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Ch. 5- "Comfort"
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The early warmth of spring brought with it the promise of new life. The tender shoots of flowers breaking through the muddy ground where the snow had melted. Birds flitting overhead, searching for materials with which to build nests. The joyful screams and laughter of children running about, grateful to be free from the homes they were confined to during the inhospitable weather. The world was beautiful, even behind the walls, and Erwin found himself drinking in as much of that beauty as he could as he and his fellow Scouts proceeded with their death march towards Shiganshina. The commander finally deemed the terrain acceptable for them to continue their mission of building a new base beyond Wall Maria. The past two months had been a respite, a taste of the lives they could have had if they'd chosen another branch to join. No death, minimal nightmares- it was heaven.
And, as with all things, it was too good to last. They had a duty, to humanity, to the tax payers and their noble benefactors… And so, with nerves stretched thin but hearts filled with determination, they sat proud atop their steeds, waiting for the outer gate to open. Erwin's gaze kept darting back to the crowd that assembled to watch them leave, many for what would be the last time. But he ignored the cold, unimpressed eyes judging him, his attention focused on a woman wearing a cloak similar to his own. Hers was a pale yellow, warm and fitting of spring. Her hair was down today, fluffy curls bunched around her shoulders. Amongst all the hard, unenthused stares, hers alone was soft, warmed by the hint of a smile. As the gate finally rose to its apex and Commander Shadis ordered them to charge, Thomasin gave him a little wave. He couldn't return it, having to focus his attention on the movement of his horse, but she wouldn't mind. She knew how important this expedition was- they'd talked about it at length on his day off last month.
The Survey Corps finally found an area where the forest expanded close enough to the river to be practical for a new base. Their last trek before the snow began to fall had them bring in enough supplies to begin constructing a defensive perimeter around what would hopefully soon be their new building site.
"Who's going to be doing the building?"
"We are."
"Do you actually know how to build anything?"
"It's connecting planks of wood with hammer and nails; how hard can it be...?"
The look on her face had said it all. Erwin was certain that he could master construction just as easily as he'd mastered every other feat of labor the Survey Corps required of him, but plumbing a line for nails wasn't going to be the issue beyond the walls.
"Vanguard, advance!" The commander's voice carried far across the grassy plain, though hopefully not far enough for Titans to take notice of them just yet. As several dozen horses pulled ahead, Erwin deliberately slowed his own, pulling up beside Mike.
"Captain, are we ready to fall into formation?"
"Well, you tell me, Smith. It is your formation, after all."
"...give it aabout thirty more seconds, until the wagons just barely in view."
"Give the order when you think we're ready." The younger man had to look twice, daring to take his eyes from the advancing row of cavalry just long enough to see if his captain had lost his mind.
"Me?"
"Yeah, you Smith. You've got this planned out better than I do." The older man flashed a quick grin. "You're probably gonna make captain soon- consider this a test run." For some reason, those words, that probably should have filled him with pride, instead twisted his gut into knots. But this was no time to get nervous, not beyond the walls. Inhaling deeply, Erwin threw his left arm out.
"Captain Wallace! Fan out ten by ten meters southwest- Lisa knows her coordinate!"
"Got it!" He watched just long enough to see the other captain fall back, assuming he would pass the order onto the rest of his squad before gesturing to the right flank.
"Captain Ness! Ten by ten southeast! There are trees further northeast- make sure Gerwalt falls in rather than out when we get to them!"
"Roger that!" Within seconds, the only other person he could see without squinting was Mike, but despite the anxiety brewing within him, he knew there was nothing to worry about. This was the second time they'd be pulling off this formation, and now that they were that much more experienced, they would all come together easier. He hoped.
"What're my orders, Captain?"
"Fall back fifteen meters- we need you closer to the center to-" Erwin blinked, his mind catching up to his ears. "Did- did you just call me-?" Mike chuckled, raising his voice to carry further as he slowed to fall in position.
"You're doing great, Erwin! Stop worrying!"
Maybe he would have been able to not worry if he hadn't been made aware that he was, for all intents and purposes, now leading the rearguard. It wouldn't be a problem, he reminded himself, as long as he kept the wagons within view. He pulled out his flare gun, double checking to ensure the canister within it was green. This was the easy part, as if it were ever easy. Getting into the forest six kilometers away was something they'd managed on his second expedition, in godawful weather that had gotten them ambushed. With good visibility and an actually- dare he say it?- competent rearguard, it shouldn't have even been a-
"Smith!" A glance over his right shoulder revealed a dark-haired man riding up to him, grim-face. "Titan spotted approaching from the east!" Looking over to his left, he didn't see any riders, nor the remnants of smoke, and the vanguard wasn't all piling in that direction, so he fired off his flare northwestward.
"Pass our new directions down!"
"Right!"
If Shadis knew his rearguard was stretched out to the point where they could barely see one another, he'd probably bodily hurl Erwin right into the mouth of the nearest Titan, but that was just it; the nearest Titan to them was hundreds of meters away, and he knew about it before even seeing it. It was difficult to keep his mind clear enough to take in every tiny stimulus around him when the cogs of his thoughts were turning so vigorously. 'I can do better than this. We can do better than is- we must do better than this! Humanity is depending on us…!'
