-/\-
"So… That woman, the one with the baby…?"
"No," he answered, knowing the question before she could ask it. "It is a child of those dogs, not me."
Relief seemed to wash over her face for a moment before she returned to the impassive expression she favored. If he had been a different man, perhaps one not so accustomed to anticipating the movements of others, he would have assumed he had imagined it. After all, the creature that he sat in the darkness with had no reason to be relieved for such a thing. And yet, she was and that, for yet another unknown reason, made the scarred man's lips twitch into an almost smile.
For a long time he had noticed the effect this almost human creature had over him.
At first he had written it off as left over feelings his heart held for the woman she was created after. But as more and more time passed, and more and more of his dreams seemed to revolve around her, he had had to admit to himself that he genuinely wanted this woman, despite what she was, not because he had loved her when she had been his brother's as a human, but because he wanted her in her current form to be his.
The irony that a follower of Ishbala, a son of Ishbal, a man who despised alchemy, would have such strong feelings for a creation of what he considered to be the devils of this world was not lost on him. Not at all.
He had fought his hardest against his desires but it seemed to be a losing battle. Yet another sin his god had seen fit to place on his shoulders.
"Why do you look at me like that, scarred man?" the homunculus asked.
He hadn't realized he had been staring.
"For the same reason you're still here with me," he replied, the closest he would ever come to admitting that he was aware of the connection the two of them seemed to share.
"I suppose we are both fools then," she stated.
He was surprised at her words but didn't show it on his face. He had always felt himself a fool for caring for such a creature but he had never once thought that she saw the same thing as he did. He would never have guessed that with a name like hers she could ever believe that feelings like theirs were wrong.
"I should go," he said, struggling to stand on his own without his arms. She allowed him to do it himself, instinctively understanding that he needed to do this on his own.
"You're going to die."
"I am," he admitted.
"Will you wait for me where ever it is that things like us go?"
He paused at her words, for the first time understanding why he was drawn to her.
'Things,' she had said, not people. That was a fitting term for the two of them. It seemed that they matched, after all.
"Yes."
-/\-