Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Of Ballet and Bullets ❯ Flirting With Disaster ( Chapter 5 )

Of Ballet and Bullets

 

Part 5 - Flirting With Disaster

 

A Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction, By Serenanna

 

Warnings and Disclaimers: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them to play with. I'll return them later, promise. There is violence, adult content, and sexual situations in this story. So, if you're under 18, leave now before your virgin eyes are scarred forever, if you're over 18, enjoy!

 

Story Notes: Time frame for this fic doesn't matter as my knowledge of FMA is a bit scattered but obviously before the ending and Maes's death, and set during the anime series. Also, this is an Ed/Winry and Roy/Riza fic (Two for the price of one!). Being this is fanfiction, liberties were taken with the actions of the characters and certain parts of the fic are not canonal, I just don't know which ones. This fic hinges on a lot more plot compared to the last time out in Overhaul, Overhaul 2, and A Betting Crowd, which I recommend reading before diving into this. This one has violent action scenes, suspense, humor, and mild angst in it, so the sex and romance may be few and far between. In summary, you're all getting what I call a real plot. No, really, I'm actually working on a real plot this time! Beta reading has been done by Darkilluser. (Thank you!) Read the above disclaimers again if you're still squeamish about reading this, blood splatter included, but I assure you, it'll be worth it in the end probably. Again, no pieces of automail, skirts, guns, tuxedoes, or ballet dancers were harmed in the production of this piece of . . . well . . .

 

***********

 

Edward was thankful that the pair of adults had gone to sleep early that night without the further noise of squeaky beds. The last thing he wanted was to be caught red-handed by either of them as he crept through the hallway and into the living room. There was no way he'd break his promise to her, well both of his promises, including the one about wearing specific clothing. He found the phone right where they had left it on the dining room table, and grinned to himself. Slowly, he lifted the phone and placed it on the low table before the couch, the one spot in the apartment he claimed as his own.

 

It was colder that night than the previous one, a draft coming in through the windows. Ed was huddled up under the off-white wool blanket he brought with him as he turned the numbers on the rotary, his knees shaking in anticipation as well as cold. Maybe he should have invested in a robe for winter nights, or actual sleep clothes, since just his red boxers weren't enough to keep him warm once he was out of bed. But then again, a pair of pajama right now would have irritated the bandages covering the cat scratches on his arm. Blasted things, this was part of why he didn't let Al keep kittens. Kittens turned into cats, and cats didn't always like him like they loved his brother.

 

But for Winry's sake, he could suffer a little bit of cold. He could hear the phone ring on the other end, then the crackle as the receiver was picked up. There was a low, humming moan on the other side that almost sounded like a yawn, and he knew it was her. “Edward?” Winry asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

 

He grinned, sinking back in the couch, “Good evening.”

 

“You called! This deserves a celebration! Second time you've called without needing a repair!”

 

Ed chuckled, just imagining the look on her excited face and her smile, “We'll celebrate the next time we're together.”

 

She giggled, and he knew she was probably blushing as she answered, “That either sounded like a proposal for a date, or something more . . . private.”

 

Winry didn't waste any time did she? The hairs on the back of Edward's neck rose up as he shifted on the couch, slightly uncomfortable, “It depends on which one you'd like more.”

 

“Well, we've never gone on a real date . . . and I can get the latter from you anytime I want, when you're actually here that is,” she said with a giggle. Now it was his turn to blush, his ears almost burning. She knew him too well, exactly which screws to turn, where, and how tight till he was almost jittery around her sometimes. What monster had he created out of his sweet, mechanically-inclined female friend? Perhaps he should just attribute it to her ability to put him at ease as well. “Is a real date what you want?” he asked, curious.

 

“Well . . . what I really want is you, but I'll settle for your voice, for now,” she said, sweetly, and a stupid, love-struck grin enveloped his face as she continued, “So . . . you're wearing red?”

 

Ed attention went right back to last night's conversation as he relaxed under the blanket, “Yes . . . are you . . . you know, wearing the black lace ones?”

 

“. . . And nothing else.”

 

The metal hand he was holding the phone in trembled at her answer. His mind vividly recreated the image of Winry lounging on the kitchen counter in the Rockbell house wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black lace panties and a smile. He could even imagine the black phone cord dangling over her neck and between her breasts while the receiver was pinned between her ear and shoulders. Edward groaned in blissful but painful agony, running his hand over his face as she giggled on the other end of the connection. “It's kind of cold though, wish you were here to keep me warm . . .” she cooed.

