Chapter 16 - Day 190

Riza's head droned dully. She couldn't hear much, but that might have been because there was nothing and no one to hear around. She didn't remember what she had done last. Instead, she tried to remember the last time her skull had felt so thick and her limbs so heavy.

Briggs. No, hospital. The wound on her neck had been infected, causing a short but intense fever. She refrained from covering the scar with her palm like she used to when the memory was triggered.

Before that, Briggs. The weather had been so nasty during that training exercise, Riza had nearly lost a few toes. The hot water bath to revive them had taken pity on her temperature, mellowing the fever down to a few days.

And then there had been Ishval. Merciless, sweltering Ishval. She hadn't deserved anything less, Riza bitterly thought, even now. The scars Roy had branded her with hurting like hell – the hell on earth she was responsible for – hadn't brought healing for weeks, leaving her burned up in more ways than one.

Dimly, Riza recalled that she had been sick at home too. It had been just as quiet as now. No one had come, because of course he hadn't. Her father must not have noticed.

But she wasn't twelve anymore, she was… It took a moment until she remembered.

Sensations filtered in. Riza realised for the first time that she was wearing socks, and that her feet were clumsily clutching a hot water bottle. No wonder she felt so hot. The blanket was pulled up to her face. She could have sworn that she had kicked it down sometime at night.

Her vision was blurry when she opened her eyes. White, most of all, then suddenly darkness. It persisted. The curtains in her back must have been drawn. She wanted to turn around and look for Roy, she really wanted to, but she couldn't convince her lead-heavy legs to move. She croaked, then coughed. Her throat was on fire.

"Mm." Was all that made it past her lips. They were dry, but so was the rest of her mouth, her tongue not up to the task of wetting them.

"Hey," an unexpected voice came from somewhere in front of her, "you're awake." Havoc. Something heavy scraped across the floor. Riza didn't have the wits to identify the something as Roy's old armchair. She gave it her all to look on properly when Havoc touched her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

She replied with a small breath.

He pulled a face. "Yeah, I thought so."

"Please don't let me keep you," Riza rasped. It hurt, but it hurt more to know that someone was condemned into sitting on watch all day.

"Ah, don't worry." Havoc waved off. He had a book in his lap, appeasing her guilt though only a little. "I bet the guys are sharing some of my work. They still kinda think you're bedridden with a deadly disease." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Sorrily.

The trials she had the team face… One forbidden from allaying his friends and the friends fearing for her very life.

Once the baby was there, Riza thought. Right now, she couldn't imagine bringing up the energy to talk to more than one person at a time, least of all explain the circumstances. Remorse was a life‑force‑draining thing.

"The General came in late today, said you were burning up. He gave me the day off. He has to oversee the tax evaluation, but he promised to be back before five tonight."

Riza smiled a little. "I also forget to call him 'Roy' sometimes," she whispered.

Havoc chuckled. "You're not delusional, are ya?" He bore a lopsided grin. It morphed into a thin line when her hand crawled out from beneath the covers. His eyes flickered to the door for the split of a second, as if making sure that Roy truly wouldn't appear until later. Then he gladly gave in, a warm smile crowning his lips as he took the requesting hand with a careful squeeze.

"Jean," she said. He leant closer to hear. "I'm scared."

"It's just a fever," he played down with as much nonchalance as he could muster. She didn't realise how his hand was bordering fraternisation, holding a dear friend, not a colleague.

"No," Riza whispered, "of labour."

"Oh."

"It will hurt a lot." And she wasn't ready to think of pain with her head buzzing and pounding.

"It will," he admitted, "but it'll pass. You of all people can stand it."

"I don't want to stand it," Riza whimpered. She was tired and hungry and too warm for the darn socks. Laboriously, she began peeling them off under the sheets.

"You know, you might actually want to. Stand, I mean. My mother swears on her sister's grave that she had me crouching all the way through."

"Crouching?" It sounded even more straining.

"My cousin had both of her babies in the bathtub. None of my family ever gave birth lying on their backs. They say it's the worst position possible."

"Won't the baby drown in the bath?"

"It's never been in anything but fluid before," he shrugged, "and the first thing it does – ideally – is scream. Exhale. You'll bring it to the surface in a flash. You can even wash off the goo while you're at it." He made a small, repelling gesture as if trying to make said goo swim away from him in his imaginary tub. "You'll be nice and warm while you wait for the placenta."

"Why do you know all this?" Riza asked. Her voice was slurring. She felt ill‑prepared for the whole ordeal, but now, she felt even less prepared than Havoc. Holding his hand was nice though. And the way he had to hunch over the bed – Riza felt sheltered. She wanted Roy, but she was content to have Havoc.

