Disclaimer: I own as much as any other GreKim yaoi fanfic writer.
AN: Apologies for the prolonged delay. D: I've been having a hard time finding time to get on the net. :/ Plus, I had a birthday the fifth and decided to take a break.
Plus, I have been having a terrible lack of inspiration.
TERRIBLE.
So if I don't update again for a while, either on the basis of being lazy, not having time, or not having inspiration, I apologize. Really, I appreciate anyone who reviews, favs, or even gives this a sidelong glance. I've tried my hardest to make this good. C:
So, without further ado, I'll bring a conclusion to the cliffhanger. XD IX: Konagona Ni Kudaketa GLASS-Zaiku No You Na
"I'm sorry, Zachary, but... the tumor that we located in her brain was-- fatal. O-- Our proposal is that she'd been suffering for quite some time from the extreme p-- pain and p-- pressure in her brain tissue, but never told anyone about it. If we had been informed of the difficulties earlier, it might have been p-- prevented. But... don't think it's your fault. Again... I'm... I'm very, very sorry..."
The doctor, obviously very young and inexperienced, stood there, holding the clipboard closely to his chest, adjusting and readjusting his glasses nervously (some kind of bad habit he'd have to break in the future) as he read the contents of the file to Kimbley, who had gone up after his name had been called again.
It hadn't mattered how many papers he had filled out-- all with information he hardly even knew-- nor would it have mattered if he had filled out anymore.
She was dead either way.
"Do you... have relatives...? That you could stay with until some kind of a will is found...?" the doctor asked, biting his lower lip furiously, failing to hide his absolute anxious-ness.
Kimbley thought a moment, attempting to reach into the catacombs of what was left of Zach's brain to recover any kind of identities of family.
Of course, memories let him down yet again.
"Well--"
"He'll stay with me, doctor," Greed's voice cut in. Kimbley turned to see that he was standing there, just as smug as could be, with Janie still asleep in his arms. "We're best friends, after all. If we could hitch a ride back to his house, he could get some of his stuff and head back to my house."
"Well, I have a lunch break in about five minutes, I supp-- pose I could give you a ride," the doctor stuttered. "So, would you please excuse me while I file my rep-- port...?"
He didn't even bother to stay for an answer; he turned around and paced down the hallway, just as fast as he could, it seemed. He walks with a sort of nervous stilt, like he had tons of trouble keeping his feet glued to the floor for any one second at a time.
"What's this deal with me staying with you?" Kimbley asked, his suspicions spiking. Whether out of fear of just plain excitement, he wasn't about to explore.
"It's the least I can do for an old friend, Crimson. Besides, we still have unfinished business to attend to," Greed replied, his smirk widening as he hoisted Janie up into his arms a little better.
Kimbley allowed himself to blush.
It felt good to be wanted-- for once.
After a while, the doctor returned, keys in hand, glasses constantly shifting, and they loaded into a broad black thing that appeared as if only the rich could afford it. He started the thing up, it rumbled to life, and once they got rolling down the road, Greed gave out directions.
They rode on without words (despite Greed's directions every-so-often), each trapped in his and her own thought processes amidst all the silence. Kimbley wondered what they were all thinking of; what kind of thoughts would that doctor have? Patients, bills, deaths, or endless sickness? What could Greed be conjuring up in that thick skull of his? Most likely only the most perverted of meanderings could be concocted in the former-Homunculus' brain. And even, what could Janie be dreaming about, if she was even dreaming at all? Probably nothing but little-girl things-- only the sweet things she's aware of in this terribly ruthless world.
For once, Kimbley found himself actually interested in other people. He recalled that he had regarded everything as null-- humans, animals, anything that contained life within, he saw as worthless. But now... Now he had changed.
And in a way, he didn't want to change back.
Eventually, they pulled into the driveway beside Greed's car, and the three got out onto the pavement.
