In which Reiner has a son and I refuse to acknowledge Bertolt's death.
"They should move in with us." Milla told her husband, crossing her arms over her pregnant belly.
"Hmm?" Bertolt replied distractedly, cleaning his blades. "Who, dear?"
"Reiner and his son."
"Milla…" Bertolt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We've asked, and Reiner refused. He wants to stay in his own house."
"And you know as well as I do how that'll work out. Since Krista died, he mopes and drinks and mopes some more. His son is an infant, Bertolt. The boy needs mother's milk to make him strong. Don't tell me that Reiner is feeding him goat's milk still."
"All right, I won't tell you."
"Bertolt!" Milla screeched.
Bertolt threw the newly cleaned blade on the floor, and the brittle steel snapped. "I have been trying, Milla. Gods know I have. But how can I help Reiner if he doesn't want to be helped?"
Bertolt knew the answer his headstrong wife would give. "You help him whether he wants it or not, because he's too damned thick to see that he needs help!" Milla shouted. "Gods be good, I'll do it myself!"
With that, Milla stormed out the door, her curly brown locks bouncing along behind her. "Dammit. Milla, wait up!" Bertolt shouted, running after her.
Milla fairly knocked the door down, Bertolt close behind. "Reiner Braun!" she shouted, planting herself in the doorway. "What, in the name of all that is holy, have you been doing?"
Reiner was sitting in the rocking chair in his and Krista's bedroom, bottle in hand. He was much thinner than he was when Milla last saw him. His son was asleep on the bed, while the stray cat Krista had loved was lapping milk out of a shallow pan. "Morning, Milla."
"It's midafternoon, Reiner." Bertolt informed his friend.
Reiner shrugged. "Afternoon, then."
Milla then did what she did best- she took charge. She scooped up the baby and sniffed his bottom. "Gods be good, Reiner. Have you ever diapered this poor boy? No, don't tell me." She set about undoing the cloth around the infant's body and cleaned up the mess that was there.
Bertolt went up to Reiner and kneeled by the rocking chair. "How have you been?" he asked.
Reiner shrugged, his broad shoulders sagging. "The same. I guess." He took another swig out of the bottle. Bertolt snatched it away, and seeing that it was nearly empty, finished the whiskey off and tossed it into the pile of bottles in the corner. It landed with the crash of shattering glass.
"Reiner, it's been three weeks now. I understand that you miss Krista-" Bertolt began, but Reiner interrupted him.
"Don't tell me to move on, Bertolt," he growled. "Not again. You don't know what it's like-"
"-to lose someone I love? The hell I don't, Reiner," Bertolt shot back, his patience, which had been stretching thin for weeks, finally snapped. "Do you rememeber what happened to our village, all those years ago? Do you remember what happened to Milla last year? She was in that accident, and miscarried the baby. Our first baby. I thought I would lose her, too. So don't tell me I don't know what grief is."
"Get out." Reiner barked. The cat, unnerved by the sudden noise, bristled and ran away. "I want both of you gone. Now."
Bertolt was about to retort, but Milla beat him to it. "We all want things, Reiner. I want my firstborn alive and well. I want my father to hold his first grandchild. I want Krista alive again so maybe you will stop acting like a drunken sod and start acting like a man again!" The boy in her arms stirred a little at her outburst, and she cooed at him before continuing in a calmer tone of voice. "If you want to act like a baby, Reiner, then gods help me I will treat you like one. Now this is what will happen. You will come and live with Bertolt and me until such time as you can pull yourself together and care for your son. This is not an option." She finished firmly.
Reiner sulked, more than a little ashamed that a woman two feet shorter and a good hundred pounds lighter than him was scolding him like a naughty child. He finally looked at Bertolt, who was watching Milla with the baby boy.
"Dammit, Bertolt. Out of all the women out there, you had to marry Keith Shadis' daughter."
Bertolt smiled a little at the baby in his wife's arms. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."