1923 – East City
"Riza, how are you my dear?" the Fuhrer gushes over the phone.
Riza rolls her eyes. "I'm doing well, sir. What about-,"
"No, no, no, absolutely not. My darling, I am first and foremost your grandfather, and we've missed out on enough time together as it is. There are no 'sirs' here."
Riza rolls her eyes again. "Yes si—Grandfather. It's nice to hear from you. Can I help you with anything?"
Grumman lets out a dramatic sigh, "My dear, it has been entirely too long since we've last seen each other. You and Mustang have been ignoring me for Ishval and the East-,"
"You stationed us here, Grandfather-,"
"And it's been six months, yet I still haven't had the chance to spoil my dear, sweet great-grandchildren. Who would've thought, me, a great-grandfather? I certainly never expected to live this long and now-,"
"Are you saying you'd like to visit, Grandfather?"
Riza can nearly see Grumman's smirk, all the way from Central.
"Precisely, my dear. Precisely. I was thinking the end of the month, arrive on the 27th and stay until the 3rd, do my inspections of the base whilst I'm there. Does that work for you and your lovely family, my darling?"
Riza's nearly positive her eyes will come unhinged from all this rolling.
"Yes, yes I believe it should," she says, lifting her completed paperwork to check the desk calendar beneath.
"The 27th you-," Riza begins, but she stops, observing her calendar, the month of November laid out before.
Nijah has a piano lessons. Shireen has joined a school play, Grumman may be able to catch one of the performances. The girls have Ishvalan classes on Sundays, both have doctors' appointments the 14th, Ms. Marilyn is coming over for tea the 12th, Roy's birthday falls on the 20th, but—
For the whole month of November, there is no black dot.
Quickly, Riza flips back to October, but she knows what she'll see. Or, what she won't.
She nearly rips the month of October off the calendar to look at September, to look back at the thick black dot she'd penned in the corner of the box for September 3rd.
And it's November 9th.
Riza chokes on air, and begins coughing instantly.
"Riza," Grumman says worriedly, finally sounding genuine, "Riza, are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she gasps, coughing once more and reaching for the glass of water on her desk with trembling hands. She takes a gulp, then takes a breath before speaking again.
"Grandfather, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to leave now; I'll transfer you to my subordinate, he'll give me the details," and before Grumman can respond Riza presses the transfer button.
"Jeffries, my grandfather is on the phone, planning a visit. I'm late for a meeting, please pass along my apologies and take the details. I'm going to be out the rest of the afternoon," Riza relays hurriedly.
"Yes, Lt. Colonel. I'll see you Monday, sir, and give you the details then." The earnest young voice says. Riza collects her coat and hangs up her phone, exiting the office with a grin when she hears the cracking voice yelp:
"Your Excellency! You're the Lt. Colonel's—? Yes sir, of course sir, my goodness I am so sorry," and panicked green eyes meet Riza's as she walks out the door.
"Send along my love, Private," Riza says with a grin, not feeling too sorry. It is Friday, and now Jeffries has a rather excellent story from work to tell his friends this weekend.
Riza, on the other hand, now has a doctor's appointment this afternoon.
And she's very, very late.
000
"Well, Lt. Colonel, please allow me to be the first to give you my congratulations," Dr. Collins says, bright smile on her face.
Riza gapes at her.
"You—you're serious. This is-really?" Riza whispers, shocked. "Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be, it is still a bit early but—yes, Lt. Colonel, you're pregnant. A little over two months along."
Hearing the words aloud seems to unlock something in Riza's throat, and she exhales loudly.
"Wow."
The doctor's smile falls, her face growing serious. "Sir, if this is….problematic, you do have some opt-,"
"No," Riza replies quickly, "No, no, doctor, I'm just a bit-," Stunned. Shocked. Shaken, floored, amazed. "Surprised. I'm surprised. I honestly thought I wasn't able." Riza explains, and it's true. Because before they'd been married, Roy and Riza had been very careful. And after they got married they weren't.
Either way, Riza never ended up pregnant.
They don't really talk about it, didn't really worry about it. Riza had once been rather leery of motherhood anyway; how could a girl who'd grown up motherless ever be a good mother? And Roy, well he simply told her all he'd ever need to be happy was her. She couldn't help but agree, back then. Riza hadn't known if she wanted children or not, and it seemed like the universe had made the decision for her.
Then, of course, they met Shireen and Nijah, and Riza discovered the universe simply had a different path to motherhood in mind.
But this?
This is beyond unexpected.
Riza is thirty-three years old; it's not really too old to have a child, but it is far above the average for carrying one's first child. Hell, Winry's just months away from having her third baby and she's nine years Riza's junior.
The doctor beams at her. "Surprising things happen every day, Lt. Colonel Hawkeye. Congratulations on your little miracle."
Her little miracle.
The thought makes Riza smile.
000
"Lights out, Shireen," Riza says firmly, tucking the quilt around her.
Shireen pouts. "But Mo-om," she whines. Six months on and the word still makes Riza's stomach swoop happily. "No school tomorrow, it's Saturday. And the story's just getting good!"
"Then I suppose you have something to look forward to tomorrow," Riza says wryly, kissing Shireen's head before setting Shireen's book on the table and turning out the lamp. "Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I love you."
Shireen doesn't protest. Just yawns and lays down under the purple quilt. "Love you, too, Mom."
Riza enters the hallway and watches Roy quietly exit Nijah's room, shutting the door until it's three-fourths of the way closed, just as Nijah likes it. He puts a finger to his lips, squishing his grin as he grabs Riza's hand and drags her down the hall on tiptoes.
