I cover the hand his has against my chest with one of my own, gripping, squeezing, trying to reassure him further that yes. I am alive. I am real.

Maybe I'm also trying to reassure myself.

"Stop being so stupid," I choke out, the tears I see in his eyes making my own throat constrict painfully. "I gave you the last piece of me. My heart and soul, or whatever equivalent a Greeed could have to those. Fighting with you, being one with you like that, it was my choice. And it was the most perfect ending I could have asked for. Dreamed of."

It was fulfillment. Satisfaction. It was all the things my kind had dreamed of.

And that's the heart of the problem now, isn't it? I achieved my goal. I had a perfect end.

And I came back. And now how to I move?