Human
The sun was almost at its journey’s end, creeping slowly behind the tall buildings of Central while bathing them in rich colours of crimson and gold. Havoc had to admit that it was a beautiful sight, although he couldn’t really enjoy it; he was consumed by far darker thoughts.
“Hey, Havoc,” Breda said, cutting into Havoc’s musings. “Look sharp.”
Havoc nodded his acknowledgement. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, making sure the flame went out, then turned on his heel to follow Breda towards the entrance of the train station. Falman and Fuery were already inside the facility, standing close to the train that was meant to carry them to Drachma, and they certainly weren’t alone. Most of the station was filled with soldiers who would be sent to the frontlines, and they were currently saying goodbye to their family and friends. Almost everyone was oblivious to their surroundings.
It was just as well. If they had paid attention, they would have noticed that there was something strange about Mustang’s unit – the Flame Alchemist and 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye especially.
“I don’t like this, Lieutenant Ross,” ‘Riza’ said in a low tone, clearly agitated. “I don’t like this at all.”
“We’re both following orders, Sergeant Bloch,” ‘Mustang’ replied, trying to sound calm. “Don’t back out now.”
“I didn’t think following orders included getting dressed as a woman,” Bloch muttered.
“Be grateful that you didn’t have to wear a miniskirt,” Ross retorted.
Bloch choked.
“It would be better if you didn’t address each other with your real names and rank,” Havoc said, overhearing the conversation. He paused, thinking about it for a few moments. “In fact, it would be best if you didn’t speak at all.”
Ross and Bloch turned crimson, for they realised how off their voiced were for the parts they were meant to play, and nodded. With that settled, Havoc turned his attention to Falman and Fuery.
“How are you guys holding up?”
“In all honesty?” Falman said, “I’ve been better.”
“Same here,” Fuery replied truthfully. “I wish we didn’t have to go.”
“Mustang was adamant about this, Fuery,” Breda replied, crossing his arms. “He and Riza are on their own now.”
Fuery sighed and straightened his glasses. “Let’s hope that this works, then.”
Havoc opened his mouth to speak, but, in that moment, the familiar whistle signified that it was time for the soldiers to get on board the train. Everyone in the unit exchanged a glance, then started climbing up the stairs. Havoc cast one last glance at his surroundings, looking for a face that he knew wasn’t there, and he grasped the bar.
Long fingers clasped over his, almost startling the man. He looked up, and his heart practically missed a beat at the sight of Sarah. She was really in front of him, with an almost apologetic smile on her lips and slightly panting; she had obviously been running. Even her hair was down, free from the usual ponytail.
One thought after another clashed in Havoc’s mind as he got torn between joy and anxiety. If anyone saw them together… If anyone made the connection…
“Where is Alice?” was the first thing that he managed to blurt out, still confused.
“With Gracia. Safe,” she answered simply.
Havoc tried to find the appropriate words to reason with her, to have her understand that she shouldn’t be here. However, he now knew that, in spite of all the dangers and risks… she had still come for him.
Damn it all to hell. Barely registering what he was doing, he took Sarah in his arms and sealed their lips together. Time almost stopped as he still held on to her as if she was a lifesaver and, for a few moments, nothing else mattered anymore.
Yet the kiss had to end, much to Havoc’s regret. He finally pulled back and, after resting his forehead against Sarah’s in a brief gesture of love, he turned on his heel and climbed aboard the train.
In less than five minutes, the train started its journey, separating the two lovers once more. Havoc sat in his seat with a sigh, hardly acknowledging the others, and hoping that the next time he would meet Sarah, it would be forever. For he would ask her to marry him.
Sarah watched the train go, the wet sensation of Jean’s kiss lingering on her lips. Her heart beat fast against her chest, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of fright for the man that she loved or relief to see him still well, still alive… or even because of the way he held her in his arms, as if in a silent promise that he would always be hers.
