The tunnel narrowed significantly after the first two hundred metres so that the two of them had to walk in single file in order to do so comfortably. Havoc went first. He had attempted, at first, to dodge the puddles and pools of water, some of them deceptively deep, but once his shoes and socks were thoroughly soaked, he gave up entirely and just plodded on.

Edward didn't fare any better. His boots and socks were soaked within minutes as well since some of the larger pools spanned the width of the tunnel and couldn't be avoided. His right foot was freezing and he hoped the mineral rich water wasn't doing any long lasting damage to his automail.

He remembered the tunnels in a vague sort of way from his and Al's investigation last fall. The fog, the dampness and the glittering quartz in the walls were all familiar. The water was new. He guided Havoc from behind as best as he could but when the man was told to turn left at a branching intersection, he plunged into an inconspicuous pool of freezing water. It was so deep that the top of his ginger hair disappeared completely below the surface before the man reappeared, spitting and spluttering. He pulled himself back up on the ledge with little help from Edward, who was busy trying to control his laughter.

The man glared at the alchemist. "It's not funny," he ground out, shivering as he attempted to shake the water from his soaked jacket.

Ed took pity on the man and used alchemy to dry the water out of his clothes in a large puff of steam. "Sorry," he said without a trace of remorse, "this place wasn't so flooded last time I was here," he admitted.

"Well, unless we plan on swimming across, we'll have to go another way," said Havoc, still shivering, but feeling slightly better now that his clothes were dry.

There was only one way to go at this point. Shining the light down the tunnel, the two looked dubiously at this second path. Edward wasn't sure where this tunnel led and Havoc eyed the lowering ceiling with a touch of annoyance.

Just beneath the surface of the pooling water, iron rails were visible. They had once carried carts laden with mined stone out from deep inside the mine. The tunnel was low and it was clear that it had been built to accommodate the rail carts only or perhaps someone sitting inside a cart.

Edward cleared the ceiling with a few inches to spare and so he went in first, light in hand, but Havoc had to hunch awkwardly which, coupled with his wet feet, recent plunge into icy water and the occasional cold drip down the back of his neck, amounted to making him rather miserable. He wondered, not for the first time, why he thought this had been a good idea.

Because of his hunched position, it was more comfortable to stare at his feet than what was ahead of him and so Havoc didn't notice Ed stop until he bumped into him, hitting his nose painfully on the back of the teen's hard head. He instinctively jerked his head back, smashing into the low ceiling as well.

"Dammit!" he swore, backpedaling a few splashing steps, rubbing his smarting face.

Edward ignored him. "Did you hear that?"

Havoc couldn't hear anything over the throbbing in his face but he tried anyway. "Hear what?"

"Voices," the teen trailed off distracted.

Havoc couldn't help himself. With his hand holding his tender nose (which was not bleeding, thankfully), a hint of his old goofy grin graced the corner of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow. "You're hearing voices?"

Ed was not listening to him anymore. In fact, Havoc rather felt like he may as well not be there at all. Just as he was about to ask the boy to elaborate, Ed took off without warning.

"Hey! Where are you- dammit kid!" He splashed after the alchemist but despite his longer legs, his awkward hunched position in the low tunnel made it difficult to run and he fell behind. When the light disappeared, Havoc had to rely only on the tiny flame from his lighter to show the way.

When he reached a branching tunnel, he stopped, calmed his breathing, and listened. "Chief!" he called. Only his echo answered. He swore violently. Looking first down one tunnel then the other, it was impossible to tell which way Edward had gone. Even the telltale ripples left by the teen's splashing feet were concealed by the dripping water which, in some places, was more of a small cascade.

He swore again. Havoc wanted to strangle the kid at this very moment. When they got back, Mustang was going to hear a rather scathing report on the young alchemist's blind disregard for teamwork protocol.

The man looked between both paths several times and chose one at random. He went left.

Edward went right, though Havoc had no way of knowing this.

Edward was known for his ability to focus. It was what allowed him to sit for hours in the library reading without noticing the passing of time. Al would attest that once Ed focused on something, everything else disappeared.

