Immortal
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Disclaimer: All characters pertaining to this fanfiction do not belong to me. However, all content does. So back off, Stubby.
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There is no soldier that does not think his commanding officer immortal.
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"See what would have happened if I let you take those hits for me?"
His once-glorious military uniform was ravaged and bloody. There were long, jagged gashes and she could tell that the sabers which made them cut a lot deeper than she could fathom.
"You shouldn't have saved me, Colonel. I'm only your lieutenant; there will always be others." Her voice was shaky beneath the attempted calm. He could tell she was frightened. This was a dangerous situation for both of them. If he was alive when the enemy found them, he would be as good as dead. If he died and left her alone, they would find her and do God knows what with her.
"Get out of here, lieutenant." He looked at her disbelieving features. She really was beautiful; brandy eyes wide and mouth slightly open, as if she was going to protest, but couldn't. Roy had always loved the way the sunlight caught her hair in just the right light; a quiet radiance gone un-noticed by her. "It's an order." He added for good measure.
Hawkeye bit her lip. He could see the strain it was causing her, not sure whether to disobey her commanding officer and stay with him and die alongside him or obey him and leave him for dead.
"Not without you, sir." She said finally, taking his hand.
"Lieutenant," He repeated, this time in as much of a commanding tone as he could muster, "I am ordering you to leave me and get yourself out of this hellhole."
"I can't do that, sir." Her voice was prompt and left no room for argument, but still he tried.
"Why can't you do that?" He asked.
"Because it is my duty to protect you, sir, and I very well can't protect you if I am not with you." She replied, brushing an invisible strand of blonde hair back. Even in the midst of war and decay, her hair remained perfect, not a single strand out of line, tied back and clipped neatly with the same glossy brown barrette she had been using for the last eight years. "I have already failed once."
Roy snorted. "You make it sound as if I can't take care of myself."
"Does it seem as if you can right now?" Her tone was completely polite, completely humble, but challenging at the same time. He loved it when she talked in that tone with him; it was an argument he knew he could never win, but he tried anyway because he was her commanding officer and he had to save face and leave with a scrap of his dignity.
"You better go, lieutenant." The Flame Alchemist decided to try again, now that another reason had come to mind.
"I've already told you, sir, I will not. Not without you."
"That dog of yours will need someone to take care of him." Oh. He hit a nail right on the head. Riza had always loved Black Hayate, even if she didn't show it openly. Her love was more subtle, a click of the tongue called him to her for a scratch behind the ears or an affectionate pat on the rump. Roy never quite understood the connection between dog and owner, but nevertheless, it did make him smile, but to himself, of course.
"Don't change the subject, sir."
"Obviously, you think we'll both survive."
"We will."
"And you know that because of what, Lieutenant?"
"…Because we've been in worse situations than this one, sir."
"Really? What can be worse than a general with half his ribs broken, his backs ripped to ribbons, and a lieutenant who won't obey his orders?"
Her retort was cut off by the sound of gunfire from around the corner. A rough voice called out orders in a foreign tongue. There was the rhythmic drumming of pairs of boots hitting the ground in not-quite-unison nearing.
Painstakingly, Roy fumbled in his pocket for his glove.
Three soldiers wearing black uniforms came into view. Each carried a machine gun. Their orders had been clear; kill any military personnel you come across.
"Leave me."
They raised their guns.
She had no intention of going anywhere. Her hand strayed to her hip.
They aimed.
"Leave!" His scream was lost in the fire of gunshot.
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Fin
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Authoress's Note: Oi. It's been forever since I've written an FMA fic. And even now, it's still not very original. You know me; morbid war-stories are my calling. And I know you know that I love leaving you guys in the dark about the endings. And as always, the piece lost it's luster around the middle. Bear with it.
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