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Ch. 7- "Lost"

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The Survey Corps was the only branch of the military where soldiers didn't relish being paid to do nothing. Perhaps because they worried about their skills going to seed, or maybe because the longer they stayed within the safety of the walls, the harder it would be to leave them. Or maybe they just didn't like being dragged down to the same level as the Garrison Regiment, a bunch of shiftless, lazy do-nothings getting fat on the tax payers' coin, just like everyone accused them of being. As though they wanted to be useless, worthless… Most of the Scouts tried to make the most of it, pushing their tenuous grasp on employment from their minds to celebrate the lack of funeral pyres, their friends and comrades being there every morning, the relieved, downright joyful, letters from friends and family…

Dear Erwin,

Sorry I missed you. I guess you weren't feeling well, or else, Shadis is working you to the bone to make up for the fact that he has to defer to your tactical genius. Are your ribs healing well? I know it hurts, but you have to take deep breaths; we don't want your lungs to go bad. When's your next expedition? I know it probably won't be for a while, but it takes a long time for news from the capital to reach all the way down here. I guess you can tell me when you come over this month. Write back as soon as you can.

Thomasin

While everyone else read their mail in the mess hall, sharing their good news, their happy families, joking about their relatives' deathly serious pleas for them to go AWOL and come home, Erwin retired to his quarters to be left in peace. He wasn't in the mood for the questions or strange looks that would have arisen as his grip tightened on the cheap paper, crumpling and even tearing it somewhat. The urge to simply ball up the letter and throw it away was overwhelming, but something stayed his hand.

Mostly guilt. It wasn't Thomasin's fault. She didn't know her words were hurtful, but they were, expectant hope blooming anew to hide the briers that tore open the barely healing lesions on his pride. Any other month, he'd have penned a response immediately, too embittered to continue wallowing in self pity, more than happy to write out a dissertation about the commander's foolish pettiness. But that month, all Erwin did was straighten out the wrinkled paper as best he could, slip it back into its envelope and set it in the drawer with his formation.

~o0o~

Dear Erwin,

Happy birthday, I guess. I haven't heard from you in three months. Is everything alright? I'm sure you have far more responsibilities as a captain, but surely you can find a minute to write? Just two words? Mr. Reed came back from the capital a week ago and said there wouldn't be any expeditions until December, although he couldn't give me an exact date. I didn't realize it was that bad. My earlier letters must have seemed… insensitive. You're frustrated, I understand that. You don't have to tell me what's going on in the Corps. Just tell me that you're alright. I worry about you. Please write back.

Thomasin

This letter joined the rest, Erwin slamming the drawer shut with his boot as he straightened his belts. Finally, something to do today, a training exercise for the new recruits. Most of them hadn't even set foot outside the walls yet, and if they didn't continuously practice their vertical maneuvering, they'd be leaving a lot of bodies in the snow. With everything buckled in place, he stepped out of the office, locking the door behind him and nearly colliding with Hange as he turned around.

"You could wait in the courtyard, you know."

"I know," the brunette intoned, adjusting the straps of their goggles. "I didn't want to. You're coming with us, right Captain? We can walk together!" The young recruit's mood had considerably improved over the last few months, the horror of their first mission almost gone from their eyes. Erwin should have been glad for it, but in all honesty, it was all he could do to just tolerate the bespectacled soldier's overly chipper nature. "So there's just a base gathering dust somewhere out in Wall Rose?"

"There are several bases within the Walls, used before we had proper headquarters built in the districts."

"Have you been to any of them, Sir?"

"No. There was no time last year." From the corner of his eye, he saw Hange cringe, acutely aware that they were touching a nerve, but not aware enough to stop talking.

"I can't wait until our next mission. Titans aren't as active in the snow, right? So this should be easy! Do you think I can be a relay this time, Captain? I proved that I can stay in formation, didn't I?" The blonde man sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure building behind his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Zoë. When we ride into a Titan that's been covered by snow, relays won't be much help. We should have everyone practicing with empty tanks and damaged blades, to better simulate what combat's going to be like when our gear freezes."

