Chapter Two
I suppose that's that then. Historia sighed as the dust settled to reveal Eren's motionless titan form collapsed on the ground below hours later.
"No, there's no response! We're done here!" Section Commander Hange Zoe announced in response to something Captain Levi had muttered. "EREN!"
She watched as the Captain turned to address Armin, briefly complimenting the ingenuity of his plan to harness Eren's titan ability to reclaim wall Maria. She quietly tilted her head ever so slightly. From this angle, it wasn't so hard to imagine the cluster of freckles splashed across Ymir's cheeks on the Captain's pale skin. From the corner of her eye she noticed Armin walking away and moved to follow him, hesitating ever so slightly as she turned towards the Captain expectantly.
"You ride back to the house with Eren and the others." The Captain informed her. "I'm headed out with Hange's group. We're headed for Trost." Although she was somewhat taken aback by him sharing his destination with her, she didn't show it.
"Sir." She stated quietly before moving to do as she was told. As she walked away, she felt his gaze briefly trail her movements and felt an uneasy knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
Perhaps he's reconsidering letting me out of his sight. She wondered as she caught herself slowing down, half-expecting him to call out to her. He did not. So she joined the rest of the scouts gathering by the wagons.
Mikasa had already loaded Eren unto the wagon by the time Historia and Armin reached them.
"All clear!" Jean announced as he and the others returned from securing the area. "Sasha says our path back to the cottage is pretty clear too."
"Huh," Connie muttered as he noticed the Captain and Section Commander mount a pair of horses and take off without preamble or explanation. "Where are they going?"
"To Trost." Armin replied as he helped Historia onto the wagon. "I suppose they're going to report the results of the experiment to Commander Erwin."
"I see." Jean said with a grim sigh.
"You think he's dead?" Historia heard Connie ask uncertainly as he peered at Eren's motionless form secured within the wagon. "He's really in a bad way."
"Doubt it." Armin offered quietly as he turned ever so slightly to observe Mikasa's silent form. The blond reached out to pat his friend's hand with an assuring nod, prompting her to give his hand an appreciative squeeze before returning her attention to the object of her undying affection. Historia watched Mikasa from the corner of her eye, silently taking in the worried twist of her pale pink lips and the subtle sheen of unshed tears lining her sleet grey eyes.
While the Captain and Mikasa were similar in their unmatched skill and relatively stoic dispositions, Historia wondered if they shared other similarities. Perhaps the Captain too was not above shedding tears, given the right incentive. Then again everyone had their breaking point, some broke easier than others. Some, once broken remained shattered far longer than others.
Everyone's a little broken, I suppose. She shrugged. They had reached the cottage by now and she lingered long enough by the wagons to realize that her assistance and presence were no longer required before retreating indoors.
I wonder which one the Captain falls into. Her hands froze mid-stir as she blinked down at the bubbling stew an hour later. It took her a moment to remember exactly how she had winded up standing by the blazing hot stove, ladle in hand as she checked on their dinner.
"Is everything alright?" Historia jumped slightly at the sound of Sasha's voice prompting the redhead to chuckle sheepishly. "Sorry. It smelled so good I thought you might be needing a taster."
"It's almost ready." The blonde responded quietly as she replaced the lid carefully over the steaming pot.
"Right, I'll help set the table!" Sasha volunteered, dashing towards the cupboards to retrieve a stack of dishes. Historia nodded before exiting the kitchen, making her way towards the dimly lit staircase before climbing to the upper floor.
On a whim, she turned towards the boys' room and tapped gently on the door with her knuckles. The door swung open and she was greeted by Armin's puzzled sapphire blue eyes as he shifted to open the door wider.
"Sorry, were we being too loud or something?" Jean asked sitting up in his bed as Connie's bald head poked out from behind the half-open closet door. Mikasa sat by Eren's bedside, absentmindedly stroking his knuckles with her thumb as she greeted Historia with a small nod. Historia shook her head before turning her attention to Connie who was now watching her with a confused look.
"I'd like to return it." She said, clasping her hands self-consciously behind her as she rocked back and forth. "Please." She added when he initially didn't move.
