Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fanfiction, written to satisfy a fangirl's (the authoress, in this case) fantasies.
Warnings: Possible spoilers, OOC-ness

Subconscious Decision

His head hurt. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly then as he struggled to get oriented. A sudden gust of wind played by him, and he caught the scent of grass and flowers mingling in its wake. He looked around, and was surprised to find himself in an open field with an array of beautiful blooms.

Where was he? He looked down at himself, noting that he was in casual clothes. It occurred to him then that he was sitting leaning against a tree. He hastily pulled himself to his feet, still questioning where he was.

"Roy..."

He turned abruptly to his right where the voice originated from. It was a familiar voice, a voice he did not expect to hear again. Roy's eyes widened at the sight of the man approaching him, who had a wide smile on his face, the black rim of his glasses catching the sunlight and glimmered like the finest diamond.

"Maes..." Roy breathed the name. It sounded so right, yet wrong at the same time, because Brigadier-General Maes Hughes had passed away a few months ago.

The phantom grinned, coming to a stop a short distance away from Roy. Like him, Maes was also dressed in casual clothes, and Roy then realized that they were both dressed as that day Roy had contemplated on the theory of human transmutation, and perhaps, his suicide.

"It's nice to see you again, Roy," Maes said, his voice strangely sounding like an echo, as if he was but a distinct memory in Roy's mind.

Roy wetted his lips, unsure of what to say. He tried to recall what had happened before he woke up to find himself in this strange place with his supposed dead friend standing in front of him. Faintly, he caught snatches of his fight with the Fuhrer who had in fact been a homunculus, and that he had carried the Fuhrer's son out of the burning house in his arms. The last thing he saw was someone looking like Frank Archer, fitted with a monstrous auto-mail.

"I'm dead, am I?" Roy asked softly, surprised by the calm conclusion he had drawn.

Maes laughed. "You really think so? You haven't fulfilled your dream to become a Fuhrer. Can you really die that easily?"

Roy glared at the phantom. "Then why are you here? You're dead, Maes! You left Gracia and Elysia behind, your friends... and me! You said you were going to support me all the way to the top, but you left!"

"I know I'm dead, Roy. Ah, speaking of my Elysia, how is she doing?" His voice took on his usual, irritating glee then. "Is she getting prettier? Has she learned to read yet? Ahhh… she must be much cuter now!"

"Elysia's sad that her father has gone to someplace far," Roy said, voice hardened.

"Awww, my poor baby girl!"

Roy had had enough. He closed the distance between then and roughly snatched Maes' shirtfront, jerking the bespectacled man forward so that their faces were only an inch apart, noses and foreheads barely grazing. "Where am I, Maes? Why are you here? What's going on?" he hissed, anger fueling within him.

Maes peered over his glasses, eyes shining with mirth. Death apparently had not mellowed his mischievous nature one bit. "Just like old times," the phantom whispered, warm breath teasing over Roy's lips.

He growled low in his throat before releasing his hold on Maes, taking a step back. The bespectacled man looked unruffled, merely grinned, annoying the Flame Alchemist even more. He sighed then. "Please, Maes... no more games."

That seemed to do the trick. Maes' grin crumbled, leaving his face serious. Suddenly Roy was not sure if he wanted to see this side of his friend. Of course, Maes could be serious when he wanted to, especially when it came to work, but somehow, at this point of time where uncertainties plagued him, Roy rather have his friend smoothed things out with his joviality.

"You're not dead, Roy. You're just comatose. You've got hit pretty badly. But you'll live. You still need to fulfill your dreams."

"Then why am I here? Where is this place?"

Maes smiled. "Your subconscious. This is the place where you can find your peace of mind and decide if you want to live or die. I'm here because I'm part of your treasured memories, and the fact that I'm dead anchors me more deeply." His smiled widened into a grin. "But it's cool. I mean, we can have conversations, and I'm going to make sure you make through this. You'll live."

Roy looked away then. "I'll live? Do I really want that, now that I can make such a decision over my life so freely?" he whispered, more to himself. "I deserve to die for my sins. Years have passed yet I still carry the guilt, fresh as if it was only yesterday. I had wanted to do human transmutation, thinking I could erase away the sins. Looking at the Elric brothers, part of me was glad I didn't go through with it. But when you died, I—-"

Something hard came in contact with one side of his face, turning his head to one side sharply, and then a stinging sensation ensued. Roy felt his eyes dampened, and pain came alive, crawling across his face. One hand flew to cup the aching skin as he turned to face an angry Maes.

"Don't you dare say anything foolish! I don't want to hear it!"

Roy merely nodded, words failing to reach his lips. He remembered back then Maes had punched him too. Why was it that he was always getting the fist to the face? The thought tickled him, and he laughed, slow at first but gradually grew.

