Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
AN: Hello! Reponses to guest reviews from last chapter can be found at the end of this post. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!
The Passenger (Part 1)
Riza stepped out onto the back deck of her Virginia safe-house and smiled, leaning on the railing and watching the sun-dappled ocean. The morning was calm and the hour was early, that time of day when the world still felt quiet. She stood straight and stretched, fighting the soporific effect of rhythmic waves on her tired, overworked body. The private plane had landed in Virginia a mere forty minutes ago, and she was looking forward to a little relaxation after their fun in New Orleans.
Using software that produced all combinations of the scrambled date and time for the exchange, coupled with logic and patience, Breda had narrowed the possibilities to a few that were most likely. Several days remained until the nearest upcoming date and, having sent feelers out regarding the location, they were forced to play the waiting game.
Fuery had also used his free time to work some technological magic, and he was well on the way to compiling any and all information they could find on their target. By the time they had cleaned the Louisiana safe-house and packed their gear, he had discovered the identity of the assassin from the cemetery. She already had a call in to Barry to find out who hired the hitter, though the clear suspect was Kimblee. Raven was no longer of any use to him.
She turned at the sound of the sliding door opening and saw Fuery take a seat at the patio table, followed by Becca dragging a less-than-enthusiastic Ross with her. Riza joined them at the table after a gesture from her friend and with an amused smirk glanced at Maria. "Did she kidnap you?"
Ross nodded pointedly. "Yes, actually. And I was this close to falling asleep."
She was about to respond when her friend slid a glass of wine in front of her and took a seat. "Bec...it's eight o'clock in the morning."
The brunette shrugged, in the middle of pouring her own glass. "So? I'm still on New Orleans time."
"Then it's seven o'clock in the morning for you," Fuery interjected. "Kinda early, isn't it?"
Becca gave a little wave of dismissal. "It's not like I have to be anywhere, and I've been up so long this is basically dinner-time." She gestured around the table. "Anyway, I just thought we could bond."
"Then maybe I should head back into the house with the guys," Fuery responded.
"Don't be ridiculous, Kain. This isn't just for the girls," the brunette said. "But we can help you. For instance, today's lady-lesson for you is...own a headboard. Men seem much less creepy when they have things like bed-frames and headboards and matching furniture."
"You are nuts." He pointed at her for emphasis.
"Maybe." Riza took a sip, giving a small nod. "But she has a point...it makes you seem more put-together and less like the type that would live in their parents' basement and stalk you."
"Exactly." Her friend nudged her. "You just get me."
"While we're giving advice," Havoc added, exiting the kitchen and grabbing a seat next to Becca. "You should also learn how to make an omelet. Chicks dig a guy that can cook." When another sliding door opened he added, "Here comes the ladykiller...I bet he's got a few nuggets of wisdom." At that Riza shot Mustang a curious smirk and, as he took the chair to her left, he shook his head like he had no idea what his partner was talking about.
"Oh, please," Maria rejoined. "You're way more of a player than he's ever been."
Havoc looked equal parts wounded and proud but, before he could retort, Mustang said, "Come on, guys...my love life is boring. What I want to know is how a nineteen-year-old is on a clandestine CIA crew."
Fuery shot her a look but Riza merely raised her eyebrows, her way of informing him the choice to share was his. His face reddened with all the attention on him, and he finally said, "It all started when I really wanted this issue of the X-Men comics and my mom wouldn't buy it for me. One week later it arrived in the mail...I told her I won a contest." He drank from a bottle of water he'd brought out with him and continued. "A few years later, there was this giant misunderstanding and I may or may not have hacked the NSA when I was sixteen. Riz found me, straightened everything out, and worked out a deal for me."
Havoc snorted in amused disbelief. "What kind of misunderstanding leads to you hacking the NSA?"
"And now we're in classified territory," Riza jumped in, silently thanking her grandfather for going to bed or she would have been forced to repeat the phrase 'that's classified' approximately one thousand times.
After a chuckle, Havoc changed the thread of conversation by turning to the brunette on his left. "Bec...How'd you get into all this? Conning little kids out of their lunch money?"
