Author's Note,

I'm re-doing Dying to Please. I was ashamed when I read the original I wrote. It was horrible. Barely any spacing. Some of it just didn't make sense for the characters. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new take on it.

Prologue

To whom it may concern,

Thank you, Colonel Roy Mustang, for bringing me my beloved Riza Hawkeye. I've been waiting a long time for her, you see. Thank you for accepting her resignation. She's no longer needed in the Military. It's rather dangerous, as I'm sure you are aware.

You have set a pressing and recurring bad example on my Riza and I am having to break these habits that you have left impressed on her. She doesn't follow orders very well, as I'm sure you are aware. I love her, you see.

She will be my final piece, but rest well, Colonel, the time is not yet. For when I end her life, I will end mine as well. I cannot live in a world without her.

Did you know that she was a virgin? The thought never occurred to me. I'm aware of the relationship that the two of you shared, or rather, the lack thereof. But we both know that you could never act on those feelings, do we not, Colonel? Being in the Military and what not. Perhaps she was saving herself for you, the beautiful fool that she is.

Attached is a copy of her resignation, as well as a certificate of marriage.

Roy could barely contain his rage as his eyes moved over the finely written words. He lowered the letter and then reached into the box. His eyes moved over the resignation form—his Lieutenants signature. What had the bastard done to ensure she signed? He withdrew a stiff piece of white material from the box—a roman collar. It was splattered with blood. The vicar of a Christian church no doubt; to ensure the marriage was publicly noted. His lips thinned when he saw the navy uniform at the bottom of the box. His Lieutenant's uniform.

Riza.

He lifted her familiar long overcoat. It was folded neatly and starched with creases. The pants were the same. His hands shook as he picked up her shoulder holster. Both guns were there.

"Roy."

Roy lifted his head finally. Fuhrer Grumman stared at him from across the desk. He hadn't called him Mustang or even Colonel. He'd called him Roy. The old man stared at him—his look mirrored his own. A soft rage. The sunlight filtered through the window, momentarily blinding Grumman's glasses so Roy couldn't see his eyes. "Find my granddaughter. And bring her back to me."

"Yes, sir." Roy said, his tone was hard. He turned and started towards the door. He paused with one hand on the knob when Grumman spoke again.

"Alive." Grumman said.

Roy nodded and when he spoke, his voice was low. "I will."