A/N- Hi! This is just a oneshot where Havoc tries to take Mustang out for a fun night, but it ends up going wrong. This is supposed to take place relatively soon after Hughes' death, when Mustang was still having a hard time eating or sleeping normally, but this really isn't angsty at all. It's rated T only for alcohol (ab)use. TW for vomit I suppose.
Havoc paused outside the door to Colonel Mustang's office, the conversation he'd had with Riza earlier that day looping through his mind. She'd cornered him in the cafeteria and said that she was worried about their boss.
"He goes from work to home, and sometimes he doesn't even make it home," she'd said. "We need to do something about it."
Havoc hadn't replied immediately - he was daydreaming about a girl he knew who worked in the market downtown - and she'd had to repeat herself.
"What am I supposed to do?"
Riza had paused, thinking. "Take him out," she'd decided. "Just get him to do something different. The sooner, the better."
"Umm, okay," he'd said, eager to get back to his lunch and his thoughts.
"Don't forget," she'd said, and she'd walked away.
Havoc hadn't forgotten. Now, at the end of the day, everyone else had gone home. Havoc was about to leave and go to his favorite bar when he decided to make Riza happy and check the Colonel's office. He was sure the Colonel would say no to any invitation, but then he could at least tell Riza that he had tried. As he approached Mustang's office, he saw that the light was on and the door was open. He knocked on the doorjamb and peered inside.
"Come in," said Mustang, sounding unexpectedly cheerful. Havoc blinked in surprise and walked in. The Colonel was dressed in street clothes, leaning back in his desk chair. A bottle of wine was on the desk in front of him, still unopened.
This might not go the way I'd planned, thought Havoc. Mustang gestured to the bottle of wine and said "Do you want to join me? I think the successful completion of Project Falcon deserves a little celebration."
Havoc had absolutely no idea what Project Falcon was, and he was too embarrassed to ask. But never one to turn down a free anything, he nodded happily and claimed the chair opposite the Colonel. Mustang uncorked the bottle and produced two glasses from a cabinet that Havoc had never noticed before. Somehow, he didn't think that it got much use.
The Colonel poured them both a glass of the dark red wine and handed one to Havoc.
"A job well done," he said, and they drank.
After the second glass of wine, Mustang looked the most relaxed that Havoc had ever seen him. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst night to try to bring the Colonel to the bar. At least that'll get Hawkeye off my back. He tried to think of a subtle way to accomplish his goal, then looked across at the Colonel, who was smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever. Just go for it. He drained the rest of his glass and lit a cigarette. Mustang didn't tell him to put it out - a good sign.
"So…I guess I better head out," he said.
Mustang looked at the clock and raised his eyebrows. "I'll join you. I didn't realize it was so late."
"If you're going my way anyway…I think I'll hit the bar. Want to come?"
The Colonel hesitated. Havoc gave him his most winning smile. "Come on, it'll be fun."
After another few seconds, Mustang nodded. "I suppose we are celebrating…I'll get my coat."
Havoc's bar of choice was only a few blocks from Central Command, so within about fifteen minutes, the pair was standing outside the bar. Havoc had tried his best to hurry them along as soon as he'd gotten Mustang's approval. He didn't want to give the Colonel a chance to change his mind. And he didn't want the fact that he was bringing his boss along to cause a delay in his own entertainment.
"This is it?" Mustang asked, managing to somehow sound simultaneously anxious and rather underwhelmed.
"This is it," Havoc confirmed. He wondered what it was exactly that Mustang had been expecting. He didn't think that Mustang went out on the town much, if ever. Maybe he didn't know what a bar was supposed to look like.
Before Havoc pushed the door open, he turned back to look at Mustang. "Now, I don't want to be babysitting you all night," he said firmly. "This is my night off too, and I want to use it to pick up girls. So just...stay out of trouble."
