Chapter 10 - Days 150-159

"And now," Roy announced, opening his notebook in a grand gesture, "I shall commence the entertainment programme."

"I thought you were going to sleep," Riza flatly said, never taking her eyes off the road. Roy loved the way her usual demeanour was resurfacing more and more. The weekend had done her well, even if the long drive technically limited them to one and a half days. He for one couldn't stop smiling. He had missed her not‑taking‑his‑bullshit attitude the most.

"I will make a suggestion and you will give me a subtle sign on how it makes you feel," he explained the rules.

"Sir, you need to be at work tomorrow at 0700 hours. I don't think this game is benefitting your sleep cycle."

"Cupcake," Roy launched.

"Oh, for the love of…" Riza rolled her eyes.

His grin stretched from one ear to the other. She knew exactly what he was up to – again. "Cupcake?"

"No."

"Sweet Pea."

"No."

"Angelface."

"Ew."

"Babe – we had that. Buttercup. Honey Buns. Pumpkin."

"No. Not ever. Never."

"Very subtle," he complimented her signs. She tsked. "Passion Fruit."

"What's with you and food?"

"Dimples."

"Because I have so many of them," Riza deadpanned. Her eyes flashed to him when he smirked mischievously. She blushed. "On my face." She sternly said, minding the road again.

"You thought any of this related to your face?" Roy asked, astonished. She didn't buy it. "Well, Angelface maybe." He resumed skimming the list. The list entitled 'Cheering Her Up'. One of many. "Oh, I think we have a winner: Snuggle Bunny."

"You are an embarrassment to your country."

Roy laughed. He kept reading, "Sweet cheeks. Babydoll. Chipmunk."

"That's it. I'll be the one choosing a name," Riza decided, and he knew she meant the baby. He glanced at her belly, wondering not for the first time whether she would at some point not fit behind the steering wheel anymore. "It will have a logical, well-sounding nickname so that you can't come up with any of this drivel for the poor child."

"Love Nugget."

"Enough already." Her lips pursed to hide a smile.

Roy's did the same. It didn't work. "Love," he spoke slowly, "Nugget."

"No,"

she enunciated just as much. "Go to sleep," she chuckled.

"I just want to be sure that you have something to do when I'm away that doesn't involve renovating my flat."

"And this is what you came up with?"

"A flat, by the way," he continued, "that we won't inhabit for too long anymore, so you don't have to go overboard. You can take your time looking at the blueprints I brought, make concepts for furnishing and walls," he enumerated on his fingers.

"… come up with a name?"

"Yes!" He sat up straight. She was finally, finally thinking about the baby. About their future together. "A list of names," he slapped his notebook down on his thigh and began to scribble on an empty page, "the toys we want to buy, where to put the crib, a colour scheme for the nursery…"

"I was thinking of…" she hesitated. Roy scooted to the edge of his seat, leaning over the centre console. Riza closed her mouth, eyes flashing to him and back to the road. "Never mind."

"Tell meee," he whisper-whined. Hayate lifted his head where he was curled up between Roy's feet.

"I," Riza blushed, "wanted to maybe… sew a plushie." Roy gasped. She grumbled, so he toned it down. He remembered her splendid sewing skills from his apprentice days. She could repair almost any kind of damage, adjust clothes that didn't fit or even make them herself. "I don't even know what kind yet, it was just an idea," she rambled.

He put his hand on her knee. "It's a lovely idea."

She didn't reply. Realising how she most likely needed space – ignoring the increasing red glow crawling up her neck for her sake – Roy remained hopeful that she would spend the remaining two hours of the drive thinking about the baby. He notified her to be taking his nap then.

He slept on and off, even when they had arrived and he had another handful of hours to rest. Neither of them got much. Being back recalled their awaiting tribulations too strongly to relax.

At work, Roy was constantly on edge. He stressed himself about getting a head start on cooking so that Riza couldn't. He managed for precisely one week before accidentally falling asleep in a meeting. Riza made him admit defeat and surrender cooking to her so that it would not tarnish his performance again. He agreed to her terms only during the week.

