Disclaimer; I don't own FMA, nor the song 'All Good Things Come To An End,' whose lyrics were used in this fiction.
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He shook his head, turning down photos as he wandered through his small house absent-mindedly. Why had they even let him back here? Wasn't like he was going to enjoy re-visiting the memories he'd made. He had to die sometime, but Roy had never imagined it would be so… soon?
He could hear the muttered conversation outside his house; obviously from the large group of people surrounding it. Guns held at the ready, waiting to shoot should he make a wrong move. Which he would, most likely, without noticing it himself. That's how these people were - much too serious for their own good.
And they were all trained on his silhouette, because he was a terrible criminal. Or so they'd been told. Spoon-fed, Roy preferred, and it suited them. Anything you say is believable if promotion is mentioned in the same sentence.
Roy himself was like that, before Ishbal, before everything else had happened to him. He'd lost his hope, after realising what he'd done was wrong. Maybe he'd known the whole time it was wrong… or just ignored it?
All for the sake of a promotion? Becoming leader of the infamous military of Amestris? What did that matter if every hated you, everyone had turned against you. Roy was slowly loosing everything he loved, everything he'd worked for, just everything.
There was only so much you could take from a man before breaking him, and he'd been pushed to his limit, standing on the ledge between death and compliance. That was all it was about anyway. He didn't comply to what they'd told him. Wouldn't go out and kill anymore.
His mind wandered back to the group outside, holding him hostage in his own house in his last few hours alive.
Lieutenant Hawkeye headed that group of people. Of all the people, Roy got the one with the best aim in the entire military. It was a dramatic twist, though it was only appropriate that every last person be turned against him.
In the end, he was just a killer.
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The door opened after a while, Roy walking out with his hands held in the air, though he maintained his pride by keeping them as low as he could. The men all raised their guns and trained them on his figure, at which the man shook his head and sighed.
"Can I talk to you?" He asked quietly, studying the blonde before him. The only female in the ring surrounding him. Honestly, they thought he'd escape through the front door and face Hawkeye with a gun? He was about to die, but he had not lost his mind over it.
"I suppose so, Sir," The lieutenant replied after a short while, still bearing her gun as she headed forward. Riza couldn't deny this to a man whom she'd sworn her life to; it was only to talk anyway.
"Don't bother about actually coming in," Roy replied, re-thinking the plan to really talk, watching as Riza halted. He turned and grabbed something that had been resting just inside the door. It was a small, blank folder, looking to be some kind of album, or just a collection of documents. His will, maybe? "Just open it when the time is right."
"And when will I know that, Sir?"
"You will," Roy gave her a small smile, before returning into the confines of his house, listening to the noise of guns being relaxed slightly as their leader returned, un-harmed. They didn't honestly think Mustang would take a hostage or anything, but you were either safe or you were sorry.
He sighed as the whitewashed door closed, blocking him from the world once more. Roy stared at the wall for a while, before turning to do something else. His movements were slower, almost as though he were in a dream. Outside the people watched him kind of float around his house. Riza was a smart girl, he thought to himself. He knew she'd find out what he meant, though it would take her a while. Hopefully long enough for him to leave.
Roy returned to his room, having knocked every piece of memorabilia from its position, no longer needed. The only thing that remained was his pocket watch, afternoon sun reflecting off of it. But he didn't plan on taking it with him, it would probably be found sometime after his death. He just hoped there'd be someone to actually mourn, not treat it as a social occasion, and pretend to be sad over such a loss.
He was hardly a loss.
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Riza decided that the right time was now. She got someone to cover her as she took a few steps away and sat down on the pavement. The small lavender file - an odd colour - had some kind of 'Happy Memories' text indented on the front, but it was ignored. She flicked it open, the first page blank. There were no photographs, no writing. Riza scanned the other pages, finding nothing until she reached the end. There was a small photo in there, which she could just make out to be one Maes had taken a while ago. It had Roy hugging her; never quite figuring out how she got in such a position. It didn't matter, because she looked slightly upset, and, upon closer inspection, her hand was resting on the butt of her gun.
It was a classic shot, and bought a small smile to her lips. But why had he given it to her?
There was some writing underneath, noticeably neater than the kind he put on paperwork.
'And the dogs were,
Barking at the new moon,
Whistling a new tune
Hoping it would come soon,
So that they could die.'
At which Riza raised her eyebrow. They were lyrics, but didn't hold much meaning. At least, not to her. Roy always was a rather cryptic man, when he felt like it. That's not to say Riza had no idea what they were about, it was chosen for a reason, obviously. She just needed conformation on her idea.
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He pulled on his small gloves, relishing in the feel of the fabric. He loved it. One of the only things he had left to be proud of.
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'All Good Things Come To An End.'
Was inscribed on the back of the paper, protected by the flimsy clear sheeting.
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But Roy would keep his pride when he left.
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Riza blinked, and paused, before standing up, and heading back towards the house. She was right. Riza pushed through the defence, ignoring the weak protests they made under their breath. These people were too keen on their goals to deny a superior.
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He was going out with a bang, that's for sure. Roy held up his gloved hand, sighing heavily as he sat on the warm carpet of his lounge-room floor. Maybe he should wait a while. Or maybe just go now. It was always so smooth until the last minute, that moment when every feeling you had ever experienced, and every one you never would, came out to fight you.
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"People, let's take this a bit back, give the man some space," She ordered, heard loudly around the house. Still, Riza kept walking, reaching the door and heading in, much to the shock of the others. The guns were cocked and aimed into the gap Riza had left, not bothering to close the door.
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Roy heard her, and smirked. She'd read it then. She knew what was coming; it was just natural that he let the flames work away at him before he faded into nothing.
"Don't," She called into the room, hoping he heard. The normal stern fire she held had left her voice, but she was still firm in her demand. Riza never asked, she told, and when she wanted something done it was done.
Roy's head rose, eyes widening slightly. He'd heard her call them back, but didn't know she'd come in. Riza pinned him down with her rich eyes, staring determinedly at her superior. Or what he was, before everything had happened. Roy was obviously shocked at this, but gathered himself quickly.
"They won't put me on display for the others," Roy replied, shaking his head and watching the blonde bob down in front of him, resting on her heels. He hadn't noticed that something her eyes before; maybe it wasn't actually there before, but it was now, and he knew what she wanted.
She just sat beside him, and held her breath, eyes widened with a kind of last minute shock or regret or something else entirely. Roy sighed, and smiled wearily at her. He didn't want to fight anymore, and whether Riza wanted to or not was her decision. Roy's mind told him he should tell her to get out, to leave, and run far away from this place. Forget he'd even existed. He couldn't bring himself to, even as her amber eyes became shiny, tears building a tiny barrage between the outside world and her own sight.
His fingers snapped against each other, sound ringing out in the silence, heard by those outside, who longed to run in and help, but found themselves unable to.
They'd been guarding the Flame Alchemist, for crying out loud, and they hadn't expected this to happen?
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Roy himself was surprised; he never thought he could cause such a flame.
But it was there, in Riza's eyes.
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A/N; Okay. Revised version, because people commented on how some parts were confusing. Upon re-reading this I noticed that myself. XDDD So, I re-did it. Added some stuff in. I can't say it's much longer than before, but I think it makes more sense now…