#gotta give her her stark wife certificate now...

[izzy140105]

@caitlyn-2004

[crashdevlin]

Civil Warriors 5- Amnesty

Civil Warriors Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version) Part Three of the Red Queen Chronicles!

Summary: Cassie Campbell gets out of the Raft with help from an unlikely ally.

Word Count: 3605

Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC

Chapter Warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of brainwashing, mentions of pregnancy, Loki being Loki, Bucky Barnes being suave

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tony entered the cell block, he had his left arm in a sling and his right eye was completely blacked. Cassie stood and walked to the door of her cell. She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to be upset that he had been on the opposite side of that fight. Here she was, in a black site prison, but...in the end, it was her fault.

Clint started up a purposely obnoxious clap. “The Futurist, everyone! The Futurist is here. He sees all! He knows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

Tony stomped up to Clint’s cell. “Gimme a break, Barton. I had no idea they’d put you here. Come on.”

Clint spit on the floor in his cell. “Yeah, well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some supermax floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for-”

“Criminals?” Clint provided. He stood from his kneeling position and stepped to the cell door, staring at Tony. “Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re lookin’ for. That didn’t used to mean me. Not in a long time. Definitely not Sam, or Wanda, or Cass...but here we are.”

“‘Cause you broke the law,” Tony countered.

“Yeah,” Clint said, walking away toward the back of the cell and started to go ‘Lalalalala’ over Tony’s words.

“I didn’t make you. You read it, you broke it. All right, you’re all grown up. You’ve got a fiancee, a sister-in-law and her kids who depend on you. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?”

Clint stood as Tony started around the cell block, anger on his face. “You gotta watch your back with this guy,” he said, hitting the bars of his cell. “There’s a chance he’s gonna break it.”

“Hank Pym always said ‘You never can trust a Stark’,” Scott said.

“Who are you?” Tony asked as he continued on around the cellblock.

“Come on, man,” Scott groaned.

“How’s Rhodes?” Sam asked, not turning to look at Tony.

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow, so...fingers crossed. What do you need? They feed you yet?” Tony asked.

Sam turned around, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re the good cop now?”

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went,” Tony responded.

“Well, you better go be a bad cop,” Sam dropped his hands and stepped up to the bars. “‘Cause you’re gonna have to go Mark Furhman on my ass to get information outta me.”

Tony tapped at his watch. “Look, I just knocked the ‘A’ outta their AV. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment. Just look. Because that is the fella who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first,” Sam spit out.

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well, you don’t have to-” Tony started.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Sam interrupted. “Look, I’ll tell you but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.”

“There’s an old abandoned Hydra base in Siberia. You can probably get a GPS on it from Cassie’s file. She was there at least a few times when she was a kid.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, tapping on his watch and circling around to Cassie’s cell. “And how are they treating you?”

Cassie sighed, eyes focusing on the dark bruises around his eye. “You remember how I grew up, don’t you, boss? They haven’t started dissecting me yet, so...this is nothing compared to the Fridge.”

“Well, don’t act so comfy. They might stop talking amnesty for you if-”

“What amnesty?” Clint called out from his cell.

Tony looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, Ross’ PR people are cringing at the thought of someone finding out that they put a pregnant superhero in a cell for doing her job.” 

“Pregnant?” Cassie asked, her hand going to her belly. “I’m not-”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Tony asked, turning back to look at her. “Congratulations.”

“Cass, you’re...really?” Clint asked.

“I’m-I’m not even late,” she whispered, not focusing on Clint or Tony.

“The scans don’t lie,” Tony said. “Ross did a full workup on you when you got here, remember?”

“They’re gonna let her go?” Clint asked, excited.

“They’re working the bugs out now, but it does look like amnesty for her...as long as she signs the Accords,” Tony finished quickly, stepping toward the entrance to the cell block. “Ring on your finger says you might need to discuss this with your wife, Cassie, but I think the answer is pretty clear. Isn’t it worth signing the UN’s ‘slave contract’ if it means your kid is born free and clear in the country of your choosing instead of being born in this prison and shipped off to one of those creepy European orphanages?”

“She’ll sign,” Clint shouted after Tony. 