"I'm sure Captain Mike could still kick all sorts of Titan ass with damaged weapons!" They chuckled nervously, their smile growing more and more forced as they finally realized they weren't going to get any kind of positive response from their CO. Finally, they let that grimace they were still holding onto slip away entirely. "...are you alright, Captain Erwin?"

"I'm fine." His ribs still ached, but they were as healed as they were going to get. As long as he could do his duties, what other problems did he have?

"Are you still upset about the commander rejecting your formation? I-I'm sure he didn't want to; our budget's been cut, right? He probably just couldn't afford all the flares we'd need by the next expedition-"

"We have plenty of flare guns, and powder, in storage, Hange; do you think I didn't check that?"

"W-well, maybe he just doesn't think now is the best time to seek approval for a new formation… I mean, that has to go through the Assembly, doesn't it?"

"No, I'm certain he doesn't think he should fight for someone elses' ideas, no matter how many lives it might save…"

"But-!"

"Hange." He stopped short, turning just enough to fix his shorter companion with a steely glare. "Did you seek me out for no purpose other than to run your mouth and be as annoying as humanly possible?" The hurt on their face was as undeniable as it was quickly replaced with an affected nonchalance.

"My, someone's testy today. You've been even grouchier than usual since the mail came. I hope there was nothing bad in it…" He could feel the muscle in his eyelid start to twitch, but would have been content to ignore it if Hange had just stopped prodding. But there was something about them that was never able to leave well enough alone. "That letter was from your friend Thomasin, right? Cecile said you used to write to her a lot. If I may, what-?"

"No. No. You may not. You forget yourself, Hange. You may not ask me anything that isn't explicitly related your duties as a Scout. In fact, all you may do until we get to the new base is keep your mouth shut and mind your own business." He did not wait to see their reaction or hear their indignant sputtering.

Erwin let his long stride carry him to the stables, paying no mind to anything but the ground in front of him until he reached his destination. As he saddled his horse, the reflexive work allowed his mind to wander, thoughts bitterly chastising him. He shouldn't have been so cold to Hange. He certainly shouldn't have snapped at them; that was wholly unprofessional. What kind of commanding officer let their emotions rule them so easily? Keith Shadis, for one… That wasn't the kind of person he wanted to be. He would apologize… later, when he had time, when his head didn't feel like it was being tightened in a vice. For now, he simply shoved that guilt into some bottom drawer of his soul.

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Verdant leaves turned to crimson and amber that carpeted the ground as the sweltering heat of summer cooled to something bearable, winds from the north finally blowing past the Interior. It wouldn't be much longer until the first snowflakes fell in the south and their next expedition tore away the gossamer veil of security. It was a recovery mission, not for the bones of the fallen, but for their supplies. Even damaged by the elements, components of the ODM gear could be recycled, fuel reused, ultra-hardened steel melted down and forged into new blades. This didn't come from the Assembly; it was the King's mercy, his pity, giving them a mission that was too easy to fail. Some of the Scouts were insulted that they were essentially being given busy work, mostly the new recruits who had yet to see a single Titan. Most of the veterans, however, found the entire situation grimly amusing.

"Hey, if we do well on this mission, maybe we can become the courier branch of the military." Cecile chuckled to herself as she unloaded a crate of bandages. The first batch of their supplies had been delivered today, the things that would keep, and Squad Thirteen, along with Squads Five and Eight, had the grand honor of taking everything to storage. "I mean, think about it. We prove that we're good at bringing things from one place to another, and who's going to try to steal a package off a Titan slayer?"

"You'd be surprised what people will do for a coin, especially desperate people," Frey told her, voice grim. "I've seen a homeless man fight a feral dog for a chicken wing…"

"Did he win?" Horace was more interested in the outcome of this fantastical fight than either of the boxes balancing precariously on his broad shoulders. Hange groaned, somewhat in dismay, but more so from the weight of the blades they were about to collapse under before Erwin took the crate from them.