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Objectively successful expeditions came once every blue moon for the Survey Corps, and even when they carried heavy losses with them, completing a misson- any mission- was cause for celebration. Even though he didn't smile or cheer along with the rest of his soldiers, it was clear Commander Shadis was just as heartened with this first small step towards progress as his Scouts.
The sun was already setting when they returned to the Trost base, so when the commander informed them that curfew would be lifted tonight, the cheer that went up was deafening. There were, of course, sniffles, weeping, muttered prayers- all the sounds of grieving that were heard after every expedition, but the jubilation of those who had either not lost close companions or else, had long since run out of tears, was overwhelming. Having only returned to his quarters to grab his wallet, Erwin nearly ran headlong into Gerwalt and Mike as he stepped back into the hall of the men's barracks.
"My man, Vice Captain Smith!" The younger of the two men threw his arm around Erwin's shoulders, nearly sending both of them tumbling to the floor as he leaned against him. "Let's go get shitfaced in honor of your new title!"
"My what? What?" Mike reached over, draping his arm around Erwin's other shoulder and causing his knees to buckle under the additional weight. He was starting to feel that month's worth of extra bread…
"You heard him. I'm making you my Vice Captain- I don't care if that's an actual title or not. Sixteen fucking Titans, and we only had to face five; and three of those were only because Shadis led us straight into them…" He grabbed both of Erwin's shoulders, slate gray eyes hard and serious as they bored into bemused ceruelean. "First thing tomorrow, I'm putting in a recommendation for you to be promoted to captain." A wolfish grin lightened his gaze. "But tonight, we get hammered!"
"I- what- No… I don't-" Too many things were happening all at once, and unlike in the heat of battle, there was no surge of adrenaline to help him sort out his thoughts. He was exhausted, as much mentally as physically, which left him unable to put up a proper resistance as he was dragged to the courtyard, where Squads Four and Seven were already waiting along with Lisa. She cheered the loudest as soon as she saw him.
"WHOO! There he is; the man of the hour!"
"No, Lisa, I don't-" She threw herself into the pile with her male squad mates, sending them all stumbling.
"Don't worry about money, Erwin; we know you're cheap~ We're gonna pay for all your drinks!"
"We're gonna pour ale down your gullet until you're as stupid as the rest of us!" Captain Wallace's declaration was met with another resounding cheer. Erwin heaved a soul-deep sigh that thankfully went unnoticed, forcing what he hoped was a convincing smile onto his face. This wasn't at all how he was hoping to spend his rewarded night off, but how could he sour everyone's good mood when good moods in the Corps were so incredibly rare?
"Well, I hope you're all ready to go broke in that case." As they cheered again, his smile felt less forced.
~o0o~
The taverns south of Wall Sina were all used to an influx of Scouts after an expedition, but given the stares their group was receiving, the boisterous laughing and cheering that accompanied them was new.
"What're you lot so happy about? Finally got transferred to the Garrison?" One of the patrons teased. A freckled, red-haired man from Ness' squad clapped his hands on Erwin's shoulders, shaking him slightly.
"This is our savior! St. Erwin, protector of Scouts not stupid enough to join the vanguard!" Everyone's mugs and tankards were raised high in the air, those miraculously somewhat full sloshing over the rims as a hearty cry of "St. Erwin!" rang out over the din of the bar. The proclaimed saint buried his face in his hands.
"Please, Lord, kill me now…" Wallace's blonde, Elizabeth, pulled his hands away.
"Stop being bashful, Smith. It's not a good look on a leader."
"I'm not a leader."
"You will be if we've got anything to say about it." Dieter roughly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Greg and me are goin' with Mike to recommend your promotion to Commander Keith tomorrow. God willing, we'll be getting at least a dozen new recruits this year, and it'd be great if all of 'em didn't, y'know, die." Erwin's blood turned to ice in his veins.
"You want me to lead new recruits?! I'm one year older than them!" There was a long moment of silence as his words sunk in, hopefully along with the realization that their desire to thrust him into a mantle of leadership was insane.
"…oh yeah, you're still a widdle baby!" Lisa reached out, pinching his sharp cheeks.
"I don't know why I keep thinking you're in your thirties..."
"It's the face; he has a man face."
"It's the voice- no fresh recruit sounds like that."
"Erwin." Mike's voice was quiet, serious, enough so to make up for the fact that lager foam was still clinging to his mustache. "You can't use age as an excuse in the Survey Corps. How many of our comrades died before they even saw their twentieth year?" Most of them… "You aren't one measly year older; you have a year's worth of experience, something a lot of people can't claim. New recruits are going to need that."
