The adreneline from fighting Wrath and leaving the rest of the homunculi had worn off. The thoughts had a bad habit of worming into the front of his mind while he was trying to get some sleep. What have I done? What kind of horrible person am I? He was my friend, and I killed him. What am I supposed to do now? Not to mention the memories, which were some ungodly combination of nostalgia, emotionally hurting, and actually physically hurting. God, he was so glad that the brat could only hear what he told him and what his body heard. If he knew what he was thinking, then he really would have no idea what to do. Being yelled at, he could handle. He was really used to it by now. But there was a decent chance that Ling would get the concerned type of upset, and right now, that might be more than he could take.

If he could just fall asleep, then everything would be fine. Homunculi didn't dream, they couldn't, but he expirenced the brat's dreams, and he had no influence on them. His guilt wouldn't affect the usual misty landscape at all. But he did control when his body fell asleep when he was in control, and he didn't see that happening any time soon. Damn it, right now he really wished that he knew how to switch off with the brat. He didn't have to feel this, he would probably fall asleep in five minutes even after all that had happened today! Like thinking about him had cause him to speak, Ling asked "Why are you shaking?"

Damn, he had noticed. He stayed silent, trying to control the shaking. It wasn't lying if he just didn't respond, right? Pull it together, he told himself. Stop being so weak. After maybe 10 minutes, Ling asked another question. "Are you alright?"

Silence. "No."

It came out a bit weaker than he had expected. Certainly a lot more shaky. "Oh."

Fuck, the concern phase was on. He already felt himself shaking a bit harder then before. Why did this had to happen? Wasn't this exactly what he had spent the last few hours of lying awake trying to avoid? If he started... Never mind. The possibility was too horrible to even think about. He couldn't let himself consider that it even existed, that his composure could slip up for even the fraction of a second it would take for it to happen, or else it might. That couldn't happen. He couldn't let himself be that weak.

Why can't I just fall asleep?

He buried his face in the sheets, thinking that maybe the brat would decide to leave him alone. He might, he thought. Maybe. He was just beginning to believe that he really wouldn't have any more interruptions in his futile attempts to sleep other than guilt and memories when Ling cut back into his consciousness.

"I'm sorry." What? What did Ling have to apologize for? He hadn't done anything, at least that he knew of. Was apologizing for nothing some weird new human thing he hadn't heard about?

"Why the fuck are you saying sorry? This is my fault." That was the only true thing that he could use as a response to that... Thing that he had just been told by Ling. He turned a bit. God, he was so confused. At least when he had been stuck guarding the tunnels for a week for no reason, he had known what was going on. This, this was completely outside the realm of likelihood.

"Do you have any sort of idea what empathy is?"

"Yeah, but... but you probably shouldn't waste it on me."

"It's not a waste."

"What?" Ling's voice was firmer than he usually heard it.

"I said, it's not a waste. You just killed someone you cared about and remembered your friends dying, and that your father doesn't actually care about you enough to not want you dead if you leave. You're taking this really well to have not dissolved into tears."

"I mean, that one's sorta because I'm not supposed to."

"What do you mean you're not supposed to?"

"... Forget it."

"No. If the only reason you're not crying is because of some self-imposed rule, then you probably need to."

Apparently, saying stupid things was popular now. Great.

"It's not self imposed."

"..."

"Father would get really angry at us if we really showed much emotion. Being sentimental is a human thing. We're perfect, emotions aren't, so showing any is making us weak. That's what he said, anyway."

"..."

"Prince?"

"...So he didn't let you show any emotion."

"No."

"..."

"Ling?"

"I have never wanted to stab someone more in my life."

There was a certain definitivity in his voice that made Greed actually believe that no, Ling wasn't exaggerating. He actually wanted to stab someone for what happened to him. Him, the guy who had taken over his body and wasn't even the same species- the prince wanted to attempt to murder his father, who was more powerful to the point of it being suicide, over him.

This could've been considered a new high in human stupidity or human empathy, but Greed didn't waste time thinking about it. He calmly got up, walked out of the building, and got to the highest point he could see.

He sat up there, and slowly opened up the emotional floodgates a bit.

Which is to say that he had a complete emotional breakdown outside on the roof of an abandoned building.

It involved crying, mostly, him digging his fingernails into his palms, letting what he actually felt seep through for once, tears and small amounts of blood turning to dust.

When he stopped crying, he started back inside. "Prince, if you ever talk about this for anything less than saving someone's life, I will murder you."

Ling sighed. If he physically could, he would probably hug Greed right now. God knows he needed it. Instead, he asked "Do you feel any better?"

"Why would I?"

"Well, after you cry, you usually feel better."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I sorta do."

It seemed that Ling's job was done for now. He'd let the prince rest.

He was surprised when Ling shoved him out of control and their body lost conciousness as soon as he was back in bed.

But not very.