Fuery relaxed on the bar stool and sipped his lager. He'd managed to bug the establishment without being caught, and he needed to soothe his nerves. The basement, which he'd been told by Mustang (who had been told by his sources) was a meeting place for a potential anti-government organization, and tapping the room had not been easy, especially not in heels. He spread his aching fingers against his cold glass and sighed. At least there was some sort of festival going on. His night might have gone much worse if the rest of the bar hadn't been so preoccupied.

Fuery had planned to walk home, but the colonel had called the bar for a certain Kate Kane, and he was now under orders to remain at the bar until Mustang sent someone to pick him up. Fuery didn't even want to know what could have possibly prompted the turn of events.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Fuery turned around on his stool and smiled nervously. He was quite unaccustomed to tall, blonde, pretty women hitting on him, and his brain felt like a raging hornet's nest of kinky thoughts when he took in her black, leather mini-skirt. "Um."

"I love your dress," she said in a smoky voice that was pure sex. "Where did you get it?"

Her query broke him from his lust filled daze. Of course. Of course the one time a beautiful woman was interested in him, it would be because he was in drag. "Oh, this old thing?" His laughter sounded weak and hollow, even to his own ears. "My, um, friend bought it for me. Today. Funny story, actually, ah, hm. I like yours, too, it- well, you don't have a dress, of course, but your skirt, it's very-"

She tugged his arm, and he flew off of the stool. "Dance with me," she ordered.

"You're really strong," Fuery complimented. He was beginning to feel quite guilty, misleading the poor girl like this. He began planning his escape – he'd just wait outside until he was picked up. He hoped the colonel would pick him up himself, to save him the embarrassment, but the colonel's empathy towards embarrassment was severely lacking, probably, Fuery mused, because the man seemed to have no shame.

She pressed against his back and began to grind against him in time to the music. Everyone was dancing, and the music pulsated across the room along with the changing colors. Fuery had never danced like this before...heck, most places didn't play music like this at all, much less with all the accoutrements present. He supposed one positive point in the insurgent's favor was that they tended to organize in extremely trendy, progressive establishments. His mother would be scandalized.

He froze. The blonde pressed against his back sensually and his brain frantically fought the inevitable truth, until too many pieces of the colonel's plan begin to click together, forming a terrifying picture of Fuery's predicament.

There were a lot of women there. Some were very understated and lovely. Some were plain. Some...some, now that he was looking, just seemed a little to angular, or with too much of an adam's apple, or...way too much body hair. He swallowed.

He'd wondered, when Mustang had arrived unannounced at his door with a long, brown wig, just why he couldn't disguise himself as a man. He wasn't a particularly talented actor, and certainly some women would be able to discern his true nature. Darn it, he still wobbled on his heels. It had seemed unnecessarily risky, not that Fuery had said anything at the time. He trusted Mustang, for the same reason he didn't trust him.

The colonel had reviewed security measures, floor plans, and contingency plans until Fuery's ears had nearly bled, but somehow he hadn't thought it necessary to mention that nearly the entire transvestite community of East City would be in attendance, and oh, hey, that he'd be impersonating one.

"You okay, pumpkin? You're awful quiet."

He would kill the colonel. "Um, yeah, I just...need to use the restroom."

"Me too!" His admirer linked arms with him and began walking him to the back of the bar.

"Oh, I don't need the company, I get nervous..."

"Aren't you just as sweet as pie?" The grip on his arm tightened. Fuery was not proud to admit he was trembling with fear. He was an open man, and he didn't hate anyone for who they were, and if this man wanted to dress up as a woman and...and do things with other men who dressed up like women, well, he was certainly in no position to judge. But that didn't mean he wanted to do...things...with this probably very nice person, and he had a feeling that's where things would be headed if he went to the restroom accompanied. "You poor thing! This cold weather must be getting to you...We need to warm you up."

"Oh, darn, I think I forgot to turn the iron off!" He would have run for the door, but his feet were sore and unnaturally arched and then Breda was standing in front of him in a black wig and glasses. He tried to push him away. Maybe Breda wouldn't recognize him if he kept his head down. Maybe the bathroom would be the lesser of two evils...heck, maybe he'd learn something about himself. There was no harm in experimentation.

"Kate!" He grinned a little too devilishly. "It's so good to see you! How have you been?"

Fuery kept his head down. He'd been embarrassed before, but he'd never been so humiliated that he couldn't form words. He would never live this down.

"Join me for a cigarette?" Breda asked, but he was already tugging the smaller man out of the bar.

They walked in silence for a few blocks before they reached a black car with a certain colonel he needed to kill behind the driver's wheel. At least he wasn't smirking, Fuery noted. The colonel looked particularly subdued.

