ANGELS

ROY

The death toll had been staggering. Of the wounded, the toll had been even more.

Ninety-seven dead, over two-hundred-fifty wounded. And that was just the initial count. Another fifty were dead by the next day.

Roy Mustang was not among them. Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc, and Hayes Breda resided on neither list. Cain Fuery shared a room with Vito Falman in the infirmary, both suffering from a series of nasty wounds. None of them had been shot or as seriously injured as the alchemist pair.

Roy had awoken two days later in a hospital bed. He had been told that the severity of his unconsciousness had been brought on by the amount of blood loss and trauma and wasn't uncommon.

He hadn't really cared. All he wanted to know was: where was Ed?

The doctors refused to tell him. They didn't want to add to his stress.

He had to be doped after that.

His staff, a faithful blonde watch pair, also refused to tell him.

By the third day, he assumed the worst. His mind provided the pictures; he filled in the screams and death throes. What fate had befallen the man? Had he gone the way of Hughes? Had he died in his stead?

Why? When he had passed out, the blonde wasn't injured. Why then had he…had he…?

Why wasn't he here? Why wasn't he insulting him? That's all Roy wanted to know, really.

But no one would tell him. Not a soul.

Why wouldn't anyone just get it over with? Deliver that final blow?

Tell him! Call him the failure, the child killer he was. If he hadn't insisted that Fullmetal…that Edward had came with him, then he would still be here.

It was Fuery who had finally broken down to tell him. After a bough of numerous threats, countering the ones from his First Lt, he had found out Edward's fate.

MIA. Missing in Action.

Three days, and they were still pulling bodies, either dead or alive, out of the rubble of Eastern Command. Three blasted days! Alphonse was beside himself, but was allowed to help with the search. While Roy was confined to the bed, Edward's little brother searched for the final piece of the grisly puzzle.

"Colonel?" Lt. Havoc poked his head into the door, keeping the door closed to keep anything from being seen in or out. "General Haruko is here sir; he'd like to speak with you."

Roy gave a sigh. He had no excuse to make the man leave, as he had been ordering Hawkeye to supply him with reports of Eastern Command as soon as the doctors had stopped drugging him. It was all he could do from his bed, as he was still too shaky to stand for long periods of time.

"Let him in Lieutenant." He said, closing the folder he was working on. Using the remote attached to his bed, he adjusted himself to at least look in control.

A stamping of feet and a parade of blue filed in. Roy ground his teeth together at the numerous guards that were wasted on this man, people who should be out working the rubble. Looking for his lost alchemist.

"Ah, Colonel Mustang, hard at work even on your hospital bed." Haruko purred, sounding as slimy as every other forsaken day Roy had to deal with him. "From the rumors around Central, one would think that you would use this as an excuse to shrek your duties."

The insult and barely veiled threat made Roy grow cold. Would this be the time where his competition took him apart and sent him back down the ranks? A discharge?

"General, one of my subordinates is still missing. Until I have solid proof or a body to tell his story, I will not just sit here and let leads grow cold. Sir." He spat the last out as an afterthought.

Haruko bristled, but contained himself. "The Fuehrer sent me himself, to give you your promotion." He turned to one of the Majors at his back to take a small black box. "You'll have to forgive the lack of ceremony, but with the recent attack we find ourselves a little pressed for personal."

The black box was passed into his hands, a sharp round of salutes from the gathered officers, and then they marched out. Not another word was spoken. Havoc and Hawkeye waited until Roy dismissed them with a flick of his wrist, still holding the box with his right hand.

Black eyes studied the small thing, contemplating on the possibilities. Did he even want to open it? Did he want the promotion? At the cost of another friend?

Or would he use it?