Roy's legs morphed into jelly, causing him to crash to his knees. His breathing became erratic and his nose burned. He was shaking uncontrollably and before he knew it, tears leaked from his eyes. His body-racking sobs echoed throughout the quiet apartment.

The flame alchemist hadn't cried this much since Hughes died. He hadn't allowed himself to. He had too many people counting on him. Things waiting to be done. Roy couldn't afford to sit and wallow in grief.

The night he found out, he cried like a child then drank until he couldn't even sit up on his own. And before that, he sat with a shotgun in his mouth for hours.

He allowed himself that one night of grief. One night to be vulnerable. When morning came, he pulled himself together. He got up and went to work like nothing ever happened, despite his red, puffy eyes and ghost-like appearance.

Dejá vu is a crazy thing.

Although there were similarities between this and the last time he cried, there were also glaringly obvious differences. He had nothing pushing him. No one counting on him. No one to protect. Riza was dead. Al was dead. Edward was consumed by his guilt and now he just stares into space. Hell, Roy can't even stare into space. He can't even see his hand.

God, he was such a fool. He was such a fucking fool to think that he could pull a military coup without a hitch. To think everyone would make it through. To think he could save the country. Look where all that ambition got him.

It was ironic really. Not too long ago, he was telling Edward that he was a fool to think he could save everyone. The pot was calling the kettle black. In reality, he was the biggest fool of them all.

The worst part about this was his men had complete trust in him. They followed him, knowing the risk. They trusted him to make the world a better place. He let the people he swore on his very life to protect, wither away.

Damn it. Damn it! He should be the one dead. He snuffed out lives left and right with a mere snap of his fingers. Roy had committed so much sin in his life. He'd killed enough people to fill an entire cemetery. Men, women, children. He killed them all the same. He deserved a merciless death. He should be damned to an enternity of purgatory. me

Why did this have to happen? To Amestris? To his men? To Edward and Alphonse? To Riza?

He was supposed to protect them goddamn it! Now two of them are dead and the other one might as well be! And what was all this for?

For nothing. For nothing at all.

The homunculus were gone, Amestris was saved, and he was even praised as a hero. But why was he the only one left to experience it? Why was Roy the only one left? Why was he excluded from death?

At this point, death seemed more like a reward than a punishment. It was all Roy wanted.