Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Of Ballet and Bullets ❯ The Turning Point ( Chapter 12 )

Of Ballet and Bullets

 

Part 12 - The Turning Point

 

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: This really is the turning point of this story. Fluff has been a predominant plot fixture, but to warn now, it's going away. Everything from here on out will go down hill very quickly. That said, I'm begging you, dear readers, for the enjoying of everyone else reading this fic eventually, don't spoil it by giving away the plot twists about to drop from here on out to the end of the climax (heh). Given the build up to this point, it would be a disservice to your fellow readers.

 

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. I'm “borrowing” Stravinsky's The Firebird for the ballet performance since it's around the same time period roughly and was a part of the Ballet Russes (wiki them both and further your mind). If you can find the 1919 suite (it was on the Fantasia 2000 soundtrack), I'd recommend listening to that while reading. 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 . . .

 

**********

 

A very surreal feeling took over Edward Elric as he walked through the lobby of the Conservatory for the Arts of Central City with Winry on his arm. It felt like he was dreaming it, the dim sound of an orchestra tuning up in the distance. The light of the massive gas lanterns lighting the arched ceiling of the lobby made the whole place seem warmer and hazier than the cold winter outside. The milling crowd didn't help either. He'd never seen so many tuxedos or women in fancy dresses before, trying not to gawk like the kid he partially was. And yet, the squeeze of the girl's hand on his upper arm through the fabric and steel was all too real, bringing him back to his senses. Ed smiled at her, noticing the amount of stares she was getting after removing their winter garb by the glass doors. “I told you. You do look beautiful,” he whispered to her with a grin, watching the blush spread over her face along with a smile that turned devilish.

 

“No, they're not. They're all probably wondering what I'm doing with such a shrimp.”

 

“Who are you calling-!” he started to yell till she shushed him with a hiss, “It's unfair that you're taller than me. Why couldn't you wear flats?”

 

“Because I would be out of place without heels,” Winry tried not to roll her eyes while he sheepishly looked away. Riza was right. She should have been more concerned with Ed making a scene than herself.

 

Sighing softly, he went back to watching the crowd around them, looking for familiar faces. So far he had seen Vito Falman, Breda Heymans, Kain Fuery, and Maes Hughes all dressed in tuxedos, wandering in and out of the lobby with near clockwork intervals. He would have been impressed with Colonel Mustang's plan thus far . . . if he hadn't seen Alexander Armstrong's massive figure trying to part the crowd when he arrived for his patrol. Ed froze as Winry leaned over towards him, “Isn't that the Major who brought you and Al home that one time? Why is he here?”

 

“Uhhhh,” he started to say, unable to think of a lie. Roy must have seen the distressed look on the young alchemist's face when he turned around, asking, “What is it?”

 

“Major Armstrong, we didn't expect him here tonight, right?” Ed said, hoping the bastard would take the hint in his voice.

 

Mustang grinned, “Are you that surprised to find him at the ballet given his sparkling personality?”

 

Winry giggled, “You're right, sir. I just didn't expect to see him here of all places. There must be a lot of military people here tonight.”

 

“More than you'd believe . . .” Ed muttered under his breath. He wasn't sure if she had heard him or not, but before she could ask anything else, Havoc interrupted, “Colonel, let me take care of the coats for you please, only fifteen minutes before the curtain rises.”

 

Roy nodded, tossing his and Riza's coats toward the tottering man already burdened with the ones from Ed and Winry. For a moment, the First Lieutenant looked worried as he shuffled away. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea to leave Jean with the coat check. Just as she turned back to Mustang to complain, something caught her eye, or rather someone.

 

It was her, Margie, the same woman who had her hands all over the Colonel just a few days ago.

 

How could she be missed as she sauntered through the doors, flaming red curls and all? Her gown stood out among the other women around her, strapless forest green silk satin that trailed in skirts so long that they swept the floor. The woman hung on the arm of a tall man that looked a little too rough around the edges to be the usual patron of a ballet premiere. He filled out the tuxedo with his massive form till he looked like a proverbial gorilla in a monkey suit. If he was a date then she had unusual taste in men, especially if she was still hung up over Mustang. No, the man Margie latched onto had to be a bodyguard, but why bring one to the ballet?

