Summary: Roy Mustang says goodbye to his best friend for the last time. RoyCentric.Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word count: 2994
Disclaimer: Nothing from the Fullmetal Alchemist universe belongs to me, and the lyrics in bold italics belong to POD.
Goodbye For Now
The dark haired man jolted upright. His body was covered in sweat; he could feel it trickling down his bare chest. He sat there in his bed panting, going over the fleeting images from his dreams for what seemed like an eternity.
As the sweat cooled and his breath steadied, Colonel Roy Mustang slowly untangled himself from the crisp white sheets of his bed. He made his way over to the washroom, shivering slightly. He disliked this weather. The night's were hot and the mornings cool. so he never was quite the right temperature to be comfortable. After using the toilet and washing his hands, he took a long look in the mirror, putting most of his weight on his braced arms against the porcelain sink.
Dark circles were under his reddened eyes. Gods he was a sorry sight. He continued to stare at the mirror, not really taking in the picture his eyes were sending him. His thoughts had turned back to the dreams. They didn't make any sense.
I can still see the light at the end of the tunnel shine, through the dark times, even when I lose my mind
Roy felt the hot sickly, horrible sensation of bile rising in his throat. He choked and retched. He shook as dry heaves forced themselves from his body. He hadn't been eating very much lately, but what he had soon left his body. He rinsed the sink out as well as his mouth to rid it of the bitter taste. He went back to his bedroom, collapsing on the bed.
If anyone had told Mustang last month that depression could do this to you, he would've told them they were wrong. But since the Colonel had heard the news of Maes Hughes' death only yesterday; anything seemed possible. Even the death of his best friend. Tears welled in dark eyes, and this time he choked on a sob. It seemed that there was an unlimited amount of the salty droplets that fell from his eyes. He remembered how he had reacted in disbelief. He told them there was no way, that it was impossible. But all they did was tell him what he least wanted to here: yes, it was possible. He had felt mute.
It feels like no one in the world is listening
It was all his fault. How couldn't it be?
And I can't ever seem to make the right decisions
He wiped the tears out of his eyes angrily and went about to participate in his daily routines – not even really thinking; it was so programmed into him.
I walk around in the same haze
He got into the shower – turning the hot water on all the way and adjusting the cold accordingly.
I'm still caught in my same ways
He got out of the shower and went through the ritual of getting dressed. His body felt so heavy. He felt so…old. He suddenly felt a sense of panic. How much time did he have left in this life? He didn't even have a family yet! What would happen if he suddenly-
I'm losing time in these strange days
The ringing phone brought him back to reality. He picked it up after the third ring.
"Hello?" he answered, disappointed that his voice sounded so rough and defeated." C – Colonel?" A voice that he never thought would sound so unsure said. He almost didn't recognize it.
"Lieutenant Hawkeye," he replied.
The voice on the other line was silent for a moment.
"Will you be coming into work today? Sir?" He could tell Riza Hawkeye was doing her best not sound anxious, or too concerned. He forced a smile, just to get the sound of it in his voice as he answered. "Of course. I have plenty of paperwork to catch up on, as you of all people probably know. Although, I might be a little late."
Somehow I always know the right things to say
Roy could hear the relief in his first lieutenant's voice as she said, "Alright, sir." And then, "I'm sure the paperwork won't be going anywhere soon. Goodbye, sir."
He hung up the phone. He really didn't want to go to work today, but to say so would only worry Hawkeye. He didn't need anybody worrying about him; he didn't deserve it.
He left his apartment, and soon was wandering around the streets of East city, not really thinking about where he was going – his head was too full for that. Instead he just let his feet go where they willed. His thoughts were mostly about where Hughes' death. Mustang hadn't seen any of his best friend's family members yet.
How were they coping with this? Did his daughter understand? How was his wife supposed to explain it to her? He wondered when the funeral was. It all seemed so unreal still. Like this was all some horrid dream… He stopped and closed his eyes. There was no one on the streets this early in the morning- it was peaceful. The wind had picked up and was playing across his face. He felt like breaking into tears again. He focused on the feeling of the wind. It was such a unique feeling. He had lost track of time. Only one persistent thought remained. It was the one that drove him to tears: could it really be all his fault?
I don't know what time it is; or who's the one to blame for this
He opened his eyes and started walking again. Soon he found himself just outside East Headquarters. He sat on the bench there. He couldn't go in there. Not yet. He had to much going on inside of him. He was starting to question everything he was sure of, since he was so sure Maes wouldn't die as soon as he had. He remembered a conversation they once had, during one of there many visits to a local bar. Hughes had asked him if he believed in a God. He had replied with "I'll believe it when I see it."
