A/N: If you guys like this, I will continue this story. Major pairings will include: Ed/Winry, Roy/Riza, Havoc/Rebecca, Fuery/Scieska, Olivier/Miles, Scar/OC, Breda/OC, and OC/OC with mentions of Al/Mei, Denny/Maria, Ling/Lan Fan, Armstrong/OC, Falman/OC, Selim/Elicia(Bet you've never heard of that pairing), and Sig/Izumi. Mentions of past pairings: Trisha/Hohenheim, Urey/Sarah, and Hughes/Gracia.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters; just my own.


~FMA~

A woman stared at her water glass, occasionally sipping from it. Her right leg peeked out from the slit of her white gown under the table. The gown was clipped around her neck, leaving her arms and back bare. Though they matched the dress, the silver heels she wore ached her feet. Her blonde hair was curled and pulled up into a stylist up do, exposing her neck of the sliver chain clasped below. Her eyes looked at the restaurant she was in, looking for her date. She noticed a few faces in the crowd of people dining on a lovely night.

A table of three sat near her, which consisted of two men and one woman. The girl seemed short in stature but plump in the hips and waist. She wore a short, sleeve-less black dress, matching her curly black hair and glasses-shielding dark eyes. One of the men wore a light blue buttoned-up and tan slacks, hugging his muscular built, and his auburn hair was slicked back from his dark blue eyes. The other man's back faced her, but she could tell that he wore a white buttoned-up shirt with black pants and had black, messy hair.

A couple sat not that far from her. The woman wore a silver, strapless gown and had light brown hair in wavy style, her brown eyes twinkled as she giggled at something her date had said. Her date was a man with dark brown hair and wore a black blazer over a white button-up and black slack, his light green eyes staring at his date laughing. The blonde woman rolled her eyes at the display and back at her table.

Where is this guy? I swear that if he doesn't arrive soon, I'm leaving, the woman thought before taking another sip of her water.

The chair across from her squeaked as a tall man took his seat. "I apologize that I'm late." The man had slick brown hair and dark eyes, and wore a black suit. "I was a bit … occupied."

Sure you were, the woman thought sarcastically before speaking up, "It's alright, but you should know that my parents have been on my case lately about everything I do." Her voice was high and had a tone of a complaining teenager.

"Where do they think you are?" the man asked, hailing down a waiter for a menu.

"At a friend's house," the woman replied, with a giggle. "They actually believed me. Wish I didn't have to listen to their rules…" she quickly grumbled, frowning deeply.

"It won't be that long before you won't have to listen to them," the man promised, taking a sip of his drink. "I will take you out of that place into paradise." The man lifted his glass to meet hers.

She giggled, lifting her glass. "My hero." Their glasses clinked.

~FMA~

After the bill was paid, the man led the woman outside, his arm wrapped around her waist. He hummed under his breath as the woman looked around the area.

"Where are we going?" the woman asked, curiously.

"Don't you worry your pretty head about that," the man replied, his arm bringing her closer to his body. "Miss Miller."

The woman grew silent and the couple walked on. Echoes of the streets being busy was the only sound heard by the woman. Soon, they walked into a less busy part of the street, and the man led her around a street corner where no warm bodies lingered. The man's hand reach for something in his coat, but the woman was ready, using her strength to throw him off of her. When the man grew aware of what has occurred, he found himself to be staring up at a gun pointed at him.

"Nice try, Claude Robertson," the woman quipped, her voice losing the highness of a girl to a deeper and cold voice. "But this is not one girl you're going to sell for the trade."

Claude sighed deeply, "I see." Suddenly, surprising the woman, he kicked the gun out of her hand. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. She grunted as he took her other hand captive. "It should be me saying nice try. However, that display of force kinda...turned me on..." He breathed in her ear, before leaning in close to her neck to lick her pale skin.

The woman was fed up and shuddered with his behavior. Using her heels, she stomped on his foot hard enough to release her. She socked him in the stomach and chin. He went down, whining about his injuries. She quickly grabbed her discarded gun, and pointed at the man from a distance, not before kicking in the face.

"Again, nice try. By the way, my real name is not Lilly Miller," the woman corrected, glaring at him.

"Then who are you?" Claude asked, groaning.

Gun still in her hand pointed at him, the woman opened her mouth, when a group of five individuals came upon the two. The woman recognized the five as the same five people from the restaurant. However, she knew them by the way she spoke, "There you guys are. I thought you were supposed to be following us."

"Relax," the black-haired man replied, approaching the woman. "It only matters that we came after all. And you managed to take down our culprit."

"Not before I was almost sexual harassed…" the woman muttered, shivering as she brought her gun down.

The two other men lifted Claude off the ground and restraint him as the brunette woman cuffed him. A dark van pulled up to the group, and the back opened to reveal another black-haired man in a military uniform with three golden stars on golden lapels. The group on the scene raised their hands to salute the man.

"Claude Robertson, by the order of the military, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and human trafficking of 16 teenage girls," the man boomed, glaring disgustedly at the man before him. "You disgust me, and there are others who agree with me."

A car pulled up and two other military officials took Claude of his captor's hands. They loaded him into the back, and drove off.

The group, minus the older man, blinked at what had happened.

"Uh, sir?" the brunette spoke up, "I thought we were supposed to be loading him in the van to transport him."

"And risk getting him killed by the women in there?" the man objected, pointing to the van behind him, "I wouldn't do that to him, even if he does deserve it. The women in there are crazy." He muttered the last part.

