Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

AN: Hello everyone! First, I am so sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter (for some reason it gave me a hell of a time). These last couple weeks got away from me, but I am finally able to post and will do my best to make the next gap more reasonable. Also, responses to guest reviews from the last chapter can be found at the end of this one. On that note, this story has received 100+ reviews and I just wanted to say thanks to all of you! All the feedback and encouragement has been so wonderful.

Character/codename reminder: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Ross/Hel...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen

Thank you again and, without further ado, here is the next chapter! I hope you like it :)

The Meeting

Two mornings after he'd nearly been blown up and peppered with bullets, Roy sat at the dinner table in the newly established Berlin safe house, drinking coffee and reviewing files on some of Kimblee's personnel. With each mission they acquired more information on the arms dealer's organization and, thanks to all the digital leg-work Fuery and Breda had done in the time since their visit to New Orleans, they had also compiled the locations of several properties owned by the target. As such, after the exchange-gone-awry they were able to track him to Berlin, where he had evidently stopped to monitor the fallout of the attack on the Residenz.

They were currently in the process of organizing a meeting and, though he was looking forward to finally coming face to face with their target, he could not deny his own apprehension. To keep up appearances, they would have to rely on Havoc, Ross, and Breda to support them as usual, despite the fact that any one of them might betray them at any moment. The mission was a calculated risk; one that he hoped would be worth it.

He looked up as Hawkeye moved around the kitchen preparing breakfast, stealing another glance at her as he'd occasionally done since she joined him downstairs earlier that morning. The various moments they'd shared played through his mind, and he felt the strong urge to pin her up against a wall and continue what they started. He wanted her alone, and not as part of a mission, or with his niece somewhere in the house, but actually alone. Though a repeat of the other night did seem like a fantastic idea, that was not his only motivation, as it was also maddening that they could not joke or flirt or be themselves with everyone else around. The constant company of the rest of the team was becoming increasingly irritating.

He thought back to some of their first interactions and chuckled inwardly at how quickly he had typecast her as Loki the thief, labeling her as a criminal that deserved to be thrown in jail. While it was true she enjoyed some of the more illegal aspects of her work, there was more to her than that. In addition to the many talents he'd witnessed, she harbored a deep-seated loyalty to those she cared for that rivaled his own, and she was funny in a quiet, off-handed way that could be easily missed. Not to mention that she was capable of incapacitating someone in a second which, quite frankly, was impressive. And sexy.

She took the seat next to his, setting her own steaming mug on the tabletop and giving him a petite smile, schematics already unfurled before her for Kimblee's two-story apartment and the safe he had hidden in another unit in the same building. She pulled a plate toward her, adding jam to a buttered croissant and offering him the other half, which he took. Her eyes perused the plans while she ate and he returned his attention to the files, trying not to imagine her pressed against the aforementioned wall.

They stayed like that for several minutes, until the silence was interrupted by Fuery striding into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. He gave a shrug and told them, "The house is clean, and I was thorough." He did not have an especially close relationship with any of the possible moles and, as such, he was the only other person they had informed of the problem. While Havoc, Catalina, Breda, and Ross were out of the house on various errands, he had used the time to sweep the house for bugs.

"Thanks for checking, Kain," the blonde replied.

"Better safe than sorry, right?...I still can't believe this." He left the room shaking his head.

A few additional minutes of calm later, her phone rang and Hawkeye immediately answered with, "Hey, Liv." She looked off at nothing while she listened, her gaze coming to rest on him for a short time, at which point she nodded. "Thanks." She set the phone aside. "She made the arrangements."

He took a drink of coffee and exhaled, preparing himself for the difficult conversation ahead of him. He started to stand, but was saved from having to go find his niece when she entered the kitchen, grabbed a drink, and plopped down in the chair to his left. She looked over what Hawkeye was working on and asked, "Analyzing the site to outline an infiltration strategy?"

He chuckled, closing the files that still lay open on the table. "Seriously, Lici, who's been teaching you stuff?"

