A/N: So in my head, and I think it's technically canon, too, though I've only ever watched FMAB, Mustang and Hawkeye obviously get married because reasons. And in my head, I picture them being these very happy dog parents, who completely dote on Ed and Al and their families, but who never end up having children of their own because, again, reasons.
But then, I started thinking about how Roy and Riza would become parents, like actual legal parents, not just 'wow, you need help so I'm going to enlist you and begrudgingly grow to care about and love you' surrogate parents. Because it wouldn't be by conventional means; nothing about their life is conventional.
And I arrived at this. And I love my new headcannon. People probably seem out of character because they are, but this is a few years in the future so I'm calling change and growth, I guess? Idk, just hope you like it.
000
1923 - East City
"Roy, we have to go. You're being ridiculous, we've just helped them get the funds to renovate their garden, and they want to say thank you. Do you realize how very horrible we'd be if we didn't go?" Riza says heatedly, shrugging out of her blue coat and moving to take out her earrings.
"You did, Riza, you, not us. Not the whole team, and especially not me. I'm not going to go take credit for this wonderful thing you've done," Roy harrumphs, shrugging out of his own coat and going to unloop his belt.
Riza sighs. "Well, does the fact that I want you to come with me count for anything? Because I do, I want you to come. I don't care if you get the credit, you know I did it in your name." Riza finishes undressing, turning to the dresser to pull out her pajamas, giving Roy a head-on view of the shiny scars marring her back.
Roy bites his lip. "Fine. Fine, I'll go. But just a quick in-and-out, and when people ask I'm saying it was all you."
Riza smiles, and pulls back the covers to get into their bed. He thinks about the ugly scars now covered by her pajamas; Roy's never been very good at denying his wife what she wants.
000
The East City Children's Home pulls out all the stops for the arrival of General Mustang and Lt. Colonel Hawkeye. When their car arrives, the children are already lining the drive, all dressed in the neatly pressed navy blue uniforms of the home. The black patent leather shoes shine in the sunlight of the afternoon, and all of the girls have pretty ribbons in their hair.
Roy gulps, and Riza pats his knee before getting out of the car with a beautiful grin on her face.
Riza is a natural at this, Roy can't help but think, watching her speak to the children, shake hands and give hugs, receive flowers and laugh at their cute quips and anecdotes. Of the two of them, she honestly should be the politician. When she tries, she's such a people person, so kind and thoughtful, actively listening and caring about what others have to say.
But then again, it's rather difficult to be a politician when you care more for all the individuals instead of the whole.
Roy does his best, shaking the kids' hands, shooting grins at awestruck little boys and gently setting the story straight when the children thank him for their new garden. He and Riza are in civilian clothes today; they don't want to intimidate the children. Roy loves watching his wife's long hair blow lightly in the wind.
It's going well, all things considered, Roy's doing okay, and maybe, dare he say it, is actually enjoying himself. He's almost to the end of the lineup, about to meet with home's director and probably go inside for tea when he sees her.
She is tiny, no more than five, with white hair held back in two neat braids; the red ribbons at the ends match the ruby-red of her eyes. She's settled in a wheelchair, and for the first time Roy notices the single patent leather shoe shining in the foot well of the chair; she's missing her left leg.
For a moment, Roy isn't able to catch his breath; oh God, God has he hurt this child? Has he somehow sentenced this tiny little baby to a life as cripple through his past atrocities?
He looks at her face; her gap-tooth grin is so wide it's making her red eyes squint.
Oh, God.
He turns to look at Riza, who is behind him in the lineup, giving a little toddler boy a hug. Over his shoulder she shoots him a concerned glance.
"Breathe." She mouths to him. And he does, he takes a breath before turning to smile back at this angelic Ishvalan girl.
She is young. She's too young to have been in Ishval at all during the war, she wasn't even near being born yet. He didn't hurt her. He didn't kill her parents.
But she is here. So someone has hurt both her and her family.
Roy intends to find out who.
"Hi, Mr. General Mustang, Sir!" the girl says happily, sticking out her small, tanned hand. "Thank you for our garden! It's real pretty. I like goin' out by the duck pond best, Dr. Adler lets me go practice my crutches there 'cause the grass is soft, and me and Shireen, sometimes we go feed the duckies stale bread Cook give us from the kitchen. It's so nice…."
Roy is going to murder whoever hurt this little girl.
"Oh no, don't thank me, thank the Lt. Colonel, she did all the hard work. But I'm very glad you enjoy the garden, it looks beautiful." And it does, the grounds of the home are beautiful, filled with new walking paths and benches, low-hanging trees and every colored flower one could imagine.
And, of course, the girl's "ducky" pond, with a charming fence surrounding it to keep the children safe and a pretty bridge connecting the outer edges of the pond to a tiny island with a willow in the center.
"What's your name?" Roy asks finally. The little girl beams.
"I'm Nijah! Mama said it means beautiful rose, because I was her favorite flower."
It's like the kid is trying to kill him.