Havoc realized a second after saying it that even off-duty, Mustang was still his boss, and he probably shouldn't talk to him that way. But Mustang simply frowned, and then nodded and gestured for Havoc to continue inside the bar.
Havoc shoved the door open, and the two walked inside. The bar was intimately familiar to him, the dark wood paneling, the faint smoky smell, even most of the patrons. As soon as Havoc stepped foot in the bar, at least four people turned to greet him. He smiled back at the other frequenters, even though the bar was dark enough that he wasn't sure exactly who it was who had said hello.
Havoc brought Mustang up to the counter, and ordered them each a beer. The two sat at the counter together. Havoc eyed the other people in the bar, trying to figure out how long he would have to stay with the Colonel to be polite. He had no idea what he was supposed to talk to Mustang about, and he desperately wanted to try to pick up a few girls. He never should have agreed to do this. The two finished their beers in near silence.
It wasn't until the Colonel was nearing the end of his second beer that Havoc realized Mustang was rather tipsy. His eyes were bright, and his movements were much larger than strictly necessary.
"Havoc!" he said suddenly, and his voice was almost startlingly loud.
"What is it, Colonel?"
"I want to do shots!"
"Excuse me?" Havoc said, certain that he'd misheard. "You want to what?"
"Shots!" Mustang said again, excitedly.
Havoc was surprised, but he didn't want to say no to the Colonel, who finally wanted to have a little bit of fun. He shrugged.
"Sure," he said finally. "Let's do some shots."
Havoc waved down the bartender, who wandered over with a grin.
"Karl, my buddy Mustang here wants do shots. Got any tequila?" He paused, cringing. He was pretty sure that even if your superior officer was drinking with you in your favorite bar, you weren't supposed to call him your "buddy." But Mustang didn't seem to notice, so Havoc decided to roll with it. Behind the bar, Karl's grin widened and he reached under the bar. He set down the bottle in front of them with two glasses, and Havoc started pouring.
Karl leaned on the bar, watching the pair curiously. He'd heard many of Havoc's stories about Mustang, and he was clearly having trouble reconciling the things he'd heard with the man sitting in front of him. For that matter, so was Havoc. Shots? Oh well, Riza did say to make sure he had fun. And I wouldn't mind seeing Colonel Roy Mustang, the "famous Flame Alchemist" do shots in a seedy bar.
Twenty minutes later, there was a large crowd surrounding them, and Havoc couldn't remember why he'd ever thought that this was a bad idea. Mustang seemed to really like tequila (which was something that Havoc supported wholeheartedly). After the first few shots, he'd started telling Havoc about Ishval and his training as an alchemist. The stories involved lots of explosions, which he was surprisingly good at imitating. After the first few stories (which Havoc couldn't follow at all, and wasn't sure whose fault it was), people had started to draw closer. Karl cleared his throat beside him.
"Are you sure that's the Flame Alchemist?" Karl said skeptically.
Havoc nodded, trying to keep the thread of Mustang's story. It was mostly about a (literal) firefight, but Havoc was holding out hope for girls.
"Wow, he is not what I expected. Your stories-" Mustang chose this moment to stop talking, and Karl's voice was startlingly loud in the silence.
"SSHHHHH!" Havoc hissed. Karl looked abashed and withdrew.
"What…?" Mustang started to slur.
"Nothing, Mustang! Ummm…here's another shot!" Havoc said, pushing a glass over to Mustang. To his relief, Mustang shrugged and downed it, returning to his story.
"Alright, where was I…"
Havoc figured this was as good a time as any to slip away and start looking for girls. Mustang didn't seem to be paying him any attention anymore, he was too focused on his captive audience. Havoc watched as he downed another shot, then grinned a little to himself and left the circle.
There was a girl sitting by herself a few feet away from the crowd surrounding Mustang, nursing a drink. She was pretty, if a little subdued-looking, and Havoc went over to her and struck up a conversation. The girl seemed receptive, and Havoc thought the whole procedure was going reasonably well, when he felt a touch at his back.
