance to go out like this again."

"Often, if I have anything to say about it." Ryan brought her hand up with his, and kissed it. "How else will I get to show you off?"

"I think you've got it backwards," Amalea teased as they headed for the door. "I'm the one showing you off."

Ted had to admit, it was weird not to be in uniform at a government function, but the decision not to have officers did change the tone of the room. Though, seeing as the only person in attendance who had come in from out of country for the proceedings who was military, or retired, was his father-in-law the Drachman General, it made sense. Though he'd really had to dig to find a suit in his closet. He'd found one from one of his brothers' weddings, which he figured would work well enough. Anika, of course, looked stunning, and Ted would have been jealous of any other man who danced with his wife, except that the only ones who had asked were her own father, Gavril Mihalov, and some of the alchemists from his team, like Rapid. They had swapped partners for that dance, which had given Ted a moment with Amalea, who was also a friend and teammate. He had been thrilled to find out that they were excited to be starting their own family. They had taken their time, but it was definitely the right time. Ted had a feeling they'd do well balancing career and family.

Only the reality that of his original team he was now the only surviving member put a damper on the evening for Ted. While the team he worked with now was his third, a lot had started with that very first. Vera had been right about one thing, he would never forget them, and he would regret what would not have been. But she was wrong too, because he could not put all of the blame solely on himself. It would be a lie. And, in the end, Vera had been the one to destroy any future in which they could have reconciled, regained friendship, or even worked together. In those last few weeks, Clarina had been willing to reach out, to work with him, in order to get the mission done. In that time, it was clear that she did not hate him, and that they might not have had to have kept their distance as long as they had, even though they would never have gotten romantically involved. And that was for the best, because he could not imagine finding someone more perfect for himself than Anika.

Ted was certain his children would agree. The boys loved their mother. He was sure the third would feel the same. At tomorrow's appointment, they hoped to find out if they were having yet another boy, or if they might finally manage a girl. While they would be happy either way, Ted was not-so-secretly hoping for at least one girl. Though they had agreed that, if this one was also a boy, they would not keep trying for a girl. Three would be enough.

It was so strange, as much as it was a relief, to be enjoying an evening like this after months of anxiety and the likelihood of being attacked again. It was over at last, and life could go back to normal. Well, as normal as it ever was.

"I didn't think musing in the corner was your thing."

Ted turned to find Roy had joined him. "I'm just waiting for my wife to finish enjoying herself dancing with her father."

Roy followed Ted's nod in that direction. "So, I see. She's got a lot of stamina, doesn't she? I think she's been out there half the evening already."

Ted couldn't help grinning. "That she does. Though I'd hope you're not surprised at this point." He sipped from his glass of wine.

Roy nodded, drinking from his own glass. "Not really. Just observing. It's nice to be able to relax and have a night like this where we aren't waiting for the axe to fall anymore."

"It is." Ted looked around, and spotted Trisha deep in conversation with her mother and Gavril Mihalov. "Any reason you don't join them?"

"I did for a bit. Got a little bored with the conversation." Roy finished his drink, and for just a moment, the casual expression slipped.

He probably wasn't supposed to ask, but he hadn't been given any direct orders. "Was it you?" he asked quietly.

Roy stiffened, and Ted knew he'd struck gold. After all, they hadn't asked Ted, and he could only think of a very small number of alchemists who could have done it.

"I can't answer that," Roy pointed out, staring into his now-empty glass.

To confirm it would be to give it away. To deny it would just push it off onto someone else on the short list and narrow it down. Ted nodded. "Of course. Though you might want to work on your poker face. It's slipping."

Roy frowned, but it vanished quickly as his expression returned to something more neutral, if not quite relaxed. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Anytime." Ted wasn't sure if he should be upset with himself for feeling grateful it had not been him assigned to the execution. Still, he felt bad for whoever had done it, and he was now fairly well convinced that Roy had been involved. Though, that presumed they had only used one alchemist. When he watched Shock today, he couldn't help but wonder if he seemed a bit… off, too. Not obviously, but to someone who knew him well. Though it could just be everything else they had been through lately that made both of the alchemists seem that way. Roy had just lost his father. Tore had the dubious fortune of having been the leader of the military through an event like this one. Successful as it had been, in the end, and this new Accord seemed to be, it was a lot to handle. Ted was much happier where he was for now.

Speak of the President. Tore seemed to be moving their direction. Ted refrained from saluting out of uniform. "Sir?"

Tore looked at both of them. "I hope you know the two of you in a corner looks like you're plotting something chaotic enough to make people nervous. Even some of our guests, who apparently know you both a little too well."

That could be any or all of the three visiting leaders. Ted grinned. "Are you accusing us of plotting?"

"At the moment, just of looking suspicious." He looked between the two of them again. "Should I be concerned?"

"Not a bit," Roy promised. "Just enjoying the view, and the libations." He held up his glass. "In fact, if you'll excuse me, I'd like a refill of that excellent Drachman vintage before it's gone, and another dance with my wife."

Ted watched Roy leave, but noticed that Tore had not yet left. "Did you need me for something?" he asked cautiously.

"Just your discretion." At that, Tore's expression became a little more pointed. "He's not the only one who's had a hard time recently."

Ted was about to say he knew that, when he caught the note in Tore's tone. The emphasis on not, and on recently. The way he met Ted's eyes. It was not a general statement. It was, Ted realized, the most he would ever get. Possibly ever. There would be no confirmation, but if he was reading the message correctly, Roy and Tore had both been involved. It was, then, to everyone's benefit that Ted stop asking questions.

He nodded. "Of course, Sir. I'm glad we can put it behind us."

Tore smiled, and it was as if he'd never given that look. "As am I. It looks as if your wife is available, Proteus. I suggest you rejoin her. It's almost time for toasts."

"On my way." Ted looked and the dance had, indeed, ended. The music had not started up again. Anika was standing next to her father, looking happy and a little flushed, sipping from a glass of sparkling cider.

Ted crossed the floor without delay. "Having a good time?" he asked as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

Anika smiled, leaning easily into his side. "Absolutely. I wish we had more time to visit with my father."

"There's always Niki and Kirill's weddings for us to attend." Ted pointed out. Both of Anika's brothers seemed pretty set on their current girlfriends. Now that everything was safe again, there was no reason they couldn't go back to Drachma for them. It was even possible they might be able to finagle a flight instead of having to take the train. Though even if they proposed tomorrow, it would be months before weddings happened, and by then, Anika should be up for international travel.

Anika's face lit up. "I'll hold you to that."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."