Oh Brother, My Brother
Attack on Titan One Shot by
TheObsessory

We gathered the bodies of the dead in the wake of the Titans' destruction of the Battle of Trost. I never thought I would see so many bodies in my life, and I hoped I wouldn't again.

Although the sun warmed us as we scavenged for our fallen comrades and sweat beaded on our brows, I couldn't suppress the shivers that would every so often work their way up my spine.

It was already two days since we began the recovery of the bodies to prevent any secondary disasters from arising- as if we hadn't come across enough disasters as it was. My nose had grown used to the putrid smell of rotting flesh that surrounded us here on the ground. Blood had dried from the fresh crimson red to muddy brown on the cobbled streets and destroyed walls.

My hot breath hit my lips and chin, bouncing off of the cloth in front of my face in an attempt to shield myself from the disease most likely already leaking from the decomposing dead.

Too many of us had died. The number had already climbed to over one hundred and fifty soldiers and showed no signs of stopping any time soon. However, as far as my small group knew, there had been no civilian casualties, which was a win if ever there was a "win" in this gruesome situation.

I found myself nibbling self consciously at my lip as I scanned the streets in search of bodies, wondering where my brother had disappeared to. It had already been quite a few days since I last saw him, but I wasn't too concerned- I had yet to see Armin, Eren, Mikasa and many of my other friends and comrades since the beginning of this battle. Understandably so. All our efforts were currently focused on preventing the spread of disease and reopening Trost now that it had been reclaimed.

Glancing up at the sky, I blinked, momentarily blinded by the sun.

'High noon. Nearly lunch.' I smiled under the cloth that protected my mouth and nose, excited to see Connie, Sasha, Jean and the others who were part of my group. This clean up job would have been impossible if it weren't for them. Although none of us enjoyed this job, having one another to lean on for support was much appreciated.

And before long, we'd be done and regroup. I looked forward to being reunited with the rest of my friends from the 104th Training Corps. It was nearly time for graduation, and although I hadn't made it into the top ten like my brother had, I was looking forward to assignments and seeing where everyone went.

Some were quite obvious: I knew Eren would be joining the Survey Corps and I expected Armin and Mikasa to follow him to the ends of the earth. Most of my friends had made it into the top ten and I wouldn't be surprised if they headed straight to the center of the bullseye. I knew my brother was determined to join the Military Police Brigade, and I was disappointed I wouldn't be joining him. I, personally, had my eye set on the Garrison.

I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I found myself greatly unprepared. I knew the Survey Corps was important to our cause. I prayed every night for those who left the safety of the walls to return, as I'm sure many do. But I knew I didn't have the strength nor determination to be of any use to them out there. I wasn't as skilled as Mikasa. I wasn't a genius like Armin. And I most definitely was not as fearless as Eren. The one thing my brother and I shared was our persuasion in words. And words did little against the bloodthirsty Titans that roamed the unclaimed lands.

"Marco…"

I heard my brother's name, so light I would have missed it if I hadn't been straining to hear for sounds of trapped or injured soldiers.

My head lifted, eyes finding Jean stone still on the edge of the stone street, back to me, Marco nowhere in sight.

Perhaps Jean had just been talking to himself. He always seemed a little lost without my brother. They had grown to be the best of friends during training. They complemented each other well as a pair of soldiers.

I admired Jean as Marco did. We both knew him to be a leader even if he didn't believe in himself all that much. He just needed that extra little push.

"Jean! Are you ready to go eat-?"

The light haired boy whipped around, eyes widened in worry.

Had I startled-?

That's when I noticed the body, its upper torso leaning against a wall, skin paled from the age of the corpse. But I was still too far away to distinguish any clear facial features.

"Mags." Jean sounded weak. Strained. The sound made my flesh crawl, goosebumps chilling me down to my core. "Don't."

I had to see.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my legs began to sprint down the street toward where the gray body lay.

