Author's Note: Guess I'm the only one who didn't think chapter 5 had a cliffhanger. This is labeled as TRAGEDY, and the end of the first chapter was a dead giveaway (no pun intended). But I guess people want to know how it happened… hope it lives up to your expectations. It's more than what I usually write.
Disclaimer: I only own Aaron, and his mom, and the other minor characters from previous chapters.
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He felt as though all the breath and life had been sucked from his body. Somehow he managed to remain standing and relatively calm. His hands had begun to shake, however, and he felt vaguely nauseous. Havoc knelt in front of the boy, Aaron.
"You said you friend is still inside? You're sure of that?"
The boy nodded, his eyes now going wide.
"And where is she exactly?"
"Well… before the place fell down, I was standing near the back, but in the middle. That's where she found me. So she must be close to there."
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"Riza?" Havoc and Roy had entered the demolished shop through the way that the little boy had gotten out. It had been an easy task for him, but this was not the case for two grown men. They were already scratched and sore by the time they came to a place where they could stand up easily. The light was dim because of the obstructed windows, and also fading because of the late hour. "Riza!" They were yelling alternately now, scanning the wreckage for any sign of another human being. Roy could still hardly breathe.
All around them were fallen and demolished bookcases, some with books still on their shelves. A cash register stood to the left, somehow left intact. Roy leaned against a plank of wood that rested diagonally against something else. With an ominous crack, the plank split in two, sending a dictionary, among other items, falling down from above. The dictionary struck Roy squarely on the shoulder, causing him to groan and forcing him painfully to his knees. Havoc looked over in worry, but Roy motioned that he was fine, and to keep looking.
And then he wasn't fine. From his position on the ground he could see below some of the fallen debris, and from under another plank there protruded a human hand, pale and still. Riza.
"RIZA!" He began to claw furiously at the debris covering the person, exposing another hand, an arm crisscrossed by scratches, then finally a face. Her face, so peaceful that she might have been simply taking a nap. A thin stream of blood had trickled out of the corner of her mouth and onto the floor beneath her.
Havoc came up behind him, then stopped short, shocked. Then: "Is she alive?" Roy was silent, and seemed to not be able to move, so he moved closer, pressing two of his fingers into Riza's wrist.
"She's warm, Mustang, and her heart's beating. She's alive, and we have to get her out of here."
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He'd never really minded hospitals. Even during the war, he hadn't hated them. The smell of death in a hospital was nothing compared to the assault on the senses that one experienced on the battlefield, especially if the death was your own doing. Roy let out an involuntary shudder, and Havoc glanced over at him. They sat in the large waiting room, facing a row of people with expressions similar to their own: apathetic and solemn, not allowing hope on their faces for fear of being let down.
The thought of what he'd do without her didn't cross his mind — he wouldn't let it happen. It wasn't the events of a person's life that made them lose it; it was thinking about it too much, replaying it inside your brain. And there was no point of thinking like that anyway. She was going to be fine. She's going to be fine. She's going to be fine.
"Are both of you here for Ms. Hawkeye?" A man wearing a doctor's uniform stood in front of them, his face unreadable.
"Yes." Roy wondered how his voice still sounded normal.
He motioned for both of them, and all three men walked out of the waiting room and into the ICU. The doctor sighed. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do for her."
"What do you mean?" Roy had stopped walking. He was suddenly aware of the blood that spotted his shirt. Riza's blood. Riza.
The doctor sighed again and turned around to face Roy. Havoc was staring at the doctor as if he was the devil himself. "We've given her something for the pain, but…" He stopped, a bit afraid to meet Roy's gaze, which had turned wrathful. "…I can almost guarantee you that she's not going to make it. She's bleeding internally, and we can't stop it."
"There's nothing you can do? Nothing at all?" This was Havoc.
"Besides making her comfortable, no. I'm sorry. Does she have family that should be contacted?"
"Well… she and her family are… estranged at best, and —" Havoc began.
"We're her family." Roy said quietly.
The doctor nodded. "Would you like to see her?"
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She was sleeping when they walked in, and she was still asleep when Havoc left. He was still on duty, after all, and Central would be looking for him. He left asking Roy to tell Hawkeye that he had been there if she woke up, but Havoc wouldn't have been surprised if his demands fell on deaf ears. Roy hadn't moved from his chair since they had entered Riza's room, not had he said more than a few words. Roy was still sitting there, later, when he looked up to see Riza looking back at him, her head inclined slightly off the pillow, small tears in her eyes.
He was at her side in a moment. He bent down, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She was paler than usual, and looked a little different with her thick hair spread out behind her on the pillow, framing her heart-shaped face.
Roy searched for something to say, something that would keep this from being real. "Aaron's fine." He reached out for her hand and held it loosely.
"And his mother?" she asked.
"She'll be fine too." And so will you.
"But I won't be." She said it quickly, as if trying to force out something unwanted.
He had been prepared to deny it, but she caught him off guard. Thinking it would be too cruel to agree, he said nothing.
"They told me already. I was awake for a little while before." She looked up at the ceiling, and the tears ran back across her cheeks towards her ears. Roy wiped them away with his sleeve.
"I love you, Riza."
She held his hand a little tighter.
"Havoc had to leave, but he told me to tell you he had been here," Roy said softly.
"Tell him I said thank you… and to quit smoking. It's bad for him."
"I'll do that."
"I don't want to leave you, Roy." She whispered this, and her eyes became moist again. "This can't be happening. This isn't supposed to happen, not this way. Not for a long time."
