Hello, this is a story I wrote a while ago but haven't posted it until now because I wasn't sure about it. I would like to thank Blood Dark Sun for reading it through and editing.

This is dedicated to Harrison (AKA France) for introducing me to FMA and the Mini-Skirt rant, still makes me laugh.

Anyway... on with the oneshot! ^_^

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Silence. Unearthly silence, pressing in on me from all sides - suffocating me. My hands shake from the memory of what I had done only hours ago, making me drop my now-empty bottle - I dont even know the name of it, so I can assume it was something highly alcoholic. How could I have done this? They were only trying to help...
And that little girl. An orphaned little girl, thanks to me. She looks so happy in the picture, blonde hair, cute naive smile. She obviously meant the world to the two dead doctors, whose blood pools at my feet, taunting me... I wonder where she is?
I bring my hands up in front of my eyes, barely visible in the half-light of the scene of my crime. Blood, innocent blood stains my hands; coating them in my sin to humanity. Just because the doctors were doing their jobs - treating their patients - I had been ordered to kill them. That isn't right, that isn't right at all. I scoff quietly. 'Just shows how corrupt the government is,' the little cynical voice in my head mutters. Like lightning, I rip my eyes from the patch of wall straight in front of me that I had been staring at for the last fifteen minutes, only for them to fall onto the scarlet stain on the grey concrete. A lone tear falls down my face onto my crumpled white uniform shirt.
My eyes twitch in a vain attempt to halt any more tears from falling. Shoulders sag in unadulterated defeat. I am resigned to my fate. No more following orders. No more harming innocents. With inhuman speed, I flick open the top of my holster attached to the back of my belt and pull out my handgun, holding it in front of me. Such fine crafting, suited perfectly to serve the will of the handler. This is the gun I used to open fire on the parents of the blonde girl in the picture. The metal shines in the dim light. Slowly, I turn the gun in my hands, unaware that my pale hands have stopped shaking. I continue to do this until the barrel is facing towards me. Releasing a resolute sigh, I bring the barrel up untill it's pressed into the hollow underneath my chin, almost breaking the skin.
Turning off the safety, I take a breath - my last breath - and with it mutter to the empty room,
"Guess our plan won't succeed, Hughes."
Then I pull the trigger.

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Thank you for reading, this was my first FMA fic, so please let me know what you think.