Thinking about it, even if it felt mean, she really wanted Roy now.

"Roy might have lent me the finale of that trilogy," Havoc admitted.

At the sound of Roy's first name, Riza's smile returned. She shut her eyes, and almost immediately, it made her swim in and out of sleep. The next time she awoke enough to grasp a semi‑clear thought, she was alone. The lights were still off, the curtains drawn. The darkness was soothing, yet failed to bring the desired frostiness associated with it. She kicked down the blanket. Her legs finally obeyed.

Something cold touched her hand, making her wince. It persisted. She let it. Cold was good. Cold was welcome.

She didn't need to open her eyes to know that it was Hayate – his quiet pants were giving him away. His claws scratched across the floor ever so slightly with every wiggle of his butt, his front paws crawling forward until he could lick the entirety of her face.

"Will you catch me if I fall?" she hoarsely asked him. Hayate's wagging picked up in strength.

Riza's smile dropped as she shuffled her burning body towards the edge of the bed. No one was protesting, and so she contemplated visiting the bathroom on all fours with the lack of onlookers. Her arms seemed to have a different plan, groping around for the bedpost, pulling her up onto unsteady legs. She waited for her surroundings to stop swaying.

The armchair was empty.

"Okay…" Riza muttered. Her pulse raced, lungs heaving. She had stood up too quickly.

She reached the doorframe, holding on with both hands. Hayate matched her uneven, sluggish pace, nudging her around the corner just when she had a moment to deem standing in general a very, very bad idea.

They had stairs now. And she was at the top.

"Oh—" Riza gasped lightly when the doorframe ended. The uppermost part of the banister was the closest thing to hold on to, but she knew she should be choosing the floor instead. Getting closer to the stairs would only make things worse.

But she was so hot and her belly was so heavy. Riza stretched towards the banister. Something, anything to steady her.

Hayate barked once.

Alerting the alpha, Riza thought nonsensically, protecting the cub, and I read too many dog guidebooks.

Something clattered in the kitchen. Steps thundered up the stairs, and then he was there, his hand finding her back.

"Riza."

Riza sighed almost blissfully. She slackened. Falling was not an option, she discovered, resting safely in his arms not a moment later.

"My love," Roy hummed. It vibrated most pleasantly against her forehead where he planted a long kiss. At the cost of another kiss, perhaps two, his face practically inhaling hers, Roy finally found the exit towards reason. She hadn't gotten up for nothing. "Did you want to go downstairs? You have to eat."

"Bathroom," Riza croaked. He hummed again in understanding, and she smiled. Hayate pattered after them.

How lucky was she to have one – two – best friends who would even accompany her to the bathroom? Rebecca would have also done it, she contemplated. Havoc shouldn't have to, but she knew that if push came to shove, he would sacrifice himself too. Labour came back to her, dimly, but she couldn't fathom why when she had just been thinking about Havoc.

"How about a bath?" Roy proposed. He tasked himself with overseeing her balance while Riza focused on washing her hands. The water was cooling on her hands and wrists. She brought them up around her neck.

"I think I could give birth in a bath."

"Yes, you could," Roy gently said. "But that isn't due until in two months."

"Two months…" she mumbled. What a relief. She felt so achy and out of proportion, it could have been any moment. What day was it anyway?

"Do you feel different? Does anything hurt?" He cupped her belly. Riza smiled. She liked when he did that. Roy let out a small breath, having watched her reaction carefully. She didn't have to tell him that yes, absolutely everything hurt more or less intensely. "How about something to eat?" he reminded. "I brought rusk and salt crackers and cucumbers."

"Salt and cucumbers," she agreed, even though the taste didn't make her regain any appetite.

"And something more substantial," Roy decided. He also decided that it would be best to carry her again, and Riza deemed it such a good decision, she ceded all subsequent ones to him. Nothing could top being cradled in his arms, at least nothing the haze in her mind could come up with.

He steered into the living room instead of the kitchen. The walls caught Riza's eye, bright and fresh and white. Even though they still had two months. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should have slowed down; that this was her punishment.

"With rice or noodles?" It came from across the room.

"Rice. No, both. Just bring both," Roy was saying. "And soup. And those little fried things."

"Spring rolls?" Havoc's voice travelled to the entrance.

"Lots of them."

"Spring rolls." Riza made a happy noise. It stopped Havoc in his tracks. Roy blushed but couldn't help another kiss between her brows. She closed her eyes, tilting her chin up for added pressure. Her headache hadn't ceased pulsing.