 

Edward Elric's mind had officially dissolved into putty in Winry's hands only to re-solidify in his crotch. She was doing this on purpose, he realized as he turned to lie down on the couch. But what was the point in purposefully getting him aroused? She was probably doing this to torture him some more with longing. It was working rather well, if that was her intent. “Please,” he whined, almost begging her, “Don't make me miss you any more than I do already?”

 

“But the purpose of this is to relieve some of that tension you're feeling.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“You have that fearfully nervous edge on your voice again, you get it every time, you know . . .” Winry started to say, and he knew she was blushing, working up the courage to speak, “You get like that every time you get hard.”

 

“I do?”

 

Was it that easy to tell? Suddenly he was a lot more nervous and uncomfortable. “You do,” she answered, “I actually kind of like it when you act all surprised like that.”

 

“You do?” Ed asked as a creeping sensation shot down his spine, tightening his boxers, “I'm not as innocent as you think, you know.”

 

“Oh, I know, but you still act like it,” Winry said as he heard her moving around on the other side, “And I like it. I love being able to shock you, but not really shock you, you know?”

 

“I think I get it . . .” he answered, still nervous, and highly turned on by the direction this was going. His metal foot tapped up and down rapidly, unable to hold still with the tension running through him. He was almost sure he heard a moan on the other end of the line. Edward gulped, a sweat breaking out across his forehead, “Winry . . . what are you doing?”

 

“You know those panties you liked?'

 

“Yes . . .”

 

“I'm rubbing myself through them.”

 

Ed's hair stood on end at her revelation, stunned into complete silence as her moaning continued. The breath he'd been holding came out in a shuddering groan, instantly going from just aroused to rock hard in a rush of blood. Unconsciously, he touched himself through his boxers, intent on listening to her voice as she enjoyed herself. And yet, he felt the need to say something, anything, but what was he going to say? Tell her to stop? Every part of him but the logical part of his mind screamed at him with a resounding no to that idea. But to continue would be to seal his fate of nights on end of craving for her; like his life wasn't suffering from enough bouts of self-torture already. Winry didn't seem to mind that he'd long since stopped talking to her, her voice only picking up along with the noise of the phone shaking. Ed couldn't handle being silent anymore, the sound of her pleasuring herself picking his response for him. “Winry . . .” he groaned into the phone as his hand dug into his boxers to grasp himself, “If I didn't love you, I could kill you right now.”

 

“You're touching yourself too, aren't you?” she asked before her voice broke off with another moan, “You better be. I don't want to be the only person having any fun.”

 

He chuckled hoarsely, not stopping as he answered her, “Did I ever tell you that I kind of like it when you tease the hell out of me, even if I act like I hate it?”

 

“I knew it,” she said before gasping, “I like teasing you too . . . have you ever done this before?”

 

“What kind of question is that?!” he said, a little too loudly, but unable to stop it as he slowly slipped beyond reason, “No! Of course-well, maybe, if you mean- I mean, gah, don't make me think right now.”

 

“I like making you think hard though, and I meant, you know, touching yourself.”

 

“Yes . . .” he hissed softly, squirming on the couch with a shudder as his hand moved a little faster, “And we both know you do.”

 

“You know, I really liked it that one time,” she started to say softly before another higher pitched moan hit, “When I tied you up and touched myself on top of you.”

 

“How could I forget,” he breathed, remembering it well, the memory adding more fuel to his burning desire, “The toy was doing most of the touching though.”

 

“You loved it, you still love it,” Winry accused him as a moan punctuated the statement, “I still wish that it was you inside me, and not my fingers.”

 

He felt exactly the same way, groaning into the phone, “You are horrible, terrible, scandalous, conniving, tempting, gorgeous, and wonderful, and I-.”

 

Winry moaned again into the phone, cutting off the rest of his little tirade. She was obviously beyond talking. Edward gave up and shut his eyes, just imagining where her fingers were. He could just picture her in his head sitting on that counter, writhing against the wall, struggling to hold onto the phone as her hands moved between her legs. His own hand moved faster as he shuddered, giving in to the little fantasy image of her in his head. He loved her and hated her for doing this to him, hated his whole entire situation for giving up leave, and really, really wished he'd called her like this months ago. She cried his name into the phone and that was it as he joined her with a less noisy cry of his own.