It was a promise that War made impossible to keep; but Sarah believed nonetheless. It was one of the reasons that she didn’t regret coming to the station, even though she was aware of all the dangers behind that action. Besides, if what Riza told her was right, there was no more use in hiding anymore.
Remembering herself, Sarah walked out of the station and turned to the left, towards a narrow alley. Just as she had expected, the same black car that had brought her to the station so she could see Havoc off was there, and Sarah managed to discern the familiar long fair hair and brown eyes under a dark cap in the driver’s seat. Sarah stopped, and waited for the second occupant of the car to step out.
Sure enough, the door at the back seat opened, revealing the tall form of Roy Mustang. Sarah had to admit that the man looked different in civilian clothes and a black fedora hat. Nevertheless, he still moved with the commanding air of an officer, the flame of determination burning brightly in his coal-black eyes.
Roy stopped, regarding Sarah closely. “Well?”
“It’s done,” Sarah said. “The train has left on schedule.”
Roy nodded once, taking in what Sarah told him. “How was everyone?”
“Nervous, but braving the situation out.”
“Faithful to the end,” Roy said softly, almost with fondness. However, even that moment in which Roy allowed himself to drop the mask of authority was gone in a flash. “You did well, Mrs. Abbot. Thank you.”
Sarah accepted Roy’s thanks with grace, yet she knew that that was also Roy’s way of saying goodbye before seeing to his own task at hand. Still, she didn’t want to let go before she made sure that she had done her part at the fullest.
“Is there anything else I can do?”
Roy raised an eyebrow, certainly surprised. He pursed his lips momentarily, as if pondering on matters, and he stepped closer.
“Only this: Go home, lock the door and keep the radio on at all hours.” He reached for one of his pockets on his suit and held up a silver-hued gun. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Well enough,” Sarah replied truthfully; her late husband had taught her so she could defend herself.
“Then take it,” Roy said, extending his hand. “You might need it before this is over.”
Sarah actually hesitated for a few moments, the sight of the gun making her nervous. In the end though, she relented and put the gun carefully in her purse.
“I understand. Good luck, Colonel.”
“Good luck to both of us, Mrs. Abbot,” Roy answered, and he headed towards the car.
It was time to face a Führer.
Beregond remained as though rooted on the spot, looking at the red mess that used to be Wrath. Indeed, there was nothing left that resembled the young homunculus anymore; it was as if the whole body had melted away. The Gondorian couldn’t help but feel slightly disturbed, even though Izumi had indeed been merciful enough to make Wrath’s end swift.
Considering how he had to fight inhuman creatures such as Orcs and Uruk-Hai, he considered those sentiments quite ironic. Then again, he had to deal with more death and violence in a year on Amestris than he had in the forty years he’d spent on Middle-earth. Although he didn’t want to admit it to the boys or himself, he was growing tired of it. Too tired.
He shook his head. There were other, more important things at hand, and brooding was certainly not one of them. He walked up to Ed and Al, who were standing a couple of feet further away, staring at another red mess – Sloth.
“You alright?” the man asked, though it was probably a foolish question. He could see Ed’s features etched in a dejected expression, while both his hands, automail and flesh alike, were clenched into fists. Even Al was quiet, barely acknowledging his surroundings.
It was Ed who finally answered. Schooling his features to a mask of indifference, he shrugged a bit and kicked an invisible stone. “I’ve been better,” he murmured.
Beregond sighed. “Yes, I know what you mean.”
Ed looked at the man, a frown creasing his features. “Do you?”
Al regarded Beregond just as curiously, the same question reflected in his eyes. Beregond’s lips tugged to a small smile.
“I was a year younger than you and Faramir was thirteen when it happened,” he said. “Minas Tirith was at war with the Orcs, and we had foolishly followed the army. While we were out in the open, an Orc attacked us… and we killed him.” He paused, his mind’s eye replaying the memory like it was only yesterday. “After all these years, I still remember his warm blood trickling down my hands and his dead gaze locked on me. I even remember the numbness that coursed through my veins once the whole thing was over.”
