Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do NOT own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters. I only am responsible for the (albeit poorly written and devised) plot.
Once again: Sorry it's not well written, though I tried my best.
Again for those who actually watch Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, sorry there are so many plot holes. (Yes, I know in the reality of the show, these things couldn't ever happen according to the rules of alchemy)
-Pyro
6:00 on the dot, Colonel Roy Mustang was standing on Riza Hawkeye's front porch. The sky had yet to lighten up, which wasn't unusual considering how early it was.
His hand poised over the wooden surface, was about a millisecond away from knocking when the door swung open. He found himself with his fist barely grazing the forehead of Lt. Riza Hawkeye. (She was shorter than him)
Her wary face lit up at the sight of the Colonel leaning against her doorframe. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. His hair was tousled and his shirt collar was crooked. His expression was positively joyful, but Hawkeye could tell he, just like her, hadn't gotten much sleep last night.
He had the posture of a very, very tired man. He hadn't put his jacket on right, a telltale sign of something wrong happening. He wore the same dark circles under his eyes. Only difference was, he hadn't masked them under layers of concealer like she had.
While she knew her disguise was flawless, she couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Guilty that she could keep hiding while others couldn't. Roy, and Bell. And all her old friends from years ago. All her hiding was going to cost someone she loved. Dearly.
Putting that aside for the moment, smiled, and said politely "Good morning, sir. Might I ask what you're doing here?" He smiled back.
"Why, I'm here to pick you up. A certain friend of yours informed me that you needed a ride to work this morning. I offered to take you instead because I live closer."
They began walking down the steps and to his car. He opened the door to the front seat, and slid in beside her. Shutting the door behind him and staring the engine, he was the first to begin casual conversation.
"So, what d'you think is wrong with your car? Engine broken? Something wrong with the brakes?" She noncommittally shrugged her shoulders, turning to the window as her face flushed.
"I don't know. But then again, I'm no good with cars. My area of expertise is weaponry." She made sure to not look back until her face returned to its normal color.
He chuckled. "Well ain't that the truth. I remember when your father first tried to teach you how to drive..." She smacked him in the arm.
"Hey, don't you start with that!" She paused before apologizing "Forgive me, sir!"
He glared at her. "Hey, hey, hey. You know I hate that. Don't you go and start with that 'sir' business. Not until absolutely necessary. We've known each other since we were children. How long is it gonna take for you to call me by my first name?"
She looked down at her lap. "Sorry si- Roy."
"Thanks," he said as he pulled up against the curb.
"C'mon it's time for work."
She was muttering under her breath as she followed him into the building.
"Besides, who builds something like that in the middle of nowhere? That damned barn was just asking for it..."
Riza Hawkeye sighed.
Roy had almost lost his mind in the office today, when Lt. Colonel Hughes had attempted to lighten the mood by bragging about his daughter. Albeit, she was rather adorable, but jeez that man had issues.
The Colonel nearly throttled his friend, and Hawkeye suggested that she and Hughes out to get coffee or something.
So here they stood, coffees in hand, at the steps outside of Central Command. For once she was grateful they'd been called to Central City to assist with this murder. Mustang and his team needed this opportunity to help boost themselves higher in the ranks. And she needed this chance to get to the bottom of this herself.
Not for the military. Not just for herself. Not even because of her friends.
For her father.
True, he had been a seriously crappy father. He had never been there, not when her mother had gotten sick. Not even to come to her funeral.
He'd just stayed locked up in his stupid room.
It had been him to copy his research into her skin. Him who had stained her pale flesh with written instructions on one of the most difficult alchemy practices ever known to man.
Flame alchemy.
He'd given her a gift that belonged to only the gods. Those stupid markings.
Not to mention carving that blasted symbol into her eyes. I was lucky the power of the transmutation kicked in before I went blind.
Her father had been a real asshole, she couldn't deny that. But, he was still her father. And she couldn't just throw away his life's work.
When he practiced the art of flame alchemy, it was dark and cruel and an abuse of power.
But when Roy used his alchemy...
It was for protection. For self-defense. So he could protect the innocent and take a stand for what he believed in. And so he could guarantee the safety of the ones he cared about. So the people he loved would remain safe.
He was not a monster. Not like his teacher. That bastard hadn't even offered to leave Roy his work. No, in her father's words, that would've been 'too predictable.'
Well dad, she thought in spite. Looks like you were wrong. It couldn't have been that hard to figure it out, or else there wouldn't be a psychopath on the loose, running around, killing all of the daughters of all those involved. Should've left it to Roy. He could've put it to better use.
She plopped down on the stone steps, her fingers digging into her knees as she was lost in her thoughts. (Hughes, of course, was oblivious to her inner toil. Too busy fawning over his daughter.)
I know he was looking for my father's findings, but why didn't he ask me? She thought for a moment before reaching a conclusion. That idiot. He didn't want me to think I was being used just to find the information. No... Roy is noble, but he's not stupid. He had a stupid amount of pride, but he knows when to swallow it and ask for help.
That's not it.
So what then?
Crap.
He must've gone to mother before she died.
It wasn't a bad assumption to make. What would a girl in her late teens know about flame alchemy? She smirked as she took a sip of coffee.
More than he'll ever know. I pored over those notes for years.
And with that knowledge, I won't let you hurt any more of the people I care about.
So you know my secret. Better off this way.
No more secrets then.
She stood, crushing her styrofoam cup in her fist. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and the cup was reduced to ash in a matter of seconds.
I will not hold back.
Hey guys! Sorry the plot is crap and there are all these weird plot twists. But hey, I never forced you to read it did I?
WARNING: STOP READING NOW! THIS STORY DOESN'T ACTUALLY MAKE ANY SENSE!
Later,
-Pyro