 

Hawkeye's frown deepened as the woman glanced towards them, trying to make eye contact with Roy who was oblivious to her while chatting with FullMetal and Winry. Then her green eyes locked on Riza's brown, glaring daggers at her before turning sharply and looking ahead. There was menace in that stare, even if it didn't once intimidate or even jolt the Lieutenant from staring back. Obviously, Margie hadn't forgotten about Mustang at all. Her appearance at the ballet also raised every hair on the back of her neck. It could possibly be explained away, but Riza's paranoia wasn't listening.

 

Suddenly, she had a bad feeling.

 

Roy's hand on her shoulder shocked her out of her thoughts, making her jump slightly in surprise. He blinked as she exhaled slowly to calm herself, dark eyebrows knitting together a moment, “You ok?”

 

“Yes, just lost in my head a moment.”

 

“This isn't a time to be unfocused, Riza,” he whispered in her ear, his gloved hand brushing her cheek. The touch soothed her rattled nerves. She nodded, composed again, “I'm fine . . . fine.”

 

Roy didn't believe her for a second, but whatever had spooked his Lieutenant was something she didn't seem willing to share. When he turned back to Ed, cutting into the shrimp's conversation, Hawkeye glanced back at the redhead in green, wondering if it was sheer coincidence or . . . not. Either way, it was clear the woman still had her sights on Mustang, literally, which would stop one way or another.

 

Riza tugged on the Colonel's jacket sleeve, getting his attention, “I don't trust Havoc with our coats. You never know what trouble he could get in to. I think I'll go help him.”

 

He looked at her curiously, “But it'll start soon. Why are you-?”

 

A fake smile was plastered on her lips before he grew too suspicious, “Because this is Jean Havoc we're talking about surrounded by a sea of society debutants. Why don't you take them to the box? I'll be there shortly.”

 

Roy was still skeptical, smile or no smile on her face. Something was up, “Lieutenant, is there something I should know?”

 

“I . . . I'll tell you later, sir. Really, I just want to make sure he's alright,” Riza said, and Mustang softened, nodding to her. She turned away and made her way through the crowd. For some reason, his eyes couldn't leave the bare back of her gown, not out of desire, but out of paranoia. She knew something he didn't, and that always worried him about the woman. He should have ordered her to talk for the sake of their mission, but he couldn't, at least not yet. Roy turned back to Ed, who was still talking to Winry, breaking in to their conversation once again, “Alright, you two, show's about to start. Let's go.”

 

**********

 

Finding the coat check area of the Conservatory was easy, but finding Havoc in the middle of the line was not. Pushing her way through the throng of people trying to finish handing in their coats before the rise of the curtain wasn't easy either. Riza managed though, nearly bumping into the Second Lieutenant in the process. “Uh, ma'am? What are you doing here?” he asked, blue-grey eyes blinking in surprise, “Shouldn't you be with the Colonel?”

 

“New orders, Lieutenant,” she leaned in close to speaking softly, “Something unforeseen has come up, and I need you to watch someone.”

 

He blinked again before narrowing his eyes on her, “Who? Does the Colonel know about it?”

 

“No, he doesn't. He doesn't know she's even here, and I intend to keep it like that.”

 

“But, ma'am, I have to patrol the gallery and boxes with the others. I can't disobey a direct order . . .”

 

“Havoc, please, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't have a strong suspicion that something is very off here,” Riza said, her eyes pleading with him. Maybe it was the worry in her voice that she didn't bother to mask, or those eyes of hers, but Jean could feel himself caving ever so slowly. No wonder the Colonel had gone soft around the First Lieutenant. He was only her friend, and even he couldn't resist those big brown eyes and all their sincerity. “What do you need to do?” he muttered, fidgeting with the coats in his arms.

 

“I need you to follow a woman that's here tonight, and keep your eye on her. Flirt, seduce, cajole, anything. Just keep her away from the Colonel and distracted.”

 

“You're asking me, the man with such horrible luck with women, to distract a lady? . . . You really must be desperate.”

 

She couldn't help but smile, “She's beautiful too, a knockout.”

 

Havoc's eyebrows shot up, “I'm listening.”

 

“Redhead, so much red that you can't miss her, and worn in curls. Petite, can't be over 5'5”, too many curves to be anything but distracting, jade green eyes, fair skin, wearing a forest green gown that's so hard not to notice, and-.”

 

“And as flirty as she is vicious?”

 

Riza blinked, “How did you . . .?”

 

“Her name isn't Margie, is it?”