"Mmm..." Becca's eyes lost focus, as one often does when recalling a pleasant memory. "I was eleven and running a version of the fiddle game with Alex DePalma. She was sixteen and we lived in the same foster home. A fake diamond necklace was the fiddle." She clinked glasses with her blonde friend and smiled widely. "Good times."
Before anyone could inquire about her first forays into crime, Riza said, "So, Havoc, why the FBI?"
He stole Becca's glass and took a drink. "For one thing, I look damn sexy in shoulder holsters...and, honestly, I like the challenge. What other job lets you track down criminals and look this good doing it?" He shrugged. "Seriously though...I don't have any kind of deep and noble reason. I was a cop in my hometown for a few years and wanted something more interesting. I genuinely enjoy my job, and helping people is a nice bonus."
"Nice try, Hawkeye," Mustang quietly said, and when she caught his eye his expression was a touch self-satisfied. "But I think we'd like to hear about you."
At that moment Fuery's phone buzzed and he glanced at the alert, looking up at her to say, "It's Breda...our searches found something."
She smirked as she stood. "Saved by the data crawler." Riza entered the living room, closely followed by most of the group from the deck. She gave her grandfather a quizzical look when she spotted him at the computer set-up and said, "Hey, General. I thought you were sleeping."
He smiled that cheerful, unassuming smile of his and said, "I was just brainstorming with Breda, contacting a few people about Kimblee's operation...the usual."
"Right," Breda began. "So, using intel from your underworld contacts Fuery and I started tracing Dirtbag's movements. We coupled that with facial recognition searches of every possible database, both going forward and in archived data. This guy is crazy good at going unnoticed." He gestured to Kain and himself. "But, because we're so awesome...we got a hit. He's in Rome. And when I focused on that location, a pattern emerged." He paused to bring up a photo on one of the screens. "Every time I've verified Kimblee has been in Rome, a shipping container in this guy's name clears customs within days."
"Clears customs where?" Mustang asked, watching the monitors with his arms crossed.
"The locations vary. One time it was England, the next Morocco, then the U.S...it's a long list."
"Dammit this asshole is smart," Becca commented. "He makes sure he's nowhere near the merchandise at any point during trasport."
Riza took a step closer to the screen, examining the photo. "That's Emile Montalt...French mother, Italian father, wanted in a few countries for smuggling."
"Nicola Boveri's kid?" Her grandfather wondered out loud. "Apparently Emile joined the family business."
Mustang shook his head. "That is excellent work, but how the hell are we gonna talk to this guy? We may have to split up. Half of us go to Rome to see what Montalt knows, the rest stay here on standby for when we find the location."
"Lucky for us that's not necessary. A friend of mine is in the area, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind stopping in Paris for a chat." Riza pulled out her phone as she spoke to send a message to Barry, who had left the states immediately following the meeting in the cemetery. If he was not already in Europe, he soon would be. Mustang found her gaze and, in reply to his furrowed brow, she touched the area on her neck that corresponded to the cut from Barry's cleaver on his. He nodded that he comprehended which 'friend' she was talking about and she started toward the stairs, adding, "Great work, guys. We may have to move soon so rest up."
Taking the stairs quickly, she directed her steps toward her room, eyelids already drooping at the welcome thought of catching a few hours' sleep. Still, she could not help but pause when she passed Denny's room, the sinking feeling in her chest once more becoming prevalent as she looked over the band posters on his wall, his packed bookcases. Of their team, he probably could have been considered the most normal, and it always surprised him that he ended up with them.
She had two relatives that were international criminals, Becca had been with several detrimental foster families until ending up with Riza and her mother, and Fuery was an incredibly shy hacker with a formerly abusive and later absentee father. Denny, on the other hand, grew up in Iowa with happily married parents, had two siblings, and went to public school like a regular kid. It just went to show you that there were always exceptions to the norm.