“How did you deal with it?” Al asked, his voice weak and strained.
“I rationalised it,” Beregond answered. “I had shown no mercy to the Orc, because he hadn’t intended to show me any. I wanted to protect myself, and I wanted to protect Faramir. In other words, it was either him or us.”
“Did it work?” Ed asked.
“Yes… But only in time,” Beregond answered truthfully. “Life is still precious, no matter whose life it is. You know this better than anyone. That’s why I know you’ll be fine.”
Neither Ed nor Alphonse said anything this time, but Beregond could tell that they had accepted his advice; they seemed more relaxed, even relieved.
“How’s Teacher, by the way?” the teen alchemist asked.
Beregond motioned his hand, showing the boys Izumi’s whereabouts. The woman was sitting on the sidewalk, wiping some blood from her mouth with the back of her hand before Sig could give her a kerchief. Lust, on the other hand, stood a little further away, looking at the scene with interest.
“She’s trying to recover. This whole ordeal was too much for her body to handle,” Beregond answered. “And yet I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman with her strength.”
“Yeah,” Ed said, allowing himself the luxury of a brief smile. “Teacher is one of a kind.”
“I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW!” Izumi snapped at that moment, practically out of the blue. “I SUGGEST YOU GET OVER HERE INSTEAD OF STANDING OVER THERE, GOSSIPING LIKE SCHOOLGIRLS!”
“Sorry, Teacher!” Ed and Al exclaimed, hurrying at Izumi’s side as fast as their feet could carry them. Beregond chuckled mentally, thinking that some things would never change, and he approached as well. The last thing he wanted was to face Izumi’s ire.
“Good,” Izumi said, once everyone was gathered around. She attempted to stand up, but her legs gave way underneath her. If it weren’t for Sig, she would have collapsed on the floor for sure.
“Izumi…”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, and she willed herself to stand up again. This time, she managed to stay up, although everyone noticed the pallid colour on her cheeks. Sighing, she ran her hand through her hair and she regarded Ed and Al closely. “As you can probably understand, I can’t follow you anymore. You must continue on your own. Find Dante and make sure she hurts no one else anymore.”
“We will,” Ed said.
However, Izumi was far from finished. She took out of her pocket Beregond’s pendant and handed it back to its rightful owner.
“Ed’s limbs and Al’s body are still at the Gate. You know what to do.”
“Yes,” Beregond answered, closing his fingers around the golden item.
Izumi smiled a bit and patted Beregond on the shoulder before turning to Lust. “How many more of you are left?”
“Besides me?” Lust said. “Three more: Envy, Gluttony and Pride. But Pride is at his home.”
“What about Greed?” Al asked, confused.
Lust smirked. “He was too troublesome. Dante has already dealt with him.”
“That works to our advantage,” Ed mused aloud, and he looked at Lust. “You coming?”
“I’d rather I didn’t. I’ve had my revenge on Dante,” the female homunculus said. “But, before I go, I want to speak with the Gondorian. In private.”
Beregond hadn’t expected that sort of request, and he didn’t know what to make of it. He cast a brief glance at Ed and Al, who nodded in agreement. They obviously figured they could indulge her since she helped them out. Making up his mind, Beregond took a step forward and motioned with his hand to his right, where the alley was much darker.
“Lead the way,” he said, his eyes never leaving the female homunculus.
Lust shook her head at witnessing another gesture of chivalry from his part; nevertheless she went ahead. In a matter of moments, they had turned around the corner and out of sigh, so they were able to talk freely.
“Well? What did you want to tell me?” Beregond asked, not hiding the hard tone from his voice.
She chuckled softly. “Relax, Gondorian. I don’t plan on killing you… although it would be quite the golden opportunity.” She pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. “I actually want to ask a favour of you.”
