When Al had first gotten to the shack and found Havoc bleeding on the floor, he'd thought that had been the most frightening part. Then, it had been not knowing whether or not the alkahestry would save or kill Havoc. Then, Havoc had started throwing up and hadn't stopped and Al had a new benchmark, but he'd thought the IV would fix the problem and help Havoc turn the corner.
Now, watching Havoc unconscious and still throwing up, for hours, Al had given up waiting for the fear and worry to peak.
They'd spent a while struggling to get Havoc to understand that he needed to keep the IV in, but after a while, it had stopped mattering. He'd gotten sick enough that he was mostly unconscious, and he hadn't been able to even try to rip the IV out when he moved.
As horrible as it sounded, that had been something of a relief at first. Instead of trying to convince Havoc to let them keep the IV in, they had just been able to focus on rehydrating him. They'd continued to talk to him, just in case he was still in there somewhere and worried about what they were doing, but he stayed limp and still throughout the process. Al and Roy had gotten most of a bag of saline into him without issue, and his face had started to look a tiny bit less sunken.
But after a while, he'd started vomiting again. And that had been…that had been pretty much the end. Once he'd started throwing up, body still limp and eyes still closed, they hadn't been able to keep him hydrated fast enough. His skin had slowly lost all color again, and taken on the papery texture of extreme dehydration. Before, they'd been able to rouse him by tapping his cheek enough times, but now, he was so deeply unconscious there was nothing they could do to get any sort of response out of him. Al was basically reduced to keeping him as clean as possible and monitoring his pulse. That seemed like the only way he could help.
Al had been sitting on the lip of the bathtub for a while now - it was uncomfortable, but it seemed to bother him less than it bothered Roy, and he was also better with vomit. Behind Al, Roy was pacing around the small bathroom like a caged animal, and his footsteps and Havoc's labored breathing were essentially the only sounds in the room.
Al ran a hand through Havoc's hair. His fever was up again, and dry heat radiated off of him. That couldn't be helping with the dehydration either. Al had put a cool rag on the back of Havoc's neck earlier, and everytime it got too hot, he would run it under cold water again and replace it. He did that now. When Havoc had been slightly more conscious, it had seemed to help with the nausea. But now, that didn't really matter. Havoc wasn't nauseous, exactly. His body was just trying to turn itself inside out, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Even now, when he was completely unconscious, the vomiting wouldn't stop.
But still. It couldn't hurt to try to bring his fever down. Right? Al wasn't sure he had ever been this out of his depth.
"I'm not sure he's going to make it," Al said quietly. It was the first time either of them had said it out loud. He half-expected, or maybe half-hoped, for Roy to turn and snap at him not to think that way. Roy's shoulders stiffened, and he paused in his pacing, but when he turned towards Al, he just looked resigned.
"He needs a hospital," Al whispered. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to Roy, now. It didn't matter either way. If they'd taken him to a hospital earlier, he would have been promptly arrested, and Amestris' presence in Xing would have been exposed, and Ling's authority would have been called into question. And then, when it hadn't seemed a question of life or death, they'd made the choice without thinking.
Now, Al thought it was too late. Even if they did go against Havoc's wishes and tried to get him medical attention, he would probably die before they could get there.
Al growled, dropping his head into the hand that wasn't touching Havoc's shoulder. Havoc wasn't dead yet, and Al's mind was treading desperate circles trying to think of some way to keep him that way. He was afraid that Havoc was already too far gone, and that anything they thought of now would be too little, too late.
"I don't know what to do," Al finally said, still looking down, away from both Roy and Havoc. For the first time in a long time, he felt very, very young, and very much overwhelmed. He should be handling this better. Maybe if he was thinking more clearly, if he wasn't just panicked and upset, he'd be able to think of a solution.
Al closed his eyes, already feeling slightly guilty about his outburst. Roy was stressed, too, and he didn't need Al's worry added on top of his own.
"Sorry," Al said sheepishly. "I…I know that didn't help. I just…I'm not sure what to do."
"He needs Zydrate," Roy said. His voice was eerily calm, and as Al glanced up at him, his face was almost blank, focused on a point somewhere off in the distance.
