"Jean," Roy whispered. "I know it hurts, but you need to drink some water."
Havoc shook his head, not even opening his eyes. Roy was so exhausted, and had been doing this for so long, that he felt an unexpected and unsettling flash of anger. But it quickly faded into a deep anxiety, a sort of uncomfortable weariness that he wasn't sure he could take much longer.
When they'd first started pushing water on Havoc, it had mostly been to rinse the taste of vomit out of his mouth. Even that had been too much - if he'd even started to swallow, it had set off his gag reflex, and triggered another round of throwing up. After a while, they'd left him well enough alone. But that hadn't helped either, and every twenty minutes like clockwork, he'd been back to throwing up bile.
Now, his skin was tight and sunken, and his eyes were glazed - Roy knew he was starting to get dangerously dehydrated. Even if it ended up triggering another round of vomiting, they had to start pushing water on him. Otherwise, there was a chance that he could die before this ended.
"Please, try," Roy begged. He knew that he sounded upset, and he didn't want to do that to Havoc, but he was getting desperate. He didn't know how else to help him.
He'd hoped that Havoc would nod, even if he looked upset. But this time, Havoc didn't respond at all, and Roy didn't think he'd even heard him.
That…that was bad. If Havoc stopped responding, if he lost consciousness, Roy wasn't sure he would ever wake up again.
"We have to do something," Roy said restlessly, staring at Havoc's pale face, barely darker than the porcelain of the tub he still lay in. He glanced at Al, whose face mirrored Roy's own worry.
"I know," Al responded, sounding just as drained as Roy. "He…he may not last much longer, not if he can't keep water down."
Roy frowned. In Ishval, there had been a fairly common illness that swept through the ranks of the Amestrian soldiers, a horribly aggressive form of stomach flu. It had rarely been fatal, as long as you'd been within reach of the infirmary and could be rehydrated while you were still losing fluid. Unfortunately, the military medical kit that Roy had brought was a fairly basic one, and it didn't have the supplies for anything like an at-home IV.
"Shame," he muttered, curling his hand into a fist as the horrible feeling of helplessness crept over him again.
Al's eyes flicked over towards Roy with a spark of confusion, as though Roy might be describing the general situation as a shame.
"A shame that we don't have an IV," Roy explained. "I have a kit with me, but it doesn't have that." He knew his frustration was leaking into his voice, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't useful for him to be thinking of things he wished he had, he needed to be finding solutions. He needed to save Havoc.
"What do you have in the kit?" Al said slowly, furrowing his eyebrows. "We…we may be able to make one. If you have sterile supplies-"
"We can use alchemy," Roy finished, wishing he'd thought of that first. It had been years since he'd first learned to use alchemy without a circle, but he still mainly gravitated towards combat-based alchemy. He would have thought of making an IV eventually, probably, but it would have taken him much longer than it had taken Alphonse.
"That's good," Al said hopefully. "That'll…that'll help, right?"
"It should," Roy answered, feeling some of the weariness drain away. He almost resented the hope that rose up in its place. He'd cycled through so many emotions since arriving that now he'd almost welcome numbness. At least that way, if they lost hope again, it wouldn't hurt so much.
Roy left to get the first aid kit for Al. When he got back, Havoc was dry-heaving again. Al had turned him on his side, but his face was still horrifyingly slack. If he had started throwing up, would he have been conscious enough to turn his head? Roy wasn't sure.
Al was sitting in front of Havoc, on the lip of the bathtub, one hand supporting Havoc's head and the other stroking his shoulder. It was a routine they'd developed over the past few hours - they both felt more comfortable if at least one of them were able to see his face, and trying to squeeze in behind Havoc had made Roy's knees and back ache after a while. This way, they could watch his face for any minute signs of discomfort, they had control over his head and arms, and it was comfortable enough to bear. The long sleepless nights spent hunched by a bed or next to a bathtub were starting to take a toll on Roy's back and neck, but he could put up with a few more days of this before it really became a problem.
"Here," Roy said, dropping the first aid kit on the floor of the bathroom. Al extricated himself from the bathtub without a word, and Roy slid in to take his place.
