Fair Exchange

By claudius

I do not own the rights to Full Metal Alchemist

The room was warm, the fireplace was roasting, the couch soft and cushy. Add to those trimmings the temporary lack of responsibility, and it was the perfect moment for a couple to take full advantage of each other's company. It was especially true for this couple. On one arm of the couch, Maes Hughes relaxingly laid his head. Next to him in shared comfort was his wife Gracia, snuggling her head upon him.

"Well, this is the life!" a spectacle-less Hughes smiled. "Resting with my gorgeous wife."

"Feh!" Gracia vocally shrugged the endearment, though her comfortable face showed nothing of a frown.

Hughes, however, could only see the back of her head. "What's the matter, honey?" He looked anxiously at her, fingering her hair.

All he got was a voice of ice. "I've heard rumors."

"Oh?" Hughes became puzzled. "What about?"

"You…and someone else," Gracia's voice noted those last three words with an accusing tone. "A much younger woman."

Hughes realized the truth. But he did not speak it. "Lies."

Gracia faced her husband with doubtful words. "I've talked to people at your workplace. You've been very honest to them, about her."

Hughes rolled his eyes. "Okay, you got me," he admitted. "I've been seeing another gorgeous woman. Sorry."

"Sorry?" Garcia refused the apology, though her face showed a delight really peculiar for this situation. "You cad!" She patted her husband's cheek. "And I bet it's been happening in this house!"

Truth expressed, Hughes' face sank with a hollow conviction, brandishing the eyes of a sad puppy. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Any trace there was of anger left Gracia's face. "Well, maybe." She laid her head back on her husband's chest, her finger drilling on his shirt. "I've seen pictures of her. She is a very beautiful lady."

"She reminds me of you." Maes then pulled himself out of his lying position. Now he was over his wife. "Can I please make it up to you right now?" His mouth became a grin of mischief. "I've got some very naughty ideas."

Gracia infectiously caught her husband's smile for tasteless ideas. Ideas she was unable to participate in for months. Ready for the inevitable, she puckered her lips. She awaited the descent of her husband's hairy but loving mouth onto her own.

Then came a wail from upstairs. The descent was halted, along with the romantic mood. The couple's return to reality had them both pulling away with disappointment. "The other woman awaits," Gracia stared at the ceiling.

Giving a sigh, Hughes bowed his head in acceptance. "Let me handle it this time, dear. You had last night." With two fingers, he grabbed his glasses off the table, affixing them to his face. Then he was off.

Gracia lay back down. "I knew you'd leave me for that younger woman," she joked.

The next morning, an exhausted Maes Hughes let out a large yawn as he entered the bathroom. Seeing the mirror, he wondered if he recognized the bleary-eyed, hair-tussled, sagging face before him. Tiredly, he began to strip himself of his pajamas. Despite this priority, his eyes wandered back to the bedroom, where a nearly two-month-old baby was lying in a cradle. Hughes gave the baby his closer attention, and glowered. "Don't press your luck, kid," he glared at the ignorant babe. "There's plenty of room at the Orphanage."

But by the time Hughes put on his work pants and undershirt, all dark thoughts were quickly banished away. He again looked at the babe, but with doting eyes. How could he ever stay mad at his beautiful daughter? Not even the sleepless nights caring to the kid's lungful whims proved strong enough to dampen the love. He gently picked the babe up from her cradle, supporting her upon his right arm. An action like this, previously redundant and tiresome last night, now became fresh and exciting again. Hughes' other arm held the dog tag he wore around his neck, dangling it upon his daughter's face. "Look! Look at this!" He adoringly spoke. He noted with glee the changes in the girl. The little porcelain eyes were becoming more aware, gazing around her new world. Her cheeks were becoming fatter. Her small hands were growing. For a premature baby, little Elysia Hughes was one tough girl.

Hughes then cradled Elysia's head upon his shoulder, where his eyes again found a sore spot. On his shoulder, near his green dragon tattoo, lay a wound. That was a gift from the assassin Bald in his attempt to kill General Hakuro. Hughes grimly remembered how he got that injury, and the dire situation he was in for protecting Hakuro. Fortunately, Bald's threat of a more fatal bullet was thwarted by the rescue of Edward Elric. Hughes dreaded the alternate consequences. He almost left this world before seeing his daughter come into it. Twice he owed Ed, the second for helping Gracia bring Elysia safely to the world. Oh quit it, Hughes shrugged these morbid thoughts. Instead, he remembered his own part in that later glorious event. Arriving just in time, Hughes held Gracia's hand as she made her climatic delivery pains. Nothing much, really. This brought on a feeling of inadequacy to the father. Did he really deserve this baby girl?