"Ewut?"
"The diary, you Neanderthal!" Jean rolled his eyes as he plopped back unto his bed with an exasperated sigh.
"Oh, why didn't you say so?" Connie asked visibly lightening up as he snatched the book off the window sill behind him before holding it out to her. She quietly accepted it with a small grateful nod and turned to leave. "Thanks a million Kris—I mean Historia Reiss! I owe you one."
She merely nodded in response as she prepared to leave before remembering something else. "Oh, um, dinner's ready."
"Wow! Really?!" Connie cried out as he hurried towards the door, pausing long enough for Armin and Historia to scamper out of his way before bounding down the stairs two at a time. "Man I'm starving!"
"Animal." Jean sighed, throwing a long leg over the edge of his upper bunk bed and pushing off. He landed gracefully and called out to Historia's retreating back. "It's a five hour ride to Trost." The blonde froze and turned towards him without saying anything.
Was I really so transparent?
"Mikasa," Armin said softly as he turned to address his friend. "You should get some dinner. You're still recovering and need to regain your strength."
"I'm fine, Armin." Mikasa said shaking her head for emphasis. "Thank you."
"I'll save you something." Armin insisted quietly before following Jean out of the room. As Jean passed the petite blonde he paused, opening and closing his mouth several times before thinking better of it and continuing along his way with a nonchalant shrug.
Historia's dainty shoulders shook as she exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in. With one last nod in Mikasa's direction, she gently shut the door behind her before retreating to the sanctuary of the now-deserted female sleeping quarters. It took her less than a minute to locate and light a lantern which she gently set down on the window sill before climbing into bed. With the damp diary pressed against her bosom, she snuck a quick look around the room. Satisfied that her roommates would be sufficiently occupied with dinner downstairs for at least another two hours, she settled down and gently flipped towards the diary's first page.
X X X
You once told me that it was the things we didn't choose, that made us who we were. Our cities, our neighborhoods, our families…those we fall in love with. Where I come from people take pride in these things, like it's something they'd accomplished. Their dreams and ambitions never rising above their bodies and their souls or the cities wrapped around those. I had always known that I didn't belong. That my destiny lay beyond the walls. By the time I was thirteen, I had already figured out a way to get there. The Wings of Freedom fluttered majestically in the wind, beckoning me to seize back what the titans stole from us.
But dignity proved almost as elusive as freedom from the walls. I learned that the hard way long before I met you. We had just returned from the Thirty-Ninth Expedition beyond the walls and I had been summoned from the infirmary to the morgue to help identify the remains of yet another former classmate. Back then you were nothing more than a whisper in the wind. An enigma admired and discussed in breathless whispers and reverent tones. So when I had spotted you quietly leaning against a far wall at the corner of the room, it had briefly taken me out of the moment.
The medical examiner unfurled the tarp covering the remains without warning, assaulting me with the mangled remains of Stephen Kraus. He would have been unrecognizable had it not been for the distinct scar on his Adam's apple which I immediately noticed but later pointed out once I had recovered from the initial shock of seeing him like that.
Rigor mortis had set his long, strong fingers in a claw-like pose, his elbows pressed firmly against his sides. The upper half of his face had been ripped off, leaving only his lower jaw intact—grotesquely frozen in a perpetually silent scream. His entrails had twisted awkwardly around the remnant of his spine which was dangling from his crushed torso.
I remembered covering my mouth and turning away sobbing silently into my palm for several long moments.
"I take it you recognize him?" The medical examiner had asked softly.
"H-how d-did he die?" My voice had sounded foreign and distant even in my own ears.
"He got trapped beneath a tree," your first words to me had been conveyed with a weary sigh as you rose to leave. I remembered thinking about how nonsensical they had sounded.
"Trees don't kill people," I said blocking your path, suddenly beside myself. I remember noticing the subtle flecks of blue gleaming within your eyes as you met my gaze. "At least not people like him!" The shock of seeing the lifeless shell of my classmate had shaken me to my core. Upending years of training and etiquette.
