Left Behind

"You're going to let this man, the man who murdered the Fuhrer, walk free? This man, who went so far as to break into a man's household, murder him and his son, then burn down the scene of the crime, this is the kind of man you will let walk the streets? Well today... today you will hear his sentencing, the consequence for this heinous act.

"Colonel Roy Mustang is guilty, guilty for the assassination of the Fuhrer, and sentenced to death in a mere week. Justice has been served."

Roy's face registered no expression as he was led away in handcuffs, but adowncast obsidian eye flickered once to First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, then back to the floor again. Once he was gone behind the doors, he heard her scream, just one plaintive shriek, then a heavy thud on hard floors.

She came to visit him in captivity two days later, once she had sufficiently recovered from shock, and was allowed contact with him. He looked resigned to his fate, there was nothing she could do, but she held his hand through the bars. She learned that he was being taken by train to West City for execution; he told her with a grim but flat tone, and a flare of emotion seemed to dance in his one remaining eye.

Then he was gone, straight onto the train to await execution, and she held onto his hand as long as was humanly possible before the train pulled away, before his hands slipped slowly out of hers and at the last horrible moment, life seemed to leave his eye; he would be dead in spirit long before the death of his body. He slipped something into her hands, two things... a pair of gloves and a box, just a simple box. She felt his tears hit her face and saw his mouth move to form the three little words that finally collapsed her world, that hit her full in the face, the realization of what was happening. She fell to her knees and started to cry, and Jean Havoc held her shoulders gently, trying as best as he could to console both her and himself as his friend was taken away. Now, he was the only one left; both Maes and Roy were gone now...

As she staggered intoher apartment for the night with the intent of killing herself, a gun in her hand, cocked and loaded, her finger not yet on the trigger, she tripped and fell onto the bed, the gloves and box falling out of her hands and onto the pillows, the same pillow Roy's head had been resting on the week before. His clothes were still in her closet, his pictures still in her drawers, sitting on her bedside tables, his love letters still under her pillows. But there was something else there too. Her trembling hand reached out to pick it up and hurl it against the wall, but as it was raised to eye level, she stopped and stared at it, then dropped it on the bed.

It was blue.

Blue. Positive.

She stared at the gun again and tossed it into the corner of the room, taking the same pillow Roy had slept on and hugging it against herself, sobbing her heart out. Now she couldn't afford to die, couldn't meet Roy in the afterlife, if there was one. Now she had other responsibilities.


"Roy..."

"Yeah?"

"What did I just tell you?"

"Ummmm... I... uh..."

"I told you to take these down to Armstrong, didn't I?"

"Yeah..."

"Then why didn't you do it?" Riza asked, annoyed.

"I saw Buraha and he looked like he wanted to play and I-"

"Where's the paperwork now?"

"I don't know," Roy said miserably, shuffling guiltily. "You aren't mad, are you? Don't be mad!" Roy cried, throwing his arms around her. "Please?" he begged, looking up at her with big obisidian eyes. She sighed and kissed his forehead, running her hand through his dark hair.

"Alright... just go and try to find i-"

"Yo, Colonel, are these yours?" Havoc asked Riza, holding up a bundle of papers. "I found em in the hall. Your dog was guarding them."

"Hi Uncle Havoc!" Roy said, running up to meet him. Havoc chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly, and picked him up.

"Hey kiddo, what's up? Having fun with your mommy?"

"Yep!"

"Armstrong wanted me to tell you he's got some free time..."

"Ooh! I get to learn now!" Roy sang. "Armstrong technique one hundred and twenty four! One hundred and twenty- fooooooour!" He bolted out of the room, but came back in quickly, worriedly, looking for something.

"Mommy!"

"What?"

"I can't find it."

"Find what?"

"My thingie... my... thing..." he pointed at his neck and zoomed around the room, trying to find what he was looking for. "And the picture... can't find it!"

