1933 - Central City
"We're going to have to amputate the leg further." The doctor says it sadly, apologetically and softly as though he's expecting an uproar.
Roy doesn't respond. He does look up to meet the doctor's eyes, which is more than can be said of Riza. Riza just sits there, staring blankly at Nijah as she holds her hand, just as she has the past three days.
"I'm so sorry," Winry whispers, "I'm so, so sorry, I thought if we removed the port, with antibiotics it would be enough to get rid of the infection. But she-," Winry trails off, tears dripping down her cheek.
"It's not your fault," Riza says dully. She still doesn't look away from their daughter's face, from her hand clasped with Nijah's.
Because it's not. It's not Winry's fault. She did her job, did it perfectly.
He and Riza are the ones who have epically and spectacularly failed at the only job that's ever mattered.
Roy remembers a younger Riza, so, so young with short hair and dead eyes, dressed in a baggy uniform she was nowhere near growing into telling him that Ishval would be their worst. It would be their worst and they would get better. They would make it better.
She was wrong.
"We'll need to start prepping her for surgery," the doctor continues after an awkward silence. "We don't really have time to waste. If there's anyone you need to contact, do it now.
Roy and Riza don't respond.
"Shireen," Winry finally says, "I'll go call Shireen, she'll want to-,"
"I'll do it." Roy hasn't spoken in roughly twelve hours, and his crackling voice betrays it. He knows there's a dark, prickling shadow all over his jaw. His clothes are crumpled from overwear, and he probably needs a shower.
He doesn't give one flying fuck.
Before anyone else can speak again, Roy stands, steadying himself on the back of the chair when the world grows spotted. He should probably eat sometime. Maybe drink some water.
He exits the room without a backward glance and heads down the hallway to the phone, searching his pockets for spare change on the way.
"Hello?" the tired voice asks.
"Edward." Roy's voice is still crackling.
"Oh, Roy, hi. How's Nijah-,"
"They're taking the rest of the leg."
There's a shocked gasp. "Oh, fuck. God fucking damnit. Fuck, Roy, I'm so-,"
"Tell Shireen. She should be here."
Silence.
"Mr. Jacobs dropped her off at the hospital hours ago, Roy. She's not here."
A loud buzzing has begun in the back of Roy's head. It matches the slight wriggle in his gut.
"Where-,"
"Mr. Fuhrer!" a voice gasps behind him, grabbing his shoulder. "Sir, sir!" It's Sergeant Johnson.
He has tears in his eyes.
"Sir, there's, at the cemetery, you, Maes is-," Johnson isn't able to hold back his tears. "Maes is gone. I'm so sorry, sir, I'm so very sorry, everyone is searching, we don't know how it could've happened-,"
The buzzing in his head turns into a screech. Roy nearly doubles over at the pain in his side.
"Did you hear that?" Roy gasps into the phone, ignoring Johnson.
"She wouldn't dare." Roy can't remember the last time he's heard Edward frightened.
"Yes, she would."
000
They find her in an abandoned warehouse a mile from the cemetery.
"Don't do this, Shireen. Please," Edwards begs, "Please don't. You know it won't work, it can't work, it's not possible, sweetheart."
"Maes wouldn't want this," Al adds softly.
Shireen snaps her fingers, creating a wall of flames to separate them from her.
Her circle is meticulously drawn in chalk on the concrete floor of the warehouse, the only part of the floor that's clear of dust and dirt otherwise. Off to the side is a first aid kit and a spare set of Roy's gloves.
And in the middle is Maes. Dressed in the small black suit he never had the chance to outgrow, eyes shut forever to the world. The shroud, the one Nijah had insisted upon making before she'd fallen so horribly ill, with Maes' baby blanket sewn into the center, is folded neatly under his head like a pillow.
He could be sleeping.
He isn't.
"Shireen DON'T!" Ed bellows as she adds one last line to the circle, before entering it and leaning down to kiss Maes' forehead. She snaps again and the flames climb even higher. "You can't do this. This isn't right. It won't work, it can't work, Shireen, it is not possible." As Ed speaks, Roy watches him signalling to Al with his hands, hidden from Shireen behind the smoke and flames. "You're wasting your life for nothing."
Shireen lines herself up outside the circle, crouching down with her hands out.
"I don't care."
Many things happen at once.
Al claps his hands together before dropping to the floor, creating a tunnel under the flames and rocking the foundations of the old and rotting building. Bricks and rocks and dust begin falling from the ceiling in earnest, and Shireen lets out a shriek, jumping up to cover Maes' body from the debris. Ed sprints through Al's tunnel, knife drawn, trying to break the circle before Shireen can activate it; there's a barrier, Roy realizes, a second after Ed. Al's alchemy can't reach the circle.
All the while, Roy is sprinting through Shireen's flames. He's burning, choking, dying. He doesn't care.