"Sorry?" Al responded, for a moment sure that he'd heard wrong.
"He needs Zydrate," Roy repeated, his eyes leaving the imaginary point on the wall and focusing on Al.
For a second, it felt like Al had been punched in the gut. They'd put Havoc through all of this, all the pain and borderline torture of the withdrawal, only to put him right back on Zydrate? That…that was unfathomable.
Al forced himself to take a breath and really think about what Roy was suggesting. "You're…you're right," he said softly. "He can't survive the withdrawal. Not like this. With the stab wound, with the shape he was in to start with…his body can't handle quitting it all at once."
"I was ready to have to convince you," Roy said softly.
Al had the vague sense that he had done something wrong by not needing any convincing. That he had been too quick to…sell Havoc out, or something. But Roy was right. Havoc needed Zydrate. If they could get his body to stop fighting against itself for a little while, maybe they could get him stable again. Once he could keep down fluids and get some real rest, they'd be able to taper him off gradually.
"He isn't going to like it," Al said, looking down at Havoc's unconscious body. Even in sleep, Havoc's face was tight with pain, his skin pale and clammy-looking, his limbs twisted at painful-looking angles. As much as Havoc would hate having to be injected with Zydrate again, it must be better than this. Right?
"He…he won't like being dead either," Roy said. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. There was a long beat of silence, where Al simply wasn't sure what to say, and then Roy cleared his throat and continued. "Do you know…do you think it has to be actual Zydrate? Would the painkillers from the first aid kit work?"
Al didn't know much about how various drugs acted on the body, let alone how they interacted with each other. Because of this, he was nervous at the idea of introducing anything further to the mix, even though he was pretty sure that morphine and Zydrate were pretty much made of the same stuff.
"Is there a way for us to get Zydrate?" Al asked. "I don't really know much about this, but that might be what's easiest on him…."
Al realized he had started unconsciously rubbing Havoc's shoulder, like he was asking for preemptive forgiveness for what they were about to do. Havoc's skin felt warm still, but oddly dry, and he gave no reaction to the touch.
"He didn't come with any Zydrate, did he?" Roy asked. "When you first found him, I mean?"
Al shook his head. "I think he dosed up right before I arrived. But that was all he had."
"Oh."
Al realized he was backing himself into a corner. If they didn't have any Zydrate, and what they did have wouldn't serve as a replacement…it seemed like their only option was to go buy some. Al very much did not want to do that, but he figured Roy very much would not want to do it either. And he didn't want to spend any amount of time playing a game of chicken with the General, not when Havoc's life was on the line.
"I can go buy some," Al said. "I think…I think that's the only way."
"Are you-?"
"It can't be too hard," Al said, trying to keep his voice light. "And I speak more Xingese. I'll be fine. Just…take care of him, okay?"
Roy nodded slowly, looking as though he was wondering if he should fight over who was buying the Zydrate. As little as Al wanted to go out and buy Zydrate in a foreign country, he wanted to waste time even less. Before Roy could formulate a protest, Al waved, as lightly as he could manage, and left the bathroom, trying not to think too hard about what he was setting off to do.
Roy adjusted himself on the edge of the bathtub. Al had been gone well over an hour, and Roy was still feeling vaguely guilty over sending Edward's little brother off to find Zydrate. Still, even the thought of leaving Havoc made his breathing speed up. It was irrational, he knew, but part of him was sure that if he left Havoc even for a minute, he'd never see him alive again. He would stay here, Havoc would stay alive, and then Al would get back with the Zydrate and a fraction of this nightmare would fade.
But even then, it wouldn't really be better, just different. Havoc would be alive, yes, but Roy had seen the look in his eyes when he'd first arrived. This addiction had very nearly broken Havoc already, and probably would have broken most people. Havoc was one of the strongest men Roy had ever known, but everyone had their limit. Roy couldn't stop thinking that Havoc's limit might be one more dose of Zydrate.
Roy would do anything to save Havoc's life, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Life and death or no, Roy was betraying Havoc's trust by even considering giving him Zydrate. If Havoc was awake, he would tell Roy to forget it, that there was no way he would put that back in his veins.
