Omake version of Bizzy's fic of the same name. Takes place right after Roy and Hawkeye(and Havoc who was there in this verse in order to keep people from knowing exactly what Roy was doing) leave Risembool.


Havoc rubbed his eyes in attempt to fight the urge to sleep. He even straightened himself with the hope that discomfort would chase away his tiredness. But no, the murmurs of his superiors behind the door at his back combined with the sway of the train just made his eyelids droop even more.

His eyes were nearly closed again when a thump from across the hall shook him from his stupor. His gaze immediately found the reason for the noise and a slow smirk graced his lips.

The woman in the cabin across the hall from him had chosen not to close the curtains on the door's window, and he was now privy to a wonderful view as she leaned over to pick up her fallen bag.

Havoc leaned in to get and even better view and nearly lost his balance as the train jolted. The woman shot him a dirty look and closed the curtains as he choked on his own drool. He leaned back against the cabin door to catch his breath as the coughing fit subsided, and distinctly heard Hawkeye say, "It's only a bit of blood, Sir."

He froze, that tone always meant to cease and desist, but blood? Was something wrong?

"I wouldn't call that a bit of blood, Lieutenant," Mustang said, his exasperation made evident through the increasing volume of his voice.

Upon hearing those words, Havoc pulled open the door and practically charged into the cabin. He looked between his commanding officers to asses the situation, but they just stared at him with looks of sheer confusion.

The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end in response to the tension filling the room. And, true to his nature, all he could think to do was grin idiotically and say, "So, what's going on in here?" while wiggling his eyebrows at the pair.

"The Colonel is afraid of blood," Hawkeye stated matter-of-factly, not batting a single eyelash at the looks of bewilderment Mustang was shooting her behind Havoc's back.

When Havoc looked at Mustang, the Alchemist just stared ahead blankly, his mouth twitching ever so slightly as he tried to decide how to address her accusation.

Havoc ruffled his hair, "Well, I'll be just out in the hall if you need me," he told them as he backed out of the cabin. A shiver ran down his spine in response to the change in atmosphere as he moved into the hall.

"Afraid of blood?" he muttered, shocked by the revelation. "No wonder he prefers to use flames."


Breda shook his head in disagreement. "Not plausible."

"He's a veteran of Ishval, he would have seen plenty of blood there," Fuery reasoned.

"Not necessarily," Havoc quipped through a mouthful of hot dog. Breda raised an eyebrow and gave Havoc a 'well get on with it' look.

"He uses flames, he never had to see blood in the aftermath or during battle," he explained.

Fuery noticed that, by now familiar, glint in Breda's eyes, and decided to be the instigator this time.

"I'm not convinced," he spoke up.

"You want to bet on it?" Havoc dared, sure he could finally win a bet. He smiled as he thought of his inside information.

"You're on," Fuery agreed, grinning as Breda gave him a nod of approval.

Breda cleared his throat. "I'm going to have to agree with the Corporal on this one."

Havoc shrugged indifferently. "Okay, so here's what's going to happen. I'll cut my finger, just a little cut. Not so much that it goes everywhere, but enough to get some blood on a paper that I need to give to the Colonel. So that when I give it to him, he'll see my bloody finger and the bloody paper, and then the fun begins," he explained, grinning in anticipation of seeing Mustang act like a little girl.

Breda's grin mirrored Havoc's. "If he does react, then the entertainment will be well worth the money." Fuery nodded in agreement.

"So how much money are you willing to bet?" Havoc asked.

"Fifty," Fuery suggested.

Havoc smirked. "It's a bet," he agreed.

"Count me in," Breda said.

"Where's Falman?" Havoc asked, noticing for the first time during the conversation that the Warrant Officer was missing.

"He's dropping off Sunday's crossword to Eastern Times," Breda stated, stealing a glance at the clock to see how much time they had left until lunch was over.

Havoc followed his gaze across the room and shuddered. "Gotta go supervise some new recruits playing with guns they don't understand," he said as he got up.

"Better you than the Lieutenant, because she's been in a mood lately," Breda quipped.

"Führer help the next person to cross her," Fuery added in a whisper, looking around to make sure she wasn't in the vicinity.

Havoc's eyes lit up at the mention of Hawkeye. "Now that the bets are made, I just thought I'd let you guys know, Hawkeye told me he's afraid of blood, so you might as well just fork over your money, cause she'd never lie."

Breda shrugged. "Like I said, at least it'll be a good show."

"Why would sh—" Fuery's question was cut off mid word by Breda kicking him under the table, "Ow, what was that for?" he demanded, earning a confused look from Havoc.

"That last report you had me check for you, did you put it in the right box? Hawkeye probably started filing it already," Breda explained.

"What document?" Fuery snapped, rubbing his shore shin.

