Her chest felt hollow and her breaths seemed to slow as every second ticked by. Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik. The all too familiar noises of an abandoned clock haunted her. The echo of its song bouncing around in her mind. The sound flooded her being and running through every inch of her body until her fingers twitched to the rhythm and her heartbeats followed the pattern.

One intake of air.

Historia's eyes opened.

A cold muzzle of a pistol pressed against the center of her forehead.

Beyond that, an empty shell of a man stood, his eyes a glowing white endless void. His lips were pressed together, curved into a frown. Despite the lack of pupils, she knew he stared at her. His head tilted to the side and his eyebrows furrowed to form his expression into one of displeasure. He jerks his hand, pressing the weapon harder against her skin and making contact with her skull.

Tears poured down her cheeks, her body quivering violently. Her lips part to say something but she finds herself choking. Warm liquid spills from her mouth and starts to float as if they were bubbles blown from a playful child. The deep scarlet color is enough for Historia to know what it is. It's blood.

"You're a terrible person."

Porco's voice surrounded her.

A haunting anthem meant only for her.

Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik.

Historia wanted to say something. Anything. But she found it difficult through her tears and the blood that continued to flow from her mouth and ascend into the air. So instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into the pistol. Trembling, she screamed internally with feverish frustration and distraught. Kill me.

He cackled and his lips curled in the wickedest of grins. His empty white eyes illuminated menacingly. Nodding his forward, his expression darkened. And he pulled the trigger.

With a jolt, she woke up. The blond felt her legs bend, knees making contact with her chest. Her heart hammered, it's beats ringing throughout her body. Suddenly it felt as if she was suffocating. Her lungs felt squeezed together. Historia felt her whole body rack as she tried to take in breaths and she placed her hands over her head, not knowing what to do. Her fingers felt numb and a painful tingle was sizzling through her veins. Everything felt warm. Too warm. "Fuck. Holy fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Her fingers curled into a fist and she started to hit the side of her head in an attempt to stop this sudden attack on her body. Her vision seemed to darken as tears continued to stream from her ocean eyes. Rocking herself back and forth, she desperately tried to slow her breaths as she felt as if all the oxygen was being sucked from her body.

From somewhere, a voice called her name. Worried. She was too absorbed with herself to really hear and evaluate it. But as her episode continued and blood pounded in her ears, singing a thundering symphony, she felt something wrap around her body and try to hold her still. Historia's body shuddered and a choked sob escaped. Suddenly, all she could see was Porco's figure towering over her with a pistol pointed at her head. She was so close to death. One simple pull of the trigger could have killed her. She shifted her head, finding herself burying it into a strong shoulder. Historia didn't know how long it took, but progressively things started to slow. The distant voice was growing nearer and the blond immediately recognized it as Ymir's.

"Hey, it's going to be okay, you're safe, I'm here, I got you."

She felt the void between reality and her mind close into nothingness. Pulled back into reality, Historia trembled as she felt an arm wrapped around her. In a steady progression, her breaths slowed and her tears dissolved. The blond moved her head away from the shoulder she had pressed against and met worried gold eyes. A hand unconsciously squeezed the fabric beneath it. The terrifying grip of fear let her go and the comfort of relief flooded through her. There was an overwhelmed feeling fizzling through her veins and into her fingertips. She trembled.

"I...I'm sorry," Historia choked out, pulling herself away from Ymir and getting up from the couch. Wiping her tear stained eyes, she whispered. "I don't know what happened." Her chest felt as if it had just been released from a heavy weight.

Ymir pressed her lips together, staring intently at the blond. Historia could see the question buzzing on the tip of her tongue. The concern, swimming in those golden orbs. Instead of asking though, the brunette stood up and offered a hand. "Want to go for a walk? Looks like you could use some fresh air."

Hesitantly, Historia nodded. She looked away for a second, her heart still beating at an abnormal pace in her chest. Then with a deep breath, she moved to take a hold of Ymir's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you."