“And what would that be?” the man asked. A part of him had revolted at the idea that Lust would ask of him a favour, after all their previous encounters. However, he also felt that Lust was sincere with her request, so he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and listen to what she had to say.
Her long, elegant fingers pointed at the ouroboros on her chest.
“This tattoo… Dante always said that it was a symbol of eternity; that there’s no beginning and there’s no end. But I believe that the snake bites the tail because it is in our beginning that we meet our end.” She looked up at him, her violet gaze locking on his green-hazel ones. “Where did I come from and where will I go when I die? All this time that is what I wanted. The freedom to find out.”
Beregond tensed, a suspicion crawling up his spin. “You think I can make you human?”
“No. But you can make me as close to one as I can be,” she retorted. “You saw what happened to Sloth and Wrath when they threw up their stones, didn’t you? They became weak and frail, easy to kill… very much like a human.”
Beregond finally understood what she wanted from him. “Are you sure of this?”
She nodded. Even so, Beregond couldn’t help but wonder at her decision.
“Why me?” he asked.
A small, almost sweet smile crossed her features. “Because I know you won’t be cruel enough to refuse,” she answered.
“It won’t be pleasant,” he warned her, making sure that she was aware of all the implications of her venture.
“I can take it,” she said, and she boldly took hold of one of Beregond’s hands to place it on her stomach. “Please.”
Beregond’s first impulse was to pull away. But, when he saw the pleading expression in her eyes, he realised that he couldn’t. This creature, this homunculus, who could have sliced him in a heartbeat if she desired it, had cast aside her pride and placed herself in his hands, driven by a single dream. He swallowed hard, torn for a moment; then closed his eyes, hoping that he was doing the right thing.
She convulsed at once. A cry of pain threatened to rush out of her lips, but she bit it back before she doubled over. Beregond instinctively wrapped his arms around her, offering his support as she started to heave violently.
“Don’t fight it,” he said. “Just let it happen.”
Lust did, and she finally spilled out the first stones. She heaved again, and then a third time, until she coughed everything out and she was nothing more than a trembling mess. She attempted to stand up, but her legs buckled underneath her.
“Easy. Don’t force yourself.”
Lust, however, didn’t pay heed to him this time. Clenching her jaw, she pushed herself back on her feet and remained standing, regarding Beregond through faded blue eyes.
“Is it done?” she said, her voice slowly returning to her former strength. She extended one of her fingers and she scratched her palm, flinching at the pain. Blood trickled down her hand, yet neither she nor Beregond noticed it. They were too focused on the scratch itself, for it had stayed open.
“Yes, it is,” Beregond said, and he took out his handkerchief in order to wrap it around Lust’s wound. “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts,” she replied candidly. “But I’m relieved as well.”
“Because the pain reminds you you’re alive,” Beregond said as he tied up the handkerchief in a secure knot. “What will you do now?”
She shrugged. “I’ll try to fit in. Who knows… I might actually succeed.”
“I think you will,” Beregond said sincerely, and he took a step back. “Goodbye, Lust.”
And with that, he turned on his heel, ready to walk away.
“Beregond.”
He stopped, surprised to hear his name from her lips. He faced her, regarding her curiously.
“You have already died once, haven’t you?”
Beregond stiffened before realising it. He knew he could have just walked away without answering something so personal but… another part of him decided that there was nothing to lose.
“Yes.”
“What’s it like?”
He frowned, and his gaze locked on the ground. “It hurts,” he said softly. “Your eyes are almost blinded; your body feels like it’s torn to pieces; while your heart shatters.” He pursed his lips for a brief moment, shifting his weight. “But then everything comes to a halt, and it becomes quiet. And then… as you’re taken… you don’t have to fear anything anymore because… because you know you’re going home.”
Lust didn’t reply at once, taking in everything that the man told her, and she finally looked at him in gratitude. “Thank you.”
Beregond merely nodded, and he started walking away.
“Beregond? Dante is waiting for you and the boys. Don’t think she won’t be prepared,” she cried at the last moment.
