Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

AN: Hello! Responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this one. Now, on to the chapter :)

Paris: La deuxième partie

The next morning, as she prepared for their departure, Riza reviewed the events of the previous day and determined she was satisfied with the outcome. Admittedly, it concerned her that Agent Mustang had managed to pinpoint their target, but she had resources the group of FBI agents could never dream of. They would keep a closer eye on the agents, take a few more precautions, and keep their wits about them. She had a great deal of faith in her own team; they had never met a problem they could not overcome.

Truth be told, their little game of cat and mouse was not without its fun. It was simple fact that Mustang was intelligent, and Riza harbored a certain amount of respect for him, aware that he and his team had connected several of her group' past jobs. That was no easy feat. Unfortunately for the FBI agents, her crew could simply disappear if they got too close.

As she carried her bag out into the living room Rebecca's question broke into her thoughts. "So, Kain, what do you wanna do today?" It was his birthday, and they were taking him to see the sights of Paris since he'd never before had the chance.

"Just don't let Becca decide where we eat...she's horrible at picking restaurants," Riza cut in, slipping on her shoes and avoiding the piece of fruit that shortly thereafter flew toward her head.

"Hey, now." Fuery pointed at their brunette friend. "Don't forget, Bec, that you've been banned from starting food fights." He was eating breakfast while packing his equipment and performing some last minute surveillance on the FBI agents across the street. They needed to verify Mustang and company's plans to ensure they had a perfect window during which to leave.

"That's right," she confirmed. "Ever since the London debacle." She took a bite of fruit and set to work, shutting down and packing away whatever Fuery indicated he was finished with.

The brunette's response was to make a face at the other woman and say, "Anyway, Kain..."

He grinned widely. "So, I want to go to the Eiffel Tower and...the Luxembourg gardens, Île de la Cité, the Catacombs, Bois de Boulogne. I want a bunch of photos for when we get back." Fuery was quite the amateur photographer and had a habit of snapping pictures wherever they traveled.

His enthusiasm made her smile. "Sounds great. There's a fantastic little café near the Bois de Boulogne where we could have lunch."

"Oh yeah! I remember...we went with your dad," Rebecca added as she exited the room. "The food is phenomenal, and the view is to die for."

"I know we may not be able to hit everything. And, you guys really don't have to do this..." His expression was at first self-conscious, but quickly shift to one of bafflement as he put his headphones up to one ear. "Whoa, Riz. Mayday...or whatever means the FBI guy's in a fistfight."

"What?" She chuckled, half-thinking he was joking, but her eyes narrowed when he tossed her a set of binoculars. Raising them, she moved closer to the window and her jaw dropped open. "Oh, holy shit." Mustang was alone in the room, engaged in hand-to-hand combat with an individual that did not belong to his team. The stranger landed a punch to his jaw, sending him into a table. Mustang pushed himself up and then lashed out quickly, kicking his adversary in the gut. The assailant scrambled, possibly for a gun, but Mustang stepped on his hand and kicked again. Then his legs were swept out from under him, the other man's head popped up, and she could tell he was throwing punches, but she could not discern much else.

"What's up?" Rebecca returned from her own bedroom with her luggage, expression curious upon seeing the blonde spying through the window.

"Here." She handed off the binoculars and ran the few steps to her bag, opening the shielded secret compartment.

The brunette looked into the room across the street and astonishment filled her voice. "Jesus...is that who I think it is?"

Riza was already pulling the pieces of her sniper rifle from their sections and fitting them together. "If you're thinking the Milliner, then yeah." She secured the scope in its place and then slid a round in the chamber.

"As in the assassin that tried to kill your dad that one time?" Rebecca opened the window for her.

"Yes." Grabbing a couple extra rounds she lifted her leg, set her foot on the edge of the table below the window sill, and rested her elbow on her bent knee. She took controlled breaths, clearing her mind.

"What a weird codename...really old-timey."

"Well, I'm guessing his job has nothing to do with making ladies' hats," Fuery joked, not even receiving a chuckle as the blonde concentrated and Rebecca quickly made final preparations.

Hazarding a glance at a flag suspended from the other hotel, Riza checked wind direction and estimated its speed, making the necessary corrections. "I hope you're ready to get the hell out of here after I do this."