Edward was not even aware that he'd left Havoc behind until it was far too late. But he just shrugged, figured the man could look after himself and carried on. He was certain that the voice he'd heard belonged to the man they were after.

After splashing through the low tunnel, Ed found himself back in the main path, just outside of the room he and Al had identified as "the lab". The lights were on and he could see shadows moving in the room beyond. He quickly put out his light and carefully made his way to the door, staying clear of the opening.

There were, in fact, two voices, neither of which the alchemist recognized. They spoke with a heavy accent he couldn't quite place, switching between Amestrian and another language. After a quick conversation, the two men left the room, their voices echoing further along the corridor at the opposite end of the room.

All was silent.

Edward peaked around the door carefully and, seeing the room empty, crept inside staying close to the wall. He scanned the area for hiding places in case he needed to take cover quickly. The room had been cleaned up somewhat since the last time he'd seen it.

There was still junk and broken equipment everywhere, but the bulk of it had been pushed into the corners at the edges of the room. The tables had been cleared off but not entirely cleaned. The lab was just as dusty and dirty as he remembered. In the dust, however, he could see the flow of traffic from many feet and the spots on the tables where objects had been placed.

The whole place had the look of a room that was being packed up and emptied.

Seeing and hearing no one, he made his was across the room to the open door opposite and quietly made his way along the tunnel. He heard the water falling, just like last time. He also heard voices in the distance and tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible, uncomfortably aware that he had little to no cover. There was a new smell too, one that he couldn't quite place. There was the musty smell of a damp space. An earthy, natural smell from the stone, but below that there was something else. Like someone's sweaty workout clothes.

He came to the wider space with the cells and stopped.

Or the stench of too many unwashed bodies in a small space.

The rusted metal bars had been replaced with new shiny iron. The doors padlocked on the outside. And lots of curious eyes turning to stare at him from dirty faces on the other side.

The cells were packed with people. He saw people of all ages, men and women in dirty ragged clothes. They looked back him with a hint of fear, but mostly open curiosity, and no one spoke. They just stared.

He stared back. He wasn't really sure what he was looking at. Whatever this was, it was more than just one man and a scheme to get rich quick. Edward wondered, not for the first time, just what exactly he was sticking his nose into this time.

Before he had a chance to do more than stare, he felt the unmistakable point of a weapon press into his back.

Gun supplied his mind, noticing the bluntness of the object.

He lifted his hands on either side in a show of surrender while his mind raced. And despite the "genius" label that people liked to plaster him with, his brilliant mind came up to one short but useless thought.

Shit.

Jean really hoped there weren't any more deep holes like the one he'd plunged into earlier. He could barely see earlier with the flash light Ed had rigged up, much less with the measly flame from his cigarette lighter. And he knew he was burning through the fuel in the tiny chamber very quickly.

Gradually, the darkness lightened. It was so gradual, in fact, that Havoc didn't notice right away. He noticed first that he no longer had to squint so much to see his own feet and then realized it was because there was another, better, source of light coming down the tunnel from up ahead.

Now he could see the narrow rails that once carried mining cars through the low tunnel. At his feet, he spotted a rusted metal rod. He stared at it, realized he had no weapon of any kind and decided that the tool, which turned out to be an old pry bar, was better than nothing. He picked it up, put away his light and advanced cautiously. If there were other people in these tunnels, he wanted to be the one to surprise them, and not the other way around.

With practiced ease, the man made his way stealthily to the end of the tunnel and crouched low to make himself less visible. The tunnel came into a cavernous room lit by spotlights rigged up on constructed wooden platforms. Several large cargo trucks were parked in a line facing away from the small tunnel and towards a larger, dark opening on the far side. Scattered around were piles of crates and random equipment.

With the exception of a slight buzz from the electric lights and a far off rumble, the place was deathly silent. Havoc stayed in position for a long time, watching, waiting and listening. Nothing moved.