He paused, a sign that he acknowledged her words; then he simply continued on without looking back, heading towards Ed and Al.
“Hey, Havoc,” Breda said, cutting into Havoc’s musings. “Look sharp.”
Havoc nodded his acknowledgement. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, making sure the flame went out, then turned on his heel to follow Breda towards the entrance of the train station. Falman and Fuery were already inside the facility, standing close to the train that was meant to carry them to Drachma, and they certainly weren’t alone. Most of the station was filled with soldiers who would be sent to the frontlines, and they were currently saying goodbye to their family and friends. Almost everyone was oblivious to their surroundings.
It was just as well. If they had paid attention, they would have noticed that there was something strange about Mustang’s unit – the Flame Alchemist and 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye especially.
“I don’t like this, Lieutenant Ross,” ‘Riza’ said in a low tone, clearly agitated. “I don’t like this at all.”
“We’re both following orders, Sergeant Bloch,” ‘Mustang’ replied, trying to sound calm. “Don’t back out now.”
“I didn’t think following orders included getting dressed as a woman,” Bloch muttered.
“Be grateful that you didn’t have to wear a miniskirt,” Ross retorted.
Bloch choked.
“It would be better if you didn’t address each other with your real names and rank,” Havoc said, overhearing the conversation. He paused, thinking about it for a few moments. “In fact, it would be best if you didn’t speak at all.”
Ross and Bloch turned crimson, for they realised how off their voiced were for the parts they were meant to play, and nodded. With that settled, Havoc turned his attention to Falman and Fuery.
“How are you guys holding up?”
“In all honesty?” Falman said, “I’ve been better.”
“Same here,” Fuery replied truthfully. “I wish we didn’t have to go.”
“Mustang was adamant about this, Fuery,” Breda replied, crossing his arms. “He and Riza are on their own now.”
Fuery sighed and straightened his glasses. “Let’s hope that this works, then.”
Havoc opened his mouth to speak, but, in that moment, the familiar whistle signified that it was time for the soldiers to get on board the train. Everyone in the unit exchanged a glance, then started climbing up the stairs. Havoc cast one last glance at his surroundings, looking for a face that he knew wasn’t there, and he grasped the bar.
Long fingers clasped over his, almost startling the man. He looked up, and his heart practically missed a beat at the sight of Sarah. She was really in front of him, with an almost apologetic smile on her lips and slightly panting; she had obviously been running. Even her hair was down, free from the usual ponytail.
One thought after another clashed in Havoc’s mind as he got torn between joy and anxiety. If anyone saw them together… If anyone made the connection…
“Where is Alice?” was the first thing that he managed to blurt out, still confused.
“With Gracia. Safe,” she answered simply.
Havoc tried to find the appropriate words to reason with her, to have her understand that she shouldn’t be here. However, he now knew that, in spite of all the dangers and risks… she had still come for him.
Damn it all to hell. Barely registering what he was doing, he took Sarah in his arms and sealed their lips together. Time almost stopped as he still held on to her as if she was a lifesaver and, for a few moments, nothing else mattered anymore.
Yet the kiss had to end, much to Havoc’s regret. He finally pulled back and, after resting his forehead against Sarah’s in a brief gesture of love, he turned on his heel and climbed aboard the train.
In less than five minutes, the train started its journey, separating the two lovers once more. Havoc sat in his seat with a sigh, hardly acknowledging the others, and hoping that the next time he would meet Sarah, it would be forever. For he would ask her to marry him.
Sarah watched the train go, the wet sensation of Jean’s kiss lingering on her lips. Her heart beat fast against her chest, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of fright for the man that she loved or relief to see him still well, still alive… or even because of the way he held her in his arms, as if in a silent promise that he would always be hers.
It was a promise that War made impossible to keep; but Sarah believed nonetheless. It was one of the reasons that she didn’t regret coming to the station, even though she was aware of all the dangers behind that action. Besides, if what Riza told her was right, there was no more use in hiding anymore.
