Chapter 1

"I don't know what I had been thinking, asking her for her father's research. Riza Hawkeye was many things, but easily forgiving was not one of them. She never said a word as we stood in front of her father's grave, she simply stared me down after that stupid question had escaped my lips.

I don't blame her, of course. Flame alchemy is a powerful thing, and Master Hawkeye was right when he said that in the wrong hands it would cause untold devastation. But even though I was set back, I did not give up my ambitions, both in alchemy and outside of it.

Most State Alchemists receive their licencing first, and then begin climbing the military ranks. Without flame alchemy to distinguish me from the others, my application for state certification was unsuccessful, and was forced to go through this process in reverse. Instead of becoming an alchemist who was also a soldier, I was a soldier who had more than a passing fascination with alchemy. Doing little to distinguish myself as a soldier, I continued my research, attempting to recreate flame alchemy for myself.

Partially it was to gain my state certification, but even greater in my mind was the sense of acceptance I sought. I thought, in some dark corner of my mind, that if I was able to crack the secret of flame alchemy on my own, I would somehow be worthy of it. I would have gotten my master's blessing.

Perhaps that's why I never figured it out. To say my first and last attempt at flame alchemy was an unmitigated disaster would be making light of it. That I avoided court martial that day was a miracle. But it is false to say that my research was entirely fruitless.

Most alchemists focus on the transmutation of solid matter like then Major Armstrong or General Grand. Fewer, such as Isaac "The Freezer" McDougal, are specialized in the transmutation of liquid matter, though they are known for greater variability. From this state of matter, both solid and gas states are relatively simple to reach for an alchemist who knows what he is doing. But while alchemists who create gas from liquid are not entirely uncommon, alchemists who work solely with matter in its gaseous state were almost unheard of.

I was a Second Lieutenant in Ishval during the civil war when I finally was ready. I weaponized what I had researched, and my superiors knew enough not to wait for certification before utilizing my skills. The battlefield was to be my testing grounds, and I performed admirably. The small area I was assigned to was wiped out, and after the war I was promoted to a Major and given official State Alchemist status. A title came along with it, but I hardly gave it a second thought. You see, I had already earned myself a title, from the few survivors of my attack.

For as long as I live, I will be known to them and myself as the Demon of Ishval."

-From the memoirs of Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, the Miasma Alchemist.

~…~

Roy Mustang pressed his head on the cool glass of the car's window, a futile attempt at battling the growing pain in his head. The rhythmic vibration as the vehicle drove over the uneven country road did little to make his headache less agonizing. The rain was a small blessing, the quiet hiss that accompanied it soothing the throbbing behind his eyes. All the same, he wished it would stop soon. Rain acted as a natural cleaner of the air, making his alchemy much less effective at a range. With limited range, this might take some time, and the Miasma Alchemist was looking forward to finishing this assignment as soon as possible.

"Miss… Ross, was it?"

His driver didn't so much as twitch a muscle. She simply stared resolutely ahead.

"Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, sir. That is correct."

Mustang sighed. So formal.

"You know, you can call me Roy," he said, smiling and looking into the rearview mirror in hopes of making eye contact. Which of course the female officer resolutely refused to meet.

"That would feel most improper, sir, given…"

She let the statement fade, possibly realizing who she was talking to.

'Given who I am,' Roy thought to himself with a touch of bitterness. He had amass quite reputation for himself amongst the women of East City, and not for his skills in alchemy. At least, not officially. There were always rumors that he would use his abilities to manipulate the air, put something there that made others more… willing to consider. And of course there were always whispers of him doing more sinister things with his abilities.

Whispers that apparently had gotten as far as Central, it would seem. Roy could only imagine what this officer's female friends had warned her of before her transfer.

"So why the move to the East, Second Lieutenant?" Mustang asked, complying with her wishes to remain proper. The things that were said about him were not entirely baseless. The ones to do with the women themselves, at least. He had never knowingly used alchemy to make a conquest on that front, at least that he was willing to admit. He knew that alchemy was never required; one only had to learn what the girl wanted. And what this one wanted now was a comfortable distance.

'More fun letting them come to me anyway,' he couldn't help but think.

"Just looking for a change of scenery, sir," the Second Lieutenant replied in a voice that said "None of your business."

Roy sighed again, wincing as his headache redoubled its efforts to make him believe his forehead was splitting open. Typical for his life. When he wanted to talk, the other person was tight lipped. And when he just wanted to stop talking and leave, the idiot on the other side of the phone wouldn't shut up. Roy grimaced in more than physical pain as he remembered the conversation he had with his best friend over the phone just before he left.

