"I still don't understand why she hates you." Edward Elric grimaced at his reflection in the hotel room mirror. "Hey! Was my tie messed up the whole meeting?"
Mustang shrugged. "I thought it gave credence to your reputation as a world-weary traveler."
Roy elected to keep the fact that Ed's tie was in perfect condition until minutes ago to himself. Fullmetal had absentmindedly tugged at his collar when he stepped inside the lobby, anxious to get out of the heat and tailored suit. He simply hadn't noticed until now.
"Bastard," growled Ed, loosening the tie.
Mustang smirked, scuffing away the gel slicking back his dark hair. He preferred to nudge Ed away whenever they got along for more than a few days. Common ground was easier now that the boy was grown. Ed was around the same age Mustang had been when they overthrew the government, but Roy would always see him as a child with fire in his eyes.
It was good to keep him at a slight distance. The young man lost many loved ones already, and Mustang's position as Amestris's Fuhrer was highly sought after. Though the majority adored Roy, some were unhappy with the way he managed things. Better for the Elrics to remember him as a bit of an asshole. Mustang hoped it would ease the blow should something happen to him. If assassinations or court marshaling didn't take Mustang, old age would. The thought was always sobering.
"To answer your previous question, I think Aerugo's still resentful over Ishval."
"But you rebuilt Ishval."
"As best we could," Mustang coolly replied, undoing his cufflinks. "Think about it, Ed. They aided Ishval during the war. Now, two decades later, Aerugo's lower class rebels. And suddenly the Flame Alchemist, a man who slaughtered thousands, wants to offer advice on creating a peaceful democracy? The prince's sister has every right to despise Amestris."
Ed grunted his assent. "Guess you can't really go back after something like that." His voice lowered to a mutter. "I still think an electoral monarchy's the way—"
The sound of the phone ringing on Roy's nightstand cut him off. Mustang crossed the short distance to his bedside and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
The voice that replied was tinny, and belonged to the woman at the front desk downstairs. "Fuhrer Mustang? You have a call waiting. Your housekeeper is trying to reach you."
"About what?"
"A bird, sir. It seems they've roosted in your—"
Mustang didn't wait for her to finish and bolted from the room. He heard Ed, before the man put the phone back on the hook. "He'll take the call in the lobby."
Looking back, perhaps Roy Mustang drew too much attention to himself in the way he tore down the carpeted hallways so late in the evening.
We need a code. In case something goes wrong. Something that won't be picked up and can be dismissed in casual conversation.
Like what? A rodent infestation? Ants?
I think a bird would do.
Roy took a hard right at the elevator, opting for the stairs. He practically leaped from landing to landing. Rough jolts shot through his body every time his feet hit the floor, and something ached deep in his muscles. Damn, he really was getting old.
By the time he got to the lobby, Mustang was winded and buzzing with nervous energy. He tried to steady his breathing before he picked up the phone.
"Fuhrer Mustang. What's this I hear about a bird in my house?"
"Where the hell have— hey, back off, Fuery! You had your chance. Ow! Rebecca, what was that for?!" Jean Havoc yelped.
There was a fair amount of squabbling on the other line before Rebecca Catalina's voice rang above the rest. "God, you're like a bunch of mother hens! Jean, go do something useful for once. Mustang, sir," Rebecca's voice changed, some emotion or other softening her next words. "I'm sorry we didn't contact you sooner. We wanted to make sure the situation was under control before we gave you the news. Everyone's fine, but—"
"Congratulations, chief," Havoc, judging from his muffled voice, had no doubt weaseled his face somewhere near the receiver and away from Rebecca's punches. "You're officially a father!"
No. It's too early. Roy thought, as the air was practically torn from his lungs.
Mustang didn't register Ed behind him until the oldest Elric spoke. "What's wrong? You high-tailed it out of there pretty fast, Fuhrer. Everything alright?"
Roy held up a hand to silence him.
"What?" Mustang cleared his throat, readjusting his grip on the phone handle "What, uh, how…? Did anything…? Um…" He exhaled roughly, trying to remember how to breathe. Blood pounded in his ears.
"Riza's fine, sir," Rebecca said. "The doctor said it went well, all things considered…"
"They're so tiny!" Fuery chimed.
"But the doc said there might— dammit, woman, for the last time! Stop hitting me!"
A deep voice in the background snapped at them to keep it down. Was Breda there too?
"Everything's fine, Mustang. You have a boy and a girl," said Catalina. "Each around two and a half pounds. Fifteen inches, give or take. The boy's a bit larger."
He held the phone away from his ear, and took a steadying breath before speaking again. Boy and girl. Two and a half pounds. Fifteen inches. Everything's fine. Roy's hands trembled. Everything's fine. "Can I… can I talk to her?"
"Hey, is that Mustang? I want a word with him." Yes, that definitely sounded like Breda. "Sir, you there?"
"Yes."
"They're asking for names, for the certificate. Any ideas?"
"Only what we agreed. Unless she wants to change them," Mustang's voice sounded far away. "Can I talk to her? Are you sure…?"
"She's sleeping now. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you, but it's probably best you wait until she's rested. We've all had a long day. How are things over there?"
"G-good. We're making progress. Should be done in a few weeks. Maybe less, if things run smoothly."
"Glad to hear it. We'll be waiting when you get back."
Mustang nodded, then realized that was ridiculous because Breda couldn't see him, "I'll see you all then. For now, keep me updated about the bird. Thank you for telling me about the hatchlings. Thank you for…" For being with her when I could not. Roy thought. "Thank you."
After hanging up, a liquid light trickled through Mustang's ribcage. A father. He thought. I have twins. A boy. A girl. How big did Rebecca say? Nearly three pounds? And born two months early. What if there's something wrong?
