Turn On The Bright Lights / FMA / Gen

[dalicious]

Title: Turn On The Bright Lights
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1660
Characters: Solf J Kimblee; Truth
Summary: Conversations regarding the nature of impact, desire and the right to seek one's place in the world.
A/N: Post-canon; unashamedly gratuitous. So it goes.

The Gate is immense, shining darkly against the stark white nothingness that was the surrounding area; the figures before it, likewise, are pale, - one decidedly moreso, nothing but a spectre of anything that should be considered alive.

Kimblee reaches out, resting his palm gently against the darkness of the Gate; it seems to pulse beneath his skin. "I have nothing to offer you," he says without turning around, not even looking at the man-shaped mass of light behind him; Truth, to his credit, doesn't seem to mind.

"You don't."

"Then why am I here?"

The soft laugh from Truth gets him to turn around; the spectre is grinning at him. "Because you have questions."

"And after I've asked them?"

"You'll find that out at the end." Truth laughs again before Kimblee can respond, the sound unsettling and high-pitched. "Don't look so offended. You said yourself that you have nothing to offer in exchange for your life; you knew the answer before you asked the question."

Kimblee is quick to amend his expression, resettling it into something far more neutral, though there's a definite wariness to his gaze. "How many things am I permitted to ask? You realize that if I'm allowed to ask until I'm satisfied, I could just make up an indefinite amount of questions."

"I won't guarantee that you'll leave this place satisfied," Truth replies. "I think, with you, it'll be the opposite - the more you ask, the less you'll understand. Ask whatever you want. You'll leave when you're ready, but you won't leave satisfied."

"That's..." Kimblee pauses for a moment before turning around, resting his hand lightly on the Gate again. "I suppose that's very generous of you, considering my point about asking unending questions still stands."

"We both have time."

"So we do." Kimblee is silent for a moment before he continues, eyes closed. "You're aware of what I've done, I'm assuming. My life's work."

"I am."

"Then my first question would be the reason behind your generosity. Why offer me this experience to begin with?"

"Your work was beautiful to you."

It isn't a question; Kimblee answers it like one anyway.

"Yes, it was."

"This world has created you so you can find happiness within it, and your happiness didn't upset the natural order of things. You would have known if it had."

"Some would argue that the Ishvalan genocide - "

"You've argued that point yourself."

Kimblee turns at the interruption, though he doesn't speak; one of his eyebrows darts upward questioningly, however. Go on.

"You stated that the Ishvalan genocide was a part of the natural order, did you not? They failed to defeat the Amestrians, and so they didn't deserve to survive."

"And you agree with that?"

Truth just seems to shrug. "I neither agree nor disagree."

"I don't understand."

"I told you that you wouldn't." Truth's grin is wide, almost entirely teeth. Unnerving. "One life doesn't matter any more than anyone else's, but it doesn't matter any less, either. What matters is what any one person chooses to do with the life they're given. Your work provided beauty and comfort to you; it didn't upset the natural order. Did it?"

"...No. At the very least, I don't believe it did."

"You would have known if it had," Truth repeats. "You deserve beauty and comfort no more or less than anyone else. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kimblee replies, in that blank tone that indicates that he doesn't; Truth grins at him again.

"You've used a Philosopher's Stone, have you not?"

"I have."

"And did it matter which individuals were used in its creation? The Amestrians. The Ishvalans. You. At your cores, you're all raw materials. Equal in worth, at least in the eyes of the world."

"And beings like Father and the Homunculi...?"

"They as well, yes."

"Despite the way they chose to spend their existence."

"You are stuck on that point, aren't you?" Truth's words aren't exactly taunting, but there's a sort of condescension there that Kimblee doesn't care for. "I'm not going to seek revenge on you."

"That's not what I - "

"Asked? You didn't have to." Truth explains it with the patience that one might normally have when dealing with a very young child; Kimblee bristles a bit, but doesn't argue. "My dealings aren't a matter of revenge. They aren't a matter of judgment; they're just a matter of fairness. Isn't this what you wanted? To be told that you can do whatever you like, without someone trying to get revenge on you for it? You've gotten what you sought after all these years; why don't you trust it, when you have it right in front of you?"

"It's hardly Equivalent Exchange."