"I heard that, Mustang!" A female voice exclaimed, surprising the other group outside the van. A male could be heard chuckling in the van. "Jean, it's not funny!" A door slammed from the other side, and a brunette female in a military-issued white shirt and blue pants stomped up to the older man, glaring up at him. "We're not crazy. Besides, Riza is there too, you know."

"I think he was just teasing you, Mom," the brunette girl blurted, smirking at the woman.

"Not you too, Emilia," the woman groaned, face-palming herself, "It's bad enough that you got your father's teasing side."

A few more figures emerged from the van, approaching the group. Three more men and one more woman.

A man in a military uniform wrapped his arm around the woman that Emilia called 'Mom'. "Now, Becca what's wrong with our daughter having something of mine? Besides, her looks are all you." He kissed her cheek.

"Jean Havoc, don't think that sweet-talking is getting you out of this!" Becca snapped, glaring at the blond man. "You're already sleeping on the couch tonight…"

The older, black-haired man cleared his throat. "Camille Fuery," the black-haired girl blinked, "Jayce Breda," the auburn-haired man scratched his head, "Emilia Havoc," said girl raised an eyebrow, "Brandon Smith," the brunette man looked up, "Trevor Morris," the other black-haired man snapped up at attention, "Good job tonight."

"Of course Jayce did an excellent job," an orange-haired pudgy man declared, clasping his hand on Jayce's shoulder. "He's my son after all."

"Of course you would say that, Breda," Becca piped, gaining a laugh from both her husband and daughter.

A black-haired, glasses-wearing man stepped beside Camille, and pulled her into a side hug. "I'm proud of you, Camille, but I think that dress is too inappropriate for you to wear." He draped a military jacket around her shoulders, making her giggle. "Don't want those boys' eyes on my little girl like that."

"Please, Fuery," Trevor huffed, crossing his arms. "As if, Jayce would let those boys live…" Another blonde woman approached him, straightening his hair out. "M-mom!" He exclaimed, flustered, "Stop that! It's supposed to be like that!"

"I'm not going to have my son look like he's a slob," the blonde woman asserted, narrowing her brown eyes at him. "No matter how many times he denies his parentage…"

"I don't deny it!" Trevor denied, before hearing laughing from the blonde woman behind him, "Shut up! It's not funny!"

"Yes it is…" the woman managed through her laughter, clutching her stomach. She stopped when she saw the other woman approached her.

"Are you okay, Wendy?" she asked, her brown eyes reflecting her concern.

"I'm fine," the "victim", Wendy, replied, remembering the scene with Claude, "Though I'm going to have to boil my neck now." She glared at the ground, rubbing his neck. "I managed to render him before he did anything else to me."

"Just remember that your target might know a thing or two about fighting," the blonde warned her, eyes flashing with murder intent at Wendy's 'boil her neck' bit.

"Thanks, Hawkeye," Wendy smiled at her.

"You're welcome," Hawkeye replied, wrapping her jacket around the girl.

The leader of the group cleared his throat. "Team, the operation was success. We manage to recover the rest of the girls and arrested all who was involved. We're officially off-duty. Trevor, would you like to come home? Kelsey has been whining to see you."

"Sure," Trevor agreed, before saying, "Dad."

"Mustang, can we get a ride back home?" Jean asked, raising a hand.

"And us too," Camille piped, indicating her and her father.

"Same for us," Jayce's dad voiced.

"Alright," Mustang sighed, "Riza," he turned to look at Hawkeye, "I will have to drop you and Trevor off first."

"Alright, Roy," Riza answered, before turning back to Wendy. "Will you be okay going back to your apartment?"

"Yeah," Wendy nodded, "Brandon and I will walk back together. Right, Smith?" She raised her voice to the guy.

"Right," Brandon repeated, appearing next to the two blondes. "I'll make sure she returns home safely."

"Great, I'll hold you to that," Riza hummed, walking back to the van.

The group said their goodbyes and the van drove off. Wendy, aching in her shoes, started to walk back with Brandon.

"So have you and Emilia made any progress in dating?"

"Not yet, but I can tell she wants me."

"That's nice, but do you want her?"

"Yes, I do. I just get jealous when she hangs out with Trevor and Jayce more."

"They're all best friends who grew up together."

"I know that!"

"Giggle…"

"Sigh. What about you? Any boys you like? Or girls if you swing that way?"

"Not really… All the boys only I know don't appeal to me."

"What about Trevor?"

"Maybe…I don't know…"

"No one's rushing you. You're only seventeen."

"Almost eighteen…"

"Any luck on finding your brother?"

"No, but according to my father, he's supposed to be returning home soon."

"And you'll be here…"

The conversation decreased into silent as the two came up on their destination. Brandon walked her up, bidding her goodbye. A ball of fluff launched at her as soon as she opened the door. She giggled as she was attacked with licks, locking her door.

"Down, girl," Wendy commanded, the dog whimpered before obeying.

The blonde girl stripped out of her night outfit and into her night clothes. Her phone rang and she answered it, sitting on her couch.

"Hey." The familiar baritone-like voice greeted her.

"Morris, what are you doing, calling girls so late at night?"

"I'm not calling girls, I'm calling you."

"Ha-ha." The dog hopped on her lap, expecting love in the form of petting from her owner. "Seriously, why are you calling so late?"

"Father said that he's sending to Ishbal."

"Just me?"

"Yes, do you think you can handle it?"

"Count on it. They don't call me Wendy Elric for nothing."


A/N: Review and tell me what you think.