“Excuse me? You can’t just-” Cassie said.

Clint looked across the cell block at her. “If they offer you amnesty, you take it, okay? My kid isn’t being born in this prison. You sign, you walk, you go...give birth in a bathtub at the farmhouse like Laura did.”

“No, are you kidding me? Clint, I can’t leave you guys! I’m the reason you and Lang are here!”

“We made our choice. I’ve got a daughter. I wouldn’t want her anywhere near this place,” Scott said. He smiled at Cassie. “Sign the papers. Get out of here.”

“Tony, tell Ross she’ll sign!” Clint called out.

“Can do, Katniss,” Tony said as he left.

Cassie sat on the edge of her cot and stared at the floor. “Can’t believe...really?” she asked no one.

“Hey, Ross! Get my girl an extra pillow!” Clint yelled and Cassie rolled her eyes.

“I don’t need all that, babe.”

“I find this to be one of my better deceptions.” Loki shimmered into being in front of her and her heart fell.

“Go away,” she whispered, barely audible. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes at the idea of motherhood being torn away from her again.

“Don’t you want to know how I fooled their scanners, secured your release?” Loki asked.

“You’re you, that’s how. I don’t need a play-by-play on how you tricked everyone into thinking I’m…” She couldn’t say the word. “Go away.”

Loki’s visage leaned over her. “You are disappointing me, Joanna. I have put a monumental amount of effort into you and I am growing weary of your rebuffs. When you are released, I will find you and we will speak of this again.” He stood straight, disappearing, but his voice came again as the door to the cell block opened and Secretary Ross walked up to Cassie’s door. “Sign the papers, Joanna. Your Captain Rogers might need your assistance.”

Cassie took a deep breath and stood. As much as she hated to admit it, Loki was right. She needed to leave, if only so that she could bring Steve back to save the others. 

“Miss Schmidt. Or do you prefer ‘Campbell’?” Ross asked, tucking his arms behind his back and looking down at her.

“You know what I prefer, Thunderbolt. You’ve got my file and I’m sure Rhodes informed on us.” Cassie smiled wryly. “You can call me ‘Red Queen’.”

Ross scoffed and shook his head, putting his hand out for a folder that the soldier beside him handed over. “This says you went on only two missions with the Avengers?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Let’s see. I helped liberate Loki’s scepter from Hydra and I helped in the battle of Sokovia. So...sure. Two,” she confirmed.

“You weren’t in Lagos last month. You haven’t been with the team since Sokovia. Why is that?”

Cassie shook her head and chuckled. “A friend died and I gained...perspective. Life’s short. So, I went back to school. I got engaged. I wanted to live my life a little before I got back to saving other people’s lives.”

“Got yourself pregnant, too,” Ross said. “Very early first trimester. It’s amazing, after the beating you took in Leipzig, that you didn’t miscarry.”

“I didn’t,” she spit out. “Take a beating. I gave several.”

“You’re proud,” Ross accused. “Too proud to sign the Accords.”

“That wasn’t about pride. That’s about what’s right.”

“You don’t believe that the United Nations are capable of picking the right fights for you?” Ross asked.

“I’m not gonna fight you on this. Just get to your point, Ross. Tony already threw the word ‘amnesty’ at me.”

The soldier beside him handed Ross a large stack of papers. “You sign the Accords, become an official Avenger again, you get a full pardon for the events in Leipzig and a chopper ride back to the States so your kid can be a US citizen...even though you aren’t. We might even be willing to fast-track a naturalization certificate for you.”

“And I don’t do anything helpful for anyone unless I’ve got your A-okay. Fine, whatever, give me a pen,” Cassie said, hands on her hips. The soldier opened the cell door and Ross handed Cassie the paperwork and a pen. She swallowed nervously as she flipped over to the page with the transparent blue tape marker. She slapped the papers on the wall and scrawled her signature across the line above where ‘Joanna Schmidt/Cassandra Campbell, et al’ was printed. She handed the stack to Ross and stepped past him. “I’d like my passport back and you can drop me off in Berlin. I have a ticket home, commercial, and I’d rather that money not go to waste. Oh, and...my staff.”