It's the first time he's felt anything in days.
Clothes and hair probably on fire, body wailing, Roy jumps into the circle and tackles Shireen to the ground, her head hitting the floor with a crack.
"No. No! NO! I can do it, Dad, NO!" Shireen screams, wriggling in his ironclad grasp, rolling them along the floor. "NO! STOP IT! LET ME GO!"
She futilely reaches out for the circle, touching it with one hand before Roy can snatch it away. Ed's on the other side, finally emerged from the tunnel, knife out ready to scratch through the circle on the floor.
Roy's left hand is reaching out for Shireen's arm. His right arm is around her waist, pinning her to the ground
Shireen kicks and rolls them again, and Roy's right hand brushes the circle.
A circle.
"Shireen!" Ed shrieks. "Roy! ROY!"
"Brother, get back! It's too late, we're too late get BACK!"
Black arms reach from nothing, holding Roy and Shireen in place, keeping their circle. In the blue light of the transmutation, Roy watches Al drag his brother back from the rebound. He looks once more at the pale, expressionless face of his child, his son whose age will never reach double digits. He thinks about Nijah and Riza in the hospital, wonders who will have to inform them of the newest tragedy. Roy finally turns his head to face Shireen, whose eyes are wide with unspeakable terror and immediate, overwhelming regret.
He wonders if it's the last thing he'll ever see.
The world turns white white white white white.
Well hello there! I didn't expect to see you again, Roy!
000
000
000
"Roy….Roy…..ROY! Roy, wake up! WAKE UP!"
Roy opens his eyes with a gasp, vision filled with Riza's face, her tired eyes brimming with concern, her hand soft on his cheek.
"Roy?"
He buries his face in his wife's neck and sobs.
000
"I think Maes is going to ask to see Cook." Riza says it softly, and Roy nearly doesn't hear it, curled up as she is into his chest.
Roy spent a good half hour recovering from his nightmare, alternating between crying and rushing to the bathroom to retch before he was finally calm and quiet enough to check on his sleeping children. It takes Riza five solid minutes to convince him he can't call Nijah at two-thirty in the morning.
Riza's now got one of his hands clutched in both of hers, thin fingers tracing over the wide scar on his palm. Roy's free hand stops its trail through her long hair. "What makes you think that?"
Riza shrugs. "Things he's been saying. He's just trying to understand, to make sense of all this. Maybe he thinks talking to Cook will help."
"Do you think it will help him?" In another time, Roy would have ranted and raved at the thought of the woman who tried to murder him, who nearly murdered their son , being within ten miles of any of their children.
But that was another time.
Riza sighs. "I don't know. Feels like I don't know anything anymore." She twists his wedding ring around in slow circles. "But if he wants to, this could be his only chance. We don't have any say in what happens to her now."
They're both silent for a moment, contemplating the upcoming trial.
"He's getting better." Because he is. Maes doesn't sleep in their bed anymore, hasn't complained of the dreams or woken with dark circles under his eyes. Not since the heart-stopping morning last week when they'd woken to Maes' empty bed and Shireen's open window creaking with the wind. His cheeks are rounding out again, he hasn't had a panic attack since Gracia's last unfortunate visit. Yesterday the doctor had finally taken out the stitches, leaving a short pink scar at the corner of his lips.
But Maes won't eat chocolate anymore. His smiles are still difficult to come by.
Roy desperately misses his son's laugh.
"Yeah." Riza hums in agreement.
"So, hypothetically," Roy begins, biting his lip and propping himself up on his elbow. Riza tilts her head up and looks him in the eyes. "If Maes-,"
"When Maes-," Riza interrupts.
"When Maes hypothetically asks to see Cook," Roy asks, "What do we do?"
Riza shrugs her shoulders in answer, then curls herself more tightly into his chest. Roy lets his elbow fall and starts playing with her hair again.
"Remember the day he was born?" Riza asks softly. As if Roy could ever forget it. "I can remember sitting there after you brought the girls up. We all just sat there on the bed, all together for the first time. The girls were so sweet, and we were all, we were all just so happy, Roy. And forever is a scary thing, but I can remember thinking if this is my forever, if this is it, I'd be okay with it. I'd be happy with this as my forever." Riza sniffs. "I've been thinking about that a lot the past few weeks."
Roy takes a shuddering breath and wraps his arms all the way around Riza, pulling her closer. "But then we wouldn't know him. We'd love him, but we wouldn't know him. And that's the best part, isn't it?"
Riza sniffs again, and pulls back to wipe her eyes. "Yeah. It is."
000
Riza ends up being right, because she is Maes' mother and mother's intuition, as Roy continues to discover, is a very real phenomenon.
It's two days later, and Roy is tucking Maes into bed when-
"Hey, Dad?"
