December 6th, 1989

"Isn't it a bit early for winter holiday decorations?" Alphonse laughed as Edward finished tying off a garland of greenery along one of the several tiers of balcony railing in the center of the house.

Ed shrugged. "That's why I transmuted silk plants instead of using real evergreen," he pointed out. If he had used evergreen boughs this early, they would be dead and prickly by the time family actually arrived for the holidays. "At least I waited until after the fall holidays were all over, and it's already snowing outside, so no, I don't think it's too early to be decorating." Besides which, they would have guests on-and-off over the month , not just at the end of it. He looked back down the railing, periodically punctuated by gold or silver ribbons tied in creative bows that Elicia and Winry had made that morning. "I think everyone will love it."

"Well, I can't disagree with you there," Al nodded. "I just hope this early snow doesn't mean we're in for an extra hard winter."

"If it does, we'll just have to hide in here and stay cozy." Ed shrugged. He also hoped for gentle winters, if only because he hated it when his ports ached enough to make him nauseated. "I hope the kids like the new garden lights."

"Those are a stroke of brilliance," Al admitted.

Ed followed his brother back downstairs, feeling more than a little smug about his ingenius little idea for lighting the gardens and the swimming area, using little lights outside with batteries. Not just any batteries though; he had transmuted and rigged up little panels—with Winry and Aldon's engineering suggestions—that turned the sun's power into battery power. So the garden was full of little lights, hidden around in the plants and hanging in the trees, like large fireflies. In the snow, they looked almost mystical.
He couldn't wait to show them to the family, but especially the great-grandkids. Even the Resembool crew had not been up to the house since he had installed all the lights, and he knew Urey and Reichart's offspring would love them. So would Lily and Randy's twins, and James and Krista's little Aithne.

Not that everyone would make it this year. Ian and Bonnie might, but they had projects to work on right up to the last minute at the studio. Most of Alphonse's family couldn't for a wide variety of reasons, including in several cases being out of the country entirely. Will and Ren were in Xing, and Gloria was going to get home barely in time for the holidays at all, as she was in Drachma with her boyfriend, meeting his father's family.

If that didn't sound like a lead-up to a proposal, Ed would drink an entire cow's worth of milk.

Charlie had enlisted just barely a month before, and there was no way he would be able to get time off to leave town on a trip before even finishing his basic training. So his whole family would be staying in Central, and Ed totally understood that, as much as he understood that Tore was staying in Central because Dare and Lorraine would be home for the holidays.

A still-hot pot of coffee awaited them in the kitchen, and Ed was happy to take the large, steaming mug Al offered him before pouring another for himself.

"So what's left to do?" Al asked curiously.

Ed looked contemplatively around the large open living area in the middle of the house. They wouldn't need a holiday tree until much closer to the actual holidays, but everything else seemed to be done and decorated, right down to brightly colored cat toys that sent the younger cats streaking all over the house with mad, catnip induced excitement. "I think that's everything," he said, as he heard the front door opening around the corner.

"Not quite everything," he heard Winry's voice reply.

"Oh? What am I missing?" Ed asked as he came around the corner and stopped dead.

Winry and Elicia stood in the entryway on the large mat laid out to catch mud and wet, holding the leashes of two large, fluffy, white dogs that looked nearly identical, save for one having a brown badger-marked ear, and the other dark-gray over both short, floppy ears. They were wagging their tails excitedly.

They were clearly not tiny babies, but they looked young and maybe eighty pounds. "And just who are these two?" Ed asked, though he knew at once that Winry had brought them home for him. His heart swelled with not just the love he felt for Winry for finding them, but for two the two eager and attentive young dogs.

"Well, you'll have to come up with good names for them," Winry said as she closed the door behind them with her foot, and let the brown-eared dog off the leash. "The farmer who was selling the pups just called them Bear and Sheep. They're eight months old, both boys, and he's retired and sold off his sheep, so he didn't need all the pups his dog had last spring and he hadn't had much luck selling them all off."

Terrible names. Ed didn't even ask which was which, though he could see having trouble homing that many large dogs. They were not known for having small litters either. "Well then, come here, fellas," he knelt down. "Let's get to know each other shall we?"

