Part IV: "All I'm saying is that things couldn't have turned out better if he had planned them himself"
The cafe owner took pity on Mustang and served him shots of whiskey as he told his story. Most of the story, anyhow. He left out the part about being Hawkeye's commanding officer, and her name and the pregnancy, and a lot of other parts really. You could never tell who might be listening. The woman seemed a bit irritated as he spoke.
"Just talk to her," she said finally. Mustang started to speak, but she interrupted, "Seriously, couples disagree all the time, and it sounds like she really likes you. Just try to talk it out."
Mustang walked slowly to Hawkeye's apartment. It was dark and he was fairly intoxicated. He walked up the stairs, and knocked on her door. He could hear her dog's collar jingling behind it. She wasn't home. Mustang paced in front of her door for a while, then got tired and sat down. He thought he must be quite a sight, a general in crumpled uniform sitting on the floor with his head resting on his knees. He dozed off and was startled by Hawkeye's return.
"Roy!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with concern. She helped him up and through the door.
Mustang sat on the sofa as she hung up her jacket and put her things away. Hawkeye almost seemed to be ignoring him. He waited silently and eventually she sat down next to him.
"I need you," he said, turning towards her. She stared back with a blank expression, not speaking, as he fumbled for words.
"Why won't you marry me?" he said finally. Her face turned angry.
"I've told you my opinion on this many times," Hawkeye replied forcefully, "I'm very dedicated to my work, and getting married would take away from it. Even if there's no strict rule, getting married, having a child and being known to have cavorted with a superior officer will etch away at my credibility and affect my ability to work."
Mustang opened his mouth to speak, but Hawkeye cut him off,
"I've told you this so many times, why did you think my answer would be different?"
Her face looked stern and certain. He waited, hoping it would soften, but it didn't.
"I thought our situation would make things different," Mustang replied softly, "Are you really planning on giving birth to an illegitimate child?"
Hawkeye's eyes darkened and she spoke with a small voice,
"I thought that maybe I could go on leave and give birth, then give the baby to an orphanage. When I came back, no one would even know. I killed so many people's children, I can't pretend I have a right to have a child. I have a duty to dedicate my life to making things right for the people I hurt."
Mustang looked at Hawkeye, stunned.
"You cannot possibly be thinking of doing that to our child," he spat, without thinking.
Mustang remembered how terrified he'd been of going to an orphanage when his biological mother had died. It wasn't just the meager food, cold beds and indifferent caretakers he'd been afraid of. Children were disappearing. He'd overheard Madame Christmas tell another madame that several of her girls had given up babies over the years and been unable to get them back when they changed their minds. It wasn't surprising that one or two had been lost track of, but now there were a lot. The madames were mystified at the time, but now Mustang thought he knew exactly what had happened to them.
A man came to take Mustang a few days later, but Madame Christmas had claimed she was his aunt.
"I check the Public Records and you do not have any siblings," the man had replied.
Madame Christmas had walked to the register and pulled out a wad of cash.
"I heard the Public Records are often incorrect," she said softly, her face inches from the man's, "Meanwhile, our records are much better. We always write down who visits, what they wanted and what they paid."
She put the money in the man's front pocket.
"Perhaps you could use this to buy something nice for your wife, and then check the records again tomorrow. I am sure you will find you were mistaken."
The man never returned. Mustang sometimes wondered why his mother had shown him such kindness. He guessed she had become attached to him. He knew his biological mother worked for Madame Christmas and often asked her to babysit. Chris Mustang would never say a negative word about her, but he guessed she was neglectful. Even before she died, Mustang had very few memories of his biological mother. Most of his memories were of Madame Christmas.
Suddenly, Mustang was hit by the enormity of the responsibility of being a father. There were so many things that could have happened to him, so many ways that his life could have gone badly that he narrowly missed. He had to protect his child.
"Riza," he said finally, "You often say you want to spend your life making up for the atrocities we were a part of. I want to do that too. But there is a difference between putting time and effort changing things and doing penance. Arbitrarily denying yourself will not make any difference to the people we hurt."
Hawkeye's mind seemed to turn, but she still seemed sad.
"I don't know," she said, "I don't know …"
Three days later, Hawkeye was deep in thought while guarding the door of Colonel Alex Armstrong's office. She knew Mustang was probably right, but she felt uncertain, unsettled by how suddenly her life had changed course from what she'd always planned, like she'd unexpectedly fallen and was still trying to regain her balance. Hawkeye was still in a daze when General Armstrong approached her.
"General," she said, standing at attention, trying to pretend she'd been guarding the door attentively. Armstrong didn't seem to notice.
"I just wanted to check in how you're doing with my brother," she said with a smile.
Hawkeye doubted that was why she'd come by, but answered, "Great!" anyhow. She would have never dared to say a negative word about Colonel Armstrong to his sister, no matter how much she seemed to dislike him, but in this case, her praise was sincere. She'd been pleasantly surprised by how kind and easy to work for Alex Armstrong had been so far.
"I'm not sure how much use I am as a bodyguard, though," Hawkeye joked, "I cannot imagine a single thing that would hurt him that I could stop. But protocol is protocol."
"You'd be surprised," General Armstrong said with a sly smile. She turned towards Hawkeye, and her expression changed. Hawkeye had found some larger jackets at the outfitters to fit her bust, but otherwise didn't think she looked any different. But she could tell that Armstrong had no doubt about her condition.
"What did you do?" she demanded, her face souring.
