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The air was dry, the sun bearing down with a blistering heat that made it so nothing mortal could be found for miles. Even with the hesitant breeze, all that really blew around was more desert sand. Desert sand that felt more like razor blades against the skin.
Hohenheim knew that feeling all too well as his face met the desert floor, unable to keep on his legs any longer. The voices were growing louder and louder, making it difficult to hear himself anymore. Maybe he was never there at all. Maybe he was just one of them who'd won control and absorbed the host's memories. He closed his eyes, wishing the sand could actually, at least temporarily, suffocate him. If only for a second. Possibly then, he could manage to think for a moment.
No. He was Van Hohenheim. He couldn't run from this. Not yet. With some effort, he sat up, crossing his legs and putting his hands together as if in prayer. Had to at least make an attempt to tackle this. He tuned in, focusing on the sounds, trying to make out some semblance of coherency.
A deep breath. In. Out. Close your eyes. Focus. Listen.
"Slave 23? No...Hohenheim!"
"What happened to us?!"
"Where are we?!"
"It hurts."
"H-Hohenheim?"
"I want a drink."
A clear memory of the town drunk roaming the streets flitted through his mind, bringing a small smile to his face. Hohenheim took another breath after allowing each of the Xerxes’ citizen’s words sink in, this time just to calm down and figure out how to answer. Did this mean he'd spend his immortal life in mourning? It seemed inevitable, as the collective voices gained volume, gradually becoming static. Building the nerve to interrupt them took a moment, but Hohenheim closed his eyes and focused.
"Hello again, everyone. It seems I owe you a story if you are willing to listen to what someone like me has to say."
All at once, there was silence. Hohenheim could only hear the shifting of the bronze sands all around. Falling over him like rain coming in the wrong direction. It was both a bit of a relief and absolute chill. They were still there. He could feel them writhing inside, but there was no noise like he'd been growing so accustomed to. The static was abruptly gone.
"Hohenheim?" a small, female voice spoke up with a hesitance that made him uneasy. He waited patiently, though, wondering what she had to say.
The odd, ever-present sensation of being too cramped inside his body eased a bit as a different voice continued for her, harmony seeming to slowly re-establish itself. This time it was distinctly deeper and firm, "Hohenheim, tell us. We want to know why. Why are we here? It hurts, and we don't... understand."
The nodding motion he did in response seemed mostly just second nature and useless now. No one was actually looking, and he had no way of knowing if they "saw" it. Maybe they felt it? He relaxed his hands, took another settling breath, and began, hoping they would genuinely listen. He didn't want or deserve forgiveness, just for them to know what happened to them, why they’d ended up here.
One step at a time.
*
The sun had fallen beyond the horizon, painting the sky dark shades of blue and grey. Stars were littered everywhere, colorful purple clouds painting the darkness behind the glittering lights. Hohenheim blinked up at the colors, wondering just how vast it truly was. The citizens had been quiet for a bit. He'd finished telling them the story of the Dwarf in the Flask - how he was misled down this path - a few minutes ago. It seemed they were trying to process it all. Couldn't blame them, really, it was a lot of to handle.
"So... It was his fault?"
"Yes, weren't you paying attention?"
"This Dwarf guy sounds like a real ass."
"We're...really dead, then?"
"Yeah, seems like."
"Hey, so...are we gonna get revenge, or...?"
"I need a drink."
Hohenheim chuckled as the voices picked up again. It seemed they were coming to terms and slowly figuring out their own ways to cope.
"Is revenge truly what all of you want? How would we do such a thing? Have you given it real consideration?" The thought of righting an evil with another seemed pointless, just a waste of lives. He didn't have anything to live for, but... But he also didn't want any more casualties. No one else should have to suffer or die because of his poor decisions. "Isn't there anything else you'd rather have?"
"Hohenheim, you're too forgiving!"
"Yeah! C'mon, we don't wanna stay like this forever without some sort of payback."
"It hurts...it hurts it hurts..."
"Yeah, we know..." Hohenheim could feel the sigh.
"I'm sorry," his voice came out quiet against the now eerily still, chilly night, "I don't have an answer for you right now. He has become an incredibly powerful force. I do not wish any more suffering to befall others because of him...or me."
