There was a hush over the Survey Corps Headquarters. The expedition to capture the Female Titan had been a complete failure, and as a result half the Survey Corps were dead. Those that survived had managed to do so by the skin of their teeth, and were trying to cope with the loss.

Krista was bandaging up Sasha's leg. Across the room, Ymir watched her. Krista was trying to hold up, but it was clear that the younger girl was shaken. Ymir felt a stab of irritation. Krista's so… self-sacrificing, she thought. She's too good. To everyone. It irritated her, for some reason.

Angrily, she got up and went outside. It had not been a heavily populated place to begin with, and now, it seemed practically deserted. Feeling restless, she wandered around, remembering the ill-fated trip. She remembered the moment the Female Titan had come running out of nowhere, straight at them. The way she'd curb stomped the whole flank, leaving the remains for the other titans to eat. She remembered her own fear at that moment, the irrational panic at the thought that she might die.

I am a titan, she told herself. If push comes to shove, I turn, and… and what? Once she transformed, everyone would know what she was. And she would be trapped. She never, ever wanted to return to that hideous nightmare again.

Ymir growled with frustration. She felt confused, angry, sad. She wasn't sure what she felt, what she wanted, whose side she was on.

It wasn't till she heard the soft whinnying of the horses that she realized that she had wandered to the stables. They were empty, the guy who'd managed them having been killed. Ymir's face twisted at the thought. He'd seemed like a good guy, and she couldn't even remember his name. Angrily, she kicked at a stone. It hit the side of one of the stalls loudly. There was the sound of something falling over from behind the stable.

Frowning, Ymir walked around them. There were some boxes there. Bertholdt was sitting on top of them, his legs pulled to his chest, his arms around them. He looked at her, startled. Ymir stared back at him.

"Hey," she said. "Hiding, huh."

Bertholdt's expression changed; he looked grim. "Yes," he said, in a low voice. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Ymir said, with a shrug. "I just… couldn't stay there."

Bertholdt nodded and looked away, hugging his knees tighter. "I'm a warrior," he said, in a low voice, "I shouldn't be feeling like this."

Ymir gave a small laugh. "Hey, feelings like these are what make us human, right?" she said. Bertholdt looked up at her.

"Human…" he said, and there was bitterness in his voice. "There isn't much place for a human in this world, is there? They… all die so soon."Ymir didn't say anything.

She didn't want to think of his words, how they were probably true, how tomorrow they could all probably be dead, just like the others. Strong meant nothing amongst the humans, Levi's squad had been the strongest, and they'd been squashed like flies.

Watching Bertholdt idly, she wondered how long it would be before he was killed. He was attractive, she realized, tall and strong and broad-shouldered. Watching the muscles flex as he tensed his arms, the fine sheen of sweat over his face and neck, she felt the burning in her skin increase. She wanted him, wanted him to fuck her brains out. Almost without thinking, she reached over, and pulled him into a kiss.

He inhaled sharply, his body growing rigid. His arms snaked around her waist, slowly at first, then tightened as their kiss deepened. Ymir threaded her fingers through his hair, hungrily pulling him closer. She pushed him down, straddling him, trying to pull off his jacket. Bertholdt's own hands were running up and down her back, under her shirt. His lips left her mouth, feverishly trailing kissing down her neck.

She didn't want to think about what she was doing. She didn't care. Tomorrow, probably, she would feel different, but at that moment, all that mattered was him, the feel of his body against hers as she descended into blissful oblivion.