"If the Survey Corps ever has to take on missions inside the walls, I'll need one of you to lop my head off with these fresh blades, okay? I cannot have a job that keeps me inside these walls- me surviving the last expedition is the only reason my dad's gotten off my back. I know he's just chomping at the bit to start hounding me again. 'Zoë, when are going to get a real job?' 'Zoë, you know we can't afford a funeral for you!' 'Zoë, your mother wants grandchildren- when are you going to find a nice boy to settle down with?' When I'm dead and buried, that's when!" The older soldiers looked askance at the young brunette, their glasses fogging up as they half growled, half panted.

"Uh…. Having family issues, Hange?" Cecile asked finally. Hange froze for a tick before straightening, their chipper smile back firmly in place.

"Nope! What makes you think that?" As they clumsily tried to change the subject, Frey approached their captain under the guise of helping him with the stack of crates he clearly wasn't having any difficulty carrying.

"You're awfully quiet today, Erwin."

"No more so than usual."

"Perhaps not, but it's more noticeable than usual… You didn't get any mail today." No, he hadn't.

Every month, there was at least one letter with his name on it, but the past two had seen him presented with a stack nearly rivaling Mike's usual haul. All of his had the same return address, marked only with different postage dates. He'd read maybe a third of them, each word weighing upon him like a stone, crushing him further into some guilt-adjacent emotional mire he was trying his damnedest not to think about. They'd all ended up in the drawer, even after Mike cornered him last month, the furious scowl he wore making him look far older than his twenty five years...

"Why aren't you writing to Lindemann anymore, Smith?"

"How do you know I'm not?"

"Because she told me you're not!" He angrily shook a cheap piece of paper filled less than a quarter with familiar handwriting in the younger man's face. "She thinks you're dead! She thinks you got pneumonia and died! She wrote to me because she doesn't know any of your squad mates. What the hell, Erwin? Don't tell me this is because we were teasing you? You cannotbe that insecure!"

"I'm not."

"Then write back to her, you asshole, and apologize for being such a shitty friend."

"Don't dictate what I need to do, Michaelis; this is no concern of yours." He turned to walk away, but a large hand on his shoulder stopped him, its grip just tight enough to remind Erwin that he'd seen Mike crush an apple single-handed as a joke, once…

"It is, though. As soon as this-" He shook the letter once more. "-landed in my lap, it became my concern…"

The guilt had boiled over at that point, though he did not let it show on his face. He'd gone about his day as usual, refusing to be bullied into doing anything, even after it became clear from the daggers being glared at him from across the mess hall that Mike had told the rest of his squad what happened. That night, however, he'd sat at his desk, pen in hand, staring at a blank sheet of paper as though words might miraculously appear on it if he believed hard enough. What could he possibly write? "I'm not dead- sorry to worry you?" That would be better than nothing, but after such a long silence, it wasn't nearly enough.

A better man would just admit everything; that he'd shut himself away to nurse his wounded pride, that the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it became to break it… That he hadn't thrown away her letters, which he could only imagine had devolved into increasingly distraught pleas to simply give her some closure, but had done the next worse thing with them. A better man would put those words to paper and accept the anger and disgust and hate he rightfully deserved… but Erwin didn't even consider himself a "good" man these days, so he simply crumpled up the unmarked page and tossed it in the trash.

It should have come as no surprise that there was nothing addressed to him this month, and yet, for some insufferably arrogant part of his heart, it did. He assumed Mike wrote Thomasin back to inform her that her "friend" was perfectly well, save for being a piece of shit, and if not him, certainly Lisa, who now made a concentrated effort to give Erwin the same disapproving shake of the head he'd once given her, only her disappointment was sincere. He was glad Squad Twelve was scrubbing the showers today; he'd lose his mind if he had to ignore those shaming glares for an hour. Rolling his shoulders and wincing as the right one popped, Erwin walked back to the wagon, grabbing a case of what sounded like empty fuel tanks.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, more to himself than the dark-haired man beside him. "It's probably for the best. I'm going to die one of these days; may as well rip that bandage off now…"

"What are you talking about?"

"…nothing." Frey hummed thoughtfully, heaving his own crate onto his shoulder.

"I know it's not my place to say, but I think you should go see your friend, Erwin. You're right- you will die one of these days. In the Survey Corps, that day will come sooner rather than later. Knowing how easily you can be knocked off this mortal coil… Isn't that all the more reason to fully enjoy every last moment you have on it?"

