000

1923 – East City

"Girls!" Riza says loudly up the stairs as she ascends them, "Girls, breakfast is ready! Hurry up or we're going to be late for school. And have you seen—Oh!"

Riza nearly yelps as she enters the girls' bathroom. Nijah is sitting on the top of the closed toilet seat, her thick white hair in adorable braided buns on top of her head.

Nijah's watching Shireen closely, studying the braided crown across the top of her sister's head as she stands before the mirror.

And Roy's standing behind her, tongue stuck out in concentration as he ties off the end of the elaborate Aerugean braid.

"Oooh, Shireen, it looks so pretty! It's like you have a tiara in your hair. Morning Mommy!" Nijah says happily, finally looking up and finding Riza standing quietly in her shocked silence at the door.

"Morning, sweetie. Breakfast is ready."

"Okay! Mommy, look at my pretty braids! Daddy's so good at it!" Nijah says happily, limping to the door.

"I daresay he is," Riza agrees, looking up at Roy. He's red-faced, and Shireen is smirking, but neither acknowledge the comment, refusing to break their concentration on Roy's handiwork.

"Dad, it's perfect," Shireen complains, "It was perfect the first time, too, and the second. Stop looking for non-existent bumps, we have to go!"

Roy runs his hand across the braid softly and searchingly before tying a blue ribbon at the end and nodding in consent. Shireen beams at him, then at Riza before running out the door.

"Where on earth did you learn how to braid hair?" Riza finally asks, leaning against the doorframe and blocking Roy's escape.

Roy shrugs his shoulders. He's blushing.

Riza bites her lips together to smother her laugh, waiting on an answer.

Roy mumbles something as he puts away the brush and comb.

"What's that, Roy?" Roy sighs.

"Fullmetal taught me."

Riza gapes at him.

Her husband got Edward Elric to teach him not just to braid, but to do elaborate, difficult Aerugean braids so he would know how to do their daughters' hair.

Roy nearly doesn't catch Riza when she jumps him, shocked as he is.

And then she kicks the door shut as she kisses him, curling her arms around his neck and running her hand through his hair.

Sweet, domestic Dad Roy is a new side of her husband Riza is just beginning to see.

And she finds it very, very attractive.

000

1928 – Central City

"Just tell us what happened. We just want to know what happened," Roy says, fighting and failing to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "You don't all have to get in trouble."

"LIAR!"

"NEVER!"

"WE WILL NEVER BREAK!"

"Quiet." Riza says sharply, and all three of their children fall silent, slumping together on the sofa before them, finally looking chastised. Proving, once again, that Roy may be the leader of Amestris, but in this house Riza is the one with the real power.

"Who broke the lamp?" Riza asks quietly, looking back to the corner where the glittering, multi-colored pieces of a once very old and expensive lamp still lay. Roy watches his wife first turn to Shireen; her face is cool and impassive. She turns next to Nijah, who has a sweet little smirk on her face.

Finally, Riza looks at Maes, squished between his sisters on the sofa.

Riza smiles, and Roy knows the kids are done for.

"I think you know something, my Maesy," Riza says sweetly, soft smile on her face. Maes scrunches up his nose and wrings his hands in his lap. Shireen puts a tight hand around his shoulder and squeezes.

"No, Mommy, I don't," Maes says softly, brown eyes big and wide. And it's a good thing Riza's in charge of this because there's no fucking way in hell Roy could ever punish that sweet little face.

"Are you sure, Maesy?" Riza asks, crouching down and putting a hand on Maes' knee. Now Nijah's glaring at Riza, too. "Because I think there's something in it for you, if you tell me, honey. Maybe chocolate milk with dinner, hmmm? Maybe all week even."

Roy watches all three of his children pale and nearly doesn't hold back his snort.

"Fight it, Squirt. Fight her!"

"Don't break, Maesy!"

Maes closes his eyes tightly.

