Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

AN: Hello everyone! I apologize for posting a bit late on this one. I've also been working on another story idea and that's the groove my brain got into for a little while, if that makes sense. I do still plan to have the next chapter up this coming Sunday. Responses to guest reviews for the last chapter can be found at the end of this post. I hope you like the new chapter!

The City That Care Forgot (Part 1)

Just after 0300 the following morning, Roy waited with Hawkeye near Kimblee's residence, trying to understand how it could be so impossibly hot. It was the middle of the night, but the heat was still oppressive and the excessive humidity did not help matters. Every light breeze felt miraculous, and then it was gone in the blink of an eye. "I'll have to remember to never again come to New Orleans this time of year."

Hawkeye glanced at him, a small smile appearing at the comment. "This is one of the hottest months. Things don't really cool down here until November-ish."

"Been here before, have you?" The property was located in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in the city and they stood with their backs to the stone wall surrounding it, keeping vigilant. He shot a look in her direction and realized that, though a light sheen was visible on her neck, she seemed largely unfazed by what he would call a warmth reminiscent of the fires of hell.

She smiled again, and it was mostly just an amused curve of the lips. "Once or twice."

"Pssh…Don't listen to her, Tyr, we used to live here," Freya interjected via comms, who Roy had learned was actually Rebecca Catalina, a talented grifter. "In position." He noticed the blonde did not appear exceptionally pleased by the added information, but she said nothing and he assumed she knew her friend would give away nothing of importance.

"No way," Breda replied in surprise. "I used to stay here with my aunt for the summer and we'd go to that ice cream place...Carmelo's, or something...all the time." After a second he added, "Hel and I are in position." He and Ross were stationed at the southern end of the property where a useful cable junction was located.

"Oh my god, Ymir...that was our favorite. They have the best mango ice cream in the fucking world. Right, Loki?"

"The best, Freya."

"Ahh...the target's plane lands in fifteen, gang," Fuery informed them. Roy had discovered, with a significant amount of shock, that Kain Fuery was basically a teenage genius that had worked with the team since it's creation. Breda had chuckled and shaken the kid's hand when he realized a nineteen-year-old had been kicking his ass all that time.

"We have an ETA," Hawkeye said. "Odin?"

"I'm all set with Mani," the older man responded. "Waiting to follow." When the teams had been introduced to each other at the safe-house in Virginia, he did not expect to have prior knowledge of any of them, until he recognized Odin. The man's name was Walter Grumman and he was infamous in law enforcement circles, having stolen billions from many rich and powerful people. Up until that moment, Roy believed him to be living peacefully in a country with grand mansions and a non-extradition treaty. While he did not reveal his knowledge anyone, he was itching to ask Hawkeye how a man like Grumman had ended up on her team.

"And BlackBird is still midnight snacking at this bar," Freyr informed them from his position tailing Raven, a hint of frustration in his voice. "And in case you were wondering? Slowest...eater...ever." Denny Brosh went by the codename Freyr and had started off in special ops before being recruited by the CIA, the details of which were not shared. In fact, though the members of Hawkeye's team had shared what seemed to be their real names, none of them explained how they came to be working together. Granted, it was still early and they were all testing the waters, but he could not deny it intrigued him. He recalled telling Hughes not that long ago that he was only interested in arresting Loki and her team, not hearing their life stories. However, after meeting them and bearing witness to their family-like, playfully antagonistic dynamic that was so similar to his own team, he found he wanted to know more.

Roy shared a look with Hawkeye, who gave him a small nod that she was ready, and he said to the group at large, "Okay, let's do it." They turned and moved further south along the wall, slowing as they reached a wrought iron gate of vintage design set into the stone. While the wall itself was too tall to scale, the gate was around the average height of a door with a handle on the right.

He glanced around as she examined the lock and slipped a lock-picking set from her pocket. Then a couple things happened in quick succession: Catalina played the drunk party-goer and ran a 'borrowed' car into some bushes at the front gate to distract the guards, and Breda accessed the cable junction to overload the building's electrical systems.

