Gentle fingers trailed over his forehead and scalp, gently soothing away tension. "Jean, you really shouldn't be this tense. It's not healthy."
He captured the roving hands, holding them tightly beneath his chin. "I know. I'm trying to, believe me. It just sucks trying to adjust to a civilian life after you've spent years killing people and being sneaky."
"That's not all of it, is it?" The hands began to work at his neck, pushing ruthlessly at knotted muscles.
Jean sighed explosively. "No, it's not! I have all these girls squealing and cooing over me, thinking I'm a great hero because I managed to come back in one piece. They don't understand about how many people I had to kill to keep myself alive. They don't understand about how accusing dead eyes are when half the skull's missing."
"You're here so they don't have to understand," the man behind him reminded gently. "That's why you joined up, right? To keep everyone innocent. The epitome of a fallen angel: you damn yourself in an effort to keep everyone pure. In its own way, it's admirable."
"You're mocking me, Maes."
"No, I'm not. I'm sorry if it sounded like that, but someone needs to remind you that you can't save everyone. You need to save yourself, not the world."
"That doesn't mean I can't try."
Nimble fingers worked down his arms, smoothing muscle. "Jean, you're going to burn yourself out at this rate. That façade of yours won't last too much longer. As it is, you're exhausted. You can't keep pretending."
"This may be a shocker, but I'm honestly not pretending. You should know by now that I'm a lousy actor..."
Maes' forehead rested against the back of his head. "Jean, just promise me that you'll take the time to relax and try to forget..."
"I don't want to forget. I'm stubborn that way."
He couldn't help laughing at the blonde. "Stubborn indeed. Roy Mustang is one lucky man."
"H'm?"
His fingers began working out the tension in big, rough hands. "With your stubborn loyalty, Mustang will be able to pull off becoming Führer. You're too proud to die for anyone, yet you're willing to die for Mustang..." He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Jean's neck. "I envy him."
"I'm sorry, Maes."
"Don't be. You need him just as much as he needs you. There's no shame in that..."
No... none at all. No shame in dying for a man that is determined to make the world better one step at a time. Two fallen angels, and no Heaven to return to.
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Wow. Fear my psudo-angst! I know it's short, but things have been hectic, what with papers, musical practices, and just a general feeling of 'yuk!' pervading my life.
Written for sketchyheart, because she shares my Havoc love.