So, this was to be the end of him. It really wasn't the best way to go. But, it wasn't the worst, either. Maybe it was a little odd. Not the way you'd expect someone of his stature to go down. Roy Mustang was supposed to die in the heat of battle fighting for his country. Maybe, he could have gotten a nice little memorial for that. If he was lucky, this would be enough to count for a small one. It wasn't really dramatic. He'd been going for a walk and, being a high rank in the military, he could be recognized. Apparently, someone disagreed with him in some way and thought killing him would help make it all better. Dying for one's beliefs… Usually it's a little more dramatic…

And here Hawkeye had said this was a bad part of town. He really should have listened to her. After all, she was almost always right and he almost always got in some sort of trouble if he ignored her. She'd always come and save him in the end. But, she wasn't here now. He was alone.

It was ridiculous, in a way. Here he was, with a normally non-fatal bullet wound, bleeding to death. And why? Because he had insisted that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He'd be dreading Riza's chastising if he'd thought that he would be there to hear it. This could have been avoided, that was what he thought over the most. No use bothering with what could have been. It's too late now.

To describe how it felt to die alone was difficult. Depressing was a nice word to use, but not enough. The only ones who could ever say exactly how that felt were all, obviously, dead. As cliché as it sounded, there were still things he still wanted to do. There were things he'd wanted to say to people. He'd wanted to do a few things in his life. He'd loved Riza Hawkeye, had really loved her. Now he'd die with that secret and never know if she felt the same. He'd waited too long for too much. It's too late now.

He felt pathetic for it, but he couldn't help it. He was scared. He wasn't ready. Not yet. He wanted to live, damn it! It was an awful feeling, this dread. Part of him told him to die with pride, but it was engulfed in fear. Roy would give anything to go back, to make sure this never happened. But he couldn't. He wanted to live, had so many reasons to continue living. This wasn't his time, not yet.

"No…"

But it was too late.

Roy Mustang died on the 21st of April in that year at 5:13 AM. He was brought down by a twenty-seven year old man who had a mental illness and thought at the time that he was God. The irony of someone like that killing an alchemist was lost in the grief.

Roy Mustang did not hear the approach of cars. He did not perceive the woman's screams or the howls of outrage from his subordinates. He'd not heard the doctors say that if they had come only ten minutes earlier, he would still be among the living. But nothing could change that, not at this point.

They wanted him back. So badly, they wished for him. There were regrets, unsaid words, unfulfilled promises…

But it was too late.

This is probably my first good fanfiction. It's odd how much I usually hate reading one-shots and character deaths like this, yet I enjoy writing them. Odd... Read and Review. Constructive criticism is recommended, flame if you must but I'd prefer you didn't. Thank you.

Shiro