"Okay, alarm system rebooting. Loki, you have thirty seconds before the perimeter is back up," Fuery added. The alarms monitoring the wall and its gates were deemed a priority since they were the first line of defense. The system in the house, however, would take at least another ten minutes to restart and recalibrate.

"Copy, Sig."

She had the gate popped before their computer guy had finished speaking and held it open so Roy could examine the alarm sensor itself. He glanced at the gate to look for anything conspicuous along the lock stile and his gaze then moved to the upper portion of the opening. With a small nod he muttered to himself, "It's a closed-circuit system," while he pulled a magnet from his pocket and affixed it to the sensor. The magnet would keep the circuit closed, and thus keep electricity moving, so they could leave the gate open but the alarm system would think it was secure.

He stepped into the backyard and she pushed the gate so it was nearly shut before they quietly paced toward the house, keeping to the shadows. Shouts muffled by distance could be heard from the other end of the property, evidence of Catalina's diversion at work. The home itself was not as large or extravagant as he would have expected, and instead was a clean-cut, brick building that rose two-stories. It was built in 1927 and boasted a partial basement that had originally been used for rum-running during the Prohibition era. It was this last detail that Roy figured was the reason for the home's unassuming appearance, and the aforementioned stone wall that provided a great deal of privacy.

"It looks like you'll have fifteen minutes before the house alarms are back on," Fuery added. He was quite capable of hacking the system, of course, but they were doing their best to remain unnoticed. A paranoid man like Kimblee would almost certainly notice a breach of that nature. Since their arms dealer had not yet arrived with his full security detail, they were hoping to get in and out without leaving any trace.

"Copy." When they came to a rear patio door they repeated the same process as before: Hawkeye picked the lock and he placed a magnet over the sensor as a precaution.

"We're in," Roy told them as the blonde tossed him a small bag of listening devices. Per their plan, she moved on to another room and he started in the office they entered, bugging the phone before cautiously entering the hallway. She would take care of half the first floor and the basement while he covered the rest of the first floor and the second story.

"Since quiet time is over, can we get back to talking about how you own a private goddamn plane?" Havoc interjected via comms. "Because I was wondering if you were hiring since I seem to have chosen the wrong line of work."

"Going over to the dark side already?" Ross teasingly asked, and then added, "We're heading back."

"You should probably stick with the law-abiding-citizen thing, Dagr," Catalina replied. "And they threatened to call the cops, so I'm drunkenly stumbling away."

Roy listened as he worked, planting a device behind the mirror in a bathroom and affixing one to a light fixture in the dining room. From there, he strolled into the kitchen, clearing his portion of the first floor in a matter of minutes and continuing on to the second. The bugs were incredibly small and lightweight, much more streamlined and easier to conceal than the equipment provided by the FBI.

"Oh, she doesn't think I can hack it, but I'll prove her wrong," Havoc continued. "I'm in position...northwest hanger for private planes. It's pretty quiet."

"FYI, you'll fail miserably, dude," Breda chimed in. "You couldn't con a dentist out of a toothbrush."

"The joke's on you, Ymir, they give those out for free."

Roy gave a quiet laugh as he walked through a home gym, trying to decide on the best location for a bug and thinking he might need two. "I think that's his point."

"Whatever, so maybe the con is not my strong suit, but I have others. For instance, I'm a lot of fun on a date, Loki...in case you'd ever like to find out."

He heard someone snort their opinion of the invitation, and then Hawkeye softly said, "No thanks, Dagr. You're not really my type."

"What? Handsome and charming aren't your type?"

"Oh, no, they are." There was mirth in her tone, and Roy joined in the chuckles that followed her response as he placed a device in the master bedroom. While it was likely unnecessary to plant listening devices in the entire house, they were not sure when such an opportunity might again present itself and wanted to take full advantage of it. Who knew, Kimblee might like to conduct his business in the kitchen, and if his meeting with Raven took place somewhere in his home, they wanted to hear it.

