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Ch.22- "Call"
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Despite the streets being more crowded with bodies than ever, the district of Trost felt abandoned. Military Police, guns in hand, stood in pairs on every corner, ushering the throngs of refugees forward. They had been piling into the district for a full day and night, the ferry running well past its usual hours to cart them from the camps up north. For completely unrelated reasons, Erwin had kept the curtains in both his office and room drawn for the past two days. He could have no distractions as he made his last minute checks over supplies, formations, and personnel. Somehow, it was not the journey into uncharted territory that would be their most daunting mission to date, but the path they had followed so many times, they could traverse it with their eyes closed.
His Scouts ran to finish loading the wagons and tying down their supplies, not out of any sense of urgency, not even in an attempt to stay warm in the cold, gray morning, but to try and exercise some of the nervous energy that permeated the base. It appeared to have worked, at least from the outside looking in. All of them, even the new recruits, sat tall and still in their saddles as they waited to the gate leading back into Wall Maria's territory to raise for the first time in almost a year. They did not whisper amongst themselves, their prayers were all silent, and no one turned in their saddle to look back at the grim, hopeless faces behind them.
All the refugees would see were the silver and blue Wings of Freedom shining in the weak morning sun, but as they made their way from headquarters, Erwin had seen the expressions his soldiers wore. Many bit their lips, blinking rapidly against tears. Many more were stone-faced, save for the wet streaks staining their cheeks. Several gulped down large breaths, clearly trying to settle the nausea they were all feeling in some form or another. High above Wall Rose, the bells rang. "The Bells of Freedom" they were called colloquially, but the only freedom those bells rang to signal was freedom from the burden of living. Their clear, sonorous toll was a death knell that settled heavily in Erwin's chest. No matter how deeply he breathed, that weight kept him breathless.
"Thirty seconds until the gates rise! Scouts! I know this will be one of our most difficult missions, but I am certain that this first step, no matter how small, no matter how painful, will put humanity back on the path to reclaiming our homes! Our lives! Our freedom!" The chains creaked and groaned with the strain of hundreds of kilos of brick and mortar being dragged up. Fresh air surged through the tunnel, buffeting his short blonde locks. "This marks the first expedition to Wall Maria, the first stone laid on the path to victory! Scouts! ADVANCE!"
Pulling back on the left rein and sliding his right leg behind his steed's girth, the horse reared, and he had to adjust his weight to keep from slipping from the saddle. Loathe as he was to admit it, he had to appreciate Shadis' flair for the dramatic; uncomfortable though it was, the roar of cheers behind him was worth it. Dried dirt continued falling from the thick stone points of the gate as he rode beneath them, falling into his eyes but quickly blinked away.
For the briefest moment, Erwin forgot what he was doing. Why were they galloping; they were just heading down to Shiganshina, surely they had time… Aside from overgrown flower beds and weeds sprouting through the once trampled white sand of the path, there was no sign that anything was different, no reason to believe that they wouldn't make it to Wall Maria and find that everything was fine… The only tell that the houses had long been abandoned was the fact that no smoke rose from any of the stone chimneys, despite the prevalent chill in the air.
"Commander." Mike's deep voice pulled him from his thoughts. "The residential area is clearing out." Indeed, the further out they rode, the fewer houses they passed that were clumped together. Still, they rode for two more kilometers before he gave the signal to deploy the formation. Their first supply cache would be in a small village they always passed on their way to Shiganshina on their usual missions. The Survey Corps had been given full permission to make use of any of the settlements they passed along their route, meaning that at the very least, they would not have to waste time building bases or watchtowers. For the first time since the Corps' inception, the royal government was bending over backwards to ensure they could carry out their duties unimpeded.
~o0o~
They'd been riding in formation for little over half an hour, nearly at their destination, when the first red flares were spotted to the east. Erwin frowned as he counted the red pillars. Fifteen, all centered around the far right column- not even counting the wave coming closer to the center. They'd all been fired in such quick succession that it seemed unlikely they were reacting to one another's flares; there had to be a cluster of Titans in that direction. He unholstered his own gun, but before he could cock the hammer, Mike called out to him.
"Titans at 11 o'clock!"