Though they were talented at deception and hiding emotions, she knew that her entire team missed the younger man. His had been a steady presence that at times had the effect of grounding their group of misfits. And somehow, though they would tease him about being the 'normal' one, he managed to be exactly what they needed. She wished that his family could know about all he'd done for his country; they would have been incredibly proud of such a brave son.
She was taken from her thoughts when she heard someone walking along the hall and found Mustang heading slowly in her direction, hands in his pockets. Riza leaned her back against the doorframe and crossed her arms as he walked up, eyes taking in the room. "I'm sorry, Hawkeye."
"Thank you." She let out a small sigh. "It happens all too often in our line of work."
"Will his family ever know?"
She again passed her gaze over Denny's belongings, all that was left of one of the most incredible people she'd had the pleasure of working with. "As far as they knew, he was already dead. Killed in action. But the police won't find anything...he'll be a John Doe."
"That's horribly depressing."
"It really is." She shook her head. "I could never figure out why he chose this life."
He was silent for a moment. "I would guess he wanted to serve his country...in a way only a team like yours could." His deep voice was soft, and she noticed he looked nearly as fatigued as he had at that bar in Paris. She caught a light whiff of the cologne he wore, and suddenly thought about how he had put himself between her and the shooter in the cemetery. He protected her, and she remembered that his cheek was soft against hers.
Riza looked at him, somewhat surprised. "Thank you. That...that was kind of you to say." After a final perusal of the room she exhaled and walked away, thinking it probably should have been her instead of Denny. Once in her own bedroom she locked the door, set an alarm, and collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling until she could not keep her eyes open any longer.
Several hours later, after some much needed rest and a shower, Roy was in the passenger seat of a black sedan with Hawkeye behind the wheel. They had already picked up additional gear at a storage unit located over an hour away from the safehouse and were on their way to his apartment to obtain Gavilán's pendant. He wanted to collect some additional items as well, such as clothes, the photo of his parents, and a few other things he did not necessarily want any curious FBI agents to find.
He could still hardly believe how drastically his circumstances had changed. He was suspended, had evaded federal agents, teamed up with the CIA, broken into a criminal's house, witnessed his ex-boss' murder, and was planning to attend what sounded strangely like an international evildoer's conference. At times it was amazing the difference a few days could make.
He looked over at the woman driving, dressed in her usual black and gray, much like the night he had tailed her. For a second he wondered just how many weapons she had on her at any given time, and figured it was more than he would expect. You can learn things about a person when you're alone in a car for a couple hours, and he had discovered that Hawkeye enjoyed rock music. She had turned up the radio a few times and in each instance it was a classic rock tune to which she seemed to know all the words.
Realizing she had not asked him for directions he said, "I presume you know where my apartment is."
She smirked. "Maybe."
Remembering the conversation earlier that morning, and finding he was still curious, he asked, "So, how about three more questions, Hawkeye?"
"I'm fine with that." Her tone betrayed nothing, but he felt it a reliable assumption that she knew what was coming.
"Me first...How did you get your start? I didn't get to hear your story earlier." He crossed an ankle over a knee, watching as the scenery became more and more familiar the closer they got to his apartment.
She laughed. "Been waiting to ask that?"
"Pretty much. You escaped so nicely earlier, I figured I'd let you feel like you got away with it."
"That was thoughtful." She took a breath, as if deciding what she wanted to say. "As you already know it was kind of a family business. The General taught me how to pick a lock when I was five." She took a drink of coffee. "My turn. I say we alternate this time."
"Fire away."
"What was the alias you traveled under on that trip I asked about the other night?"
"Benjamin Herrera...Benjamin was my Dad's middle name, and Herrera was my Mom's maiden name." He thought for a moment. "Okay, how did you know about my aunt?" She pulled the vehicle into the parking garage attached to his apartment building and they took the stairs to the third floor.
"I was wondering if that would come up." She smiled, giving him a sideways glance. "The General and your aunt dated back in the day. Or fooled around...I'm not sure on the specifics."
"No way. Really?" Once on the third floor, they strolled down the hall to his door at a casual pace, and he reached for the key in his pocket.
"Seriously. That's how I knew."
