The resonating clatter of hooves striking the wooden drawbridge echoed through the cavernous moat below. The curious soldiers manning the wall surrounding the castle leered down at the strange procession, muttering to one another as they observed. A petite blonde woman riding a chestnut mare was leading the Doc's notorious giant gelding. Lying prone across the horse's brawny back was a young woman, her face nestled in the base of his neck. The small group paused just inside the gates.
Petra, craning her neck, flashed a sweet smile at the guards before dismounting to check on Chester and (Name). One large russet eye framed with thick lashes regarded Petra calmly as she approached, apparently unperturbed by her presence. She scratched at his neck affectionately as she inspected his precious cargo.
(Name) was still out cold. Her slender fingers hung limply across Chester's shoulders, her feet still safely in their stirrups. Eyelids, so bruised against her pallid face, were closed so peacefully. It was almost as if she was finally shutting out the world for a while.
Poor girl, she really needs a long rest.
"Hey, Petra?" A deep voice spoke softly from behind her.
Petra jumped, spinning around to stare right at the tall man's waist.
"Oh Mike!" She giggled, peering up at the towering soldier's bearded face. "You know, you're surprisingly soft-footed for someone of your stature!"
Mike flashed her a wry grin before turning his attention to the two horses. When his eyes fell upon (Name), he gave a short sniff.
"Don't tell me Chester bucked that poor girl off."
"Oh no, it's not like that!" Petra threw up her petite hands, patting the air frantically. "Her name is (Name), she's one of the new recruits. Doc let her take Chester for this afternoon's saddle training, but..." She trailed off, her face dropping sadly along with her hands. "She's not been sleeping right since she got here, truthfully. Her room is next to mine, and I've listened to her crying out in the night. I guess she got so exhausted that she couldn't endure it when we started the canter drill."
Mike gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing slowly at his beard with his thick fingers. "Well, I would usually recommend you take her to Doc. However, she's not here."
Petra's eyes widened in confusion. "Not here?! But she was here just before we left."
Mike nodded ruefully, his deep brown eyes locking onto the unconscious girl sympathetically. "She apparently had something urgent that required her attention. Asked me and Moblit to watch the infirmary for her."
Petra turned to grasp the reins of the two mounts, holding one in each hand. "Well Mike, since you and Moblit are looking after the infirmary, you don't suppose you could take (Name) there? I was planning to carry her myself, but she's taller than me so it would be difficult." Petra smiled sheepishly.
Nodding solemnly, the blond giant strode over to where Chester waited obediently behind Petra. Carefully, Mike slipped his arms under the unconscious girl, scooping her out of the saddle and into his arms with surprising gentleness. Chester, apparently disgruntled about his charge being taken away from him, stamped his hoof and snorted irritably at Mike.
Smiling lopsidedly at the volatile gelding, Mike turned his attention back to Petra. "You sure you're alright settling him back into his stable? Seems a bit grouchy today."
Petra beamed a winning smile at Mike, clutching the sets of reins tightly. "Leave it to me, Mike! You and Moblit take care of (Name), okay? I'll be there to visit her later!"
Mike watched Petra as she turned to lead the horses away to the stables before glancing down at the young soldier in his arms. Her eyelashes were fluttering slightly over bruised, discolored lids. Her slightly parted lips were chapped and dry, drawing long and silent breaths between her teeth. Her hair was disheveled, stray locks draped across her face and neck. An obnoxious blade of grass poked up from beneath her collar, presumably from when she fell off Chester's back.
Overall, she looked a mess.
"Let's get you to an infirmary bed. You really do look like you need the sleep." Mike murmured to the unconscious girl as he began striding towards the looming castle, (Name)'s limp form cradled securely against his frame.
A small painting easel, precariously held together by old nails and propped up by the main room window of a quaint house.
An old shirt, paint stained and crumpling yet familiar and well loved.
Roses, as deep and crimson as fresh blood shimmering with crystalline dew drops.
Crowds of people, faces taut and pallid. Eyes bugging from their slack-jawed faces, bodies quivering in sheer horror.
Despairing screams, trickles of sanguine fluids becoming speeding streams cascading down the cobble streets and down oppressively dark drains.
Blood, blood as red as roses.
Fleeing, panicking, crying out for mother and father. Where did they go? Why didn't they come back for me?
I can't breathe, daddy help me I can't breathe where did you go? Mother?
An old tree, gnarled and withered.
I can't breathe. It's so dark here, did I go blind somehow? I can't remember why I'm here, how did I get down here?
A boyish smile, inky hair in a messy parted mop, wide chocolate eyes overflowing with concern, and freckles...
Great plumes of smoke rising lazily into the crimson, darkening sky, embers dying in silence upon the breeze. They almost resemble the towers that once stood there, now lying in ruins beneath their cloud impostors.