"I didn't say goodnight to Nijah yet," Riza complains, pulling half-heartedly to go back.
"Well, our dear sweet Nijah is sound asleep, because I am rather fantastic at telling bedtime stories, and between you and me I'd like to keep her that way," Roy says with a happy smile. Nijah's taken to sleeping in their bed lately, suffering alternatingly from bad dreams and bouts of insomnia. The fact that she's fallen asleep so quickly tonight is a good sign.
"The story was probably so boring and dry you put her to sleep," Riza offers, but Roy keeps on grinning.
"I don't even care, she's out like a light. I love the kid, but I rather miss sleeping through the night without being kicked or punched awake."
Shireen can curl up a ball, sleep for nine hours, and wake up in the exact same position.
Nijah looks like she's making snow angels every time she falls asleep.
"Alright," Riza concedes, squeezing Roy's hand and going down the stairs with him to their kitchen.
Roy lets go of her hand and goes to the cupboard, grabbing a couple glasses and a bottle of wine.
"Oh—no, I don't want any tonight." Roy shrugs and pours a glass for himself, leaning lazily against the counter as he sips. He's still dressed in his uniform, but his coat is off, and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows. His hair is rumpled and wild, probably from sitting in Nijah's bed with her as he read the story, and his lips, still sipping the wine, tilt up in a grin as he sees her staring.
Goddamn her husband is attractive.
And Nijah sharing their bed hasn't just kept them from sleep.
Riza shakes her head, clearing her thoughts before looking at Roy again. "So, how was your day?"
Roy shrugs. "Fine. Had a lot of paperwork to catch up on, Fuery isn't anywhere near as good as you at keeping me motivated to finish it. Got it all done though. Oh, and Ed called, said Al and May are coming to Resembool in January, planning to stay a few months. Apparently the Elric brothers want to write a book." Roy rolls his eyes fondly, "More like Al will write a book and Ed will incoherently shout out a million different ideas at him at once, but I imagine the end result will be rather informative."
"That's nice. Al and May can be there when the new baby is born."
"Hell, I forgot about that. Two kids feels like a handful already and ours are even older than Ed and Winry's. I can't imagine adding a newborn to that mix. It'd probably be like drowning." Roy snorts.
Well shit.
Riza decides to blame her irrational urge to cry on hormones.
"How was your day?" Roy asks, and Riza shakes her head again.
"Fine. Grumman called, though, said he wants to visit us at the end of the month. He's very excited to meet Nijah and Shireen."
"He planning on having an inspection of the East then, too?" Roy asks. Riza nods.
"Well, the heads up is nice. We'll be ready." Roy tilts his head curiously. "Are you alright?"
Because Riza is glaring at the apples in the bowl on the table, covering her mouth with her hand as she jiggles her knee. And suddenly Roy is there, sitting in the chair next to her and settling a gentle hand on her knee, stopping the shaking.
"What's wrong, Riza?"
Riza doesn't know the last time she's been this nervous. Which is ridiculous, honestly, because Roy will be shocked, yes, just like she was, but he won't be angry. He'll be happy, excited even, just as she is, and the comment he made earlier about three kids, she knows he didn't mean it. She wonders idly if this is the kind of nervous he felt right before he asked her to marry him. Confident, yet terrified.
Because it's still a change. A good change, a wonderful one, but still a change. And their life has been full of so many wonderful yet drastic changes lately, Riza feels a bit bad for adding another. Although, it really is Roy's doing as much as it's Riza's and—
"Nothing's wrong, Roy. I'm pregnant."
She says it evenly, simply, meeting his soft gaze as she speaks the words.
Roy's breath catches.
"You—You're—Really?" He whispers, hand on her knee tightening, eyes wide. Riza nods, lips turning up slightly at the corners.
"Really?" She nods again, and lets out a little laugh. "Oh, Riza."
Endearments flow easily in their home now, because surely, a person can't meet Nijah and Shireen and not want to call them honey and sweetheart and darling. They are all of those things and more, and they deserve to hear it often.
They do hear it often.
But Roy doesn't call his wife any of those things. Her name is enough. Because, after so many years of not being able to use it, her name is more than just an endearment. It's a prayer. It's a promise.
"Riza," He says again, lifting his hand off her knee and using it to cup her head. He has tears in his eyes, but his mouth is turned up in an achingly sweet smile. Riza bites her lip to hold in a sob.
"Think we can handle it?" Riza asks, and regrets it immediately as she watches the smile disappear.
"Shit, Riza, shit, I'm so sorry, fuck, I didn't mean that, I-,"
But she laughs. "I know. I know you didn't. Timing's a bit funny, though."
"It won't be like drowning, Riza. It'll be like flying," Roy says keenly, eyes wide.
And really, Riza has no choice but to kiss him after that.
000
"Daddy, is she dead?" Riza hears a young voice whisper worriedly.
Roy chuckles.
"No, Nijah, Mommy's not dead. C'mon, let her sleep, I'll go make breakfast."
"But Dad, Mom gets up at six o'clock every single morning." Shireen counters in hushed tones. Riza figures they must be huddled at the doorway of the bedroom. "It's almost ten o'clock!"
Damn. Roy must've turn off her alarm clock.
Riza flips herself over with a groan, and rubs a hand over her tired eyes before sitting up.
"I'm not dead, I promise. Daddy just kept me up late." Roy smirks at her devilishly over the girls' heads. Nijah, who hasn't yet put on her leg, crutches herself over before attempting to pull herself up on the bed. Riza grabs her torso and drags her into her lap, letting the crutches fall to the floor.
"Well, that's not nice, Daddy," Nijah harrumphs, and Riza snorts, running her hand gently through Nijah's still bedraggled white hair.
