Chapter Text
Roy Mustang was used to setbacks. Being adopted at a young age, being sent to fight in a merciless war and commit unspeakable crimes in the name of his home country of Amestris, even having his best friend and closest ally murdered in cold blood, these had all been incredibly hard on Roy in more ways than one. But he had always managed to work his way out of the pits of despair, guilt, and anger, gradually inching closer to his larger goal in life, becoming Fuhrer.
Well, if these hardships were all rungs on the way up to his metaphorical ladder towards success, the Promised Day had abruptly pulled that ladder right out from underneath his feet, just as he was about to step up to the highest rung.
Casualties, property damage, injuries, Roy had assumed these would all happen in the unavoidable conflict between the Amestrian military and the Homunculi. His meticulous strategic and tactical planning took all of these into account, he even had a plan in case he was to lose his life on the battlefield. Yet, Roy completely failed to plan for the permanent loss of his eyesight.
As someone who was incredibly skilled and fiercely independent, it was disorienting to not be able to fight on his own. However, help from Lieutenant Hawkeye and the intense adrenaline pumping through his body in the heat of battle allowed him to feel some semblance of power over the situation. In fact, the joy of victory and rush of all the chaos happening around Roy almost allowed him to forget the larger implications of the sight he had just lost.
It wasn’t until he was in a medical tent, sitting alone, waiting for the puncture wounds in his palms to be bandaged, that he started to panic. How the hell was he going to do anything now? He couldn’t even walk ten feet without guidance, and he still had the audacity to have ambitions to run one of the most powerful countries in the world? Roy never thought of himself as an anxious person, but right now, he was terrified. Everything he had worked for, all the sacrifices his friends made, the lives that had been lost, they were for nothing if he could not fulfill the promises he had made. Just as it felt like his whole world was imploding, a hand gently rested on Roy’s shoulder.
“Colonel, I’m on your left,” an all too familiar voice said evenly.
This brought him back to reality in a snap.
“How are your injuries Lieutenant? Did they give you proper treatment?”
“Yes sir,” Riza says. “My injuries have been treated temporarily but they need to do a more precise procedure to make sure the wound on my neck stays closed. The doctors say they want us both to be checked into the military hospital as soon as possible.”
As Roy was still struggling to catch his breath and regain composure from his episode of mental spiraling, all he could manage was a weak nod in response.
He hated thinking about what came next.
He was going to have to relearn absolutely everything, and the mere thought of this made his stomach twist itself tightly into a knot.
He hated that his plans had been flipped on their heads because of the actions of a defeated foe.
He hated that he was not going to walk away from this the same man he was yesterday.
He hated that he was likely going to struggle with small mundane tasks that had once been easy.
And he hated that Riza was going to be there to watch it all.