wipesfaith | [fourth wall]

[For a moment, he just runs a hand across his face in exasperation. Then he reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out a second cigar because fucking dammit he really needs another smoke to go with this.]

Just when you think your day can't get any more messed up...! [After putting the cigar to his mouth, he starts digging through his pocket for a matchbook.]

[He snorts.] Look at you, living the dream.

[Marco may be listening finally, but he's still so completely different than what Jean knows that it's more than a little unnerving. And it pisses Jean off, that all those lofty dreams collapsed into...whatever it is he's looking at right now.]

You know nothing about dreams, kid.

[Ultimately, there's a difference between dreams that can be realized and fantasies. Their initial goal was one that could never be reached, Marco knows that now. The only 'dream' he still has left is to continue leading the only squad in the Military Police that's even remotely close to being respectable.

Once he's done lighting his cigar, he puts the match out with a swift wave of the hand and tosses it aside.]

Maybe not. [It's impossible to be certain that there's a better future up ahead, a way out of all of this. It's hard enough to put in it whatever tentative hope he can.] I know plenty about nightmares, though, and that's as good a reason as any to fight.

Fight? [He scoffs, burying a hand in his pocket again.] There's no need to fight. You only need to survive. Keep out of trouble.

[He looks Marco directly in the eyes.] Tell that to all my comrades who have died. Tell them that what they did meant absolutely nothing to anybody.

[He meets that gaze head-on. What's this younger version of Jean got to compare anything to? Trost? Trost was nothing compared to the massacre that took place five years later.]

Your comrades fought valiantly, I'm sure. For the sake of humanity. We fight for civilians and we die for them, but the only way to keep fighting for them is to keep on living.

[Jean could punch him for that patronizing tone.]

What would you know about any of that? Fighting, dying-- You're living a cushy life behind the inner walls, aren't you? Isn't that what we always wanted? An easy life where we don't have to give a shit about anyone but ourselves?

[No, that's what he had wanted. Marco had been better than that, always, and Jean used to make fun of him for it, call it a front for his true motivations...]

It's what we wanted, yes. It's just not what we got. I hate to be the one to piss all over your dreams, but the inner walls are far from cushy.

[Illegal activities and depravity... Crimes committed by their own men... The inner walls are a rats' nest. You have to watch your own back first and foremost, or carelessness will be your downfall. There are no heroes, there are only those who don't cave to corruption.]

[Tch.] Don't worry about about hurting my feelings, I gave up on that dream already. Sounds like I made the right choice, too. [He still wants to know how he would have ended up, but at the same time he's afraid to wonder.]

So I guess I should thank you for the reassurance, buddy.

[Geez. For the past ten years now, Marco's had the belief that Jean's sarcastic remarks had gotten worse over time, but apparently he was just as as a teenager.]

Gave up, huh? So you're... what, in the Survey Corps? You think that's a better place to be?

"Let go" of it might be a better way to put it. [Giving up implies that he had stopped trying, when really what he had done was start trying harder.]

The Survey Corps is a fucking shitty place to be, not gonna lie. But I'd rather die doing something than live doing nothing.

[He's not too offended by the accusation. Honestly, he's heard it before. People like to blame the Military Police when things don't get done in the inner districts and for the most part, they'd be right. For the most part.]

My life would be a lot easier if we did nothing. That said, maybe the Survey Corps is a better place for you.

[Jean won't ever get the chance to spiral down that road he's been following for the past ten years. Marco would miss not having him by his side, sure, but it'd be better for Jean himself.]

Might have been a better place for you too. [Is this really Marco he's talking to? Everything about him is wrong, not at all like his friend. There's a pause in which he doesn't drop his glare as he looks over the man in front of him]

I'm glad to see you're doing okay, though. [The vaguest word possible, "okay". He's alive and healthy, at least. Despite the harsh tone, these words are sincere.]

[He notices how vague that word choice was. Thinking back to their old mindset, he's sure the Jean of old is disappointed to see just how much of an impact the Military Police has had on him. It had an impact on everyone. Hardening yourself is the best way to survive in there, he supposes.]

And you. Nice to see you've still got your wits about you in a place like this, wherever the hell we are.

I'd be a dumbass to let this place make me soft. [He has to wonder if the person he was not too long ago would have let this place turn him into a lazy, complacent bastard. He doesn't doubt it.]

...It's called Luceti, by the way.

Luceti... [The name feels foreign in his mouth. Too foreign. He takes another huff from his cigar as he considers the situation at hand.]

What're we supposed to do here?

Wait to go back. [But that makes it sound like he can't wait to go back, which...well, it isn't entirely true.] "Make the best of it." You do what you can.

Heh. That doesn't sound too different from what I usually do, then.

["Make the best of it" is like his own personal motto. No matter how much shit gets flung at him, he needs to keep going.]

Then you should have an easy time here.

[A pause.] Guess it's time for me to "run on home" now and let you be on your way.

[Although their exchange had grown less abrasive, this guy - this guy who's supposed to be Marco - just rubs him the wrong way. It's not who his friend is, and he's really not interested in making small talk or answering more questions.

Or asking any questions of his own.]

Edited 2014-01-28 07:08 (UTC)

[For a few seconds, he just watches Jean. The young Jean who's so different from the Jean he's known for so many years now, yet in some ways is still exactly the same. Or already the same, he supposes might be a better way to word it.]

Right. Stay out of trouble, kid.

[He's already walking off, but he looks back over his shoulder.]

Yeah, but not because you told me to.

[The laugh Marco gives in response is bitter- he's not even trying to hide it. Not even a younger version of Jean will take his advice anymore. It's a shame, because he's pretty sure Jean used to take it. Perhaps that means he's the one responsible for that change, not Jean himself.]

[fourth wall]

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