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More angst from teh Toby! (Nobody reads it anyway. ;_;)
This idea zapped me in the brain during English and wouldn't stop nagging me.
Title: Sangre La (The mispelling is intentional. Sangre is spanish for blood. It's a dumb play on word's 'cause I suck at titles.)
Summary: Ed sees an old child's room and learns things he dosen't want to accept. Spoilers for Envy, episode 50. PWP and TWT No pairings.
This is the first draft, and it's super late. Please review, critique, reply in some way, do whatever!
At first it was a little difficult to get used to the thick dust in the air. The sensation of breathing was not unlike diving one's face into a pan of flour, and a little choking was inevitable. It made sense, though, after all; the only things that had been here in the past centuries were rats and Sins.
He shut his eyes, trying to adjust to the low light, which he supposed might not have been an issue to the room's current inhabitants. The dim glow began to cast fuzzy sillouhettes, and evenutally, shapes formed before his eyes, peeling into a blurry sculpture washed in greyish blue. He was a little surprised that the floor didn't protest in loud squeaks as do most surfaces aged and worn with the decay of time, while he stepped cautiously forward. Probably the sign of an old craftsmanship quality that became obsolete over centuries of industry.
His boot tapped again on the floor, the only noise to fill the silent hollow, and he slowly shifted to register his surroundings, his movements ginger as though he were slowed by water, or simply struck piously mute and reverent under the power of some holy figure in an annointed site. The comparison was unfit for him though, the young alchemist who scoffed at religion, but it made no difference that he treated his surroundings with the awe and reverence of a child awarded some precious heirloom, not able to understand or appreciate their gift, but respectful all the same.
The light seemed to be getting better, or at least his eyes were getting more used to the setting. He was now able to make out the finer details of the objects around him; the grains on a dresser, the flowers on a cloth mat, the faded designs on the wall. Surprisingly enough, there wasn't such a huge amount of dust on the surfaces as he would have expected. Most of the area had been wiped clean of dust, but in the forgotten corners, there were large piles of discarded fuzz and dirt, as though whomever had taken the time to wipe the filth away couldn't be bothered to make it thorough, or even wanted it to seem as through they didn't care enough.
The bed, however luxurious it appeared, with velvet covering on the spread and fine silky pillows, had childish additions adorning it, all whispering hints of the almost dead history of this place; a stuffed bear nestled beside the pillow, stacks of adventure books piled on the night stand. He might have considered it comfortable to flop down on the inviting mattress, if not for that his brain warned him it might explode into a dust bomb at the lightest touch.
There was a small wagon with a broken spoke in the corner, and he found himself with the impulse to go and transmute it back from it's disrepaired state, as the natural-born brother's spirit inside him longed to see the child it belonged to get their precious toy back. The thought struck his mind back to the reality of the situation; his automail was disabled and limp at his side, and even if he were to draw a transmutation circle in the dust, it would be of no use. The owner of that wagon was long gone now, and the toy remained forgotten and lonely in the dark over these centuries.
Beside it, only a few feet away, were the remaining shards of what looked like an antiquated thermometer lay scattered beneath the bed, also forgotten and blanketed by dust.
The musty air had caused a thick coating to gather in the back of his throat, but other than that, he had mostly gotten used to the sub-par breathing conditions. He swallowed and brushed the golden bangs from his eyes, and felt drawn by a growing boldness to explore just a little more.
His fingers lazily explored the contours of the scattered objects upon the old dresser, helping him where his eyes could not. A brush, a wooden horse, a tin of sweets. He stopped at the small downward facing frame in the center of the table.
Within the frame was a perfectly preserved painting; staring back at him with an eerie honesty, the air of something that hasn't been disturbed or changed in centuries. It was a child; well dressed, apple cheeked, golden haired, who bore a surprisingly contented smile- emotion was a hard thing to find in such old paintings- and eyes that seemed nearly alive, reaching through their canvas realm.
That child looked a lot like himself...
He clapped the picture back into it's former downward position, the image out of sight, as it was meant to be. He could feel the other silent presence in the room, and moved on from his discovery, trying to behave as though he'd seen nothing. He quite wasn't sure what was off limits to him by his host.
There was a tiny box, inches away, metal framed, sided with delicate porcelain. He decided to take his chances and peer inside. There was a click, a tiny whir, and the rusty brass tines within began to pluck a gentle, haunting tune. The very sound of the song seemed like the music box itself, almost breakable, beautiful, as though the tiny pings creating the song could snap under the pressure of a falling speck of dust. His hand remained frozen over the cover of the box, a small chill emitting through his body, as though the song piercing through the empty still air of the room had a physical coldness, a real wave attatched to it's memory...
A semi-gloved hand clapped over his, shutting the lid, and abruptly ending the song.
"Don't." the other spoke, piercing violet eyes meeting his. A second, more intense, wave of chills pierced his body as he looked up into the stern face, unnerved not only by the sudden contact, but by the fact that he wasn't being killed by this person. That was more frightening.
"Mm," responded, rulling his hand away, and turning, "So this was..."
"Yeah. My room," the Sin replied, uneventfully.
The alchemist turned away, and moved to lean against the wall, pretending to be incredibly fascinated with a moving shadow beneath his feet. He was seeing something he wasn't supposed to see; something he didn't want to see; the humanity behind this... this thing. This monster wasn't supposed to have a human side, and it bothered him in such a way he couldn't describe.
"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, furrowing his brow. The sin plainly shrugged,
"Because that person won't let me kill you."
Edward tensed, annoyed with the way he still said 'that person', as though he didn't already know who 'that person' really was. Damn it all, 'that person' was the reason he was here, to begin with! He desired to clench his automail fist, but it's unresponsiveness reminded him that he was still a captive, here, alone, with that... thing.