Making a decision, he made his way to the crates, staying low and keeping an ear out for any signs of activity. Lifting the lid of the nearest crate, the soldier peeked inside. The crate was filled with rows of neatly packed, unmarked paper tubes about the size of a man's thumb. He discovered, after picking one up gingerly, that they were quite heavy for their size.

Havoc knew what they were, but tore one open to make sure. With a slight tinkle, a neat row of shiny copper coins slid out onto his palm. They looked newly minted, shiny and unblemished the way circulated coins looked. He looked at the row in his hand, then at the hundreds of rows of rolled coins in the crate and at the dozens of crates sitting, waiting to be loaded.

That is a lot of coins, he thought, not even attempting to do the math on the value of this hoard.

A noise startled him and he ducked down instinctively, watching through the tiny space between crates. He didn't see anyone.

As he scanned the area, something peculiar caught his eye.

A boot.

He couldn't see the person attached to the boot but by the angle and position, this person was laying on the ground, or possibly sitting, propped up against the wheel on the other side of the nearest truck. They weren't moving, which was either a good thing or a concern. It wasn't Fullmetal's boot, anyway. Havoc thought he'd recognize those black boots with the flashy red soles anywhere.

He waited several long minutes but, again, saw no one and made a move to the cover of the truck. He hugged the tailgate and peaked around the back corner.

There were two men, actually. Both propped up against the side of the truck unmoving, their heads hanging down. Havoc moved up to them and checked for signs of life, which he found.

Just knocked out then.

The men were decked out in army fatigues, but not ones he recognized. Their weapons were still in their holsters.

Without much hesitation, Havoc helped himself to both guns, checking them for ammunition automatically with long ingrained experience. It felt good to be armed, he felt much less naked this way.

He had so many questions about what he was seeing he didn't even know where to start. But he filed them away as they came. Experience told him he couldn't be made distracted by them until he was sure that he and the State Alchemist he was looking for were not in immediate danger. He looked down at the men again and wondered if Ed had come through here.

It was certainly his style, to incapacitate his opponent rather than seriously injure. And he wouldn't have cared enough to strip the men of their weapons.

A sound caught his attention and this time he was sure there was someone else near. Ahead, in one of the trucks. He heard the shuffling of footsteps and what sounded like tools clinking together.

Crouching low he looked under the line of trucks and saw booted feet standing in front of one of the first vehicles. The person was standing as one would when looking under the hood.

Keeping his weapon at the ready, he made his way stealthily towards the front of the line.

The man spoke to him in a language the alchemist did not understand and pushed the weapon harder into his back. He thought he recognized some of the words but couldn't quite place them. He did nothing.

The man spoke to him more harshly, pushing him hard enough to make him stumble forward a little. But this was a calculated move on Edward's part. He purposely stumbled more than he would have, disguising the motion as a natural blunder.

Twisting fluidly, he made a grab for the weapon with his automail hand while placing his feet to deliver a sweeping kick on the man's legs. He never got the chance. As soon as his hand closed around the weapon, the man fell into an unconscious heap at his feet and instead the alchemist found himself turned to where his opponent once stood, holding a gun by its barrel and staring at Sean Cann. Holding a piece of wood like a club.

They stared at each in equal and open confusion for what seemed like a solid minute.

Sean broke the silence first. He shifted his eyes down to the man he had just knocked out and winced. "That's going to hurt in the morning," he said casually, with a touch of concern for the man.

Edward couldn't really care less for a man who had just held him at gunpoint. He was still alive, and that's all that mattered. "Sean! What are you doing here?"

Sean looked back at him with a bewildered expression, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Me? What are you doing here? I thought you were-," he stopped himself and seemed to be thinking carefully about his choice of words. He lowered his voice. "I heard about the hotel. I-,". Sean lowered his makeshift weapon to his side. "I thought you were dead," he finally admitted somberly.

Edward's mood darkened at the reminder of the deliberate attempt on his life. But outwardly, he offered a cocky grin. "Not that easy to kill," he replied flippantly.

