Summary: Rebecca Jane Allen: A woman, an alchemist, a murder. Roy Mustang: A man, an alchemist, a murder. When a woman steps into the Amestris military as a State Alchemist soon after the Ishbal War, Roy discovers you cannot just run from the past.
Disclaimer: I do not own Roy Mustang. If I did, I would not in be on here; I would be in a corner raping him. I do not own Maes Hughes. If I did, I would not be here; I would be giggling over his adorable Elysia along with him. I do not own the Furher. If I did, I would be strangling him and shoving obscene things into his eye-socket! Anyways, for the shorter answer, I do not own any part of Full Metal Alchemist. All I can own is Rebecca Jane Allen.
Note: It has been quite some time since I have written any Fan Fiction. It's about I did something I greatly enjoy doing.
As well, I am not going to say if you don't review I won't write. I read Fan Fiction and if I like it I don't say anything… so… basically I'm not going to be a hypocrite. Thank you and I hope you enjoy whether or not you say something.
Fire's Past
Prologue
A Woman Scarred
From somewhere outside of the small inn, the sound of a mother could be heard yelling for her children to come in for the night. Outside a stray mutt rummaged through the trash cans to discover some for morsel that would make its bones less obvious. Underneath the crescent moon of Amestris, a poor father tried to gain some money through his feeble attempts of alchemy. It was a typical Eastern Amestris night, truthfully.
Inside the bar and inn, it was as normal for any night: men were getting drunk, women were flirting, and some sat in a corner happy for the solitude that such nights offered.
Rebecca Allen was one of the few of the last types tonight. She leaned over her liquor softly drinking. Though she was promised the best the inn had after saving the owners' herb garden, the beer was still rather disgusting.
Her green eyes watched the tankard and the fingers that softly the rim. Brown hair that fell down inches above her shoulder blades covered her forehead and half of her face. She wore a green tank top under a long tan trench coat. These both would have probably looked alright if they were not speckled with dirt, covered in holes and tears, and was a size bigger than her small frame. Over her hands, she wore olive gloves that reached up to her elbows.
As she concentrated on the glass, the sound of the large wooden doors being flung open broke her somber mood. A troop of military men stepped into the room. The man who led the group was tall with a goatee ornamenting his chin. He wore glasses but they didn't fail to cover up his caring yellow-eyes.
"Who would like to see my beautiful fiancée?" He waved a picture around then stopped (Rebecca noticed the person behind him kick his shin), "I mean, the Ishbal War is over. Due to the amount of deaths, the military is asking for volunteers. Good wages! Travel!"
One of the old men at the bar stood up and waved a cane at the military men, "We need no dogs in our bar! Why don't yah goin' leave, sons of bitches! " The bar went up into an uproar; many of the men in there were drinking because of the Ishbal Massacre and the military that had destroyed their lands.
As the military pulled out weapons and the tavern goes pulled out whatever forms of weaponry they had, chaos began to open. There was a silence as Rebecca watched from her solitary corner.
The sound of gunshot made her jump up, quickly tracing a circle on her table with a chalk tipped finger. With her finger lingering on the now drawn circle, rosewood converted to its natural form. Vines round around her arms and sprung at the weapons.
The man with the goatee struggled to keep both his picture and throwing knives but the roses claimed them as well as the old man lost his cane.
No one moved in the bar as Rebecca clicked her tongue. "I was told this is a quiet bar that I would have my peace. Now play nice. Or else, I'll use alchemy worse than roses."
She pulled her ebony locks out of her face. A long pale scar cut straight through her beautiful face. "I really don't like when people get nasty with one another. Now, Mister, come take a seat with me." She undone the roses and weapons dropped to the floor.
The bar went back to quite and the soldiers took seats while the yellow-green eyed man picked up his picture and throwing knives. He checked the old man and sat down across from Rebecca.
"Major Maes Hughes. Are you saying you want to join?"
"Rebecca Jane Allen. And yes and no; I want to become a State Alchemist, but I need to know how." She took her right hand's glove off and shook the Major's hand.