"Nope. No, Mommy, I don't know nothin'."

Riza stands up and lets out a dramatic sigh. "That's too bad. I was going to ask Cook to make chocolate cake with dinner tomorrow night, too, if you told me. I guess Daddy and I will be the only ones who-,"

"It was Hayate!" Maes yelps, before slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

"No!" Nijah cries, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, Maes," Shireen says with a tragic sigh.

"What do you mean, it was Hayate?" Roy finally asks. Maes starts to cry.

"I was rollin' the ball around with Hayate like I always do and—and I rolled it to the wall, but puppy missed! He missed and ran into the lamp and—Daddy, Daddy I think Hayate's going…blind." Maes is whispering by the end, tears trailing down his round cheeks.

"Don't you dare give our dog away-,"

"You can't put him down, you can't! He can't help it it's not his fault-,"

"He's just a little old, and we'll watch out for him-,"

"Roger said—he said his puppy couldn't see or hear no more 'cause he was sick and his parents sent the puppy to a farm-,"

"We love him so much!"

"Quiet." Riza says again, but without the ice of last time. Everyone falls silent immediately. "We aren't sending Hayate to a farm, and we definitely aren't putting him down. He's family and we love him and he's staying right here no matter what. Not being able to see certainly doesn't make one useless," Riza adds at the end, and Roy feels himself grinning slightly.

"So—so puppy stays with us?" Maes asks uncertainly.

"Of course puppy stays with us." Roy says firmly.

All three of his children beam.

000

"What are you doing?" Riza asks him that night, watching as he writes on the pad on his bedside table.

"Just making sure we remember to call the vet tomorrow," Roy answers. He startle when Riza lets out a loud snort.

"Oh for God's sake, Roy, you can't be serious."

He looks at Riza, confusion mounting. "Don't you think Hayate-,"

"Hayate had a checkup less than a month ago. His hearing isn't what it used to be, but that dog is by no means going blind, I promise you."

What?

"What? Then why did-,"

Riza laughs, loud and bright.

"Roy Mustang, our children played you like a fiddle."

Roy's stomach drops to his toes.

"You mean—they—oh my God."

Riza snorts again. "I'm guessing Maes and Nijah we're playing that stupid 'the floor is lava' game they made up, and one of them finally slipped. Shireen had dance class 'til late this afternoon, she was probably just helping them out."

"They lied. They lied about the fucking dog going fucking blind to me. Oh my God." Roy puts a hand over his eyes. "We've created monsters."

Riza just laughs again. Roy moves his hand and glares at her.

"This isn't funny, Riza. And why the hell did you let them get away with it?" Riza shrugs her shoulders and smiles. "Oh, Lord, you're pleased with them, aren't you?" Roy asks, realization finally setting, "You're proud of them. Oh for God's sake, Riza, why?"

Riza bites her lip to hold back a smile, and settles her head on his shoulder. "I don't know. I mean, they're really rather good if you didn't catch them. And I just—I like that they get along so well. I like that they look out for each other. It makes me happy."

Roy can't help but smile a bit at that. His children certainly love each other, but the fact that they like each other, that they are friends, is really a lovely thing to see.

"Plus," Riza continues, "You can probably fix it with alchemy. Either way, I never liked that lamp much. I'd really say they did us a favor, it was rather ugly."

Roy just snorts and shakes his head disparagingly. He and Riza have created monsters.

But they are their monsters. Cute and sweet and adorably lying monsters who love each other dearly and get along so well.

It's not such a bad thing.

000

1929 – Central City

"Everyone ready?" Shireen asks with a smile, picking up the breakfast tray. Maes nods happily, snatching the vase from the table.

"I got the flowers!" he announces proudly. His sisters beam at him.

"Are you sure you can do the coffee, Nijah?" Shireen asks, and Nijah rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Sissy, I can. My balance really isn't that bad, you know," she answers, brushing Sissy off.

