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We're closing in on the finale...
Chapter 30 Days 259-267
"That loon's really making a habit of dropping bombshells on you. First the grandpa thing and now this," Rebecca noted. She snatched a piece of Havoc's sweet potato, her own already devoured. A hum of relish when it arrived in her mouth. She had to speak between bites. "I'm telling you, he's sending you south to deal with General Incompetence," her empty fork pointed at Roy, then at Riza, "and giving you a team to command. Maybe even the current unit."
"He does have very good reasons to promote you." Havoc nodded. "For your accomplishments of the restoration in Ishval so far."
"He wouldn't do that," Roy protested. "If anyone is being moved, it's Riza to Central where he is. But he knows she wouldn't like that."
"And he respects my wishes," she agreed. It sounded anxious rather than confident.
"He's on to something big." Rebecca swept green bean salad off her plate and onto Havoc's, who traded more sweet potato. "Why else let the whole assembly know? There's no way they're not gonna to figure it out – maternity leave, frat law easing…"
"That would outright frame us for breaking the law," Roy argued.
Havoc nodded again, picking up his beer. "And he couldn't want that, not after trusting Roy for so long and not when it puts just as much blame on Riza."
Only Grumman had somewhat outright framed him and he had indirectly hinted at Riza by proclaiming his alterations to the entirety of the General Council. Soaking in the bathtub, staring blindly at a spider roping down from the ceiling, Roy pondered on those words. De Havilland had taken it with surprising ease but been aghast when Grumman had first announced it. Was he to be trusted? Did it matter, since he would retire soon? Would the Generals spread the word?
The spider halted. It had spotted the two snouts curiously awaiting its arrival. Sally's tail wagged, head tilted back. With fiddling legs, the spider reascended along its silken thread. Hayate rose to his hind paws in an attempt to reach it.
Pilatus was at the hospital. He had gone to confront his father, perhaps to threaten him, Roy pondered. Thinking of the night when Pilatus had threatened them, a gun to Riza's head, a sick glint in his eyes when ogling her – it made Roy shudder. He peered down at Riza.
She hadn't noticed his shivering, nor the tension drawing his body like a rubber band. Cheek to his chest, she had nodded off. Golden lashes were coated finely with droplets of water. Her hair was tied up, but the frizzling locks escaping at her nape were soaking as she sank down without noticing. The perfect opportunity to hold her belly.
Roy snuck the arm on which she wasn't leaning through a disappearing layer of foam. Sally turned shortly to inspect the noise, then went back to noiselessly cheer on Hayate's pursuit up the wall. He had climbed on the hamper.
A visit to Madame Christmas's was overdue. She would know what to do; what was going on. Now Roy would have to invite Grumman over to the house to clear things up. He couldn't risk leaving for Central again, not when they couldn't calculate the exact date or even week of birth. If he missed that; if he missed the opportunity of being by her side during the delivery, of being the first to hold his baby, Roy would never forgive himself.
More than ever, he missed having Hughes to talk to. Hughes, who had never been afraid to wound Roy with the truth, who had never shied away from misplaced optimism, lifting an otherwise bad patch. Whose baby Roy should have held more often when she had still been a baby.
He wasn't sure he had the courage to hold his own baby, not if it wasn't right above the mattress and with extra pillows and Riza to help. What if the baby didn't like being held by him? What if it liked her better? What if he was away for work for so long that it didn't care whether he was around or not?
… what if Riza didn't want to name a boy Maes?
"You're brooding," she softly said. He felt her lips move against his chest, and then a hearty yawn. The baby hadn't kicked. Roy chewed the inside of his lip, knowing he was to blame for waking her. At night, she also roused because he wound his arms around her to have the pulsing veins on the underside of her belly lull him to sleep.
"Sorry." He frowned mirthlessly. It was too late now; he might as well leave his hand where it was.
Hers joined, entwining fingers. A peace offering – peace of mind. She hadn't forgotten about his rumination. "The meeting or the baby?"
"Both."
"I like Maes as the name for your son."
Roy's heart stuttered. He blushed, inarticulate for a moment.
She stroked her thumb up and down, tracing the ridge that was the scar on the back of his hand. "You put up his picture. The one he made you take where you've always hated your expression."
"I unpacked plenty of things," Roy vaguely defended himself, unsure why.
Mellow like the soapy warm water, Riza kissed the underside of Roy's jaw. Roses, he'd buy her, red roses with petals as soft as her voice. A voice which also never shunned a stinging truth or selfless solace. Red roses and a gown and a pearl necklace, no, gems, citrine, carnelian, champagne diamond to reflect the colour of her eyes. Matching earrings, panna cotta, fennel tea.