There was a notable weariness settling in, and Hohenheim couldn't help but feel bad. Not bad enough to let everyone die again, though. The image of all the corpses against the stone floors, leaning against the columns and begging for mercy, it haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. It wasn’t something he wanted to ever allow to happen again, so he’d opted to stay as far away as possible from his homunculus clone.
"You're a coward."
Multiple voices in unison, surprisingly in harmony for once. It wasn’t an accusation, more like...an assertion of a sure fact. Hohenheim chuckled as he finally stood and let the mound of sand that had been collecting on his body cascade off. He couldn't really disagree with them, either. Maybe it was cowardice, but he wasn't ready to face him now. Instead, he'd continue to walk. He wasn't sure where he was going, any direction was fine, moving was all that mattered. The people were so quiet now, but he hoped they'd all be at peace together with him someday. Together...
*
Trisha Elric. Brown soft hair, gentle green eyes, and a smile that could lift all worries from your shoulders. Hohenheim had never considered the idea of love. It was foreign and far away. Who could love him? But she did. Trisha saw him. Wholly for who he was, and she offered her heart, even gave him two precious boys.
Trisha.
With her, everything was different. And suddenly, Hohenheim wanted to be able to look those two boys in the eye without feeling the brunt of his mistakes and cowardice. They were his mirror image, but in the best of ways. Edward was full of energy, even as little as he was, and always wanted to go out and explore. Alphonse however, while wanting to always follow his big brother, was definitely the smart practical one, always cautious and considerate. Hohenheim got the feeling Al would be taking care of Ed more than the other way around, but he figured time would tell. Trisha always went easy on them, speaking to them gently and treating them with so much respect. They loved her as much as he did, and Hohenheim adored his family. That’s why.. And that’s why he couldn’t allow it. Not anymore.
So the late nights began. Hohenheim could sense it building. Something. He wasn’t sure what, but he had to find out. He spent hours pouring over research notes and maps. It took an agonizing amount of time, time away from his newfound family, but he could slowly begin to see the pieces of the puzzle line up. A circle. Yes. He never did know when to stop, when enough was enough. So many had suffered already. Why had he expected - no, dared to hope that the homunculus would just stop with Xerxes. He had been a fool for hoping.
A soft knock snapped him out of his thoughts. Trisha leaned against the doorway, offering a small wave when their eyes met.
"Hey stranger," the room felt lighter when she smiled at him.
"Trisha."
"The boys have been asking about you. They're in bed now. Though I'm sure Ed is keeping Al awake as we speak. Takes after someone I know with his insatiable curiosity."
Warmth rose to his cheeks. Ed? Taking after him? Was that good, or bad?
"I'm sorry, Trisha. You're too good to me. They're such good boys." His shoulders drooped.
A quiet, foreign giggle echoed from the back of his mind. One of the children from his stone was laughing at him. Cute.
"Yes, I am," She smiled at him again, tilting her head, before gesturing around the room, "But I know how important this is, even if I don't understand it."
There it was, the reason he'd fallen in love with her. Hohenheim knew he was a mess, to put it lightly. But Trisha didn't mind. She knew it all, knew about Xerxes and what he was. Even so, she saw him as a person. She was light where there was previously only darkness. And now two small lights, that he'd helped create no less, were in his life. He had to protect them.
"Thank you," hanging his head, it was hard to face her when he felt so useless, "I'm sorry."
Suddenly arms were around him, tight as they could wrap, her face buried in his chest.
"You're leaving, aren't you." It wasn't phrased as a question, yet still, there was no accusation.
But he knew that an answer was expected.
"I have to." Hohenheim rested his chin gently on the top of Trisha’s hair, arms wrapping tentatively around her waist. "I'll come back, I promise you and the boys that. Will you be here if I make it back?"
"I promise, we'll still be here when you return."
"Trisha...?"
"Yes?"
"Promise you won’t die before I do," Hohenheim tightened his hold a bit, feeling her slight tremble in it.
"I promise."
*
At dawn that next day, everything was packed and ready in his singular briefcase. Edward and Alphonse were still in bed, just how Hohenheim had hoped. Trisha handed him the brown trench coat from the rack by the door, chuckling slightly as her husband tried in vain to hide his teary sniffles.
