1943—Central City
"I still cannot believe that bastard impregnated our daughter."
"'That bastard' as in her husband?"
"Stop trying to be rational about this Riza. Shireen had a baby. A baby. She's barely more than a child!"
"Roy, she's twenty-eight."
"Exactly! A child!" Riza rolls her eyes and walks through the door Roy's holding open for her, clutching the package to her chest.
"Besides, we're much, much too young to be grandparents." Roy adds as he follows her in the hospital. Riza rolls her eyes again, giving him the side-eye as they ascend the stairs.
"Is that what this is about? Because I hate to break it to you, but that hair of yours is much more salt than pepper these days."
Roy pouts. "Now you're just being cruel."
"Roy, aren't you happy?"
"God, of course I am. I'm ecstatic. I kind of feel like I'm about to explode. I'll probably burst into tears the minute I walk in the room. But doesn't it…Riza doesn't any of this feel just weird to you? Completely surreal? I feel like ten minutes ago I was driving her to dance class, and now she has a baby."
Riza smiles at him sweetly, and wraps an arm around his waist, "That's how this is supposed to work. It's not weird, it's just right."
Roy doesn't realize just how right it is until they walk into Shireen's hospital room.
His daughter is propped up on a mound of pillows, white hair long and tangled, down from its usual bun. Her face looks pale, and her eyes are tired.
But her mouth is pulled up in one of the loveliest smiles Roy has ever seen as she stares at the bundle cradled in her arms.
"Hi," Shireen whispers when she sees them in the doorway. "Would you like to meet your grandson?"
Surprisingly, Roy is not the first to burst into tears.
"Oh, honey," Riza gasps, rushing up to the bed, dropping her package on a chair along the way. "Oh, Shireen, he's beautiful. He's so, so beautiful." Riza gently takes a seat on the edge of the bed to stare at the baby, before cupping Shireen's cheek with her hand. "How do you feel?"
Shireen shrugs a little, "Kinda sore. Tired. Worth it, though," She says, beaming again.
"So, where is that blaggard husband of yours? Has he shown his true colors and run, the filthy coward-,"
Shireen rolls her eyes fondly. "Steve's just calling his brother, Dad."
"Oh." Roy says, finally approaching the bed. He sidles up behind Riza and rests a hand on her shoulder.
His grandson really is beautiful. A tiny pink face with a sweet button nose, just like Nijah and Shireen's. His little bow of a mouth is upturned almost like he's smiling. A tuft of white hair sticks out of the striped cap on his head.
"Wow," Roy breathes out, tears prickling in his eyes. "Good job, sweetheart."
"Roy, the gift, we have a gift," Riza suddenly remembers, and Roy turns around and grabs the package from the chair.
"Would you like to hold him?" Shireen asks, and Riza nods quickly, reaching out to cup the baby's head and cradle him in her arms. Once her hands are free, Roy gives Shireen the package.
"Mom," Shireen chokes out when she sees the white blanket, "Oh, you remembered."
"As if I could ever forget," Mom says softly, "I asked Nijah if she'd mind if I made it instead."
"It's perfect, Mom," Shireen says, wrapping the blanket around her son.
"So, what's his name?" Roy finally asks, reaching up his hand to gently pet the tuft of white hair. The baby gurgles at the touch. His mouth opens wide in a yawn, then he blinks his eyes, revealing a pretty blue.
Shireen smiles at him, her eyes dancing with mirth. "We actually had a lot of trouble coming up with a name. But we found one that fit, eventually."
"Well, Roy is always a great choice, if you're still stuck," he says jokingly.
Shireen's smile widens.
"I'm glad you agree; that's his name."
Which, of course, is the moment Roy Mustang bursts into tears.
000
1934—Central City
"You've got to be kidding me," Roy mutters, shaking his head as Edward approaches. "Five years you were on active duty, five years, and you wore the uniform a grand total of zero times."
Ed beams, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulder before putting his hands on his hips and posing. "Well, bastard, I'm a General now. I gotta look the fucking part."
