Small, miniscule grains of sand floated in the barren wasteland wind. The wind seemed to be whispering small words to anyone who walked along the bare sand. A feminine bare foot padded onto the ground. Each step was tender, cautious. A blonde woman lifted her face to gaze up and the misty grey sky. How fitting. The whispering wind blew her golden locks across her pale skin, and she looked down, gazing at her sand filled toes. A sigh escaped her pink lips as she turned around. Behind her, the untainted sand was decorated with specks of blood. As morbid as it seemed, the dark red splotches looked as though they were leading her somewhere… Reluctantly, the blonde followed the splotches, avoiding each spot as to not filthy her clean and untainted skin with the violent substance, She did this until the blood splotches completely enveloped the sand. In the center of the blood stained ground stood two graves, all on their own. It was at the exact moment she spotted the graves, it felt as though each labored breath she had, was pulled right out of her chest.
She fell to her knees, heaving for air that was unavailable to her. Her fingers dug into the bloodied surface, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. With what little voice she had, she screamed in misery. Beads of sweat and spit dripped off her cheeks and lips as she hunched over. With one last struggled heave, all pain and breath left her body. Relief washed over her and she lifted her palms from the earth. The blood remained. She lifted herself up and slowly made her way to the graves. It seemed like with every tender step she took the graves got further and further away. It felt like hours to get to them. When she finally made it to the stones marking a death, she turned. Beside her was the love of her life, the raven haired man she had known for so many years, slumped over the other grave. She looked back to the stone. Below it lay white gloves. Her superiors ignition gloves… The ones he used to create his flame alchemy by adjusting the air around himself. A dreadful knot plopped itself right down into her stomach as she read the fateful words on the stone. Fuhrer Roy Mustang. Died in the line of duty. All her memories slammed into her as tears escaped her eyes. Slowly, with shaking hands, her bloodied palms touched her abdomen. The screams filled her head, her own screams, Roy's screams… One phrase played in her head the loudest; Lieutenant! Don't you dare die! She shook her head. The sounds they were too much. She looked at the grave Roy was at. Below lay the rifle he had given her so many years ago. It was her favorite. She knew what her grave said. She refused to read it. When she removed her hands, the bloody prints were not the size of her hands but the size of a newborns.
Riza Hawkeye bolted up from her slumber, sweat clinging to her forehead. Her husband, Roy Mustang sat up with her, rubbing his eyes.
"Elizabeth..? Are you alright?" He asked tenderly, taking note of the panicked expression etched onto her features.
She looked at him with relieved and wide eyes. "Y-yeah. Just a bad dream is all." She mumbled, laying back down. Roy did so as well, and hugged her close to him, resting his head on hers and yawned. "Don't worry. I'll protect you from the bad dreams."
She allowed her eyes to flutter close as he lightly rubbed her stomach. As she faded into a renewed slumber, she could swear she heard that phrase from her nightmare…
Lieutenant! Don't you dare die!
A/N: Heyo! For a few weeks I'm going to be completely rewriting/revamping this entire story. So, to the readers still here, thanks! I hope you're satisfied with the revamp!
To new readers, Hi!
Review if you feel like it!
With love, Sheepy!