I've decided to do these from the perspective of each titan trio member, in a cycling pattern. These are kind of fun (procrastinating activities) to write...though I should study.

Guh.

Whooo.

Disclaimer: Isayama is kami-sama. Therefore, these characters are his.

REMEMBER: This story is so full of spoilers that you should throw it out - don't eat moldy food. (no, read the story, don't throw it out though XD)

Three Warriors

xxx. remember .xxx

It's crowded, loud, and Shardis is constantly yelling their eardrums to shreds, but each and every one of the trainees dutifully continues their chores without protest (except maybe a groan from Connie and the rumble of Sasha's stomach).

He's washing the dishes, and he's slow — "Hey," Jean snaps, "Could you work any slower?" — but Marco smiles at him sparingly and Annie says nothing. He scrubs the plates faster, but he is nervous, always nervous. His fingers clench around the cheap utensils, but as much as he tries to push it away, the simple weight of a spoon in his hand reminds him of Wall Maria crumbling beneath his palms.

It's not the same, he tells himself. It's not the same.

There is a cool hand on his, briefly. He hardly has time to say anything before Annie wraps her thin, seemingly delicate fingers around the spoon and slides it from his quivering — he realized he was shaking, ever so slightly — grip. The blonde unceremoniously slaps the spoon down amongst the rest of its fellow utensils, sponge nimbly lathering up the contents of the sink before handing them to Jean for the rinse.

"Go dry the plates," she says flatly, shouldering him aside despite the fact that he towered over her.

And then he's got a towel in his hands and he's rubbing the grubby plates to a fine sheen as his heart gradually slows to a regular ba-bump, ba-bump. His forehead is slick with sweat, but that's how it usually is, so he doesn't mind.

Annie clambers up onto a stool and holds out her hand; he hands her the plate, and she begins to put them away.

The trainees are filing out now, getting ready for evening training, and it's almost as if their lives are happy.

But Bertholdt knows better.

He knows it's only a fleeting moment in time, ephemeral as the very titan beating in his heart, the flash of transformation and the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

There is a horrifying crash, and Bertholdt looks down to see that he's dropped a plate.

It lays in shards, broken glass skittering across the floor like people diving away from their inevitable deaths.

Marco and Jean and all the rest of them are long gone, chattering away outside like pigeons flocked to a generous chunk of bread. It's just Annie and Bertholdt, staring at the broken china littered across the creaky wood boards.

Wordlessly, Bertholdt bites his lower lip and grabs the broom.

Annie touches his sleeve, and he turns.

Almost inaudibly, she tells him, "You're fine," and she nods. "No one's leaving you."

She knows, he thinks with horror, because it's his greatest fear that someday, Annie and Reiner will turn their backs on him and he will be alone for all of eternity, trailing along the same, endless path of despair laid out by his own hands, his own tarot cards read by his own eyes.

But she's there, and it makes all the difference to Bertholdt, he realizes as he sweeps up the broken pieces.

"Clumsy," she mutters, offering a dustpan as she shakes her head and clicks her tongue. He thinks he murmurs an apology, but he can't be sure, because he can only remember the soft gold of her hair and the slope of her shoulders as she leans down and makes sure she's got it all.

She's there, and she's not leaving, not leaving, he repeats to himself, insistently, desperately, hoping that if he repeats the mantra to himself long enough, he'll be able to hold onto her tighter. To never let go.

And so, it is when Mikasa's blade shears him open and Annie's face flashes past his eyes, he remembers that she is there and so is Reiner, and the warrior within lifts his hand to his lips, ignoring the screams of murder that are Eren's eyes.

Blood is drawn.

/chapter

I really love Bertl-turtle.