On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me

Nine Ladies Dancing

"Aunt Greit and Aunt Isobel, meet my friend Edward Elric," Alphonse introduced with a flourish, and watched his friend give a slight bow, which his aunts found charming of course. Edward was in rare form that night, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright, an entirely different vision from the boy who had spent the two-day train ride brooding.

My house is pretty small, Alphonse had warned him, and it'll seem even smaller with all the family around. It's gonna be us against the women.

Your mother and your grandmother, right? Ed had ventured, but Al had shaken his head with a slight laugh,

Oh no, he said with amusement. It's Christmas. They'll all be there.

Ed had raised his eyebrows, inquiring, all?

Al had nodded firmly. Nine of them, he had told his friend.

"Pleased to meet you," Edward said, and Alphonse watched his two aunts exchange a glance that was surely a silent communication between sisters. Was it Ed's accent they were wondering about, where he was from? Was it the fact that he did not shake their hands?

"Katya and Tanya are Aunt Isobel's daughters," Al continued, pointing out the two fair-haired, blue eyed girls on the other side of the room helping to set the table. "They're ten and fourteen, I think," he added, waving to the girls. Ed followed suit, and the older girl blushed and ducked away. "Aunt Deborah and Aunt Rosa are coming later this afternoon. Aunt Rosa is actually my great aunt, and Deborah is my mother's second cousin. Confused yet?" he asked with a grin.

Ed just shrugged. "Who's number nine?" he asked his friend.

"Nine?" Al echoed, puzzled.

Ed raised his eyebrows. "You said nine women. I've only counted eight."

Al frowned for a moment, and his two aunts laughed at him. "Oh Alphonse," one of them chuckled, Aunt Greit, the darker-haired one. "This is why you brought your friend? Because you felt out numbered?"

Aunt Isobel ruffled her nephew's hair, and Al pretended to look irritated with her. "Can you blame me?" he countered.

Just then there was a bustling at the door and another round of hugging and kissing amongst Alphonse and his various family members, and introductions for Ed. A tall, dark haired woman several years older than Ed was introduced to him as "Number Nine."

"This is Stephanie, she's my cousin, I think," Al told him, still laughing.

Her eyes were blue, but a deeper blue than Al's. "You think?" Ed asked, one eyebrow quirking up, and the woman paused in unwinding her long, multi-striped scarf to give Al a light shove on his shoulder.

"Yeah, we're related somehow, I guess we're cousins," she said merrily. "Al, where's your mother? In the kitchen?"

Al nodded, grinning. "You try getting her to step out of it for even one minute," he challenged.

Stephanie strode quickly to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "It's nice to meet you, Ed," as she disappeared inside the heavenly-smelling room.

"My mother," Alphonse told him, his tone suggesting that the information was a great secret, "is a perfectionist when it comes to food."

Ed's grin widened. "That's excellent," he said.

It was true, as Al had told him, the house was small, but to Ed it didn't seem so much crowded as it did full. He had feared, upon first agreeing to join Alphonse in Hirligen for Christmas, that Al's mother might be a replica of his own, and he had been nervous and withdrawn though the entire train ride. His worries, however, were unfounded. Mrs. Heiderich, though a mother through and through who scolded them both for not bundling up enough for their walk from the train station in the snow, was entirely unique in every way. In his relief, Edward did not notice the way she had stared at him, open mouthed, before smiling warmly at his old-fashioned bow and welcoming him into her home.

"Edward?"

He looked up, startled, not even having realized that he had been lost in thought for who knows how long. Alphonse was coming down the stairs, a huge glass tureen in his arms and disappeared into the kitchen with it. Mrs. Heiderich stood above Ed, holding a book of matches out to him. "Would you mind lighting the candles for me?" she asked. "It's starting to get dark, and dinner is almost ready."

Ed looked around, nodding slowly, and rose from the comfortable chair, taking the matches from her.

"There's some on the table," she instructed, "and then there's one in each window, and there's some on the mantle in the living room," she told him.

"Sure," he said distantly. "I'd be glad to." He flipped the book open, pressing it into his false hand and striking a match quickly with his flesh one. Careful not to burn himself, or to let any wax drip onto the tablecloth or the window sills, he moved around the room lighting them one by one

so lost children can find their way home

when he finished he found a warm mug of some sort of spiced drink pressed into his hand by one of Al's giggling cousins, and almost let the fragrant steam fool his brain into believing that he belonged in this small, full house with his friend not his brother his friend.

Christmas dinner was, as Al promised, amazing, and Ed listened with interest to the reminiscences of previous holidays when Al's father had been alive, the year that the Romanian relatives had visited, the year of the incredible snowstorm when everyone had spent the night, and the year the Heiderichs had spent Christmas in Frankfurt with Cousin Stephanie's parents and Al had fallen asleep at the opera. Al's family had not been without tragedy, Ed knew, after all, Germany had been through the Great War, and had lost, but tragedy had not destroyed this family.

Al had looked at him curiously when Ed had questioned him about the religious meaning of Christmas, skeptical of his friend's ignorance. This "Christianity" that was so prevalent in this world was entirely foreign to him, except for the way they labeled their years Anno Domini. It seemed vaguely familiar to him, although he couldn't seem to place where. Haltingly, Al had told him the story of a tiny baby who had come to save the world from sin.

