I do not own Attack on Titan

I sat around a table with Bertolt, Reiner, Annie and Jean. Laying my head in my arms, I closed my eyes. After we entered Wall Rose, the Garrison troops demanded to interrogate Eren. The rest of us were sworn to secrecy and were released, but Mikasa and Armin stayed behind. I could only hope that they were all going to be alright.

We sat in silence around the table, trying to recuperate from our first battle experience. All the training we did couldn't have prepared us for the psychological affects.

No matter how badly I wanted to forget everything I saw, the image of titans devouring comrades played gruesomely in my mind. Behind my eyelids, it was still very much real. I could feel my own body being torn apart just thinking about all those deaths.

Then I started thinking about survival. What determined who lived and died? It was like a greater being randomly picked several of us out and said, Okay. You will die today. I was just lucky to not be the one. None of the cadets and Garrison troops deserved death. It just wasn't fair.

I wasn't any better than the next person. If anything, I should have died with them. I didn't deserve to live if it really was my life in exchange for five others. Where was the equality in that? For every five soldiers that died, one would live. It just wasn't fair.

Bertolt put a large hand on my back, asking, "Are you okay?"

I didn't realize was trembling at that moment. Jean looked at me, concern lit vaguely in his distant eyes. He was reliving those memories too.

"I'm fine," I answered, calming myself down. "I'm just trying to deal with everything."

"You need to go the infirmary," Jean said absentmindedly.

"I'm not missing an arm," I insisted.

Jean slammed his fist into the table. "Damn it, Naomi! You passed out on the front lines. Just go to the damned infirmary!"

I balked at his callous tone, pursing my lips in a firm line. He was using that same voice as that night. I wasn't going to tolerate him treating me this way. Leaning across the table towards him, I made eye contact with him.

Glaring deep into his eyes, I whispered icily, "Okay. If you don't want me around, just say so."

Making large strides, I started down the street as dust kicked up in my wake. I heard Jean calling my name, but I kept walking.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he really meant what he said that night and I was letting my personal feelings get in the way. I thought he had put all his personal biases against gypsies aside for our friendship, but I guess he really was just tolerating my presence.

"Naomi!"

Jean grabbed my wrist, taking us into an alley where we could talk in private. I struggled against his grip, glowering at him.

"I didn't mean to snap at you, please."

I retorted, "I know you're upset about today, but you keep treating me this way. Are we really friends if you don't even like being around me? Were you just tolerating my presence because of Marco?"

He kept trying to shush me as I ranted, clutching my flailing arms.

"Can you let me speak for one shitty second?"

I stopped, searching his eyes. He looked down at me miserably, gripping my shoulders as if for dear life. When he saw that he had my attention, he dropped his head in submission.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to snap at you at all. I was just thinking about how worried you made me when you fainted, and I thought you were going to die. I'm sorry for the things I said that night. I didn't mean it the way you took it."

Swallowing hard, I asked timidly, "Then what did you mean?"

It became difficult for Jean to speak. He agitatedly shifted from one foot to the other, refusing to meet my eyes.

His head shot up, looking directly at me. He and burst with, "You have an amazing voice and you're beautiful."

My heart stopped as I stared into his wild eyes. His face took on a pink tint, and I couldn't help but think he looked cute flustered.

"If you felt that way, then why did you say the opposite?"

He released me and took a step back. Covering his eyes, he mumbled his answer.

"What?"

Jean grumbled it again.

"I can't understand you."

"YOU WERE TURNING ME ON!"

Now we were both red as a tomato, standing awkwardly. I was glad when I looked out of the alley that no one was paying attention to us. Jean stood facing the wall, no doubt embarrassed.

"So…" I trailed off only to have Jean cut me off.

"You like someone else, don't you?"

I immediately replied, "No! I've liked you ever since we got to know each other in training."

He looked up at me in amazement. "Really?"

Too shy to answer, I nodded my head. We stood staring at each other, letting our words sink in. I never thought he'd ever see me that way; my one-sided love no longer was one-sided. Feeling embarrassed staring at Jean, I averted my gaze and focused on a crack in the stone wall of the alley.

