AN: For krocatoo on tumblr. If you're into damn good art, Jak & Daxter, Monster Hunter, Kill la Kill, Fairy Tail and more, you should definitely check her out! Actually, you should check her out regardless, she's got a lot of great original stuff as well. She wanted something with Greed, Ling and Lan Fan, so here are some friendship shenanigans with minor suggestive undertones. Set in an unidentifiable time before the final battle, so it's sort of tied in with the Brotherhood timeline, sort of not. Hope you like it, Meagan!

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and its characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa; I own nothing.

Those Who Live Forever

by Miss Mungoe

He was starting to realize that his previous incarnation may have been on to something with the whole companionship-business.

To some extent, of course – Greed still wasn't fully convinced he wanted a whole damn crew although the ones he'd gathered so far weren't half bad. Having them around alleviated the boredom that settled so easily on his shoulders, and most of them were pretty decent conversationalists. Hell, even Ed was more than tolerable, so long as he didn't try to call all the shots. Then again, Ed sometimes talked to him like he was his vessel, or some combination of both, which irked him a little because as much as Ling took liberties to occasionally shove himself to the surface, Greed still liked to retain some semblance of independence from the brat.

Then there was the little one – Ling's vassal. The one who sort of reminded him of a woman he'd used to know, but sort of didn't. She was all hard skin and sharp edges, and nothing at all like what a woman should rightly be, but he had to hand it to her for her commitment to her job, though he couldn't for the life of him understand her reasons behind what she did. Because there was something distinctly foreign about a person who gave and gave and gave, arms and legs and time and support, and allowed another to take, shamelessly and without reciprocation. In which case, she should have been a woman after his own heart, but the way she looked at him, as though she wouldn't hesitate to forcibly drag him out of his vessel by his tongue if she could, made the notion seem a little far-fetched. And either way, she looked like a girl who could throw a punch if he tried anything, and he hated fighting girls.

And then there was the case of The Constant Frown, which seemed to be her one default expression unless she was angry. The kid seemed to take it all in stride, but Greed wasn't the type to surround himself with grim sourpusses. It was part of the reason he didn't actively mind sharing a host – the little lord was, if anything, damn good company. It was his vassals who needed to crack a smile once in a while.

And so, since riling her up would no doubt just make her more angry, he tried a different approach.

"So, little lady, do you miss your homeland?"

She looked at him from over the rim of her teacup, brows furrowed as though trying to root out the hidden reason for his out-of-the-blue query. As though he couldn't ask a question just for the heck of it. Suspicious much?

She pursed her lips. "For what reason would you possibly want to know, Homunculus?" Her tone spoke volumes though she seemed adamant in using as few words as possible when communicating.

Greed grimaced, and inwardly nudged his cohort. "Not much fun, this vassal of yours."

Ling didn't correct him. "Lan Fan is inherently suspicious. It's part of what makes her a good bodyguard."

"Yeah, yeah, but would it kill her to loosen up a little?"

"What is the Young Lord saying?"

He looked up, and realized he'd withdrawn somewhere within himself. Something flickered in her gaze, though she watched him warily. He smirked. "Nothing. Kiddo's quiet as a mouse, for once."

She quirked a visibly disbelieving brow. "The Young Lord?"

Green grinned, glad the glare had loosened, but wondering why. "Yeah?"

"Quiet?"

He shrugged. "Can't the guy be quiet if he wants to?"

She snorted, but said nothing else, and now he was intrigued, because he was sure he hadn't heard a sound quite like that from her before. Or thought she was capable of making it, being so professional and businesslike. Well, well.

"Oye, now..." the kid muttered, seeming a little miffed at her reaction.

She caught him looking, and frowned. "What?"

Greed grinned; he was nothing if not a shameless opportunist. "He's usually a bit of a talker, ain't he?" He knew the answer, of course, having had the brat stuck at the back of his mind for so long, but he was genuinely curious to see what the little lord's faithful bodyguard really thought. Serious as they came or not, there was history there, he could tell.

But she pressed her lips together and resolutely said nothing, and now Greed's intrigue bubbled over. Leaning forward, he rested his hands on his knees. "Oh, no, you can't hold back on me now, missy. Spill."

She wrinkled her nose, but seemed oddly intrigued by the command. "The Young Lord," she began then, but hesitated.

Greed waved her off. "Don't worry about him – he ain't privy to this conversation."

"Oye, Greed–"

She didn't look like she believed him one bit. "You lie."

He held up his hands. "Honest to God, little lady. I can tune him out sure as you can scramble up those trees you're so fond of." He grinned. "And even if he was, he wouldn't object. Kid's a good humoured fellow."

