Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

AN: Hello everyone! Responses to guest reviews from chapter 6 can be found at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

The Millers

Roy Mustang had lost track of time, but he thought it must be early morning judging by the still present darkness and the hours he'd been lying motionless. He had a mild headache from all the beer he had consumed while reading the files, and his mouth had an unpleasant post-alcohol taste. And still he lay on his bed, staring up at the swirled pattern on his ceiling as he had done for much of the night.

He was in general more methodical, but after the previous night his mind could only buzz, ruminating until he solved the current problem. Unfortunately, this was one problem he could not fix on his own. That fact alone drove him insane seeing as he assumed responsibility for the situation his team found itself in. Betrayed by Gene Raven, his boss, a man he'd trusted. He should have known, should have seen something.

Part of him must have been aware, even at the moment Loki made her offer, that he would need her help. The fact was they needed her help. His agents were certainly talented, but in his professional opinion his group stood little chance on their own. Their clearances had been revoked and they were being watched with an infuriatingly close eye. Not only that, but someone had tried to kill him and it was only a matter of time until they tried again, or went after a member of his team.

He still had his doubts, and he did not particularly relish having to rely on people about whom he knew next to nothing, but his gut told him he could trust her. His intuition was generally right, save for the cases of Raven and Gavilán, and in spite of the circumstances surrounding their first interactions he felt Loki was reliable. She could have killed him or Havoc back at the museum, and when she spoke about the second envelope, which contained the information on his parents, she seemed genuinely sympathetic.

Roy was quite certain that file was the main reason for his mind being stuck in one gear for several hours. He had seen it all before first-hand, had found them himself, and looking at all the crime scene photos had brought it all back. He tried to be as objective as possible, but the images ran through his mind during the night. His head churning with the details an FBI agent would notice that a confused and frightened boy would have mercifully missed. The lack of defensive wounds that meant they never had the opportunity to fight back, dead eyes frozen in fear, powder burns from being shot at close range. It infuriated him that since the age of nine he had been fed the 'theft gone wrong' story when, in reality, they were murdered by a contract killer. He finally knew the truth.

He rolled over and into a seated position, picking up the phone and card Loki had given to him at the restaurant. When he turned the screen on he saw that it was 0400 and hesitated momentarily, wondering if anyone would answer the phone. He shrugged and shook his head: You may be tired, but don't be an idiot. It's the CIA.

He dialed the number and pushed himself to his feet, walking slowly into the kitchen. Roy set the phone on the counter, downed a glass of water, and started a pot of coffee. Feeling a touch better, he made the call and listened to it ring a few times as he made his way to the living room, dropping down on the couch.

Suddenly, a man's voice answered. "Thank you for calling C&P Unlimited, how may I direct your call?"

He cleared his throat again. "Ahh...Scott Mansfield, please."

"One moment, sir."

A few clicks cut through the silence as the call was transferred and then a woman spoke. "Good morning, Mr. Mansfield. The car will meet you at the corner of Fifth and Linde at 0530. You will have a window at 0500. Have a pleasant trip."

Before he could say anything there was another click and the line went dead. He took the phone from his ear and looked at it for a second, amused smile starting to curve his lips. Roy also started to wonder if he'd lost his mind. Tossing the phone down on the couch he stood again and headed toward the bathroom, taking off his shirt in the process. He started the shower and stopped in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink with a yawn. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and he realized he had not looked quite so hellish since his and Hughes' parties in college, the majority of which were accompanied by bad decisions.

Once he was decent, he busied himself with activities like making breakfast and cleaning his firearm. He found he was in need of some normalcy, given the past few days and the fact that he had essentially just agreed to work with Loki. After he finished, he holstered the weapon at his back and strode toward the window, peeking out at his ever-present FBI shadow. According to his watch, he still had ten minutes and walked back in the direction of his bedroom.

Dropping to his knees in front of his closet, he deftly popped up the loose floorboard there, pulled out the metal box, and removed a few bundles of cash from his emergency reserves. One of his Aunt's most oft-repeated nuggets of wisdom was, 'Always keep enough cash on hand to get yourself out of trouble.' Her description of the nature of said trouble had always been annoyingly vague. Then Roy went to college with Maes Hughes. And then he understood.