Havoc giggled to himself. It sounded less concerned. Concerned people meant bad news, and with both Havoc and Roy now smiling – grinning actually – Riza didn't feel like such a burden anymore. A burden, yes, hanging limply from her husband's arms, but not a mental downer.

Her simplified thoughts continued more steadily when food arrived. Riza was vaguely aware of the way she was still in Roy's embrace, sitting on his lap, nestling her face into his neck. It smelt nice. Of home and ink pads and aftershave.

They were on the couch. He had either pulled the blanket over her as they had waited or maybe Havoc had brought it. All she remembered was the cup of ginger tea Roy had gently forced down her throat.

His voice was soft. He wasn't speaking to her, not after she had given up on eating rather quickly. She liked the tremor of his chest against her ear, the rocking of his breath singing her a mute lullaby.

She must have fallen asleep again. His thumb wasn't drawing circles on her side anymore. It had wandered to her belly. Hidden beneath the blanket, Roy had snuck under her shirt.

"… subtract only some of that budget—"

"I'd really rather we strip the bastard of it all," Roy growled. "That kissing‑arse statue to the Fuhrer cost us a year's worth of ammunition for the shooting range."

"He even took the cheapest one," Havoc snorted. "But the top brass hasn't filed a complaint yet. Not even about the incident where he was found snooping around the private archive."

"My private archive," Roy emphasised. "I'd ship him north if he hadn't just been promised his own division."

"Do you think they're testing you?" Havoc raised a brow. Riza couldn't see him do it, but it was perfectly audible. She wasn't sure when she had started to listen, but she could bear in mind enough of what had been said to make some sense of it. "You know, see how you handle insubordination."

"I think they're trying to see me abide brashness. If I openly turn against him, I'll have to make it official and court takes a lot of time which I don't have." The patterns on her belly sped up, then mellowed consciously. "It's either squashing Pilatus or keeping the reins tight in the south."

"Yeah," Havoc let out an indecisive breath, "whoever made that man down there a General should be demoted alongside him."

"It's only going to be more complicated from here on," Roy darkly said. His hand stilled, palm resting protectively over as much of the baby as it could. Riza frowned haplessly.

"And we'll see it through anyway."

"I know." Roy allowed himself a sigh. "Thank you. I'm sorry you have to keep this from the others, but the less there are involved…"

"Of course. Anything for the happy couple." Havoc grinned.

Roy gave a dry laugh. "What are we going to do about the frat laws?" he whispered. Havoc was quiet. It wasn't a serious question, just one of those ghosts they had been carrying around for years.

Riza turned her head, kissing the underside of Roy's chin. He immediately leant away to get a look at her face. With his head blocking out the ceiling lamp, she opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"No," his other arm appeared on her waist, drawing her even closer, "it's not your fault."

"It takes two," she breathed.

He smiled. "How about something else to eat? We can warm up those spring rolls."

"Is there still soup?"

"Yes," he said, his hand moving away from her briefly. Havoc got the notion, sauntering into the kitchen.

"You didn't eat the rest of the spring rolls?"

"They're your favourite." He kissed her forehead. He hovered there, contemplating, finally kissing her lips too. Riza murmured loving nonsense into his mouth, probably demanding another kiss. All she knew was that her wish was granted. She weaved a hand into his hair to make it last longer.

"You're so wonderful." She kissed him again. He smiled against her.

"Told you she's delusional," Havoc said where he was of course lingering the in the hallway. Head poking in. A mixture of amusement and adoration played on his lips.

"Did you know that Flame Alchemy is particularly painful for ex‑smokers?"

Havoc promptly disappeared in the kitchen. The stove clicked into ignition.

Roy never turned around. Riza hummed when he kissed her again, completely missing the exchange. She was content. Too warm, her headache ever-present, but content.

When Roy announced that his legs had fallen asleep, she waited for him to pick her up, set her down against the opposite side of the couch, and deposit her legs over his lap. Still close enough, she deemed – all it needed for another peck to her temple was Roy leaning in. She took full advantage of it.

"I see our fearless Captain prefers a different kind of medicine," Havoc dared to tease. He handed Roy the soup, leaving the spring rolls within reach on the cushions. The word 'fearless' sparked something in Riza, something that caused a small revolt in the back of her mind. She couldn't remember why.

Until she did.

It was the middle of the night. Havoc must have left long after the sun had set, when Roy had insisted on Riza's lukewarm bath. It had done her good; cleared her head a little of its crushing heat and woozy fog. She woke to him hugging her. His arm fell over her belly with purpose.