"It's not just experience," Lisa told him warmly, patting his face softly. "You have an extraordinary mind, Erwin. I've been a Scout for almost three years, and it's never occurred to me to do anything but blindly follow orders. Shadis has been commander for four years, and from what I've heard, the only change he's implemented is to charge more aggressively head-on…" She raised her voice a bit. "Who here would think for a minute 'Spreading out is what we should do'? Be honest." The murmurs around their tables indicated that, at least among the dozen soldiers there, none of them believed they would have taken that stance. Gerwalt leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp though his cheeks were already flushed from drink.
"I don't think anyone with a modicum of self-preservation would think about taking risks like that when it comes to the Titans… but it's those kinds of risks that let us step forward in the first place. Someone had to have been crazy enough to approach a Titan and think 'Hey, I wonder what'll happen if I stab it in the back of the neck?'. Someone was crazy enough to design the ODM gear, and then other people were crazy enough to test this shit that kills people even now! I just wonder how people get that crazy in the first place…"
Silence fell again as everyone's gaze focused on Erwin, so intently it felt as though they were peering at his naked soul. They were waiting for an answer, he realized- "How did you get so crazy?" Taking a quick swig of his ale even though it did nothing to quench his suddenly dry mouth, the young man stared into the depths of his mug. The murky light of the tavern flashed on the liquid's rippling surface.
"...my father was a teacher. He taught me everything, but his most important lesson didn't come from a classroom or textbook. He taught me not to accept things as 'truth' just because someone said it was the truth. Humans are infallible, they lie, knowledge is always changing… 'If I told you the sky was orange, but you looked outside and saw that it was blue, who would you believe; your teacher, or your eyes?' That's how he explained it. If someone says the only way to deal with Titans is to charge all of them head-on, but I see time and again that approach isn't working, that's not the truth, even if the person saying it is a supposed 'expert'. Maybe I'm just a heretic, but I need to see the truth with my own eyes…"
No one spoke, and guilt began digging its' cold fingers into Erwin's chest. He wished he hadn't brought up his father. Even though he hadn't said anything damning, he didn't want people he considered his friends and comrades to think his father was a heretic or a madman...
"Your dad sounds like a great man," Mike said, his voice warm in its sincerity.
"Yes. He was…" Wallace raised his mug, not nearly so rowdy as before.
"A toast, then, to Mr. Smith!"
"To Mr. Smith!" As the rest of the steins rose, Erwin shut his eyes against the tears that stung them. His throat was too tight to join in their toast, but the words were in his heart. 'Look, father… My friends all see that you were right about the nature of truth, and one day, I'm going to show them that you were right about everything else… Everyone will see that you were right…'
~o0o~
In the wake of the Scouting Regiment's unexpected night of merry-making came a morning of unexpected hangovers. The mess hall during breakfast sounded more like a hospice with all the moaning, whining, and prayers for a quick death to end so-and-so's suffering. While most people eventually sobered up more or less completely after a few hours of chores and training, there were still those who had drunk like the world was ending the night before and were paying for it in spades well into lunch.
Considering the state of Mike, curled in a fetal position on the trestle bench and groaning as though he were on his deathbed, Erwin assumed he had forgotten about his promise to speak with the commander. At least, he'd hoped for as much. Unfortunately, no; even hungover to the point of being barely able to string together a whole sentence, Captain Zacharias was dependable to a fault.
"He didn't kick us out immediately, so that's good," he half whispered, half slurred, the words made even harder to understand by his arm covering his face. "But I think he saw us carrying you back to base, so that's prolly less good…"
"I hope he didn't hear us- that would be a real nightmare…" Lisa's voice dropped to a fearful whisper, earning a loud scoff from Gerwalt.
"He probably heard you. I'm surprised there are any windows left intact on the street, what with you shrieking like a goddamn harpy all the way back."
Erwin hadn't drunk nearly as much as his companions last night, but still enough that he couldn't remember if certain events had actually happened, or if he'd just dreamed them up. He definitely knew the trip back to headquarters was real, as much as he wished he could pretend it wasn't. He had been... not pleased, but okay with the squads carrying him on their shoulders through the street- inebriated as he was, it had been fun. Them reviving their chant of "St. Erwin!" on the other hand was far less fun, and sadly, most certainly happened as the rest of the Survey Corps had taken the nickname and ran with it. Even if he hadn't heard a group of rowdy soldiers chanting and falling over themselves in the courtyard, Commander Shadis would have to be deaf to not hear the moniker (as well as the snickers accompanying it) throughout the halls this morning.
Erwin could only imagine what cruel and unusual punishments the older man was already dreaming up to put him back in his place, completely ignoring the fact that he hated this stupid title more than anyone, even if it was only a joke. The 95th Training Corps would be graduating in May, barely three months time. Even if only one person joined the Survey Corps, if Erwin became a captain, there was a possibility that that one person might end up in his squad. Under his command. Their life in his hands. And while he didn't think the commander was cruel to the point of stupidity, one could never know just to what depths a person could sink. After all, what would crush the ego of a proclaimed "saint" faster than being responsible for the death of a new recruit?
