Suffering.
She sees it sometimes. There are times when he sits at his desk for hours, staring into nothingness, letting the ghosts of the past whisper in front of his eyes. He'll never be completely right again, she supposes, none of them will. Sometimes, a simple 'Sir', or in times, a rare, precious, 'Roy', will suffice, and his eyes will clear, his regular breathing will come back, and he'll look her in the eyes; Thank you, his eyes say. Ishbal had its toll on all of the soldiers, him especially, mostly because he did much of the killing. She doesn't know why his attacks come when they do, maybe it's just because he's had nothing to do lately.
His 'attacks' come more often, now. She has already caught him dangerously close to the state he was in that time too many times, this week.
She sees that he has been drinking, but his eyes are focussed. He turns them to her, and his eyes probe her. "Why Maes, Hawkeye, why Maes..?" she has no words for him, and in some corner of her mind, she wonders whether it's suffering in its purest, simplest form that she sees in those eyes, or wistfulness that it should have been her, and not Maes that she sees.
"I don't know, sir. I don't know."
"He didn't-" he shivers, and she watches nonchanlantly, or at least, she'd like to think so, "It shouldn't have been-" he shakes again. And still, she is silent. He has been like this for a while, an empty, faithless being surviving only for the sake of surviving. She could not stand for it much longer, seeing him like this. "Anyone but-" It is her that trembles, this time.
"Anyone, sir?"
He is still for a moment, and she can hear his sharp intake of breath in the silence as he catches the meaning of what he'd said. She turns around, and her form shakes for a moment, before her shoulders stiffen, "That is not what I meant." he pleas, and she is surprised by the desperation in his voice. "Riza. Don't go." It would have been a command had he not the plea in his voice.
"I can't lose the person most important to me." His voice is tired, but no longer is it hopeless.
"Sir."
His head snaps itself up, eyes bolting wildly around before finally settling on her. "Yes, Lieutenant."
"Permission to speak freely?" he chuckles, albeit without humour, "You should know, Lieutenant," he says, "by now, at least, that you always have that." she offers him a sad smile.
"Sir.. I - I have a friend." she can see his confusion, and continues, nevertheless, "and I, he's a very sad person, and I - I don't want to see his suffering, and watch him go to a place where I can't reach him." he smiles, a look of unspoken, bitter, knowingness coming to his face. "You see, sir, he's very dear to me.. but he's always blaming himself for things. Things out of his control. And I - I don't want to watch him fall apart, right before my eyes. Just like that time."
He is silent for a moment. "Lieutenant, I assure you, wherever your friend may find himself, you will always be capable of reaching him. He'll always be okay as long as you stay by his side."
She smiles, and gives him a delicate salute, "Invariably, sir." She turns around, and lets the door shut quietly behind her.
"He's lucky to have you.. so, so lucky."