A/N: NOTICE: This is an OC story. It depicts a relationship with Edward Elric which may become romantic at some point, but that is not the soul purpose of the story. Simply, it is just about always being second best. Mello (Death Note) should know the feeling..

I own nothing.

Marcia Livius was normally happy enough. At least, she'd like to think she was happy. She was adopted, but her new father raised her the best way he knew how. He gave her love and enough food and clothing to get her by. They never had much, but Marcia always made the best of it. She never let anything stand in her way. Every now and then a friend would visit - a Miss Illira Hedrick, a girl the same age as her living in an encampment that housed both Amestrians and Ishbalans - but she would soon return to her village. Illira was on a mission with her parents to unite the two races, a goal that seemed impossible to Marcia. Still, she missed her old friend exceedingly each time she left. She kept a picture of her in her bedroom, respecting her ambition.

Marcia had ambition too. She practiced alchemy every day, hoping to one day become a State Alchemist. There were people against the military, sure. But the way she saw it, any previous wars were the fault of whoever was at the head of power at the time. Her true respect would lie in the soldiers. The ones that pressed on in their duty, no matter what, for the good of the country. So, Marcia would stay up, night and day, studying the Period Table, practicing her equations, and perfecting her alchemy. She could be seen as a child prodigy.

However, Marcia became angered whenever she looked out the window. Once in a blue moon, she would see the Elric brothers and little Winry Rockbell at play. They all seemed so carefree. In her eyes, with such abandon, they would never amount to anything much more than shopkeepers and automail mechanics inside of Risembool. What on earth made them relax so easily? Didn't they ever think about the future? Didn't they ever...

"Marcia? You in here?" After soft knocking, she girl turned her head to see her father, Malcom, walk in with a hot plate of chocolate-chip cookies.

She rolled her eyes and then returned them back to her papers. "What do you think?"

He frowned at her scorn and lowered the cookies on her desk. "What do I think? I think you work too hard!" He playfully pushed her so that she was leaning to the side, against the wall, then slowly moving back into place, never taking her eyes off of the alchemical equations. Though, she did take a bite of a cookie. Her dad was an immaculately good cook, if not anything else.

The parent's concern was evident. "Marcia...you know your counselor wants you to interact with people." He looked out the window to the running blonde children. "He's afraid you're becoming antisocial, obsessed with this alchemy..." He looked back to her, worried. Even at such a young age, she had a gaze that would make ice shatter. Almost as if it were absent of any joy.

She lashed back at him. "That guy is a total joke! I'm not obsessed; I just know what want! I want to be a State Alchemist and I'm working hard to do it."

Old Malcolm laughed and pointed out the window to Edward, who was helping his younger brother out of the mud. He said jokingly, "Well, you have some competition! That Elric kid ... I talked to Trisha the other day, and his alchemy is getting better and better each day. If only Hohemheim were here to see it..." He looked off, as if lost in memory.

Marcia snapped him out of it. She grumbled into her notes. "Like hell he's better than me..."

Not knowing what to do, the adoptive father only left the now-cooled cookies with her and left her room, looking back one last time before shutting the door completely.

Marcia felt a sudden wave of guilt after making her father leave. Her features softened. She took one more look at Illira, wishing her there with her. Illira's inescapable optimism was something she needed. But then, when Marcia only welcomed her books for company, her old friend was nothing more than a far-away memory. Her studies would guide her and she knew it. And no one - not the nay-sayers, not limited study time, not Edward - would ever keep her from accomplishing her dream. She would be a State Alchemist, and she would be the best. No matter what it takes.