The first thing Roy noticed was the darkness, then an ominous chill that settled heavily in his bones – locking his joints and numbing his thoughts. It was like being swallowed whole by the night itself.

'Where am I?' he thought as he took a cautious step forward in the inky expanse.

Suddenly, with the soft screech of metal on metal, a tangle of pipes grew visible above him – snaking their way into the distance. A primordial fear flowed through his veins. He knew this place…

His combat boots echoed loudly as he followed the pipes towards an uncertain horizon.

'This isn't right,' Roy thought, 'Where is everyone? Fullmetal? The chimeras? Scar? The gold-toothed doctor and his men? The Lieuten- ?

His thoughts were cut short as that horrible, taunting voice thundered inside his head. Roy's expression screwed into a scowl he tried to box his ears to silence it.

"WE'VE RUN OUT OF TIME."

Roy's eyes flew open as the gold-toothed doctor's warning inflamed his memories of the Promised Day.

'No… no…' he thought frantically, 'Not again!"

"Lieutenant?"

His voice was quickly suffocated by the endless darkness. He spun around wildly, looking for a something – anything. Yet, everywhere, the nightmare looked the same.

Suddenly, she was there at his feet – the wound on her neck blossoming like a deadly crimson flower.

"LIEUTENANT!"

Roy fell to his knees, trying to ignore the moisture seeping into the fabric of her coat. Riza lay motionless, only the red halo around her quietly grew. Without hesitation, Roy gathered her into his arms. Her blond head rested heavily again his chest.

"LIEUTENANT HAWKEYE, OPEN YOUR EYES!"

He held her closer as he yelled into the darkness. All the obscurity offered in return was malignant silence.

"Riza… Please…" he begged softly.

He pulled away and studied her expressionless face, gently brushing a stray tendril of her golden hair behind her ear.

"Riza… Don't go…"

Then, the world shattered like glass around them.

Roy bolted up in bed with a strangled sigh, his raven hair plastered to his forehead and yesterday's clothing wrinkled beyond recognition. No matter how much oxygen he drew into his lungs from his moonlight-splashed bedroom, it still felt like he was drowning. He massaged the bridge of his nose as he tried to settle the hurricane brewing inside his head.

'You fool,' he thought bitterly, 'Thinking all of this would go away when this country was finally at peace…'

The tattered remains of the nightmare refused to disappear. Then, without a thought, Roy leapt out of bed, threw his black trench coat over his shoulders, and slipped out the door of his apartment into the night. The cobblestone streets of Central were tinged nearly blue in the moonlight, and periodically punctuated with the soft glow of a streetlamp. Although he walked quickly, Roy couldn't remember the last time he thought the city possessed any inkling of beauty. He secretly hoped some of that faint light would linger awhile near the edge of the black hole the tortuous dream burned in his heart.