Lieutenant Hawkeye was distracted. Breda could tell because he'd been standing in front of her for three solid minutes without her noticing. She was reading the same sentence over and over again, a blank look on her face. Her mind was obviously somewhere else. He couldn't blame her, he supposed. Everyone was grieving. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had been such a constant presence in Colonel Mustang's office, even when it was just over the phone. The man hadn't been discriminatory in his glee about his daughter. He often told Colonel Mustang to pass the receiver to the nearest person so that he could brag to a new ear. The man was positively ebullient, and he had accosted everyone who worked in Colonel Mustang's office on multiple occasions. The special thing about him was that no matter how low your rank was, no matter how many people he had spoken to that day, he never forgot your name. Breda was a background person, and he knew it very well. He liked it that way. Nonetheless, the Lieutenant Colonel never failed to greet him, and in all his years of knowing Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Breda had never once seen him forget a person's name. He was the last person anyone would expect to be a target. He was just too good of a person. But then, Breda supposed, that was the way it was. The good men died, and the bad men lived on. Breda sighed. Though that doesn't make it any easier to cope with. The sigh had alerted Lieutenant Hawkeye, though, and she looked up as if returning to reality from a far away, and somewhat unpleasant, land.
"Breda. How long have you been standing there?"
"About three minutes, Lieutenant." Riza put the document down.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I was distracted. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want to disturb you, Lieutenant." His expression grew worried. "Are you all right, Hawkeye? You don't seem your normal self."
"No one's really their normal self right now, Second Lieutenant. Although you're right, I should be more attentive to matters at hand." She straightened up in Mustang's chair. "So what did you need, Breda?"
"Just a little concerned about Second Lieutenant Havoc, Lieutenant." Riza looked around the room.
"Is he still not here?"
"No, Lieutenant. And if he were sick he'd have called in by now." Riza stared at Breda for a moment.
"What are you saying, Breda? Do you think Havoc's in danger?" Breda shifted uncomfortably.
"Perhaps… from himself, Lieutenant." Riza's eyes widened.
"You don't think-"
"I don't think he'd go that far, Lieutenant, but… well, he's already addicted to cigarettes. I don't want to see him get addicted to anything else. With all due respect, he's too valuable a soldier, and too good a friend, to lose to substance."
"You're right about that, Breda, but do you really think that Jean would do that?" Breda shifted again, but it was Falman who spoke.
"He was quite shaken yesterday, Lieutenant Hawkeye. We all were, of course, but he seemed to take it particularly hard." Riza furrowed her brow.
"I didn't think Havoc would be so devastated. I mean, it's certainly a huge blow, and it's not going to be taken lightly by anyone, but I wasn't aware that Havoc would be so affected. I didn't know that he and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes were that close."
"Um, I think it may have something to do with the time Havoc's father got sick," Fuery said timidly. All eyes turned to him. Riza spoke first.
"When was this?" Fuery looked down, reluctant to speak, but Riza was adamant. "Sergeant Major Kain Fuery, as your acting officer, in the interest of preserving Second Lieutenant Havoc's health and possibly life, I order you to tell me what you know. Now." Fuery snapped into a salute, and timidly obliged.
"It happened a couple of years ago, Lieutenant. Havoc's father caught a fairly rare disease, and the hospital in East City wasn't able to deal with it. He had to be transferred to Central Hospital. But Havoc's family isn't too well off," Fuery mumbled, embarrassed for his friend, "so he and his mother couldn't afford to stay in Central, much less pay the medical bills. Apparently Lieutenant Colonel Hughes found out about it, and insisted that Havoc and his mother stay at his house in Central. He also ended up paying all of the bills, just like that, not a thing expected in return. And, well, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes ended up essentially saving Havoc's father's life. I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but under the circumstances…" Fuery trailed off. Hawkeye, Breda, and Falman had listened in shock. Even Breda hadn't known about this.
"How did you…" Riza's voice faded away.
"I was visiting my little sister," Fuery replied. "She had broken her leg, and I ran into Havoc in the hallway." Riza was silent for a moment, then she stood up.
"Come on," she said, determination in her voice. "Let's go pay the Second Lieutenant a visit." The three men nodded, and followed her out of the office, her determined attitude infecting them all. After a short drive, they had reached Havoc's apartment, and Hawkeye turned to Breda.
"Are you sure that this is a legitimate possibility?" Breda nodded.
"Positive. I went to school with him. We sort of grew up together, actually. It's definitely legitimate." Riza nodded, and banged on the door with her fist.