"He got trapped beneath a tree and devoured by a horde of titans." You had sighed. "His screams are what drew me to his location but by the time I got there, that was all I could salvage. I'm sorry."
"Please," the medical examiner said approaching me with a pen and notepad which she had pressed into my palm with an imploring look. "There are fifty others like him and we haven't much time. Write down his name as legibly as you can."
"So that's it then." I had managed somehow through my tears as I turned in the notepad with his name and hometown scribbled legibly. "This is how we'll all end up. Sooner or later."
"Eventually, yes." You had replied eyes heavy with sadness and regret. "I suppose."
Later as we rode back to the barracks you had asked me what I had meant when I had said that trees didn't kill people like Stephen Kraus. I remembered explaining how he had graduated top of our class but turned down his place with the Military Police to become a scout. I then shared his dreams of seeing the world beyond the walls for himself to which you had merely scoffed and shaken your head.
Six months after joining the Survey Corps, I sat in the wagon with Stephen Kraus' coffin pressed awkwardly against you as we rode to deliver him to his older sister and brother-in-law on my day off. You had inexplicably insisted on accompanying me and I remembered wondering why you had taken such a keen interest in Stephen's case. The moment the door swung opened to reveal Stephen's sister's expectant face I realized why as the words vanished from the tip of my tongue. Leaving me gurgling incoherently at the space above her right ear.
You had stepped forward and saluted her, gently nudging me aside as you lowered yourself into a bow. I remembered watching her stare from you to me and then back again before noticing the coffin in the wagon and crying out. When she had buckled beneath the weight of her grief, you had scooped her into your arms and carried her over the threshold before setting her down on a bench by her kitchen.
A toddler had bounced into the room singing her uncle's name excitedly, completely oblivious to her mother's distress. I noticed another sleeping toddler in a cot nearby and the subtle swell of Stephen's sister's belly as you gently coaxed her into a sitting position later on to serve her a cup of milk.
"Remember him as he was." You had urged her with a comforting squeeze as we prepared to depart three hours later. Her husband had quietly thanked us as he climbed into the wagon with us to make arrangements for his brother-in-laws' burial at the funeral home down the road.
"Was it hard for you too?" I had asked softly as we returned to our inn that night. I imagined you nodding when you never said anything in response. You had eaten the rest of your dinner in silence, not bothering to bid me goodnight as you returned to your room. I remembered seeking you out that night on my way to my room. When you had opened your door you had been dressed in a sharply-pressed suit. You wordlessly stood aside, inviting me in even though it had been clear that you had been on your way out.
I remembered turning and reaching out for you. You had wrapped your hands around me, awkwardly at first until I had pressed you closer, eagerly seeking out your warmth. When I had reached for your belt buckle, your large hand had stopped me, pulling me away as I traced sloppy kisses along the vein of your neck.
I remembered catching glimpses of you here and there in the year that had followed. Somehow our paths never crossed again until a chance encounter in the Commander's office. Mike had forgotten his report on his desk that morning and I had hurried to intercept him before his meeting with the Commander. You were with him when I had reached him. It was the closest we had been since that fateful night so I was uncharacteristically flustered. You had taken it in stride and excused yourself leaving me alone with my Section Commander.
"Nanaba is requesting a transfer from the Special Operations squad." Mike Zacharias had informed me later that afternoon.
"Captain, I don't believe that's actually her name." I had informed him with a nervous chuckle.
"What do you mean?" He had asked me with a shrug. "I've heard her squadmates call her that. And she's never corrected any of them. Besides, she smells like bananas so it makes sense that her parents would name her accordingly." Such was the logic of Section Commander Mike Zacharias. Not knowing any better at the time, I had accepted his reasoning and let the matter drop. "Anyways, Captain Levi wants a list of possible replacement candidates from our squad. Think of it as a trade-off. Can you have one drawn up and sent over to him before the afternoon drills?"
"Sir, yes, sir."
The moment word got around that I was compiling a list of possible candidates for the elite Special Operations squad I was swamped by a horde of scouts clamoring to get on my good side. Between tending to my other duties and avoiding my fan club I didn't finish preparing the list until well after dinner. It took nearly three hours to locate Section Commander Mike afterward and secure his approval.
