The Next Best Thing

In a perfect world Roy Mustang would never figure out what had happened, never get all the sordid, unsettling details.

…Would never have cause to wonder why Havoc was without his usual miasma of slightly bitter smoke.

“Second Lieutenant.” Roy’s eyes narrowed as he caught the minute flinch that followed his greeting. Jean Havoc did not flinch.

Havoc transformed a turn into a sharp salute with a fair attempt at his trademark grin. To anyone else it wouldn’t have seemed any different, not at all forced. Too bad he was dealing with the person who knew him best.

“My office in five minutes, Havoc.” Roy coldly informed him, sweeping past into said office and shutting the door with rather undue force.

“Aw. Hell.” Havoc gritted out, running a hand along the messily healing burn mostly hidden by his sloppily raised shirt collar. He felt like some sort of teen trying to hide a hickey from his mother.

“Play it cool, Jean. What the boss doesn’t know wont kill him. Right?” Havoc took a deep breath and let himself into Mustang’s office, a full minute early.

Mustang was already settled behind the desk, chin resting atop interlocked fingers, looking far too damn patient to be real.

Choosing to ignore the fact he was most likely about to be subjected to some rather creative interrogation, Havoc snapped another salute.

And waited.

Roy yawned once, scratched his nose a bit, but never took his eyes off of his subordinate officer. And damn he didn’t deign to speak either. Such a bastard to deal with… Havoc was determined to win this little stubborn contest, but seeing as Roy neglected to kill Maes for all those years, he didn’t think he had a chance in hell.

Well then, time for some good ol’ Havoc flippancy. Nothing would get him thrown out of the office faster. And as soon as he was out of the office he could hunt down some hot water to soak in. the welts and cuts on his back were a mite on the infected side and as a result itched and burned rather continuously. Not at all pleasant when one was confined inside of a rather utilitarian uniform all day.

This went one for a rather tedious amount of time. The one time the phone rang Roy lifted it from the cradle, told whomever was on the other end that he was in the midst of an Important Discussion, and calmly left the damn thing off the hook.

Havoc envied the phone. Off the hook. Out of service. Not standing in boots too tight against a couple of healing toes, in a shirt that was sticking to bandages that had most likely been bleed through in a heavy uniform jacket that was making him sweat. The sweat seeped into the wounds, making them sting, making Havoc want to swat at them. Or Roy. Whichever really at that point.

“Well, sir, this has been fun, but there are papers I should be pretending to read…”

“You’re slouching, Lieutenant.”

No shit, genius. You should see the damn scabs on my back, not to mention the bleedy bits. Would you want to stretch that flesh any more than necessary. Hell, you are lucky I am upright...

His inner monologue was far more interesting than what he spat out from between clenched teeth. “Back is a mite bit sore. Must have slept funny or something.”

“Why don’t you take your jacket off? I believe it is a bit warm to be in full uniform in the office.”

“I was going to try a hand at that whole being a responsible, respectable representative of the state. Don’t want to encourage slovenly habits like dressing down…”

“Take off the jacket, Lieutenant. That is an order.”

Havoc paused in mid babble to allow his face to stretch into a bitter wince. Court marshal or humiliation? Which was preferable…he could disregard a direct order from a commanding officer or he could explain away the visible remnants of Archers…enthusiasm.

Roy had that look on his face, the one that calmly explained that you could do what he just asked or he would be doing it for you. Havoc decided that he should make an attempt to salvage what dignity he had left and take off the damn jacket. Maybe he could explain away the damage as being caused by a pack of wolves…

Roy watched Havoc awkwardly shrug off the jacket with narrowed eyes, making note of stiff, abrupt movements where previously there had been effortless grace. He did not like seeing his men hurt, and he definitely did not like it when they kept things from him. The two combined was beyond contemplation.

“There. All done. Yup, much cooler now. Can I go?”

“Turn around.” Havoc looked alright from the front, but all evidence pointed towards damage to the back, so it was the back Roy was determined to see.

“Want me to curtsey while I am at it, sir?” Havoc groused, but ultimately complied.

Roy heard a whistling hiss, and realized it was his own. Strips of gooey, drying blood held Havoc’s shirt to his back in some sort of macabre pattern. There was more blood than Roy ever wanted to see on his subordinate, his friend, enough to have Havoc off duty and in bed rest for a few days at least. “Jean…”

“Pretty aint it? You should see the other guy.” Actually…no you shouldn’t. Man’s a fucking monster and damn does he hate you…”Curiosity satisfied, sir? Can I go now?”

Roy’s chair scratched viciously across the room, startling Havoc into looking over his shoulder. Roy was standing, his eyes smoldering as he stared at Havocs back. “Who?” The word was clipped with military precision but was distinctly lacking in politic impartiality.

“…Archer, sir.”

“I. See.”

Havoc had a hard time feeling sorry for the bastard, seeing as the man had raped and beat the hell out of him, but under most normal circumstances Havoc would feel damn bad for the person about to be on the receiving end of the fury in Roy’s eyes.

“Report to the infirmary and take the rest of the day off, Lieutenant.” Roy ordered, settling back into his chair and reaching for his pencil. “Dismissed.”

Gathering his dignity and coat, Havoc whipped out his usual half salute and retreated. He considered the sortie a win. After all, Roy didn’t know about the worst of the damage. With any luck, he would never know. Never.