A/N: So we can has Miles category! Yay! (Now, do we or do we not pass the Buc?) I don't own them, otherwise I could get my muses to line up in an orderly fashion and not start six fics at once, including a second chapter to what was supposed to be a completed one-shot.
She knew, and she knew they knew she knew, ever since the unpleasantness with the early morning shower. Still, the general was willing to overlook certain minor infractions as long as they could behave professionally in public. There were certain benefits to being in charge of requisitioning the medical supplies, including birth control, and paying close attention to the habits and customs of Olivia Armstrong and her men, especially the new captain working closely with her and recently promoted Major Miles, after all. It was just part of their job, as the doctor was quite happy to inform her. They still refused to confirm anything. No point to it; they'd chosen to break frat law and it was only fair to offer General Armstrong plausible deniability if she needed it.
When Armstrong did get a semi-public confession out of Dr. Wendle, it was about cigarettes.
"You're quitting?" The general had to replay the scene in her head and reexamine the evidence in front of her to be sure. She thought she'd just seen Sherry Wendle push away a pack of her favorite brand. Without even attempting to open it. She had barely even glanced at the thank-you card attached to it, and Armstrong knew they came from a trustworthy source. Captain Buccaneer had been here long enough to know better than to attempt to prank the doc when it came to her first cigarette of the morning, even if it was past ten o'clock.
"I'm cutting back. Unless Miles asks, then I'm only quitting temporarily." Sherry gnawed on a pen cap, not even seeming to realize she'd brought it to her lips. Food cravings, upset stomach, sudden mood swings, weight gain, restlessness… Armstrong didn't need to be a doctor to recognize withdrawal symptoms.
"So Mr. Clean Living's finally gotten to you," the general observed bemusedly. The shorter woman just laughed. "How long's the bet?"
"Seven months, twenty-seven days, ten hours, and twenty… three more minutes," Wendle confirmed, checking her watch. "Roughly."
"Roughly," Armstrong echoed her, sitting down.
Wendle automatically moved to pour coffee. "There's an early escape clause, of course." The taller woman shook her head when the doctor offered her a mug.
"Under what conditions?" The general had the unsettling feeling that she knew where this conversation was headed, and she didn't know how it could end without Briggs requiring another physician. Damn it, she liked the little firebrand, and this would probably hurt Miles, as well, and couldn't her people possibly act like adults instead of horny teenagers, for once?
Sherry took the pen out of her mouth, setting it deliberately next to the unopened pack. "You look like you already know." The smaller woman squared up as if for a fight, but at least she wasn't about to lie. "This wasn't an accident, sir. We know we're risking dishonorable discharges, but I feel the risks of not trying now are worse than having to walk away from our positions with all we've learned from Briggs. Major Miles agreed with me."
Of course it had been intentional. If Captain Buccaneer was capable of preventing mistakes, surely two bears who had survived the fortress for at least three years each would be wise enough to know how to take proper precautions. "You wouldn't be threatening a superior officer with blackmail during wartime, would you, Dr. Wendle?" Armstrong raised an eyebrow, keeping her tone at just the level of softness that warned of the sharp ice beneath.
"Of course not." The light reflected off the doctor's large round glasses, temporarily obscuring her eyes as she lowered her head in mulish acknowledgement. "We know each other too well for that. Sir," Sherry Wendle added a moment too late for respect. General Armstrong had gotten used to the more informal "ma'am" from her old guard, or even the odd jocular "Livvy" if they'd been out drinking, but Sherry had overstepped her limits. She was just raring for a confrontation, wasn't she?
Armstrong decided to offer her a wake-up call before things escalated any further. The little doctor was scared and the general was frustrated, but they didn't need to turn this into an immediate, violent solution to the growing issue. "You know me very well, Wendle. I don't reinforce the pointless shit that they might insist upon in Central, but my soldiers need to survive. I depend upon strong individuals to strengthen my army." She leaned forward, aware of the scabbard strap hanging across her shoulder. "Hate to see you weaken yourself."
"You know there's nothing more dangerous up north than a mama bear." Sherry sighed and dropped her eyes to the unclaimed cup of coffee. "We've had enough fur-brained cubs come through here. We can handle one more."
"I can't have you in hibernation in the meantime." General Armstrong wanted to believe her, but Sherry Wendle could hardly do this on her own. Physician, heal thyself, Armstrong quoted mirthlessly in her head as a darker set of blue eyes met her own once more.
Well, of course, she hadn't done it entirely on her own so far, either. Fuck, Armstrong was going to have to have a very intense conversation with her aide, as well. Depending on how this one went, the discussion with Miles could go long enough for him to talk very quickly or would shortly at least prevent a repeat performance.
Sherry bit her lip before pulling back into formal at-ease. Did she stick her hips forward as she did so, or was it just the general's imagination? "I have saved up my leave, sir. I've even contacted a few specialists who could cover for me during that time."
"They won't be you," Armstrong spoke out of what she was half-convinced was an entirely misplaced sense of loyalty.
"So you'd better stay out of trouble for two to three months, starting in June." There it was, spitfire Sherry. "I've got another border to defend." She wasn't stupid enough to follow that up with a hand to her abdomen, though she did soften her voice on the final sentence, much to the general's muted irritation.
"But why the hell are you trying now? There's no way that two people" - three, she corrected mentally - "could change what's happening down south. Briggs has the best, but there are limits to the amount of miracles we can perform."
"We're not looking for a miracle. Our kids will likely never see Ishval, but they'll know that they survived its fall. The history won't be complete, but it'll be unbroken."
Armstrong warily noted the plural. "Kids?"
"There's just one now, but I have a favor to request, ma'am." Sherry paused, reaching for her pen. Armstrong finally took note of the new ring. It was hanging from her dog tags, not unusual for married soldiers who didn't want to risk chilblains. "Would you mind officiating?"
"Just so we're clear: you're explaining it to Central if they ask."