 

There was something wonderful about the sounds she made whenever she came back down, the breathless little gasps, the soft moans. When normally he would have been concentrating on his own release, the young alchemist tried to stay as quiet as possible, even through the surge of tension snapping all over her body, and the spill of seed into his underwear. He just wanted to hear her, waiting till she gave one final exhausted moan before sagging back onto the couch with a groan of his own. Eventually, he heard Winry murmur and he grinned, knowing she was giving one of those cat-like stretches of hers. “Still there?” he asking, obviously knowing she was.

 

She gave an approving purr, and he chuckled, “Happy now? You just made me have to do more laundry.”

 

Of course she giggled before it turned into a low, satisfied hum, “Was it good for you too?”

 

Ed groaned, knowing she would ask that, “Yes, if you must know, it was torturously good to the point of making want to pack right away, and take a midnight train to Rizembool.”

 

“You're still cooped up?”

 

“Yeah . . . if my head wasn't on the line and if practically the whole department wasn't looking out for me, I'd be on a train right now, but . . .” he said with a sigh. There was a quiet murmur on the other side of the line, and he knew he was making her worry again. Damnit! Why did he always do that to her?! It was bad enough making her worry, but making her worry about his death was unforgivable, to him at least. “I'm sorry,” he said quickly before her fears could escalate, his voice cracking a little, “I'm safe, and relatively happy, I'm even better now that I'm talking to you.”

 

“Maybe . . . I should try to visit? I really want to see you, please? Please tell me it's not that hard?” she asked, her voice small, “I mean, not all of my trips turn into disasters, and if you're going to miss the maintenance and you're in this much danger then maybe I should be there to help . . .”

 

Ed mouth dropped open. It was tempting to tell her yes, then let the adults sort it out once she was there, but . . . he could never put Winry in that sort of danger again. What nearly happened with the Chopper was bad enough. These were guns he was battling, and his alchemy couldn't protect her from a bullet meant for him, especially if they never saw it coming. “No,” he said too quickly, his protective gut instinct kicking in, “Just don't ask this of me, I appreciate the offer, but I don't need you here.”

 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and a sinking feeling hit him in the gut that he had said the absolutely worst thing.

 

“Don't need me, don't want me, or are you just being heroic again?” Winry asked with venom in her voice, trapping him with her question. She was pissed. Ed cursed to himself. And now he couldn't tell her why he was worried, could he? What was he afraid of more? Her dead like his mother, or captured in the hands of an enemy trying to get to him? The longer he sat there in silence, the more the latter seemed possible and frightening. It took one of her angry, annoyed huffs to finally prompt an answer from him. “I'm not being heroic, Winry, I'm being cautiously paranoid,” he muttered, a confession slipping from his lips, “I couldn't deal with it if someone snatched you and used you to get to me. You're safe where you are, and . . . that's all I care about for now, that you're safe . . .”

 

She'd gone silent, her voice sad when she spoke again, “I'm sorry, I should have known after everything that's happened, it's just . . .”

 

“Hard, I know, don't worry about it.”

 

There was another long silence till he heard her whine slightly. “I wish you'd at least acknowledge that I can fend for myself sometimes,” Winry muttered finally, still sounding put out, “I'm not twelve anymore, or that stupid anymore, and you know I can swing a mean wrench in a pinch.”

 

“I know, first hand,” Edward deadpanned with a smirk, rubbing his head in remembrance, “But, I don't think your arsenal of wrenches is going to help if you go against these guys. Even I feel kind of useless.”

 

“You? Useless? I thought I'd never hear you say that,” she said with a giggle. Ed scowled, not liking the double meaning of her words. “If I didn't know better . . .” he started to say till her laughter cut him off.

 

“Of course you know better, which is why I'm the machine geek and you're the alchemy freak.”

 

“Very cute,” he said with a smirk, sounding sarcastic as hell.

 

“Thank you, I thought so too, even if your alchemy still freaks me out.”

 

“I'm sorry . . .”

 

“It's ok, Ed, we were six, and . . . the doll was kind of cute.”

 

“Al did help, he's better at cute.”

 

“Humm, but you're better at making things . . . pretty.”

