A/N:
1) Don't kill me. Killing the author is forbidden in some states.
2) Nobody guessed the sign that Al was kinda pissed in the last chapter…Hm.
3) Um…Review, and flame if yah want.
Roy Mustang was not awoken, as he at first thought he was, by his alarm clock, but by his shrill telephone going off. Mumbling curse words under his breath, Roy stumbled out of bed, long pajamas dragging on the dusty floor. "Whadyawant?" He asked through a yawn.
"Mustang, sir?"
"Yeah…" Roy replied, feeling like yelling at the guy on the opposite line for first waking him up and then for not being sure who the hell was calling.
"You're wanted in Central, sir, immediately."
"What the hell…What time is it?"
"Ten-thirty, Colonel, sir." Mustang dropped the phone. "Sir? Siiiir?"
"Shiiiiiiiit!" Mustang yelled, running through his apartment trying to get dressed. "DAMMIT, why the hell didn't the alarm clock go off!" Roy asked, staring at afore-mentioned alarm clock while trying to get his shoe on, hopping on one foot. The clock was melted completely, causing Roy to laugh nervously. He picked up his pair of gloves from the nightstand next to the clock, examining the smoldered ruins of his once noble alarm clock, and the scorch marks on the wall opposite. "Note to self, don't leave gloves near you where you'll be able to reach them in a half-asleep stupor," He said aloud, rolling his eyes as he left his apartment.
"Lieutenant Havoc," He greeted his subordinate.
"Hello, sir," Jean responded, listlessly, still clearly mourning for his loss. "Ten files on the Ice Alchemist were destroyed last night, so they passed it to us to restore them."
"Damn! Ten, are you sure?" Mustang asked worriedly, running his hand through his hair. Havoc nodded, and blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth.
For a couple of hours, Mustang managed to work diligently through his work in his office, where Fuery occasionally noticed the sounds of pacing and/or a stack of papers being thrown at a wall. Havoc was as spacey as ever, and Fuery actually got pissed enough to yell at him, which effectively scared Havoc into working.
"Mustang!" The door slammed open, bouncing off the wall opposite. Edward strode to Mustang's desk, throwing down a stack of papers down upon arrival. Roy stared at the papers, and then stood up and shook Ed's hand, who stared at him with a scared impression.
"What the hell?" Ed asked, wrenching his hand away. Roy grinned wryly.
"Case files were shredded accidentally last night, and luckily this means we have less to restore." Roy looked down at a stack of paper on his desk, picking up a slip of paper. "They were able to give us the evidence again, but we have to fill out the paperwork again." He shuffled a stack of uniform papers, and handed them to Edward.
"Hell. No." Ed dropped the papers unceremoniously on the floor, foot lifted over them as if to step on them. Mustang just stared at him with tired eyes.
"Oh, come on, Ed, Hawkeye didn't show up, and Breda's with Hughes, and we need you to help."
"No way, Mustang, I have issues of my own. Al and Winry are acting weird, we're leaving today."
"Leaving! For where!"
"We'll know when we get there." Ed muttered out from the corner of his mouth, staring out the window.
"No idea, eh?"
"Shut up!"
"Just do the work, Ed, and you can leave tomorrow!" Roy's voice cracked slightly, staring at Edward pleadingly.
"Nope!" Ed walked backwards until he reached the couch, and then turned around. Before he reached the door, he lifted a hand in good-bye. "Trust me, Hawkeye'll show."
As the door shut, Roy sighed and hit his head on his desk.
Ed sighed as he reached the door of his house, mumbling as he searched his pockets for his key. "Dammit, left it in the house again." He resorted to banging on the door as hard as he could. "Wiiiiinry! Winry, open the damn door! Alphonse!"
After a good five minutes Winry opened the door. "Jeez, took yah long enough!" Ed walked into the house, throwing his jacket on a random chair. When he turned to face Winry again he was taken aback by a sparkling in her eyes.
"What's wrong, Win?" He titled his head sideways, staring at her.
"They didn't tell you? You were just at Mustang's!" Her voice cracked, and she finally just collapsed, burying her face into Ed, who stared at her in disbelief.
"Shit," He breathed.
Roy hit his head on his desk a couple more times before keeping it there, sighing from the corner of his mouth. Hawkeye was gone, Edward was going somewhere, Havoc's useless, and they had a shitload of work to do. The odds were against them…
A small knock at the door startled Mustang out of his depressed stupor. "Yes?"
"Sir?" Mustang opened the door, his eyes tired, and his hair messy.
"Yes, yes, what is it?"
"It's Lieutenant Hawkeye, Colonel."
"What about her?" Roy asked, heart racing.
"She...Died."
"What?" Mustang asked, trying to calm down to no avail.
"She died, sir. Breda just came to say, she hadn't gone to work and so some people went to her apartment, and she was in the middle all bloody and—"
"How did she die!"
"Well..."
"Dammit, Fuery, tell me!" Mustang said menacingly, debating whether or not to strangle the young Sergeant.
"Investigations is on the case, sir, they say it looks like suicide." Mustang's eyes grew smaller and glazed. He started running his hands through his hair.
"Suicide?" He asked, his voice at a higher octave then normal.
"Yes, sir...Are you alright?"
"Fuery, get out of here and go work for shit's sake." Fuery nodded quietly and walked out to where Havoc waited to hear his reaction.
"A living hell," Havoc summed it up, sitting back down in his chair and lighting a new cigarette. Fuery was about to nod, then stopped, sitting in his seat as well.
"You sure it isn't worse?"
Roy didn't manage to get to his chair. He collapsed in the couch next to the door, head in hands, choking on his own breath.
The amazing urge to kill himself slowly washed over him as he lay there for about an hour, possibly longer, possibly less. It was, of course, his fault, overworking her like that and never telling her that he actually cared about her…And now she was gone, gone forever and in the worst way.
He thought of it as the worst way to die but at that moment and others in his life it made sense to do it.
Roy sat up straight, looking around his office furiously for ways of escape. Letter opener…Little too blunt…Knives, no knives, ask Hughes…Gloves, well of course… He didn't really want them to know it was him, although perhaps that was cowardice. He could, of course, perform the same alchemy that the infamous Ice Alchemist uses, and frame him, but Roy does deal with fire… Pyromaniacs aren't too keen about working with ice.
Gun. Of course. How stupid of him not to think of that first.
She was in the middle all bloody and… Did Hawkeye kill herself with her gun? Would she really do that, die by her own hand? Maybe she was murdered for being in the military, or being close to him. Him again, all his fault, dammit!
"Screw the military," He muttered, gun drawn and held under his throat. A horrid flashback to an earlier time left him shaking, remembering when he had just killed the Rockbells and stood in the same position as he did now…
He cocked the gun, making sure it was in the right place, and winced.
XD Aren't I great?
Did he do it? Did he not? YOU WON'T KNOW. Hahahaha.
Expect the next chapter to be action-packed…And packed with death too… 'Cuz I am in love with character death, don't ask me why, I just love it.
Freanch-fri-freak: THANK YOU:runs over and hugs you before running away: DON'T KILL ME, I JUST STARTED SCHOOL, updates will be fewER and farTHER between…Then before, of course. XD
NC Ace: I really like your reviews, because you tell me what I messed up. That's definitely needed. And thanks a bunch for the compliment, hope you liked it!