Waiting For The Darkness To Come
Summary: Alfons have always waited for that entity to take him away. He waited for this day. Movie timeline.
Disclaimer: I don't own the FMA characters.
Alfons impatiently tossed and turned on his bed, his fist on his mouth. He stared irritably at the wall as he tried to force the lump in his throat down, lest Edward might hear another one of those coughing fits which plagued him at night. He knew Edward knew better, and pulling out the cold card again was just plain ridiculous.
But the itch in his throat seduced him to let go. And he responded with light clearings of his throat, cautious not to make it deep, as he knew too well that it will start his agony. With beads of sweat on his brow and back, he swallowed whatever there was in his throat only to make the itch all the more unbearable.
He knew he had to let go.
So he sat up and angrily tugged his sheets and let life flow away with every contraction of his lungs. It was controlled at first, a sort of clearing his throat and coughing softly at the same time. But it was not enough. His being longed for relief and the next thing he knew; he was already coughing his blood and life away. With every constriction, he swallows back, laboring, sweating, and struggling for this body he knew was already his enemy. He reached for the glass of water on his bedside only to be overwhelmed by another wave, making him spew blood in the glass. But he fought back, drowning his throat with crimson liquid; not minding its bloody, metallic taste; for in this coughing fit, it was life and life only (Edward hearing the whole thing be damned, Alfons locked his room and rested his back on the door).
"Alfons?" He heard Edward's worried voice from the other side and noted his slight push on the door.
"I'm fine, Edward. I'm not coughing anymore. Don't worry about me, you just sleep." He replied, though he felt his back and his chest were in for another round.
"You…you really don't need anything?" The other one offered, and Alfons knew that the latter knew he was at the door.
"Yeah. I'm okay…" He lied. And added softly, "See you in the morning."
"Okay. Well, goodnight. If you need anything…I'm, just call me." And he heard him walk away only to stop with his tracks.
"Uh, Alfons?"
"Yes?"
"You have water there? Drink it then wrap a cloth around your neck. It'll stop your coughing."
"Yeah, thanks," He managed to reply, though he found the wrap-a-cloth-around-your-neck part weird.
"I'm, I guess I'm going to bed now. Uh, goodnight." Edward stammered. Alfons listened for his boardmate's steps retreating back to his room and the slow, hesitant closing of his door.
He sighed and went to his dresser for a shirt. Wrap a cloth around your neck. What a slippery slope to suicide, Edward. And he smiled sarcastically. As much as he found the advice funny, he downed his last gulps of water and followed another one of his friend's thinking.
Hoping for sleep to conquer him this time, he closed his shattered eyes.
He was at Wilhelmbrucke, staring at his reflection on the river below him, distorting his face, giving him an unreal countenance. A lady was steps beside him, also looking at his reflection in the water. She smiled at him, and he looked at her.
"Hello, Alfons. You always go here?"
"Not really, just this time again." It did not seem weird to him that she knew his name or that she smiled at him or that she had scraggly hair. But he blinked.
And his eyes almost fell out of its sockets for they were in front of his landlady's flower shop.
"Wait, how did we-?"
"Mind if I buy from Gracia?" And she dragged him with her inside, interrupting his question.
"You know, you didn't answer my question." Alfons confronted the lady and gave Gracia his greetings.
"You don't have a question yet." Then she turned to the shop owner, "Madame, may I have that bouquet of tulips? Thank you," and looked at him with all smiles. She was rather giggly, all in contrast to her jet-black hair, dark eyes, pasty pale skin, and her long black dress that looks like something his grandmother would wear.
"Yeah, how come we're here?" He challenged.
"Mind power, Alfons." She tapped her temple. "Remember that." And smiled again, proving to be more annoying than he first thought.
He was about to protest again, but she interrupted. "You know, that girl…" She pointed her lips at Noah, who was arranging the flowers at the shop's entrance.
"What about her?" He asked, while giving each word a heavy trace of mockery.
"She died of typhus in a concentration camp. Thank you, Madame, for the flowers."
Alfons' eyes widened as Noah dropped to the floor. And Gracia did not seem to notice. He ran towards the gypsy woman, but when he grabbed her arm for a pulse, the body became a mere skeleton.
Panic, fear and confusion blended as he walked towards her in anger. Grabbing her by the clothes, he shouted, "What did you do?"
She gestured her tulips to Gracia and said, "She died in childbirth." And again, as she said this, his landlady dropped dead.
"And that boy…" Alfons' hold on the lady loosened. She was looking at Edward, who was going towards them with confusion on his face.
"Not him…" He begged. "Please."
"…has evaded me twice, and he is going to evade me for a few times that he would just die of old age."
Edward flopped lifelessly on the road.
Alfons pushed the lady away and ran towards Edward's body. But when he tried to cradle it, he recoiled, as the body became infested with worms. Not believing everything that he was seeing, he closed his eyes, praying that this was just a very sick joke. But nothing happened.
He glared back at the lady, "Who are you?"
The lady's face darkened and answered, rather mystically, "I am dark time, who steals the gold from a child's eyes; dark time, who doesn't turn the rain into sun; I am dark time, whenever you flush your blood down the sink; dark time, which leaves nothing but memories, and ashes, and the grave."
He stared at her dark eyes.
"How will I die?" The words flowed from his lips. Daring her.
"When will I die?"
He opened his eyes and greeted his day with a sharp gasp.
There across his bed, sitting on one of his chairs with hands folded on her lap, was the lady. He glared at her, she stared back and he could not understand anything. He sat up quickly and retreated until his back touched the headboard, as if doing so would protect him from her presence.
He horrifyingly looked around the room, the bloodied glass, and the stained sheets just to realize that he was indeed in his room and whatever happened last night indeed happened.
And if he was already going insane, or already was, he might as well grab the opportunity to ask her, and to finally spiral down to insanity once-and-for-all.
"When will I die?" His throat hurt and the voice was hoarse.
"Will I be remembered? Will someone remember me? Care to bury me? Things like that." He continued. He felt ridiculous that the lady across him (she was still wearing grandma clothes) who was chattering non-stop in his dream would clam up in his waking time.
The lady's shoulders softened, and answered, "If I tell you, would it make any difference?"
He felt a tug in his heart.
"No. Not at all." He knew, in the deepest recesses of his mind, that this lady can help him. But he also knew that she would not do it. She and her omniscience, her powers, her broken promises.
"It is all one, right?" He continued dejectedly, "Even if I die today, or tomorrow, or the next year, I would die anyway. So what's the point?" But when is the time the right time? He did not want to ask anymore.
He stared at the lady. She gazed at him serenely and commented, "Amusing, you are not supposed to see me."
Alfons chuckled rather bitterly, "Yeah, dying does that."
Edward's voice and knocks sent him out of his imagination. As he walked towards the door to open it, he looked back, and saw the lady evanesce.
He was looking at the tiled floor of the castle, feeling his blood leaving him, feeling his pain being replaced with cold numbness. He saw somebody approaching him, those familiar boots, that black dress, that pale hand stroking his head. He turned his eyes up at her and whispered, "I've always waited for you."
The lady smiled, "I know, Alfons. Take my hand."
He closed his eyes, and willed his hand towards her.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading my shortest story. Reviews, concrits and comments are much appreciated! :D
Okay, I know the story was just random. Just testing whether I can survive writing without much flowery words. And yeah, I am a sucker for death. Again, thank you. :)