"Yeah, kiddo?" Roy asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. People have remarked on how much Maes resembles Roy ever since he was a baby. But sitting there, with Maes' glasses off, his brown eyes big and wide and those thick long lashes blinking at him as Maes bites his lip and scrunches his nose nervously-
All Roy sees is little Riza.
"I think- I mean I-Dad, I want to talk to Cook. Before the trial happens, I want to talk to her."
Roy isn't surprised. That doesn't stop his heart from creeping up into his throat, though. He takes a deep breath and fights to keep his voice even.
"Why, Maes?" he asks softly. Maes fidgets his fingers in his lap for a moment before looking up at Roy.
"I think I hate her, Dad."
That is absolutely not the answer Roy was expecting.
"I hate her, and I don't like it. It just makes me feel bad inside, and I don't want to feel bad about this anymore. I thought maybe, maybe if I talked to her it would help."
Roy sits in stunned silence for a moment, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. When Maes starts to frown, Roy realizes he's taken much too long to respond.
"Alright." Roy finally says. "We-let me talk to Mom first, and I'll set up some time before the trial. You don't get to talk to her alone, though, one of us will be with you."
"Good. I don't-I wouldn't want to do it alone." Maes says quietly. His lip quivers.
Roy pulls Maes into a hug then, hand on the back of his head and arm tight around his shoulders. He relishes the sound of Maes' breaths, the feeling of his pounding heart. The warm little hands digging into the back of his shirt.
"You're never alone, Maes, you know that, right? Not ever," Roy whispers into his hair, and Maes nods his head into Roy's chest.
Not for the first time, Roy wonders at the fact that he helped create someone so good.
000
"Why the fuck are you letting him do this?" Shireen says angrily, turning toward him with fire in her eyes. Mr. Jacobs kindly keeps his eyes on the road and pretends he can't hear.
Roy sighs. "Mom thinks it could help him."
"But what if it doesn't?" Shireen asks viciously, "He's been getting better, what if this just sends him-,"
"Shireen, this is the only chance he'll have to talk to her. We don't get to decide what happens to Cook, she might…" Roy trails off. "I don't like it. Of course I don't. He's young and he's traumatized and I don't fucking like this at all. But if this is something he needs, and I take that chance away from him…." Roy sighs again.
"He says he hates her. And hating her makes him feel bad inside. He thinks talking to her will help it go away."
"Oh, Maes." Shireen says softly, before letting out a hard breath and turning to look out the window. They're both in uniform, headed to Central Command for work. Riza's at home for the day, because neither of them feel comfortable leaving Maes without one of them yet. Shireen had woken up late that morning, so her dress shirt's still untucked, her jacket is unbuttoned, and her hair is flowing long down her back.
"At least tuck in your shirt, Shireen," Roy says after a long silence. It has the desired effect; Shireen turns and smirks at him, rolling her eyes a bit.
"I don't think I'll be court martialed; I've heard the Fuhrer kind of likes me."
"You sure about that?" Roy asks, raising his eyebrows, and Shireen laughs as she tucks in her shirt and finally buttons her jacket.
"You need to sleep more. You shouldn't stay up so late reading," Roy says, and Shireen grimaces.
"I wasn't." Shireen pauses before looking up at him, "Maes had a bad dream."
Roy wipes a hand down his face. "I thought they went away. I thought he was finished with those."
Shireen shrugs, "They never go away completely, you know that. Just gotta deal with it," she says softly, hand coming up unconsciously to swipe at her scar. "Ah, shit." Shireen mutters.
"What's wrong?"
"I forgot a fucking hair tie." Roy can't help the huff of laughter that escapes him.
"It's not funny-,"
"Turn around, Shireen." She does, and Roy looks down and separates his daughter's thick white hair into three portions at the top before falling into the old and familiar pattern of the Aerugean braid. Instead of tying it off at the end, Roy twists the long braid in circles to create a bun. With one hand holding the bun in place, Roy slides one of the medals off his jacket and breaks the pin off the back.
"What was that?" Shireen asks at the snap.
"Nothing important," Roy responds, using the pin to hold Shireen's new hairdo in place. "There, you're all good to go."
Shireen turns around and smiles softly. "I forgot how good you are at that. What did you use- oh my God. " Shireen gasps, picking up the medal that Roy discarded on the seat between them. "Oh my God, Dad, you fucking broke the fucking Medal of Honor."
"You needed a hairpin," Roy says with a shrug.
Shireen gapes at him. Then she grins.
000
Cook's name is Esther Dabiri.
She was born in 1881, in the sleepy Ishvalan village of Armagh. She married Mr. Cyrus Dabiri in 1899. Cyrus Dabiri was reported missing in action in 1905, and was presumed dead.
There is no record of a son.
Esther immigrated to Amestris in 1910, and eventually made her way to Central City. There she found employment with a small, but well-loved family restaurant, and single-handedly made the place famous with her new recipes and flair for spices.
Roy met Esther in 1924. Grumman was hosting the Ishvalan Elders for a dinner following a day of peace talks and discussion of the reformation efforts. Roy understood the need for his presence in the meetings; he was outraged when Grumman asked him to bring his family along for the dinner.
"A happy unity of Amestris and Ishval!" Grumman harped throughout the day, and Grumman never said it but Roy knew, he knew his superior wasn't just talking about the meetings and the dinner. He was talking about the nearest and best example, about Roy's daughters with their white hair and red eyes, who grew up being told stories of the terrible Flame Alchemist and his Hawk's eye. He was thinking about their son, little baby Maes who only knew all of them together and would never know them apart, of the happy unity that was their family and his life.
Grumman wanted to use Roy's family.
And it worked .
The Elders were charmed by his daughters, because no one can meet his daughters and not be. They bowed their heads reverently at Nijah's prayer before the meal, and nodded in solemn approval when it was finished. They laughed at Nijah and Shireen's fond memories of their childhood, cried when they heard about the horrible car crash, and smiled happily when Shireen talked about the day they were adopted.
Then the Ishvalan band Grumman hired began playing, and Maes squirmed in Riza's arms, clapped his hands together with the beat and laughed loudly.
The Elders melted.
"I'm sorry," Roy muttered to Shireen during dessert. "I'm sorry, this isn't-," Roy didn't really know what to say, but Shireen understood. She had understood the moment they were asked to the dinner.
Shireen bit her lip then smiled a little at him. "It's not your fault, Dad. And it helped, didn't it?"
Roy wanted to pull out his hair. "Adopting the two of you, wanting the two of you, it was never about this. Never about any of this. It's about you two and nothing else. You know that, right?" Roy whispers.
Shireen nodded hurriedly. "We know. We've always known that." Roy leaned down and kissed the top of her head, and Shireen finally smiled for real. "At least the food's good. This dinner's been fantastic, I've missed real kebabs. And the dolma ." Shireen's eyes closed in delight. "I mean, Mom's a good cook and all, but you can't cook worth dirt, and Mom doesn't know how to do Ishvalan food. I wish I could find Mama and Papa's recipe book from the restaurant…" Shireen trailed off.
Which is how Roy Mustang comes to meet, hire, and employ one Esther Dabiri. And for nine years they are happy. His family loves their cook, and their cook seems to love his family.
Then, Esther tries to kill Roy.
She gets Maes instead.
000
"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?" Roy asks, once Riza finally hands the phone to him after finishing her goodbyes
"Dad!" Nijah yelps happily. Roy can picture her grin. "I'm great, I'm so great, Daddy, Winry attached the leg yesterday, and that kind of hurt, but it was over fast but, Dad- ," she gasps, "Dad, I walked! I walked on two whole real, well, not really real but you know what I mean, but two legs! It was amazing! It's so amazing, I forgot how different it was, it's so much smoother, I didn't hardly limp at all, Winry said it was a good sign. She's making me taking it off when I sleep since the port's still healing but, oh Dad. Dad it was wonderful." Nijah's breathless by the end.
Roy laughs wetly and runs a hand over his eyes. "I wish I could've seen it."
"You will soon!" Nijah says emphatically, "Mom says she's coming to get me Friday, right?"
"That's right."
"And soon I'll be racing Maes, and dancing with Sissy, and I was thinking maybe you and Mom could teach me some of that hand-to-hand stuff, that always seemed cool and useful, and-,"
"Walk before you start running, kiddo," Roy says wryly, and Nijah laughs.
"Yeah. Yeah. For now, that's enough, though. I forgot how much I missed it. It's like I blocked out how easy and wonderful it was when I knew I couldn't do it. Feels kind of like the world's a new place."
Roy remembers years and years ago, a lumpy hospital bed and a quiet lieutenant and a world that would never see light again. He remembers the hope in Dr. Marcoh's voice and in his own heart, remembers scorching red light and pain pain pain before the world was new again with Riza's smiling face at the center.
"I know what you mean," Roy says softly.
"Yeah. I think you do." Nijah sighs happily, "Ed and Al probably do, too. And Uncle Jean. I feel like I've joined some horribly wonderful club."
"Yes, well, membership is definitely for life. You don't have to pay anymore fees for admission."
There's silence for a moment. Then Nijah positively cackles. Roy can't help but join in.
"Hey, Nijah," Roy finally says, and Nijah settles down, "I just-I'm really proud of you, Nijah. I know I wasn't as supportive as I should've been from the beginning. I was scared for you, but it wasn't fair of me to treat you the way I did. You were so brave. You're so strong, sweetheart, and I-I'm so happy for you. I'm happy and I'm very, very proud."
Nijah sniffs. "That's not fair. You can't say stuff like that when I can't hug you, Daddy." And Roy laughs again.
"Soon. I'll see you soon."
