SECOND CHANCES

"Father?"

"What is it?" Roy glanced up from his paperwork to see his four-year old son standing at the doorway. In the small light of his desk lamp, he could faintly make out his son's expression, although he didn't need to see it to take a guess that Maes had been crying.

Roy patiently waited for an answer but only received sounds of sniffles, knowing well that his son was struggling to hold back the tears, let alone talk at all. Letting out a deep breath, Roy set down his pen and slid his chair away from his desk. "Come here, Maes."

Immediately, Maes went almost running to his father's arms as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Roy lifted him up easily and placed him upon his lap. Roy certainly had little to no affectionate instincts when it came to children, but he was at least grateful for the calming effect he had on his children when they sought for him. Some would have the nerve to joke and say that it may be a sense intimidation rather than a sense comfort that his children had towards him, but Roy would admittedly like to think of the latter.

When Maes' cries came down to hiccups, Roy finally said calmly, "Now tell me what is upsetting you."

"Elijah…he said that I'm named after a-a dead m-man," his voice became a wail upon the last word.

What in the world am I going to do with that kid? Roy thought of his eldest son as he pinched the bridge of his nose in slight exasperation. Briefly closing his eyes, he opened them again to meet his younger son's gaze. "That is true, Maes. But why on earth would you think it is a bad thing?"

The dark-haired boy blinked his dark eyes in a moment of confusion and thought, as if he had forgotten why he was crying in the first place. Looking at his son was strangely like looking into a mirror; Maes was undeniably a spitting image of himself—something anyone and everyone who saw him would constantly remind Roy, as if he didn't realize it enough.

"But…" Maes began as he reached up to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. "He said your best friend died and I'm just replacing him."

"Absolutely not," Roy replied, perhaps in a more curt tone than he had intended. At times such as these, he had to remind himself that he was speaking to his son and not his subordinates; the fact that this was a struggle for him only fueled his doubts of his qualifications in fatherhood. More often than not, he wondered if he was anywhere close to being a decent father. Hell, he never even had a proper father himself, so what did he know?

His features softened slightly as Roy continued, "Maes, you are named after a good man…a better man than I will ever be. I chose that name for you because I have hopes that you will do some good in this world as well."

"Think of it as a second chance for him," Roy said after a brief pause—he wondered if his son even understood half of what he was saying. "As long as you do the best you can to protect others around you, he will live on."

He hadn't realized his hand was balled into a fist until he felt his fingernails dug into his palm. Thinking of Maes was still painful for Roy and, to think of it, he never spoke about him to anyone besides Riza…and now his son. His brows furrowed slightly. What was he even doing, talking to his son about his dead best friend? He could only wager that normal conversations between a father and son involved less in death and more of toy trucks and pet lizards.

"Okay, father." Mae's small voice brought Roy back from his thoughts. Was that a sense of duty that he recognized in his son's voice already? He gave his son a small, sad smile. I'm already putting a great burden upon my four-year old son. I must really be fucked up.

"But always remember that you are your own person, Maes; no labels, no name, and no one can change that. It is up to you what you make of your life."

"What if I mess up?" he asked after a moment of thought.

"Don't worry," Roy said as he placed a hand upon Maes' head. "There are always second chances." As the words fell from his lips, Roy wished deeply that they were true. At least for his son, they had to be true.

Roy let out another deep breath; he was exhausted. It seemed the more tired he was, the more solemn, despairing the thoughts were that floated around in his mind. By the time the tears dried on Maes' cheeks, a sound of distant crying pierced through all of Roy's thoughts and brought him back to focus.

"Sounds like you're not the only one awake at this hour," he said as he lowered Maes down from his lap. Roy rose from the chair, stretching his arms upwards. "Let's see what your sister needs so that your mother can get some rest."

Before the two of them went to the nursery, Roy stopped by the bedroom to see Riza stirring in her sleep. "I'll see to her, Riza," he said to his wife, in which she gratefully lowered herself back into the plush comfort of their bed. Roy reached out to close the door behind him but paused to leave a small crack open, allowing the light in the hallway to sneak into the darkness of the bedroom. He couldn't help but peer in once more, noticing the curve of his wife's body underneath the blanket and watching the soft rise and fall of her breathing.