~…~

"Hughes, I don't need you to update me on every little thing your daughter does!"

"You wouldn't say that if you say how absolutely adorable she is on that little toy piano. I swear she's going to take Central by storm someday!"

"You said that last week when she scribbled on a page and you thought she'd become a famous artist. And the weak before that when she decorated that cake your wife made and thought she'd open a bakery. And-"

"I know, my little Elicia is so multitalented! She definitely takes after my beautiful wife."

"Hughes, I've spent the last half an hour listening to you gush about your daughter. Don't make me spend the next listening to you do the same with your wife."

"You wouldn't say that if you had a lady of your own to gush about."

Silence fell on the conversation. For a moment Hughes said nothing as he contemplated the mistake he had just made.

"Sorry. Wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry."

"So, how are things going over there?"

"I'm wishing someone had dealt with this damn priest before he started an uprising. These Letoites are fighting as though they have no fear of death."

"Which is why they sent for a State Alchemist."

"Exactly."

There was another moment of awkward silence. Roy knew Hughes well enough to know that he would never stay this quiet for this long unless there was something that he wanted to say but was afraid to bring up.

"What is it?"

"… Are you sure that was the only reason you were sent?"

"What are you talking about? Of course it is. Why are else would I be here?"

"Well, it just that I've been keeping my ear to the ground."

"Yes…"

"And you know how rumors fly here in Central."

"What are you getting at Hughes?"

"Only that I there's word that someone else in the area. If she's joined up with Cornelo-"

Roy didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence before hanging up. He would be mad, but Roy knew that Hughes would forgive him. That man knew Roy well enough to know he always got like this whenever she came up in conversation.

~…~

Roy peeled his forehead from the window, turning back to his briefcase. He couldn't help it. He knew he shouldn't, knew it would do no one any good. He knew the files were there, they always were, and he had read them enough that he knows most of it off by heart. But nothing could stop his hand from reaching in and pulling them out.

The first two were relatively unimportant. They detailed the appearance of two Ishvalans. One large and muscular, the other thin, wearing glasses, and with tattoos on both arms. Similarities in appearance have led to the belief that these two are related, and their ages probably indicate that they are brothers, or some similar relationship. But these two were unimportant apart from the woman they have been known to associate with.

Short blonde hair. Intense brown eyes. About twenty years of age. Unconfirmed reports of mild facial disfiguration. Enemy of the state, wanted for crimes committed in Ishval, such as the impeding of a State Alchemist in the line of his duty and the endangerment and assault of military and civilian personnel.

At least that was the official story. To those who had dwelt in the region she had been found in, this was the saviour sent to them by Ishvala himself, the only reason that the Ishvalan people were not simply a memory today.

Roy took out the picture. There were none in the report, she had been far too careful for that. The picture he held was from her teenage years, when she had been innocent and he had been a friend wishing for something more.

She was Riza Hawkeye, the Angel of the Kanda region.

~…~

The sound of gunshots filled the streets as Rose threw herself through the doorway and pressed herself against the wall. Some Letoites might have said it was cowardly to avoid the fighting, she knew this. The Prophet Cornelo had told them that once they had taken the land and founded the holy nation, those who had fallen in battle would be raised up to life eternal. Rose knew these words were the words of Leto himself, and did not question them. Nevertheless, she had duties beyond firing the weapon she gripped in her hands, duties that the Sun God needed her alive to perform.

She remained still for a moment, listening for any sounds that would indicate that soldiers were still in pursuit. Once she was assured that she was not followed, she turned her attention to the others in the room.

The sick, the wounded, and those too weak to fight sat huddled around, most looking fearful. Rose felt pity for them. These were faithful souls, she knew this, but they were not warriors. They still held a fear of death, even with the assurance of the Sun God. She could not fault them for this. They all were only mortal men and women, just like her, prone to their failings. It was only through the grace of Leto that any of them could take up arms in this holy battle.

"How are things?" Rose asked the nearest man, putting down her gun. He was an old friend who had, before the holy war began, own and operated a small restaurant. Rose had never met a more faithful soul, and remembered when she would sit and listen to the broadcasts of the Prophet with him; the man had never changed his radio to any other station. She recalled how hard it had been to convince him that staying back and tending to the wounded was just as noble a calling as fighting on the front lines for Leto.

"Most are doing better," he said, "I'd say most everyone will pull through, Leto willing."

"Can they move?"

"I suppose, though you might have to ask the layabout."