"I don't appreciate you waxing philosophic at me, Harlow." There was something about the way Frey spoke, his voice always the same cadence, never rising any louder than its almost-whispered tone, that made it hard to get angry with him. The most anyone could seem to manage was half-hearted annoyance.

"Even though I'm right?"

"…Because you're right. I'm not stupid; I know what I should do- what I should have done ages ago, but…" He tightened his grip on the crate, until the beds of his nails were white. "It's not that easy-"

"Yeah, it is. Just do it, stupid," Cecile piped in, snatching a crate so roughly its contents rattled. "Nothing is as hard as you're pretending this is."

"What about surgery?" Horace was trying to fight back a grin.

"Nope. Knife goes in, guts come out- boom. Surgery's done." He recoiled in horror.

"Never let this crazy bitch treat me in the field. …she's right though, Smith. Not about… anything else, but about this. Grow a pair, go see your girlfriend, and beg her on bended knee to take your sorry ass back." They weren't hateful glares, but the eyes bearing down on him were anything but sympathetic, and rightfully so. The young man dropped his own gaze.

"I will," he promised in a small voice. He would do it; when he swore to do something, his word was law, but he did not specify when. He needed something, a push, something stronger than words to pull him from the quagmire that kept him locked in place.

~o0o~

His push came a month later, as he waited for the outer Shiganshina gate to rise with the rest of the Scouts. They'd received new, thicker cloaks, but even those did little to keep the cold out. There had been a blizzard less than a week before and the gate mechanism was frozen. Expecting the Garrison Regiment to actually do their duties was far too much to ask, so they were left to shiver and blow on their quickly numbing fingers as heated oil was poured onto the cables and gears. The streets were mostly empty of bystanders- the only ones mad enough to voluntarily brave this cold were children, and the snowy slopes within Wall Maria were far more entertaining than watching the Survey Corps slowly freeze to death.

Adults were only out by necessity, heading to work, to the store, to a tavern. They didn't bother to spare more than a glance at the soldiers crowding their main street. That was why Erwin told himself he was imagining things when the back of his neck prickled with the inescapable feeling of being watched. It was probably one of his squad mates, or some Garrison soldier pissed at being pulled away from their card game. But no matter how firmly he tried to convince himself that it was nothing, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was staring through him, looking past the flesh and bone for something he didn't want found. Unable to stand the disquiet growing in his chest, the young man looked up, locking eyes with a listless, umber gaze.

Between the scarf pulled over her nose and the mass of curls tied in the semblance of a balaclava, all he could see of her were her eyes, but he'd spent years looking into those eyes. He recognized them easier than he would have his own. She couldn't have come out solely to watch their procession- this wasn't one of her days off and it was too early in the morning for a break, and it wasn't that she could have just stepped out and happened upon them; the apothecary was somewhere in the middle of the district. So she must have asked to be excused from work and come all the way out here, but for what? To see them off? To see him? No, there was no little wave, not even the crinkle of her eyes from a hidden smile. She looked at him as though he were a stranger, and not a particularly interesting one at that. As she turned away and began limping back down the main street, Erwin turned in his saddle, opening his mouth to call after her before he caught himself.

Even if there were no civilians to make a scene in front of, he was a captain- he needed to set an example for his fellow soldiers, especially all the new recruits lined up behind him. So he faced forward again, huffing bitterly as the gate finally groaned to life. Thomasin probably wasn't waiting for him to come back any more, but if he didn't die in the stupidest way imaginable, he would go see her at the first available opportunity. He would apologize on bended knee, and she would shut her door in his face, maybe slap him, and he would deserve that. And then he would go back to existing solely to prove his father right, with nothing warm or gentle to soften his march off this mortal coil.

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A/N- Damn, this is a short chapter! But I want to keep the majority of the angst self-contained… for now. It will infect the rest of the story later, but for now, I just wanted to offer up a taste. This is totally not because I have no idea how to encapsulate such a long passage of time without writing several hundred chapters (I've never written a slow burn before). I think more short bursts like this is the way to go since most of what I have planned for the actual "romance" part takes place during the main series, which is years away.