Windows, shattered and strewn across the pavement, discarded iridescent fragments reflecting the ominous light. Shards crunch and crackle beneath thick leather boots.
Freckles... freckles... where has the boy with freckles gone?
A young soldier. Tall, willowy and tense, his crisp uniform marred with filth and bloodstains. His dark hair is parted down the middle tidily, no longer the scruffy, disheveled mop. He looks so unhappy, Marco please tell me what's wrong? Your eyes seem too bitter, too cold...
"You promised to never leave me behind, (Name). We promised each other."
I never left you Marco, you were stolen from me, and... Jean... Jean why did you leave? You promised we would get through this together, right?
Copper hair, golden eyes sunken into dark sockets, a white cloth tied across his tired pallid face. Jean! Jean please, speak to me, I don't understa-
"It's your fault Marco died, (Name)."
Impending void, swirling and enveloping. I'm falling, falling backwards from the old tree, gnarled and withered. A crimson apple, just out of reach..
Air exploding from abused lungs as icy water swallows me whole...
Swimming through blackness. Floating. Sinking. Drifting along through the current. No more need to cry out, no need to breathe, no point in fighting any longer. It's so peaceful here. I remember this feeling so vividly. Why did I ever leave it behind...?
Mother, Father, Marco, Jean...
Why did I leave this peaceful darkness for a place where everyone I know goes away in the end...?
Slowly, your bruised lids opened to be greeted by the same swirling black abyss. Blinking painfully, your eyes swivelled around sluggishly as they attempted to find something to focus on in the darkness.
Am I... still asleep?
Your body felt incredibly heavy as you urged your limbs to move. Agonizingly slow, you heaved yourself into a sitting position, rubbing at your eyes with your stiff fingers.
Huh...? My bandages?
Squinting, your peered down at your hands. In the gloom you could just discern that your bandages were missing. However, you had no recollection of removing them yourself. The back of your head throbbed dully, and you eased your fingers through your hair until you located a hard lump. It twanged in protest from being touched, causing you to flinch slightly.
Perplexed, you blinked blearily in an attempt to wake up further as you surveyed your dim surroundings.
You appeared to be sitting in a cramped, plain bed. Crisp white sheets were drawn up over your form, and a meagre pillow lay behind you. Your uniform jacket and cloak were hung neatly over a crude chair near the head of the cot. You were situated in the middle of a long room, the walls lined with beds similar to yours. Each individual bed had a pale curtain drawn partially around it, the fabric looming in the darkness like rows of stoic ghosts. Near the door, a huge ornate-looking desk was situated against the wall, surrounded by towering shelves and cabinets. The expansive window at the end of the room was hidden by thick, dark drapes, making it impossible to estimate the time of day.
Is this the infirmary...? Where's Doc?
For a few minutes, you sat alone in the silence. Casting off the groggy coating from your waking mind as the memories eased back to you.
Did I... fall from Chester during training!? In front of everyone! ... In front of Jean!?
With a load groan, you clapped your hands across your face.
I can't even stay on a horse, can't even stay awake long enough to find out what the fuck is wrong with Jean. What the fuck is wrong with me? The way he's treating me, the nightmares, the blame, the guilt, this crippling fucking loneliness.
Hot, angry tears boiled out from your eyes, spilling down your cheeks to cascade off your knuckles. Your fingers gripped tighter against your face, as if you could grasp and wrench the negative thoughts out of your mind.
If Marco were here, he would know what to do, what to say... If Marco were here, none of this would be happening, would it? Jean would still be his arrogant cocky bastard self, I wouldn't have fallen so far, the three of us could be happy again... and we would all be inside wall fucking Sina right now, wouldn't we? Would we...? I ranked 11, after all... Shit. I would be in the Garrison, but knowing he was alive and safe... it would be all worth it, wouldn't it?
Hunching further forwards until your forehead rested on your knees, breath coming in ragged gasps, a low sob escaped from your parched lips. You grit your teeth in frustration against the tears, rage and indignation rising in you like poisonous bile.
I'm so fucking sick of crying and feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick of feeling alone, and sick of being left in the dark. I'm over being ignored and cast off when I'm apparently inconvenient. I've been civil, haven't I? I've given Jean space, I've given him time to mope and gripe about whatever the Hell it is that's bugging him. I've been kind, I've been understanding, and what do I get in return? Heartbreak. Maybe I was a fool to ever entertain any thoughts of us being... being what though? Together? Ugh...
Angrily wiping at your face with your hands, you straightened up and glared at the wall before you in defiance.
I'm done with this. So fucking done. There's only so much patience a girl can have when our hearts and lives are on the line. Tomorrow is Ymir's plan, after all... and I guess if it doesn't work, that'll be it. It'll be over. I'm not going to be strung along like this. I won't allow myself to be a victim.
