Silent Song

Chapter 36: Everything and Nothing

Disclaimer: Does Jayla is owner of FMA? (No...just...no)

7/4/17: I reuploaded the same chapter as Friday because the email sent out was wonky and I didn't have time over the weekend to fix it. Sorry if I've gotten y'all excited.

Summary of Characters:

Lark Levington: Doesn't know the definition of blissful ignorance, so things are either about to get fucked up or she wins. (AN: No such thing as winning in here) She's certainly a masochist in these situations and has come back for more suffering, except she doesn't know the safe word.

Envy: Gun to his head, what would he do for freedom? idk he doesn't know. Gun to Lark's head, what would he do for freedom? We're about to find out.

Dante: Has a gun play kink and is engaging Lark in it. Lark is not pleased.

Edward Elric: Something about his boots is really recognizable, thank goodness for Lark and plot convenience. What wasn't recognizable, however, is what he saw when he went on the other side of the Gate.

Alphonse Elric: Is honestly the closest thing to God in this scenario. Am I saying that God is a fourteen/fifteen year old not in control of his body but is trying his Best despite the massively destructive power inside of him? Yes, yes, I am.

Ethan Levington: Father of Lark and Glory, husband of Natasha Hearst, student of Dante, ? of Envy. May he RIP.

Cold, hard metal pressed against her skin, Lark finally seemed to wake up. Envy watched her eyes widen and dart back and forth. Her lips trembled, breath puffing out in uneven beats. Her body remained as still as a statue, so much that she could have been mistaken for an oversized porcelain doll.

"So, what's your choice?" Dante pushed the gun even closer to Lark's temple and Lark paled to a shade suiting a corpse. "Edward or Lark?"

At the mention of the names, Lark focused on Edward, then Envy. The form Envy was in surprised her for a moment, but that was quickly blinked away. A glimmer of defiance was in her gaze after. Her hands said, No.

She set her jaw and closed her eyes. Idiot girl, she was already accepting her fate as a sacrificial lamb.

In that moment, a thousand thoughts flew through Envy's mind. He was already experiencing all the stages of grief, all rolled up into one roaring sensation. Betray Lark or have her killed?

He killed Edward to save Lark, but then what? What would happen to Lark? Yes, she'd never forgive him and probably spend the remainder of her life hating him. However, in Dante's clutches, the only end that would come of her would be Dante's soul transferring into her body. With Envy's attachment to her clear, Dante would never allow another escape to happen. Edward's death would seal both of their futures.

Of course, refusal to kill Edward would result in Lark's death. It was what Lark wanted, yet Envy didn't want her blood on his hands. As little as he cared about the fate of the Elrics, they would never rest until he was dead and gone. It would start a new cycle of vengeance. Envy was tired of this circling, sadistic as he was. He had never been optimistic, but he was really fucking tired of this lifestyle.

(Being with Lark...she was a future he wanted to but didn't want to contemplate)

So, damn Lark or kill her?

He looked at Lark, at her freckled skin, at her quivering lashes, at her stubborn brow. Even when accepting her fate, she was frustratingly resolute. This was how she wasn't Levington's daughter, the wishy-washy fool. That immunity ingrained in her genetic code had no lesser effect on her temperament. What ran in her blood—

"You're bluffing." Envy said. "You can't kill her."

Dante smirked. "And why is that?"

"She's the purification process for the Philosopher's Stone, isn't she?" Envy squared his shoulders. "You think that she's the cure for your problems. What use is she to you dead?"

For a moment, it was just Dante and him. Envy had been in the thick of the Ishvalan Rebellion, yet this was the most high-stakes moment of his life. Fighting for himself rather than the thrill of it, there was much more to lose. But there was no way that he'd miscalculated.

Dante broke away first. "You're correct, for once."

She lowered the gun and Lark slumped to the floor. Dante was still smiling, her eyes calculating. Envy bristled at her—no way was this the end of his problems. Behind him, Edward didn't relax his stance either.

"But think this through," Dante said. "What use is she to you? You've seen what happened to homunculi when they disobey: do you wish to follow in their footsteps?"

Envy scoffed. "I've told you: You can't reach me without alchemy. Don't fucking think I'm an idiot."

"But you're a fool to think you can live normally," She sneered at him. "You're not a human, have you forgotten that?"