"Let's go!" Maes yelps, rushing out of the kitchen with the vase. His sisters whisper shout after him to wait for him, but he's just so excited. Because today, today is Mommy and Daddy's anniversary, their tenth anniversary, and Nijah and Shireen say that means today is extra special and they have to be extra nice to Mommy and Daddy.

Breakfast in bed was Maes' idea. Nijah and Shireen didn't let him do anything on the stove, but he picked the flowers from the garden.

He's rather proud.

Quietly, the Mustang siblings make their way up the steps, Maes in the lead. Nijah and Shireen walk carefully to keep from spilling. Maes reaches the master bedroom door first.

"Maes, wait we should kno-," Maes burst through the door before Shireen can finish.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY ANNIV—oh," Maes doesn't continue. He just tilts his head to the side, rather confused by what he sees.

Shireen screams, and stops abruptly in the doorway. Nijah yelps, sloshing coffee up their sister's back. She screams again, and drops the breakfast tray. Eggs and bacon and toast and jam go flying all over the floor.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nijah is gasping.

Shireen wraps her arm around Maes' waist, picking him up quickly, and covers his eyes with her other hand.

"Oh my God, oh my God my eyes. Maes' eyes! Nijah shield your eyes oh my GOD!" Shireen shrieks, abandoning the fallen breakfast and rushing them all out the door.

She grabs Nijah's hand and pulls her down the hallway, down the stairs, not stopping or setting Maes down until they're all three in the kitchen once again. Her face is pale and her breath is absolutely heaving. She looks ill.

"Oh my God," Shireen mumbles. "Oh dear Lord."

"Sissy," Nijah asks quietly, "Sissy, is your back okay? I'm so sorry," Shireen waves her off.

"It's fine Nijah, I'm fine. It mostly just stained my pajamas." Shireen puts her face in her hands. "Oh my God I've been scarred for life."

Nijah rolls her eyes. "Well, I mean, it is their anniversary. And isn't, well, isn't it supposed to be beautiful? Create life, show unity in marriage, and be an expression of their love and all those nice things?"

Shireen puts her face in her hands. "Ugh, Nijah, can't you just be a normal, grossed-out twelve year old for once in your life!"

"I don't understand," Maes finally pipes up. "What were Mommy and Daddy doin'? Were they wrestling? It looked like Daddy was winning. And where were their jammies?"

Nijah and Shireen don't get a chance to answer, as Mommy and Daddy appear in the kitchen door. They both have put jammies on, with housecoats on top. Daddy's has the tray and remains of the breakfast they worked so hard on in his hands. Mommy has the empty coffee mugs.

Silence for a moment.

"There is a reason," Shireen begins, voice very hard, "that bedroom doors have locks."

Daddy opens his mouth as though he wants to say something, before snapping it shut and simply nodding. Maes has never seen his face so red before.

"Is your back alright, Shireen?" Mommy asks quietly. Shireen simply nods. Even Mommy's cheeks are flushed.

Silence again.

It is broken by Nijah's loud peals of laughter.

"Sorry, sorry," Nijah gasps around her guffaws, wiping tears from her eyes, "Just, oh my goodness, that was so funny! Shireen just went completely mad, and you!" Nijah looks up at Mommy and Daddy, eyes bright, "Oh goodness, you're so embarrassed. I've never seen either of you so red before! And then Maes wants to know if you were wresting oh my goodness-," Nijah starts laughing too hard to speak, tears streaming down her face.

Soon they're all laughing, breathless with tears in their eyes, and Maes isn't really exactly sure why, but laughing with his family is fun, and he can't make himself stop now. Maybe breakfast in bed didn't exactly work out, but today still seems really extra special. Certainly not an anniversary that any one of them will ever forget.

He'll just have to ask his questions again later.

000

1934 – Central City

"Oh God, I'm so full! I don't think I can move for the rest of my life at least," Shireen complains, staring at the half eaten piece of her third slice of birthday cake sitting before her. Everybody laughs. Nijah stands up to retrieve the last gift of the night.

