Hello once again! I know I said I wouldn't update soon and I'd be busy, but right after I said that, I sat down and wrote two more drabbles. Funny how the world works, innit? Anyways, this one has MAJOR SPOILERS for EPISODE 25. And, um, yeah. Not as long as usual (less than 1000 words! Yay!), or as mushy. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, or any of the characters, or even the music, I would be on a beach somewhere, soaking up the sun, not here. End of story.

Riza Hawkeye turned the key in her apartment door and sighed, slipping her shoes off onto the mat and reaching down to pet her dog, Black Hayate. The sky outside, which she could see through her rain-smeared windows, was dark and dreary, almost as though it, too, was mourning the death of a man no one could ever forget. It had been three days since the death of Maes Hughes, one of the greatest military officers and definitely one of the best friends she'd ever met. Maes had died in the line of duty, and Riza felt more emotions over his death than she'd ever felt before in her life (not counting her love for her guns). She was sad, of course, and angry at his murderer, but she was also worried and scared, because it would be just as easy for something like that to happen to her, or to someone else in the military she was close to…which, of course, brought her right up to feeling concerned about her superior, Roy Mustang. Roy and Maes had been best friends, and she knew his death hadn't been easy for Roy. Riza made herself a cup of tea and curled up under a blanket on her couch, uneasy thoughts whirling through her head. She felt her eyes start to close…

She was running, but why she was running and where she was running to, she had absolutely no idea. She just knew that when she reached her destination, a speck of light at the end of the darkness, she would have to stop and face something horrible, something she couldn't handle. The light came closer, and closer, and closer, and she was standing before it, and she had stopped running. Roy Mustang, the only man she knew she'd follow to the ends of the earth and back again, the only man she'd willingly put her life on the line for, the only man she'd ever loved, was lying on the ground, covered in blood. She bent down beside him, crouching over his mangled form and feeling tears slide out of her eyes involuntarily. "Colonel?" she whispered, feeling panic rise in her chest. Then, "Colonel?" and finally, "Roy! Dammit, Roy, wake up!" she begged, trying to find a pulse amidst all the blood. She couldn't find one. Panicking, she slapped him across the face. He groaned, twitching slightly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," drawled a voice from behind her. Riza whirled around, hand already feeling for the gun in its holster. It wasn't there. "What the-" she muttered, feeling for the one in the other holster. It wasn't there, either. "Where the hell's my gun?" she screamed at the shadowy figure that had spoken. It laughed. "You won't need a gun," it assured her. For some reason, the voice frightened Riza, sending shivers up and down her spine. "Who are you?" she whispered. "Why, don't you know?" it asked, amused. "I'm the one who killed your precious Colonel."

"No!" Riza screamed, throwing herself at the shadow, and then she was falling, down into darkness, farther and farther and farther, until she couldn't see anything but darkness, and couldn't hear anything but the sound of her own screaming…

Roy Mustang was sitting slumped in an armchair in his apartment, already on his third beer, when someone pounded on his door so hard he was surprised it didn't come off its hinges. He rose, surprised, and felt himself sway slightly. Suddenly, as he stood there trying to regain his balance, the door flew open, revealing the face of his subordinate, Elizabeth Hawkeye, for a fraction of a second before she threw herself on him, sobbing.

"First Lieutenant?" he asked uncertainly. Riza was, after all, one of the most cold and unfeeling people he knew, and here she was, her arms wrapped around his neck and her sobs wetting his shoulder.

"R-Roy!" she sobbed, and he stared at her. She had never called him Roy in her life; she'd only ever addressed him by his proper title or as Sir.

"I had a-a dream that you were dead," she stammered, and Roy felt himself wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer, one hand already stroking her hair.

"Shh," he whispered, marveling at this strange turn of events.

"I was thinking about Hughes and I fell asleep, and you were dead and-and I never told you…" she broke off, crying, and Roy's forehead wrinkled. As gently as he could, he lifted her chin with two fingers.

"Never told me what?" he demanded, still trying to be tender. She sniffed, her big brown eyes still overflowing slightly.

"That I love you," she told him. He smiled.

"I love you too," he assured her, and she stopped crying.

Hope you liked. Later! Brooke