Ah, those grim thoughts were making him queasy. Trying to force them from his mind, he turned his attention back to his breakfast. In the four years since he'd joined the military, he'd grown accustomed to the bland, tasteless food. It was meant to be eaten for sustenance, not enjoyment, and he'd conditioned his mind to accept that fact just as he'd conditioned his body to accept the rigorous torture of vertical maneuvering. But in this instance, it seemed the body was stronger than the mind as he groaned, pushing his plate aside and letting his head rest against the rough grain of the table.
"After we build this base, do you think we can build an herb garden outside the walls?" Gerwalt chuckled.
"The slop has finally broken him. Stay strong, Smith; otherwise, you'll start crying during meals in a desperate attempt to taste salt." Lisa hummed thoughtfully.
"If you want to farm that badly, run away in the middle of the night and head west to my folks' farm. They're always looking for strong field hands."
"Does your family grow sage or parsley?"
"No, we mostly grow wheat."
"Not interested, then."
"Home cooking's got you spoiled, Smith," Mike muttered from half under the table, slowly trying to crawl away from what little light illuminated the mess hall. "Stop eating at Lindemann's place and you'll forget what flavor is soon enough…"
"That's rich, coming from Mr. Black Market Baked Goods himself…" The sad thing was, he knew the captain was right. Both his visits to Thomasin had resulted in him staying well past when dinner would be served at headquarters, and both times, she had invited him to have dinner with her. Any guilt he felt was quickly erased by the flavor which had been sorely lacking from his life.
The former Scout had found work in an apothecary (another favor from the good doctor), and while she lamented the mental anguish of stocking and restocking shelves and cleaning and recleaning jars for a boss who seemed to have some kind of obsessive disorder, she was also quick to describe the veritable king's treasury worth of herbs and spices housed on those shelves.
"I'm being paid a pittance for being on my poor foot all day, so if I take a sprig of thyme here or there, I'd say that's just recompense for my labor…"
A small part of Erwin felt that he should protest such a thing; theft went against the Charters of Humanity, after all, and as a soldier, he was duty bound to uphold those laws… but then he remembered that apothecaries were part of the merchant's guild that kept calling for the Survey Corps' funding to be slashed to keep their own wallets fat, and the reason Scouts injured in battle had to keep working after their retirement to make ends meet. Also, he wasn't the Military Police, so fuck them.
"Get parsley next time- that goes with everything…"
The amount of spices needed to season even one meal for a two hundred-odd member regiment would have bankrupted them, but maybe if they could just expand their territory another few kilometers beyond the walls, they could claim a plot of land and grow something simple, like parsley. That was such a simple, almost childish dream, but it felt tangible…
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With palisades in place around the perimeter of what would hopefully be their base, construction finally began in earnest. Granted, the sharpened logs weren't going to do much to stop any Titans that came barreling at them full force, but the purpose of their defensive structures was to slow down any monsters that got caught on them long enough to subdue them. Only a quarter of their forces were actually laying down the foundation, a good twenty five meters above the ground where hopefully most Titans couldn't reach, another quarter manning the fortifications, while the remaining half of the Survey Corps remained at the perimeter of the forest, clustered together, dangling from their wires to serve as bait to keep the mindless creatures occupied.
Shadis probably would have insisted they do something productive with their time, like actually killing the dozen or so Titans eyeing them hungrily, but the commander was inside the forest, overseeing construction, and left orders outside the wall of trees to the discretion of his captains… which, as of this mission, formally included Erwin. It had taken two more non-complete failures beyond the walls, as well as constant pressure from the other captains, spearheaded by Mike himself, but a week before their current expedition, the commander had announced his promotion, all the while wearing an expression that looked like he was chewing glass. Shadis obviously couldn't speak the bitter words clearly on the tip of his tongue aloud, not when the rest of the Corps was cheering and clapping, but that didn't stop him from whispering them in Erwin's ear as he moved to return to his office.
"They're going to chew you up and spit you out in a week…"
At the time, he assumed the commander was talking about the other soldiers, but as fingers the size of tree trunks clumsily grabbed at him, he realized that maybe he was talking about the Titans themselves.
"Uh… these things are starting to get kind of antsy… What should we do, Captain?" Frey Harlow, a softspoken man with short black hair, had been part of Squad Three before enthusiastically volunteering to join Erwin's newly reformed Squad Thirteen. He had vehemently denied that request, not wanting any of the other captains to somehow think he was trying to one-up them; he'd spent far too long earning their goodwill and trust to squander it now. But that trust apparently went deeper than he'd given them credit for. The captains unanimously informed their subordinates that anyone who wanted to transfer to Squad Thirteen would have their blessing to do so, leading the newest captain to have to pick from a few dozen potential candidates.
It became readily apparent that most of those eager to serve under his command were only doing so because they were under the impression that missions would be "easy". Positioned in the rearguard, running away from combat- it sounded too good to be true. He had no use for lazy cowards, even by Survey Corps standards; the slightest complacency could put his months of planning at risk, and he could not let things start to fall apart now of all times. In the end, Erwin chose three of the soldiers with the highest kill counts, banking on the knowledge that they would not falter or panic should an Abnormal come charging at them. Frey Harlow, Horace Müller, and Cecile Davies. There was little point in finding a fourth member when Shadis would most likely start reassigning people after the new recruits joined.
