Not For Me To Know

A/N: To all reading this, I am not a fan of the character Lust, but after watching ep. 35, I was intrigued by what happened, and...well, I had to express my thoughts.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, and character death. Nothing extreme.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. It belongs to that wonderful cow, Miss Arakawa.


Lust sat in the carriage, ignoring Gluttony's hungry pleas.

She was busy thinking.

She glanced at her gloves, which had dark splotches on them from Lujon's blood. She was vaguely aware of the fact that he was dead.

She wasn't sure why, but she felt very numb. She wasn't sad or sorry, and didn't think she ever would be. Lujon would have kept following her, and he would have kept pulling back memories of that other man, that man whose face kept invading her mind, that blasted man that she couldn't place no matter how hard she tried. He haunted her, and any time Lujon was near, she thought of the other man even more.

Lujon was making problems for her, problems that she couldn't understand.

Lydia, Lujon's fiancée, had confronted Lust, screamed at Lust to leave her and Lujon alone. Lust had smirked and mocked, but in truth, she'd been thinking about what Lydia had said.

Lujon had a woman that he was engaged to, that he was supposed to marry, that loved him dearly, and yet he had come back to Lust. He was obviously in love with the homunculus. She was mostly convinced that she didn't feel the same way, but she wasn't sure.

At the moment, she wasn't sure of anything.

And then Lujon had held her.

She remembered the first time, when he'd practically begged her to stay with him. It had been his wedding day, and he'd left his bride-to-be at the altar to ask another's hand. Lust had wanted to laugh at the irony of it all.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, he'd wrapped his arms around her, and again her mind dredged up images of him

But at the same time, she'd lost the precarious balance she so desperately needed, and began to wonder if she was indeed falling for Lujon.

The possibility terrified her.

So she ran away.

For a long time, she didn't understand why the prospect of love was so frightening. Was it the newness of such a feeling, the strangeness of emotion? Was it the weakness that the idea brought her? Was it the confusion? For awhile, she didn't know, and she didn't care to.

And then she suddenly realized that her fear stemmed from the fact that she simply couldn't understand the notion of love.

Lust tended to avoid what she didn't understand, and love went to the top of that list.

Then, Lujon had found her again. It was like a twisted game of hide-and-seek, a game that wouldn't end, a game that she couldn't escape. But then he had come back again, begged her to be his again, held her again.

When Lujon hugged her the second time, she saw that man again, and the old, could-be feelings floated to the surface. She couldn't take the confusion any longer, and she realized that one cannot run from what cannot be understood. That was a serious problem.

The best way to solve a problem is to eliminate it, she reasoned, so she eliminated hers.

He was only a human, she thought as she retracted her fingernails from his body and he fell to the ground. Worthless, pitiful, weak, tempted, selfish little human. She couldn't believe she'd ever cared about him. What a fool she had been, and what a fool he had been to make her feel that way.

He was dead, gone in an instant.

But gone to where? Again, she wanted to know what came after all was said and done.

Where do I come from, she wondered, and where will I go?

She knew that those questions could not be answered, at least not now. Perhaps they never would be. Perhaps they weren't important at all.

Not for me to know…