I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. Just borrowing!

To be safe, I don't own West Side Story, either...

When You're a Jet

Breda and Havoc were men trained by the military to be faster than their opponents. When the situation called for it, they both could move quickly, faster than most normal men.

But they were having a hell of a time trying to keep up with a pissed off Hawkeye on the run.

The knew the lady was pissed because she totally and completely silent. She wasn't a loud person by any stretch of the imagination, but their antics usually earned a sharp rebuke and a few muttered insults that they all pretended not to hear. This silence, and the frozen, leaden weight of it, was a bad sign.

"We're sorry, sir," Breda said, puffing a little as he struggled to match Hawkeye's pace.

No response.

"We didn't think he'd really do it," Havoc offered lamely. His lungs were still screaming, and he'd already gone so far as to ditch his cigarette two corridors back.

No response. If anything, Hawkeye sensed the exhaustion behind their words and picked up the pace. The other personnel in Eastern Headquarters took one look at Hawkeye's face, at the piece of paper clutched in her fist, and the dust in her hair that looked suspiciously like ashes, and sidled out of the way to safety.

By the time they reached the office, Havoc and Breda were stiff and sore and whimpering like children. The outer office was empty except for Fuery, who was perched dutifully at his switchboard. The door to the inner office, Mustang's office, was firmly shut.

"Hey, what happened?" Fuery asked, tugging off his headphones. "The Colonel stomped in a few minutes ago, and slammed his door without a word." He blinked at the sight of his superior officers. "Why are your uniforms so dirty?"

"On a scale of one to forest fire, how mad did he look?" Havoc asked weakly.

Fuery pushed his glasses up his nose as he considered. He always considered before he answered; words had important weight, and he wouldn't want to say the wrong thing.

"Mad," he decided. "Maybe not as mad as the time Major Elric hid under his desk with the water gun. But pretty close."

Remembering just how terrible the Colonel's wrath had been for the Fullmetal incident, Breda let out high whine of horror.

Hawkeye ignored the men and walked straight to the office door. She would have just barged in, but good manners and a high respect for the military ranking system stopped her. So instead, she gave the door a firm rap.

"Colonel?" she called after two minutes with no response.

"I'm busy, Hawkeye." Mustang's voice, even muffled by the door, was crawling with rage. "I have paperwork to do."

Paperwork? If the Colonel was doing paperwork a good forty-five minutes before the deadline, something was seriously wrong.

With a snarl-like sound, Hawkeye spun away from the door. Breda and Havoc were cowering in the corner, being watched by a very confused Fuery. Both let out a thin scream at the hellfire burning on Hawkeye's face.

"Idiots," she snapped in a voice that was still carefully controlled. "What were you thinking?"

"We're sorry!" Breda wailed once again.

"He forgot to take his ignition gloves off. It's not our fault!" Havoc added.

"It was just a joke!"

"Please don't shoot us!"

"A joke?!" Hawkeye repeated. She uncurled her fist and tossed the blackened piece of paper into Havoc's face. "What the hell is 'West Side Story', and why did you tell the Colonel he was cast in the special military performance of it?"

Over Hawkeye's shoulder, Fuery's glasses slid down his nose as he gaped at the terrified Havoc and Breda.

"They snap," Havoc explained in a tiny voice. "The men in the show, they snap when they come on stage."

"We just did it to tease him," Breda whimpered. "We didn't think he'd do it. He's a state alchemist, he's supposed to remember when he has his ignition gloves on…"

Hawkeye was considering giving in to her itchy trigger finger when the door opened. Ed strolled in, looking supremely unconcerned by the fact that Havoc and Breda were cringing in a corner with Hawkeye looming over them.

"Welcome back, Edward," she said, her voice as cool and calm as ever. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait to give your report. The Colonel is doing paperwork."

Ed shrugged and flopped onto one of the available chairs.

"Whatever. Hey, do you guys know what happened to the training facility out back? It's all burned and black." The teenager let out a jaw-cracking yawn, oblivious to the fact that Havoc and Breda had gone ghost white and limp with terror. "It looks like somebody tried to blow it sky-high!"