"We're good," two voices replied simultaneously.

She gazed through the scope. "Ok, two males fighting, both pretty bloody. I've got eyes on Mustang...Hughes is down by the door...I don't see anyone else." The Milliner had Agent Mustang up against the far wall, hands wrapped around his throat.

The agent swiftly brought his arms down to break the Milliner's hold and, blocking with his left, his right fist contacted the assassin's face and sent him over the couch. Riza watched, waiting for a clean shot to take down the Milliner, and had to recognize that Mustang knew how to handle himself. While the agent had become something of a pain in her ass, in all honesty he seemed like a good guy. And they were on the same side, even if he was not aware of it. She also knew the Milliner's deadly reputation and, with all her experience as a sniper, she was not just going to let him die.

The Milliner popped up and Mustang jumped over the couch, using his momentum to land a forceful kick to the man's head. But the assassin was ready and dodged it, grabbing the other man's leg and throwing him against one of the windows through which she observed. He must have been stunned, because the Milliner picked him up and slammed him against the wall just at the edge of the line of windows. This time, he wrapped something around the agent's throat and pulled it tight. Mustang was struggling, but to little avail.

Taking a breath, Riza exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger, keeping her eye glued to the scope while she reloaded. Barely an instant later, the Milliner fell, one bullet through the temple, and Mustang clawed at whatever constricted his neck. She watched him run to his friend before she backed away from the window, policing her brass and breaking down her firearm. "Close the window, please, Bec. We should go...someone probably heard that." She put her rifle away and secured the compartment.

Rebecca also shut the curtains as a precaution and said with a combination of amusement and frustration, "You just saved his life, and he'll still be gunning for us."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, helping Fuery finish his own preparations. They were out the door in record time, but her mind was still across the street, adrenaline pumping. She had indeed saved a life, but she had also ended one, and Riza never took that lightly. And she had to wonder who had hired the Milliner to to kill Special Agent Roy Mustang in the first place.

Had Roy not been pinned against the wall with a ribbon wrapped around his neck by a crazy person, he would have been surprised when the window to his right suddenly cracked and his attacker dropped to the floor. As it stood, the adrenaline still raced through his veins as he tore the ligature away from his neck and his thoughts turned immediately to his injured friend in the next room.

"Maes!" He rasped, coughing while he stepped over the dead man and ran through the open doorway. "Maes! Come on, man," he muttered, nearly losing his balance as his body still recovered from the ordeal. Roy fell to his knees next to his friend and checked for visible wounds. He put two fingers to the pulse point on the man's neck and sighed in relief when there was a regular rhythm.

Assured that Hughes yet lived, Roy borrowed his phone to call the Interpol agent they had been dealing with during their trip. After only one ring, the man picked up and he wasted no time in saying, "Agent Mustang here. We had an unknown attacker in our hotel room...could really use your help." His voice was still scratchy and he coughed as he stood to walk off the remaining tension.

"I'll come immediately. Is the suspect at large?"

"No, he's dead. By the way, did you have any units stationed at the hotel across the street?" He moved as he spoke, examining the bullet hole in the window.

"Not to my knowledge. Why?" There was confusion in the other man's voice, which initially had been completely business-like.

"Because the suspect died from a gunshot wound to the temple, and I think the shot came from that hotel." He looked through the hole in the glass and saw a set of windows directly across from him, just one floor higher, with the drapes conveniently drawn.

The agent paused and then said, "We'll be right there."

"Thanks." After the call was disconnected, Roy slipped the phone in his pocket and continued to analyze the scene. Several questions came to mind: who wanted him dead, who was watching them, and how skilled an individual had to be to make that shot. He snapped a photo of the stranger and sent it to Breda before calling his partner, having realized they might be wondering why they'd not arrived.

"Dude...Where are you guys?" Havoc said by way of greeting. "The plane's supposed to take off any minute."

"About that...someone just tried to kill me, so I'm waiting for the Paris Interpol agent to arrive."

Havoc digested that with a surprised chuckle. "Damn. Are you alright? Who tried to kill you?...Shut up, Breda. I'll tell you in a sec..."

"We're fine, I think," Roy interrupted. "You guys take that flight, we'll hop a later one when I'm sure Maes is okay."

"Are you sure? We can head back to the hotel."