"Are you sick or something?" Shireen asks, eyes wide and anxious.
Roy wraps an arm around Shireen's shoulder and meets Riza's gaze. She hadn't planned on telling the girls about the baby until later; it would be agony to get their hopes up and take it all away if something went wrong.
But Riza sees the fear in her daughter's eyes, fear borne of losing too much already, and knows that Shireen won't let this anomaly today go without a decent explanation. And by the looks of it, Roy agrees with her.
"No, Shireen, I'm not sick," Riza says, patting the bed next to her. Roy and Shireen join them there. "Daddy and I do have some pretty big news to share, though."
"Are we getting one of those ponies from Uncle Jean's farm?" Nijah gasps, clutching Riza's arm. Riza looks down at her with confusion as Shireen and Roy laugh.
"Nijah, you silly goose, where would we even put a pony? We live in the city," Roy asks, smiling.
"And what does a pony have to do with Mommy being tired?" Shireen questions. Nijah shrugs.
"I dunno, we just saw the ponies last weekend, and Uncle Jean said we could buy one. Maybe it could live there still. Gettin' pony would be real big news, I think," Nijah explains, lips in a pout.
If she and Roy don't watch it, this girl will end up very spoiled.
"Well, we aren't getting a pony. But how would you feel about a new baby instead?" Riza asks.
The reactions are interesting, in the fact that they are the opposite of what Riza expected.
"Oh, Mom, really?" Shireen gushes, mouth open and eyes wide. "Truly? You-you're having a baby?" The happy smile on Shireen's face leaves Riza breathless, so she just nods. "I-I'm so happy, I'm so happy for you, this is so exciting!" Shireen very nearly squeals. Her red eyes are welling with tears as she leans forward to hug Riza's side. Riza has to let go of Nijah to wipe her own tears away.
"What do you think, Nijah?" Roy asks. He sounds like he has a head cold. "Are you excited to be a big sister like Shireen?"
Because Nijah, sweet little, excitable, talkative Nijah has been completely silent.
"I'm real happy for you, Mommy," Nijah finally says, ignoring Roy's question and giving Riza the fakest smile she's ever seen cross her lovely face. "You're gonna have the luckiest baby in the world."
And Nijah extracts herself from Riza's arms, slides down the floor to pick up her crutches, and leaves the room.
"Is she really that mad about the pony?" Roy asks hesitatingly, looking worriedly out the door.
"I don't—I'm not sure," Shireen says, and shit, not even Shireen knows what this is about. "Nijah's never like this."
"Well, I'll go talk to her," Riza says firmly, sliding out of bed and grabbing her housecoat from the hook. "Why don't the two of you get started on breakfast?"
She leaves before they respond. She really doesn't want them to see the new tears welling in her eyes.
Damn hormones.
000
Riza pads down the hall in her slippers, and reaches Nijah's room with little ceremony.
"Nijah, may I come in?" Riza asks, knocking quietly on the door.
"Y-yeah, that's fine." Nijah stutters, her voice thick. Riza walks in to see Nijah wiping her eyes quickly. Her suitcase is open on the bed, completely filled with her stuffed animals and dolls.
Nijah wants to run away because of the baby? Damn, Riza really misjudged this situation.
"Are you going on a trip, Nijah?" Riza asks, sitting on the bed and picking up her stuffed elephant, Rosie, who fell from the overloaded case.
Nijah looks up at her in confusion, "Well, no. I'm going back to the Children's home, Mommy."
Riza has to bite in her lip to hold back the sob. She reaches across the bed to grab Nijah's hand.
"Why, honey?"
"Mommy I don't want to leave," Nijah says, pulling her hand away and looking out the window, eyes watering. "But Terry Bixby said, he said kids only get adopted 'cause the people come to the home who can't have babies of their own, so they adopted kids so they can be mommies and daddies. And now you and Daddy will have your own real baby, so you don't need me and Shireen to be a mommy and a daddy anymore. So now we…we have to go."
Riza's pretty sure she can hear it as her heart splinters apart and the shards fall to the floor.
Then, she contemplates the repercussions of punching a ten-year-old orphan boy in the nose.
"No, no, no, Nijah," Riza says, rushing around the bed and falling to her knees, holding Nijah's head in her hands and looking her in the eye. "Nijah, you and Shireen, you are my real babies, you'll always be my real babies, and I'm always, always, always going to need you."
"So we're stayin'?" Nijah asks hesitantly, sniffing.
Riza nods quickly. "Nijah, you're stuck with me and Daddy for a long, long time. Forever at least." And Nijah lets out a small giggle. Riza pulls her in for a hug, and they don't say anything as Riza feels Nijah's tears soak the shoulder of her housecoat.
"Daddy and I love you forever and like you for always," Riza whispers into her hair.
"I love you more." Nijah responds, digging her head into Riza's shoulder.
Riza finally smiles. "Impossible. I love you most."
Nijah looks up and beams. "Nu-uh, Mommy, I love you more than most!"
000
Riza makes it through breakfast, is able to wait until the girls are dressed and rush outside to the yard to play fetch with Hayate before completely breaking down.
"She thought what?" Roy snarls into Riza's hair, holding her close, "Are you fucking shitting me? She thought we were going to take them back? Fuck."
"Hush, Roy, you can't use words like that when they could hear you."
Roy ignores her.
"Goddamnit, but why—why did Nijah think Shireen was so happy then?"
Riza shrugs. She'd wondered the same thing until she asked Nijah. "She said Shireen had her 'real, real, extra happy' smile on, and Nijah figured she just didn't know they'd have to go back. She didn't want to spoil it then and make Shireen's smile go away."