Envy stepped forward. "These rhetorical questions are bullshit, Dante."

He took another stride, intent on reaching Lark before the strange effects overwhelmed her. When he did, Dante swung her arm to point the gun behind him. Envy paused.

"You may not care about Edward, but she does," Dante tilted her head to indicate Lark. "Take another step and he dies."

Envy raised a brow at Edward, who glared back. "I'm not a damsel in distress and I don't need your help."

"Let's see if you're fast enough to dodge a bullet."

"I can do that just fine."

"You really can't."

Across the room, Alphonse faintly muttered, "Brother."

Edward turned pale. Envy once again became aware of the time they were wasting and cursed himself. He didn't know what Dante's transmutation was supposed to do; she never specified these jobs, only deigning to use Envy as a bodyguard. However, he wasn't a complete idiot and knew this hinged on time.

And luck. There were three people he needed to get out of here alive: Lark, Edward, and Alphonse. Envy could take care of Dante or Gluttony, but he couldn't take them know at the same time, especially with Dante's vulture eyes on him.

"Why do all of this?" Envy said with slight realization. "You could finish off Edward right now and be done with it."

Edward hissed. "You bastard."

Envy ignored him. "What do you need with me? I'm sure as hell not your son and you're not my fucking mother."

"Envy, you wound me," Dante's tone was light but her eyes were obsidian. "After all these years, you don't think my most loyal partner choosing some girl over me would make me unhappy?"

"Partner would be implying we were on equal ground."

Edward scoffed and muttered something derogatory under his breath toward Dante. For the first time, Envy shared the sentiment. Despite this, he didn't laugh, only kept his attention on Dante.

She met his eyes steadily. "A common goal can bring people together. Do you think Lark has the same aspirations as you do? She didn't come back here for you."

Envy flinched internally. Of course he knew that. He wasn't some optimistic fool, not even when it came to Lark. But for Dante to voice her knowledge of his...feelings toward Lark and use them against him was a violation of everything he stood for.

"The only thing you and I had in common was Hohenheim," Envy spat out. "But he's long gone. His sons make piss-poor substitutes, even if they're smart enough to not want to fuck you."

Edward let out a garbled sound and Alphonse squeaked. Listening to these prudish responses, a slight amusement rose inside of Envy. After seeing the world in all its mess, they still had it in them to be scared of sex. Not to mention that Dante, centuries old and experienced with men, had lusted over a sixteen year old. Pathetic.

He nearly would have said as much, if Dante had not replied, "But Hohenheim of Light is not gone."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Envy growled at her, while Alphonse gasped yet again. She didn't flicker at this show of aggression, either completely telling the truth or completely unintimidated. Instead, she lowered the gun, letting it hang loosely from her fingers. "It appears that he may yet make a return."

"When people ask what the hell you're talking about, they're asking for clarification, not another damn riddle. You said yourself that he's as good as dead."

"Envy, Envy, Envy, haven't you figured it out yet?" She tsked at him like she was speaking to a disobedient child. "Edward had the same treatment as his father, but here he is, alive and well."

Edward hadn't reacted when Dante had said Hohenheim was still alive, lending to the fact that perhaps Dante wasn't lying. Envy thought back to Edward's return. He'd mentioned something about the other side...what had he seen?

"What was on the other side of the Gate, Edward?" Dante purred.

Silence, and it spoke volumes. Envy felt the need to prowl around Edward, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of Dante. "Was he there?"

Again, the question was met with nothing. A sick sort of glee lit up in Dante's eyes. "So it's true then, the other world inside the Gate. Now, what would the cost be to bring Hohenheim back?"

She turned her attention back on Envy. "How distraught do you think he would be, returning back into this world to find his precious kin dead? Can you imagine the sorrow filling his eyes, driving him mad?

"Or better yet, have him watch? Isn't this what you have always wanted?"

It had actually been years since Envy last laid eyes on Hohenheim. But the bastard never changed—he had found ways to make his new bodies look like his original. Envy imagined those eyes, the same ones he had stared at in mirrors when he was first made, the same ones Edward Elric glared at him with, finally realizing the mistakes he had made. Hohenheim deserved to feel all the hatred Envy bore against him for these centuries. If Hohenheim had found happiness, it was only fair Envy got some of his own.