Again pushing worrisome thoughts away, Hughes gently placed his daughter back into the cradle. He returned to the bathroom for the routine of shaving his upper lip and cheeks, brushing teeth and hair, and putting on his light blue shirt. Once finished, Hughes again lifted his daughter. Together they went downstairs to the kitchen. There was Gracia, busy handling breakfast. This was a good sign that she had regained her strength after the premature birth. Before that she was in the hospital for a week. But Gracia was a strong woman, like her daughter.

"Wave to mommy!" Hughes presented his daughter, waving her little hand with his bigger one.

Gracia smiled at the greeting. "How is Elysia?"

"Okay," yawned Hughes. "I guess we're both tired out."

"That won't last long," Gracia said with a knowing smirk.

Hughes walked to the corner, where stood a highchair. He placed Elysia into this seat. With another yawn, he got to his own seat for breakfast. Gracia placed a plate of eggs and sausage before the tired husband, than returned to her work. "Tonight I'll look after her, dear. Did you notice she was getting a little warm?" She got no answer. "Maes?" She turned to find her husband was sitting in his sleep.

Rather than risk upsetting Elysia by calling out, the woman shook her husband by the shoulder.

The awakening response of Hughes was quick and confused. "Wha?"

"Nevermind," Gracia removed her husband's plate. "You should get going. You'll be late for work."

Hughes got up from his chair. He stopped before the child. "Bye, bye darling." His lips pecked a kiss onto her fuzzy head. "Daddy's got a lot of work to do."

A soldier of the military, Major Maes Hughes disliked fighting wars, so he chose working in the homefront instead. Unfortunately, that did not keep him from seeing dead bodies or other acts of violence. That was a sad part of an investigator's job. Still, he was lucky to be able to keep a much healthier mindset than some people.

Which brought his thinking to his best friend for life, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. He wondered how his buddy's own desk job was working for him. "I'd go insane," was Roy's first comment about the work style shortly after graduation. But more than Hughes' investigative occupation, Mustang's war career for the next years was prone for horrors. Suddenly, a desk job did not appear so much a burden for one's sanity. Still, even if the poor guy had major reasons for angst, Hughes wished Roy would cheer up. He certainly tried to help. Every week he would constantly call the Lieutenant Colonel about his daughter (and other things), as well as mailing photographs of Elysia to him. It was the best way he could let Roy know his happiness. Having a child was a great thing, a joy to share with a best friend. But it appeared that Mustang was not very interested. Ironic, since Hughes had made Roy Elysia's guardian in the case something bad happened to both her mommy and daddy.

Oh well, back to work! Such resolve was good for anyone, in the conscious world that is. But Hughes was thinking about all of this in his sleep. He awoke due to his secretary's high voice. Regaining orientation, Hughes then replied about his daughter. Despite the secretary's warnings that she had heard all his tales to the point of memorization, Hughes entreated her to his recollections nonetheless. Fortunately for the secretary, the phone rang. Hughes grabbed it and gave his happy face. "Hello, Major Hughes speaking," the joyous expression became more solid in conviction. "Oh, hiya Gracia! What's up?"

Then the happy face shattered. Hughes now presented a different expression altogether, dominated by his piercing lime-green eyes.

In twenty minutes, Hughes stormed into his house, looking frantically for a sign of any person he knew. "Gracia!" He cried out. He heard her voice. Upstairs. Desperately, he ran upon the stairs, skipping a few steps in his ascent. He entered the bedroom, where he saw Gracia and Dr. Holtz. In Gracia's arms was a very sick child.

"I called in the doctor right before you." Gracia spoke with a serious look, though not in the level of expression her husband was portraying. Hughes ignored all words or faces. His real attention was to the baby. He came closer to Elysia, gently touching her face. "It's okay, darling," his words were slow and tender. "Daddy's here. You'll be alright now." His hand rose to the infant's forehead. Its great warmth upset him.

He heard encouragement. "It's not too bad," said Dr. Holtz. "It's just a small fever. It'll pass." Dr. Holtz was rather smug and calm about his analysis, a little too calm. Hughes felt a sudden need to send a knife near the doctor's temple. That would convince him to take his daughter's illness more seriously! Realizing the extremity of his actions, however well intended, Hughes quickly calmed himself.

