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They looked like battle-worn soldiers. That was Roy's first thought when he nudged the door open and laid eyes on slumbering couple in the hospital bed. Gracia looked exceedingly peaceful even in the unflattering hospital gown, cuddled up to her husband's chest like a dove, and Maes snored softly into the pillow, glasses askew and one leg thrown haphazardly over Gracia to keep from falling off the mattress.
Roy sighed and looked ruefully at the three coffee mugs he had painstakingly carted all the way from the cafeteria. So much for that. He crossed the room to pour out two of the mugs in the bathroom sink, tiptoeing by the little bassinette with extreme caution. Roy swore he had nearly gone deaf from the newborn's first earsplitting shrieks at the moment of her birth, and he had been all the way out in the hallway. And yet Maes had been practically dancing when they were finally allowed into the birthing room, filled with starry-eyed wonder for the bloody, malformed thing in the doctor's hands, and even Gracia had sported a drained smile as Maes held the boisterous child for the first time and christened it Elysia.
Roy sank into a chair with a groan and gulped his coffee, running a hand through disheveled hair. A silver glow behind the curtains told him the sun had risen while he wasn't looking. He hadn't once shut his eyes last night, instead holding anxious vigil with Maes while tight-lipped doctors and nurses rushed back and forth. Roy only remembered something about a breech birth and too much bleeding and an underlying fear that neither mother nor baby would survive the night. The clearest moment was that half hour or so in the darkest part of the night, watching his best friend break down in hysterical tears at the thought of losing everything, of facing an ending on a day that should have held nothing but beginnings.
It hadn't come to that, thankfully. Roy would have to figure out a way to thank the staff here for pulling a miracle out of a disaster. Maybe with a military-funded donation? Hospitals could always use money, right? He made a mental note to ask Hawkeye about it later...
A tiny mewling sound jerked him from his doze, and Roy cursed quietly when hot coffee slopped all over his hand. The unfamiliar noise was repeated, and he glared at the dark corners of the room, suspecting some kind of vermin at first. But then dread coiled in his gut when he located the source.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding," Roy said hoarsely when his eyes landed on the bassinette. Another whimper reached him, louder this time. Roy silently willed the infant to go back to sleep, but his nonexistent mind control powers had no effect whatsoever.
Gracia moaned and her brow furrowed, maternal instincts kicking in despite her body's very real need for rest. Roy surveyed the sleeping couple helplessly. On the one hand, they had brought this upon themselves so they should rightly deal with it. But Gracia was still recovering from her ordeal, and Maes had spent the better part of the night locked in an emotional whirlwind. They deserved the chance to recover from that before they plunged into the world of screaming infants, soiled diapers and permanent sleep deprivation.
None of that did a thing to comfort Roy as he bullied his fatigued body out of the chair. Three steps later, he stood above the bassinette and pondered the newborn blinking up at him. Only her oddly enlarged head and one pudgy hand were visible among all the blankets. Elysia hiccupped and gave him a few belligerent curses in baby-tongue.
"Shh, you're fine, you're fine," Roy whispered, hunching over as if he could block her voice from reaching Maes and Gracia. "Just...just go back to sleep, okay? You can see your parents later."
Elysia quieted at the sound of his voice, and Roy congratulated himself on his excellent diplomatic skills. But the moment he fell silent, her face contorted and her whimpers turned into real sobs. Behind him, Hughes grunted and muttered something in his sleep. Roy's mind raced. What were you supposed to do with a crying baby? Feed it? Well, that wasn't exactly feasible at the moment, considering he had zero access to Gracia's breastmilk. Roy hoped to God she didn't need a new diaper. Not even for Maes was he willing to deal with that. What else, what else...
Getting desperate now, Roy reached down and stroked her soft, downy hair. And he looked on in amazement when Elysia immediately calmed at the touch. He trailed his fingers down her cheek and was rewarded when she turned her head and her mouth latched onto his knuckle. She suckled in serene contentment, and Roy laughed to himself. "Well, aren't you easy to please," he murmured. "If only all women could be so undemanding..."
It took a few moments for Elysia to figure out his knuckle was not a reliable source of milk. She stopped suckling, but still clung to his thumb with her whole hand, and her sleepy mumble fairly melted Roy's heart. Without thinking, he reached down to pick her up, but he caught himself just in time and straightened uneasily. "The hell am I thinking? I don't even like babies. Puppies, yes, but babies..."
He made a half-hearted effort to shake off her grip, but that just agitated her even more. Roy cast a furtive look at Maes and Gracia. He didn't think it would bother them if he held her for a moment. Just long enough to rock her to sleep or something. Very carefully he reached down and slid his hands beneath her, supporting her head and rump as he lifted her up. He almost couldn't believe how light she was, and his heart skipped a panicked beat at how very easily he could harm her through sheer carelessness. She squirmed, and Roy hastily maneuvered her to the crook of his arm like he had seen Maes do earlier. His biggest worry had been that moving her would wake her up more, and therefore, make getting her to sleep more difficult, but Elysia seemed perfectly happy to snuggle up to him.