"Start moving further east- slowly! We don't want these things' attention to drift. Don't engage unless one of them breaks away from the pack."
"Sir!" It left him with a disquieting feeling to hear "sir" and know it was directed at him, especially when it was not just his squad responding, but most of the other squads as well. After each expedition, more and more of the Scouts began referring to him as "St. Erwin, he who protects us from unnecessary combat", sometimes going so far as to offer a little bow.
It was all in jest, obviously, but it had somehow slipped into the Survey Corps' collective subconscious that following Erwin Smith's lead meant you were less likely to face the Titans in direct battle, which meant you were more likely to return to the walls. It was a daunting pedestal to be hoisted upon, but he would not balk this time. In a few more weeks, there would very likely be fresh-faced Training Corps recruits among their numbers, and he personally vowed that he would do anything in his power if only he could spare them even a fraction of the horror and heartache he'd experienced.
They moved, one squad at a time, to the adjacent trees. Glassy eyes that didn't even seem to contain an animal intelligence followed their every move carefully, the largest Titans stumbling after those swinging between branches first. It should have been the easiest thing in the world- their training exercises were more harrowing than this… but their training exercises didn't have them moving above live Titans, live Titans who, even in their seemingly most docile, unagitated state, could be unpredictable. It happened so suddenly it took a moment for reality to sink in.
One of the Titans, a fourteen meter, had jumped. Not in the uncanny, inhuman way most Abnormals did. It moved like a child trying to reach something on the top shelf… It would have almost been funny had its massive fingers not closed around one of the Scouts, snatching her from the air mid-swing, pulling loose her wires as if they were nothing more than spider silk. She couldn't even scream properly, managing little more than a terrified yelp before her spine was crushed along with every other bone in her body. She, thankfully, did not hear the wet cracking as the Titan bit off her head and shoulders, limp arms falling back to the earth below, but the rest of the Survey Corps did.
"Fuck! Pull up, pull up!" At once, soldiers began aiming their hooks higher, trying to put as much distance between them and any more grabby hands as possible.
"No, keep your current height!" Mike's deep voice rang out over the panicked screams. "If we go too high, they might lose interest and start seeking out easier prey!"
"What if another one jumps!? There's a sixteen meter right there!" Erwin locked two fresh blades into his grips, the added weight doing little to keep his hands still.
"Then we won't be unprepared this time. We have our orders and we must follow them until the end. Your fellow Scout just gave her life holding this line; are you too craven to do the same?!"
"Sir, no sir!" His squad mates answered readily, but so too did Lisa and Gerwalt, he noticed. They trusted him. They bought into his grandiose talk. How disgusted would they all be if they knew the only thing he was truly thinking as he watched the Titan continuing to devour what was left of the body in its' hands was 'Better you than me…'?
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"Didn't seem like there were that many loses last time."
"No… only a dozen out of a hundred. That's nothing…"
The constant hiss of heavy rain filled the silence when their conversation lapsed. Thomasin had throw her window open, not caring when the sudden gusts blew rain all over her counter. There were already puddles on the floor where Erwin's clothes were hanging up to dry, despite her wringing as much water from them as possible. Coming here was beyond foolish. The storm clouds had been brewing over Shiganshina since he woke up, and as he fed and watered his horse, the distant rumble of thunder only grew more impatient.
A wiser man would have stayed at base and caught up on the paperwork that he was now expected to complete, or at least stayed in Trost and spent the day bonding with his new squad mates. But he had plenty of time for that. His one day off had become somewhat precious to him, the one day when he didn't have to change his tone depending on who he was speaking to, or carefully consider his words, or worry about the person sitting beside him dying because of his negligence.
And so he paid for his ticket on the ferry, walked straight through a thunderstorm (at least he didn't have to worry about getting lost anymore) and showed up on Thomasin's doorstep, so completely drenched that the thin, white button-down he'd worn thinking it was going to be warm today clung to him like a second skin. Somehow, the almost clinical detatchment with which she observed his chest through the now-transparent shirt was more embarrassing than if she were regarding him with any hint of desire.
"...you were walking around like this? Public indecency is illegal, Smith. That's some bullshit; you get to walk around with your tits on display, but if I tried that, suddenly I'm 'corrupting the youth'…"
He'd crossed his arms over his chest then, suddenly all too aware that it was very cold and the most "indecent" parts of him on display were straining against his shirt and right within her eyeline. She continued muttering under her breath even as she stepped back to let him in, grabbing the waistband of his trousers before he made it more than a few steps into the hallway…
"What now?"
"The pants. Lose 'em."
"What?!"
