the little death

"I think it's very unfair that I can't kill you," Envy sulked.

"Get over it," Wrath said. He was polishing one of his swords in long smooth strokes, moving the cloth along it from hilt to tip and pausing each time to check its shine. "You're a pathetic idiot."

Envy snarled.

"A pathetic and still powerful idiot," Wrath corrected himself.

Envy rippled like a mirror image in water, and Roy Mustang smirked across at Wrath. "You only like this one because he challenges you."

"True," Wrath said. He sheathed his sword, and took down another from the hooks on the wall, slipping it out of its sheath. "You don't know what it means to be challenged."

"How about this one?" He was the Fullmetal boy now, grinning like a fool, ready to pull the world apart in innocence and out of the desire to save one woman's life. Stupid enough to make Wrath's hands itch to run a blade through him. "Do you like him?"

"Father finds him useful," Wrath said neutrally. "There's nothing more to be said."

"Or this one?" Greed this time, sneering at Wrath with that eternal mocking smile, as if he knew something that Wrath didn't. "You spent so long with him --"

"Enough of this." Wrath could feel the eternal boil of his temper stirring, rising through him in endless waves of heat. "What do you want?"

"I --" Envy hesitated.

Wrath snorted. "You don't know what you want. All you know is that you don't have it."


Wrath shrugged.


"One more word out of you and I'll put enough blades through you to pin you to the wall."

"Oh, you'd like me that way."

"I'd like you dead."

"I can do dead."

Wrath slid the blade through Envy before the other homunculus could react, slipping it up through Envy's ribcage and punching through the back of the chair that he was sitting in. Blood ran out warmly over his hand as he ground the sword into Envy's body. For a moment, Envy's face was blank and white, eyes rolling back, breathing stopped after that first pained choke of surprise; for that long moment, Envy was dead in every way that mattered, and that mocking tongue was silenced.

Then Envy twitched and life flickered behind his eyes again. His fingers slipped against Wrath's hand as he tried to tug at the sword hilt. "Bastard," he said weakly.

"I gave you what you wanted," Wrath said, leaning back and picking up another blade to polish.


"Tell me if you want me to do it again. Ask me nicely."

Envy breathed thick and slow as he drew the sword out, wistfully stroking the smoothness of his skin where the wound had been, as if he could feel a scar.