January 10th, 1997

Cal felt a little less anxious as he arrived for his second session with Isaac Dahl. Partially because he knew what to expect, and partially because the worst part of the story—in his mind—was over. They should be mostly done dragging through his childhood trauma, though he was not sure how it tied in—and his parents had certainly not been dead yet—to everything else would still be explored, especially when they got to discussing his experiences as a parent.

"What do you think your chances are for the game next week?" Isaac asked by way of greeting as the door closed behind Cal, and they shook hands again.

"Pretty good," Cal replied as he took the same chair as last time. "We had a pre-season practice match and we slaughtered the other side."

"Glad to hear it." Isaac settled into the other seat. Once again, water was already poured. "And how was the rest of your week?"

"I survived." He managed a smile. "Though we had the grandkids for a whole afternoon on Wednesday and I thought they might do me in. I have no idea where they get the energy."

Isaac chuckled. "My uncle always says they suck it out of the rest of us."

"You married?" Cal asked. The other man had proved open to personal questions last week.

Isaac nodded. "Three years next month, and we have a daughter who's about to turn one."

"You look far too well rested to have a one-year-old."

The other man chuckled. "It's all acting, and cat naps I catch in the office."

Now that, Cal could understand. "So, what part of my life do you want to pick apart today?"

"I thought we'd pick up roughly where we left off, though I don't intend to make you relive every year of your early adulthood. I've done a little research since last week, and I'm curious how much your picture of events matches the information available."

"Do I want to know what information you found on me that didn't involve breaking confidentiality?" Cal asked curiously.

"Public reports mostly. I went through the old newspaper archives for information on your early career as a State Alchemist. You had a few pretty highly visible cases that were newsworthy. From an outside perspective, those years look like one fairly solid career climb. So, what was that like from inside?"

One career climb until he got part of his leg blown off. "Work was everything I hoped it would be, honestly. I got to train in all the alchemy I wanted, and a bunch I never thought possible. We learned combat skills I wished I'd had sooner, and I got to do what I wanted, which was help people. I could take as many missions as I could fit in my schedule, and it meant I was travelling all over Amestris. I love seeing new places and meeting new people. Didn't mind a little danger now and then either," he admitted with a bit of a smile. Not that he felt that way anymore. "Not with the skills to take care of myself, and colleagues to work with. No one I worked with knew anything about my past. I could be whoever I wanted, and I did my best to be the person I'd always wanted to be, and not the person they thought I was in Koldspur."

"You seem to have had a bit of a reputation. Was that on purpose?"

"Which part?" Cal asked rhetorically before continuing right on. "For the most part, I'd have to say yes. I mean, it was deserved and I didn't mind it. People liked me, and hanging around me, but I didn't let most of them get too close. It was a self-defense mechanism and I was aware of that at the time. I didn't want to get emotionally caught up with anyone else. I was still getting over Valeria, and my parents were not exactly a stunning example of a functional relationship, forget a loving one."

"But you weren't celibate."

Cal almost snorted his glass of water up his nose mid-sip. "Hardly. I wasn't looking for a long-term romance; that didn't mean I was dead. There are a lot of beautiful women in Central, and they were far more interested in me than most of the girls I'd grown up around. If a woman wanted to spend some time in my company, I wasn't going to say no. But I was pretty up front about the fact I wasn't looking for a serious relationship. As long as they were okay with that, we just had a good time and that was that. Sometimes it was one date, or four. Sometimes we just had dinner… though a lot of them ended up in the bedroom," he admitted. He had lost count of them, though once he had tried to tally them up, and had lost count somewhere after eighty. "But as long as they were willing and we were using protection I never saw any harm in it." They were all adults, so he'd never really thought about how their families might care or not care. As a father, later on, he'd definitely had some different realizations.

"So, if you were determined not to get too close to anyone, why spend so much time around other people? Especially in the bedroom."

