Chapter 20 - Days 195-196
The sun set early on Saturday. The wind brought a chill of the approaching winter. It had rained all night, Roy's boots splashing lightly on the parking lot of Eastern Headquarters.
Havoc had had his merry time with the car. It was a mess of mud, tiny pebbles stuck to the worn profile of its tyres. Roy contemplated buying new tyres altogether to avoid cleaning them.
Riza would bite off his head if he told her that reason.
The corridors were dark, most doors shut or even locked. Roy strode on confidently. The silence did not unease him, on the contrary. Who would be crazy enough to stroll around headquarters on a Saturday night?
Only the man breaking the law.
Trying to be strategic, Roy smuggled Riza's dismissal into the paperwork of the personnel affairs department. That way, it would hopefully drown amongst all the documents first thing Monday morning, well before Grumman's visit by the end of the week. Breaking another few rules, Roy stamped the dismissal with a receipt stamp, making sure to turn the date back to what it had been.
Now to quickly deposit his research findings for the State Alchemist examination in the office. There could always be another emergency – or a non‑emergency that was very serious nonetheless, like Riza demanding more cuddles or Riza thinking he wasn't looking when she caressed her belly. It delayed him every time.
With the research locked safely into his desk's drawer, Roy could call and have one of his men hand it in on time. A small sigh escaped him. The desk was cluttered with paperwork. Begrudgingly, he took a negligible portion, and then with Riza's nagging already ringing in his ear a more reasonable, bigger portion to take home. Grumman would be coming after all. Roy couldn't afford a single hair out of place.
Without having to pass by the personnel affairs department, Roy headed straight for the stairwell, when something caught his eye. A light was on. He narrowed his eyes. Reorganising the paperwork to have an unlabelled, nondescript folder on top, he snuck towards the light. Then he reconsidered, left the paperwork by the stairs and drew a gun from his shoulder holsters. Riza always made him wear them.
The intruder didn't seem very interested in remaining hidden. Papers rustled, drawers grated open and shut, boots shuffled. Military boots, Roy spied out from around the corner. He pressed himself to the doorframe of Brigadier General Stuart's office. Quickly, he pointed the gun, but the man had his hands full refilling a stapler.
"Browsing through a superior's office again?" Roy lowered his weapon.
Pilatus spun around, spooked. "Major General Mustang." There was surprise in his voice and then there was that spark again. Boyish hope, blunt ambition. "I was completing the work that Brigadier General Stuart left unfinished on Friday."
"On a Saturday night?" Roy raised a brow.
Pilatus showed not a hint of excuse. "I always work on Saturdays," he said. He sounded sincere. "Did you have time to think about the transfer request, General Mustang? Or maybe— I've been thinking," he squashed any chance of Roy replying in his enthusiasm, "I could instead take the position as your bodyguard. Or field agent. I gained a lot of experience during the coup d'état when we had to defend Central Headquarters from the Briggs' troops. I have a very good aim. Several soldiers can account for it."
"Take it to your superior then." Roy barely supressed a groan. If Pilatus were a dog, Roy could already see him rolling onto his back, presenting his tricks and his belly.
"But General, sir, his Excellency is coming on Thursday."
"Friday." At least so Roy hoped. Just how many people were informed of Grumman's spontaneous visit? Did they know he was coming to personally look into Roy's research?
"Thursday, according to Major Langley," Pilatus unceremoniously corrected.
Why had he spoken with Grumman's aide? And had he done so before or after Roy's disastrous meeting?
"I was hoping that perhaps you could offer the Fuhrer my merit. You have a special connection to him, and— and if I worked under you, General Mustang, surely his Excellency would see for himself – you wouldn't even have to do anything."
"And neither would you, I suppose?" Roy holstered his gun. He had thought the man a threat, yet he was nothing but an eager puppy.
"I am doing everything possible." Pilatus stomped his foot a little. "I even got engaged because he won't shut up about it…"
Daddy issues? Roy wanted to roll his eyes. "I guess having a girl is going to get that promotion?" He couldn't help himself. Not now that he (secretly) had the upper hand and had finally proposed himself – to someone willing. Yes, in a way, asking Riza was part of a scheme, but because of the baby, not because they needed to please someone else.