But Havoc wasn't awake, and unless Roy did the worst thing imaginable, he wasn't ever going to wake up again. And that meant that Roy only had one option, because Havoc dying was simply unacceptable. Havoc might not ever speak to him again after this, but at least he'd be alive.
Roy hoped that their friendship would be the only cost, but he was very, very worried that the toll would be higher. With the help of the Zydrate, Havoc would survive, but Roy didn't know if he'd ever be the same.
"I'm sorry, Jean," Roy said miserably, placing his hand on Havoc's shoulder. Havoc obviously didn't respond, but Roy paused with his hand still on Havoc. Something…felt wrong, beyond the creeping feeling of dread that had hung around him ever since Havoc had fallen unconscious. There was something missing, and Roy narrowed his eyes and turned to look at Havoc, trying to pinpoint what it was.
The noise. Or rather, the lack thereof - the bathroom should be filled with the faint but audible sound of Havoc's breathing. But Roy couldn't hear…anything.
The silence was suddenly replaced with the sound of Roys' blood roaring in his ears, and he felt like he couldn't breathe himself.
Roy held the back of his hand to Havoc's lips. He didn't feel anything. He wished he had a small piece of glass he could use to check for breathing - they'd all carried them in Ishval to help determine whether or not it was worth bringing an injured soldier back to the base. The back of his hand wasn't as sensitive. Maybe Havoc was breathing, it was just too faint for him to feel. Maybe….
Roy snaked his hand under Havoc's blanket, placing it on his bare chest. He concentrated, praying he could feel the tensing of muscles that meant that Havoc was breathing still, hoping to feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat.
Nothing.
Roy and Al had manipulated Havoc into the bathtub together, and at the time, Havoc had felt so limp and heavy that Roy had wished for a third person. Now, adrenaline was coursing through Roy's body. He pulled Havoc out of the bathtub without any trouble, hardly aware of what had even happened. He laid Havoc out on the floor of the bathroom, only realizing when Havoc was flat on his back that he had accidentally ripped out the IV.
Roy crouched next to Havoc, laying his head on Havoc's chest. Roy's own heartbeat was thundering in his ears, and he knew there was a chance that it would drown out the sound of another very faint heartbeat. There wasn't much he could do about that.
But Roy didn't hear anything.
Every member of the military had to take a field first aid course at least once a year, so Roy knew how to do CPR. It had been drilled into him over the course of well over a decade. If Havoc did still have a pulse, and Roy started CPR, he was going to be sore as hell when he woke up. If he didn't have a pulse…well, the odds of Roy being able to save him were low. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.
Roy started doing chest compressions. He kept his elbows locked, and the adrenaline mostly stopped his hands from shaking. He tried not to think about the fact that this was Havoc. This was just…it was training, it was practice, he could ignore the stakes until it was all over, one way or another….
One of Havoc's ribs popped beneath Roy's hands. Roy gasped and almost stopped. But…that just meant he was doing this right, pressing down hard enough, and he couldn't stop now.
"Come on, Jean." Roy's voice sounded strangled, even to himself. This was more effort than he had expected. "Come on, Jean, stay with me, stay with me."
Roy hadn't exactly expected Havoc to respond, but the continued silence scared Roy nonetheless. It was stupid, he knew that, but he wanted the sound of his voice saying Havoc's name to mean something. If the CPR didn't save him, something else had to, and that was all Roy had left.
"Havoc, don't you dare die on me!" Roy could barely hear his own voice over the roaring in his ears.
No, that wasn't right. He couldn't order Havoc not to die anymore, not like…not like the last time. God, why was there a second time?
"Please," Roy begged, and he felt more than heard another crack as more of Jean's ribs gave way beneath the force of his hands. "Jean, wake up right now!"
He was yelling now, partially to drown out the sound of Havoc's ribs crunching in his chest, partially to fool himself into thinking that Havoc had some chance of hearing him.
"PLEASE," Roy screamed, feeling the tears start to well up in his eyes. A few hot droplets splashed onto his hands. Roy didn't have the energy to waste trying to keep them back, so he just let them fall as he continued pressing down on Havoc's chest.