"I tried to give him one last shot at drinking," Al said ruefully, running a hand through his hair. "I…don't think he's gonna like the IV very much."
"Did it work?" Roy asked. Havoc was still shuddering and gagging in front of him, so the answer was fairly obvious, but still.
Roy heard a slight rustle as Al knelt down to look at the kit. "He couldn't even swallow." There was a slight pause. "Think this would have started anyways soon. It's about time. And his fever's back up."
Roy removed his hand from Havoc's shoulder to feel his forehead. These past few hours had given him an intimate familiarity of any possible temperature that Havoc could be. Warm, hot, cool and clammy - the withdrawal had him bouncing violently between them. He seemed a little more uncomfortable when he was chilled, but the fever always made him nauseous.
"It's not as high as before," Roy said.
"Maybe he's through the worst of it."
Roy highly doubted that, but it didn't seem worth saying. "Do you have all the supplies you need there?"
"I think so."
"And you…know how to do this, right?"
"General, I lived with Granny and Winry for years, remember? I've helped out on plenty of surgeries. I mean…don't ask me to do surgery on him, but…yeah. I can make an IV."
Roy didn't generally think too hard about Al's time at the Rockbell Automail shop before coming to East City, because it inevitably led to thinking about Ed's time at the Rockbell Automail shop, spending a brutal year learning to make his new limbs function. Even now, the thought made him vaguely sad. But he supposed he was grateful for Al's knowledge.
Behind him, he could hear Al opening the kit and rummaging through it, finding what he needed to make the IV. Havoc had stopped gagging for now and was lying still, his sunken eyes closed.
"Jean?" Roy said softly, rubbing his shoulder. Havoc didn't say anything, but Roy heard his breathing change slightly. That could mean that Havoc was listening, or it could mean that he felt Roy touching him, or it could mean nothing at all.
"Jean, we're going to give you an IV, okay?" Roy continued. He had no idea if Havoc was hearing him, let alone understanding him, but talking Havoc through it made this whole process feel a little less violating. "Hopefully, it'll make you feel better. It'll make you less dehydrated, and maybe you'll be able to stop throwing up and get some sleep…."
There was the telltale sound of alchemy from behind him, and Al appeared at his side, holding a length of tubing attached to a pouch that Roy assumed contained saline. Roy shifted over to give Al some space. As gently as he could, he extricated Havoc's arm from the tub, rolling it so that his elbow faced up, and held it for Al. Thankfully, Havoc had ended up positioned so that his right arm was easiest to access - the arm that wasn't currently covered in track marks. Roy hadn't actually seen them, since Al had already bandaged them when he'd arrived, and the thought of it made him vaguely sick. If he felt that way, he couldn't imagine what the sight of them might do to Havoc, and he was thankful that they didn't have to move him to avoid using that arm.
"Okay, I hope this doesn't hurt," Al said gently. "Are you with me, Jean?"
Havoc's eyelids fluttered, a strip of white showing for a second before they slipped closed once more. That was more of a response than they'd had in a while, and Al smiled.
"Good. Here goes." Al tapped the inside of Havoc's elbow and found a vein, and Roy was simultaneously a little horrified and very thankful for the depth of Al's medical knowledge. Al deftly slipped the needle in.
There was a sudden, horrible gasp from Havoc, and for a second Roy thought he was going to throw up again. Havoc's eyes shot open, and Roy lost his grip on Havoc's arm as he wrenched backward, hitting the opposite side of the bathtub with a hollow thud.
"Jean-"
Roy broke off at the sound of Havoc's breathing, which was loud enough now to carry over his own voice. It was harsh, ragged, and far too quick, and Roy was all too painfully aware of the signs of a panic attack. Havoc's eyes were wide and wild, bouncing around the bathroom before they landed on the IV in his arm. His breathing sped up even more, and he fumbled at the needle with his other hand, ripping it out before Roy could move to stop him. The needle clattered to the floor of the bathtub, trailing the IV line behind it, but Havoc didn't seem to notice. He was still ripping at the crook of his elbow as he struggled to breathe, his ragged nails leaving long red marks in his pale skin.