"Well, that's the only appropriate name for a beautiful rose such as yourself," Roy says with a smile, and Nijah's face turns as red as her eyes.
The child next to Nijah lets out a loud snort.
"Sissy!" Nijah gasps, looking up at the girl, scandalized. And indeed, Roy doesn't know how he missed her, the girl next to Nijah can be nothing but her sister. This Nijah is two or three years older, by Roy's guess, standing beside her sister on both legs, gripping the back of Nijah's wheelchair with a white-knuckled hand.
She looks just like Nijah, of course same hair and eye color, but something about the shape of her eyes, the upturn of her nose, the fullness of her lips makes it easy to realize that they must be related. The only difference really, besides age and the leg, is an unfortunate scar running down the left side of the girl's face, nearly intersecting her eye and reaching to the corner of her mouth.
That, and the prominent scowl on her face.
"It's rude to stare, Mister," the girl growls, and Roy realizes, yes, he has been staring at her, probably with a shocked look on his face if his feelings are anything to go by.
"Shireen!" Nijah gasps again. Ah, so this is the famed Shireen of the ducky pond. Makes sense.
"No, Nijah, she's right. I'm very sorry for staring, Ms. Shireen. It was unconscionable of me." Shireen rolls her eyes.
"Well, Sissy's sorry, too. Ms. Marilyn asked her to be on her bestest behavior today, and she promised." Nijah glares at her sister.
It's about the cutest thing Roy Mustang has ever seen.
Shireen harrumphs. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry for being rude, Mr. Stupid General, sir." Nijah hides her face in her hands.
Roy grins.
000
"I don't know how we can ever begin to thank you for your generosity, Sirs," the director, Marilyn Ascot, says reverently. "It's just brightened everything here so much. The children adore it, the teachers and nurses are over the moon-,"
"Really, Ms. Ascot, we just filled out the paperwork and approved the funding. It was no trouble," Riza interrupts kindly.
Roy, however, knows that it was a shitload of trouble, knows that Riza spent months in meetings, fighting with the higher ups, even imploring her grandfather to find the money for the East City Children's home. After her visit to one of the newly orphaned boys during the investigation of his father's murder, Riza had been single-minded in her quest to buy the home the neighboring plots of land and get them all the flowers she could find.
"Well, please know that it is much appreciated," Ms. Ascot says, wiping her eyes with a hankie.
They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, sipping their tea and admiring the garden from the window when:
"I was wondering, it's no trouble, if you can't tell us I understand, but I was wondering what happened to Nijah and Shireen," Roy says quietly, and Ms. Ascot frowns sadly.
"Ah, yes the Khadem sisters. They've been with us a few months now. Their father was a teenager during the war, came to Amerstris with his father when his mother died, along with his fiancé. They opened that rather popular restaurant on the west side of the city, do you remember Zahra?"
Roy and Riza both nod. They'd been sad when the little sandwich shop had shut down last year; it was within walking distance of the office, and everyone had been puzzled when the place closed shop rather abruptly. It certainly got enough business, packed the gills every lunch hour.
"The family was in a car accident; parents died on impact. Little Nijah had to have her leg amputated afterward to avoid infection. I'm told Shireen got her scar dragging her sister out of the wreckage. They were both in the hospital for a few months recovering, and after they were sent here."
"Their grandfather…?" Riza asks quietly.
"He died of illness the year before. All those girls have is each other."
Roy can't help but think he's heard this story before.
000
Ms. Marilyn takes Roy and Riza on tour of the grounds. They stop often, making daisy chains with the ten-year-olds sitting under the trees, playing catch with little boys, kicking balls around the yard and using the benches as bases for a game of freeze tag.
Roy hasn't felt this light in years.
Toward the end of the afternoon, as Roy and Riza are making their way back to the home, they spy Nijah at the duck pond, balancing on tiny crutches and making her way slowly towards a young man who must be Dr. Adler.
"Mr. General Mustang!" Nijah shout happily to them, raising a crutch to wave and promptly falling to the ground. Roy, Riza and Dr. Adler all rush to the little girl, but Shireen gets there first, abandoning her book underneath the willow tree and scrambling across the bridge to reach her sister.
"Nijah! Are you alright, are you hurt, how's your thigh, are the braces too tight? I knew you shouldn't practice today, you're too tired, you didn't get enough sleep last night-,"
"Sissy, stop." Nijah says petulantly. The girl sounds exasperated, but Roy can also see the shine of tears in her ruby eyes. The fall did hurt.
But Nijah wants to keep moving.
"Sissy, I'm not tired. If you keep stopping me I'll never learn and I'll be stuck in that chair forever. Go read your book, Dr. Adler helps me with this, we already decided."
Roy can see Shireen grinding her teeth.
"Fine. But only ten more minutes today, you've been at this long enough." Nijah nods, and watches Shireen return to her place beneath the willow before turning to the adults.
"Hi," she says sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I just got excited to see you Mr. General Mustang, Sir, and sometimes I forget about the crutches."