"No. We have no jurisdiction, as you know. Tell Breda to run that photo I sent him." He was sure the local police would do well, but he always had more faith in his own team. After ending the call, he returned to sit next to Maes, waiting for him to wake and for law enforcement to arrive. Finally, his friend groaned and his eyes popped open as he slowly tried to sit up.

"You okay?" Hughes asked him, his black hair sticking out at odd angles.

"Yeah, you?" He replied, helping the other man move into a seated position next to him against the wall.

"I don't think there's any permanent damage. Shit...my head hurts." He squeezed his eyes shut, hands moving to his forehead. "Who the hell was that? Glad you're not dead, by the way."

"Thanks." Roy chuckled, lightly rubbing his neck where the sensation of the ligature lingered. "You too. And I don't know, but he's dead...somebody shot him."

Maes turned his head quickly to look at him, wincing slightly in pain as he did so. "What? Who?"

"I have no idea. And all this shit I don't know is starting to piss me off."

Maes leaned his head back against the wall. "We'll figure it out…Dammit, that guy was quick."

Roy's phone rang and he quickly answered it. "Mustang."

"Hey, Boss," Breda began. "The only hit I have is an assassin who goes by the codename 'The Milliner.' Active for at least ten years, implicated in several strangulations, but never found and never charged. The only photo available came from an unnamed and now dead CI. It's pretty grainy, but it's a match."

"Thanks, Breda."

"No problem."

He ended the call and gave Maes a look of pure bafflement. "Breda says he was a contract killer. So I guess I'm popular." Aside from Loki, he was at a complete loss as to who might hire an assassin to kill one of them, but he was also almost certain that it was not her style. "Or you are."

He chuckled, wincing again. "Something tells me this is not the kind of popular we want to be."

A moment later, steps could be heard rushing in their direction and Interpol agents, along with Parisian police officers and emergency response personnel burst into the room. Law enforcement went about processing the scene while Maes and Roy were questioned for what felt like an age. They knew little: there was a knock at the door, Hughes answered and was instantly knocked unconscious without getting a look at the perpetrator, and then Roy was attacked from behind. Finally, they were seen by EMTs and cleared as not needing further medial attention. He was aware that they were lucky as hell.

An agent ushered them in the direction of their Interpol contact, who approached them and said, "We found the room across the street that matches the trajectory of the bullet. It was wiped. No brass, no prints...nothing."

"With your approval, Agent Sinclair, I'd like a few minutes to look through it," Roy requested, politely as he could. Legally speaking, he had no right, but he would go crazy if he did not get at least a walk-through.

Sinclair watched him for a second and nodded, leading the way through the organized investigative chaos toward the elevators down the hall. "Your guy Breda sent us the ID, and unfortunately we have no additional information. As for the shooter, we'll analyze the round to try to determine the firearm more specifically, but odds are we're looking at a sniper rifle. One of my guys used to be a sniper, and he tells me that whoever made that shot is a pro."

"Why is that?"

"It's a combination of things, really. The shot was clean, and extremely accurate...right in the center of the temple." He placed a finger on his own temple to illustrate. "There's also the angle of the shot, crosswind, position of the sun, humidity, and the fact that you were fighting. This guy was elite...the bullet was definitely meant for the man that received it."

Just as he was wondering why a sniper saved his life, they reached the hotel room and started to looked around. He let all other thoughts fall away, wanting to focus on that suite to avoid missing any details though, as Sinclair had warned, there was little to find. He was thinking that the walk-through had been pointless when they meandered into the final bedroom.

Again, no fingerprints had been found nor anything potentially useful left behind by its previous guest, but as he passed the bathroom he recognized the same mild hint of lavender as at the bar the prior evening. It was barely there, not strong enough to be perfume, and he thought it more likely to be shampoo or conditioner. Lavender on the woman that bumped into him and probably dropped that phone, and now lavender in this hotel room from which someone fired the shot that saved his life. He doubted it was a coincidence.

They thanked Agent Sinclair who informed them they could leave, with the warning that he may need to contact them later. He and Maes then returned to their own hotel where they retrieved their bags and called a cab. As they took their seats and told the driver their destination, Roy stared out the window and felt immensely relieved to be heading home. Not only had Loki beaten him, but he was attacked, his friend could have died, and they had gained hardly anything useful. Not exactly a success.