Society, maybe, it occurred to him. Had he asked her – well, slipped a ring on her finger – solely because a child born out of wedlock wasn't received well by the general public? Since when did he care about tradition? No, Roy decided inwardly, he had done it because he had wanted to. Because she wanted to. At that moment, they hadn't even planned on revealing the baby to anyone, least of all the public.
"I'm sorry, sir, that was unprofessional. It won't happen again." Pilatus saluted briskly.
Roy ignored it, wished a good night and left before any more family drama could slip out. He had enough of that waiting for him at home.
Slackening into the driver's seat, Roy felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He had insinuated the dismissal into the pile, retrieved paperwork that he did not look forward to in the least but which would grant him clemency from his wife, and he could even call his mother; call off the informant meeting. Pilatus was a clown – one who didn't know where to draw the line. Surely, soon enough, he would simply shoot himself in the foot.
"Roy?"
Roy smiled to himself. The week's problems could wait until the week arrived – they had to, or so he had told himself over and over in the car. It worked wonders.
He could still feel Riza's delicate hand in his when she had asked him to dance. Asked him to dance! His heart soared merely remembering the words leaving her lips. Lips he had tasted, later devoured, that delicate hand of hers pressed into the sheets, fingers entwined with his.
"Roy." A finger prodded his nose. His smile grew. "You're awake."
"Keep saying it, please."
"You're awake."
"No, I mean my—"
"You're awake and you're killing my arm."
He chuckled. Instead of lifting his head that rested in the crook of her tingling arm, he turned to face her. She gave him a look. In a second, he could whirl up, cage her in (and free her arm), hovering above her to enjoy that displeased pout in all its glory, when suddenly there was a bang against the window.
Both winced. Roy twitched, pushed himself up. Riza was faster. Gun drawn, eyes sharp, she glared at the closed curtains.
The noise didn't repeat itself.
Roy crept off the bed and over to the window. He had an idea what had happened, already amused with her skittish reaction. Sure enough, down below lied a bird, only just scrambling to its feet.
"A pigeon?" Riza tutted, looking down too. "Sounded like a cannon."
"Winter flab?" Roy shrugged. She gave him another look but he was too busy snickering to take it seriously. "Are you going to put it out of its misery?" He eyed the gun she had loaded. After having glanced outside.
Riza swallowed. She slowly shoved the gun back under her pillow.
"It's not a threat." He could practically see the hair in the back of her neck stand on end.
Her pout grew. "I think, for a second I wanted to… kill and… eat it?"
Roy laughed. "Providing for the young. I see your instincts are kicking in."
"Nothing's kicking in – apart from this guy," Riza grumbled, staring at her exposed belly. It made her grab a robe and cover herself.
"Want me to pluck and roast it?"
"No, gross, of course not." She eluded him when he wound his arms around her, but Roy kept winding, kept moving with her gently until he found the belt of the robe. "I don't know what's gotten into me." Riza tensed when he nudged open the knot she had tied. Keenly, his hands found her navel, tracing loving patterns. She relaxed again, squirming only when the fluttering answers turned into proper kicks. "Honestly, you two."
"It's better to tire him out now. You know, so he can't keep you from a good night's rest."
"He will anyway." Riza let out a breath. Her hand covered Roy's, so he stilled. Tentative at first, then almost confidently, she slipped her fingers between his, brushing the skin of her belly.
The doorbell broke their trance. Riza frowned at Roy questioningly, but he was just as clueless.
Fleetly getting dressed, Roy saw that it was already past eleven. Not that he minded. It was good to know that his early bird was capable of sleeping in at all. The paperwork into the night perhaps, or the dancing. Being seven months pregnant. She might have been awake for hours for all he knew, and he liked to imagine that she watched him then just as fondly as he always watched her.
Hayate ceased barking. Roy came downstairs to find him on his hindlegs, climbing the door. Brave tiny child fingers were poking through the mail slot. Hayate sniffed then licked them, earning himself a giggle. Roy smiled with recognition.
One leg blocking Hayate, Roy opened the door.
"Hello, Roy."