"Shirt too. I've got enough water damage in here without you… leaking everywhere. Take your clothes off so they can dry…"
Erwin's immediate instinct was to argue; he didn't consider himself prudish, but the idea of being alone in a woman's home, stripped down to his underwear, still made his ears burn. Unfortunately, those gentle smiles and soft laughs that he had grown accustomed to were nowhere to be found in that dark hall, leaving only the lusterless facade that still managed to bring a pang of nostalgia…
"You can wrap yourself up in a blanket, or you can sit in your wet clothes on my doorstep. The choice is yours…"
And thus, he lay curled up on her bed, cocooned in a thin comforter, the flowery scent of not-tea blending with the petrichor from outside to lull him into a not quite sleeping, but not fully awake state. If he closed his eyes, he could still see pieces of his fellow Scouts go flying as the Titan horde tore them asunder. Thomasin set two cups on the table.
"I didn't tell you you could lay down…" Before he could even make an effort to get up, she lifted his legs, sitting down in the spot they'd previously occupied, before laying his calves back across her thighs. Silence fell again as she traced circles on the comforter, and by extension, his shin. "But you have started building, right?"
"Mm hmm…" He didn't want to talk; speaking might pull him from this half-consciousness, and the last thing he wanted was for his mind to start up again.
"Heh. If you'd told me a year ago that the Survey Corps was actually making progress, I'd have laughed in your face. Well, maybe not laughed- exhaled in amusement."
Her self-aware comment earned a quiet chuckle from Erwin, but still he didn't speak, tucking his head further into the blanket as he watched the steam slowly rise and curl from his cup. There was an underlying smell of the same laundry soap they used for the bedding in the barracks (most likely the cheapest thing they could buy in bulk), but the scent of various herbs covered that almost stringent odor. In his mind, he could see Thomasin covertly slipping sprigs of thyme and bay leaves into her pockets.
"...you don't sound very excited, Erwin."
"...I'm not."
"I thought you'd be thrilled. You're reclaiming land beyond the walls, you're a captain... All your ass kissing is finally paying off."
"The 95th Training Corps graduated yesterday. They'll be selecting their branches next week."
"Afraid no one's going to join the Scouts?" He shifted, rolling onto his back and sitting up. With his legs still draped over hers, there was less than a foot of space between them, which he was thankful for. He didn't think he could have spoken any louder if his life had depended on it.
"I don't want anyone to join the Scouts. I don't want them to go through what we went through."
"Yeah…"
"…I don't want anyone's life to be in my hands…"
"I know…" He ran a hand through his still damp hair, noting that the dark blonde fuzz of his undercut had grown longer than he'd thought. He'd need to shave it soon.
"I want the Survey Corps to be stronger, better, and yet I don't want anyone else to make the mistake of joining. I want to see what the world beyond the walls is like… and yet, right now, I just want to pull these covers over my head and pretend like that world doesn't exist. I want all the rewards, and none of the risk that comes with them. …How pathetic am I? Be honest." Through his lashes, he glanced up at Thomasin, who was regarding him with the same scrutiny he usually reserved for his ODM gear. Reaching out, she pressed her index finger between his eyebrows and pushed his head back, forcing him to look up properly, to look at her properly.
"I don't think you're pathetic, Erwin. I think humans are just full of contradictions. The things we want are often at odds with our very survival. If we just blindly went after everything we wanted, we'd have died off a long time ago… Did you know that alcohol is poison?"
"No?" He frowned, both surprised by that knowledge as well as uncertain as to what direction the conversation was now headed. She turned her attention away from him, staring down at the comforter.
"Me either. Mr. Reed taught me that. He's letting me work with simples now- that's raw ingredients- but he says if I'm competent enough, I might be allowed to make tinctures in a few years. I'm not supposed to because I'm not part of a guild, but guild labor is expensive, and it's Shiganshina; who's gonna complain? Most people here can't read…" Erwin was even more lost as to where this tangent was going, but kept his mouth shut- Thomasin never spoke about herself unprompted, and he was not letting this rare opportunity go to waste.
"What was I-? Oh, right- alcohol. It's actually really, really poisonous. Most of the stuff you get in taverns- ales, meads, what have you- is already pretty weak, but then the barkeeps water it down even more, so there's barely any alcohol in that. But the closer it is to being pure- whiskey, gin- the more dangerous it is. Mr. Reed keeps a vat of pure alcohol in the back room, for rinsing out flasks, but that's what perfumers use to turn oil into, well… perfume. The windows have to stay open in there because as soon as you take the stopper out, you'd get drunk otherwise. He told me that, if you drank a tumbler of that stuff, you'd fall into a coma and die.
I assumed he was telling me that so I wouldn't try to sneak a glass, but I've never seen him drink any either, so I guess he's telling the truth. ...that's exactly the same stuff that's in the wine those Garrison assholes throw back like it's water, a little less concentrated, but it'll kill just the same if you drink enough. Isn't that funny?"
The blonde man blinked, shaking his head slightly to clear it. When had she grown so talkative? Was this what it sounded like when he ranted? Probably not. His voice rose when he got excited, trembled, along with his whole body. Thomasin's remained even throughout, her voice almost a drawl, made to read children bedtime stories. Honestly, he would have been perfectly content to let her keep talking if she hadn't inclined her head towards him when she'd finally asked her question, implying she expected an answer.
