February 21st, 1997

Life could definitely be serendipitous, Ian thought as he stood on the balcony off the back of the little resort house overlook a pristine lake in southern Aerugo. To his left and behind him, the mountains rose away, covered in lush jungle foliage. The jungle extended beyond the lake as well, but then it fell away to a stunning view of the southern low hills and plains that rolled away into the distance towards the ocean, which was out of view from here. Those plains were Aerugo's agricultural center.

In the middle of winter, Aerugean weather was perfect. It was a balmy seventy-three degrees, and the sky was a magnificent deep blue that reflected in the lake water below, with only the occasionally fluffy sheeplike cloud in the sky. The breeze was cool.

Ian had no idea how Aunt Sara had found out that he and Bonnie were planning a much-needed romantic getaway, but she had called and told him that if they could get on a plane in just a few days, they could hitch a ride to the Aerugean border, because Sara and Franz were accompanying Elena Mustang to Bueáire, courtesy of a supply flight from Central to the border station, and then on by express train.

So, in the flurry of a short couple of days, Ian had wrangled his family into child watching, scheduled a resort stay just a couple of hours East of Bueáire for two, and made travel arrangements for the same train down. They would travel back separately, since the rest of the trips would not fully overlap, but it saved them almost two weeks of travel for what was a relatively short flight, in both directions. He had been assured that there would be another supply and personnel flight hopping down to the border in a couple of weeks, and they could catch that flight back. All in all, a trip that once would have taken nearly a month of travel on its own, would be about five days of travel, and a romantic nine day stay in heaven.

Or at least, Ian hoped it was heaven. He and Bonnie both needed this, desperately. Even though things were much better between them in the days since his not-at-all-subtle seduction of his wife, they needed time, and they needed a break from the insanity that was the rest of their lives. It wasn't the first rough spot in their relationship, but it was the first in a while.

Now, here he was, fourteen years after the first time Bonnie had invited him home to the farm that fateful weekend in West City, in a tropical paradise with the girl who had sworn she would never date another actor. The trauma of her previous terrible relationships had made getting together a challenge, even though Bonnie had found him attractive earlier than she had been willing to admit it. He knew that now, but at the time, he had more than once wondered if he would have to give up a one-way and unrequited attempt at courtship. They had both done a lot of growing up, soul searching, and learning before they had managed to create a stable relationship.

This trip was about more of that soul searching. About finding themselves, together, in their new life situation. So much had happened in the past year: the triplets, Bonnie changing career focus, Ian's new projects, the unwanted press… he hoped they could reconnect and recenter while they were here.

Tonight, their first night at the resort, he hoped would be a good start. He was waiting on the balcony, in loose tan cotton slacks and a green-with-white print of tiny jungle fronds collared button-down that was equally comfortable and designed for the warm weather. Bonnie had insisted that he wait while she changed, and he was definitely of a mind to humor her. She had spent several afternoons of their pre-trip planning off elsewhere with various female friends and members of the family, doing who only knew what in preparation for this trip. Ian knew it had to do with shopping, so he considered it a safe bet that Bonnie had updated her wardrobe specifically for this trip.

Which meant he was almost certainly going to enjoy what he was about to see. Not that Ian hadn't always liked Bonnie in whatever she chose to wear.

"You may look," Bonnie's voice carried through the orchid-scented air.

Enjoying the anticipation, Ian turned and lost himself in the pleasant sensation of being swept away by a vision of beauty.

Bonnie, the woman comfortable in what Ian might have called Mom clothes even before she was a mother—who made denim jeans and a t-shirt look like model wear—had gone all out, though the outfit was still very much her.

The dress was sleeveless, though thick strapped, with a V-neck, wide-belted in a way that cinched in the waist area, then flared at the hips, stopping just below the knees, flattering and making best use of every curve on her frame. Ian hadn't lied when he told Bonnie she was just as beautiful to him now as she was when he'd first fallen for her, but he was going to have to thank whoever had talked her into this dress, because it was obvious that Bonnie felt more confident about her current shape in it than she had still spending most of her time in old maternity-wear. In something properly cut to flatter, he was going to have to fight off men who would no doubt be staring at the goddess on his arm.