The key did not fit in the lock, and his eyes moved from one item to the other in nominal confusion. "What the hell?"
Hawkeye took something from her own pocket and slid in front of him, into the space between himself and the door. With a sexy smirk, she pulled him a little closer by his jacket, as if they were saying their goodbyes after a date. She removed two tools from her lockpick set and positioned her hands behind her back while he leaned forward since, assuming the date had gone nicely, this was where he might kiss her. He did not even have time to make a flirtatious comment or do anything else to continue the ploy because the lock clicked open seconds later. With another smirk she grabbed his jacket and yanked him inside, pushing the door shut with her foot, as though the date were ending extremely well.
"Not a bad little ruse, Hawkeye."
She shrugged. "Gotta give them a show."
"Who, exactly?"
"Whoever's watching." She tilted her head, as if to say he should know better. "And there's usually someone watching."
He walked away, striding directly toward his hiding place in the closet, and said over his shoulder, "I kinda wish I could un-know that your grandfather and my aunt were a thing...but I can't."
She chuckled. "Nope."
After removing the false floor board he reached for the lock-box, taking out the medallion along with the rest of his emergency cash, a couple other items, and then returned it to its secret location. He replaced the piece of flooring to cover it, tossed everything he'd taken out on his bed, and was in the process of packing when Hawkeye entered the bedroom from the short hallway.
She looked around his room as would anyone that was in a new location for the first time. "You have a really nice place."
"Thanks." He looked up and saw her drop a small collection of listening devices on the bed, eyes widening. "You found more?"
She shrugged a shoulder, a small, pleased smile on her face. "This is my profession."
"Where were they?" He continued to pack, grateful to finally have some of his own clothes and trying to remember everything he had said in the apartment. He had been under the impression that he'd found all the bugs, and hoped no one had heard anything important.
"Well…." She was perusing his bookshelf and, though he usually kept people out of his bedroom, he did not feel she was being overly nosey. "One was built into the microwave, another in a light fixture, and the last was in the thermostat."
"Damn." He chuckled. "And I thought I was good at finding them."
She shrugged again glancing around his room. "I have more practice...that's all." Hawkeye must have picked up on his thought process because she added, "Don't worry, Fuery had already disabled any signals leaving this apartment."
He looked up at her in surprise. "That is a relief...but I also feel a little violated. What else have you guys done?" He handed her the medallion, and continued throwing things in his bag.
She eyed it and then smiled at him once more, not answering his question. "Thank you." She ran her thumb over the raised image of Laverna, the grin not leaving immediately, and then looped it over her neck.
Roy paused in his packing. "I looked for you after he gave that to me. Well, not you specifically...And I couldn't even find any evidence he had a family."
"He had enemies, so in order to protect us there was absolutely no link." She picked up a book and leafed through it briefly. "Eventually, Fuery made sure I didn't exist, and I asked him to do the same for my Mom."
His head tilted thoughtfully as he realized that she quite possibly carried just as much emotional baggage as he did. His question slipped out before he could think about its prudence or intensely personal nature. "How did she die?"
Her gaze rose and she set the book down. There was hesitation, and she opened her mouth to speak but her phone buzzed so she answered it. "Yeah?" He saw her eyes widen. "You're sure?...When?...Thanks." She ended the call, looked at him, and he instantly knew something was wrong. "It's Hughes."
Roy stared at her, brow creased with worry, a pit forming in his gut. "What do you mean?"
He thought he saw something like pain and sympathy in her gaze, and she hesitated again. All of which he took as terrible signs. "Kimblee's after him because of the airport."
A muscle in his chest clenched, and his hand formed a fist around the shirt he still held. "What?"
Hawkeye moved toward him, expression conciliatory, and gently took the shirt from him, placing it in the bag. With a hand on his arm she added, "I'm sure everything's fine. We'll go over there right now."
He nodded and then broke eye contact, zipping his bag shut to give his hands something to do. "Right..."
Hawkeye gave him a reassuring nod. "We should have time. I'll get them a protective detail."