Swinging your legs over the bed, you grabbed your jacket and cloak and marched stiffly towards the door. You burrowed your hand into the chest pocket as you strode, assuring yourself that Marco's note was still safe.
If Jean won't talk to me tomorrow, then I should just stop trying. After all, I can't force him to do jack shit. If he ever gets his act together and decides to quit ignoring me, then we'll just have to see how forgiving I am.
Grasping your uniform tightly in one hand, you twisted the door handle with the other and rushed out of the gloomy infirmary into the brightly lit corridor-
WHAM!
Stumbling backwards, you clung to the door-frame as you reeled in fright from the collision.
"Oh geez, I am so sorry! Are you alright!?"
You squinted blearily up at the frantic figure as your eyes adjusted to the light, heart hammering from the shock.
The man bent slightly to grip your arm, steadying you against falling. He had soft looking sandy brown hair, the parted fringe framing his worried face. He was of average build, and only slightly taller than yourself. His ochre eyes brimmed with concern as he pulled you to stand upright, jostling the large lantern he carried precariously.
Swaying a little, you mumbled "Yeah, I'm okay. My fault."
The man's eyes softened as he released your arm. "Not your fault at all, I was on my way in here myself. So I'd say it was more or less coincidence." His voice was soft, reassuring. You couldn't help but relax a little.
"Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. My name is Moblit Berner, I'm the assistant and second in command to Squad Leader Hanji of the research division. Just call me Moblit. You're (Name), correct?"
You nodded slowly in confirmation, eyeing Moblit curiously as he spoke.
"Ah good, I was concerned that I may have misheard your name from Mike. He was in a bit of a rush when he brought you here."
"Mike...?" You questioned, brows furrowed.
Moblit motioned for you to walk back into the infirmary, and you obliged. Slowly wandering back to the disheveled bed, you watched Moblit light the wall sconces in silence until the entire room was flooded in a warm glow. Fiddling idly with the jacket in your arms, you waited patiently until Moblit sat at the chair beside your bed.
Settling into the creaking wooden seat with a drawn out sigh, he turned to you with a tired smile.
"Right, so where was I? Ah, yes. Mike is one of the Survey Corps' squad leaders. He and I have been charged with the care-taking of the infirmary during Doc's presumably short absence-"
"Wait, Doc's not here!?" You blurted out, unable to contain your rude interruption. "But I needed to see her."
Moblit listened to your outburst in goodnatured silence, nodding slightly as you spoke. "Yes, Petra came running by earlier and mentioned something about sleep deprivation, correct?"
"Ah, mhmm..." Awkwardly you ran your fingers through your hair. "When I spoke to Doc this morning, she asked me to come see her about it. She said that she had something that could help."
Chuckling goodnaturedly, Moblit eased out of his chair and strode over to the desk near the doorway. As he rummaged through the cabinets, he called out to you. "By the way, there's no need to feel any anxiety or embarrassment. Both myself and Mike have held down the fort here for Doc plenty of times in the past, and she's given us both fairly extensive medical training. Bearing that in mind, I'm pretty sure that I can figure out what it was she would have recommended for you."
Silently, you sat and observed Moblit as he searched, the clinks and clatters of vials, jars, pots and other containers disturbingly loud in the silent room. Finally, Moblit let out a triumphant "Ahh!" as he backed away from the huge cabinets, a small object in his hand.
"This one looks about right." He murmured as he sat back down on the chair beside your bed, inspecting the small vial in his hand. The glass was a deep murky brown, making it impossible to tell the color of the veiled liquid within. A tiny, crumpled tag hung from the lid by a short length of string, the writing upon it cramped and scrawled.
Nervously staring at the vial, you swallowed thickly.
What the Hell is in that...?
"Yes, this is definitely the right one." Moblit nodded happily, turning his attention to you. "Alright, so don't take this until you're getting in to bed. Pour roughly half of the vial into a tall glass of water, and drink the whole glass. You may want to drink it fairly quickly, as the taste could be rather strange. Also, it might be a good idea to ask Petra to wake you in the morning, as you probably won't awaken on your own."
You cautiously took the vial from Moblit's outstretched hand, turning it over in your fingers as you peered at it. You attempted in vain to read the label, but it was similar to an incomprehensible code.
How in the Hell did Moblit manage to tell this bottle from the rest of them...?
"Well, that should be everything. Any questions?" Moblit asked kindly, flashing a small smile.
"Ah, uh just one," You murmured sheepishly. "There were bandages on my hands...?"
"Ah yes. When Mike brought you in here, he noticed those and decided to check if you were wounded. However, he decided that any cuts you had previously were healed sufficiently, and no longer needed bandaging."
