Requiem of a Lieutenant
Riza's POV. During the war. I can feel myself fading, Roy. RoyAi if you squint, Character death.
A/N: this came to me as I listened to Worry About You by Ivy (IDK, the monster under my bed must have been smoking pot). I like the idea of Hawkeye's final thoughts. And I've always wanted to use this X-Files quote (see if you can spot it!). Here goes something!
I remember being at my post and hearing the ricochet of a bullet and falling, that's
all, but now I'm pinned down in rubble with something poking me in the ribs. I feel kind
of sleepy, probably a concussion. It wasn't that bad of a fall though, considering that I
was on the roof of a two floor office building, instead of one of the many skyscrapers
that's still standing throughout the city.
Here you come Roy, running towards me. I try to tell you I'm just a bit woozy,
but I can't seem to talk. My lungs feel caked with dust.
Now you are saying something that sounds like my name, over and over again.
There's really no problem don't worry, Roy, I think sadly, I hate when you worry
about me too much If only he realized that I worry just as much about him. And if
something were to happen to me, I'm afraid he'd blame himself. I try to explain: Colonel,
this was my fault. I wasn't paying attention, and I was shot at. It only grazed me.
But all you do now is yell 'let's get some help over here!' No one comes.
You are trying to keep me focused by talking, but your voice sounds distant, so
I'll just concentrate on keeping my vision clear. I never noticed how dark your eyes are.
They can cast a gaze so ruthless and hateful when you burn down cities, but they can also
look at your friends with such care and kindness. My vision is starts to blur. From dust?
I'm not so sure.
That jabbing is really getting to me, so I look down to see what's wrong. All I see
is blood, flowing sickly out of my chest and onto my once navy blue uniform. Now I
understand it: I'm dying.
Funny, though I never did see myself as the type to live to a ripe old age. I just
never expected it to be so slow and painless. Instead of fear, or all the things I'll miss, I
think of the times I've seen people die. Of how just as they leave us, they get such a look
of total calm and serenity that I envy them sometimes, they get the easy way out of this
damn war. I just wish that I could make it easier for you, especially if you're misfortunate
enough to meet a similar end. Because as I die I'm sure, as sure as I am of this life, that
we have nothing to fear when it's over.
I can feel myself fading out more, I can barely see you. I can no longer hear you. I
begin to breathe rapidly, but that quickly fades as well. It's… so…
A/N: *sigh*, that was good for my first fic.
Now, R&R or I'll sic my ninjas on you!