Off the Path

A/N: I was reading a lot of angst this morning, plus, on a hit/word ratio, my other angst fic is most popular, so… this showed up. T for suicide. I am in no way encouraging suicide with this fic, if you are suicidal please contact a doctor or another medical professional.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

Roy Mustang had quit the military.

He was going to Xing, his biological mother's country, for an arranged marriage. When his subordinates questioned him about it, he had shrugged. "I've met her before, she's nice. Hot, too."

He had done nothing short of convinced himself that he was in love with a woman he'd never met.

Riza Hawkeye was nothing short of devastated. Sure, she knew his grandmother had been pushing him towards marriage, and that it was only a matter of time before he found someone else. Someone that wasn't her. But she had never thought that he would actually have to quit the military. When she asked, he said his grandmother had gotten sick of waiting for him to find a bride, so she'd chosen her own. She knew that if Roy would rather force himself to fall in love with this girl than love her, there was no way that he could ever see her as something more than a friend.

And that killed her inside.

Friday, June 11th was like any other day. Go to work, do paperwork, yell at the men, shoot at the colonel (it was his last day, but she wasn't any more lenient then normal.), more paperwork, stay late babysitting the colonel, go home, feed Hayate. But however well Riza could hide from her demons at work, they always came back at night, and tonight was the night that the colonel left for Xing.

Riza couldn't take it any longer. She sat down at her kitchen table, pen and paper in her hand, and composed two short notes. One for whoever came looking for her first, and one for Roy Mustang.

Then she sat, with a pistol in her hands. She thought about the promise she'd made when she first began working for the colonel. She had promised to shoot him if he strayed from the path, but she had always known she would be unable to. What kind of monster could shoot the man she loved? Even though Riza thought herself a monster, she knew she wasn't that far gone.

She had always known she would be unable to take his life, but what about her own?

Hayate whined when a shot rang out through the apartment and Riza Hawkeye's dead body crumpled to the floor.

Break time.

Roy Mustang was packed and ready to leave. He still had three hours before he needed to be at the train station, however, and still had one last thing to do, and that was say his goodbyes.

After he'd caught up with Breda, Falman, and Havoc for one last game of poker, he had one last person to say goodbye to, and that was Riza Hawkeye. He made his way to her apartment, bags in the car, and walked up to her door, knocking with a small rap. He got worried when all he heard was Black Hayate's whine and scratching on the wooden door. He got even more worried when he tried the doorknob and found that her door was unlocked. Riza would never leave her door unlocked while she was outside her apartment, or when she was inside, for that matter.

He swung the door open, but was surprised when Hayate didn't jump at him and try to lick his face. All he did was put his paws over his head and whine, a high keening sound. It was now that Roy realized just how wrong something was. Roy walked slowly into the silent apartment, his footsteps clicking with every step he took. He saw a lamp on in Riza's kitchen and carefully walked over to the lamp. He saw a piece of pure white paper on the countertop, before walking around to the other side of the island.

What he saw next made him gasp in utter horror. Riza's body was splayed on the ground, arms next to her head, almost as if she was sleeping. A Browning was lying next to her right hand, and there was blood on the white tile. There was a bullet hole in Riza's head, on top of her temple. She had died instantly, and it looked to Roy like it was by her own hand.

It was then that he remembered the paper on the countertop. There were two letters, one addressed to Roy, and the other to Whoever Finds Me First. He opened the one addressed to nobody in particular first, and read the letter to himself.

Whoever finds this first-

I'm sorry you had to find this; I know it can't be a pleasant sight. I am also sorry it came down to this, but I can't live this life any longer.

If you could give Black Hayate to the Hughes' or to Sergeant Fuery, it would be appreciated. There are supplies for him in one of the cabinets.

Also, if you wouldn't mind making sure the Colonel gets the other letter, I would be in your debt.

-Riza Hawkeye

The other, which read Colonel Roy Mustang across the front, was the letter Roy was more interested in reading. He used his nail to tear open the letter and began to read.

Roy,

I am so sorry. I'm sorry I'm not good enough, I'm sorry I couldn't make good on my promise, I'm sorry I'm so weak.

I have to confess. I am in love with you, Colonel Roy Mustang of the Amestris military. Ever since you came to study under my father. I always knew I would be unable to shoot you for straying, but I let you believe otherwise. I wasn't strong enough to let go and allow you to find someone who could do their job correctly. I'm sorry I would rather die then see you with someone else, but that's the truth. I am so sorry.

Love,

Riza

Something inside of Roy snapped. It was his fault. He had broken the invincible Riza Hawkeye. It was his fault she had killed herself. All he could hear were the voices in his head, saying the same thing. "Your fault, your fault, your fault."

He had loved her. And he had killed her. He had only agreed to an arranged marriage because he thought his love was unrequited. But he was wrong. He knew he would be unable to live without her, so he picked up the Browning lying next to her right hand. He lifted the gun to his temple, and another loud bang echoed through the small apartment, leaving the two bodies to lay together, fresh blood mingling, the white tiles forever stained red.

Fin.

A/N: Well, that's what I get for reading tragedies so early in the morning. Review, please!