Roy pulls away from Riza and goes to the phone.
"Roy, what are you doing?" she asks curiously as he dials.
"Calling Havoc."
000
Nijah names her pony Daisy.
"It's good for her," Roy explains, trying to justify the outrageous gift to Riza and Shireen (and himself). "She won't be able to play all the sports and games as easily as the other kids because of her leg. This is a good alternative."
"It's like she's Little Orphan Hannie from that radio serial," Shireen says, smile on her face, shaking her head in disbelief as they watch Nijah and Daisy go in circles in the tiny paddock. "Just how rich are you, Daddy Mustang?" Shireen asks, smirking up at Roy.
Roy sputters.
Riza doesn't stop laughing for a long, long time.
000
"Shireen, my darling, your work as Villager Number 3 was inspired, simply inspired. I am in awe of your talent. The emotions you were able to convey with just a few words certainly left me breathless, please, my dear, would you grace us with your work once more?"
"I would like three eggs." Shireen deadpans to the Fuhrer of Amestris.
Riza fails to hold in her snort.
"You have a future on the stage, dearest Shireen," Grumman sniffs, using a finger to wipe nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes.
"Do you need a tissue, Mr. Grandpa Fuhrer Grumman, sir?" Nijah asks from where she's settled in Roy's arms. "You sure do sniff a lot."
This time Roy doesn't hold in the snort.
"You're too kind, lovely Nijah, but I assure you I'm fine, just fine." Nijah crinkles her nose, just as she has all night long since she was first introduced to the Fuhrer, very confused and completely unsure what to make of the man.
It's rather adorable.
"Alright, kiddos, time for bed. Go put your pajamas on, Daddy and I will be up to say goodnight soon." Riza announces, and Roy sets Nijah down to let get up the stairs with Shireen.
"Can I get you something to drink, sir?" Roy asks Grumman.
"I'll have whatever you're having, Mustang. Just not too, much, I'm not quite as young as I once was." Roy grins and nods, going to the kitchen. It leaves just Riza and Grumman in the living room. Riza takes a seat on the sofa, as Grumman traverses the room.
"What a lovely photo," Grumman says, walking over to the wall where their family portrait hangs, taken just a month after the adoption had been finalized. Nijah is settled on Roy's hip in the picture, and Shireen stands in the middle of Roy and Riza. The girls have matching pretty blue dresses on, and all four wear wide smiles.
"Thank you, Grandfather. We have a few extra copies, if you'd like one." Grumman beams.
"I'd like that very much. They're really very sweet girls, Riza. You and Mustang have done a good thing."
Riza shakes her head. "They've done more for us than we could ever do for them."
Grumman grins again. "Yes, I've noticed that, too."
Then Roy's back in the room, handing Grumman a tumbler of scotch. He and Riza excuse themselves to say goodnight to the girls before returning to the living room, where Grumman has settled himself on the armchair. Roy and Riza take a seat on the couch, and Roy snaps his fingers, lighting a fire in the grate.
"So, you want to tell us why you're really here, sir?" Roy asks wryly, looking Grumman in the eye.
Grumman grins. "I truly did want to meet Shireen and Nijah. But yes, I do have something to discuss with the two of you." Grumman sighs. "I'm an old, tired man. I'm getting much too old for this job, Mustang. Retirement is on the horizon, and I'd like you to be my successor."
Silence.
"What happened to turning Amestris into a democracy?" Roy finally asks, voice hard.
Grumman shrugs. "I have no problem with that, it makes sense in the long run, and we have given real legislative power back to the Senate the past few years. But truly creating a government of the people, by the people and for the people that can last is going to take time and effort which I really don't have left to give."
"Are you sick?" Riza asks.
"No, no just old, my dear. Just old. What do you say, Mustang?" Grumman asks, looking to Roy once again. "I'd like begin the process of retirement by the end of next year. If it really bothers you so much, we can have you nominated and confirmed by the Senate, but nobody's going to oppose you, you know that. You're a war hero."
"And if I say no?" Roy asks, face indifferent.
Grumman shrugs again. "I'd probably go to General Armstrong next."
Roy's eyes go wide, and he looks at Riza.
"He'll do it," Riza responds.
"Riza!" Roy yelps, and Grumman chuckles.
"Roy, this is everything we've ever worked for, handed to us on a silver platter, and you're saying no?" Riza says incredulously. "We've worked too damn hard to stop now."
"But things are different, now, and you-,"
"Grandfather, by the by, I'm having a baby. It's due in May."
Grumman's eyes go a bit wide, but he smiles happily. "Well, that's just lovely. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Riza says, and she turns to Roy. "Roy, we can do this, it's still over a year away before you'd be Fuhrer. It will be difficult, yes, but our entire lives have been difficult. We can handle this. We can do this. You can do this. For better or worse, remember?"
Roy laughs a little, then smiles at her. "Yeah. For better or worse. I guess now we're getting to all the best things, huh?" He turns to Grumman. "Sir, I'd be honored to be your successor."
"Well that's a relief. Between you and me, General Armstrong rather scares me." Grumman says with a shudder.
Roy and Riza just grin.
The best things indeed.
000
It's nearing the end of December when General Mustang calls Lt. Colonel Hawkeye into his office.
"You summoned me, sir?" Riza asks drolly as she stands before his desk.
"Take a seat, Lt. Colonel." He says seriously, before standing to pace. Riza takes a deep breath and refrains from rolling her eyes. She hasn't been his direct subordinate for two years, not since they got married, but every officer in the East technically reports to the General.
Who also happens to be her husband.
It gets weird sometimes.
