Three weeks ago

The restaurant was nice. The food was good, but cheap. The kind of place that, in Central, didn't even warrant a second glance; they were so common. But here, in the east, they were still new. Modern. Romantic. A place for couples.

He'd come here before. Many times, actually. So many, in fact, that he was embarrassed to learn that the waiters knew him. Knew that he liked three creams in his coffee, no sugar. This time, though, the server gave him an odd look. It was subtle. A slightly raised eyebrow, a quick glance across the table as if to say Hey, none of my business.

He glanced across the table too. His previous dates had been more chatty.

Prettier, too, mused Havoc as he leaned back in his seat casually. And they certainly hadn't reeked of aftershave.

He brought his cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip to hide his smile. The liquid immediately scalded his tongue and he spat it back out into the cup, setting it down harder than he'd intended. He didn't want the coffee anyway; he'd already had four cups, his leg jittering under the table to show for it.

His "date" looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. Breda's stoic expression gave way to a sardonic grin. "Got a drinking problem?" he asked flatly.

Havoc wiped the coffee from his chin and piled some paper napkins on the table to soak up the mess he'd made. "Apparently."

Breda rolled his eyes, the grin still there at the corner of his mouth as he leaned into his hand, elbow on the table. He visually scanned the restaurant again and glanced at his watch with a sigh.

"I don't think he's coming," he said, sounding defeated.

Havoc piled his soaked napkins near the edge of the table hoping the waiter would pick them up on his way by. "Maybe if we wait just a tad bit-,"

"He's not coming," cut Breda more forcefully. When Havoc opened his mouth to argue the bigger man let out an annoyed sigh. "Jean, we've been here for nearly three hours. I've got other shit to do."

Scanning the place himself, Havoc hated to admit that Breda was right. The worse part, he thought as he eyed an old man in a three piece suit sitting across from an old woman in a tacky faux fur coat, was that they had no idea who they were looking for. Heck, they weren't one hundred percent sure it was a man, he mused as he watched a beautiful woman with long dark hair order a drink at the bar.

And the one they were meeting had no idea who they were. What a terrible way to meet someone, he thought wryly. It could be that tall man who looked like a lawyer sitting three tables down. Or that tired looking woman in the nice green dress. They could be sitting mere feet away from each other and not know it.

He let out a groan of frustration. This was Mustang's fault.

"This is Roy's fault," he stated out loud, not bothering with the military honorifics. Right now, they were both civilians.

"It's always Roy's fault," retorted Breda coolly. Havoc was not fazed by Breda's demeanor. He was always grumpy. Just like Havoc was never serious. They knew each other well enough by now to know that. "Do you really think I'd be sitting in a couple's restaurant with you on a Sunday afternoon wearing this God-awful yellow polka-dotted tie if I hadn't been ordered to?"

Good point. And yes, that tie was positively horrendous. But it was the only way their contact would know who they were, if he (or she) had bothered to show up.

Breda drained his drink in one large gulp and stood up. "I'm going. Thanks for dinner, darling. I'll be sure to let Dad know how it went." Dad was their code word for Colonel while under cover. "See you at the office."

Havoc gave him a lazy wave goodbye.

He waited another forty-five minutes before calling it quits himself.

He wasn't even mad that Breda had left him with the bill, he intended to make Mustang pay for it anyway. It was just a waste of time. Havoc thought about that for a second and shrugged. Who was he kidding. The alternative to tonight's date with Breda would have been a date with his couch and whatever program was on the radio.

As he left the restaurant, a man bumped into him sending Havoc wheeling around right into a woman standing on the sidewalk. They both fell in a heap, the case she was carrying bouncing once on the brick with a twang and skidding to rest a few feet away.

Havoc scrambled to untangle himself from the limbs, coats and scarves and got to his knees before scooping a hand under her elbow to help her up. The woman, her cheeks flushed either from the cold or embarrassment, tried to sweep her long auburn hair away from her face and startled at Havoc's grip.

"I'm so sorry Miss, are you alright?"

There was an awkward moment as she tried to process what had just happened. She stared at Havoc in confusion. He saw the moment her brain caught up and her eyes snapped away, searching the sidewalk frantically until they rested on the case. She pounced on it, picking it up gingerly and cradling it like a mother would hold her baby.

