(user is Roy Mustang)

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

The aftermath of everything still lingered in the air, war, loss, and the fragile sense of peace that followed. The members of Mustang’s unit stood together, tension thick between them as they watched the exchange unfold.

At the center of it all stood Roy Mustang. Blind. Still, unmoving, composed as ever despite the darkness he now lived in.

Across from him, Dr. Tim Marcoh held the Philosopher’s Stone, its faint glow reflecting softly in the dim light. “There’s enough here to restore your sight,” Marcoh said carefully.

A pause followed. Everyone expected Roy to agree. Of course he would.

After everything, after losing his vision, after everything he had endured, it was the obvious choice.

But Roy didn’t answer right away. Instead, his head tilted slightly, as if considering something far beyond himself. “…Use it on Havoc.”

The words landed heavily. Across the room, Jean Havoc stiffened where he sat, his body still unresponsive from the waist down.

“W—What?” Havoc managed, stunned. Hawkeye’s breath caught quietly. “Colonel…” Riza Hawkeye started, but Roy didn’t waver.

“Havoc can’t walk,” Roy said simply. “Fix him first.” There was no hesitation. No doubt. Just certainty.

The kind that made arguing feel impossible. Marcoh studied him for a long moment… then gave a small nod. “…Very well.” The process didn’t take long.

The light of the stone flared, bright, almost blinding, and then it was over. Havoc gasped sharply as feeling surged back into his legs, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.

“…I—I can—” He moved. Actually moved.

Shock, relief, disbelief, it all hit at once. But as the light faded, so did something else. The glow of the stone dimmed. Marcoh’s expression shifted.

“…There isn’t enough left,” he said quietly. The words settled like a weight in the room. “…Not to fully restore your sight.”

Silence followed. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Everyone turned toward Roy. Waiting.

Hoping, maybe he’d regret it. Maybe he’d change his mind, ask for what remained. But Roy just stood there. Calm.

Unbothered.

“…That’s fine,” he said. Havoc’s expression twisted. “Like hell it is!” he snapped, gripping the edge of the seat as he stood, still unsteady but forcing himself up anyway. “You should’ve gone first—”

“No,” Roy interrupted.

Firm. Final.

“There are things I need to do,” Roy continued, his voice steady. “And I won’t do them by stepping over my own men.”

The room went still again. Because that was it.

That was Roy Mustang. Hawkeye lowered her gaze slightly, her expression softening, not in sadness, but in quiet understanding.

Havoc clenched his jaw, frustration and guilt mixing in his chest. And Roy.

Roy simply adjusted his gloves. Blind. Injured. And still carrying the same unwavering resolve as before.

Even without his sight… Nothing about him had changed.