Sometimes, he wanted to end it all.
The barrel of the gun rested against the roof of his mouth; his fingers were wrapped about the trigger, and the slightest pressure with his fingertips would end it all, like so many times before.
How many people he loved would die while he was still alive? Countless comrades in the Ishbalan War, Hughes, and now Ed. Who next? Havoc? Hawkeye?
Roy thinks that his whole team would understand if he left them behind in this Hell of a world. Or would they just think he was lost, like some abandoned puppy left with it's on devices?
Her face, uncalled for and unwanted, swims beneath his eyelids. He pushes it away, too angry and sad to care.
His fingers dance along the trigger, arm tensing as he prepares to apply pressure...
"Sir?" Her voice calls him back, accompanied by a gentle knock on the door. The gun clatters to the door, and he doesn't try to hide it. He opens the door, and she sees the gun, and the tears brimming in his haunted black eyes. Riza has only pity and understanding in her eyes.
"Sir, it's raining," She says, and hands him a handkerchief.