"Uncle Roy!" Elicia Hughes stormed the strategic leg, hugged it, then jumped up to hug Roy's torso swiftly before diving down to cuddle Hayate. Hayate yipped with surprise. Triggered, ducking out, he dashed off to find his newest toy, Elicia hot on his heels.
"A match made in heaven," Roy laughed lightly. He bid Gracia in. She entered with a nod and left her shoes in the entrance. "I don't recall telling you my new address," he quipped.
"You don't seem to recall that today is garbage pick‑up either." She nodded out the door. As if stung by a wasp, Roy dashed out the few steps to the street, the bin blustering loudly after him in his haste. "I think they were here already," Gracia apologetically said when he returned on soaked socks. Darn rain.
"Yes, they were." Riza descended the stairs, wearing a skirt and comfortable turtleneck sweater. The latter to hide how she couldn't even begin to button any of her skirts anymore, Roy knew. "I heard them this morning, but someone had to snore away on my arm."
"You could've woken me," Roy protested. The two women exchanged a knowing glance Roy had never seen Riza exchange with Gracia. Something about a husband's clumsiness welded them together like old friends, even though they were hardly more than acquaintances.
Still, Gracia went to hug Riza in greeting. It wasn't something Riza usually appreciated from anyone, from Roy, yes, and from Rebecca, but now, she more than tolerated it. Gracia knew not to treat pregnancy like a disability, at the same time watching out for it.
Another thing Roy noticed was how Riza never harped on about Roy blocking her; about the simple possibility of rousing him.
"You're surprised," Gracia noted. Roy pulled an apologetic face. "So then you also forgot we agreed on this weekend?" she laughed benevolently. "That fever must have really taken a toll on you." She then went to hug Roy in belated greeting. He relieved her of her coat.
Elicia came storming in, holding one of Hayate's toys while he proudly carried another. "So if Roy is my uncle," she pointed the toy at Riza, "does that mean you're my aunt now?"
"Elicia," Gracia chided mildly. Her cheeks reddened, eyes flashing to Riza's belly. Roy frowned. Riza adapted a similar posture as Gracia, stiff and awkward and uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, that was rude," Gracia apologised, leaving Roy at a loss.
He still hadn't caught on when Elicia barged on, frisky and entirely unaware, asking for a house tour. Riza gladly agreed while Roy offered Gracia tea.
"Huuuge," Elicia cheered when seeing the bed. Riza swiftly shut the door before Elicia could attack the bed for a bounce. They hadn't aired the… stuffiness yet. "So big!" Elicia kept on exclaiming, this time hopping up and down as she gripped the rim of the bathtub.
In what was slowly becoming the nursery, Elicia whizzed around excitedly. She stopped short in front of the crib and for once didn't gasp. Eyes wide, she looked on curiously. Riza pretended not to notice how it was the stuffed animal that Elicia stared at. How embarrassing if Riza had to explain it.
"I had this too!" Elicia rattled the bars of the crib in her small hands. "Mia's sister sleeps in one."
"Mia?"
"From kindergarten," Elicia said as if it was an established fact.
Riza found herself despairing a little. This was the way children spoke – their thoughts. Disjointed, out of nowhere, hard to make sense of. A baby couldn't speak for a long time, but even a six‑year‑old posed problems. How was she supposed to understand her newborn? Was it just her who failed to make the connection? Would she always have to ask Roy or someone else to interpret?
"She even gets to feed her sister with the bottle," Elicia went on, oblivious to Riza's distress. "Can I feed your baby?"
"Oh, uhm, it isn't born yet." Riza refrained from self‑consciously glancing at her belly.
"I know." Elicia pointed again, this time with her finger. Hayate's toy must have been dropped at some point. "You're not fat so this must be a baby," she heroically concluded.
Riza sighed under her breath. "You're right about the second part." Elicia laughed and proceeded to tell Riza how she wanted a baby too so that she could feed and dress it like one of her dolls but better. "It's a lot of work," Riza said.
"What kind of work?" Elicia beamed keenly, never discouraged.
"Well," Riza crossed her arms, bashful that she had to think about it first, "you have to feed it every few hours. You have to bathe it and swaddle it, change the nappy…"
"Ew," Elicia snickered. "What's your favourite song you'll sing?"
"Sing?"