She shrugged. "I've just been paying attention, Uncle Roy. Like you taught me."

"I never thought I'd say this, but stop being so observant. Your dad will kill me if I turn you into an agent." He paused and took a breath, gesturing in the direction of the back door. "Let's take a walk, kiddo. I need to tell you something."

His niece was instantly on the alert, and her eyes jumped between the two adults. "Just tell me, Uncle Roy. I can take it."

Hawkeye made to leave. "I'll give you two a minute."

"No, it's okay, Riza." Elicia reached out and put a hand on the woman's arm to stop her, motioning for her to resume her seat.

He hesitated a moment, but the teen's gaze was steadfast. "The head injury was worse than they thought...he was taken in for surgery to relieve the increased intracranial pressure. They're going to keep him in an induced coma a while longer so I'm having him transferred to a more secure facility." He paused, dreading the next portion. "We won't know for a while if there's been any permanent damage...I'm sorry, Lici."

She nodded, eyes slightly watery, and there was an ache in his chest. "His leg?"

"Healing fine. And stay positive, okay?" He placed a hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze. "The brain stuff sounds worse than it really is. The doctors are optimistic. He just needs time to heal."

Hawkeye handed her a tissue and she uttered a quiet, "Thanks." She wiped at her eyes and released a slow sigh. "I just wanted him to be better, ya know?" He only nodded, unable to think of a response that would not sound trite. "People keep dying and my Dad's in a coma and I feel like I'm going crazy, but you all seem fine."

"Want to hear a secret?" The teen assented and he continued. "None of us are completely fine. We've just learned to hide it well for our jobs, or life, or any number of reasons. It becomes a habit."

She gave him a skeptical look. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, he's right," Hawkeye interjected, voice low. "You're not crazy, Elicia, and you're not alone. Trust me, the way you're handling it is way more normal...and probably healthier."

His niece chuckled and he wrapped an arm around her, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. "He'll come out of this okay, kiddo...you know how stubborn he is. And anyway, I still owe him a couple hundred bucks from the last time we played poker. There's no way he's letting me get away with that."

The young woman laughed again as she sat up, nodding in amusement and playing with the bracelet he'd given her the day before. It was similar to the one he destroyed on the boat, and he'd been amazed he was able to find it. "Thanks, Uncle Roy." Taking her drink she stood, wiping at her eyes again. "I'm gonna go watch a movie with Kain."

"Okay." She walked away and his gaze turned to Hawkeye, who was back to analyzing the schematics. Keeping his voice quiet, he said, "I hate this."

"I know." The blonde set down her coffee and leaned toward him, forearms on the tabletop. "It's only for a little while."

He nodded, moving his hand to absentmindedly toy with the Laverna necklace she had wrapped around her wrist. "I'm not sure that makes it better." Her hand barely twitched when the back of his finger ran over the inside of her wrist, and he looked up at her. A smile lit her face, but then the door to the garage swung open and Havoc's booming voice said, "Holy crap nuggets...this is a lot of stuff."

They instantly sat a straighter and pulled their hands apart as Catalina came into the kitchen with a broad grin on her face. She laid a case on the table before Hawkeye and declared, "You're gonna love this."

He shot the blonde a final smirk and stood, joining Havoc to help unload the remaining equipment from the Armstrongs. "Any problems?"

"Not a one," the other man replied. "The meet was clean, the return trip was clean...clean, clean, clean. I'm pretty much a professional."

"Yeah, you've been a 'criminal' for a couple weeks, so that's not an exaggeration at all."

Havoc paused in the garage, a bag on his shoulder and another in his hand. "Seriously though, for a bunch of feds, as they call us, we're weirdly good at this."

He lifted the last bag and closed up the vehicle with a shrug. "Not that weird. You tend to learn a few things chasing criminals."

The other man led the way back into the house. "Have you heard anything else from Director Armstrong about what will happen once we catch the asshole? I don't really like that our fates are in her hands. She could screw us over...easily."