Al had done illegal things in the past, always involving Ed. The forbidden transmutation, of course, and a few shady things that Ed had pulled during his brief tenure as the most flagrantly disloyal State Alchemist in Amestris. But he'd never done anything like buying Zydrate. It was definitely an emergency, and they didn't have another choice, but Al had still felt a bit strange.
Besides, he hadn't really known what to…do. The stakes were too high for him to worry about subtlety. Eventually, he'd asked enough people that they'd pointed him to a grimy-looking man on an even grimier street corner, and now Al was in possession of an amount of Zydrate that seemed awfully small for the money he'd spent on it.
He wondered if he was going to end up on some sort of Xingese registry. He didn't think so, since he hadn't given anyone his name, and he'd paid in cash, but that would certainly be humiliating.
Still, it was a problem for future Al. Right now, he needed to focus on getting Havoc the help that he needed.
Al scuttled back to the shack and opened the door, ducking inside and closing it quickly behind him, hoping no one was watching.
"GodDAMMIT, STAY WITH ME!"
Al froze in his tracks for an interminable second. That was Roy, screaming loudly enough that his words were audible from the doorway. He'd been at it long enough that his voice had a ragged edge, and Al hated to think how long that might have been.
He was too late.
Al was in the bathroom before he really knew what was happening, Zydrate still clutched in one hand. Havoc was stretched out on the bathroom floor, and Roy was frantically giving him CPR. It didn't seem to be working, based on all the yelling.
"Sir, sir!" The Zydrate dropped from numb fingers, and Al was kneeling down next to Roy and Havoc. "What happened?"
Roy looked at Al with panicked, empty eyes, and his rhythm faltered for a second. "I don't know…it just…stopped…."
A week ago, Al had never saved anyone's life with alkahestry, and now, it looked like he was going to have to do it twice. "I think I can save him," Al said. "Let me try."
The words seemed to wash over Roy without him registering their meaning. He didn't make any move to leave Havoc or stop the compressions.
"Sir! You need to give me some space."
"I-"
Al didn't know how long Havoc had been like this, but he knew he didn't have time to waste. He grabbed Roy's shoulder, meaning to just guide him away from Havoc's body. Roy resisted with a surprising amount of strength. Al shoved, and Roy lost his balance, tipping into the corner of the tiny bathroom. There was a split second where he still didn't seem to know what was happening, and scrambled for Havoc's body again. But then he caught himself, and sat down hard on the ground.
"Just give me a second," Al whispered, not exactly sure if he was comforting Roy or talking to himself.
Al breathed in, breathed out, focused his energy. He wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with Havoc, so he let his intuition guide him. He didn't need to completely repair Havoc, just get his heart started. Get him stable again. He had the Zydrate now, and that would do the rest. Once Havoc was stable, they could give him that, and then they'd be able to hydrate him. He could get some rest. He'd be okay.
Al focused on the damage to Havoc's heart and lungs, fixing what he could and then pouring energy into them, hoping to get them restarted. Hopefully the CPR would have kept Havoc from getting too oxygen-deprived in the interim period before Al had arrived - Al didn't think he'd be able to repair brain damage.
After a long, quiet minute, Al was pretty sure he had done all he could. He sat back slightly, realizing only then that he was shaking. He couldn't have that. If he was shaking, it would make it too difficult to tell if Havoc had a pulse. Al tried to take a deep breath, but he was exhausted, and scared, and he couldn't get his hands to still. With trembling fingers, Al reached for Havoc's neck, and then he heard Havoc breathing.
"Oh," Al said quietly, his hand falling to his side. He had been kneeling beside Havoc, but now he let himself slump sideways into a sitting position. "He's…he's alive."
"...Alive?" Roy's voice sounded terrible, hollow and scratchy from the screaming. Al glanced up, at the corner where he'd pushed Roy. The General was still sitting on the bathroom floor, staring fixedly at a spot somewhere on Havoc's hand. If he hadn't spoken, Al would have thought that he wasn't processing anything around him.
"He's breathing," Al said simply, taking Havoc's wrist in his hand and feeling the thin pulse beneath his fingers.