Laying the case down gently, she kneeled right there on the sidewalk and undid the clasps. As if afraid of what she would find inside, she opened the lid slowly, peeking in. After a tense moment, she visibly relaxed, letting out a long breath. She closed the lid before Havoc could really see what was inside but he thought he saw a violin. And judging by the shape of the case, he guessed it was just that.

Standing awkwardly a few feet away, Havoc watched the whole thing in silence. He wasn't sure what to say. The woman was beautiful. Her hair was a windswept wild auburn mess, she wore no makeup and her long skirt was so wrinkled he wondered if she even knew what an iron was. But she was beautiful. A natural beauty, he mused.

"Oh thank goodness," she sighed in relief.

"Er, is everything alright?" he ventured. She looked up as if noticing him for the first time.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I don't know what I would have done if," she trailed off laying a hand on the instrument. "And with Robert unable to play…," she continued as if Havoc was not even there.

"You…play?" He pointed at the case lamely.

She nodded solemnly. "I have a big concert coming up at the Royal Grand but…," she shook her head, her brows drawing together. The effect only made her look more beautiful and Havoc was entranced.

"Oh, it's terrible! One of our violinists cancelled on us. We'll have to cancel the show if we can't find a replacement." She sighed dramatically, rising to her feet holding the case. With the sun shining down on her, her beautiful hair seeming bright red and wreathed in the faded glow of their breaths visible hanging in the air between them, she looked like a goddess.

And Havoc, faced with this incredible goddess, did the only thing a sensible man could do in this situation.

He gave her a winning smile. "Did you say you needed a violinist?"

Her face lit up at the implication.

His smile grew and he went for it. "Will you let me buy you a coffee?"

It was two weeks later and the day before Havoc and Breda were set to go on another "date" that Colonel Mustang received a mysterious package. It was a nondescript brown envelope with his name written in a messy scrawl on the front.

Hawkeye opened it first. She always screened the Colonel's mail to better organize his workload. She frowned at it in silence, placed the paper back in the envelope and without looking at anyone else in the office got up from her seat and knocked on Mustang's door. After a quick whispered exchange, he took the envelope and disappeared back into his office with it. Hawkeye returned to her desk.

Havoc and Breda exchanged a raised eyebrow but asked no questions. It was an unspoken rule in the office to not ask questions. Twenty minutes later, Mustang stuck his head back out of his office.

"Lieutenant, when is Fullmetal due back?" he asked.

Hawkeye seemed a bit surprised by the sudden question but only for a moment as she snapped into her usual efficiency. She shuffled through the neat piles on her desk until she found a small note, a telegram by the looks of it. "By the end of the week," she supplied after a quick calculation. "If all goes well," she added as an afterthought and not without a bit of exasperation.

"Right. Perfect." And without any more explanation, he retreated back into his office. Work resumed as usual until Mustang popped his head out of his office one last time a few minutes later. "Havoc, Breda, your date's off," he proclaimed and he was gone.

The two shared another raised eyebrow. No questions. "Okay then," huffed Breda.

Havoc, personally, was relieved. Now that he didn't have to spend that time on an awkward date with Breda, he could go on a real date with Jenny. He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about her and that little non-descript brown envelope disappeared completely from his mind.

Now

"You stood us up at the diner," remarked Havoc in mock hurt as he leaned casually against the truck while Hartley continued to toil at it. They had moved on to a different truck and Havoc had to give the man credit for his sabotage work, especially since he seemed to be working without proper tools. Then again, it didn't require too much thought to wreck something. Havoc was keeping a look out. He had decided to trust this man for the moment. There was something about this grizzled police officer that spoke of experience. He glanced over as the man was fighting with a rusty nut. It refused to budge.

"I was being watched," gruffed Hartley. "They have eyes everywhere, you know. Can't be too careful. Can't be sure who to trust. I took a big risk going to Mustang," he admitted, giving up on the nut and moving on to severing some lines. "But I needed to reach someone on the outside."

Havoc let out a low whistle. "That bad eh? The corruption?"

"Worse than I originally thought."

The soldier eyed the crates of coins, still not really getting how it was all connected.

"So how did you get involved?" Havoc really wished he had a smoke right now but as he fumbled mindlessly through his pockets, he realised he had no way of lighting it. He had no idea where his lighter went.