It was well past bedtime when I had arrived at your office, list in hand. Assuming that you had already retired for the day, I had pushed open the mail slot and slid the envelope in. I remembered jumping and crying out when the lock clicked as the door handle twisted, cracking the door open. You had glared up at me from the couch I would later catch you snoozing on on more than one occasion, your right hand hanging on to the door handle as you blindly reached out to pick the envelope from the floor with your free hand.
"What's this supposed to be?" You had scowled, holding up the envelope.
"T-the list of Squad M-Mike—" You had sliced the envelope open with a letter cutter you kept on your person. Several moments passed as I watched you squint down at the list of names.
"I don't see your name on this list." My breath had hitched in my throat at this as I lowered my gaze quietly to my feet. "Why not? Think you're too good for the—"
"On the contrary sir, I left my name out because I didn't think I was good enough for your squad. Nanaba graduated from the Training Corps top of her class. It wouldn't be fair for you to replace a soldier of her caliber with—"
"Who?" You had asked quirking an eyebrow. My eyes had widened in horror as I kicked myself for listening to Section Commander Zacharias.
"I'm sorry I'm not quite sure what exactly her name—"
"Never mind that." You had said as you rose to your feet. I had watched you walk towards your desk and calmly shuffle some papers around before turning to face me once more. "Tell me, why do you think Section Commander Mike entrusted you with this assignment?" I had stared blankly at you for several moments, completely at a loss for words.
"I don't know sir."
"Let me ask it this way," you had said as you pulled out your chair and slid into it. "You prepared this list, correct?" When I had nodded in response you continued. "How many names on this list did Section Commander Mike Zacharias approve?"
"All of them, sir?" I had replied foolishly.
"And how many names did he remove?"
"N-none, sir."
"Is 'Ral' spelled with two L's or one?" You had asked as you reached for your pen with your left hand. I remembered my hand moving on its own accord, grabbing hold of your wrist, firmly keeping it in place. Even though we both knew that you could have easily extricated your wrist from my grip, you turned towards me with a patient look.
"I-I'm sorry sir, but I'm not quite sure I understand what—"
"I am about to sign the transfer orders." You had replied prompting me to lower my gaze to the stack of parchment you had shuffled earlier. My eyes had widened when I saw my name already scribbled out on the topmost sheet prompting my hand to fall away from your wrist.
"But why sir? I'm sorry I don't understand." I had repeated shaking my head as tears of frustration stung my eyes. "What place could a weakling like me have on the Special Operations squad? I'd only get in the way."
"Because you're a sheep among wolves. Wise as a serpent, yet as innocent as a dove."
"T-that doesn't make any sense, sir."
"I wasn't finished." You had snapped prompting me to fall silent. "Section Commander Mike and I both guessed most of the names you included on the list. While they're all equally qualified, I told him that I wouldn't entertain any list of candidates that didn't include your name. Although he refused to include your name on the list, he nevertheless assured me that he would not remove your name from the list if you had seen fit to include it. What does that tell you about yourself?"
I had shaken my head foolishly, far too stunned to string together a coherent sentence. You reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to meet your gaze as you held up the pen high enough for me to see.
"The choice is yours. I won't sign these orders unless you want me to." You had said quietly. "Just say the word and I'll rip them to shreds and draw up new transfer orders with any other name of your choosing."
I remembered reaching out to stroke your cheek affectionately, leaning forward as I pursed my lips. You turned away at the last moment, denying me the kiss I so desperately wanted.
"Petra, I—I am only interested in your abilities as a soldier. I can be your Captain or your lover but not both. Do you understand?" I remembered nodding my head as my hands fell to the buttons on your shirt. My fingers unclasped the first button, exposing the pale expanse of flesh covering your collarbone. Your hand flew up, arresting mine much like it had a year ago. I remember our eyes meeting once more as you hissed softly "Are you sure?"
I had nodded once more.
