A/N - So sorry this took so long to get posted! I've been on vacation, and very busy with work. But don't worry - the whole thing is already written, there's no chance of it getting abandoned. There's going to be two more chapters after this one! Thanks for reading!
Hughes watched his friend push himself to his feet and clenched his fists beneath the table. Mustang could do this, he had to do this, it was just a little wine.
But he hadn't eaten a single bite of his dinner, and he'd said he'd been nauseous for over a day. Hughes had come to realize, from painful experience, that when Mustang said he was nauseous, it was better not to make him put anything substantial in his stomach. He'd only end up throwing it up, which would make him miserable and hard to deal with. Hughes wasn't sure what would happen if Mustang tried to drink wine, but he didn't think it would be pretty.
Across the table, Riza urgently whispered something into Mustang's ear. Hughes watched, a little upset. He should be sitting with them, he knew exactly how to handle Roy when he was like this, god knows he'd done it plenty of times before.
But it wasn't him sitting with Mustang, it was Hawkeye, so he just had to hope that she knew what to say.
Mustang rose unsteadily to his feet and raised the glass (left-handed). Hughes winced slightly, hoping no one would notice. Was Grumman observant enough to remember that Mustang was right-handed? He had no idea. Once again, all he could do was hope for the best. Around him, the company was standing and raising their own glasses. Hughes joined them.
Mustang cleared his throat and raised his voice as well as he was able. "To Aerugo and Amestris," he said, and lifted the glass to his lips.
Hughes shrugged internally. It could have been worse. The toast was a bit short, but it was far better than the rambling nonsense he'd feared. Riza had come through. Now, all Mustang had to do was drink the wine and keep it down.
Mustang downed the wine in one gulp, like a shot. Hughes suppressed a groan, and looked around at the other people at the table. The Amestrians looked confused, but the Aerugan diplomats nodded and raised their own glasses. One by one, they all gulped the ceremonial wine, nodding and smiling at this odd Amestrian custom. Hughes chuckled softly and drank his own wine, setting the glass down on the table and looking back at Mustang.
His friend was still standing, clutching the back of his chair and swaying slightly as he stared determinedly at the floor. Hughes knew that look, and it meant trouble. Even from here, he could see the muscles in Mustang's throat working as he fought to suppress his painfully high gag reflex.
The Amestrians and the Aerugans began streaming towards the door, chatting quietly among themselves. Hughes stayed behind, skirting around the table until he could get to Mustang. Riza stood beside him, looking worried and slightly confused.
Hughes didn't have time to explain the situation to her. There were still Aerugans in the room, he couldn't have Mustang throwing up in front of the foreign dignitaries.
He made it to Mustang's side and latched onto his uninjured shoulder. He leaned forward and spoke quietly into Mustang's ear, low enough that only Mustang (and possibly Riza) could hear him.
"Come on, Roy, don't throw up just yet. You can do it, I know you can…. Just a little longer, Roy. They're almost gone."
Mustang gagged slightly and Hughes moved his hand to his friend's back and began rubbing it in gentle circles. "You can do it, Roy, come on…."
Hughes shot a frantic glance at the door, where the last Aerugan was exiting. The Amestrians were gone too.
Moving quickly, Hughes looped his arm around Mustang's waist and used his other hand to grab Mustang's left wrist. Before Mustang could protest, or trigger his gag reflex, Hughes was already dragging him across the room.
"I've got you, Roy," he said, heading for a potted plant on the wall. It wasn't too far, Mustang could make it, surely. "Just hold on a little longer, 'kay?"
He heard Mustang gag again, and quickened his pace slightly. He was dimly aware of Riza hovering around him, but he ignored her. It was his turn to help Mustang, she'd gotten him through the dinner and the least he could do was stop his friend from throwing up all over the ceremonial room.
Mustang tugged his left hand free of Hughes' grip and raised it to his mouth. Beneath Hughes' other hand, he felt the muscles of Mustang's back convulse. He knew he had a matter of seconds.
"Come on, just a little further," Hughes said. "Just hang on another second, please…."
He thrust his friend forward the last few steps, then put a heavy hand on his shoulder, forcing him to kneel. Mustang dropped quickly to his knees, wrapping his left hand around the ceramic edge of the pot. His knuckles were white, hand shaking. Hughes moved his hand to Mustang's back, knowing that he hated this part and that his presence was the only thing that would make it a little easier.
Hughes felt Mustang's back tense again, and he retched. He brought most of the wine up in a single, sickening movement. Hughes rubbed Mustang's back in careful motions as his friend sucked in a few panicked breaths and then began to cough up more of the wine.
"You're alright, it's almost over, you'll feel so much better when this is done," Hughes said absentmindedly, just trying to remind Mustang that he was there.
Riza moved to kneel beside Mustang, and she put a hand on his uninjured shoulder. She watched as Mustang continued to retch painfully, vomiting up occasional mouthfuls of wine or stomach acid. She pressed her shoulder up against his, taking some of his weight so he didn't need to expend so much energy on simply staying upright.