Your gaze fell back to your hands, eyes travelling over your fingers and palms. Sure enough, the angry cuts and grazes had faded to pink scars and grooves.
Damn, I really messed up my hands huh...
"Anyway (Name), you should head to bed and drink that medicine. It will more or less knock you out, so make sure you only drink it once you're prepared to sleep. Oh, and you must be hungry, so just go straight back to your room. I'll find Petra and ask her to bring you something to eat on her way back, since her room is next to yours." Moblit rose from the chair as he spoke, turning on his heel towards the door. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I must return to my squad leader before she destroys the castle with her experiments."
Eyes widening at his statement, you couldn't help but wonder if Squad Leader Hanji was really as eccentric as that.
Clutching the vial securely in your hands, you threw your jacket over one shoulder and exited the infirmary with Moblit.
"Now, are you sure you don't need anything else?" Petra fussed, her golden eyes brimming with concern.
You gave the senior soldier a warm, tired smile as you collapsed onto your bed. "I'm sure, Petra. Thankyou. You've done so much for me the past few days..."
The ginger haired woman returned your smile with enthusiasm. "You're very welcome, (Name). What kind of army would we be if we didn't assist each other, anyway? Solidarity is key, after all."
Nodding your agreement, you pulled yourself into a sitting position and began wolfing down the stew and bread Petra had brought for you. It was rather bland, with questionable chunks floating around, but in your ravenous state you couldn't care less. Any food was heavenly at that point.
Petra watched you eat for a few short moments with a strangely maternal warmth to her eyes. "Well then, I'll come wake you in the morning. Remember to only mix half of the vial into your water, alright?" She set down a glass of water on the desk before turning to reach for the door handle.
"Thanks Petra," You said between mouthfuls of bread. "I'll make sure to drink it."
Petra nodded to you and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Incredible how such a compassionate, sweet woman can also be an expert titan slayer. Petra sure is amazing.
Stuffing the last of the bread into your mouth, you rose slowly to your feet and carried the empty bowl over to your desk. Sat upon the chipped wooden surface, the tiny vial waited silently next to the glass of water. Placing your bowl down, you grabbed the vial and popped the lid.
The scent that wafted to your nose was difficult to describe.
It was pungent, certainly. There was an earthy undertone, with a sharp pang of plant matter. It stung at your nose slightly as you sniffed deeply, detecting a distinctly floral smell in the mix, along with a trace of something... bitter? Eyeing the vial curiously, you tipped it carefully into the glass of water, measuring out half of the concoction.
The mixture that spilled from the vial to coalesce with the water was thick, almost syrupy. The color was nearly completely translucent, save for a dark amber hue that caught the candlelight. You stared at it with a feeling of skepticism.
This stuff looks like it's gonna taste like shit and leaves... I really hope it works.
Still eyeing the mixture as it combined with the water, you lifted the glass to your lips.
Well, here goes nothing!
Tilting your head back, you poured the mysterious concoction down your throat, attempting to get it down without tasting it. Your eyes watered with the effort, breathing shallow through your nose as you swallowed without breaking away. Finally, you had consumed all of the medicine, and with the final gulp you gasped for air as you heavily set the empty glass down. Panting, you could feel the faint burning in your mouth and throat, a bitter flavor stinging your tongue.
Gagging a little, you blew out the candles on your desk before staggering towards your bed like a drunken oaf in the gloom.
Nose still scrunched up against the deplorable taste, you burrowed deep into the blankets on your bed. It lacked the familiarity of your old barracks cot, but damn it felt infinitely better than the cold strange bed of the infirmary.
Man, I really hope this stuff works... Moblit and Doc both seemed sure it would help, so we'll see.
And so, staring at the dark ceiling, you waited.
"(Name)."
You could feel yourself being shaken, causing a low groan to escape your lips.
"(Name), come on wake up now!"
"Five... minutes... Sasha..." You mumbled, flipping onto your side and burying your face into the warm blankets. Your mind was so hazy, so comfortable in it's blank darkness. There might have been a dream, but it was fragmented, distorted, lost far away in the mist of your subconsciousness.
Did I... even dream at all?
"(Name), come on, we're gonna be late for breakfast at this rate!"
Tediously, you forced your eyelids open, squinting and blinking rapidly at the light painfully assaulting your eyeballs. Uttering another groan, you threw your hands sleepily across your eyes, defending them from the sun.
You could hear quiet chuckling somewhere in front of you, soft and feminine.
"Seriously, do you want me to drag you out of bed!? Cause I'll do it!"
Grumbling dejectedly, you pushed yourself up onto your forearms, blinking blearily to clear your fuzzy vision. As the haze dissipated and your mental clarity returned, you could make out the grinning face of Petra beaming down at you.