 

She giggled and Ed chuckled, suddenly feeling a lot better. And yet, he was tired suddenly as he yawned into the phone, “I think it's time we went to bed.”

 

“No! Please! Don't go? I just want to hear your voice, even for a little while longer?”

 

“Don't you have automail to make or something in the morning?”

 

“No?”

 

“Liar.”

 

“It's nothing that can't wait, Ed. What are you gonna do anyway? Fight something big and nasty in the morning? This is your once in a lifetime chance to be normal and talk to a pretty and nearly naked girl on the phone, so talk.”

 

He stopped a moment, thinking over the blonde's wisdom, and discovering she had a point. The nearly naked part also helped jumpstart his new found sense of the perverse as well. She was a bad influence on him. “Alright, so, you got me . . . I'll stay up as long as we keep talking, so . . .” Ed started to say, his mind hitting on a topic, “Did I ever tell you the Lieutenant has a puppy? This dog is so well trained that he really does walk himself.”

 

She giggled, and it sounded beautiful despite the crackle of the phone line. Suddenly, Edward didn't mind staying up the whole night just to hear the sound of her laughter.

 

**********

 

Jean Havoc really needed to stop smoking. At least that was what the cashier had said that morning when he bought his second carton in less than a week, along with four take-away cups of coffee. He didn't care what the young woman thought of him, even if she was pretty. He was under paid, over stressed, and absolutely riddled with paranoia. Why oh why did the Colonel have to take it upon himself to do bodyguard duty with Hawkeye when he should have been Lead Investigator? Of course, the whole office knew the first and second reasons for that, but everything else eluded them. But what mystified them all was why Maes had been in put in charge, and he himself placed as second-in-command, mostly about the latter. Hughes was brilliant at investigations like this, but . . . Havoc had to admit that he wasn't cut out for this type of job. He may have been a Second Lieutenant, but he wasn't as fast, thorough, or as sharp as the First Lieutenant. And he certainly didn't have her love of the paperwork.

 

That was why they seemed to get nowhere yesterday, and seemingly nowhere that morning as he entered the office, plopping his purchases down on his desk. Fuery and Breda each grabbed a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, which was better tasting than the swill any of the three of them could make. The office wasn't the same without the Colonel or Hawkeye there, but they worked on anyway, well at least with what they had, which was nothing. He decided that he might as well have attempted taking a stab at leadership, “Has Lieutenant Colonel Hughes showed up yet?”

 

“No,” answered Kain as he looked over another case folder, bleary-eyed, “These words are starting to run together.”

 

“Take a break, both of you,” he said, looking at his friends sympathetically, “You've both been at this since the day before last. Give it a rest.”

 

“But the Colonel, the Lieutenant, and FullMetal are depending on us,” Breda moaned, rubbing his eyes despite his words. Havoc groaned, exhausted and stressed out as well. Another reason he wasn't cut out for this, no one ever took his directions seriously. “Fine, if you both insist on working, then where the hell are we?” he asked, dumping the carton in his desk drawer before lighting up another cigarette, “Scar?”

 

“No idea where he is, and not his modus operandi,” Breda said, sounding bored, “Doubt he's ever picked up a gun.”

 

“Huh?” Furey asked with a blink, much too early in the morning to be throwing terms like that around. Heymans sighed, explaining, “Modus operandi, MO, mode of operation. Basically, his usual habits and behaviors, which in Scars case is wanton destruction of all things alchemy related.”

 

“Thank you, Breda. Nothing like a lesson to go with coffee at the ass-crack of dark. Moving right along . . .” Jean said as he looked over the list again, “Bald?”

 

“Still in lock up, no demands, and no movement from his group,” Fuery said, sounding tired.

 

“Yoki?”

 

“Ex-Lieutenant Yoki is on permanent vacation in the Central State Brig for fraud, racketing, committing crimes in the name of the state, attempted bribery, dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming of an officer, and on, and on, and on. He's serving about two life sentences total. All his subordinates were dishonorably discharged, whereabouts unknown,” Kain said, even more tired sounding as he looked over another report.

 

“Psiren?”

 

“No motive, not her MO, that beautiful woman is long gone,” Heymans said with an exaggerated grin, holding up a photo, “But I sure like looking at her mug shots!”

 

“Damn that kid! He gets all the luck!” Havoc shouted, nearly chewing on the end of the smoke in his mouth, “Any of the Homunculi?”

