Things are nothing compared to how they are now. Months before they had been awkward, quiet, and unsure, fear plaguing both of them. Now, they've come to accept that this is happening and despite that they had never spoken about it or never really even thought of it, it happened. Now, they're able to let themselves grow excited as the date of arrival creeps closer.

Things had changed so much in only the span of a year.

Being a week late, she didn't worry. This had happened before (with much more worry and fear) so she wasn't troubled by the fact. Give it time, she told herself. There's nothing to worry about. This has happened before.

Two weeks and still, nothing. The worry starts to slowly work its way into her system. Once more she tells herself what she needs is time. Perhaps the recent stress due to all of the paperwork is the cause. Yes, she tells herself. That must be it, has to be it. After all, working under and being married to the President of Amestris came with a cost and that cost was having to help her husband sort through various forms and letters until the late evening hours. Yes, stress had to be the cause.

Three weeks and by now she's figured that it's not stress. Oh no, by now she knows exactly what it is. They've always been careful, but apparently not careful enough. She's so, so scared (perhaps even more than she had been in Ishbal at times), but she's more afraid to tell him. Plans were always something she was good at following, sticking to. Plans were what they had and they definitely did not mention this.

They both arrived at home, late as always. He knows something is wrong the instant that Hayate comes over to greet them and she doesn't bother to indulge him in a few pets. She shrugs her coat off and he takes it from her, hanging his and her's on the rack by the door.

"I'm tired," she says, her voice quiet. "I'm going to try and get to bed early." Another reason why something's wrong. Usually, when they arrive home this late, they have the same routine of either drinking tea or having something small to eat and then they usually retire to bed together. He finds it odd, but brushes it off as she gives him a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek before she leaves to the bedroom.

After he managed to look over some paperwork (lord knows he can never escape it) over a warm cup of tea, he goes to their bedroom. His eyes catch her's when he opens the door, sees her staring back at him. He smiles, but inside he also wonders if she had a nightmare or is having them already and that's the reason for her not being able to sleep.

Regardless, he changes into his pajamas which are only a pair of sweatpants and a simple shirt. He finds the bed warm when he falls in place next to her, the covers shielding him from the cold air of the house. Her back is to him and she doesn't turn over. He wants to ask her what's wrong, but he knows that she'll eventually come around, tell him, as she always does. Although, this time it feels...different.

Only an hour passed as he tried to sleep, but failed due to the thought of her. "Riza," he says, not asking. "I know you're awake." He stares at her back in the darkness, watching her movements. Her arm moves to her face, her back moving in a way that he knows. She's crying and even though she doesn't make a sound, he knows.

"Riza..." he says, softer this time as he pulls her against him, wraps his arm around her. The Riza Hawkeye he knows rarely cries and that fact scares him. He tries to think of all the possibilities of what exactly she could be crying about, but his mind fails him. "Please," his voice isn't one that begs, but asks. "Tell me."

And that's when things began to click; the gears in his mind begin to work. Her hand finds his, guides both of their hands to her abdomen, the warm flesh underneath his fingers. At first he wonders what she wants him to know and then - Oh.

Oh.

She's pregnant.

His throat is suddenly so dry, but he wants to talk, say something, anything. Words won't form and this causes her to turn herself around in his arms, face him with wet, skittish eyes, searching him as if he held the answer for this situation. The fact is he's just as clueless as she is, but as most men would in this situation, he asks, "Are you sure?" to only be met with a sharp frown from her: I'm sure.

"Wow..." he breathes because that's the only word that will come to him. He pulls her tighter and he can still feel her shaking underneath his palms.

"Is that all you can say?" she asks, her voice hoarse from her crying, her hand holding onto his shirt so tightly as if he might leave her. He pulls her apart from him, just enough so he can look at her. Her eyes close as he brushes the tears away with his thumb and then he kisses her. She lets it happen, happy and sad and confused and angry and scared all at once.

"I'm happy." The words he said are true too. So this was the feeling Hughes had talked about when he had been told of Gracia's pregnancy. This weightless, almost scary feeling in his chest.

"But this wasn't - " she begins to protest, but he cuts her off. "It's wasn't part of the plan," he finishes for her. "I know. But not all plans work out either you know." They can make this work, can't they? And for a second, he wonders why he's been allowed this happiness. Why him with all that he had done, all the people he had killed? Now he realizes why she was crying because the thought of them being parents...It almost felt wrong.

"Roy?" she asks because she knows what he's thinking. "Roy, look at me." And when he doesn't she reaches up to turn his face towards her. She's afraid that she'll lose him to himself again, to those thoughts. (I'm a monster, Riza.) "You and me, we - we deserve this, don't we? After all we've been through don't we deserve this?"

Why can't we be happy?

"I'm happy," he says again, after hearing her words, but he won't respond to her words. They shouldn't be thinking like that, that they didn't deserve this. Negative thoughts would only continue to bring both of them down and for her sake at least, he felt the need to keep both of their spirits up. "I love you," he finally says, kissing her forehead. God, does he love her.

"I know," she answers. She knows.

Now, he's glad that he has his sight to see how beautiful his future had become, how even more beautiful it would become and would continue to be.