"It's been brought to my attention that you are with child-," and Roy does his level best to make it even weirder. Riza snorts.
"I'm so sorry, sir, please continue." Roy glares at her.
"Anyway, you're having a baby. Rather unfortunately, we suffer from a distinct lack of female officers in this country's military. And the female officers we do have haven't yet begun families. So, when it comes to the logistics having a child, most specifically the terms of leave, there is no precedence.
"Which, of course, mean you'll be setting the precedence." Roy continues to pace, avoiding her gaze. "So, obviously, it's very important we get it right with you, Lt. Colonel. We must send a message to the women of our military that our organization is both fair and compassionate. Allowing you enough time for leave is imperative to the well-being of not just our female officers and our military, but our country as a whole."
Roy stops pacing. Riza tilts her head and stares at him questioningly.
"So, the fate of the country rests on me taking enough maternity leave?" Riza asks sardonically.
Roy sighs, and sits down in the seat next to her. "Riza, look, I know how strong and capable you are. I know you could handle working 'til the day the baby is born and probably come back the day after. I know you can, I know. But, really, why if you don't have to? We can afford you going on leave, certainly, and there's nothing pressing going on in your office. That Major of yours has been itching for months for some more responsibility, and the girls would love you being home, you know they would. And, obviously, I don't know what it's like to grow a human being inside of me, but it sounds very difficult and absolutely exhausting, and really why add any more stress on top of that?" Roy says quickly.
"Maybe just a few more weeks, they you go off, take leave until four or five months after the baby's born?" Roy asks, his face scrunching up in a wince as though waiting for Riza to explode.
Instead, Riza pulls a form out of the folder in her hands and sets it on Roy's lap.
"What's this?" Roy asks, finally opening his eyes.
Riza gives him a small grin. "I filled it out this morning, after I realized I'm not going to be able to fit into my uniform much longer. Sign that medical leave form, and my last day is the 31st. If it's all the same to you, I was planning on six months after the baby is born."
Roy takes a moment to study the nearly completed form, eyes wide.
"Well, that's—huh. That was much easier than I expected."
Riza lets out a laugh. "I suppose it's true. Great minds do think alike."
000
At the end of January, the Elric brothers stop by for a visit.
"Lt. Colonel!" Alphonse says happily when she opens the door, pulling her into a hug, "Oh goodness, you look so lovely, congratulations! You're absolutely glowing!" Al's really the only person she's met who can say that and sound genuine. So Riza smiles back.
"For goodness' sake, Al, you really must call me Riza, you weren't even ever in the military! You boys are family." Riza says firmly, and Al smiles that wonderful smile with the dimple on his left cheek. "Come in, come in." she says, ushering the boys into the sitting room.
"Hey squirts!" Ed shouts when he spies Shireen and Nijah playing a board game with Roy at the coffee table.
"UNCLE ED!" the girls squeal, rushing to give Edward hugs.
"It's so good to see you, Uncle Ed, we missed you so much, you-," Nijah begins, before her red eyes rest on the other brother in the doorway. Her mouth drops open.
"Oh, yeah, hey, Shireen, Nijah, this is my little brother-,"
"Alphonse Elric." Nijah whispers, eyes going wide. "Y-you're Al."
Al frowns. "Oh, um, yes I am, and you must be Nijah-," Al begins, holding out his hand.
"Alphonse Elric knows my name!" Nijah squeals, and if she could, Riza knows she'd be jumping up and down. "Mommy, Daddy, Alphonse knows my name!"
"Yes, Nijah, Mommy and I have known Ed and Al for a long time, since they weren't much older than you are now," Roy tries to explain, but Nijah is having none of it.
"I know, but Alphonse knows my name," Nijah whispers, and she looks like she's about to faint. Ed and Shireen are about to die from holding back laughter. Al looks terrified.
"Erm-," Al begins.
"Nijah's a bit of a fan of the Fullmetal Alchemist radio show," Riza explains, and Al's eyes go wide in realization. "You just happen to be her favorite character."
"And Uncle Ed spoiled the ending for me, told me you got your body back and all, but that's okay because now you're real and I know you. This is amazing!" Nijah screeches, gripping Al's forearms. "You're nice and kind, but super tough and strong and brave. What's your favorite food? Do you like kittens still? Do you have any kittens? We don't have cats, but we have Hayate, and I have a pony and-,"
"She has a pony?" Ed mouths to Roy, and Riza can't hold back her laugh.
"Nijah, honey, Ed and Al will be here all weekend, don't overwhelm Al with your questions now."
"But Mommy, I have so many questions." Nijah gushes.
"There's a Fullmetal Alchemist radio show?" Al asks. "Who on earth wrote that?"
"We think it's Breda, but he won't admit to anything." Roy says with a grin. "The success of the show, however, has coincided with a new and rather expensive taste in cars."
000
Ed and Al settle in, then spend the rest of the day doing research for their book at the East City Library. They return for dinner, during which Al is incessantly pestered by Nijah, but he takes it well, all things considered. Shireen and Nijah go to bed not long after dinner is finished, and the adults relax themselves in the sitting room.
"So, Fuhrer Mustang, huh?" Ed asks, and Roy's eyes widen.
"Who the hell told you about that? We haven't announced anything, what-,"
"Sheesh, calm down, Fuery told me. You don't have some horrible leak, Mustang. Congrats though, I'm happy for you."
Roy rubs a hand down his face and sighs. "Thanks. Thank you. I really would've rather been the one to have told you, though."
Ed shrugs. "I knew it would happen at some point. It's not like this is a surprise."
Only Riza can tell how much Roy appreciates Ed's words.
"How did your research go today, boys?" Riza asks. Ed sighs.