How lucky was he to still have her in his life?
"I want to take you out to dinner."
Riza pecked his collarbone. Leaning her head back, she noticed Hayate balancing on the hamper for the first time. "Why would I want that?" Her hand dripped in strings as she lifted it out of the water, motioning for Hayate to get down.
The stinging truth. Roy cringed. "Ouch."
"I mean it."
"Me too. I've taken my sisters and other informants out more often than you. In fact, I've never taken you out ever – not to a restaurant. I want to spoil you, show you how much I appreciate you."
"I know that." Tenderly, her words resonated from her back into his shoulder like a purr. "But why would I want to go to a public place with uncertain waiting times and people everywhere and restrained conversation when I can catch you red-handed, meddling with my gravy here?"
"You hate it when I interfere with your gravy. Any sauce for that matter. Or the way I peel potatoes—"
"And carrots and asparagus. You're a terrible peeler."
"A restaurant would save us the debate; peel the little shits for us."
"A restaurant doesn't let me do this."
Roy was entirely unprepared for Riza's hand slipping around his back, gliding down his spine all the way to his tailbone. She splayed her fingers across his rear, tugged him as close as possible with her belly in the way. His ears tingled when she hummed, and then more of his body tingled with her turning around, her knee between his, straddling his thigh. "A restaurant doesn't allow for spontaneous couch cuddles while waiting for the rice to cook, or for going to bed and sneaking down for dessert in our pyjamas." She kissed the corner of his mouth.
"My pyjamas," Roy rasped. "You don't have to give them back once yours fit you again."
"I wasn't planning to." She kissed him fully and he kissed her back, arms winding greedily, excitedly around her. "I like the way you pick yourself a wine from the cabinet to drink to dinner. I like not leaving Hayate and Sally alone all night. I like my own bathroom and hugging you whenever I feel like it." Roy's ears burned with her lips brushing the shell. Her hand wandered again. "I like that we don't have to wait to get home to become more inappropriate than hugging."
"You know sex might induce labour."
"You know it won't if I haven't felt the baby drop down. Are you chickening out?" Her touch waned.
Roy's hand flashed to her wrist, keeping her where she was to dangerously, deliciously close to bliss. Rebecca was right – pregnancy was making Riza more outspoken. Bolder too. It turned his insides to jelly and his heart into a jet of flame. "I might say something stupid." His voice betrayed him, thin like a whisp of cloud in the winter sky.
"If it's another lecture on karyotypes, I can handle it. The question is…" Her fingers fluttered, luring out a husky cuss from him. "… can you?"
A challenge. Roy was already on fire, his lungs rippling with laboured breathing. Hearing Riza send the dogs out the room was bringing him embarrassingly close to coming undone. Her eyes grazing his from below made him grip the rim of the tub until his knuckles turned white.
"There are three types of gases. Flammable gases, inert gases, oxidisers."
Riza blinked, seduction vaporising into confusion.
"Hydrogen, butane, methane, ethylene. Ammonia, propane and silane in liaison with oxygen are flammable too."
She laughed then. Her smirk returned, and through the nervous, thrilled sweat glistening on his forehead, Roy smirked back. He released her wrist. He hadn't yet decided where to sneak his hand when hers descended his pubic bone once more, interrupting his recital of inert gases with a hearty curse.
"Mentioning methane makes you tremendously more attractive," she taunted.
Roy could only croak, hips bucking. He wasn't sure whether he hated or loved this kind of challenge. "Drain some water."
"Isn't there a scientific term for that?"
"'Exhaust' for fumes. 'Bleed' for fluids. Why?"
"It turns you on."
It was Roy's turn to laugh, a cawing, throaty jumble. He touched her nape, strong fingers running up until her hair fell around her shoulders. It stuck to her wet skin, barely veiling the peaks of her breasts where popping remains of foam shimmered enticingly. "Fifty percent of you, fifty percent of me." He unclasped his grip on the bathtub to caress her belly. He knew he wouldn't last though, that his goal was perking higher. They had gotten heavier with lactation. "Nature can be so fair and logical."
"Gets the alchemist in you rearing."
"Ooh, yeah."
Hayate nudged the door open as moans morphed back into giggles. So Roy picked Riza up, marched her to the bedroom and closed the door. She complained about soaking the mattress but Roy spread out a towel for her to lie on. With another one, he planned to towel her down thoroughly.
