A/N: Normally I'd write my notes at the end of the story but for this one I'm changing the order. I have no idea why I want to write this kind of story all of a sudden. I think it's because I remembered Ed and Riza's conversation about Ishval?

Anyway, I'm just hoping that you will enjoy this. Tell me what you think later, maybe?

It had been a week and three days since General Roy Mustang was made Fuhrer. The celebration was festive, almost too festive, and lasted days after the ceremony was done. He was chosen by the previous Fuhrer himself, Grumman. His youth was a fresh breeze for the people, and his firm yet thoughtful decisions was a much needed break for the State. Even the most skeptical accepted his presence as their leader and followed him.

Sure, he still had enemies, but the public loved him. They didn't dare lay a hand on him, else they would face the people's outrage. And even if they steeled themselves for that, the renowned unit that guarded him and the steadfast Hawk's Eye would be protecting him with all their might.

It was a happy time. After Bradley's regime was Grumman's, which was both relieving and stressful at the same time. While the old man had been able to direct the State to a better direction and fix the international relations, some of his decisions were questionable. There had been a period when all military personnel were to wear miniskirts regardless of gender, for example. This included the Fuhrer himself. While it drew questions from the females, the majority of the males had been adamant not to wear the skirts, and when they were forced to wear them they couldn't focus on the job at hand. This led to several instances where criminals managed to escape or even injure them, thus the new rule was made null.

(Of course some people knew that the Fuhrer was only doing it for his own amusement, but it seemed like something that would either make the people lose their respect for the military, or draw their anger at the Fuhrer for making such stupid rule that ended up creating more troubles than solving them, or both. So they stayed silent.)

And so Mustang's ruling period was something that the people waited with much anticipation. Held breaths, pumped fists, cheered yells, and confetti swallowed the nation overnight. People had known him as the Hero of Ishval even before he was made general, and when they saw that the Ishvallans were really the victims of the war and that Mustang had been willing to rebuilt the land, his popularity rose to its peak. That was why they were so happy he was made Fuhrer. If he had been able to do so much as mere major – colonel – general – … what would he be able to do once he was at the very top of the hierarchy?

"I've killed too many to feel sorry for myself… Besides, I can't deny that I'm the one who chose this path."

"Sir, are you sure to follow through with this plan?"

"Yes, I am. It's what we've set our hearts on anyway, isn't it?"

"You've only reigned for so short a time… I thought it would be better to stall it and make sure Amestris is a better place first."

"Well that's just that, isn't it? Would they be happy with a murderer for a leader?"

There was a short pause. "Sir…"

"Are you telling me that you're chickening out, Colonel Hawkeye?"

There was a sharp glare. Even all this time, the knife for eyes didn't dull; rather they sharpened with newfound wisdom given by age. "Sir, that's not it. I want to atone for my sins as much as you do. But that's not possible right now. This country isn't in the right state to do that. Our path is still long."

"… I suppose."

"He understands that he will be tried as a criminal and he still aims for the top? That's suicide!"

"Changing the State into a democratic country?"

The people were at a state of uproar. How could they not be? After years upon years of being a military country, all of a sudden the leader of said country announced that he would change its system into that of a democratic one.

"What is the Fuhrer thinking?"

The newspaper was full of reports about the Fuhrer's decision to change the State's way. It's not sudden, he had said, according to the news, This is what I have strived for since years ago. The people should have the right to choose their leaders. They should be able to voice their opinions. They should be able to express their wants and their needs. It is also a countermeasure to ensure that there will be no more civil war… it is to stop another Ishval Extermination from happening.

"Our voice will be heard!"

The incredulous yells slowly changed into happy cheers. Finally understanding the Fuhrer's intentions, the people happily accepted his decision. Soon, the Hero of Ishval would be named the best leader Amestris had ever seen. His vision saw beyond the fog of uncertain future, far ahead of his team of generals supporting his moves.

News upon news of his moves were met with acceptance. The people loved him, and he cared for the people. The international relations grew even better in his hands than in Grumman's, even though there seemed to be a permanent air of hostility between him and Prince Claudio of Aerugo. He even started to extend his hands to Drachma. While the feud between the two countries left them bitter with each other's presence, they had slowly come to term to it and accepted each other's companion.

Slowly but surely, Amestris became a peaceful country. Even the internal clashes with the Ishvallans began to dwindle in number before stopping completely. While there was still hostility between the Ishvallans and the Amestrians, acceptance had seeped deep into the fabric of society. Each Ishvallan was treated equally with each Amestrian and vice versa.

To ensure that the peace would last, Fuhrer Mustang made several conferences with other countries and slowly reduce the armaments. Why would they need such a large number of arms when everything could be resolved civilly? For the same reason, the State Alchemist program was also abolished, as there was no need for human weapons.

All this took years of hard work and patience from many people, of course. And that wasn't to say that there was no struggle in the process. Some people rebelled and were dealt with accordingly – taken into custody, tried, get the appropriate punishment necessary – but one could say that Fuhrer Mustang's regime was the most successful of all.