As soon as they were off the leashes it was nothing but noses, nuzzles, and snuffling noises. Ed pet both of them with firm, fur-ruffling affection, working out personalities and bonding. It didn't take long to figure out which was probably Bear, and which was probably Sheep. The brown-marked one was bigger and a little thicker than his brother, and particularly nosy and more direct. While the gray-marked was willing to be shoved out of the way and slightly less assertive. Still, they deserved names better in keeping with their personalities. "I wonder what the cats are going to think," he mused aloud.

"They're already staring," Al commented from outside his line of sight. Looking up, Ed noticed that the two kittens were up on top of the cat tree, staring and curious, while Al's older two were up on the first balcony, glowering…. And occasionally hissing.

The dogs did not seem to care. Ed supposed they were used to cats, coming from a farm. "Well we can't have you running around with those names," his mind circled back around, and it only took him a few seconds to link the dogs—personalities and all—to a pair of brothers whose own stories and life Ed had been drawn to in Europe. "I know, Jacob and Wilhelm."

"Perfect!" Al commented behind him, with a chuckle. "I assume Jacob would be the quieter one?"

"Of course." Ed ruffled the gray-marked pup's head. His brother, now Wilhelm, nudged Ed's hand jealously.

"Should I know these names?" Elicia asked, looking puzzled.

"A pair of brothers, writers, from Europe," Ed explained. "They wrote down folk tales. Fascinating stories. Al and I were reading everything we could get our hands on in those days that might get us information. Folk tales were some of the only stories we could find there with referencing to anything that could even be mistaken for alchemy. Of course, they always called it magic," he snorted. "But they traveled all over, and you know, some of their life was kind of familiar. I would have liked to have met them. Of course, they died well before we were born."

"And you want to name dogs after them."

"Would you rather they go around named after other animals?"

Winry was smiling knowingly. "Well I like them. They're dignified names. Don't you have a copy of their stories upstairs?"

Ed nodded. He did, in the original German. He also had a few of the stories he had translated into Amestrian, though he hadn't done anything with those yet. "I do. I used to tell them to the kids. Not in German of course."

"I thought so." Winry moved towards the kitchen and the coffee pot. "Hopefully these two will like them just as much."

Ed managed to hug both puppies at once before standing up and extricating himself from the wag pile. The next hug was for his wife. "Thank you."

Winry squeezed him back. "We stopped for eggs. I just couldn't get over their eyes, and then he noticed, and asked if I wanted them. Don't expect anything else for the holidays."

Ed chuckled, grateful as ever to have her in his life. "I wouldn't think of it."

December 9th, 1989

While it was a little odd still to be visiting her son and his wife in what had been her childhood home, Alyse was quite happy to be able to do so, and to watch Charlie, Shelby, and their children, settling into their new life in Central. It had not taken long for Charlie to transfer to Central and enlist, and for them to move their belongings down. Not that their things came close to filling a house, but with most of her parents' furnishings here, it was hardly empty. So far, very few changes had been made, other than the rearranging of a few pieces of furniture, moving the children into the upstairs bedrooms, and some washable slip-covers for all the good furniture to protect it from small, sticky fingers.

There were a lot of those. They had just finished dinner, and Abigail was playing on the floor with an odd assortment of toys that included two dolls in frilly dresses, a train engine, a stuffed horse, and a fish-shaped pillow. When Alyse had asked what she was playing she had gotten a long, rambling explanation in toddler talk about the exciting adventure the two dolls were having—that would never have really worked in the dresses they had come in—and the horse, and how they were rescuing the fishy pillow prince by riding a magic train.

She would have found it strange, except that she remembered Gloria and Charlie creating similarly fanciful and cross-genre adventures with their toys, and she was sure she and Will had done the same. "It's hard to believe she's almost three already."

"It's hard to believe she's not older," Shelby replied with a self-depreciating smile as she sat at the other end of the couch, feeding Summer. Charlie and Cal had taken Cameron upstairs for a baby bath so that no one was overwhelmed with all three little ones at once. Alyse could hardly imagine how Shelby had managed at Briggs. "I've been trying to decide what we should do for her birthday, now that she's old enough to understand a party and presents."

