┈ ┉ ♞ || Havoc’s best bet was to just retire--the military, the Colonel, had no use for him anymore, since he got paralyzed from the waist down. Perhaps there was a way he could assist the Colonel without having to be on his feet (he couldn’t feel them), but nothing had come to mind. He was still stuck in the hospital after all of this time that had past since the 3rd laboratory incident, wallowing in self-pity as the Colonel himself skimmed the message Hawkeye gave them through his new pack of cigarettes (his favorite brand, at that; he really owed it to Hawkeye for going through that much just to send ‘em an important message concerning the upcoming Promised Day).
The Colonel flashed his eyes over to him, concerned for his friend’s state, surely, but Havoc was already dealing with enough pity coming from himself; he didn’t need it from the Colonel, too.
“I swear on my life, Jean,” Roy began, tucking the paper away into his jacket. He’d have to keep that thing safe, since he, Hawkeye, and the rest of the unit was all on strict watch. “I’m going to find a way to get your legs healed. I’m not sure how I’m functioning in Central Headquarters without you.”
“Or without anyone else, since even Hawkeye separated from you. I’ve got to hand it to the Fuhrur: he’s got all of your weak spots down,” he replied, switching on his lighter and hovering it over the end of his cigarette. “It almost seems hopeless to go up against the Fuhrer, especially when it appears that there’s someone even more powerful than him out there--that Father of those homunculi, I mean.”
“Pipe down!” Roy warned him. “You don’t want that getting out!”
“Right. Sorry.” He blew out smoke between his teeth as he continued. “Look, Colonel, I’m nothing to worry about. I’m going to be discharged from the hospital in a couple of days, and then it’s straight to rehab on the doctor’s--and especially my mother’s--order. Then I’ll be taking over the family store. Seriously, don’t worry, I’ll have Rebecca and Breda to take care of me, so you and the rest of the crew prepare for this day, because things are going to get ugly for Amestris.”
“I know,” the raven-haired man replied, fiddling with the buttons on his military uniform. “There’s a lot at stake, and this will be my last chance to find out who in the hell killed Maes Hughes.”
“Still hunting down the killer, huh.” Havoc gave Mustang a look. “Any leads?”
“No.”
“Damn, then you’re right: this might be your last chance, so make it count."
Havoc was encouraging Mustang to get a grip, but he cursed himself; he was the one who needed to get a grip. Throughout all of this he still felt useless, because he couldn’t get in on the action. He just had to get bloody paralyzed because his ex-girlfriend’s aim was on point. He had to find a way to get involved instead of sitting on his ass and watching his country fall apart.
“All right, Lieutenant, I’ll be showing myself out. Remember, one smoke a day; that’s all your allowed.”
“Yeah, yeah, later Chief.” He waved the smoke out of his face as the Colonel walked out the door, leaving Havoc to contemplate what in the hell he was going to do with himself and for the team as the Promised Day approached.