 

The Lieutenant's mouth dropped open in shock, nearly screeching when her voice recovered, “How in the-?”

 

“She came to the office one day looking for the Colonel a few months back, when you and him had those `off days' together. She's kind of hard not to forget. I've seen her hanging around Headquarters since then, and down by the Quartermaster's office. I think she said once she was associated with a supplier.”

 

Hawkeye swallowed the loud gasp before it tore through her throat and caused a scene. Her bad feeling tripled into something worse. “Did she leave a name?” She asked tensely, “A full name?”

 

“Marguerite Ever-something, I think,” Jean asked, suddenly curious.

 

Riza's head swam, the paranoia turning up a few more notches till she was almost shaking, “Everard?”

 

“Yeah, that's it.”

 

She felt faint. Oh, that would be wonderful, to just collapse right there in an evening gown at the coat check with only Havoc to witness it. She'd never live it down. For a moment, the Second Lieutenant looked frightened, watching her go pale then sway slightly, her month moving up and down like a suffocating fish. “Lieu-uh, ma'am? You ok?” he asked.

 

No, she was definitely not ok. Didn't Havoc get it? That woman, the same one with too much of a personal interest in her man, was somehow now connected to their case. Her fingers itched to draw her guns, corner the woman, and forcibly get to the bottom of this, but she couldn't, not till she talked to Roy. They didn't know who their killer was yet, only that this Margie woman was involved behind the scenes. It wasn't him their assassin was after anyway . . . was it?

 

Riza turned absolutely white as she wasn't so sure anymore. She had to find the Colonel. “Don't let her out of your sight, Jean Havoc. That's an order,” she said before turning abruptly and stomping off, a grim expression on her face, “And watch out. She's got some tough guy with her.”

 

“Uh, yes, ma'am,” he called after her as she disappeared back into the crowd.

 

Why did he have a bad feeling about her orders of him now too? He really wished be could light up a smoke at that moment if he hands weren't so full of clothes. “Fucking paranoia, like a goddamned disease,” he muttered under his breath, stepping up closer to the front of the line, “What the hell am I gonna do now?”

 

**********

 

Running in high heels was something Riza Hawkeye never liked to do. It didn't help that doing exactly that through the halls of the Conservatory for the Arts was very, very improper. Instead, she walked with all the quickness and assurance of a woman with a mission. Then again, that was exactly what she was at the moment. After handing in her ticket to an usher, finding the box wasn't a challenge. She did have the layout of the building mapped out in her head after all, along with all the possible exits. Each step she took closer to the doorway to box ten made her more uneasy though. Roy was fine. She was sure of it, but she herself wasn't fine at all. Havoc's revelation scared the living hell out of her till she clutched her purse in a fist, knuckles white with tension.

 

They should abort the mission, put both Ed and Roy in deeper, proper hiding, and corner this woman. Maybe that was her paranoia talking again. She didn't know, and couldn't think of anything at that moment but Mustang's safety. All it would take was one shot from an assassin's rifle to kill the Flame Alchemist, and shatter every part of her world. But what good was she if she couldn't think straight?

 

A bang behind her set Riza into motion, halting mid-step to pivot on her heel. Her hand went for one of the guns strapped to her thighs, about to draw the weapon when she saw who and what it was. She exhaled in a ragged sigh, “For goodness sake, Hughes, you scared the daylights out of me.”

 

Maes looked at her like a spooked deer, grasping fruitlessly at the stand and framed picture he'd stepped into and toppled over. He gave up, laughing nervously while scratching the back of his head. Eventually, the laughter stopped under her glare, “I-err, sorry. You were moving so fast I bumped it trying to catch up.”

 

Taking a deep calming breath, she asked the most obvious question, “Why were you trying to catch up, Hughes?”

 

“Well, I did get these new picture developed of-.”

 

Her trigger finger itched, “I don't have time for it, sir, sorry, but the performance is about to start.”

 

“I know, lighten up a little . . . You're as pale as a ghost, which is why I wanted to stop you. Something's wrong, isn't it?” Maes asked as Riza's eyes shuffled sideways, “Lieutenant . . .”

 

“What do you know about the name Marguerite Everard?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

 

“Margie? Roy used to date her back in East City. She was a bit of a hellion, and definitely one to avoid dating despite being gorgeous as hell, and rich. Why do you ask? Jealous?” Hughes asked, fighting down a grin.