Damn, this kid.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Riza says hurriedly, crouching down to the little girl's level. "Just keep practicing and you'll get it. I've been watching you for a while, you're really very good." Nijah beams.
"Thank you, Ms. Lt. Colonel Hawkeye!" Roy rolls his eyes fondly.
"Nijah, just call us Roy and Riza. We don't need that mouthful every time you talk to us." Nijah's eyes widen in shock.
"Really?"
"Really," Riza says sweetly, helping Nijah straighten her dress and fixing one of her ribbons. "May I help you practice, Nijah?"
Nijah shows off her toothless grin again, "I'd like that very much, Ms. Lieu—Riza. Ms. Riza."
Roy cherishes Riza's happy grin before turning to the little island and the little girl underneath the willow.
Shireen's hurt gaze meets Roy's, before she hastily turns her eyes back to the book.
Shireen doesn't look up when Roy settles himself beside her under the tree, pretending to be engrossed in the large tome in her hands. She's not reading, though, her eyes aren't moving. It's all a front as Shireen keeps her ears open, listening to her sister's practice.
"She'll be fine, you know," Roy says softly, watching his wife settle Nijah back into her crutches. "Children are resilient and your sister in particular seems very strong. She'll keep moving forward. She's got fire in her eyes."
Shireen snorts. "I don't like fire much," She says snidely. "It's what killed my grandmother. It destroyed our family's home."
Roy would rather be punched in the gut. Because these words, they make him feel just as though he has been, without the relief of the physical pain he's so earned.
Roy turns to see Shireen's red eyes boring into his. If Nijah has fire in her eyes, Shireen's are slow-burning, unbearably hot coals.
Roy swallows thickly.
"What would you like me to do, Ms. Shireen?" Roy whispers, not breaking eye contact with the child. "I've been trying for years to find absolution for what I did in Ishval. I thought the reconstruction efforts would help, but you and Nijah are simply proof the repercussions of my misdeeds will never cease. What do you want from me, Ms. Shireen? Ask me anything, and I'll do my best to see it through."
Shireen looks shocked, and there are tears welling in her eyes. And really, who does Roy think he is? Who the hell is he to ask this of an eight-year-old? What the fuck is he doing, what is he saying, how—
"Shireen!" a voice shouts happily from across the pond. "Shireen look! Look how far I made it today!" Nijah is waving a crutch from where she's settled in Dr. Adler's arms from far down the pond, absolutely beaming.
Then Shireen's eyes well with tears for a different reason.
"That's wonderful, Sissy! You—good job today, Nijah!" Shireen yells across the pond, voice thick. She turns back to Roy, eyes bright. "I—I'll let you know, General," she says to him softly.
"Roy," he responds. "Call me Roy."
000
Roy and Riza never really discuss it, but they both, together and apart, continue to visit the Children's Home. At least once a week they're there, reading books, helping with homework, serving dinner or playing games. Their lives are busy, they really don't have the time, but visiting the children, playing games, helping them—
It's cathartic.
And every visit, in some way or another, seems to end with the Khadem sisters.
Riza becomes heavily invested in Nijah's rehabilitation, reading books, speaking with fitness instructors at the base about strengthening exercises, and talking to doctors about the possibility of prosthesis for her. She works with Dr. Adler, coaching Nijah through practices and helping with her stretches. When Nijah starts working more on her core and balance, Riza brings Black Hayate along and teaches Nijah to throw and play fetch.
When she hears Shireen lamenting her scar one day, Riza goes to the store, finds foundation and powder and cover-up in Shireen's shade, and brings along her new haul of makeup the next visit to teach Shireen how to hide her scar.
"But, sweetheart, just know you don't have to," Roy hears Riza murmur to Shireen through the bathroom door. "You don't have to cover it. You're beautiful, Shireen. Scars are just stories in our lives, and only those who matter to us most get to know them."
"Mr. Roy, why are you sad? You're crying." Nijah observes softly, looking up from the game chess that Roy has been teaching her to play.
("The king looks real strong and pretty Mr. Roy, but he can't do nothin'! The queen's the best one. It doesn't seem fair everybody has to die if the stupid king gets caught."
"You're a natural, Nijah.")
"It's just dust, sweetheart. Just some dust."
After a hesitant confession of her interest in alchemy, Shireen is bombarded by reference materials from Roy. He sends her books, articles, magazines, his first alchemy notes, anything and everything that might sate her interest.
It's always worth it to see Shireen lips twist up in a hesitant grin.
000
Shireen still doesn't like Roy.
Pretty much hates him, to be honest. Sure, the girl will accept alchemy notes and gifts, will hug his wife and allow him play with her sister. She will tolerate his presence because she likes and respects Riza and she knows that Nijah, for some unfathomable reason, really likes him.
Shireen still hates Roy.