"Silly man. Are you sure you don't want to wake them?" she patted him softly on the shoulder, a knowing look in her eyes. "They'll miss you, too."
"I'm sure, I don't want them to see me like this."
His shoulders were shaking now, cheeks getting wetter than he'd ever like to admit. A deep breath in and out. Hohenheim was trying hard to conceal his emotions. He didn't deserve to cry, not over something he had a hand in causing.
"Silly, silly man." Trisha was hugging him from behind, and even though he knew there was likely a curve to her lips, he could hear the deep sadness in her wavering voice. He patted her hands with a small sigh of acknowledgment. They would miss each other, as well.
The instant Hohenheim reached for the door, a small voice jolted both of them from their moment. Edward. Edward taking care of Alphonse. Edward asking what's going on. Hohenheim held his breath, emotion heavy in his chest at the sight of his sleepy sons being shooed away by their mother. He watched for a second longer over his shoulder before meeting Trisha's eyes. So much was said there. A promise. He'd come back. She'd be here.
He was a fool.
*
"He plans to kill many more this time," Hohenheim spoke as he walked, making lines as he went, "I, we, may need another plan. A backup."
"You're not afraid anymore?"
"Don't be dumb! 'Course he is."
"I tink it's de kids. Cute pair o'littluns, really."
"They grow up so fast. Hohenheim, a father."
"So, we're getting back at him because you fell in love?"
"I-... Trisha and the boys have shown me something more important than fear," another line made underground.
"Humanity?"
"Yeah, yeah. So? What's the plan?"
"Hohenheim found hope! I'm happy for you."
"Do we have a plan?"
"Hohenheim?"
"Are any of you willing to leave this body? Forever?" There were quiet-murmurs, but Hohenheim left his thoughts open and bare. They had to know his intentions. This would take time and determination.
"O-Oh. You mean...a final death."
"We could show him how we feel!"
"Will it work?"
"Yes, if and only if we are in complete harmony."
Tunneling through a whole continent was tedious, but hopefully, it was worth it. Being immortal didn't mean there was no exhaustion, however. It had to have been weeks by now, he couldn't tell anymore. So with a huff, he leaned on the wall of the rock tunnels to rest for a moment.
"You want to like...have talks around the fire?"
"That doesn't sound too bad."
"Sounds chaotic."
"But it's either that or a...whole... continent..."
"Wha, that's not fair! Not again."
"There's no amount of booze that could make me forget that."
"I think we're in."
"We have time, then. Let's begin.” Hohenheim stood up and stretched before resuming to dig the tunnel, determined, “Tell me your stories."
*
Years. So...so many years had passed, but it was complete. The lines were drawn and dug, the counter circle made. He hoped it was enough. Home was all he could dream of now, all he wanted. Trisha's face, her soft voice, he longed to hear it once more.
But time brought change along with it. Small piles of ashes and burn marks laid where their house had once stood. Worst of all, traces of transmutation grew clearer as he looked closer. He knew, understood what transpired, but no part of him wanted to accept that this was the fate he’d left his family to.
And Trisha.
Gone.
*
"Can you believe it, Trisha? He called me dad," Hohenheim made no efforts to hide the tears this time as he faced his wife one last time. There were no more voices, he was truly alone for the first time since he met the Dwarf in the Flask.
"Trisha, they've grown up so strong. And so stubborn," the fingers he'd been using to trace her name trembled slightly with laughter, "But they’re just like us. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise, either."
Hohenheim glanced up at the clear blue sky, taking a nice deep breath before hanging his head.
"I'll see you soon."
—
The wind was blowing hard enough that petals were being strewn everywhere. Hohenheim's body had begun to slowly deteriorate, like crumbling sand in the wind. A philosopher's stone of a body, far too used up, and now fading away.
"Hohenheim?" Pinako called from a distance, but upon coming closer and seeing what was happening, she froze. She'd never admit to the tear that fell down her cheek, yet still she smiled. "You damn fool... Ah. I hope you find each other. I really do.”
—
Van Hohenheim was said to have died with a smile on his face (and tears, but Pinako decided to keep that part a secret).