"Havoc! This is First Lieutenant Hawkeye. Falman, Breda, and Fuery are here, too, so open this door right away, or we'll break it down." There was a moment of silence, and then a shuffling sound, a crash, a muffled curse, and more shuffling. The door opened a crack, and an overpowering stench of cigarette smoke came wafting out into the hallway. Riza didn't let that bother her, though. She placed one hand on the door and shoved it open, nearly knocking Havoc over. "Search," she shot over her shoulder to the men flanking her. They all nodded and fanned out into the apartment. Riza planted herself in front of Havoc, who was looking around in confusion.
"Hey! Hawkeye, what's the deal? What is all this? What do you want? Can't I skip a day of work if I want?"
"Not without calling in sick, you can't. Just what were you doing, Second Lieutenant?" Havoc gaped at her.
"Nothing! What do you mean what was I doing? What's going on here? And why are they going through all my stuff?" Havoc demanded, indignant.
"Just a hunch, Second Lieutenant," she said. Havoc's eyes grew wide.
"Look, Hawkeye, I can tell you right now that I'd rather die than betray-"
"Oh don't be silly, Havoc. We know you're not a traitor," Riza snapped.
"Lieutenant," said Breda, straightening up. He'd removed a corner of Havoc's table by merely pulling on it, and it had come off to reveal a hollow in the leg. Havoc's face went white as Breda lifted up a small black wallet. He opened it and dumped the contents onto the table next to a glass and an empty liquor bottle. Several needles fell out, as well as two small syringes and a little packet full of white powder. All activity in the room had ceased, and now Havoc slowly sank into the closest chair, face pale and hands shaking. Riza stared at him for a long moment, and then looked pointedly at Breda, who shook his head.
"It hasn't been used," he said, "but it was replaced hastily. The corner wasn't fully secured." Riza looked back down at Havoc, who was sitting with his face in his hands, trembling, silent.
"Havoc."
He didn't answer her.
"Havoc," she said again. He remained silent. Breda's hands had balled into fists, and he was clenching and unclenching his jaw, trying to remain calm. It didn't work. He stalked over to where Havoc was sitting. The movement caused the trembling man to look up, and Breda took the opportunity to punch him in the face as hard as he possibly could. Havoc flew backwards, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting in, and very nearly crashing directly into Hawkeye. However, he remained silent as he got to his hands and knees, and wiped away the thick stream of blood running from his nose onto his hardwood floor. Breda grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. The powerful man grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him.
"Just what the hell were you thinking? You told me you were past all that, you jackass! You were past all that! What the hell did you think you were doing? What would your parents say, huh? What would they think of you? Did you even think about how devastated they'd be if you went back to that life? Did you even consider them at all?" Havoc just looked away. Breda punched him again, but held onto him. "You didn't even care, did you? Didn't give a rat's ass. Just wanted to trip away your sorrows. Jackass. Coward! What would Hughes think of you now?" At this, Havoc did respond. He punched his old friend with all his might, knocking him back and down, and he yelled at him.
"Hughes is dead!" Breda laughed wryly and wiped the trickle of blood off his face.
"Yeah, he is. And you're going to shoot up to fix that? Or are you actually going to do something with your life?"
"He's dead, and it's my fault!" Havoc screamed, tears suddenly streaming down his cheeks, mingling with the blood still running from his nostrils. "I owed him my life! You don't know anything about this! I owed him my life!"
"Yeah, I know about it," said Breda, getting to his feet. "Your dad got sick and had to come to Central, and you couldn't pay, so Hughes took you and your mom in and paid the bills."
"He saved his life," Havoc said, still screaming. "He saved my father's life!"
"Yeah," said Breda, "he was a good man, Hughes. Always happy to help, and never asked anything in return. And you're going to thank him for what he did for you by throwing your life down the drain? Ha! I knew you were stupid, Jean, but I didn't think you were a complete asshole. Guess I was wrong."
"I owe him my life!" Havoc had lunged forward and grabbed Breda's lapels. "I owed him my life, Heymans! It should have been me in that phone booth! I had less to lose! He saved my father! Because of him, I have a father! And now his daughter has to grow up without one! Tell me, is that fair? Is that right? It should have been me! I owed him my life, and it should have been me!" Havoc collapsed into great, heaving sobs. Breda stood motionless, jaw set against the tears he felt rising in his own eyes.
"Yeah," he said, voice raw with emotion. "You do owe him your life. So use it to do what he can't do now. Use it to save the lives he can't save anymore. Use it to make sure that no one else's little girl has to grow up without a father. But whatever you do, Jean, by God, don't throw it away on drugs!" Breda grasped his friend's shoulders firmly, and straightened the sobbing man up. "Come on, Jean," he said, shaking the young man just a bit, "don't do this to yourself. Not again. Not now, when you have so much going for you. Come on. Pull yourself together." Havoc was still holding onto Breda's jacket, and he tensed, trying to steady himself, but he ended up leaning his head against Breda's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Breda also hung his head, and continued to try to comfort his distraught childhood friend.