"Because I wanted companionship. I'd always felt alone in my life, before Valeria. Like I didn't quite fit in. I didn't want to get hurt, but I wanted to connect with people at the same time. I never said it made sense. But then, I wasn't the only person just looking for a little companionship, so that turned out to be a lot easier than I thought. I always had the convenient excuse that I was in-and-out of town all the time on missions. If I couldn't get too close, I wouldn't risk letting my emotions rule me again. But, if a woman wanted to spend time with me, I wasn't about to turn down company, especially not if we were both in the mood for sex." He had easily made plenty of casual friends, and found plenty casual lovers; he'd just never tried to get closer. Not that it hadn't happened slowly, more naturally, over time.

Isaac did not look surprised by any of this, he also didn't look disappointed or disgusted. "And how often during these encounters would you say that you were sober?"

And there was the tie in. "Given we usually met up at bars or parties? Not often," Cal admitted. "Not that we were necessarily drunk, but by the time we got to the bedroom I'd probably had a couple of drinks." Usually, anyway. He'd woken up in a few beds over the years with little memory of the preceding evening, though he'd always remembered meeting the woman and—most importantly—her name. He had a good memory for names.

"And how many nights a week would you say you spent this way, on the average?"

"It varied, depending on if I was on a mission or not." It had been so long, he had to think about that one. "So, mostly nights off. Sometimes a couple of times a week. Maybe four or five, on leave. Not that they all ended in bed."

"I'm not here to judge you," Isaac reminded him gently. "Now, on the nights you weren't out, what did you do?"

"If I was on a mission, usually I had dinner and went to bed." Of course, that wasn't all he was asking about. "If I felt like it, I might have a drink with dinner. And, yes, that was probably most nights." Might as well just admit it. Just a single drink, with dinner. No big deal if he'd wanted it.

But if he'd wanted it because he craved it? Never had he asked himself that question at the time. It was like food. If it tasted good, and he wanted it, he'd consumed it, as long as he could still do his job the next day.

"And if you were home?"

"There are rules about drinking in the barracks, and I'd moved out of the apartment as soon as I made State Alchemist, so no."

"And that was okay?"

"Yeah. Not that I thought about it, but it wasn't really a big deal." But it hadn't been that bad yet, he supposed, and he was out enough that not bringing it back with him hadn't bothered him. It had gotten worse later. There had been points in his life that were far lower than the days leading up to when he left home. "Not then."

"When did it change?"

Shit. Are we going to go through that too? "After the war in Aerugo. After I stepped on a landmine and blew my leg off, I was on extended leave for most of three years, while it healed. I went through rehabilitation after auto-mail surgery, and then there was getting back to the point where I was fit for duty."

"I'm told that it's incredibly painful, and difficult."

"That's a bit like calling a lion a housecat, but true." Cal nodded. "The first weeks hurt as much as losing my foot, only I was conscious. They moved me to an off-site first level apartment in the officers' apartments. I spent a few months in a wheelchair when I wasn't doing PT, until I could walk again. But I had nothing to do with myself except heal and workout, and deal with the pain."

"You didn't keep going out with friends?"

"I realized just how lonely it is when you aren't close enough for most people to care enough to come find you when you're gone." Cal took a swig of water, emptying the glass. He reached for the carafe to refill it. "A few of the other State Alchemists came by on occasion, and the nurse that came in to help in the early days of rehabilitation but, most of the time, I was alone."

"Even after you could walk?"

"It wasn't fun anymore. At least, not at the time. I was still in pain, and I couldn't dance. I didn't really feel like myself, and I found out pretty early on that there wasn't a good position for sex that didn't make my leg scream the whole time. I just… stopped going out, except to get food, and for mandatory report-ins and check-ups."

"What did you do with all that time?"

