Ok, sorry…I keep using Bruda Breda by accident. Need to kick that old habit. Stupid disagreeing fansubs. Have fixed now…and maybe I'll do a little expansion on the first two chapters after finals.

Point from last chapter, answering a review: There is a hayatte model of gun and a hayatte plane…the dog may in fact be named after the plane since many of the characters are also that way, but I just figured it was the gun 'cause, you know, it's Riza. Or maybe she named him after the gun and the creators of the show named him after the plane ('cause nobody in FMA knows what a plane IS), or maybe the fact that it's both has a whole lot to do with everything. Whoa, I just confused myself.

o.O

When Exposure is a Bad Thing

"I kept telling you they wouldn't care if we skipped town," Breda said dismissively, folding up the message from headquarters and tossing it over his shoulder.

"Don't litter," Fury said, still suspicious, and caught the wadded up telegraph strip. He'd been the vote against catching the next train to Western—but he'd been outspoken and (as often happened in these situations) had come along to make sure Breda and Falman didn't get into even more trouble than they usually did. "Hold on, did you even read this?"

"Yes!"

"It says the four of us are to be arrested and returned to Central immediately…ooh, can't we just go back?"

"Because we already wasted the money on those tickets, and I'm not leaving until I get down to the beach and sufficiently tanned," Falman answered.

"You'll have a newspaper-shaped one," Fury countered, but Breda interrupted him.

"Okay, so I didn't read it. But there's more of a military presence in Eastern…I figured they'd catch Havoc first and we won't be bothered for at least a couple of days."

Second Lieutenant Havoc had gone to Eastern to answer that strange love letter. Fury couldn't stop from picturing how ecstatic the man had been, and from being vaguely frightened by the prospect. "The Colonel is gonna kill us," he reminded them. That was his best card to play…he hadn't lost with it once.

"He's got enough in his hands at the moment," Breda answered with a snicker.

"The expression is 'on his hands,'" Fury corrected automatically.

"And I said in."

"I believe you're referring to our magnanimous Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Falman asked.

"I thought about what might happen if they got the office to themselves and decided to install a little camera," Breda said slyly. "While we were back at headquarters to give testimony."

"Had me install it, you mean," Fury put in sourly. "I almost got caught, too. If I'd known that was why—"

"Oh come off it man, aren't you even curious?"

"Curious, but not enough to own the proof!"

Falman stopped at the vacationer's booth as they passed it by. "Beach first, or hotel? I don't particularly want to be lugging a bunch of changes of clothes through the sand, but it's a bit early to check in."

"We can at least drop our bags at the desk," Breda said. "And we need somewhere to get changed, too. Any objections, Fury?"

The addressed man sighed. Really, though, he felt helpless. "I suppose that's the best plan. But, you know, I'm beginning to think that when I talk to the conduct review panel I'm going to tell them you kidnapped me."

Further down the platform, another pair of soldiers climbed off with weekend bags in hand. These, however, were in uniform.

"Are you sure this is where they went?" Lieutenant Hawkeye asked, peering around with her sharp eyes. It was going to be much harder to spot Fury, Breda and Falman if they were lacking of the blue outfits she was so used to seeing them in. She'd never had to do it before.

"Relax," Her commander told her, giving the area a brief scan as to conclude that they were the only ones from his division in earshot. "Western is an easy train ride, and those dopes lost so much of their money betting with Havoc that this is probably the only place they could afford. It's relatively small, too, and those three stick out like a sore thumb in any crowd. But this place also happens to be a nice vacation spot."

"This whole MIA situation has you completely and utterly worried for your underlings, doesn't it?" She asked dryly. "I think actually they'd prefer to be caught by the military's headhunters."

"Since when do I let them get away with anything? Falman, especially—he never finished all that paperwork for that stupid fish prank." Mustang replied, and began to saunter off in the direction of the main station. Hawkeye sighed and followed him.

Even just at arriving at the hotel they ran into trouble. The place where they had been planning to stay only had one room available. The clerk apologized profusely for the situation, and Hawkeye found this unnecessary display annoying in the extreme. It was unlikely that the other hotels even had one room, another clerk explained. There was some sort of convention in town, and the crowds were phenomenal. "We had someone come in just before you arrived that was so desperate for a place to stay that they actually paid us in a cash advance."

Luckily, the room that was available was a suite. Happy that she'd have some room to herself, at least, Hawkeye led the way with the keys. When they got there, however, it became obvious that it was the honeymoon suite. This contributed mightily to Hawkeye's mood.

The Colonel, however, seemed quite amused. "Will you relax?" He chided her, for the second time. "Have a sense of humor about something for once in your life. Nobody here knows us. Once we get out of these uniforms," —he grunted, struggling to remove his jacket— "nobody will know where we work. The down time will do us both some good."

"We are here on duty," she reminded him.

He was already digging through his bag for his towel. "Lieutenant, we're in Western. There's no such thing as on duty here. C'mon, put on that lovely swimsuit of yours and let's hit the beach."

"You're going to be the death of my career, you know that?"

"Oh, I don't mind."

"They're going to fire us for sure," Fury was saying, even as he trailed the others in trying to stake out a good spot to lay down their towels, umbrellas, large picnic basket filled with beer, books, tanning oil, and other various objects intended to attract cute girls.

The "borrowed" Black Hyatt was still looking mightily unhappy from being stuffed in a suitcase on the train. Fury was cuddling the mutt as much as was allowed, moaning about how Hawkeye was surely royally pissed. Breda, usually the one most apt to run away at the sight of the Lieutenant's guns, only shrugged. "There is only a certain degree to which you can painfully kill someone…I'm sure I've probably already passed that point."

"What about live torture?" Falman asked.

"Considering Hawkeye's choice of weaponry, I'd factor in lead poisoning."

"That's an awfully big assumption," Falman argued. "I mean, she might have a secret dungeon full of iron maidens and spiked chairs and thumbscrews that we just don't know about."

"What I wouldn't give to see her in a dominatrix outfit," Breda sighed.

"That wasn't what I meant,"

"Well, if we accept all of this baloney as even a remote possibility, it's still unlikely you'd ever get to see such an outfit," Fury said, scratching Black Hayatte's ears again. "She seems to have the commander pretty well wrapped around her thumb these days."

"That only proves my point," Breda said.

"You had a point?"

"Well, considering that we borrowed her dog," Falman put in, having realized Breda's logic, "it's likely that she would be the one most looking forward to our return…but she'd never come after us here…wouldn't have the gall to parade herself around in a swimsuit anywhere near us. And you stick out around here if you're not wearing one."

"At least the dog will get excited if he senses she's here," Fury said, and hugged Black Hayatte again. "Poor puppy…I hope she doesn't still shoot at him."

"Last time I dropped something off at her apartment it looked devoid of bullet holes," Breda reassured him.

"Unlike what remains of our office."

"Oh, shut up," Breda said. He paused, set down the beer and surveyed the crowd. There were a few couples around, but mostly the area consisted of singles and parades of bikini-wielding females. "Here, this spot looks good. Let's get ready to pick up some chicks, boys."

"I think I see a volleyball game going on," Falman said. "You can have your girls, but I want something to do."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Fury said.

They settled in with their towels as Breda tried (unsuccessfully) to attract said girls. Fury took out his book and idly petted the dog, which was getting much more attention than he was.

The crowd eventually drifted off, and Black Hayatte, bored, became extremely focused on a couple further up the beach. The dog had probably never seen anything like them before, so Fury, soon absorbed in his mystery again, thought nothing of it.

Breda patted the dog roughly and laughed. "To dogs humans must behave so strangely. You don't really get much messing around like that in the animal kingdom; you go off, you do it, you come back."

"Well, they say humans invented romance," Fury said vaguely, on automatic. Someone was getting murdered on this page, and his brain was working overtime trying to logic out a culprit.

"Is what they're doing considered romantic?"

Fury surrendered to the temptation and looked up. "Perhaps a little…boastful," he said, nonplussed. You saw stuff like it in the park all the time…it wasn't like they were actually being offensive or anything.

"If it weren't for the fact that that kind of thing usually requires getting into an actual relationship I'd be jealous," Breda said.

"Lieutenant, I really am trying to read," Fury replied. If he'd been listening, he might have found what happened next to be amusing.

Black Hayatte jumped up with a bark as a stray volleyball arched overhead, and darted after it before Fury could grab him. The ball, followed by Falman's cries for "a little help" hit the sand, bounced, and rebounded off the enthusiastic couple. The dog was right on it.

An irritated Colonel Mustang (Fury realized, with rapidly dawning dread) diverted his attention from his female companion and glared at the interruption. Black Hayatte wagged his tail.

Falman came back over to Breda and Fury, panting and demanding the ball back. Breda pointed, and the older man went white. "Oh shit."