It's evident in her snide remarks about fire and Ishval and her family, in the glares she sends his way when she thinks no one in watching. In the way she calls him nothing but 'Mr. Stupid General, sir' no matter how many times Nijah glares at Shireen and apologizes for her.
Roy doesn't mind.
He deserves it.
And anyway, he's got plenty of practice with overprotective older siblings who already know what a bastard he is.
000
"Where's Shireen today, Nijah?" Riza asks after they arrive. Nijah sweet little face pulls into a frown.
"She's in the infirmary with Dr. Adler," Nijah says sadly, "Sissy is sick."
"Oh, what's the matter with her? Has she caught that flu going around?" Roy asks. Nijah shakes her head.
"I don't, I'm not very sure. Sissy just—everybody always thinks I got hurt worst in the accident, but Sissy got cut up real bad, and there's lots of things wrong in her tummy. She gets sick real easy." Nijah's eyes well up with tears. "And she won't tell me when her tummy hurts because she doesn't want to scare me, but it scares me more that she won't tell me, I don't want her to get too sick. And Dr. Adler and Ms. Marilyn and the nurses, they care lots and they try to always watch her, but there are whole bunches of kids here to watch still and-,"
"Nijah, sweetheart, deep breaths," Riza says, crouching down by Nijah's chair and putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I don't want her to leave me, too, Ms. Riza!" Nijah wails, tears dripping out of her ruby eyes. As Riza pulls the child into a hug, Roy slips away down the hall.
Nijah will be fine, she has Riza. And it's not too far a walk to the infirmary.
000
Roy finds Shireen in a tiny cot by the window, curled up in a ball. There's a hastily cleaned red bucket sitting next to the bed.
"Hello, General Mustang," Dr. Adler greets him, wincing as the door to his tiny office creaks when he shuts it.
"How is she?" Roy asks. Dr. Adler offers a soft smile, looking back at the sleeping Shireen.
"Better now. Still has a bit of a fever and nausea, but she should be fine in a few days. Shireen's had a rough night, unfortunately. She's exhausted."
Roy grimaces at the thought.
"Is it alright if I sit with her for a while?"
"That would be great, actually, if you don't mind me stepping out to get some food. I was about to run and get one of the nurses quickly, but as long as you're here to watch she'll be fine."
Roy tries not to let it show, how ironic he finds it that this kind doctor trusts him to be left alone with an Ishvalan child. Instead he nods, and drags a chair over to Shireen's bedside.
Her eyes are closed, so Roy does his best to stay quiet. He picks up one of the novels someone must have dropped for her on the bedside table and reads uncomprehendingly for a few minutes.
"Bucket." Shireen rasps.
Roy is rather proud of how quickly he reacts. All of the vomit ends up in the red bucket.
He helps Shireen sit up, rubs her back and swipes the whites straggles of hair that have fallen out of her braid away from her face and mouth.
Once she's finished being sick, he cleans the bucket in the sink and comes back with a glass of water. Shireen takes tiny sips from the glass; Roy has to physically hold himself back from reaching to steady her shaking hand, from resting his palm against her forehead to feel for fever.
"Feeling better?"
Shireen glares at him. If she were older, he knows she'd be telling him to fuck off.
And Roy gets it, he does. Shireen is a person who simply doesn't like being fussed over. She doesn't think she needs it (doesn't think she deserves it for some unfathomable reason), and all the people whose fussing she would tolerate, the people she'd like with her now the most, rubbing her back, tucking her in and feeling for fever, they're all dead.
And Shireen is stuck with Roy.
He gets it. Better than even she knows.
"My parents died when I was five."
Roy doesn't know why he says he, cannot understand what brought the words to his mouth, but once they're out they feel right. Shireen needs to know this, needs to hear that she's not the only one.
She's not alone.
"It was a house fire, if you can believe it. I don't remember what started it anymore, I just remember my mother grabbing me out of bed and running. She threw me out of her arms before a beam could fall on top of both of us. It still hit me, but I wasn't pinned like her. I was able to crawl away, and Dad found me and got me out of the house.
"Then he went back to try and save Mom and, well-," Roy coughs. "Neither of them made it back out."
Shireen is staring at him with a blank expression. Her eyes though, her eyes are blazing.
"I spent about a month here, at the Children's home after the fire. Well," Roy amends, "I spent a couple weeks in the hospital first, but then here. I don't remember much of it honestly, I was young and traumatized, I suppose. I think people were nice, but I was pretty lonely and I was stuck in a wheelchair most of the time since I had some bad burns on my legs. I've still got some pretty wicked scars from them up my calves and behind my knees.
"And then, one day, completely out of the blue, some woman shows up here, says she my aunt from Central, my dad's estranged sister. Has the paperwork finished and all the correct IDs, says she's taking me home with her. I'd never seen her before in my life.
"And this stranger who sort of kind of looked like me and Dad, who acted absolutely nothing like Mom, was suddenly there all the time. Making me eat, even when I wasn't hungry, changing my bandages and giving me my medicine. Taking me to the hospital when I got an infection. Holding me tight every time I cried.
