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The list of men and women who want to see Roy Mustang dead could probably fill the entire public library.
He’s earned it.
You don’t get to where he is in life at his age without making more than a few enemies. Some of them for the right reasons. Some of them… not so much.
But when the first symptoms hit-
The documents piled high on the desk start to swim. He blinks, trying to clear his vision. He rubs his eyes, then blinks again.
Nothing changes.
Surely, he can’t be that drowsy.
He stands abruptly, knocking his pen stand over, and catching Hawkeye’s attention. He has to catch himself against his desk.
“Hawkeye,” he manages. “I think- I think there’s two of you.”
And then he drops.
“Sir?”
Riza looks up sharply just in time to see Roy collapse, hitting the desk on his way down.
She’s on her feet before she’s fully processed it, rushing to his side. “Colonel?”
He doesn’t answer. His face is slack.
“Roy?!” She presses two fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse.
The relief, when she finds it, nearly knocks her off her feet. It’s there, but it’s too fast.
She rolls him onto his back.
There’s a red mark on his forehead where he hit the desk. He’s at least going to have a headache when he wakes up. But that’s not enough to leave him unresponsive on the floor.
She peels back his eyelid; his pupil is blown wide.
Has he been drugged? The thought is an alarming one, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility.
His ambitions have made him a lot of enemies, but, generally, they’re more subtle than this.
“I’ve already put in a call to medical. They’ll be here any second.” Havoc drops to his knees on Mustang’s other side. “Geez, what do you think is wrong with him?”
Not for the first time, she appreciates his promptness.
While Havoc has become rather infamous at the command center for his taste in women and his poor luck in keeping one, he’s hard-working and knows when to settle down to business.
“His pulse is racing,” she says without taking her hands off of him. “His pupils are dilated, but he’s unresponsive to stimuli.”
Roy’s skin is hot to the touch.
“It didn’t seem like anything was wrong with him, did it?”
“He was irritated,” Riza says.
“I thought that was just because of the paperwork,” Havoc mutters.
She had too, but now she wonders if there hadn’t been an underlying reason for his behavior.
Just last week, Fuery had taken sick leave. There’s a chance that whatever bug he had could have been passed on to the Colonel, which, in turn, means there’s a chance it’s been passed on to the rest of them as well.
Riza, who hasn’t taken sick leave for the entirety of her military career, will personally throw Fuery from the window if that turns out to be the case.
“It would have to be an awfully strong stomach bug to knock him out this hard,” he says.
“It’s not unlike him to be dramatic,” she points out.
Though this would be a bit much, even for him.
Still, there was that one time when the common cold had laid him out flat on the couch for a whole week straight. He’d moaned about doing paperwork- or anything really- and Riza had thought she would lose her mind.
Havoc sighs, scratching his head. “Ed’s not around, is he? He would love to see this.”
“Don’t be cruel,” she scolds him and he has the decency to look remorseful. “The Elrics are following a lead. They won’t be back until Sunday.”
It’s for the best, she thinks. They can do without the added drama of Edward trying to collect blackmail material on their commanding officer. While she holds affection towards the Elrics, loyalty would perhaps have insisted she prevent such a thing from occurring.
“Still? I thought they’d be back by now.”
Roy moans.
Whatever retort Riza had been about to make dies on her tongue. Her hand flies to his face, turning his head. “Roy? Roy, can you hear me?”
His eyes flutter open- she can swear that, for a moment, he’s focused on her- but then they roll back in his head and he’s unresponsive again.
“Did you notice anything unusual? Any signs that something was wrong?”
The medics, when they arrive, are swift and professional, taking vitals and lifting him onto a stretcher.
“No.” Riza shakes her head. A numbness is spreading outward from her core, extending to her extremities. “None at all.”
“You don’t have to stay here. He wouldn’t want you pushing yourself.”
“You haven’t left either,” Jean points out and Riza falls silent. He’s slumped in one of those uncomfortable chairs the hospital provides. He runs a hand through his hair. “Man, I would kill for a cigarette."
“No one is forcing you to stay.”
“Doesn’t feel right to leave.” Jean tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Arms crossed. “Not with the Colonel…” He makes a vague gesture with his hand.
“I suppose not.”
Falman, Fuery, Breda- they’ve all been in and out, but, since the Colonel still hasn’t woken up, and they still have work that needs doing, there’s no point in everyone sticking around.
He would hate that, she thinks. He hates any kind of fuss being made over him. But, the thing is, he’s earned their loyalty and he knows it.
She’s not leaving.
Jeans shuts his eyes, hands folded across his stomach, and rocks back till his chair touches the wall. It’s not peaceful, by any means.
Riza has always hated hospitals. Cold. Sterile. They’re meant to be a place of healing, but, to her, they’ve always felt like death. And Roy, as formidable as he is, is still only human. Poison still stops his heart as it would any other.
So, no, she isn’t going to leave.
“I don’t like this,” Jean says, breaking the silence. “All this waiting. Aren’t they going to let us know anything?”
“I’m sure they will.” In actuality, she shares his frustrations. What happened today frightens her. But if she lets herself sink into that pit, lets herself get overwhelmed by the possibility of a worst-case scenario, then it will swallow her whole and she knows how hard it is to claw your way out of it once you’ve already allowed it to consume you.
Jean stares at her for another long second. Then, without saying anything, he reaches out, laying his hand over hers.
"Lieutenant Hawkeye?”
Riza’s head snaps up. She doesn’t remember dozing off. A quick glance to her right shows Jean also blinking blearily.
How long has it been? She doesn’t ask.
“Yes?”
The nurse is a tall, slender woman, rounded glasses perched on the bridge of her hawkish nose. “You’re here for Colonel Roy Mustang?”