"I don't...want this anymore…." Mustang finally gasped, panting as he tried to recover his breath.
"I know you don't, but you're gonna be alright," Hughes said.
Riza looked up at Hughes with wide, panicked eyes. "Is he going to be alright?" Riza mouthed.
Hughes nodded. He had seen Mustang throw up plenty of times. He always acted like this, completely miserable and pathetic, but it had no bearing at all on his eventual recovery. As much as Mustang insisted he was never drinking again, or declared he had moved into the bathroom, he was always fine as soon as he had gotten some fluids into him and was properly distracted.
Riza frowned slightly and looked back at her superior officer. His stomach had finally seemed to calm down, and now he was simply leaning over the potted plant and trembling as he fought to get his breath back.
Hughes smiled broadly. "Hey, you did a really good job, buddy. I thought for sure you were gonna throw up in front of all those Aerugans, but you didn't. I'm really proud of you."
He ruffled Mustang's hair gently. Mustang still looked thoroughly miserable, but he was shaking a little less and he smiled at Hughes' praise.
"You pulled it off," Hughes said happily, already beginning to breathe a little easier. Now, all that remained was to get Mustang through the night. There were a few meetings the next morning, but they shouldn't be too hard to bluff their way through. Even as bad as Mustang was shaping up to be, the meetings didn't actually require talking to anyone. They would get through this, despite all odds.
Beside him, Riza also seemed to relax a little, releasing some of the tension they'd had ever since realizing quite how bad Mustang was. True, he was still bent over a plant, heaving slightly with every ragged breath, but they didn't have to fool anybody else. Now, they could just focus on making him feel better.
Hughes got to his feet and hauled Mustang up after him. He released his friend and eyed him carefully, making sure he was steady on his feet. Mustang swayed disconcertingly, and Hughes took his left elbow to support him.
"Let's get you back to your office, okay, Roy?" Hughes said to Mustang. He turned back toward Riza. "Is that gonna be a good place to spend the night?"
Riza nodded hesitantly. "Yes…no one should come in, we can lock the door…."
"Great," Hughes said. He turned to Mustang, whose head was drooping down onto his chest. Hughes shook him lightly, alarmed and trying not to show it.
"Roy?" Mustang hauled his head up and blinked weakly at Hughes, but didn't answer. Hughes figured that this was the best he was going to get.
"Are you tired?" Hughes asked Mustang, hoping to get an answer. Mustang blinked slowly at him in response, then nodded once.
"You can sleep on the couch, sir," Riza said from behind them. She stepped forward and began to lead the way out of the room.
Mustang let his eyes slide closed, and Hughes followed Riza, taking as much of Mustang's weight as he could. Mustang shuffled forward slightly, and Hughes was thankful that he didn't have to drag his friend through the hallways of Eastern Command. Even though most of the soldiers were no doubt gone by now, there were sure to be some stragglers. Mustang looked horrible, pale and sweaty with dark purplish black circles underneath his eyes. But at least he was walking on his own.
Mustang stumbled along beside Hughes, no longer bothering to keep his head from sinking to his chest. He was just so tired, and he could barely keep his eyes open and his feet moving. His mouth tasted like stomach acid and wine, and he was still nauseous enough that he was worried he would start dry heaving again if he moved wrong. His head was throbbing weakly, it was easier to just rest it like this, it didn't hurt so bad if he kept his eyes closed….
Riza said something to him. He couldn't make out what it was. She repeated it. He managed to lift his head off his chest and peer weakly at her. Her eyes were concerned. He blinked slowly, trying to prove to her that he was listening.
"Sir, are you cold?" she said gently. "You're shaking."
Mustang closed his eyes, trying to figure out what she was saying so he could answer. He swallowed hard, wishing everything hurt a little less, that the world felt a little less spinny. He wasn't even sure if he was cold or not. He might be very hot, all he knew was that his skin felt wrong.
He looked blearily down at his hands, and Riza was right, they were trembling pretty badly. So maybe he was cold after all.
"Yeah," he finally said, impressed that he had managed to follow a train of thought all the way to its conclusion.
Riza patted him gently on the shoulder. "We'll try and get you some blankets once we get to your office."
Mustang nodded, and they kept stumbling forward. Hughes was at his side, he had a hand on his back and one on his arm. Mustang tried not to lean on him too much, but it was hard. He was just so sleepy, and his arms and legs felt weak and heavy. Everything hurt.
"Can we...rest for a minute?" he finally asked. The world was swirling dangerously, pulsing in and out of focus, and he was a little afraid if he didn't sit down he was going to pass out.
"Yes," Riza said. "Major Hughes, see if you can help him sit down…."
Mustang felt his shaky legs start to give way beneath him, and he clutched frantically at Hughes.