Riza laughed and opened her desk, taking out the chain witha pendant on it and a small picture frame. Roy squealed in delight and swiped them from her, quickly putting the chain around his neck and holding the picture. Then he seemed to remember something else. "Uncle Havoc... tell Uncle Armstrong I can't learn today."

"Why not, kid?"

"Cause my aunties said for me to go with them."

"Ah, okay. I'll tell him."

Riza looked up from her paperwork and spread her arms, and Roy ran to her, hugging her tightly. "Come back soon, or at least in time for dinner, okay?"

"I will!" She kissed his forehead again, then his cheek, and he pulled away to run out the door. He waved good-bye to some of the secretaries, but they only frowned and put their heads together to whisper. He didn't give it a second thought though, and pushed open the doors of Central Headquarters.

He looked around on the bustling street, his head whipping to and fro, wondering where his aunties were. Then he saw one of them and ran to her, waving his arms about and running across the street with reckless abandon. "Auntie May! Auntie May!" he called, and she looked up from the book she was reading, pushing her glasses farther up on her nose. She was tall and thin, with shoulder length black hair and narrow blue eyes, and she had been taking her break from the store. She smiled and patted Roy's little head.

"Hey there... you want to come inside?" He nodded and ran ahead of her to open the door of the store. A little bell rang and he brightened. "Hiya Auntie June! Hi Auntie Rayne!" June was a daydreamer, sitting at the counter with a pencil behind her ear, of medium height and petite build, she had mousy brown hair and dark black eyes and was currently chewing on the end of a pen. Her eyes slid slowly to Roy and she inclined her head in greeting.

Rayne was tall and could only be described as voluptous; she had a dynamic personality, polite but rather loud, yet still likable, she had thick black hair that fell past her knees and slanted black eyes, and out of the three sisters she was the one that most resembled their brother. She smiled broadly and picked him up, swinging him around in the air before putting him back down on the counter to get a better look at him.

"Let's get a good look at you now... and how's your mommy?"

"Mommy's good!" he sang as June started to slowly take measurements, as if in a daze. Or daydream, most likely.

"And what do you have there?" May asked, poking at the picture frame in Roy's arms.

"Picture!" he declared.

"Of what?"

"Of my daddy."

The three stopped in their activities and went quiet, and he looked around at the three of them. "Hey, is somethin wrong?"

"Can we see the picture?" They asked, and he turned it around obligingly to let them see. He was very fond of the picture and never went anywhere without it. It was a picture of Roy in military uniform and saluting for the camera, hat tucked under one arm, his hands gloved with his pyrotex gloves. He was smiling broadly for the picture, something he had rarely done for pictures, as if he had known that years later his only son would be looking at it from his bedside every night before he went to bed. It was if hehad known, and he had smiled for the picture.

The three women sighed regretfully and started to talk amongst themselves.

"It was such a pity he died so young," June said softly, taking another measurement on Roy's arm, and May nodded in agreement,

"But neither of you knew him like I knew him," She said, and Rayne shrugged, measuring Roy's neck.

"I was too old, never got to know him that well. But still..."

"Aunties? Why doesn't Daddy come back home? I want to see him."

"He can't come back. They took him too far away for him to come back. He's dead, Roy," Rayne murmured, writing the measurements down as May ran to the back to get cloth and a sewing machine.

"What does 'dead' mean?"

"When people go to sleep and never wake up again. And since they don't wake up again, they put them in the ground."

"Why don't they wake up again?" Roy asked, his voice rising.

"Because they can't... they just can't."

"But why? I want to see my daddy! I want to... to..."

Rayne couldn't make her eyes meet Roy's and her hand quivered on the paper. "I want to see him, I wanted to... why can't I see my daddy? Did I do something bad? Why did they take him away? I wanted to play with him, and tell him all the stuff I do every day, and I want... he'll make Mommy stop crying, won't he? And he'd teach me all kinds of stuff, and he'd put me to bed, and read me stories, and play with me, and... and... and he'd... he'd..." Rayne hugged him tightly and he started to cry into her shoulder.

"Why does everyone have a daddy except me? I want Daddy."