DISCLAIMER: All recognizable material belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
Gracia stood from the kitchen table, collecting Roy's plate along with her own. Her protruding belly made her movements difficult and awkward, prompting Roy to stand and offer to take the load from her arms.
The widow smiled. "Thank you, Roy, that's very kind of you. I'd almost forgotten how much more difficult everything is having a baby on board," she commented, referring to her unborn child. She hadn't known she was pregnant when her husband died; Hughes had never even gotten to know he was going to have a second child. Roy was slightly worried about how the woman would be able to take care of herself and two small children without her husband providing income. As a result, he'd been spending more and more time at the Hughes household as of late, offering his help in any way that he could.
Roy shrugged nonchalantly. It really wasn't a bother for him to clean up; at least, not nearly as much trouble as it would be for Gracia, who was nearing her due date. She'd told him she was expecting another girl.
The Colonel took a deep breath, trying not to spiral into a depressing train of thought. He focused solely on washing the dishes and handing them to Gracia, who was drying. They didn't talk; both their minds were dwelling on a certain green-eyed man.
It wasn't until they were almost finished that Gracia set her rag down. "Excuse me," she muttered, making a beeline for the bathroom. Roy almost chuckled; he'd become very familiar with the symptoms of her childbearing since he'd started spending evenings with her and her daughter. Apparently the weight of the child on her body caused frequent bathroom trips.
As Roy set down the last pan on the counter to dry it off, he heard a door open and close from down the hallway behind him. He didn't look up, expecting it to be Gracia returning to the kitchen. What he heard instead was a small pair of feet shuffling into the dining room.
Elysia had gone to bed early, not feeling well. She'd been asleep at least an hour before dinner. Roy hadn't expected to see the little girl at all tonight, but he would know those little steps anywhere.
Before he had the chance to turn around and greet her, her groggy, high-pitched voice seemed to boom and echo across the small room.
"Daddy?"
Every bone in Roy's body froze.
It took the Colonel several long moments to find his bearings. He turned around and looked at her - her half-asleep little face, eyes barely open, hand clutching some stuffed animal Roy would never have known she owned. He saw her eyes widen slightly in recognition, then fog over as she realized that, no, he was not her Daddy.
"Sorry, kiddo," he muttered, feeling his own eyes mist up. He realized he must look like the man from behind - he was still wearing his uniform pants, having opted not to change after work. Roy had the same dark hair as her father did, and though he was shorter, he supposed that small details like that didn't register in the sleepy three-year-old's mind.
Elysia held her stuffed bear closer, tears pooling over and spilling onto her cheeks. Roy's heart broke at the sight, and on impulse, he knelt down, extending his arms out to her. Before he could blink, the girl's arms were around his neck, and she was crying into his shoulder.
"Wh-when is Daddy coming h-home?" she asked him, barely getting the words out through her unrestrained sobs. "I miss him," she cried.
Roy felt a raindrop escape his eye; he slammed his eyes shut, refusing to be weak when Elysia needed her uncle to be strong.
"He's not coming home, sweetheart."
Gracia could only guess all too well what had happened when she found the two on the floor of her kitchen, sobbing.