Something, a FMA Mustang Shortfic, part two
Okay, I finished part two of Something!
Title: "Something"
Genres: Romance, Drama (sorta)
Pairings: Royai.
Rating: T for somewhat graphic violence and as a precaution for later.
Summary: Brigadier General Roy Mustang is injured from his battle with the Fuhrer, and now he's having an emotional crisis of sorts. Takes place right after the anime series. Most likely a two-three part short fic.
A/N: Okay, I’m sorry I took so long to do this; I’ve had a lot of stuff going on with my family and all that, plus lots of classwork and a field trip coming up (yayz for Busch Gardens!) But anyway, I’ve felt kinda unmotivated and/or busy. But here we go!
Warning: Okay, the violence in this chapter is very graphic (more so than anything else I’ve written anyway).
Disclaimer: …It should be obvious by now. Don’t own.
“Something” Part Two
Roy Mustang walks through the field of corpses. It’s a gruesome sight, even as he is himself, being covered in blood, the remains of what fire he’s tamed throughout this battle, and even some burns where the flames have gone out of control.
There’s a strange laugh in the back of his mind, but he ignores it.
Someone coughs; it sounds like they’re in extreme pain, blood and bile fighting their way up and out of the dying body. Roy swallows heavily, then walks over. The body is shuddering, lying in a pile of blood thick enough to drown in. He can’t recognize the victim, as another corpse obscures the face from his line of vision.
He gently pushes the top corpse off of the live soldier, then gasps.
“B-Brigadier General…”
“Riza!” Roy falls to his knees beside his lieutenant. A strip of his coat is torn off and pressed to her chest wound in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood, slower now than before, even though he knows she’s lost too much blood to recover.
She gently pushes his fumbling hands away. “It’s too late now. It was too late as soon as I was shot. Just know that I took my killer down with me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more…” Her speaking is broken with her wheezes. He searches her glassy eyes for some sign of hope, but he can’t find any.
“Don’t die on me, Riza. Please, don’t. I-I need you.” He puts a bloody hand to her cheek and lifts her head to look into her eyes again, then he realizes.
She’s gone.
“Riza!” he screams.
“Roy, relax!” Riza cries helplessly; he’s thrashing and screaming, apparently with a nightmare.
“Riza!” he screams again.
“I’m here…” She presses a cold rag onto his feverish forehead and he jerks awake.
“Riza…Riza! You’re alive!”
“Of course I’m alive, sir.” She seems disconcerted by his outburst, as she’s reverted to formalities.
“Don’t leave me,” he begs. His face is soaked with tears.
“I won’t.” Her voice is soft, and it calms him with its tranquility; he reaches out and tucks away that stray strand of hair that he noticed before. She is surprised, but doesn’t make any move to retreat; perhaps she thinks it’s just the fever clouding his thinking, perhaps she truly doesn’t mind, but he doesn’t mind either way.
One more thing crossed his mind before he drifted off again: I…felt.
A/N: Okay, again, short; this seemed like a good stopping place. Oh, and can you guys tell me if I need to up the rating? I don’t think so, but let me know if it was too much for a T.
Title: "Something"
Genres: Romance, Drama (sorta)
Pairings: Royai.
Rating: T for somewhat graphic violence and as a precaution for later.
Summary: Brigadier General Roy Mustang is injured from his battle with the Fuhrer, and now he's having an emotional crisis of sorts. Takes place right after the anime series. Most likely a two-three part short fic.
A/N: Okay, I’m sorry I took so long to do this; I’ve had a lot of stuff going on with my family and all that, plus lots of classwork and a field trip coming up (yayz for Busch Gardens!) But anyway, I’ve felt kinda unmotivated and/or busy. But here we go!
Warning: Okay, the violence in this chapter is very graphic (more so than anything else I’ve written anyway).
Disclaimer: …It should be obvious by now. Don’t own.
“Something” Part Two
Roy Mustang walks through the field of corpses. It’s a gruesome sight, even as he is himself, being covered in blood, the remains of what fire he’s tamed throughout this battle, and even some burns where the flames have gone out of control.
There’s a strange laugh in the back of his mind, but he ignores it.
Someone coughs; it sounds like they’re in extreme pain, blood and bile fighting their way up and out of the dying body. Roy swallows heavily, then walks over. The body is shuddering, lying in a pile of blood thick enough to drown in. He can’t recognize the victim, as another corpse obscures the face from his line of vision.
He gently pushes the top corpse off of the live soldier, then gasps.
“B-Brigadier General…”
“Riza!” Roy falls to his knees beside his lieutenant. A strip of his coat is torn off and pressed to her chest wound in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood, slower now than before, even though he knows she’s lost too much blood to recover.
She gently pushes his fumbling hands away. “It’s too late now. It was too late as soon as I was shot. Just know that I took my killer down with me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more…” Her speaking is broken with her wheezes. He searches her glassy eyes for some sign of hope, but he can’t find any.
“Don’t die on me, Riza. Please, don’t. I-I need you.” He puts a bloody hand to her cheek and lifts her head to look into her eyes again, then he realizes.
She’s gone.
“Riza!” he screams.
“Roy, relax!” Riza cries helplessly; he’s thrashing and screaming, apparently with a nightmare.
“Riza!” he screams again.
“I’m here…” She presses a cold rag onto his feverish forehead and he jerks awake.
“Riza…Riza! You’re alive!”
“Of course I’m alive, sir.” She seems disconcerted by his outburst, as she’s reverted to formalities.
“Don’t leave me,” he begs. His face is soaked with tears.
“I won’t.” Her voice is soft, and it calms him with its tranquility; he reaches out and tucks away that stray strand of hair that he noticed before. She is surprised, but doesn’t make any move to retreat; perhaps she thinks it’s just the fever clouding his thinking, perhaps she truly doesn’t mind, but he doesn’t mind either way.
One more thing crossed his mind before he drifted off again: I…felt.
A/N: Okay, again, short; this seemed like a good stopping place. Oh, and can you guys tell me if I need to up the rating? I don’t think so, but let me know if it was too much for a T.