"Okay." He cleared his throat, unable to string anymore words together, his concern taking over as he led her out of the apartment. They quickly jumped in the vehicle and left for the Hughes' house, with Roy giving directions when necessary. He tried to call his friend at least three times during the trip and received no response, his anxiety increasing with every phone call. He then decided to try the house-phone, which rang until the answering machine picked up, at which point he ended the call and chucked the phone to the floor.
When they finally arrived, the lights were on but the curtains were drawn, and both Maes' and Gracia's cars were in the driveway. No movement could be discerned from within, nor could he see anyone outside the home. They had just stepped out of the sedan when he heard a gunshot from the house and Roy's entire body tensed. Slamming the door shut he started to run around the front of the vehicle, reaching for his firearm. He vaguely heard Hawkeye's car door close and then she stepped in front of him, stopping him with a hand to his chest. He tried to push her away but she gripped his arms and shoved hip up against the car. "We have to be smart about this, Mustang. I need you calm, in control. If you're not, I'll shoot you myself before I let you go in there."
He shook his head angrily. "You have no idea what's happening inside. You don't know the number of hostiles, weaponry they've got, and have no tactical layout of the premises. You can't handle this alone, and we don't have time to wait." The shot was still echoing in his head, his gut contracting, fear and anger invading every bone and muscle.
"Well, I'd rather not do it alone, but I can and I will...If I have to." She held his gaze for several moments and let him go. "I get it, I do. They're your family. But you're no good to them worried and anxious like this, and you know it." She drew a pistol and put a round in the chamber, her face already calm, a mask.
Roy nodded, taking multiple deep breaths in a row to quiet the concern and slow his madly beating heart. Cocking his own weapon he forced his mind into a more emotionless place. The Hughes family would need him without distraction. "You're right." He gestured toward the house with his firearm. "Okay, first floor. Southeast quadrant is a dining room, behind that the kitchen, basement access off that. Southwest quadrant is the living room, second floor access off that."
"We clear the perimeter first."
"I agree. I'll go around west, you go east...we meet in the back yard."
"Copy that. No comms in the car."
"We'll do without." He took a steadying breath, going to that place he reserved for FBI investigations and near-death situations. He glanced at Hawkeye and, at his nod, they approached the dwelling, moving along either side of it. He paced cautiously, keeping his footfalls noiseless, ignoring the memories of playing soccer with Elicia in that very yard.
The evening was quiet, the only sounds being the chirp of crickets and the sporadic bark of a dog somewhere in the neighborhood. He could hear nothing from within the house, which in his mind did not bode well in the slightest. He could see no sign that anyone had passed along his side of the building, which meant the hired guns must have started their work without any sweep of the area.
Suddenly, he heard another gunshot, but it was not muffled so he reasoned it came from outside the building. Hoping the blonde had not been shot, he picked up his pace, listening and scanning with his gaze, his weapon following his line of sight. Finally rounding the corner, he saw Hawkeye and she was in one piece, no blood visible. She signaled with her hand, indicating that she had neutralized one hostile. In response, he indicated that he would take the front door while she covered the back.
As quickly as he dared, Roy made his way back to the front and ascended the steps. He reached for the door handle with his left hand, his firearm in his right, and pushed it open slowly. He immediately raised his weapon as he entered, anger welling anew when he found Elicia with a knife to her neck and a pistol at her temple.
"Uncle Roy!" His heart shattered when he heard that voice, cracked as it was with sadness and altered by terror. She was crying, tears streaming from green eyes wide with fear and down her reddened cheeks. He could tell she was shaking in fright, and she clutched at the man's arm that held the knife, staring at her uncle as if hoping for some miraculous rescue.
He fought to keep it together, taking even breaths and clearing his mind. She needed her uncle the savvy FBI agent, so he plastered the most unperturbed expression he could manage on his face. "It'll be okay, Lici."
A second later the back door slid open and he met Hawkeye's gaze for an instant as she stepped through, her firearm trained on the hostile. Her face was still calm, but the look in her eye left no doubt as to what she was capable of.
"Who the hell are you?" The stranger jammed the muzzle of the pistol against Elicia's temple, looking frantically at each of the newcomers.