"Armstrong can't talk to anyone in the FBI until we're certain we've identified Kimblee's entire network. We won't know our options until it's over." He paused, gesturing toward the two women in the kitchen. "But Hawkeye trusts the Director, and we chose to trust Hawkeye."

"True." Havoc nodded thoughtfully, looking around the safe house and shrugging a shoulder. "I could probably get used to this, if I had to."

Roy chuckled. "Silver lining…you'd never be able to talk to your parents again, so they'd never pester you about grandkids."

"That would be a perk but, all joking aside, have you thought about what you're going to do when we finish this? The mission that brings down a guy like Kimblee...that's a career-maker."

"I really haven't." It was true, he had not seriously considered what would happen after the operation ended. Truthfully, he had been contending with a distraction or two recently, but his priorities continued to be protecting Elicia, finding Kimblee, and apprehending the arms dealer before he could do more damage. A few weeks ago, his plans consisted of continuing his work with the FBI, closing cases and climbing the ladder. There would have been no doubt in his mind. Now, however, the future was a muddled concept, obscured by the precarious nature of their situation and shifting circumstances. "I do know this...the status quo has changed. There's no going back to life as we knew it."

"Amen to that. It would feel different." Havoc tilted his head toward the pair of women. "Hey, you think it's too soon to ask Bec to move in with me? I know we're all living together right now, but I'm talking about after we get the bad guy. And if we're not dead."

"Yeah, man, it's actually moving at light speed."

"Okay." He nodded. "So maybe I should wait a day or two."

Later that day, Roy Mustang stepped out of a limousine in front of a skyscraper in downtown Berlin. The afternoon sun was shining, glinting merrily off windows, and the streets bustled with workday activity. He adjusted his tie, paired with an impeccable suit, and his sable-haired companion placed a hand through the crook of his arm, her little black dress showing the perfect amount of leg. He led her to the building's glass front doors as he said, "On site…Game on, guys."

"Copy that, Tyr." He smiled at the sound of Hawkeye's voice.

There was a low whistle through the earpiece and Havoc said, "Lookin' good, Freya. Damn." A second later he added, "In position. I have eyes on target...still in the dining room of his fancy-ass apartment. And, just a quick reminder, I'm not crazy about heights, so if we could wrap this up quickly that'd be great."

"I'm happy to trade places, Dagr," Hawkeye replied. "You crawl through the vents, and I'll sit on the rooftop with the big gun. I happen to like guns." Roy smirked at that comment, pulling open the door. The first floor lobby was open and bright with high ceilings, marble floors, and elegant seating in a windowed corner. If he had not known better, he would have guessed they were entering a five-star hotel as opposed to a downtown apartment building.

"Yeah, no thanks. It turns out I'm very claustrophobic," Havoc said. "And I think the fresh air out here is good for me...it's all open and non-venty."

"I thought so." There was amusement in her voice. "How are we doing, Sig?"

"Cameras are mine, and I was extra careful...he shouldn't know we're here. Still no way to access the vault's systems remotely."

"Copy." Roy and his partner for the afternoon made their way to the nearest bank of elevators.

"In position." Breda was stationed in a coffee shop nearby, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of people in the area. "And I'd help you out with the air-duct-thing, Loki, but I'm what the ladies like to call husky."

"No private security on the first floor," Catalina commented, pretending to talk to him. "He's keeping a low profile."

"In position...and I'm not seeing any activity at the rear of the building," Ross chimed in. "I wouldn't call you husky, Ymir. More like...sturdy."

"And how is that better?" Breda asked with a chuckle.

"I'm in." Hawkeye was even more soft-spoken than before, likely to avoid her voice carrying in the duct-work. "Standing by."

"They're nearly there, Loki. You're a go," Fuery responded.

"One of my favorite things to hear, Sig."