Breda's cackled mercilessly. "Ooooooh...another crash and burn for Dagr."

"That hurt, Loki, I won't lie." There was a brief pause before he said, "So, Freya...how about a date?"

Roy was in the master bath, just about to tell his partner to stop hitting on everyone, when a hand grabbed his arm. He spun, reaching for his weapon, and stopped when Hawkeye placed a hand on his chest to halt his movement and a finger to her lips to let him know silence was essential. They remained still for a few moments and then he heard the voices downstairs. He assumed the guards must have realized the alarm system was out and a few came in to check it.

She gestured for him to follow, led him back through the master bedroom, into the hallway, and toward the staircase he had taken a short time before. He heard the guards approaching the base of the stairs and pulled her into a nearby bedroom. Stepping around a large bookcase immediately to the left of the door, they stood facing each other in the corner of the room, sandwiched between the bookcase and a wall. The guards were moving slowly, shooting the breeze more than working, and Hawkeye shifted against him to check her watch, raising her eyebrows as a way of informing them they needed to leave soon.

They listened to the guards' progress, who had paused at the top of the stairs, and their own team's conversation that continued over comms. "Yoo hoo...Loki? Tyr?" Breda was saying. "Where are you crazy kids?"

"Calm down," Catalina replied. "They are probably by a guard or something and can't talk right now. Or maybe they're making out…all this talk of dates probably put ideas in their heads." Roy rolled his eyes as Hawkeye shook her head with a grin.

"Well, if that's the case, I guess she likes them goofy-looking and arrogant with crazy hair," Havoc commented, clearly pleased that the man in question could not respond at the moment. Hawkeye glanced up at him, and then her mouth dropped open upon Catalina's next addition:

"And Tyr must like his ladies to be bossy clean-freaks with weapon obsessions...I can't diss her hair, though, it's excellent." It was after the firearms comment that he thought about her incredible accuracy during the car chase the prior day, and it occurred to him that she might be skilled enough for the shot that saved him in Paris.

He shook that off for the time being and they both stilled when the guards began moving again, finally passing the door to their hiding place. They waited an additional few seconds to be safe before quickly and soundlessly taking the stairs to the first floor. They exited through the office and he removed the magnet he'd placed over the sensor as they did so. Racing toward the gateway, he took that magnet as well and she closed the gate securely behind them. Once out on the sidewalk they slowed to a more comfortable pace, as if they were simply a couple bar-goers on the way home.

The heat was once more overwhelming, but now that they were out in the open there was some relief from a more substantial breeze. The road they followed was quiet and lined with trees interspersed with those antique-style street lamps neighborhoods often had in an attempt to achieve an old-world aesthetic. They strolled in silence for a while, enjoying the peaceful early morning, and his thoughts turned to his Aunt Chris and the Hughes family. He hoped they were alright, that they had not fallen under any scrutiny because of his escape and the suspicions surrounding him. He also felt terrible for disappearing like he did, hated leaving without warning, but he also knew better than to contact them. It would simply cause more trouble for anyone involved, and he was no novice.

Hawkeye's voice brought him back to the present, and she glanced at him with a small smirk. "So how does it feel, Tyr, having been on the other side?"

He chuckled. "I guess it wasn't too bad." He actually had to admit that he was feeling a bit invigorated, what with the break-in, the close call with the guards, and getting out clean. The adrenaline had been flowing and there was a bit of pride in being able to keep calm and focus just like on any other mission. After another thought he added, "Oh, and fair warning Dagr, I'm going to hurt you."

Havoc replied, but not as expected. "The target's plane just landed."

"We may have a problem," Grumman abruptly spoke up. "We're seeing law enforcement vehicles...some local, some state, and a few may be federal."

"Federal? Are you sure?" Roy's eyes narrowed and he shared a look with Hawkeye as they picked up their pace for the two blocks remaining to the safe-house.