"Well, I don't want to butt in, but if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know." Alyse would love to make her granddaughter's birthday amazing, but Shelby got that privilege first, as her mother.

"I appreciate it." Shelby shifted Summer to her shoulder. "It will probably be just family, since she isn't in pre-school yet, so it doesn't need to be anything too big, just fun. Though I found a mom group that meets up a couple of times a week so I'm thinking of trying that out, since I'm going to be at home with them for who knows how long, and it would give Abby more children to socialize with."

"I think that's a great idea." It would also give Shelby more adults to talk to who were around her age and at roughly the same point in their lives. Fellow parents who could sympathize and understand what she was going through raising children now. Alyse knew full well that, no matter how much stayed the same, there were differences in raising every generation. She could not imagine living the childhood her own parents and Aunt and Uncle had lived. It still floored her to think that her father and Uncle Edward had never even finished the equivalent of her middle school. They were two of the most intelligent, well-studied men she knew. They had educated themselves. Yet they had made sure their own children had stable lives and went through standard schooling. Alyse had done the same. "When do they meet?"

"Mondays and Thursdays right now for most activities. I know one of the girls, Clarissa, from school actually."

"That's great!"

Shelby nodded. "She graduated the year before us, and she's got a little boy just a couple of months older than Cam." There was a note in her voice that Alyse recognized as, not quite jealousy, but an awareness of the fact that most of their social group from high school did not have children, let alone three. "She's the one who told me about it, actually. I ran into her at the market on Saturday." She looked down at Summer as the baby burped. "There we go. I think maybe she'll sleep for a bit now."

"Perfect timing then," Charlie chimed as he came down the stairs, smiling. "Dad's almost got Cam unconscious. Abby honey, ready for story time?"

"Yeah!" Abigail stood up, quickly put the dolls and train in a toy bin, then turned to her father, still clutching the stuffed horse and the fish pillow. "Read The Happy Duck!"

"You bet." Charlie picked up his daughter.

Within the hour, all three children were asleep, and so was Shelby. When it became clear that Charlie was in just as much need of the brief nap he would get before babies woke up again, Alyse and Cal said their goodbyes and let themselves out.

"That was nice," Alyse commented on the drive home. "How was your conversation with Charlie?"

"Pretty good," Cal commented, eyes focused on the road ahead of them in the dark.

"Well, that's informative."

"Nothing traumatic," Cal elaborated, if only slightly. "Mostly we talked about work. He's surviving basic training. Sergeant Copper's pleased with his engineering work so far."

"But you know that from work."

"I know that from Copper's. It helps to hear it from both sides, make sure Charlie perceives the same things." Cal shrugged. "It's a good confidence boost, which he needs. He needs to learn to trust himself again."

"Can he?" Alyse asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. As his mother, she felt like she should always think the best about her children, but she was too much of a realist. Her son had done some crazy things in his life, but the most recent events went above and beyond that. Charlie still hadn't told her exactly what had happened, and neither had Shelby. Alyse hadn't pressed, but what was not said told her almost as much as what they could have said.

"Learn or be trusted?"

"I'll let you decide how you want to answer."

Cal pondered his answer. "I think his conscience will keep him on track, but I don't know how long it will take him to trust himself. He's terrified of screwing up again, at anything. But… being home is definitely better."

Alyse had seen that for herself. Certainly Shelby was happier here, closer to friends and family, even if her relationship with her father was still strained. It was easier, with two babies and a toddler, to have the help and not have to pay for it. Charlie seemed happier, but if he wasn't, he would never have told her. "It's a good start. I hope they can fix whatever is wrong."

She was surprised when Cal reached out and squeezed her hand without offering any words of explanation. So Alyse smiled, and squeezed back.

December 10th, 1989

"…and that's a wrap!"

Ian watched his cast relax and listened to the chatter that broke out on the set as he called for a finish to the last scene they had to film for the last episode of the year. He felt satisfied and happy, watching the teenage actors he had been working with for over a season blossom and grow and improve, both as individuals and an ensemble. They were good kids, and directing them was rarely frustrating, and almost always a pleasure. It helped that they trusted him, but did not worship him. At least, if they did, they were very good at pretending otherwise.