He regretted it now. True he had been drunk. But he meant what he'd said.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Do I believe what I can't see? And how do you know which way the wind blows? Cause I feel it all around…
The noise produced by his thoughts seemed so loud; he didn't hear the approaching footsteps.
I'm lost between the sound
"Colonel? Colonel? Are you alright?" Hawkeye said worried at the way her superior didn't seem to hear her. He was staring at the ground; as if with just his sight he could bore a hole in it. She took a seat beside him and gingerly shook his shoulder.
His head snapped up and he gave her a strange look, as if she was a stranger. The expression on his face disappeared after a moment. He gave a shaky smile. "Hey. Just how late am I?" she just looked at him. He sighed.
"I'm not as bad as I look," knowing she had noticed the sorry look of his eyes.
"Sir…" she started. "Why didn't you just stay home?" He looked back at her. He felt guilty for making her worry.
"Because – because I knew that if I stayed home I would feel worse. Coming here keeps me in reality. It… it doesn't seem like the world is ending here." He told her truthfully.
"I just want to go back to normal; I hate feeling this way."
Riza didn't know what to say. She wasn't good at dealing with these things- this was Fuery's self-instated department.
She patted his back, not knowing what else to do. Roy smiled slightly – knowing that he had made the female officer feel awkward. He stood up, and the lieutenant mirrored his action.
"Thanks, Hawkeye," he said, making his way inside.
Colonel Mustang sighed and leaned back in his chair. In an attempt to push thoughts of Hughes from his mind, he had completed all his paperwork at a fast pace. No one cast him a second glance, however. The idea seemed to be quite popular and the room was silent except for the sound of pencils and pens scratching away.
The trouble with this method – obviously – was that all Mustang had now was time to think. His onyx eyes were soon lidded once again; something they had been doing more and more often. His mind flooded with memories of Maes. He smiled as he remembered the way the man was constantly showing off pictures of his daughter to anyone who would look at them.
I'm still smilin' as the day goes by
This whole situation was tragic. Hughes didn't deserve this. If anyone deserved this, it would have to be himself, Roy Mustang – so called war hero. Why? Why did this happen? He slammed his fist on his desk in utter frustration, his eyes snapping open. He knew no matter how many times he asked this question, he would get no answer, that's what pissed him off and made him feel so hopeless.
How come nobody ever knows the reason why
Mustang cast an angry eye around the room. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him, startled by their superior's sudden outburst.
"Everything alright, chief?" Havoc asked slightly nervous, breaking the tense quiet. Roy glared at him. Then realized that whatever emotions he was suffering, the others were probably going through most of the same ones.
The clock struck the lunch hour. No one moved until Hawkeye fished a book out of her desk, and made her way for the door, not looking at the Colonel.
Havoc approached his superior's desk.
"Care to go for a walk, boss?" he asked nonchalantly. His bright blue eyes showed concern.
"Why not?" Mustang replied despondently, his anger at the world subsiding, replaced with the misery of before.
"Sure is windy out here," Havoc commented, trying to get the Colonel to sat something. Anything. They were walking along a pathway, around the East Headquarters. He looked at Mustang. He felt small compared to the man, even though he himself was 3 inches taller, easily. It was the way he carried himself,
Havoc guessed, like he was in charge. Suddenly Mustang spoke.
"How are you dealing with this, Jean?"
Havoc stopped, surprised at the arbitrary use of his first name. He took a drag of his cigarette, trying to think of what to say. What could he say. He'd never see his commanding officer so distraught. It unnerved him.
"Well I – uh," he coughed, Mustang's intense eyes on him caused his thoughts to evaporate.
"I just – I just try to not think about it," he told him. "I push it down-" he gestured with his hands, pressing on his own chest. "I think of it as like burying something. And then when it's the right time for me, I let it go." He watched the Colonel, waiting for a reaction. Mustang seemed to be mulling it over.
"You control your emotions, your emotions shouldn't control you, it's one of the first things Hawkeye ever said to me," Havoc told Mustang, hoping the addition would add some sense to a statement the blond was already starting to regret. He never realized how little he knew the colonel until now.
Bury it deep, so far that you can't see
"Does it work?" Roy finally asked him.
"I'd like to think so, it's one of only things that keeps going," Havoc sighed. He hated this. It was all so hopeless. He ran a hand through his already messy blond hair.
If you're like me who wears a broken heart on his sleeve
The Colonel didn't look comforted by this. Havoc reached in front of him to put his hand on the raven haired man's shoulder. He was shocked to find Mustang's reaction was tears welling in his eyes. Havoc fought the urge to hold the grieving man and lost. Hesitantly yet instinctively, the second lieutenant clutched Roy close to his chest, his hand on the shorter man's head trying to comfort him.
