A/N: Okay, this is my latest and most presentable attempt to get my muse back for The Colonel's Daughter, my very successful Fullmetal Alchemist fan fiction. So with that said, I am trying to continue it, however, I'm not in the same place in life that I was in when I started that story. So I'm considering just rewriting the whole thing. If you're a reader of The Colonel's Daughter, then you should totally give me your ideas. But back to this story. This is pre-The Colonel's Daughter. So, you don't have to have read The Colonel's Daughter to understand what's going on. So if you would like to read this one, enjoy. I've kicked everyone down a rank. So it's Lieutenant Colonel Mustang and 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye. I've corrected it thanks to aRocketgirl.
Roy Mustang had a long day of filling out paperwork and sitting around. He spent most of his day at his desk swiveling around in his chair taking personal calls from many women; while his Major did all the real work. Trying to get Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang to do anything was a challenge within itself. He had the attention span of an infant, and yet, 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye got it done. She was a miracle worker. Everyone that met her knew that. However, they didn't know how much of a miracle worker she was until they saw her with Mustang. Then it was clear. But, all of that was over, for today anyway. The same chain of events would repeat itself tomorrow, and the next day and the next.
Now, Mustang was in his home which was entirely too big for just one person, but Roy liked the space, it helped him feel disconnected. Each room was furnished sparingly. He only had what he needed in each room. The living room, for example, had a sofa and a loveseat, only because it came with the set, an ottoman and a mahogany coffee table. See enough to make each room normal, but not lived in or homey. He figured that since he had no family, then there would be no 'surprise' visits, so there was no need for that homey welcoming feeling. Also, if he died of was killed, there wouldn't be much to get rid of: disconnected. The plus side, to the lack of furnishing was that when he brought women to his place, they always loved the cleanliness. So he never felt the need to change it. The only people that ever said anything about Mustang's interior designing skills, or lack thereof, were Maes Hughes and his Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Maes always said that if he didn't put a homey feeling in his home, he'd never find a wife. Riza, on the other hand, told him that it felt cold and lifeless. However, he ignored them and left his place the way that it was.
The most lived in room of his home, wasn't the bedroom. No, it was his study. He truly lived in that room. He often slept behind the ebony desk; most of the time he fell asleep reading about Alchemy. Being a state alchemist and all he needed to know all the he could about the science that he practiced. He wanted to be Führer, that was his goal, and knowledge was everything. He stripped off the navy blue jacket that marked him as a dog of the military and tossed it on the back of the chair. He then walked along the book covered walls with his hands behind his back. This was the real highlight of his day. Not the paperwork, but reading other peoples research. It intrigued him. After grabbing a few books off the shelf, he returned to his seat behind the ebony desk. Just as he did there was a pounding at the door. Roy sighed and dropped the books on the desk before walking to the front door.
"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang," the man standing at the door questioned.
"Yes," Roy drawled back in response.
"Were you aquatinted with a Cara Summers?" the man continued.
Roy allowed his right eyebrow to lift. Cara Summers. She was the last woman that he'd truly dated. He'd actually began to fall for her towards the end of their relationship. However, she'd pushed him away, for reasons unbeknownst to him. He could still picture her. It was the long blond hair that drew him to talk to her that night at the bar. It was like wheat, and it reminded him of someone else, although he couldn't place who it was. She had blue eyes that sparked like that stars in the night sky and a personality to match. Her voice was soft and sweet, and her name was Cara Summers. "Yeah, what of her?" he handing seen her or heard from her in two years.
"She's been killed," the man replied.
"Oh," Mustang was confused. "I'm not really sure what that has to do with me…"
"She had a child."
"No, I think that you are mistaken. Cara never had children," Roy interrupted. "Or you might have the wrong Cara Summers."
"The neighbors say that you are the child is yours."
"No that's got to be wrong."
"Well sir, if I may say so myself, I don't really think that you can deny that the child is yours."
"Why?" Roy questioned. He was becoming more confused by the moment.
The man turned from Roy and was handed a bundle covered in a blue blanket. When the man turned back to Roy, he held a baby girl. She couldn't have even been two years old yet, but she looked the proper age for her to be his. If he hadn't seen Cara in two years, then that would have been nine month of pregnancy, then fifteen months of being alive. She did fit the age range. However, that wasn't enough to prove Roy as the father. However, the midnight sky, dark hair was. For as long as Roy had lived, he'd never met anyone with hair his color or its unruliness. All he had to do was look at her; he knew that she was his. She even had his nose.
Roy held his arms out to the man and then took the child. Sensing unfamiliarity, the girl opened her eyes. The color shocked him, her eyes were violet. He started to question the man and tell him that they had the wrong man. However, the violet eyes held a certain drive and a thirst to prove herself to people. The same look that Roy had.
"The name?" Roy asked.
"It's um, Felicity Rayne.," the man said.
"Summers?" Roy questioned.
"All of her papers say Mustang. That's another reason that we figured that she'd be yours."
"Felicity Rayne Mustang…"Roy said to himself. He liked the sound of it.
"We have the furniture that was at the place, if you want it."
"She's fifteen months?" Roy asked. The man nodded. "She can sleep on a bed, right?" The man nodded again. "No, I'm fine."
"The neighbor said that she likes to be called Lis," the man told Roy. "Or Lizard."
"Lizard?" Roy questioned aloud. The infant flicked her violet eyes upward and looked directly into Roy's eyes. "Okay."
"Well that's all. Sorry, to interrupt your evening. I know this is quite a shock."
"Right, well thanks for that," Roy started to close the door. "Oh, what happened to Cara?"
"Multiple gunshot wounds," the man replied.
Roy closed the door lightly and then turned to the interior of the house. He looked down at the little girl on his hip. What the hell was he going to do with a baby? He had no idea. He lay the girl down on the sofa and sighed. He'd have to call Riza; she would know what to do. Not just because she was a woman, but because she always knew how to help him out of a jam.
He walked away from the sofa quietly and over to the phone in the kitchen. Roy quickly dialed Riza's number and tried to formulate what to say.
"Hello?" she answered on the second ring.
"Lieutenant?" Roy asked softly.
"Sir?"
"Yeah, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Why are you whispering, sir? Is everything okay?"
"Yes, yes," Roy assured. "I just need you to come over. There's something that you should see. I think that you might find it a little surprising."
"Yes, sir, on my way now sir," Riza said before hanging up.
Good old Riza, she was always there for him when he needed her. She'd always back him up; and that's what he needed. He needed to be told that he could raise this child, and raise her right. He knew that Riza would never lie to him, so if she said that he could, then he could. But what if she said that he couldn't?
