Dream
Fighting off another dizzy spell, Roy Mustang took a reluctant bite of the rock-hard rations he held in his free hand. The rolls were disgusting, but they were all the man had. Most of his supplies had been lost in the quick flight from his hideout, leaving him without several key things he really needed at the moment.
He fervently wished he dared to light a fire-- it was cold outside, this close to the border-- but his pursuers would definitely notice the smoke and find him. Then his entire mission would be moot.
Of course, since he had been demoted to Corporal, everything in life seemed moot and pointless. Even his orders. Some days, especially his orders.
His ridiculous dream of being the Fuhrer was not only gone... impossible... but also no longer needed at all. Roy had personally killed the creature that pretended to be both human and ruler. Then Parliament reasserted itself shortly thereafter, freeing the country from the military's stranglehold grasp.
He ought to be ecstatic. In the end he got most of what he wanted. The despot was gone, the country free, the threat of war not quite so close... Alphonse Elric was in human form again...
Roy knew he should at least be grateful. He, as his one-time subordinate Riza Hawkeye often stressed before he was moved far away from her and the others, was very lucky. He had cheated death several times and got away fairly un-maimed, save for one insignificant feature.
The doctors were impressed that the bullet had only brushed the side of his face. It had taken only his eye and not his life or mental capabilities. A bit more to the side and it would have been a far different story.
Roy's foes could not fathom how he was not immediately put to death for treason, but instead only demoted and banished.
Wrapping his coat tighter around his shaking body, Roy smiled faintly. It just showed that his enemies truly did not understand him at all. Even with all the spies and tabs they kept on him throughout his brief, but bright, rise to power.
He had absolutely nothing now. No goals, no allies, no charms, no Maes, no future, and no lover. Truly, this was a far worse punishment than mere death.
If Edward could see him now--
Digging his nails into his palms, Roy grimaced and banished the thought before it had the chance to finish. He was still several miles away from base, carrying precious information with him, and, thanks to a stray bullet, bleeding heavily from a deep wound on one of his thighs. He had already ripped up several strips from his shirt and jacket, but neither had done much to staunch the flow.
Gingerly, he pressed some extra material up against the wound, hoping to slow it just a bit. He knew he needed a doctor.
All and all, things were definitely not looking good for Corporal Mustang.
Thus, it was certainly no time to be thinking of likely-dead lovers. Even ones he'd sacrifice anything to see again... Or that he had been unable to do a damned thing for, not even help search for more information on his eventual fate. The higher-ups had him sent away the moment he was out of danger and able to move about freely again.
Of course, if he died here and now...
They never did find Ed's body-- Roy had only heard that--
That--
The room chose then to spin at an odd angle, fast and crooked at the same time. Roy felt distantly surprised as he slowly sank from his seated position and onto the icy cold snow-covered floor of his makeshift shelter. His leg ached dully all along.
Even as unconsciousness overtook him, the Corporal found himself remembering a cocky grin, a determined gaze, and the terrible news Lieutenant Hawkeye had brought to him so many years ago in the hospital.
Then there was nothing.
He knew the moment he opened his eyes that he wasn't awake. Lucid dreams were rare for him, but, all the same, he recognized one when it hit him. Everything had a fuzzy feel to it, one similar to the way he felt when the nurses made him take those strong painkillers.
He really hated that feeling.
Groaning-- how typical that even in dreams he still hurt-- softly, he forced himself to sit up and take in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a hospital room, but it was strangely washed out looking. Blank. Sighing, Roy looked up.
A second later he was staring into a set of beautiful green eyes and trying not to let his shock show. He could have sworn there was no one there a moment ago.
It was a woman, sitting calmly across from him on a ugly yellow chair. One who appeared to be around his age, though the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes suggested a more youthful outlook on life than he had nowadays.
She was also most definitely quite lovely. The woman immediately struck him as one of those sweet and kind-hearted types... there was something about the set of her face and her open expression... It reminded him of someone he knew once.
His companion was also looking at him very intently, worrying her lip as she did so. For a moment, the two just stared at each other wordlessly.
Roy found himself seized by the unusual urge to fidget. He didn't think he had ever seen her before, but somehow she seemed quite familiar. He couldn't place her, but--
"Ah, Miss...?" He tried to find his old smile, the one that had charmed most ladies in Central and East City and always made Ed sigh then grin back in response.
Her serious expression melted away as he spoke, and was replaced by a small but genuine smile. Brushing a bit of rich brown hair out of her face, the woman leaned forward in a friendly manner, hands clasped over a simple dress.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Roy Mustang. I only," she frowned, her gaze distant, "wish it was under better circumstances than these."
The feeling-- the thought that he should know this person... and that her name was just at the tip of his tongue-- rose yet again. Still nothing would come to mind, so he simply opened his mouth again, feeling he should say something at least. She certainly seemed to know him "Do I--"
She cut him off, not unkindly. "Do you trust Edward?"
The words died in his throat and he found himself goggling at the strange woman. "I..." Then anger rose up. "Of course I did. I might have teased him a bit, but I always knew he would do the right thing. He always had his heart--"
She shook her head sadly. "Not that, though I'm sure he'd be glad to hear it." She sighed. "You think he's dead, don't you?"
"Of course I do. What should I think? From all available evidence..."
"No..." She studied him, so sadly that he found his offended anger melting away to be replaced by confusion. It was hard to be upset at someone when they were staring at you with such concern and sympathy.
"You gave up." The brown-haired woman clarified. "Not only on him, but also on yourself." She paused then, shifting uncomfortably. "We don't have much time. Roy... So please, listen."
Then, strangely, she flushed slightly. "He still believes in you... as well as Alphonse. He still cares. Don't disappoint him."
That intent gaze speared him again, and, oddly, he found himself feeling almost ashamed. Like a child whose hand was caught in the sweets jar by his mother, but worse... so much worse.
He also found himself hoping. Desiring for the first time in several years. It hurt, but it felt real. Not like the numb haze he had been wandering around in for so very long...
Something-- something that sounded a lot like Edward's voice-- told him that he could trust her. That she did indeed know this to be true. That somewhere out there his lover was indeed still alive, and probably pissed off too.
This was only a dream, but, all the same...
Edward never disappointed him before. Indeed, it was the young alchemist's habit to constantly exceed all expectations.
It was not impossible for him to be alive and well.
Roy suddenly needed more information... more PROOF... but already the room was fading away, like she had warned. He was now alone with the woman in a space full of black nothing. She smiled enigmatically at him one last time, ruffling his hair and speaking in hushed tones.
Then he reluctantly found himself dragged back into the world of the living.
He awoke in the base's Infirmary, several concerned doctors hovering around him and talking quickly among themselves. They poked at his leg and muttered things about infection and fever. It had been yet another close call.
His fellow soldiers smirked and explained it was a patrol who found his white and near-lifeless body, then dragged it back to base like sack of grain. While he was unconscious the valuable data he had carried had been put to good use, earning the Amestrian military another foot-hold in the Drachma border... but no benefit or praise to himself.
Roy hardly cared.
Again he was fortunate, and somehow still alive.
For once, the thought did not disturb him. After all, now he could remember Edward and, amazingly, not immediately wince. Instead he felt excitement and anticipation. It was all the dream woman's doing.
You'll see him again soon. Just wait...
So Roy did. He'd wait forever if he had to.
He had hope again.