He turned around. Mustang had somehow broken away from the circle, and was standing behind Havoc, swaying faintly. He was blinking slowly, a look of intense concentration on his face. He had one hand braced on Havoc's shoulder for support.
"What is it, Mustang?" Havoc asked. He could tell the Colonel was quite drunk, but he didn't understand why he couldn't do what other drunk people did, drink some water and go into a corner to rest until someone could bring him home. Mustang wasn't being a very good wingman. The girl was clearly a little alarmed by his presence.
"Are you drunk?" Mustang asked.
Havoc stared at him for a few seconds, unsure whether or not he was joking. "A little," he finally said.
"Am I drunk?"
Havoc was slightly alarmed. He suddenly wished that he'd been keeping tabs on the Colonel's drinking. He had no idea how many drinks Mustang might have had, but he couldn't imagine that it was less than ten. Maybe more. A lot more. "You're pretty drunk."
"I'm soooooooo drunk."
He pitched forward a little bit, and Havoc grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. "Why don't you sit down on this stool over here? You'll be alright, just stay quiet and let me finish this and then I'll bring you home."
Havoc stood up briefly and gingerly steered Mustang to the stool and sat him down. Then he examined the situation carefully. Mustang's balance didn't seem to be particularly good, and Havoc wasn't entirely sure that he was going to be able to stay upright on the stool once Havoc stopped supporting him. Havoc tried leaning Mustang against the counter, but that didn't seem to be enough. Finally, he put one hand on the small of Mustang's back, and held him there from his own seat as he continued to talk to the girl. She peered around him, looking at Mustang, who was slumped against the counter.
"Is your friend…okay?" she asked. Havoc glanced at Mustang, annoyed. This was supposed to be his night off, and Mustang was getting in his way.
"He does this all the time," said Havoc untruthfully. "Did you say you were from the East?"
She nodded, still looking worriedly at Mustang.
"No way! That's where I was before I got transferred."
Finally, her attention left Mustang. Her eyes widened, and he grinned to himself. Sealing the deal. He reached out to touch her arm.
Unfortunately, the hand he used was the one propping up the Colonel. As soon as he let go, Mustang began to teeter. Havoc and his new friend watched in horror as he slipped slowly off the stool and crumpled to the ground. As he fell, he tried vainly to grab at the edge of the bar, missed, and ended up in a limp pile on the floor.
"Oh my god," the girl whispered quietly. Havoc was speechless. He stared at Mustang, who seemed at peace with his new location, then forced himself into action. He turned to the girl and sighed.
"I'm really sorry…I think I better take him home. Maybe I can buy you a drink some other time?"
She nodded slowly, still staring blankly at the Colonel, who seemed to be asleep. Havoc scowled at him. Somehow, he didn't think he'd be seeing the girl again. He bent down over his boss and heaved him to his feet, decided he probably wasn't going to be walking alone, and half-carried him to the door.
Once they were outside the bar, Havoc paused to take stock of the situation. Mustang was reeling against Havoc, completely unable to stand on his own. His eyes were unfocused and half-closed. His hands grasped weakly at Havoc's jacket, as if he had some awareness that he couldn't balance but wasn't sure what to do about it.
"Mustang?" Havoc asked cautiously. "Can you hear me?"
"What...what is it?" Mustang slurred. He sounded exhausted, but at least he seemed to understand the question and could still talk. That had to be a good sign.
"Mustang, I'm going to bring you back to your house. Is that alright? You...you really need to sleep this off, I think."
Mustang nodded sluggishly. His eyes were closed now. Even though he was mostly vertical, he couldn't seem to hold his head up. Havoc felt a pang of fear go through him.
"Mustang, can you say something?"
Mustang nodded an affirmative.
"I mean I need you to say something."