They moved on to a third truck.

"Awful dumb luck, actually," answered Hartley with his head under the vehicle. There was some clanking and muffled curses. "I don't think I was ever meant to be involved. I came across scattered reports of fake coins by accident. Didn't take too much brain power to see that something wasn't right."

Havoc kept a look out, nervous with the noise the other man was making.

"When I brought it to the boss, he outright threatened me to keep my mouth shut. Then," more clanking followed by something flying off and clattering on the stone beneath their feet, "All of a sudden, the market gets flooded with these fake coins and it's suddenly a great big mystery. Yet the boss never asked for outside help, which is a fucking red flag if you ask me."

Havoc saw the logic in that. The mass emergence of fake currency only happened after Hartley made it clear he was onto something. It was a distraction, meant to take the scent off the original forgeries.

"What are the originals for though?"

Hartley shook his head with a glance at the stacked crates. "Beats me. Although I did overhear something about Aerugo. You know there's some shit going down there right now. They call it "civil tension", more like a grab for power."

"My theory," continued the older man, moving onto something else without too much thought, "is that the original fakes came from whatever project is going on here and were stolen. You know, that's what happens when you hire thieves and thugs to do your dirty work. Barnes must have been pissed. He tried to cover it up by flooding the market but I hate to admit it, that little brat outsmarted him."

Yes, thought Havoc. Ed figured it out. Actually, he suspected any State Alchemist worth his salt would have, eventually. "That's why Barnes refused to ask the State for an Alchemist," he mused out loud.

Hartley emerged from under the truck. "Except he did, eventually. Not by choice, of course," he grinned crookedly. "I didn't know who was working under him so I had no one to turn to for help. They expected me to choose sides." He frowned and ripped some lines from their connection with a violent wrench. "I chose option C. Went right over his head and placed my bet on that upstart over at Eastern command. I forged the boss's signature on a formal request for a State Alchemist. But once it was in the military's hands, he had no choice but to go along with it or risk raising suspicions."

Mustang would have known that the request was forged. But he went with it anyway, too. Havoc grinned a little. Sending Fullmetal was a calculated move on the Colonel's part, like all of his moves. He had counted on Barnes underestimating Ed. Barnes may have been threatened by the thought of a State appointed Alchemist coming into his smooth running shady operation but one look at Ed and those fears would have melted away. Young. Inexperienced. Just a kid, probably given a license by the top brass just to stir up publicity for the program. Having an incapable State Alchemist would have been a boon for the man.

Except Ed was everything but incapable. And that made him dangerous. Just a few hours ago, Havoc had been standing on the street in front of a burning hotel. They tried to get rid of him in a hurry.

Hartley paused in his work to give Havoc an accusatory sideways glance. The tension had returned to his thick frame. "I thought the request would checkmate the boss, put an end to all this shit. I put all my money on a professional alchemist and what do they send me? A brat!" he spat, pointing his wrench at Havoc.

"Now, hang on-" Havoc put his hand out as if he was physically defending Ed.

Above them, the lights flared to life and they both jumped just as someone yelled across the cavernous hangar.

"Hey!"

That was all the warning they got.

Whatever else was said was lost with the resounding echoes. Havoc and Hartley took cover as the men opened fire on them. They dived behind the truck as bullets ricocheted around them.

Havoc fired back with a few well aimed shots but they were outnumbered and out-gunned.

"Shit! Times up," growled Hartley. He covered his ankle with one hand and Havoc saw blood soaking into the man's pant leg.

The pair exchanged gunfire but Havoc was well aware that he had precious little ammunition.

"Where the hell is your team?" snapped the older man.

Team? His team was himself and Ed and he had no idea where Ed was. He was not worried. Someone who could mess with the very fabric of the material world could certainly look after himself.

At Havoc's lack of response, Hartley looked at him sharply. "Please tell me the military is backing us up," he hissed.

"Er,"

Hartley gave him an incredulous look. "You came alone?"

Havoc shook his head. "Ed's here, er, Fullmetal," he supplied somewhat defensively.

Hartley leaned his head back hard against the truck they were hiding behind and let out a low hiss of frustration.