"Morning, sunshine!" She giggled, pushing stray ginger locks behind her ears as she stooped down to regard you with cheerful eyes. "Looks like Doc's crazy little potion worked on you, it took forever to wake you up!"
You could only grunt in response, mind still clumsy with overhanging sleep.
Sensing your persistent reluctance to wake up, Petra grabbed the hem of your duvet and whipped it off of you. You let out a pitiful cry as you collapsed back onto the bed, curling up against the sudden rush of cold air.
"(Name), I swear, I will drag you out of that bed if you don't get up right now! I for one would like to eat this morning!" Petra's threats were real, yet held a warm mirth.
"Alright alright, mum." You grinned, stressing the last word with a cheeky tone.
"Great!" Your vision became black again as items of clothing were flung unceremoniously in your face. "Get dressed quickly, I'll wait outside your room for you!"
Still giggling to herself mischievously, Petra exited the room, her boots clicking musically against the wooden floor.
Damn that woman is chirpy in the morning.
Groaning as you pulled the clothes off of your face, you slowly dressed, well rested for the first time in what felt like eternity.
"So as you can see here, cadets, this long range scouting formation is perfect for the needs of the Survey Corps. This allows us to split in to small groups, generally groups of three with at least one senior soldier. This way we can easily avoid swarms of titans through the use of color-coded flares, or take out single units swiftly and effectively."
Squad Leader Ness' voice continued to drone on, explaining the effectiveness of Commander Smith's plan. You leaned heavily against your desk, Sasha chewing on the end of her quill pen to your right. To your left, Ymir appeared to be drifting off to sleep, Christa prodding her shoulder occasionally to wake her. You had copied down most of the formation theory so far, yet your mind continued to wander to a certain figure somewhere a few seats behind you.
I wonder how Jean will react today...
You flexed your fingers in an attempt to fight off the clammy feeling. All morning, through breakfast and the theory lesson, you had been plagued by nervousness. You could feel the afternoon's confrontation swiftly approaching, yet despite your need for clarity, cold feet were creeping in.
Oh God, is there a chance that I'll fuck things up further if I force him like this?
Ness was pacing in front of the huge cork-board, pointing to specific points of the diagram hanging there as he explained the formation in further detail. You knew you should be paying more attention, yet you couldn't fight off the looming concern.
No, surely things couldn't get any worse than this just by me trying to clear the air... right...? I mean, he promised me after all... he made me trust him... it's the least I deserve, surely he'll see that... I hope he'll see that. Oh fuck, Marco, is this really wise?
"Alright, are there any questions pertaining to the formation? We have to break for lunch soon, so be fast." Ness called out to the room of cadets. Armin, diligent as ever, raised his hand.
I can't back out now, no way. Ymir's gone through alot of effort to set this up, and my heart can't take this silence anymore. It's gotta happen today.
As you continued your internal struggles, time ticked over. You missed Armin's questions, and more importantly, Ness' answers.
"Alright, listen up guys!" His booming voice cut through your reverie like a knife, shocking you to attention. "That's all we have time for today, make sure you memorize the formation layout and the flare system. There won't be much chance to go over the expedition plans until closer to the time, so no slacking! Dismissed."
A collective chorus of groaning cadets and creaking furniture echoed through the room as everyone lurched to their feet. Grabbing your quill-pen and parchment, you followed suit, filing out behind Sasha into the blinding sunlight.
"Ahh, finally it's lunchtime!" Sasha crowed happily, stretching her arms up high as she walked with a bounce in her step. You squinted at the bright sky, eyes adjusting painfully. All around you, cadets were meandering casually towards the castle dining hall. They chattered happily, almost seeming to not have a care in the world.
When you didn't respond, Sasha spun around to face you, stopping you in your tracks. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes concerned.
"(Name), are you really okay? At breakfast you said you were sleeping better, but you've barely spoken all day."
Before you could answer, a hand clapped upon your shoulder, causing you to jolt in fright.
"Not getting cold feet now, are we (Name)?" A voice purred in your ear.
You swiftly ducked away from Ymir, spinning around to see her grinning like a cat, Christa smiling warmly at her side.
"Not really, Ymir," You sighed, relaxing from your scare. "I'm just apprehensive, that's all."
The freckled girl straightened up, eyes softening and her expression becoming more serious. For a silent moment she held your gaze, Sasha and Christa glancing expectantly between the two of you.
"The sooner you make him realize, the better, (Name)."
With that, Ymir strode off towards the castle. Christa shot you an apologetic look before trotting off after her taller companion. You and Sasha watched them leave in silence, exchanging a surprised glance before following.