"What do you think I did?" Hawkeye responded quietly, looking downwards. She didn't look at Armstrong for a long time.
"Just so you know," whispered Armstrong, learning towards Hawkeye, "I once found myself with a similar problem, and I slid down the side of Briggs, and it took care of the situation."
Hawkeye's eyes widened.
"I think I'd die," she said, amazed.
"Oh, I almost did!" Armstrong replied with a slightly jocular tone. "But think about it. There's that thing inside of you, and you know basically nothing about it. How do you know you won't waste your time on a weakling? Better to give it a bit of a test to make sure it's made of the right stuff."
Hawkeye stared at Armstrong agape, wondering if she was serious. Then she realized she had a question.
"What would you have done?" she asked, in hushed tones, "I mean if things, had gone differently?"
Armstrong thought about it for a minute.
"Oh, I don't know. Probably take a long vacation and give birth somewhere before anyone noticed my condition. Then maybe soak the baby in cold water for a bit and leave it on a hill in Sparta."
At least now Hawkeye could tell she was joking.
"If it got through that, pawn it off on the nearest relative. If they want an heir so badly, they can change the diapers. That's what I say."
Hawkeye pictured a group of vaguely blonde people with curls lining up to save the child from having General Armstrong as a mother. She gave a small nod, like she wasn't shocked by the conversation.
"Anyhow, your situation is different," Armstrong went on in a calming tone, "Marrying General Mustang is a very good choice."
"How so?" Hawkeye asked, surprised, "I thought you didn't like him."
Armstrong laughed,
"I don't have to like anyone, no one likes me. But I support him, he's the best of the worst so to speak. But I think you've got a pretty good plan going."
Hawkeye looked at her confused.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Wow, you are dim," Armstrong laughed some more, "You really don't know."
Hawkeye resisted her urge to defend herself. Armstrong was a superior officer, and she wouldn't want to risk making her angry anyways.
"Look at it this way," Armstrong started, "Your current plan is as follows: you and Mustang are excellent officers. You rebuild Ishval, gain political support, avoid all the backstabbers and maybe one day Mustang becomes Fuhrer, assuming no one else did better. That's a solid plan."
Armstrong smiled a bit, as if pleased by her summary.
"But here's a different plan. You marry Mustang in a beautiful ceremony, which is widely covered by the press, because your only living relative, Fuhrer Grumman is giving you away. Both he and Mustang are in their uniforms, solidifying the story that the Fuhrer is marrying his beautiful granddaughter to his handsome trusted General."
Armstrong paused, and then added with a wink, "They'll say you're beautiful regardless of what you look like."
Hawkeye decided that if she ever left the service she was going to dedicate a full day to insulting General Armstrong to her face.
"This will improve Mustang's position substantially," Armstrong went on, "An old guy like the Fuhrer likely won't be able to resist the draw of dynastial power, and name Mustang as his successor. Even if he doesn't, Mustang will seem chosen. It's not a perfect plan, as it will paint a target on Mustang's back and relies on the Fuhrer staying in power. But overall, I think it's a better plan for Mustang than what you're doing currently."
Hawkeye looked at Armstrong in disbelief.
"That is completely insane!" she spat, "I promise you that this is not some grand scheme, it just happened."
Armstrong raised an eyebrow.
"It doesn't even make sense," Hawkeye went on, "My pregnancy makes everything so much more complicated, it means we would have to rush. What's the benefit of that?"
Armstrong smirked,
"Would you even consider marrying Mustang otherwise?"
Hawkeye's mind reeled. This was crazy talk.
"There is no way he would have done something like this!" she snapped.
With flat hands, Armstrong gestured to Hawkeye to calm down.
"I don't mean to accuse you or Mustang of anything," she said, "I'm purely speculating. Maybe your flesh is weak. I know that Mustang's is. All I'm saying is that things couldn't have turned out better if he had planned them himself."
Hawkeye tried to avoid looking at Armstrong's self-satisfied face. Suddenly she heard a loud noise from Colonel Armstrong's office, it sounded like he'd accidentally knocked over a bookcase.
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant!" she heard him yell. Hawkeye ran into the office.
Mustang laughed when Hawkeye told him what General Armstrong had said,
"So that's what she's been going on about!"
He had been spending nights at Hawkeye's apartment ever since their discussion, and they were eating dinner. Hawkeye wondered if he was afraid if he left her alone for too long, she would escape his grasp.
Mustang noticed that Hawkeye wasn't laughing.
"So just in case you're wondering, I am not the strategic mastermind she thinks I am in this situation."
Hawkeye had never really believed Armstrong, but was still glad to hear it.
"However," Mustang went on, "This is what the Armstrong family has done for generations. Strategic marriages are why they're so powerful, they have a cousin's hand in every pot. She thinks she's seeing through me, but she's actually showing herself."
Hawkeye thought about this.
"Why aren't General or Colonel Armstrong married then?" she asked.
"Who knows?" Mustang said shrugging, "Maybe they think they benefit the family more through their military positions. Maybe they're just waiting for the right time. Maybe it's a threat- 'sort out your family squabbles boys, or one of you will have to marry General Armstrong!'"
Hawkeye laughed so hard she nearly spit out her food.
"But just watch that beautiful younger sister of theirs," Mustang continued, "I guarantee she will be married in a few years to someone very politically expedient."
Hawkeye nodded, but there was something else that was bothering her.
"She's right, isn't she?" she asked, "Not that we had a grand plan, but that getting married is the right choice."
Mustang paused for a moment.
"Yes, I think she's right."