"It's obvious, isn't it? He's demonstrating power." Chris fumbled for a cigarette in her pocket. Roy gave her a glare. She threw her hands up in mock-defeat, letting the lighter slumber on in her coat. She rolled the filter of the unlit cigarette between her teeth when Roy gave no signal of understanding. "Pregnancy's softened your brain," she mumbled.
Her nagging died down, ears perking up to listen to the voice in the living room.
"… breathing should be easier now. If you snored at night that might go away too," Thomas was explaining.
Riza's silence about the last comment spoke volumes. Roy smiled to himself.
It was the second false labour that week. The baby had dropped and Riza's body seemed to want to practice with premature contractions. They fuelled her anxiety for birth, which in turn converted harmless contractions into cramps, headaches and dizziness. Roy would have to come up with something soon to stay home. He had sworn to himself that he would be there for every single second.
"He's the Fuhrer," Roy tried to focus on the topic at hand, "why would he need to demonstrate power?" Turning a vase over in his hands, he set it aside. He had bought it for Riza on a hungover morning and given it to her the minute they had been released from hospital after the Promised Day. After Bradley's fall.
Another box empty. The spare room was going to be a proper guest room with no improvised cardboard for a nightstand and an actual bed.
Chris watched without getting her hands dusty. "He's showing the highest‑ranking men of this country how far above them he is. That his intel will find anything – anything they might plan to hide – by showing them that he found out about you. The family connection will soon be public anyway following the notary appointment. Him wanting that appointment supports my theory.
"He'll want to visit his grandchild and this is his ticket to do that without secrecy or rumours. There's really no way around you two getting busted, so he did it before you could, showcasing his secret service and unattainable legislative superiority by telling the entire council."
Roy digested her input quietly. Folding up a few boxes, sweeping dirt out of the corner, he created enough space for the new chest freezer. In her short, diminishing bursts of energy, Riza had cooked dozens of meals to be frozen, preparing for the weeks after birth. Nesting in her own way, Roy labelled it.
"Won't that jeopardise my rise to the top?"
"It will most certainly dent a groove in your reputation. But that's something you've always known."
Roy scowled at her indifferent shrug. She had always encouraged him to pursue Riza, teased him about it. Now she was playing the voice of reason?
"Wise words from the soon-to-be grandmother."
"Watch your tone," Chris snapped. Roy grinned. A small retaliation, but a satisfying one. She pointed her cigarette at him, an evil squint observing his struggle to push the freezer into the corner, refusing to help.
"Makes you feel—" Roy huffed, leaning his full weight against the chest freezer, "old," he huffed, "doesn't it?"
"Is that why you rushed into this and impregnated your best officer? Feeling old?" Growling, she gave the right corner of the chest a shove. "Frankly, I'd vote her for the position of Fuhrer over you any day."
"You mean if we're not imprisoned for our crimes first?" He panted. The freezer squealed across the wooden floorboards. He'd have to scrub the traces off.
"I'll put in a good word for dear Riza," Chris puffed with effort. "Support the single mother."
"Why again didn't you put me in a home?"
"To keep the inheritance in the family." Chris was smirking at this point and so was Roy. "Your father was an honest, hard‑working man."
"Unlike his son," Roy sighed, the freezer in place. They leaned against it. The cable would have to be plugged in where it was less taut, but that could wait. Roy hadn't finished the thought when he was being prodded away, Chris opening the lid of the chest to cool herself off. Gotten flabby, both of them. "Let's not raise my baby to be a spy."
"Agreed." Chris stretched her arms in between litres of lentil-hotpot and chilli con carne. "Or a soldier."
"Never."
A knock on the jamb. Thomas peeked in, nonplussed by the two heads leaning over the quietly buzzing freezer. "Uhm," he glanced from one to the other, "I'll be off now."
"Right." Roy tore himself away. "Prepared for your exams?"
Thomas' eyes shone with ambition, but his lips formed a lopsided smile. "I certainly hope so. I'm not prepared for writing them for hours on end… I'd rather the examiners evaluate my patient attendance." He grabbed his bag and made for the front door.
Roy was about to open it when the bell rang. Riza threw him a cautious glance from where she had only just allowed herself to slouch on the sofa. The door to the guest room shut immediately. Hayate barked. Sally barked once from the living room, sticking to Riza.
When Roy opened the door, Thomas remained behind it.
"Mustang." Grumman beamed a smile. He let himself in with shuffling steps, quirking a brow at Thomas' perplexed expression. Despite not being in the military, Thomas saluted, then took his leave.
Roy did his utmost not to gawk. Not once in all his years of service had he seen Grumman wearing something that wasn't a uniform – well, apart from that incident at the graveyard… His eyes snapped up to watch Grumman remove his tweed cap. "To what do we owe the pleasure, your Excellency?"
"Who was that?" Grumman looked after Thomas.
"A friend. He works at the maternity ward of the Eastern Hospital."
"The military hospital?"
"The regular one."
Without another word, Grumman started down the hall. Ignoring the puppy he had been so fond of when first meeting him, he whisked into the living room and planted himself on the couch. Riza had drawn herself up against the backrest, hands folded neatly in her lap. Roy spotted a handkerchief through her fingers with which she must have wiped the sweat off her brow.
"Everything's fine," she reassured Grumman after his hasty hi-how-are-you-what's-wrong-are-you-hurt rant. "It was a false alarm."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It's not dangerous." She said soberly. Allowing herself a small sigh, she added, "It's a stress factor though."
Grumman pulled a face so pitiful, Roy nearly recoiled. The man never had an ear for anyone's whining. Not in the face of hardship, not in the face of overworking and not in the face of war. He was tough as nails and expected nothing less of the same inexorability from his subordinates. He would complain but it didn't keep him from an astounding performance.
Returning Riza's tired gaze, his eyes swimming in compassion, Grumman had never looked more human.
"Tea," he ordered Roy. "Whiskey, better."
"No whiskey," Riza gently said. "No alcohol."
"Not even a wee pint?"
"Not even a droplet of red wine in beef stew."
"Oh, cruel times." Grumman hit his own knee. "However do you buoy up?"
The wrinkles of her forehead eased, the handkerchief in her lap released from its tense prison. She smiled at Roy, then Grumman, her tone gentle. "I'm already better."
Grumman gladly took the compliment. It made him shine like a thousand suns. Roy's journey around the coffee table stuttered when Grumman took off his glasses. His pinching of the bridge of his nose close to his eyes was short however, a sniffle betraying him nonetheless. How was this the same man plotting his undisputed sovereignty to keep an iron grip on the country?
"I'm glad you're here," Riza said. "However unannounced," she added. Grumman ducked, grinned most innocently. Only Riza could deal those tiny jabs without consequences. "Because I wanted to talk about the alterations of the fraternisation laws. I find it precarious to simply abolish them."
"They're in your favour now," Grumman argued.
"I know that, and I appreciate it." She put a hand over his for emphasis. A rare move, Roy noted. It was highly treasured, Grumman's glasses abandoning his nose once more. "But it's harmful for many women in the military. It might further discourage women from joining too."
"Harassment?"
"Harassment, blackmailing," Riza affirmed. "I've been informed about a couple of cases first hand."
"I see, I see…" Grumman pondered. "Well," he said rather quickly, "then I'm changing the law one last time. I'll abolish it for the Fuhrer and the Fuhrer only. Now you have something to work towards." He snapped his fingers at Roy. "And it won't be a risk for later – you wanted to turn this country into a democracy or some other fantasy scenario, right?"
"What are you saying?" Roy's pulse thumped loudly in his ears.
"That I'm abolishing the fraternisation law only for the—"
"I know, but the other thing. Working towards…?" Roy interrupted. "Sir." He added hastily when Grumman narrowed his eyes. Riza took Roy's hand into her lap, running her thumb over his scar. Like a mother hen sitting on her young to shield them, it felt. To Roy's surprise, it worked.
"Might as well tell you now," Grumman conceded, "my solution."
Roy's back straightened. He could hear Riza draw and hold a breath. He could almost hear Madame Christmas bear down on the door of the guest room with her ear. Sally's tail stood still, gaze flickering to her humans with uncertainty.
Grumman smiled, pleased with the suspense he had summoned. He met Riza's gaze. "You will be working as my aide for the time being, my dear. Finish what you started under Bradley, we'll call it. It will unbind you two from your direct superior-subordinate hierarchy so that you can get married."
Roy's mouth stood open. Tongue drying out, thoughts trickling as slowly as thick lentil-hotpot, he couldn't form a reply that wasn't outright yelling. Riza squeezed his hand, reminding him to breathe. He returned the squeeze robotically.
His voice crept like a limping snail. "And after that, are you going to give her back?"
"You don't trust your future grandfather‑in‑law?"
"I get the feeling that I shouldn't."
Grumman laughed. Roy felt his heart sink into his stomach. "You have good gut instincts." The old man's words bit Roy's chest with the tiny burning jaws of a hundred ants. Roy's hand turned in Riza's, holding her back. Keeping her close. Grumman observed. The corner of his mouth twitch upwards. "I said I'll give you something to work towards: The Fuhrer's aide."