 

Hawkeye's cheeks flamed, “I am not jealous, that, that hussy is here tonight. According to Havoc, she's come to Headquarters asked about the Colonel, and is connected with one of the military's suppliers. Her name was under Delmark Arms board of directors. I don't know how she's connected, but she is. What else do you know?”

 

The Lieutenant Colonel paled too, scratching his head again “She, um, well . . . their break up was rather nasty, about the time of the whole Scar fiasco. It involved lots of broken objects. The civilian police were called to break it up, and Roy called me to take him home. After that, all I had to do was mention Margie and he'd get this sour look on his face and shudder . . .” suddenly his mouth dropped open, his voice almost non-existent, “You don't think she's bent on killing him do you?”

 

The grim set of Riza's painted lips told him enough.

 

“Holy shi-!” She shushed him before he could complete the curse, but it didn't stop his mouth completely, “It can't be possible. It's too . . . messed up. Our assassin is after FullMetal . . . right?”

 

“That's what I don't know. Why try to kill Edward? He's just a kid. Outside of the office, Roy isn't connected to him at all.”

 

“Before you get too worked up, we need to confirm Havoc's story. Breda would remember her probably. Go talk to Roy. He needs to know about this anyway.”

 

Her heart sunk a little. She didn't really want him to know. Mustang wouldn't believe her. She knew how he thought. He'd jump right to the same conclusions Hughes had, paranoia and jealousy. While it wasn't far from the truth, this wasn't personal either. None of them needed to know that she had changed Havoc's orders anyway. Her stomach tightened into knots of uneasiness, but she still managed to nod, “I'll do my best.”

 

Maes nodded and left. Riza turned away as well, her thoughts still brewed and darkening. She'd do her best, alright, but the lingering question was would it be good enough.

 

**********

 

Maybe it was just sheer luck that Jean Havoc managed to find the woman in question by her loud laugh as he tried not to cringe upon hearing it. He might have liked her better if her voice didn't sound like nails on glass when she seemed genuinely happy. At least she was nice to look at, very nice to look at. Seeing the lady again made it very hard to reconcile the image that she was somehow in need of watching except for protectiveness. She was acting too flirty and bubbly with the other men in tuxedos outside of box twenty on the third floor to be anything remotely dangerous. Even the bodyguard Hawkeye had mentioned was no where to be seen. What could the First Lieutenant have been thinking earlier? But, he supposed the woman knew something he didn't. That seemed to be the way things usually went in their department.

 

Now he had a problem though, how to win the redhead over. That was the part where he usually crashed and burned with the opposite sex. Every previous romantic interest he had since starting under the Colonel's command had all been taken in by his superior's charisma. If he had even an ounce of the man's innate skill and more courage, he probably would have made a move already and not just stood there, fumbling for a plan of attack. Jean shook his head, trying to clear it enough to remember how he'd usually approach a beautiful woman, much less one surrounded by other men. This was hard. He usually didn't attempt such a feat before. Damnit! Why couldn't the Lieutenant ask someone else to do it?! Why him?!

 

He just had to keep an eye on her, right? Surely Hawkeye couldn't have been serious about asking him to woo the woman, just wanted her away from the Colonel. He could think of something . . .

 

Just as Havoc took a step forward, a strong hand clapped on his shoulder, hauling him backwards, “That would not be wise, Second Lieutenant, I'm sure you have a patrol to do on the second floor balcony.”

 

Jean paled, slowly turning around to see the massive form of Alex Louis Armstrong in a well tailored black tuxedo looking down at him much too cheerfully. That was one thing he hadn't anticipated, getting caught by the other officers. “Well, you see I was just, um, well-” Havoc tried to say only to be stopped by his gregarious laughter.

 

“She is by far an exquisite beauty worth of the attention of any man. I have an eye for such things which has been pasted down from generations of my family as is the Armstrong tradition. I'm sure a fine man will be able to catch her eye eventually, but . . .” the Strong Arm Alchemist went on much to Havoc dismay, “Perhaps it would be wiser to try when one of your fellow officers hasn't engaged the lady already?”

 

The Second Lieutenant's head whipped around to take a look at the men surround the redhead in green once again. He heard a hearty laugh following the woman's own glass-shattering mirth. It sounded like Heymans's voice. Sure enough, as soon as some of the men wandered off, there was Breda grinning like the luckiest man in Amestris. He was speechless, dumbfounded. Even when he didn't really want a girl, someone in their unit always beat him to the goal. He knew the other Second Lieutenant had a thing for redheads, but how did he know about her? Was it dumb lucky? Either way, it shook Jean's confidence to an all time low. He got beaten by Breda before he even had a chance.

