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"Isn't she the most perfect, precious little angel you've ever seen?"
Riza watched as Roy hid his smirk behind his wine glass, while Maes Hughes gently bounced his newborn daughter is his arms.
"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," Hawkeye agreed sincerely. "She's a beautiful baby."
"We've been on the front lines together, and you're drinking wine in my living room," Hughes frowned. "I think you're more than fine to just call me by my name when we're off duty."
"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," she deadpanned, as Hughes scoffed and Roy chuckled beside her.
"Why don't you keep your voice down, Hughes?" Roy drawled. "You'll wake up your exhausted wife."
"Oh, don't worry about her," Hughes said cheerfully. "My sweet Gracia can sleep through anything!"
Roy rolled his eyes and Riza took a turn hiding a chuckle with a sip from her glass. She couldn't help but notice when she looked at Roy how handsome he was in his civilian clothes—never one for casual wear, he wore a pair of sharp navy pants and a grey collared shirt that Riza could tell were not cheap.
She looked back at the sleeping baby as Mustang and Hughes began to argue about some conversation they'd had the day before. Elicia really was a perfect little creature. Only two weeks old, with skin still red and wrinkled like a newborn kitten. Riza had never seen a baby so small before. She had never even thought much about children of her own. When she was younger her own upbringing had been too tumultuous to imagine adding to the Hawkeye lineage, and after everything she had done in Ishval she knew the road ahead of her left no room for a family.
And even if it did, the only person she could imagine making a family with was someone she was not allowed to have.
Yet suddenly an image formed unbidden in her mind, of a little house in the outskirts of East City, with a wraparound porch and a small garden in the front. She saw herself sitting on the porch with a book in her lap, watching as two small children with black hair and amber eyes played together in the yard, and a man in sharp navy pants and a grey collared shirt sat down beside her with a carefree grin on his beloved face—
"Hey, wanna hold her, Hawkeye?" Riza looked up, startled. Hughes and Roy were both staring at her; she wondered how long she had been left to her reverie. Hughes rose from the chair he had been sitting and stood over the couch that she and Roy shared.
"Oh, sure," Riza set her wine glass on the table, wondering if she had imagined the look of understanding that had crossed over Hughes' face.
"Watch her head," Hughes said, as he carefully passed Elicia into Riza's ever-steady arms.
The sleeping baby was heavier than Riza had expected, and smelled sweeter, too. Her closed eyelids were as delicate as moth wings, and they fluttered gently in her sleep. A laugh bubbled out of Riza, surprising her and causing Elicia to open her tiny eyes for a brief moment before falling back into her slumber.
"She is beautiful, Maes," Riza said softly. She looked up at the two men, at Hughes, who was grinning broadly, and at Mustang, who looked as if he had just been punched in the gut. She held his sad gaze for a long moment, and Hughes excused himself, muttering something about fetching another bottle from kitchen.
"I'm sorry," Roy said, once they were alone, "that we can't have this. What they have."
"Don't be sorry," Riza said softly, cradling the baby against her chest. "We made our choices. Just be happy for your friend."
Roy reached out a gentle hand and stroked Elicia's brow. "I can do that."
She smiled at him, hoping he couldn't read her face the way she could read his, knowing that he could.