X X X
"Oooof! I tell ya that hit the spot!" Historia jumped at the sound of Sasha's voice, dropping the diary in the process. She scrambled to retrieve the fallen memoir and barely managed to shove it under her pillow before the door swung open. "Krista! That stew was absolutely divine!"
"Yea! No kidding!" Connie called out in agreement from the hallway as he and the boys headed towards their bedroom. "You're going to make your husband a very lucky man one day."
"Watch where you're going, you clown!" Jean cried out suddenly. "I just got these boots cleaned today."
"Relax horse face! It's not like I have eyes at the back of my head." Connie had shot back.
"Great work, Rookie." Nifa greeted with a thumbs up as she kicked the door closed behind them. "You really ought to go save some for yourself if you're not hungry right now. Sasha barely left enough for Section Commander Zoe's group as it is."
"That's alright," Historia said as she rose from her bed. "I'll go make more."
"Really?!" Sasha screamed as she tackled the petite blonde to the ground.
"No more for you, Potato Girl!" Nifa snapped as she extricated Historia from the ravenous redhead's grip with significant difficulty. Historia plucked the book from its hiding place and returned it to the window sill while Nifa wrestled a squirming Sasha to the ground.
"Will you be alright?" Historia asked turning back to address Nifa as she reached the doorway. The older scout merely nodded, impatiently waving her away as she wrapped her legs tightly around Sasha with some difficulty.
Sean and Richard were finishing up the dishes when Historia entered the kitchen. They both thanked and greeted her with appreciative nods before departing to resume their respective posts outside. She lifted the lid of the pot to assess how much stew was left over before moving to the pantry to dig out the ingredients she needed.
Has the Captain even read the diary? She wondered as she tossed out the water she had used to wash the salted fish outside. While Petra's words had clearly been intended for the Captain and him alone, Historia suspected that the grief of losing her had been too great for him to bear. It was possible that he could have already finished reading the diary; however, if that had been the case, she suspected that its contents would have been too sensitive for him to ever let it out of his sight.
Part of her felt guilty for invading the Captain's privacy like this and her conscience nagged her to return the book to Connie at once. And still, a small part of her felt strangely protective of Petra's memoirs. Judging by the dearth of spelling errors and cancellation as well as the impossibly neat cursive writing, it was safe to assume that Petra had taken great pains when drafting the diary. Historia was willing to bet that the fallen scout had carefully selected each diary entry from her own journals, painstakingly copying every word down into her final love letter. That kind of effort deserved respect, the kind of which Connie and the other boys wouldn't begin to give it.
It couldn't have been easy. She thought as she lifted the ladle of stew to her palm, depositing a small sample unto her hand to taste. Smacking her lips absent-mindedly, she reached for the chopped pieces of ginger she had set aside. Pouring her heart into this diary and opening herself to that kind of rejection.
She remembered how the Captain had mercilessly pummeled Eren to secure the Survey Corps' custody of him whilst also proving a point. Although she was yet to see him in action, his record and reputation rightfully preceded him. So if it had ever come down to it, she knew that resorting to cruelty in order to rebuff Petra's advances would have been well within his power. If it was evident to her, a lowly cadet who barely knew anything about the man beyond his name, then it would have been painfully obvious to Petra who had spent years serving under him. And still…
What had I been so afraid of with you Ymir? Historia's fingers tightened around the knife in her hand as they ceased their chopping. You had always declared your undying love and admiration for all the world to hear. I should have trusted you to lower my mask sooner. So why didn't I? Was I afraid? Yes, that has to be it. I'm such a stinking coward! All this time I was hiding myself—my true self—from you and the others because I wanted you to keep seeing the me I desperately wanted to be. Needed to be.
But how? How did she do it? Historia wondered as her gaze shifted to the upper floor where Petra's diary lay. Although she had never met her, Historia could understand the yearning and affection Petra had for Captain Levi. It was the same void Ymir's departure had created within her. Clearly, Petra's death hadn't been expected or anticipated in any way. Yet, somehow she had had enough foresight to organize her thoughts carefully documenting her feelings for the Captain, determined to communicate in death what she couldn't articulate alive.