“Your staff put down two of my men in Germany,” Ross responded.

“I warned them, told them to wear gloves. They didn’t listen. Not my fault. I’ll meet you at the helipad. Go grab my stuff,” she demanded, stomping away from the cell block.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are they?” Cassie asked as Loki appeared next to her in the cafe at the Berlin airport. “I know you know.”

“Where they are now doesn’t matter. Their fight is over. Rogers and his friend are in their stolen jet, heading to Egypt.” Loki smiled and leaned closer to her. “Now, ask me why I’m telling you this.”

“I know why. You’re hoping this might endear you to me.” Cassie picked up her coffee cup and took a drink. “Where in Egypt?”

“Outside Cairo,” the Asgardian answered. “Here. Let me alter your pass.” She watched as her passport shifted, a new name suddenly showing up.

She stood. “This won’t endear you to me, Loki. You think that helping me get out of prison and telling me where Steve and Bucky are...that that’s gonna erase everything you did in the past.”

Loki smirked. “I know you think of me. And one day, I will take you with me to Asgard and you will be my queen.”

“Right,” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to that.” She started to walk toward the ticket counter, her staff slung over her back.

“What do you suppose your words are?” Loki called out. “How hard do you think it would be to find them?”

She stopped in her tracks, her jaw tightening in rage. “I don’t think you would like the woman those words would conjure.”

“Ah, but I know you wouldn’t like her. That alone is worth the search.”

“And there he is. The God who thinks he owns me,” she said before walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hotel was a piece of shit, but Cassie couldn’t expect much from a pay-by-the-hour with no security. She sat in the single plain wooden chair and put her feet up on the twin bed furthest from the door. “You two look like shit. Siberia didn’t treat you well, I take it?” she said, dropping her feet to the wood floor and standing as the soldiers walked in.

Steve let out a scoffing laugh as he handed a bag of food to Bucky and rushed forward to hug her. “Cassie! How did you escape arrest? You were covered in webs and being surrounded by JSOC guys when I saw you last.”

“I didn’t escape. They pardoned me,” she explained, looking away from Steve’s bright blue eyes. “I signed the accords. I had to.”

“And your first action was to come find us? Should we be worried?” Bucky asked, setting the bag on the one wobbly round table.

“Oh, of course not. I told Ross I was going home, shook the tail he put on me back in Berlin and boarded a plane here under a new alias that...Loki provided.”

Steve’s face showed his surprise. “Loki? You’re accepting help from Loki?”

“Unfortunately,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “He thinks it will...make me want to be with him if he helps me a little. Don’t worry, it won’t work.” She smiled and turned to Bucky, grasping the knotted-up fabric that hung loose from his left sleeve. “What happened to your arm, Sergeant?”

“Mini Arc Reactor incident,” he answered, his eyes lighting up a bit at being called ‘Sergeant’.

“Tony didn’t go there as a friend, did he?” Cassie growled. “I knew it! That lying bastard!”

“No, he did, but it was a set-up. The whole thing was orchestrated by Zemo to get the three of us at that lab so that he could pit us all against each other,” Steve said as he sat on the bed furthest from the door. 

“How?” she asked.

“Hydra was responsible for Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths,” Steve started, but Bucky shook his head.

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Steve,” Bucky interrupted. “I killed them. Stark had a serum, one like the serum that made Steve what he is. My mission was to get the package, leave no witnesses.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Steve said, quietly.

“Is that supposed to change it, Steve?” Bucky snapped.

“He gave me his name, rank, and social,” Cassie said, blinking rapidly to combat the tears. “This terrified SHIELD agent, who I’m sure was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, ended up in front of a nine year old girl with a gun. ‘Paul Patrick Mackenzie, SHIELD level 5, 652-15-2283’. He repeated it over and over, but I never even asked him a question. It wasn’t an interrogation.”

Steve looked at his feet but Bucky looked down and gained eye contact. “Strucker, he put a gun in my hand and told me where to shoot. Non-lethal at first. Right bicep, left patellar tendon, bullet stigmata through both of his hands. Each scream followed by his mantra, ‘Paul Patrick Mackenzie. SHIELD level 5, 652-15-2283’.” Cassie let her tears roll down her face, unimpeded. “After Wolfgang put that knife in my hand, though, Mackenzie was begging to be asked questions. He started volunteering information when I dug into his thigh until I felt bone. When he started praying, that’s when Strucker had me collapse his lungs. Just stood there, watching him dry-drown.”