Still, the fact that Loki had felt the need to misdirect him meant he had gotten close, which led him to once more think of the assassin. As easy as it would be to blame it on her, his gut was sure it was someone else. She could have killed them that first night in the museum and she did not, so he was back to wracking his brain for anyone that might want them dead. The list was longer than he'd like; they had put so many criminals away.

Hughes interrupted his inner monologue. "No more near-death experiences, okay. I think we've reached our limit."

He gave a small, dismissive wave. "This was the first one in a while...don't be a baby."

Maes chuckled. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're the one that attracts these things. I'm just an innocent bystander."

"I don't think you can really place all the blame on me."

"Maybe not, but you know I tell Gracia it's all you."

"Not cool, man."

Two Weeks Later

"Is this a joke?" Riza chuckled in disbelief as she replaced a photo on the wall of Agent Havoc's apartment, leaning back to make sure it was even. "You're nuts." They were placing additional surveillance equipment in the homes of the members of Agent Mustang's team in an effort to obtain any information they could. The FBI team did not know it, but her crew was pulling out all the stops. Interestingly, they had discovered evidence of someone else's surveillance in Mustang's apartment, and Fuery was already investigating it.

"What? You're not in? It's just the FBI." Olivier was on the phone with her, and had just made one of her more surprising requests in their history together.

She shook her head, though her friend could not see it, still finding the situation entertaining. "No, of course I'm in...Freya will certainly be all for it."

"Umm...I am definitely in, just so we're clear. Breaking into the FBI? Yes, please." Becca came back to the living room from the bedroom, carrying a book with her. "Oh my god...he has a journal. It's adorable. I wonder what he talks about."

"Freya...don't you think that's kind of an invasion of privacy?" Riza met the brunette's amused expression and then glanced around Agent Havoc's apartment, in which they stood. "Oh...right, whatever."

"The thing is," Olivier continued, temporarily ending their side conversation. "I need you to do it now. As in tonight."

Riza laughed again, starting to thoughtfully pace Havoc's living room as her mind switched to planning. "You want us to waltz into a secure government facility, no prep, and take possession of classified files. All without being noticed."

"Yes." Olivier's tone made it sound like she had said something wholly obvious, such as 'two plus two is four' or 'breathing is important.' "Is that a problem?"

She grinned again. "Not at all...Sounds like a good time. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page." She moved to the bookcase, fitting a bug in a secluded area.

"We are."

"Is there anything else, your majesty? Perhaps you'd like the crown jewels of England while we're at it."

"Don't be ridiculous...those are nowhere near the repository."

"You're right, how silly of me. Okay, I gotta go...I'll be in contact later." Riza examined the kitchen, deciding where she wanted to place more devices.

"Sounds good. Bye."

"Bye." She ended the call and then spoke to Kain via her earpiece. "Sig? Did you get all that?"

"Yeah, I'm on it." His words were laced with a very clear chuckle as he worked on getting building plans and schematics for them of a secure FBI records repository. Olivier had informed her that the video surveillance and reports from the night her Dad died disappeared fromm digital records. That was the same night that Agent Mustang discovered that Berthold Gavilán was also Zeus and her father had attempted to steal a weapon known as the Philosopher's Stone from a secured warehouse.

She still did not know who had killed her father, but knew it was not Mustang due to the lack of gunpowder residue found on his hands that night. And if the digital copies were gone, it was important that they find the originals before they vanished as well. Riza also thought that this coincided oddly with the recent attempt on Agent Mustang's life in Paris. Either he knew something, or the culprit did not care and wanted him dead as a precaution. It made her wonder what information could still be gleaned from those files.

In addition, they needed to acquire the communication records for certain individuals from the last several years. Olivier was looking into Director Marshall and Agents Raven, Simmons, Fitzgerald, and Crawford, which were all high-ranking members of the FBI. They would find the mole, and Riza just might shoot the bastard.

They finished placing their remaining devices, verified that everything was in its rightful place, and an impressively short time later she and Becca jumped into their vehicle. The brunette drove toward the facility in question while Riza rooted around for anything they might use for a last-minute disguise, finding a couple wigs and fake badges. Handing one of each to her friend, she faced forward in her seat and made another call. When the ringing subsided she said, "Hey, Barry."