"I hope that's a joke, Sissy, because I have one last present for you."

Shireen smiles, "Nijah! But you already gave me this very lovely scarf," she says, fingering the satiny purple scarf she'd immediately wrapped around her neck after opening.

"Oh, Sissy, that was just part one!" Nijah says with a smirk, finally handing over the thin square package.

"And what on earth is this?" Shireen asks, "Have you wrapped up your homework for me again, I told you I wouldn't—oh. Oh. Oh, Nijah. Oh, God, where did you find this?" Shireen has tears in her eyes.

Nijah sniffs. "I've been looking for it for years and I finally, it was just a month ago, I'd kind of given up by then and I found it, Sissy, I was at the record shop and it was just there. It was like a miracle."

Shireen hugs familiar record sleeve to her chest and closes her eyes.

"Ishvala's winking at us," Shireen whispers softly, and Nijah bites back a sob, remembering Mama's name for all the lovely serendipitous moments in their lives.

"Maes," Nijah calls out, clearing her throat, "Maes did you-,"

"All ready!" Maes calls out, dragging the record player into the adjoining, rarely used ballroom. She gives him a thumbs up, and the familiar drumbeat echoes through the dining room. Shireen holds a hand over her mouth, tears making her red eyes bright.

Nijah steps back and gives her sister a formal bow, before reaching out her hand with smile, "May I have this dance, my sweetness?" Papa's long-forgotten invitation.

Shireen bites her lip. "Only for you, my dear one," Mama's familiar response. And Shireen grabs her hand, kicking off her shoes rushing from the dining room as their parents and the Elrics follow behind curiously.

"Do you—do you remember it, Nijah?"

Nijah smiles. "Never forgot. I've been practicing Papa's part."

Shireen smirks. "So that's why you wanted me to wear this skirt so bad tonight." Nijah nods.

"Well, alright then. Lead the way." Together they go to the middle of the ballroom and finally face the audience gathered. Just before the music reaches its melody, echoing happily from the ceiling, Nijah and Shireen bow to one another. Shireen flourish off her scarf with her right hand and flips it to the sky.

And then, they dance.

They spin, and they twirl and they jump, the familiar steps and motions of their childhood coming back like riding a bicycle. It's been a few years since Shireen's last ballet class, but the strength and grace have not left her sister. She grabs Nijah's hands and leaps and spirals, long white hair gliding behind her and a radiant smile on her face.

Shireen is beautiful.

And Nijah? Nijah's flying.

She stomps and claps and leaps and twists. She hears the gasps when she drops to the ground and automatically kicks out her feet and smiles. When she jumps up parallel to the ground and spirals, she relishes the shocked yelps. And when she picks up her older sister and starts spinning them both round and round and round, always her favorite part of the dance, Nijah laughs.

When they reach the end, the terrible, wonderful end, and the sisters jump and link hands, kicking out their feet behind them, Nijah suddenly breaks away. She hasn't practiced this yet. It's not part of the traditional dance.

But it's part of Papa's dance.

Nijah's sees the realization in Shireen's eyes just before she does it, sees the mirth, and maybe a little fear, but mostly just the love and happiness.

So, for the first time in her life, Nijah jumps back and tucks herself in a ball, flipping behind and landing in a kneel.

The music ends. Nijah's breath heaves. But before she can look at their audience, before she can stand and take a bow, Nijah is tackled to the ground by her big sister.

"Oh, Nijah," Shireen gasps, sobbing into her shoulder, "Nijah that was wonderful. I missed dancing with you so much."

Nijah pets her sister's hair as their audience approaches them.

It seems Shireen is not the only person Nijah's made cry tonight.

