I do not own the copyright to Fullmetal Alchemist.

Set after the series ends. No spoilers. Hastily-written royai fluff. :)

Leave of Absence

The train from South City arrived three minutes early. Hawkeye stepped off the train onto the platform, suitcase in hand, Hayate trotting faithfully behind her. "Stay. Good boy," she told the dog as she paused, using her free hand to shade her eyes from the sun, and scanned her surroundings. There—Mustang's car was waiting, a man's figure beside it waving a greeting.

It was Falman. "The General really wanted to come himself, but he had an important meeting he couldn't get out of," he said apologetically as he took her bag. "Now that he's top brass, you know..."

Hawkeye chuckled. "Don't tell me he's developed a work ethic. Or is 'important meeting' code for 'fell asleep at his desk and won't wake up'?"

He grinned. "No, believe it or not, it was a real meeting. I think he's actually gotten better since you've been gone."

"Well, that figures," she grumbled cheerfully.

Seen through the car window, the streets of East City were at once familiar and foreign. Home. She had been away for nearly a year, and undoubtedly a good deal had changed in that time. Her mind traveled back to the last time she had returned to this city after a long absence. That had been five years ago, just after the events of the infamous Promised Day, a day that was rarely far from her thoughts. There had been so many changes since that day.

"By the way, I'm sorry about your aunt," Falman said, interrupting her reverie.

"Thank you," Hawkeye replied, turning her attention back from the window. "It was a long ordeal. But her death was peaceful, at least."

They drove to her new apartment (rented sight-unseen, arrangements made by phone from South City), staying just long enough for her to drop off Hayate and change into her uniform. "I can't believe you're really coming into work right away," Falman laughed. "You just got off the train!"

Hawkeye grinned. While she liked East City well enough, its military HQ was her real home. And she had been away from it for far too long.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye reporting for duty, sir," she announced with a crisp salute. General Mustang returned her salute with appropriate formality, then broke into a grin and clapped her affectionately on the shoulder. "Welcome back, Lieutenant Colonel. We all missed you."

She was welcomed with whoops and back-slaps by the rest of her teammates: Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery; and a more polite greeting from Captain Maria Ross, whom Hawkeye had handpicked to fill in during her leave of absence. "How did…everything go with your aunt?" Ross asked gingerly.

Hawkeye smiled sadly. "It was a difficult illness. She's at peace now, at least. Even though it was hard being away, I'm glad I was able to take care of her, since she didn't have anyone else. I know she was glad too." She hesitated, then added, "And it was nice to finally reconnect with someone from my father's family." Ross probably didn't know anything about Hawkeye's father, who had done an excellent job of alienating his entire family while he was alive, but she saw no need to explain those circumstances now.

She took a look around the office. It appeared the same as it had when she'd left, save for a few postcards she'd sent from South City that were now pinned to the bulletin board. "So what's been going on while I've been away?" she asked.

There was silence, but her teammates were suddenly all grinning. She looked from one to the other, visibly confused, until finally Havoc blurted out, "Our commanding officer is a father now!"

"What?" Hawkeye exclaimed, wheeling around to stare in shock at Mustang. "Who—"

"Uncle," he corrected. "Not father. Uncle."

"Don't let him fool you," said Breda. "He's gone completely native." All the subordinates were chuckling.

"What are you all talking about?" said Hawkeye, her confusion still evident.

Mustang sighed theatrically. "Come here," he beckoned her over. "You need to see the picture." He produced a photograph from his wallet: a smiling couple, perhaps in their mid-thirties, holding a baby who couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. The man was handsome, with black hair and dark eyes that showed some Xingese ancestry. He looked an awful lot like the Colonel, in fact. "It was my brother," Mustang said. "Well, half-brother. My father's son by another woman. I never knew he existed until I got the phone call. He and his wife died in a car accident about six weeks ago, not long after this photo was taken."

Hawkeye stared at him questioningly. "If they both died, then the baby…" she trailed off.

"…had no one else," he finished for her. "I tried to find someone to adopt him. But in the end, it was either going to be an orphanage, or me. So I brought him home. His name is Christopher." He smiled and shook his head, his expression faraway, as if he were still stunned by the events. "It was the last thing I wanted to do at the time, believe me. But I'm glad I did it. And after all, I was orphaned as a child, and my aunt took me in. It was the right thing to do."

