Warning:this chapter contains mentions of prostitution, underage smoking (in some countries) and mentions of drug use. I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin, and am using the franchise for a non-commercial work of fanfiction.
They got there just as the bespectacled man was leaving, big black bag held in his left hand and hat pulled low over his eyes, symbol of the trade.
"Sir! Please, we need your help!"
The tall blond had rushed over to the man as soon as he caught sight of him, but stopped short when he realised that he didn't know anything of the specifics of the person who needed treatment in the first place.
"Kid, I can't help if you go mute on me. What's the matter?"
The blond looked at her pleadingly, and Annie stepped forward, rolling her eyes.
Block-head, she thought, before giving the older man all the information he needed, while gesturing for him to follow her.
"My friend has a high fever and passed out from it. I put a wet cloth on his head, then rushed out immediately to find you," she said, receiving a sideways glance from the charitable blond for leaving out the mugging attempt, but she didn't bother answering it.
"Is there someone keeping an eye on your friend right now? He should be kept under surveillance, and the cloth changed regularly."
"Er, no, I don't think so, but I covered him up and made sure he was warm."
"Right. Is there anything else I need to know? Do you know what caused the fever in the first place, or encouraged it?"
They had been walking at a fast pace for a few minutes now, but Annie suddenly slowed right down, having gone a little pale.
"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you all right?"
Annie shook her head, regaining her composure, before setting off again.
"I'm fine, I just haven't eaten in a while. Yes, he's got a slashed neck which looks infected; hasn't eaten anything in three days, has been walking barefoot in the snow, as well as sleeping on the streets for around the same amount of time."
Another look from the Good Samaritan, a shocked face and a few mouthed words which seemed to spell out "And he's still alive?", whilst the doctor politely nodded, obviously used to treating the least fortunate people of this harsh world.
At last, they got to Isabel's door, and as before she pounded on it heavily for several minutes before anyone answered it. Again, they repeated the same charade with the chain and the threats, but this time Annie had to shove her away from the "two beautiful men that she didn't tell her she had brought over, why didn't you give me time to put my makeup on," and etcetera.
The room they emerged into had a lingering smell of what could definitely not be tobacco, mixed with the mouth-watering one of something that had been deep-fried. When she caught sight of Bertholdt though, she immediately forgot about the awaiting mass of greasy packaging waiting for her on the low coffee table, distractedly handing her phone over to Isabel on the way.
The doctor was already at his side, cleaning the wound on his neck and applying some sort off evil-smelling ointment on it. Annie came closer timidly, and delicately laid a hand on his brow.
It was still hot, but less than before. Getting out of the snow had obviously been a great improvement. She left the man to his work, only bringing a jug of water when it was asked of her. Isabel looked on the scene while puffing on a cigarette, her usual depressed gaze lost somewhere in space. The blond, on the other hand, seemed quite at loss, looking around the place in wonder while trying to hide his interest. His eyes kept going back to Isabel as well, and every time they did, he would inch away from her, obviously terrified of her revealing clothes and vacant stare.
Annie then returned her attention to the pile of high-calorie content food that stood waiting to be eaten, and she tore into it, nearly throwing up in her haste to the unexpected strong taste, but keeping it down and forcing more of the horrible carbohydrates down her throat. Isabel joined her soon, but only picked at a fry for the most part. The person she had tried to mug barely an hour ago decided on going up to the doctor and asking him if he needed any help, but he was dismissed with a grunt. Not knowing what to do with himself, he simply sat at the table, as far away as possible from the red-head, which was coincidentally right next to Annie.
"Can I..?" he asked timidly, pointing to a desolate burger peeking out from underneath a napkin.
"Knock yourself out."
He picked up the food and nibbled at it, eyes still darting nervously around the room. Soon, Annie was full, and the doctor got up and dusted himself off, turning to the group.
"Mister, Ma'am and Ma'am?..." he asked inquisitively.
"Braun, Reiner Braun," said the blond, militarily snapping to attention.
"Just Annie."
"Isabel Magnolia," said the redhead, flicking a stray strand of dirty hair out of her face.
He looked at them in turn as they answered, nodding as he did.
"I'll have to do a full body examination on my patient here, to check for further damage related to the cold and treat any open sores. I wanted to check with you whether I have the green light to do so, and also to warn you in case you felt uncomfortable about me doing so while you're still in the room."
Isabel laughed uproariously at this, whilst Reiner blushed a bright red and Annie remained stoic.
"Me? You're asking whether I would feel uncomfortable about seeing a naked man? Go on honey, I couldn't care less, I've got to get to work anyway."
And with that, the redhead got up and strode out of the room, snagging Annie's spotted suitcase on the way out. She soon reappeared in a skimpy costume blinding thanks to the sheer quantity of sequins sewn onto it, and a pair of Annie's killer heels.
"Here, I put as many clothes in here as could fit. And I also want the rags that you're wearing now, so change before you leave."
She walked out, addressing her a small wave. She obviously liked what she had been given. Good thing they were about the same size, Annie thought dully.