Dr. Holtz made his final diagnosis. The prescription was a medicine tonic, with advice that Elysia's forehead be always treated with a cold wet cloth. Then the doctor left. Gracia did the job of seeing him to the door. Hughes was still upstairs, now holding his child. He cradled her with the devotion of a lioness to her cub. There was nothing to worry about, Hughes thought. Elysia just had a fever. Kids get it all the time.

So why did his daughter have to get it?

Hughes returned to work, very reluctantly. Gracia made a lot of persuasion that their child would be all right under her wing. Even so, Hughes found some salt in taking that advice. Did he resent it that he had to go to work while Gracia watched their daughter? Sure, he could think about the other jobs she had to do in the house, like cooking and cleaning and getting groceries, but right now they appeared trivial compared to her maternal responsibilities. Perhaps Gracia was treating motherhood as trivial?

At any rate, Hughes' worrying made the work hours move like molasses. After each thirty minutes, he would abandon concentration on his paper work and grab the telephone. He received word that everything was all right. The rest of those minutes were not really spent on paper work, despite the physical action of it. His mind was really on his daughter's condition, with a countless repeat of words of comfort in his mind. It's just a fever. Kids get them all the time…It's just a fever. Kids get them all the time…It's just a fever. No, the psychology did not work for him. He could only think the ailment as something worse, maybe…

Don't think of that! Hughes refused to believe in the worse scenario for his daughter. What a fine time for this to happen! It was so frustrating, all this constant chaos in his present life. Something like this just had to come after that scare he got weeks ago. A State Alchemist named Shou Tucker had created a chimera out of his own daughter. His own daughter! Hughes knew Nina Tucker. She was with the Elrics at Elysia's birth. What kind of father would do something so horrible to a sweet child like her? Ed was right to punch the creep before the firing squad got him. Hughes would have given Tucker something nice and sharp.

And Hughes remembered well his own experience in the aftermath. He spent the entire night after staying near Elysia. It was for consolation of his child's safety, and a sustaining of that safety. He honestly thought some crackpot Alchemist was going to take Elysia and make a chimera experiment out of her. He was not the only one getting the paranoia. Except for the Elric Brothers, Gracia (whom Hughes shared this confidential info) forbade any Alchemist from entering the house.

With a groan, Hughes rubbed his black hair. Was he getting any gray hairs? He was not yet twenty-seven.

The moment the clock reached five, with no work to prolong his presence, Hughes repeated his quick return to home. He ignored all well-wishers, as well as the neighborhood kids he regularly spoke with. Entering the house resulted in the hearing of loud crying. It was worse than he thought! Heading to the bedroom revealed Gracia; She was on a chair, holding the upset child, bearing a wet cloth on her forehead. That the mother looked a little worn was of no interest to the father. What he did notice was that her care was having no effect on the girl's behavior. This failure burrowed deeply on his nerves.

"Let me hold her!" Hughes spoke out, nonchalant about the tone of his voice.

"It's alright," Gracia was pleasant to the demand.

"Here, I'll take care of her!" Hughes interrupted, his insisting tone now boorish. Startled, Gracia did as asked. Any hurt she received from this behavior was presently beyond her husband's notice.

But the passing of a few more hours saw Hughes' care just as ineffective. He was now on his third soaked cloth, with Elysia still crying. Hughes tried everything. He attempted singing, changing her diaper, gently moving her around the room, rocking her on the chair. None worked against her screaming, or rather the cause for her cries. Much to Hughes' stark realization, this was probably Elysia's first experience with pain. How terrible! As though he was sharing a rapport with his ill child, the father tried to roll with the emotional punches he got.

"Please stop crying, Elysia." Hughes asked his daughter. He repeated the words again and again, each saying gaining a tone of desperation. Elysia had every good reason to stop crying. Can't she see her father is here? Can't she see that he would do anything to help her? But the continued crying gave proof to the contrary. Hughes went through this problem before in the other sleepless nights, but tonight's failure gave him the clear message: Elysia had no faith in her father. Now Hughes had his own pain to deal with. He felt like crying himself.

Eventually the child did stop crying. As if bearing something much heavier than this small piece of flesh and blood, Hughes returned Elysia to the cradle. He felt no responsibility in helping her rest. That bothered him.