"Alright," Mustang murmured softly. Havoc shrugged a little. He would have preferred not to be carrying the semi-conscious Colonel through the streets of Central, but it didn't appear that he had a lot of choice. Havoc slung one of Mustang's arms over his shoulder, and wrapped his own arm around Mustang's waist. He started guiding the Colonel through the streets in the vague direction of his house. The going was slow, because Havoc was taking much of the Colonel's weight, but at least Mustang was still able to move.
After a few minutes, Havoc felt the Colonel's weight drop as Mustang stumbled hard. Havoc heaved the Colonel back to his feet, but he seemed barely conscious anymore. His face was pressed into Havoc's shoulder, his hands clinging weakly to the front of Havoc's jacket. Havoc started to walk forward again, but Mustang didn't even attempt to move. His feet dragged along the ground.
"Mustang?" Havoc said worriedly. No response. Havoc repeated the question: still nothing. Mustang's eyes were closed, his breathing slow. The only thing keeping him upright was Havoc. Havoc stopped walking, but the Colonel didn't seem to notice.
"Mustang!" Havoc shook his shoulder. Mustang's head bobbed back and forth with the motion, and after a tense few seconds, his eyelids fluttered. "Can you hear me?"
"I think…." Mustang mumbled, so quiet Havoc could barely understand him. He maneuvered the Colonel around so he was facing him, and leaned closer.
"What was that?"
"I'm…." The rest was lost as Mustang leaned forward. Havoc guessed what was coming and skipped backward, letting go of the Colonel, who pitched forward onto his knees and heaved. Havoc grimaced as some vomit splashed onto his boots, and circled around behind him.
"You okay?" he asked from a safe distance. Mustang didn't answer, gagging as he threw up again. Havoc gingerly patted his shoulder, then retired to lean against the fence at the side of the road while Mustang worked it out of his system.
A few minutes later, Havoc was starting to worry. He couldn't remember ever throwing up this much, except for that time he'd taken Ed's advice about a good restaurant. Havoc didn't think that this could possibly be safe. Reluctantly, he rejoined the Colonel, who seemed to be tapering off.
"Hey…are you gonna be okay?"
Mustang retched one more time, then stayed bent over in the road. "Don't…feel good," he said.
"I know," Havoc said absentmindedly, inwardly starting to panic. Behind him, Mustang gagged again. Oh god he's gonna die or something and it's gonna be my fault, what if I take him home and he falls and breaks his neck? I can't leave him alone, not like this, what should I...
Havoc paused. "Riza," he said to himself. "Riza'll know what to do. She always does." Relieved to have a plan of action, he returned to the Colonel and tentatively lifted him to his feet, trying to avoid stepping in anything unpleasant.
"We're going to Riza's house," he said to Mustang, more for his own benefit than the Colonel's. Mustang's head lolled over onto Havoc's shoulder. He didn't answer, and Havoc walked a little faster.
This wasn't the way Havoc had intended the night to go at all. Taking your superior officer out for a fun night on the town was one thing, and this was something completely different. No one had told Havoc that Mustang had the alcohol tolerance of a fifteen year old girl, and he hadn't planned on spending the night walking Mustang all over Central while being thrown up on. Havoc wasn't very happy, and he was a little mad at Mustang for putting him in this position by not being able to hold his booze.
Havoc was also very, very worried. Mustang hadn't said anything in a few minutes, and he barely seemed able to stumble along beside Havoc, even with Havoc half-dragging him. He felt rather cool and clammy to the touch, and he couldn't even seem to hold his head up straight.
At one point, Mustang started gagging again. Havoc resisted the urge to fling the Colonel away from him. But he knew the Colonel would simply crumple, so he lowered Mustang carefully to the ground where he threw up helplessly for a few minutes in the street. Havoc stood awkwardly next to him, as far away as he thought was polite, wishing he could be anywhere else. A few people asked if Mustang was okay, or if Havoc needed help. Havoc waved them off, not wanting to get anyone else involved when one of the country's top military officials was in a state this bad.