The sun blazed proudly in the sky above, it's rays sparsely interrupted by meandering clouds. Lush grass bowed and sprung beneath the intruding boots of cadets as the group congregated outside the castle in the fields beyond the drawbridge. A lazy breeze tickled at your face, lifting stray locks of hair as it passed.
You could feel your heart nervously fluttering inside your rib-cage, like a startled bird seeking escape. Shakily, you wiped your palms on your white trousers in an attempt to rid yourself of the persistent clammy sensation.
"Alright cadets, this is far out enough. We'll have enough space here." Erd called out as he and Gunther stopped walking. They had paused beside a lone oak tree, standing vigilant in a sea of green. With a small sigh, Gunther lowered himself to sit cross legged beneath the shade, sharp eyes observing the silent soldiers before him.
Glancing at the faces all around you, everyone else seemed so calm. Nobody appeared burdened by concerns or worries about today's training, each cadet perfectly at ease. Well, except for Jean. His expression was more or less the same as it had been since graduation. Stern, unsmiling.
Unfamiliar.
Not wanting to risk catching his eye just yet, you turned your attention back to the pair of senior soldiers, heart still racing.
"I need all of you to pair off," Erd continued, leaning backwards against the gnarled oak. "Don't worry about who you choose, I'll call out every five minutes or so for you all to switch partners to keep it interesting. Hop to it."
As Erd finished speaking, there was a buzz of activity as the loosely formed group of cadets began milling around, each person looking for a partner to choose. You caught Ymir's eye as she strode past you, taking note of the surreptitious nod she gave you.
Standing off at the edge of the group as Ymir had instructed you to, you observed.
Almost like a dance, cadets strode confidently towards their previously chosen partners and broke swiftly away from the throng. Reiner winked as he passed, Sasha grinning and giving you a thumbs up as she followed him. Connie looked thoroughly disappointed as she left, you noted. Bertholdt and Armin both showed warm yet apprehensive smiles as they too wandered away across the grass.
Over to your right at the other end of the group, Jean stood with his arms folded, eyes darting from trainee to trainee. There were moments where he opened his mouth or moved to take a step toward someone, yet they would be snatched away before he uttered a word.
I wonder if he's realized what's happening yet...
As Christa and Mikasa approached you, Christa whispered "Good luck, (Name)!" in her gentle voice, as Mikasa showed you one of her rare, warm smiles. Returning her gesture, you watched them pass you by, turning your attention back to Connie. The short, energetic boy was glancing around frantically between you, Jean and Ymir.
Probably trying to figure out who's least likely to overpower him... I would be, I think? Or maybe Jean... he's competitive and hot-headed, but I doubt he'd go all out on Connie...
As if on cue, Connie spun on his heel and made a beeline for Jean. The copper haired soldier's eyes flickered to the shorter man, and his features relaxed, lowering his arms as he began to speak.
"Yo, Conn-"
"Gotcha!"
Ymir's hand enclosed on Connie's collar when he was but a few feet away from Jean, her face cracking into a feral grin. Stunned, you observed as the color drained from Connie's face, mouth agape with what could possibly be a silent scream of terror. As the tall girl began hauling him away by the scruff, Connie's face turned to you, eyes wide with soundless pleas for help.
"Come on Pipsqueak," Ymir grunted as she dragged the struggling trainee. "You're fighting me today!"
You and Jean watched the tragic spectacle in silence, both taken-aback by Ymir's abruptness. Connie's wails of protest faded as he was roughly transported to a distant patch of field.
A silence fell between you and Jean as you turned your gaze to regard him. His amber eyes locked onto yours, drawing your roaming vision in and holding it steady. Jaws clenched, fists steady, bodies coiled tight and ready to spring. Like a deer in the sight of a predator, neither of you moved a muscle, each anticipating the other to initiate.
But which of us is truly the prey?
Swallowing thickly against the blockade in your throat, you deliberately stepped closer to Jean, gradually eliminating the distance until less than ten feet separated you. You held his gaze as the silence stretched on, punctuated by the faint grunts and calls of other trainees across the field. To you, it felt like you and Jean could be the only two people in the world right there, staring each other down in a bubble of tension.
You watched as a tiny bead of sweat formed on his temple, trickling lazily down the contours of his cheek to his jawline. Your hands shook and your heart thundered, and you absently wondered if he could hear it from where he stood.
Deciding that Jean wasn't going to be the instigator, you sighed, shattering the silence and eye contact, the fragile atmosphere dissipating. Slowly, you shrugged out of your uniform jacket and tossed it to the grass, out of the way. Reaching up, your trembling hands tightened the band restraining your hair and pushed aside the stray tresses that threatened to obscure your vision.
As you steeled your resolve, you hunkered into a fighting stance, flexing your fingers as your held your fists before your face. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you silently willed for your heart to calm and your mind to clear.