"Anything else you need, Mr. Director?"

Ian shook himself out of his reverie amidst the cameramen removing the day's footage and the lighting technicians turning things off and putting away equipment, and turned around. "Just you."

Bonnie smiled. For once, her arms were not full of costumes which Ian hoped meant she was also done for the day, on time no less. "We're supposed to meet your Grandfather and Grandmother for dinner in only two hours. Is there anything else you need to do?"

"Not today." He had made certain of that. "Well, nothing that will take long," he amended. "But it will only take a few minutes to make sure everything's fine here, I promise."

"You had better not make me late."

"They're my grandparents!"

"And this dinner is to talk about the next outfits in my fashion line."

"I know." Ian chuckled. "You're the trend setter."

"Says the man who started a run on Xingese silk shirts just by buying a few during his last on-location shoot."

"Like you mind. Half of your new designs are completely outclassing me while taking advantage of my undeserved popularity."

"If we don't stop, we'll be late." Bonnie waved him off. "Go, do what you need to do. I'll meet you at the car."

"All right, all right." Ian turned and went to find the sound engineer he needed to talk to before they left for their much deserved break. By the time he got to the car, it was not only dark out, but growing briskly cold, as if the weather was threatening snow. Ian could see his breath fogging in the parking lot lights.
Bonnie had already started the car and had it warm. "That was quick."

"I promise I wouldn't be long," he said as she slid over and let him take the wheel of his car. They both buckled.

"Last time you said that it took you almost forty-five minutes."

"Only because Nanette insisting on debating on which orange gel to use in the lights for the next day's shoot." He did not mind that the lighting designer was a perfectionist, but there were days…. He put the car in drive and carefully pulled out of the parking lot. "Did you call the stables?"

"I did," Bonnie nodded. "Everything's fine and she's in for the night. Even if it snows they've got plenty of extra feed, and the heaters will be on tonight." She shook her head. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to heaters in a barn."

"Your horse is equine royalty," Ian teased. There were much more expensive horses, and a wide array from all walks of life, trained and kept and used by the film studios. It made sense to Ian that they paid to keep them particularly well cared for. Certainly he doubted the horses were complaining, and the heaters were only turned on when it got really cold. "Besides, would you begrudge her comfort?"

"In her condition you mean?" Bonnie eyed him sideways. "Of course not. Though this isn't her first foal, you know."

"Yes, you've told me," Ian nodded indulgently. "It's her fourth. Well it's my first!"

Bonnie elbowed him. "You're not that much of a stud."

If he hadn't been driving, he would have tickled her. Instead, he felt the tips of his ears go warm, though it might just be the heat thawing them out after the chill night air. "Is that a challenge?"

"No, not at all."

He believed that. They had talked about kids, of course, but not immediately. They had career goals they wanted to meet first, benchmarks that would make it easier to schedule a life that would allow raising children to be part of it, without screwing them up. "We'll see what happens in February."

"If you don't at least get a nomination for Golden Warrior, the Film committee has lost it," Bonnie assured him, one hand resting on his arm. "It's the best work you've ever done."

It was good to hear, and not idle flattery, not from Bonnie. She was always honestly blunt, and that hadn't changed. Ian felt the same way. He was proud of this project in a way he had never felt before. Not that he hadn't been proud of a lot of his work, but this felt like the peak of a long time coming, and if he was wrong, well, he wasn't sure what that meant for his career. He would keep acting though, no matter what. "Thanks. I just hope someone agrees with you."

That earned him a small scoffing sound. "With the revenue they've been getting off it from ticket sales and merchandizing? People are eating that film up! The whole thing is a masterpiece, your performance included, and you know it. So relax and enjoy yourself. Worry about the nomination when it actually comes up in January."

Reassuring and realistic, all in one go. "You're right, as usual." Ian moved one hand to give hers a squeeze of gratitude. "Where'd you get so good at these talks, anyway?"

Bonnie chuckled. "Working with skittish mares."

12/03/2018: And we're back! Thank you so long for your patience. This is another big one that's threatening to be longer than The Alchemist War! So expect regular new chapters for months to come.