5th in the Greed!History Series
Title: Recovery...Or Something Like It
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Genre: angst
Summary: Greed just wants to forget, is that so much to ask?
Notes: "That First Night", "Lesson the First", "Calm Before the Storm", "Punishment the First"...now this, the 5th installment in the Greed!History Series. (Consciously made an effort to make this part shorter than the last--I liked the last part, but it was pain putting it up according to lj's limits.)
Disclaimer: I have no legal claim on Fullmetal Alchemist.
Greed didn't keep track of how long he stayed mute.
He just gathered it had been a while.
And when he finally did make a sound, it wasn't some joyous event.
Now, the Homunculus couldn't remember the exact events leading up to it, but he had gotten his clothes wet--entire body, as a matter of fact. Greed didn't put much mind into where he should've dried off; he had just been on an open window sill, first twisting his jacket and shirt--leaving his chest and arms bare, minus the bands, his hair and pants still dripping and frosting over--carelessly squeezing out droplets many mansion levels below. Honestly, he had been childishly amused by the dark spots the droplets made upon impact, how they sucked out the color of the dirt they soaked into.
In short, Greed had been oblivious then.
So oblivious, he never noticed Dante pass the open door, double back, look in curiously, and then creep forward. Awareness came in sharp, it had been sensitive and raw; the smallest of touches on his shoulder, but the Homunculus knew her touch, and he remembered, remembered a lot actually, remembered screams and blood and salt and dirt and awful, awful flesh.... Greed screamed, unfamiliar against his unused throat; he fell back as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut, but he held on to shirt and jacket, without ripping into them; vision was dark and blurry, filled up with the inky, grainy darkness of the basement--
Not completely sure how he got there, the Homunculus had curled into a corner deeply veiled by shadow. He sat there, violet eyes wide and staring at Dante, who stared back at him curiously, examining, then smirking and gratified. She left him alone in the room as quickly as she arrived, and he wondered if his creator had truly been there at all. But Dante had, he told himself, and seconds passed and then Greed was up and growling and seized by a restless wrath that demanded--it screamed for something. (There was a cautionary fear that grated the back of his mind and kept his hands tied.)
So the Homunculus had fully dressed and walked through the forest all the way to the humans' town, everything about him drying up in the sun, and it was then that he had forgotten how he had been soaked in the first place, and all he could think of was the rape--
Greed wandered into a tavern/hotel, bought a flagon with money Hoenheim had given him. He took it down in one gulp, fiery in his throat, all the way down to his stomach.
"Not nearly enough," he muttered under his breath, and ordered more. Being deprived of it for an imprecise long period of time left the Homunculus exceedingly grateful for his voice...and feeling more inclined to use it when he shouldn't.
The Homunculus was now drinking an unsightly amount of alcohol, yet he didn't care if the bartender noticed how sober he was, if he began to question. Humans, on the other hand--now, Greed found they couldn't hold their liquor at all...and were more than likely more fortunate for it. They could cross into a place of warm, fuzzy, oblivious apathy, a place where brain cells became damaged enough to make a person could forget so many things. Greed wanted that. He'd never wanted anything so much in his admittedly short life. And when he acknowledged he couldn't have it, his body reacted curiously--something deep inside was seething, making his body tremble incessantly, his violet eyes turned dead and dark, glowering at the crowds, and his Shield kept darkly creeping up his hands.
He took another gulp of beer. His body came back to him, and he was normal again, for the most part. (Dante's fingers were still felt, her smell everywhere, every kiss on the air.)
It started acting up again when the gorgeous blonde sat next to him.
She literally slid into the nearby stool, all grace and legs, even if they were greatly hidden by the long skirt. (But Greed had fun picking out the shape behind the fabric folds.) The woman had other colors besides blonde: her eyes were the most clear shade of blue, lips full and painted apple, skin all peached out. His eyes kept dragging themselves back to her breasts; brain kept picturing unbuttoning her crisp white shirt.
The Homunculus was turning red, and he buried himself sheepishly into his flagon.
Then he threw himself into instinct and everything happened very fast. Greed engaged her in conversation, talking and joking and gabbing, but inside he could hear no sound, he didn't understand what the HELL was going on--all he could hear was the blood pounding in his head. The scent of the blonde's perfume was intoxicating, and he had never been intoxicated before, with his body chemistry being too damn strong for human alcohol, but he imagined this is what it must be like, the closest he'd ever come, and oh yes--he was touching now, tracing the curve of her neck and playing with her hair, as was she with him, and he could just sense her getting pulled in, felt himself go hazy with power...but then he pulled away, and Greed could finally discern the words, something about a room, and he moved for the already familiar coin pouch.
But the woman said she already had a room, and the Homunculus enjoyed just following her, although as they went up the stairs he realized he didn't know her name. And he didn't think she knew his either. And he found he didn't care about this at all. Regardless, Greed was still somewhat ignorant, going completely by instinct, thus he'd only know when instinct commanded.
There in the bed, things fell into place for the Homunculus.