Going downstairs, Hughes met with his wife again. She was cleaning some dishes. The scene was worth another grievance to her husband. Recriminations now filled Hughes' thoughts. How dare Gracia be so nonchalant! Their daughter was as sick as hell, and she was calm about it? How kind of a lousy mother was she?

"You got her to settle down," Gracia pleasingly noted her husband's success, unaware of his true thoughts.

"Yep," Hughes' reply was cold. With no temperance for his misgivings, he added a vicious complaint. "No thanks to you."

Gracia paused. "And what is that supposed to mean?" She faced her husband.

Hughes pointed his meaning out. "How can you act like nothing's happened!"

Gracia faced her husband's outburst. "It's just a small fever," her voice was strong, but the security of her words lacked conviction. "All children have them."

Hughes continued his accusing stare at his wife. As if that reason worked for him! He had other ideas raging in his head. "But she's so young," his accusing eye hovered to his target. "She's not supposed to get sick already…unless it was caused."

Gracia slowly put the dish she was cleaning to the sink. Her response to her husband lacked such gentleness. "What are you saying?"

"You know!" Hughes moved closer, acting as if he was interrogating a criminal. "I bet you let her catch a draft."

Gracia gaped in silence. Then came the near-screams. "How dare you blame me!"

But Hughes continued the interrogation. "I don't hear a denial."

"This fever just happened! How can you think I'd be that thoughtless to Elysia? I'm the one who's here all the time!"

"Spare me your credentials!" Hughes brushed off her excuses with disdain.

"So what about yours? What have you done!"

Now did Hughes lose his train of dialogue! Gracia's words knocked into him, according to the swing of shock on his face. He had to retaliate. Anger was something he rarely showed in this house, but it was here now. Fire sparked in his eyes. Motions burbled for violence. Vindictively, he grabbed the stack of washed plates on the cupboard. With his added arm power, the plates hit the floor. The great crash created a strong silence. A flush of different emotions possessed the couple: Rage, remorse, frustration, understanding, hate, love. Feelings were shared but none made any contact. Two people who loved each other deeply now stood separated by an invisible barrier. Something had to end this. Finally came Elysia's cries from upstairs. Still, neither person responded to the other. An angry Gracia stomped her way out of the kitchen. She ignored her husband's own frustration, which melted into remorse. He held out a hand of apology, too late. He cleaned up the mess, reeling back into frustration.

Groaning in the final act of physical exertion, Hughes lowered the barbell back to its safety guards. Sitting up on the resting slab, he made heavy breaths, feeling the sore muscles he had torn. His healing shoulder was even sorer, still hurting like hell. Nevertheless, as he wiped his sweaty neck, Hughes found he could ignore the effects of the pain. He had other things in mind, unfortunately.

Hughes stood up and walked across the basement floor. Lighted by a hanging bulb, this room of the house was strewn with weights. The windows were painted to avoid any neighbors from peeking in. Deception was necessary. The city had to be convinced that a desk job and a family had mellowed Maes Hughes. The room's possessions and the exercises here showed otherwise.

Since working his muscles proved inefficient, Hughes went to an exercise hopefully more distracting. On the wall was a board carved like a bullseye, full of chips and cuts. Hughes walked the farthest from the target. He had with him four knives. Putting three on a table, the thrower now held the first one. Eyes and hand made the careful check that would pick the best aim. Once done, Hughes threw the knife. It stabbed far away from the target.

Damn it! Hughes rued at his maladroit attempt. Getting the target was child's play! But his brain failed to make such an easy display. Okay, okay, Hughes calmed himself. He might as well think about it, get it out of the system. But such courage led to a difficult course.

("What have you done?")

Yeah, he shouldn't have yelled at Gracia or made that tantrum. But really, what has she done?

Hughes' hand flung the second knife through the space facing the target. He completely missed the target again.

Failure sprung humility inside the thrower's mind. Yeah, he was underrating his wife's efforts. Gracia did marry him against her father's wishes, and that cost her the old man's love. She also gave life to Elysia, very painfully. She followed the rule. By this Hughes meant the Law of Equivalency: in order to get something of value, one has to give something of equal importance. Hughes didn't want to believe such weird philosophy. Leave that thinking to the Alchemists, he previously advised himself. But that rule was becoming really profound to him nowadays.

Come on, Hughes looked to his own abilities. He did a lot for Elysia too! He worked at his job, getting the money to feed and clothe her.

The third knife thrown hit the board but missed the circle of targets.