Roy looked up, finally. His eyes still looked very far away, but they were at least focused on Al. He nodded, and something inside them cleared a bit. "Good."
"But…but we need to give him the Zydrate," Al whispered, feeling like he was betraying Havoc simply by saying it. "I can't…I didn't heal him. I just restarted his heart. He won't be stable for long."
"I know," Roy said, and Al found himself slightly taken aback by the pain and anger packed into those two words. Roy cleared his throat, then continued. "Help me pick him up."
Havoc didn't know how long he'd been…asleep, or unconscious, or whatever he'd been, but it must have been a while. He was lying on something soft again, instead of the cold ceramic of the bathtub, and he actually felt…better. The horrible nausea was gone, or at least lessened, and the achy hollowness of dehydration wasn't so prominent anymore. Now that he thought about it, the pain also seemed less bad, or maybe just less noticeable.
That couldn't be right. The last thing he remembered was pain so intense that he thought he might die of it, and that feeling wasn't just going to disappear. Still, Havoc had to wonder if it really mattered. He felt better. Wasn't that the important part? He almost just enjoyed it and went back to sleep, but a tiny, suspicious corner of his brain kept him from slipping away.
This strange, artificial peace, the lack of pain, Havoc knew those feelings. His eyes shot open, the tranquility vanishing in a wave of panic.
"Am I high?" he demanded. His voice sounded thin and dreamy, and Havoc struggled furiously against the effects of the drug, willing himself to get louder. Maybe this was all in his imagination, this couldn't be happening to him, not with Roy and Al here. "Am I high?"
Someone floated into view. Havoc recognized smudgy black hair and tired eyes. Roy. Havoc turned towards him imploringly, wishing more than anything that Roy would tell him it wasn't true.
"Am I high?" Havoc whispered. "Am I high?"
"Are you feeling alright?" Roy asked. Havoc thought his voice sounded strained, but it was a bit hard to be certain - everything still felt so far away. "You've been asleep for a while, and you…you were in pretty bad shape…."
Those words meant nothing to Havoc. They weren't an answer. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his fuzzy thoughts.
"Answer me," he croaked. "Am I high?"
'Jean, we didn't have a choice-"
"Am I high?"
"Yes," Roy said sadly. "I'm sorry. We thought you would die if you kept withdrawing. We weren't sure what else to do."
Roy put a hand on Havoc's shoulder, clearly intending to be comforting. It made Havoc feel like he might be sick. He was angry at Roy - Roy had given him Zydrate against his will. He didn't want Roy to touch him. He was guilty - he was high now, and that meant he didn't deserve comfort from anyone.
Havoc shrugged off Roy's hand. He wasn't strong enough to push Roy away, but thankfully, Roy seemed to get the message. He snatched his hand back and backed up a step.
Havoc wondered if he would die like this. It seemed possible. Likely, even. He'd tried to quit, and it hadn't worked. He'd just ended up hooked again, too weak to even make the choice to refuse. Maybe he would never be able to get off Zydrate, and at that point, he wasn't really sure he wanted to keep on living anyways.
Havoc closed his eyes softly. The drugs were threatening to pull him back under, and even with this much going on, he knew in the back of his mind that he needed rest. Maybe when he woke up - if he woke up - this would all be over.
The expression on Havoc's face when Roy had told him he was high would probably haunt Roy forever. Fuck, he had just looked so broken, and not even just that but also hollow, like a cleared-out shell of a person. Roy didn't want to give up on Havoc just yet, but it wasn't the kind of look he was sure Havoc would be able to come back from.
That's what he'd thought when Havoc had been told that he would never walk again too. Somehow, incredibly, he'd bounced back from that, and Roy had learned never to underestimate Havoc. But by now, they'd both surely run out of luck. If Havoc hadn't broken last time, he would now, and Roy would blame himself.
Roy both dreaded and longed for periods when Havoc was more awake. With the same sick satisfaction brought by picking at a scab, Roy wanted to be able to confirm for himself, one way or another, whether or not Havoc had broken. It was too early to tell, and Havoc was probably too high anyway, but Roy wouldn't let that stop him. He didn't know whether he was just wallowing in his guilt, or clutching at false hope, and he doubted he ever would.
