"Just for the record, I don't believe in talking to graves. It's stupid and sentimental, and anyone who actually believes that they can communicate with a dead person should check themselves into an asylum straightaway." Olivier Milla Armstrong glared at the white marble headstone, which, predictably, did not speak up in dispute.
"And in case anyone had been planning on pointing it out, I'm not being a hypocrite. The only reason I'm here is because everyone has been insisting and I was in the area today, so I figured I might as well stop by." She stopped, feeling awkward and rather irritated at herself for feeling awkward. "So…I'm supposed to talk to you." This was ridiculous! How the hell was she supposed to have a conversation with someone who wasn't there? She nearly turned around and left then, but the images of her comrades appeared before her eyes. Edward would roll his eyes, and Alphonse would give her that disappointed look that just made you want to crawl in a hole and hide, and Mustang would laugh and say Aw, the General doesn't want us to see her crying...
It would be a cold day in hell before Major-General Olivier Milla Armstrong took Roy Mustang's ridicule, imagined or no. She sighed and resigned herself to an uncomfortable time.
"Well," she began hesitantly, "Everyone's doing all right, healing up from the battle. Alphonse is back in his body. He looks almost normal…that is," she amended, "he at least looks more like a very, very thin person rather than a skeleton with hair. But I suppose you never got to see him when he looked like that anyway." Shit. She'd almost managed to forget that she was talking to a grave just then. Oh, well, keep going… "He's still in the hospital though. That little Xingese girl practically lives in his room; won't leave him alone for a second. It's like she's afraid he's going to disappear…which, given his history, might not be too improbable." The headstone sat silently, seeming to be waiting for more news.
"That would probably be your cue to ask 'What about Edward?'" Olivier filled in. "I hardly recognize the little jerk. I swear he's grown two inches since last month. He still has automail, though," she added, flexing her own fingers, "the arm, at least. He said something about needing to give something up to get him and Al out of…wherever they were, some gate or something?…safely. Alphonse was upset when he found out. He would have tried to beat Fullmetal up, but I doubt he has the strength to swat a fly in his present state.
They've called in that girl, Winry, to fix up Edward's automail, but it seems like she's attached to the shrimp at the hip. Whenever they're not with Al, they're sitting around making doe eyes at each other…" The general gave a disgusted snort.
"Ahh, what the hell am I saying? First Alphonse and Rentanjutsu-girl, now Fullmetal and his mechanic! Good god, I sound like Katharine." She eyed the headstone.
"Anyway…things have been hectic. I've been running around trying to keep the country from getting torn apart or conquered while the idiot council is busy panicking that their plans for immortality and whatnot were ruined. It's funny, though," she mused, "You wouldn't think a womanizing bastard like Mustang would be particularly good in any kind of major leadership role, but it seems like he's going to be the guy in charge. You should see all the generals cower in front of him whenever he's around." Olivier gave a thin, derisive smile. "We'll just see how long that lasts when he starts trying to change this country for real." Her smile faded. "But I'll leave that to him. After all, Drachma's still up there, and Briggs is just sitting there without her snow queen to protect her. I should be getting home." Olivier paused. "This is where you'd say, 'Briggs can wait, your family is here in Central, you should stay!' I would, but I don't think we're going to be having much fun family bonding time at the moment." Unexpectedly, her distant expression softened as she looked at the grave.
"Everyone cried at your funeral, you know," she muttered, as if afraid someone would hear her. "Everyone. Hell, even I cried, and I was the one who avenged you too." She gave a rough sort of cough. "That bastard...that monster, Sloth, thought he could fuck with an Armstrong, huh? He was wrong. I chopped him up until there was nothing left of him to regenerate." Olivier frowned. "That was probably overkill. I guess you wouldn't have liked that. You were always the gentleman. Too good for your own good, I guess."
In the following silence, an observer could have heard Olivier sniffle a little before clearing her throat loudly and turning away from the grave, pulling out a handkerchief and grumbling something like "Damn allergies."
"I should get going," she said finally. "It's almost three, and Mustang wanted me to be at the meeting with the PM of Aerugo—the guy wants to negotiate a cease-fire, can you believe it? After the bastards have been nibbling at our borders for god knows how long." She actually laughed. "I know. Busy, busy, busy. I'll never make anyone a wife like this—that's what you'd say."
Olivier looked down at the object in her hand as if just remembering it was there. "Oh, yeah. I brought you flowers." She set the bouquet down at the base of the headstone. "They're freesias. Someone told me they stand for 'spirit.' Suits you." Turning from the grave, she looked over her shoulder. "Mother and Katharine are coming to visit sometime this week. I'm sure they'll be better company than me." Finally, she set off down the hill towards the entrance of the cemetery. "See you around, little brother."
Perhaps it was a trick of her eyes, but the headstone seemed to sparkle in the afternoon sunlight.
(A/N: I know. This is weird, and not very good, but it's been bugging me for a little while so I tried.)