It was a nice story, Ed supposed. Perhaps this world was so full of horrors that people needed to believe there was some kind of salvation in order to continue living. Christmas in Amestris, if it ever had them, had completely lost its religious roots, as far as Ed could tell. Christmas was family, something he had been years without something he might always be without because Al's family was not his family and Al's home was not his home and for this one night he allowed himself to feel the contentment he had been denied all these years.

After the meal Mrs. Heiderich and the two aunts huddled around the old piano, playing and singing carols that had begun to be familiar even to Ed, and he sat nibbling on a second slice of pie and drinking warm cider. He was about to prop his foot up on the coffee table, but Al, plopping down next to him, had beat him to it, and his mother had looked away from the piano for just an instant to shoot him a disapproving gaze and he immediately sat upright.

The two younger cousins had joined in the caroling, singing louder and with even more enthusiasm after a round of applause from the older relatives, and Al and Stephanie had gotten into an equally loud discussion having something to do with Universities. Al had always seemed the quiet sort, but Stephanie was by far the loudest family member and Ed supposed Al felt the need to be equally loud just to be heard.

Eventually the family tired of creating their own music and Al's grandmother put on the gramophone, prompting the two younger cousins, Katya and Tanya, to begin dancing comically around the room in sweeping, lopsided circles. Al got up to refill his and Ed's mugs with cider and Ed and Stephanie watched with amusement as the girls began to dance more seriously, trying to mirror each other's steps like a real waltz.

The girls caught Ed watching, and giggled again, shoving at each other and stepping on one another's feet, and finally the older girl (Ed couldn't remember if it was Katya or Tanya) came to stand in front of him. "Do you want to dance with us?" she asked shyly.

Ed blushed. "No thanks," he mumbled, offering a smile instead.

"She thinks you're cute!" the younger girl piped up, and Stephanie laughed at the panicked expression that spread over his face. "Come on," the younger girl added, jumping up and down, "Come dance."

Al returned to his spot on the couch, handing Ed a full mug and exchanged amused glances with his oldest cousin.

Ed set the mug down and leaned back into the couch, flipping his ponytail to lay across his shoulder. "Sorry," he said with half a smirk, "I don't dance, why don't you ask Al?"

"Eeeewww," the girls announced in unison.

"Hey!" Al protested.

Ed just shrugged. "Well, then dance by yourselves again," he suggested, picking up his mug and taking a gulp of the spiced drink. "You seemed to be doing pretty well."

"I could teach you to dance," the first girl offered in the same shy voice.

Ed set his mug down again, deciding to end the exchange once and for all. "I can't dance because I only have one leg," he said firmly. "But Al," he added, gesturing to his friend, "I'm sure, is an excellent dancer."

"I'm sorry," the girl whispered. "I didn't know."

Ed just shrugged again. "It's okay," he assured her. "Don't worry about it."

"But you have two legs!" the youngest girl insisted, pointing at his feet.

He raised his eyebrows and leaned down to lift his pant leg, showing them the wood above his sock. "Looks can be deceiving," he told them with a smirk. "Now go bother Al."

"Al-" they began, but Al was standing up.

"I'm going to dance with my mother," he said quietly, and the girls fell silent. The music on the gramophone had changed, and Ed watched Al hold his hand out to his mother and watched her face light up as she rose and took it.

They moved gracefully around the room, and Stephanie sighed beside him. "Al's such a sweet boy," she said, her eyes on them as well. Eventually she turned her attention back to Ed. "So, were you a soldier?" she asked politely.

"Huh?" he said, dragging his attention away from Al. "Oh, you mean my leg. No, I wasn't," he told her.

She sighed again. "My fiancée fought in the Great War," she said, looking down, twisting a ring he had not noticed before. "He died in it, just like Al's father, just like my brothers." She looked back to Al and his mother dancing. "Al looks so much like his father," she said almost wistfully. "His eyes, and his expressions, too." Then she turned back to him, her tone changing abruptly. "You know who you look like?" she said suddenly.

Ed quirked an eyebrow. "Who?" he inquired, because he had to say something, even though he was dreading the answer.

"You look like Al's brother. His name was Edward too, isn't that strange?" The song had ended just as she spoke, and the room fell silent. Ed wanted to sink into the couch, to disappear, but every eye was now on him. "Doesn't he look like Ed?" Stephanie asked loudly.

The aunts were nodding slowly, and Alphonse was looking at him strangely.

"They say everyone has a twin out there somewhere," Stephanie continued, her voice echoing through the silence. "What do you think are the chances that we've actually found one?"

Ed felt the back of his neck begin to prickle, as if he really was the ghost the family was now seeing him as. "That is a pretty strange coincidence," he agreed, trying to make his voice light, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. His and Al's eyes locked from across the room, and he knew he was thinking of the day they had met, how they had already known the other's name before they had even spoken.

Stephanie stood, crossing the room to the gramophone to change the disc. "It's too quiet in here," she announced, grabbing the hand of the youngest cousin. "Come on, I'll dance with you, I'm an excellent dancer."

Eight maids a-Milking

Seven swans a-Swimming

Six geese a-Laying

Five golden rings

Four calling birds

Three French hens

Two turtledoves

And a partridge in a pear tree