Written for week 100: "canon pairings" over at LJ's fma_fic_contest.

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The pillow was wet, had been since Gracia managed to get her eyes open and face the prospect of another day. Stopping the flow from her eyes with the heels of her hands, Gracia rolled onto her back and thought, breathe. She could have stayed like that for a good hour, for two or three or more, but down the hall, just outside the open door of her room, the soft slap of small feet on wood floors drifted in, and with it, energy.

"Mommy?" Elysia stood at the edge of the doorway, gripping the frame. Gracia rolled onto her side, arms stretched off the side of the bed, and murmured, "Come here, baby."

Elysia climbed into bed with her and tugged the sheets up higher, covering them both from the morning chill. She looked up at Gracia with Maes' eyes, reached up and swiped a stray tear from her mother's face, and said, "Don't cry, Mommy."

Something that made her feel so much better shouldn't make her cry like that, Gracia knew. If she was going to cry every time she looked at her daughter's face, what kind of mother did that make her? Elysia laid her head on Gracia's shoulder, curling up under her arm, and Gracia could hear her humming, the same thing Maes did whenever Elysia had cried as a baby.

Children were so resilient. Gracia could wish and cry and beg for that same strength, but she was too old, knew too well that she would spend the rest of her life waking up and reaching for a man who would never reach back.

"Mommy." Elysia pushed her nose against the line of her mother's jaw, every bit as affectionate as her father. "I'm hungry. Can we get up?"

Gracia closed her eyes and let the wall of tears settle back into nothing. It was just one day, she told herself. Elysia climbed out of bed first, smiling like the world was everything she'd ever wanted it to be, and Gracia watched her dance out of the room, repeating to herself the same thing she'd said every morning since she'd found herself alone in their bed.

It's just one morning. I just have to get up. I just have to get my feet on the floor.

No matter what it felt like, the world would continue without Maes in it—and so would she. Slowly, unsteadily, Gracia rose for the day and followed her daughter from the room.