The Bodyguard
People imagine she was a beauty when she was younger. Chris smirks, the same trademark expression she passed on to her son. The truth is, she's built like a linebacker now (though much of the muscle has gone to fat) and she was built like a linebacker back then. It was a status symbol for the high-class hostess club, training ground for the leftover girls hoping to become a rich man's mistress, to have female body guards. "Look at us," it proclaimed. "Your purchase remains untouched until you make your selection."
No one pays attention to the bodyguard. When someone did, Chris fell for it and ended up dumped and pregnant. The price of her government-paid C-section was a hysterectomy.
She made up a brother and sister-in-law to explain the boy's last name. For someone of her class, women dead in childbirth and men killed in action were a dime a dozen. Incomplete records were too. Everyone thought her Roy-boy was a proper gentleman from properly married parents and he was shooting up through the ranks like a rising star.
Madame Christmas wasn't invisible any more. She was the hard-headed proprietress of the highest class hostess bar in Amestris and foster mother to the ambitious Flame Alchemist himself. But Roy's mother was and always would be.
Written for fma fic contest prompt 197, Invisible.