"Eh, didn't really find what we were looking for." Al rolls his eyes.
"We have all the information we need already, brother, you're just getting cold feet-,"
"Al, it's weird. I feel like this chapter will tank our credibility-,"
"It's fact, brother, we lived it, there are plenty of cultures who-,"
"What are you talking about?" Roy asks, puzzled.
This time Al sighs. "I would like to include a chapter about souls and soul alchemy in our book, but Ed is hesitant to do so," Al explains. "We were hoping to find some more sources in the East City library, but we weren't very successful."
"Why the hesitation?" Riza asks, "If any people are authorities on soul alchemy, it' the two of you."
Al look pointedly at Ed. Ed rolls his eyes.
"Maybe getting their opinion on this will help, brother," Al says.
"Yeah, I guess." Ed concedes. "Well the two of us can agree that the soul exists, that it is a quantifiable entity and it can live beyond the human body because, well, obviously." Ed explains, with a pointed look at Al. "However, during his time living in Xing, Alphonse here has become religious, and has now come to accept the Xingese belief of reincarnation," Ed says snidely.
Al rolls his eyes. "It really makes a lot of sense brother. If we truly believe in the law of equivalent exchange, and the fact that matter is not created or destroyed, just changed, why is it so difficult to believe that there are a finite number of souls in the universe, that life is a wheel that goes on continuously, different bodies with a new version of the same soul after death?"
Huh. Well that's….interesting.
"And it's not just the Xingese, Ishvalans believe in a version of reincarnation as well." Ed rolls his eyes again.
"Why such disdain, Fullmetal? You've never been one to knock a theory until it's completely proven wrong," Roy says.
Al sighs. "Ed doesn't appreciate my most recent example."
"It's not an example!" Ed says angrily. "It's a guess, a hypothesis maybe. You don't know anything for sure, that's why it's so pointless to put this in the book. And there's never going to be any way to prove it, you're just being ridiculous!"
"What are you talking about?" Riza asks softly.
"Dear Alphonse is convinced that my wife is pregnant with the reincarnated soul of our mother." Ed says angrily. "It's preposterous and senseless and—hell you don't even know it's going to be a girl! It's so stupid."
"Ed, it's more complex than that, it's not like I think Mom is going to pop out of Winry next month," Al explains crossly. "Just because it's the same soul doesn't mean it's the same person. Everyone changes and grows based on experiences, and souls do the same thing, it's not like she'd remember being Mom. She'll be your daughter, and my niece. I just, ever since I got out of the armor I've had this, this link to people's souls, and Winry's baby has such a familiar chi, it's impossible to ignore, Ed.
"And don't you realize, if what I'm saying is true we've all been someone else before, this circle of life and death for thousands of years? Developing knowledge and instincts and fears and strengths? It's not just your daughter, she's just the most direct example.
"And anyway, that's not what I'm trying to prove, my theory is about soul families, and soul mates, and the fact that souls inevitably find themselves interacting and drawn to the same souls over each incarnation."
"Like twin flames?" Riza asks hesitatingly, and Ed and Al look over at her in wonder. Roy looks very confused.
"Yes, yes, exactly like that. Have you studied souls before, Riza?" Al asks, looking surprised.
Riza shakes her head. "Oh no, my mother told me the story when I was young."
"What did she say?" Ed questions.
"Just the standard story about the earliest human beings. How they were said to have two faces, and four arms and four legs. The gods split them in half, and humans today all ended up divided-,"
"Continuously searching for that other half they were separated from eons ago," Al finishes. "Yes, that's the story. And every person has a match-,"
"A person whose fire in the soul matches your own." Riza says. "My mother said if I ever found him, he'd make my heart sing. And for better or worse, I shouldn't let him go."
She smiles at Roy and grips his hand.
"I always wondered where that came from," Roy says, gripping her hand back tightly. "Well, if that's all true, I'm glad I found you so quickly."
Al audibly awws.
"This is getting sickeningly sweet, and it proves absolutely nothing." Ed complains.
"Brother," Al gasps, sounding scandalized, "it proves everything!"
000
On the Elrics' last morning in town, Riza wakes up early to find Alphonse in the kitchen already, sipping coffee.
"Good morning, Riza," Al says happily.
"Morning, Al." They sit in silence for a bit, Al drinking his coffee, Riza drinking her tea, comfortable to simply be with each other and greet the morning together. Until—
"Alphonse, you said Winry's baby has a familiar chi," Riza begins, and Al sighs.
"And you'd like to know if your baby's chi is familiar to me as well?" Al guesses. Riza nods.
"Riza, do you really want to open this can of worms?" Al asks, seriously. "I didn't expect the reaction I got when I told Ed, I figured he'd be happy but…It is a bit of a difficult thing to wrap one's mind around, now that I really think about it. It's important that you understand, no matter what, your baby is your baby. They may have the same soul as the ones who came before but it's not, they're not the same person. Do you get that? The life and experiences of your baby will be vastly different from those of the past. You shouldn't expect them to be the same as before," Al says.
Riza tilts her head. "So this baby's chi is familiar?"
Al bites his lip and nods.
"Tell me. I'll keep thinking about it until I know. Or, give me the gender at least, I've been wishing I could know that forever."
Al sighs. "Well, if I'm right, you're having a boy." Then he pauses, before adding, "Have you considered the name Maes?"
000
"Sissy, how did the baby get in Mommy's tummy?" Riza overhears Nijah ask Shireen one morning, as they're in the bathroom getting ready for school.
Shireen doesn't respond right away. "Ishvala put it there," Shireen finally says.
"But why did Ishvala put the baby there?" Nijah questions, and Riza holds her breath.