"There, that wasn't so hard—whoa!" He held her away from his chest before she could bite his nipple through his shirt and offered his knuckle as a substitute. "Trust me, that's the last place you're going to find any milk," he chided her gently. "Since there were no witnesses, I'll just go ahead and assume that was baby reflex and not a jab at my masculinity."
Absently, Roy walked with her closer to the window where the feeble light let him get a better look at his...he supposed niece was the appropriate title, all things considered. The world was beginning to wake up beyond the glass. Birds cried their praises to the dawn, and an ambulance's faint whine wavered on the wind. Somewhere in the maternity ward, another new mother sang a lullaby, and Roy unconsciously swayed back and forth with the rhythm. Elysia opened her eyes a little wider, two pools of vivid cobalt that fixated on his face. Roy remembered the nurses mentioning that most humans were born with eyes like that, and he wondered whether the pure, immaculate hue would eventually darken to a rich, earthy hazel like Maes or fade to pale aqua like Gracia.
The corners of her mouth turned upward for a fleeting instant, a shadow of a smile, and Roy couldn't help but answer in kind. She was so warm and real and alive in his arms when barely half a day ago she had still been in Gracia's belly. Not even when Roy heard her crying for the first time and saw her cradled in Maes' arms had her existence been as tangible as it was now, and he was filled with a kind of mute reverence for what his best friend and his wife had single-handedly created. People called it the miracle of life, and now Roy could see why. As an alchemist, and hell even as a soldier, this had to be the closest he would ever witness to a true miracle. God himself could descend before him with all his heavenly angels in attendance and Roy wouldn't have been able to take his eyes off the being in his hands. He held her a little closer, hiding his smile in her hair as he took in her scent, her heartbeat.
And he froze when he realized someone was in the doorway. Roy glanced over his shoulder in trepidation. Lieutenant Hawkeye seemed similarly locked in place, one hand resting on the frame and a small duffel in her other hand. And the very slight smile and softened eyes did not bode well for him.
"I, uh," Roy stammered, looking from lieutenant to baby. "She was...I was just..."
Hawkeye's smile widened. Roy sighed, looking at her wryly. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough," Hawkeye said loftily, but with her voice lowered. She glanced at the bed on her way in. "Everything's okay, then? I was worried when you didn't call again..."
Oh, right. His last phone call had been sometime around midnight, and the news then had been dire, at best. He had meant to keep her updated, he really had, but...Roy glanced down at Elysia in mild exasperation, and Hawkeye seemed to understand. She set the duffel in his vacated chair. "I thought you might need a change of clothes," she said by way of explanation. She closed the last bit of distance and held out her hands. "May I, sir?"
Roy hesitated, more surprised at his own reluctance than by the request itself. Which was just plain ridiculous. If he could entrust his life and dreams to this woman, there was no reason not to trust her with this. He set Elysia in her arms with great care, hovering anxiously as Hawkeye arranged the baby in her arms. Hawkeye arched a curious eyebrow at him, and Roy made himself take a step back. At first glance she appeared to have everything in hand, but little signs betrayed her own inexperience. Her shoulders were locked with tension and sharp eyes watched Elysia's face for the slightest sign that she was doing something wrong.
"Careful, she bites," Roy informed her, earning a drab look from Hawkeye. He examined his own hand and wiped it on his shirt. "And drools."
"Yes, babies tend to do that, sir," Hawkeye said pragmatically. As if on cue, a bit of spit dribbled from Elysia's mouth. Hawkeye wiped it away with her sleeve tenderly, the faint worry lines around her eyes gradually smoothing until she practically glowed. Roy blinked and gave himself a little shake. He was one of the privileged few permitted to see Lieutenant Hawkeye in her more affectionate moments, but never before had she appeared motherly to him. The concept was completely foreign...and yet oddly appealing. Not that he wanted to jump her bones right that minute, but there was just something about the combination of Riza Hawkeye and baby...
Roy cleared his throat. "So, Lieutenant," he said casually, "ever think about having one of these yourself?"
"A baby, you mean?" Hawkeye said without inflection. "Sadly, no. Looking after one is work enough for me."
"Looking after—?" Roy sputtered until he noticed the sidelong look she gave him. "Oh, ha ha. And how exactly am I more work than a baby? I don't see you changing my diapers, Lieutenant."
"Give it time, sir."
"Hawkeye," Roy said quietly, meeting her eyes in the silent message, I'm being serious. Her smile slipped, and Hawkeye ducked her gaze to the child in her arms. For a moment, he thought she would avoid the question altogether, like they had been avoiding it for the past several years.
