A/N: First, do not own! Hello all, Fire and I are still at it! This is another fic from the "Spinning Out" universe. Takes place a few weeks after the Promised Day (as in, huge spoilers for the end of the series). The whole gang is in this one, plus Shirley and Ellen. Enjoy!
Olivier grimaced as Alex joined her for breakfast. "Are you excited for the celebration tonight?" Alex boomed.
"Thrilled," she said dryly.
"You've only uniforms with you here, dear sister, shall I make you a dress?" he offered.
"No."
"But Sister! You cannot go to an event of this magnitude dressed in your military blues!" Alex beamed, as if this were an excellent opportunity for them to bond over his alchemy-borne tailoring skills. "I could fashion you a lovely dress with alchemy!"
"Out of what, the curtains?" she scoffed.
"Of course not! The fabric is far too drab to make a dress out of!" He looked around the room, as if contemplating his options. His sister's frame was sturdy enough, and the idea struck him suddenly. "The wool of a uniform would make a lovely dress! It's not too heavy, and it is a very nice shade of blue!"
"That would be desecration," she brushed him off, irritated that he was still on the subject. "I would have to court-martial you."
"Sister, it is that, the curtains or," Alex hesitated, as if the thought was far beyond even his comprehension, "our younger sister's clothing."
"I've managed this far on my own Alex, I don't need you to make me a dress," she growled as she left what remained of her breakfast on her plate, leaving him to eat on his own.
She waited for a moment, and, when he didn't follow, made her way to Catherine's room, hoping her sister had left at least one decent dress behind. She closed the bedroom door behind her and made a beeline for the closet.
Just as she opened the closet door, she heard the bedroom door open. She paused, her hands still on the closet doors, hoping it was just one of the maids.
"Sister," Alex greeted, much to her displeasure.
"Alex Louis, I am capable of dressing myself."
"But Sister—"
She unsheathed her sword and pointed it in his direction. "If I want your opinion, I will ask," she hissed.
"Very well," Alex resigned, waiting patiently as Olivier searched through the closet.
She moved aside frilly dress after frilly dress. She didn't mind wearing a dress, but a dress that was also pink and frilly was simply too much. She got down to the last dress, but shook her head at the ridiculous amount of sequins decorating it.
"These are hideous."
"Well, there are the curtains, or even the sheets," Alex reminded her, looking at the pink sheets of Catherine's bed.
"I'm going out," she announced as she closed the closet doors. Olivier left the room and hurried down the hall, lest Alex decide that he was absolutely needed to provide assistance. Once safely outside, she thought she recognized Riza Hawkeye's voice, and stopped.
"Rebecca, I can hardly get a button-down shirt over this cast and bandages, you don't really think you're going to get me into a backless dress now, do you?"
"Aw, c'mon Riza! It'll look nice!"
From across the street, Olivier could see Riza being dragged along by the other woman. She chuckled quietly to herself. At least she wasn't the only one who suffered for the greater good of this affair.
Riza wasn't sure how she'd gotten herself into this mess. It had started as a casual conversation, asking if Rebecca would be so kind as to help her this evening. She still only had a limited range of motion, and though she could do enough to make herself presentable for the average day it was not enough for a nicer occasion.
Somehow, this had turned into Rebecca insisting that she get a new dress.
Rebecca pulled on her good arm. "Are you going to make me drag you the entire way?" she asked.
"Yes. I don't need a new dress, Rebecca. I needed help getting ready. How this morphed into a shopping trip—that's all you."
"Those dresses," she paused, trying to think about how to put it nicely, "they're just so last year," she told her.
"Rebecca."
"Come on Riza! You have to get yourself all dolled up. I know you like working in the military but if you keep this up you're going to get yourself killed. It's time you find yourself a good man and settle down! You shouldn't work so much."
She had to remind herself not to threaten Rebecca too much. She might find the woman infuriating, but Rebecca did mean well. "If I come quietly, will you make this as painless as possible?"
"I wouldn't call what you're doing coming quietly, Riza."
"Rebecca," Riza stated, a bit firmer than she intended. "This is the last thing I want to be doing. We'll shop, I'll not find a dress, and then we go home and get ready. If I don't make your life too difficult, promise you'll refrain from torturing me in the process."