"Why are you laughing? Did I knock you too hard that you've lost it?" It was meant to be serious, but it sounded funny to Roy's ears, so he laughed harder, earning a deep frown from his normally cheerful friend.

Maes waited till Roy had quieted. "Sorry, but I was just wondering why it is always me getting the hits?"

The bespectacled man snorted, frown replaced by a patronizing look. "That is because you're too emotional. I do fear what's going to happen if you do become a Fuhrer. But I'll still punch you if that pushes you to the top. So live!" His features softened then. "Besides, my punches aren't as painful as the ones you gave me."

Roy frowned. "I don't remember punching you before." Which was true.

Maes smiled, rueful. "Physically, no."

It took Roy a moment to understand what his friend was trying to say. "Maes..."

"Rejection is the most feared blow of all. When the love is not easily replaced, even though it ebbs with the passing time, even though you find new substitutes, the pain lasts."

"Maes..." Roy started to say, but the name died on his lips when his friend took that step forward, towering over him, familiar warmth suffusing his, making it hard to breathe.

"You'll be going back soon; I can feel it. I hear Risa talking to you. She loves you, do you know that? She stays by your side for the same reason that I did. She'll make you a good wife."

Roy opened his mouth to protest, but Maes shook his head, stopping him. "You can lie to yourself, but not to me. I know what you feel for her. But something's holding you back, and that, I don't know what." Maes smiled, but it did not quite match his questioning eyes.

"I don't know too," Roy said quietly, though something told him he actually did, just that he was shielding himself from knowing it. Denial.

Maes gazed at him intently, trying to determine the truth in his words. Finally, he gave a small nod. "Then you have to find out for yourself. Your subconscious is tightening around us now. Can you feel it?"

Roy looked around, watching the open field with its plentiful blooms fading slowly, as if a wet brush was running over the vibrant colors. He sensed it within him that he was going to come round. Faintly, he heard Risa talking to him, something about the Elric brothers not found yet. He gazed back at Maes, who was beginning to dim as well.

"Maes..."

"I don't know if we'll ever meet again. Perhaps in your dreams, if you allow me in. The subconscious has its shields completely down when one is comatose," he explained as a matter-of-factly. "So before you go, would you grant me something that I was denied when I was alive?"

Roy's eyes widened. Somehow, he knew what it was Maes wanted. But it was perhaps obvious with the way Maes was gazing at him with such longing, and that his friend's body was now pressed against him. He wanted to say no, frantic running like a delinquent child within him. But like any child, curiosity falls primary to right and wrong. So he closed his eyes, granting.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Panic stopped his heart, and he wondered if he—they—were too late. But then he felt hands cupping his face, warm, big hands, slightly coarse. He involuntarily shivered as he felt tiny pinpricks along his spine. Warm breath caressed his lips, before something soft and cool pressed against them.

Maes' lips brushed lightly across his but it ignited a violent flame within him he had not known existed, melting his insides into a delicious pool of sensations that razed the lower half of him. Roy parted his lips slightly, and it gave Maes better access to nibble on his bottom lip. Deft teeth, lips and tongue played, and Roy felt the fire trickling down the nerves and muscles of his legs, weakening his knees. He grabbed on to Maes' broad shoulders and hung on.

Maes was coaxing for entrance into his mouth, and Roy eagerly granted it. His own tongue found Maes' invading one, and they teased and danced like old lovers. Never had anything felt so right. Roy was consumed by his fire, his shields burned, and he realized now what was holding him back from loving someone else fully. It was Maes, or rather, the thought of whether he loved Maes. True, he had rejected Maes. He thought he could only see Maes as nothing more than a friend. Maes had moved on and married Gracia. Yet he still hung back, surrounding himself with women, looking for the right one though he knew that the right one was by his side all along. But he dared not step up to her, because he was wondering if he had made the right choice of letting Maes go, and that had acted as a wall between him and her.

He knew better now.

They pulled back, lips barely grazing, breathing harshly. Maes' hands were still on his face, and they gazed at each other, knowledge filling them wordlessly. Maes smiled then. "I heard you calling my name frantically on the phone," he whispered. "I wanted to answer you, but I couldn't move and I couldn't see. But I died happy, because the last thing I heard was your voice."

Maes pulled his hands away and took a few steps back. Roy tried to call him, tried to hold on to those big hands, but he suddenly could not speak. His surroundings faded more rapidly, swallowing Maes along. The last he saw was his friend smiling and waving, and the latter's cheeky voice echoing in his mind, telling him to send his love to Gracia and Elysia.

There was that pain in his head again before absolute whiteness clouded his vision. And then he heard it, clear and happy, Risa's voice calling his name over and over again, the final pull towards the world of the living.

owari

Notes: This fic was first posted around June last year on my writing journal. I realized I've not posted here before, so here it is. Although I do wonder if there'll be any fans frequenting FFNet for FMA fics, since the FMA fever is long over. O well...