Breda caught a glance of Fuery in the rear-view mirror and stifled a chuckle.

"Not one word," Fuery snapped.

Breda opened his mouth to reply, but the colonel cut him off. "That's enough, Breda. We have things to discuss."

It occurred to him, as they drove to the military barracks discussing Mustang's deteriorating communications network, that he hadn't closed his tab.


Havoc looked at Riza with a mixture of trepidation and satisfaction. "That...was unexpected. Amazing, but unexpect-"

She rolled across the bed to kiss him, softly, then shook her head. "You reek of smoke."

"I missed you," said Havoc, simply. Riza winced, and Havoc was tempted to just pretend she was troubled by the cigarettes, but he just couldn't. He kissed her forehead. "I'll go. I'm sorry for overstepping tonight. I'll have someone else pick you up tomorrow morning-"

She crossed her arms. "No one's picking me up tomorrow."

Havoc would have laughed if he hadn't felt like his stomach had dropped to the floor. Of course that would be her focus. He wasn't even shocked. "Boss man says there is. Take it up with him."

"Jean, can you imagine me being ambushed in an alley?"

He couldn't imagine her being ambushed, anywhere. The woman was top-notch scary, but that wasn't his concern at the moment. "What are you doing?"

Riza frowned. "I just think it's a waste of resources."

"No. I mean the part where we slept together, and it was great, but we maybe shouldn't have done that, because we've got all sorts of issues to sort out." He sat up. "I was gonna go, but then you started some argument about something completely unrelated. I'm no psychologist but I think you're giving some mixed signals, and I think I know why."

She crossed her arms. "And why is that?"

"I'd rather you just tell me," he said.

"I don't...I don't know how we got here, Jean. I don't know if I want to have feelings for you, but it's almost too late."

"We got here," he replied, "because you seduced me when I came over to help you unpack."

"That was really just an excuse," she said.

"Then why did you have me unpack your whole apartment?"

She shrugged. "You proved more useful than I had anticipated."

Havoc looked up at the ceiling. "Imagine that."

"That was a compliment."

"Of the highest order, coming from you," he said. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was looking out the window. "Are we okay?" He asked gently.

"You'll trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then let me walk the three blocks to work," she smiled wearily. "See? Not so unrelated."

"I trust you," he spoke into her shoulder as he nuzzled her neck, "but I've gotta take my orders from the boss. I'm sure he has reasons neither of us has even thought of yet."

"He's being an idiot," she retorted.

"Maybe. You'll just have to save his ass like you always do, and prove him wrong." Havoc cuddled her closer. "But I'm not helping. I'm on his bad side enough as it is, what with the getting jailed and the sleeping...um."

"Sleeping?" she prompted.

"Um." Havoc tried to think quickly, but it just wasn't his strong suit. "At work?"

"Jean, you gamble and smoke and mis-file documents and do all sorts of unspeakable things at the office that should have had you demoted years ago, but you don't sleep on the job."

"I caught him sleeping at work?"

"Everyone's caught him sleeping at work," she pressed her lips together, but she didn't look mad. "You think he's upset that we're seeing each other? You already knew that. What are you hiding?"

"Have you ever considered transferring to Intelligence?" he wondered aloud.

"Hughes can have it," she replied. "Quit changing the subject. You said that I was avoiding our issues. This sounds like an issue."

Havoc flipped a mental coin. "I spoke with Mustang in jail. He was beyond pissed, but he hid really well. I didn't even know how angry he was with me until I asked him a question."

"Which was?"

"If he'd..." Havoc tried to word it delicately, which was a difficult task seeing as how his throat kept wanting to keep the words from escaping. "If he'd ever had a relationship with you."

"And?"

Havoc studied her a moment. She looked calm. "He said yes."

"Well." Riza bit her lip. "That's all he said?"

"There was some other stuff, but yeah. That's pretty much it. Were you in love with him?" The words spilled out of his mouth in a fast stream.

"Years ago," she admitted. "It feels so odd to even think about it. We were different people, then."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"Because then we'd have this discussion that I don't want to have," she answered. "A few minutes ago, we were okay. Now we're fighting."

"I'm not fighting," he clarified. "I wasn't going to bring it up, either, but then you decided to put on your detective hat. This is why you shouldn't interrogate me."

"We're both wrong." She frowned. "I can't believe he told you."

"I can't believe you didn't."

His tone was a little testy for her liking, but she supposed she'd earned it. "Jean, we don't even speak of it. Roy – the colonel and I – we never talk about what happened. It was years ago, we were different people, and it's just never come up."