Mom and Dad look, for the first time in Nijah's memory, completely stunned, tears dripping down their cheeks. Ed is animatedly trying to convince no one in particular that Nijah absolutely needs to learn martial arts, with a core strength and reach like that. Trisha, Sammy and Maes are off to the side, already trying and failing to mimic the sisters' dance moves and begging to be taught.

Aunt Winry is sobbing.

"This is why I love my job!" she wails into Ed's shoulder as he holds her tight. "Oh that was so beautiful, it was so beautiful-,"

"All thanks to you," Nijah tells Winry softly. "I missed being graceful. Thank you so much, Winry."

Winry doesn't stop crying for a long, long time.

000

1935 – Central City

"Major Khadem-Mustang, it's so wonderful to see you!" Mrs. Smithers says with a smile as Shireen enters her father's office.

"Mrs. Smithers, you've known me since I was ten. You can call me Shireen."

Mrs. Smithers waves a hand and scoffs. "Certainly not in this office, dearie. You're an important officer of the Amestrian army, and a State Alchemist to boot. I'll give you the recognition you deserve." Shireen decides not the mention that fact that most officers probably aren't called 'dearie.' Instead she smiles and shakes her head, taking a seat before Mrs. Smithers' desk and stealing a peppermint from the eternally and magically always full bowl.

"Dad have a meeting?"

"Yes, ma'am, ten more minutes and he should be finished and ready to go to lunch with you. You know how Colonel Linton loves to talk." Shireen nods knowingly and eats her peppermint.

Shireen has just finished polishing her pocket watch a few minutes later, stomach grumbling, when she notices Mrs. Smithers squirm.

"Erm, Mrs. Smithers, do you need to use the ladies' room?"

Mrs. Smithers grimaces.

"Oh, no, dearie, it's fine, all fine." But Mrs. Smithers continues to squirm.

"Mrs. Smithers-,"

"I'm expecting a phone call right now. I'll go once they finally call." Mrs. Smithers has begun to sweat.

"I'll take a message for you, Mrs. Smithers. Seriously, just go, it's fine." Shireen has barely finished her sentence before Mrs. Smithers is flying from the room.

Shireen smiles fondly, shaking her head at Mrs. Smithers' antics, when the phone begins to ring.

"Um—yes, you've reached the Fuhrer's office, may I ask what this is concerning?"

"Oh, hello! This is Marilyn Ascot with the East City Children's home." Shireen's stomach lurches at the warm and familiar voice. She's a bit sad Ms. Marilyn doesn't recognize Shireen's voice, but, she reasons, it's not like she would've expected Shireen to pick up the phone, and it has been a few years since they've seen one another.

Shireen is about to say hello, to reveal herself to their old, sweet matron when—

"I'd just like to extend another thanks to Fuhrer Mustang and Colonel Hawkeye for their continued generosity. They'll be receiving a note in the mail as well, but I wanted to call. So much of what we've accomplished at the home would never have been possible without their support, and not just financially, though that's certainly been imperative."

"And you're referencing the donation made-?" Shireen asks lightly.

"June 14th."

Nijah's birthday.

When Ms. Marilyn gives the amount without being prompted, Shireen falls out of her chair.

"Are you alright miss?" Ms. Marilyn asks, sounding worried.

Shireen gulps. "Ah, yes, yes of course," her voice high, "Just—I just sneezed. Yes, I'm fine, very fine. I'll take a message for you, and be sure to pass along your thanks."

Shireen slams the phone down before Ms. Marilyn can finish her goodbye.

000

That evening, Shireen goes home with Mom and Dad. She has her own apartment in town now, has for about a year because she's an adult, and she has a job and a boyfriend and money and why not? But sometimes, it's just nice to go home.

And sometimes, Shireen just needs to snoop.

In the early hours of the morning, once she's sure everyone else is asleep, Shireen sneaks down to Dad's office and pulls out the old ledgers from the past twelve years.