"…I'm sorry, I didn't take anything away from that other than you can get drunk just from alcohol vapors…"
"It's funny," she said, not a hint of humor in her voice. "I worked at the same tavern as my mom before joining the Training Corps, and I saw people drink for all kinds of reasons. To celebrate when they were happy, to drown their sorrows when they were sad… To bolster their courage when they were afraid, or calm down when they were upset… They were all killing themselves, however slowly… I'm sure they didn't want that either. They all just wanted the good things that come with being drunk, but none of the bad. Joy without sorrow. Life without death, death without pain..." Reaching out, she brushed his hair away from his face, combing her fingers through the cornsilk strands until they were back in a rough estimation of his usual part.
"You're no more pathetic than the rest of humanity, Erwin. I know that's probably the worst insult I can throw at you, but it's okay for you to come down to our level once in a while. You don't have to be some perfect, untouchable being; we're all the same scared little hypocrites as you." He let his head drop, resting his forehead against the backs of her fingers.
"If anyone else told me that, I would be very insulted."
"Yeah, but I'm not 'anyone else'- I've known what kind of asshole you were since you were sixteen."
"And yet, you still deign to grace me with your friendship." She reached across him to grab their cups from the table. He could feel her abs against his shins- not as hard as they must have been when she was still actively doing vertical maneuvering, but still not reduced to civilian softness. She handed him his cup- it was only a little above room temperature.
"Well, you were the only person who ever spoke to me, so what was I supposed to do?" He hummed thoughtfully.
"You were rather unapproachable back then. Maybe if you let more people see this side of you, they'd be less intimidated?"
"You didn't see this side of me," she pointed out, bringing her cup to her lips.
"That's true, but I'm a brainless idiot who likes things that are different, remember? Speaking of which, your hair looks nice when it's down." Her hand went to the dark locks curling around her neck, as if she hadn't even noticed they were there until he'd pointed it out.
"Thanks. I should put it up, but I don't feel like spending an hour combing it. Maybe I should style my hair like yours- that probably doesn't take much work to get ready in the morning." Erwin grinned from over the rim of his cup.
"Oh, you have no idea. I have my own quarters now- complete with bathroom- and you'd best believe I'm taking my sweet time getting ready in the morning." Thomasin sighed longingly.
"Sounds like heaven. Honestly, that's the real reason I have a job. My pension covers rent in this squalid cell well enough, but I can't stand sharing a bathroom with these disgusting people. I'm saving up to hopefully buy a house before I die."
"Move to Trost so I don't have to come all the way out here to visit you."
"Ha!" She threw her head back with a derisive laugh. "Fork over half of your salary every month and I might be able to afford a wooden crate in the slums!" A part of him was tempted to agree to her demand, but he held his tongue as he realized that, even as a joke, that was a bit too… intimate.
The rain finally stopped almost three hours later, at around a quarter past seven, and Erwin begrudgingly acknowledged he was overstaying his welcome.
"You don't want dinner?" Thomasin asked, somewhat shocked, as if she thought he expected to be fed. In truth, he did want whatever she would be willing to cook far more than what was waiting for him back at base, but…
"I have a lot of paperwork that I haven't finished yet. That private bathroom comes with a hefty price." She chuckled.
"I'll bet…"
His clothes weren't exactly dry, but he would take "slightly damp" over "completely sodden" any day. The young woman turned to face the wall as he dressed, granting him as much privacy as the small room allowed.
"Alright, you can look- I'm decent." She turned back to face him, her lips quirking into a badly suppressed smirk.
"Is showing that much cleavage really 'decent'?" His cheeks burned as he quickly did up the rest of the buttons all the way to his neck.
"It's not 'cleavage' on a man…" he muttered under his breath as Thomasin stood, leaning on the table and then chair to make her way over to the counter rather than fumble with her crutch.
"It's cleavage on you- you have bigger tits than I do, Smith. What does Shadis have you doing; bench pressing the horses?" Without thinking, he glanced at her chest as she began grabbing different jars, looking away as soon as he realized what he was doing. He'd be hard pressed to say his chest was larger than hers; wider, perhaps, but not…
"If my chest is that bothersome to you, don't look at it."
"Lighten up, Smith; I tease because I care." Setting two of the jars she'd gathered into a basket, she offered it to him. "Here you go. I wanted to give this to you last month, but I… ate it all…" Frowning slightly, Erwin lifted one of the glass jars from the basket. It was clear- expensive- and filled with some thick, reddish orange paste... His eyes widened.
"Is this jam!?"
"Technically it's medicine… or, at least, the leftovers from medicine. Mr. Reed makes quince wine, and since he was going to throw away what was left over, I… might have… skimmed some off the top? Don't eat that before an expedition; it's been soaked in wine."
"It's jam and wine…?" His gaze turned reverent. "I can't accept this."
"Sure you can. I told you, I wanted to give it to you last month. It was supposed to be a celebration for things not going sideways when you all put the palisades up, but now… Think of it as a congratulatory gift for becoming captain. I almost feel bad stealing those ingredients…"
"Why?" Despite his protests, the blonde man was already unscrewing the lid of the jar he held, coughing slightly after he inhaled. There was definitely alcohol in that, but the sweet, slightly tart scent of fruit quickly overwhelmed the lingering burn.
