Acknowledgement: Once again, Bookwrm389 deserves all my gratitude for her excellent editing skills and invaluable feedback. And thanks to all of you who can appreciate what Riza is going through. This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever struggled with PTSD of any degree.

"Mummy, is Nana Christmas in Heaven now?"

Mummy is in the middle of chopping up yucky vegetables to put in the soup when he asks the question, but she stops. Maybe she won't make him eat the vegetables today? But then Maes realizes mummy always stops whatever she is doing when he asks her questions that she cannot answer properly.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Jen told me," he tells mummy proudly. "Aunt Becca told Jen that when people die, they go to Heaven. But mummy, I don't think Nana Christmas would like Heaven," he adds worriedly.

"And why do you think that?" his mummy asks, cocking her head to one side like she does when she wants to know what he's thinking.

"Well, Aunt Becca says there are angels in Heaven, and they always wear white and don't have the special drinks that Nana Christmas likes. And I'm pretty sure they won't let her smoke up there," he explains patiently. Really, his mummy just doesn't get it sometimes.

Mummy looks at him weirdly then, as if she is going to laugh. But she doesn't. She comes over to him and puts her hands on his shoulder, as if she's about to tell him something really bad.

"Sweetie, if you don't want to think Nana Christmas is in Heaven, that's okay. It's just what Aunt Becca believes, and you don't have to follow it."

Maes scrounges up his face, trying to figure out what mummy means. "So, if Nana Christmas isn't in Heaven… where is she?" he asks a little sadly. At least Heaven was somewhere, but if his grandmother wasn't there, then where could she be?

"She can be anywhere she wants to be," his mummy replies before she straightens up to ruffle his hair. "She could be at the park, she could be in the West, she could be skiing in Drachma, she could even be right here," Mummy smiles, and Maes smiles too. It would be cool to be able to go wherever he wants.

"Mummy, when I die, can I go wherever I want to as well?" he asks excitedly, completely caught up in the new adventure. He could go to that really cool new water park in Central that George and Keith have just been too. And he'd go to Ishval and see all the awesome statues they have there. He could even go to see that boy from the picture, the boy he knows is his father even though mummy won't tell him that.

Only, mummy doesn't seem to like the idea of him going anywhere. She's standing completely still, and her face has gone really white like when she's scared. He remembers she looked like that the time he fell down the stairs and had to be taken to the hospital. He got a really cool cast for his arm, but mummy was scared all the way. But why is she scared now? He hasn't fallen down anywhere.

Finally, she says, "You can go wherever you want to right now, sweetie." But he knows it's not true. Mummy has to work, and he has to go to school. And on weekends, George and Keith always want to play in the park, and then Aunt Beca and Aunt Sciezka always come over to help make a huge picnic tea for everyone. He is very busy and can't go anywhere. But then he realizes that mummy is probably scared because if he dies, he won't come over anymore just like Nana Christmas.

Getting to his feet, he walks over to mummy and squeezes her hand quickly. "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone," he says, and to his surprise, mummy is crying. It must be the onions. They are really yucky.

Mummy hugs him tight and even smiles when he wrinkles his nose at the vegetables on the chopping board. "Say Maes, how about instead of soup, we get some ice cream for dinner today?"

"Really! Ice cream! You're the best mummy in the whole world!" he shouts, and he means it too. Jen's mum never let her have ice cream for dinner.

Later, as he is scooping the last bit of his chocolate ice cream from the big, big cup mummy has gotten him, he realizes that he has a lot of work to do. If he dies, mummy will be very upset so he will have to find someone who will be able to take care of her after he's gone. And he knows he can't tell mummy that. It will only make her sad.

Maes Hawkeye, age 6 years and five months

Slowly, unremarkably, life falls into a pattern of sorts.

He comes to the hospital every day because he can't stay over. Only one parent is allowed to stay the night, and Hawkeye cannot be removed from Maes' side even forcibly. As a result, Roy has abandoned the military accommodations and moved into the house she and Maes live in. He brings her books, toys, clothes, anything she asks for and stays throughout the day. Sometimes, others call to visit, Jean and Rebecca most prominent among them, but they talk very little and always avoid looking at him directly when they can.

He doesn't care, not really. Not now at least.

Sometimes, he and Hawkeye talk. Mostly they sit in silence, and it is ridiculously easy to fall back into the routine of just being with her no matter what the circumstances. They have never been the type of people who need conversation, and that at least hasn't changed. Some days, all they do is sit for hours without as much as a word beyond the greeting and goodbye exchanged when he enters or leaves.