"Doth mine ears deceive me, or is this the lovely Loki?" His voice was sickly sweet, to match his all-around unnerving persona, part of which being the fact that Barry was short for 'Barry the Chopper.' Their relationship had started when he tried to kill her, she shot him, and then he saved her life after developing an odd fondness for her. According to him, no one had ever 'tried to kill him back' before, and a professional relationship was born.

"It is...How did my little present work out?" Serial-killer turned information peddler and middleman, Barry had been one of her most reliable contacts ever since she'd gotten into the business with her father. They had helped each other out of some tight situations, which accounted for a mutual trust, as far as criminals trust each other. Most recently, she had recommended a skilled marksman for a job for which he acted as liaison.

"Oh, marvelously. I can't thank you enough. I was at a loss until you mentioned him and, I hope you don't mind, but I've been credited with discovering him."

"Not at all. I'm pleased to hear it worked out." She pulled the mirror before her down, fitting a black wig onto her head and making sure all her blonde strands were covered.

"Of course. Now then, what is it, my darling?"

"Did you find anything about that hit I asked you about?"

"Ahh, the one where the Milliner died after he tried killing the FBI boy that's been on your tail? Well, our community is just buzzing about the whole thing. I put some feelers out, and the Milliner met with Ron Bittens prior to the incident. You know who he works for."

"Yeah." She nodded. "Kimblee." Her father had suspected the arms dealer before, which was why he'd tried to steal the weapon himself. Solf Kimblee lacked the barest trace of a conscience, selling weapons to any scumbag with money, but was so skilled at blackmail, had so many important people in his pockets, that no one dared touch him. "Thanks. Could you let me know if a contract is offered for him, his team, or Hughes from Interpol? If I'm going to have some company, I'd like to know."

"Certainly. I know you don't care for surprises." He paused, and she heard a muffled voice on the other end. "I'm afraid I have to go. Aurevoir, my darling."

"Take care, Barry." The call ended and she shook her head, amused by their surprising relationship. Over comms she added, "Sig, get me surveillance and locations on the files." She leaned back as they drove, thinking that the addition of Kimblee made sense. They would be hard-pressed to find anything conclusive that he was involved, but there was a good chance he was pulling the strings.

Around a half-hour later they arrived and, on their approach, Riza surveyed the area for other people, guards, or cameras. Once satisfied it was clear, she told the others, "We're going in." The pair exited the vehicle and walked toward the building, doing their best to look official. She glanced at her friend with a grin, who kept fidgeting, adjusting something repeatedly. "You okay there?"

"Yes." The reply held a hint of exasperation. "It's this damn shirt. And I don't think blonde is really my color."

"Please...you look great in anything. Besides, you have this sexy, Marilyn Monroe, FBI agent thing going on." They approached the door, avoiding cameras out of habit even though they knew Fuery controlled them.

"Aww, thanks. You're so nice...sometimes." They took a turn down another hallway and passed Denny, who gave them a smile as he tossed them the guard's key card.

"The guard may be napping in the bathroom for a little while," Denny informed them via comms as he left the building. "I'll be two streets over if you need me."

"We're so devious," Rebecca remarked with pride, and a little laugh.

"You're welcome, by the way," Denny teasingly chimed in as the women passed the guard's counter and reached the door to the storage area, where Riza swiped the card across the pad. There was a low buzzing sound and the lock clicked open. The warehouse was gigantic, with various locked and fenced areas interspersed with shelves that reached the ceiling.

"Alright, ladies," Fuery interjected. "Freya…southeast corner, server #183A72. Loki...document cage, near the opposite corner. I'll text you the file numbers."

"Thank you, sir." Riza shared a look with her friend and they went their separate ways. "Isn't it kinda peaceful in here?" She looked at her phone, memorizing the file numbers she'd received and letting the excitement of an impromptu job wash over her.

"No...it's weird, and you're weird. But you know what's been sounding good lately?" Rebecca said, conversational as ever.

"What's that?" She reached the gate leading to the document cage and picked the lock, letting it swing inward.

"A nice, big chocolate cake. I'm in...locating server."