Roy rolls his eyes, wondering where the hell Ed even got his uniform. Some poor officer is probably tearing one of the locker rooms apart right now, searching for his clothes. "That rank was given in a very honorary capacity after you retired at the ripe old age of seventeen. You were only invited today to observe because you were Shireen's teacher."
Ed just shrugs.
"So, worried Shireen's gonna score higher than you did on the written exam?" He asks with a grin.
Roy smirks. "I know for a fact she scored higher than you did, Fullmetal."
Edward is still sputtering when they enter the exam hall.
"Private Khadem-Mustang, are you prepared for the practical portion of your examination?" Major Armstrong asks. Roy can tell he's fighting to keep the smile hidden under his mustache.
"I am, sir." Shireen says firmly. It's always startling to see Shireen in uniform. The padded shoulders and baggy trousers make her look bigger than the tiny girl Roy knows they're hiding. She wears her hair in a tight bun like Riza; it makes the whiteness of her scar stand out against her tan skin. Shireen looks older in uniform. She looks fierce and formidable.
She looks like a soldier.
"Will you be needing something to draw your transmutation circle with, Private?" Colonel Linton asks.
"That won't be necessary, sir."
"Then show us what you've got, Private." Roy states. Shireen barely suppresses her grin. And then she reaches to her pockets, drawing out a pair of white gloves.
For a moment, Roy can't breathe.
Oh no. No. She wouldn't, what the fuck, no, Shireen wouldn't do—
She pulls the gloves on over her fingers and snaps, flourishing her arm upward.
And there, inside the state alchemist examination hall, it begins to snow.
Shireen continues her show, making it hail and sleet, creating icy projectiles that dance through the air around her. She ices part of the floor and jumps on top of it, sliding to the other side of the hall. She creates an astonishingly sharp spear out of an icicle and throws it straight up in the air before snapping again.
The spear dissolves, snow falling lightly around them once more.
Edward is the first one to his feet, applauding loudly. The rest of the hall soon follows suit.
"Congratulations, Major." Roy says over the din, unable to keep the smile off his face. Unwitting tears are welling in his eyes, but he holds them back.
For, if ever there was an answer, a match to his flame
It is the Ice Alchemist.
000
1930—Central City
"You good?" Riza asks, as she helps him lean back against the pillows. "Are you cold? Do you want more-,"
"Riza, I'm fine. Really, just come to bed." Riza frowns at him.
"Are you sure you want me to sleep in here, Roy? I know I kick. I mean, what if I hit you, what if-,"
"Riza, I've been sleeping without you in bed with me for almost three weeks, and it's been three weeks too long. Just come to bed. Please?"
Riza smiles tightly. "Yeah, okay. Let me put on my pajamas." She finally agrees, kissing his forehead before walking over to the dresser. Once she turns away, he shuts his eyes tightly and grimaces, feeling the sting as the bandages on his stomach pull.
Damn fucking Drachmans.
"Knock, knock," Shireen calls suddenly, opening the door without any more warning, "Hey, Dad, you forgot your last dose of-,"
The pill bottle falls from Shireen's hands.
Shireen's mouth is dropped open, red eyes wide as she stares at the corner of the room.
At Riza, in the middle of putting on her pajamas, her back turned to the door.
"Oh my God," Shireen breathes out, rushing to Riza before she shrugs the pajama shirt over her shoulders. "Oh my God, Mom."
Riza doesn't turn around, doesn't even move. But she doesn't back away when Shireen's hesitant hand reaches out and touches the burned flesh, touches what remains of the tattoo.
Roy's pretty sure he stops breathing.
"I'm sorry I said you didn't know," Shireen chokes out, gentle hand still brushing along the scars. "God, you know better than all of us, don't you?"
And as Roy watches their daughter, her small hand tracing the puckered skin, the array that had changed all their lives, as he watches Riza allow the first person in over twenty years besides him to see her back, let alone touch it, something in his heart he'd thought completely irreparable slowly starts knitting itself back together.