Remembering herself, Sarah walked out of the station and turned to the left, towards a narrow alley. Just as she had expected, the same black car that had brought her to the station so she could see Havoc off was there, and Sarah managed to discern the familiar long fair hair and brown eyes under a dark cap in the driver’s seat. Sarah stopped, and waited for the second occupant of the car to step out.
Sure enough, the door at the back seat opened, revealing the tall form of Roy Mustang. Sarah had to admit that the man looked different in civilian clothes and a black fedora hat. Nevertheless, he still moved with the commanding air of an officer, the flame of determination burning brightly in his coal-black eyes.
Roy stopped, regarding Sarah closely. “Well?”
“It’s done,” Sarah said. “The train has left on schedule.”
Roy nodded once, taking in what Sarah told him. “How was everyone?”
“Nervous, but braving the situation out.”
“Faithful to the end,” Roy said softly, almost with fondness. However, even that moment in which Roy allowed himself to drop the mask of authority was gone in a flash. “You did well, Mrs. Abbot. Thank you.”
Sarah accepted Roy’s thanks with grace, yet she knew that that was also Roy’s way of saying goodbye before seeing to his own task at hand. Still, she didn’t want to let go before she made sure that she had done her part at the fullest.
“Is there anything else I can do?”
Roy raised an eyebrow, certainly surprised. He pursed his lips momentarily, as if pondering on matters, and he stepped closer.
“Only this: Go home, lock the door and keep the radio on at all hours.” He reached for one of his pockets on his suit and held up a silver-hued gun. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Well enough,” Sarah replied truthfully; her late husband had taught her so she could defend herself.
“Then take it,” Roy said, extending his hand. “You might need it before this is over.”
Sarah actually hesitated for a few moments, the sight of the gun making her nervous. In the end though, she relented and put the gun carefully in her purse.
“I understand. Good luck, Colonel.”
“Good luck to both of us, Mrs. Abbot,” Roy answered, and he headed towards the car.
It was time to face a Führer.
Beregond remained as though rooted on the spot, looking at the red mess that used to be Wrath. Indeed, there was nothing left that resembled the young homunculus anymore; it was as if the whole body had melted away. The Gondorian couldn’t help but feel slightly disturbed, even though Izumi had indeed been merciful enough to make Wrath’s end swift.
Considering how he had to fight inhuman creatures such as Orcs and Uruk-Hai, he considered those sentiments quite ironic. Then again, he had to deal with more death and violence in a year on Amestris than he had in the forty years he’d spent on Middle-earth. Although he didn’t want to admit it to the boys or himself, he was growing tired of it. Too tired.
He shook his head. There were other, more important things at hand, and brooding was certainly not one of them. He walked up to Ed and Al, who were standing a couple of feet further away, staring at another red mess – Sloth.
“You alright?” the man asked, though it was probably a foolish question. He could see Ed’s features etched in a dejected expression, while both his hands, automail and flesh alike, were clenched into fists. Even Al was quiet, barely acknowledging his surroundings.
It was Ed who finally answered. Schooling his features to a mask of indifference, he shrugged a bit and kicked an invisible stone. “I’ve been better,” he murmured.
Beregond sighed. “Yes, I know what you mean.”
Ed looked at the man, a frown creasing his features. “Do you?”
Al regarded Beregond just as curiously, the same question reflected in his eyes. Beregond’s lips tugged to a small smile.
“I was a year younger than you and Faramir was thirteen when it happened,” he said. “Minas Tirith was at war with the Orcs, and we had foolishly followed the army. While we were out in the open, an Orc attacked us… and we killed him.” He paused, his mind’s eye replaying the memory like it was only yesterday. “After all these years, I still remember his warm blood trickling down my hands and his dead gaze locked on me. I even remember the numbness that coursed through my veins once the whole thing was over.”
“How did you deal with it?” Al asked, his voice weak and strained.