“You were just a kid,” Steve whispered, but he couldn’t hide the horror in his voice.

“I was a monster!” Cassie snapped. “No one would have blamed Fury if he’d offed me when he found me. He knew what I was. He saw my file. He knew that there were code words that would take me from isolated lab experiment to cold-blooded murderer in an instant. He thought he could save me. He looked at me and saw a child but I was a trap! He knew I was a trap. That’s why he took me and put me in a cell while he tried to...wipe me clean, baptise me in the waters of SHIELD but I am still just a bomb waiting to go off.” 

She wiped at her nose with her palm and sniffled. “It’s leaking. That’s what Wanda called it. Hidden parts of me leaking...and I can’t control it. I don’t know how much more is in here that I can’t remember yet, how much more blood is on my hands, and I don’t want to remember it. You said you wanted to talk about how I deal with this? I don’t. I’ve just been pretending that I don’t know...haven’t even told my...Barton. He’s sitting in jail and he thinks I’m gonna have his baby, but I can’t--I can’t bring a child into this world. Monsters shouldn’t procreate. Bombs shouldn’t-”

Bucky wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close and she buried her face in his chest. Steve watched them from his bed. They were two sides of the same coin, both terrified of who Hydra made them to be. Bucky smiled softly as he ran his hand down her back. “Been a long time since I had my arm around a beautiful woman. Might be a ring on your finger and tears on my shirt, but...I’ll take it.”

Cassie chuckled and pulled back, wiping at her nose again. “So, what’s the plan here? You didn’t come to Egypt for the weather.”

“No. We got an invitation to Wakanda, but since we’re wanted men…” Bucky started.

“You ditched the jet in the desert and trekked here to supply and rest up before the two week trip to Wakanda’s border,” Cassie finished.

“Two weeks?” Steve challenged, standing. “We can make that in nine days.”

“But we don’t want to. Low profile.” Bucky smiled and sat on the first bed. “She’s right. Two weeks is a good goal.”

“Will you be joining us, Cass?” Steve asked. “I hear Wakanda’s beautiful this time of year.”

“What, you thought I came all this way just to get Bucky’s shirt salty? Of course, I’m coming with you.” She reached into the grocery bag and pulled a plum out. She smiled as she rubbed it against her shirt. “Besides, I hear Wakanda is beautiful all year round.”

“Well, it’ll be more beautiful once you arrive.” Bucky smirked up at her.

“Wow! I’ve heard you were smooth, Sergeant, but I never thought I’d be on the receiving end.” 

Steve’s whole posture tensed up. “She’s engaged, Buck,” he said, looking at his boots.

“And I’m four times her age, Steve. Doesn’t mean I can’t flirt with her.”

“You both look great for your years. Have I mentioned that lately?” Cassie winked at the men as she took a bite of the plum.

“Come on, Cassie,” Steve scolded. “I don’t think Barton would approve of-”

“Barton is...a great man. He hits what he aims for. But he doesn’t keep things well. Besides, he’s not here to get mad at me for winking at a pair of war heroes.”

“Ya know, I like her. She’s not one to let us forget our Howling Commando days,” Bucky said, smiling.

“It’s important. The distinction between Sergeant Barnes and...the Winter Soldier. You aren’t that Soldier anymore.” Cassie sat in the chair again.

“Until someone finds those words again and-” Bucky’s lips pursed in anger and fear.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Steve assured, leaning back on the bed, his hands folded behind his head.

“Zemo found the book, someone else could, too,” Bucky countered.

“Do you think my words are-” Cassie started.

“Let’s...move on,” Steve demanded. “We’re heading out tomorrow morning. You should rest up too, Cass.”

Cassie smiled and gestured broadly at the room. “Two beds. So unless you boys wanna cuddle each other, I’ll doze in the chair. We’re gonna be sleeping in a tent for the next two weeks so...better get used to being uncomfortable.”