As it turned out, it didn't matter. Havoc rarely woke. The Zydrate calmed his system enough that he could finally sleep, and that was mostly what he did. Al managed to get the IV back in his arm, which made Roy feel even guiltier, but Havoc either didn't notice or didn't care.
As the dose wore off, Havoc's sleep turned more restless, and Roy winced at the lines of pain growing around his eyes. He and Al had decided to wait as long as they could before each successive dose of Zydrate, as well as keep each dose as small as possible. Havoc would likely end up in a perpetual state of near-withdrawal that Roy was sure would be extremely uncomfortable, but it would be the fastest way to get him completely clean. And it had to be better than the sudden, extreme withdrawal that had nearly killed Havoc the last time.
Not nearly. The withdrawal that had killed Havoc. Roy tried to keep that firmly locked in his mind as he readied Havoc's next dose, the needle feeling like a weapon in his hand. Roy's stomach turned at the thought of sliding it into his friend's arm, and for a moment he had to swallow against rising nausea.
As gently as he could, he pulled Havoc's blanket off his arm, turning it so his inner elbow was accessible.
"Don't." Havoc's fingers closed around Roy's wrist, halting the needle in midair. God, he was weak. Roy froze, still holding the needle.
"I didn't know you were awake," Roy whispered. "Go back to sleep, Jean."
"No," Havoc whimpered.
His hand stayed locked around Roy's wrist. His grip was so weak that Roy knew he easily could have broken it - all he would need to do was pull away. But he couldn't bring himself to do that.
"I have to give you this," Roy said softly. He didn't exactly know why he was bothering to reason with Havoc - as hard as this was to watch, Roy knew Havoc's mind was pretty much gone. He likely wouldn't remember this conversation in a few days. But still, he just looked so scared….
"Don't," Havoc whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Jean, I'm sorry, but…I have to. You'll die if I don't."
Havoc's eyes filled with some unidentifiable emotion. He shook his head slightly. "Just don't," he pleaded. "Don't. Please."
Roy couldn't tell if he understood the stakes, and was saying that he would rather die than stay on the drug, or if he simply didn't want to be on Zydrate anymore. Either way, he didn't like it. He didn't want this.
The needle shook in Roy's hand.
"Hey, what's going on?" Al's voice came from the doorway. "I thought I heard voices, is…is Jean awake…?"
Roy heard Al come in a few steps and then stop, presumably taking in the scene. Havoc's pleading eyes, the Zydrate in Roy's hand.
"Give it to me," Al said, coming up behind Roy.
"No," Roy whispered. "I can-"
"Don't." Havoc's protests were hardly a breath.
Roy swallowed past a lump in his throat. His mouth was uncomfortably dry. "Jean, I-"
"Let me," Al said firmly. Roy couldn't exactly say he gave Al the needle. But he didn't even try to hold onto it as Al gently removed Havoc's fingers from his wrist, and then tugged the needle from Roy's hand.
"I know this is hard," Al said to Havoc, gently turning his arm over. "But this is the only way you'll see Rebecca again. She wouldn't want us to let you die."
Havoc didn't say anything, but his eyes were still full of a horrible, numb sort of panic. He didn't move again, but Roy saw him flinch as Al put the needle in his arm. His eyes closed, and Roy wasn't sure if he'd drifted off or if he just wanted them to think that.
Either way, it was probably for the best. Roy hated how much he was sleeping, and there were times where he'd panicked, thinking Havoc was dead again, but at least he didn't have to deal with everything. Maybe he felt better when he was asleep.
Al put the needle down, backing away from the bed. "We can give it a bit longer this time. Before the next dose."
"I'm sorry," Roy said quietly. He didn't really want to look at Al, or at Havoc, so he selected a spot on the floor and looked at that.
"Don't be." Al sounded awfully sure of himself, and Roy could hear that Al genuinely didn't blame him. That didn't matter, because Roy blamed himself for not being tougher, smarter, faster…. He should be able to better handle this situation, or he should have been able to somehow avoid the situation in the first place. He shouldn't have to be injecting Havoc with Zydrate at all, much less making Al do it. He just wanted this to be over.