Shireen learns three things:

1. Mama Hawk and Daddy Mustang are fucking loaded.

2. They have donated exorbitant amounts of money to the East City Children's Home every year on Nijah's birthday.

3. They have donated the same exorbitant amount of money to the Children's ward of the East City Hospital every year on Shireen's birthday.

Shireen is hastily trying to wipe away the tear drops that have dripped onto the old 1923 ledger book when Dad walks through the door.

"Shireen what have I told you about-," Dad admonishes, before noticing her tears, "Honey, what's wrong?"

Shireen shakes her head and slams the book shut, failing to swallow around the lump in her throat. Dad walks around to her side of the desk to see what she's reading.

"What are you looking at old ledgers for? Worried about your inheritance or something?"

"Fuck no," Shireen manages to gasp out. Oh shit. Mom and Dad are never allowed to die because she absolutely doesn't want to be in charge of this fortune ever in her life.

"Then what's wrong?" Dad asks again, putting a gentle hand on Shireen shoulder and looking her in the eye.

"I—I helped Mrs. Smithers with the phone when I was waiting for you for lunch, she had to go to the bathroom. Ms. Marilyn from the home called…."

"Ah." Is all Dad offers as he bites his lip. "Yes, well…."

"I just—every year, Dad? Every single year? That's…."Shireen doesn't know what to say.

Dad sighs. "Shireen, between you and me, we have more money than we know what to do with, especially after Grumman left us everything. Might as well go somewhere good, somewhere we care about."

"But all those adoption fees, and you guys, you expedited everything. I remember friends from the home having to wait months, and you just—and you didn't have to adopt us, you could've fostered us first, been our guardians, but you—you and Mom," Shireen wipes the tears off her cheeks with the heel of her hand. "I always knew you loved us. I just never realized how—how wanted we were. You wanted us so much."

Dad pulls her into a tight hug, hand on the back of her head.

"Shireen, I think Mom was ready to take you home with us the first day we met you."

The shoulder of Dad's pajamas grows wet with her tears.

"I'll admit it took me a little longer, but I think that was more because it didn't—I couldn't even fathom that it was a possibility. But then you got sick and I was so—I hated that we had to leave you there every night. I hated that we couldn't take care of you. And I just knew—for all the other kids, I wanted them to be adopted so badly, to find families and be happy. But just thinking about anyone else falling in love with you two and taking you home—it made me sad, Shireen. So sad.

"Guess I just knew you were supposed to be ours."

"But why? Why us? We weren't happy, we weren't by any means healthy, and you—why on earth did you want us?" Shireen whispers into Dad's shoulder. He hugs her tight before pulling away and grabbing her shoulders again.

"I wish you could see how easy it is to love you, Shireen. It's always been like breathing, loving you and Nijah and Maes. And now, well, I don't think I could live without it."

Shireen doesn't like to remember the months after the horrible car crash. She doesn't like remembering Mama and Papa's funeral and Nijah's amputation and all of her surgeries. It was a time full of pain, both physical and emotional. It was the first time Shireen felt truly hopeless.

And then she and Nijah had gone to the home, and these strange and beautiful people waltzed right into their lives. And Shireen wanted to hate them, truly she did. She wanted to scoff and sneer and make them feel the pain that she felt. The loss that they'd given. She wanted them to hurt like she did.

She managed to hate Ms. Riza about an hour.

But the Flame Alchemist—she held onto the hate for him.

He was evil. He was cruel and powerful and a terror. He burned down their home. He was the reason Nonna was dead. He razed villages and tore apart families. He was the villain of Abba's bedtime stories from so long ago. He was—

Haunted. Burdened by guilt. Working hard to make amends.

He was good. Kind.

He was broken once. Broken worse than even Shireen. But he'd found a way to put himself together again.

And all he ever wanted was to help Shireen do the same.

"You're a really good person, Dad. I ever tell you that?"

Dad smiles and uses his thumb to wipe away the tears on her cheek. "Love makes us good, kiddo. I owe a whole lot of the good in me to you."

000