"Lost and Found," Nijah says suddenly.
"What's that?"
"That's the club name. The Lost and Found."
"Nijah, you're ridiculous."
"I'm hilarious. I'm going to get Ed to help me draft a charter. I'm thinking bi-monthly club meetings, fundraisers in Rush Valley, the whole shebang. Obviously, I will be president. You can be my vice-president, if you so wish."
"Nijah, I'm the Fuhrer. "
Nijah scoffs. "That means nothing, Al's a member so it's an international club. Oooh, we should get Lan Fan in on this, too. Dad, this is going to be so great, I'm so glad you've unequivocally agreed to help me fund my new awesome club!"
"Nijah-,"
"Oh hey, talk to Sammy, I have to get Ed, he had something he wanted to say-,"
"Nijah-,"
"Bye! I love you so much! Sweet dreams!"
"I love you, too, but Nijah -,"
"Uh, Uncle Roy, this is Sammy." Roy sighs and rubs a tired hand down his face.
"Hello, Sammy. How are you?"
"I'm good. It's raining a lot, but it's not June anymore so Daddy says the muck monsters won't get me."
"What-?"
"Bye-bye Uncle Roy! Here's Daddy."
"Bastard, we need to talk," Fullmetal says, voice hard. Roy can't help but roll his eyes.
"What have you done to your poor child, Fullmetal? He thinks muck monsters are going to eat him?"
"Nah, he thinks Ben and Nina are going to eat him. He just thinks muck monsters are going to get him, there's a big difference."
"Oh for God's sake-,"
"That's not the point. What the fuck did I receive in the mail yesterday?"
"Well, Edward, I don't know. A letter perhaps? It's a crime in this country to open mail that's not addressed to you, so I wouldn't know-,"
"No, you bastard, I got a fucking letter from your fucking accountant asking for a fucking invoice for Nijah's automail and surgery."
"Why is that a bad thing?" Roy asks, genuinely confused. "Don't you think Winry wants to be paid, Fullmetal?"
"She does NOT." Edward rages. "She absolutely does not, and I don't want her to be."
"You aren't doing this pro bono. Nijah's our daughter, it's her leg, and obviously you know we're good for it-,"
"Well so are we!" Edward shouts. "I made a promise ten years ago. I said once Nijah turned sixteen the automail's on Winry and me. I said that and I meant it, and Nijah did her waiting. I plan on upholding my end of the promise."
"You made that when you didn't know what we would do, you weren't sure what would happen to them-,"
"I don't give a shit. You're not paying."
"Edward-,"
"Look, Mustang, I've done pretty well with long promises in my life. I promised Al we'd get his body back. I promised you I'd get you that stupid 520 cens when you became Fuhrer. I promised Win-well, that's none of your business but I kept it. Let me keep this promise, too. I like racking up the good karma."
"You don't believe in karma."
"I absolutely believe in karma. I just call it something different. Can't wait to see you at the next Lost and Found meeting, Mr. Secretary!"
Roy sputters. "I'm the vice-president!"
"Nope, I am now. Nijah and I think you'd be much better at taking minutes."
"What the fu-"
Edward hangs up the phone.
000
"Are you sure, Maes? Are you absolutely positive you don't want me to come? I can try to get a train this afternoon, or just wait until tomorrow, you know Nijah won't mind too much. She would understand."
Maes just shakes his head. "No, Mom, go. Really, it's fine. I promise it's fine, we won't be very long. And Dad will be with me, I'll be okay."
Riza grimaces before pulling Maes into a tight hug. "I love you, my Maesy."
"I love you more." Riza finally smiles.
"I love you most."
"I love you more than most," Maes finishes with a small grin, pulling away from Riza.
"Impossible." Riza pets down the cowlick on the back of Maes' head before turning around and pulling Roy into a hug.
"Just-," Riza whispers in his ear.
Be careful. Stay safe. Don't be stupid. WATCH HIM. Be gentle. Remember to breathe.
"I will." Roy whispers back just as quietly, before leaning down and kissing his wife.
"Ugh, please stop," Maes says with a gag.
But he's smiling.
It makes Roy smile, too.
000
Cook's trial has unexpectedly been moved up to the upcoming Monday. She'll be moved to the holding cells in the Central City courthouse at an undisclosed time this weekend to avoid a media frenzy. Friday is her last official day in the most high-security cell of the prison.
Today is the last chance Maes now has of speaking with Cook before the trial.
Maes is quiet during the ride to the prison. It's not a very long trip, but Maes brings a book along. He's seems too distracted to read, though, just lets the book sit in his lap and flips through the edge of the pages with his thumb as he stares out the window.
Alchemy: Roy reads, Past and Present.
By A. Elric and E. Elric
"Ed wanted to call it 'Why the Philosopher's Stone is Bullshit, and other nifty facts'."