 

“Missing, whereabouts unknown, gone, gone, and gone, and I doubt any of them know how to use guns either,” Breda said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

“And none of the shrimp's oddball cases?”

 

“Either missing, doesn't fit their MO, six feet under, or locked up tighter that a priest's liquor cabinet,” Kain answered before taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“That leaves Ishbal and Lior,” Havoc said softly before all three of them groaned.

 

“That doesn't sound like the buzz of happy workers!” announced Maes as he came through the office door carrying a large stack of more case folders. Three pairs of eyes narrowed on him, as it was obvious that he was too happy for what their case thus far was amounting to, which was a whole lot of nothing. And yet, Hughes kept on grinning even as he put the folders down on the desk that was Hawkeye's. “Sir, not to sound bitter or too curious, but . . .” Havoc started to ask, his face pinched, “Is there a reason you're so, I don't know, chipper this morning?”

 

“Why, Jean, it's a wonderful morning! Thanks for asking!” Maes said as his grin only got bigger, to their dismay, “New photos of Elysia came in, if any of you are curious, slept soundly next to my beautiful wife, and there was more snow last night, which just makes everything look like winter! It's just so nice out, even if it is cold! Oh . . . and did I mention a report from Internal Affairs came in?”

 

The pairs of eyes on him went wide in surprise, all of them barely containing their surprise at the last announcement. For a moment the grin on Hughes face flickered into impish territory, wondering how long he could keep them in suspense before they cracked. Naw, as amusing as it was to hold them in suspense, he decided that could take all day. He plucked a paper off the top of the stack, and began reading out loud, “Ahem, in regards to your concern, our investigation hasn't been forthcoming given the widespread documentation, we regret to inform you that, yadda, yadda, you want me to read the rest?”

 

The three subordinates groaned in frustration. The Lieutenant Colonel's good humor faded too, but he continued anyway, “The long and short of it is that it could be anyone, but that since their last screening, no one with connections to Ishbal, Lior, or known enemy factions were in the departments we contacted before the raid, so . . .”

 

“We're back to where we started, with just a theory,” Havoc muttered as he sunk back into his chair. He really needed another smoke, as the first one of the day had burnt out already. From across the office, Maes continued to frown, but more so from his new subordinate's behavior than from the bad new in the investigation as pushed his glasses up his nose, “No, it just means we go back to the evidence. What do we know for certain from the raid?”

 

“During the raid on the warehouse, someone took one shot from warehouse 23 that hit our suspect in the chest, killing him. It would have hit FullMetal's head if he didn't duck. Still a nice shot,” Havoc said before Breda picked up the rest of the story for him, “Moments later, a bomb put among our evidence, the cannons with the transmutation circles on them, blew up using a timer. It was set for ten that night, when the raid was supposed to start.”

 

“Which started an hour early because the Colonel said so . . .” Kain interrupted before stopping as something occurred to him, “Why did Colonel Mustang start early?”

 

“Hot date probably,” Havoc muttered, “With the First Lieutenant, of course.”

 

Fuery glowered at him, “This is no time to be jealous.”

 

“I'm not jealous, just pissed that he's going soft. Since losing that bet, he hasn't breathed one word about miniskirts!”

 

“But there sure has been interesting times since then,” Breda said with a grin, “You're just jealous because you haven't gotten laid in months, and you know that right about now Colonel Mustang is-.”

 

“On the phone, or will be, so would you kindly keep it to yourselves for a few,” Maes cut in with a hand over the metal receiver while waiting for it to ring, “And the answer to the question was because the buyer arrived early, so . . .”

 

“Why did the buyer move early?” asked Kain as he blinked.

 

“What happened to the buyer?” Havoc asked as he started fishing through the stacks of folders and reports before Hughes tossed one towards him. Breda dove for it as it went off course, landing closer to his desk instead. Grinning in victory, he started reading the report as Jean scowled over his shoulder. Slowly, his grin started to wane, “He . . . he was found dead late last night?”

 

“And that, gentlemen, is where the plot thickens . . .” Maes said cryptically as he turned back to the phone and blinked, “Huh? Busy?”