It had been four years, nine months, two weeks, and seventeen days since Roy Mustang was appointed as the Fuhrer of Amestris. His decisions were thoughtful, and his vision so far ahead only a handful could even begin to guess what he aimed by making them. They had made Amestris a better place, a peaceful world for its citizen. But even then, his past didn't let him get away from its clutches.

"Fuhrer Roy Mustang will be tried for the crimes he committed in the Ishval Extermination War."

"A hero from a time of war will become nothing but a mass murderer in a peaceful world."

The people were outraged.

How could this happen? How could they let this happen? The best Fuhrer Amestris had ever gotten the chance to be led by was now a convict. A man had been chosen in his place to act as replacement, but everyone could see that the replacement would rather have Roy Mustang back in his seat.

The state of uproar was like no other. So many debates took place, so many people voicing their thoughts, and yet no one seemed to be able to really settle on an opinion.

"He's a criminal. He killed so many during the war."

"But it was a war. He had no choice, didn't he? Soldiers must do as they are told to do by their commanding officer."

"But he still killed them! Didn't he?"

"And he saved many more… face it, that was a time of turmoil. If Ishval wasn't exterminated at that time the whole Amestris will be swallowed in a civil war."

"A sin is a sin. A murder is a murder. It was established that the Flame Alchemist was one of the people who killed most. He is a mass murderer."

"But the order came from the top!"

"Who was at the top?"

"… Fuhrer King Bradley?"

But in the end, it didn't matter what kind of argument they got into. Roy Mustang was a convicted man and he would be treated as such. He would receive the same punishments as any other war criminal. The decision was final, and there was nothing the citizens could do despite the fact that most of them refused to accept that their Fuhrer would soon be killed as a criminal.

"I have known that this will happen," he told the people with that same calming voice he always used in a crowd. "I made all my decisions and chose to take that path in the sole reason to atone for my sins in Ishval. It isn't just me. Every person involved in the war would be tried and punished accordingly."

From that day onward Amestris grieved. No one really wanted to see their leader killed for a crime he did nearly twenty years ago. No one was happy to see that one by one, soldiers, alchemists previously appointed by the State, researchers, and even doctors fall to the ground like a bloody ragdoll after bullets pierced their bodies. No one accepted that this was what was coming. But what could they do? This was what was coming. This was the Fuhrer's decision. He chose death and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Why do we let this happen?"

"Why do we have to let the best leader of Amestris die?"

"Why didn't we see this coming?"

"From now on, I'm assigning you to be my assistant. I feel like I can trust you to watch my back. Although, I expect you'd understand what this means. You'll be able to shoot me in the back, as well. If I ever deviate from this path, then I want you to shoot me. And I'm trusting you to do so. Do you accept my offer?"

"Of course I do, sir."

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"You heard my request, General. That's all I want. I don't want a firing squad, I just need one gunner."

"Sir, you realize that this is a blatant disrespect of the rule. Not to mention that she, too, will be met with the very same punishment!"

"We have thought about this. We have for years. Once I pull the trigger, I will take my own life."

The general's eyes widened. "Colonel. Do you understand what you are saying?!"

"I do. I will become His Excellency's executor, and then I will execute myself."

"Please, Colonel… don't go where I can't follow."

"If you're going to shoot me, shoot me. But then what will you do?"

"I have no intention of carrying on by myself. Once this is all over, I'm going to end my life and take the secret of Flame Alchemy with me."

"That can't happen. I can't… I can't afford to lose you."

The large field was barren of any sign of life save for two people standing right in the middle of it. One of them was a black haired man who held himself proudly, a man who knew of his crimes and mistakes and readily accepted whatever would come out of it. The other was a woman with eyes as sharp as a hawk's, who clutched a pair of guns in her hands. Both stared into each other's eyes and both knew what was going to happen to them.

The man stared at the woman and sighed sadly. "I don't know why, but my biggest regret is that I couldn't take your hand in marriage."

The woman shook her head. "Sir, you know as well as I do that it wasn't necessary. Besides, if I had been married to you I wouldn't be able to guard your back until the end."

He huffed a laugh and stepped forward, and she did the same. They stood there in front of each other, obsidian black gazing into amber brown, engaged in a silent conversation none other would have understood.

He glanced at the far end of the field. Even though this was supposed to be their execution, it was still a public execution. However, all the people knew not to come closer, respecting the last moment of privacy the two of them would be able to enjoy.

He stared at the woman before him again. She was a nobody for him if they were to see their military ranks. Just a leader and his bodyguard, at most. But for all the titles they had and didn't have, they knew what they were, deep inside, to each other. They were two halves that had finally become one. Pieces that would complete each other. The missing last letters to each other's poetry. For so long they had to keep that fact from the world to see. If they thought hard, they were sure that people knew anyway. For the sake of public image, they kept themselves from each other and made sure that no more suspicion would arise.

But now that death was looming so closely to them, that charade didn't matter anymore. They would soon die, anyway. Why bother with maintaining such an act? He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek in his palm. She leaned into his touch immediately, her own hand that still clutched the firearm touching the back of his hand. The warmth of her skin was accompanied by the coldness of the gun. It felt bizarre and oddly fitting at the same time.