"That's no excuse," He muttered, defiantly, "You could still kill me if you wanted to."
No response. He was definitely pushing his luck, but not knowing 'why' was never something he was good at accepting.
"Tch..." He flicked his head away and gazed once again at the floor.
"So what?" The voice finally responded, "So what if I don't kill you right now? That mean I won't, shorty?" The sin strutted over besides the alchemist, bending over to emphasize the word 'shorty'.
"Like I'd care," he lied, pressing his mouth in a straight line, keeping an unbreakable composure to his face. They both knew he cared if he lived. They both knew exactly what he had to live for. His pride kept his emotions bottled. He was still confused as to why the homunculus beside him didn't just take a pointed object and stab him through the throat already. He would have done the same to him, if it weren't for the fact that it would do nothing but make him a little miffed.
The sin seated himself on the edge of the bed and crossed his legs confidently, picking up one of the books on the nightstand.
"Hey shorty, you read books like this when you were little, didn't you?"
What the kind of question was that?
"What difference does that make?" Ed frowned frustratedly.
"Did you?" The shapeshifter repeated indifferently.
"... Yeah. I guess I did. Mom would read to us sometimes, and... Al and I would stay up late when we couldn't wait to find out what happened, and we'd read together 'till late..." He paused a moment, "Why am I saying this? What do you care?"
"Nothing but a curiosity," His captor replied cooly, "How about that?" He pointed to the wagon in the corner.
Edward's sarcastic look eloquently said, "Duh."
"So did you break your stuff too? You were a bad little boy? I bet that bastard fixed it for you with his precious alchemy anyway-"
"No," Interupted Edward bluntly, "We learned to fix things ourselves. That bastard was gone too much to care about us, or some stupid toys."
He could have sworn he caught a little disappointment on the sin's face at the response, as well as a little anger flaring when he heard the way Edward talked about him, as though he was the only one in the world who had the right to call him that.
"He wouldn't..." He paused and shook his head, "Nevermind."
There was a moment of silence, before Edward shrugged, and dejectedly moved back to the dresser, boredly flicking open the box and releasing the music once again.
"Hey!" the sin hissed sharply, "Didn't I tell you not to do that?"
The captive alchemist just shrugged apathetically, "Why shouldn't I?"
"Because I told you not to, that's why!"
"But why?" Edward was definitely pushing his luck.
"You gotta death wish, shorty?" Envy leapt from his spot and stormed toward the cheeky little punk.
"Why?" He repeated flatly.
"It brings back bad memories is all!" The motor on the music box slowed and stopped.
"Oh? I thought Homunculi weren't supposed to have memories."
"Well I do! And you know what? They're all bad. That's why I-" He stopped and exhaled angrily, glaring forward, "Forget it."
Ed watched his captor stomp forward, with shielded eyes. Envy had said too much. Now at least he was getting somewhere.
Click. He wound up the box again with his one good hand. The hum of the tiny motor whirred again, stabbing the silent air, preluding the first notes.
"I thought I told you to cut that out!" The sin screamed, turning to strike the trinket from the alchemist's hands in one swift blow, sending it flying against the wall, and breaking quite cleanly into several pieces.
"You broke it." Ed stated plainly.
"Of course I did, you moron!" The sin fumed, and stomped back to the bed, clearly frustrated at his homicidal restrictions. He clapped his hands over his face, as though trying to knead out the rage.
"Yeah..." He half chuckled, "I broke it. Just like that wagon..." He waited for a good long while, and began speaking on his own.
"I did it on purpose, you know. I was sick, but still, that guy never had time. His work... his alchemy was so much more important than me. I thought maybe if he had a chance to use it for me, then he'd come and fix it. And he promised he would... but he never did. And while I waited, that thermometer broke," He grinned morbidly, "Mercury poisoning's a real bitch, you know? She nursed me in the end, and tried to get me to sleep with that song. But he never came. That's why. That's why that song is always there, to remind me of when he never came."
There was an expectant silence, when Edward snorted,
"That wasn't you. That was a human."
"What do you know!" Envy demanded, "Nothing! That's what! Diddly squat! He made me again, and then you know what he did? He left! He abandoned me. And all I have are those bad memories. No matter how hard I try, all I can remember is dying, and hating that bastard. That's why I have this room. That's why I look through those books over and over, trying to remember which ones I knew. I want those memories back. And look at you! You have all those things! That's why-!"
"-that's why you're Envy... right?"
"You're damn right I am! I'm going to kill you, you little brat! For what that bastard did, and for what you have that I never will!"
"You're not the only one who was abandoned. Al, Mom, me, we were all left behind. You're not the only one who suffered. You're not just envious, you're self-centered."
"You just want these things because you think you have to. They weren't yours to begin with. You're not human."
"I will be!"
"No you won't! You can't be."
"That's why I have to kill you." Envy clenched his fists.
"And what would that accomplish?"
"Why do you have to hate me for what that bastard did?"
"Because I just do!"
"Why? How will killing me make it all better?"
"It just WILL!"
"What would it accomplish? You won't get anything back from it! It's just a meaningless guesture. Something to mask that pain. But we all have pain. Tough! Deal with it!"
The alchemist received a quick backhand straight across the face that nearly floored him. Yet he stood defiantly, head bowed slightly, while the furious sin glowered before him.
"You... know nothing." Envy growled, stomping to the doorway.
He knew the alchemist was right, and it was the worst truth he could possibly have imagined. Now, he had absolutely nothing, and Edward had the knowledge that he was right, once and for all.
The brat had another thing that he could never have, and he wanted it back so terribly. He was, after all, envious.
"Envy... why did you show me this place?"
"... I don't know."