In the nights, he prowls the small house he has taken residence in like a ghost, trying to learn as much about his son as he can. For the first few nights, he doesn't dare enter Maes' room for fear of disturbing anything, but then Hawkeye asks for Maes' toy truck, and he has to venture in. Perhaps Hawkeye knows that, perhaps she doesn't. In the end, it only matters that he took the step and entered the room. And once he does, it's hard to stay out. Most nights, he goes to sleep on a rocking chair in the boy's room, looking at all his books, clothes, toys, crayons, drawings, and any other item that Maes keeps on his shelves, floor, bedside…

These are the nights when the General tries to drink in as much of his son's life as it was before the child got sick. And no matter how much he looks, it is never enough. Every discovery leads to more questions that no one can answer. For example, there is a set of Find Waldo books that looks unopened on one of the boy's bookshelves. Does that mean his son is naturally neat with his things or that he doesn't particularly care for the series? An old teddy bear is under Maes bed, but did Maes just push it there unceremoniously or does he hide it because boys his age aren't supposed to like teddy bears?

He wants to ask Hawkeye all these questions, but is not sure he will get an answer. Most days, Hawkeye ignores whatever is going on around her, choosing to concentrate all her energies into somehow willing their son awake. Simply watching them like that makes him feel like an outsider, like he is intruding on something personal, and more than once he has to remind himself he is a part of their lives too. That he deserves to be in as much pain as she is in.

After two weeks of the same routine, he shows her the card Breda gave him. "The Madam had it, and Breda said she wanted me to get it when… the time came."

Hawkeye doesn't look surprised. She doesn't look much of anything lately. She hasn't cried since that day when Roy first arrived, but her sadness is etched in every line on her face, haunting her eyes in wakefulness as it did in sleep.

"She was always against my decision," the blonde admits quietly, as if afraid to say so in front of Maes. "When I told her, she was livid, almost sued for custody. I think her exact words were 'you don't deserve the child any more than he does.'

"And?" he encourages gently.

"She said the only reason she didn't was that she couldn't separate a child from its mother. Said not even she could be that much of a bitch. And when Maes was born, she instantly fell in love with him. We all did…"

Roy has seen pictures of his son as a newborn, and it is easy to imagine how everyone was charmed by the little bundle with a crop of dark hair and big golden brown eyes like his mother's. He himself felt a painful longing when he saw the pictures, and he can't imagine anyone who wouldn't have wanted to protect the boy.

"W-what is my son like?" Suddenly, it's imperative that he knows everything about Maes, from the most minor details to the most crucial. From his medical history to his favorite toy to the teacher he loathes most at school. He wants to know, he needs to know as much as he possibly can in order to be a real part of his son's life and not just the specter who spies on an empty room by night.

Perhaps Hawkeye can sense his desperation. She looks at him for one long moment, then draws a deep breath and begins.

Jean comes in during his lunch break as he usually does. It is the same almost every day, Riza and Mustang sit by their son's bed and wait for him to wake up. When Jean comes in, Riza always looks tired, but pretends otherwise. Jean can see the bags under her eyes, the way she slouches, almost a match for his once superior officer. They both look old and tired and a shadow of the people they used to be eight years ago, and he knows he can't do anything to help.

He supposes he should be grateful that Mustang is here, but in the end, what difference does it make? Maes is still unconscious. His father's presence hasn't done anything to entice the boy back into the land of the living.

"But at least Riza has someone now," Becca tried to comfort him when he confided as much to his wife. Though if Jean is honest, he can't say if Mustang's coming has done more harm or good. True, they weren't yelling and screaming at each other, but perhaps that would have been healthier. At least they would be doing something more than just sitting there, waiting for a child who may never wake up.

Whenever Jean spoke to the doctors, they said they didn't have much hope. Well over a month has passed now, and Maes' condition is much the same. He simply isn't responding to anything they are trying, and it's likely to remain so unless a miracle happens And Jean learned the hard way a long time ago that miracles don't happen.

As he nears the door to Maes' room, for the first time, he hears voices that make him stop. Peering in through the little glass window, Jean sees Riza and Mustang engaged in a discussion about their son. Riza appears to be telling him about the time Maes dressed up as an Ishvalan for a school play last year, detailing how the boy was fascinated by his costume and tried on several "voices" before he found the right one to suit his character. Mustang is listening intently, as if he can picture the scene if he tries hard enough.

And for the first time in so many weeks, there's a hint of a smile on Riza's face.

Perhaps big miracles don't happen, thinks the Captain as he turns away from the door. But maybe the fates won't grudge them a small one.

End Note: I always love hearing what you guys think to let me have it! And thank you for sticking with the story so far, I know it's not been a happy ride but we're almost done.