“I rationalised it,” Beregond answered. “I had shown no mercy to the Orc, because he hadn’t intended to show me any. I wanted to protect myself, and I wanted to protect Faramir. In other words, it was either him or us.”
“Did it work?” Ed asked.
“Yes… But only in time,” Beregond answered truthfully. “Life is still precious, no matter whose life it is. You know this better than anyone. That’s why I know you’ll be fine.”
Neither Ed nor Alphonse said anything this time, but Beregond could tell that they had accepted his advice; they seemed more relaxed, even relieved.
“How’s Teacher, by the way?” the teen alchemist asked.
Beregond motioned his hand, showing the boys Izumi’s whereabouts. The woman was sitting on the sidewalk, wiping some blood from her mouth with the back of her hand before Sig could give her a kerchief. Lust, on the other hand, stood a little further away, looking at the scene with interest.
“She’s trying to recover. This whole ordeal was too much for her body to handle,” Beregond answered. “And yet I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman with her strength.”
“Yeah,” Ed said, allowing himself the luxury of a brief smile. “Teacher is one of a kind.”
“I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW!” Izumi snapped at that moment, practically out of the blue. “I SUGGEST YOU GET OVER HERE INSTEAD OF STANDING OVER THERE, GOSSIPING LIKE SCHOOLGIRLS!”
“Sorry, Teacher!” Ed and Al exclaimed, hurrying at Izumi’s side as fast as their feet could carry them. Beregond chuckled mentally, thinking that some things would never change, and he approached as well. The last thing he wanted was to face Izumi’s ire.
“Good,” Izumi said, once everyone was gathered around. She attempted to stand up, but her legs gave way underneath her. If it weren’t for Sig, she would have collapsed on the floor for sure.
“Izumi…”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, and she willed herself to stand up again. This time, she managed to stay up, although everyone noticed the pallid colour on her cheeks. Sighing, she ran her hand through her hair and she regarded Ed and Al closely. “As you can probably understand, I can’t follow you anymore. You must continue on your own. Find Dante and make sure she hurts no one else anymore.”
“We will,” Ed said.
However, Izumi was far from finished. She took out of her pocket Beregond’s pendant and handed it back to its rightful owner.
“Ed’s limbs and Al’s body are still at the Gate. You know what to do.”
“Yes,” Beregond answered, closing his fingers around the golden item.
Izumi smiled a bit and patted Beregond on the shoulder before turning to Lust. “How many more of you are left?”
“Besides me?” Lust said. “Three more: Envy, Gluttony and Pride. But Pride is at his home.”
“What about Greed?” Al asked, confused.
Lust smirked. “He was too troublesome. Dante has already dealt with him.”
“That works to our advantage,” Ed mused aloud, and he looked at Lust. “You coming?”
“I’d rather I didn’t. I’ve had my revenge on Dante,” the female homunculus said. “But, before I go, I want to speak with the Gondorian. In private.”
Beregond hadn’t expected that sort of request, and he didn’t know what to make of it. He cast a brief glance at Ed and Al, who nodded in agreement. They obviously figured they could indulge her since she helped them out. Making up his mind, Beregond took a step forward and motioned with his hand to his right, where the alley was much darker.
“Lead the way,” he said, his eyes never leaving the female homunculus.
Lust shook her head at witnessing another gesture of chivalry from his part; nevertheless she went ahead. In a matter of moments, they had turned around the corner and out of sigh, so they were able to talk freely.
“Well? What did you want to tell me?” Beregond asked, not hiding the hard tone from his voice.
She chuckled softly. “Relax, Gondorian. I don’t plan on killing you… although it would be quite the golden opportunity.” She pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. “I actually want to ask a favour of you.”
“And what would that be?” the man asked. A part of him had revolted at the idea that Lust would ask of him a favour, after all their previous encounters. However, he also felt that Lust was sincere with her request, so he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and listen to what she had to say.