The Colonel was pulling on his sandals slowly, with great care, looking murderous. Lieutenant Hawkeye had seized her pet and had a similar expression plastered all over her face.

"Is he mad about the ball, or just for having seen us, I wonder?" Fury asked.

"Who cares?"

"Well, degree of pain if we get caught is going to differ greatly if we have personal blackmail."

The two groups stared at each other. "I'm thinking about our options," Fury said quietly.

"I'm thinking we run," Breda answered.

"I agree."

"I am also in favor of this," Falman said.

"What about the beer?" Breda asked. Two empty bottles already sat off to the side.

"Leave it," Fury squeaked.

Mustang was climbing to his feet, and Hawkeye was wrapping herself in a sarong.

"Now?"

"Now."

The four men all began to dash at once, one towards, the other three away. Falman, having longer legs, drew slightly ahead and began to scout for an appropriate obstacle course. There was a fence about a hundred yards away and quickly approaching.

"I can't make that in a jump," Fury panted when he realized Falman's plan. The Warrant Officer seized him around the waist and chucked him up; Fury gripped the top of the fence, and looked down to reassure himself that he hadn't just nearly been thrown off the edge of a cliff.

A small crowd of decidedly naked people looked back at him. "This ain't no peep show!" someone yelled.

"Safe," Fury called anyway, and hauled himself over. Falman and Breda were quick to follow, barely ahead of Mustang.

"Come back here you idiots," came the snarl from the other side, almost unheard. Several people on the nude beach were screaming in rage or embarrassment or perhaps just because screaming was fun. The soldiers were huddled together and making quite a bit of effort to both get to the other side and not look; whoever came up with the idea that anyone—principally fat, middle-aged anyones—should be allowed to walk around naked on the beach should have been shot, Fury thought.

Their latecomer commander stuck his face over the fence, too, and was hit with a shoe that someone conjured from somewhere.

"I vote that now we get our asses back to the hotel and pack," Breda panted.

"How? The Colonel's right outside!" Fury closed his eyes and made a peace gesture at the approaching mob.

"But he'll figure out where we're staying eventually. They have the dog now, too."

"Shit," Falman said again.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Fury told the glaring nudies. "My suggestion: The other side of the beach."

"We'd better keep running then," Breda said, still panting. The opposite end of the fence was quite a distance away.

They made it back to the hotel without being spotted, though Fury grew extremely aware of the tourists' stares. They no doubt looked strange, running down the streets as if being chased by the hounds of hell, barefoot and in their bathing suits (and him still clutching his mystery novel).

They almost got away.

"I figured it was you three who bought up the last double today," Hawkeye said stonily, familiar pistol cocked and aimed as she stood in front of their door. She must have run back to the hotel, too, despite how she seemed mightily composed. Her hair was down, but not a single strand was out of place—she wasn't even breathing hard, despite how Breda probably wished she was. The dark blue sarong knotted tightly around her waist did not appear to have even shifted.

"That's a nice bikini. Got a new one since the calendar shoot, did you?"

She turned her gun on Falman. "That's none of your business."

"Seems the commander likes it on you," Breda followed, unable to resist the urge to tease her. If it hadn't been blindingly obvious before that he had a crush on her, he certainly wasn't trying hard to conceal it now.

The gun shifted again, and Hawkeye double-checked that the safety was off.

Fury, wishing he had something duck under, said nothing.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Mustang arrived with arms full of beach supplies. "Ah, my good lady, you appear to have caught some delinquents," he said.

"You're sure in good spirits," she replied dryly.

"I look the liberty of liberating our friends' beer. I figure that's maybe a tenth of the debt they owe me for those two bottles of whiskey," Mustang said. "What do you say we tie them up for the night, get our money's worth out of our suite and this lucky stash, and phone headquarters in the morning?"

"What's the word about Havoc?" Hawkeye asked, ignoring the come-on.

"No clue."

Breda, who'd been growing a little red in the face, looked to Mustang. "Tie us up? What kind of fun do you plan on having tonight?"

"And gags, too, while we're at it."

Fury thought back to Breda's dominatrix comment, and barely contained a laugh.

"I don't want to know," said Falman.

"Supplies are in the room," Hawkeye told him, and jerked her head in the direction of the top level.

"I really don't want to know," Falman moaned.

"Good…because I don't plan to show you," Mustang said, and trotted off, whistling happily to himself.