"Sig..." the blonde began.

"Airport security feeds...I'm on it."

"Thanks." She sped up from a run to something closer to a sprint and he matched her pace, wondering what the hell was going on. They burst through the side door of the safe-house a few minutes later, catching their breath, and strode directly to Fuery's station, where video feeds were just popping up on a large screen.

"I've got airport customs officers...they're going out to meet the plane on the tarmac," Havoc informed them. "I see a few local leos, some staties, and...oh holy shit. Tyr, do you…?"

"Hold on." He indicated a specific camera feed and said, "Sig, can you zoom in on that?" Roy's face fell as he recognized one of the agents in the group moving through the hangar. "Dammit Hughes."

"Your Interpol friend?" Hawkeye sounded somewhat incredulous as she stepped closer, and then, "Shit."

"Yes, my stupid friend that's detaining a psychotic arms dealer in an airport." He paced away a short distance, shaking his head, and turned back around. "He's been after Kimblee for a couple years but could never find anything concrete. Naturally, he had to take action now." He continued to watch and saw Hughes hand Kimblee what must have been a warrant, at which point agents began off-loading items from the plane. The arms dealer's expression was cold, which was somehow even more unsettling than if he'd started a shouting match. Roy could not determine what was being said, but he could tell his friend had managed a small victory. After a couple minutes, the agents finished unloading and Kimblee said a few words before returning to his plane, which started to taxi away. Part of him, the part thinking about how the asshole killed his parents, seriously felt like throwing something, but he settled for saying, "Fuck...he's gone."

"And BlackBird's on the move," Denny said.

"Mani, relieve Freyr for a while, and keep an eye on BlackBird," Roy replied, trying to keep the anger from his voice. He met Hawkeye's gaze for a second and she gave a tiny nod that she was fine with the switch. He wanted to give Brosh a break since he'd been tailing Raven for several hours, but he did not want to step on toes. They were in a delicate situation with two teams that did not know each other well trying to work together. He and Hawkeye had been doing their best to cooperate, not wanting to cause unnecessary issues by making decisions without the other's input.

"Copy that," Falman replied. "Odin's taking me to Freyr's position."

Roy removed his comm and once more glanced at the video of his friend, chuckling wryly at the horrendous timing of it all. The time they had taken to follow Raven and bug Kimblee's house seemed like a waste, though he knew that was not true. With an exhale he muttered, "Dammit."

Everyone began to disperse, heading off to bedrooms to sleep while Fuery worked on tracking the arms dealer's movements, and he looked to his right when Hawkeye turned to face him. "We'll get him, Mustang," she said with a nod, placing a hand on his arm briefly as she walked behind him.

He watched for a second as she left and nodded to himself: she was right. He could not reasonably expect that apprehending someone like Kimblee would be easy, and he had to be prepared for more obstacles. He appreciated her reassurance, and in that second he fully realized that she was the only other person that knew the entire truth about his parents, the only one that understood the complete significance of Kimblee slipping from their grasp. And for some reason, that did not bother him.

He had spent most of his life not telling anyone about them and, if he did, he gave as few details as possible. For years, only Maes, Gracia, and Aunt Chris knew that his parents were shot and that he found them. Elicia and Havoc only know that he was orphaned young, but they have no idea what happened. As for the rest of his team, he did not think they knew anything.

Their death and his subsequent discovery of it were simply things he did not frequently bring up. It was true that it was still painful to think about, and he figured it always would be to some extent, but that was not the reason for his secrecy. That experience had become an extremely personal and private part of his life, and it was as if he wanted to keep whatever was left of them for himself. However, in all honesty, it was a relief that someone else knew everything without him have to tell the story.