"And I was so angry at her, I hated her because I didn't want her. I didn't want any of those people who tried to help me at all. I wanted Mom and Dad and our house in East City with the green shutters and my dog Lucy and all my old toys and books that were turned to ash in the fire.
"But I needed Aunt Chris. I needed those doctors and nurses and the people from the home. There's sometimes a vast difference between what we want and what we end up with in life. But, when the burns stopped hurting so much, when I was able to get up and walk again and sleep through the night without dreaming of fire, I suppose that's when I learned as long as we have what we need, well, things seem to work out in the end. Even if it's not the way we once expected."
Shireen is silent, her face a contemplative mask.
"Can I see your scars?"
000
"Riza, we have to talk about this."
"I know."
"I just—what the hell do we do? What do we do? Would we even be allowed? And then, God, the stupid speculation, people could all think it's just some sick ploy by me to get ahead. We can't do that to them. But, Riza, we—I, we have to do something, we can't go on like this forever, and if—if somebody else did it first, I don't think I could bear it, or, God, what if Shireen gets sick again and-,"
"Sir, stop." Riza only calls him sir outside work now when she's very, very serious. Roy shuts up immediately.
"I've—I should've talked to you about it, but I have been speaking about the process to Marilyn." Of course Riza, his Riza, always ten steps ahead, has already reached the epiphany he's just had.
"Legally there's nothing hindering us. If they had blood-relatives there'd be possible problems, but there are none. The problem we might face, it's not necessarily legal, but the home-,"
"What?"
"We have to ask them, Roy. We can't just take them home with us without saying anything first. We need to get their permission."
It makes sense, honestly it does. Technically they are strangers, the worst kind of strangers, really, and they shouldn't have the right to simply take the kids of people they made refugees home on a whim.
And Nijah, sweet little Nijah, for as nice as the home and the people are, probably would've jumped in their car that first day if they asked. Now, she stands on the porch with her crutches every time they leave, smile on her face, but tears in her eyes.
Nijah will say yes.
But only if Shireen does.
Because for every smile from Shireen, there are twice as many frowns. Twice as many scowls. Shireen is older, and harder, and she's young but she knows. She understands who Mr. Roy and Ms. Riza used to be before they started building parks and playing with orphans. She knows what they've done, and maybe she will let them play with her sister, maybe she will talk to them and accept their gifts, but there's a pretty enormous rift between keeping a new book and going home with your people's sworn enemies to call them Mom and Dad.
"Do you think she'll say yes?" Roy asks quietly.
Riza silence says everything.
000
But asking the Khadems, for better or worse, is put on hold by the arrival of the Elric family in Central City. Winry had been asked by a rather wealthy old man to perform his automail surgery in Central City, as opposed to trekking out to Resembool. Winry and Ed decide, of course, that it is a perfect time for a family vacation, and show up on the Mustangs' doorstep unannounced.
"Edward, you told me you asked them! You idiot, we're not freeloaders, we're getting a hotel!"
"Damn, Winry, stop hitting me, I'm gonna drop the kid! And no, I didn't ask per se, but Hawkeye said we're always welcome, any time, so I just figured…" Ed trails off, gold eyes big and wide, staring at Riza and Roy, his little daughter Nina cuddled in his arms.
"Of course you are, you're always welcome, it'll just be a few minutes to get the guest rooms ready-,"
"No, Riza, don't be ridiculous, Ed's being an ass, I'm so embarrassed, I thought he talked to you, but apparently not because I've married an idiot-,"
"Mama, that's bad words," Ben says tiredly, raising his head from his mother's shoulder, golden eyes wide.
"Yes sweetie, it is, that's just how mad I am at Daddy right now. Doesn't mean you get to use them, okay?"
"Okay, Mama." Ben responds, laying his head back down. "Hiya, Uncle Roy."
"Hi, Ben," Roy says softly, heart clenching. God, how the hell did Fullmetal end up with such sweet kids? "Just come inside, you know we're not going to let you leave now."
And that is that.
000
"So, Mustang, word on the street is you're a humanitarian now," Edward says idly, stirring his whiskey around the glass and staring into the fire. Riza, Winry, and the children are already asleep, leaving Ed and Roy to their own devices.
Roy's not sure it's such a good idea.
"Whatever do you mean, Fullmetal?"
"Oh, c'mon, don't play dumb, Colonel. Everybody in the East knows you and Hawkeye are at the Children's Home every other day."
"It's General now." Ed smirks.
"Well, if we're going by technicalities, you really shouldn't call me Fullmetal since I can't do alchemy anymore but—here we are." Ed shrugs, then his face turns serious. "What's going on, Roy? I know it's not some publicity stunt, it's been months since that garden was finished."
Roy scowls. "So I'm not allowed to do something nice for others, simply because it makes me feel good? That's not a good enough reason?"
Ed looks stricken. "I—no, of course not, that's, of course you can. I'm sorry—I just, I kinda figured you and Hawkeye were considering adoption."