Fuery, Falman, and Riza had watched this exchange silently. Riza glanced over at the two quieter men. Fuery had begun to silently cry, and Falman, having noticed, had placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. They watched as Havoc slowly regained his composure, and stood straight, with Breda's help. When Riza was sure that the sniffling sound was because of the bloody noses and not the tears, she exhaled sharply.
"Well. Now that that's taken care of," she said, "Breda, Havoc, go clean yourselves up. Havoc, take a shower and get dressed. You smell like stale cigarettes and bad alcohol, and that's no way to appear in the workplace, especially in the military. Fuery, Falman, clean up Havoc's apartment for him a bit, will you? I'll deal with this." She moved towards the table to get the drugs, but Havoc stopped her.
"No, Riza. Breda's right. I need to put this behind me once and for all. I'll get rid of them." He walked with purpose over to the table, picked up the packet of white powder, and opened it. He poured it out into the sink, and turned on the tap, letting the water run until all trace of the substance was gone. Then he bent every one of the needles, and broke both syringes. The wallet he ripped to shreds. He threw it all in the garbage, and then took out a hammer and nails and secured the hidden corner from the bottom. It would not be opened again.
Havoc stood up, and saluted Hawkeye.
"With your permission, Lieutenant, I think I'll go take that shower you ordered me to take now." Riza nodded.
"Don't take too long, Second Lieutenant. We don't want to wait around here all day, and you are coming back with us to Command."
"Yes, sir!" Havoc said. Riza cocked a miniscule smirk.
"Lieutenant will do fine, Havoc."
"Yes, Lieutenant," Havoc said, grinning. His teeth were bloody from where Breda had punched him. Riza shook her head.
"Well get going, then."
Twenty minutes later, Havoc's apartment looked less ransacked, and Havoc himself looked much less rugged. Riza led the way down the stairs to her car, and all five of them piled in and drove back to Command to finish what was left of the day. There was a much more jovial atmosphere in Mustang's office that afternoon, but Riza was even more troubled. She could only seem to think about that morning and her encounter with the Colonel. Her mind was racing at the thought that Mustang could be doing right then what they had just barely stopped Havoc from doing. It ate at her so much that she could barely focus from one word to the next. When the day finally ended, she left the office much earlier than usual, and raced over to Mustang's house, terrors bubbling up inside of her. She took the stairs two at a time, and knocked loudly on his door. She called his name, knocked, threatened, scolded, and knocked some more, but no matter what she did, he didn't answer. She stood back and considered the situation. He'd told her never to enter his house without his permission unless it was an emergency. But he had given her a spare key, just in case of said emergency. She took out her keys and considered some more, but then picked one out and inserted it into the keyhole. It fit, and turned smoothly. She took a deep breath, and opened the door.
The room was a wreck. The furniture was almost all overturned, there were books and papers everywhere, and above it all, there was the smell of alcohol. Riza stepped through the chaos to the hallway, and peered around the door to Mustang's bedroom. He was sprawled on his back in the same uniform he'd been wearing the day before. He was unshaven and unwashed, and the fingers of his right hand were curved gently about the slender neck of an empty whiskey bottle. There was another one in pieces by the wall. It looked as though it had been thrown.
The bedroom was chaos as well. Pictures had been strewn across the floor along with clothes and books, and in the middle of it all, Mustang slept more deeply than Riza had ever seen him sleep. He did not look peaceful. His face was set in a grimace of misery even as he slept. The last time Riza had seen him anything like this had been Ishval. The memories of that time were so painful. Riza took a steadying breath, and stepped towards the bed.
"Colonel," she said, not daring to touch him, but that elicited no response. She spoke louder. "Colonel. Colonel Mustang, it's me, Lieutenant Hawkeye. Please wake up, sir." Nothing. He hadn't even twitched. She wondered when the last time he'd eaten had been. She leaned over and touched him on the shoulder, but he didn't move. A sudden panic took her over, and she leaned close to him, checking for breath and a pulse. Both were present, and she sighed with relief, taking a seat on the bed. She looked down at her unkempt Colonel, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. She stayed with him for a few minutes, but then thought that it would probably be best if she were gone when he woke up. So she carefully got up and tiptoed her way back through the wreckage of his life. She hated to leave him in such a state, but if she surprised him with her presence upon waking, she wasn't sure what sort of a reaction he'd have, and she didn't want to chance it.
She'd never admit it to anyone, but she did love him. Seeing him in such a pitiable state tore at her soul, but what hurt even more was the fact that she couldn't comfort him. She closed the door to his apartment and locked it, and went quietly back down the stairs to her car. She drove quietly home, quietly took Black Hayate for his walk, quietly ate dinner, and quietly got ready for bed. It was only when she was under the covers that she curled into a fetal position and let the pain take over for yet another night.