"Okay, you're right, coming here alone was stupid but you're one to talk," Havoc fired back.

"I didn't have a choice!" the officer practically yelled. His grizzled face was set in a hard grimace.

Havoc could tell the man was in pain. He did a quick inventory of his ammunition. "We need to get out here," he said evenly.

"No what we need is backup," growled the older man. "No offence but one soldier and a tiny ten year old kid ain't gonna cut it."

Havoc couldn't help being grateful Ed hadn't heard that.

Hartley pointed to a dark tunnel about a hundred metres to their left. "That'll take you out north of the mountain," he said as he reloaded the simple, standard issue police handgun he carried. "I'll cover you."

With his injured leg, Hartley would only slow the two down. It was a solid strategy but it still hurt to know you were leaving a man behind to save yourself.

Hartley was right, though. It was stupid to have come here alone, he should have waited for Mustang.

Havoc gave his firearm to Hartley and the two nodded at each other in understanding.

Hartley grabbed Havoc's sleeve before he could get too far away. "I'm starting to think I gave that Colonel too much credit. Prove me wrong kid," he said gruffly.

Havoc grinned. "You're wrong," he said confidently.

And then he ran.

Ed approached the cell slowly, eyeing the lock. It was a normal padlock like one used to keep animals in a corral. No match for anyone with a pickaxe let alone an alchemist.

Easy.

Too easy said a voice inside his head. It sounded remarkably like his little brother.

Yet even as that part of his mind processed the little voice's message, another part of his mind was running the equation, his hands touching as the array came together.

Sean had his back to the cage as he kept watch for any more trouble and he looked over his shoulder when he caught the movement of the young alchemist. He was just in time to see Ed place both hands over the bars.

"Don't!-"

He was too late.

Ed's hands made contact with the metal of the bars and the whole thing crackled with the wrong kind of energy. Instead of the fizz of alchemy there was a small blue spark and his right arm went slack. And he just stood there, surprised. Overhead, the lights flickered.

"Let go!" Sean practically shouted in his panic.

But Ed couldn't let go. His automail became a dead weight on his shoulder and his left hand had clamped down on the bars. No matter how hard he willed the muscles to obey they just would not let go. It was the strangest sensation. The survivalist part of his mind was screaming let go, let go, let go while the scientist in him thought I think I'm being electrocuted. Fascinating.

In actuality, it happened very fast. Sean jumped in and managed to wrench the smaller boy away from the bars, breaking his involuntary grasp just as the lights overhead and all down the tunnel flickered and went out.

One hundred metres was not far but it was far enough when crossing open ground with hostiles firing at you. Havoc ran. Hartley fired back, covering him.

Havoc covered the distance easily, his long legs carrying him into the tunnel and on. He didn't stop. He knew that once he was safely away, Hartley would do the smart thing and surrender. And then they would come looking for him. He needed to be gone.

The tunnel was man-made. Square-ish, with straight-cut, smooth walls and a gently upwards slope. Unlike the tunnel he and Ed had come through earlier, this one was dry. It had a string of bare lights hanging at even intervals along the ceiling. Havoc briefly wondered how they managed to get electricity all the way out here on the mountain but he didn't have time to ponder on it.

The tunnel was much longer than the first one. It went on and on. After five solid minutes of running, Havoc slowed to a more sustainable jog and worked to control his breathing.

He was fit and trained regularly but even he had his limits.

As he passed the six minute mark, the lights started flickering wildly and then cut out. The tunnel was plunged in a darkness so deep, Havoc couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He stopped dead in his tracks and felt his way towards the side of the tunnel until his back was against solid wall and listened.

The gunfire had stopped, the buzz from the electric lights was gone. His own laboured breathing and pounding heart were the only things he could hear.

He laughed quietly to himself, the sound echoing eerily in the dark "Well, shit."

A/N:

1. Well, it's been over two years, but as promised, I've been slowly but steadily working on this story. It's taking longer than I would like but I recently broke through a bit of writer's block and decided to post some content as proof that it's still advancing!

2. I have no idea what electricity would do to automail but it can't be good. Actually, there is a very brief scene in one of the FMA movies (The star of Milos?) where Ed gets stuck by lightning in a fight. It shows him momentarily incapacitated and in pain so I'll go with that.

3. The plot thickens…