Rebecca sighed as this if were a great compromise. "All right, all right."
This resolve to behave herself seemed to last all of two minutes, until Rebecca's gaze fell on a store that was just across the street. "Riza, there! That store has some very nice dresses-and look, they even show some skin. It's exactlywhat you need!"
Riza cringed. "Rebecca, I can hardly get a button-down shirt over this cast and bandages, you don't really think you're going to get me into a backless dress now, do you?"
"Aw, c'mon Riza! It'll look nice!"
"I thought you promised you wouldn't make this too difficult."
"You're the only person making this difficult," Rebecca huffed, cheeks puffed out in annoyance.
She took this as an opportunity to ignore her, and continued down the street. "Look. Here's a nice and respectable little shop."
"Those dresses are for old women!"
Riza sighed, closing her eyes. "They are not for old women. They are for people who want to be covered while in public."
Rebecca groaned. "You're never getting married, not with an attitude like that."
Riza rolled her eyes. "Marriage isn't on my mind right now, Rebecca."
"Only because you haven't met the right guy. Once you do, it'll be all you can think about," Rebecca fantasized.
"You don't know who I have or have not met," Riza snapped. This conversation had grown old, if only because it very often went the same way. Every time. "I don't want to get married because I have work to do."
"Fine, we'll go into that shop, but after we go into this one," Rebecca pulled her along to the other side of the street just in time to avoid Olivier heading into the shop next to the one Riza had planned on going into.
Shirley would have said she was getting far too old for this sort of event, but it was a career opportunity if one had ever existed—for herself and for Ellen—and she would never turn down a personal invitation from the Fuhrer.
She couldn't say she was surprised by the amount of guests at the celebration. In all the years she'd known him, she'd come to find out Grumman's networking skills were well honed. Part of her was sure that for every patient she saw, they at least knew someone who was friends with the nation's newly appointed Fuhrer.
And, as a nurse, she knew at least one face at every table she passed.
She was not surprised to see that Riza and Olivier, her two favorite patients, were seated at the table she and Ellen were supposed to be occupying; even less to see that the Fuhrer was already standing there and chatting with his guests. She half wondered what the man was thinking. It had hardly been two weeks, and in her humble opinion only those who had been very slightly wounded were in any state to be out and about. She couldn't restrain herself.
"Trying to kill your new highest-ranking officers so you don't have competition, Fuhrer?"
Riza whipped around at the voice, just in time to catch the side of Shirley's hand. It was as if the woman knew she was going to turn and put her arm in the way so Riza couldn't. Without even turning from the conversation, Shirley pointed Riza's head forward and shook her head disapprovingly. "Don't move too fast, how many times do you have to be told?"
"Simply trying to raise morale," Grumman replied cheerfully over Riza's mumbled apology.
"Half of these people shouldn't be out of bed yet, forget at a party." Shirley shook her head. "Don't any of you trust my opinion anymore?"
Olivier wished she had thought of skipping the party on those pretenses, at least then she wouldn't have had to put up with Alex's antics about her wearing a dress.
"Shirley, it's a dinner party. They aren't going to kill themselves." Grumman chuckled, "and even if they do, you're here to patch them right back up."
Riza was looking incredulously between the two, eyes wide. When had he even metShirley? Her gaze caught Roy's, and he shrugged slightly as if to say he had no idea either.
"Don't you try sweet talking me, Fuhrer. I'm off tonight." Shirley rolled her eyes. "You've convinced me to work overtime far too many times in Eastern for me to do it at a party you invited me to."
"Well, then get off your feet," Grumman declared, pulling out a chair and pointing at it. The seat was directly next to Kain, who glanced at the empty chair anxiously. He wasn't on bad terms with Shirley, but his encounters with her had always been under difficult circumstances. And he had yet to see anybody chastise his superior officers and get away with itwithout protest.
Olivier was watching the whole scene with a mild sense of amusement. Clearly the Fuhrer and Shirley were on quite familiar terms. She was about to question how familiar said terms were until the portly redhead from Roy's squadron piped in.
"You know the Fuhrer from Eastern headquarters?" Heymans Breda turned to his commanding officer with a questioning look.
