The next morning, Havoc arrived early to deliver the news that First Lieutenant Hawkeye had returned to Central, and that despite her attempts to seem even on her feet and perfectly well off, he was still concerned about her.

"She's staying with Colonel Mustang?" Fuery crossed his arms slightly. He was concerned enough about Hawkeye; she had gone missing for over two weeks before Mustang received a letter about her whereabouts—and from Mustang's reaction to said note, things could not have been going well for the woman.

"Yeah. At least I think so—she had an overnight bag and Black Hayate was with her." Havoc slid back in his chair, frowning. "She looks like shit."

"What did you expect, Havoc? She was kidnapped for over two weeks," Breda snapped. "I don't want to know what she looks like. Is she okay?"

Havoc considered the question, and shook his head slowly. "No."

The men considered this. Breda swallowed heavily and Fuery looked around the room nervously. Falman was sitting quietly on the opposite side of the room, but it was clear from the way he peered up from the papers he was not touching that he was listening carefully to every word. The awkward silence draped heavily for an agonizingly long three minutes before the door swung open and Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes bustled in, looked uncomfortably tired but concerned.

"Morning everyone. Where's Roy?" Hughes surveyed the bothered faces of the room, and frowned.

"Not here yet," Fuery replied slowly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "If you need something we can tell him you came…"

Hughes shrugged, "no. I was hoping he wasn't here. I wanted to give you lot a heads up."

Immediately, all four of them were on their toes, anxiously listening. Havoc had said earlier that Hughes had been with Mustang when he and Hawkeye returned to the apartment the night before. This could easily mean that Hughes had information that Havoc did not. Four pairs of curious eyes stared at him, and Hughes held up his hands wearily in self defense.

"I just wanted to tell you to not piss off Roy and do what you can to help Hawkeye out when she comes back," Hughes mumbled slowly. "This whole thing has been rough on them both so far." Hughes swallowed, seeing the curious looks on everyone's face only growing with his comment.

"But she's all right?" Fuery couldn't help himself, the question making its way out before he could even contemplate keeping his mouth shut.

Lieutenant Colonel Hughes shuffled his feet slightly, his gaze focused on the floor. "Well, she isn't dead. All things considered, that's quite the accomplishment."

The door swung open suddenly, almost hitting the distressed Hughes in the head, and Mustang stomped in, blatantly exhausted and thoroughly irritable. He shot a nasty glare at Hughes, and beckoned the taller man to follow him. The two made their way into the small conference room adjoining the office. Mustang rarely used it unless there was a need for a private conversation—and from the only slightly muted screaming coming from the other room, it seemed reasonable to assume that the conversation taking place presently was private. At the very least, it was intended to be private. But through the thin door, the men were certain they overheard one word that they never expected to attach to First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye: pregnant.

Riza's patience to remain in bed expired long before the bed rest order did. For the first week, Roy was uncomfortable leaving her in his apartment alone—an awareness that both Riza and the men in his office became acutely aware of. On a daily basis, Roy would call at least once (he was just making sure she was all right, he claimed).

So when her order to bed rest had been lifted for four days, Riza chose to return to the office. She had made a particular point not to mention it to Roy; his kindness was greatly appreciated and his concern was genuine—but the doting behavior unnerved her and she was certain he would protest her decision.

As 0900 hours rolled around on a chilly Tuesday morning, she scrambled to dress and head to the office—she had been waiting for Roy to leave first—and started her walk to headquarters. Black Hayate was first to enter the office, several meters ahead of her. Breda yelped at the little black-and-white intruder, and Fuery immediately went to scratch the puppy's ears. Mustang, on the other hand, grimaced.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

Sure enough, Hawkeye was all of three steps behind the dog. Standing in the doorway (Fuery and Hayate blocked the path), she looked uncomfortable; there was no denying that she seemed to be expecting a reprimand. To prevent such happenings, Havoc stood, nudging Fuery and Black Hayate out of the way with his leg.

"Hello again, Lieutenant. You look well."

Mustang visibly tensed, and Havoc took it as a sign to back off. It was clear that Mustang was, at the very least, displeased by her unexpected presence. "What are you doing here?"

Now she was making her way to her desk, hanging her small bag over the back of her chair and taking a seat. Without missing a step in sifting through files and not a change in her expression, she replied: "working, sir."

Her response seemed to aggravate him further. "I know that you are working. I didn't know you planned on coming in today. This environment can't be good for you or the b—"

The pointed glare Mustang was on the receiving end of silenced him immediately. For the time being, at least, Hawkeye wanted to maintain secrecy about what had happened; in fact despite his concerns, she even refused to answer any of his questions on the matter.

"Or who, sir?" Poor Fuery. The kid had no idea how much trouble he was about to get himself into. Behind his glasses, though, there was a muted look of genuine concern. His kind heart made him the perfect target for office pranks, but the compassion was never misplaced.