Maes laughs out loud.
(Roy wants to cry. He's missed Maes' laugh.)
When Maes' laugher eventually dies down, Roy finally says, "That's not exactly light reading, Maes. Are you interested in alchemy?"
Maes shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno. Elysia recommended the book, said I might like some of the chapters." Maes turns to Roy, his eyes searching. "If I am interested in alchemy though, would you-would you teach me?"
Roy feels his lips quirk up in an unexpected grin. "Of course I will. I might have to fight off Shireen for the honor, though."
And Maes laughs again.
000
They arrive at the prison a few minutes later. The warden is waiting for them out front, introduces himself and leads them up the front drive. The MPs follow closely behind, on high alert ever since Maes was poisoned. Johnson's on duty today; Roy's begrudgingly glad at that fact. Maes has always been friendly with Johnson.
(Roy is less happy about Johnson's "friendship" with Shireen, but that is a problem for another day.)
The closer they get to the prison, the further Maes shrinks into Roy's side. When Maes reaches for Roy's hand (Maes, his nine year old who's been attempting to be mature since he could talk, who hasn't held Roy's hand in public, let alone reached out for Roy's hand in public in years ), Roy stops.
He squats down, putting Maes at eye-level, one hand still gripping his while the other grasps his son's shoulder tightly.
"Maes," Roy says seriously. "Maes, look at me." For Maes had been desperately trying to avoid his eyes, hung down in probably embarrassment and that simply won't do. "Maes."
Maes finally looks up. And his eyes, Riza's eyes, are shiny and round and scared and-
"You don't have to do this," Roy whispers, squeezing Maes' hand. "You really, really don't. If you don't want to do this, we can go home right now, don't feel like you have to-,"
"I want to." He says it firmly, eyes growing hard with resolve. "I need to, Dad."
Roy takes a deep breath. "Alright," he says softly. "Alright." Roy stands up, and they continue following the warden, on the way to the interview room.
He doesn't let go of Maes' hand.
000
"Have they told you why we're here?" Roy asks, voice hard. Esther nods slowly. She's leaned slightly forward, the handcuffs around her wrists attached to a ring on the table between them. Roy knows her ankles have been similarly bound, knows there's a leather strap around her waist keeping her in the chair. Her white hair is long and lank, there are dark circles under her eyes, and the gray jumpsuit makes her seem astonishingly pale despite her dark skin.
Roy doesn't want Maes to come in. He doesn't want his son to see her like this.
"Mr. Maes wants to talk to me." Nijah and Shireen never really had Ishvalan accents. They were born in Amestris, always went to school in this country, and though they grew up bilingual, their Amestrian has always been natural. Sometimes Roy hears it, in the hard A's and the long I's, in the way his daughters' tongues will occasionally roll their R's, but not very often.
Cook's accent has always been thick, a reminder of Ishval. Of shouted orders across a battlefield. Of prayers of protection and stilted pleas for mercy.
"Yes. He does." Roy finally says. "I will be in the room the whole time. You speak when you're spoken to, answer his questions to the best of your ability. You will not," Roy glares, "ask any questions of him. Am I understood?"
"Yes." It used to be yes, sir. Or yes, Mr. Fuhrer. Yes, Your Excellency.
Esther no longer has a reason to show Roy Mustang any farce of respect.
"You won't see him again." Roy doesn't know why he adds that. Maybe he wants to add insult to injury. Maybe he's trying to ensure Maes receives the kindness that he's come to expect from this woman.
"I know." She whispers it, and a tear Roy knows she can't physically wipe away rolls down her cheek.
Roy stands then, and goes to the door, opening it slowly. Maes is out in the hallway beyond. Johnson's standing next to him, with a hand on Maes' shoulder.
"Ready?" Roy asks, and Maes nods, walking forward. He puts his hands where Johnson's was before, gently guiding Maes into the room. Maes keeps his head down, seating himself carefully in the chair opposite Cook. There's another chair, but Roy remains standing, hand still on Maes' shoulder.
The door closes with a snick , and Maes finally looks up.
"Hello, Cook." Maes says it quietly, voice tired.
"Hello, Mr. Maes."
"What was your son's name?"
Cook's eyes snap up to meet Roy's, filled with shock; she hasn't expected this, especially not so soon. Roy raises his eyebrows in response. This is for Maes, and she will answer his questions to the best of her ability, no matter what they may be.
"Hassan. His name was Hassan. It means 'good' or 'handsome'."
"Was he?" Maes asks quietly, eyes not leaving Cook's face. She can't look him in the eye. "Was Hassan good and handsome?"
A small, soft smile unwillingly quirks Cook's lips. "He was very handsome, took after my Cyrus." Cook closes her eyes. "Hassan was sweet. Very kind. He-he loved to pick me flowers." She tips her head down. A tear drips onto the tabletop.