000
1924—East City
"Check," Shireen announces, smirk on her face as she moves her queen into position.
Well, shit.
Roy's about to have his ass handed to him by a nine year old.
He looks the board over, before sighing and moving his king to the left one position. Shireen smirks again and immediately jumps her remaining knight over, knocking Roy's king down to his final resting place.
"Yes! I knew that stupid horse would come back to bite you in the butt, Daddy Mustang!" Shireen jokes, smiling widely.
Roy frowns.
It's been a few months since Nijah had, quickly and rather unexpectedly, been gifted her pony. Roy just, God, the minute he'd heard Nijah thought he and Riza would return them to the home, like they were some shirts that didn't fit right he could bring back for store credit, well his mind kind of went blank.
And when Roy came to, he was handing over a very large check to Havoc and being given the bridle of a fucking horse.
"Enjoy your mustang, Mustang," Havoc had joked. Roy couldn't even bring himself to roll his eyes. Because, holy shit, he was one of those dads. One of the dads who dealt with hard situations by buying extreme presents and avoiding discussion altogether. By spoiling his daughters rotten and believing they can never do anything wrong.
Well, at least that part's true. Shireen and Nijah are perfect.
But that's not the point.
"Are you angry about Daisy, Shireen?" Roy asks hesitantly.
Shireen tilts her head and scrunches up her nose. "Why would I be angry? Nijah loves her so much."
"Well, I mean—Shireen, do you want a pony?" Roy finally asks. Because obviously, the only correct answer to buying one child an outrageous guilt gift is buying another outrageous guilt gift to make it fair.
Roy's angry at himself about not thinking of it before; Shireen has always seemed so much older, so mature and wise for her age, it's too easy to forget sometimes that the girl is barely nine. Roy has been horribly inconsiderate and unfair to her, he suddenly realizes. What nine year old girl is able to sit back and watch her little sister receive a fucking horse for really no reason at all and not feel an ounce of jealously?
Apparently, Shireen is. She laughs out loud at the question.
"Dad, no I definitely don't want one. I mean, they're fun enough to ride, but I know once she gets older you're gonna make Nijah help take care of the horse, and I do not want any part in that. They just, ewww—they smell so bad. And the poop," Shireen sticks out her tongue in disgust, and Roy feels himself smiling.
"You know I love you just as much as Nijah, right? I love you both so much, and the new baby, too. I love you all the same, and I don't have any favorites, because you're all my favorites. Okay?" Roy says, sounding a bit desperate even to his own ears.
Shireen nods, then smiles. "Sorry to break it to you, but Mom's my favorite."
Roy smirks. "Well, sweetheart that's just common sense."
And Shireen laughs again. Roy loves her laugh. It is high and warm and full, and reminds him pure and happy things. It's like waking up to the first snow on the ground, and watching it sparkle with the rising sun.
"I'm just teasing, Daddy. And don't feel bad about the pony. If anybody in the world deserves to be spoiled, it's Nijah." Shireen sighs wistfully, then looks at him, her red eyes bright. "Besides, you already offered me anything. And you gave me everything I needed and wanted when I asked. You and Mom took us a home."
Yes, Shireen is perfect indeed.
000
1923—East City
"Christmas here," the gruff voice says over the line.
"Hey."
The voice ticks. "About time I heard from you, Roy Boy. According my sources, I should be breaking out the cigars."
Roy lets out a light laugh. "Yeah, we're finalizing the adoption tomorrow. Then we get to take them home."
"Did Nijah get over that cold?" Roy feels his eyes widen.
"Why do you have contacts in an orphanage?"
Aunt Chris laughs, "Kid, I have people everywhere, you know that. And really, why wouldn't I keep in contact with the place I got you?"
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. And I'm sure glad I did, you brat, you don't even think to tell your dear sweet Aunt Chris when you become a fucking father-,"
"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's kind of been a whirlwind. We've been pretty busy." Roy says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
"Yeah, I remember how it goes." Chris sighs, "So, when do I get to meet the kiddos?"