Roy had had enough panic attacks to recognize one. It sometimes took a while, but he was pretty good at calming himself down, the same way he had on the drive through the desert. He'd seen the people around him have panic attacks too, and if he was being honest, he was also pretty good at dealing with that.
But Havoc was so out of it that Roy doubted any of his usual tricks would work. Havoc couldn't control his breathing, or center himself, or count slowly to ten. He didn't even know what was going on. He probably didn't know where he was.
Roy realized with a sick, sinking feeling that he had never seen Havoc have a panic attack. Not even when Lust had severed his spine. He had the feeling that he was watching a critical juncture in Havoc's life, that the withdrawal was going to shatter Havoc into a million pieces that couldn't be put back together. Havoc had been whole before, and now he was going to be damaged just like Roy was. And there was nothing that Roy could do.
Roy grabbed Havoc's hand without thinking. It was mostly just to keep him from tearing at his own arm - he had already gouged a bloody track in the crook of his elbow where the needle had been, and his fingernails were stained with blood.
Havoc tugged against Roy's grip, breathing still wild and gasping. Roy held firm.
"You're alright," Roy said gently. "You're okay. Stay with me, Jean. It was just an IV. We're not going to inject you with anything, okay? It was just an IV. We're trying to help you. You're safe."
"My-" Havoc whispered. Roy watched him with bated breath, not daring to speak. Havoc hadn't said anything in hours. "My arm-"
"It's okay," Roy whispered, still holding tight to Havoc's hand. "It's not the Zydrate. It's just an IV. We're hoping to make you feel better. We want you to get some rest. You're safe."
Havoc groaned. Roy could see his eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids, but he didn't seem to have the strength to open them. "Don'...don' put anything in me…."
"It's just saline," Roy said. "It'll help you feel better."
Havoc's breathing was slowly starting to slow down. He stopped pulling at Roy's hand, and let his arm go limp. He sank further into the bathtub, chin starting to tilt towards his chest.
"There you go," Roy whispered, not daring to let go of Havoc just yet. He didn't even want to - this felt like the only thing he could do to protect him. "Good job, Jean. You're alright."
Roy was talking to him. Havoc knew that much, at least. He thought that Roy might be talking to him about something important, and he also thought that he should probably be able to remember what it was.
His arm hurt. Everything hurt, but Havoc thought this was new. He was too weak to really turn his head, but he flicked his eyes to the side and found blood oozing slowly from a series of long scratches in the crook of his elbow. Had he done that? He didn't remember. He vaguely remembered the sensation of panic, but not where it had come from.
"Jean, can you hear me?"
Roy was talking to him again. Havoc tried to understand, he really did, but he only managed to catch his name. Still, he managed to glance over at Roy. The General seemed to be holding Havoc's hand, and he looked worried. More worried even than he had when he arrived, which was alarming. Havoc had the sick, certain sense that he'd done something wrong again, something to make Roy look like this. He wished he knew what it was, so he wouldn't do it again.
"Jean, we really need to try the IV again. We won't put it in until you know what's happening, but it really needs to stay in, okay? It's not Zydrate, I promise. It's just saline. You'll feel a needle, but it's just going to be saline, alright? It'll keep you hydrated. Can you understand me?"
Whatever Roy was saying was important, Havoc was pretty sure of that. But there were just so many words, and he was so tired, and everything Roy was saying was blurring into nonsense. The best he could manage was a blink.
Roy sighed, looking defeated, and Havoc had done the wrong thing again. He didn't want Roy to look like that, not because of him. Not when he was already making things so hard on him.
"Okay, we'll give it a minute," Roy said, and Havoc still didn't understand him, but he did understand the desperation in his tone. "We're trying to help, Jean. Do you understand?"
Roy was asking for a response. Havoc could tell by the look in his eyes, and he could hear the question in his voice even if he couldn't quite understand it. At the very least, he could do this.
"Yeah," Havoc managed. His voice wasn't much more than a whisper, but he caught Roy's eyes with his own, trying to convey his meaning.