"It's nothing, Sergeant," Mustang snapped.

"With all due respect, sir, I beg to differ." Falman seemed to think that he ought to enter the conversation at this point. Hawkeye's demeanor had already changed; the irritated glare had dissipated and was replaced with an expression that bordered on panic.

"Warrant Officer, it does not concern you."

"You know, Lieutenant," Havoc said hesitantly, his voice pointed directly at the disgruntled First Lieutenant sitting across the room, "you don't have to keep whatever's bothering you to yourself."

The tension was nearly tangible.

Mustang seemed to be considering Havoc's statement and perhaps Hawkeye's answer. Fuery impulsively scratched Black Hayate's head. Across the room, Breda and Falman exchanged wary looks of concern.

"I'm pregnant," Hawkeye finally mumbled, voice lacking its usual power. She kept her gaze strongly fixated on the desk.

"Oh."

This was clearly not what they had been expecting. Even with the shouting match between Hughes and Mustang looming over their minds, where they thought they overheard Lieutenant Hawkeye's name and pregnant in the same sentence, there had been no substantiation to such a claim. Somehow, however, they knew congratulations were not in order. Simply by how she admitted the fact, Hawkeye was upset about the development.

Fuery was the first to speak. "Well…I think you'll make a great mother."

That night, Riza was in a frenzy.

"Riza, calm down." Roy had a feeling that her very bothered state was somehow prompted by events in the office earlier that day. After Fuery had commented about her parenting skills, she had been silent and worked without comment for the rest of the afternoon.

"Sir, I can't…I'm not suited for raising a…I couldn't continue working, support myself and a child. I can't—I've never been the motherly type, cut out for child rearing."

Roy took her panic in stride, managing to get a good grip on her wrist when she paced past him for the thirty-second time. "You need to relax, and you'll make an excellent mother. I've seen you watch Elysia. The girl loves you and you're very good with caring for her."

She tensed in his grip, her jaw tightening, "But this will be my child. I will watch them and be a part of their lives…I just can't…" she fell still, one hand nervously fingering her holster. In her state of disarray, she had yet to even take off her boots after returning from work.

"Riza, listen to me. You're perfectly suited for the responsibility. You can raise a child." He hated seeing her so uncomfortable. He had been reading those little pamphlets the doctor had given her, and knew that such a state of arousal was not good for a growing child. Like a doting father-to-be, Roy was greatly concerned with Riza's health.

She was trembling just slightly, a barely noticeable amount. "I can't imagine looking into their faces again, Roy." Her voice tapered off, the wavering nearly undetectable.

Now he was starting to understand her concerns; now it made perfect sense. Just a little over two months ago, she had been kidnapped and carted out of town, repeatedly raped and tortured. And every day for the rest of her life, she would wake up and look at the offspring of one of the men who did this to her. He realized the further weight of the situation without needing to really contemplate it: with a child to raise, she could never move on.

"You could put the child up for adoption," he suggested nervously.

Amber eyes skated over the room, hesitant and uncertain. Her mind was coming up with hundreds of reasons why she shouldn't put the child up for adoption. "There's no way to guarantee their safety, their well being. There would be so many things that would be out of my control…"

"You could be involved in their life and keep in touch with the parents," he replied stiffly. He was working out the situation in his mind and faced a very similar paradox that it seemed she was facing. Giving the child away would leave them—her, he sternly reminded himself—incapable of influencing their life. Theoretically, any good parent could ensure that the child would be raised right. But he could see her concerns: there would be no guarantee unless she did the job herself.

Riza paused, her jaw tightly set. "I don't know enough of the process," she mumbled, "nor would I have any right to attempt to involve myself in the life of a child I chose to abandon." The painful resignation in her voice was borderline intolerable. He winced.

"Deciding to put a child up for adoption because you don't have or feel as though you have the means for raising them well is far from my definition of 'abandonment', Riza. Don't get yourself caught up in that—if adoption is the path you choose to take, it is a decision you made specifically in the child's best interest, not yours. Am I right?" Roy took her shoulders in his hands, gripping them, forcing her to look at him. Riza tried to shift her gaze to the floor, but he caught her cheek and gingerly directed her eyes at him. "Right?"

Without a word, she nodded. He could feel her swallowing uncomfortably against his hands, and he loosened his grip on her shoulders, swiping a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Where he expected her to pull away, she remained still, amber eyes drooping slightly as she allowed herself to return the touch, resting her palms against his shoulders.

"You're doing the right thing, Riza," he mumbled softly into the mass of yellow hair just under his nose. "And I'll do everything I can to make it easier for you."

Author's Notes: Sorry guys, another short chapter...I feel like my chapters are all short but I need to try and break them into logical chapter-like pieces...sorry!