She chewed on her bottom lip again, but seemed to dig her heels in, so once again Greed tried a different approach. Gotta be a way to get her to talk. "You've know the little lord a long time, yeah?"

She hesitated, but nodded. "Yes, I grew up alongside the Young Lord. My family is sworn to protect the Yao clan."

Greed smirked. Bingo. "Bet he was a handful growing up."

She almost smiled, but was quick to cover it up, but he'd caught it regardless. Oh there was most definitely history there, and he was hella bored, and, he had to admit, more than a little intrigued. Most of the memories he had weren't his own, and he'd give phantom visions of companions that weren't his own for a good childhood anecdote in a heartbeat.

But once again, she seemed oddly reluctant to elaborate, the stubborn girl. "Oye, Ling, the little lady's holding out on me."

The kid seemed strangely disgruntled. "Don't bait her, Greed."

"Ho? Afraid she might reveal something embarrassing?"

His cohort's silence spoke volumes, and now Greed was determined to get the girl to spill what she so clearly wanted to. The whole country was going to hell, and he figured that if anyone could use a good laugh, it'd be her. Doesn't look like she's had one in a good long while.

He felt the kid teeter – that was the odd thing about sharing a vessel with someone: Greed could feel every subtle shift and nuance of his cohort's emotions as sure as they were his own. It would appear he wasn't the only one hoping to get a smile out of the girl.

Then, with a heavy, clearly resigned sigh, "Ask her about the time in the Lotus tea house when I was ten."

Greed smirked. Good man. "Tell me about the Lotus tea house."

She perked at that, if such a gesture could be assigned to such a serious girl. Well, well – look at that. She chewed on her lip, and seemed to assess him, dark eyes appearing almost to root around for any possible ulterior motive. She must have found none, because she put her teacup down onto the plate resting in the palm of her automail hand, and then a rare smile tugged at the corner of her severe mouth.

The kid sighed from somewhere at the back of his mind. "I'm going to regret this."

And after hearing the story of the young prince who'd during his first formal tea ceremony spilled steaming hot tea over those he'd been meaning to serve, Greed was inclined to agree. "Clumsy brat, weren't you?"

"Shut up."

But the remark seemed half-hearted at best, because the girl was full out grinning by the end of the tale, as she recalled the amount of expletives that had followed the mishap, and the young prince who'd nearly found himself strung up by his ankles by his teacher. For a moment, the harsh lines of her usually grim expression smoothed into something more like pleasure, and he wondered a moment what it would take to make her laugh.

"Oye, kid, give me more."

There was another long-suffering sigh, but he yielded, regardless. "Official gathering of the clan leaders. I was twelve. She doesn't need more than that." If gestures could be ascribed to an entity at the back of one's own subconscious, he'd have said the kid was pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

Greed relayed the words, and watched as her face contorted into a strange expression, and this time she couldn't have hidden her smile if she'd tried. "The Young Lord wants me to tell that story?"

Greed grinned, intrigued beyond measure now. "Aa. Said it'd make for a good laugh."

"On my expense," Ling added, but didn't seem too torn up about it.

She hesitated a moment, as though unsure of whether or not he was telling the truth, but in the end she relented, and told a story that made Greed wonder if he wasn't inhabiting the body of an entirely tactless idiot.

"I was twelve," Ling defended, but it fell rather on deaf ears, as Greed tried to wheedle out more details about the young prince who hadn't realized he'd been offered the explicit company of a lady as a way for one of the clan leaders to lure their way closer to the throne.

"You offered her to play Mah-Jong?" he asked incredulously. "Are you an idiot?"

"I was twelve!"

"Ain't no excuse."

"The Young Lord was mortified," Lan Fan continued, hiding her smile behind the rim of her cup, "when the lady attempted...unseemly things."

"'Unseemly things', Ling? Really?"

"Shut up."

"Grandfather thought she'd made an attempt on his life," she said then, and he saw a flash of teeth as her smile grew, "when he screamed." She coughed to hide her laugh.

Greed had no such misgivings, and burst out laughing. "Oh, that is priceless, Little King."

"Glad you found it so amusing," the kid deadpanned.

"I'm not the only one – look at her. Had to be some memory to wipe that sour look off her face."