"Well, they'd been nice enough to put in a radio, so I listened to a lot of programs, read books, napped. I took up smoking again. I'd mostly quit after I left home. Expensive, and I didn't really like it that much. But it seemed to help." He knew better now. "And when it didn't… I drank." There were times he still had no idea how he'd survived long enough to even get to his first alkahestry healing treatment with a working liver. "I was so lonely, and depressed, in the middle of it all, that I couldn't take it anymore. So, I tried to drown it all out. And before you ask how much, let's just say my memories of the entire second year are really fuzzy." He could not count the number of nights he had gotten black-out drunk and passed out entirely on purpose. "Near the end of it I… thought about just giving up and ending it all." Another fact he had told almost no one in his life. In truth, while he was sure a few people had figured it out, he had only ever admitted it in words to his wife.

"What did the counselors at the military hospital say?"

"Nothing. I never told them."

For the first time in any of their conversations, Isaac looked shocked, though in truth he hit it well. It was more of a very slight raising of the eyebrows. "They didn't ask?"

"They did. I just lied to them… every time. I didn't trust them. I had no reason to trust them, and I wasn't sure what they would do if I did."

"Why didn't you?"

"End it? To be honest, I'm not entirely sure sometimes. One day, I realized that the pain was less than it had been, and I had no idea how long it had been improving. PT got easier. The few friends I had were still checking up on me. I… told them I'd like it if they came by a little more often. In kind of a flippant way, but I did. Finally, I tried going out again and that was a little better than it had been. Figured out I could have sex again, and I just started to crawl back out of it. Really, I wanted my purpose back. So, I started putting more effort into PT again, and training beyond that, until I was well enough that they'd put me back on duty, even if it was office work for a while. I needed to be around people. It didn't matter if we were close. I just couldn't take being alone anymore."

"So, going back on duty helped?"

"It did." Cal nodded. The realization that, if no one else, Sara, Maes, and Marcus had missed him, had actually cared enough to show up repeatedly even when he was surly and unpleasant, had been enough to get him back there. "Though not in the ways I could have predicted. My first day back on the job I literally ran into a beautiful young woman coming around a corner, because I couldn't dodge fast enough, and scattered her papers all over the floor."

"Would this beautiful woman happen to be your wife?"

"Right in one. As many women as I knew, and as many as I'd been with, there was still something about her that just struck me in that moment. She was so perfectly put together, and even with her papers going everywhere, she was collected, and she didn't even get mad at me. Not that I was smart enough to ask who she was when I helped her pick them up. On the spur of the moment, I offered to be her escort to the State Dinner coming up, without realizing she was organizing it, or that she was an Elric. I knew Alphonse had a daughter, but I think the only time I'd ever seen her in person she was eight or nine years old. There's over a decade between us, but there was still a very palpable connection, and I had this sense—a vain hope really—that she felt the same."

"So, you didn't try to fight it?"

"Part of me was screaming that I should, but I was so desperate for a connection at that point, and I just didn't have it in me. I knew it almost certainly wouldn't last. She was young, highly desirable, and very proper and innocent. But the more we spent time together, the harder it got. And when it all fell apart that first time, I wasn't even surprised."

Apparently, Isaac had not done all his research, because now he looked legitimately surprised. "What happened between you?"

"We dated for all of three weeks. She found out that one of my previous lovers was someone she was close friends with." He wasn't about to tell Dahl it had been Sara Heimler. That was Sara's business. "And I can't blame her for finding that uncomfortable. My reputation didn't bother her in the abstract, but that was too much for her then. So, she broke it off. She was incredibly kind about it, and if I'd let her, she wanted to still be friends."

"But you didn't?"

"I'd sworn to myself after Valeria I'd never get seriously involved with a woman from that kind of family again; the kind with money, respect, authority. Not that I had a very sophisticated understanding of what that meant at the time, or I'd have realized that just having a prominent role in society, and a decent income, doesn't make them all the same. I broke that rule in even dating her after I found out who Alyse was, and I thought she was too good for me. When she broke it off, it just seemed to reaffirm that I was always going to be that guy. Even in Central, a woman I honestly had feelings for was out of reach. So, I went back to casual dating, and tried to avoid her until the feelings went away."

"For how long?"