"Isn't it?" Truth raises a hand lightly, to keep Kimblee from responding. "All are allowed to seek happiness within the confines of the world. All are equal; all have an equally important right to seek happiness. If you can't comprehend it, imagine where all the heroes would be, should the villains not be allowed to pursue their own happiness."

Kimblee pauses for a moment before tipping his head slightly, conceding the point. "Without darkness, there can be no light."

Truth smiles again. "That's a cliché way of wording it."

For the first time since arriving here, Kimblee smirks in return. "It's cliché simply because it's something everyone knows."

"I'll definitely allow that," Truth replies, the amusement still incredibly evident in his tone.

Kimblee falls quiet for a moment after that, folding his arms across his chest; it's more of an idle gesture than anything defensive. "What happens, after this?"

"You value strength in one's convictions above all, don't you?"

A brief moment's pause. "Yes..."

"Then what do you believe will happen? And, more importantly, why do you have to ask me if you're correct or not?"

Kimblee simply stares for a moment, eyes wide. "I...yes, that's a valid point..."

"I thought you might agree."

It takes Kimblee a good while longer than he likes to compose himself; he turns to face the Gate again - while he's looking in its general direction, however, it's plain this his mind is a million miles away. "One more thing."

"Anything you like."

"You said that I'm receiving what I wanted, but you know what you referred to wasn't my end goal."

"Mm, that's true."

And at that moment, Kimblee hesitates; it occurs to him that perhaps it's pathetic to have to ask.

He asks anyway.

"Did I change the world?"

Truth's answer is immediate. "Everyone does; there would be no point in existing if you didn't. You changed the world simply by existing in it; you would have changed it without any effort on your part at all." There's a pause after that, however; Kimblee can practically hear the grin, psychotic and mocking. "But that isn't what you're asking."

"No, it isn't."

"That's been the question you've been trying to answer your entire life, isn't it? Not whether anyone's life matters; you've always been convinced of the human element being important to the world in some way." Truth pauses; the silence is immense, for one that only lasts a few seconds. "You're asking whether your life matters."

Kimblee's hand twitches a bit; he bites back any urges that may be trying to surface in favor of answering the question. It's degrading, in a way he can't possibly begin to put into words; there's nothing to be done about it. "...Yes."

"I've already given you your answer. It's a simple one. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"I'm afraid that I don't."

"It's simple."

The pause goes on for so long that Kimblee isn't sure whether he's expected to take a guess or not; Truth's voice is tinged sharply with superiority when he finally does speak again. "Your life matters no less than anyone else's. But it certainly doesn't matter any more, either."

Kimblee tenses up a good amount at that, his hand closing into a fist, knuckles scraping sharply against the door to the Gate; Truth continues on before he can comply.

"I said that my work isn't one of revenge; I don't judge you for what you've done. But that doesn't mean that I won't punish you. A lack of judgment doesn't mean there's a lack of consequences for your actions."

"Are you going to torture me?"

"Of course not."

Kimblee is quiet for a moment, mulling that over. "I doubt you'll think I deserve paradise, either."

"You don't."

"What awaits me, then?"

"Nothing."

Kimblee freezes. "Nothing," he repeats quietly.

"Haven't you always known this would be the end for you?" Truth asks, an odd, mocking quality entering his tone. "You accepted it a long time ago - that you would die alone, and no one would know. If they knew, no one would care. And that's exactly what you'll receive." He gestures back toward the Gate, then. "What remains of your soul and humanity are the toll to be taken from you, for what you've done. Upon being brought through the Gate, you will be destroyed; any of the wisdom contained therein isn't for your eyes. Do you understand?"

Kimblee doesn't answer, at least not verbally; he finds himself stepping back from the large black doors, his hands closed tightly into fists at his sides.

"I told you that you wouldn't leave satisfied," Truth offers.

"So you did," Kimblee replies, his voice tight.

"I think you're done asking questions."

"...I could continue asking them indefinitely."

"You could. But I don't think you'd like the answers."

Kimblee pauses. Shakes his head.

"Go, then."

And as those dark doors swing open, Kimblee turns his head, looking toward Truth once more. "You didn't answer me...in terms of what I've accomplished, we had an arrangement - "

"You won't be forgotten, if that comforts you any. But remember your penance - any wisdom beyond this point isn't for you to know."

And then there was, quite simply, nothing left.