"Okay, Tyr, now don't feel bad if Freya lies better than you do. She's an awesome grifter and you're, well...you."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Dagr." Roy strode into the elevator with Catalina, selected the twenty-third floor, and added, "We're on the rise...going silent." Both he and Catalina removed their communication devices, dropping them into a shielded and concealed pocket of her clutch. Roy's tie clip was bugged with tech that would not be picked up if Kimblee's men scanned them, but the earpieces would have been too much of a giveaway. Everyone else would be able to listen in, but he and Becca would be deaf to the team's activity. It was an unfortunate but necessary precaution as they hoped not to alert the arms dealer to their knowledge of the mole. It was all part of keeping up appearances, behaving as though the team had not been compromised.

He shared a look with Catalina and they took a collective breath, mentally preparing themselves. At the ding of the elevator they stepped directly into the apartment and were instantly met by two members of their host's security team. The men passed wands over both of them, taking the gun at Roy's back, the knife strapped to his lower leg, and searching Becca's purse. They were escorted into the spacious dining room, which boasted a table for eight, artwork on the walls, and a chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling.

And there was Kimblee, reclined in the seat at the far end of the table as if he had not a care in the world. His hair hung past his shoulders, his face was remarkably similar to that of a snake, and he seemed to be a late riser since he still wore a robe. Piercing, intelligent eyes watched them and Roy tensed the second he saw him, anger surging as the photo of his dead parents flashing in his mind, the arms dealer's calling card on their chests. His hand twitched with built up rage, part of him wanting to show the assassin the same courtesy shown to his parents. Still, he knew that any action he could take in that moment would ruin everything they had worked for, that killing him would solve nothing in the long run, and that the better reprisal would be to dismantle the criminal's entire operation. And he reigned in the emotion.

Kimblee eyed them haughtily, sipping coffee and not hiding the leer he directed toward the brunette. "Who are you, again?"

"We'd like to be new friends," Roy replied. "We admired your work in Munich."

"Is that so?" Kimblee set his beverage on the table and grabbed a slice of toast, idly taking a bite. "I suppose that's why you contacted my people in the middle of the night...And who do you work for?"

"Zeus sends his regards. Now, are we going to talk business? Or are we playing twenty questions?" He smirked and helped himself to a few grapes.

"We will do whatever I want, Agent Mustang. That is your name, correct?" His look was calculating. "Mustang...that sounds familiar. Have we met before?"

Roy's stomach clenched and he fought the urge to introduce his fist to the man's face, smiling courteously instead. "I'm afraid not, and it's not 'agent' anymore."

"So I've heard. And now you claim to be working with Zeus? Until someone accepted his invitation the other day, I'd thought he was dead."

"I have worked with Zeus since before his disappearance, and I assure you he is alive and well." He gestured toward Catalina. "This is our associate, Veronica."

"Alright, Agent Mustang and Veronica, you have my attention." The arms dealer seemed almost entertained, as though he knew something they did not.

"Our employer has an offer for you," Catalina replied. "We are in possession of a copy of the plans for the Stone, and Zeus thought you might be interested."

Kimblee watched them and sipped his coffee, clearly trying to evaluate the veracity of the claim. "First, everyone knows he never obtained them. Second, your employer never ventured into weapons dealing. I see no reason for him to start now."

Catalina simpered, taking a few seductive steps closer to the target. "Let's just say that Zeus' theft was not as unsuccessful as the authorities claimed. And now he's looking to branch out."

"I see." The arms dealer rose from his seat, slowly pacing to stand in front of them, gaze moving from one to the other. "I see two problems, and one is with your story. You see, I know for a fact he's dead, and I have extremely reliable sources. So, why are you really here?"

"What? You mean what Raven told you?" Roy chuckled and shook his head. "Zeus deceived the world, you don't think he could fool his boss?" He maintained his attitude of comfortable self-assurance, silently taking note of Kimblee's caution. The target was taking special care to not say anything that might reveal that he had a spy in their ranks.

The arms dealer eyed him. "Why would your employer want to sell me the only thing that would prevent my creation of a monopoly in the black market arms business? It doesn't make much sense."

Roy shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "Zeus' motivations are none of your concern."