Pains and struggles that you know so well
"You'll get through this," Jean told him, stroking his head. This was so unfair; to see the man he respected so much crumble before him. How much would Hughes' death affect him? Would he ever be as confident as he was before? Havoc didn't think he would ever find out.
Other times no it can't or it just won't tell
Roy sobbed and buried his face into Havoc's jacket more, feeling the brass buttons dig into his tear stained cheeks. Now that Havoc's arms were around him, he didn't think he could ever let go of him. Havoc spoke and Roy could feel the vibrations.
"Roy…Roy we have to go back. Break is over." Mustang looked up at Havoc. He was right, of course, but Mustang continued to cling to him.
Havoc cleared his throat. He knew Mustang was in a fragile state right now, hell everyone was, but he didn't want Hawkeye to see them like this. He didn't think she would react very well. If they didn't go in now, that was inevitably going to happen.
"C'mon, sir. We-" His words were lost in the back of his throat as he looked up and saw Hawkeye. He blushed, but he wasn't about to make his superior look like it was all him. Havoc tightened his arms that still loosely hung around Mustang.
I'm not the type to say "I told you so"
He rested his head on Mustang's and gave Hawkeye a defiant look, daring her to do something.
She looked like she was about to; she really did. But she knew that Roy was doing through and why he was clinging to Havoc like he was his reason to live. She turned away, wishing that she could've been as understanding as the second lieutenant.
She had been where the Colonel was before. And the hardest thing he was doing to have to do was to let go of Havoc. It meant that he was ready to accept that Hughes was never coming back. And that was the hardest part.
I think the hardest part of holding on is letting it go
Mustang couldn't see anything, but that didn't matter. Me could hear Jean's heartbeat, his breathing rate too, increase. He knew that his first lieutenant had come, just as Havoc had expected. His grip on the fabric of the front of Havoc's jacket had already been firm, but soon it became so he couldn't feel his fingers.
Please don't push me off, Jean. Please, Mustang silently pleaded.
To his relief, Havoc embraced him once more. Moments pasted as they just stood there. Then Mustang let go slowly and Havoc released him.
"Thank you, Jean." He told the officer.
"Oh, ah, no problem," Havoc replied, rubbing the back of his own head. He was trying to figure out exactly how long they had stood there.
"Do you want to sit down?" He asked the Colonel, pointing to a bench that was screaming his name.
As they sat there Havoc lit a cigarette. He took a long drag before gazing over at Mustang. The dark haired man seemed to be having a staring contest with the ground. Jean exhaled before saying, "So have you heard any news of a funeral?"
The Colonel shook his head. The head that felt clearer than it had in awhile. He reached over and plucked the cigarette from Havoc's mouth, placing it between his own lips and inhaling. He'd never understood why Jean was so addicted to these thing.
"I feel like I understand things a bit better now," he said. Havoc placed another cigarette where it's predecessor had been. Before he had a chance to light it himself, Mustang had snapped his fingers making the end of the cigarette ignite.
"Cool," Havoc remarked.
"I feel like a jerk," Roy confessed, "I've been so selfish, so caught up in my own feelings. I haven't even seen Falman. What kind of commanding officer am I? I'm supposed to put my men before me-"
"Whoa, Colonel. Hang on a sec. Stop beating yourself up over this – you're only human. You're grieving just as the rest of us are; it's your right. We're a team, and if one of us stumbles, the rest of us do as well. So we have to help each other up. It's as corny as it is true." He took a puff of his cigarette and blew out the smoke slowly, looking pensive.
In some ways everybody feels alone
Roy examined his unusually insightful subordinate. Thanks to this man, he felt as if he could now take on whatever else was next. Roy Mustang was back, with Jean Havoc as his inspiration.
So if the burden is mine then I can carry my own
"what do you say to getting back to work?" Mustang eventually said.
"I'd say Lieutenant Hawkeye would be proud."
–3 Days Later –
Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes had a military funeral – Mustang liked to think that his friend would've been slightly embarrassed at the way they talked about him; as if he was one of the elite. He was – although he would've never admitted to it. Roy felt some amusement imagining what he might say, with his sharp green eyes flashing.
As they lowered the casket, the Colonel couldn't help but allow some tears to flow. Both lieutenants stood at each side of him, squeezing his shoulders silently in an effort to console him.
Goodbye, Maes, he thought staring down into the abyss that he could hardly believe was only six feet deep. Hopefully we'll see each other again someday.
Goodbye for now
Good bye, so long
I think the hardest part of holding on is letting it go
[End