After Journeys End: A Royai Fanfiction

Mission Begin

A/N Updating on time this time! Yay!

Here's another chapter just for you guys!

Sorry it's short again, my computer's about to log me out.

Enjoy!

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Riza's P.O.V.

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Roy was so brave.

He was my hero.

He helped me be the strong, independent woman I am today.

So if I'm so strong

then why was I sitting there crying?

Why was I shedding tears over this?

The answer is, of course,

because Roy was brave.

Brave? I scoffed to myself. More like stubborn and too proud to ask for help.

Okay, now I know that wasn't true, but still.

It hurt.

Roy had left ten minutes ago to try to help Havoc. He made me promise to stay here, and wouldn't let anyone follow him. How he could accomplish that alone beat me, but I still had to have trust in him. I've always trusted him, and the fact that he was still able to use his flame alchemy, thanks to the help of his gloves he got recovered from his office, didn't hurt. Knowing him, he'd take them out easily.

But knowing my fellow former comrades, they would have a plan. For example, they were probably wary of his alchemy, so they might have had some way to counterattack him. It was also necessary to consider the fact that they had Havoc, someone we weren't about to give up so easily after finally finding a way to help him.

Thoughts, scenarios, possibilities, gruesome scenes ran through my head, all the possible ways Roy could win, lose, die, live, save Havoc or end up getting themselves both killed in the process. And only ten minutes had passed. The thoughts of losing him so quickly after finally getting him back led me to silent tears, which I despised. I always took it upon myself to stay strong in a rough world, and crying definitely was not on my to-do list. I wiped my tears and took a deep breath, deciding to stop feeling sorry for myself and do something productive.

I picked a random stack of papers from a box that was laying on the ground between my bed and Roy's, deciding to start quizzing myself on Ishvalan culture. I looked at the top page, and it read:

Ishvalan Religion/Holidays and Festivities

I sighed and continued reading.

The Ishvalan culture...

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Havoc's P.O.V.

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I cursed myself for being so weak, for letting myself get captured. How? How did I manage to screw up so badly? I mean, I knew I was crippled and all, but I should at least be able to defend myself from an attacker. Now, the others will have the burden to try and save me or something. That is, if I don't get tortured by my captors for information or whatever.

Seriously, Jean, now's not the best time to be scolding yourself, I thought. I was supposed to be looking for a way out. I scanned my surroundings for the millionth time. Still the same, of course, as it had been for what was probably the last two hours or so. I wondered again if the others had noticed I was missing yet, before shaking my head and returning to surveying the small room I was being held in.

It was dark, of course, but there was a slit of light shining through the space between the doors. If you could call them that. I assumed I was in a large cabinet of some sort, or a small closet. Either way, I was stuck laying on my back, as they'd thrown me, my hands tied together.

I had been sitting in a waiting room, alone, when I started to fall asleep. Next thing I new, there was a cloth over my mouth and I was being set into a wheelchair. I had jerked away and saw some men with conspicuous clothing, so I pushed myself out of the wheelchair with my arms, but realized too late what had been on that cloth as I dropped into one of their arms. Next thing I knew I was in the small, dark place.

The air was thicker and warmer than when I had arrived, and I tried to move closer to the crack for some fresh air, but my paralyzation made it difficult for me to do so. I laid there, feeling useless and slightly claustrophobic. I don't know how much longer I laid there, but eventually I heard voices, so I closed my eyes and strained to hear the words.

"...coming...do we do..."

"Guide him here, I'll...him."

"But, sir, I thought we...not...just negotiate terms to let..."

"Yeah, well, screw negotiating, I'm gonna shoot that flame...in the head!" I heard a voice yell, and I tensed. From their conversation, it sounded almost as if Mustang was on his way, but that couldn't have been true unless he'd gotten his eyes fixed. In that case, I was glad I had him because I knew I could always trust him.

I started to work at my binds on my hands again with my teeth, gnawing at them so a tear the size of a small fist was made. I continued to listen for more details, but heard nothing until some footsteps echoed toward me. I put my hands by my waist and closed my eyes as the doors to the tiny space opened and light poured into it.

"C'mon, I know you're awake." I cracked my eyes open and a man, probably twice my age, pulled me from the area and threw me to the ground. I rolled so I was on my back.

The man had black hair that was graying on the ends, and a bit of light gray hair growing on his chin. His eyes were wrinkled, and he almost looked pitying, but his expression suddenly turned hard as he kicked me in the side.

I cried out but couldn't move (as per usual). He repeated the action several times before leaning down and getting in my face.

"Your little flame alchemist traitor friend is coming to save you. I'm gonna kill him. How do you like that?" he spat. "You're all gonna pay for what you did to the fuhrer! Long live King Bradley!" he yelled, shoving a fist into the air, before leaning back down to me. "You anarchists aren't gonna ruin our country. You're all gonna pay for the evil you've brought us."

I decided now was a good time to speak. "You're the evil one if you can't see the corruption before your very eyes! Did you not see the abuse of power by Bradley? Did you not see him betray his own country in every way possible?" I yelled.

He stood up and kicked me again. "The only corrupt ones here are you guys, you overthrew the government for your own power-hungry, greedy needs."

With that, he stood up and left, and a moment or two later, a man with a rifle walked in.

"Master says I'm supposed to guard the scum. S'posin' that's you, cripple. Heh. Maybe you should just go back to the wormhole you crawled outta!" he said, hitting me with the butt of his gun. "Despicable little twerp."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, ready for whatever pain he was about to inflict on me. Suddenly, I heard shouting. I opened my eyes, and saw the soldier had heard it, too. He started to back toward the door.

"N-now don't crawl away now, crip, heh, like you could anyhow," he said as he stepped out of the door.

I almost laughed at his fake confidence, but the pain made it difficult to do anything but grimace. I turned over onto my stomach and began my scoot toward freedom.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

-IngeniumVatum