Edward's always been too clever for his own good.
Ed must find the answer to his question in Roy's gaze, because he smirks again.
"Who's the kid?"
"Kids." Roy says quietly, and Edward whistles. "Two sisters. But it's complicated."
"It doesn't have to be."
Roy sighs. "They're Ishvalan, Edward."
"Ok, yeah, maybe it is."
000
The next day, Winry and Riza take the children shopping. Edward asks Roy to take him to the Children's home.
"Oh, c'mon, I wanna meet them. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease-,"
"God, Fullmetal I think they're already more mature than you, and Nijah's only six."
Fullmetal just grins.
000
Edward thoroughly enjoys his visit to the home. The craft for the day is building kites, and Fullmetal goes around, bouncing from kid to kid, helping construct the tails, giving ideas for the colors and designs on the kite, and discussing headwinds and air resistance in terms the children understand.
Edward is a good teacher.
Edward is a good father.
Roy's always known it, but seeing him not just with his own children, but these orphans, seeing how willingly and happily and well he plays with them and helps them, it makes something in Roy's heart ache in the best way. He doesn't know the last time he's been so proud.
Not that Roy can take any credit, of course.
"Is that them?" Edward asks Roy quietly, after handing the kite he'd finally gotten in the air back to little Lucy, "On the bench?"
Roy nods, and they make their way over to the Khadems. Shireen is settled on the bench, reading aloud out of a book of fairy tales. Nijah's chair is rolled up right next to her. The day is slightly cool, but Nijah is completely bundled up, leg covered with a blanket and body wrapped in an oversized coat to cover her uniform.
"Mr. Roy! Mr. Roy, you're back!" Nijah squeals, rushing to unlock her chair and roll forward, but Shireen stops her, rolling her eyes fondly.
"Nijah, he's coming to us, you don't have to move."
Edward snorts. "I like this kid."
"Yeah I thought you might," Roy says with a grin, before approaching the girls. "Hi Nijah, Hi Shireen."
"Mr. Roy!" Nijah shouts, raising her hands to him. He picks her up and settles her on his hip before sitting next to Shireen on the bench.
"Nijah, your blanket," Shireen sighs, looking at the quilt which Ed picks up from the ground and folds neatly on the chair.
"Sissy, Dr. Adler says it's just a little cold. You worry too, too, too much!"
"Nijah-,"
"This is my friend, Edward," Roy interrupts, unwilling to listen to a fight. "He and his family are from Resembool, and they're in town for a few days visiting."
"Oooohh, Hi Mr. Edward. Is Resembool out in the country? Are there sheep, I like sheep. What about mountains, mountains are soooo pretty, Ms. Riza says when I get a pros—a prosth—a fake leg, then maybe I can go on hikes and I wanna hike a mountain, Mr. Edward, do you know any good mountains-?"
"Edward Elric?" Shireen asks quietly, interrupting Nijah's adorable rambles as she takes in Fullmetal's appearance. Edward, smiling widely at Nijah, simply nods.
Shireen gasps. "Seriously? You, you're the Fullmetal Alchemist? You know the Fullmetal Alchemist?" she asks incredulously, turning to Roy.
"Whoa, really?" Nijah squeals, "That's the best radio serial ever, we listen every night! I thought it was all made up, like a fairy tale. You're real? You're a superhero!" Nijah says, looking up at Ed.
Ed looks gobsmacked.
Then he holds up a hand to Roy, a silent gesture to wait, and grins manically. "I just—I need to take a minute to savor this. Wow, this is just beautiful. Yeah, after my wedding and the births of my children and Al getting his body back; yeah after those this is the best day of my life."
"Fullmetal," Roy sighs, shaking his head.
"Oh," Nijah says sadly. "Mr. Ed you spoiled it. I didn't know Alphonse got his body back. I mean, I'm real happy, Alphonse is my favorite, but the serial's such fun to listen to and-,"
Edward scoops Nijah out of Roy's lap and twirls her around in a circle, making her giggle before settling her on his hip and kissing her nose.
"I'm sorry, Nijah. You're an angel, you know that?"
"Mr. Roy, does this mean you're the bastard colonel?"
Roy chokes.
000
They go for a walk after that, Roy pushing Nijah's chair as Ed and Shireen walk ahead. For as much as Nijah protests that she not sick and she's not a baby and she doesn't need a nap….she falls asleep within five minutes.
Roy continues to push, gentle smile on his face, listening in on Ed and Shireen's conversation.
"So you—you're leg isn't real, right? It's metal. You have a metal leg and you can walk around just fine."
Ed nods. "It's called automail. It's more sensitive than regular prosthetics, it connects to your nerves and allows for some actual movement. It's not the same as a flesh and blood limb, it will never be the same, but it's a miracle in its own right." Ed says softly.
"So Nijah could have a leg again?" Shireen asks wondrously.
