Title – Her Many Faces

Author – D M Evans

Disclaimer – I own nothing

Rating – PG-13

Characters – Chris, Roy, the Armstrongs

Time Line - set in Roy's childhood no spoilers except for who raised him

Warnings – none

Word Count – 500

Summary – What was real about her?

Author's Note – This story made me late for work. It demanded to be written just that hard. thanks to sj smith for suggestions on the ending. This was written for the fma_fic_contest's 'fake' prompt and one first place.


Everything about her was fake; the innocent girl in distress persona she used to lure in weapons manufacturer, William Walther; the tale of woe she used to keep him hooked; her interest in him as a man, they were all shams with one goal in mind: gathering information. About the only things real about her were her lush curves and thick, walnut hair and inevitably, as she aged, those would be lost to her.

The other real thing she had that Chris would retain for life – she hoped – was her intelligent mind. She could hold an incredible amount of information in it, invent new lives for herself to match the needs of whomever she was trying to get to and could put all the information together to see the bigger picture.

Leaving Walther sleeping on his couch, happily avoiding having to sleep with him – she wasn't a whore and never liked it if she had to go that far to get what she wanted – Chris left him a sweet little note then headed out with photographs of his private papers, the ones proving he was dealing weapons to the Drachmanianas.

Chris hurried back home. Someone was waiting for her, a novel idea. Chris had never been the responsible adult until her brother went and got himself killed, idealistic fool. Her heart clenched, thinking about him and his wife and their murders. At least her little nephew had been spared, but now she had to work her espionage around babysitters. How surreal was that? Like his father, Roy loved alchemy. When he got a little older, she'd find him a master but, until then, he could learn the tools of her trade. He might need it some day.


"Alex Louis!" The moment he spotted the older boy coming in to the bar with his father, Roy hopped down from the bar stool he was perched on, doing his homework. "I learned a new array."

Alex Louis shoved back his long, golden curls, his eyes bright. "Show me and I shall show you another Armstrong family fighting move."

Ignoring the boys, Chris beckoned for Armstrong to follow her into her office. She pulled out a film canister, popping it into his hands. "This is what you asked me for."

Armstrong pocketed it. "Grumman and I are in your debt once again, madam."

Madam. Chris liked the sound of that. It made her sound posh. "If you need another more, just ask."

"I will."

"Go on out and have meal and a drink on the house. Let the boys play for a while. Roy doesn't get to talk to other alchemists much."

Armstrong nodded. "Sound idea." He headed back to the bar.

Chris sat down, fishing her cigarettes out of her desk. These assignments were dangerous, and she had Roy to care for now.

"Hey, Aunt Chris!" Think of the devil. "You need to see what Alex Louis taught me!"

"I'll be there, Roy-Boy." Whatever happened, she'd do right by him.