 

**********

 

Standing in the hallway while looking over at the adorable scene on the couch, Riza suddenly understood why Hughes always had a camera attached to his hand around his baby girl. She kind of wished she had one at that moment, but she wasn't about to go closet diving in her thin, light blue robe to find it. Edward was curled up on his side under an off-white blanket, his head pillowed by the arm of the couch. The phone was on the low table before him, while the black receiver was wedged between his metal arm and his mouth. She had to stifle a small giggle as he was drooling on it, which probably wasn't good for the poor phone. As much as she hated to disturb him, Roy would be waking up any moment, and would be out of the bedroom looking for her. The sight of this would have been too tempting of blackmail for him to resist.

 

Slowly, she bent down and tried to lift his head, prompting a horrendous snore that made the Lieutenant stop cold. Ed gave sleepy sigh, and rolled away, letting the phone drop into her hands fast enough that she was forced to juggle it, lest she dropped it completely. She exhaled in relief once she had a handle on it, and moved to hang it up. It was then that curiosity struck her. Who exactly did FullMetal call last night? Couldn't have been his brother, Ed didn't know the Armstrong's number. Who else did he know? The only people he ever used the phone to call before were the Rockbells, and then mostly for repairs. Why would he be calling them in the middle of the night and stay up so late? It wasn't his auto mail, and it probably wasn't to hear Mrs. Pinako Rockbell's voice, which left only Winry. Winry? Why would he call her and talk all night long, unless-? The thought struck her like lightning. “Oh my . . .” Riza said softly as the pieces fit together, her mouth snapping shut before she could gasp.

 

Edward had fallen asleep calling Winry. She didn't have proof, but she just knew it. If Roy ever found out, she could only imagine the results. Quickly, she hung up the phone, her curiosity more than satisfied. The Lieutenant then quickly picked up the telephone, and carried it back across the room, confident that this would be just a little secret between her and the boy. And yet, that thought was shattered as the phone rang loudly in the stillness of morning.

 

Riza gasped in surprise, nearly dropping it. Instead, she fumbled with the telepone in her arms, clumsily placing it down on the table. Ed bolted upright on the second ring, both of them staring at each other in horror. Before the teenager could say anything, she picked up the phone, “Riza Hawkeye . . . Maes, didn't expect you this early.”

 

From across the room, Edward's mouth moved up and down in choking silence, words escaping him in the damning realization that he was caught. He turned bright red, but the Lieutenant continued anyway, ignoring the nearly hysterical boy completely, “Yes, sorry about that, I had to make a call of my own earlier. Oh, nothing, just checking in with Major Armstrong, you know how he likes early mornings. Right. Right, um, he can't come to the phone right now, still sleeping. Yes, he'll call you back in a few. Yes, we're fine, Hughes, have a good day, bye.”

 

Riza hung up, exhaling as she sat down in one of the dining room chairs. Ed was about to open his mouth when she stood up suddenly, and pointed back down the hallway, “Hurry, get dressed.”

 

“But-.”

 

“The Colonel could be awake any moment now, move.”

 

“But-.”

 

“He'll know something is up if you slept on the couch, so just go.”

 

“But what about the phone call? I was . . .”

 

He trailed off as a sympathetic smile spread across Riza's face while walking closer towards him, “What phone call?”

 

“I-I called-.”

 

“Edward, what phone call?”

 

“But, you saw! You moved the phone for me, you must know-!” he said, struggling to keep his voice down, and yet nearly hysterical at the same time. Riza grabbed both sides of his face as she drew closer, forcing him to look up at her. What was he expecting from her? A reprimand or that she'd tell the Colonel? “Edward, calm down, and listen to my words,” she said slowly and evenly, “What phone call? I don't recall any such phone call, I don't remember seeing you sleeping on the couch at all, so . . .”

 

“Right . . . what phone call?” he said, trying out the statement himself before suddenly feeling sheepish with the blanket wrapped around him, “I'll . . . go get dressed then.”

 

Riza released her hold on him, smiling down while patting the top of his unruly hair, “Good boy.”

 

As soon as she turned away, the young alchemist was gone, his bedroom door slamming shut. The Lieutenant shook her head, walking towards the kitchen and hopefully a pot of coffee before getting dressed herself. This day was turning out like the previous one already.