"That sounds healthy."

"We didn't plan it that way. It just...is." She kissed his cheek. "Please, can we just not make a big deal out of this? I'll tell you about it, sometime, just not tonight. I'm tired."

He relented. He didn't really think he wanted to hear about her romantic time with their boss, ever, which he supposed was probably the emotionally unhealthy choice, but he was a smoker. He'd choose temporary pleasure over long-term health every time. He tried not to think of the implications of that as he fell asleep with her curled into his arms.

He tried even harder not to think of those implications when he woke up and she was gone.


Roy woke up with a start as a ram tried to plow through his door at five in the morning. He groaned, and rolled over. He hadn't slept well for days, and if he could sleep through bombs and mortars then he could damned well sleep through this insult.

The knocking continued and he pulled a pillow over his head. That was much better. He had almost drifted back to his dreams when her muffled threats of shooting the lock open caused him to reconsider. He double-checked the time – still too early for this – and rushed to the door. The only reason he could think of that his lieutenant would visit him at home, especially at such an obscene hour, was an emergency, and he cursed his laziness.

He opened the door while she was mid-knock (mid-slam, really, he thought) and her fist sailed into his bare midsection. His pride kept him upright, but his voice sounded pained when he asked her what was wrong.

"Why did you tell him?"

He supposed that was a question, but it certainly sounded more like an insult. Her face was flushed in anger and he wondered if the punch was really all that accidental. His mind raced as fast as it could without coffee and recalled all of the conversations he'd had lately that would anger her. Experience had taught him that when angry women arrived on his doorstep eager to argue, everything went much more smoothly if he didn't have to ask what he'd done wrong.

Havoc. Roy rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Can we do this after I brush my teeth? I feel at a disadvantage when my breath stinks."

She crossed her arms, but she waited in the living room until he was finished. He pulled on some pants, too, while he was there. He'd thought it had felt rather breezy when he'd opened the door.

"Tea?" He offered. "I need coffee."

"No."

He walked into the kitchen and started brewing some coffee, and she followed him inside. He yawned. "He asked me. That's why I told him."

"It was none of his business."

Roy shot her an amused glance. "Are you that embarrassed by me?"

"Sometimes," she spat.

"Ouch."

"You were out of line, Colonel."

"Lieutenant, you've just woken me up at five in the morning at my personal residence to yell at me for telling the truth to my subordinate - the man who you're expressly prohibited from dating according to military policy. Now please tell me how the hell I'm out of line here." He paused. "And I thought I ordered you not to walk alone."

"I took a taxi," she said.

His coffee was ready, and he loaded it with sugar and cream. "Are you sure you don't want any? I made extra."

"No, thank you." Her anger ebbed. "You never talked about us sleeping together with me."

He raised his eyebrows. "You were there."

"You know what I mean," she snapped. "Did you tell him you kissed me while he was being stabbed, or are you waiting for the wedding?"

Roy spilled some coffee as he set it on the counter. "You're getting married?"

"It's a figure of speech," she said irritably.

"Ah."

"Well?" she prompted.

"No, I did not tell Lieutenant Havoc that I kissed you."

"Why not?"

"I can tell him today, if you'd like," he offered.

"No." She frowned. "Why did you kiss me?"

"I'm a glutton for punishment, evidently. Why did you kiss me back?"

"It felt good at the time," she answered honestly. "And since then, you've been increasingly short with me. We haven't had any discussions that weren't work-related and even those have been cut back. You're punishing me."

"I am not," he said without much conviction.

"You told Havoc we were together in order to punish me."

Roy drank more coffee and thought this through. "You think I blame you for this, Hawkeye?"

"Don't call me that. It sounds like you're talking to my father."

A flurry of memories hit his sleep deprived brain, and he held his head in his hands. "I apologize, Lieutenant."

"Don't call me that, either. Damn it, Roy, you can't compartmentalize me just because you don't know what to do with me!"

"What do you want me to do?!" he shouted. She flinched, but his brown eyes still seethed. He continued, calmly, but with a cold snake of anger underneath. "I'm not playing games, Riza. People are dying because of me. So please, just tell me why the hell you really came here."

"I wanted to know why you told him," she answered quietly. "You still haven't answered me."

He regarded her silently for a moment before he said, "I was jealous. That's the answer to everything, I think."

She took a few steps forward and hugged him. He could feel her warmth underneath the scratchy wool of her uniform, and it was all he could do not to sink into her. "Thank you."

He pushed away. "Is that all, Lieutenant?"

She straightened. "That's all, sir."

They nodded at each other, and she left. He stared at the table for a good twenty minutes before he crawled back into bed.