Dante's eyes glittered, recognizing the conflict inside Envy. He forced his eyes away from, but only so much that she was still discernible in his view. Meaning: his attention was back on Lark.

Sprawled across the floor with disheveled hair flowing like a stream, she was a classical painting representing tragedy. She had enough strength to somewhat balance on her side, eyes barely open enough for a hint of blue. Envy could detect the fractional heaving of her chest and the hurried pants coming from her slack mouth. It was the weakest he had ever seen her.

Her purpose was what had caught his eye first—only a determined person (or a complete idiot) would shove themselves between a sick man and a monster. Lark didn't seem to know this about herself, acting out of a mix of instinct and logic. She was an example of how animals survived despite cruel nature and why human advanced with only the power of their minds. History was one thing to characterize a person, actions were another. Even crying, the force of which she did it was awful.

Looking at her, Envy could only think about nights talking to her, where the moon gave her an appearance of vulnerability that was just an image. Now, surrounded by blinding gold, she was glass—transparent and hard-willed and fragile.

Dual natured, Lark and Levington. Envy remembered the past like a tattoo, filled with hatred towards everyone, including himself. Nearly everyone, that is, or else Levington wouldn't have made such an imprint. But even that had slowly warped, changed by events outside his reach until only an ache remained. His past was bound to repeat itself.

Lark had made herself a home within him as well. Her presence was familiar, yet she could pull the most unnatural emotions from him. She refused to be defined, never ceasing to surprise him. He wanted to see more of that. These...feelings had happened when she was just Lark, the boat in a damn desert.

(Envy knew he was going mad when he made that comparison)

(What did he want?)

(Her insistent hands and curious eyes: And you do not have any responsibilities or people you care about?)

(Who did he want?)

(Lark, Hohenheim, Levington, Dante, Lark, Hohenheim, Lark, Dante, Levington, Lark, Levington, Hohenheim, Lark, Levington, Lark, Ethan, Levington, Lark)

(Who did he want?)

(Past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future or past or future)

"Go to hell."

Dante's face twisted. "Looks like you've made your choice."

And then everything happened at once. Dante's hand tightening on the trigger of the gun, pointing at Edward Elric. Alphonse's cries for his brother that echoed in the background. Envy's legs springing to action to sprint in front of the bullet. Lark's eyes opening, willing herself to move.

A resounding clap.

The world went white.

I knew everything would fall apart the moment I stepped foot into the ballroom.

With each step that I took, the worse the panic wracked my body. Still, I kept moving, motivated by sheer will and whatever animal instinct that came over me in these instances. It felt like an eternity to me—I had to risk a few stops to catch my breath and steady myself.

Yet, when I moved out of the darkness, panic turned into sharp, sharp pain. My blood boiled like magma under my skin, my bones turning to dust. My muscles screamed at me relentlessly and my brain ceased to process what was happening. The pain of falling to the ground was a subtle overlay in the cacophony within everything else. Being forced up by my hair was almost nothing.

As I was being dragged up, I caught a glimpse of Al, laid like an animal ready for dissection across a familiar array. Human transmutation, this time involving the Philosopher's Stone. I would be helpless in here.

I could barely focus on the two blonds fighting in front of me: one Edward, the other unknown.

He shouted something at me and I sensed the badly repressed panic. My head murmured, Envy?

Before I could fully process that, I felt cool metal pressing against my forehead. The sound of the safety clicking resounded through my skull. Dante's purr rumbled and I could hear her words with sudden clarity.

"You know your choices here, Envy. Choose the best one."

I forced myself to come back to. The active part of my mind—the logical piece that wasn't left panicking because of my natural reactions—registered the actual danger that I was in. We were all here, the Elrics and I, and we could all lose our lives in an instant.

"So, what's your choice? Edward or Lark?"

She was talking to the unknown blond man, with mussed hair and wild gold eyes. His broad body gave no indication to that androgynous figure, but that stifled look of concern when he met my eyes was all that I needed to identify him. Envy was rebelling.

But to choose between Ed and I? For me, it was easy. Ed had to be the one to walk out alive—I could never live with Al's devastation, much less Winry's, Pinako's, Izumi's. I had my voice back, what else did I need? In the end, I'd sacrificed nothing. Ed and Al needed their bodies whole again, especially after what they'd been through. Equivalent exchange was the law of the universe if my measly strength had anything to say about it.