He was wrong. He had to be. Marco was off helping elsewhere. He was smart. He was safe. He couldn't be gone-

Jean caught me around the waist with one of his arms as I attempted to push by him, trying to get closer to see. Although he was strong and held me firmly against his chest, I pulled with all my might against him.

He may have succeeded in stopping me, but I was now near enough the body to see it. He hadn't been able to keep me from pulling him back around.

My knees gave way but Jean's arm never wavered as I sagged, voice caught in my throat.

That body couldn't be Marco. Half of it was gone.

Bile rose in place of my voice and I gagged to keep the vomit down.

"Mags, stop struggling." Jean's voice had firmed up but still sounded so, so weak. So unlike him.

I hadn't even noticed I was striking Jean's forearm around my middle with my fist in an attempt to break free and run to my brother's side. Or that tears cascaded down my cheeks.

All thoughts had cleared but one: I had to help him. He was my brother. My twin. My other half. He couldn't be gone. Jean was wrong. It was a trick of the light. He was just hurt. He was fine. He was fine.

"Magdalena. Please. You need to stop." Jean's voice had weakened further.

"He's my brother!" I was finally able to find my voice behind the knots and bile, my eyes blurred with salty tears, "I will never stop fighting for him. I will never leave his side. Let me go, Jean!"

Yet even as I said it, I felt my resolve to escape his grasp break and dissipate in the stale air around us. Jean's name cracked as it left my lips, a sob not far behind. My knees gave way once more and Jean took the opportunity to spin me around and wrap both arms around the middle of my back to hold me up. I couldn't tell if my own shuddering was shaking him or if he, too, was crying.

I sobbed into the front of his shirt, the ingrained image of my dead brother and my own bodies convulsions nearly causing me to vomit more than once.

I don't know how long he held me there- whether it was only a few moments or a few hours- but another unfamiliar voice silenced me momentarily.

"Do you two know who this soldier is? It would be helpful to have a name to pass on."

I felt Jean nod, the bottom of his chin tapping the top of my hair gently.

"Please help this young lady pull herself together after you tell me his name. We still have much work to do."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest, and in my moment of fury, I pushed Jean away. He was caught off guard and stumbled backwards as I whirled around on the gray haired nurse before us.

"Do not tell me who I can and cannot grieve for. That soldier is my brother, Marco Bott. I am Magdalena Bott and I will not stop hunting those things that did this to him. Now go bother someone else you old hag-" The words tumbled from my mouth, stomach rolling once more. Jean silenced me with a large hand over my mouth and pressed the back of my head against his chest, but not before I had said what I wanted to say.

"I'm sorry-" Jean struggled to apologize for my sake- had he not silenced me, I would have told him not to. This bitch deserved every word I had to say. But she stopped him with a small wrinkled hand, her dead blue eyes never leaving mine.

"Take your break."

I watched her leave, eyebrows angled downward to convey every emotion I could to her without words. And I was faced with the agonizing sight of my dead brother once more.

Jean took my shoulders, most likely ready to reprimand me for my outburst when he turned me around, but I had began to cry once again and I could tell he didn't have the strength, nor heart, to yell at me.

"Your brother knew what we signed up for, Mags. We all did." He took both my cheeks in his gloved hands, anchoring my head as I gasped for breath, "He fought for us. For you. And we will not let his death be for nothing."

"Wh-what am I going to do without him?" I blubbered, my voice flying into an obnoxiously high octave as I attempted to calm myself to no avail.

He pulled me close once more, my nose rubbing against the cold, damp spot on his shirt I had previously been crying into.

"We'll survive." He whispered into the hair on the top of my head, hand caressing my cheek, "We'll survive."

I binge watched Attack on Titan and then read the entire thing in one week and then was stuck travelling for twenty four hours and this thing happened so...

Was uber sad they killed off Marco. Really loved the chemistry between him and Jean.

~TheObsessory