Summery: She would wait for Roy for as long as he needed, but that didn't mean Riza couldn't do something in the meantime… Riza Hawkeye turns thirty. Horror ensues. Post-series. Manga as canon.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
Riza Hawkeye lay in bed trying desperately to ignore…well, pretty much everything. The aching in her body, the horrible noise coming from the street outside, and—most especially—the wretched beams of sunlight that seemed intent on stabbing straight through her eye sockets to the tender gray matter beneath.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
Riza Hawkeye—who had just turned thirty and had spent the better portion of the night before drinking enough to adequately commemorate the occasion—was just about ready to grovel to any likely deity for a hangover cure. Any hangover cure.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
Riza didn't normally indulge in alcohol, and she was only just remembering the number one reason why. But when a woman turned thirty—thirty!—and was still not only unmarried but also forced to watch the love of her life flirt with anything that looked half-decent in a skirt on a daily bases, allowances could be made.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
She turned her face resolutely into the soft mercy of her pillow and dragged in a ragged breath.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
What did it matter, really? Thirty was just one more year; she was only one day older than she had been yesterday. Nothing had changed. Only outdated societal norms had any opinion on the big 'three-oh' and she had never followed anyone's standards but her own anyway.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
Now if only she had had this epiphany yesterday—before she had condemned herself to the torment she was currently experiencing…
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
Grudgingly she rolled to her feet and resolved to force as much water down her throat as she could stand—after all, it was a simple fact of life that if she wasn't in the office enforcing order with an iron fist (and a steel revolver) nothing got done.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
This resolution firmly in mind, she went about her morning routine, firmly dismissing the damn pounding coursing through her whole body.
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
Dressed, washed, and sitting at her kitchen table—breakfast spread out before her—Riza was well on her way to pretending she was as bright eyed and bushy tailed as normal. Well, except for-
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
-The damn pounding of her heartbeat. She let out a ragged sigh and sank into the trivial comfort of her morning cup of coffee. Everything else she could ignore, but… She swore it had never been this bad before. Quite frankly, it didn't even feel like a heartbeat, it was more like-
Thump. Thunk. Thump. Thunk.
When the truth came to her, Riza started so badly that she spilled her hot coffee down her front and didn't even notice. Because Riza had just realized that it wasn't her heartbeat she was feeling, and she somehow doubted that this was caused by any hangover, no matter how bad. No.
Her uterus was ticking.
TBC.