Disclaimer: I own FMA not, nor do I own the Bluebird’s Illusion fangame in any form. (DAMMIT!)

Author’s Note: I found an amazing translation to the BBI fangame on Midnight Banshee-san’s livejournal site, which I cherish dearly. (I love you, Midnight Banshee-san! (glomps) Thank you so much for giving my deprived self a great BBI fix! XD)

Anyway, this little ficlet was inspired by the much beloved Pride!Ed ending. I tried to stay as true to the actual end as possible, but for artistic reasons (and the fact that I’ve never actually SEEN the thing play out), it DOESVARY from the actual ending. Still, I hope you enjoy.

More Pride. . . more dead Al. . . angst. . . in my Elricest collection. . .

It makes me sad but, still, so happy. (sweat drop)

Warnings: An attempt at present tense; I refer to Envy throughout this fic as a ‘him,’ just because it’s easier to use ‘him’ than ‘its’; PRIDE!ED. Some spoilers for the BBI game, I suppose.

Also, someone asked about the definition of hubris—I repeat, look it up in a dictionary. Even if you haven’t covered it in school yet, I’m not giving you the answer! (And despite popular belief, I’m young too, so don’t give me that! ;) ) XD However, I will help with finding Pride pictures. Do a google image search for ‘Pride, Ed, FMA’ all together. You should get something then. If not, then just expand a little (‘Pride, Ed, Fullmetal Alchemist,’ etc.) :) Hope that helps!

XXX

Truth

XXX

“Don’t be so cold. Don’t you have any feelings?”

Envy frowns slightly at the oblivious figure beside him, mildly frustrated by the other’s stoic stance: eyes as gold and empty as the desert landscape. Flaxen hair, which shines a color similar to that of the sunlight, flutters in a dry breeze; but other than that, Pride does not move—choosing instead to watch the tall, white building in the distance; soulless stare firmly fixed on a distant woman.

There is a pause that Envy can only assume is full of thought on his companion’s part. Then—

“. . .with us. . .” Pride finally murmurs, voice as steady and lifeless as the rest of his new body. His gaze remains glued to the woman, however, who seems to be chatting heatedly with another man. “What. . . is the relationship between us. . . ?”

“. . .” The second homunculi arches an eyebrow, balling an irritated fist against his hip. Hadn’t he already answered that irksome question? ‘What IS Pride’s problem?’ “I said,” Envy began to repeat, snarling in frustration—

But pauses mid-sentence, unable to continue. For it is during this moment that he notices an annoying sort of hurt somewhere in the deep vicinity of his chest—watching this pathetic puppet strain for something; something that Pride himself is unsure of. “. . . have you really lost all of your memories, little Fullmetal alchemist?” he whispers, unable to keep the pang of regret out of his voice.

Pride turns slightly, glancing at his partner from over his leather-clad shoulder. Red tattoos glimmer in the sunset like blood. “Fullmetal?” he echoes in his deadpan lilt. “Who. . . who is that. . . ?”

And then there is sympathy. Only a small amount, but it’s there; for even Envy can remember portions of his past—portions he’d be lost without. “. . .how uninteresting. You were always so sensitive to the word ‘little’ before. . . ” Envy blows out his cheeks, shrugging in a disinterested way—before forcing himself to smirk. “But never mind. It doesn’t matter either way.”

The younger homunculi, as usual, does not reply to this—he has no words to say. Instead, he moves away, turning his back to the far-off scene.

. . . Turning his back, but yet. . . ! Envy watches him oddly, noticing a peculiar force in the graceful movements, as if Pride is trying not to look.

Trying. . . ?

He smirks. “. . . how ironic,” the elder purrs after a minute of confusion, finally catching on. “Is it that you’re not willing to remember. . . ?” Unwilling to recall the gruesome death of his caring superior, his loving friends, the brother he cherished more than life itself. . . ? Not to mention all of the others who had suffered because of him. . . “Is that it, little Fullmetal alchemist?”

Pride does not rise to bait, of course; nor will he ever. Pride simply exists—dangling somewhere between life and death. It is a habit Envy finds annoying. . . and rather frightening. ‘If I lose whatever humanity I have, will that happen to me, too?’

A beat.

“What should we do?” the blonde inquires softly, his back still towards the military offices. Envy considers this an unspoken request, and decides to comply before he accidentally shows his colleague a hint of weakness.

“You want to go already?” the first verbalizes, crossing his arms nonchalantly over his chest. “That’s fine, there’s nothing here for us. Let’s go.” And he starts off.

But. . .

Instead of following as he always has before, Pride lingers in the taller male’s wake, casting one last glance behind him. It’s as if he’s unable to find something he’d lost. . . “. . .”

“. . . hm?” Envy finally notices the other’s hesitation with a hint of surprise, stopping a few yards away once he’s realized he’s alone. “Pride?” he calls back, whirling on a stone to wave towards the second. “What is it—?”

Envy gapes—for there is a moment; brief, but unmistakable; when he swears he sees a tear in the other’s eye. Then, with just as little warning, it’s gone.

“. . . it really is. . . time. . . to leave,” Pride whispers; more to himself than anyone else; before spinning away in a flurry of amber locks. ‘It really is time to go. . . and whether this is love. . . or hate. . . it can at least be used to pass the time during this long life. . .

. . . until the end of the world.’

The scuffling of feet falters. . . slows. . . then stops, burning eyes watching the blazing sky. ‘There is something. . .’ “In order to gain anything. . . one must first give something. . . of the same value.” The words fall from his lips like a spell, like a river; once begun, unable to be stopped or slowed. “This . . . is alchemy’s first law. . . of equivalent exchange.”

“Eh?” Envy, in the midst of hopping from rock to rock, pauses, glancing at his brother from over his shoulder. “You say somethin,’ Pride?”

Pride shakes his head no, then—once the other has gone on ahead—hears himself breathe:

“There was a time. . . when we believed that to be the world’s one. . . and only. . . truth.”

XXX