The color was what really got him. It was a bold red, though on the cooler side, tinting towards a dark mulberry color that didn't clash with the warmer red hints in her red-brown hair. The wide belt was white, with a floral pattern over it in the same mulberry, making it a little playful and appropriate for the setting.

The matching accessories were strappy white sandals with a low heel, a simple white satin bag for necessities, and a sparkling gold-and-silver pendant Ian had given her as a gift a couple of years ago. With the length of the chain, it nestled ever so perfectly just above and between her breasts, framed nicely within the V of the neckline, which was daring, yet did not expose too much. The only ring on her hand was, as usual, her wedding band.

In her usual way, her makeup was understated. So, while he was sure she was wearing, at the very least, eyeshadow and a little lip color, he was sure there was more to it than that. While she rarely wore anything flashy herself, Bonnie had made a living as much as a makeup artist as costume designer.

While his wife's usual hairstyle—outside of AFA award ceremonies—was a simple tail, tonight she had gone through the effort of curling her usually barely wavy tresses, and had only partially pulled back her hair, to keep it out of her face, with the rest flowing free. He hadn't realized just how long it had gotten in the past year. With triplets, she'd worn it twisted up more of late to keep it away from little hands. The silver comb that was just visible, holding it up and back, was new.

Ian took his time, and made no attempt to hide his pleasure as he looked her up and down. That was what he was here for after all… and what he knew she was going for. Or at least, he presumed. Bonnie never put this much thought into something for herself without a specific goal in mind, and she'd been costuming actors and turning them into characters for years. She wanted to draw attention. At least, his attention. That she was willing to step out in public like this was… a bit of a dream come true.

He looked back up into her eyes, at her waiting expression, and closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his, and leaning in to kiss her briefly. "You look stunning. Suddenly I feel terribly underdressed."

Bonnie's face flushed slightly, as she smiled. "Thank you. I believe the first statement, but you'll never convince me of the second. That's a very expensive custom-tailored shirt, that watch would feed the kids for a week, and I know for a fact those are the most expensive shoes in your closet except the ones you wear with your tuxedo."

She had him there. Ian chuckled. "Then it's a good thing I've been able to wear these shoes for five years, and the watch was a gift, but I concede the point." Now that he was close, he could also tell that she was wearing a light perfume. The one he had bought her for their third anniversary. The one she knew drove him to distraction.

"You're going to make me work on my self-control all evening, aren't you?" Ian teased.

"At least where your date is concerned." Bonnie took his arm. "You promised me dinner, dancing, and a live show. Anything else we do tonight will have to come later."

"As long as there is a later." He whispered in her ear before leading her down the stairs to the path that led from their private cabin, though some extensive exotic gardens, towards the outdoor dining area. He could already hear musicians warming up in the distance.

Bonnie startled him with a playful wink. "You're going to earn it."

The sunset through the East and South facing windows of the hill-top house in Bueáire where Elena and Maes Mustang had made their second home for much of the past couple of decades was breathtaking. The last time Franz had been here with Sara, Maes had still been among the living, and they had enjoyed a month vacationing at the house in the company of two of their dearest friends. They had come down more than once since they had both retired from the military. The house was familiar, though it felt emptier now that it ever had in Franz' memory.

They had arrived two days before, with Elena, so their friend did not have to face this part of her life alone; collecting their belongings that had stayed here, including her husbands. Deciding what to keep. Elena had already decided to lease the house out on at least a part-time basis. Apparently, Roy and the girls had talked her out of selling it outright. They had fond memories of the house as well, and had assured her that there would be family vacations in the future. Besides, Maes had loved that house. In many ways, it had been more home to him than their house in Central, especially by the end.

It was also easier on Elena not to have to make decisions about everything in the house. She would pack her own things, and anything of Maes' of sentimental value, and ship anything she didn't need for the trip home back up to Central ahead of her own return. They would all return together as well, though once they helped get the house sorted, Franz and Sara would enjoy a little vacation while Elena made visits to friends and neighbors here that she would not see for some time. There was also a small gathering planned in Maes' honor by the neighbors that had been a surprise. They had waited for her to come, so that they could remember him together.