"Well, I did follow his daughter around like a shadow," she reminisced. She tilted her head to the side for a moment and looked between the Fuhrer and Riza. "You know, now that I see the two of you together, I can't believe I never noticed the resemblance before—"
Alex grinned. "Yes, there is quite the family resemblance, isn't there?" Alex asked, thinking the nurse had been looking between him and his sister. "See, the same eyelashes," he pointed out, going as far as to lean over next to her.
Jean Havoc choked on his mouthful of wine, Alex's words bringing back memories of his blind date with Catherine.
Shirley's expression flattened, and she then shook her head. "Not you—though I do see it now that you've pointed it out for me." She craned her neck towards Grumman and Riza. "She's a split image of her mother at her age. I can't believe I never noticed it before."
Riza looked at Shirley incredulously.
"Your grandmother used to babysit me while I was still a little tyrant, and my mother would babysit Aya when the need arose. Aya always meant well, but I could get her into all sorts of trouble." Grumman was glaring daggers, and Shirley laughed nervously. "I never meant any harm, you know that! We were children."
The entire table stared, waiting for an explanation, until finally:
"You...you're his granddaughter? The one all of Eastern talked about? The one he offered to be my wifeevery time we played chess?"
Olivier almost choked on her wine. She had heard this story through Vato once, but had never thought to put the pieces together. Of all the people at this table to not make the connection, she couldn't miss the irony in that it was Roy Mustang who had had no idea.
Rebecca stared at her friend in shock. "You're her...wait until I tell everyone in Eastern!"
Riza rolled her eyes, wishing she could turn to give Rebecca her best glare, but she was sure Shirley would rebuke her for it. "Don't make me root out your secrets, Rebecca," she hissed in her friend's general direction.
"But you could retire," Rebecca explained.
This time, Riza did turn to face Rebecca. "Enough. I don't wantto retire."
She had expected a reprimand from Shirley, not a set of hands redirecting her head. "It's a good thing we're bothhere, isn't it!"
"Hello, Ellen," Riza said quietly, cringing. "I didn't know you were coming."
"Ah, you've brought a friend," Grumman exclaimed as he pulled out the chair he'd reserved for Shirley's date.
"I brought her along, because I heard the Fuhrer was looking for veteran nurses to send out to Ishval during the reconstruction efforts, and thought it might be a good idea to introduce you two," Shirley explained, glad she was able to approach the topic earlier in the evening.
"You both would be a wonderful addition to the reconstruction efforts."
Shirley chucked, "I don't think so, Fuhrer. I'm getting too old for this; even lifting someone as small as Alphonse is getting to be too much for this old back."
"I was thinking of asking you if you'd be the head nurse, Shirley. A knowledgeable nurse such as yourself should be calling the shots and leaving some of that back-breaking work to the young." Grumman smiled, proud that he'd offered her the position he wanted to without having to directly address her age.
Shirley smiled, Grumman had always been quite diplomatic when it came to talking to females, and he still was. "Well, Ellen is still quite young," she said, knowing Grumman would catch her hint that it was both of them or neither of them.
Ellen let go of Riza's head, suddenly acutely aware that she hadn't moved. "W-well, I'm not sure I'm ready to be so far away from—"
"I would never ask you to come without your favorite student, Shirley!" Grumman beamed at Ellen. "Besides, Ellen here is the only other nurse who could ever get General Armstrong and Colonel Hawkeye to sit still for more than two minutes. We'd need her just as much as we need you."
The comment earned Grumman glares from both blonde females at the table, and he laughed.
"While we're speaking of the reconstruction efforts," Olivier chimed in, "I'm losing a couple men to the project, and I could use a few replacements." Her gaze turned to Riza, "Like her, seeing as her commanding officer stole myalchemist."
If it wasn't for fear of getting her head again redirected by one of the nurses at the table, Riza would have turned to Olivier just to glare back. "I'm not a chess piece, General."
Grumman nodded. "Yes, my soldiers will have some say in where they go. I plan to do my best to honor all requests for placements barring punishment or necessity. But Vato here has requested to stay at Briggs!"