Those two words referred to more than just now. She wanted her to know. Historia could still feel her own fingers trying to choke herself to death in order to finish Porco's job. The action, a lurking phantom that didn't want to let go. She didn't know what to do. She still doesn't know what to do and it was frustrating. But Historia hoped to find an answer in Ymir. So she gave her a look that only the brunette could understand.

"Anything for you."

The weight in those words, Ymir's reply, pulled on Historia's heartstrings and made her mouth go dry. Ocean and gold eyes stared deeply into each other for a tense few seconds. The blond found what she was looking for. An answer she needed so desperately. In order for her to escape what her husband left behind. Historia knew she could believe those words more than anything else in this world. And it was enough.

"A panic attack?" Mikasa echoed, wiping sweat from her neck as the two stood in her garage, back from their early morning run.

Ymir panted, resting her hands on her knees. Tugging at her tank top and reaching for water, the brunette sent Mikasa an unamused look. "That was a late reply."

The woman's gray emotionless eyes narrowed for a moment. "You're the one who decided to start a conversation in the middle of our run."

"You had slowed down! I figured it would be a good time!"

Mikasa rolled her shoulders. "It's never a good time to talk during a workout. Period."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ymir sighed, stretching her legs. She knew Mikasa wasn't a talking type in general but it really wasn't like she could consult anyone else. Marcel was still missing, Eren and Ilse were busy and Yelena and Pieck were too wrapped in their own romance that Ymir was a little too uncomfortable to even be around them. Besides, she hadn't been to the bar in well over a month now. The first time Ymir had mentioned Historia to Mikasa was a few days after Historia started staying with her. Then as time continued to pass, Ymir offered more details. And while as uninterested Mikasa might have seemed on the outside, the spark in her eyes and slight change in expression gave Ymir enough reassurance for her to keep talking about the current situation.

Ever since their movie marathon, a binge-watch of the Back to The Future Trilogy, Historia had four more attacks in the past three weeks. It had Ymir worried and she wasn't sure what to do. The brunette had tried explaining to Mikasa in hope for some guidance. It had been hard on the freckled woman because she hated seeing Historia so helpless and she was pretty sure that the blond was having more episodes when she wasn't around. Ymir didn't want to see Historia suffer. She knew that the woman had already suffered enough.

"Well obviously she needs professional help," Mikasa said, closing the garage's door and entering into the house. Ymir followed after her, rubbing her arms in an attempt to fight back the cold.

"No shit?" The black haired beauty glared at her that clearly said "language", making Ymir mutter an apology. "But I don't know if she wants that. She hasn't told me anything, if I should do anything." The brunette hated the thought of making Historia upset.

Mikasa gave a dry chuckle. "It doesn't matter about what she wants, it is about what she needs. How is she like around you? Do you know if she has any history of abuse? Past traumas?"

Ymir froze in her steps, making a face. Immediately a memory resurfaced, triggered by Mikasa's questions. Obviously. It was written on the scars all over her body. The bruises. The red angry mark that was around Historia's neck when Ymir had finally seen her again after their moment at Sasha and Nicolo's restaurant.

Ymir wasn't one to cook. She hardly cooked for Ilse. It just wasn't her talent. She wasn't exactly bad at it but she prefered to stay away from a stove and oven just to avoid an accident. But right now, she figured it would be a benefit if she tried. Wasn't like she had anything better to do anyways. Besides. Historia was helping her too. It was enough encouragement for the brunette to try and put effort into a meal she would be sharing.

Her gold eyes drifted towards the blond who was focused on cutting vegetables for the stew they were making. Historia's slender fingers worked nimbly and her eyebrows were knitted in concentration. Ymir couldn't help but stare a little longer than necessary at her expression. Lately, the blond had been jumpy and a bit nervous. She was always polite and kind but there was something about the demeanor that made Ymir uneasy. Everything felt more forced than natural. Like a defense mechanism in order for Ymir not to know too much about what she was actually feeling. It unsettled Ymir a bit but she didn't know what else to expect. It had only been a little over a week since the blond had decided to stay with the brunette.

