Seeing that creature in the form of his wife's body was just too much. For the first time in his life, he was scared to the bone.

"Isn't this a fitting way to die, Lt. Col. Hughes?"

He never saw the bullet, but he felt it. Pain couldn't even begin to describe the rupturous agony in his chest. He let out a yell as he fell backwards, hit, and slumped against the wall of the telephone booth.

In horror he realized that he could see the blood rushing out of his chest. He was going to die. Envy turned and left, his job finished.

"Hughes?" Roy's voice inquired over the phone, which dangled from its cord.

Maes tried to respond.

"Hughes?"

"I'm here," was all he could whisper.

"Hughes!"

It hurt so badly. There was nothing he could do. He felt so utterly helpless.

Roy stopped yelling. Maes guessed that he had hung up.

He resisted the urge to scream in pain. He needed those energy reserves. For what, he asked himself. You don't need energy to die.

But he had to hang on. He knew he had to hang on as long as he could. Perhaps there was still some hope left. He had a wife and a daughter waiting on him at home. He had to hang on.

He heard footsteps running quickly nearby.

Maes managed to lift his head up a little and moan through the gurgle of blood and the intense torturing agony.

"Lt. Col. Hughes!" Hillary, the secretary he had asked to use the phone ran up to the phone booth. "SIR!"

He could barely focus on her face. She seemed to slip in and out of view.

"WHO SHOT YOU?" She bent down to try and help him, but realized that there was nothing she could do. "I followed you and…and!"

"Homunculi," Maes choked out. "Tell Mustang…..Tell Mustang…. he….was a…..great….friend."

Hillary whiped a tear from her eye.

"Picture," he mumbled. He could vaguely see his favorite family photograph on the ground. He couldn't make out the details, but he knew it was there.

Hillary looked to the ground and saw a small photograph with the friendly faces of Maes, Gracia, and Elicia starring up at her. She placed it in Maes's hand.

It seemed as if the pain was getting less now, almost as if he was drawing strength from that one photo. Slowly he lifted his very heavy arm and the picture in it up to eye level. Strangely enough, he could see the faces of his wife and daughter perfectly clear, although his own was blurry. He stared into the eyes of his little girl, his little angel. If was going to have to die, the last thing he wanted to see was a picture of her face.