He replaced the box and the floorboard before once more verifying the location of his tail and checking the time. With just a couple minutes left, he moved to the back of his apartment, slipping Loki's envelopes and burner phone in to his jacket in the process. When 0500 hit he heard a crash from the general direction of his FBI tail and climbed out the window. He rapidly descended the fire escape and hailed a cab the moment he reached the sidewalk. "Welker and James, please," he told the driver as he claimed the back seat and closed the door.

"Sure thing, man."

The faint scent of weed rose from the driver and as they pulled away from the curb he lowered himself in the back seat, grateful that the windows were tinted. When they passed the cross-street the FBI agents had been parked on, a few chuckles escaped him. They had been rear-ended and both men were out of the car in a shouting match with the other driver. He could not deny he felt an odd sort of satisfaction.

As they drove, he took a look around the car, making sure he had not inadvertently thrown himself into a trap. From what he could tell, they were not being followed, and when they stopped at the corner indicated he handed the driver some of the cash he'd brought. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The taxi drove away and he walked with the flow of foot traffic toward the subway entrance just down the street. He glanced in any windows he passed, trying to identify any potential tails. Despite the fact he did not see any, he decided to take two trains before finally arriving at the corner of Fifth and Linde at 0530. He was hardly there a minute before a black, slightly sporty vehicle with tinted windows came to a stop right in front of him.

The window rolled down and he bent somewhat to look inside, finding Loki in the driver's seat, looking much more awake then himself. "Get in." Roy slid into the passenger seat as the window rose and as soon as the door was shut she drove, merging with traffic and lifting a cup from the center console. "Morning, Agent Mustang. Coffee?" She wore a light gray suit jacket with matching slacks and a white, button-down shirt. Sunglasses were perched on the top of her head, and her hair hung freely, the sunlight bringing out the gold in her tresses.

"Morning...Thanks." He contemplated the cup for a second. "Please tell me this isn't decaf."

She chuckled as she changed lanes. "Definitely not."

"Excellent." He took a sip, despite the fact it was still scalding. "I didn't think you'd be my driver."

"Freya actually really wanted to be here, but the opportunity to rear-end a couple feds was too great for her to pass up."

He grinned, keeping an eye on the route she was taking. "That's an interesting hobby."

"One of her favorites." Loki sipped her own coffee.

"Can I ask where we're going?"

"You can ask." She gave him a small smirk and then checked her rear-view before gazing through the windshield again. "We're going to meet someone." She glanced at him. "Did you bring the envelopes I gave you?"

"Yes. I wasn't about to leave them in my apartment." It was a little odd to be in the car with her, chatting and drinking coffee as if they did not start off on different sides. And now that he thought about that, technically they had been working for the same side the entire time.

She considered him for a moment, and then nodded. He was not sure what that meant, but thought that perhaps she understood, or even approved of, his caution. Then she added, after a moment's hesitation, "I'm the only one that saw the file."

Roy knew she must have meant the second one. "Thank you."

Loki only nodded again, taking a left and picking up speed.

He hesitated for a second, sipping the coffee. "I have to ask...how did you know?"

Her lips curved. "Not to dodge, but I think that question will be answered shortly."

A few minutes later they pulled into a parking garage and she drove to the lowest level. From there, they strode toward a bank of two elevators, entered the one on the left, and she hit the button for the floor they were already on, holding it for five seconds. Loki then stepped back from the panel and sipped her coffee nonchalantly as the elevator began to descend, though according to the dial there was no basement.

It stopped a few floors below ground, accompanied by the usual cheerful sounding 'ding,' and they exited into an average, government-issue hallway. Beige walls, slightly darker beige carpet, and florescent lighting greeted them as followed the walkway. He was coming to the realization that Loki was not especially chatty and appreciated that, not feeling exceptionally talkative himself. And surprisingly, it was not an uncomfortable silence, rather an unfamiliar one since he knew so little about her.

They passed several doors, and at one point reached a metal gate that spanned the entire height and width of the hall. As she took a card out of her pocket and swiped it along the card reader, he thought it strange that they'd not seen another person since entering the garage. Once through the gate they stopped outside a door where she typed in a code and led them into an office.