"Mummy always sings me a song when it's bedtime. I asked her and my favourite is her favourite too."
Riza's cheeks felt warm. "I suppose… I haven't thought about that yet."
"Didn't your mummy sing to you?"
"She… did." Riza nodded slowly, trying to remember. Never at work had she felt so ill‑prepared, not even when sent to the front lines of the war had Riza fretted about lacking skills. A callous mother, that's what she was, she thought, full of self‑reproach. And the baby wasn't even there yet.
"Can we play? I brought a doll but she needs a haircut." Elicia switched topics, her brain operating in spheres Riza feared she would never comprehend. With a zip, Elicia's little backpack was opened and out came a doll in a polka‑dot dress alongside a pair of rounded plastic scissors. "Can you cut hair?"
"Are you sure you want it cut? It will never grow back."
"Hmm…" Elicia regarded the doll.
Riza had to stabilise herself on the crib to crouch down. Her belly threatened to draw her forward. "How about we make her a dress instead?"
Elicia's eyes snapped up, shining brightly. "Oh, can we? Can we please, Auntie Riza?" She clapped, skipped on the spot, easily infecting Hayate with her enthusiasm who jumped up too.
Riza had him sit before he could turn on her in his excitement and topple her over. "I'll need that dress for her size," she told Elicia. The dress promptly landed in her hand. With a huff, Riza got up, freed the old sewing machine of its dusty cover and brought over a stool from the bathroom for Elicia to sit next to her.
She didn't have many fabrics to choose from, but Riza knew how to add a bit of pizzazz with a ruffle or a frill.
"We're going to make the best dress ever," Elicia confidently picked out the pattern she liked. Her gaze drifted to the stuffed animal numerous times, and so she chose colourful patches too. She patted Riza's arm, rendering threading the needle impossible. "And don't worry, I'll teach you the songs."
Meanwhile, the stovetop was turned off and the tea had steeped. Roy poured Gracia a cup from the one good teapot they owned. She seemed nervous ever since Riza's pregnancy had come into focus, making him nervous in turn. How much had he told her again?
He had called that one particularly panicky morning, asked about medication and fever and possibly pregnancy. Most likely pregnancy. Of course, even with a secure line, he wouldn't have rat‑a‑tat‑ed their entire hard‑luck story – the ears of his unit in the adjoined office were too big.
"I'm sorry I forgot about today. We would have prepared for lunch."
"It's fine, Roy," Gracia recovered her kind smile, "we didn't agree on a day. I should have called before we left."
"You must have gotten up early to make it here by noon." He glanced at the clock.
"Elicia is an early riser," Gracia said with a bit of a well‑meaning grimace. Roy chuckled. He swallowed any comments about how Maes must have loved that trait, seeing the apple of his eye off every morning. Roy could mention him to Riza or Havoc, and he could stand it when someone like Alex Armstrong praised the late Brigadier General, but when sitting across from Maes' left‑behind wife, Roy felt too bitter, too guilty to even pronounce his name.
"I'm glad the fever has passed. She seemed to be in a good mood as well." Gracia sipped her tea.
Roy nodded, banning all cautious thoughts. "It was quite the drama with how much nonsense she babbled. Most weeks and months were dramatic, actually," he admitted. "I haven't seen her this insecure since she was twelve."
Gracia's brows creased sympathetically. "With big events come big changes." She took another more careful sip of tea. "But she is being very brave. I can't imagine how much strength it requires to handle such an… incident."
Roy paused, his cup hovering in front of his lips. Pregnancy wasn't exactly a momentary 'incident'. Never mind her choice of words, Gracia wasn't the type of person to dance around the subject – she was a mother, and happily so.
Sensing Roy's growing confusion, she set her cup down and raised her eyes. They told him just how reluctant she was to speak her thoughts. "I don't want to be intrusive, if…" She hesitated.
Not knowing what she meant, Roy said the first thing that came to his mind. It was always on his mind. Even if Gracia didn't refer to it, he wanted to say it; get it out where it wouldn't sound like appeasing or persuading, but what he was – a man who couldn't wait to be a father.
