Everything's Not Lost
Chapter.1 – Us and Them
Light crept into the hospital ward through the small gaps in the window blinds. The smell of disinfectant and dried blood surrounded every inch of the hospital. Wounded soldiers were crowding the rooms, and filling up every bed. Some beds were even placed in the corridors. When one solider passed away, he was immediately removed to allow a new solider to be placed onto the bed.
Mustang sat up in his bed, a sharp stab of pain instantly targeting the gash at the back of his neck. He looked outside of the window on his right, watching the night sky. The moon was a perfect luminous sphere. Mustang sighed, gently rubbing the bandage on his neck. It stung to touch, but over his course in the hospital, the wound had the habit of scabbing over long pieces of thread and what not. Mustang reached under the bandage, feeling the hard bumpy surface of the scab. Nothing had got caught in the scab, 'Good' he thought.
Mustang leaned over, sitting on his bed. He looked around, watching as different soldiers slept. Mustang rubbed his tired face, feeling exhausted. The past few days of being stuck in the hospital, being expected to die were taking the toll on him. Mustang clenched his fist, decided on what to do. In a flash, he reached into his drawer under his window, taking out a sheet of paper and a pen. He lent over the page, scratching words onto it
Dear Riza
As I write this, I am thinking of you. As you know from my previous letters, I have been wounded and hospitalised, but being forced to wait in here and die is not how I want to spend, what could well be my last moments in life. I've decided I am going to come home, to Risemboul. I won't go through Central, the city will be closely guarded, and being a deserter, it will mean death for me to go through there. Hopefully this letter will reach you in time, and if so, please, do not worry about me, I shall be fine, as I hope you are. Hopefully this horrid war will end, and we can be together at last.
Hoping this reaches you, I wish you the very best
Roy Mustang
Mustang slid the letter into an envelope, writing on an address and attaching a stamp. He quickly gathered his brown service boots, dull black trousers, blue t-shirt and light-brown jacket and put them on. He then took his bag, stuffing his personals into it, a pen, a blanket, a hip flask, some bread he had saved from his lunches, as well as an old service gun. Mustang sighed as he thought of his alchemy gloves. They had been destroyed when he was hit. Mustang stuffed the gun into his trousers before walking up to his window. He flipped the latches open before sliding the window wide-open. A breeze gushed into the room, blowing Mustang's jacket out. Mustang crawled through the small window, before setting off on a brisk run into the dark night.