There was a certain wing of the Armstrong mansion that was well known for its "sleepy effect," something Olivier knew all too well and despised with a passion. When she was at Briggs, she could easily run eight miles, do fifty push-ups, sit-ups and pull-ups each; lift two hundred pound weights and hold it for three minutes, and run on four hours of sleep and two cups of coffee a day with no problem. When she was at home, getting up from the couch felt like an effort. Something about the atmosphere of this part of the building just tuckered you out. The drab décor, antique furniture, and lack of windows, most likely.
Olivier yawned, wondering if in her case, fatigue was an early symptom of what was soon to come. She lay stretched out on her stomach on the sofa and was actually having to force herself to keep her eyes open, not wanting to waste the day and night by falling asleep so early. Though sadly there wasn't much else for her to do. The military refused her so much as a single sheet of paperwork, and she couldn't travel or do anything intense while pregnant, so up to this point she'd mostly been going for long walks (the only exercise she was allowed) and sharpening her mind. She'd gone to the Central Public Library almost every day and stayed until closing time, reading books on military strategies and weaponry and taking notes. And on weekends when the library was closed she'd been holed up in her room or at a café, exercising her brain with more books, the newspaper, letters to Miles about Ishval, puzzles, number games, and occasionally sketching, which she hadn't done in years but thought might be a handy skill to know in case she needed to draw up blueprints or describe a missing soldier.
The only reason she was back there now, in an unused parlor-type room that had grown a bit dusty, was to obtain some peace and quiet from her boisterous, overly affectionate family. In fact, that was part of the reason she'd been going out so frequently. Another two weeks had come and gone since Amue had returned home, and time was passing painfully slowly. Olivier had gone apartment searching one weekend but hadn't had any luck. They were all dirty, expensive, ugly, unfurnished, smelled bad, needed repairs, or weren't practical. She had wanted to find one close to the hospital just in case anything went wrong or she happened to go into labor in the middle of the night, but no dice. At this point she was thinking she might as well stay in the mansion; her family was begging her to and she would certainly be better cared for and better fed. Plus it would save money, money that could be used to move along the Ishval Restoration.
It was Sunday, which meant the library was closed, and it was so unbearably hot outside that even she wasn't willing to venture outdoors. Olivier could handle all kinds of cold, but stick her in the boiling summer sun and she'd melt like butter. She knew she'd be a miserable wreck if she ever did get to Ishval, which was the main reason why she had mostly supported it monetarily up to this point.
"I'm so bored," she mumbled. "And I always thought hell would freeze over before I ever said that. I can't even remember what I used to do before I worked at Briggs."
"Well, I do." Olivier looked up and saw her mother standing in the doorway, an amused expression on her face. "Hello, stranger. I thought I'd find you here. Looking for more ways to avoid us?"
No, I like loafing around in dusty parlor rooms that can also be used as sedatives. I do it all the time. But this was her mother, so Olivier restrained herself.
"I'm not avoiding you all, I just don't like sitting around the house. I have to do something productive."
Josephine took a tentative step into the room and immediately yawned. "This place hasn't changed at all. It's still just as drowsy as ever. I'm surprised you're still awake."
"I may not be for much longer," Olivier mumbled, lowering her head back onto the throw pillow. "I remember when I housed all of my men in the mansion, I forbade them from ever going near this place. They all thought it was some secret lair filled with hidden treasures, but the reality is I knew the minute any of them set foot in here, all the energy would be zapped right out of them."
Josephine nodded. "That was wise. The only time I can ever remember spending time here was when I was heavily pregnant, because I had trouble sleeping. But this room worked like magic. Not even the maids were brave enough to follow me." She touched Olivier's arm. "A word of advice from your dear old mother: enjoy sleeping on your stomach while you still can."
"I didn't even think about that part," Olivier said, scowling. "That'll be hell. I can never fall asleep on my back or side."
"I know, you've slept on your stomach every night since you were a baby."
"I have having nothing else to do but sleep," Olivier complained. "At Briggs I was busy every moment, and now I hardly know what to do with myself."
"Do you want to know what you used to do before you became so active in the military? And before you decided you wanted nothing more to do with us?" Josephine's mouth was frowning but her eyes were smiling. She sat on the coffee table next to the sofa and pushed Olivier's hair back.
Olivier rarely thought of life before Briggs, so it took her a minute to answer. "Lessons mostly, if memory serves me correctly. Lessons and exercises. I was only fourteen when I started training and learning how to use the sword."
"But you do remember what you and your brother and sisters did for fun, right?"