"You're with me?" Roy asked, his face instantly relaxing, and Havoc smiled very slightly at his relief. "The IV is going to help you. You can understand me, right? You'll be okay when we put the IV in?"
"Yes," Havoc said again, a little stronger this time.
"I'm putting the IV back in now, okay? Remember, it's not Zydrate. You're safe."
Havoc nodded. Roy was definitely saying something calming, and Havoc trusted Roy. The meaning of the words were still unable to filter through Havoc's sick, addled brain, but if Roy wasn't worried, Havoc couldn't possibly be in danger, right?
And then Havoc felt a small prick in his elbow.
Roy was going to make him high. Roy was injecting him with Zydrate. Roy was going to start this whole process over, and there was nothing that Havoc could do.
Havoc swiped the needle out of his elbow, hitting Roy's hand in the process. He felt a sharp pain as it tore at his already damaged arm, but that didn't matter. He wasn't going to take Zydrate again. He wasn't going to let Roy give it to him.
"Stop." His voice was a high whine. "No-"
Havoc clamped a weak hand over his elbow, blocking any further access to his arm. He tried to curl in on himself, but at this point even the smallest movement gave him overwhelming nausea. He couldn't curl up too much without risking another round of vomiting.
The panic couldn't be helping either. He could hear the sound of his breathing, overwhelmingly loud, and his heartbeat was thudding way too fast. But god, he didn't want any more Zydrate, he had gotten out, they…they couldn't make him take it again….
Roy was saying something else now. He sounded like he was trying to calm Havoc down, but the words didn't really register. Havoc didn't trust that anymore anyways. Roy had given him something. He had drugged him. Havoc would never be safe again.
Havoc felt Roy's hand on his again, and now Roy mostly just sounded sad. Havoc felt a flash of guilt - he had done that somehow, hadn't he? He had disappointed Roy by not wanting the Zydrate.
But Havoc didn't know how to be any other way. He didn't know how to calm down. He didn't know how to recover. All he could do was curl up on the bottom of the tub and shake, and wish that he could understand what Roy was trying to say to him.
"Sorry," he whispered, and he thought he might be talking to himself but he wasn't completely sure. "I'm sorry."
Havoc felt Roy's hand on his, squeezing gently, and he wished that he could fall asleep and wake up when it was over. Maybe if he stayed here, and closed his eyes, and pretended long enough, it would work and he would, at least for a while.
It didn't. Havoc drifted in and out of awareness, not aware of much but the pain. After what seemed like a very long time, he heard someone talking to him. Al, this time.
"Jean? Can you understand me?"
Havoc found, much to his surprise, that he could. He still felt awful, stretched thin by the agonizing pain and the achy emptiness in his stomach, but at least for the moment he was processing a bit more. He risked a cautious nod, cracking his eyes open and turning his head as much as he was able. Roy and Al were both there, both of them looking exhausted and very, very worried.
"You can?" Roy said, sounding skeptical, and Havoc had a hazy memory of having this conversation once before. It hadn't ended well, and Havoc thought that it might have been his fault.
"Uh-huh," Havoc whispered. "Sorry."
"Where are we?" Roy asked, and now he sounded sort of hopeful. Havoc frowned.
"Xing?" He was pretty sure that Roy had asked him an easy question, but maybe he was wrong. Was there some sort of trick to it? Was he going to disappoint them again?
But Roy and Al exchanged sudden, relieved smiles, and Havoc allowed himself to relax, ever so slightly. He tried a smile back, but he didn't think it worked too well.
"Do you remember the IV?" Roy asked, and Havoc flinched despite himself. He remembered the needle pricking his arm, and at the time all he'd been able to think about was Zydrate. An IV…made sense, even if it felt next to impossible for Havoc to handle.
"You're very dehydrated, Jean," Al said gently, and Havoc knew that he must be right. He remembered throwing up, a lot, in and out of the periods of unconsciousness. He didn't remember drinking anything, or at least being able to keep anything down. And now that he was thinking about it, maybe dehydration was partially responsible for the horrible hollowed-out feeling that was all through his stomach and throat.