It was late in the evening on the same day of what they were now calling the 'airport fiasco,' and Riza was using her free time to swim laps in the pool. She sliced through the water, which was refreshing after the hot New Orleans day, and when she reached the end performed a flip turn to change directions. After the team had dispersed early that morning, she had gone directly to her room and collapsed onto her bed. She had a meeting with Barry at 0100 and wanted to be well-rested, but when she woke up it was clear she needed exercise.

She understood Mustang's frustrations at Kimblee slipping away, as she felt the same irritation every time she thought about Raven still wandering freely. Ever since Fuery had pieced together that surveillance video, and she saw her father's killer, his death had been on her mind. She was not proud of the part of herself that wanted to put a bullet in Raven's skull, but it was there nonetheless. And the fact that they had to merely keep following him only angered her further. Hence, the exercise.

Lap after lap she lost herself in the repetition, in the movements. The sensation of cool water rushing past was invigorating, and she intended to push herself until any stress she felt melted away. When she finally slowed and stood next to the edge of the pool, she had to catch her breath and her limbs felt heavy. She wrung out her hair, at which point she glanced at the deck chairs placed near the pool and found the General stretched out on one.

She slowly walked up the steps out of the water, grabbing the towel she had set nearby and drying off. Riza then slipped her shorts on over the lower portion of her two-piece suit and occupied the seat next to his. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long." He shrugged. "I don't mind waiting, anyway."

"Are you here to check on me?" She lay back, one arm behind her head, and tried to find a few bright stars stronger than the city lights.

"Yes. I know what night it is...and we just happen to be in New Orleans."

She exhaled slowly. "I'm fine, thank you." They stared up at the sky for a few minutes, and then she added, "Are you sure you want to get involved in all this, General? You could go back to your island, you know."

"I'm not going anywhere, Little Queen."

She shook her head, a grin working its way onto her face. "That nickname."

"It's a classic, and I'll never stop using it."

"That's good to know." She sat up and gave him a smile as she rose to leave, taking a few steps toward the house.

His voice stopped her. "They would both be proud of you. You know that, right?"

After a moment of digesting that, she said, "Thank you." Riza continued up to her room to get ready, quickly rinsing off in the shower to avoid that lovely chlorine smell. Once dressed, she slipped money in her pocket and a small pistol into the holster at her back, running a hand through her still damp hair and contemplating her reflection in the mirror. She felt much less tense after her swim, and she looked forward to a night out with Becca, even if they were just meeting with Barry.

She left the room, popped her head into Fuery's to let him know they were leaving, and met her friend in the entryway. Like her, the brunette had opted for dark clothing, and she wondered if their line of work gave them a perpetual compulsion to blend in. Or if maybe they were just dark and disturbed people. With a shared grin they exited, following the sidewalk toward the restaurants and bars of the French Quarter.

They were quiet for a little while, both likely experiencing mixed emotions being back in their hometown. While the term 'hometown' was technically accurate, after her mother died New Orleans had no longer felt like home to either of them. They had moved around frequently after that, and now the safe-house in Virginia felt more like home than any place had for some time.

Becca sighed, glancing around at the historic properties they were passing. "It feels like forever since we've been here, but it's only been a few years."

"That visit was even shorter than this one...We went right back to Portugal." She paused. "He was supposed to meet us there that weekend since I'd been discharged."

"That's where we should go when all this is over. Get another place by the ocean. Grilled fish, fresh bread, and wine for days." The brunette waved her hand in front of her, as if all that was right before them. "And this is random, but I think Ross has a thing for Mr. Sexy Voice."

"I was actually thinking that, too." Riza lowered her voice. "Two behind us...keeping their distance."

She nodded. "I saw them. Who do you think it is?"

"I have a hunch, but I'm not sure yet. Think it's time for the tequila test?"

"Oh, I am always down the for the tequila test."

She chuckled. "Don't I know it."

Several minutes later they reached Bourbon Street, not surprisingly still packed at that late hour, and walked toward Club Galatoire. They were familiar with the bar and preferred it due to its layout, available exits, and proximity to their destination. They approached the bouncer and were admitted immediately, heading straight for the bar where Becca held up a hand to get the bartender's attention. He responded fairly quickly, the brunette was hard to ignore, and she smiled. "Two shots of tequila, please."

