Death III: Fires of Judgment
Roy Mustang did not know.
He did not know.
How could he, when he was told that everyone had already effectuated the building, when he thought that only those heathens were left behind, and that every member of his crew was safe and accounted for?
How could he know, that one of his subordinates had notice more of the abducted children within the buildings cracked windows and rushed in without a word to safe them from the already crumbling structure?
How could he know that as he poised his fingers to snap, to rid the world of those pathetic criminals for good, that same soldier had just helped the last child escape, unable to get out himself?
How could he know that as he watched the building burn and fall, that he had just killed a fellow soldier, a child, and a close friend, because he had been so rushed to notice the boy leave his side and enter the building?
How could he have known?
He could not have.
No one had noticed.
But as the EMS workers dragged that small, singed body out of the wreckage, closing its wide golden eyes, and laying a white sheet over it. As his other subordinates cried and screamed and his heart stopped at the sight, he knew.
Roy knew that at that moment, as Edward burned in life, he would in death.