"Do you think you could try the IV again?" Al sounded hesitant, like he wasn't going to make Havoc do it if he didn't think he could. And that was hard, because Havoc really wasn't sure if he could. He knew he needed to, especially since the nausea still sitting in his stomach warned him against trying to drink.
Havoc didn't want to die. Even though he was very possibly the most miserable he had ever been in his entire life, he didn't want to die. Especially not in a foreign country, so far away from Rebecca. Al was making it sound like the IV was necessary to make that happen. So he…he would have to try.
Havoc nodded.
"Here's the IV," Al said patiently, bringing it into Havoc's field of view. Havoc was intimately familiar with the needle that allowed him to shoot up with Zydrate, and even now, with his blurry vision and pounding head, he could recognize that the IV was a little bigger. It wasn't the same, and it wouldn't feel the same.
It would make him feel better. It wouldn't make him feel high.
Havoc nodded again.
"Alright," Al said. "I'm putting it in now. Let me…um, let me know if you need me to stop or slow down. Okay?"
Havoc nodded one more time. Al slipped the needle in, and instantly, Havoc was consumed with flashbacks. He remembered shooting himself up the first time, when he wasn't sure how to do it yet and his hands were so shaky he'd been sure he was going to hurt himself. Each subsequent time had gotten easier. But the pain and fear had never fully gone away. The feeling of something foreign sliding into his arm had never really gotten easier to bear.
Havoc realized his breath had sped up against his will. He knew he wasn't getting enough oxygen, because black spots were starting to dance in front of his eyes. As everything seemed to now, this triggered a round of gagging. There was nothing to come up. He heard Al whisper something to him, but he couldn't make out the words over the rushing in his ears.
Al's hand on his shoulder. "It's just the IV."
It was just the IV. Havoc knew it was just the IV. That didn't make it any easier to stay calm. That didn't make it feel any less like Zydrate. Havoc wasn't in control here. Hadn't been for a long time.
"You'll be alright."
He would be alright. Even if it didn't feel like it, the IV was helping. The constant vomiting had completely sapped his strength. This would give him some of it back. Maybe he'd feel good enough to sleep. Really, truly sleep, not just pass out the way he had the past couple of hours.
"You're doing a good job."
Slowly, Havoc felt his breathing calm again. It still wasn't easy, not when the slightest movement reminded him that there was still a needle in his arm, but he could do it. He could do this, because he didn't have a choice, and he didn't want to die here.
It took a long time, but Havoc kept breathing until he felt something that was almost like being relaxed. Breathing deep and even didn't seem so hard now, not when he didn't think about…whatever he was supposed to not be thinking about.
God, he was exhausted. He was so tired that the hard enamel of the bathtub felt somewhat inviting. If he shifted just the right way, he'd find a comfortable position, and he could finally sleep….
Havoc turned, ever so slightly, and that was when he felt the pinching in the crook arm. The memory of Zydrate in his veins flashed through his mind, and no, that was wrong, he wasn't supposed to be doing that anymore, he was supposed to be safe, and before he could even form a thought there was a bloody needle in his fingers. Any thought of sleep was banished, and as the doze fell away Havoc remembered why there had been a needle in his arm.
"Oh no…." Roy's voice sounded small and hopeless, but it was nothing compared to what Havoc was feeling. This had been his last chance. He had managed to calm himself down, even though every second felt like hell, and it still wasn't enough. The second he let go, even a little bit, he'd been too weak. Too damaged.
Havoc wondered, for the first time, if he was too damaged to make it through this, if he'd broken enough that there would be no putting him back together.
"It's okay," Roy said from somewhere above him, but Havoc had always been able to tell when he was lying. Even if he hadn't known the General's tones inside and out, it wouldn't have mattered. It wasn't okay, because there was one thing that was going to save his life and Havoc simply couldn't handle it.
His eyes were closed, but he felt a tear slip down his cheek anyway. He was too weak to turn his head, or maybe just too tired, and he knew that Roy would see it. It was just one tear, but it felt like giving up. Just another thing that Havoc didn't have any control over.