"Unplanned but not unwanted." His voice was firm, warm with joy as if it had waited all this time to say the magic words. His body didn't fully believe him yet, eyes shrinking back to his tea. "At least I want it. I think she does too by now. She could never give it away." He hoped. Prayed.
Elicia could be heard singing at full blast upstairs, so he didn't have to whisper.
Gracia smiled, relieved. "It's… yours?"
Roy nodded.
Her smile brightened tenfold. "Oh, and I thought she had been assaulted. That's wonderful! Congratulations, Roy." She stood, and he did too, never happier for a felicitating hug. It stung like a thousand needles to have Gracia give him a hug instead of Maes. Shutting his eyes, he pretended to be getting both.
Beaming, glowing with pride, Roy almost missed the sewing machine rattling upstairs. Gracia's amused laughter stopped and she harked alongside him.
Elicia kept singing, masking their sneaking steps up the stairs. In the nursery, Riza sat at the old sewing machine, now cutting off excess thread of a tiny dress. Roy's heart skipped a beat until he spotted the doll the dress was meant for. Neither of the girls noticed the intrusion, Elicia conducting herself merrily with swinging fingers as she launched into the next nursery rhyme.
Enchanted by the scene, Roy hoped that Riza truly felt all those motherly feelings she was displaying.
"If someone wasn't happy to have you around," Roy noted, drying the last plate.
Riza unclogged the sink, soapy water gurgling down the drain. "And as much as I enjoyed their company, playing host is becoming a bit too vigorous for me without warning." She ran a hand down the curve of her belly, letting out a long breath. Her back ached. She hadn't sat straight for such a long time at a stretch since going at work.
"Is that really owed to fatigue?" Roy bore a small smirk. Riza ignored it. "Hey," he set the plate down, rubbing circles into the small of her back, "you did great with Elicia. She really loves you."
"I made her doll a dress." She shrugged. He brought his arm around her waist. "I felt so awkward being around Gracia. Like I've been exaggerating this whole time."
"Just because she is calm now, doesn't mean she was throughout her pregnancy. Plus, this is your point of view." He playfully bumped her hip. "From mine, you are still pretty graceful. Most of the time."
"Thanks." She glowered. Roy grinned, luring out a gentle smile from her.
"You could loosen up though." He jerked his head towards the window. Riza clamped her legs together, unintendedly telling him that she was armed. She hadn't meant to threaten the poor bird with murder that morning, but she could have done without it scaring her to death. "It's just us and good friends in this house. Let down your guard."
"If you promise not to let yours down."
Roy pondered for a moment. She had a hunch whom he was thinking about – that insufferable Lieutenant Colonel – but the suspicion had vanished from his eyes.
"I promise." He kissed the top of her head. Riza surprised him when she grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling him down for a proper kiss on the lips. "Warm up the bed for me?" He shuddered at the prospect of having to head out into the pouring rain for Hayate's walk. He'd make it a short round, she just knew it.
"I still have to tidy up," Riza accompanied him into the hall, "but I'll hang your shirt over the heater."
Listening to her boys trudging into the night, Riza headed upstairs to do as she had said. Then in the nursery, she regarded the bits of thread and fabric below the table with a mean squint. Returning the stool to the bathroom first, smoothing out Roy's shirt over the heater, she eventually coaxed herself into dropping to her knees and shuffling around with a heavy belly and a strained back.
The front door opened and shut downstairs. Riza sat up straight. She shook her head. Let your guard down, she told herself, relax. For the baby. In- and exhaling, she allowed the words to settle. What a particularly short round he had chosen. Boots came up the stairs – as if she wouldn't notice the swishing and dripping of his coat accompanying his inept sneaking pace. But she had promised, and so she would act surprised once he teased her with rain‑wet cuddles.
The boots stopped in the open doorway, squelching and for some reason too heavy to be Roy's. Not only that, but Roy wouldn't be caught dead in his uniform boots when off duty. Riza frowned.
"… Captain Hawkeye?"
Fear bolted through the pit of her stomach when a hand clasped over her mouth.
Gasping, muffled, she rammed her elbow into the intruder's groin. He groaned, loosened his grip. Riza wrenched herself away. She hauled her arm backwards, this time meeting bone. About to spin around, she froze. The cold barrel of a gun connected to her temple. The safety clicked.