Jean watched you in silence, his expression unreadable.
"(Name)..."
You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice uttering your name, so quiet and melancholy in the still air.
"I don't want to fight you."
Clenching your teeth until your jaw ached, you narrowed your eyes at him.
"Too late for that." You hissed, unable to keep your tone neutral. Jean's face crumpled in dismay at your sharp rebuttal.
Way too fucking late to say that, Jean. You started this fight at graduation.
Before Jean could prepare himself, you lunged.
Springing powerfully from your right foot, you dashed forwards to deliver a low palm thrust to the stunned soldier before you. Jean barely managed to block, letting out a strangled gasp of shock as your hand struck his sleeved forearm. Taking advantage of his confusion, you snapped your fingers down onto the fabric of his sleeve and swung your other hand up. Snatching his arm away from it's defensive block, he was unable to avoid your free hand as it delivered a jab to his abdomen.
As Jean hunched over, wind knocked from him, you attempted to grip both of his forearms as your body dropped to a crouch, leg flicking behind his to bring him to his knees-
Jean's hand, larger and more powerful than your own, wrenched itself free from your grasp to lock around your wrist. His long fingers wrapped around your slender bones, twisting your arm high. You hissed in pain as you were forced to turn with your arm, lest it break. Spinning you to face away from him, Jean forced your arm down behind your back before thrusting you away.
You stumbled forward a few steps, nursing your twisted arm before whipping around to glare at the tall soldier...
Jean was grinning.
A small yet recognizable smirk had graced his taut features, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the Jean you knew. The Jean you missed.
The Jean you loved.
You felt a pain in your chest, your erratic heart throbbing pitifully. Gritting your teeth, you steadied yourself into your sparring stance again.
I can't stop here, he still needs to pay for what he's caused.
Setting your face into a glare, you motioned with one hand for him to bring it on.
I need him to know what I've been enduring...
Expression darkening, whatever sliver of a grin Jean had previously vanished. Recklessly discarding his own uniform jacket, he threw it aside before moving to attack you first.
...What I've been holding in.
Steeling yourself, you read his intention and ducked, smirking as you swung your body in the correct direction...
A fist connected with your shoulder, clipping the flesh to halt violently against your head. Stars burst behind your eyes and you stumbled, dazed.
"Oh shit, (Name)! Why the Hell did you dodge the wrong way!?"
Shaking your throbbing head to clear it, you saw Jean approaching you from between the clumps of hair that fell across your face, his hands outstretched.
Vulnerable.
You threw your hands out, jabbing and thrusting at him to distract his attention from your legs. Swinging your right one behind his once more, you succeeded in sweeping into his achilles tendons, knocking him off balance.
With a yelp, Jean fell backwards heavily against the grass, the air exploding violently from his lungs.
Not missing a beat, adrenaline pounding through your veins, you threw yourself over to Jean's prone form. You landed forcefully against his stomach, straddling his waist as you pinned his hands against the grass, pushing down upon his wrists with all of your might. His chest heaved as he gasped to regain his lost oxygen, eyelids squeezed shut from the pain.
"(Name)," he sputtered, "what the fu-"
"No, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" You whispered tremulously.
Jean's eyes snapped open at the sound of your voice, so frail and filled with sorrow.
"(Na-Name)?!"
"Who the fuck are you? You're not the Jean I know..."
You were hunched over his body, toned legs pinning his torso and your hands caging his arms beside him. Your shoulders, once steady with such conviction during the brief fight were now hunched protectively, as if to defend yourself against his words. Your face, shielded by unruly tresses broken free from their confining hairtye, was low and angled away from Jean's. Chin threateningly close to your hammering chest, your expression was obstructed from him, your voice the only traitor to your weakness.
"...Answer me."
"I don't understand, (Name)," Jean blurted, exasperation creeping into his voice.
"Are you that fucking blind, Jean!?" You snapped at him, whipping your face around to glare at him, lips curled back into a feral snarl. Tears burned at your eyes, threatening to build and spill like waterfalls of vulnerability.
Mouth hanging open slightly, eyes wide, Jean looked as though you had struck him across the face. Hearing those words that he had spat at you during graduation jarred his resolve.
When no response came, you grit your teeth, unwaveringly staring down at him with your eyes brimming with betrayal.
I'm so fucking sick of crying and feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick of feeling alone, and sick of being left in the dark.
Lip trembling as the silence continued, your mind raged inside it's cage of bone.
I'm over being ignored and cast off when I'm apparently inconvenient.
And I'm through with staying quiet and acting as if nothing fucking affects me.
"How could you do this to me, Jean!?" You cried out, unable to contain your rage and indignation any longer. "How the fuck could you do this? Three years, Jean, three fucking years of supposedly being best friends, of helping each other and training together. Did none of that mean anything to you!? Was it all some sort of charade?"
