The news didn't settle on Roy's mind immediately. Roy had known a lot of dead people. He knew it would take days for the full realization to set in.
To the others it looked as if he wasn't reacting at all. He sat there staring into space as Riza told her account of what had happened, and so he had lost another friend. Roy was starting to believe that perhaps some sort of curse was placed on him, and that slowly one by one all of his friends would be killed by these homunculi.
After Riza was finished everyone sat silently out of respect for Jean. Each thought of their own unique relationship with the man, until finally Fury couldn't take the silence of depression anymore.
"Lets play cards or something. Jean wouldn't want us to be too depressed about him."
"True," Breada added. "And for his honor, let's all take a smoke, since we don't have any liquor to make a toast."
"I refuse to smoke," Riza smirked, "but you go ahead."
So the men all had Roy light them a cigarette and they played cards. Riza was more than content to stay in the corner of the room farther away from the disgusting fumes.
About an hour after their arrival, Roy announced that he was going to bed, and that the rest of them would be wise to do the same. As Roy was taking his coat off to make a blanket to lie on, he heard a noise outside the house. Riza turned her head in the same direction.
"What was that, Sir?"
"I'm not sure. It sounded like a car backfire. I'll go check it out. Perhaps it just some bobcat's growl. I'll be back in a minute."
Roy carefully made his way down the unsteady stairs and to the back of the house. He didn't notice anything unusual. As he turned to go back, he tripped over a tree root near the side of the house, and stretched his arms out in front of him to catch himself. He felt the stitches pull tight across his skin. He could feel some of them rip. White hot pain rushed from his chest. He gritted his teeth and groaned. Standing himself up he started to feel very light headed. He didn't know why. He hadn't hit his head. He took a step forward, this time stepping over the root and lurched sideways, his shoulder grazing the house.
Why couldn't he walk straight? He wasn't drunk! Why did the world seem to spin? "Riza," he yelled for his most trusted companion, but voice didn't seem to want to work properly, and his yell came out as a whisper. "Riza!"
Roy felt as if he were in one of those dreams where you tried to run from danger, but your legs wouldn't take you anywhere. You tried to scream for help, but no one was there to hear you. He hated those kinds of dreams. He hated feeling helpless. He refused to give in.
Steadying himself with the help of the wall, he took another step forward before everything around him went pitch black, blacker than the night sky around him, and his consciousness fell into oblivion, just like in one of those hated dreams.