"You and that sweet-tooth will be the death of me," she teased with a grin, searching for the drawer she needed in a monstrous filing cabinet. She flipped through file tabs with her fingertips, rapidly scanning them for the numbers Fuery had given her.

"Whatever, you love it. Drive's in."

She chuckled. "It's love-hate, to be honest."

Riza located the files and was removing them from the cabinet when Fuery abruptly jumped in. "Ahh...we have company."

Her brow wrinkled while she sifted through pages to verify she had the correct file. "Who?"

"You're not gonna believe this, but it's Agents Mustang and Havoc."

"What? Are you…?" For a second Riza only stared at the papers in her hands, hardly believing how frequently the agent managed to pop into their lives. It was unnerving. "This fucking guy..." she muttered. "Freya...progress?"

"Nearly done."

"Okay." She quickly considered their options. "Sig, I need a copier."

"Back corner of the cage...why?"

"I'd say there's a good chance he's here to look at these files, so they can't disappear tonight." Riza closed the drawer and swiftly strode to the copier, tapping in the code Fuery gave her and slipping the pages onto the tray. "Freya, stall them. I'll start the copies and pick up the drive."

"Sure, let me just pull something out of my ass." Her friend's voice sounded exasperated, but everyone knew she enjoyed the situations that required them to improvise.

"That would be great, thanks. And please do the southern accent. I love your southern accent." She pressed a button and the copier surged to life while she ditched her heels and silently sprinted to the server.

"No laughing this time. I'm serious. I could barely hold it together last time."

"Yes, ma'am," she retorted, already testing her own southern belle. "Freyr, hold your position." There was absolutely no way Agent Mustang could have know they were at that exact facility, which meant it was a bizarre coincidence.

"Download complete, sorting records by name," Fuery told her.

Riza fought back snickers as in her ear Rebecca said, "Hi, there. Do ya'll know where the guard is? I've been tryin' to get some files my boss asked for." Someone must have rang the bell because it trilled a few times from the front of the building when she reached the server.

As she retrieved the thumb drive and ran back toward the document cage, she overheard Havoc saying, "Hi, I'm Jean. What's your name?"

She laughed quietly. "Is that his only line? It's not much of one."

"I'm Special Agent Sarah Miller. And who might ya'll be?" Rebecca must have directed her question to Mustang, because his voice came over the earpiece next. "Agent Roy Mustang."

"Do you boys know of any good restaurants round here? I bet two handsome boys like you know all the best spots. My partner and I haven't been to D.C. much, aside from visits to the J. Edgar Hoover Building, of course." Becca giggled.

Having finally arrived at the copy room, Riza slipped her shoes back on and saw one file had finished, placing the next in the slot to feed through to machine. Since she was standing there waiting, the copies were taking forever and it made Riza feel like she was losing her mind. She kept an ear on Becca's conversation, hearing: "If you and your partner are free for dinner, we'd love to take you to this great little place..."

Fuerys voice cut in. "Loki, you may have a visitor...Mustang's getting curious."

"Shit...alright." The last few pages were being spit out so she ran the originals back to their filing cabinet, making sure to return them to the proper place. Then, she grabbed her papers, placing random forms on the top and bottom of the stack so it would seem innocuous. Walking to the gate, she fiddled with her fake glasses, hoping they would be enough of a disguise along with the wig. She opened the gate and partially collided with Agent Mustang himself, but managed not to drop her files.

"Excuse me," he said, his deep voice soft as they reflexively grabbed on to each other to stabilize themselves.

Riza brought a hand to her chest with a nervous chuckle and met his gaze with a smile, speaking in her southern accent. "Oh my goodness. You startled me...I'm so sorry for runnin' into you. Are you alright? Sarah's always tellin' me I need to watch where I'm goin. I keep tellin' her she's crazy, but….Oh my goodness, listen to me ramblin' on." She held out her hand to shake his. "Special Agent Leanna Miller. My partner's waitin' for me up front."

"Special Agent Roy Mustang," he replied with a small, friendly grin, shaking her hand. "And I think my partner is trying to take yours on a date."

She gave a light laugh. "Trust me. If I know Sarah, your partner's not the only guilty party there." He chuckled and she continued, holding the papers up for emphasis. "We really need to get back. It was nice meetin' you."

"You, too."