At the dark mahogany desk at the other end of the room sat a woman with long, blonde hair. She was focused on her work, but looked up when they entered the room and then stood, setting a few papers back on the desktop. Her hair was long, ending far past her shoulders, and her eyes were a piercing blue. It took him a moment but, with no insignificant amount of astonishment, he realized he was looking at Olivier Armstrong, Director of Counter Intelligence with the CIA. He knew the CIA had a file on Loki, and this confirmed his suspicions that the thief was actually an agent.

The imposing woman held out her hand to him. "Special Agent Mustang."

He nodded, shaking her hand. "Director Armstrong."

"Good, you know who I am. That makes this easier." She paused to drink from a mug. "I'll get straight to the point, this meeting is taking place because I recognize that you may have doubts concerning one of my agents."

"I'm glad you understand."

"That said, Loki and her team are the most effective and useful assets I have at my disposal." She set her mug down. "The capacity in which you met her is part of her cover, which allows her more freedom to move within criminal circles. It is her team that I have tasked with the retrieval of the Philosopher's Stone...both the plans and the device."

His eyes widened as he looked from one woman to the other, shaking his head in disbelief, stomach sinking. The plans being stolen was dangerous enough, but if a man like Kimblee had an already functional device as well he could essentially control the black market. He could handpick buyers, threaten nations, and thus wield a terrifying amount of political influence. There was no doubt he would use the weapon if pressed.

If he had been holding onto even a sliver of healthy doubt or hesitation, it disappeared after receiving that news. He could not walk away knowing that an arms dealer was capable of building a deadly arsenal and possibly starting is own personal World War III. He did not have Kimblee's endgame entirely figured out yet, but it was a safe assumption that it would be something terrible.

Before Roy could respond, confirm that he was all in, he heard a phone nearby buzz and saw Loki reach into her pocket. She shared a look with her boss, brow furrowed, and said, "Hey, Sig. What's up?" He watched her and, though there was no change in her demeanor, he had a feeling it was more bad news. Finally, she nodded, told Sig 'Thanks,' and then looked up at him. "We'll have to cut this short. Your team has been taken into custody...we need to extract them."

He felt worry settle in his gut and took a breath, forcing it back in order to handle the situation clinically. "Taken to a black site, I'd guess?"

"That would be my guess. There's a new set of contracts...Raven's teeing them up."

"Shit." Anger built again at his boss' further betrayal and the fact that his team was once more in danger. She watched him, as if waiting for something, and he nodded to indicate that he was in, that the unexpectedly brief meeting had done its job. He heard the two women exchange brief goodbyes and followed Loki back out toward the car. Roy was determined to rescue his people, and he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

As they drove to the location Fuery sent her, Riza was formulating possible plans of attack for retrieving Mustang's team from federal custody. She ran through a mental inventory of everything available in the car she was using, and considered the various security measures they would likely encounter at a black site. A low-key infiltration with Becca would be ideal in order to avoid an alert going out, giving them time to disappear. As always, however, they needed to be prepared for anything.

For the most part, Mustang was able to conceal any anxiety he felt, but tiny hints were occasionally visible: brief tension in the neck, a hand through the hair, fingers lightly drumming on the coffee cup. That was in addition to the exhaustion she had noticed when he first joined her in the car a short time before. Sleep had clearly not come easily to him.

They were nearing their destination when she caught his eye momentarily, and recalled noticing his dark eyes in the bar in Paris. Now at a closer distance, it occurred to her that they might actually be black, which she had never seen before. He still seemed concerned, so she said, "Don't worry, Agent Mustang. We'll get them out safely." She paused as she reached into the center console, pulling out a small case with spare earpieces. "This isn't our first time."

He gave a chuckle, taking the comm she handed to him. "I don't doubt it." After a breath he added, "And please, call me Mustang, or Roy."

"Mustang it is." She nodded and on an impulse held out her hand, realizing that he still did not know her real name. "Riza Hawkeye, by the way…It's nice to officially meet you."

He shook her hand and eyed her, repeating "Hawkeye" as if pondering something. He then chuckled to himself and asked, "Is that your real name?"

Riza smiled. "It is." She fit the comm in her ear as she left the highway. "Okay, Sig, we're on. Everyone say hello to Agent Mustang."

