DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Fair warning, this story is shaping up to be a long one. I take my time in telling this, because there's so much to work with. I will do my best to end it well when the time comes, but that's going to be a ways off…

THE DESERT

After a few grueling hours, they found that Guts couldn't travel by day.The desert sun was fierce, and the light pouring off of the glittering sand made his head and eye pound with pain. Though he didn't show it, he was also feeling the wear of the wounds from the last battle. The only wound that didn't hurt so much, oddly enough, was his missing leg. This wasn't always a good thing. There were times that he'd forget it was gone, and when he tried to put weight on it, or finish a stride, gravity took its course.

After the fourth fall, he gave in to Puck's incessant piping, and crawled over to the side of a small gulch. The dry streambed hadn't seen water in a long time, but it blocked the worst of the wind and some of the sun.

A sand hare thumped on by, raising a billow of dust, and his throwing knife took it in the side of the neck. Puck retrieved it as it drummed its heels and died, and Guts licked the knife clean of blood before returning the blade to its bandolier. Risking disease, he thought. Still, I can't waste the moisture. This place is deadly dry.

They'd been heading west for hours, but there was no sign of anything on the horizon. Are we the only people in this world? He wondered. No, Caska's here. Somewhere. And I'll find her, one way or the other.

He tried not to think about what would happen, if she ended up in a part of this world that was like the desert. With no easily obtained food or water and no one around, she would be in trouble. She couldn't take care of herself, if she ended up some place where there were no people around…

No. The Skull Knight said there was an open gate. That means that someone had to open it, from the other side. And he hasn't lied to me yet, that I know of. Wonder what his game is?

He banished the troubling thoughts from his mind, as he gutted and cleaned the rabbit. Puck scraped together some kind of dried roots. Guts used those to build a small fire, burying the rabbit in the coals to bake. His mouth watered, as the smell of cooking meat wafted up in the smoke.

"Hey." Puck said. Guts glanced down, the little sprite had been more subdued than usual as they traveled through the blasted land.

"All those ruins we passed… They felt so sad. Like something really bad happened here, a really long time ago and the land never forgot. What was it, you think?"

Guts closed his eye a moment, and leaned back, resting on his arms. Occasionally he'd poke the coals with his foot, shifting the rabbit around to bake evenly.

"People." He finally said.

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The right one." He said. Seeing the sprite's look of puzzlement, he elaborated.

"We're out of most of it, but all those stones we passed were once foundations for buildings. There was a city back the way we came, once."

Puck blinked. "ALL those stones? There were a lot of them. More than hundreds…"

"Yeah. All fallen in, now. Covered by the sand. The way the wind blows the stuff around, it's probably been long gone."

Puck shook his head. "That's a lot of people. What happened to them, do you think?"

Guts shrugged. "War, probably. Maybe plague. Maybe they farmed the land too much, and it turned to desert. This is abandoned because of something that people did, or chose."

"What happened to them? In the end, people happened to them. And now they're gone."

Puck's ears drooped, and he looked back the way they came. For a second he thought the horizon shimmered, and against the sky he saw a city of white towers, golden minarets gleaming against the sun. There was distant singing, and people moving through the streets, smiling as they went about their lives, and the laughter of children. And then the singing turned into the howling of the wind, and the mirage was gone. Nothing but desert, and heaps of stone which might once have been homes.

"That's… so sad", Puck sighed.

"Sad?" Guts asked. "It's a human's lot. We're our own worst enemies, when you get right down to it. Fragile, foolish, selfish things that can't let go, even when we're holding onto something that burns us."

Guts reached into the coals with his artificial hand, ignoring the heat. So small a fire couldn't damage his metal fingers. He was more concerned with the sand and grit. His arm had never been made for working in such a place, and he was noticing grinding noises, and the occasional twitch.

"Somehow, though…" He brushed away the sand and ash, and took a bite of hot rabbit. He burned his tongue as he quickly wolfed it down, his first meat in days. "Somehow, we keep on going. Somehow we survive."

He dug a small hole and buried the bones in the gulch. After dinner, he reached into a pouch by his side. Puck had found a cactus on their trip, and told him that the strange, spiky plant had water inside. It was true, and the pouch was now full of wet pulp. He chewed it, and let the moisture soak into his dry and aching throat.

"Somehow we keep on going. And that's enough."

Puck nodded, and sat on his shoulder. Soon enough, the sun sunk in the horizon, and stars began to stand out in the dark blue sky.

After a time, Guts felt the back of his neck, and grinned, teeth clenched. Puck stirred, waking up from his dream. "Hmm.. whadja? No fish, please. Hm? OH!" The tiny sprite caught himself, scrambling up to the top of Guts' head. "What's wrong?"

"No rest for the wicked." Guts pulled his hand back, and frowned. No blood. "Or is there? Brand's itching, but… it's not so strong."

"Oh, RIGHT!" Puck babbled, flying up, and hovering in front of the sprawled-out swordsman. "I forgot to tell you, ghosts and spirits showed up like usual while you were out those two days, but… It wasn't the same."

"Yeah?" Guts grunted, hauling out his sword from where he'd stuck it in the ground. He frowned at the etching of fine sand, that had been scratched into the dull iron.

"Yeah. It was, well… See for yourself. They're barely there."

He pointed, and Guts squinted under the light of the rising moon. There were wisps of what looked like fog, heading toward the smoke of his small fire. He watched as they crept within twenty feet, and he could finally pick out faces, and forms. Weeping faces, sullen shapes, slumped as they walked. The brand itched again and he checked, but… still no blood.

"They seemed more sad then anything else, too. I didn't let them touch you, but they didn't fight me after I popped a few."

"Huh." Guts leaned back, pulling a handful of knives from his bandolier. He watched them approach, slowly, hesitating. Finally, one started toward him, outstretching pleading hands… And caught a knife through its head. With a gentle puff, the fog dispersed silently, and the ghost was no more.

The rest paused. Their lips started to move, and Guts thought he heard something against the wind, a thousand tiny voices asking for help, for forgiveness… But then it was gone.

He shrugged, and started kicking out the fire. Puck circled him, a long cactus spur in his hands, never taking his eyes from the spirits.

"What do we do?"

"Keep on going."

"Now? You haven't had any sleep!"

"I was asleep for two days, I can stay up awhile longer. And I'm not gonna sleep while these guys are around."

The Black Swordsman stood, tucking his knives away, and using his sword again as a crutch.

"Besides, it's too hot during the day to walk. So, we'll go at night."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense…"

"Hey. Watch my back, alright?"

Puck's eyes went wide, and he saluted, nearly putting the cactus spine through his head. "Yes, sir! Right! Not a one will escape my vigilance! Don't try anything funny, spooky bits, I've got my eye on you…"

Guts shook his head, and once again, he was hobbling through the dunes, this time with a spectral procession trailing behind.

And under the light of the moon, the silent line of ghosts trailed the man in black…