He grinned confidently. "Sure."

They received their shots, clinked glasses, and threw them back, each taking the opportunity to check the mirror behind the bar for their tail. Glancing at each other, they made their way through the crowd to the dance floor, and she leaned close to her friend. "They got in quickly."

"I knew it was them...idiots," Becca replied as they stopped near the center of the floor and started to join in the dancing. "The usual plan?"

She nodded, already losing herself slightly in the music. The floor was packed, and the DJ was playing mostly bass-heavy dance numbers. They danced near each other, and guys came and went, because her friend nearly always got hit on when they went out. She was beautiful, confident, and bubbly, so it was not difficult to see why men were interested. While Riza certainly did not lack confidence, she was a touch less quick to a grin and less outwardly friendly, which she figured might be a bit off-putting.

She checked her watch periodically and when around fifteen minutes remained until her meeting with Barry she placed a hand on her friend's arm. Leaning in again she said, "I'll be back by 0130." They shared a look and then simultaneously move toward different exits, navigating through the crowd.

Once she was back outside she took a deep breath and grinned, enjoying the fact that the air now felt a little cooler after the heat of the club. She strode along the alley back toward Bourbon Street, hoping their ruse worked and that they at least managed to separate the followers. Shooting a quick glance back toward the bar she joined the flow of foot traffic, walking in the direction of a cemetery not far from there.

This city was one of the few places on the planet that made her truly nostalgic, seeing as she'd lived there until she was fifteen. The scent of sugary beignets and spicy gumbos filled the air, and the crowd's carefree happiness was infectious; they were out to have fun. Numerous streets over, was the ice cream parlor that her mother frequently took her to, and not far from that her mom's favorite park could be found. It had a bench, under a fruit tree, where they would end up finishing their mostly melted ice cream.

Out of habit she kept an eye on the mass of people as she walked, checking for anyone else following her or anything out of place. When she reached the block that housed the cemetery, she turned down a side street that ran along it and then slipped through a small, ivy covered gate in the iron fence. She strolled through the maze of crypts, glancing at names, architecture, and statuary as she passed.

Finally, she neared the site she was looking for. The tomb was in a more secluded portion of the cemetery and was one of the smaller, less extravagant crypts. A short, stone wall followed the edge of the plot, and a gigantic willow close by overshadowed it. The stone was gray, the architecture unremarkable, and in the center of the front wall there was a petite door. A plaque was affixed to it, and centered at the top was the name Hawkeye, with the given names Elizabeth and Berthold appearing just beneath it. No dates or other information appeared, but in the stone just above the door was a small engraving of an orchid, her mother's favorite flower. Her chest tensed slightly, and she let out a small sigh.

She turned her back to it to wait, not wanting anyone watching to think she had any special interest in that spot other than as a useful meeting place. The silence was short-lived as, a few moments later, she heard soft footfalls approaching from her right. The individual handed her a package and said, "Loki, my darling, I hope I find you well."

"I am. And you?"

"Rather relieved, if you'd like to know. Someone managed to keep things from me, but I believe I've found the problem and corrected it."

"That is wonderful to hear." She turned the packet over in her hands, making sure it's size fit with what she had ordered.

"And by 'corrected,' I mean I killed the problem." His voice was incredibly lighthearted, bordering on exuberant.

"I figured, Bare."

"And I presume you are aware that there is a man watching you."

She nodded, keeping her voice low. "I know. He's been following me tonight."

"Would you like me to take care of him?" His chuckle somehow sounded like an innocent giggle combined with an evil-sounding cackle. "I would so enjoy it."

"No, that's alright. He's not a threat, he just doesn't trust me." She looked over at Barry. "But...thank you for the offer."