“We can’t let you-” Bucky started.

“Seriously?” she said, indignantly. “I’m probably not even going to sleep much. I haven’t been sleeping much lately anyway.”

“You haven’t?” Steve asked, worry in his tone.

“Nope,” she answered, popping the ‘p’ on the word. “I can always tell when I’m heading for a deep depression. Sleep disturbances are the first sign. That and a desire to crawl into a bottle and never come back out again. Couldn’t do the second half with Clint around so I taught myself how to paint, spent hours doing photo mosaics, anything to distract myself from...my thoughts.” She sighed and licked her lips. “Anyway, you guys go to sleep. You two need it more than me. Looks like Tony beat your asses.”

“Thanks,” Steve said sarcastically, closing his eyes.

“Honest. I like that in a woman, too,” Bucky said, smirking.

“Oh, Barnes, you gotta stop. I’m a good woman and you’re makin’ me wish I wasn’t.” She put her feet up on Steve’s bed and leaned her head back.

“Even though I’ve only got the one arm?” Bucky questioned.

“Yeah, well…” She chuckled. “The one you got left is your dominant arm, isn’t it?”

“Please. Stop,” Steve begged, not opening his eyes.

“Sorry, Steve. Haven’t had an opportunity to chat up a girl like this since...before the war.”

“Steve’s just upset ‘cause he’s too polite to flirt with me since Clint laid his claim,” Cassie teased, nudging Cap’s foot with her own.

“Oh, really?” Bucky seemed to think it was amusing.

“That’s not true,” Steve responded, his voice tight.

“Hey, you’ve got that blond CIA dame waiting for you, right? Uh, Sharon,” Bucky suggested.

“Living history. The man just used ‘dame’ in a sentence, unironically.” She chuckled and closed her eyes. “This is gonna be fun.”

“All right, Campbell. Go ahead and make fun of the old guys,” Steve said, nudging her foot back.

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[angelgirlsko12]

On A High Note (2)

FMA/BNHA AU. Took longer than expected to post this second part, but here’s the Kamijirou-centric stuff!

AO3

Toccata in J minor

He’s only in Central to take his state alchemist exam, but as he walks around the hustle and bustle of the city, Denki can’t help but think he’d like to stay here forever. Something about the hum of the streets here beats the safety of his home back in Resembool.

It is a bit overwhelming, though, seeing so many people. He knows his father came here for the same purpose when he was a kid, and he can’t imagine what that must’ve been like, being so young. He was definitely not mature enough to travel so far by himself at age 12.

Even now, he supposes his maturity is...questionable. Luckily he isn’t entirely on his own—Dad apparently has a lot of friends in high places—something that he’s always nonchalantly mentioned in passing—and Denki can’t help but be excited because he’ll get to spend time at the Havocs. Fuhrer Mustang’s rather busy these days trying to run the country (and he’s heard from his father there’s already another boy who’s been a temporary-turned-semi-permanent guest at their home). While it would’ve been cool to live at the Fuhrer’s estate for a few days, Denki knows he’d feel out of place somewhere so grand and regal as that.

Besides, he really likes Uncle Jean. Uncle Jean is down to earth and from the country much like himself and always has a lot of advice to offer him.

Especially when it comes to women.

“How did you and Aunt Becca meet, anyway?” He asks his first night there. He’s realized that, although he’s known the both of them for most of his life, there are still a lot of questions about them that have been left unanswered.

The aforementioned woman sets dinner on the table and pulls out her chair to find her husband’s legs comfortably propped up on it. She doesn’t hesitate to push them aside, taking a seat as she giving the man a sidelong glance.

“Military,” he smirks, gazing back at his wife.

“Your Uncle Jean and I had a thing when we were both stationed in East City,” she responds, shifting her attention to him as she passes him the vegetables. Denki carefully spoons some onto his plate as she continues. “Then, of course, Mustang decided to transfer his entire unit with him to Central so that was the end of that.”

“But fast forward a few years, and Becky was transferred to Central as well,” Jean adds, pausing to take a long sip of his coffee and leaned in closer to Denki. “I suspect she pulled some strings to come here, in hopes of rekindling things between us,” he whispers nondiscreetly.

