Rating: T
Genre: Angst, 'Backstory'
Characters: Rico, Mercedes [OC], mentions of Ian, Pixis and Woerman

Takes place between The Jaguar and The Burning Titan.

A Rock and a Hard Place

Here. They'd been standing here, at this particular spot on Wall Rose - they'd stood here the day they'd agreed to guard Eren so he could block the breach; they'd stood here countless times before then, her and Ian. She could remember the color of the sky the day she'd almost told him - lavender and gold. They'd always remind her of him.

Rico breathed in deep. The sky hadn't been that color since the day Ian died; she wouldn't let herself miss it. She wouldn't let herself miss him, either, though that was harder. It was too late to tell him anything so why should stupidity and cowardice be assauged with nostalgia? She was left with a void and she'd force herself to be content with it for the rest of her life.

A cloudy day; a windy day that whipped her hair against her glasses. She strode along the very edge of the Wall and watched the Titans milling around the killing fields. Ever since the Trost reclamation her hatred for them had become much more personal, much more insidious. She barely seemed able to talk or even think about anything else - she felt like her body was merely a vessel for hate, for humanity's mission. Although it hadn't taken the Commanders long to fill the four empty spots in her squad lineup, it certainly wasn't the same and she doubted it'd ever be - sometimes she struggled to recall their names and couldn't find the patience for civility much less pleasantries, and so they often left her alone, as most people did - even her parents wrote less often, and her superiors kept their distance.

So it was with some surprise that she heard a voice calling her name. With a sneer she turned away from the Titans and faced the two figures approaching her, one an Aide from Woerman that she thought too soft and as a result detested, and the second one she didn't recognize: a young woman - younger than she was, likely from the the 104th or 105th if she had to guess - about her height with dark hair in a braid, Garrison uniform and a confident walk. Rico racked her brain trying to determine what this may be about.

Oh. She remembered. Pixis' wildcard, here for shadowing. What was her name…

The idea, when it'd come down the line to her, she'd thought pointless - stupid, even. A waste of her time and certainly a test of her patience. But she'd nothing else in her but hate and duty, duty and hate, so she hadn't objected, merely pushed it aside until it manifested. And here it was. Here she was.

The Aide and the new girl stopped in front of her; both saluted but Rico did not return the gesture.

The Aide looked nervously to one side, in the girl's direction but not quite at her, as though for backup. "Squad Leader Brzenska - Commander Pixis asked me to -"

"I know," Rico cut her off, tired already by the few words in that nasally voice. She held out her hand for the file the Aide carried under her arm. "You can go now."

The Aide pouted and barely concealed a hurt glare, but Rico didn't care. The file was handed over and without a salute, the Aide turned and left.

Rico, out of habit, waited for the Aide to be out of earshot and then gave a cursory glance into the first couple of pages of the file, angling it so the wind wouldn't snatch it out of her hands. Mercedes Carello. Recent incoming transfer back from the Scouting Legion per special instruction by Commander Smith; prior position with the Western Detachment of the Garrison. Good statistics. She didn't need to know the rest right now - didn't care to. Rico folded the file shut and tucked it under her arm.

The eyes she met were dark and hard, like clots of dried blood. She was now able to see that Carello had cut the hair on the right side of her head close to her scalp, and almost rolled her eyes. She wanted to immediately resent Carello for something - for her prettiness struck with possibly false bravado, for the youthful pridefulness leaking from her, anything - something more than the inconvenience of being forced to take her on as a protege, but struggled to do so. She was also silent, which didn't give Rico anything to latch onto yet, either; she debated looking back in the file for some kind of hangnail, something to tear the girl down with before they'd even begun. She resisted.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Rico half-grunted.

The slightest quirk of Carello's eyebrows. "Do you want me to?"

Rico paused before retorting - it hadn't been insubordination, exactly, to not include her title at the end of that question, but it certainly gave a new shade of meaning. Like she understood what she was up against. It made her wonder if Carello had been briefed about her in much the same way as they'd attempted to brief Rico about Carello. Still. "Little early for you to be a smartass, isn't it?"

"Apologies, Sir." Carello did not straighten, or change her expression or rather bored tone.

"Impatient with your new assignment already?"

"No. It's only that I didn't think you wanted a timewaster," Carello said.

"Got that right," Rico conceded.

The two of them stood there in silence, Carello settling her gaze on the polite and ready middle-distance of a good soldier, her hands tucked behind her. Rico looked away, this time at Trost, her hometown. Suddenly she wanted to go home. Why that momentary weakness - held at arm's length for so long - was brought up and so vehemently now, of all times, in front of Carello of all people was a mystery. Rico kept her face neutral, turned back to her new subordinate.

"Why'd Erwin send you back?" she asked.

The question seemed to take Carello by surprise, but she too was adept at concealing it. "It wasn't my place to ask."

Rico decided to turn the answer to her advantage rather than express cynicism. "And you'll keep that attitude around me, if you're smart. You're here to shadow me and I'm well aware that Pixis wants you fast-tracked to Elite since we lost so many in the Trost Reclamation, so in order to do that I need you to report to me as your immediate supervisor, do exactly what I tell you and when you're not working, to be listening and watching. I will not waste my time explaining. I will not repeat myself, or go slowly - I presume if Pixis wants you to do this then you're capable of hitting the ground running. Am I wrong?"

"No, Sir."

"Good. Have you moved barracks?"

"Yes, Sir."

Rico took Carello's file in both hands and methodically tapped its spine in her palm. "Then at oh-six-hundred sharp tomorrow morning I expect you to report to this same spot; we'll start by reviewing the guard and maintenance rotations before our weekly meeting with Deputy Commander Woerman. Clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now that's settled, you're dismissed."

"There's nothing you need before then?"

Rico was surprised by the faintest element of a plea in Carello's voice, like she wanted the distraction for some reason. A workaholic, maybe, she thought. "I wasn't thinking of that," she said.

"That's one of the reasons I'm here, I suspect."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Rico paused sourly, but when Carello wasn't going away she said, "Eager to get started already?"

"Why wait? I don't think either of us would benefit from it." Carello managed to sound like she was shrugging with just her voice, and Rico had to admit finding it amusing.

"Perhaps not." She took a deep breath, and though reluctant to leave the seclusion of the Wall for the first time in a while she felt that Ian would have wanted her to, for a change. "Come on, then, rookie," she grumbled. They began walking toward the elevator - Carello matched her swift pace but rather than annoying, it was encouraging. Nevertheless, Rico was determined not to like her.