"Riza wants to have a big party in a few months so they can meet everybody. We want to give them some time to settle first, though."
"Makes sense."
Silence.
"So," Roy begins hesitantly, "Got any advice?" For if any person in the world can empathize with this situation, it's Aunt Chris."
Silence again.
"It's not like I gave you some wonderful, conventional childhood, Roy. You literally grew up in a brothel."
Roy snorts. "I had a much more interesting childhood than anyone else I know. And you loved me, that's all I really needed."
Roy hears it as his aunt's breath catches.
Holy fuck, did he make Chris Mustang cry?
"Aunt Chris-,"
"There you go, take your own advice," Chris interrupts, voice low, "Just love them. And tell them every chance you get, don't do that whole understanding bullshit that we've always had, okay?"
He fucking made Chris Mustang cry.
It's okay. His eyes are wet, too.
000
"So, can we call you mommy and daddy?" Nijah asks the minute they enter the house the next day.
Roy nearly drops her in shock.
"Oh, well, of course sweetheart, if you want to," Riza says gently, "Don't feel like you have to, though, either of you. You can call us whatever you want."
"Although, I'd really prefer if we finally dropped 'Mr. Stupid General Sir'," Roy adds, smiling at Shireen. Everyone laughs, slumping together on the couch after the long and wonderful day.
"Well, we have a Mama and a Papa, and now we have a Mommy and a Daddy, too. It's just right," Nijah says firmly, hugging Roy's neck.
And that is that.
000
"Night-night, Daddy," Nijah says softly, as Roy tucks in the pink quilt around her. "I'm real happy that we're here. I real happy you're my daddy, now."
Damn, this kid. She's gonna kill him.
Roy really doesn't mind at all.
"I'm very happy that you're here, too, honey. I love you. Sweet dreams." He leans down and kisses her forehead before backing out the door, leaving it open a quarter, just the way she likes.
In the hall he meets Riza, just exiting Shireen's room. His wife is using the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, but she's positively beaming at him.
Roy pulls her into a hug.
Words aren't enough right now, and for them they've never really been necessary. He already knows what she's thinking.
Because for years, Roy thought all he needed in the world, all he would ever need to be happy was Riza Hawkeye. He knows she felt the same. And they could've had a wonderful life, Roy could just picture it; they would've had each other and their friends and their jobs and their dog. They would've been perfectly happy.
Then they met two Ishvalans orphans, who derailed the definition, who expanded their horizons of happiness.
"I never expected this," Riza whispers into his shoulder, "I didn't—Roy how did we get this?"
More than once in their lives, Roy and Riza didn't presume to live to the next day. There was a time when Roy never thought he see Riza's face again, let alone the faces, the white hair and red eyes of their children. He and Riza are murderers and sinners, the power-hungry keepers of secrets and lies.
And now they are married. With a house and a dog.
And they have children.
"I don't know," Roy says softly into her hair. He doesn't know, but he can't wait to wake up tomorrow, and realize once again that it's all not a dream.
000
Roy goes into Shireen's room to find the girl tucked in tightly under the purple quilt. Her eyes are closed, and Roy's about to turn around, to let her sleep after the long day they've all had.
Instead he sits on the side of the bed.
And Shireen's eyes open up.
"Sorry," he says softly.
Shireen smiles, "It's alright, I wasn't really asleep."
And Roy just sits there, the words lodged in his throat. Because Shireen already knows, she's older and wiser than little Nijah, he knows Shireen knows, and the understanding that he has with Chris, with Riza, with the Elrics, he can have it here, too.
But he shouldn't.
He won't.
"Goodnight, Shireen. I love you."
Shireen smiles so wide he can't see her scar.
"I love you, too, Dad."
Roy Mustang has held many titles in his life, been called many different things. He has a feeling no matter what happens, for better or worse, Dad will be the best of them all.
000