Ed sighs. "The process of getting automail, the surgeries and rehabilitation, it's very painful, Shireen. And it's really not good to get automail until you're done growing; using automail can take up a lot of energy, and it often stunts your growth."
Roy remembers the way Ed had shot up after getting his arm back, the extra surgeries he'd had to adjust the port on his leg for the outrageous growth spurts and regrets every single time he called the boy short all over again.
"Well, you're pretty tall, how old were you when you got automail?"
Ed gapes at her. "Have I told you yet how much I like you, kid?"
Shireen beams at him.
"Well I, I'm a bit of a special case. I was eleven, but there were…it was pretty overwhelming. I really shouldn't have, Shireen, but I needed to help my brother. Win, she makes kids wait 'til they're sixteen or seventeen nowadays."
"Who's Win?"
"Oh, her name's Winry, she's my wife. Best automail mechanic in the world, too."
"Is that why you married her?" Shireen asks, and Ed laughs out loud.
"No, no. The leg might be why she agreed to married me, though. Any time I make her mad, she can just steal it while I sleep." Ed says with a wink, and Shireen giggles.
She actually giggles.
They walk in comfortable silence for a while, seeming to forget all about Roy and the sleeping Nijah behind them.
"Mr. Elric?"
"You can call me Ed, sweetie."
"Mr. Ed, I—I was wondering, well I bet automail's real expensive, right? I know Mama and Papa left us some money, I'm not sure how much, but we have some, and I can get a job, I'm smart, I work hard. I could probably have enough together by the time Nijah's sixteen-,"
Ed looks stricken. Roy's heart breaks in fucking half.
"Oh, sweetheart," Ed says, grabbing her hand, "Don't worry about that, you don't need to-,"
"Yes I do," Shireen says fiercely, "She's, Nijah's my little sister, she's all I've got, and she needs this, she-you didn't know her before, all she did was run, skip, and hop all over the place. She needs a leg, not just some peg leg so she can hobble around, she needs to run. She needs to live, I—I gotta give her that at least, after what I've done, I gotta—I gotta-,"
Roy is kneeling beside her by the time she bursts into tears. He pulls her into a hug, hand cupping the back of her head.
Her arms snake around to the back of his shirt and grip it tightly as she sobs into his shoulder.
"Shhhh, shhhhh, Shireen, honey, it's okay. It's okay. Breathe, just breathe, you're fine. You'll be fine, it's alright. Shhhhh," Roy whispers over and over again, petting her hair, rubbing her back. Hugging her tighter.
"It should have been me," Shireen whispers, "That was my seat in the car, it was always my seat, but I made her switch—I made her switch that day because I w-wanted to see the silly street performers out the window and we had a fight about it, and Papa made us flip a coin and I won and—Roy it should've been me. It was 'sposed to be my leg."
And Roy's heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.
"Hey, sweetheart, hey look at me. Look at me." Roy says, pulling back from the hug to cup her cheeks in his hands, wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumb, caressing her shiny scar. "Shireen, it's not your fault. It's not. Something terrible happened to you, to all of you, but you're here. You're here, Shireen, and Nijah's here, and I know sometimes it hurts so badly you think it'll never stop, and you miss your family every single day, but you're both here and that's a miracle, sweetheart.
"And, I can't speak for your sister, but I think she's forgiven you. I doubt she ever blamed you in the first place, Shireen. You can ask her yourself, if you want, but just know, what happened that day wasn't your fault.
"Nothing's ever going to be the same as it was before, and sometimes it probably feels like you're trudging through a river of mud," Roy glances up at Ed, and he smiles grimly. "But you just keep moving forward. You just keep going, like Nijah on those crutches. You keep going, and one day, you realize it's gotten better."
Shireen doesn't respond, just lurches forward, curling herself into Roy's chest and gripping the back of his shirt once again.
Roy doesn't let go.
000
Ed takes over pushing Nijah, and Roy carries the now sleeping Shireen back up the pathways to the home. Once they reach the building, Ed carefully lifts Nijah from the chair and into one arm, collapsing the chair and grabbing it with the other, before following Roy up the stairs to the girls' room.
Once in the room, Roy undoes the covers on both beds and lays Shireen down in her own. He takes off her coat and shoes, and gently removes the ribbons and unravels her braids before tucking her in. Ed does the same for Nijah, and they quietly slip out of the room, Roy last, switching off the light and closing the door three fourths of the way, leaving a sliver of light the way Nijah likes it.
"I was wrong," Ed says abruptly. "I was wrong."
"Not that I don't appreciate hearing that from you, but about what, Fullmetal?" Ed glares.
"Do you love them?"
"Yes," Roy says without hesitation. "I do-,"
"Does Riza love them?"
"Of course she does, Edward, she-,"
"Then this isn't complicated, Roy. It's not. You love them, and they love you, and that's all there is. That's all that matters. You and Riza need to take them home."