"I think that's enough," Ymir said, taking a few steps closer to Historia. She picked up a sliced piece of carrot and popped it in her mouth. "You can put it in the pot."

The smaller woman only nodded and moved over a bit to throw the chopped up pieces of vegetables in. After she finished, she went over to the sink and rinsed her hands. Ymir turned her back and started to tend to the food. She waved a hand behind her and spoke, "Can you get some of the spices down from the cabinet, they should be by your left."

"What would you like exact-," Ymir didn't know what happened but she heard the sound of tumbling and the clank of a plastic bottle making contact with the floor. The brunette turned around to see an unlidded bottle of powder spilled on the floor.

"What happened?" Ymir watched as the blond immediately kneeled down to scoop up the powder with her hands. The movement was hurried and almost panicked. "H-Hey, wait, H-Historia, we have a broom, don't do that." The freckled woman leaned over and tried to stop Historia's hands.

They moved away quickly, as if Ymir hurt her. "I got it!" Her voice raised in volume and she scrambled in the direction of where she assumed the broom would be. When it wasn't there, she wildly started to search.

"What's wrong?" Ymir asked, concerned by how urgent Historia's actions seemed to be. "The broom is in the closet by the bathroom." She informed when Historia didn't reply. The blond returned and started to try and clean the mess. Her hands trembled, and the broom slipped through her grip.

"Here, let me do it," Ymir reached for the item but dropped it when Historia gently pushed her back.

"I told y-you, I would do it," Historia picked it back up and started to sweep almost desperately.

Ymir's eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, what's wrong?" Ymir raised a hand to place on Historia's shoulder but the blond instantly flinched away and dropped the broom once more. Her arms twitched as if she was restraining to move them. The blond didn't make eye contact with the brunette but the freckled woman could see the swollen look in her blue orbs as if she was trying to hold back tears. Ymir frowned. And she started to think that she knew what was the matter. A memory of a shattered glass bottle flashed in her mind for a second and Ymir's fingers curled into a fist. That broken home she had entered….

Historia noticed the formation Ymir made with her hands and moved slowly backwards. "I-I'm s-sorry…"

The brunette's eyes widened and Ymir looked down, shaking her head, she took a step forward and tried to make a reassuring gesture. "No, Historia, that's not why. I wouldn't do that-" The blond was scared. Ymir could see from how her chest moved in quick breaths and her shoulders shook. The brunette wanted to cry too. She could hardly imagine what Historia had been through and she desperately wanted to hurt the person that made her endure whatever she did. Ymir pressed her lips together and walked towards Historia. The blond stiffened as the brunette neared and Ymir felt her heart break. Hovering over the blond, they stared at each other for a few moments. And then…

Ymir felt Historia's tense shoulders relax against her arms and Ymir hugged her with as much care as she could offer. She felt the blond grip her shirt and sniffle. Slowly the two crumbled to the ground and Ymir found herself holding a crying Historia. Ymir pressed her lips against the top of her head and ran a hand through her golden locks. The smaller woman gripped her tightly, quietly crying. Ymir felt herself break in more than one way. Anger ran through her veins and a warmth of caring and protectiveness filled her chest. She wanted to help Historia in any way she could.

"That look alone answers my question," Mikasa said cooly. Ymir shook herself out of her thoughts and looked at the black haired beauty. "What are you thinking? She needs help, give it to her."

The brunette sighed, placing herself on the living room's couch. Putting her hands on her face, she felt emotion overwhelm her chest. Mikasa was right. No doubt about that. Ymir really couldn't do much other than be there for Historia. She obviously needed to be around good people and Ymir wanted to be that person. She didn't want her to suffer anymore and that would require the blond to get professional help. The comfort from another person wouldn't be enough. Ymir knew that. As much as she had supportive friends throughout her grieving period over her loss and even then that wasn't enough.

"So what should I do?" Ymir muttered, lifting her head to gaze at Mikasa who stared down at her.

"What do you think you should do?" She countered.

The brunette rubbed the back of her neck. "Talk to her."

That was it.

They just needed to talk.

About everything…