The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just like to play in it's world and torture Edward for awhile
Author's note: post-series and very AU. This story is classified as angst/drama right now, but the classifications willl change as the modd of the drabbles warrant.
Warnings: Character death and blood this chapter.
Beta: Kittygirl109
7. The last act of a father (Die letzte Tat eines vaters)
Hohenheim's body was suddenly wracked by a spasm of coughing and even more blood gushed from his mouth. His clothes from the neck down to the middle of his heaving chest were soaked with the dark and viscuous substance. Edward knelt a few feet away, trembling violently. He had stuffed his left fist into his mouth to stifle another scream, but a few whimpers forced themselves past the self-imposed gag.
He'd never seen so much blood before, not even during that terrible night in Risembool when he and Alphonse attempted to resurrect their mother and he'd nearly bled to death. There was something odd about the blood coming from Hohenheim's mouth, it was too dark, nearly black, and it appeared to be of a tar-like consistency. He turned his head toward Edward, his eyes shifting back and forth as if looking for him.
"Edward? Where are - I can 't see you, I - I'm so cold." Edward leapt up and pulled a blue and gold afghan from it's spot on the back of the sofa, then laid it over his father's body. When Hohenheim reached up with his left hand, Edward took it in both of his, it was like holding a block of ice. He sat down on the very edge of the sofa, then jumped when Hohenheim's right hand clamped on to his shoulder. With his last bit of strength, Hohenheim spoke his final words. "I never told you this before, but I have faith in you, Edward, and I love you. Even after I'm dead, I will continue to love you. Never forget that."
Hohenheim seemed to want to say more for his mouth still moved, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes, then suddenly he spoke again, but in an unfamiliar voice, "...and yea! thoigh I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me, amen." Hohenheim's eyes opened again, but they had changed color, from gold to blue and he spoke again in the alien voice, "My name is Paul Briggs, and I am the original owner of this body, Before your father took it over, I hunted down and burned alchemists at the stake as I believed them akin to witches. Because I have also sinned, I forgive Hohenheim Elric his trespasseses and we will pass to the glory of the Lord together."
His right hand slackened it's grip and fell back.
The eyes closed again as Hohenheim/Paul exhaled one long, shuddering breath. His chest didn't move again, but to Edward's horror the skin of the hand he was holding suddenly began to shrink and turn black. He cried out and jumped back, but the hand seemed stuck to his and it detached from the arm. With a cry of disgust, Edward tossed it on the floor before he put both hands over his mouth. His father was decaying before his very eyes. Hohenheim was now just a skeleton tightly covered in skin, and when that began to vanish to reveal a grinning skull, the gorge rose in Edward's throat.
He raced to the kitchen and emptied what ever contents his stomach had held into the sink. When he had nothing more to vomit, Edward sank to the floor with his face in his hands. Over in the living room, he could still hear the horrible sounds of his father decomposing at accelerated speed He ddn't want to look, he didn't dare look until he heard a soft 'shurring' sound. Edward peeked between his fingers - Hohenheim had reached the final stage - he had turned into dust, and it was pouring out of the empty left sleeve of his coat onto the floor.
Edward laid over on his right side and hugging himself as if for comfort, burst into tears. He cried with his mouth open, wailing like a child does. His father was dead and he was all alone in an alien, hostile world.