I was supposed to post this yesterday, but then I forgot (though I did get around to updating my profile). Anyway, this is a one-shot that occurred to me during one of my resource blocks and that I wrote during Latin. The ending's a little bit confusing, I suppose, but I like it and I'm hoping most will understand it. Also, I have a special attachment to this fic, considering that it's the second I've used ersatz in (the first being Unglued). I saw it the first time in this Doctor Who fic, and I decided that it was an absolutely wonderful word. Very pretty.

ersatz - artificial, synthetic, copy (usually not as good)


Dante wasn't big on morals. She saw what she wanted and she went for it. For a time, Hohenhiem had believed he was the same. But Xerxes had troubled him; it still troubled him. While Dante wasn't big on morals, she loved Hohenhiem like nothing else. She loved their son , too, and together she and Hohenhiem struggled to give him immortality – without recreating Xerxes.

Not that they were very successful.

Then they had that lead – mercury.


William had always been a sickly child, but now he could barely leave his bed. He knew what his parents were doing, he trusted them – so he took mercury in larger and larger doses. Willingly, every time – because they were his parents.


After he died, they pieced it together. Mercury. It had been the mercury. Not the "Elixir of Life" at all; no, it was poison. They had fed their son poison, murdered him.

Xerxes had left him troubled; William's death, and his part in it, left him broken. Even Dante was hurt by it.


They drew apart then. Dante left alchemy, abstaining from it for years. Hohenhiem became obsessed with bringing people back from the dead.

At last, he felt that he had found the way.

He tried.

He failed.

What he brought back was not William, was not even human.

He lost his faith that day. Faith in God, faith in humanity, faith in himself.

He left that night, swearing never to return.


It was Dante, then, that found the mass of flesh and bone, weeping fluids from bloody orifices, wailing like an infant.

She didn't know what made her tend it, care for it, whisper sweet nothings and sing lullabies to it. Even four centuries later, Dante had no answer.


Hohenhiem had felt that he would never love again. He was broken, beyond repair.

It never did stop Trisha, though.

She became a constant in his life by sheer refusal to leave him alone. He fell in love again. Trisha wasn't only a pretty face, but a strong woman with a strong will to match, too.

She helped him with the nightmares, the memories he could not forget. She had been arrogate, really, the was she just up and decided everything. It had been exactly what he needed.

After she learned of Xerxes … he had expected hatred, rejection, disgust. None of it came. None of it ever came. Instead, she fell asleep in his arms.


Dante had been hurt when William died. She had cried for the first time in hundreds of years when Hohenhiem left her.

But those tears marked something else. Hohenhiem had been her last solid tie to humanity. So when she learned of Trisha Elric, she felt a burning hot hatred, tempered only by her need to have Hohenhiem by her side.


Evy was largely unbothered by Trisha himself. It was the brothers he hated – specifically, the elder of the two.

Because Edward looked just like he "had." Because Edward had a "mother" who cared for you all the time, who didn't torture you, who wasn't insane.

Even then, it wasn't really Edward – it was Hohenhiem, The Bastard.

He, who had created him; he, who had left him; he, who had replaced him.

Edward was just an ersatz, the best he could do.


Hohenhiem was torn between loving Edward and wanting to run the other way. Edward looked just like William (incidentally, and even worse, Trisha had originally wanted to name him William). Alphonse looked more like his mother, and Trisha didn't bring up The Name, so it was easier with him. But Ed …

When Hohenhiem left, Trisha was sure he would return. Every morning she awoke, certain today would be the day. As years passed, the hope whithered but she refused to let it die.

Soon, Death came, circling round her, demanding she stayed in bed. It was her sons that gave her the strength to get up everyday; it was her love of and faith in Hohenhiem that gave her the strength tho fight her Death.


When Dante heard that Hohenhiem had left The Slut, she felt a cold pleasure. Finally, Hohenhiem had come to his senses.

Yet, he still rejected her, still declined returning.


There was no definitive start; the stage was set long before the climax. Perhaps it was Xerxes, or immortality, or even a single mundane moment that set the course of events. William's death, though, was what finally threw it out of all control.

Still, even at the "end", it really wasn't finished, was it?