Kimblee smirked. "Fair." Then, he gave a little wave of his hand and the armed guards in the room raised their weapons in unison. "The other problem, Agent Mustang, is that I just don't trust you. Fortunately, my strategy is fairly simple...I kill people I don't trust." A few guards took a step closer and he added, gesturing with a hand toward the floor, "Not here, you idiots. This is a very expensive rug. Use the clean room...this is why I have one, after all."

"That would be a mistake, Kimblee."

The other man chuckled, sneering at him. "No, the mistake was yours...when you thought you could con me."

"Maybe." He tilted his head as if considering that, and then he suddenly took a swing, landing a solid punch to the arms dealer's jaw, because he could not completely hold back that many years of pain and loss. Roy shook out his hand, unable to keep from grinning even as the muzzle of a weapon appeared in his face and a couple guards grabbed his arms to hold him back.

Kimblee held up a hand again to stop his men from shooting them on the spot, rubbing his jaw with an expression of amusement. His smile turned cruel, and an evil glint appeared in his eye. "How's the family, Agent Mustang?"

He gave the man one last glare while the security personnel ushered them out of the room, Catalina shooting him looks that asked what was going on. They were escorted into the hallway that ran along the edge of the apartment, following it in what he guessed was the direction of the aforementioned clean room. One wall was comprised entirely of floor to ceiling windows through which the sun shone, and he glanced out at the Berlin skyline as they walked.

Their progress was interrupted by the tinkle of glass, the whiz of a bullet, and as the man leading them collapsed to the floor Roy rammed the edge of his hand into the throat of the guard next to him. He drew the man's spare weapon and grabbed Catalina's arm, simultaneously shooting another member of the security team in the chest and protectively pushing the brunette behind him. They took refuge in a nearby archway as more guards appeared, and he was forced to keep an eye on both the hall and the doorway that connected the dining room to the kitchen.

He was trying to plan an escape route for them when numerous shots were fired through a nearby window and Hawkeye swung into the hallway from the floor above, shattering the splintered glass and already opening fire on the guards. She dropped into a roll, coming to a stop in a crouch immediately in front of him, squeezing the trigger a few times around the doorframe. With her other hand, she grabbed a pair of gloves from her back pocket, tossing them to Catalina and gesturing with her head toward the rope swaying in the breeze. Becca hurriedly pulled on the gloves and then Hawkeye caught his eye and they laid down suppressive fire while the other woman made a break for the rope.

When the brunette disappeared, the blonde performed a quick reload and handed him a comm device, which he fit in his ear before firing a few more rounds. By his count he was dangerously low on ammunition, and then the door to the dining room started to swing open and he added four bullet holes to the polished wood. Ejecting the magazine to verify, he quietly told her, "I'm out."

She nodded, squeezing off a few more shots, and produced a firearm from her boot which she handed to him. "Dagr, keep covering Freya. Let us know when she's safe."

"Copy that. Hey, you guys having fun yet? It sounds like a blast," Havoc was silent for a moment, and a bullet punctured one of the windows further down the hall. "By the way, I think I speak for all of us when I say...what the hell was that, Tyr?"

"I'm still not seeing any activity out back," Ross interjected, sounding slightly puzzled.

"Nothing in front either," Breda added. "He's either not leaving, or he's a magician."

"Looks like he's sending some men up to check on the vault." Fuery's voice was tense.

"It doesn't matter," Hawkeye replied with frustration. "I didn't have time to open the vault. The otter was still working on the code when the target decided to kill people."

"Shit," Roy breathed, eyes glued to the dining room while she watched the hall.

"It's like they're coming out of the damn woodwork," she muttered, reloading yet again.

"Freya's clear, I opened a door for her a few floors down...get out of there. I'll cover you," Havoc told them.

They shared another look and spun around the door frame in perfect synchronization, weapons blazing as they raced to the open window. Bullets flew through the glass further away as Havoc provided support and, while Hawkeye tried to keep the guards at bay, he grasped the rope, wrapping it behind one leg and pinching it between his shoes. Stowing the pistol at his back he pulled off his jacket and used it to cover the rope in the hope of minimizing friction burns, clenching his hand around it as firmly as possible. "Loki."