 

**********

 

Indeed, the phone call was not spoken of again that morning once they were all dressed and assembled around the table. Ed looked very relieved when he showered, then came out of his bedroom dressed in a long-sleeved, blood red shirt left open over a black tank top and black pants. He couldn't help but smile at the Lieutenant, grateful when she didn't bring it up while handing him bowls to set the table with. If Roy noticed the exchange at all when he came out of the bedroom dressed in a white shirt that he was busy stuffing down his dark slacks, he didn't mention it. No, he was too preoccupied first with kissing Riza as she stood in the kitchen wearing a cream turtleneck sweater and brown, skin-tight pants while trying to make breakfast. And then, the Colonel became too preoccupied with the telephone.

 

He was entirely too interested in talking to Hughes that morning, which made her wonder. She tried not to stare at Roy from over her bowl of oatmeal, but couldn't help constantly looking at him, slightly annoyed. He'd been on the phone with Maes and the office ever since she mentioned the call for him. It wasn't like him to ignore her cooking, the bowl placed before him untouched and cold by now. It was also impossible to believe that he'd ignore his cup of coffee too. But he was, talking back and forth on the phone, yet not revealing the meaning in any of it. The series of affirmative hums, murmurs, and disapproving whines were about as understandable as gibberish. This was either a break in the case, or very bad news.

 

Edward didn't look up from his food, even on his second bowl, but she knew he was paying attention. She only played with hers as her spoon moved in circles, her appetite gone. Her annoyance with the Colonel was quickly turning into worry till he hung up, digging into his bowl finally. And yet, he didn't mention anything to either of them about the call. “Roy . . .” the Lieutenant started to ask finally, hoping to prompt some news from him, “What was the meaning of all that?”

 

He stopped eating long enough to blink at her, “Nothing too much, Internal Affairs reported back.”

 

“And?” both of them asked with a clatter of spoons. Mustang kept on eating, at least until the pair of eyes on him became too much, “No luck, none of our previous suspects panned out either, so Maes went ahead with our next lead.”

 

“We had another lead?” Ed asking, blinking before he scowled, “You bastard, you never told us!”

 

“FullMetal, stop right there,” Riza commanded, her eyes boring into him.

 

Yet, he sputtered on anyway, “But he-! He always does this! Giving us half of what we need to know.”

 

“I'm sure he had his reasons, but I'm also sure he's going to talk right now about our lead, which is . . . what?” Riza asked, curious herself as to why Roy needed to be led through with questioning this morning when he usually gave clearer answers, “You're holding back something, aren't you.”

 

“Have you both had enough of breakfast?” he asked as his dark brows knitted together. Now she was really worried, and with a glance over at Ed, she knew she wasn't alone. Slowly, they both nodded. Roy sighed and pushed his bowl away as he leaned back heavily in his chair, “Good, I didn't really feel like eating after that call either. The lead was our criminal buyer for those cannons, remember them? I had Maes tracking his connections to try and resolve that case, and . . .”

 

“And why he jumped the gun on his appearance the other night?” she asked.

 

Roy blinked at her, her logic jumping ahead faster than he could explain, “Clever girl. Yes, at the time I thought he was just spooked, and we also thought he died somewhere between the fire fight-slash-blood bath and the bomb, but . . .”

 

“There's always a `but',” Ed commented, still interested in eating slow spoonfuls of oatmeal while listening, “Cut to the chase already.”

 

“He surfaced yesterday morning. Investigations spotted him out and about contacting said previous connections. They tailed him to his house, and staked out the place. Then this morning . . . they found him dead.”

 

“What? How?” Riza asked as her mouth dropped open in shock.

 

“How do you think?”

 

“The snipers . . .” Ed muttered as Roy nodded, adding in, “Shot with more holes than a termite infestation, clever too, FullMetal. You can imagine the scene. Maes read me the report, in detail.”

 

A loud series of groans went round the table, along with the clattering of dishes being pushed away. Apparently, no one was hungry anymore. Riza frowned, crossing her arms under her chest, asking the obvious questions, “So now where does that leave us? Our lead is dead.”

 

“But, my darling, don't you see? It gives us a connection,” Roy said with a grin, “Whoever is doing this is cleaning up loose ends rather than searching for us, so . . . we figure out why the buyer moved early, and why our assassins killed him for it.”

 

“How do you propose we do that?”

 

“The answer is probably just staring us in the face. You have the case folder around here, don't you?”

 

The Lieutenant sighed and started sifting through the stacks of papers and folders around her, forced to bend over the table to reach the last pile, “This is why I keep my desk organized, sir.”

