Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, nor do I own the protagonists of my story: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. It has been quite some time since my last attempt at a fanfic and it would make me a very happy person if you can leave recommendations after reading! I have been writing this fanfic for nearly two years but have never found the time to complete. Nonetheless, I am trying my best to come up with a suitable ending. Please be patient with me and most important of all—please enjoy!
Roy Mustang's eyes widen with horror at the sight laid out before his very gaze. The ever-familiar scent of hers fused with those of gunpowder, and of blood― the muddled stench burrowing through his nose, numbing his sense of smell. Her helmet had fallen upon impact onto the war-ridden terrain, revealing her beautiful, long, fair-coloured hair that had somehow found its way out of the hairclip that had always kept them in captivity. Roy could not see her face, he could not move. His gaze remained staring toward the direction from which she had fallen. He could see soldiers scattered throughout the field, and his attacker, lying only a few feet away, drowning in a pool of blood.
Everything around him seemed to be happening in slow motion. He could hear nothing, feel nothing, and his eyes remained fixed in the same direction. This was very unlike him, a Colonel who had fought his way through the first Ishbalian war as a front line soldier. He had seen everything, been through every terror known to man― yet still, he could not bring himself to move― it was different this time―
"Colonel!" a voice called from afar. Roy did not respond as he remained frozen in place. "Colonel Mustang! Are you all right? Is Lieutenant Hawkeye…" the voice paused as he approached his motionless superior.
Roy slowly looked up at his nameless subordinate; his eyes filled with… fear― an expression that had not been known to him. He knew what had happened, but he simply could not bring himself to acknowledge the truth. He could feel her in his arms, and her soft hair, dampened by blood, spread out on his chest. Her scent― one that had always put him at ease, one that he could recognize from a fair distance away― was now spoiled by the heavy stench of blood. Even through the tough war-zone attire, he could feel the warmth of her body, and of her blood, which continued to ooze out with every heave of her bosom and had by now completely soaked his own uniform, staining it deep crimson.
The sound of cannon balls firing in the background and the cries of machine guns as they spat out the bullets were muted in his ears as the only sound he could now hear was of her soft breaths which carried traces of pain, and were growing fainter with every passing second.
"…Colonel…"
He heard her called out to him.