“Don’t flatter yourself!” Rebecca retorts, punching him in the shoulder. “No self-respecting woman would be crazy enough to follow a man halfway across the country in the name of love!” She huffs as she crosses her arms.

Uncle Jean almost chokes on his water in his attempt to hold back a laugh. “ Really? You can’t think of anyone crazy enough to do that?”

She sighs. “They’re a special case, ok?!”

“Who’s a special case?” Denki asks curiously as he brings a forkful of food up to his mouth.

The man chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

Aunt Becca shakes her head as well, gesturing with her fork as she talks. “If anything, you should thank Grumman for transferring his whole unit over when he moved to Central. He’s the real reason we’re together.”

The grimace on Uncle Jean’s face makes Denki choke on his food. “Yeah, I think I’ll stick to my version of the story. Sounds more romantic than what you just suggested.”

“As if Grumman isn’t Amestris’ secret matchmaker,” his wife mutters under her breath, just loud enough for Denki to hear. He contemplates asking what she means by that as well, but as the two of them continue their lover’s spat while he silently looks on, he decides that maybe there are some things he’s better off not knowing.

The certification exam is still a few days away. Denki had made sure to come a bit early—he’s been to Central before, but in the past it’s always been with his family and for “important matters” which have left little time for sightseeing. And Central is quite a big city—especially compared to the likes of Resembool—so there’s a lot to see.

While he could very well explore all of Central by himself, he’s glad when Uncle Jean offers to take him around the city. It is the weekend, after all.

Denki’s up surprisingly early on a Sunday, excited for what the day has in store. His personal guide is already by the door, and he approaches him with a spring in his step.  “Good morning, Uncle Jean! Where are we going first?”

He’s a bit perturbed when the man hands him a large box. It’s heavier than he expects and he staggers backwards from the weight.

The man hoists an identical-looking box into his own arms with no problem, and Denki’s face heats up from embarrassment at his own lack of upper body strength. He’s always been on the skinnier side, but to have a man several years his senior be clearly stronger than him certainly isn’t helping his self-esteem.

“We’ve got to run a quick errand—then we can do whatever you want, kid.” He grins. “Gotta drop these off at the bar. It’s not far from here—just a few blocks.”

“Oh—ok, sure!” Denki responds, groaning inwardly. He hopes he can still feel his arms by the time they make it there.

Their destination is actually closer than he expected. He follows Uncle Jean up the stairs to the back entrance of the building. The door opens up to a well-furnished bedroom, and he watches as he walks to the foot of the bed and sets his box down.

“You can set the box down anywhere, Denki,” he grins. “Thanks for the help!”

“Ok, great!” He can feel the relief in his muscles when the weight in his arms is finally transferred to the ground. Uncle Jean gestures for him to follow him, and walks out through another door that leads out to a walkway overlooking the 1st floor of the bar. He excitedly leans forward on the railing to take a good look at the place. It is quite a sight to behold. He was expecting some run-of-the-mill establishment, but everything from the expensive-looking tablecloths to the chandeliers delicately draped with crystals to the sound of jazzy piano music proves that is not the case. The entirety of Resembool doesn’t have any place even close to this. “Wow! Everything’s so fancy. How did you guys end up with a place like this?”

“It was bought by Fuhrer Mustang awhile back,” the man responds, crossing his arms. “A gift for his foster mother. She’s not as spry as she used to be, and since Becks and I had been helping her run the place already she had us take over for her.”

“By the Fuhrer himself?! Whoa.” Denki marvels at the idea that the man would do something so generous. His own interactions with Fuhrer Mustang hadn’t been very telling, but his father had given him the impression he was a stingy old man who had once demanded he pay back 520 cens.

His eyes suddenly lock on the grand piano from which the jazzy piano music is emanating. More specifically, that there’s actually someone there playing said music. And that the person playing is a girl.

And while the piano’s on the other side of the room and he can only see a profile of her face from his current position, Denki can’t help but think that she’s...kind of cute. And, of course, the music she’s playing sounds magnificent.

“Hey Uncle Jean, who’s that?”

The older man glances at the young woman seated at the piano.