As soon as she twisted to loop an arm around his neck and wrap her legs around his waist, he placed his arm around her with a vice-like grip and jumped out the window. Every muscle in his body contracted when gravity took over, and he felt her hold on him tense as they plummeted. The classic, non-mechanical rappel was already dangerous enough, and he was intensely aware that they were twenty stories above ground, and that the equipment was forced to support two bodies at once. She holstered her pistol as they fell, reaching up with a gloved hand to seize the rope, trying to provide additional braking power to help control their descent. Her right cheek was pressed against his, the rush of air filled his ears, and his heart raced as he looked downward, watching for the window Havoc had shot open.

They were falling too quickly, and Hawkeye must have come to the same conclusion because she cautiously removed her other hand from his back to grip the rope. Her eyes were a mite wider than normal when they found his, betraying her unease, and her legs tightened around him. Together they added as much resistance as possible to the rope and he held her gaze, the friction noticeable through the fabric of his suit. Her lips formed a thin line, her expression strained, and when they finally slowed to a stop, the bottom of the gaping window was level with his midsection.

They each reached a hand for the frame supporting the neighboring pane of glass and, making sure she had a secure hold on the rope, he dropped the jacket and placed a hand on the floor. Lifting them so he was essentially in a seated position, he cautiously moved away from the window and she disentangled herself. Then he fell onto his back, feeling utterly exhausted, and she collapsed next to him, trying to catch her breath. They stayed like that for a couple minutes at least, waiting for the tension in their bodies to dissipate, and when he turned his head to look at her she met his gaze, lightly twining her fingers with his.

"Loki, Tyr," Fuery tentatively began. "Ahh, I know you just almost died and everything, but I've got eyes on the target's men...they're moving toward you."

"I can confirm that," Havoc informed them. "Get out now."

Hawkeye took a deep breath. "Copy."

Roy slowly stood and pulled her to her feet, putting a hand on her waist to steady her still shaky frame. After a moment she nodded, drawing her pistol and leading the way to the emergency stairwell at one corner of the building. They flew down the stairs, using the railing to take them three or four at a time, and paused when they reached the bottom. He pushed open the door and then followed her through, each clearing one end of the alley. "No visual on the south side of the building...we're clear."

"Everyone scatter," she added. "We'll regroup at the safe house in a couple hours."

There was a series of 'Copy,' in which everyone was accounted for, and then he heard the familiar clicks as the earpieces were disconnected. At the same moment they removed their comms, crushing them, and headed toward the busier of the two streets they could see. He fixed his shirt, trying to look somewhat presentable after a several story fall, and she tossed some of her more obvious tactical gear into a dumpster. "So, was it enough?" he asked, glancing at her.

"It was." She smiled. "I was in and out of his apartment before you were in the elevator, and I got into the vault no problem." She was silent for a second. "It sounded like a nice punch, by the way."

"Thanks. It felt great." Reaching the sidewalk, they slipped into the middle of a group of tourists, weather eyes still watching for a tail. As they steered through the crowd, he quietly said, "I know a place we can lay low." He took her hand and they matched the speed of the group, disappearing into the first U-Bahn station they found. She handed him a pass Fuery had rigged in case they needed a quick getaway and, with a check of the platform, they stepped onto the train.

After five stops he led them out of the station and into a quieter neighborhood with a more residential atmosphere. There was plant life, some single family homes, and cozier apartment buildings, much different from the high rises they had just seen. They quickened their pace and he turned into a modestly sized, indoor self-storage facility full of small units meant to contain furniture, boxes of old clothes, or anything else a family might have lying around. Momentarily holding up a hand to signal a halt, he disconnected the camera at the mouth of one aisle before following the maze to the corner furthest from the road.

When he found the unit he was looking for, he touched the lock, looked at her expectantly, and she took out her lock picking set. Kneeling to get a better angle on the lock, she asked, "What if I didn't have my picks it with me?"

He chuckled. "You always have them with you...but if not we could just shoot the lock."