She turned away and was only a few steps outside the cage when she heard the sound of a weapon being pulled from a holster. Then he said, "Hello, Loki. Even with the accent, I recognize your voice after our conversation in Paris."

Riza smiled in amusement, unable to stop herself. "I'm flattered that you remember my voice so well, Agent Mustang." In her ear, she heard Kain's mildly frantic, Freya, get out...Loki's been made.

"Don't go thinking you're special," he replied, voice determined, taking a few slow steps in her direction. "I have a pretty good ear for voices, and a way with the ladies."

She gave a chuckle, and used one of his lines from their last conversation. "Don't you think that's a bit over-confident?" From her comm she knew that Becca was still chatting with Agent Havoc, leading him out of the building.

He laughed. "Good memory...let's get those hands up, by the way. It's best I see your hands at all times."

"Smart man, Mustang." She held up the papers with her right hand and started to bend down, adding, "I'm just going to set these down." Riza turned her head minutely to get a glimpse of him and judge the distance between them.

He kept the firearm trained on her back as she stood, and he slid his phone out of a pocket. He only managed to say, "Hav..." before she spun in a flash and swung a leg around to kick the gun out of his hand. A shot was fired but it missed her and the weapon clunked to the floor as she twisted into a crouch, sweeping his feet out from under him. Finishing the spin she reached for the papers and started to rise but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. She grunted softly as her hip bone smacked on concrete and he tried to move on top of her, reaching for her hand, but she threw an elbow into his face. He'd tried to shoot her...again.

"Shit!" He breathed, and she took that opportunity to disentangle her limbs and turn on her back. He brought an arm down to block the fist flying for his abdomen and she wrapped her legs around his torso. Mustang was quite strong but she was accustomed to it, nearly always fighting someone larger or more muscular than herself.

She chuckled again. "We really must stop meeting like this, Agent Mustang."

His face was in shadow but she thought he might have grinned in spite of himself. "So just...let me...arrest you."

"Not a chance." He managed to trap one of her wrists with his hand, but before he could get the other she used her legs to shift his weight and rotate them. As they rolled, she grasped two of his fingers, twisting them enough to cause pain and loosen his grip but not dislocate the joint. Without stopping, she wriggled her wrist free and continued the roll right off of him.

She heard Agent Havoc's shouts coming toward them so Riza grabbed the papers, jumped to her feet and sprinted away while Mustang went for his firearm. She was out a side door in seconds, running at top speed along the building. "Freya...location. I'm heading to the northwest corner of the building."

"Coming to you."

She passed that end of the building and Becca met up with her at a run. "Freyr, we..." With the squeal of tires his car pulled up to the curb dead ahead of them and they practically dove into the car. He punched the gas and they were gone, Riza leaning her head back as she caught her breath, the papers on her lap. She placed a hand on his shoulder for a second and said, "Thanks."

"No problem." He smirked. "I like to play get-away driver now and then."

She smiled in response, her respiration rate gradually decreasing as she relaxed.

"That better have been fucking worth it," Becca contributed breathlessly, sprawled out in the back seat. "Hey, Havoc was the guy that hit on you at the museum, right?" When the blonde nodded she laughed. "He asked me out, and he's kinda cute...if only he didn't follow the rules so much."

Riza chuckled, the word 'rules' having been tinged with such disgust. "What a tragedy."

"That's all I'm saying." The brunette paused, taking a deep breath. "You know, I could really go for that chocolate cake right now."

She nodded her agreement. "And a glass of wine."

"Or two."

Riza looked out at the city, her calmed body now feeling heavy enough to sink into the seat after the burst of energy and motion. She played with the papers in her lap while her thoughts wandered, and she had to give Agent Mustang credit for identifying her by voice. She did not anticipate them visiting the repository, and should have been more careful. For instance, it would have been wise to have them tailed for the evening, or to have their phones monitored more closely in case they communicated their plans that way. In any case, it would be nice if they did not run into anyone from the FBI team for a little while.

AN: Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day! :)

Responses to guest reviews:

Hermit Crab - Thank you! I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed the chapter, and her misdirecting Roy :) It was a lot of fun to write.

Guest - Thank you! I'm always thrilled to hear someone finds the story interesting. And thank you for the compliment on the characterization. As for the rest, we'll see what happens :) Thanks again!