Author's Notes: I feel personally victimized by my own fanfiction. This prompt was rude as hell - and I got it twice, so expect some more grief on my end. I might do Roy's POV for the second one, but who knows. I don't even read character death fics, so it was even worse trying to write it. What the fuck.

Disclaimer: NOT MINE. I would never!

Tremor

The gun never shook in her hand. That's the one thing that keeps repeating over and over again in Riza's mind. The gun never shook. Her hand never trembled. Her aim never wavered.

And Roy didn't look betrayed or angry or anything like that.

He just looked at her with so much acceptance that it made her heart ache a thousand times over. He looked at her like she was the sun coming up after weeks of darkness and he would finally be in the light again. Perhaps that's what wounds her the most when she thinks back on that night. He gazed at her like she was his redemption and he was her baptism by fire once more.

This time though, when he didn't blink away, when he didn't put his hand down, she knew that it was time. Truth be told, in the back of her mind, she had always known that it would come to this in the end. Roy was more than the Flame Alchemist. He was fire itself: he was too hot to the touch, burned everything around him, and went out like a blaze. He was passionate about the things he loved and an inferno about the things he hated. She should have known that she would need to snuff him out before he razed everything to hell, but she had been so hopeful that he could control it, control himself.

Riza stares down at the tombstone. It sits on the left side of Brigadier General Maes Hughes' grave, the right sight saved for Gracia when that horrific day finally comes. Gracia left an hour ago, unable to look at the graves of both her husband and his best friend for too long. Everyone has gone, leaving Riza alone with her ghosts.

"You know I can't let you do this." Her own voice sounds so distant in her mind as she recalls that night. The gun didn't shake as she trained it on him. Why didn't it shake? "It's mass murder and you know it."

"Is it?" His voice is loud and sharp. It sounded like thunder, each word a clap that made her want to put a hand over her ears. He didn't raise his voice at her though. He never shouted at her. "They killed eighty people, most of them children. They'll do it again and you know that."

Tracking down the terrorist group hadn't been a problem. After the horrific attack in South City, they had been able to find the group hiding out in Creta. The problem lied in the fact that the insurgents hid themselves within a town, spreading out and hiding with innocent civilians that didn't know any better. It had proven to be impossible to flush them out. The order passed down had been simple, but quietly horrifying to anyone that hadn't served in the Ishvallan War.

Lay waste to the village; use the Flame Alchemist as necessary.

Under any other circumstance, Roy would've balked. She knew that in her heart. But they had been in South City during the attack and had seen it firsthand. Breda was still in the hospital and this time there was no Philosopher's Stone to heal him. Eighty people died, but the injuries and wreckage were devastating. It would take a long time to rebuild the city, though not as long to rebuild her soul. Riza was forced to watch as a child, broken and bloodied, died right in Roy's arms. He screamed then and went deadly silent afterwards.

When the order came down for the Flame Alchemist to decimate the terrorist group, he hadn't said a word and he hadn't hesitated either. Riza hoped to herself that he would come out of the black fog, that she would find him again, but he never came back to her, not this time.

"Hundreds of innocent people will die if you do this," Riza whispered.

"Only one if you pull the trigger," Roy countered.

"Promise me you won't do this," Riza pleaded. Still, her hand didn't shake. She had never been steadier in her life. "Promise me you'll find another way."

"I can't make that promise," Roy told her.

"Then you break another." Riza closed her eyes for only a second. She knew that Roy wouldn't step out of the line of fire. He wouldn't fight her. He would never raise a hand to hurt her and protect himself. "And I keep mine."

Staring down at the tombstone, Riza fingers her service weapon at her side. She promised him that she would follow him into hell – and she would do that, even though she had been the one to put him there in the end. She pulled out her weapon and examined it. Though it wasn't the same gun that had ended Roy's life, it would have to do. There was still a few things that she had to do before she followed him.

Her eyes turned to the direction of Central Headquarters. She had a meeting with the General that had ordered Roy to murder hundreds. The terrorists had already been dealt with. She left them to face their gods shortly after Roy. Now it was another man's turn to follow before she took the same steps down.