"That's very incognito." She smirked at him, the lock popped open, and they slid the metal door upward, glancing to either side before entering the unit and shutting themselves in. He secured an additional lock that had been installed within and a light blinked on, revealing metal shelving along one wall that contained weapons, non-perishable food, bottled water, a stack of clothing, and tactical equipment. There was a table at counter-height in the middle of the room, and in the far corner stood a cot next to a bedside table with a selection of books, a few blankets, flashlights, and a battery operated lantern.

In response to her questioning eyes he said, "It's an emergency hideaway my Aunt set up. She doesn't have as many as she once did, but she keeps a few maintained." At that moment the ceiling light flickered out, and he carefully strode to the table to turn on the lantern. "Sort of."

Hawkeye simply smiled again, leaning against the centrally placed table and removing her boots. She peeled her gloves off, red streaks visible on her palms, opening and closing her hands a few times to test the sensitivity of the skin. They watched each other for a few moments, both mindful of the fact that they were alone, and that they had once again nearly died together. He moved toward her, taking one of her hands on the pretext of checking her friction burns, still not fully recovered from the sensation of her legs around him.

He caught her eye, gently tracing the edge of her palm and she hooked a couple fingers under his belt, pulling him closer. His gaze dropped to her mouth briefly and he kissed her, slipping a hand beneath her top to run up her back. She wrapped her arm around his neck, their hips colliding, and he tracked a hand down to grasp her waist, pushing her against the table.

Her lips grazed his collarbone, the pulse point on his neck, her breath skating past his ear, and he tore his shirt off. When she raised herself onto the table, he grabbed the backs of her knees, hitching her legs around him, and she broke the kiss long enough to yank her shirt over her head. He encircled her waist, his other hand clenching in her hair at the feel of her skin, her fingers raking over his back. He tilted her head to press a kiss to her neck, brushing his lips over her chest, and she arched into him, releasing a little sigh.

As she reached for his belt again he paused, the ability to think logically suddenly making a brief resurgence. His mouth was at the crook of her neck, their chests rising and falling rapidly and, though he hated to do it, he pulled back. He met her eyes and in them saw understanding coupled with the same frustration he felt. Her voice soft, one of her hands lightly playing with his hair, she told him, "Say it."

"Son of a bitch." His chuckle was dry, and he shook his head, voice resigned. "We shouldn't...Not right now."

"We need to be able to think objectively." She spoke quietly, with a slow nod, as if trying to convince herself, but her legs were still wrapped around him and his arms around her, neither wanting to separate. She gave him a once over, one of her hands moving to his chest. "But right this second I am so fucking sick of making the right call."

He grinned. "I think we've reached the limits of your stoicism, Agent Hawkeye." She laughed and on impulse he kissed her again, her legs tensing, his hands following her thighs, her fingers gripping his hair. His mouth started down her neck again and she nipped at his collarbone, his hand moving up her back toward her bra, and they both froze. "Dammit," he said, backing off slightly. "It's not that I don't want to...we're clear on that, right?"

"We're clear," she chuckled, lowering her legs. "The team needs to be the priority, and if we start doing that...it could cause problems." They reluctantly separated and he retrieved both shirts from the floor, holding out hers. Putting it on, she glanced at the shelves, another little smile forming. "Hungry?"

"Starving." His body still thrummed as he paced toward the shelves on the other side of the room, looking over the food available. "Okay, we have cookies that are probably stale, some astronaut food that I refuse to touch, canned pears and, weirdly, a ton of canned chili."

"Chili, I guess."

He took a couple cans and a few necessary utensils over to the cot, along with water, and sat with his back to the wall. "Since we agreed that you owe me secrets, I'll take one now." His body slowly calmed and he looked up at her, satisfied to find that her skin was still flushed, hair ruffled.

"You did say that, but I don't think we agreed." She joined him and leaned against the wall at the head of the cot, using his lap as a footrest.

"You definitely agreed. I remember because you said, 'Why yes, Roy, I do. Does it suck being right all the time?'"