She wasn't better off when it came to resting.

They hadn't returned to square one – Roy could touch her belly without her wincing away. With him showering either very late or very early however, he seldom got to see the growing bump. He did on the weekend, Riza inviting him for a shower again the next time they stayed at the secluded farmer's cabin. It was heaven, spending time in what they could pretend was their own world.

Back at home, Riza was as if exchanged.

Roy returned late on Monday. The fact that Hayate wasn't barking puzzled him. He opened the door carefully. Hayate was right there, curled up, tail thumping upon seeing Roy. It didn't wake her.

Sitting against the wall of the entrance, knees drawn to herself, Riza had fallen asleep. Hayate's increasing wiggling made her stir.

Roy sighed. "Did you wait up?" He crouched down in front of her. Hayate weaved out from under her legs, ready for his evening walk. Riza grumbled something unintelligible. Roy smiled – a frown-laced, pitying smile. Sliding his hands below her knees and around her back, he picked her up. "Are you cold?"

"No," she croaked, "I'm warm now." She rubbed against his collarbone.

"But you were," he insisted. Why else would she have chosen to wear one of his suit jackets? And why hadn't she chosen a proper coat or jumper?

Riza drew her arms further around her, grasping the long sleeves. "It was…" she yawned, "the closest thing to your hug…" she drawled. Her words gave Roy's heart a pang of guilt.

"Riza," he whispered. She didn't register the urgency in his tone, neither the sorrow. She clung to him though, and so he had to reluctantly ignore Hayate's begging for a few minutes, granting the apparently much needed hug. When he was sure she was asleep, he jogged around the block with the dog. Coming home this late had at least one advantage: the streets were empty.

Riza never said anymore that she didn't want the baby, but Roy felt the words linger, standing between her and peace of mind. They stood between him and sleep more than once too.

What if he did have to take years off at a time because she didn't feel a strong enough connection to their child? What if Grumman wouldn't be in his post for that long and Roy, being absent from work, wouldn't be favoured as the next in line? What if they made Riza solely Roy's secretary now to hide the secret, and him staying home would therefore cost both of them their positions?

He pondered on those hypothetical questions as he stood in the doorway. So many questions and none of them were relevant anymore.

Staring at the small bundle beneath the sheets, he wondered how she could sleep with her feet poking out. Noiselessly, Roy went to the end of his daughter's bed. Tucking the feet in, he smiled. Her mother's hair.

Leaving her be, he went back to the bedroom, where he also lingered on the threshold. There was no bundle there, no messy blond hair and no rhythmic breathing. She had taken her last breath that one day, given her life to birth another. Roy's throat constricted, vision blurring.

"General."

Roy blinked himself out of his trance. "Sorry," he mumbled. He was hot all over. Just how often had he spaced out during the meeting? Judging by the grim expression on Major Langley's face, one too many times. He must have fallen asleep again, dreams having become nightmares of the worst kind.

He hadn't even considered complications at birth yet – and they would have to have the child on their own at home.

"Well?" Langley enquired. Roy was outranking him by far, but in this case, Langley was the one leading the meeting.

"I," Roy hesitated, "would appreciate if you could repeat the question. My apologies," he brought out. His throat was still dry and achy. It was half to ten in the evening. He should have long been home.

Langley narrowed his eyes. It didn't help in the slightest that he was Fuhrer Grumman's aide, forcing Roy to at least pay attention for the rest of the meeting.

He was exhausted. He was just as irritable as Langley, and he couldn't tell a soul about his tribulations or blow off some steam. Eventually allowed to pack his things – including the extra thirty pages he had been punished with – Roy took deep breaths in order to calm himself.

Nothing beat going home. Nothing was better than seeing Riza, and he wanted to be there for her – she was having a possibly even tougher and by far lonelier time than him. Still, Roy was nauseous with how much he had to bottle up. Never able to let his bad moods and tiredness show, he burdened himself further with every day. He feared it might threaten Riza's scarred mental health.