Her long, elegant fingers pointed at the ouroboros on her chest.
“This tattoo… Dante always said that it was a symbol of eternity; that there’s no beginning and there’s no end. But I believe that the snake bites the tail because it is in our beginning that we meet our end.” She looked up at him, her violet gaze locking on his green-hazel ones. “Where did I come from and where will I go when I die? All this time that is what I wanted. The freedom to find out.”
Beregond tensed, a suspicion crawling up his spin. “You think I can make you human?”
“No. But you can make me as close to one as I can be,” she retorted. “You saw what happened to Sloth and Wrath when they threw up their stones, didn’t you? They became weak and frail, easy to kill… very much like a human.”
Beregond finally understood what she wanted from him. “Are you sure of this?”
She nodded. Even so, Beregond couldn’t help but wonder at her decision.
“Why me?” he asked.
A small, almost sweet smile crossed her features. “Because I know you won’t be cruel enough to refuse,” she answered.
“It won’t be pleasant,” he warned her, making sure that she was aware of all the implications of her venture.
“I can take it,” she said, and she boldly took hold of one of Beregond’s hands to place it on her stomach. “Please.”
Beregond’s first impulse was to pull away. But, when he saw the pleading expression in her eyes, he realised that he couldn’t. This creature, this homunculus, who could have sliced him in a heartbeat if she desired it, had cast aside her pride and placed herself in his hands, driven by a single dream. He swallowed hard, torn for a moment; then closed his eyes, hoping that he was doing the right thing.
She convulsed at once. A cry of pain threatened to rush out of her lips, but she bit it back before she doubled over. Beregond instinctively wrapped his arms around her, offering his support as she started to heave violently.
“Don’t fight it,” he said. “Just let it happen.”
Lust did, and she finally spilled out the first stones. She heaved again, and then a third time, until she coughed everything out and she was nothing more than a trembling mess. She attempted to stand up, but her legs buckled underneath her.
“Easy. Don’t force yourself.”
Lust, however, didn’t pay heed to him this time. Clenching her jaw, she pushed herself back on her feet and remained standing, regarding Beregond through faded blue eyes.
“Is it done?” she said, her voice slowly returning to her former strength. She extended one of her fingers and she scratched her palm, flinching at the pain. Blood trickled down her hand, yet neither she nor Beregond noticed it. They were too focused on the scratch itself, for it had stayed open.
“Yes, it is,” Beregond said, and he took out his handkerchief in order to wrap it around Lust’s wound. “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts,” she replied candidly. “But I’m relieved as well.”
“Because the pain reminds you you’re alive,” Beregond said as he tied up the handkerchief in a secure knot. “What will you do now?”
She shrugged. “I’ll try to fit in. Who knows… I might actually succeed.”
“I think you will,” Beregond said sincerely, and he took a step back. “Goodbye, Lust.”
And with that, he turned on his heel, ready to walk away.
“Beregond.”
He stopped, surprised to hear his name from her lips. He faced her, regarding her curiously.
“You have already died once, haven’t you?”
Beregond stiffened before realising it. He knew he could have just walked away without answering something so personal but… another part of him decided that there was nothing to lose.
“Yes.”
“What’s it like?”
He frowned, and his gaze locked on the ground. “It hurts,” he said softly. “Your eyes are almost blinded; your body feels like it’s torn to pieces; while your heart shatters.” He pursed his lips for a brief moment, shifting his weight. “But then everything comes to a halt, and it becomes quiet. And then… as you’re taken… you don’t have to fear anything anymore because… because you know you’re going home.”
Lust didn’t reply at once, taking in everything that the man told her, and she finally looked at him in gratitude. “Thank you.”
Beregond merely nodded, and he started walking away.
“Beregond? Dante is waiting for you and the boys. Don’t think she won’t be prepared,” she cried at the last moment.
He paused, a sign that he acknowledged her words; then he simply continued on without looking back, heading towards Ed and Al.
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