 

“Yell at me later, read it,” he muttered as he helped her fish out one folder in particular. Sighing, Riza sat back down and started to read it, “Um, buyer, Sigmund Heinor, known radical against the State, fronts the Group for the Ethical Use of Alchemy? This doesn't sound like a violent criminal wanting those alchemy enhanced cannons we found for something bad.”

 

“No, he's a dove. His group probably wanted to destroy them, which would have been a service to us, but we were ordered to find the alchemist responsible for making them, not to take them off the black market. So, this Heinor was just a smuck stuck in the crossfire, which is why we didn't think to look for him to see if he made it out till now.”

 

“But then this is all highly unusual for him to be buying, or to even know about alchemy enhanced weapons.”

 

“Yup, so someone put him up to it.”

 

“But then why did he move early? It wouldn't make sense unless he-,” Edward started to ask, cutting himself off as he realized, “Unless he found the bomb there before he made his move.”

 

“Ah ha! The kid gets it!”

 

“Bite me.”

 

“If that's right, he moved as soon as he knew about the bomb, and must have know it was all a trap for us from the beginning,” Riza said, looking back at her file folder, “He was educated at the Western State University, moved to Central, applied to be a State Alchemist, but failed the exam, then turned to radicalism . . .”

 

“This guy was smart, but still good-natured. He probably got suckered in to this whole scheme somehow, thought he was making the world better, but then realized it was all entrapment and murder when he found the bomb. He was double-crossed,” Roy explained, pointing at the folder, “He decided to save our skins, and his, and got killed for it. So, what could be so strong of a motive for a guy like him to do all this in the first place?”

 

While he spoke, Riza continued scanning the pages, looking for something to jump out at her. When it did, her brown eyes widened, “Money.”

 

“Huh? I was looking for a noble cause, but money?” Roy asked, looking over her shoulder at the page, “You're right, he must have been in it for the money. This guy's group was poorer than paupers.”

 

“But then how could they afford to buy those cannons?”

 

“That's what we have to find out, if we can trace the accounts . . .”

 

“Roy, you're the only one with the security clearance high enough to authorize bank records to be seized. Hughes always needed special permission from you or higher up because of how touchy the banks are. We'd have to do it at the bank itself too if it's going to get done, and not be buried in paper work . . . but we're supposed to be watching out for Edward. You can't be at two places at once unless . . .” she said as a bad feeling nagged at the back her of her mind while the Colonel's grin widened, “You're not seriously thinking about taking a . . .”

 

“Field trip,” he said, nodding to her. Edward shot out of his chair, jumping up and down. Finally, progress had been made towards his freedom. He could see Al again soon, or Winry. The young alchemist was beaming as he turned to grab his brown coat, “What are we waiting for?! Let's go!”

 

“I don't think this is a good idea, sir. Maybe I could write up slips with your authorization to grant Maes and Havoc temporary clearance. Maybe if they went, they could report back quickly, and-,” she said as her stomach tightened in worry. There it was again, that sinking feeling she had the last time he decided to do something stupid on his own. Why was she worried? It was Edward's life on the line, not Roy. And yet, something didn't feel right about this. “If you insist on both going, I'm going too,” she declared as they both stared at her in disbelief, making her blush slightly, “Don't look at me like that. I'm not waiting this time to come and save you both.”

 

Roy reached around to hug her from behind, burying his face in her hair and neck as she stiffened, “That's my girl, I wouldn't dream of leaving you behind. You're much too handy to not keep around.”

 

She could feel him grin along with the teasing tone of his voice, making her groan as her eyes rolled, “Get off me and get the coats, please? I need to take care of Hayate and grab my guns . . .”

 

“You can't carry guns into a bank, can you?” Edward asked, blinking.

 

“I'd like to see them try to take them off of me,” Riza said before she disappeared into her bedroom. Roy shrugged at the kid, not about to argue with her over weaponry. Whether he admitted it or not to either of them, he had a bad feeling about this as well. Maybe he was just over thinking this, maybe their assassins weren't smart enough to tamper with bank records, or maybe they were. For that concern alone, he was more than glad to allow his Lieutenant all the weaponry she needed to protect them.

 

**********

 

To Be Continued in Of Ballet and Bullets, Part 6, Armed and Dangerous.