He leaned over and kissed her again. There wasn't a word in the world that could express what he was feeling just then, as if some monstrous force was crushing him from the inside out. Had he ever really taken the time to look at her, to appreciate? He was sure that he had. Until now, that is. She was beautiful unlike anything he had ever seen. Delicate and strong in the same breath. A mind that would have forever challenged his. He watched her face, burning into his memory something stronger than any photograph. Even as he looked on, she was changing. Riza was getting paler still, and her lively auburn eyes turned to dull brown. The grip that she held on Roy's hand first tightened, then slackened at an alarming rate. The rise and fall of her chest became staccato. He pulled her body close, and felt her words tickle his ear. I'll always love you, Roy. I love you too much.
Riza…
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The funeral had been nearly unbearable. He barely remembered it at all, having blocked most of it out of his memory. People, himself included, had spoke words that were supposed to bring comfort to others. Those words, those meaningless words that had tasted like ash in his mouth. And the sight of her lying there had seemed so perverse, so twisted. The Riza Hawkeye he had known was full of life and passion, not the vulnerable body he now saw before him. He saw the numbed expressions upon the faces of Havoc, Fuery, and the others, and knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing in his life would be the same, not at home nor at work.
He was back at work today for the first time in a fortnight. Most of his time away from work had been spent in a motel, though he had a home. It was Riza's place, and he couldn't bear to go back there. Not now, not ever, he didn't think. He'd have to think about her too much if he went back, and he couldn't afford to do that. Everything he did and everything he touched there would remind him of her. Roy clung desperately to his final strands of sanity at the cost of depriving himself of everything that was left of her.
Even in the confines of his office he couldn't escape from the intense grief that was slowly overtaking him. It rose within him like some terrible bird taking flight. He refused to look at his desk, at the paperwork that was more intolerable than he ever could have imagined. He stared out the window without actually seeing, stared into his bleak future.
Behind the books on one of the shelves was a single bottle of whiskey, and it was this that Roy felt for. Finally his hand closed upon the rounded bottleneck. Not bothering to get a glass, he drank deeply. It took him away, but only for a moment. Then he needed more. He wondered how long he could keep this up.
Knock, knock. "Mustang?" It sounded like Havoc, but at this point Roy didn't trust himself to recognize voices. He capped the bottle and stuck it in a top drawer.
"Come in." His words sounded a little slurred.
It was indeed Havoc. In addition to appearing solemn and in need of a smoke, Havoc also looked nervous. Like he was about to say something that might be regrettable…
"What is it?"
"This…" He paused, uncomfortable. "This is not a good time to ask, but… I have to know something."
Through his drunkenness, Roy suspected that he knew what was coming.
"What exactly was there… between Hawkeye and yourself?" Havoc felt guilty for asking. "Was there somethi —"
"Get out." His voice sounded raw now. Among all his emotions, Roy felt a new one stepping forward: anger.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"
"Get the hell out of my office, Havoc." Roy opened the desk drawer where he had hidden the alcohol, and reached further back, past stray paperclips and old papers. Along the back of that drawer was another drawer, smaller and hidden. Inside that drawer was a handgun. Wondering if he would have done this had he been sober, Roy pointed the gun at Havoc's chest. He saw the other man's eyes get slightly rounder. Havoc backed up slowly until he was at the door, opened it without turning around, and left, giving Roy a look that was half fear, half pity.
Roy realized that the hand holding the gun was shaking uncontrollably. He placed the handgun down on his desk. Until a minute ago, he had forgotten that he owned it. It had been a birthday present from Riza. Some would call that strange, but he had loved it. He gazed at it, shining dully against the dark wood.
He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. He'd have to face Havoc eventually, and all the others too. He'd have to go back to Riza's place to get his things, to go through her things. He'd have to find another place, one without memories. He would have to move on with his life. There wasn't another choice… was there?
At that moment, everything that he'd been feeling for the past two weeks spilled out like Pandora's box. Anger, helplessness, regret, and grief. Terrible grief like nothing he'd ever felt before engulfed him in waves. The words she'd spoken to him on her deathbed played over and over again in his mind.
I'll always love you, Roy. I love you too much.
I'll always love you, Roy. I love you too much.
I'll always love you, Roy. I love you too much.
There wouldn't be a day where he didn't think of her smile, and there wouldn't be a night where he didn't long to have her lying next to him. He knew in his heart that nothing and no one could ever take away the void that she had left. A void that extended long before these past few months, back to when he'd loved her silently for years. She gave him a reason to want to be here. How could things have gone so terribly wrong? But maybe this was karma for the terrible things he'd done, the things that he would have liked to forget. Maybe it was tragic fate. Whatever the reason, he knew one thing for sure: he couldn't do this anymore.
Impulsively, he stood up and picked up the handgun that lay on his desk. He checked to make sure that it was loaded. It was. Completely. There would be no games of Russian roulette, no chances to back out. It was too late now; it had been too late two weeks ago. The whiskey that coursed through his veins made Roy unafraid. A vision of his lost love danced before him as he raised the gun to his temple. I love you too much, Riza.
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Author's Note: Whew, it's complete. Finally. Sorry for taking that insanely long hiatus; I didn't choose my penname for nothing.
Shameless Self-Promotion: If you missed Edward in this story, then you should probably go and read My Silver Lining. It's my new obsession right now. And if you want a healthy dose of silliness, I highly recommend The Winry Rockbell Theme Song. Suggestions for new stories are welcome.
People who reviewed and are therefore awesome beyond belief: DeadlyMaidenTsuki, RR Forever, picesgirl01, YourFavoritePlushie, fAteD lOvE, kuroxdoragon, Bizzy, blknblupanther1, Dailenna, loyalsoul, Rachel Elric, Forgottenspirit636, Miss Mustang, fighterNOTlover, Nilmiel and Kenya, Shadow Dreamer 27, Scenro, Wolfborg007, kahel16, Mrs. Riza Mustang, and all the anonymous people too.
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See you later.
- UltimateProcrastinator