"Because She wanted Mom to have a baby, Nijah."
"Yeah, Sissy, but why in Mommy's tummy? Why didn't Ishvala just have somebody leave the baby at the stoop for us?" Riza slaps a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter.
Shireen giggles. "That's just not how it works. Babies are like seeds, except instead of water and sunlight, they need mommies' tummies to grow into trees." 10 points to Shireen.
"Oh," Nijah says softly. "That makes sense." Yes yes yes wonderful yes.
"But Sissy," Nijah says, after a pause, "Sissy then how come babies look like daddies, too? Everybody always told us we have Papa's smile. How'd that happen if Ishvala put the seeds in Mama?" Nonononononono—
"Ummmm-," Shireen begins, "Well, the daddy plants the seeds, the seeds come from the daddy, then Ishvala decides if the seeds grow up into a baby." Who the hell taught Riza's nine year old about sex? Maybe Riza should be skimming those biology books on Shireen's desk…
"But how did Daddy put the seeds in Mommy's-,"
"Nope!" Shireen yelps, and Riza can just picture her blush, "Nope, nope, nope you can ask Mommy and Daddy that one yourself. Yeah? Yeah, okay, bye Nijah," and Shireen rushes out of the bathroom before she can move, running right into the eavesdropping Riza.
Shireen's devilish smirk looks so much like Roy's, Riza is shocked into silence.
"Mommy's right here, Nijah, why don't you ask her now?" And Shireen skips away, abandoning Riza to drown in questions about sex from a six year old.
000
One night in late March, Riza finds herself being kicked awake by the baby in the middle of the night. She slips out of bed and goes to the bathroom, as she always seems to have to do these days, she goes to the kitchen and get some water. She reads in the living room for a bit, paces the hallways, goes to the bathroom again—
Riza is simply not tired.
Deciding that sleep is a bust for the night, Riza goes up the stairs to the second floor, then opens the little door at the end of the hall and carefully ascends the steep stairs to the attic. In the attic, she flicks away some cobwebs, and walks over the creaky floorboards to her old trunk in the corner; all that is left of her childhood.
Riza loses track of time, but the moon certainly changes position through the tiny window. She looks through old albums, reads some of her old journals, brushes out the hair of her doll, and hugs her faded teddy to her chest.
Roy comes up the stairs and finds her as she's running her hands over the baby hats her mother knitted.
"Riza," Roy says softly, padding over quietly and sitting on the ground beside her, cross his legs. "Riza what are you doing up here?"
Riza shrugs, petting her hands over the hats again. "Couldn't sleep. I've been avoiding these things a long time, figured now was as good a time as any to face them."
Roy looks at the toys, the journals and baby clothes and pictures spread around her. He picks up a picture of her mother and smiles slightly, "It's startling just how much you look like her."
Riza sniffs.
"Hey, what is it?" Roy asks her softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"
She hasn't told him because she doesn't want him to worry. She doesn't want him to stress about something that may never come to pass. Much as she may look like her mother, she's not her mother, never will be her mother, and thinking about it won't help anyone.
But Riza still thinks about it.
"My mother, she—she wasn't sick Roy. She didn't die of illness." Riza whispers. "She had a baby."
The arm around her grips so tight it's almost painful.
"He was stillborn, my brother. It was a hard birth, Mother didn't live long after that. I was eight." She says it all softly, simply. Her eyes are dry, but her words are hollow.
Roy swallows thickly and rests his chin on her head.
"If it did happen—if, if you-," but Roy can't even get himself to say the words. "I'd retire. I may be the face of this operation, but everyone knows you're the brains. Being Fuhrer was always our goal, not just mine. I'd retire, move the kids out to the country, maybe Resembool, the girls would like that. We'd bring Nijah's pony along, have an actual barn for it. We could have sheep, you know how much Nijah likes sheep, and Ed could be Shireen's alchemy teacher, and this baby," Roy puts his hand on Riza's stomach and the baby starts kicking again. "This baby, every day all they'd ever hear is how much Mom loves them."
Riza appreciates that even in Roy's worst case scenario the baby still lives. The alternative is simply unfathomable.
"And they'd hear how much I love them. And I'd do all the cooking and the cleaning and the shopping. I'd get the kids up for school on time, remind them to wash behind their ears. It would be—it would be horrible without you, Riza, and I really truly never want to think about it again. But we'd be okay, eventually. The kids would be safe, and happy, and really, really loved. I promise. I'm not your father."
Then Riza finally leans her head back on his chest and lets the tears fall. It's a blessing to be loved, but it's a true privilege to be understood.
And Roy's always understood her better than anyone else in the world.
000
They get reservations at a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate the one year anniversary of Shireen and Nijah's adoption.
Then Shireen gets sick, so they have a pajama party with chocolate cake and saltine crackers in Shireen's bed instead.
"I'm sorry," Shireen says sadly, curled up in a ball as Riza strokes her hair. "I'm sorry I ruined it, tonight was supposed to be special."
"Hey, you didn't ruin anything, kiddo," Roy reminds her, rubbing her back from the other side of the bed, Nijah settled in his lap, "Honestly, this is better. Well, not the you being sick part, but why get all dressed up in stuffy clothes and eat food whose names you can't pronounce when you can just have a pajama party instead?"
Shireen smiles softly.
"Hey, Roy, go grab the-," Riza begins, but Roy's already picking up the two small gift boxes from where they're sitting on Shireen's bedside table. He hands one to Nijah, then to Shireen.
"We get presents!" Nijah gasps, ripping the paper off quickly. Riza helps Shireen prop herself up on her pillows and watches as she rips the paper off the package as well.