The gathering would be starting soon. Franz was simply waiting for Elena and Sara to be ready. He'd never attended one like this before, though Elena said they were a long-standing Aerugean tradition, not unlike a wake, though they were more of a celebration of life. While the mood might be one of remembrance, they remembered with joy. Food, and music, and telling stories of the departed that would bring smiles to people's faces. In a way, Franz was looking forward to it. He was sure Sara, in particular, had plenty of stories about Maes that would make people smile and laugh.

Elena did not laugh enough these days. Not that Franz could blame her. The first year after Sara's kidnapping—when they'd all thought she was dead—had been the hardest of his life. He had forgotten how to smile, and the world had been a dimmer, darker place. It had gotten a little easier in the years after, but he had to admit, a part of him had never recovered. Sara's miraculous return to him had not erased the trauma of those years, though it had dispelled the melancholy.

Elena would not have that respite. That was why they were here, to care for their friend who was just as much family, and had been well before her son had married their daughter.

Franz had asked what was appropriate attire, to be told that anything was fine, though traditional colors for such things included a combination of black, and a brightly contrasting color. While he didn't own many brightly contrasting colors, Franz had managed with black slacks and a medium blue shirt. He suspected Sara would have something more appropriate. She liked vibrant colors, usually as solids.

He was proven right as Sara descended from the guest room, also in black slacks, but her blouse was a vibrant plum color. Her long hair was in its usual braid, hanging down over her shoulder. He was fairly certain that she was never going to cut her hair again, now that she had finally grown it back out. Not that he wanted her too. She looked far more herself this way.

Sara kissed him briefly by way of greeting. "You look handsome tonight." She smiled as their lips parted.

"Are you saying I don't always?"

Sara chuckled. "I'm saying I appreciate the effort. But yes, to me you're always handsome. When did you get vain enough to fish for compliments?"

"Not vanity. I just appreciate the reassurance that the most important woman in my life still enjoys having me around."

The moment of levity passed, and Sara hugged him tightly. It was not a long embrace, but a heartfelt one that Franz returned. They stepped apart again at the sound of heels on the stairs.

A minute later Elena joined them. It had been easy for her to find something appropriate, Franz suspected. These days, most of Elenas clothes were subdued colors, if not black or gray. Unlike Sara, she had chosen a dress. A very classically Aerugean dress, in a traditional cut, of black lace. Though it was trimmed in a vibrant red. Franz would bet it was specifically for this type of custom.

Elena gave them a small smile. "Come. Let us put on a celebration that would make Maes happy."

That was the point of the tradition, after all, Elena thought as she led her friends to the small park in the center of the neighborhood, where the trees had been strung with hundreds of white lights for gatherings. There were tables scattered through the clearing in the center, and a dance floor, and a permanent small wooden stage for musicians. Every neighbor, and nearly every friend she and Maes had in Bueáire had arrived in advance of them, and there was a table groaning with foods. All Maes' favorites. The musicians were tuning, and Elena knew they would be playing Maes' favorite songs. He had picked up an extensive repertoire when he had decided to learn Aerugean guitar.

After funerals, there was always a life festival. It did not have to follow immediately, and since Maes had died and been buried in Central, it was only right that it happen now, when she was here with the other half of their circle of friends.

Elena's parents and brothers had all died in Bueáire, decades ago, in the uprising and following civil war. Her first fiancé as well. Elena had fled here, her life in tatters, and made her way through the forests towards the north, hunted for her name and her family's position. She had hoped to find sanctuary in Amestris, for her father's time there and her family's ties.

Running into Maes outside Havah had been a gift from above. Elena could think of no other explanation for her old friend's reappearance in her life, given the perfection of its timing. Only he had been a boy no longer, but a man, a soldier, an alchemist… the boy realized into the promise of what he had wanted to become. And oh…so handsome… and so determined to save her. She had always been fond of him before, but that had turned to a passionate flame with a suddenness that she had never expected in herself.

Maes had not just stirred flames with his alchemy. He stirred them with his very being.

And now he was gone. The flames extinguished. Her heart still smoldered, but it was a quiet thing, with an ache she was sure would never fully fade away.

Flames. Despite the lights throughout, Elena realized that there were also torches. Dozens of them. Fire… for life. Fire… for Maes. Your blaze of glory, my dearest love. You will always be remembered with the brightness of fire.

The life festival had started as an ancient tradition, when those mourning the loss of a loved one hoped to pull their spirit to them, and lift it to the afterlife with joy in its heart. A reminder of all that made that person who they were, and celebrate them, but also a gift to the spirit of the dead.

If you are here tonight, Maes, then you know… I know you must move on, beloved. Such is the way of life and death and the cycle of existence. I hold no grudge, and place no blame. You did the only thing you could do. You were a hero, and you saved lives. You saved our son.

Elena had no idea Maes could transmute anything of the magnitude he had pulled off that day. Not after decades of him barely touching alchemy, at least to her knowledge. The block that had been there… had he simply broken through in desperation in that moment? It seemed probable, but it was no less impressive. In many ways, it was more-so.

:Elena! Dear one… for you.:

Elena turned to see her second-cousin Tulio—one of her few blood relatives to have survived the civil war—holding out a drink for her. She took the red drink, with a chunk of pineapple floating in it, and smiled. Though she sniffed it. No waft of alcohol, just pineapple, pomegranate, and granadilla juices. :Tulio! You remembered.:

:My favorite little cousin's favorite drink? Of course I do. Your alchemist couldn't get enough of it either.: Tulio kissed her cheek. :Come. We're about to start. You get to choose who gives the first tale.:

Elena nodded, following him through the crowd, which seemed to part before her. :Oh I know exactly who should go first.: She smiled. Very few of the people here had heard Sara's stories.

February 23rd, 1997

Hrafn Elric tried not to be nervous as he followed Taniya up the walkway to her house. Even though it wasn't late in the evening it was already dark, as it always was in late winter. The lights blazing from the house only accentuated that he was about to walk into a new environment for the first time. He had no idea what to expect, other than he was going to meet her parents and her little brother, by virtue of the fact they also lived in the house.

Ostensibly they were here tonight to study for their upcoming midterms, and there would possibly be other friends joining them, but Hrafn didn't actually know who might be coming. Taniya had insisted that she had a surprise for him.

Hrafn wasn't sure what kind of surprise to expect from his new friend. It had been surprisingly easy to get along with everyone in their class, and most of the kids at his new school. Still, their connection over music had been almost instant. From the moment she said she played drums he had wanted to know more about her. Since then, they talked daily, not just in class, but over lunch, and they had hung out several times, usually with friends. This was the first time he had been invited over. He hadn't dared invite her over to the apartment yet, even though Uncle Coran and Aunt Gale had a small elevator lift that went from the ground floor of Rockbell Auto-mail up to their home. It had been installed when the apartment was enlarged years ago.

Taniya rolled right up to the front door of the two-story house, which had no raised front step, which Hrafn assumed was the original design of the house, because Taniya's accident that had cost her leg hadn't been all that long ago, even if she was further along in her rehabilitation than he was. She opened the door, grinning broadly as she rolled through, then gestured inside. "Welcome to the chaos."

Hrafn chuckled. He couldn't imagine a home more chaotic than his own, and at first glance, he didn't think her house was all that chaotic at all. In fact, it was incredibly clean, and tastefully decorated in an understated, very uncluttered way. No one was in the entryway except for a large fish-tank full of big tropical ocean fish. It was the biggest tank he had ever seen. "These guys are cool," he commented, looking into the tank. "I've never seen most of these."

"They're mostly from the Cretan reefs," Taniya informed him. "My Dad loves tropical fish. We can drop our stuff here," she gestured to a wooden piece of furniture that was part bench, part hanging hooks. Another backpack made it clear Taniya's little brother had made it over earlier than they had. Hrafn and Taniya had spent the afternoon with friends before coming back to the house to study.

The smell wafting from the kitchen was fascinating. Hrafn had no idea what it was, but it smelled good.

He was about to ask about it when a sudden and unexpected sound of hard rock guitar carried through the house from somewhere nearby. It was definitely electric, and it did not at all fit the furniture and art in the house around him. "What was that?" he asked, curiously.

Taniya's smile grew wider. "Oh… just the surprise I mentioned. Come on. I'll show you."

Leaving his bag beside hers in the hall, Hrafn followed Taniya through an open sitting room, down a ramp that went down about two steps into a huge family room, and to a door at the back. The jamming guitar sounds were definitely coming from that room… and from the vibrations, they felt live.

Hrafn wasn't sure what he expected when Taniya opened the door, and got out of the way so he could step in first.

The room he moved into was almost as large as the sitting room. It looked like it might have been a garage once, though now it was clearly set up as a music studio, complete with a drum set, several guitars, basses, and a desk covered in sheet music.

Sitting on a stool in the middle of the room, a man with an auto-mail hand was playing some of the coolest riffs Hrafn had ever heard. The song was unfamiliar, but the playing…

Hrafn stared at the man in front of him for several seconds, sure that he looked familiar even if he couldn't quite place him. Aside from knowing he was Taniya's father, there was just a sense about him, even though Hrafn had never met him.

The man sitting on the stool playing the guitar was tall but not towering, maybe Uncle Ian's height, and he had obviously been lean once, because he had a fairly thin frame, though he carried some extra weight in the belly now. His hair had probably been all brown originally, but it was heavily flecked with gray, and the hairline was receding a bit. He also wore glasses with fairly non-descript metal frames.

And yet…

The man finished the song and looked up at him, grinning. "Figured it out yet?" His fingers touched the strings, and played off a riff that Hrafn did know… because he had that record. But surely not.

Hrafn looked again, imagining the man thinner, with the full head of hair… longer… loose and brown, and the glasses frames thicker, stylized…. "You're Rupert Iverton!"

The retired singer and lead guitarist of one of Hrafn's favorite classic rock bands chuckled, nodding. "You even know my real name. Tani said you were a fan."

Hrafn looked between them. Taniya was grinning just as broadly. He hadn't caught on, because Taniya's last name at school was Huff.

"I use Mom's maiden name in public," Taniya admitted with a shrug, as if reading his thoughts. "Dad prefers his privacy."

"I get that," Hrafn replied without a second thought, then he wondered how arrogant that sounded. Of course, most of his family was easily identifiable or made their living off the Elric name.

Fortunately, his idol didn't seem to take it amiss. Instead, he smiled. "I bet you do. Now, I don't suppose my daughter told you to bring your guitar with you."

"She did," Hrafn nodded. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. He was just barely able to play scales on it and was still fighting to get the right balance and pressure with his hands. They weren't nimble enough yet either to satisfy him. Though at least it barely hurt anymore.

Rupert nodded. "Excellent. I hope it's not presumptuous, but I thought that, maybe, you'd like a lesson in how to play guitar with auto-mail… from someone who actually knows how."

Hrafn's eyes went again to the man's hand. It was the same as his. He knew Rupert Iverton—whose stage name had been Rick Tone when he'd headed Thunderstorm—had retired from performing over twenty years ago. The rumors were never clear on why, though there had been plenty about an accident, injuries, and the other usual, darker suggestions that always seemed to circulate. He had vanished from public view for several years, only to resurface quietly as a songwriter. Only real fans who followed the business ever knew that he was still out there, writing hits that other people were singing.

No one on the street would have looked at this incredibly normal looking middle-aged dad and immediately equated him with the charismatic, loud, crowd-pumping music star.

"It would honestly be one of the biggest honors of my life… Mr. Iverton, sir," Hrafn managed to blurt out without stumbling over the words. He hoped he didn't sound stupid. The very last thing he wanted was to look stupid in front of one of his biggest inspirations… and his daughter who Hrafn had somehow become friends with even though she must have figured out weeks ago that Hrafn was a huge fan of her father's work. Clearly, I passed some kind of test if she was willing to bring me over, and told her father about me.

Her father looked amused. "I'm not sure if it's an honor or not, but I'm glad you're interested. And forget this Mr. Iverton stuff in my house. I've never liked stuffy formalities. You're a friend of Tani's and a fellow musician. Just call me Rupert."

Deanna was sure she would never get used to the house being quiet. In fact, she was fairly certain once all of her children were fully grown and out of the house, she might go a little mad. Not enough to want more of them necessarily, though she had to admit there were days where her mind wondered if with all the empty rooms they might not want to consider fostering or adopting. Children always needed homes.

For now, she still had three of her seven in the house, so it wasn't like the place was actually empty. Particularly not when those three were ten, twelve, and fourteen, and the older of the two both about to have birthdays in the next two months. Deanna had three grown children out of the house though two were still in Resembool. Only Cailean was living out of town, since he and his fiancée were in East City while she pursued medicine as a career. Her seventeen-year-old middlemost child was in Central and apparently really enjoying his new school experience, and doing well with his auto-mail rehabilitation.

Ten years since she'd had her last. Seven years since she last changed a diaper. These were good things, and still part of her missed babies, toddlers, messes and cuddles.

I seriously need something else to do with my time.

The house was quiet this evening because dinner was over, and Lochlan and Dessa were both doing homework for school. Pierce, being ten, had already finished what little his teacher had assigned, and was quietly working a puzzle in his room before bed.

So, the only person in the family part of the house this evening, when Deanna came back downstairs from folding laundry, was Reichart. Her husband had taken his turn at dishes this evening, and was now sitting on the much-loved and abused couch, looking lost in some very deep thoughts.

But then, lately he often looked lost in deep thoughts. The attack on Resembool last fall had changed all of them, but it had profoundly changed something in her husband. Something quiet, but powerful. Seeing Hrafn when he had his surgery, being assured of his well-being and that sending him to Central had been the right call had lifted much of the sorrow and guilt from him. Guilt that was misplaced, and sorrow at the loss of a hand that was now being mended. Hrafn's life had taken an unexpected turn, but from what Deanna heard from Coran and Gale, and from Hrafn himself, he had taken the challenge life had thrown at him, and was recovering in his own time, and finding his own way to recover what he had lost. He would be stronger for it. And he would be coming home for his spring break, which overlapped the Sheep Festival.

That was no longer what was foremost in her husband's concerns. Deanna knew that, because they had talked long and often in the quiet of the night over the past few months. What he did not like to talk about, and had only mentioned because he was honest and would not avoid her questions, was the hopelessness he had felt when the attack occurred. How he had frozen at first, instead of leaping into action; reacted instead of acted. Despite his share of working emergencies in the hospital. Despite years of training and even having worked down on the border during the disaster in Aerugo over twenty years ago—when they were still little more than newlyweds, only expecting their first baby—Reichart had been shaken to the core by the horror of seeing part of their home in flames, their family and neighbors in peril… many dead, and many more seriously injured.

It had thrown off his internal equilibrium somewhere, and Reichart was still struggling to regain it.

Deanna went into the kitchen and put on a kettle, waiting until she had two steaming hot cups of tea with sugar and cream before she returned to the living room. It was telling that Reichart didn't even notice her presence until she stuck a mug in front of his face.

Blinking, he looked up at her. "Oh, hey there. Thanks." He took the mug from her hand.

"Sen for your thoughts?" Deanna asked, sitting down next to him, their thighs lightly touching.

Reichart gave her a small, tired smile. "They're pretty expensive thoughts. A sen might not be enough."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Okay then." The smile disappeared, and he sipped his tea before responding. "What would you say if I was thinking of putting my name in for the mayoral elections next month?"

That… was not at all what Deanna had been expecting. Nominations closed in a few days. Reichart's father's emergency term following the death of the current mayor during the disaster in September was ending, and while there had been one or two names put in, there hadn't been anything she would have considered heavy campaigning. The community was too busy putting itself back together, and trying to move on in the face of collective trauma.

Though it seemed to be working for most of the town. They had all banded together behind Aldon's excellent plans to redesign the entire festival space to accommodate how much it had grown in recent decades. It would almost be entirely finished for this year's festival, and this year's festival would start with a special ceremony in honor of those lost at the one in the fall. A memorial was planned for the site, and while Deanna didn't know if it would be up in time or not, she knew the local stone-carving company working on it had been hard at work for months now with a goal of having it ready to be unveiled at the ceremony.

All of that had very little to do with her husband's question, however. What did she think? "I think you could be an excellent mayor, if that's what you really want to do."

Reichart shrugged slightly. "It's been on my mind for a few weeks," he admitted. "I need to do something; something productive, something meaningful, something that helps this community and… right now being at work is torture. All I hear in the halls is the echoes of screams, and all I can see is the blood, the fear, the sorrowful faces. It's like Aerugo, but worse, because they're almost all faces that I know. And Hrafn… anyway." He shook himself. "I don't think I can keep doing it anymore. Not right now. It's not getting better and… I need to contribute in a different way."

Deanna reached out with her free left hand, and set it on Reichart's thigh beside hers. "Then do it. If you feel that this is the right direction for you. That you can give to Resembool this way what you can't do with what you're doing… and you won't regret it if you win, then do it. I'm behind you. Besides," she added smiling in the hopes he would smile back, "the people of Resembool like you; not just as much as they like your father, but because they know you. They know you as someone who helped take care of them, and their family members. They know you not just from the hospital, but all the work you've done with the school over the years, and your artwork is the envy of every festival competition, even when you don't win."

That last got a small crack of a smile, and Deanna called that a win.

"Not that my art in any way recommends me as a good mayor." Reichart sipped from his tea again. "I just don't want to win and then prove to be terrible at it. I don't want to do this for selfish reasons, but that's how it feels."

Deanna managed not to huff, if barely. "Reichart Elric, no one in the history of politics has ever run for an office they didn't want. They all wanted it for different reasons, but those reasons are always their own in the end. You should hear yourself, going on about how selfish it is to want to find a different way to help our community and our home. It's all right to need to do something that doesn't cause you mental anguish. You can be selfish and still be good for the town."

Reichart looked thoughtful, then nodded, turned to her and kissing her cheek. "You always know how to put things in perspective, don't you?"

"I have a lot of experience," Deanna pointed out. "I admit, I'm a little surprised you're considering it, but there's no reason we can't manage. I also think your father would be thrilled to know he was leaving the job in good hands."

"I think he'll just hope I don't come to him for advice every five minutes," Reichart counted, but with more good humor.

"You could always ask him before you put your name in, if you're not sure. Though this doesn't leave you much time at all for any campaigning."

"I don't think I'll need much. From the names I've seen so far, the competition won't be very stiff. That, and as you've said, everyone already knows me." There was finally a hint of an Elric grin on his face. While it was not an expression Reichart made as often as other members of the family, it was easily identifiable when it happened.

Deanna shook her head, but smiled as she leaned in and kissed him. "They do, but I'm still not sure they know what they might be in for."

Hrafn felt like his insides were buzzing as he finally sat down across from Taniya to do their homework. She had the one downstairs bedroom, so it wasn't like they were really out of earshot of her parents much.

He could still hardly believe the turn of fortune that had brought him to this evening's experience. There had been almost an hour until dinner, and in that time, he had not only been taught several alternate finger positionings for playing with auto-mail when his fingers wouldn't stretch the way they used to, but Rupert had also suggested a particular oil for the fingers—which he always had on hand—that when applied had made Hrafn's attempts at strumming and picking far more successful than they had been, even if it wasn't perfect. The action in the fingers felt more natural, at least for playing.

He had also learned the truth of the end of Rupert's career fronting the band. He'd been in a motorcycle accident on a rainy night, when he'd been hit by an out-of-control vehicle. Afterwards, he'd had to take time off to heal, to go through auto-mail rehabilitation himself, and he'd stepped away from the band to find himself and recover physically and emotionally. During that time, he and Avlyn had gotten serious, married, and started their family. Her own income as an accountant—she worked as one for CV Studios—had been plenty to support them. Then, he had started to feel the need to write music again, and eventually he'd retaught himself to play as well as he had before.

Only when they were all called in for dinner did the lesson end. Though, Hrafn was assured, he was welcome to come over and get a lesson, or just jam, anytime. The session had ended with a short run through one of Rupert's classic numbers, with Hrafn playing the secondary part, which was less complex, and Taniya had joined them on drums.

The rest of Taniya's family life proved to be so normal, aside from some of the topics of dinner conversation, that Hrafn would never have known just from looking at them that this was the family of a famous popular musician. But then, a lot of his own family didn't immediately strike him as all that different either, he supposed. There were a lot of famous people in their own fields in the Elric line.

Taniya's mom, Avlyn, looked like a pretty standard mom anywhere, by Hrafn's familiarity with them. Which meant, she hardly looked at all the type to marry a rock musician. Though older photos on the walls showed the two of them had been together almost that far back, and she looked, not wild, but definitely less mom-ish. Hrafn couldn't imagine a time his mother hadn't looked completely like a mom, except for the few photos of his parents in school. They had gotten married and started having his siblings pretty much immediately. That was what his mother had wanted.

Taniya's little brother, Tucker, was the type Hrafn knew well. He could have been one of Hrafn's own younger brothers or cousins. In fact, aside from teasing his sister over the table, he was almost as much of a bookworm as Hrafn's Uncle Urey.

And there was his idol, perfectly content to be a well-off middle-aged dad. Though he was still writing music; lots of it, and many of his songs he had written for other musicians still went on to be huge hits. Some of them were even movie themes.

There was no shame in a career like that. Especially not when he had a good life. Hrafn could hope for something like this in the future. He could start to see directions it might go that would still be worth the effort.

Looking at Taniya across the table in her room that she used for studying, Hrafn could only wonder how lucky he was to have ended up in a class with her. "Thanks, for earlier," he said as they got out their books. "That was the best surprise I've ever had."

Taniya chuckled, though she looked pleased. "All I did was tell Dad my friend was trying to relearn how to play guitar with auto-mail. He was the one who asked if I thought it'd be weird if he offered to help."

"Well, I'm glad you let him, then." Hrafn chuckled. "I hope I wasn't too much of a fan down there."

"You were fine," she assured him. "Honestly, I think he was just pleased you recognized him. Most people don't anymore. Though that makes it easier for me and Tucker. That, and you didn't start begging for an autograph."

Hrafn grinned. "I knew I forgot to do something. Though really, getting to use his favorite auto-mail oil for guitar playing would make a much better story if I told my friends back in Resembool." If, because he wanted to, but he didn't know if that would be okay.

"You'll have to tell me if they believe you." Taniya opened her history book. "You're going home to visit over spring break, right?"

"I am." Hrafn nodded, grabbing his own copy out of his bag. "It happens to overlap the Spring Sheep Festival, which is an even bigger deal than the Autumn Festival." He'd told her about the fact he had been on stage at that one when the explosion happened. All of Amestris seemed to know about the attack on Resembool, as much as it had been on the news.

Taniya was staring at him. "You have an entire festival about sheep?"

I guess that might seem weird for a city girl. None of his own cousins found it weird, but then they'd been visiting Resembool their whole lives, and hearing stories. Hrafn nodded. "Sheep are the primary livestock in Resembool. They're a huge part of the local economy: the wool, sheep milk makes great cheese, and of course there's the lamb and mutton." His mother cooked amazing lamb. "Of course, that just makes it funny that mom's family has mostly cows."

"I've never actually seen a cow… in person," Taniya admitted, blushing slightly. "Of course I've seen a cow before."

From the note in her voice, she sounded kind of… jealous, maybe? "You know. This might be a crazy idea but… you want to come with me?"