"Wrestled and played outside. That was when we were small."
Josephine sighed. "You really have forgotten, haven't you? The five of you used to sing and dance."
Olivier groaned. "Oh, don't remind me. I shouldn't have wasted my time with that."
"Why not? You used to love it. And so did they. That was the one thing you all did so well, such lovely voices! And you were a promising and talented tap dancer, we were all so sad when you gave it up."
Olivier shook her head, cringing a little at the thought of doing something so frivolous. "Singing and dancing serve no purpose to society. I don't know why we kept it up for so many years."
"Oh, you're wrong, Olivier. Don't you remember when you sang your two solos? You moved the whole audience to tears. Including us."
Olivier rolled her eyes. "My singing is nothing special. And even if I wanted to pick it up again, I haven't opened my mouth to sing one word in years."
Josephine lowered her eyes. "That's such a shame. I remember when you used to sing all the time. In the shower, during training, while you studied, in the car. You couldn't go a day without it, and you had such a beautiful voice. I never could understand why you suddenly stopped."
Because after my voice matured and got better, everybody wanted me to sing on demand, whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, for as long as they wanted. Because every time we had company, you and Father tried to show me off. That was when it stopped being fun and became a chore.
Olivier stretched, trying to wake up. "The others are better than I am anyway. Amue and Catherine can hit higher notes than me."
"They take care better care of their voices, my dear." Josephine arched an eyebrow. "They listen to their mother."
"Humph. It can't be helped that my job requires me to yell at incompetent soldiers."
"True, but you could help the fact that whenever you performed on stage, you belted as long and loud and high as you could, even when it strained your vocal cords."
"That's what mezzo-sopranos are supposed to do," Olivier growled.
"There she is!" Olivier and Josephine turned to see the rest of the family squeeze into the tiny parlor room and crowd around them, bouncing a little. "Did you tell her yet?"
"Tell me what?" Olivier bolted upright, weariness gone.
"You remember how we said that we should do something to celebrate the fact that the whole family is together again?" Alex asked.
Olivier narrowed her eyes. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I don't like parties."
"Not a party, Sister," Amue corrected her. "We thought of something much better!"
"Now I'm terrified," Olivier said. "What hare-brained scheme did all of you come up with?"
They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. "We're bringing back the Armstrong Five!" they cheered.
Olivier clenched her teeth and gave them her most fearsome glare, shaking her head slowly. "No. Definitely not."
"Aw, come on, it was so much fun!" Strongine whined.
"You liked it too, I know you did," Amue told her.
"Maybe when I was much younger, but now I have a reputation to uphold."
"What we were thinking, Olivier," Philip rumbled. "Is that we could have a charity benefit concert. And all the proceeds would go toward supporting Ishval. The Armstrong Five would perform some numbers, we could hire an orchestra to accompany all of you, Catherine could play her piano solo-"
"And you could tap dance like you used to!" Amue burst out. "I think we could generate a lot of money, especially if people know it's for a good cause."
"It's a nice thought, but I'm not performing," Olivier insisted. "Besides, I'm sure I can't dance in my condition."
"You could tap dance and be perfectly fine. At least while you're in your first trimester," Josephine said.
"I don't care, it's not happening." Olivier folded her arms.
"But Sister, we can't do it without you!" Alex begged. "You're the best dancer we have." He gestured to the girls. "Between the four of us, we've got the high notes, the low notes, and the harmonies, but we still need someone to sing the melody and the middle notes. You're the only one who can do it."
"I'm sure between Strongine's alto and Catherine's soprano, you could work something out."
"No we can't. It's too low for me and too high for her," Catherine argued.
"Consider Olivier, don't you wish to support Ishval in any way you can?" Philip asked.
Olivier wanted to smack him. How dare he try to emotionally manipulate her like that? "Of course I do, but not by doing something so idiotic! You really think me performing will make that much of a difference?"
"Yes!" they all yelled. Olivier was taken aback by the forcefulness of their response.
"Like you said, you have a reputation. Do you know how many people would pay money to see General Armstrong, the Queen of Briggs, sing and dance onstage?" Catherine teased.
"People would flock from all over the country to see it," Amue added.
"Oh great," Olivier said. "Just what I need." Then everyone at work will want me to sing too. She'd never be taken seriously again.
"Well, you did say you were bored," Josephine reminded her. "And this would certainly give you something to do."
"I'm not singing," Olivier repeated. "The rest of you do what you like, but leave me out of it. I'm not making a fool out of myself by dancing to some silly music onstage."
"But we can't be the Armstrong Five without you!" Amue cried.