Maes stares at the tear stain.
"How old was he when he died?"
"Eight."
Roy swallows back the bile creeping up his throat.
Amestrian records of life events in Ishval during the war, births and deaths and marriages, are difficult, nearly impossible, to track down. They'd never known about Hassan Dabiri, because to the government, Hassan Dabiri never existed.
Hassan Dabiri had never known a life without war.
He'd been even younger than Maes when he died. When Roy killed him. When Esther Dabiri joined the army and left her only son in her mother's care, in the quiet, sleepy village of Armagh.
Roy doesn't remember Hassan Dabiri.
But he remembers Armagh. He remembers being so close he choked on the smoke. He remembers the sounds of buildings collapsing, the shrieks of the dying. The smell of burning flesh.
Roy had been told Armagh was a weapons stronghold, that it had been evacuated of families and overrun by the Ishvalan army weeks before.
It was only when he heard the wailing babies that Roy realized he'd been fed a lie.
Maes sucks in a short, hard breath.
"It must have hurt so much to lose him. Especially like that."
"It did. It still does. The worst pain I'll ever feel."
They're both silent for a moment. Another tear slips down Cook's cheek.
"Cook, do you-do you hate me?"
Cook's face finally crumples. "No, no Mr. Maes, no, I don't hate you. Darling, I could never, ever hate you. I've always loved you, loved spending time with you, cooking with you. I saved all those pictures you drew for me, every single-,"
"Then why did you hurt me?" Maes' voice is high, nearly a whine. Roy squeezes his shoulder so hard it's probably painful, but Maes doesn't brush him away or squirm.
"I didn't want to hurt you, Mr. Maes, I didn't mean to. I-," Cook stops, because she doesn't need to finish. They all know who she really wanted to kill that day.
Maes shakes his head quickly. His eyes are shining. "But you did. You were always going to hurt me. It was for Dad, you wanted to kill my dad." Maes chokes on a sob.
Oh, Maes.
"You were gonna take him away forever, make me hurt the way you hurt, the way you miss Hassan. And I was sitting right there, you knew I was sitting next to him. You were going to make me watch him die. " Maes dissolves into tears.
And Roy is finished.
He crouches down and wraps his arms around his son. Maes hugs him back, until Roy begins to pick him up.
"No, no Dad I'm not-let me go, I'm not done." He pushes Roy away.
"Maes-,"
"No. I need to know why." Maes looks back up at Cook, eyes still bright, but hard. "I understand why you wanted to kill Dad. But why were you alright hurting me?"
Silence. Roy looks away from his son long enough to watch Cook drop her head. If her hands were free, he knows her head would be buried in them.
"Hate made it easy to ignore the things I did not wish to see, Mr. Maes. Hate made me blind."
000
That afternoon, Roy looks up from a mind-numbing report on the proposed division of costs tunneling through the mountains for a new train line over the Aerugean border to the sound of the piano.
Soft smile on his face, Roy leaves the mound of paperwork behind and sneaks to the living room.
Riza had forced all of their children into piano lessons, said she refused to watch the beautiful grand piano gifted to them by Grumman gather dust. Shireen loathed every second of it. Nijah put up with the lessons for a year, before switching to the violin.
Maes plays. Maes is good.
Quietly, Roy leans in the doorway of the room and watches his son, his small fingers flying up and down the keys. Maes' back is to the door, and Roy sees his son's body sway a bit with the music. His feet are pointed at the floor, straining to reach the pedals.
"That one sounded familiar," Roy says, once Maes finishes playing. Maes jumps up in his seat and turns around, sheepish smile on his face.
"I found the music at the bottom of the bench," Maes says, handing Roy the yellowed and fading music sheets when he approaches.
The Spinning Song Roy reads. In the top right corner, in loopy, childish handwriting is the name Elizabeth Grumman. Underneath, in the neat cursive Roy knows better than his own, it says Riza Hawkeye.
"I remember Mom played if for me once when I was little, said her mom played it for her. I thought maybe I could get really good and play it for Mom on her birthday, it's only a few weeks away," Maes says earnestly.
"She'll love that," Roy says, because she will. Riza will treasure that gift more than anything Roy will ever think to get her. Maes beams. "Are you going to add your name?" he asks, nodding to the signatures on the page corner.
Maes scrunches his nose. "I dunno, it's not really mine." And Roy shakes his head, before reaching for his shirtpocket and pulling out his pen.
"Sign it. She'll like it, I know she will."
So Maes adds his name. His cursive his shaky, but neat, his hand a bit heavier than Riza's, nowhere near as loopy as his grandmother's. Maes Mustang.
Life is a list, a line, life is a circle, Roy can't help but think, and it spins and spins and spins and spins until you just can't hang on anymore.
And then you begin again.
000
"What do you want for breakfast?" Roy asks, looking up from his coffee to the blurry-eyed nine year old sitting at the counter.
