Chapter 2
Jean shivers himself awake. He's cold, and his foot and head throb faster than his heart beats. The world shifts into focus with each of Jean's blinks. At first, he thinks he's in a cave of some sort. The air is heavy and damp. It pushes against him like a blanket. Tiny, fractals of light break through the surrounding gloom. There's a shuffling sound, and Jean looks towards it. It's Marian. She's crouched and tugging at the cave walls.
No. Not cave walls. A cacophony of shattered wood. Broken planks tangle together so tightly, they form a wall. Splinters of wood stick out of the ceiling. They stab against a thick beam that stretches across the bubble of space that surrounds the two humans. The beam disappears inside the wrecked remains.
The titan had crushed the house, trapping Jean and Marian inside.
"Shit!" Marian swears as her hands slip off a chunk of wood, sending her stumbling to the mishmash of floorboards and dirt. She pants in the darkness, her raven feather curls bobbing with the motion. Jean raises his head. His brain throbs like there's hundreds of horses trampling through it, making him groan.
"You okay?" Marian kneels beside him, making the ground creak. Blood trails down her forehead and drips off the side of her jaw. It speckles her freckles, and Jean has to push back the image of another brunette with blood splattered freckles.
"What happened?"
"I don't know. I woke up a bit before you," Marian says. Her hands flutter towards Jean's head, then stop. Jean reaches up and feels a cut that stretches from just above his ear to the top of his cheekbone.
"What about the others? Are they out there?"
"It's quiet," she says and reaches behind her head to untie the crimson bandana looped around her neck. Marian offers it to Jean, who uses it to wipe the sweat and blood away from his face.
"I don't think anyone's out there." Her words echo in the tiny space. Jean swallows the fear bubbling in his throat and tries to stand. His left ankle screams, but fear pushes Jean to hobble towards the nearest wall. Air and light flow through tiny cracks, but there isn't an opening big enough for fingers, much less bodies. Jean grabs a chunk of wall and pulls. There's a dreary creak, but no movement. He pulls harder, then shuffles to the side so there's room for Marian to help. They pull and yank until Jean's hand slips, sending him stumbling to the ground.
His foot screams. Jean is seconds away from squealing himself.
"What is it? Your leg? Which one?" Warm hands trace over Jean's left leg all the way down to his ankle. Pain radiates beneath the featherlight touch.
"It's swollen."
"I think it's broken," Jean begrudgingly admits. Chestnut eyes meet his. They're wide with fear, but warm with what Jean might think is sympathy. They're pretty too. Framed with long lashes, round like a doe's, and made up of rings of brown like the inside of a tree.
"I can try to wrap it." Marian wrings her hands, a frown blossoming across her face. Jean quirks a brow.
"Try?"
Red stains her cheeks. "It's not like I've done it before."
It's then he remembers. There's no saving a lame horse.
"On a human anyway. I've done it to plenty of dogs. And I've read about it."
Immediately, Jean knows that Eren can never hear about this. He can hear it now—we had it wrong! Horse Face goes by Dog Leg! The mockery would never end. Still, fixing his leg raises their chances of getting out.
"Alright."
Marian nods and reaches for the top of his boot. She bites her lip—which doesn't exactly instill confidence—then slowly tugs it down. She tries to hold his ankle steady, but the boot pulls at the shattered bone. Jean grinds his teeth, trying hard as he can not to scream or cry or do something equally embarrassing. The boot gets impossibly tight the lower it gets. Marian apologizes, grasps the boot with both hands, and shimmies it down bit by fricking painful bit. His ankle swells beneath the pants and socks. It's so big, the fabric stretches. Thankfully, after a moment of indecision, Marian simply rolls the white pants up, leaving the sock on.
Marian reaches for the disregarded bandana and tears it into a long strip. She hesitates, then starts wrapping his foot. She circles the middle, then figure eights around his ankle. Then she jerks the bandana tight. Jean sinks to the ground, too dazed with pain to notice her tucking the bandana's end into place. He does notice the heat of Marian's hand holding the bottom of his calf. His leg tingles, and Jean doesn't bother trying to decide if it's her touch or the snapped bones that're responsible.
"How does it feel?"
Like Buckwald is jumping on it. But the bandage keeps his foot still, and Jean knows it'll heal faster.
"Better. Thanks."
Silence falls. The only sound is the wind that whistles through the gaps between the tangled wood. Marian is right. It's quiet. There's no titan footsteps or horse clip-clops. Not even a whisper of Connie and Sasha's voices. Hell, Jean would take Pierce's pompous ass lectures if it meant they could get out. But no. It's just him and the Klien girl. If they want to escape, they're going to have to do it themselves.
He searches the remains around them, looking for any hint of a weak spot. The far corner has the most fragments of light shooting through it. Jean scoots to the corner and pokes at the planks, beams, window frames, and floorboards caging them. There's no give until Jean pushes on what he thinks is a twisted door.
Like it's taking a breath, the wreckage shivers. It creaks and wheezes like a set of smoker's lungs. Jean freezes. There's a sharp intake of breath behind him as their bubble of safety wobbles.
"Maybe we can dig out," he says, gently taking his hands off the door and watching the shifting ruin until it settles. "If it's sturdy enough, maybe we can crawl out."
"Like dogs digging under fences," Marian says, then crawls forward to trace the bottom edge of their bubble. She pokes and prods until she finds a solid chunk of wall. Jean joins her. Together, they start scooping dirt and debris out of the way.
"What's with you and dogs?" Jean asks.
Marian's eyes flicker to him. She gnaws on her lip before answering.
"I live on a ranch. Lots of horses. Lots of dogs. Even an evil rooster."
"Evil?"
"Some days, you need a broom just to walk in the yard. Evil bastard."
Jean snickers, then falls silent as the dirt becomes harder, making it more difficult to dig. They focus on the work, the way the chilled soil feels against their skin, the way it bunches under their fingernails. It's easier to focus on that than it is to dwell on the cold air, setting shadows, and quiet that sings alone.
The light is gone. They work in almost complete darkness, using their hands to feel into the hole and find the growing pile of dirt. Occasionally, Jean's fingers brush against Marian's. The touch sends sparks of warmth shooting through his numb digits. The shuffles and breaths letting Jean know she's still there gets quieter and quieter. She's tired, and even though Jean feels the same weight pressing against him, he can't sleep. He can't. Not with the memory of giant gnashing titan teeth gleaming in the sun, the pressure of a massive palm batting Jean back and forth like a cat swatting a fly, the memory of freckles coated in blood. It's too fresh.
He'll dream tonight. Jean knows it like he knows the rising sun will replace the setting moon. It's one thing to wake with a gasp, a scream, or a sob with the other Scouts around. It's another to do it in front of a civilian girl.
Jean shakes his head against the weight threatening to close his eyes. He shrugs off his Scouts' cloak and is immediately bathed in icy air. The chill bites against his skin and pushes the sleepy edge away. Jean scoops out a dozen more handfuls before he realizes that Marian isn't doing the same. He reaches where her sounds were coming from. His hand brushes her dirt-coated leg. Marian leans against the wall, fast asleep. Before he withdraws his hand, Jean feels a shiver race up and down her leg. He hesitates, then grabs his Scout cloak, shakes the dirt off, and spreads it over her.
There's no reason for her to be cold too.