Jean listened in stunned silence, muted by your tirade. Your shoulders quivered as the boiling tears began to fall, your voice cracking and failing you as you raged at him.
"Why the fuck would you play with me like this? Am I some kind of toy, some amusement to cast off whenever it suits you? Or is it something else? Because ever since graduation you've been avoiding me, ignoring me, as if I'm some kind of diseased lunatic! Why, Jean? Is all of this because Marco is gone now?" Your sobs broke through your words, your voice becoming garbled and interrupted by hiccups, yet you pushed on.
"So what, now that Marco isn't here you don't have to pretend you care about me, is that it? I was just some string along, and now there's no ties right? As if the crippling nightmares weren't enough."
Your voice broke violently as you seethed, angry tears burning trails down your tired skin to cascade down and pepper Jean's shirt. His amber eyes refused to leave your face, wide and staring.
"I gave you my trust!" You wailed, lifting one hand to pound weakly against his chest, rage giving way to hysterical misery. "I showed you my weakness, I told you my fears, you made me want to r-rest my faith in you! And... and you just throw it back in my face, betrayed m-me, do you have any idea how hard it is for me to trust p-people, Jean!? I fucking believed you when you told me we'd get through this together!"
Waves of guilt, sorrow and betrayal crashed against your mind. Your breaths were coming in erratic gulps and coughs, salty tears refusing to subside from their onslaught. The collar of Jean's shirt was saturated from your crying, yet he didn't seem at all perturbed by the dampness.
"Or Jean... do you blame me for Marco's dea-"
Your voice was cut off as Jean fiercely threw himself into a sitting position, overpowering your weakened hold on him. His chest slammed into yours as his sturdy arms encircled your body, crushing you against him. Your face, tear stained and painted with hysteria was forced into the crook of his neck as your arms were trapped between two torsos.
"(Name)..."
Feebly you struggled against the wiry limbs that caged you, lingering determination still compelling you to fight against Jean, to show him your pain.
For a few short moments you writhed in his grasp, fingers scrabbling desperately against his shirt as you sought to free yourself. But Jean was too strong. As he lifted one hand to rest on the back of your head, you slumped exhausted against him. Unable to struggle any longer, your resolve dissolved and you resisted no more.
"(Name), please. Don't you dare finish that sentence." His voice was low, trembling and cracking as he murmured into your ear. "Let it all out, but please don't say those words."
Jean's hand soothingly ran across the back of your head as you trembled in his steady embrace, sobbing against his neck. The damp material of his collar and the heated flesh of his throat muffled your wailing as you released your emotions, allowing it all to pour from you like water from a floodgate.
Gradually, the torrent subsided, leaving you whimpering quietly against Jean's neck as your tears came to a stop. Your eyes were puffy, palms clammy as they clung desperately to his shirt. You felt so worn out, and so uncertain of what Jean would say now.
...But it can't get worse, right...?
Burrowing your face further into the crook of Jean's neck, shakily inhaling his calming scent, you opened your parched lips to speak.
"...J-Jean, I-"
"(Name), no more." His voice wavered and his arms tightened around your body, as if afraid you might disappear.
"I'm so fucking sorry, (Name). I had no idea that I was putting you through so much Hell and uncertainty. I should have been more open with you, I should have let you know that I needed to think... God I'm such a fucking idiot. Marco would never let me get away with treating you this way... I promise I'm going to make it up to you, even if you can't trust my promises anymore."
Jean's hand continued to stroke your head gently, fingers twining around loose strands of hair. It was your turn to listen in stunned silence, staring wide eyed at the skin of his neck. Through his shirt, you could feel Jean's heart pounding erratically against your chest, matching your own crazed rhythm.
"(Name), I won't run away anymore alright? You wanna clear the air? How about-"
"Alright cadets, swap partners!" Erd's voice soared across the open field from the oak tree. Unwilling to face anyone just yet, you pressed your face against Jean's shoulder, your arms snaking out from their prison to clutch the back of his shirt.
"Tonight, alright (Name)? We're gonna have that talk we promised each other at graduation... I'll explain myself. I'll show you that I'm sorry."
Sniffling, you nodded against his shirt. "You better," you mumbled. Jean chuckled at this, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. You could see his smirk in your mind, and couldn't help but smile a little yourself.
"They don't seem to have noticed us just yet, (Name)." Jean murmured, relaxing his hold on you slightly. "We won't swap partners until we're forced, so you lemme know when you feel okay to go."
Nodding again, your eyes burned threateningly, this time with gratitude.
"Thankyou, shithead."
Grinning at your hollow insult, he responded with a voice full of affection, "No problem, dumbass."