They both had gone through different kinds of Hell the months and even years immediately following the Promised Day. Drastic changes had shaken the nation and everyone in it to their cores. Despite it all, Roy couldn't be grateful enough to have Riza by his side, now in more ways than one. She may not be his subordinate anymore, but he was willing to bet his life that she still had his back no matter the situation.

There was never a moment that Roy and Riza had not worked hard to improve the nation, whether it involved military reformation within Amestris or political and economic affairs with Ishval. And as if they hadn't lost enough hours of sleep already due to their work, Roy had more or less decided to take a young orphaned Ishvalan boy—Elijah, now his and Riza's oldest son—under his care during one fateful visit to the country only a few years ago. Following after Elijah were two more children that took up the rest of their hours in the day, though Roy never once felt rueful of his and Riza's choices.

"Father," Maes tugged at his father's hand, bringing Roy back to the present yet again. "Little sister is still crying…"

"Yes, you're right, Maes," he replied as they moved on from the bedroom to the nursery. Upon entering, he switched on the light to see his daughter pink and flustered in her crib from all the laborious noise she was making. "Quiet now, my little Robin," he said, not bothering to cloak the exhaustion in his voice.

He reached down to lift her up from the crib; as he did so, her loud cries subsided to mewls and gurgles. Clearly, hunger wasn't the issue as she had quietened instantly upon her father's embrace. "I guess you don't really like being alone, do you?" he said quietly as he gently rubbed his daughter's back. The shoulder of his shirt quickly dampened from her drooling mouth but Roy was far from caring anymore of his appearance.

"I want to say hi to her, too," Maes said, his little hands reaching up. Roy silently complied, lowering down to rest his weight on his heels so that Maes could see Robin. Like every other time before, Maes gazed at his sister with wide-eyed wonder.

"Hello Robbie," he whispered to the already sleeping infant. He reached out to softly stroke her cheek before saying, "Father, she has her thumb in her mouth."

"Well, I suppose that's what babies do. I believe you also did that at her age."

"She's so tiny."

"You were once that tiny."

"Well, I'm going to protect her. That's a good thing to do, right, father?"

"Yes, it is. I know you or Elijah won't let her down."

Roy watched Maes struggle to stifle a yawn. Glancing at the clock, he straightened up to place his daughter back into the crib. "Let's go, Maes. It's bedtime for you and me both." He could almost hear the empty bed space next to Riza calling out for him.

By the time Roy walked Maes back to his room and brought him to bed, he noticed a distant look upon his son's face.

"What is it, Maes?"

"Father...can we visit his grave tomorrow?"

Roy faltered for only a second before replying, "Yes." He reached out to ruffle Maes' hair. "Elijah might like that, too. And your mother would probably be pleased if we take the dogs out for a walk as well."

"Okay," Maes smiled widely. "Goodnight, father."

"Goodnight, Maes."

As his son closed his eyes and fell peacefully asleep, Roy remained by his bed for only a moment longer. Watching his son sleep, Roy couldn't help but also think of Elijah and Robin. Those three are my second chances…how did I ever gotten so lucky? The world must really have turned a blind eye for this one time. Hell if I deserve it but... for once, what a relief.

Walking back to his bedroom to join his wife, Roy thought over of his words to his son earlier. If a man like himself—someone who has caused so much suffering and death that no matter how much he tried to rebuild the nation, he cannot redeem himself in his own eyes—is allowed a second chance, then surely an innocent life such as his son deserves the same hope.

Wouldn't you agree, Hughes?

A/N: Ah! Another chapter done—I hope you liked it! I have to confess (although I don't think it will come as a surprise to many...) that I have a very special spot in my heart for Roy Mustang. I believe he is just one of those incredibly well-developed, very real character that many of us can empathize with or at least admire. I'm very excited to move forward and allow you all to thoroughly meet his and Riza's children (as well as the other characters' children, of course)! Or more specifically, meet my interpretations of what their children would be like. Please review? I would be just over the moon to hear what you all think of this so far!