Rose gave him a stern glare. Rose knew that the man he was referring to was well and fully capable. Her friend thought him lazy, a coward, sometimes even a traitor for not going into battle, but Rose knew better. She had seen the ferocity with which he fought the soldiers of Amestris, a ferocity she knew could only be born out of a zeal for God. She also knew why he refused to re-enter the battle.

She moved past her old friend, knowing that getting into an argument over the faith of one man would serve no purpose. She shuffles past the various occupants of the room, offering encouragement and condolences as appropriate. Eventually she made her way to the back of the room, pulling aside the ragged sheet and passing through the doorway behind it.

The man, or layabout as her friend called him, sat unmoving in the dark room beyond. After a moment Rose realized that he is in fact sleeping, much like the woman in the bed beside him. She reached over carefully, ready to leap away in case he lashed out like she had heard he did sometimes upon waking. Thankfully, he opened his eyes when she touched the dark skin of his bare shoulder without even twitching.

"How is she?" Rose asked, nodding towards the woman in bed. After being caught in an explosion during a battle, his wife had been bedridden, and he had yet to leave her side for anything other than food or to relieve himself. Rose found it beautiful, and couldn't help but feel sympathy, remembering herself in a similar situation not long ago. She prayed that Leto would have mercy and allow this man to enjoy the gift which Rose had been denied.

"She sleeps easier," said the man in his rough, gravelly voice.

"Is she strong enough to stand?"

"She seems to think so," a frail voice from the bed said. The woman rose to a sitting position slowly. She seemed small and pale, especially against her dark giant of a husband. Other than that, there was little Rose could tell, with the majority of her face being covered in bandages which hid severe burns. All that could really be seen was her weak smile and her left eye, brown and unfocused.

"Do you think that you can travel?"

"Has Cornello finally granted us an audience?" the man asked. Some might have considered it heretical to refer to the Prophet so casually by his name, but Rose supposed that it was probably a result of his Ishvalan upbringing. And the man was so desperate to meet the Prophet, so convinced it would only take a moment for him to heal his wife, that Rose could never think of anything he did as heresy.

"I'm sorry Rikan," she said, "but we only need to relocate to avoid the advance of the Central soldiers."

"Central is sending soldiers?" the woman asked, a growing concern in her voice.

"Yes, so we need to move now. Do you think you can move?"

The woman seemed to give it some thought, and then nodded.

"Good. Get ready, I'll make sure there is a horse waiting for you."

~…~

The woman watched as Rose left, looking to her partner as soon as she was out of sight.

"This complicates things," she said to the Ishvalan, her voice much stronger than it had been moments before.

"Do you think that they have sent a State Alchemist?" Rikan asked. The woman had learned over the years the subtle details of the man's growl that betrayed his thoughts, and she could almost hear anticipation in what he said.

"Remember what we are here for," she chastised, "we need to reach Cornello. We cannot waste time dealing with your vendetta."

The man cracked his knuckles like he always did when he was agitated, but offered no argument. For that she was glad. After nearly two months of getting so close, she knew that if they drew undue attention to themselves now everything could be lost.

"We should go," Rikan said, noticing the sounds of people in the other room were beginning to fade. He rose to leave, only stopping once he had reached the door and realized that the woman had not moved to follow.

"Where are you going?" she asked, "You don't expect an injured woman to walk all the way, do you?"

The woman smiled she watched the large Ishvalan walk back towards her bed. She had never liked the idea of depending on anyone, but she took some satisfaction in forcing this man who disliked her so greatly to play the role of doting husband.

And in the life that Riza Hawkeye had led, she had learned long ago to savor what few joys she could find.

~…~

And now, author's notes. In case it wasn't apparent, this is an AU fic depicting a universe where Roy Mustang never learned Flame Alchemy. I'm trying to tie every aspect that has been changed into this little alteration. Of course various leaps in logic must be taken, and I hope that I'll be able to explain my more far out ideas.

For example, why would Cornello's plot have spread to full grown revolution in this universe? Well, a fairly simple cascade of events really. Roy was in this universe not officially a state alchemist until after the Civil War in Ishval. Because of this, when news of the Elrics made its way to the military, a more well established State Alchemist was sent to collect them. Said alchemist was not as understanding of the situation, so Ed never became a State Alchemist, thus meaning that no Fullmetal Alchemist was around to reveal Father Cornello's deception, allowing his plan to move along unimpeded.

Yes, there are some major assumptions in there, but that's kind of the point of an AU fic in my opinion: imagining the greatest amount of change from the smallest starting event.

Anyway, hopefully this is enjoyable. I'll be posting the next chapter soon!