I fixed Envy with the most haughty stare I could. No.

And finally, I gave into the torrent.

"Will you be okay?" Allie tipped her head, slate eyes shimmering at me with concern. "I know I haven't been around as much, but I'm here if you need me."

I fidgeted with the bandana around my neck for a moment and opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Oh, right...

Her eyes remained on my face despite my slip. "You're strong, Lark. That's clear as day. With or without me, you can do this. You've gone through so much, but don't change that about you. Don't isolate yourself, either."

If you are going to throw a tantrum, then get out.

I refused to glance at the tools on the ground, instead glaring straight at Envy. He met my gaze and I was shocked by the cold fire within them.

"I let him get away again," he'd said. "That bastard and his brats!"

But I didn't dare flinch. I am not invalidating your feelings, Envy. But me respecting you means you must respect me.

Since apparently, my life meant very little to me at the moment, I added, We are on equal ground here.

For an awful minute, I could see the scalpel driving through my head. It wasn't because I was petrified of him, rather it was my pessimism. I knew that I had much more to do, much more to learn, especially about Envy. Death wouldn't suit me here.

Finally, he took a shuddering breath. He gave me a signature smirk, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Who knew you had this much fight in you?"

That was not a fight.

"There's more than one way to fight."

"Can't sleep?"

I jolted at the sight of Alphonse, his soul's eyes aglow in the darkness. I nodded and crossed over to the hotel's kitchen. Picking up a random notepad and pen on the way, I sat down across from Alphonse with a glass of water. I wrote, You can't either?

"I haven't since I got this body."

I froze while sipping my water. In my head, I calculated, what, three years? They'd been troubled by their losses longer than I had, not that I would mention it to them.

Instead, I answered back, Well, at least you don't have to suffer through nightmares.

Alphonse laughed softly. "Yeah, but I miss having dreams."

Wrapped in bandages and without his automail arm, Ed was so much more diminished. I probably looked the same, skin swathed in gauze and crutch under my arm. So, we just stared at each other in the hospital room and waited for the other to start.

Through the haze of my concussed mind, I signed out, Where are we going next?

Admittedly, it was badly phrased, but Ed knew that I wasn't just referring to a place. He was the leader in our little trio, tasked with the ambition and plans. So, the fate of our travels and the Philosopher's Stone was in his hands.

I had seen him break down over the choice of life and death, salvation or damnation. If he wanted a break, I wouldn't blame him. If he wanted to disappear for a while, it would be understandable.

However, he gave me a crooked grin. "We go on, like we always have." I blinked owlishly at him, but his smile didn't dampen. "Even without the Stone, we're going to get our bodies back. We don't give up now."

Those things that happened in the lab, I answered with the spotty memory I had of the previous night. Why do they not deter you?

"There's always more to strive for, Lark. People like us never rest."

I was back on the glittering floor at Dante's feet, trembling with emotion. My mind, my body, my memories were all assaulting me.

Save me, They shrieked. Save us.

But it was not them (me) I was worried about. It was the others in the room: Al, Ed, Envy.

You need these people. You fight for these people. You dream for these people. You live for these people.

I clapped my hands together.

I awoke to nothing.

Everything was gone—the flickering chandeliers, the constant screaming, the metallic taste, the electric scent, and, most of all, the persistent pain.

I blinked again, thinking the nothingness I was seeing was due to the smudgy quality of my eyes. Yes, I had a sense of gravity, yet I was seeing an unending landscape of white. There was only the sound of my own breathing from what I could hear. I lifted my hand and dropped it onto the ground. No sound. Was I in a dream?

I pinched the soft skin of my wrist and flinched from the pain. No, not a dream. Standing up, I could see a shadow on the ground and hear the brushing of my clothes together. I was not being deprived of my senses, so I was in some form of reality, I was sure. A feeling of dread was in my heart, like I subconsciously knew where I was. There was no doubt that I would remember a place like this if I had ever visited.

"Lark!"

I started, whirling around to see Ed running toward me. His footsteps also made no noise but his yelling and panting did. Happy to see him alive and well, I embraced him with sudden urgency. "Are you okay?"

He pulled us apart and gripped my shoulders, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What is this?"

