Failure.

It was a stupid fear and he knew it.

It was just his luck that instead of a sensible fear like spiders, heights, or death, he was scared of such a philosophical aspect of life.

Still, it haunted him everywhere and always, whether it be when he was sleeping or with his eyes wide open. It was already stretching its hand, inches away from taking him in its grasp. He was almost certain that it wouldn't be long before it finally did.

And he was terrified because of it.

It really was unfair. If he had only ignored that flask, then he wouldn't have had to be involved in such a situation. If he hadn't spoken to that flask, he would have been spared the burden of having that fear touch him for the first time.

In fact, failure had poked and prodded him several times before. It was only because of his own perseverance that he had managed to wriggle free.

He kicked it away when his country fell. He punched it the floor when he found out about the insidious plan that his old enemy was trying to accomplish. He was able to slap it when he left the only people he ever cared about. The final time, when he couldn't return to the love of his life for one last time, he could only push at it gently.

He was growing tired, weak, and hopeless.

Everything he had worked so hard for, everything that he had once thought was beyond his reach, was disappearing before his eyes, and he couldn't take it anymore.

Sometimes, he wondered why he hadn't given up yet. After thinking it through, he concluded that the least he could do was try. He still held some sort of hope that he could gain something good out of all of his shortcomings. He was simply a selfish man.

Once he achieved his first success in years, he felt that the failure that had been chasing him had slowed down somewhat. But it was all a trick, because hours later, he managed to fail once more.

He was no savior, no husband, no father. He was a helpless man who didn't know what to do with himself.

He was prepared to surrender at that point. There was nothing left for him anymore.

A miracle was what brought him back to his senses. His son had recognized him as his father after so long. He had finally gained something after giving up so much.

It might not have been an equivalent exchange, but it was more than enough for him to see what was left of his family reunited once more, if only for a while.

In the end, he couldn't save himself from his eventual end, but he could at least decide how to go.

Hohenheim was a stubborn man, and not until he took his last breath did he concede to death with a smile on his face.