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Omakase Shimasu - Hope you're still reading after all this time, don't worry, Ed comes back! There will be much more angst though ahead for many, I'll try and keep a few humor chapters up in there somewhere, not even I can do all angst all the time! n.n;

Guu-sama - ...You reviewed my story...four times...in a row..with the same review...uh...window not working for you? Click too many times? It's okay, I forgive you, hope you're still reading, it only gets better from here!

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Each individual chapter will have a different rating, different pairings, different spoilers, and a different setting and timeline. Multiple people were involved in writing this fic, I do not claim to have written anything other than my own characters. I do however claim to have come up with the plot, story idea, and organizing it all. The others who write characters in this fic are well aware that I am posting it, and contribute willingly. This fic is an ongoing project with an unknown number of parts, with alternate storyline as of the fifth laboratory incident. Enjoy!


Trivialities
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
Spoilers: None really.
Setting: Unsanctioned land between Central and Ishbar.
Timeline:
The first negotiation session, approximately two weeks after Havoc is transferred to Ishbar, a week and a half since Ed's death.
Jonathan Scher leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, arms crossed, black brows beetled over bright blue eyes. "I thought they were supposed to be here by now," he snapped irately. "Second Lieutenant Havoc, go check to see if the other party is coming."

Havoc huffed a sigh. I'm a guard, not an errand boy, he thought grouchily. He was missing out on a craps game that he had sort-of wanted to join.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen..." came the silky voice from the tent-flap, which now was held open by some guard or other that had been outside, as a flash of blood red and emerald showed itself from behind Ishbarite drapings. The man swiftly moved forward to take a seat opposite Scher, handing the sand-laden garments to a young officer who had followed him in.

"Shall we get down to business, Sirs?"

Scher nodded. "Yes. My name is Jonathan Scher. And you are...?" An attendant set down a water service and a pad of paper in front of both men. Inkwells and pens were made available.

"Fawkes," the man replied without hesitation, nodding to his escort, who stepped back to the side and out of the way. "Ashton Fawkes."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. You do not mind that I have soldiers in the tent with us? I assure you, they will keep silent on every aspect of this meeting." Scher folded his hands neatly, resting them on the table.

"That is the way of the military, a precaution that I would similarly take, there is no need to question it." The one who addressed himself as Fawkes did however take the opportunity to observe each and every soldier for a brief moment, his one visible eye darting across the tent and finally settling back on Scher. "It is acceptable."

Havoc's eyes narrowed as more meaningless trivialities were exchanged. Something stank about the whole setup. The easy, demeaning arrogance that Fawkes had made his skin crawl. How now, a rat... His hands clenched behind his back.

"Now," Scher said pleasantly. "For the record, would you mind stating your demands clearly?"

"Hn..." Fawkes reclined somewhat casually in the chair, despite the unwillingness of said chair to allow such comfort. "First of all, we require military funding for our research department, as well as access to your Central's libraries and archives. All of them..." He made sure to accent the world 'all' in order to be perfectly understood. "We're also entitled to the aid of several alchemists in reconstruction of our homeland which you destroyed..." He paused briefly.

"I'm sorry," Scher said smoothly, warming to his task. "But for us to fund this 'research', we must first know what you are looking into. And as for the library and archives... they still have yet to be restored. We are making progress, but it is very slow."

"I see... I'll have to speak with my superiors about disclosing such information regarding our research..." Fawkes remained collected and relaxed, shifting his position slightly. "We also request to be given full authority over Central's research laboratories and all information that lies within...as well as the unsanctioned badlands between North and Drachma..."

"Several of our research facilities are in use by our State Alchemists," Scher pointed out gently. "We cannot afford to have these men interrupted in their work. The facilities not in use have been... neglected beyond repair, in some instances. As for the badlands..." he shrugged elegantly. "I will have to speak to the Fuhrer. As far as I know, I do not have the authority to negotiate about such a contested piece of land.

"However, we may be able to allow a select few of your alchemists to view what we have reconstructed of the Central Library."

"I wouldn't expect you to have that authority...it is why the terms are simply being laid out here..." Fawkes practically purred, lazy grin on his face. "Do speak with your Fuhrer, I'm sure that negotiations will be made rather agreeable, as I've dealt with the man on personal business before..."

He leaned forward slightly. "I also must ask if you would so kindly halt any further investigation against my men and I...I'm no fool you know..." There was a hint of a feral gleam in Fawkes' eye that one wouldn't necessarily have to look very closely to see.

"I was unaware of an investigation of you and your people," Scher said calmly, unperturbed. "If any such action was taken, it is most probably out of my jurisdiction to repeal. I am a private citizen, employed as an Ambassador, not a member of the military. I doubt they'd heed any words of mine." He waved a hand back over his shoulder. "Take it up with one of my guards afterwards."

"I'll be certain to..." Fawkes eyed the smoking blond in the corner with an amused grin. "As for the more trivial aspects of the bargaining...my men require two hundred thousand up front before any further negotiations are made...you may state your end now if you will..." He waved a hand nonchalantly, eyes settling back on Scher.