"Oh," Shireen whispers, opening the box, "Oh, it's so pretty. Thank you."
"We get jewelry! Oh Sissy, look how it sparkles in the light, it's so pretty, Daddy put it on me, put it on me-,"
"They're not just necklaces, they're lockets. Open them up," Riza explains.
Shireen unclicks the locket first, and Riza hears her breath hitch.
"We were able to have copies of the picture made, the original is still fine. We just figured, well, no matter where you go or what you do, you can hold them close to your heart." Roy says softly.
"They look real happy in this picture, don't they Sissy?" Nijah says, tears in her voice.
"Yeah," Shireen responds, voice cracking, "yeah, they do."
"Mommy, Daddy, you make us real happy, and we love you so, so much, but it's—I still miss Mama and Papa a whole lot. A whole, whole lot. I don't know if that'll ever go away," Nijah says with a sob, and Roy holds her close.
"You're allowed to miss them, honey, you can always miss them. But they'll be with you forever. The way they loved you will never die, as long as you two are around." Roy says hoarsely.
"Thank you," Shireen whispers, grabbing Riza's hand. "Thank you so much."
Riza can't really speak around the lump in her throat, so she just lays down on the bed and pulls Shireen into her arms.
000
In the end, the baby arrives rather quickly and easily.
"WHAT THE FUCK, OH MY GOD, YOU SON OF A BITCH YOU DID THIS TO ME, GOD FUCKING DAMNIT WHAT THE FUCK-,"
Well, not exactly easily.
"Sorry, sorry," Riza gasps between the contractions. She's unsure if she's apologizing to Roy, whose hand she's breaking, or the midwives, who have grins on their faces.
"Hey, no apologies, Riza, you say what you need to say, you're doing great," Linda offers.
"The mothers who swear are always my favorites," Joy adds, "Ok, now PUSH!"
The cycle repeats itself until finally they hear a baby's cries.
"It's a boy!" Linda says happily, and Joy offers Roy the scissors.
Roy looks dumbfounded.
"Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Mustang?" Joy asks, and Roy nods quickly.
Roy cuts the cord. Riza delivers the afterbirth. Linda cleans up the baby, wraps him in a little blue blanket and hands him over to Riza.
Her baby.
Her son.
"He's beautiful," Roy whispers reverently, sitting gently beside her on the bed, reaching a hand up to pet the soft wisps of black hair on the baby's head.
Their son.
000
A couple hours later, once things have been cleaned up and everything's had a chance to calm down, Roy goes down to get the girls, who have returned home from their day out with Rebecca.
"Mommy?" Nijah's little voice asks at the door, eyes wide. Riza pats the bed beside her and Nijah hobbles over and pulls herself up. Shireen follows up soon after, a lumpy package wrapped in brown paper cradled in her arms.
"He's so perfect, Mom," Shireen says softly, her pinky reaching out for the baby's little hand. He latches his fingers around her pinky, and Shireen gasps.
"What do you think, Nijah?" Roy asks quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Nijah into his lap.
"I don't—I don't think I know the words big enough to say, Daddy," Nijah finally answers, not looking away from the baby. "He's so good. He makes my heart happy."
The girl definitely deserved her pony.
"I—We have a gift," Shireen says finally, clearing her throat and sitting up straight next to Riza, presenting the package in her arms.
"I'll open it!" Nijah whisper shouts, "I know what it is, but Mommy's got the baby and Daddy's got me, so it just makes sense." Nijah says smartly, ripping away the brown paper.
She reveals a pretty, white baby blanket, one that has obviously been painstakingly and lovingly crocheted.
"Shireen made it! Isn't it beautiful?"
Riza's mouth falls open in shock. Shireen made this? This perfectly made thing? It must have taken her months—
"You did this all by yourself?" Riza asks, reaching out a hand to feel the soft blanket.
Shireen shrugs her shoulders. "Well, Nijah helped-,"
"Oh, Sissy, no I didn't, I just sat and talked and watched while you did all the work. Isn't she amazing?"
"This must have taken you months, Shireen," Riza admires. Shireen rubs the back of her neck awkwardly.
"Well, I—um, I haven't been reading as much as you think I have before bed the past few months." Shireen admits.
Shireen, her little bookworm Shireen, gave up reading time to create this beautiful thing.
"It's tradition," Shireen explains softly, "When a baby's born, you give them a white blanket."
"Yeah!" Nijah agrees, "At Sunday school, teacher said it's 'cause white means pure and good an innocent and blank."
"And then," Shireen adds, "Well, when a person dies, you put the white baby blanket in the middle, and add lots of other fabrics and colors to make the shroud."
"Because it represents the full and happy life the person lived, but reminds us all of where they started," Nijah says, nodding her head.
"I-I know it's kind of morbid. But Nijah and I have one, and I, well, I wanted our baby brother to have one, too."
Riza meets Roy's gaze, sees the tears welling in his dark eyes, and knows that he's thinking the exact same thing:
What on earth did they ever do to deserve Nijah and Shireen?
"C'mere," Riza finally says around the lump in her throat, pulling Shireen carefully into her side as Roy and Nijah scoot in even closer. Riza grabs the blanket from Nijah and gently wraps it around the baby.
They sit for a moment, the four of them huddled together, staring at this thing, this baby, their tiny little miracle. And Riza knows that there are surely greater and more wonderful moments to come in her life, just as she knows there will probably be hardships and heartbreak.
But if Riza had to pick a moment to stop time and sit in forever, it would be this.
"What's his name?" Shireen asks, her pinky petting the baby's downy hair.
"Maes," Riza says. "His name is Maes."
000