Sean gave him a genuine smile of relief which dropped as soon as someone coughed and they were reminded that they had captive audience. Literally.

Edward looked around quickly, searching for any more possible guards but they seemed to be alone, excepting the prisoners. He lowered his voice cautiously anyway.

"What the fuck is going on in here?"

Sean shook his head. "Wish I knew. After I heard about the hotel, I remembered what you said about this place and figured it wouldn't hurt to come check it out. Looks like you were right."

Edward shook his head. "Sometimes I hate being right. But I wasn't expecting," he gestured to the prisoners, "this. Who the hell are these people?" The alchemist knew that didn't really matter. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to help them. He frowned as he looked over at his friend, thinking.

"This is more than a bit of counterfeit, isn't it?" he asked, his lips pressed into a grim line.

Sean didn't answer.

They reacted at the same time. As soon as Havoc rounded the front of the truck, his weapon at the ready, the man raised his own weapon. Whether the man had known someone was there or the reaction was purely instinctual, Havoc didn't know. But it left them at a standstill, neither moving a muscle. In a few seconds, the Lieutenant had taken in everything from the open hood of the truck, to the tools, to the obvious sabotage being committed on the engine of said truck and the man himself.

Havoc recognized the man immediately as the off-duty officer he had spoken to on the street outside the burning hotel. The one Edward had claimed to be Ben Hartley.

Hartley's serious scruffy face turned to surprise as he recognized Havoc too. "I know you," he said roughly. "You're that Lieutenant."

"And you must be Hartley," answered Havoc shortly. He wanted to get his facts straight and not just rely on Edward's claim that the man he had spoken to was the same the alchemist was after. The man nodded after another tense second.

"Great," continued Havoc lightly, infusing his words with a bit of cheer while keeping the gun steady, "now that we've been properly introduced, you should know that I don't want to shoot you, but I will if you don't comply."

Hartley frowned as he thought something over. He seemed to be arguing mentally with himself trying to make a decision. Havoc had become quite good at reading people in his years working under Mustang and saw the moment when the officer came to a decision.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, eh?" The man laughed a little to himself. "You work for Colonel Mustang don't you?" he said, more of a statement than a question. Before waiting for Havoc's answer he lowered his gun slightly in a less offensive position but still at the ready. "Relax, son. I don't want to shoot you either," he added gruffly. "Just that you can't be sure who to trust these days, if you know what I mean."

Whatever Havoc was expecting, that wasn't it. He couldn't mask his own surprise. And then, as if someone had taken all the bits and pieces of information he'd collected over the past weeks, shaken them, and let them fall into a different pattern, things clicked together in his mind.

Someone watching could have claimed to see an electric bulb light up behind the soldier's eyes. He lowered his own weapon.

"You're him," he stated just as plainly as Hartley had proclaimed Havoc was working under Mustang. "You're the informant."

The man gave a rare, crooked smile and a nod

Havoc came to his own decision to trust this man, despite Ed's claims.

"Tell me everything you know."

A/N:

1. Confused? That's okay, you're meant to be. Things are moving forward (finally) and I've still got a few surprises coming.

2. A few people have mentioned that this is more about the crime/coins story than the whole violin thing. *shrugs* The first chapter was written as a stand alone one-shot and was originally posted as such. Then, I decided to write a second chapter and things escalated from there. The violin storyline has not been abandoned, but let's face it: How much action can you expect from one guy teaching another guy how to play an instrument. Consider both storylines as complimenting each other.

3. Remember that Ed is only thirteen and this story takes place early in his days as a State Alchemist. Not only is he naturally reckless, let's just say his experience working with other people can be narrowed down to one person: Al. Al knows Ed. Al knows, most of the time, what Ed is thinking and has no trouble keeping up. Havoc, not so much.

4. I will try try try to stay on top of updates for this story and apologize if you have to go back to the previous chapter to remember what is going on. That being said, I do this in my spare time and with a major (happy) life change about to happen for me, that spare time is likely to be reduced. Tiny humans will do that to you. -_-'

5. Enjoy!