"Let's just go double check. You don't want to be the one to cross her" Breda urged.

"See you in a couple hours," Havoc told them as he walked away feeling a bit perplexed that his fellow Warrant Officer was taking the Corporal under his wing.

Breda nearly dragged Fuery out of the mess hall, and it wasn't until they were in the elevators that he explained, "Obviously, Hawkeye was covering for something when she said that, but I really want to see this go down."

Fuery nodded. Apparently, he still needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. He made a mental note to never get on Breda's bad side.


Hawkeye couldn't help but notice Havoc's strange behavior. He kept picking up his letter opener, looking at the clock, at Mustang, and then putting the opener back on his desk. Something was going on…something Breda and Fuery knew about, because they kept stealing glances at Havoc. Oddly enough, Falman seemed out of the loop. She was tempted to find other tasks for them, because she was already distracted enough by Mustang's staring.

She was just about to make an excuse to leave the office when Havoc stood up. Everyone but Falman and Mustang were watching with bated breath. She couldn't help but be curious, but it appeared that he was only giving a completed report to the Colonel…until she noticed spots of red bleeding through the paper. She repressed a groan.

Havoc grinned in anticipation. "Colonel, that report you wanted on the marksmanship training."

Mustang looked up at the document dangling in his face and blinked. "Warrant Officer, when has it ever been acceptable to turn in a dirtied report, let alone a bloody one?" he demanded.

"Blood?" a voice across the room echoed in a shaky whisper.

The Colonel was looking at him expectantly. Havoc's mouth flopped open and closed for a moment until at last he was managed to stutter, "I—uh—sorry—I must have sliced my finger—"

Havoc was cut off by Hawkeye. "Master Sergeant Falman, maybe you should—" a loud thud interrupted her, and she groaned. "Really?" she muttered as she got to her feet. "Corporal, got check on your immediate superior," she ordered, her tone of annoyance taking over. "As for you, Warrant Office," she snapped. "I will escort you down to the medics to get that stitched up."

"I don't think stitches are necessary, Ma'am. It's no worse than a paper cut," Havoc commented, wiping his finger on his uniform.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Warrant Officer," she informed him. "Besides, it looked like quite a bit of blood."

Havoc looked at Mustang, and the Alchemist made shooing motions at him. Havoc's broad shoulders dropped and he shot a look of annoyance at Breda who sat silently snickering in his desk. He shuffled out of the room, cringing when Hawkeye raised her voice.

"I expect Falman to be in the infirmary when I get back."

"See to Warrant Officer Havoc, Lieutenant. I'll make sure Master Sergeant Falman is seen to," Mustang assured her, giving the unconscious man a look of exasperation. "Why someone afraid of blood would join the military is beyond me," he muttered as he joined Fuery at the older man's side.

When Breda was sure Hawkeye and Havoc were out of earshot he cleared his throat. "What were you talking about that Hawkeye had to make the excuse that you're afraid of blood?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched. "If we didn't tell Havoc, what in Truth makes you think you're privy to that information?" he asked coldly. "Now, help the Corporal take Master Sergeant Falman to the infirmary. I suppose I'll file the finished paperwork."

Breda shuddered at the reprimand, and hurried to fill the space next to Falman that Mustang had vacated. This was going to be money well earned.


Havoc was confounded. "You lied," he accused. "Why would you lie to me?"

"You were out in the hall for a reason, remember?" she reminded him. "It was a conversation not meant for your ears," she chastised.

"You shouldn't have been shouting about blood," he informed her.

"I wasn't the one shouting about blood."

"Well, you should tell the Colonel not to shout about blood," he corrected himself.

"I do not order the Colonel to do anything, just as you shouldn't order me to do anything," she said through a snarl.

"But you—"

She silenced him with the shake of her head. "I would stop yourself there, Warrant Officer Havoc. You've already dug yourself a hole deep enough for me to bury you alive in," she warned him.

"Y—yes, Ma'am."

"Since you're stitches will prevent you from using your trigger finger, once you are cleared to return to your duties, you'll be supervising training for twice as long as it takes the wound to heal," she told him, grinning as he groaned.

"I don't even need stitches," he muttered under his breath, too afraid to contradict her out loud, as the surgeon approached them.


A.N.: What? I'm alive? Yes, so there has been family issues and neighbor issues(which my neighbors are like family), car issues, work issues...until recently...okay not gonna lie the neighbor issues are still going on, but there is nothing more I can do to help them for now...we're waiting on other things before it can be fixed, also still work issues, but they should be in order by the end of the month...hopefully. My tiny department has been down two people on medical leave since last year...Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this omake of Bizzy's Nobody Need to Know. She really inspired me to get my writing into gear during Anime Expo 2011. Hopefully there aren't too many typos left in here. I'm still recovering from working AX...