"You can be the Armstrong Four then. You've got a bass, an alto, a soprano, and an operetta. That's good enough."
"Pleeeeassse? We need a mezzo-soprano too or we won't sound right," Strongine begged.
"It's like riding a bike, you'll pick it up again in no time," Catherine said.
Olivier threw a cushion at her. "For the last time, no!"
"Well, it's not like you have anything better to do," Catherine said, catching the cushion and rolling her eyes.
The last time someone said that, I got pregnant with the spawn of a man I hate.
"Olivier, you'll have plenty of time to sit around and do nothing while you're in your second and third trimester. You should enjoy being active while you still can," Philip told her.
"We'll even let you pick the songs," Amue promised.
"None of you understand. We're not children anymore," Olivier said. "That stuff may have been cute then, but now we're grown adults. Alex may not care about his reputation in the military, but I care about mine."
"That's funny, I always thought you said you didn't care what people thought about you," Josephine reminded her.
"Don't twist my words, Mother. You know what I mean."
Josephine folded her arms. "What exactly is the problem? Are you afraid?"
"Just because we're adults, that doesn't mean we can't be just as good as we were," Strongine said. "If anything, our voices have only gotten better."
Olivier was halfway tempted to storm out of the room, but she knew they would only follow her. "Just because our silly little sibling music act had a good run in community theaters and clubs when we were young, that doesn't mean anyone will want to see us now."
"They will if you're there," Amue said. "You're amazing onstage." And there were those blasted puppy eyes of hers.
"How about this?" Josephine offered. "We'll compromise. All five of you practice together for a week, and then if Olivier still doesn't feel up to it, we won't do it. And if she does, we'll go ahead and make the arrangements."
"That sounds grand! What do you say, dear?" Now it was Philip's turn to make puppy eyes.
"Tch. If it'll get you all off my back, I'll go along for a week." On second thought, maybe a dirty, impractical apartment wouldn't be so bad.
"Oh thank you Sister!" Amue, Strongine, and Alex leapt for her before she could stop them, knocking her backwards onto the sofa so that she lay flat on her back. This time it was Strongine's cleavage in her face (though thankfully her shirt covered her), and Alex and Amue were sprawled out on top of her with their arms outstretched.
"Get off!" Olivier croaked, but she was muffled under the three huge bodies piled on top of her. "I can't breathe!"
"Oh my, this room is-" Strongine yawned. "Awfully sleepy, isn't it? I didn't even notice it until now…night-night."
"Strongine." Olivier's voice was just below a shout. "Wake up. Go back to your bed if you want to sleep."
"I agree, this place puts you right out. I think I'll just…" Amue's sentence was cut off as her eyes slid closed and her breathing slowed. Alex was already snoring softly.
"No! No no no no, do NOT fall asleep on me!" Olivier shouted. She couldn't even move her arms out from under them. "Get off!"
"Don't worry dear, I'll move them," Josephine assured her. She and Philip gave yawns of their own and moved toward their offspring.
"Mother, Father, I think I hear the cook calling you," Catherine cried. She cupped her cheeks and sparkled, her face the picture of worry. "She sounds so scared! What if she's set the house on fire again?"
"Oh dear, not again!" Philip and Josephine exclaimed, rushing out of the room.
"Wait! Get them off me first!" Olivier called, but they were already gone.
Catherine grinned and faked a yawn. "Ya know, I think I'm tired too."
"Catherine, if they stay like this too long, they'll crush the fetus and my ribcage. Lift them off me, I know you can."
"Gee Ollie-Em, I would, I really would, but I'm just so sleepy." Catherine snickered. "In fact, I think I'll go to sleep too." She climbed on top of Alex and made herself comfortable, a satisfied smirk on her face. Olivier continued to glare although Catherine couldn't see her.
"You think this is funny? Wait till I get my hands on you-"
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you underneath Strongine's bosoms."
"Brat," Olivier muttered. Why did she have to be the least muscular of the family? She wiggled around for a bit and continued to yell at her siblings, but all hope was lost as Strongine's snores grew louder and her arms wrapped around Olivier's back in her sleep, hugging her like a teddy bear. Olivier's whole body ached from the weight and it wasn't long before she finally gave up and lay there helplessly, listening to Strongine's heartbeat and the sounds of her brother and sisters' breathing. Soon she began to feel tired too and let herself relax and doze off.
And thus the five Armstrong siblings fell asleep, one on top of the other. When Josephine at last remembered the situation and rushed back into the parlor room, she smiled fondly and snapped a picture, recalling the days when such a sight was far from unusual.