"I have the cameras," Fuery replied immediately. "No word on who offered the contracts, but I'm sure we have a good idea."

"Almost to the party," Becca said in their ears. "So...Mr. Sexy Voice, looks like we have a little time to chat. Question number one on the Freya getting-to-know-you questionnaire: Are you currently seeing anyone?"

Riza heard him chuckle and she replied to her friend, parking their car a reasonable distance from the holding facility. "Freya. What have we said about boundaries?"

"Loki, my love, it's not an issue of recognition. I know right where the boundaries are, I just enjoy crossing them. Mr. Sexy Voice?"

"So that night we overheard your conversation..." He glanced over at her. "That wasn't just for our benefit. You guys really talk about random crap."

"Well, you have to have fun. It can't just be work, work, work all the time or you'll lose it completely. Right, Loki?" There was a brief pause and she said, "Heading to the North entrance."

"Of course, Freya." She shared a looked with Mustang and exited the car, adding, "On my way."

"I'm slowly teaching her," Becca continued. "So...we are back to the original question. Are you currently seeing anyone?"

"Ahh..." He laughed lightly, and must have correctly discerned that the other woman would not give up easily. "No, I am not."

"Ooh, handsome, mysterious, single...interesting. Question two: What's your stance on foreplay?"

He smirked. "I really don't think that's any of your business."

"He's playing hard-to-get."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it, Freya," Riza replied, falling into step next to her friend and shaking her head, unable to hold back a small smile. They followed the walkway up to the building, which was a nondescript, three-story structure. To anyone else it would look like the typical collection of offices, except this building was secured with rotating codes, encrypted cards, cameras, and trained guards. Mustang's team was being held in separate interrogation rooms, and the so-called interrogator was most likely a hitman. "You could try something less invasive, like his favorite flavor of ice cream. You know, ease him into the crazy."

"Fine...It's boring, and unoriginal, but whatever. Okay, Mr. Sexy Voice...ice cream flavor, go."

"Vanilla." There was a touch of amusement in his voice, and she reasoned that he probably thought they were certifiable.

"Oh, mother of god..." Her friend's tone was one of complete exasperation, as if Mustang had said something completely off-topic like 'puppies are satan's minions.' "You're boring, just like Loki."

"Sometimes simple is best," Riza chimed in as they reached the door, which after a buzz popped open. They breezed through it and quickly moved into the nearest stairwell, climbing to the fourth floor. The stairwells in buildings such as that were rarely used, decreasing the probability that they would run into anyone on the way up.

"News flash, that's just another word for boring," Becca retorted, giving her a look that displayed a lack of appreciation for the blonde's ice cream preferences.

"I'm gonna have to say neopolitan...because I like options," Fuery suddenly added. "Okay, ladies, you will be exiting right in front of the guard desk."

"We already know you, Sig," the brunette told him. "Mind your own business."

"I'm just being social...like you always tell me to be." He paused. "Also, you talk about desserts a lot. It's an issue."

Riza laughed quietly when she heard Mustang's muttered, "Jesus...what have I gotten us into?"

She met Becca's eye as they neared the fourth landing and said, trying to catch her breath at the same time, "You're the flirty one."

"I'm always the flirty one," Becca replied, running her fingers through her hair, unfastening a couple buttons on her shirt, and readjusting her bra.

"It's because you're so great at it."

They stepped out of the stairwell as if they owned the building and flashed their badges in front of the guard on desk-duty. "Agent Leanna Miller, CIA"

Her friend smiled, biting a tiny portion of her lip upon making eye contact with the guard. "Agent Sarah Miller."

"Four prisoners are to be remanded into our custody...Agents Maria Ross, Heymans Breda, Jean Havoc, and Vato Falman."

The guard looked from one to the other, grinning confidently at Becca. "We were instructed not to hand them off to anyone."

"My orders come directly from the DCS," Riza responded. "And he wants them now."

"You're covered," Fuery said in her ear.

After a few keystrokes he looked something up in his computer. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was mistaken."

"Oh, these things happen." Becca gave a nonchalant wave and then moved closer to the guard. "I love your glasses, by the way. They do wonderful things for your complexion."

"Thank you," he responded, leaning on the counter in her direction. "I just got them."

