Author's Note: Long time since an update…. Sorry. I've been preoccupied.

Oh my Roy does have a lot of these little dream scenes doesn't he? I love to write them oh so much. sarcasm CeeCee-chan, stop writing me dream stages. They're hard!!! whines

This is a first draft chapter, at 2:30 in the morning. THERE WILL BE TYPOS.


Why is it so dark? Why is it /always/ dark in his dreams? Like the world just collapsed and he's the unlucky fool that lives. And the sun dropped out of the sky, leaving the desolate land in icy temperatures. Shivering, Roy felt his skin prickle against the cold air. It was damp, which only added to the fact that it was freezing. (Still not as cold as it is where I live!! )

"Where am I?"

Stupid question. There was nobody around to answer.

Checking the surrounding area, he found nothing of interest. It was bare, and flat. Seemed like someplace he had been before. Sucking in a breath, it came in ragged gasps and a shaky hand reached up to grip his clammy throat. He. Couldn't. Breath.

"Save her," something, someone, murmured in his ear. Wildly, he turned and threw his arm into the air, hoping to hit the person that wasn't there. Not surprisingly, nobody was there. But, it just seemed like the voice was coming from right behind him.

"Who's there?" Roy croaked. A dangerous anger mingled with the shy bits of fear, bubbling up into his voice.

"Protect her," the whispering ghost twirled him a web of sudden fears. Protect who from what? Damn it! Why was everything such a mystery!?

A comforting image of blond and rusty browns kept him from going over board. At the remembrance of her, he remained calm, thinking over what little had been said to him.

"Why?"

"Keep her safe!" roared the haunting voice, irritant and frustrated this time. A wind whipped around and hit him with enough force that Roy stumbled backwards. Squinting, he tried at best to keep out himself safe from the grains of sand being blown at a force to act as miniature daggers. The gusts settled after a moment and he lowered his arms away from his face.

Twirling around, he growled. "Protect her from what?!" he shouted into nowhere, getting impatient with the indirect answers he was being given.

"Save her from her destiny," there was no drastic measure taken this time, but the voice was amplified in his ears, sounding like a hurricane to him. With the overwhelming yelling, a headache blossomed in the back of his head.

Letting his fingers graze the ground, he didn't find the comfort of dirt, but a wet goop. A growing damp feeling spread up his legs and he leapt to his feet. Looking down, he felt the dread creep up and pounce as he realized the ever familiar liquid. Blood.

"Blood? But why? Who's…"

"Roy."

That voice. He had heard it before. So familiar, the name was just on the tip of his tongue, begging to spring from his lips. It was weak, strained, not it's usual. The usual being stern and strong. Not this fragile begging that it was now.

"Help her. Save her. Don't let her go."

He jumped, startled by the sudden words of guidance, urgency.

"Change her destiny. Don't run, stay and protect her."

Roy desperately looked for the source, but still found he alone. The blood soaking the ground was sloshing under his boots and he cringed at the sound. He wanted to just run, but something was holding him in place.

"From what?" he asked yet again. "Answer me!"

"Save her from herself," the voice started to fade and diminish back into nothing. "From her impending demise."

"Wait! Come back! How do I do that?" Roy reached out a hand to grab at something. Maybe in an attempt to harness of the power of this moving voice. To draw it back and get the full rundown on how to save /her./ But he only trampled forward before falling to his knees once again. Sprawled out on the ground, he winced and attempted to sit up, groaning at the resistance his body was showing. Had he fallen that hard?

Closing his eyes, he tried again to sit up, but dropped right back down to the ground. He had no strength left. Maybe that mysterious 'being' earlier had drained him of all his energy. Making a sound of struggle, he clenched his fist and got himself sitting upright, and then after a heated debate with himself, he stood. Shaky, he felt like falling again, but stood tall and refused to drop down.

The victory was short lived. A black oblivion collapsed around him and he was swirling in a void that he had little control over. The abyss twisted and contorted, ripping at his limbs and burning his open flesh.

A visual came before him and as he tried to block it out, the images grew brighter, refusing to budge out of his mind. The still pictures started to flash, until he couldn't make out what everything was in the blur. All at once everything stilled and he opened his eyes. Shaking already, he couldn't feel the intensified shudders running up and down his back. The picture didn't shift. Instead, he was forced to stare at a bloody mass of once was beauty.

Riza.

His Riza.

Covered in her own blood. Or was it someone else's? He couldn't tell.

From the corner of his vision, a man strode confidently towards her side. Roy watched the glint of a blade in his hand. With each step he took towards the frame, something told him the obvious that was going to happen.

The man lunged out at Riza and she shifted, finding the sudden urge to put up a fight again. His dagger clashed against her only shield, a gun.

'What's going on?' he thought to himself, bewildered and sickened by the scene.

Out loud he heard himself yell out her name, trying to get her attention to just run and get out of danger. She faltered and he took his chance, stabbing the sword through her. The half-hearted battle stopped and Riza was still. From the distance, Roy saw a single tear roll down her cheek before collapsing on the blade and falling over. The stranger pulled his long sword from her body and flicked away the blood.

"Save her," reminded the voice, back again to take another blow at him.

His will to stand, to breath, to live came to a stand still and he felt his knees buckle under him, and yet again, he was on the ground. Except this time, he quivered in pain as the pictures of the scene swirled around him, reminders of what had just happened.

Her death. It seemed to obvious now, and he was finally beginning to understand. His job, everything that had been so cloudy before, it was all so that he could—

"Protect her from her destiny," he whispered aloud, trying to get a hold of himself. If that's the message that was trying to be sent to him, he had to be strong, and not break down. His spirit was slightly lifted and for another time, he was falling into that black hole of no end. He was kind of getting used to that feeling.

Back in real life, head still upon Riza's lap, Roy started to slowly awaken from his sleep.


AN: I promise to get another chapter up sooner then this one. Sorry guys!