The night he died, she died as well.
Explosions shook the center of the city, bringing buildings to their knees. This place was devoid of mirth, and its people were dead and dying. Plumes of choking, black smoke rose from smoldering craters carved into the scarlet-stained grains of sand. The air smelled of clax, flesh burned beyond recognition, and the woes of Ishbalans and Amestrians alike. Sometimes that burden—that guilt—became too much to bear.
It was Captain Maes Hughes whom found them lying in that ominous alley way. Royal blue uniforms bore tell-tale red splatters soaked into the cotton material. A beige tarp was spread over the cadavers to give the two officers what little decency the mess left them.
Major Mustang couldn't deal with it any longer and thought he was alone. Raised that military issue pistol and blew his goddamn brains out.
Sniper Riza Hawkeye was the only witness to his death. Evidence stated that she had taken the gun from her friend's bloodied hands, knelt in the puddle of carmine liquid that surrounded his body. Raised the weapon to her own head. And ended her life as well.
That idiot had had such a great dream, and it shattered in the second it took to pull the trigger. "I'm never going to forgive you for this, Roy," Hughes muttered as he stared down at the eroded tombstone. It had been years since the casualties of war and the dual suicide; it still strummed his heartstrings painfully when he came to visit the two graves, side by side, with identical death dates. He sighed, closing his eyes. It wasn't until later, when Hughes had been investigating the case, that he obtained the chance of reading the journal his late friend had kept during the massacre. One line in one of the yellowed pages had caught his attention, as it was underlined in heavy, black ink. This one quote would remain in his mind forever and he would always wonder whom had spoken such important words.
"Please don't die."