I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. I do, however, own a State Alchemist Pocket watch and a kitten named Hawkeye.

Camille's POV

"Register!" Called out Micheal, just before I heard the clatter a pan being put onto the oven rack. I put down my well-worn book of alchemy notes. It was in french, which could keep people from taking it, right?

I sighed again as I reconsidered, putting the red leather book into my apron pocket. Just because they couldn't read it wouldn't stop some of the idiots in this town. "I got it!" I called, even though there were only 6 or 7 of us here. Marie shot me a thankful look, rubbing her feet. I nodded in return, not really paying attention.

When I got to the register, I kept my focus on the register itself, not looking at the customer. I gave the generic greeting that anyone would get. I looked up quickly when I heard, "Well, that's a rather impersonal way to greet your family Camille."

Schooling my features into neutral tones, I replied, "Well, mother," I said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable of that horrid word, "When I see my family, they will get a warm welcome. Now, what will you have, Miss Clifton?"

The older woman sniffed with disdain. "As if I or my perfect eldest daughter would eat here." She turned up her nose. "And neither would you if you would just come with mummy, dearest. You and Abigail both. Get rid of those god-awful clothes and apartments. Come home."

My heart ached. I wanted to. So bad. I wanted a home and a mom again. But I knew what that would cost. My real family. The trench coat in the back room. My pocket watch. My alchemy. All these things had been gifts from my dad. And I don't care what you offer me. I'm not giving that up for anything. Italy, (my sister, Abby.) would feel the same way. "No, thanks." My voice sounded confident, which was more than I felt. No one tells my mother no. No one.

"What?" She seethed, the angelic smile evaporating off her face like water off of a hot pan. Her well-manicured nails gouging into the desktop. "What do you mean 'no'? No one says 'no' to Callie Clifton!" She grabbed for my arm, but I was expecting her move, backing up and clapping. The array on the wall was little, but would work amazingly. I dodged again, swearing. Why did I forget my pyrotechnic gloves? Why? I put my hands on the array as Callie clawed at my neck, watching in thankful silence as a alchemical hand grew from the wall and pulled her off of me.

I pulled a tranquilizer dart from my other pocket, stabbing her neck with it. "Shhhh, shhh..." I soothed as the powerful medication went to work. She went limp in the grip of the hand, and I undid the transmutation. I eased her to the floor, calling out for Micheal. Never have I been so glad for slow as hell Monday nights. Or the fact that my co-workers love hard rock. I went around the corner when I didn't get an answer, tapping him on the shoulder.

He turned from his air guitar solo, grinning. I love Micheal. I'm not in love, mind you, he's just my BGF -Best Gay Friend.-."Yo!" He practically screamed over his music. I winced, pulling out his earbuds. "Yo." He repeated. Then he noticed my neck, which I could feel bleeding from the unconscious woman's nails. "Sweetie! Your bleeding!"

"I know." I deadpanned. "I can feel it."

He pulled pulled the first aid kit off the wall. "Fuck sweetie." He said, dabbing at the claw marks. "What happened?"

I gestured towards the register. "My mom. Again." I shrugged, feigning coolness. In my mind, I was in the fetal position. "She just won't give the fuck up."

Micheal sighed, putting small band-aids over the cuts. "Sweetie, why don't you get a restraining order? Shit like this," he gestured at my neck and at my mothers body, still lying limp on the floor, "Wouldn't happen if you did."

I sighed, hugging him. "Thanks Mikey. And the reason why I don't put out a restraining order is because 1: What judge would let a girl put a restraining order on their mother? 2: What judge would rule against my mother? Now, help me put her in her car before Keith gets here and I get sent to prison."

He nodded, getting up. "I know. And you grab her legs. Last time we had to do this, she farted on me. Took me weeks to get the smell out of my shirt." I nodded, laughing, and we carried her out to her little silver bug.

I sighed. "She'll be out until well after closing, so hopefully she'll be arrested for loitering." I checked my pocket watch, walking back inside the building and shivering. I hated Texas weather. It's freezing by November. "Shit, it's already closing time? Mikey, help me shut down the front!"

He laughed, knowing that on slow Mondays I already had my backups done. "Fine Camille. I'll help." He shut down the 'open' sign on the front window, then started putting up chairs."Hey, where are you going on vacation? Or are you just taking it easy for the week?"

I shrugged. "I'll probably spend it at the library, studying. Or in my apartment, sleeping." I'd sleep all day, if it wasn't for food and work, that is. I heard Mikey laugh, and asked him, "Oh yeah, Mr. Fun-guy, where are you spending your work-free week?" The pizza parlor was being remodeled, and everyone was getting a week off because of renovations.

He smirked, and held his hand up for a high-five. "I'm spending my week down by the cali beach, chica."

I slapped his hand, grinning. "Lucky you. Send me some pics of the locals, please? I wanna help you choose your next boy-toy!" He gave his word that I could, and we finished the dining room in the next 5 minutes. I grabbed my trench coat, called out thanks and farewells, and started walking towards my apartment. It only takes about 20 minutes to get there from work. 10 if I take a shortcut through a parking lot of an apartment building. It's semi-well lit, and I did have my blade, masquerading as a pin of a picture of my dad. I began walking, deciding to take the shortcut. It was only about 20 degrees out right now, and I didn't really feel like letting my boots freeze to the sidewalk.

I passed through the apartment parking lot, aware of almost everything. I say almost because I was -quietly- listening to music. The apartment building was vacant due to it being unheated, and were really for the people that just stayed the summer. I made it look like I was lost in my music, walking to the beat. I sensed something watching me, but I figured it was the neighborhood stray that always follows me around. I walked under a street light, squashing the urge to duck from light to light like I was in Mission Impossible. The light above me went out, leaving me surrounded by darkness. I wasn't fazed. I could see the next up ahead, and my apartment was darker than this. I began to walk faster as it began to get colder. Suddenly, I saw a flash of alchemical light, and felt millions of tiny hands. I fell.I saw a bright whiteness.I had caught the briefest glance of the person, and could tell that it wasn't my sister. I didn't understand. I didn't know this person. How'd they know alchemy? My dad only taught me and Abby the art. And Dad swore up and down that he didn't know any other alchemists. 'How'd...' I didn't get to finish the thought.

Unknown POV

'Stupid girl.' I thought wretchedly as I clapped, watching her being surrounded be the blinding light of my array. 'How could she think that her father had only taught two pupils?' I snorted, thinking back on my idiotic but brilliant all the same master. I was worried slightly about her having seen my face, then dismissed the thought. I was only visible to her for not even five seconds. Even if she had seen me, she probably hadn't seen my face. I walked away, wishing I had my coat.

Done! Ha! And It only took me two days! Yes! Take that, uncooperative plot bunnies! Anyways, Tell me how it is! This is my second story centered around an OC, but don't worry, This is RoyEd, not EdxOC. This was inspired by my pocket watch, believe it or not. ^.^ R&R!