Riza sits up a little straighter. She can sense Jean doing the same. “Is there any news?”
“His medical history indicates that he hasn’t been on any medication. Are you aware if he’s been taking anything over the counter?”
Riza exchanges a glance with Jean before shaking her head. “No. He hasn’t been. Why?”
“Well, he’s showing signs of an overdose.”
“An overdose?” Riza grips the arms of the chair. She would have pushed herself to her feet if she thought she could stand, but the room has narrowed and the ground has disappeared. “What are you talking about?” The idea of it- Roy overdosing- is so absurd that she can only stare at the woman blankly.
“No,” Jean cuts in, voice hard. “He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s not that kind of person.”
“Havoc.” Riza lays a calming hand on his arm.
He shrugs her off.
“I understand this is difficult to hear, but it’s possible that it was entirely accidental.”
“What?” Riza half rises out of her chair, but stops herself.
“What we found in his bloodwork is an over the counter medication. It’s easy enough to obtain. Any pharmacy would carry it.”
“I see. And Ro-” She catches herself. “And the Colonel?”
“We’d like to keep him for observation, but it looks like he’ll be making a full recovery with no ill effects.”
“Thank you.” Riza exhales, sitting back.
“What are you thinking?” Jean asks when the nurse leaves them alone once again.
“He wasn’t taking anything,” Riza says. “I would have known about it.”
“Wow. You too really are joined at the hip,” Jean quips.
Riza ignores him. “And, even if he was, he’s not someone who would accidentally take the wrong amount.”
“He’s not,” Jean agrees, losing his attempt at lightheartedness. “So what are you thinking?”
Riza hesitates before answering. “What if it wasn’t an accident?”
“You mean like…?”
“Yes.”
“But, if that’s the case, there are easier ways to get rid of him.”
“It’s just a theory,” Riza says. “He’s been searching for whoever killed Hughes.”
“You think he’s getting close?”
“Whoever is responsible may think so.” But Havoc is right: there are easier, more permanent ways to get rid of someone digging too deep. “Like I said, it’s just a theory.”
“You might be right.” Jean folds his arms, getting that pinched look on his face. “Not that it would be the easiest thing to prove. But we’ll get started. See what we can dig up.” He squeezes her arm. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“What?” Riza stares, uncomprehending. “You can’t be serious.”
Jean left around an hour ago, not by choice, but because it simply isn’t feasible for more than one of them to stay here for more than just a few hours.
What she would give to have him here backing her up.
“I’m afraid it’s standard procedure, Ma’am. If we’re afraid a patient might hurt themself, then…”
“You’re not listening to me. He wouldn’t do something like that. There’s been some mistake.”
“Well.” It’s someone else who’s come to talk to her. Smaller than the nurse from before. Riza stands a full head and shoulders taller than him. “Unfortunately, it’s not up to me.”
“Who made this decision?” Riza balls her trembling fists down at her side. “I want to speak with them.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. You’re lucky they even decided to notify you…” He gulps as Riza stares him down, but bravely keeps going. “Something like this… Well, it’s important that it's handled discreetly.” He coughs into his closed fist when Riza doesn’t give him the sympathy he’d been looking for.
“I want to see him.”
He hesitates, looking for all like a mouse caught in a trap.
Riza doesn’t wait for him to answer, pushing past him and marching down the hall.
She hears him before she sees him.
“...and I’m telling you that this is absurd. I’m not a danger to myself or anyone, for that matter.” He catches sight of her as she bursts into the room, eyes alight with fury. “Hawkeye, tell them to get these damn things off of me!”
Riza halts, shocked by what she sees: cloth restraints around each wrist keeping him tied to the bed.
“Surely that isn’t necessary.”
She’s stopped by an orderly blocking her path before she can advance further into the room. There’s a moment where Riza wants to shove the woman out of her way. She stops herself. She doesn’t have any authority here and she recognizes that doing so will only make the situation worse.
“What is this?” Not to be deterred, she steps around her instead.
“Who authorized this?” The orderly moves to block her again. “Ma’am, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“No.” Panic grips her chest like a vice. “Let me talk to him. Take those off of him. He doesn’t need them. Why did you put those on him?”
“It’s standard protocol when a patient is acting aggressive or violent. Now if you would let us do our jobs-” The woman’s stare is a little more than just pointed as she attempts to usher
“Aggressive, my ass,” Roy snaps. On the one hand, it’s good to see him so alert. On the other hand, there’s… everything else. “Get these off of me. I didn’t consent to any of this.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how this works, Colonel Mustang.”
“Wait-” The orderly succeeds in overpowering her and she is bodily forced from the room.
The last thing she hears before the door slams shut behind her is Roy, still protesting, “I know my rights. This is a kidnapping!”
Riza makes a brief call from the nearest payphone, filling Fuery in on the situation in as few words as she can manage. He’s alarmed, but understands there isn’t much she can do.
She hangs up, not feeling any better.
When she returns, she’ll have to explain it to them in full, but, for now, she’d kept her words to a minimum, aware of the possibility that there’s someone listening in.
Everything has spiraled so quickly. She’s still struggling to process it.
…her hands are shaking. Why are her hands shaking? She stares at them.
Is this really what you want to be doing, Lieutenant? Falling apart at a time like this? You’re better than that?
It’s what he would be telling her if he were here to see her like this. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand.
That’s more like it. So what are you going to do about it?
That’s the problem; she still hasn’t figured that out.
There’s a reason for this. He wouldn’t have been involuntarily committed- especially on such flimsy evidence- without the involvement of someone higher up.
She remembers Roy’s suspicions, that this is something that went much higher up the chain of command than either of them realized.
It looks like he was correct.