Scher smiled kindly. He produced a receipt. "The Fuhrer anticipated such demands. Here is a receipt for two hundred fifty thousand. Due to such a large sum, we were unable to bring it with us. If you could send an emissary to any regional bank, they will have the cash for you. Guarding it is your own problem." He smiled again, to take the sting out of his words.

"But of course..." Fawkes grinned himself and took the receipt, nodding politely in return.

"May I safely assume that this meeting is over, or do you have further desires you wish to express?"

"I have nothing more to ask, so I suppose it would be assumed over, unless you have issues to set?"

"None until I get word back from the Fuhrer. We will send a messenger to your camp when another meeting requires arrangement." Scher stood up and held out his right hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ashton Fawkes."

The red-haired man stood as well, taking Scher's hand. You're lucky he's not left-handed, Deceit old boy, you would've had to show your trump card a little too early... "I'll expect a response then, the pleasure is mine, sir. Shall I be granted permission to speak with that guard there?" Fawkes tilted his head in the direction of the soldier marked Second Lieutenant with the tawny hair and the cigarette seeming to become more and more tightly clenched between his teeth. "He looks like a nice fellow..." The grin was evident.

You know what, you redheaded, bastard, screw you! Havoc thought furiously.

Scher lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Second Lieutenant Havoc? He's a little beneath you, are you sure? By all means, you have my permission, but wouldn't you require the Major?"

Screw you too, old man. Havoc's teeth ground together.

"I think I can trust the boy to be good and relay whatever messages I might have for the good Major..." Fawkes smiled coyly. "Besides...I like this one..."

Scher shrugged, a little bewildered by it all. "Well, then I will leave you alone with the Second Lieutenant." He motioned all of the guards out along with his attendants. He was the last one out, an antiquated way of showing faith in one's opponent.

Havoc repeated the ten most obscene curses he knew silently to himself.

With another coy smile, Fawkes both waved out his escort and offered the Lieutenant the chair across from him. "Do have a seat, Lieutenant...far be it for me to deny you that small luxury in speaking with me..."

Havoc pinched out his cigarette, slipping it away. "I'll stand, thank you, sir." He took up the at-ease position, legs slightly apart, back straight, hands behind his back. "It would be rude to sit in front of a dignitary, sir."

"I'd hardly call myself that, but if you insist..." Fawkes pulled out a cigarette himself, itching for the nicotine, and placing it between his lips. "Happen to have a light on you, good sir?" He grinned awkwardly around the stick.

"Yes, sir." Havoc pulled out his lighter, placing it on the table.

"Thanks much..." Fawkes lit the cigarette and took a long drag, tossing the lighter back to Havoc. "Your investigation department lacks a certain amount of appeal if I may be so bold..."

He caught it, stone faced. "I wouldn't know, sir. I'm not in Intelligence. Though, I must admit that I was startled to hear of the tactlessness of Intelligence when you said that they were investigating you."

That's not to say I think you don't deserve it, you greasy little smear.

Thick and stubborn, aren't you, boy...you're quick to catch on...have to deal with that before you can leave...

"You have some friends in Intelligence, though, I'm sure...but honestly, there isn't an outfit out there that can slip past my guards unnoticed...not even the best...we do call ourselves Predator for a reason..." Fawkes folded his hands in his lap, idly blowing smoke from his nostrils. "Best inform your friends back in Central not to stick their noses where they don't belong...especially that Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, he's going to get himself killed one of these days you know..." A tap of the cigarette and a knowing smirk.

Several things inside twisted violently, but Havoc's training held firm -- no emotion passed over his face. But his hands clenched so hard behind his back that blood rose to form little crescent marks. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and I work in different sections of the military, sir, even though we're technically in the same battalion. We very rarely see each other, and only then when I'm being briefed or debriefed.

"I hope none of your men were injured in the supposed infiltrations?" he inquired, more to be polite than anything else.

Maes, you stupid, STUPID man, can't you just leave well enough alone?! This guy would kill you in a heartbeat!

The tension in the air did not go unnoticed to catlike instincts, and Fawkes didn't bother to hide his grin. "Of course not, Lieutenant...my men are still beyond the reach of any of your intelligence officers..." He shifted the cigarette to the other side of his mouth and stood. "Do give the good Colonel Mustang my regards should you write him, and if you would, remind him that his priorities lie in Central, not the Ishbar border...and that he wouldn't want to repeat any past mistakes by poking around in foreign affairs...I trust the investigation will be called off..."

Retrieving his cloak from the hook near the 'door', Fawkes bowed his head slightly to Havoc and donned the robe. "And you should be careful too...I've caught wind that there's some pretty nasty rebels in the area...nice meeting you, Lieutenant, and thank you for your time..." With that, he stepped out of the tent and into the Ishbar sun, squinting lightly before returning to his escort's side to leave the encampment.

Havoc followed the man, watching him leave their camp. His eyes narrowed. "If we go to war, you're first on my list," he murmured.


Please review, constructive criticism and questions appreciated, flames will be deflected back at you by Roy. n.n;