Only then did he realize that his hands were trembling, as were hers. They stared into each other's eyes again and found fear in there, and the silent anger at how they felt it.

"We were so sure of this before," she muttered as she began to sniffle. "It's amusing how we're taken by fear all of a sudden, isn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed readily. "It just crossed my mind that maybe I don't really want to die. It's too permanent."

She gave a small laugh. Tears began to gather in her eyes. "But we must do this. It is to atone for our sins, after all."

He smiled at her and shook his head. "I still feel that I shouldn't let this happen. You'll die, too. I can't afford to lose you… not back then, not now. Not even in death."

"Sir…" she gave a small shake. "No. Roy. You're not going to lose me. I'm going after you, after all."

"Riza, you know perfectly well what I mean."

"Yes, I do, but you don't understand this very well," Riza leaned further into his touch. "Don't you realize? We're going together."

He smiled. "Well. I suppose you can see it that way."

She grew silent for a moment before speaking up, "Why do you choose this method?"

"I'm sorry?"

She looked up and stared into his eyes, curiosity clear in her own. "You never did tell me why you want this kind of method. Why not the firing squad? Why me? I could never understand that. I want to know before we follow through."

He was quiet for a moment before his words streamed steadily like a calm river. "Your father had taught me the basics of alchemy… but you were the one to give me the key to the alchemy style that would truly become mine. You were the one who gave me the power. And with that power, I had committed a crime that none should ever have committed. I think… it's only fitting that you become the one that delivers my punishment."

She stared and nodded in understanding. Truly, there was no more need to talk. They came here to die, after all, and they had been certain to do it, even if fear suddenly gripped their hearts at the last moments.

"Riza…"

His call made her stare into his eyes again, and she knew instantly what he wanted to do. She nodded to express her agreement, and he pulled her closer into his embrace, before he bent down for a kiss that she immediately returned.

It was the first time they had done such an intimate act. It would be their last.

They pulled away from each other, and her tears spilled. She let them flow, forming rivers that ran down her cheeks, focusing instead to look at him, to imprint every detail of him into her mind. The fear that suddenly gripped her was so strong, so commanding, that she nearly keeled right then and there, but she had to pull herself together. They both had to. They knew they could go through this, and they had agreed to do it. Nevermind that this was a territory they were both unfamiliar with.

Nevermind the fact that there was no going back.

All of a sudden, he laughed. "It's been so long. I can finally see the pure tears running down your cheeks again." He wiped her tears away with gentle hands, fingers brushing so carefully as not to hurt her.

She couldn't help but laugh back. "I thought you hated water, since it makes you useless."

His smile was so gentle, so warm. "Not if you're by my side, Riza."

He then stepped back, though he was still holding both her hands. "Are you ready?" he asked, a hint of nervousness seeping into his voice.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "As ready as I can be."

He let go of her hands, and she aimed with one hand, while the other was held against her own head. This was it. Their last moment, together.

Just before she pulled, he smiled and spoke, "I love you."

She gave her own smile, bittersweet. "And I, you."

Far away from the center of the field where the Fuhrer and his trusty Colonel who always guarded his back were, at the edge of it where they stood circling the field, stood the people of Amestris in silence. None of them were quite willing to let go of the man and the woman known as Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye, but when they realized that they had wanted this for themselves, they couldn't do anything.

They could only let go. Let go of the man who had rebuilt the nation from the ground up and the woman who was always by his side as the silent guardian. Let go of the leader who was so kind and so caring to his people and the woman that should have nothing to do with him but could just as well be his First Lady for all they know. Let go of the duo that had become so important to the nation, so precious, would be so dearly missed.

Afar, two gunshots rang in succession, and they could see the figure of the man falling to the ground. The blond woman stood silently for a moment before another gunshot rang, and she, too, slumped.

Among the crowds, stood two brothers of gold with their respective wives. A cloud of grimness immediately spread in the crowd after the two figures fell, but the sadness, the grief, the despair was so much thicker between them, blanketing them so tightly it was almost suffocating.

"Idiot bastard of a colonel," the brother with long, ponytailed hair gnashed his teeth. "He already knew it all would end up like this."

"But this is the path they chose," the one with short hair clenched his fists, and by his side a Xingese beauty immediately held his hand. "Knowing them, they wouldn't have it any other way."

The ponytailed one hung his head, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I know."

A moment of silence passed between them before the ponytailed one's wife spoke up, "Ed… are you crying?"

The short haired one started and stared at his brother, though he was unable to say anything. It was just too odd to even consider that he was crying.

The ponytailed one was silent for a moment, before he looked up to the sky with the molten gold eyes. Streaks of tears fell from the edges of his eyes and fell, flowing down his cheeks. "No, just… it's raining."

It had been five years, two weeks, and twenty days since Roy Mustang was appointed as Fuhrer and Riza Hawkeye his unofficial First Lady. In the end, they would go together no matter where the destination was. He would lead… and she would support him from behind.

"Will you follow me?"

"If that is your wish, then even into hell."