 

Armstrong grabbed Havoc's shoulder again, pulling him along when he saw the look of utter despair on the man's face, “Chin up, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. I am sure there's of other beauties here tonight at the ballet. Oh the artistry! The gracefulness! The strength! My great aunt was a prima ballerina in the Drachmarian Royal Ballet before marrying my great uncle, their children followed in their beautiful heritage as is the Armstrong family tradition, and-.”

 

Jean tuned out the rest of the Armstrong family tree lecture, heading down the stairs to the next floor as Alex went on, and on, and on. He was about ready to shoot himself with the gun nestled in the holster on his shoulder when it occurred to him that it was probably a good thing Breda was occupying the woman. It meant he wouldn't have to hear her laughter ring his brain from his ears. How could the Colonel have stood her? But thinking back to the way that strapless dress clung to all those curves, he could see why. At least Heymans had a handle on the, err, situation now. Taking another step down, he tried not to think of what the First Lieutenant would do to him if she found out that he ditched her direct command. Maybe he'd go check on them later . . . if he could escape from Armstrong sparkling presence.

 

“Did I ever tell about the time my sister Katherine tried ballet lessons?”

 

“No, but I think you're about to tell me,” Jean deadpanned, his brain checking out as Alex launched into the tale. This was going to be a long night.

 

**********

 

Roy sat there bored, slightly annoyed by the pair of teenagers talking softly with giggling from the girl every so often. He never should have proposed this idea of going to the ballet. They obviously weren't mature enough for real cultural appreciation yet. He was also annoyed by the fact that Ed was obviously flirting with Winry. When the hell did the kid learn to flirt with girls? And where the hell did the paternal nudge in him to separate the two of them come from? Riza was right. It wasn't any of his business, but he'd damned just to sit there as a responsible adult, and let the brat take advantage of Miss Rockbell, no matter how much it seemed like she wanted to be taken advantage of.

 

Who was he kidding anyway? He was about as responsible in his private behavior as drunken monkeys with open cages. At least, that was until Riza became a permanent fixture in his life. Grudgingly, he turned away at the next bout of laughter, resting his cheek on a gloved hand while slouching in the chair. Speaking of his woman, she was cutting it awfully close as more of the theater audience filled in. Roy pulled out his silver pocket watch, checking the time. Just three minutes till the curtain rose, and he needed to concentrate, not worry about her as well. It was agitating, this paranoia that hung over him since the start of all the mayhem. He didn't know who to be more worried about anymore, the kid, his girlfriend, or himself.

 

Ed stopped a moment when he caught the pensive look on the Colonel's face, and the not-so-subtle drumming of his fingers on the wooden armrest. He smirked, “Lose someone?”

 

“Can it, FullMetal.”

 

“You know, I always did wonder what you ever did without her. Now I know, it's absolutely noting,” he said, grinning at the spark in the Flame Alchemist's eyes. Or at least he was grinning till a hand struck him across the back of the head. Cowering in pain, Ed reared back at Winry, clutching his skull, “What was that for?!”

 

“You know well enough, keep it down, bean boy, before the audience looks at us and not the stage,” she hissed, her voice low despite the sharp words. Ed muttered resisting the urge to rub the abused portion of his scalp. Roy shot her a grateful look, even if the young alchemist did have a point. Whatever would he do without Hawkeye?

 

There was the sound of heels on marble coming from the curtain behind them, and Mustang turned to see the lady he was worried about pulling back the fabric. For some reason she looked paler than normal, and her face more drawn despite the perfection of her make up. Something was wrong, and it raised every alarm in the back of his head. Not saying a word, she reached for his hand, “Can I have a word with you, Roy? Before the performance?”

 

Roy glanced over to see Edward looking at them, obviously worried too after one look at the Lieutenant, then looked back at the anxiousness in Riza's brown eyes. This wasn't a conversation for their little box. “Sure,” he said as he stood up, following her out.

 

No sooner had he drawn the curtain closed behind them when her composure crumbled completely, “Something's wrong, sir, we should abort.”