In the pregnancy manuals he read, it said poor nutrition or prolonged stress were the main causes of preterm labor. He knew Hawkeye was eating well, that she was exercising and taking care of herself. Roy made sure of it. He even pulled some strings to lessen Hawkeye's workload. She refused to cut back, saying this didn't change anything, and believed she could handle it.
There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Hawkeye put even more pressure on herself the moment he was out of Central. Roy didn't need to come to Aerugo, but it was a good opportunity to build relations between their countries. Stupid, stupid, to think Riza wouldn't have worked her fingers to the bone while he was away.
Prematurity, he knew, caused its own set of problems. Delayed growth. Possible impairment, both mental and physical. Caring for two healthy babies was difficult enough, but if their children had learning disabilities, they would need extra care—
"Mustang," Ed brought Roy back to the present. "Is everything alright? You look like…"
Roy was getting better at letting stuff go. Little things throughout the years showed him the disadvantages of bottling his emotions. Hawkeye helped him in that regard. He didn't know if it was being married, or just living together and allowing themselves to be more open without worrying about the anti-fraternization laws, that helped him understand there were some forces outside his control. And there were times when one should let the dice fall where they may. Even in chess, one could not always predict the next move. The best he could do was adapt to his opponent, learn to make a few sacrifices along the way, and accept the game for what it was.
"Let's go, Fullmetal." It took every bit of willpower to keep his composure. He decided to set Aerugo aside for a few hours, focus on the present instead of past mistakes or future concerns. "You're buying me a drink."
While waiting for Mustang to pull himself together, it seemed Ed assembled most of the clues on his own, because his mouth was half-open and there was a pinch between his brows, and the look bordered on one trying to unravel a hidden code. "It sounds like we're celebrating. Why…?"
Mustang brought a finger to his lips and nodded toward the elevator.
He couldn't say the words as the elevator climbed from the lobby to their penthouse rooms, but Mustang repeated them in his mind until they sank into his bones: I am a father.
"Smile any bigger and your face is gonna split in two," Ed quipped.
"I.. Hawkeye… had." Mustang swallowed, mouth dry. "Them."
Ed's gold eyes widened. "She…? So that means you really are…"
The men looked at each other. One a parent of newborns, the other a parent of swiftly growing children. Then the younger man laughed.
"Hey!" Mustang snapped. "What's so…?"
"Just you! As a father!" cackled Ed. "Y'knw, you're probably the most prepared of us all!" The man doubled over. "Believe me, Colonel. Compared to Promised Day? Kids are a breeze. They're attention hogs. And sure, they suck the energy out of you. But they're worth it. Planned or not, they're totally worth it."
Perhaps all Mustang needed was someone to say the words for him, to reassure him things would turn out alright.
Ed pulled Mustang into a side hug, reaching up to ruffle his hair while Roy tried to shove him off and chide him for acting like a child.
They took her children away. She hadn't gotten to hold them, could barely see them through the haze of pain, before the doctors whisked them from the room.
"Where…?" Riza had garbled, drenched in sweat and struggling to rise. Catalina pressed her back into the pillows.
"It's okay. They're just running some tests. I'm sure everything will turn out alright." Rebecca brushed damp bangs from Hawkeye's forehead. "I'm proud of you. You did so good…"
She'd felt empty, and not just because the infants she carried and nourished for seven months were far from her reach, For the first time since she was a child, Riza wanted her mother. And, of course, she wanted Roy (though he would probably be more distraught than Hawkeye).
There was a tiny part of her, during the delivery, that hoped one of Mustang's boys would go against her orders to keep him in the dark. Maybe he would hop the last train to Central and—
Not that Hawkeye would have really wanted that. Despite her wistfulness, it was better Mustang stay exactly where he was.
Now Riza drifted between waking and dreaming as twilight fell in blue waves through the hospital curtains. There were voices down the hall. Mustang's team. Rebecca snapping at Havoc. Fuery cooing. Breda telling them to shut up.
Hawkeye fought the tightness in her throat. It had been nearly six hours and she still hadn't seen her babies. They were being monitored. Doctors came in every so often to give updates. The boy was stronger, but may have a heart murmur. The girl occasionally stopped breathing, as if she'd forgotten how.
"It happens," the doctor said. "At this stage, the lungs aren't fully developed, but they'll grow with time. We have her on an oxygen tank. We're monitoring the boy as well. So far, it doesn't seem like anything serious…"
The infant care unit was not off-limits to visitors. They could view newborns behind a glass window. Hawkeye was too weak to move. Even when she tried to leave, there was always a nurse or doctor down the hall who would walk Hawkeye back to her room. She was treated like a child caught out of bed after hours. At times, she felt a child herself. Hawkeye could hardly go to the bathroom on her own.
A knock on her door made Hawkeye blink the tears from her eyes and turn away.
"Captain?" Breda whispered, cracking open the door.
"Come in, Lieutenant. I'm awake."
"We finally got ahold of Mustang. He said things are progressing well with Aerugo."
"Did he go into detail?"
Breda scoffed. "Nah. I don't think he could have if he tried. Seemed a bit dazed. I asked about the birth certificate. Said he wanted to stick with what you planned. Unless you want to change them? It's not too late."
"No." Hawkeye managed a grin. "We'll keep the names as is."
Breda nodded, started to close the door, then hesitated, "The kids. They really are… beautiful."
"I can't wait to meet them," said Hawkeye. The words came out dry, and not without a hint of bitterness.
"What are you talking about, Captain?" Breda chuffed. "No one except you carried these kids. You knew them before any of us. In a way, you held them first."
"I never thought about it that way. I suppose you're right, Lieutenant Breda." Hawkeye settled back against the pillows.
He kept the door ajar when he left, allowing a dash of light into the darkening room.