Sicktember Day 21: Unlikely Caregiver
Word Count: 1836
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Alex Louis Armstrong, Olivier Mira Armstrong
Warning: Mentions of past torture
Summary: A younger Olivier is home healing from capture and torture at the hands of Drachma. Her relationship with her family is still broken. The last thing she wants, is to show weakness. So of course Alex finds her at a weak moment, and there's no way she can refuse his help.
Notes: This goes back to a headcanon I have that when she was young, perhaps a Warrant Officer, Olivier went undercover in Drachma. She stayed there for months, until she was found out. Once she was, she was captured, taken to a Drachman prison, and tortured for three days. She was pulled out by a team, but not before she had suffered severe injuries. She was sent back to Central as soon as she was stable enough to recover, and to the Armstrong Mansion. This took place before Ishval. Olivier is a young officer, Alex is in his first year since graduation, working towards his State Alchemist License. See Whumptober 2020 Day 5 for specifics on how Olivier was captured.

Unlikely Caregiver

Olivier paused, panting for breath as she pulled herself along the forest path. She still had her crutch, but she couldn't get herself up to use it. Perhaps if she could get to something that she could pull herself up on she could stand and hobble toward the edge of this planted forest on the family property, but—

She flinched as she heard dogs barking again and, while she knew in her head that they were just some of Strongine's rescues, kept safely pinned up until she could find homes for them, Olivier's heart jumped, and panic coursed through her.

These were the wrong kinds of trees. This was the wrong season. Those were the wrong kind of dogs. She was in the wrong condition. But it was still a forest. There were still dogs. She was still alone and trying to escape something.

Her heart beat faster, and she resumed her journey, trying to drag herself down the forest path. This wasn't Drachma. She wasn't being chased. There weren't dogs about to set upon her. She wasn't about to be captured and dragged off to a prison to be tortured. She was home, in her family's gardens, healing from torture in a Drachman prison.

She pushed on, reaching out with the arm that wasn't still healing from being broken to pull, and pushing with the unbroken leg to propel herself forward. Her back, still a mess of healing scars from whipping, protested, but they were healed enough that they weren't a detriment to her. Her abdomen, the muscles still healing from the surgeries they had to do to repair the damage to her lower abdominal organs from the deep stab wound she received, ached and protested, but the fear overruled any thoughts of further damage she might be doing. All she knew was that she had to get out of there. Her panic said to get out before Drachma got her again, and her rational side said to get out because it would help her calm down. She had one focus.

Reach. Push and pull. Reach. Push and pull. Reach. Push and pull. Reach—

"Olivier?"

Her head snapped up, panic threatening to clog her throat again, her hand going to her sword, but she pushed the panic down as best she could. Standing on the path before her was her brother, looking both concerned and perplexed. He had stopped, not coming any closer to her, and he appeared to be waiting for something.

"…Alex," she said, and it seemed to be what he was looking for.

He made his way over to her, the concern in his expression overriding everything else. "Olivier, are you alright? What happened?"

Mentally, Olivier cursed. She didn't want him to find her here like this. She didn't want anyone to find her here like this, but especially not him.

She made no secret of the fact that she resented her brother. Oh, as children she had watched over him as she had all of her siblings. It was her duty as eldest. But she had always resented the way that just him being born a male had stripped her of her birthright, of the inheritance she deserved. She had been kinder when he was younger and didn't understand. But as he grew older, she had made sure that he understood.

"I just fell," she said. "I'm f—"

A dog barked again, and it sounded closer. The panic surged again.

Understanding seemed to light in his eyes, and he knelt before her, still in uniform from his day of work. "Olivier, how can I help you?"

His eyes and voice were soft, kind-hearted, and she wanted to curse at him, just to see if it would toughen him up a bit, but she knew that would just be a waste of breath and words and wouldn't help her at all. "…Help me up. I need to get out of here."

"Of course," He nodded, and reached out with strong, gentle hands to help her stand. He helped her to her feet, allowed her to lean on him to get her balance back, handed her the crutch, and then let her go, although he stayed close to her side.

Oliver said nothing. She just focused on walking enough to get out of here. Bad enough that he had found her like that. It would be worse if he saw her panicking more. He, for his part didn't say anything, just walked beside her.

They finally emerged from the forest, which was like a breath of fresh air. Olivier, energy spent, headed straight for a bench that was nearby. She hobbled to it, practically falling down into it. Alex followed her, sitting beside her. He didn't say anything and neither did she, not for a long time.