"Are you done?" Havoc asked when Mustang had stopped vomiting for a few moments. Havoc tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. "Can we keep going?"
The Colonel didn't respond. He was on his hands and knees, and as Havoc looked down, he realized Mustang's arms were starting to buckle. "Nope," Havoc said, grabbing Mustang's shoulders and yanking him to his feet. "Please don't fall into your own vomit. Please don't do that. Thanks."
He adjusted Mustang's limp body so they could continue stumbling onward. He heard Mustang try to say something at one point, he thought maybe the Colonel was trying to apologize. But Mustang's voice was faint, and Havoc couldn't be sure. All he could do was keeping dragging the Colonel along, and hope that they would make it to Riza's in time.
By the time they reached Riza's house, Mustang had thrown up three more times, and Havoc was at his wit's end. He dragged the Colonel up the walk and rang the doorbell, hoping that Riza would answer. The lights were all off, but Havoc didn't know what else to do. He waited a few seconds, and when he didn't hear anything, he rang again. This time, he could hear her dog barking.
Just as he was preparing to ring the doorbell a third time, he heard footsteps approaching from the other side. The door swung open to reveal Riza, a confused expression on her face. The confusion turned to a mixture of horror and rage as the Colonel jerked forward slightly and vomited on her doormat.
Havoc froze and considered his options. He couldn't exactly dump the Colonel and run - not now. But he wasn't eager to face Riza, either. Her eyes were flashing fire, and he'd seen what she could do when she was angry. He mulled it over and decided on "panic" as the best option.
"Riza I don't know what to do he won't stop throwing up and he won't talk to me what if he dies I don't know what to do please help me-"
Riza's jaw clenched, and Havoc shrunk back, as far away from her as he could get.
"Havoc, what did you do?!"
"I tried to get him to have fun! Like you said! Only maybe he had a little too much…."
"What…he's drunk? The Colonel?"
Havoc nodded miserably. Riza stared at Mustang, who was still being held up by Havoc.
"How much did he have to drink?"
"I don't know," Havoc said defensively. "I'm not his babysitter."
Wrong answer. Riza looked so furious that Havoc actually took a step back, inadvertently letting go of Mustang. The Colonel slid downwards and ended up leaning against the outside of Riza's house. He muttered something. Havoc wasn't sure, but he thought it might have been "help."
Luckily for Havoc, at this point Riza realized that something was really wrong and completely forgot that she was busy yelling at him. She squatted down beside Mustang and touched his shoulder.
"Colonel, can you hear me?"
Havoc watched silently, knowing that Mustang wasn't going to answer, but unwilling to remind Riza of his presence. Sure enough, there was silence. Riza gently took his chin and raised his head, looking into his face. Even from where Havoc was standing, he could tell the Colonel was alarmingly pale.
Riza stood up, looking suddenly pale herself. She turned to Havoc, and he flinched. "Stay with him," she said shortly, and turned to walk away.
"Wait! Where are you-"
"Borrowing my neighbor's car. We need to take him to a hospital immediately."
The hospital? Havoc had told Riza he was worried that the Colonel might die, but that had mostly been to play off her sympathies and try to deflect some of her anger away from him. He hadn't actually realized...the hospital? Was the Colonel really that close to death? Havoc supposed he had thrown up a lot on the way here, and now he was completely unresponsive, sitting crumpled against the wall. He hadn't even recognized Riza, and Havoc didn't think he had any idea what was going on anymore. But he couldn't be...he couldn't be dying. Right?
Havoc knelt down next to Mustang and poked his shoulder tentatively. "Hey. Hey Roy? Can you hear me?"
No response. The fact that Mustang had let Havoc get away with calling him by his first name must mean he was really out of it. Up close, Havoc could see that Mustang's hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his lips were tinged with blue. His breathing was shallow and ragged. Havoc patted his shoulder gently in a way that he would like to think was comforting.
A few moments later, Riza returned, holding car keys in one hand and a bucket in the other. "Come on," she said shortly. "Let's get him up."
Havoc scrambled to his feet, eager to do whatever he could to help Mustang and assuage some of Riza's anger. He heaved the Colonel to his feet again, and draped Mustang's arm around his shoulder. This movement was enough to rouse Mustang slightly, and he blinked vaguely at Havoc for a moment before closing his eyes again.
"He woke up!" Havoc said excitedly. "Maybe he doesn't have to go to the hospital after all!"
Riza didn't even grace this with an answer. She just stared at Havoc until he looked down at the ground.
Havoc half-carried Mustang out to the car, and then awkwardly maneuvered him into the backseat. Then he went around the other side, preparing to get into the passenger seat next to Riza.
"No," Riza said flatly. "Get in the back. You can take care of the Colonel on the way there. Make sure he doesn't throw up in my neighbor's car." She unceremoniously handed him the bucket. Havoc eyed it uncomfortably. In the span of the last hour, he had seen enough vomit to last a lifetime. But Riza was clearly at her wits end, and Havoc suspected if he were to refuse Riza would pull his head clean off. He retreated to the backseat with Mustang. Riza turned the keys in the ignition and sped away. Havoc tried to find a way to sit comfortably in the tiny backseat, then stopped as Riza glared at him in the rearview mirror. He stared at Mustang, whose head was drooping into his bucket, and wished he was somewhere else.
After a few minutes, the silence in the car became unbearable. Havoc couldn't stand the quiet; it seemed far worse than screaming would be. He figured the best way to relieve his tension would be by lighting a cigarette. He pulled a cigarette from the pack he always had in his pocket, and then grabbed his lighter too.
"No," Riza said.
"I...what?"
"You will not light a cigarette in this car. I will not return my neighbor's car smelling like an ashtray, and if you try to light that cigarette again so help me I will turn around and strangle you."
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry-"
"No! Just…be quiet!" Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, and Havoc jumped slightly.
"But, I-"
"Just- how could you be so stupid?! This…just…even for you!"
"Wait, this is my fault?" Havoc was genuinely horrified. The thought hadn't really crossed his mind.
Riza's eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror. "How is this not your fault?"
"I didn't know how much he had to drink! I can't stop him! He's a grown man and my superior officer!"
"You may not be able to stop him from drinking, but you were certainly capable of bringing him to the hospital instead of to my doorstep! Is acting like an adult too much to ask of you?"
Havoc cringed. He had been wrong: yelling was definitely worse. He drew back into the corner of the car, wishing that he were invisible, somewhere else, even that he could switch places with the Colonel. Anything but facing the full force of Riza's wrath, as well-deserved as he now feared it was. My fault? I was just trying to do something nice... In the front of the car, Riza took a deep breath, and Havoc braced himself. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but then Riza's eyes softened.
"I'm sorry, Jean.," she finally said. "I know you were just scared."
"I still am," admitted Havoc. He looked over at Mustang and felt suddenly sick. The Colonel was alarmingly still, his head resting against his chest in a position that couldn't be natural. Havoc lunged across the seat and shook his shoulder frantically. His head jerked back and forth, but his eyes didn't even flutter. This was too much for Havoc. He grabbed Riza's shoulder, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and finally and completely lost his tenuous grip on the situation.
"RIZA HE'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD I KILLED HIM OH MY GOD WHAT DID I DO!"
"Havoc, be quiet. He is not dead. He will be completely fine, we just need to get him to the hospital." Riza's voice was dangerously calm, but Havoc saw her hands tense as they tightly gripped the steering wheel. He felt the car jerk forward slightly as she pushed it faster. It was lucky that it was so late and the roads were nearly empty, because Riza's driving would be deemed reckless under any other circumstances.
"I think I killed him…." Havoc said softly.