"Dante." I said in way of explanation. His caution didn't disappear. "She—um, my sister—had a Philosopher's Stone in her all along and Dante used that to restore my voice."

Ed's eyes widened as if realizing something, but let me go. Taking a step back, I found Ed to be taller, top of his head now reaching my brow instead of my nose. His automail hand was gone, replaced by a mannequin's. In the back of my mind, I could hear Winry's complaints, and almost laughed. Winry...would we ever see her again?

"This place," I said. "It's...familiar. Do you know where we are?"

"The Gate."

I stiffened. "What?" All I knew about the Gate was screaming and darkness and pain.

"Before the Gate opens up, you're nowhere," Ed pinched the bridge of his nose. "Some people would say we're in limbo—"

"—Except we're not dead." I finished. A grim look twisted Ed's face and I interrupted before he could say voice that possible morbid thought. "The gun went off in your direction, but we're in the same place."

"Last thing I remembered was that, yeah. But something had to have brought us here! Anything you can think of?"

I wracked my brain. Nothing was there, except flashes of pain and shards of memory. "I know I tried to use alchemy..."

Ed jolted. "Shit, Dante told me not to use my alchemy, especially since she didn't know its reaction with the circle."

"I was trying to get us up in the air, away from Dante," I said blankly. "Did it sense my intent? Like a human transmutation has to with the soul?"

"That circle didn't look like anything I've seen before. What was its purpose?"

"How far would it stretch if it encompassed all transmutations around it? What information was encoded inside of it?"

"Hell, the Philosopher's Stone throws everything off, too."

We were both off in our own bubbles, barely registering what we were saying to each other, yet always branching off of the previous thought. Then, I said, "If we're in 'limbo', then where's the Gate?"

"Where's Al?"

And Envy? I would be a bigger fool to say that aloud. Instead: "He's got all of those souls inside of him. Glory was the same."

"And you saw her..."

Shit. "Inside the Gate."

Two times in one day? Was Envy's first thought.

(He was lying. It was: LarkLarkLark)

He did a full turn, finding that no one else was around. Lark was the one who had set off the transmutation—what her purpose was, he didn't know. Certainly, it wasn't to send him to the Gate. That one was a Dante plan, but that gun in her hand would prevent that.

When Envy turned back to his original position, the eyes branded on the Gate stared back at him. His hatred for that welled up inside of him and pooled deep in his stomach, weighing him down instead of firing him up. So, he crouched into a defensive position and waited.

Five seconds passed, then ten. That stretched into minutes, but nothing happened. Envy's body couldn't feel fatigue—he could have stayed that way forever. Still, his mind could wander.

The way the Gate worked was a work in progress. Dante liked to boast that she was the most knowledgeable on the subject, yet she probably only knew less than one percent of what the Gate could do. It wasn't built to be understood by earthly beings, much less controlled. She would think of herself as a god if she had to, even if she was as far from that as she was to the Sun.

Envy had much less of a grasp here. His lack of the ability to do alchemy was what trapped him here now. He didn't know who was on the other side and who could bring him back. Who would want to bring him back. Fuck, I could spend eternity here.

He stared the Gate down, willing it to move. When nothing happened again, he rushed forward to bang on the door with his fists. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The Gate just stood there like a taunt.

"That's not meant for you."

Envy whirled around to meet the unfamiliar voice that had spoken up. His heart leapt into his throat when he laid eyes on the person standing before him, his blood threatening to burn out of his body. He took in the whirling white dress, the childish stature, the ominous tinge, the flaxen hair, the glass-like eyes.

(So much like his)

(So much like hers)

"Glory Levington," Envy said. "So this is where you've been."

I think the parenthesis thing for Envy is being overplayed by me at this point, but it's hard to imagine his thought process visually without giffing a backspace. The conflict inside of him will never die down, especially since he's never had anyone to talk it out with. He kinda has two or more conversations going on at once all the time. It's something I personally get, and writing him has gotten easier because of this. Not that he'll ever be #relatable to anyone, really...I think, if I had gotten the chance to, Lust would have turned out very similar to him...I still might get the chance, though...

Anyways, next chapter is the one I've been dying to write since the story fleshed itself out! I hope you all will join me when it gets released! Meanwhile, don't forget to show your love for Lark's anxiety by following, favoriting, and/or commenting!