He did get what he wanted; he replaced Dante's taste and touch and scent with this human's, gentle instead of hard, fun rather than hell. (Greed hoped the woman didn't notice his surprise at her completely bare flesh, he had been expecting a second skin like his creator's, thought all humans had something like that beneath their clothes--clearly, that was not so.)
Like anything else, entrance was okay if it was given, the same went for kissing...sex was okay, it wasn't horrible like Dante made it out to be.
&&&&&&
Master told him Greed could sleep, but Envy refused that now-confirmed fact; he was Sin, Monster, Abomination, he would never sleep, that was something best left to those maggoty humans. But he had learned long ago to feign it, at first as a means to complete Master's missions, always for that...nonetheless, it was his tool now, and he'd play with it sometimes.
For instance, the Monster had intended to toy with his "little brother"...but things didn't go as planned. Envy's visions of ambush and violence had devolved into little more than trivial sex, and not even the rough kind!
The point was, Envy now lied "nude" as a faux-blonde in an empty bed that seemed unbearably big. The Monster huffed at such predictable male behavior, even if it was a Homunculus. He shrugged; he should be getting back to Master anyway, he'd delayed long enough. As Envy began to rise, he literally jumped back as the door opened; cleaning staff this early, huh? He could use a good kill to start the morning, but maybe he should consider discretion a bit more....
"Sorry I didn't get here in time before you woke up, breakfast took longer than I thought," and Greed trailed off as he busied himself with setting up the tray before the faux-woman; he didn't notice how she gawked. Once he settled hers in, he set himself up and furiously gorged himself on the pancakes. Envy poked a fork experimentally, still dazed from shock, but he quickly composed himself, darkening; he did NOT eat either. (Master said Greed could eat too, another freakin' now-confirmed Homunculus fact.)
"I'm not hungry," he muttered in that oily feminine voice he made, nearly grating into his default tone. He tossed the fork onto the plate, foregoing the urge to stab it into his brother's eyes as the young Homunculus gave a nonjudgmental look. Envy wanted to storm off, but he had an image to maintain--this was his room, after all--and he was still too stubborn to drop it; he merely settled himself on the bed corner, glaring out the window. Eternity seemed to pass, and Greed cleaned both their plates, and Envy thought Master should've named the bastard Gluttony, thought she should never have made him in the first place, no matter what joy he brought her in torture. Greed may've been fun to her, but other than that, he was useless, he could never offer Master what Envy could, the Monster knew this, believed in it. (Hoenheim had made the only weapon Dante would ever need, and wasn't that enough?)
Envy felt a sudden warmth behind him, envelop him in its embrace: Greed hugged him, not clinging and needy, just soft and--"Thank you"--grateful. Grateful. He was fuckin' grateful. As the young Homunculus left the room and out of sight, returning in the window's view and down the path into the forest, the Monster vowed to show him what it pays to be "grateful".
&&&&&&
Greed had never slept since Elizabeth left.
Perhaps there had been a conscious reason for that as he woke up screaming the first time after that, cleaning snapping the bed in two as he wildly flailed about.
The Homunculus shut himself up, panting as his crazed eyes went back to something sane once they recognized his surroundings. (Made sure there were no chains.) Wiping his face dry, the second coin dropped in: he had broken the bed, and Dante would be angry. Then he growled, pissed off at his fear. (It was nothing but a small reprieve, a cop-out, he still remembered.) A minute sound, and Greed stilled, turning toward his door to find Teacher there. The Homunculus flushed and turned away, fingers tightening around the blankets nervously.
"Get up; I need to fix the bed." Greed froze and stared at the man, then flushed again when he realized he was wasting time; the Homunculus hurried out of Hoenheim's way. He made sure to close his eyes against Teacher's alchemy; lately, watching it made him want to retch. When the air was devoid of alchemic crackling, Greed cleared his vision and saw Hoenheim walking out, leaving behind a perfectly constructed bed. Immediately, the Homunculus felt that same bone-dead exhaustion and plopped back on, already forgetting to express gratitude; and even when he remembered, he bit back, sensing that Teacher wanted him to keep silent.
Ears picking up the closing of a door, Greed's eyes drooped, but then he heard someone nestle himself against the wall. He was too tired to look back, so it was fortunate he didn't need to; the Homunculus could see clearly in his mind's eye Hoenheim sitting quietly and patiently by his bedside. Greed smiled into his pillow and said, "Thanks," coming out as ragged whisper, keeping with Teacher's desire for silence, but he still hoped that the man heard him, regardless. (Golden eyes stared blankly at the opposite wall.)
The Homunculus slept well the rest of the night.
...Linking "That First Night", #1 here
http://greedyslayer.livejournal.com/5062.html
...Linking "Lesson the First", #2 here.
http://greedyslayer.livejournal.com/12129.html
...Linking "Calm Before the Storm", #3 here.
http://greedyslayer.livejournal.com/16884.html#cutid1
...Linking "Punishment the First", #4 here.
http://greedyslayer.livejournal.com/19097.html