She had to do so much more than him, he always said. Things he couldn't help her with. Riza brushed it off, belittled his concerns, because honestly? So many women before her had given birth. Many whom she knew, she wouldn't consider remarkably strong. Not in comparison to what Riza had been through or even compared to basic military training.

But Riza had felt enough pain in her life, she thought, the haze returning as her body flared with fever. Coward, she cursed, unable to stop the fear flooding her brain. She didn't want any more pain. She didn't want to be forced into something where Roy couldn't help her. She wanted to do it for him, but she didn't want to do it.

His hand moved above her navel. He made a low noise.

"… Mm, my love," Roy babbled into her shoulder.

Riza let out a long breath.

She would have to tell him that she…
She squinted her eyes shut. A shiver rushed down her spine, chased by another. She tore on the blanket, covering her head at the cost of her feet. Too hot; by far too hot, she thought, shivering violently. It was so hot, she couldn't breathe. Her throat felt like sandpaper when she coughed.

"Water," Riza rasped. Hayate's cold nose touched her weakly flailing arm where she repeatedly bumped against the bedframe. Desperate, she clawed herself to the edge of the bed, away from the sweltering covers. Her hand groped around the floor, accidentally prodding Hayate a few times. He whined. Riza did too. Just where was that bloody bottle of water?

But this wasn't her rickety flat anymore and so the existence of a nightstand never boarded her train of thoughts.

"Riza?" Roy's groaned drowsily. She didn't notice. She was too busy clinging to the bedframe, praying she wouldn't fall. Everything spun and pounded burned. "Riza." Roy sounded alarmed. His arm wound around her chest, pulling her back as gently as urgently allowed. She gasped for breath. "Riza, what's wrong? Why are you—" He nearly jumped back when feeling the skin of her neck.

Riza moaned hoarsely. His hands weren't cold but cool enough in comparison to her, so she smothered her face in them.

"Let's get you back in the bath," he hurriedly proposed.

The bathtub took a while to fill, but for Riza, it was only a moment. She heard his voice – on and off, as if a storm kept interrupting the radio reception.

"Riza," he said again, or perhaps for the first time. His arms felt good and secure though too warm. Everything was warm. Her clothes were soaked enough that she could have already been in the tub, so when Roy lowered her into the water, Riza jerked back to full consciousness, scrambling not to drown. "It's okay, it's okay, here's the bottom," Roy soothed. It didn't work. He was as anxious as her. "Havoc!" he yelled.

There was a bit of nothing, a little bit of swashing where Riza kept grasping Roy's arms like lifebelts, and then there was blustering up the stairs and Havoc in the doorway.

"I need you to go out and fetch a doctor, Katie Fawns. She's an acquaintance of Dr Knox. The address is Paumis Lane 43. The car keys are in my coat."

"O-okay," Havoc stammered.

Roy turned back to Riza, continued shushing until her nails eased out of his skin. Her breath shuddered at sight of blood dissipating in the water.

"Sorry," she whispered, "so sorry."

"It's alright." Roy leant over further, kissed her temple, ignored the hair sticky with sweat.

"Roy," Riza whimpered, "help."

"Help is on the way. Just soak for a minute, okay? Just—"

"Hey, chief, sorry—" Havoc had brought the coat, fishing for the keys. "Paumis Lane is close to the university, right?"

"The technical one, yeah."

"There is a technical university in the city?" Havoc asked. Roy exhaled sharpy. Havoc cringed, apologised, somewhat hopping closer when Roy jerked his head. "I can also get a map, I mean—"

"Watch over her," Roy grimly said. Havoc gulped, then nodded. Carefully, Roy slid his arms out of the tub. Both men stared when Riza didn't react like they had expected. She wasn't reacting at all. "Riza!" Roy shook her by her shoulders. Her eyes snapped open. Her hands twitched but never made it to the surface, breathing laboured.

"Colonel," she mewled.

A tormented frown creased Roy's brow. "Yes, Lieutenant," he murmured. Cumbersomely hovering over the tub, he leant closer. "You're fine. You'll be fine. I'll get help."

"Don't leave."

"Remember your orders." He kissed her hard. Riza returned it breathlessly.

"I won't die."

"Good." He stood. "I'll hold you to that. Havoc," he snatched up his coat, flying down the stairs, "make sure she follows that order!"

"Sir!"

"Listen to the dog. He knows her better sometimes."

The front door banged shut.

"Yes, sir…" Havoc muttered. His gaze went from the hall to the bathtub. Riza's head was tilted back over the rim. Her mouth slid under the water, then her nose. She made no attempt to get up.