A/N: Ack! It's been so long since I've updated, so sorry! I'm still going to finish this series, and I already have "Lust" on the way ;)

Thank you SO, so much for the kind reviews! It really motivated me to continue, so I appreciate your support! Yay, Royai!

WRATH

Blind.

It was just as well, thought Mustang, as he absently stared into a field of milky white.

He impatiently gripped and tugged away the suffocating hospital sheets that trapped his legs, freeing them into the cool air.

Released from the oppressive confines, he leaned back against the upright hospital mattress, and took measured blinks, as he surveyed the varying levels of brightness and darkness within the desolate landscape.

A strained exhale pushed past his lips, as he somberly reflected on the events of the past few days.

In the frenzied chaos of the Promised Day, it was nothing short of miraculous, that the far-sighted planning and actions of a handful of individuals were able to save a nation and avert disaster.

His face darkened, as he reflected on his own limited contribution in the wake of it all. The frustration of his inadequacy bubbled harshly inside of him.

Having devoted so much of his life to climbing the ranks, he had clung to the naive notion that it would somehow empower him with the ability to protect everyone beneath him.

It was a reckless and foolish belief. One that had almost cost him dearly.

He closed his eyes and retreated into the darkened shelter of his lids.

Fragile. He realized.

Everything and everyone around him was so damn fragile.

Roy shifted in discomfort, as lingering spasms of pain twitched in his shoulders. Unwittingly the pain brought about the sobering memory of his arms being yanked back painfully, as powerful hands gripped and held him in place. The chilling sound of Hawkeye's muted cry of pain echoed hauntingly, and the glazed, backward roll of her eyes were forever seared into his memory.

He remembered watching the irreverent tug of his Lieutenant's motionless body, as she was carelessly dragged in front of him. Weeping trails of blood streamed openly from her neck, and pooled against the ground.

He nearly choked under the desperate, helpless swell of fury. A scream tore from his throat, burning with bile and rage.

"You bastard! I'll kill you!"

The events of what happened next were a blur, as a cacophony of shouting swelled beneath the the bone-cracking clash of limbs. All Roy remembered was the sharp, burst of flames that erupted from his fingertips, and his mind screaming for his legs to run faster towards Hawkeye.

When he managed to pull her into his arms, he remembered gripping her so close and tight, he wouldn't have believed it possible for her to be taken anywhere else. Yet she was dying, slipping away beneath his arms, between his fingertips. Red continued to stain, and swell against her coat. He nearly doubled over at the realization that he was losing her, and his gut was stabbed with a fierce, lonely pain, that he felt as if he were dying with her.

The red grew.

Roy blinked harshly, working to clear his mind's eye until he once again saw nothing but a yawning expanse of white.

The haunted recollections and the emptiness of the landscape in front of him left him suddenly fearful, and he shifted restlessly on the mattress.

"Lieutenant?" Roy questioned uncertainly, as he blindly stretched an arm out in the direction of Hawkeye's bed.

The cool air wafted emptily through his fingers, until the warm pads of Riza's fingertips reached out, and reassuringly brushed against his own.

"I'm here, Colonel." came Riza's soft reply.

Roy turned to face her. The blank canvas of his eyes painted Hawkeye's outline, and the consoling mahogany gaze that met his own.

Her voice was delicate and strained, but she was alive.

The warmth of her fingertips confirmed it.

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with a grateful realization, that her steadying presence meant everything to him. She was his anchor, and even in the landscape of nothingness, behind the static, white curtain of his blindness was her, and the world was worth fighting for because she was still in it.

He now saw things clearly, and Roy smiled at the irony.

His fingers gripped, and tightened around her own.