Roy sucks in a hard breath. "You know there's more to it than that, it's more difficult-,"
"No it's not-,"
"Yes, it is! Do you know the kind of outrage it could prompt? "Flame Alchemist kidnaps Ishvalan orphans" that'll be the headline the next day, you know how cruel those rags can be. They had a field day already with my and Riza's engagement, we would've been fucking court martialed if not for Grumman. I couldn't put them through that kind of hurt, that kind of scrutiny—I couldn't!"
"God, is this about your Fuhrer shit? This will put you off track and children aren't in the plan and-,"
"I don't give a damn about being Fuhrer!" It's the first time in his life he's said the words, but now, he knows it's true. It is. This goal that has consumed his life for nearly two decades it just, now, it doesn't even matter, doesn't seem real or good or necessary compared to the two little girls through the door.
Ed looks shocked, but swallows it quickly. "Then you severely underestimate the decency of humans overall," he says sadly.
"It only take one indecent person to ruin it for the rest," Roy replies harshly. "Besides it doesn't matter. Nijah and Shireen would have to agree to it-,"
"Oh yeah, that's such a problem-," Ed mutters.
"It is. Nijah would probably say yes, but she won't go anywhere without Shireen and Shireen….Ed, she knows. She knows who we are, what we did. What I did. She flat out told me I murdered their grandmother first time I met her, you think she could ever even fathom living under the same roof as me?
"And really, how the hell could I ever be a parent? Riza, she's, she'd be a natural, I know, but I, God, I'd just, I'd screw it all up, I'd screw them up-,"
"You didn't screw up Al and me," Ed says quietly, before turning to walk down the stairs. "You severely underestimate yourself, too.
"Hey, whatever happens with this," Ed says, turning back to Roy, "You give those girls my number. You tell Shireen once Nijah turns sixteen, the automail's on Winry and me, no charge. Got it?"
Ed walks away before Roy is able to overcome his shock.
000
It's another two days before the Elrics leave town, and Roy and Riza have time to visit the home once again. Riza, who had been informed of Shireen's breakdown and the consequent revelation, has been positively itching to go since she heard.
But she loves the Elrics, too, the family they adore and really see so little of, all things considered, and she doesn't want to interrupt their visit or cut it short. So she waits.
They both wait.
And ten minutes after the Elrics board their train, Roy and Riza head to the Children's Home.
"Ms. Riza! Mr. Roy!" Nijah shouts happily, hobbling over to them on her crutches.
All by herself.
"Nijah, oh goodness, look at you! You're so strong, sweetheart, you're doing so well," Riza says, pulling Nijah into a hug.
"I missed you, Ms. Riza," Nijah sighs, burying her face into Riza's stomach. Riza pets back her white bangs gently.
"I missed you, too, Nijah."
Roy clears his throat, "Nijah, where's Shireen?"
"Oh, she's at the ducky pond island, readin' I think," Nijah scrunches her nose. "She's been real odd lately, Mr. Roy, she's all quiet. Well," Nijah amends, "more quiet than usual. And her eyebrows are all squished together like this all the time," Nijah says, demonstrating said eyebrow squishing, "Like she's thinking lots. And Papa always said it wasn't a good thing when Shireen is thinking lots, 'cause she's too clever for her own good."
"I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart," Roy says, smiling lightly and walking to the duck pond and over the bridge.
"Hello," Roy says lightly, settling next to Shireen on the ground at the base of the willow. "How are you, Shireen?"
"I'm fine." She says, not looking up from her book. "Have you ever lied to Edward before?"
And Roy knows that today is going to be a very interesting day.
"Yes, I have, when he was young. I lied to him if I thought it would keep him safe. It wasn't often, but I did." Shireen nods as though she was expecting this, but doesn't look up.
"Do you now? Now that he's all grown up?"
Oh. Oh.
Roy swallows thickly.
"No. I don't."
Shireen looks up and tilts her head at Roy, as though sizing him up. Roy maintains eye contact; he has a feeling, at this moment, it's an important thing to do.
Shireen seems to find what she's looking for and nods, "You remember that first day, the first time I talked to you?" Roy nods. "You said I could ask you anything, and you'd do your best to see it through."
"Yes, I did." Roy answers after a moment; his gut feels like there's a snake wriggling around inside of it.
"Did you mean it?"
Roy takes a deep breath. "Yes, I did."
"Do you promise to do what I ask? No questions? No conditions?" Oh God, what is she going to ask? Does she want him to kill someone? Does she want him to retire, to turn himself over to what's left of the Ishvalan elders? Does she want him to disappear forever?
It doesn't matter. If Shireen asks he'll do it.
"Yes, I will."
Shireen reaches out a shaking hand and rests it on Roy's. "Would you—would you take us home with you and Ms. Riza then? Nijah and me, will you take us home?"
And yes, they're under a tree and it's beautiful and sunny but boy does it look a whole lot like rain. It's absolutely pouring, really, under that tree with Shireen.
Somewhere on the other side Maes Hughes is definitely having a conniption.
"Yes," Roy chokes out around his tears, gathering Shireen into his arms, "we will."