The old Fuhrer was grinning, as if he knew the conversation was bound to come up and had prepared himself appropriately. "He's a fine soldier with a good head on his shoulders. I'm sure he'll be quite useful up North once again. Not to mention, with his knack for detail, he probably knows his way around Briggs better than most the soldiers who've been there for years."
Vato's cheeks reddened with the compliment. "I did plan on staying, if there are no objections," he stuttered.
Olivier nodded, it would have been a huge oversight to allow Vato out of her grasp.
Grumman looked over at Kain, hoping the technician would pick up on the cue to get the table conversation going.
Kain hesitated for just a moment, before rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I actually wanted to ask about that, Fuhrer..."
Grumman nodded to encourage the boy to continue.
"When I was stationed in the South, the communication lines were inefficient at best. On top of that, they were very unreliable." Kain straightened his glasses, "but I think I have an idea for something that might work better, and I was hoping I could take the time to build it and then set the equipment up at South City and then in Central. It would take a little bit of testing but I think it could work much better."
Gumman nodded, this was more than he'd expected of the youngest of Roy's team. "You'll have to write up a proposal, before you begin the actual work," Grumman smiled. "Just don't make it too technical, I can barely get the telephone to work some days, and too much technical mumbo-jumbo will just complicate matters. I trust you know what you're suggesting."
Kain grinned at his approval, and the attention of the table turned expectantly Heymans, who shrugged nonchalantly. "Not that I don't like working for General Mustang over here, but I think I'm going to stick around in Central for a while and help some of the wounded soldiers get back on their feet."
If Roy displayed any hint of disappointment, it didn't show.
"As soon as this idiot's back on his feet, I'm sure we'll be headed Eastward anyway," Heymans added quickly, jerking a finger at Jean.
Jean ignored his friends' teasing and tapped on the arms of his wheelchair. "Well, I'm sure my mom would be happy to get me out of her hair once I've got the whole walking thing back down," he agreed. "She tells me she was glad to have my help at the shop, but I'd wager my first paycheck that she's celebrating my moving to Central for rehabilitation."
"And not just because he's getting to be rehabilitated," Heymans quipped, which earned him a glare from Jean.
Sensing the atmosphere turning south, Alex spoke up, "Dear Sister, I can be your alchemist!"
Olivier had to repress the urge to bury her face in her palm. Of course he had to go and volunteer. She was about to tell him that she wasn't that desperate, when she realized that this could be her chance to finally get her brother to toughen up. Briggs was definitely up to the task of teaching him to keep his shirt on. Literally.
"Temporarily," she agreed.
Riza was the first one to settle the two youngest at the table with a curious look.
"Don't any of you get any bright ideas, Al and I are going back to Resembool and we're going to stay there, thanks," Ed snapped, determined to not get dragged into any discussion of where else they might go.
"Have you picked out a ring yet?" Riza asked with a bit of a smirk that looked far too much like her commanding officer's.
Jean was glad that he wasn't the only one who'd choked for the night, and at least no one had been paying attention to him when he had.
"Brother doesn't pick out jewelry," Al spoke up while his brother sat spluttering into his wine glass. Either it didn't occur to Al that he'd just played directly into Riza's joke—or he decided it was too good of an opportunity to let pass.
That earned Al a scowl.
"What? It's true, every time we get Winry a gift Ichoose it. Your taste in jewelry is awful."
"Who ever said I was picking out a ring?" Ed glared daggers at Riza, wishing he could at least yell properly without getting in trouble with at least three different people at this table for doing so. Luck was clearly not on his side—unless, of course, she'd planned it like this just so she could do it. With that look on her face, he wouldn't be surprised. "She's like family and I told you that already! It would be like marrying my sister."
"Besides," Ed continued, deciding it was time to put someone else in the proverbial hot seat. His glare shifted from Riza to Roy, "at least I'm not old and unmarried."
Roy's gaze darkened, "Men with ambitions don't have time to get married, Fullmetal."
"Don't be an idiot! You can't be Fuhrer without a wife!"
"Fuhrer Grumman here isn't married, in case you haven't noticed!"
"He's a widower, it's completely different! At least the sexual tens—"
"Edward Elric."
That sounded like the tone his mother used when he'd dug himself into a very deep hole, and Ed shrunk in his chair from Riza's almost terrifying glare. "S...sorry, Colonel."
