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Roy met her in the mess hall for lunch, as he often did. Riza had arrived first, and he watched her pick at her cottage pie and salad. He set his tray of salmon and greens down across from his Captain, and felt the surge of peace that he always did when he was with her.
It was a new and strange thing, knowing her in the way he now did. Her mind was always something that he could read so well, but knowing her body was a novelty that they had not begun until after the Promised Day. It was odd to meet her at lunch as a coworker and his subordinate, knowing he had been in her bed the previous evening, and many nights before that.
“Good afternoon, General,” she gave him a tight smile.
“Captain,” he said with a grin, unable to hide the warmth in his eyes. To his surprise and disappointment, she did not return it.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any interesting stories for you this afternoon,” she said, with a yawn he could tell was feigned. She took a sip from the mug in front of her–mint tea, he could smell it, and tapped it twice against the table as she set it down.
“That’s fine,” Roy said, even as his eyes widened. “I had a pretty late night, so I wouldn’t mind some pointless chatting.” He took a bite of his salmon, and let his fork hit the edge of his plate two times.
“Have you been listening to that new radio drama? The murder mystery? I’m really enjoying the main characters, Isla and Annabel.”
Roy pulled a pen from his pocket and began to lazily doodle on his napkin. “I haven’t heard of it, is it any good?”
Riza stirred her pie with her fork. “It’s quite entertaining. The leads are played by Mabel Perth and Raita Ewan, and they’re both excellent actresses.”
“Is that so?” He wrote the names down in between rough sketches of flowers and Black Hayate and tried to ignore the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.
“Yes. The show keeps teasing a relationship between the two, and I hope they end up together, but there is definitely some drama being set up.”
“That does sound quite compelling, Captain.”
“I think so. They’re both investigating the murder of an old woman who lived in their building named Greta Newman. They’re working well together, and seem to have some romantic tension, but there’s a military policewoman involved in the investigation, called Anja Nichelson-Trager, who I believe may cause a love triangle.”
Roy swallowed hard and gripped his tray. The scars on his hands itched. “That sounds quite compelling. When does it air?”
Riza met his eyes, her mouth a tense line. “Twenty-hundred hours, sir.”
“I look forward to listening to it.”
–
He had been slumped anxiously at his desk well before the clock on his wall hit twenty-hundred hours, so he was prepared when he heard the knock on his door.
He took a deep breath. “Come in.”
Riza entered, and saluted him formally.
“At ease, Captain,” Roy said, and gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. Hawkeye sat with an uncharacteristically nervous smile.
Roy fiddled with his pen. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir, I am at ten weeks,” Riza said, as if delivering him a report. “I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to be certain, and have a chance to visit a doctor first.”
Roy glanced at the locked door, and then leaned across his desk, reaching an arm out to her. Her apprehensive eyes flickered to the door, too, but she took his hand after a moment. “What are you going to do?”
Riza squeezed his hand and smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. “I always thought that if I ever got pregnant I would end it immediately. But now that it’s real, I don’t know if I want to. I never thought that I would have this chance, and I’m getting older; I’m not sure that I’ll have it again.”
Roy rose from his desk chair and knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. “It’s up to you, you know I have contacts. I can make it all go away, or I can find a way for you to keep it. All you need to do is say the word.”
Riza looked down at him and squeezed his hand again. “I think I want to keep it,” she whispered.
—
Madame Christmas was the best in the business for a reason. Riza began to go on dates with Henry Lau, a handsome Xingese-Amestrian man, who was dating Tyla, one of Chris’s bartenders. Henry was a cheerful man who was delighted to be involved in the underground scheming world of his sweetheart, and turned out to be quite an excellent actor, who genuinely got along with Riza very well. He courted Riza openly: he took her to dinners at exclusive restaurants, picked her up from Central Command with flowers, and made sure to be seen driving her to work early in the morning. It all looked so real that even Roy, who like the rest of his team knew it was all pretend, found himself glowering at Henry every time he walked Riza into the office as they made a show of speaking about the crossword puzzle they had done the night before, or the bakery they had visited that morning.
After four months of this, Hawkeye entered the office alone.
“Where’s Henry?” Havoc asked, as was planned, in front of some of the junior staff.
“You know how it is,” Riza said dismissively. She met Roy’s eyes. “Everything ends.”
—
It was a strange and terrible thing, to father a child that he was not allowed to acknowledge. RIza was so beautiful, even in her bulky blue uniform. Her growing belly showed only subtlety through the shapeless, stiff fabric but he could tell; he knew every inch of her body. It was agony, to keep such a distance, but it was necessary, too, knowing who the baby would look like.
–
Hawkeye left his memos and mail on his desk at ten hundred hours, as always. He flipped through them lazily: a Thursday meeting with three Generals he disliked, a handwritten note from Havoc inviting him out for a staff pub night, and a formal request from Captain Riza Hawkeye for an increased size in her uniform.
Roy stared at Riza’s perfectly filed paperwork for a very long time. His stomach churned, flooded by feelings of shame, of want, of self-hatred. He reached for his pen and signed his affirmation, and felt bile rise in his throat.
–
There was only so long she could keep it a secret.
“Henry is such a lovely man,” Roy heard Riza say to a couple of Sergeants in the mess. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she placed a hand on her belly and smiled. “You know how it can be–we just didn’t work well together. He’s wonderful, though, he’s supporting me even though I want to raise my baby alone.”
Her eyes met his, and she softened. It was true, the father of her child had set up a bank account in her name, the benefactor virtually untraceable, but the owner of the account was certainly not named Henry.
—
Roy knew he shouldn't, but he found himself in front of her apartment anyway. She answered her door on the first knock, and ushered him quickly inside.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she hissed, even as she grabbed him by the lapel and kicked the door closed behind him.
“Would it be so wrong to say I missed you?”
“Yes,” she laughed softly, and kissed him.
–
After, when his bare legs tangled with hers, he reached across and laid his hand upon the swell of her belly. “Does she move much?”
“She?” Riza asked dryly, placing her hand on top of his.
“I don’t know,” Roy laughed, and felt lighter than he had in a decade. “It just came out.”
He was a man of science, but the sudden jolt of a tiny foot against his hand felt like magic. Riza gasped and covered his hand with her own.
“Our daughter is a fighter, like her mother,” Roy said, only half a jest.
Riza laughed softly, and Roy drowned happily in the sound.
–
It was an open secret in their office. Roy felt equal parts grateful and annoyed that he didn’t have to say the truth to his long-term team: they all knew each other to the very core. Havoc brought him pregnancy and early childcare books that he and Catalina no longer needed. Breda played chess with him when Hawkeye was at doctor’s appointments as a distraction, and always left a scone from her favourite bakery on her desk for when she came back. Fuery brought in the ginger tea that he knew she loved, and Falman left her diligent notes on their field missions when she was no longer able to join them–which had been a nasty argument between her and Roy. They kept their mouths shut: Mustang’s men, loyal and true as always.
–
A knock on the inner door of Roy’s office pulled him from the stack of paperwork on his desk. He called affirmative for entry, and was surprised to see Breda, who would usually not request to enter so formally.
“Hey, boss,” Breda looked a touch uncomfortable. “I think you need to talk to Hawkeye.”
Roy was out of his chair before Breda could back out of the room. He swooped in to the larger office to see Hawkeye shifting uncomfortably in her chair; her face pale and sweaty.
“Captain Hawkeye, my office.”
Riza nodded, but still did not look up at him. “Riza,” he said softly, aware of their friends around them, pretending to do their work. “Please.”
She finally nodded, gripping a pen in her hand, before breathing out slowly and letting it go. She let Roy guide her into his office, and slumped down in the chair that he pulled out for her, both hands across her belly.
Roy knelt in front of her, recalling the way he had done so when she had first told him. “Now?”
Her wide, apprehensive eyes met his. “Now.”
–
The office went to the hospital together, so that it would not be suspicious for their commanding officer to be seen there alone. Equally important was the fact that they loved their Captain, and wanted to see her well.
Rebecca Catalina rose from the chair next to Riza’s bedside as they entered, going to stand beside Havoc with a mildly rude look at Roy that he barely noticed. He had eyes only for Riza, and the small bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket at her breast.
Riza looked so beautiful, even pale and exhausted. She smiled up at him, and he blinked back pinpricks of tears.
“Would you like to hold her?”
Roy nodded wordlessly, and gathered his daughter into his arms. The sleeping baby was so soft and yet solid in his arms. “Congratulations, Captain,” he choked. “You have a very lovely baby.”
–
He went home alone that night. His apartment felt too big and too quiet as he lay alone in the middle of his bed, listening to the tick-tock of the clock on his wall. In two days time, Riza would go home too, not alone, but with their daughter. In two months she would drop her off at the daycare on base, and go to work. She would celebrate her first steps, and her first words, and so many other firsts, all without Roy. He pulled his pillow against his chest and pretended, not for the first time, that it was Riza he was holding.
He would visit her in the hospital in the morning–a concerned General checking in on the well-being of a subordinate he was close to. But after that, he did not know. All he could do was hope that she would be able to do it all on her own, and that one day, when he was at the very top, he would be able to look down at his people with his wife and daughter at his side.