Hazarding a quick glance toward the kitchen floor, Roy saw Gracia lying in a pool of blood in the center. There was a bullet hole in her forehead, a wound in her chest, and her eyes were wide open in a glassy stare. His gut once more clenched and he gazed at the gunman, holding his weapon level. "I want the girl...let her go."
"Not a fucking chance. Drop the weapons." He tightened his hold and Elicia let loose a scream.
"Your partner is dead, you're outnumbered, and you're not going anywhere. Let...the girl...go," Hawkeye said, pacing carefully for a better vantage point.
The man tightened his grip on Elicia further, the tip of the knife even drawing blood. "Who the fuck has the hostage, here?"
Roy glanced at Hawkeye and she nodded her head almost imperceptibly, letting him know that she could have a shot, she was just waiting for the perfect moment. "You do, of course...you're in charge. But, honestly, nobody wants her. She's just a teenager, and you need someone useful if you're gonna get out of this alive."
"What? Like you?" The gunman's gaze still jumped rapidly between the two, trying to find a way to escape.
"Me? No. But him…" She tilted her head toward Roy. "He's valuable. People are looking for him."
"Right, cause I'm just going to take your word for it, lying bitch."
"Take it from him."
He nodded. "I'm FBI, man...Way more important than that kid."
"Show me the badge, asshole." The stranger lowered his weapon minutely, his attention focused on Roy, and Hawkeye fired without hesitation, the bullet flying through the man's temple. Elicia screamed, running to him as the enemy dropped to the floor and he wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. He closed his eyes, held her tight, and murmured in an exhale, "It's okay, kiddo. It'll be okay. I promise," relief flooding his entire body. He saw Hawkeye lower her weapon, breathing out slowly as she still watched the gunman. She then stepped over to him and checked his pulse, nodding to Roy to confirm the man was dead.
She came up to him, still calm, though he could see a hint of tension. "I'll clear the house."
He found her eyes again, trying to convey the depth of his gratitude, and he must have been successful because she nodded, holding her weapon out before her as she moved toward the basement door. He led Elicia to the couch and kept his arm around her, her slight form shuddering as she cried and clung to him like a lifeline. He squeezed her more tightly. "It's alright, kiddo." He shook his head, kissed her hair again, and whispered, "I'm so sorry." He did not care whether or not he was actually to blame, he felt responsible.
Hardly a minute later, he saw Hawkeye return to the small dining room, phone to her ear. "Hey, it's me...Yeah...I need an ambulance and a cleaning crew at 5439 Meadowbrook Lane...Caucasian male, mid-thirties, gunshot wound to the thigh...I placed a tourniquet with his tie...I don't know." She looked at him as she spoke. "Send a protective detail to the hospital and the house...Thanks." She hung up the call, placed the phone in her pocket, and gestured that she was returning to the basement to be with Hughes.
He watched her disappear behind a wall and then readjusted his grip on his niece, leaning his cheek on the top of her head and once more whispering what felt like a useless, "Everything will be okay." He was incredibly relieved that his friend was still alive, though based on the description his situation was dire. A significant portion of him wanted to rush to the basement to be with Hughes, but the other part reminded himself that Elicia needed his support more. While he had seen crises like this, though this one hit incredibly close to home, she never had been in such a situation.
His thoughts strayed to the blonde in the basement and it occurred to him that he could think of no one he would have rather had help him. He was hard-pressed to think of anyone that could have handled that crisis as well as she did, or would have been clear-headed enough to make that shot. He would forever be in her debt, and he was also pretty sure he officially trusted her.
AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)
Responses to guest reviews (in order of posting):
Guest (Jul 10): Thank you! I'm glad you liked it, and that gave some good background info. And her name...thanks :) I thought that one flowed nicely.
Guest (Jul 11): Those pesky typos! Read as I might they worm their way in and I don't know how they do it! I'm glad you're liking the story :)
Guest (Jul 12): Wow, thank you! That is so nice of you to say! I'm really happy to hear you enjoy the story :)