"Years." Cal paused for a drink. All this talking really dried out his mouth. "Most of a decade, though at the time I felt like life was pretty good. I was getting back to missions at work, and given more responsibility. The other State Alchemists trusted me, and I made a few friends, mostly among the other State Alchemists. We had the most in common. Keeping out of Alyse's life got easier when she found a serious boyfriend; another officer climbing the ranks, but not an alchemist. They dated for four years, and most everyone, myself included, figured she'd marry him. She always looked so happy, that I figured if he could make her smile like that, then I should just be happy for her."

"But you still had feelings."

"Yes, I did. When her boyfriend broke up with her, I wanted to beat the man. I couldn't believe he could win over someone like her, and then just drop her for someone else. He'd thrown it all away. Everything I'd have killed for, and he'd just brushed it off like nothing." It had been a long time since Cal had given much thought at all to Vince Miller, his wife's most serious ex. Miller had transferred to South City Headquarters out of the President's office a couple of years later, never made it past Colonel, and had spent most of his career doing paperwork. Cal thought he'd married somewhere in there, and he'd retired, but that was about it. He shook himself. "Anyway, aside from that, those years were better, especially compared to what I'd just been through. I can't say I didn't drink, but I stopped getting stupid drunk. I didn't want to lose out on the good missions. So, it was just pretty stable there for a few years, and I figured that was about as good as I was going to get, and I started to get comfortable with that idea… at least until Alyse walked into my favorite club one night and asked to share my table for a concert that we were both there to see."

"And you let her sit down."

"I was the only person sitting alone, and we weren't strangers. I'd have been a heel not to." Cal shrugged. "That, and you might have noticed I have very little in the way of self-preservation. She'd grown up a lot, and she was even hotter than the last time I'd been close to her. A little less reserved, more confident, and I knew Miller'd dumped her. I didn't have the heart not to, even though I was jumpy as hell just having her there. But it was all right, as evenings go. Concert was good. Then the ex showed up, having been dumped himself by the girl he left Alyse for, and he begged her to take him back."

He wondered if Isaac's conversations were all this much like soap operas. The man's eyes widened a little, but he just nodded intently.

"He was drunk off his ass, and she told him to take a hike. Then we enjoyed the rest of the concert, had a couple more drinks, and somewhere in there she coaxed some of that whole mess with Valeria out of me. After that, we were friends."

"And how did that affect you?"

"Well, when we started hanging out together a couple of times a week, it was probably salvation for my liver. She was never big on wild parties, or getting drunk, so I just never drank as much when she was around. Well, not at the start, but if you spend any time with Alyse, she starts to rub off on you. Also, she has this killer look of disappointment that makes you feel like you kicked a puppy. I never stopped liking her, but at the time I honestly thought she just wanted to be friends. She didn't want another big relationship then, and I didn't want to chase her off. Though I did find out, years later, she was afraid of scaring me off."

"When did you get romantically involved again?"

"During the war…the one when Drachma invaded," he clarified, realizing that in all likelihood, the man in front of him hadn't been born yet at the time. "She was ready to try again well before I was, but I didn't know it. We exchanged letters during the war, which had my bunkmate convinced she was into me. I just didn't want to believe him, because I was afraid if I was wrong, I wouldn't be able to handle it, and she might stop being friends."
"Did she ever give you a reason to feel that way?"

"Not one, actually. Her letters were full of stories, and concern, and even when I was unapologetically myself, she never stopped being there for me, and there was so much about her to love. I knew if I let her in, I'd never be able to hide how much I still wanted to be with her. So, when she volunteered to work as a nurse during the war, and showed up on the front, she didn't give me time to even get my head on straight before she got me alone and told me flat out that she loved me and she'd pretty much joined the war effort just so she could tell me in case I died." He finished the glass of water.

"That's a hell of a way to find out." Isaac chuckled. "I think I'm a little envious."