But why? What was the point of it all? Why bare your soul to one you knew would never even begin to appreciate the gesture? To what end did confessing your love beyond the grave serve?
Captain or lover but not both. Clearly, he had been her captain by the time she died. But Historia wondered how that came to be given her obvious choice in the entry she had been reading earlier. Had he flat out refused her and maintained a professional relationship with her regardless? Or had she successfully worn him down, forcing him to break his self-imposed rule?
Was it really possible? Historia wondered as she tiptoed past Sasha and Nifa's sleeping forms on her way to the window sill to retrieve the diary. Could they really choose both—which isn't really a choice I suppose but still…was it possible to have it both ways? Conventional wisdom screamed at her to open her eyes and see reason but she was loathe to listen. Perhaps because she didn't like the only logical conclusion she would inevitably arrive at. Nothing about their lives since the graduation ceremony—and really their lives in general—was remotely conventional. So it stood to reason that some unconventional solutions would be necessary. And yet…
Relief and guilt washed over her as she picked up the diary. Casting a glance over her shoulder at her roommates' snoozing bodies, she gently flipped towards the page where she had left off—convincing herself that she would only read long enough to get the answers she needed.
X X X
"Petra, I—I am only interested in your abilities as a soldier. I can be your Captain or your lover but not both. Do you understand?" I remembered nodding my head as my hands fell to the buttons on your shirt. My fingers unclasped the first button, exposing the pale expanse of flesh covering your collarbone. Your hand flew up, arresting mine much like it had a year ago. I remember our eyes meeting once more as you hissed softly, "Are you sure?"
I had nodded once more.
Slowly but surely your fingers' grip on my wrist slackened before falling away completely. I remember watching you hesitantly, half-expecting your hands to return around my wrist or shove me away. My fingers loosened another button, then another and yet another until your taut stomach was bare to my roving eyes.
"Careful, Petra." You had warned with a low hiss against my lips as I moved to kiss you. Ignoring this and all common sense, I persisted and would have succeeded had it not been for the untimely interruption of Commander Zoe.
"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Section Commander Hange Zoe's head had offered with a sheepish chuckle from the doorway. Judging by the subtle blush of her cheeks, she had been watching for quite some time. You had pulled away, pausing briefly to straighten your clothes before wordlessly following the titan-obsessed scout outside. I had returned to my room and waited until the following evening to seek you out once more in your office.
You had been on your way out as I prepared to knock once more. I remember you gamely playing along when I attempted to make small talk prompting me to switch tactics and confront you openly.
X X X
"Is something burning?!" Historia jumped up as she noticed a cloud of smoke trailing into the bedroom. Rising to her feet, she sprinted out of the room, heart racing madly as she cursed her stupidity. Mikasa Ackerman bumped into her at the stairs where she had been sprinting to the kitchen from the boys' room.
"Did you leave the stove on?" The taller girl had asked the blonde with a mix of anger and confusion as she helped her to her feet.
"I'm so sorry."
There was a loud splash of water followed by a deafening hiss as dark smoke filled the tiny cottage. Scattered coughs filled the suffocating air as the scouts below scrambled to divert as much smoke as they could outside.
"Everyone outside! This instance!" Someone managed to call out through a particularly vicious coughing fit.
Mikasa had already vanished into the boys' sleeping quarters presumably to help secure and move Eren leaving Historia to awkwardly shuffle downstairs alone. When she reached the bottom landing, she gasped as she noticed a large strong hand already resting on the stair railing. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the stray appendage prompting its owner to turn and fix her with a visibly annoyed scowl.
"Welcome back, Captain." She greeted quietly.
"What exactly are you playing at cooking at night?!"
Author's Note: I thought Nanaba's name was odd given the European setting and influences littered throughout the series which is why I decided to make it seem like it was a nickname the other scouts had given her.
Disclaimer: I borrowed/stole bits and pieces of Petra's musings from the opening monologue of Gone Baby Gone. If you haven't seen that movie, I highly recommend watching that opening scene alone.
Thanks for reading and see you next time.