 

“Wrong? What's wrong? What happened? This isn't like you. You've never suggested to me to abort a mission before, no matter how dangerous, Lieutenant. This had better be pretty close to the worst possible situation,” he said as his panic started to rise. What if this was a worst possible situation after all. From the pained look on Riza's face, it might have very well been, and yet, her head turned till she was looking down and to the side. “You're ex is here, Marguerite,” she said, and all of Roy's panic drained out.

 

“Is that all?” he asked, sounding bored.

 

“No, it isn't just that. She's-”

 

A smirk sprung up on Mustang's face as he interrupted her, “I thought you weren't the jealous type?”

 

“I'm not jealous!” Riza hissed at him to keep from yelling the words at him, “How can I be jealous when she slapped you?! It's just pretty damned convenient for her to be here, tonight, of all nights! I don't like it!”

 

He didn't like the seriousness in the Lieutenant's voice at all, or the rising paranoia. That was worse of an emotion than jealousy. “Why are you letting this get to you, and the mission? She was just some woman I knew. It's over with her. Why are you-?”

 

“What was her last name, Roy?” she asked much too calmly, a stern glint to her eyes.

 

“Everard, but that's beside the point-.”

 

“That is the point. Marguerite Everard, Delmark Arms Board of Directors, her name was on the records. Her being here tonight means she's connected somehow, Roy. It's too convenient otherwise.”

 

“So that was the company she worked for? Damn . . . she was rich,” the Colonel muttered, before waving her off, “So? It could be anyone in that company.”

 

“But she's the only one any of us had contact with!”

 

“Yeah, me. The assassins' target is Edward, not me,” he said, getting annoyed with her insistence of being wrong on whom they should be protecting, “You're the one that originally said it was him they were after. Do you still stand by that report, Lieutenant?”

 

“I didn't know what I know-!”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I don't know! Havoc told me he's seen her around Headquarters, looking for you!”

 

“Gee, she did slap me and thought we still had a relationship, I wonder why she was looking for me?!” Roy hissed sarcastically in her face, his anger flaring. Riza's temper nearly exploded. Didn't he understand the seriousness of this at all?! It was getting harder to keep her voice down, the urge to shake him or shoot him herself growing, “She was in the Quartermaster's, Roy! She could have seen our forms!”

 

“She works for an arms company, Riza! You're taking this too personally! Everything you've told me so far can be explained!”

 

“But then why is she here?!”

 

“Because it's the ballet! Most of Central's high society is here and a good chuck of the military if you haven't failed to notice! Stop being so jealous and paranoid!”

 

“You were shot at! I was shot at! Our entire department was shot at! You are not nearly paranoid enough!”

 

“Why her?! Why are you fixated on her?! You're letting it cloud your judgment and are putting us all at risk!”

 

“Because she's obsessed with you! You're letting your past with her blind you to the possibility that she's dangerous!”

 

“She slapped me, Riza, you said it yourself that it was over with her! It's done!”

 

“She looked at you tonight . . .” Hawkeye said, anger rolling off of her in waves as she tried to rein back in her control, “It wasn't a look a woman gives an ex.”

 

“Men have been looking at you the same way since we arrived. You don't hear me convicting them of conspiracy against the state just for looking at you,” Mustang said with enough possessiveness and venom that it chilled the rest of her anger. His hand was balled up in a fist, shaking slightly. Riza's heart sank, the pity of looking at him reflected in her voice, “Roy . . . please . . .”

 

“You can't convince me that easily.”

 

“Then why did she show up near my door in the first place? How could she know? How could she possibly know you'd be there?” she asked, the question calmly delivered with some resignation. Mustang's reasoning finally kicked as his shoulders slumped. Maybe she had a point in all their arguing. The story from Havoc that Margie had visited their office and the Quartermaster was suspicious. When she stopped him on the street right in front of Hawkeye's apartment, and the phone calls to his home were also highly suspect. She could very well be stalking him, but that had nothing to do with their case, did it? Edward was shot at, not him. And there was that private detective sent after Riza. That particular piece of the puzzle didn't fit either. Margie would just as soon as shot the blonde before him than kill him, not investigate her. It didn't make sense at all, none of it made sense anymore, which it why he had been trying to ignore it. One way or another, both affairs were ending tonight.

 

“I don't know . . . but I don't know if she's involved either. You know the evidence. Everything you've said is circumstantial at best. We don't even have a motive. Unless she pulls a trigger or we bag a witness and solid proof tonight, what can we do? I can't abort the mission over this.”