“Oh, her?” He looks back at the boy with a good-natured smirk and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “She’s the daughter of our bar’s pianist. Girl takes after her mother in talent, but since they don’t have space for a piano in their apartment, your Aunt Becca agreed to let her practice here during the day before opening hours. She's here from time to time.” He gently nudges the boy with his elbow, eyebrows raised. “I think she’s around your age, actually.”

“Huh.”

Uncle Jean starts walking back towards the door to the bedroom. “I’m going to put this stuff away, but why don’t you take a look around? Maybe start a conversation with Miss Jirou, if you’re up to it.”

“Miss Jirou…?” Oh, the girl.

Right.

“Mmhmm. Be cool, be yourself. Meet me by the front when you’re done.”

He nods in response, but the man’s already turned his attention to the boxes. Denki quietly makes his way down the stairs, taking a passing glance at the flower arrangements atop purple tablecloths as he walks around the tables towards the piano. As he draws closer, he notices that her hair, which had looked black from far away, is actually tinged with purple, a stark contrast to her porcelain white skin. It’s decidedly short for a girl, but the asymmetrical slant of her bangs frame her face well. What strikes him the most, though, is how tiny and doll-like the girl looks next to the grand piano she's playing. Uncle Jean had suggested they were around the same age, but he thinks she could pass for a child if she wanted to.

He hovers at the peripheral of her vision and listens intently as her fingers fly across the keys, not wanting to interrupt her current piece.

She glances over and finally notices him standing there and the music ends abruptly. The silence is deafening and Denki grins nervously in response. He hadn’t meant to startle her and isn’t sure what to say now.

Fortunately, she speaks first, and with a surprising amount of calm.

“Uh...what are you doing here?”

His brain starts functioning again after a few seconds and he’s glad words finally make their way out of his mouth. “I’m here with a certain Mr. Jean Havoc,” he says, walking forward to lean on the edge of the piano in what he hopes is a cool pose. “You could say we’re pretty close.”

“Oh.” She nods, a hint of recognition in her voice. Her eyes narrow at him. “Aren’t you a little young to be loitering at an establishment like this?” She takes her hands off the keys and crosses them defiantly across her chest.

He scowls at her. People tend to assume he’s younger than he actually is since he’s...not particularly tall. Much like his father, his height has always been a sore spot for him.

“First of all, this place isn’t even open yet. Second of all, speak for yourself,” he shoots back.

She seems unfazed by his comeback, bringing a hand up to play with the ends of her hair. “How old are you anyway?”

“Almost 18.”

She snorts, and he retorts rather defensively, “How old are you?”

“15.” Her eyes flick up to the top of his head. “What’s with the weird lightning bolt in your hair?”

“Oh, this? It’s stylish, obviously,” he grins back, puffing his chest out proudly as he strokes the streak of black amongst his otherwise golden hair. He's glad she could tell it was a lightning bolt. The symbol had kind of become his signature ever since he had chosen to specialize in lightning alchemy. Aside from that, a lot of his current outfit had been inspired by his Dad when he was around the same age. Denki had admired the all-black attire and more or less mirrored his outfit. With the addition of white lightning bolts. He wasn’t a fan of his father’s trademark red coat, though. Red had never really been his color.

She stares at the streak of hair, blinking incredulously. “...where did you say you were from, again?”

“I...didn’t?” Is his perturbed response, and she gives him a pointed look in return. “Oh. Resembool.”

“Ahhh, I see. Country boy, huh?”

“Excuse you.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.”

"Oh. Uh..."

While he’s a bit surprised by this girl’s demeanor, there’s something about it he finds kind of charming. Of course, he’s quite the charmer himself. His Dad would probably be upset if he told him that hearing about the suave and popular with the ladies Flame-Alchemist-turned-Fuhrer Roy Mustang was what inspired him to go into alchemy in the first place, but that’s at least partially true. Denki clears his throat and attempts to make his voice sound deeper. “So it seems you know a bit about me now, and I hardly know your name. The law of equivalent exchange would dictate that—”

“Ahhh, you’re one of them,” she says, fingers pensively at her chin, seemingly unaffected by his attempt at flirting. Evidently she gets where he’s coming from, but he’s not sure what her disposition towards alchemists is based on that reaction. Still, he’s glad when she extends her hand to him. “I’m Kyouka Jirou.”