Riza opened her mouth to say something else, but she was cut off when the Colonel started vomiting weakly again. Havoc made sure his head was in the bucket, unwilling to risk more of Riza's wrath by destroying the car. This time, he managed to keep a hand on Mustang's shoulder, even though he was feeling a little ill himself.
"Is he still unconscious?" Riza asked.
"I...I think so."
Havoc heard Riza suck in a sharp breath. "That's...that's not good. Try to keep him as upright as you can, Havoc, don't let him choke. We're almost there."
Havoc thought Mustang had finished, so he carefully pulled his head out of the bucket and leaned him back against the seat. His eyes didn't open, and he didn't stir. Havoc wasn't exactly counting Mustang's breaths, but he was pretty sure they had slowed substantially. He wondered if he should try to find a pulse.
"Hang on," Riza said, mostly to herself. "We're almost there…."
A few moments later Riza peeled into the hospital parking lot, parking haphazardly outside of the lines. Havoc threw open the door and went around the other side to get Mustang. He figured that he would be able to support half of Mustang's weight, the same way he had when they'd been wandering through the streets of Central. But as soon as Havoc pulled Mustang out of the backseat of the car, Mustang's knees gave way beneath him and he crumpled to the ground. The sudden weight almost caused Havoc to lose his balance as well.
But then Riza was there, around Mustang's other side. She ducked under his shoulder and took half of his weight, face pale and set. Together, Havoc and Riza managed to drag the Colonel between them towards the hospital doors. They entered the hospital and were immediately accosted by a nurse.
"What happened?" she asked, hovering around Mustang, lifting up his eyelids and peering into his eyes. She waved to the front desk and called "I need a gurney over here!" Then, she looked expectantly at Havoc and Riza.
"Well, what's wrong with him?"
Riza looked accusingly at Havoc. He hung his head and muttered "He drank too much."
The nurse arched an eyebrow, then nodded and hurried off to meet the doctor and convey the new information. Havoc was left behind with the silently furious Riza and the silently unconscious Mustang. Desperate to avoid another scolding, he turned and began to studiously examine a poster advertising flu shots. Luckily for him, the nurse returned promptly, trailing a doctor and a gurney in her wake. She and the doctor deftly transferred Mustang to the gurney and began to push it down the hall, Riza and Havoc following helplessly.
The next few minutes were a blur of men and women in white coats, all with stern expressions, all of them wanting to ask Havoc difficult questions. Riza sat in the corner, crossing her arms and becoming increasingly frustrated as Havoc became increasingly distressed.
"What did he drink?"
"How much did he drink?"
"How long was he drinking?"
"How long has he been unresponsive?"
"Has this happened before?"
Havoc sputtered his way through the list, casting Riza a supplicating glance. She ignored him. "Tequila, beer, wine? I dunno, maybe 9 to 13 drinks…ummm, I dunno?...twenty minutes…I doubt it," he finished, then withdrew into a corner and stared at the floor.
Finally, the doctors left, leaving Riza and Havoc alone with Mustang. He was…asleep, Havoc thought. He was still pale, but he no longer had the slight tinge of blue-green to his skin that had been so worrying. Plus, he was hooked up to a fair amount of pouches, which Havoc assumed were there for a good reason. Still, Havoc wanted to be sure.
"So, uh, is he…."
Riza took pity on him. "He'll be fine."
Havoc sighed with relief, then almost fell out of his chair as Riza's mouth twitched into a small smile.
"He'll be absolutely mortified, but he'll be fine." She stood up and walked to the door. Thankfully, Havoc followed. He was exhausted. But Riza turned and stopped him.
"Where do you think you're going? Stay here with the Colonel. He'll be pretty confused when he wakes up."
Havoc wanted to argue, but he wasn't stupid. He nodded and returned to the uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room, and wished that he could light a cigarette. In the hallway, Riza's footsteps receded and Havoc sighed. He eyed Mustang's still form in the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
"There goes my career," he mumbled to the silent room.