Hawkeye let out a chuckle, opening the can and eying her food a bit warily. "Now you're delusional, in part because I never call you by your first name."

"Feel free to try it some time." Roy held up a spoonful of chili. "And just know, I am fully prepared to pelt you with food until you concede."

"Fine." She took a bite, watching him while she thought. "Okay...I hate grapes, really despise them, but I love grape-flavored things."

"For one thing, that wasn't really a secret...more like a quirk, or a factoid. Also, it makes absolutely no sense...grapes are phenomenal. It's a well known fact."

"You, sir, failed to specify the kind of secret you wanted, but..." She paused again. "My phone number is usually a variant of the number of this old ramen place. It's closed now, but Liv and I ordered from there all the time...it's the only reason we survived college."

"It seems like someone would be able to figure that out, if they looked closely enough."

She nodded. "It's possible, but Fuery changes it frequently, and rotates each variation through different cell carriers so they're used by upstanding citizens every now and then. And this keeps us from having to constantly buy and discard burner phones."

"Okay, carry on."

She smirked. "I like really dark chocolate...in part because I like to think I'm actually tasting the chocolate. I got my first tattoo when I was eighteen...first firearm when I was sixteen...it was a Pranze KZ 4100 semi-automatic."

He thought for a moment. "I have an unhealthy obsession with Oreos...ask Elicia, she'll tell you. I put peanut butter on them, and I blame her because for two whole months when she was eleven she watched that stupid Parent Trap movie constantly. They do the peanut butter/oreo thing, and after about twenty times that started to look like the most delicious idea in the world." He grinned when she laughed again and then said, "Ahh...nobody knows this, but I scattered my parents ashes at this park in Paris they always talked about. When I was sixteen my Aunt bought me an old Camaro that I fixed up. And I can't stand cantaloupe...I don't even know why."

"I thought I owed you secrets."

He shrugged. "It's not really as fun when it's one-sided."

Her phone buzzed and she reached for it. "It's Fuery...he said charlie." His gut sank, and he could feel her watching him. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," he nodded, pushing chili around with his spoon, gripping the can tightly. "We knew it was one of them." Despite that knowledge, somehow learning precisely who double-crossed them was no less difficult. He thought he had braced himself, that he could handle the truth whenever they found out, but it was still painful. In reality, knowing the identity made it worse, because the betrayal infuriated him and now he knew which of his friends deserved that anger, which member of his team had put them all, including his niece, in danger.

She leaned forward and took his hand. "They will not get away with it."

"I intend to make sure they don't." He shook his head and glanced at the blonde, reminding himself that they finally had a moment alone, without the threat of imminent death. Refusing to let anger spoil that, he took a deep breath and waved a hand dismissively, setting aside his food and reserving his ire for the confrontation with the mole. "That's not really what I want to talk about."

She brushed her lips over his palm. "What did you have in mind?"

He gave her a mischievous look, running a hand up her leg, eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You said first tattoo...how much ink are we talking?"

Hawkeye smiled. "I guess you'll have to wait and see."

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):

Guest (Oct 4): Thank you! I'm so glad you hear you're liking the royai development! :)

Guest (Oct 5): Thank you :) I'm thrilled you've enjoyed it enough to read it over. As someone who has done that with stories, that's great to hear!

Guest 2 (Oct 5): Thank you! It's wonderful to hear you liked the flow of the chapter, and that the tension came out right :) I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Yla: Oh yay! Thank you! I was really trying to make their development feel natural, so I'm glad it came off well. Gotta have a fun new twist, right? Thanks! :)

hermitcrab: Thank you! I'm so happy you liked it, and that I was able to surprise you lol Thanks! :)

clic: Haha me encantan las expresiones traducidas literalmente :) Actually, writing this is really making me want to travel, too. I'm definitely getting the travel bug! The cities in this story have mostly been places I haven't had a chance to visit yet and would love to, or plan to, see. And this gives me a chance to research them. Glad you enjoyed it and have a good one! :)

Guest (Oct 19): Thank you! So glad you're liking it, and thanks for reading! :)