Summary for this chap: What would happen if Ling died? If Greed was left with the memories and his body? Ling may not be here anymore but Greed had his body and the memories and that...that was a fate worse than death.

WARNING: Angst! Pretty dark!

Inspiration for this: Please listen to "Hyperion" by Mark Petrie, "Give me a Sign" by Breaking Benjamin to get a feeling for the sentences written in cursive (ital.) and imagine the voices you imagine who're saying them leave a echo..yeah I'm weird but it leaves a greater impact that way ^^ and...yeah...lol am I in a depressed mood .

Staring back at You

He remembered it. He remembered them all.

There's neither right nor wrong when it comes to greed.

When you get too greedy, it comes back to bite you in the behind.

What an idiot, he gave in to greed and lost everything.

He clutched at his pulsing head desperately, head wracked with pain that shot through him like daggers, wounding his very soul.

Don't underestimate us humans!

He roared, nails digging into his scalp painfully as he slammed his head against the concrete underneath him.

He didn't want this. This pain.

"Let go of me!" he roared out to whoever heard him, gritting his teeth at the onslaught of pain that threatened to overwhelm his body and soul.

I won't allow my father to suck you in too!

Greed!

"SHUT UP!" with a mighty roar he slammed his fist into the hard concrete beneath him, shattering stone with a force that came much too late now.

W-Wait! Greed! Didn't you say we would fight together?! Greed!

He shut his eyes tightly closed, "Damn it...damn it all to hell..." his teeth gnashed painfully against one another, the heart that beat wildly in his chest, the heart that wasn't his, the moisture gathering in his eyes even as he tried to fight off the stubborn, hot tears sliding down his cheeks...

Blood seeped from the small puncture wounds inflicted by his sharp nails digging into his palms, when he opened them, they healed a second later and he watched with a mixture of horror and trepidation how his regenerative abilities healed him.

How they healed his hands. His hands.

A violent shiver wracked his body and he felt bile rise in his throat.

Ah well, let me have your body.

He forced the feeling down, forced himself to stand on wobbly legs and walk. Walk into the house that wasn't his, walk through the rooms that didn't belong to him, walk toward the mirror that he never possessed.

And look at his reflection.

Xingese features stared back at him, haunting him.

Lean muscled body, the same friendly face was marred with his own sharper features, violet eyes instead of dark ones greeted him, dark clothes instead of the stupid colorful robes greeted him and he narrowed his eyes when he met his own gaze in the reflection.

The limbs may be responding to his commands, moving how he wanted them to, but they weren't his.

He used to share them, yes, but they were never truly his to begin with.

They had been his. His alone and he thought that nobody could ever take something like that from a human.

It seems like he had been wrong.

"Greed?" a soft voice from behind him interrupted his musings, he could see her reflection in the mirror.

It was Lena.

He looked away when she rested a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently, "Hey..."

It wasn't Lan Fan, no, she had stopped visiting him after the incident.

She said she couldn't bear to look upon him and not see him. In his place, was him now, Greed.

And he loathed himself for it.

Lena frowned, "Greed...please," she saw his broken expression in the mirror.

"It's my fault..."

I want to be rich.

His eyes widened.

I want women.

He felt blood pumping furiously in his ears as the world around him froze on the spot.

I want to rule the world.

Frighteningly slowly, he looked in the mirror.

Lena wasn't there anymore, he was alone. It was dark, too dark and he felt like a helpless infant who lost his mother.

I long to see someone who died.

The eyes of his dead friend stared right back at him, the kind eyes of Ling Yao.

Greed's whole body was rocked with spasms and when he reached a unsteady hand out to try and reach for his friend, the image distorted and left was only the image of haunted, frightened violet eyes, too sharp teeth and a layer of protective carbon that a human shouldn't be capable of producing.

It wasn't him.

It was Greed, it was himself and he hated himself for everything that happened.

The mirror broke, shattered shards buried deep into his skin, ruby red liquid dripping down the length of his hands onto the floor, creating a eerie puddle of the life essence.

And when Greed looked at the shattered pieces of broken glass, he stared at himself.

And he screamed.