This was getting ridiculous, Hughes silently protested. Why can't he hit the stupid target? What was the problem with his own contribution as Elysia's daddy? He did pay for feeding and clothing her. But…any child can get that from the Orphanage. So what? There were other things he has done. Like…like…

A lack of example bred more frustration. New anger grew within Hughes, reaching its peak. He aimed his last knife, pressing for determination for a final success. His eyes were on the middle dot of the target, but his real focus pointed to the question: What has he done for Elysia?

Nothing?

The knife was thrown. A perfect hit. Only Hughes found himself hit by something with equal accuracy. The dark anger died, leaving behind in him a very gray residue. Hughes wished for the anger. Better than feeling like such a loser.

Gracia was able to settle Elysia down. After the half hour it took for that to happen, she left the bedroom. She came down the stairs undergoing a transformation from sympathetic mother to pissed off wife. Oh, her…husband was going to get it! Seeing him nowhere in the first or second floor, Gracia's hunt was narrowed to the basement. Opening the door, she was very surprised to see the back of her enemy sitting on the stairs. His head was barely in her view, which meant it was lowered in front of him.

Suspicion ran into Gracia's thoughts. No 'sad puppy face' tricks would sway her this time! Warily, she stepped down the staircase. Her husband turned to her, than returned to facing the lower steps. Such a brief face off could not hide from Gracia the humiliation on his face.

"I'm…sorry." Hughes' voice trembled from strong to weak.

Puzzled despite her rage, Gracia sat beside Hughes. The smell of sweat, its stain on his muscled bare arms and undershirt, did not deter her from this closeness. Her wary face was beginning to grow into understanding.

"How is she?" He asked.

"She's asleep," Gracia mouthed the words. Something was really bothering her husband. It was not just their daughter's sickness.

Hughes took off his glasses, rubbing his face. "You're better at this parent thing than me." Tears gone from his face, he continued to stare at nothing but sad contemplation. "What am I to Elysia?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm her father, and I don't know if I've helped her at all. When you get down to it, I've done nothing for her. And right now, she's sick. You've already done enough, Gracia. You gave birth to her. And that happened because you married me, and the cost…" the voice died down in shame. The last sentence smarted Gracia, but she smiled in sympathy instead as Hughes continued. "What have I done for her? What did I labor on to get her?"

Kindness now blooming within her, Gracia gave support, touching her husband's good shoulder. "Maes, I wouldn't have had her without you."

"That wasn't work," a brief smile broke Hughes' lips. "That was fun." He ignored his blushing wife, his lips lowered again. "I've stayed up nights with her, but she could have fallen asleep without my help."

"But you've always been there for her when it really mattered."

"I dunno," Hughes found nothing to be proud of that. Instead he sighed with a lowered head. "She's so precious to me. If I didn't deserve Elysia, does that mean she'll be taken away, by a disease, or an accident? That scares me the most." His worry-marked face showed proof of that. "If I can't help her now, how can I be sure she'll be okay in the future? How can I make sure of that?"

"We can't be sure," Gracia had no easy answer for him or herself. "We just have to try our best. Who knows if we are doing a good job? But who knows if we are doing a bad job? What matters is that we're here for her when she needs us."

Still, Hughes was silent.

"And I know you've been trying your best," Gracia walked and sat a few steps below her husband. "I admit, you make me a little jealous. You remember my father? He's not a gentle man. I never got a hug or a kiss from him. That was my mother's job. It made me believe that all fathers must be stern and cold to their children." From her lowered position, Gracia expressed respect to her husband's face. "Then I saw you doing the complete opposite with our daughter. You always wanted to hold her, giving her funny faces and words, kissing her, hugging her. It made me confused. Did that mean I was supposed to be the cold and stern parent now?"

"You aren't that to Elysia," Hughes disagreed sincerely.

Gracia showed doubts to that. "But I should show my concern more. I care a lot about what's happening to her. I just don't show it."

"You have shown it." Now it was Hughes' turn to be sympathetic. "You're a strong woman, honey. You're able to handle this a lot better than me. I'm so sorry for accusing you of being uncaring." Hughes slowly slid his arms around his wife's neck. He kissed her forehead. Then he looked at her with those soulful eyes that were so sincere. "Are you still mad at me?"

Gracia grinned. She broke from her husband's embrace to stand up. She grabbed his hand, pulling it and him up the steps. "C'mon," she said with a wicked smile. "Let's have some fun."