"Of course." His voice turned more business-like. "I brought everything you asked for, and I used two of the best forgers. They're not quite as gifted as you in that department, but you shouldn't have a problem."

"Thank you." She slipped an envelope from a concealed pocket in her jacket and held it out to him. "Your payment. I threw in a bit extra...to show my appreciation for your help."

"Thank you...I've been thinking about buying a new knife-set."

Her lips curved. "You have twenty."

"We all have our little hobbies, my darling." He began to walk away. "I'll let you know if I hear anything about what our friend plans to do with his new toy."

"Thank you again."

"Aurevoir."

He left via a small alley between two crypts and she opened one end of the package, visually verifying everything was there to be certain. She stepped away, casting one more glance at her parents' tomb, and then reached for her pistol when she heard evidence of a scuffle behind her. She turned around and rolled her eyes, holstering her weapon and watching Barry where he stood in the middle of the walkway holding a knife at Mustang's throat. To his credit, the agent seemed quite calm despite the circumstances, only watching her silently, warily. After considering them a moment, she exhaled with a hint of irritation. "Barry, would you let him go?"

He gave a little shrug, pricking Mustang's neck in the process, and she could not be sure if it was inadvertent or intentional. "I just wanted to reiterate my offer...in case you'd changed your mind."

Her eyes widened when, upon closer inspection, she realized he was holding a cleaver. "Where do you even keep that?" She held up her hand. "No, forget I asked...Please let him go."

"Are you sure? I could..."

"Barry."

"Alright, alright." Before removing the knife, he grabbed Mustang's hair. "But if I catch you stalking her again, I will chop you up into pieces so tiny no one will ever find them." Barry took the knife from his throat and pushed him away, once more melting into the shadows.

Mustang rubbed at his throat, fingers coming away red, and watched where the Chopper disappeared. "In my defense, I think stalk was used a bit loosely."

She eyed him, trying to control her anger and attempting to understand his perspective since she was not quick to trust either. "Why have you been following me?" As she spoke she tried to walk past him, to lead him away from the crypt and ultimately out of the cemetery. By the time she and Becca knew they were being followed, it had been too late to change meeting places with Barry, and they needed that package immediately.

"I wanted to know what you were up to and..." He trailed off, already looking at the tomb and taking a few steps toward it, eyes narrowed. "Hawkeye...Berthold." She could practically see the lines he was mentally drawing between facts. Resigned, she faced the small building again and he looked at her. "It's him, isn't it?"

She watched him, unwilling to give him anything more than what he figured out himself.

His voice was low, angry. "Do not play dumb. Berthold is not exactly a common name. It can't be a coincidence that his nickname was 'The Hawk,' that his first name is on that tomb..." He pointed to it. "...and that your last name is Hawkeye." He paused, eyebrows rising and eyes widening as he came to another realization. "And that tonight is the anniversary of his death."

"Congratulations, Mustang. He always said you could put things together quickly." She tossed him the package and met his eye. "This is none of your business."

She made to leave, but he grabbed her arm before she could fully turn away and she resisted the reflex to bend his fingers backward. "Like hell it isn't. He was my partner...he tried to kill me." He shook his head, chuckling wryly. "And now I've fallen for it all over again. His daughter...pretending to work for the good guys."

Riza met his gaze, lightly touching the point on his abdomen where her father had shot him. "He saved your life that night." They observed each other for a few seconds, and she could still the see ire in his eyes. "And deep down...you know that's true. Come on, Mustang. You've seen the video, you know who killed him, and I would bet that even without all that, part of you always felt something was off about that night." With that, she stepped around him and walked away.

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

Responses to guest reviews (in order of posting):

Clic: Thank you! I'm glad you're still liking it! Que tengas un buen día también y gracias por tus comentarios :)

HermitCrab: Thank you! It's nice to hear you're enjoying the story. Haha I thought Mr. Sexy Voice was fitting :)

Guest (Jun 14): Thank you for pointing that out, and sorry for the confusion :)