 

“But I . . . I know something's going to happen, Roy, I just feel it . . .”

 

The scared look in her brown eyes propelled Mustang forward on instinct, touching her arm. He was about to pull her into an embrace when she shrugged him off. Instead, she hugged herself, looking off to the side again, “I'm fine . . . just fine.”

 

He didn't believe her at all, but what more could he say?

 

Nodding, the Colonel turned and walked back through the curtain. Watching him go, Riza's eye slid closed painfully, knowing he didn't believe her at all. This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to tell him in the first place. It only made her feel worse, like her grip on reality was slipping. No, she was sure if that were to happen, something completely uncharacteristic of her like crying would be involved. She wasn't delusional, and she wasn't losing `it'. If Roy chose to ignore the intuition screaming at her, than it was his fault. She took a deep, calming breath, trying to tell herself that everything would be ok, no matter how sure she was that the opposite was true.

 

**********

 

Ed knew something was wrong the moment the Colonel came back alone and retook his seat. And if he knew something was wrong, Winry knew something was very wrong. She placed a gloved hand on the young alchemist's, getting his attention. Her mouth moved without words coming out, but her question was clear, `What is it?'

 

Edward shook his head and shrugged, and the blonde's face fell slightly. Despite his better judgment, his fingers wove between hers till their hands were clasped, a reassuring smile on his face. Everything was just fine, he hoped. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when Riza joined them, taking her seat between the two alchemists. Glancing at her, Ed could still see how pale she was, but instead of nervously twittering, the Lieutenant sat as still as a statue. For a moment, he thought to ask if she was alright till he noticed Roy take her hand, entwining their fingers as well. Riza's eyes locked with his, and Ed knew the two adults would be alright no matter what happened.

 

A forced smile on her face, Hawkeye turned towards the two teenagers, “So, anyone save me a program?”

 

**********

 

Falman leaned over the balcony railing slightly, watching the boxes across the theater below them. There was nothing there but bored men in tuxedos and enraptured women wearing too much jewelry. No guns, no assassins, not even one person sleeping through the performance. It was about fifteen minutes into the first act, and he started to wonder if this whole mission was for nothing. A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to Fuery pointing frantically at box twenty. He was nearly hyperventilating, “L-l-look!”

 

A touch panicked, the Warrant Officer took the telescoping glasses from the Sergeant Major, focusing on the third floor box in question. He nearly dropped them again, “That was Second Lieutenant Heymans . . .”

 

Kain nodded.

 

“. . . On top of a beautiful woman?”

 

His companion nodded more insistently. Blinking rapidly, Falman turned back to the stage, trying to put the image out of his head completely. Who knew Breda had it in him?

 

Maybe this night wasn't for nothing after all.

 

**********

 

Maes hopped over the stairs with ease, moving up from the first floor to the third. No trouble yet, unless you counted the costumes on the dancers. Those would be lots of trouble if Gracia ever found out. All the tights, short necklines, and pulled up skirts were getting to him a little. Art they called it, but it looked a little too risqué to be just art. The Drachmarians did come up with the weirdest things for such a cold climate. Huffing slightly, he stopped at the second floor landing and took a deep breath, “I don't think I've done this many stairs since basic training.”

 

“Lieutenant Colonel?”

 

Hughes looked towards the doors over his shoulder to see Havoc blinking at him. “You're not the man I wanted to see,” he smirked as Jean frowned.

 

“Well, hello to you too. Think the ushers would kill me if I smoked in here?”

 

“Yes, why the hell aren't you on patrol? Get back to work.”

 

“I would, but if I hear one more piece of Armstrong family history I think I'll shoot my brains out.”

 

“Havoc . . .”

 

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel,” Jean said with a smirk and a quick salute, turning to go back. He was half way out the door when Maes remembered that he might know where Heymans was. “Hold on, have you seen Breda on your patrol at all?” Hughes asked.

 

Havoc shook his head, “Last I saw him he was getting lucky, the same woman that the Colonel dated too.”

 

The color drained from Hughes's face, “Redhead? Green eyes? Short? Absolutely gorgeous?”

 

“And a glass-shattering laugh? Yeah, why?”

 

This did not bode well.

 

“Where is he?”