"Hmmmm," Maes hums, dragging his fingertip on the rim of the orange juice Roy poured for him. "Can we make omelettes?"
"Yeah, I think we can do that," Roy says with a wink, turning to grab the eggs. Then the front door slams open.
"We're home!" Riza shouts.
Maes and Roy both scramble to the foyer.
"MOM!" Maes yelps, rushing to the door. Riza barely has time to drop her bag before Maes has leapt on her.
"Hey, my Maesy," Riza says, rubbing his back and pulling him close.
"We weren't expecting-," Roy begins, before he's assaulted by a white and tan blur.
"Daddy!"
"Nijah?" Roy asks, and the head digging into his shoulder nods, hugging him close. "God, Nijah you're so fast. "
"She's not supposed to be running yet," Riza admonishes, Maes still in her arms as she leans over to kiss Roy. Nijah finally looks up, red eyes dancing.
"Look, Dad, look at my leg. Isn't it amazing ?" Nijah says pulling back and riding up her pant leg, revealing the shining metal underneath.
"Wow." Maes breathes, sliding out of Riza's arms for a closer look. "Nijah, it's so cool."
"Yeah," Nijah agrees, before shaking her head and squawking "MAES! Hey Maesy!" and she pulls him into a crushing hug.
"Hi," Maes says with a little laugh, snuggling into his sister's side. Roy wraps an arm around Riza's shoulder.
"You're early," he whispers in her ear. "We weren't expecting you until tonight."
Riza shrugs. "Just wanted to be home." Roy pulls her tighter and kisses her head.
"Maes Mustang!" A voice rings out from the top of the bannister. "Your stupid dog came and woke me up when he got lonely! And on my day off, the nerve of this monster." Shireen finally comes into view at the top of the stairs. Said stupid dog is held in her arms, curled protectively into her chest and continuously licking her face.
"Mom! Nijah! You're home!" Shireen yelps, rushing down the stairs. She sets Little Hayate down gently on the last step as Nijah runs to her.
"Sissy!" Shireen catches Nijah when she jumps, spins her around in a circle.
"Oh Nijah," Shireen's eyes well with tears. "Oh, you can run . I haven't, you've- Nijah. "
Riza swipes a hand across her eyes. Roy sniffs.
"I wasn't done with my hug!" Maes says petulantly, squirreling himself in between in sisters.
"Well, I haven't even gotten my hug yet!" Riza says wryly, grabbing Roy's hand and dragging him with her to the kids before wrapping her arms around Shireen from behind. Then Roy picks up Maes and Nijah grabs his arm and they're all hugging and it's cheesy and ridiculous and they laugh and laugh and at some point they fall down on the bottom stair in a pile and Little Hayate keeps barking at them and licking any face he can reach and-
Roy is happy. He's really fucking happy .
000
"So, do you feel better? Did visiting her help?" Roy hears Riza ask quietly that night, as she's tucking Maes into bed. Roy hides himself in the shadow of the doorway and listens.
"Yeah, I-I feel better, Mom. It was hard, but I'm glad I did it. Dad helped."
"I'm glad." Riza pauses. "Do you still hate her?"
Maes sighs. "I'm still mad at her. I'm really mad about everything still. But she made me realize, well, Mom, actions are what hurt people, you know? It's the things you do that hurt other people. But hate, any hate I have for her or anybody else, maybe it would make me want to do bad things. But the actual hate, the bad feeling that I have inside, the only person it hurts is me.
"After I figured that out, it seemed kinda silly to hate her anymore. So now I don't."
So now he doesn't.
"Well, that's a very wise decision," Riza finally croaks out, and Roy hears her kiss Maes' head.
"Hey, Mom?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"If-if I did die, would you and Dad have killed Cook?"
Deep breath from Riza. "Yes. Yes, we probably would have. We're not as wise as you quite yet, Maesy."
Silence.
"Do you think Dad and Shireen would have tried to transmute me?" Roy slaps hand over his mouth to hold in his gasp.
"No." Riza's voice is firm. "They would never do that to you. They wouldn't do it to themselves. And there's no way in hell I'd ever even let them think about it, you know that."
Maes lets out a relieved sigh. "Good. That's-that's good."
"I wish I could take all your worries away." Riza admits, voice soft.
"You just did."
Not for the first time, Roy wonders at the fact that he and Riza created someone so good.
000
"I understand what you meant about forever," Roy whispers in Riza's ear that night in bed. "This morning on the stairs, I'd be alright if that was my forever. I'd be happy with that moment for always."
Riza smiles and kisses underneath his jaw.
"It would be shame to miss them growing up, though." She grabs his hand, twists his wedding ring in slow circle around his finger. "I suppose it's our burden and our privilege, to watch them grow."
Roy grabs and kisses her palm. "Yeah. I suppose it is."
000