Fan-Fiction: FMA: A Little Intervention: Chapter 1: In Which an Experiment Goes Awry

Pairings: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye and Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell

A/N: Thanks to Microsuede Mouse for co-authoring this one! (Oh yeah, and my brother, too, but he doesn't count cause he doesn't have an account—hey, it rhymes!)

Disclaimer: all characters (except, of course, for the lovely Jezebel Mustang-Hawkeye) belong to Hiroma Arakawa, the genius who created them. Jezebel belongs to Microsuede Mouse (go read her stories!) and me. Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Jezebel?" Riza Hawkeye folded her arms over her chest, her face creased with worry.

"Mom," Jezebel groaned, "do you have to keep asking me that?"

"Yes," Riza declared obstinately. "It's my job as a mother."

Jezebel sighed, exasperated, and gave up. Who could have known that the great Riza Hawkeye, legend of the military, ace sharp-shooter, determined, devoted, and sometimes frightening Riza, could worry so much about—

"—one simple alchemical experiment, Mom." Jezebel drew the last line in chalk on the front porch of the house, and sat back with a sigh, blowing her blond bangs out of her eyes. Through some accident of genetics, Jezebel had inherited her father's jet black hair, which hung in a braid to her waist, and her mother's blond bangs, which were constantly falling over her face. Her eyes, though, were all her father's; piercing black globes that saw straight through whatever they looked at, whether it be intention, secret, or lie. It was hard to hide anything from Jezebel, and had been since she was six.

Setting the chalk down next to the finished alchemical symbol, she produced an ornately crafted brass watch hand from her pocket and used its cold metal to cool her hands. She was excited, even though she didn't show it.

Her mother looked at the clock hand in suspicion. "Where did you get that?" She glanced back into the house, checking to see that the family clocks were intact.

"Don't worry, mom. I biked down to the dump earlier and found some old broken ones I could scavenge from." She grinned. "Since you don't like me performing surgery on the family heirlooms."

Riza sniffed the air. "So that's what that smell is," she said thoughtfully. "I thought you had just forgotten to shower this morning." She laughed, and dodged the punch her daughter aimed at her leg.

"Hey, where's Dad?" Jezebel asked. "He said he had to pick up a few things, but he should be home by now." She continued grumbling good-naturedly as a few drops of half-hearted rain splattered the driveway. It was Saturday, a storm had been threatening all day, though it hadn't begun yet. Few people were out on the streets, and Jezebel had decided to draw her symbols under the porch awning to make sure they weren't washed away.

"You called?"

Right on cue, Jezebel's father appeared on the porch steps. Setting the paper grocery bags he carried down on the railing, he proceeded to grab Riza's hand and dance her around the porch, laughing like he was fifteen years old and finishing with a drawn-out, movie-style kiss.

Jezebel made an indiscreet gagging noise in the back of her throat. Settling down with a romance whenever a rainy day impeded her adventures did not prevent her from being loudly nauseated at her parents' (albeit mostly her father's) public shows of affection. "Dad, do you have to do that now?" she groaned. Ignoring her, he deliberately deepened the kiss before releasing Riza.

"Only you, Roy," she declared vehemently (though not unhappily) as she righted herself and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Jezebel absentmindedly picked up her piece of chalk and tucked it behind her ear in a motion similar to the one Riza had a moment ago performed on a strand of hair. "Where were you, Dad?" she asked, inspecting her symbols one more time.

"Just making preparations for your experiment," he answered.

She glanced up at him, suspicious. "Like what?"

"This."

In one smooth movement he had produced an apple from the paper bag and stuck it firmly his daughter mouth. "I had to get some groceries."

Taking a bite as she removed the apple, she proclaimed: "I think I'm ready."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Riza asked again, peering anxiously at the alchemical symbols.

Roy put a hand around her waist and drew her closer, nestling her comfortingly against his side. "Riza, you forget—she's been researching this since she was five."

"Yeah, mom," Jezebel chimed in. "It's not like I'm going very far; just five minutes back."

"I'm still…" her mother murmured, shook her head, and began again. "I don't think it's a good idea for the first ever Time Alchemist to be a twelve-year-old girl," she blazed suddenly.

Jezebel rolled her eyes. "We've been through this before, Mom." She grinned. "The reason I'm performing the experiment is because all the adults are too nervous to do it."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Riza snapped. Roy silenced her with another kiss, but she still looked doubtful.

Jezebel ignored her mother's anxiety. She was used to it by now, and besides, all her calculations were correct…

…she hoped.

And even if she had been unsure of her calculations (which she wasn't, she told herself), she wouldn't have voiced her uncertainties allowed. That would have made certain that her parents wouldn't let her perform the test.

And after all, it was only five minutes, not five years that she was attempting to travel back.

"Now," she murmured, "I need something to be concentrating on when I activate this thing. Mom, what were you doing five minutes ago?"

Riza thought for a moment. "Making a cup of coffee," she said finally, holding up her mug.

"Right, that's what I'll concentrate on: Riza Hawkeye making a cup of coffee."

Inky black eyes going hard and focused with concentration, she stuck the apple back in her mouth, holding it between her teeth, and laid both hands on top of the symbols. There was a sudden flash of black light—

—and Jezebel Mustang-Hawkeye disappeared.

88

Central, 16 Years Earlier

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye switched the ancient coffee machine off and leaned against the table, inhale the bitter aroma wafting from the mug she held in her hands. In a moment she would return to the office to see if the Colonel had yet finished his paperwork (which he, undoubtedly, hadn't). Taking a sip of coffee, she was blissfully unaware that an experiment had just gone horribly awry.

88

Jezebel stood frozen in place as people brushed past her on the street; some cast strange looks at her dumbfounded appearance, others just strode on past. As she stared up at the green and gold banners adorning the impressive structures of Central, the chalk slipped from her hair, landing on the cobble-stoned street with a clatter and breaking in half. The apple followed soon after, tumbling from her gaping mouth and, thudding with bruising impact to the ground, began to roll away. Jezebel took no notice of these things; her eyes were fixed on the buildings and people as her mind traveling irrevocably from astonishment to the only possible conclusion.

She gulped. "This is so not five minutes ago," she whispered.

Well, there you have it; the first chapter of A Little Intervention. This is my first time trying to write Roy and Riza as anything other than who they were during the series. Please don't kill me for it—there's no more of the daughter complex after the first chapter.

Construct criticism is welcome. I don't mind flames, either, as long as you can give me a reason—I'm curious to know if people don't like it. Either way, please review!

Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon! (Unless, of course, I get mobbed by angry fangirls—please don't eat me!)