"I-- I want you to have this. It-- It's a business-card, in case you need to call me for help-- p with anything. And I'll be sure to contact your home, Gregory, once we make the connections to draw up-- p a will. We've got the number in our phone-memory, from p-- previous visitations," the doctor sputtered, running shaking fingers through his raven-black hair. Then he repeated, "P-- Please don't hesitate to call."
And with that, once the card had been slipped between Kimbley's fingers, the doctor pulled the door shut, backed out of the driveway, and situated himself back onto the road.
Kimbley looked on the card. It was simple, with neat little blue letters scrolled across the top that read, "Kristopher Finch, M.D." and a tiny little phone-number at the bottom. Nothing fancy.
"Alrighty, Crimson, let's head on in and gather up your things. Though... I may have to help you with that. I doubt you'd know what was fashionable in this era," Greed stated as the three headed toward the door.
They entered the still house's kitchen, and Kimbley couldn't help but feel his bones shivering. He could swear a ghost was present and accounted for, but perhaps it was all just a trick of his subconscious.
It was just so... funny. He had seen thousands, maybe even millions (though that is pushing it just a tad bit) of people die-- constantly and without fail they do-- but somehow, this single death that should have meant nothing to him had struck a fear into him. Maybe it was just Zach's remaining sentimentality playing with him, or maybe it was just his new leaf turning over. Either way, he was... sad... for the first time in a long time.
They went into the small hallway, and entered the door into Zach's (now Kimbley's) room. The house had the sound of death all about it, even in this little room in which Kimbley had first awoken; there was just no escaping its monotonous ring.
Greed strutted over to the bed and reclined Janie's small body onto the soft mattress, careful not to disturb her slumber, though Kimbley felt sure that it would take a hurricane and half of an earthquake to shake her from Dream-land.
"I'm curious about something, Crimson. The main reason I wanted to come here was to just check on something..." Greed whispered after Janie had snuggled herself under the covers and cooed amidst a dream of some kind.
"And what might this 'something' be that you're so curious about, hmm?" Kimbley questioned, his golden eyes following curiously as Greed sauntered his way over towards Kimbley's closet.
Greed pressed his left hand onto the door, the one that had once had the mark of the Oroborous branded into it, and Kimbley joined his side, his mind in a bit of a stupor. What the Hell was Greed getting at...?
"...This is where it happened," Greed murmured, his hand going to the knob, twisting it, and jamming the door open. Kneeling down, he threw the stacked-up cardboard boxes out of the way furiously to reveal--
"A transmutation circle...?" Kimbley gasped breathlessly, taking in the red shape before his eyes.
It was one of the most unbelievable sights, this ring placed onto the hardwood floor. The shag carpet that had once lined the interior of the closet had been scraped up and tossed aside to allow the circle to be drawn. Obviously done by an artist's hand, the thing was filled in nicely, the curves and spires all seemingly perfect. He could see Zach, in his mind's eye, taking the shoddy box-cutter to his wrist, sliding it across his skin, dipping his finger into the flowing vein, and carefully laying out the design, just as "Gregory" had instructed. He told him a marvelous thing would happen as he slipped between his fingers a shining gem that was to make everything work. "Gregory" told him, this "Gregory" he had come to revere, and he had set his hands, with their bleeding wrists, onto the inner curve of the circle, and suddenly, the pain shot through him like a knife. Nothing marvelous, nothing spectacular, just... painful. But the next moment, it was over. He waited, but then nothing. So, suddenly heavy with sleep, he stacked the boxes over top of the array to hide it until it could be cleaned later, and then he set his head onto the pillow, ready to give "Gregory" a piece of his mind the next day.
But he would never get to.
Because... he had been replaced by Kimbley.
Suddenly, Greed's hand shot out and grabbed onto Kimbley's wrists to turn them upward. Kimbley felt his eyes widening at the unexpected contact, but wouldn't allow himself to look like a total idiot. Thumbing the wounds, Greed scoffed in pity.
"I told him he needed to do this in blood, but he didn't have to go so overboard," Greed muttered, letting Kimbley's arms drop back to his sides.