"Because it's a gift," Thomasin whispered, looking down at her wet counter top. "When I was the only one eating it, I didn't care, but… I feel like if I'm going to give you something, it should be something I paid for. But fresh fruit costs so much, to say nothing of sugar…" It was easy to think that stone-faced apathy had returned, but Erwin had seen a wide enough array of emotion on the young woman's face to know that little furrow between her own thin brows spoke of a deeper melancholy than what would ever come to the surface. Screwing the lid back on and replacing the jar in the basket, he bent slightly to better meet her eyes.
"Hey. I don't need, nor do I want, expensive gifts." Leaning closer, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "Save your money so you can move to Trost and cook for me every day."
"You'd eat me out of house and home in a week, you giant ox." She pushed him away, but it was with a smile. "If you keep pushing humanity forward, I'll make you proper jam that's not left over from dysentery medicine."
"Mmm, tasty. I can't wait."
~o0o~
The trip back to base was just as dismal as the journey from there had been, the dirt roads of Shiganshina having long since turned to mud, and the filth that ran through the gutters of Trost not much better. After the sentry stationed at the headquarters' gate nodded him through, Erwin felt an odd sense of relief run through him as he made his way into the barracks. It wasn't home, but… it was honestly as close as he would probably get. Officers in the other military branches often bought their own houses, especially those in the Military Police Brigade, but it was practically unheard of for even the commander of the Survey Corps to have a home outside of the barracks.
It seemed to be an unspoken rule that, once you joined the Corps, you were there physically until you ended up on a pyre or in a Titan's belly. He'd honestly never thought about it before. There was no reason to. After his father had been murdered, "home" had become some kind of abstract word that he only understood on a technical level. Even his childhood room, the room he'd slept in all his life, made him feel like he was intruding when it was his aunt who woke him up in the morning. It was natural, then, to just move from one temporary sleeping quarters to another. It must have been Thomasin talking about wanting a new house that got him thinking such strange things…
But now that he was dwelling on it, he'd never heard her refer to her apartment as "home" either. It was always "my house" this or "my room" that; never "my home", not even in regards to the hypothetical house she wanted to buy with its' own bathroom. Maybe some people just didn't have "homes", and a roof and bed were the best they could hope for. He was drawn from his oddly uncomfortable thoughts by Mike's deep voice calling out to him. Erwin had to remind himself not to call the other man "Captain"- they were equals now.
"How did you know I was even here?"
"I smelled you- well, not you, but Lindemann's house on you. You always smell like chamomile and sage when you come back from there, but this time… Oh ho ho!" The taller man's eyes lit up as he spotted the basket still loosely held in Erwin's fist. "Quince jam…"
"These jars are sealed; how the fuck did you smell that from wherever you were lurking?!"
"You must've opened one. No one can hide fresh food from me, Smith; you know that! I can smell the buttercream frosting they're making in Sina! Give me one!"
"No! Tell your mommy to send you jam instead of bread."
"I need both! I'm a growing boy!"
"If you grow anymore, we're going to have to toss you over Wall Maria so you can go live with your own kind…" he muttered, grabbing the unopened jar, but holding it out of Mike's reach. He felt like his shoulder was about to pop out of its' socket. "Share this with Lisa and Gerwalt." The older man made an annoyed noise that absolutely wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from a Titan's mouth.
"Fine." But Erwin would not relent so easily. His spine was going to snap in half if Mike kept leaning over him, but he held his ground.
"I will ask Lisa about this, and if you don't share, I will let her murder you. I will help her hide the body."
"FINE! Gimme that jam, you goddamn nag…" He continued muttering under his breath even as he snatched the precious jar away, alternating between staring lovingly at the chunky goodness within and glowering at the young man currently shaking his head in disapproval.
As much as would have liked to not think about it, this unwanted encounter with a wild hound reminded him that he wasn't going to be alone at meals, even if it wasn't going to be Mike and Lisa and Gerwalt sitting with him. Captain Forster's words from what felt like a lifetime ago rang somewhat hollow in his ears, You can't divide us into 'friends' and ' friends' anymore… He would have to build the same rapport with his new squad that Mike had built with him, and he would do a sorry job of that by hording something that, to a desperate soldier, was worth its' weight in gold. Of course, he could just go back to his private quarters and eat jam straight from the jar like some kind of animal, but he wasn't that depraved… not yet. No, he'd share, but… at the very least, he'd wait for a special occasion.
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A/N- Every time I start writing the expedition scenes, I wish I were writing the relationship stuff, and every time I start writing the relationship stuff, I wish I were writing the expedition scenes. I'm never satisfied. So yeah, I'm playing fast and loose with some stuff, but I don't think life in Paradis is going to be a one-to-one with medieval Europe. I need time to start moving faster, goddammit! I've got several years to cover. Also, do I desperately want to cup Erwin's big, milky man-tiddies? Abso-fucking-lutely. Smother me with your bosom, good sir.