"So, we should be expecting invitations?" Rebecca chuckled, quick to diffuse the situation. Roy looked like he might fry Ed himself—but that was only if Riza didn't get to the kid first. "I'll need a save the date so I can clear my calendar! I have a feeling the Fuhrer here is going to keep me busy."
"You better send a save the date," Roy echoed, "I'm sure I'll have my hands full with the reconstruction efforts by the time you finally get the nerve to just ask the poor girl." He smirked as he got in one last jibe. He tried not to wince when Riza stomped on his foot for egging on the conversation.
Shirley sighed, glaring at Roy before looking apologetically at Ed. "It took my husband a good long time to get the courage to ask me to marry him. I always was the stronger-willed of the two of us, I think he was scared I'd turn him down!"
Olivier could imagine that, just as much as she could imagine that Shirley's comment would only make Edward propose to his mechanic all the sooner. This marriage conversation had gone on far too long for her tastes, though she could certainly turn the thought on her mind into a quiet remark in support of Edward's earlier accusations. "I imagine you'll be following your lame alchemist Eastward like the loyal puppy you are, Hawkeye?"
Riza nodded slightly, and if Olivier hadn't known to look for it she could've missed the slight flush on the woman's cheeks. "Yes ma'am. Where else would I go?"
"Asking that only supports my earlier hypothesis that you are a loyal puppy."
"I'm not following him around blindly. I have my reasons."
"Aw, come on, Riza, you set yourself up with that one," Rebecca quipped, hoping to nip further teasing in the bud. "I thought you were more attentive than that."
"I'm attentive enough to notice out of the corner of my eye that you've been staring at Jean all night, Rebecca."
Rebecca flushed a shade of crimson that Riza didn't think the woman had in her and quickly shut up.
"All right, enough marriage talk for the night!" Jean slammed his hands on the table, trying to discretely eye Rebecca as he did so. If they didn't stop this conversation soon, someone was going to get shot. And seeing as everyone had only just been discharged from the hospital, it was best to diffuse the tension now.
"I thought it would take a few more drinks before the teasing started," Heymans murmured, hoping the joke would do what Jean's outburst hadn't. A few quiet chuckles made their way across the table, and he released the tension in his shoulders. After all, if it had come down to violence, him being one of the few unscathed ones at the table meant he would have had to settle things. "I think all of you should let Jean here get married first, anyway. Now that he can keep a girl for more than a couple dates, that is."
"I thought we were done talking about marriage!"
"Just had to settle that, but now we are," Heymans agreed, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder.
"I hope all of the dinner conversation is this stimulating," Grumman commented.
Shirley glared, "Not toostimulating, seeing as most of you are supposed to be resting still. Not that anybody listens to my discharge instructions anymore."
"I'm starting to wish we all had," Riza said under her breath.
"I might not be able to pick you up anymore but I can still hear, Riza," Shirley replied, not even looking up from her glass of wine.
Grumman frowned. "No more chiding or scolding tonight! I expect everyone to be on their best behavior, or you'll miss the fireworks," he warned.
Olivier laughed. "As long as there aren't any celebratory bonfires. Hawkeye has a penchant for falling into them." Roy and Riza both blanched at her words, causing her to chuckle even more.
"Fuhrer, you aren't supplying the injured with alcohol, are you?" Shirley asked, eyeing Olivier.
"Me? Of courseI wouldn't," he laughed. Nervously.
Shirley sighed, realizing a bit too late that nearly every person at the table had—at the least—a glass of wine. "Nobody follows my instructions anymore. You're all on your own if you do something foolish. It's my night off, for pity's sake."
To Whom It May Concern,
Fuhrer Grumman has decided that joint training sessions will hereby be continued under his command. Joint training is the ideal way to prepare soldiers stationed in different locations of the country to work together when faced with a crisis.
As such, training will take place at Northern Headquarters in early January of the upcoming year. Joint training is mandatory. Unexcused absences will result in disciplinary action.
Please prepare your commands for joint training. Updates on which squadrons are expected to attend the first training session will be sent out shortly as the schedule is finalized.
Fuhrer's Aide
First Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina