Riza's eyes immediately found the source of the terrible groaning: a man sat slumped against the bare stone wall of the dusty room she found herself in, his face burrowed in his arms. The man's breathing now merely sharp, shallow intakes of air. Occasionally he would splutter, as if his heart had missed a beat. His shoulders seem to sag under the weight of the air on his being. Hawkeye cleared her throat, still standing at the door. She dared not run to the man's side too suddenly, for fear of him being hostile.

'Excuse me, sir,' she said, approaching him carefully. The man winced, his face stayed burrowed between his arms, shoulder length straggly black hair shrouding the little of his face that could be seen. His skin was a frightening white, bordering on grey, it stretched over his face like that of a dead man: transparent, sickly.

'Don't… don't speak,' the man growled suddenly, his voice wrought with pain; thick and struggling. 'Water, get me… get me water.' With one arm still propped up by his leg, he freed the other to grapple around on the floor beside him, his fingers stretching to the side of the wall, the floor, quivering with hurt as they fruitlessly searched around him.

Hawkeye hesitated, eyeing the man pensively. After a moments deliberation, she slipped out from the room, leaving the Constantly Locked Door slightly ajar. Subconsciously, Hawkeye checked she still had her trusted firearms with her, as she picked the files from the floor and hurriedly rushed to the surface. The sudden normality Riza found herself in perturbed her, finding that her mind was still with the strange occurrence of the man behind the Constantly Locked Door. Shaking her head slightly, she headed smartly to the Colonels office, rapping on the oaken door with a tightly clenched fist. She quickly shook out her hand, surprised at how tense she was. Upon hearing a faint grunt of approval from inside, Hawkeye brusquely walked in, slamming the files on to her desk. The colonel sat with his head on his desk, breathing deeply.

'Colonel,' she snapped sharply, simultaneously picking up the brimming cup of water beside him, 'I think there's something you'd better see.'

The Colonel didn't reply, choosing instead to turn his head away. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'send Fullmetal.'

'This is important; it doesn't concern Fullmetal.'

'Hawkeye, if it's so important, deal with it yourself. I'm having a break,' she eyed the untouched documents disbelievingly.

'Colonel,' she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, berating herself at how agitated she was, 'it, well… it involves the Constan-' She couldn't finish, for the Colonel had instantly sat up, his eyes weary.

'What do you mean the Constantly Locked Door?' He hissed, hurriedly looking past Hawkeye, 'That Door is out of bounds, not even the janitors can get in. I don't even know if the higher ups can either...' He added, lost in his musings.

'Sir, I can assure you that the Door is most definitely open.'

'So, you're telling me the Constantly Locked Door… is open?' he laughed without humour, 'you do realise, Hawkeye, the reason why it's been dubbed the Constantly Locked Door? Are you sure you don't need to take the day off? The cases recently have certainly been piling up,' he shot the paperwork a nasty look, before noticing how tense his Lieutenant was.

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes shrewdly at him, turning on her heel so abruptly the water in the glass sloshed quite dangerously. Marching back to the basement, Hawkeye tried not to smirk childishly as she heard Colonel Mustang dash to follow her, imagining the adventurous glint in his eyes shining brightly.

'Well, this is it Lieutenant,' Mustang breathed, eyeing the dark passageway suspiciously. 'If this Door opens… No, that's impossible,' he rolled his eyes, pointing to the sign on the door "This Door Must Be Constantly Locked". Riza snorted, laying her hand on the brass handle.

'You shoot flames from your fingers, sir,' she muttered.

'Excuse me, Lieutenant, but that's science,' he spluttered. She ignored him, twisting the handle down with her free hand, smirking as she heard the satisfying click. Mustang couldn't hide his shock. It was still deathly silent; Hawkeye wasted no time in swinging the Constantly Locked Door open…

The man was still sitting against the same stretch of wall; his head leaning back, eyes staring unseeingly at the great expanse of ceiling above him. His arms hung beside him, one hand clasped tightly around a thin strip of wood. Tears ran down his pallid face, and Hawkeye saw that the pain he was in was not a result from the various cuts and gashes on his person, but from the sense of loss displayed so intricately on his features. It gathered around the creases of his eyes, and was echoed in his defeated stance. The Lieutenant uncertainly stretched out her hand, offering the water.

'Err, excuse me… sir,' she added hesitantly, 'but, are you alright?' She was granted with no reply. Instead, his grey eyes swivelled down to meet hers- and in a flash, his hand had snatched her arm, gripping it tightly. The glass fell, smashing against the earthy floor, its contents spilling around them. Before Riza could even point her gun to his face, Mustang was hovering above them, fingers poised at the ready. Hawkeye hadn't even seen him move.

'Let go of her.' It was not a plea, but a command. The man snorted with laughter- and still the tears fell readily.

'What, you going to click your fingers at me,' he mocked, laughing in earnest.

Mustang instantly ignited the patch of wall behind him, smirking as the man pointed the thin strip of wood at Mustang's chest.

'And you plan on splintering me to death?' He eyed the hand still grasped tightly around his subordinate's, immediately sober. 'Let go of her,' he repeated, not noticing the sparks that flew from the end of the piece of wood, which burned a small round hole in his uniform.

And they stood there, frozen, for what seemed an eternity in an endless unseen battle, until the man sighed, and moved his gaze to Hawkeye, simultaneously releasing her from his clutch. 'Sorry about the glass,' he muttered, nodding his head at the smashed cup on the floor, 'let me just fix that for you.' He pointed his wand at the cup on the floor, and in an instant the cup was whole again. 'Sorry about the water, Gamps law and that.'

Again, there was silence, 'How did you transmute that without even clapping?' Mustang breathed, absentmindedly pulling the man to his feet as he stared transfixed at the once broken glass.

'Easy,' he laughed, glancing at Hawkeye as she swiftly whipped out her gun. 'Ahh...' he said, suddenly wary, 'I assumed you'd be wizards... but that doesn't explain how you can conjure fire,' he frowned, the tears still streaking through the dust on his pallid face. The room was plunged into tense silence once more as they stood in hushed contemplation.

'Sir,' said Hawkeye uncertainly, 'are you sure you're alright?'

'Never better,' he smiled sadly, pushing himself off the wall and rubbing has hands together. 'Where's the way out, I'm starving.'

'Wait, not so fast, you're not leaving before you tell me where you came from.'

'Isn't it obvious?' He pointed to the far corner of the room, 'I came from there.'

Tucked away in the damp darkness of the room, away from the light of the small oil lamp hanging precariously from the ceiling was a tiny alcove. And in that alcove stood an ancient archway so old and broken the air around it trembled, as if fighting to support it in its plight to stay standing. A tattered black veil hung from the archway, fluttering in an unseen breeze, wafting to them the scent of an aged magic, of wisdom they couldn't ever fathom. And from behind the veil, bodiless voices laughed and chattered quietly, in tones so soft the trio strained to listen.

'I'm Sirius Black,' he said, taking Hawkeye's hand and kissing it, so that his tears splashed onto her fingers, 'and who are you?'


A/N Of course it's Sirius, who else would it be?

Edited 24/02/'11