He blinks back stupidly before extending his own hand to shake hers. “Denki Elric.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widen as she draws her hand back and gives him another once over. “You’re an Elric? As in, Edward Elric?”

He grins. “Yup! I’m his son! So you’ve heard of me, then?”

“Something like that,” she chuckles, then mumbles under her breath, “More like, that explains why you’re so short.”

“HEY!”

She waves her hands in front of her. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop now.” She clears her throat. “Your family is close to Fuhrer Mustang’s, right? I’m good friends with his daughter so I’ve spent quite some time at their place. The name Elric comes up from time to time.”

“Fuhrer’s daughter...you mean Momo?” It’s a stupid question given Fuhrer Mustang only has one child, but it’s too late to take it back now. Luckily, this time she doesn’t respond with a sassy comeback.

“Yeah. You know her?” She asks, genuinely curious.

“Uh, yeah!” It’s been awhile since he’d last seen her but it was almost a given that the Elric family would visit the Fuhrer’s estate anytime they were in Central. He wasn’t sure if he could say he and Momo were friends, but they were on friendly terms, at least. He always tried his best not to make enemies out of anyone he met—his mother had always placed a lot of emphasis on that.

She leans back on the piano bench. “Wow. What a small world.”

They settle into a momentary silence that is just the slightest bit awkward. This time, he’s the one to break it.

“The music you were playing was really beautiful. I just wanted to tell you that.” In retrospect, he should’ve started this whole conversation off with that, but it’s too late to think about that now.

“Oh, uh…” For the first time since they started talking, she actually looks flustered. “Thanks, I guess…”

The look she gives him makes him feel slightly bolder. “May I listen to you play something?”

She swallows. “Well…”

“Whatever you want. Your favorite song or something,” he continues excitedly, then falters when she seems to shrink into herself. “O-or not! you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No it’s fine, just, uh...” She takes a deep breath and gracefully places her hands upon the keys, rolling her shoulders back. “Act like you’re not there.”

He’s...not really sure how to do that, but resolves to stand as still as possible as she presses down on the first note.

Miss Jirou starts off slowly, hesitantly, and Denki isn’t sure if that’s the nature of the piece she’s playing or her feelings about the current situation seeping into the keys. There is no sheet music in sight and part of him wonders if this is someone else’s work or something she composed herself. The tempo picks up as does the overall tone of the song, and he is once again blown away at how quickly her fingers fly across the keys yet maintains an air of gracefulness.

He gets so lost in the music that he just stands in stunned silence as she plays the last note. She looks up at him expectantly and he tilts his head to the side as he hums in approval. “That was great! Thanks for letting me listen.”

“Thanks for listening,” she says, looking away as her hand comes up to tug at the ends of her hair yet again. He notices the slight dusting of pink on her cheeks and feels heat rush to his own face. Denki looks away. Perhaps now would be a good time to make his exit.

“I have to head out, but uh...you said you spend a lot of time at the Mustang residence, right?” He smiles. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” she says, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, maybe.”

He gives her a funny little half-bow. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Jirou.”

“Likewise,” she responds with a half-smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And for future reference, Kyouka’s fine.”

He nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gives a final wave. She returns her attention to the piano as he slowly makes his way to the front entrance, mind on the events that had just transpired more than his current destination. Luckily, he doesn’t do anything so stupid as tripping over one of the tables on the way there.

Denki pushes open the door, and is blinded by the brightness of the sun outside. He blinks repeatedly as his eyes adjust, searching for a familiar-looking tuft of dark blonde hair.

“Miss Jirou usually doesn’t play in front of strangers, y’know.”

He turns to find Uncle Jean leaning against the wall, lighter flicked open near the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. The man gives him a curious look. “Sounds like it ended on a high note?”

Denki glances back into the bar and makes eye contact with Kyouka who had apparently just finished playing. She looks away, but he catches the smile playing at the edge of her lips, and feels his own face stretch into a grin.

“Yeah.”