And it had, though there was still a trace of suspicion in her dark eyes, but a few more nudging questions and he had her tentatively revealing details of growing up in Xing, and he listened, greedily wheedling and prodding for more information until her suspicion had lifted, leaving a somewhat fond look on her face, until she couldn't quite cough convincingly enough to hide her laughter. She told of a childhood spent running barefoot down palace corridors, of evading nosy servants and skipping formal dinners to fish, of catching bullfrogs and leaving lotus flowers and muddy footprints on gleaming marble floors. She told him of travelling, of Xing's clans, the climate and the weather, of the humidity and sprawling green plains and endless, curving rivers. She spoke of the people and the language and the food–

Ling groaned, and Greed almost felt his mouth water in response. "Homesick, brat?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. It was as plain as day on the girl's face as well. As she'd talked, her expression had warped into something akin to fond contentment, and the sharp-as-knives edges smoothed out until there was an actual, honest-to-god smile on her face.

"You'd like it," she said then, suddenly, but then seemed to realize what she'd just said, but most of all what it implied. She looked away, visibly conflicted, and her brows furrowed so sharply he wondered for a split second if he'd imagined her previous levity.

Something crawled along his borrowed skin, and Greed resisted the very human urge to shiver. But he most certainly wasn't human, and even if he did inhabit one, he'd never been one for remorse. So instead he countered her discomfort with his usual confidence. "Oye, now, don't tell me I've gone and grown on you, girly." He grinned. "Because I've gotta tell you, I'm a man of the world." He held out his hands. "I can't be chained down, even for someone as pretty as you."

"Oye, Greed..."

She glared. "Don't put words in my mouth, Homunculus," she spat, and he smirked. Her ire had succeeded in chasing away the grief, although some still lingered in dark eyes that were much to expressive for someone who claimed to have forsaken personal feelings for the sake of a cause. But it was such a human thing – no matter how hard they tried in their ventures, their emotion-driven hearts were their crutches or their trump-cards, all depending on the situation. But sentiment was what drove them forward, in the end.

He considered them then, these odd, human companions of his with their expressive faces and unpredictable moods. The little lord who wanted to bite off more than he could chew, and the girl who'd follow him into hell. And there was Greed, somehow stuck between the two, simultaneously doing the dragging and being dragged along at their whim.

And he thought about Xing – of curving rivers and sprawling green plains, lotus leaves and tea houses. And two kids who'd grown up running the lengths of palace corridors, who were growing still and would continue to do so until they eventually died, a sudden, natural end to their fickle, human lives. If he achieved his goal, the kid would live forever, but the girl...

The girl would die, and what was worse she'd be happy to, because she would have lived to see the little lord achieve his goal. Greed knew the hearts of the avaricious, but selfless creatures...selfless creatures he didn't know what to make of.

And for a split second, the notion of immortality seemed a suffocating weight.

"Greed–"

"Don't go getting any ideas, kid," he barked, cutting him off. Then, "I was just thinking. Quit sticking your nose into my business."

He half expected the brat to remind him that it was still his body and he'd stick his nose anywhere he damn well pleased, but he said nothing of the sort. Instead, "Don't you think I know she'll die one day? That it's the price of immortality to watch those around me depart, one by one?" And there was a severity there so at odds with the kid's usual good humour that Greed almost did shiver this time. But he resolutely said nothing, though an odd, stray memory itched at the back of his mind, of faces from a different life – a different Greed. His previous incarnation had cared, he knew. Enough to attempt discovering how to gain immortality for his companions. And he wondered idly, if that was still a realistic achievement.

The girl looked pensive, and he felt the kid shift uncomfortably – the gesture like an itch, but as it was in his mind it was well out of his reach. He looked at her face and pictured her years down the line, deep furrows between her dark brows from her excessive frowning, and worry lines on her brow from her young lord's harebrained exploits. Her coal-black hair silver grey and her proud back stooped.

And he resolved then, that if they couldn't take her with them into eternity, he would make sure there were plenty lines at the corners of her mouth and her eyes, the kind that bespoke a life of good humour and mirth, however short-lived. It was a feeble attempt, the kind made by the fool who knows his fate and dooms himself regardless. It didn't really make a difference what lines were on her face when she died – she'd be cold in the grave and all that would remain would be memories of glaring scowls and the promise of a kunai between his ribs if he didn't treat the young lord with the respect he deserved, quite disregarding the fact that they shared a body.

"Come on, kid. Knowing you, there's gotta be more embarrassing stories."

He heard the sigh, but there was no protest this time, but a resolution that echoed the one in his cold, greedy heart.

"You got it."

In the end, his efforts would yield nothing – change nothing. It was a selfish venture by a selfish soul, futilely grasping at straws even with the knowledge that they would slip through his fingers. It was wanting the cake to keep and to eat, quite disregarding the fruitlessness of the desire. Because King of the World or not, there were some things even the highest seat in existence could not grant.

But he was Greed the Avaricious, and so it wasn't strange for him to want what he couldn't have.

AN: THESE THREE, THOUGH /thrashes.