"We'll just go ahead and obtain those prisoners. Our boss already let the interrogator know that custody has changed," Riza continued, with an amused glance to her partner.

"Of course, Agent Miller. Rooms 3, 4, 11, and 12."

"Thank you...Mr. Jacobs," she replied, reading his name from the tag on his shirt. She walked down the hall with Becca and they split into rooms three and four to retrieve Agents Ross and Breda. The young woman in interrogation room three looked at her curiously, and then with surprise when Riza strode behind her, putting a hand on her arm to get her to stand. "Time to go, Agent Ross."

The young woman looked up at her sharply, pulling her arm from her grasp. "Why? Who are you?"

"Just tell her I say to do it," Mustang said in her ear.

Riza lowered her voice so the guard down the hall would not hear. "Mustang says you should cooperate."

"What's the codeword?"

"Butternut squash," Mustang helpfully told her.

"Butternut squash?" She chuckled. "Really?" At that moment the young woman stood, still cuffed, and looked at her expectantly.

"Butternut squash..." Rebecca said to her own prisoner, voice tinged with irritation. "And they think we're the batshit ones. That is a sucky codeword." This last sentence was spoken to Riza's face, causing her to crack a smile, when both she and her friend were back in the hallway. "I mean, at least make it something people like to eat."

"Plenty of people like butternut squash." They strode toward the next set of rooms, keeping their voices low, and she checked the placards on the wall for room eleven.

"They say they do, but they really don't. It's all a goddamn conspiracy..."

Riza gave a laugh. "Note to self...squash is a tender topic."

"I hate you."

Agents Breda and Ross abruptly stopped walking, which brought the two women to a sudden halt. "Who the hell are you people?" Maria Ross queried, brow raised and crinkled.

"We'll discuss that later." Riza glanced down toward the guard who smiled when Becca waved at him.

"Don't worry about him," her friend muttered. "The cute ones are so easy."

Riza opened the door to interrogation room eleven and pulled Agent Ross just inside the door, reaching over to put a hand on the other prisoner's arm as well. "Agent Havoc...care to join us?"

The man started to say, "What? Who the…?" and then stopped once he saw Maria Ross behind her. They looked at each other, nodded, and he allowed her to guide him to a standing position, after which they again met Rebecca and her agents in the hall.

"This is everyone, right?"

"Yes." Riza nodded. "Let's go." One hand on each agent, they strode down the hallway in the direction of the guard at his desk.

Rather than take the stairs, this time they piled into the elevator, Rebecca toying with her hair as she eyed the guard. "Thank you so much for all your help, Mr. Jacobs."

The doors slid shut and she shook her head with a chuckle. "Laying it on a bit thick?"

"Well, if you..."

The brunette's reply was interrupted by Havoc, who said, "Can we talk about what the hell is going on here?"

Riza took out a pin and picked the locks on the cuffs, four sets dropping to the floor. "Everything will be explained soon. But right now we need to get out of here...your lives are in danger."

Breda absentmindedly rubbed a spot on his wrist that the metal had cut into slightly. "Where's the Boss?"

"He's in the car...just wait and he'll explain." All the FBI agents seemed unsure of the situation, but Breda especially was watching her quite suspiciously, and she wondered if he had somehow figured out who they were. The elevator opened again and the group walked toward the glass doors at the front of the building. "Falman, Breda...follow her. Havoc, Ross...you're with me."

The small group split, one set of three walking toward Rebecca's vehicle and the other toward Riza's where Agent Mustang awaited them. She climbed into the front passenger seat, fastening her seat-belt, while Ross and Havoc placed themselves in the second row. As soon has he was seated, Havoc glanced at her and leaned forward to speak to his partner. "What is going on, Roy?"

They were all thrown back into their seats when Mustang accelerated quickly, merging with traffic. "The short version is that someone has put hits out on all of us..."

"What? Why?" Ross asked.

"We're loose ends...and now they want to get rid of us so we can't talk." He met Riza's eye for a moment. "Where am I going?"

"Get on the highway, head south."

Havoc looked at her and then back at his partner. "And who are our new friends?"

Mustang glanced at his mirrors and checked his blind spot as he merged onto the highway. "Havoc, Ross...meet Agent Riza Hawkeye, CIA." He paused, possibly for dramatic effect. "But you know her better as Loki."