It was rare to hear him talk so openly of his childhood. But the team members were all nodding, as if this were a familiar story. His whole demeanor seemed less guarded, more relaxed. He's changed, thought Hawkeye with genuine surprise.

"He's a good little guy," Mustang continued, his smile widening. "It's actually a lot of fun having him around."

"See—completely native," echoed Fuery, as the others laughed in agreement. Mustang, grinning, didn't argue the point.

Hawkeye shook her head in amazement, and returned her attention to the photograph. The woman was also attractive, with long brunette hair. She had large brown eyes and high cheekbones, both slightly reminiscent of Hawkeye's own, as more than one observer had commented. The baby resembled the father more closely, but had the mother's eyes. "They look like they were a happy family," she said softly. "I'm sorry that they died." Then she handed the photograph back to Mustang, and smiled. "But congratulations on your new family member, General. Being an uncle looks good on you."

"Thanks," he chuckled. He turned to address the whole team. "All right. Hawkeye's back, and I'm finally moved into the new house. So I think it's time I had you all over for dinner. How about stopping by after work tonight?" There was a chorus of agreement, as well as much amusement at the idea of Mustang being domestic enough to host a dinner party. Another big change.

Hawkeye shook her head once more, still visibly amazed. "This is a lot to get used to," she remarked as she walked back to her desk. Then she paused, and turned back to Mustang. "Wait a minute—do you even know how to take care of a baby, sir?" she asked with alarm. "Where is it now? You didn't just...leave it alone at your house, did you?"

Mustang sighed. "Him, Hawkeye. He's not an 'it.' His name is Christopher," he repeated, arms crossed in mock disapproval. "And I have a nanny. A very beautiful nanny, in fact," he smirked. The two of them were already falling back into their old rapport, cheerfully needling each other at every opportunity. "Now it's time for you to get back to work, Lieutenant Colonel. I've already given you enough time off."

The nanny was indeed beautiful; there was no argument on that point. Her name was Evangeline. A slim woman with long auburn hair and green eyes, she seemed quite at home in Mustang's new house. She had her own bedroom, had obviously taken charge of the dinner party preparations, and was equally confident circulating among the guests. Mustang also seemed comfortable with her presence, joking and flirting openly with her as she ordered him around in the kitchen. While no one said so out loud, the behavior raised more than a few eyebrows.

Despite the short notice, the whole team had made it to the party, a couple of them with dates: Ross had brought Denny Brosh, and Havoc came with Rebecca Catalina. Once he awoke from his nap, Christopher was brought out to interact with the guests. Mustang showed him off, cradling him without a trace of self-consciousness. "What did we tell you?" Breda nudged Hawkeye. "Yeah, check out the proud papa!" teased Fuery.

"Uncle," corrected Mustang with a smirk. "Let's not get carried away." But it was hard to miss his obvious delight at the baby's presence in his life. It was a sight Hawkeye had never expected to see. Somewhere, Maes Hughes is cheering, she thought with a smile.

After dinner, Christopher was passed around among the laps of whoever wanted to hold him. Ross and Rebecca were especially charmed, and took turns holding him the longest. Their apparent comfort with handling the infant prompted jokes from the men about their "maternal instincts," mainly intended to make their boyfriends squirm (successful in both cases).

"No way," laughed Rebecca. "I just grew up with baby brothers and sisters, that's all. This is old hat."

"And I had cousins!" insisted Ross. Meanwhile Hawkeye, who'd had no such relatives, smiled warily and kept her distance.

"Do you want to hold him?" Evangeline asked Hawkeye cheerfully at one point. "No, that's—" she started to refuse, but the nanny was already plopping the infant onto her lap, heedless of her objections and the fact that she was recoiling in terror. "I don't know how to hold a baby!" Hawkeye protested. Evangeline laughed and showed her how, taking care to support his head. By now, the entire party had taken notice and were being tremendously entertained, particularly Mustang. Hawkeye felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but laughed along as she cradled the baby awkwardly.

Later, Mustang and the nanny retreated back into the kitchen to mix a fresh round of drinks. She continued to give him instructions, which he followed without complaint. "Check them out," Havoc said to Hawkeye, his voice a conspiratorial hush. "They've been seen out together a few times. Rumor has it they're an item."

She noted a few subtle coughs and uncomfortable glances from the others. There appeared to be a longtime, unspoken rule among her teammates to avoid commenting on Mustang's romantic conquests in her presence. Whether it was just because she was a woman, or—most likely—because they had concluded that she had feelings for their commanding officer, she wasn't absolutely sure. Only Havoc occasionally seemed to forget the rule and blurt out such observations, especially after he'd had a few drinks.