"...Just as I thought... You knew he was me, so you taught him how to do all this, didn't you...?" Kimbley asked.
But Greed ignored his inquiry as his hand slid across the floor beside the circle. Standing up, he rubbed his fingers together, grinning. Watching, Kimbley could see there was a sort of magenta dust coating his fingers.
"He did just what I told him to do. What a good little boy," Greed mused, sighing, absolutely pleased with himself.
"Well, if he hadn't, I wouldn't be here now, would I?"
"Probably not. I mean, without a catalyst of some kind, it's impossible for things to pass between The Gate," Greed answered, burying his hands into his pockets and heading out the door to the kitchen.
"Wait-- what catalyst? And where are you going?" Kimbley wondered aloud, trailing after Greed's long strides. Damn, did he have long legs.
"I'll explain later. Right now, we're going to clean up that mess in the closet. Once you move in with me, real estate agents will probably be eyeing this place very carefully, and to find a 'devil-symbol' in the closet might lose them a good sale. So, let's just do them a favor and remove the evidence."
Entering the kitchen area, Greed grabbed up a rag hanging from the sink and carried it back into the room, Kimbley following obediently. Maybe it was just a rule in this messed-up game that he wasn't allowed to know what was going on.
Greed got to his knees and quickly washed up the array, placing the carpet over top as neatly as possible. The box-cutter that had been thrust into one of the smaller boxes was immediately cleaned and placed on top of the dresser in as innocent a fashion as possible, tough a box-cutter never seemed all that innocent a thing.
All the while, Kimbley stood in the doorway of his room, just... thinking, though he knew it was a dangerous thing.
Greed had done all of this... for him.
Just for him, he had sought out Zach's friendship, taught him how to make an array to call upon the Gate, and given him a "catalyst" of some kind that would ensure his success.
All just to see him again.
"Crimson, you okay...? You look a bit pale," Greed's voice came, concerned, beautiful amidst all the worrisome thoughts bubbling inside Kimbley's brain.
Suddenly, Kimbley felt himself falling into Greed's arms, his jaw clenched together. All those things-- all those hurtful, terrible things he had done-- he wanted to take it all back. The words he wanted to say, the ones he thought he could never say after the day of his betrayal, he said them, choked, tired, desperate:
"I'm sorry."
He felt Greed's arms tighten around his thin form, pulling him closer, as if accepting his apology without the use of silly words.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Crimson. Had I been in the same spot as you, I probably would have done the same thing--"
"You don't get it... I-- I didn't want back in the military-- I just did it to get away from you..." Kimbley replied, holding back a sob caught in his throat. He wasn't going to cry. He never had, and he never will. At least... that was what he told himself.
"What... do you mean...?" Greed asked haltingly, pausing in his embrace.
It was now or never, and Kimbley knew the truth would set him free.
"I... was so afraid of what I would become if I stayed with you..." he answered quietly, entwining his fingers into the fabric of Greed's shirt.
"...How much did you love me?" came Greed's voice almost silently.
"...Enough to want you dead," was Kimbley's solemn reply.
And then Kimbley was up in Greed's arms, moving out of the room and into the one next door.
This was it.
Greed was going to murder him, just for telling the truth.
Well, he deserved it.
He knew he had been running from his punishment for as long as he could, and that now was the time to repent. And for the first time since his soul's creation, he felt actual, pure fear. It was a raw emotion that he wanted to push away. However, the circumstances had changed him. He could no longer bury up his emotions, as he had done all the times before. He felt them, and they were more powerful than ever... making him the weak human he had never desired to imitate.
Kimbley fell back onto the bed, his mother's bed, his dead mother's bed, and he cringed as Greed crept toward him.
"If you're planning to kill me, do it fast. Because I--"
"Shut up, Crimson. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it a long time ago," Greed cut into Kimbley's sentence, his fingers brushing away the tears now falling down the cheeks of the former alchemist.
And then finally, they did what they had both longed to do since their eyes had first met in the fifth laboratory so long ago.