"No," Hughes said. "We're...we're not technically supposed to be here, we can't just be found wandering the hallways. We need to get to his office."
"But…"
"Roy, do you think you can make it to your office?" Hughes whispered. "It's only another minute or two. Please, Roy, come on, you can do it."
"I…" The ground tilted beneath Mustang, and he reeled weakly against Hughes. He felt Hughes' arms go around him, taking some of his weight. Mustang willed the dark spots away from his vision and focused on keeping his knees from buckling.
"Come on, Roy, you can do it-"
"Major." This was Riza's voice, sharp. "Can't you see he needs rest? He's going to faint, you need to let him sit down-"
"And if we get discovered this whole thing is up! He can keep going, can't you Roy?"
Mustang nodded, but he had already forgotten the question. He grasped desperately at the front of Hughes' uniform, trying to stay on his feet. He felt Hughes' arm wrap around him more securely, taking more of his weight, but he still wasn't sure he would be able to stay upright.
"Come on, buddy, only a little bit farther-"
"Major, he needs to rest-"
"You're doing fine-"
"Sir, are you alright?"
His friends' voices washed over him as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other. He was swaying alarmingly, but there were hands supporting him and he could make it, Hughes was telling him that he could make it.
After what seemed like an eternity, they stopped moving and he heard a door open. His head was still sunk on his chest, and he made no effort to look up.
Hughes prodded him forward, and Mustang suppressed a groan as he shuffled into the room. He let Hughes steer him onto a couch, where he collapsed gratefully. Above him, Hughes sighed in relief.
"Nice job, Roy." He felt Hughes' hand ruffle his hair again. "Get some sleep, huh?"
Mustang looked blearily up at Hughes and nodded. He would sleep, and everything would seem better in the morning. If only he could stop shivering….
Riza looked at Mustang, grey-faced and barely conscious, and fought the urge to put a bullet in Hughes' shoulder. Mustang was clearly exhausted, in pain, and near delirious. Hughes had pushed him to the limit by making him walk all the way to his office without a rest. Now, Mustang was breathing heavily and barely responding to either of them. Sweat stood out on his forehead, but he was shivering violently.
Riza settled for a disapproving shake of her head and decided to do something about the Colonel's shivering. She turned to Mustang, not trusting herself to speak civilly to Hughes.
"Sir, I'm going to find some blankets. Will you be alright until I get back?"
Mustang's eyes flickered open and he stared blankly in her general direction. She repeated herself, earning a vague nod from Mustang and a dirty look from Hughes. She smiled at the former, ignored the latter, and set off to get the bedding.
Riza came back into the office without bothering to knock. Hughes had drawn up a chair by Mustang's couch, and as she came in, she found him pushing Mustang's sweaty hair out of his eyes.
"You're gonna be okay, Roy," he said. Mustang didn't really seem to be listening, but Hughes said it anyway. Despite herself, Riza felt some of her anger dissipate.
Some, but not all. Mustang wasn't going to be okay, not if Hughes kept convincing him to push himself harder and go further for their deception. But for the first time, Riza realized that Hughes was likely just as worried as she was.
Riza cleared her throat awkwardly, and Hughes finished brushing Mustang's hair back and turned to her.
"We should be alright here, at least for a while," Riza said. "The building should be mostly empty at this point, although one of us should go around in an hour or two just to check. He should be able to sleep here."
Riza walked slowly to the sofa Mustang was sitting on and knelt beside him. "Hey," she said softly. He managed to focus on her, but it took an alarmingly long time.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" he said quietly. Riza made an almost imperceptible sound in the back of her throat. She hadn't realized he still knew who she was.
"Colonel," she said. She saw his eyes drifting away from her again, so she reached out and took his hand, trying to help remind him that she was still there. 'Do you think you could sleep for a little bit? Why don't you lie down?"
He shook his head firmly.
"Sir," she said patiently, sure he had misunderstood the question, "why don't you try to get some rest? We should be able to stay here for a while."
"Can't," he said, voice weak.
"You can't get some rest?"
"Too…" She felt his hand shift slightly under hers as he fought for the words. "Too...everything hurts too much…."
Riza felt her stomach tighten in sympathy. The Colonel was greyish with pain. She didn't even want to think about what the fever was doing to his body at this point, and he had the wound itself on top of it. He still looked completely exhausted, but no wonder he wouldn't be able to get any actual sleep. His best chance at getting some rest would probably be if he managed to pass out.
"I can get you some medicine," Riza said. "It'll bring your fever down for a little while, and help your shoulder some. Would you like that?"
He shook his head. Riza frowned slightly. "You don't want that?"
"Can't swallow it."
Riza looked at him sharply, concerned. If he couldn't even keep down water…. But she needed to try. "Sir, please, just try it. You'll feel better if you can get some sleep, I promise."
Mustang looked rather unconvinced, but he didn't protest again. Riza took the opportunity to duck out of the office without speaking to Hughes, and went in search of medicine for Mustang.