Bashfully, I asked, "Can I hug you?"

He raised his eyebrows at me, taken aback at my unexpected request. In response, Jean opened up his arms to me.

I met his embrace and pressed my face firmly into his shoulder. It felt that if I buried my face deep enough, the horrors would go away.

Despite his brazen personality, he hugged me tenderly. His hands wrapped around my shoulders and midsection, enveloping me in pleasant warmth.

"Naomi?" Jean asked, suddenly growing apprehensive. I grunted in response, pulling away enough to be able to look at him. "Would… would I be able to kiss you?"

I stopped, conflicted with propriety and my emotions. Jean noticed my hesitation and his face flickered hurt.

"Jean, I really want to," I began honestly. "But in gypsy culture, you're not supposed to kiss until marriage."

He instantly blanched at my words. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to offend you."

I smiled at his apologetic face as he stammered out his apology.

"You didn't offend me. Courtship is very different among the gypsies than what you're used to. But I'm allowed to kiss your cheek."

I pecked his cheek to prove my point, which sent him blushing. Sheepishly, we interlocked our fingers as we talked, his hands as tame as his embrace. He then gave me a lopsided smirk.

"Before I mess up any further, is there anything else I need to know?"

"Anything that we can do in public is appropriate gypsy courtship—except kissing."

Warily he leaned in closer to me, and brushed his lips over my forehead tentatively. Upon contact, it sent a bolt of euphoria right down to my toes. And then it was over.

Jean persisted in the idea of having me looked over. The infirmary was set up down the street a little ways as he escorted me there. Strolling down the street, we avoided holding hands. One of the reasons was that it wasn't professional, and I was still nervous from revealing my feelings.

Even though I told Jean what was okay, he regarded me as if I was a little bird, and any sort of contact would completely shatter me. In spite of our bleak situation, I was overcome with giddiness.

White tents were pitched in a dry field between two buildings. A red cross painted over the entrance tent indicated that we reached the infirmary. Jean wouldn't leave my side until he knew that a nurse was going to take care of me. I think he thought I'd try to weasel my way out of visiting the medics if he didn't ensure I was dealt with.

He finally got the attention of a nurse walking by and after some heckling he finally had her accept me for an inspection. As she zipped me away, I reluctantly said goodbye to Jean.

The area was swamped with injured soldiers. The nurses hurried to attend to each soldier, their white aprons stained in red. Men and women were lying on the ground with blood soaked bandages over their foreheads or limbs. Many were without limbs. It seemed a waste of the nurse's time to look me over when there were others who needed her attention more.

Sitting me atop a wooden table that was stained with blood, the nurse quickly ran through her procedure. She had her blonde hair brushed back under her nurse hat. A tiny mole graced her face right under the right side of her mouth, giving her an elegant look. Ironically, her lips were painted ruby red. Her face was scrunched up in contempt.

"So you fainted?" she asked distractedly as she examined my eyes.

"Yes."

"When did this happen?"

"It happened twice—once after I defeated some titans and another when I was dodging titans to reach HQ."

She quickly felt my limbs for any fractures or abnormalities. Then she took my blood pressure. The longer I was poked, the more I felt like a nuisance to her. After inspecting me, she sighed in exasperation.

"Look, sweetie," she said with slight disdain in her voice. "I knew you were fine the minute I glanced at you. If you had a hand loped off, that'd be a different story. You were probably suffering from combat fatigue. The only reason I took you in was because your boyfriend insisted, and I didn't want to aggravate his own combat fatigue."

I slightly reddened at her assumption.

Suddenly I heard cannon fire, causing both me and the nurse to jerk our heads in the direction the sound came from.

"What was that?" the nurse cried.

A single shot rang out and quickly made a boom as it landed in the dirt. It sounded like it found its target way too quickly, and I became worried something happened. Off in the distance, I saw smoke on this side of Wall Rose.

Before the nurse could do anything, I jumped into action and shot my wires into a building to go investigate.