Finally, though, he spoke up. "Are you alright, Sister?" he asked her.

Her default reaction was to say "Of course!" but she found it stuck in her throat. "…I need some water," she said instead, and he nodded.

"I'll go fetch some," he said, and got up without complaint.

It left Olivier there, alone on the bench, and she tried to calm herself down. But her brain was going, and the forest was right there, and she could still hear the dogs. It felt like everything was closing in on her no matter what she said or did. It was getting closer, closer, and then it would take her and deliver her back into his hands and she didn't think she could do that again. She could feel the cold of the prison, taste the blood and iron in the air, feel the hands setting her up for more torture, the touches, the comments, then—

"Olivier?"

Her head jerked up again, and this time, she couldn't quite hide the panic she was feeling. Alex was looking down at her with concern, but she couldn't respond to him. She almost wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't.

He set the water he had down, and reached out to her, taking her hands in his. They were large and warm and strong.

"Olivier," he said. "Why don't we get you back to the mansion? We can take some tea there."

Shakily, she nodded her head, and he took that as leave to help her up. She let him, although she didn't want him to have to help her. But she needed the support, and she hated it.

Slowly they made their way back to the entrance to the garden. The further away from the forest and the dogs she got, the less panicked she felt. Instead, she started to feel disconnected from everything, and she wasn't quite sure how to parse it, nor did she have the energy to.

Instead, they walked to the entrance of the gardens. A tea service was already there, no doubt thanks to her brother and his thoughtfulness. He helped her sit down, poured her some tea, pressed something sweet into her hands. He talked about Catherine and her latest escapades. And all the while, he kept concerned eyes on Olivier.

Eventually, she felt as if she were back to herself, although she was very tired and in pain at that point.

"Enough, Alex," she said. "I don't need to hear any more of your prattling."

He stopped. "Of course, Sister. What do you need?"

Normally she would have replied with something sarcastic, or even slightly insulting. But tonight she was too tired to think. "… Rest," she finally said.

He nodded and stood up. "Then allow me to escort you to your rooms."

She was too tired to argue. "Fine. Whatever." She went to stand as well and made it partway up before her good leg gave out under her and she started to fall.

"Sister!" Alex was right there, catching her, and she had to lean on him for a moment before she fought back.

"I'm fine, I just—" she tried taking her own weight back, and she started to fall again. She cursed out loud.

"Please, Olivier, let me help you," Alex said.

She didn't like it, but she didn't see that she had a choice. "Fine."

He shifted her weight around, letting most of it rest on him, and kept a gentle hand on her waist, just in case she couldn't handle walking like this. Olivier hated it, but it was better than being carried, and Alex, resent for him or not, was preferable to the rest of her family.

Slowly, they made their way back to her rooms. Alex practically taking all of her weight by the time they got there. She was exhausted, and she collapsed onto the small settee that was in her suite. Alex helped her onto it, and then disappeared further into her rooms. She had no idea what he was doing, but she found that she didn't care at this moment.

It was only a few minutes later when he returned with a soft nightgown for her. "I took the liberty of going head and turning down you bed," he said. "You've also a glass of water on your nightstand."

She blinked at him, then with great effort reached out and took the nightgown from him. He dutifully left the room, after making sure that no one else would be accidently barging in on her, and slowly she changed. When she was finished, he came back and helped her to her bed, making sure that she was settled in. After that, he set about cleaning up her clothes and straightening her rooms before returning to her side.

He placed her sword against the nightstand, within reach, the same sword that was supposed to be his, as heir, that she had fought for and won, that meant so much to her. "If you have need of nothing else at the moment, Olivier, I'll take my leave of you. But if you need me, please, let me know."

"Whatever, Alex. Leave me be. I'm tried." Her eyes were still looking at her sword.

He nodded. "As you wish, Sister."

He left her suite, making sure that the lights were off and low, and Olivier found herself drifting off to sleep as she stared at her sword hilt. She couldn't help but think about her brother.

She still resented him and what he took from her. She resented him not standing up to their father more and instead speaking up for the traditions. He was soft-hearted, which would cost him. And he expressed his emotions too freely. But he was a good man. He cared about his family. He was principled. He was strong and skilled. She could respect that, at least. She still didn't think that he deserved to be the heir by virtue of being male alone, but at least he was a good man. There was something to be said for that.

Who knew? If he proved his mettle in the military, perhaps one day they could reach a truce.