"Yeah, well. That's Alyse." Cal reached for the carafe, noticing that it was almost empty. "She told me how she felt, and that she wanted to try again, and that it didn't matter anymore that I'd been with a lot of other women. She still believed in me, and loved me; hot mess that I'd been the whole time. And I was too stunned to tell her anything but the truth. After that, I did everything I could not to die. Not that I didn't almost die, again. I got shot in the abdomen in combat and almost bled out before they found me. That was the end of the war for me. After they pulled me back from the brink of death, I got shipped home on a train full of wounded, and Alyse followed me home. My own personal nurse." He couldn't help a smile there. It had been so awkward, yet wonderful, in those early days to have her in his space, just doing everyday things, in a serene domesticity his childhood had never possessed. "She showed me what it looked like for two different people to coexist, and love each other, in ways I didn't even know were possible, even though I'd seen so many relationships like that around me, once I got here. She very literally saved my life, and then she saved my heart." Possibly one of the mushiest things he had ever said in front of another male. Ever.

A quiet knock on the door in the silence signaled that two hours was about to be up. Cal almost jumped, startled at how fast it had all gone again.

Isaac nodded, and took just a few notes. Again, he had written very little down at all during the session. He just sat and listened, and it was more like a very one-sided conversation. "As you've said yourself, your mental state, and the pressure you're under, has a direct effect on your coping habits, drinking and—you've referenced a few times—smoking. Though as I understand it, you quit years ago."

Cal nodded. "Alyse hated it, and when we started a family, I didn't want to smoke around the kids. It felt… wrong. So, I quit. I mean, it took a few years to toss them completely, but I did." Outside of a few moments of incredible stress, that had seemed a lot easier than this. "Odd enough, I don't ever really miss it."

"Why do you think that is?"

That was a question he had considered in the past few months. "I think it's mostly because what I needed there was a quick hit… something to calm me down… but I never much cared for them. That, and the better life got, the less I felt like I needed it."

"But we're still here today, talking about alcohol."

"Because I like it," Cal admitted. "There's a variety of flavors and tastes, and the way something is brewed can have a huge impact on the outcome. Despite what we've talked about, most of the time my goal wasn't really to get drunk, just to enjoy a good beverage and relax a little, and I've never really had a problem stopping when I want to on a given night. Just… stopping when I don't want to or… not wanting to stop." Which was really the crux of it. "I didn't realize how deep into the hole I'd gotten until I agreed to try and quit all together."

"Which is a huge admission on its own." Isaac nodded as they both stood. "It seems like you're making good progress. Keep it up. From what you've told me, I'm confident that you can do this."

"Thanks. Nice to know someone besides my wife believes in me." Cal shook his head. "Guess I'll be back next week."

Bonnie wanted to pull away as soon as she pulled up outside the police station, and parked. Thanks to the news, there were at least half a dozen reporters standing outside waiting for Ian's release, hoping for an interview and new pictures, she was sure. She had come in a light coat, with sunglasses on, and one of her scarves wrapped around her hair, but there was little chance they wouldn't realize who she was, or who she was here to get.

Mortification barely covered her feelings over the past couple of days. The media had jumped on that tiny snippet of news report, and already the gossip magazines, and several other sources, had reported the basic facts. While some did not go further, plenty were speculating widely—and wildly—regarding why Ian Elric had been picked up drunk off the street. Happily married, successful people, were generally not in for public intoxication.

Bonnie wanted to curl up and disappear as she got out and walked calmly into the building without a look at the reporters, who immediately started shouting questions. The only thing keeping them from coming closer was the dark-skinned female officer standing outside the door on alert.

Inside, she was directed to the front, where she paid the fine, signed the paperwork, and then sat down to wait while they released Ian.

Ian was staring at the wall, wondering how long it took a man to go insane, and counting the tiny divots in the paint when he heard the door to the outside open, and the low murmur of a familiar voice. Finally, Bonnie had come for him.

He wished he had some idea of what to expect. Was she still furious? Was she worried? Had she moved past that to general concern?

"Your stay is over," the officer said as he opened the cell door. "Your wife has paid the fine, and you're a free man."