She turned in her seat and offered her hand to each of them in turn to shake, but only Havoc took it. "It's nice to finally meet you both. Sorry again about shooting your leg."

"No shit...I thought your voice sounded familiar." He grinned broadly. "So you really are CIA...can't say I'm surprised."

"Boss," Ross chimed in somewhat angrily. "You can't be serious. We're working with them now? This is unbelievable."

"What choice do we have, Ross?"

"There has to be some other option."

"Raven is in on it, guys. He fucked us over. Without Loki and her team, we have no way to clear our names." He paused again. "And without them, we wouldn't have known about the contracts offered on us."

"How do you know she isn't feeding you a bunch of lies? Really, she could be the hitter."

Havoc interrupted her. "Ross, you know he wouldn't make this kind of call lightly."

She sighed. "I know. It's just...she's a criminal. We've been chasing her."

Riza listened to the exchange as she gazed out the window, thoroughly unfazed by the other woman's sentiments. Her friend Rebecca, however, was an entirely different story, and her muttered tirade came through the earpiece. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I'll take her right back to that damn holding facility, if she wants. She'd probably be dead right now if not for us. But, oh no, we're criminals, stop the fucking presses..."

Sharing a brief look with Mustang, she softly said, "Cool it, Freya."

She was aware that there was a certain moral ambiguity to her occupation, as there was throughout the entire profession. Their cover gave them contacts and knowledge of which many agents could only dream. If the occasional theft meant they had the ability to stop catastrophes like a bombing in Germany or a deadly outbreak in the States, she could handle it. It did not hurt that it was fun and their targets were always pompous crooks.

Riza leaned forward in her seat, pointing ahead. "Take the next exit." Then, she looked in the side-view mirror and changed her mind. "Wait, keep going. I think we have company." To Becca she added: "Freya...keep driving. I have two unmarked, black SUVs behind us.."

"Damn...and I've got one more behind to my left. Who are these guys?"

At that moment they heard gunfire and everyone ducked as well as they could, jerking to the left when Mustang quickly swerved the vehicle. Riza raised herself back up and looked at all the mirrors, grabbing onto the door as Mustang veered again, this time to the right, to block one of their tails from passing them. Pulling the firearm from her shoulder holster, she handed it to Agent Havoc, recalling that he had some of the best marksmanship scores on his team.

She gestured toward the car to their rear that just tried to pass and he nodded as he turned in his seat and shot out the rear window. She then drew the pistol from her back, popped a round into the chamber, and rolled down her window. Unbuckling her seat-belt she spun in her seat and stuck her left arm out, aiming low as their other tail tried to pass on that side and trying to stay out of the line of fire. With an exhale, she squeezed off three rounds, one each to two tires and one to the driver as the car veered off the road.

She shielded herself behind the back of her seat as more shots came from the car following them and addressed her team. "Freya?" The gunfire died off as Havoc managed to debilitate the other tail.

"He's on my left...I had to move around another vehicle and it gave him an opening. There's a semi-truck between us, but not for long."

"Well, Mr. Sexy Voice," Riza began with a small, amused grin. "Mind rolling down your window?" Riza tossed the pistol to her right hand, leaned back, and stretched her arm out in the direction of the now open window, glancing ahead to establish a time-frame. "Freya...in five seconds...hit the brakes."

"Copy."

She waited, taking a calming breath and then exhaling. "Three...two...one." Their vehicle and the last remaining pursuer both flew past the cab of the semi-truck at that instant. Shots sounded but she forced herself to refrain from instinctively ducking away. She fired another three rounds, this time taking out the gunman in the passenger seat, the driver, and the only tire she could see.

As the other vehicle spun away, she took a deep breath, meeting Mustang's eye for a moment. He was watching her, as if trying to decide something, and she wondered briefly if he had somehow connected her to the shot in Paris that saved him. She pushed that thought away, turned back around, and directed him to take the next exit. There was no way he could have put that together already.

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

Responses to guest reviews:

Hermit Crab - Thank you! I did put Mustang through a lot in that chapter. It's really so great to hear that you're looking forward to more :)

Guest (May 30) - Thank you so much! :)