"I...wasn't aware that you liked children, sir," Hawkeye murmured. I thought you didn't want that kind of future with me. With anyone.
"I can always make an exception." Especially if that exception is you.
Hawkeye didn't get a chance to answer because at that moment someone in the hallway dropped what sounded like a laden breakfast tray. The crashing and clattering made them both jump, and Elysia squalled so loudly that it made Roy's already abused ears ring. Hawkeye gaped in alarm at the suddenly volatile infant and instinctively held her tighter with little shushing noises, but Elysia would not be consoled. She made to pass her off to Roy, who hastily backed away. "Hey, what makes you think I know what to do?" he demanded over the noise.
"You had her calm enough earlier, sir," Hawkeye said, and it sounded like an accusation.
"She wasn't crying earlier!" Roy pointed out. "Besides, you're probably better at this than me. I mean, considering..."
Hawkeye froze, the color draining from her face, and Roy gulped when a murderous glare locked him in place. "Excuse me, sir," she asked icily, "but are you implying that because I'm a woman I should be an expert at soothing a crying infant?"
Stupid, stupid, rookie mistake, Roy berated himself. Only WOMEN are allowed to play the gender card! Trying to use it yourself WILL get you drawn and quartered. Or in this case, put in front of a one-person firing squad...
He wasn't sure how he heard it, but Roy turned sharply when someone behind him snickered. At first glance, Hughes appeared to be sleeping, but his shoulders were quaking to hold back laughter.
"Hughes..."
"Aw, damn," Hughes muttered sleepily. He leaned over Gracia. "Sweetie, I think we're caught."
Gracia sighed as she opened her eyes. "Well, at least you took me down with you. I'll take her, Lieutenant Hawkeye."
Hawkeye practically sprinted to the bed and dumped the armful of baby into Gracia's hands. Then the two soldiers stood back in bewilderment as within seconds the screaming devil-child morphed into a cherubic angel nursing peacefully from her mother's breast while Hughes looked on with shining, adoring eyes. Roy shared an incredulous look with his lieutenant, and Hawkeye gave him a disbelieving tilt of the head. You really want one of THOSE, sir?
Roy grimaced and reached for the duffel Hawkeye had brought. "I'll, ah...just go change into a fresh uniform," he said quickly. Let's discuss it later. MUCH later.
"Hold on, Roy, we've still got to take pictures!" Hughes protested with an enthusiasm that seemed impossible for so early in the morning. "Riza, quick! Grab my camera and see if you can get a close up of her nursing—"
"Actually, Major Hughes, I'd better be getting back to the office," Hawkeye interjected, and Roy heard her fleeing right on his heels. Wise move. He unzipped the duffel as they traversed the hallway and started rifling through it only to pause in his tracks when he unearthed, not a uniform, but a pair of his own slacks and a button-up shirt along with clean socks and underthings.
"You went to my house?" Roy said in surprise. "How'd you get in?"
"The front door, sir," Hawkeye said without a trace of embarrassment or guilt. "I used the key you gave me."
"When did I...?"
"Quite some time ago. For emergencies, you said."
"So did you give me...?"
"Of course not, sir. You would have lost my key within a month, like you do your own on a regular basis."
Roy pulled a face, but there was no real displeasure behind it. He stuffed the clothes back in the bag, chuckling. "Lieutenant, you're amazing. How can I ever repay...?"
"This will do for now, sir," Hawkeye said, smiling as she took a sip from his coffee mug, which he had left behind in his rush to escape. "At least it's your day off. You'll have adequate time to rest before you resume your duties."
"Yeah, we'll see," Roy muttered under his breath. "You don't have to go back in there and try to hold back your gag reflex while Hughes makes you photograph the kid's first poop. I swear if he wasn't my best friend..."
He trailed off when he realized Hawkeye was no longer at his side. She had stopped in her tracks several steps behind him, all her attention taken up by the large window looking into the nursery. Roy quietly sidled up to her and joined her contemplation of the dozens of cradles lined up in neat little rows. Most of the newborns slept, but a few others were blinking drowsily at the ceiling or the window. The closest one reached out to the soldiers, and Hawkeye pressed her palm to the glass as if the barrier was the only thing stopping her from claiming one of those children for herself. But of course, given the anklets clasped around their legs, each was already spoken for by another mother.
Hawkeye looked at him and ducked her head. "Sorry, sir. I was...distracted."
"It's fine, Lieutenant," Roy said softly. But just for a moment when they started walking again, he took her hand and squeezed gently. Roy studied the strong, callused fingers, toying with the image of a wedding band and a belly swollen with his child. Maybe one day, when both of them were ready, he could truly repay her with more than just coffee. He could give her something that would make up for every single bad thing in her life, including the things he had caused.
Hearing Elysia's fussy cries, Roy allowed himself a very small smile as he released her hand. Until then, he would have plenty of practice.