Ian stood. "Thanks. I hope you won't take it the wrong way if I say I hope never to stay here again."

"That's all right. We'd be happy never to have you again. Though you've probably been one of the most cooperative people we've had in here."

There was that at least. Ian hoped that meant they didn't say anything else about it. He hadn't seen any television or papers in the past few days, but they had informed him that the news was out.

Bonnie's expression, and her attire, as he went into the lobby told him he was not going to enjoy the next few weeks. She said nothing.

Ian pulled on his coat and hat, and his shades. "All right. Let's get out of here."

The clicking of cameras and shouting of reporters picked up from the moment he hit the door, as he crossed to the parking lot, and got into the passenger side. Ian didn't make eye contact, and he didn't respond. What could he say that wouldn't just make the situation worse? Often, no comment was the safest comment.

Bonnie said nothing. Her mouth was a firm, tight line as she drove home.

Ian knew where to start, but he didn't want to distract her, so he waited until they pulled into the driveway. "Bonnie…I'm—"

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry!" She cut him off, and looked at him with a glare through tear-bright eyes. "I was so scared when you didn't come home. It was storming, and the babies were upset, and I couldn't do anything but wait. And then…when I finally get a call… it's because you were…" The words cut off, as if she didn't even want to say them out loud. "Do you have any idea what you have put me through already? I had to call Tanner for you! And our families… and… I had to lie to Joanna and Zach. I told them you had an unexpected work trip. As much as you were gone for filming, they bought it, thankfully. And the news… oh gods the news… Well, you'll see that for yourself." She stopped, and took a long, slow breath in and out. "I'm glad you're not hurt. Until the police called, I was afraid something had happened to you."

Ian just let her talk. Any attempt at interruption would only land him in even worse circumstances with his wife. Besides which, she was entirely right. Never in his life had he been so reckless. Even in the early years of his career he had mostly only drunk at parties, and he always took a cab home, or got a ride from a designated driver.

Only when she was done did he open his mouth. "You're right. I don't have an excuse. I was mad. I thought I could just walk it out, and then I was at the store, getting detergent, and then I just… picked up a bottle of wine. I can't even tell you why now, but when it started raining, and getting dark, I was in the park. So, I sat there a while, finished the bottle, and tried to find my way home."

"Well apparently they picked you up six blocks in the wrong direction."

Ian winced. "I'm sorry."

"The media is having a field day already," Bonnie continued. "Everything from marital strife and possible infidelity, to rumors that you've had a secret alcohol problem you've been hiding, to professional drama… I tried to go to work on Monday and was mobbed at the gates. Studio security had to escort me to wardrobe."

"What did they have to say at work?" Surely, hopefully, they knew the hype for what it was, and would ignore it.

Bonnie's expression did not improve. "You should probably keep a low profile and be nothing but utterly professional for a while. Most of them don't really believe any of the wild theories, I don't think. Not the long-timers. But I couldn't tell them much because I had no idea what to tell them."

"I'm sorry."

"You should have seen the insufferable smirk on Angie's face when she came in." Tears were leaking out of the corner of Bonnie's eyes. "I'll bet you anything she's the source of the rumors that you're an alcoholic."

Ian wasn't sure he could sink any further into the seat. "I'm sorry."

"Damn it, Ian!" Now it was a sob. "I know you're sorry. That's not going to fix it. All I wanted to do on Saturday night was sit down with you and have a reasoned, adult conversation about some ideas Anika and I came up with to make our lives a little easier and now…. Now…" She shuddered. "It's like I'm living my old nightmares."

"I'll fix it," he promised hoarsely. "Bonnie… I don't know how yet, but I will get this whole thing straightened out. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that." Bonnie wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. "And don't you dare pull this kind of shit again, do you understand me? You promised me we would never have to deal with something like this."

"I did… and I'll fix it. Bonnie… please. Just give me a chance to make this right. I'll do anything you want me to do. Name it."