His brain just about exploded when the guard at the exit called his rank.

"Yes?" Roy debated with himself whether to turn at all.

"There is a message for you," the guard said. Roy frowned, going back to humour the man. "The Private at the reception left it for you." He produced a sheet of paper. Roy took it, eyes somewhat absently skimming the lines. His feet froze to the floor and his heart in his chest. "General Mustang?" the guard asked. It revived Roy enough to move.

He ran.

1746 hours: phone call from a private line.

The keys clinked, accidentally dropping out of his hand. He crawled beneath the car to fetch them.

1823 hours: phone call from a private line.

The engine roared into ignition, the tyres skidding, squeaking as he floored the accelerator.

1850 hours: phone call from a private line.

1911 hours: phone call from a private line.

Roy panted. His pulse was all over the place. Riza! His mind screamed.

Something was wrong. He remembered the last time she had called. She had sworn not to do it again, and she hadn't – not until now.

What if she had fallen and hurt herself? What if she had fallen on the baby and hurt both of them? There could be complications, pain, blood loss. She could have simply cut herself but then gotten a blood infection, dying while he had napped away in some stupid meeting. He hadn't even considered such possibilities – the everyday dangers of a concussion or sepsis.

She had ceased calling. And she had tried four times. This couldn't be good. What if she wasn't home anymore? Where in the world could she have gone then? And how, seeing as she didn't dare take public transport?

Roy flew up the stairs to his apartment. The key quivered in his hand, the car's engine still running. Ready to take her to hospital, ready to be court-martialled if only he wouldn't have to live out his nightmares and never see her again alive!

The split of a second before he could throw the front door open, he restrained himself. If she sat there again, huddled in a miserable heap of solitude, maybe of pain, he would only hurt her further by throwing the door open. So he remained nearly noiseless, creeping in. Every hair in the back of his neck stood on end.

She wasn't in the entrance. The lights were on, something he hadn't noticed from outside with the curtains closed. Roy's heart was beating so wildly, he almost didn't hear their voices.

"… and relax."

"They are relaxed," Riza was replying.

"You call that relaxed?" he laughed.

Roy's ears perked. He was dizzy, overheating, but even so, he recognised that voice within a second.

"Maybe if you didn't stretch my leg like that. I don't think it's physically possible to—"

"Excuses, Reez," Havoc chided playfully.

He was sitting on the couch, facing her. In his lap, on a towel, rested her foot. Riza sat with her back against the opposite armrest. Her other foot was on the ground, still in what Roy didn't realise was to cool her swollen ankles – all he saw was a big pot from the kitchen.

"Down," Havoc drawled.

"They are down," she almost laughed too this time. She raised her shoulders and let them drop dramatically for emphasis.

"Then why…" Havoc ran his finger up the underside of her foot. Riza shrieked. She kicked out of reflex, right into his stomach. He groaned, collapsing over the armrest in his back. "Okay," he croaked, "I suppose that was my fault…" His words slowed when he noticed the figure in the door.

"General," Riza said with surprise. Hayate hopped off the couch where he had been napping over her stretched-out leg.

He hadn't yet sniffed Roy's boots when Havoc came over. Still with abating adrenaline, Roy only reacted when Havoc's hug became so tight he choked.

"Congratulations!" Havoc somewhat yelled. "This is—" He laughed. Setting Roy on his feet, he shook his head. "I can't believe you fooled me all this time! I never suspected a thing – I mean I wanted to suspect lots of things, but they're really true?" He was exhilarated with the discovery of their relationship alone. "This is so cool! And a baby Roy Mustang! Do I get to call you Roy now? I call her Riza, so I'll call you Roy in here. Please don't fire me. But man!" He interrupted his rambling as he slumped onto the couch. "I'm so happy for you guys! This is great!" He sounded teary.