A careful check was made on Elysia. Fortunately, the danger upon her did not appear to have increased. Then Hughes carried Gracia into his arms and to the bed. They kissed each other passionately, beginning the step of undressing. As he pulled off his undershirt while kissing Gracia more, Hughes thought about weakness. No way could the responsibility to hide the worry and inner pain for the sake of others be done twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Sometimes, the pressure will break out. In that case, it was always best to have a special someone be there when the burst happens, to help you deal with all the trouble. For Maes Hughes, that someone was Gracia. He was very lucky to have her. This was a special time for them and no one else. Unlike most of his peers at the academy, Hughes had never first experienced sex from some prostitute or washerwoman. It was through Gracia that he learned.

Helping pull her blouse off, Hughes lay Gracia's seductive form onto the bed. His sincere eyes absorbed the sight of this wonderful woman. Those breasts, that belly, that face. He wasn't kidding when he called her a love goddess. How he adored this woman, and the beautiful child they made together! He could die for them.

That last thought became stasis in his mind. Oh not now, Hughes repressed it. Control and sense was relinquished as he embraced Gracia's loving form…

There were hardly any moans and groans from either lover, their gasps forcibly lowered to whispers. Two hands clasped together, finger interlocked with finger. The joining was at first calm, than it grew fierce. Tighter and tighter the clasp became, fingers throbbing with pressure between fingers. Climactically came an intense jerk, and a pause. It was calm again. The bond of hands was pulled to a new place. The two palms broke contact, with one palm now caressed upon the knuckles of the other. They rested gently on Maes' warm and sweaty chest. It became wet with his gasping kiss.

Gracia was fast asleep, the side effect of this busy day and night. Her husband snuggled beside her, the covers pulled up to his chest with an arm resting on the border. Nothing like relaxing from some tiring but well worthwhile lovemaking, Hughes thought happily. With closed eyes did he lay comfortably, feeling his sweaty body caressed by the cool air. Sure, he stank, considering the workouts he has done in the previous hours. But he could get cleaned up tomorrow morning. Right now was the perfect time for beddy-bye.

Too bad he was still worried to bits about his sick daughter. So, Hughes grabbed for his glasses. He got out naked from the bed and walked over to the cradle. Elysia appeared to be sleeping at peace. Hughes' heavy thoughts again burdened him over sympathy for his ill daughter. He knelt down, his fingers touching the forehead. For the second time, contact startled the father. His fingertips found a cooled forehead. The fever had broken!

Hughes stood straight up, stretching his arms out in quiet but great celebration for this miraculous recovery. But then it sank in that displaying his joy in his birthday suit, exposing his frontal parts over his daughter like some pedophile, was really, really wrong. So he quickly knelt back down. "Wake up all better, darling," Hughes whispered optimistically with a kiss on her forehead. He then tiptoed back to his bed. He felt like he had walked through some great trial of fire. Was he doing something for Elysia? Maybe he was fooling himself. Still, whether his efforts were effective or not, her happiness was worth his own life.

Hughes stilled. There was that thought of death again! He really shouldn't think about it. He was afraid of death like anyone else. He knew of many soldiers who married their sweethearts before going to the battlefield; a lot of those wives became widows. The husbands never got to enjoy their futures. Despite his avoidance of the war, Hughes narrowly managed to enjoy his marriage, thanks to Ed. But he was no different from the others. Why was he so lucky? Maybe he wasn't. Perhaps he was living on borrowed time. Helping Roy's ambitions (an aid that he would not shirk) did give dark guarantee for that limit. Suddenly, Hughes didn't need the cold air around him to chill his body. But then he looked at his daughter and his wife. The coldness was overcome, the fear of his own death suddenly abated.

Could that be it? His price for Equivalent Exchange? Well, the idea was something, and the more Hughes thought about it, the more concrete the idea became. His life for his family? It felt so. Sure, Hughes liked his life very much. He had no plans to commit suicide or walk right in front of a serial killer and say 'kill me!' He would fight for his life if danger arose. But what if it was a losing battle? Would he be a coward, resenting his inevitable end?

No. That was what Hughes decided. For the joy he gained from his family, he could accept the eventual loss of his own life. It was a fair exchange.

So be it. In that case, Maes Hughes would never neglect his family. Until the end came, he would enjoy every minute he had with Elysia and Gracia. They were worth his own life after all.

Removing his glasses, Hughes got back into bed. Now he could sleep soundly in the silent bedroom.

Then he heard cries from the cradle. Spoke too soon.

The End