 

**********

 

Edward eyed the stage with bored contemplation. He really couldn't understand what people liked about this . . . stuff. The music put him to sleep at times, and if there was a plot, he didn't get it. The program said it was a Drachmarian folk tale about a prince that finds a firebird in an enchanted realm and uses its help to free princesses from a demon. That didn't reconcile with the people prancing across the stage. It was colorful though, which was good enough he supposed. And every time he glanced at Winry, there was a look of rapture on her face. That, he thought, seemed to make the boring tediousness worth while.

 

It was a good thing though that her little golden spyglasses were glued to the stage. She didn't notice him scanning the rest of the theater hall at all. Despite the darkness, he could see almost everything he wanted about the audience. There was almost no movement on the packed balconies, and only some from the boxes. The Colonel has said that was normal. Only the real upper-crust of society or military brass could afford those seats, and they used the performances more for introductions than to watch the ballet. He was getting nervous. It was near the end of the first half, and nothing had happen. Ed glanced over at the pair of adults next to him. They were busy looking around the hall too until Riza stopped long enough to catch his eyes. She slumped slightly from the statuesque posture, shaking her head.

 

No, he didn't think anyone was out there either.

 

Just before Edward went back to looking, he felt a hand touch his, Winry's. Looking over at her, she was beaming. Her blue eyes sparkled and he found it hard to suppress his own smile. At least one of them seemed to be enjoying the evening. “I take it you like it?” he asked, trying to suppress the smile came upon his face anyway.

 

“I love it! The music is wonderful! And the dancing! And the colors! And-!” she said with quiet enthusiasm before realizing her voice wasn't as quiet as she thought, clamping her hands over her mouth, “Sorry.”

 

Ed chuckled, “It's ok. I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

 

“And you aren't?”

 

How was he going to explain to her that he was just here to potentially be killed any minute now, and that she shouldn't be talking to him so he could look for assassins? . . . Nope, wasn't going to happen. “I like it if you like it,” he said, knowing it was the easiest way out.

 

Winry wasn't fooled for a moment, “You don't like ballet, do you?”

 

He grinned nervously at her question, resisting the impulse to scratch his head to relieve the tension, “Well . . .”

 

“It's alright, Ed, I'll just appreciate it as another one of your many sacrifices,” she said with a smirk. He slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. Another close one. It felt like a game to him. How many of her questions could he dodge or outright lie to before she figured out the truth? He didn't know, and he never wanted to know. Raising his glasses again, Edward went back to looking at the audience. Again, nothing. He was about to look away when he saw something in the third level of boxes.

 

It was metallic, shiny metallic, even in the dim light.

 

The music pulsed suddenly, and his heart jumped into this throat along with most of the audience. It only built up with louder crashes of sound, breaking is concentration for a moment. Looking through the spyglasses again, he was sure of what he saw.

 

It was a barrel of a rifle.

 

Ed's heart thundered in his chest, resisting the instinct to duck then and there. No, he needed to wait. Mustang's orders were to wait even if he was staring right at the killer. They had to time it right, and couldn't react early. Everyone else needed to know the location from the sound of the shot. But just staring at the barrel of a gun from the box window reminding him too much of how many times he'd been shot at before. The music crashing through his ears didn't help either. He could almost feel the circle carved under the wooden railing in front of him beneath his fingertips.

 

Not yet . . .

 

His amber eyes remained on the gun, watching it. The sniper pointed the end of the barrel towards their box, and his heart leapt again.

 

Not yet . . .

 

He was almost sure that he was staring down the rifle, but . . . wasn't? No, it was off center. Ed squinted through the glasses. He was sure of it. The gun wasn't point to his left at Winry either. No, it was pointed at . . .

 

Just as the music reached a crescendo and came thundering down, Edward sprung from his seat, and lunged right. He sailed over the Lieutenant and crashed onto Roy, knocking the chair back. From the ground, he then touched a tiny circle onto the wood paneled walls. Blue-white light flooded their box along with the crackle of alchemy. The sight of the stage was gone with a slam as the wood covered everything before them. Ed clapped once, and more light and power flowed into the confusion around him. Solid metal sprung up over the wood, erecting another barrier.

 

Riza was out of her chair as well, rushing over to the Colonel's side as he groaned. She gasped and dropped next to him, blood coming from a gash across his arm. “It's a graze,” Roy declared despite the pain, sitting back up, “They missed by a lot?”

 

“They weren't aiming for me,” Ed said from his spot on the floor, frowning, “They were aiming for you.”

 

**********

 

To Be Continued in Of Ballet and Bullets, Part 13, Mean Guns.