Riza got up, having noticed Roy's fading panic.

"Is it though?" he asked Havoc. Riza stroked down his arm soothingly. It was bizarre to have her be the one calming him – at least since the pregnancy. She took off his coat. She hung it on the way to the kitchen where she went to fetch him something to drink. "I'm drenched in sweat; I thought there was an emergency," he groaned.

"Are you kidding me?" Havoc lowered his voice. It made Roy realise that the car was still running on the street. Havoc curled one beckoning finger, so Roy went over to the couch. "I've literally never seen her happier than when telling me that the kid is yours."

"Really?" Roy blushed. His heart rapped strongly against his ribcage.

"You should've seen her face," Havoc affirmed. "That smile – no one could fake that."

"She smiled…" Roy repeated under his breath. She had smiled confessing that she was having his child. Their child.

Heat bubbled in is chest, a shiver racing down the length of his spine. Havoc snickered. Roy awkwardly cleared his throat. His face wouldn't obey though, so he went to park the car properly, pick up his discarded bag and change out of his uniform. All while bearing a huge, overjoyed grin.

He found Riza still in the kitchen, pouring tea. She flashed him a small smile, refocusing on her task while he complemented their beverages with biscuits. Rims still lined her eyes, her forehead glistening in what must have been anxious sweat before Havoc's arrival.

"Havoc," Roy called into the living room, "you're not allergic to walnuts, right?"

"Almonds," Havoc replied.

Nodding to himself, Roy poured a generous helping of Riza's freshly baked spelt cookies into a bowl. He was about to bring them over when arms snuck around him from behind. Hands wandering across his chest, Riza made him positively melt into her hug. He couldn't believe that she dared – Havoc merely had to lean towards the open doorway to see!

"I was worried," she muttered, "that they'd found us out and arrested you."

"Of course not." He took one of her hands, pressing a long kiss to her knuckles. "They just wanted to bore me to death." He stamped another kiss to the heel of her thumb, then to her palm.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." She took the hand holding hers. He turned with the movement, smiling gently when she returned the favour, kissing the tip of his finger.

"What happened?" He asked as they brought the tea and biscuits to the living room.

"Nothing really." Riza didn't look at him as she spoke.

"It's not nothing," Havoc negated, taking three cookies at once.

Riza busied herself with fluffing the pillow, propping it up to lean into it. "Just a kick," she admitted as nonchalantly as she could.

"A kick?" Roy's blush returned excitedly.

"And not just one," Havoc solemnly nodded. "My cousin had her second baby last year. She said it did that all the time – kick here, kick there. She swore that at some point the little devil only kicked whenever she wanted to go to bed."

"Don't evoke it," Riza sighed. She had blushed too, but Roy noted how she also relaxed. At least a whole lot more than he would have expected given the circumstances.

"She thought Baby Hawkstang was having a seizure with all the flutter‑kicking," Havoc backed Riza up.

"It's never done that before," she defended herself. And she ignored Havoc's zeal when it came to making up names.

Roy smiled. Riza pouted, only meeting his eyes when he crouched next to the sofa and took her hand in his. Her foot was back in the cold water.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I shouldn't—"

"No, it's alright," Riza cut in. "I'm glad, I… was just overreacting… again," she mumbled. "I don't want to keep you from work."

"You call that overreacting?" Havoc cut in. He had spread the towel on his knees, and Riza deposited the cooled foot on it as if automatically. At ease, allowing someone to take care of her. Roy caressed her hand gladly. "My cousin went nuts because of just anything – concerning herself," Havoc retold. "You don't wanna know what she did when it was actually the baby doing something."

"Thank you," Roy said, "for coming." He turned to Riza, squeezing her hand. "I can't believe you told him," he chuckled.

She looked elsewhere, cheeks darkening. "He only cried for twenty minutes."

"You cried too!" Havoc accused. Roy had to laugh.

That night, he finally slept soundly. And he knew just whom to add to their improvised family next.