The doctor was now struggling with the difficult task that was pulling the imposing boy's shirt off, and Reiner was looking the other way, clearly embarrassed.
"Well, I guess he would have preferred to not have an audience if he were awake…" she mused, then made her mind up. "Come on, Reiner, let's go outside. I don't think you want to see Isabel's room."
They exited the small apartment, and the blond breathed a sigh of relief as they emerged into the cool, snow infused air.
"Virgin," she smirked, and he snapped his head around, the blush touching his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
"Th-That's not true! Well, it is, but… urgh. Look, I give up. Just, kill me quickly or something, so I don't have to suffer your presence any longer."
"I will," she added, her smirk turning into a softer, amused smile. "…only if you give me my knife back."
"That's still a no, I'm sorry to say."
She sat down on the doorstep, not minding the cold anymore. The food had helped her a lot in regaining her lost energy, and the flimsy coat she had on now seemed to be enough of a protection against the bite of the wind. They watched a cart go by, the flashlights taped to the sides of the horse's harness only managing to illuminate the road a few feet in front of them, in this part of town where working streetlights were rare.
"How did you meet him?"
Annie looked up, catching a glimpse of Reiner's face in the moving vehicle's light. He didn't look like he was joking around anymore, and his features had set into a hard, thoughtful expression. Even though he looked like a man, she saw the boy that was still there, the "foot he still had in the darkness of his mother's womb", as another girl had once expressed, a person from the far East who had brought her strange phrasing and poetry back from her home-land. In truth, he mustn't have been much older than Bertholdt. And he had also proved he had a kindness akin to his, as well.
Not again, her weary mind told her, but she couldn't do much about it. She was developing affection like others would a rash, or fell in love, as she had thought earlier on. She didn't know where it all came from, maybe her recent act of courage when leaving the brothel had had more of an impact on her psyche than she had first thought. But the more she thought about it, the less likely she deemed it to be. No, if not she would have thought the same thing of Isabel, and that was far, far from being the case. They were two people who had helped her, accepted to stick around and offer support despite her personality, even though they would get nothing in return. Bertholdt could have left her to die in the cold, and Reiner could have slit her throat or called the cops without ever having to deal with her again, but they didn't. They were, in this world led by a majority of rotten or sour apples, the sweetest pair of the bunch.
"He gave me a place to stay in yesterday's blizzard. He had a den, and he offered me a space in it when he saw me falling asleep in the snow. He saved my life, and I gave him a pair of socks and a scarf in return."
"Well, isn't that generous," he scoffed lightly, but not unkindly, just to shed a little humour on the situation.
"How about you? Isn't there anyone who'll be worried about where you are at this time of night?"
"Nah, I'm on the run too," he said, then quickly rectifying himself, "not that I'm a criminal, or think that you are or anything, but I needed to get away. You know, space. Permanently."
She hummed in understanding. It was fine to have that feeling, she knew it well herself. "Going anywhere in particular?"
"No. Money won't last me long, so maybe I'll do some street performance and get some cash from my music. Or maybe I'll head south, do some farm work."
"You haven't planned this out well, haven't you."
"No," he admitted a second later. "But I'm sure I'll get by. I've got my zither and my voice, and I'm strong as well. That'll work for the most part in my favour."
"I hope it will."
Another silence, that dragged on for a little too long.
"Can I have my knife back, now?"
"No."
"Damn it."
Throughout the centuries, travelling practitians of different sorts have developed trademark signs in order to let the common man know of the services or products they provide. The spice merchant would use a saffron-coloured bag to hold his wares, whilst the farrier would display a horseshoe on the back of his cart. All these are quite obvious, which brings on the question of the origins of the more obscure ones. The road-bound doctor, for example.
For as far back as recorded, this has been a tradition held by these people of the medical world. The wide-brimmed black hat can vary in shape and size depending on the wealth, specific origins or personal preference of the said doctor. Yet, most surprisingly, only people offering to deal with diverse ailments would use this sign. Other, more specific travelling medical staff-such as nurses and dentists, for example- would wear either a white lab coat or a stethoscope permanently looped around their neck.
After much research, I have retraced the origin of this practice back to a time before the Walls were raised (may those who lived in those Dark Ages be pitied and their souls be prayed to, for not having known the Grace and Majesty of the Holy Walls!), when a cult long extinct comprised of many doctors would have worn the hats as part of their everyday attire.
-A Study in the Traditional Garments of the People of the Walls, Peaure
I might have shrinked Isabel a bit, now that I think of it. I think that she was originally a little taller than Levi, therefore taller than Annie. Ah well, deal with it, it's for plot purposes.
Also, if you combine certain attributes of Reiner from this fic and from "Die Ironie des Krieges", you'll get a character who is strikingly similar to an old friend of mine. I don't know why I associate these two, but in reality (and in canon, in Reiner's case), they're far from being even slightly alike. Ah well, "this is a work of fiction, and all resemblance to a real person, dead or alive, is entirely coincidental" works, right?