They all meant well, but they didn't know anything. Hawkeye had no reason at all to be jealous. Even if she were, she would never allow her teammates to see it. Her feelings were her business, and she played them very close to the vest, sometimes even from herself. Now she only smiled, and replied in the same conspiratorial tone, "Knowing him, I'd be shocked if they weren't. But he'll probably have a new nanny in a month." The General was not known for the longevity of his relationships. Amid awkward smiles, the subject was changed, and nothing more was said about it.

As the evening wore on, however, Hawkeye found her gaze drifting toward Mustang more often than it should have. He looked happier and more settled than she ever would have expected; domestic life oddly seemed to suit him. It was admittedly difficult to watch him and the nanny laughing and joking as they hosted their dinner party, or remember the photograph of the smiling couple posing for a family portrait with their baby—the people who looked, if ever so slightly, like Mustang and herself—and not reflect on the possibilities, the roads their lives might have taken if circumstances had been different. But even as she sighed inwardly, she continued to smile pleasantly and make small talk with the other guests. No one needed to know her thoughts.

The party broke up around ten, the guests leaving in ones and twos. Hawkeye, who had insisted on helping clear the dishes, was one of the last to leave, finally walking out with Havoc and Rebecca. "Come on, Riza, we'll give you a lift home," said Rebecca, the pair's designated driver. Mustang and Evangeline saw them out, waving goodnight together from the doorstep.

"They do make a cute couple," mumbled Havoc, by now having had quite a bit to drink. "Now that he's turning into a family man, maybe he'll marry her." Rebecca punched him in the shoulder and gave him a disapproving glare. Hawkeye smiled cheerfully, pretending not to notice.

After the guests departed, Evangeline waited until a discreet amount of time had elapsed, just to make sure no one returned to reclaim any forgotten belongings. Then she gathered up her things and left for the night.

Twenty minutes later, Mustang answered a knock at the back door. It was Hawkeye, with Hayate in tow. "I thought you'd never get back here," he said, sweeping her into his arms. "That party was torture," she agreed, pulling him into a passionate kiss. It had been entirely too long since they'd been alone together.

When they'd had their immediate fill of kissing, Mustang pulled a house key out of his pocket and slipped it into Hawkeye's hand. "Your copy," he smiled.

She nodded and pocketed the key. "Now I want to see him again," she said with a grin.

They walked together into the nursery, and stood looking down into the crib where the infant boy lay sleeping.

"Did we really get away with it?" asked Hawkeye in a hushed voice. "They really didn't figure out that he's our son?"

Mustang kissed her forehead. "Our performance was flawless. I don't think anyone suspects a thing," he murmured.

It hadn't been easy. Besides Hawkeye's long stay in South City, they'd needed extensive help from Madam Christmas: inventing long-lost relatives for both of them, hiring models who resembled them to pose as "parents" in the photograph, falsifying birth certificates and death notices, and finding a maternity doctor and nanny who could be trusted with secrets. The conspiracy went all the way up to the office of the Führer President; while Grumman disapproved of the circumstances of the birth, he'd allowed himself to be bribed into silence in return for regular visits with his new great-grandson.

The secrecy was necessary. If the truth were known, the scandal would cling to Mustang for the rest of his career, and could provide enough ammunition for his enemies to keep him from taking over as Führer President once Grumman passed on. For a general to carry on an affair with his subordinate, and impregnate her, was a blatant violation of one of the military's most ironclad rules. It would be seen as tawdry, irresponsible, immoral. No one would care that they truly loved each other. That they had used protection faithfully, only to have it fail. That they had chosen to do the right thing and bring their child into the world anyway, knowing what it might cost them.

It wouldn't be easy going forward, either. They would have to continue living a lie, even to their closest friends, with Hawkeye renting apartments she never slept in and Mustang pretending to have affairs with his nannies. Their son would spend his childhood calling his father "Uncle" and his mother "Hawkeye-san," thinking his real parents were dead, until he was old enough to learn the truth. Their lives would be made up of stolen, secret moments. But they would be together.

"I love you, Roy," she whispered, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I love you too, Riza," he whispered back, holding her more tightly.

Their arms wrapped around each other's waists, they continued to stare in wonder at the beautiful child they had made. However strange and difficult their lives would be, they were a family. And that was the only thing that mattered.