"What?" There were no flares to the left of them. The formation was spread well beyond the normal range of Mike's nose; how could he sniff out a Titan before any of their vanguard spotted it? "Where?"
"Coming in southbound! There're a lot of them!"
"There are no-" A lonely pillar of black smoke cut an ugly gash through the gray sky. No… it wasn't possible, not again… Grinding his teeth, Erwin fired his flare, green dye and gunpowder burning his nose and throat as the smoke arced high above him, careening towards the right.
"We're heading into the cluster of Titans?!" Greta screamed.
"The left vanguard has been compromised- we're blind on that side!"
At the very least, the Titans on the right seemed far away enough that they could potentially out-ride them… and if not, well… they only needed to be faster than the thousands of civilians behind them. Abnormals aside, once most Titans caught the scent of such a large crowd, they would likely abandon their hunt of more difficult prey. At least, that was how it would work in theory, if luck was on their side. Luck rarely smiled on those daring to tread new ground, however, as a cloud of red smoke from the center column reminded them.
"They smell all those people…" Mike muttered, barely audible over the din of their equipment. "They're charging at the refugees, and we're right in the middle of them…"
"Mike, take over for Cecile in the supply convoy! Lead them as far from the Titans as possible, even if it means doubling back!"
"Roger!"
"Greta, fire off a sound grenade then head over to Squad Six and report back with what's left of the vanguard!"
"Yes sir!"
He was already veering far to the right, but the screech of the sound grenade still momentarily deafened him. Erwin was no stranger to courting disaster, but this was the first time the consequences of that disaster would be laid directly at his feet. It didn't take long before he spotted the first of many Titans, a twelve-meter with a waddling, bowlegged gait that seemed to be pointedly ignoring all three of the Scouts riding in front of it. As best they could tell, Titans hunted by smell as much as sight, and just as Mike had said, the allure of the buffet slowly shuffling towards them would be drawing in every Titan in the vicinity. It would have been advantageous if the creatures charging weren't leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.
Two of the Scouts trying to run interference managed to ride far away enough to avoid the four meter club foot as it came down, but the third was not quick enough, and both horse and rider were ground into the dirt. The earth rumbled- he could not feel it over the tremors of the gallop surging through him, but he could see the few trees in the distance shaking, the birds who made their homes in those branches flying somewhere more peaceful. He wished he could join them…
"Commander!" The panicked voice from his right drew, but did not hold, his attention. No, all Erwin could see was that the sky had turned a sickly, gangrenous purple, the red and black smoke mixing to form an evil cloud. The Titans were still far away enough to look almost like humans, but the Abnormals in the horde were coming closer, closer… Inhaling deeply, Erwin reached into his saddlebag for the canister of blue powder he had not been expecting to use for at least two more hours.
"Commander Erwin!" Greta pulled up to his side, sweat beading at her hairline. "Squads One and Eight have suffered casualties, but Squad Six was completely decimated! They're passing along the order to merge right, but…" Her eyes traveled behind him, to the quickly dissipating blue smoke. "Sir, are we retreating?"
"No. We're doubling back."
"Doubling ba-?"
"Pass along the order, Section Commander!" Flinching slightly, she fumbled in her own saddlebag as Erwin brought his horse down to a trot, turning and easing it back into a gallop.
It was almost impossible to see the blue smoke against all the rest, but the flanks would get the message soon enough. It didn't take very long before he reached the supply convoy- their suspension systems allowed them to easily make the wide turns that were usually needed, but turning completely around would always take a bit of maneuvering. Cecile and Mike had traded places, with her now overseeing the tail end of the convoy, where half of their new recruits were keeping pace with the spare horses.
"Commander, we can't retreat!" she yelled as soon as she spotted him, spitting the loose strands of hair from her mouth. "There is no way in hell the convoy can cut a path through hundreds of thousands of people, unless you expect us to run over them!"
"We aren't retreating- we're doubling back. Once we reach the largest concentration of civilians, we break off to either side, do a one-eighty and continue heading south." Her already pale skin turned milk white as the horror of his plan fully sank in. Was he proud of it? Of course not, but what else could be done? Just as Cecile said, they couldn't retreat- this was their best chance to begin laying down a supply line. These civilians were dead anyway; why not make the most of their deaths?
Not even riding at top speed, it didn't take long for them to spot the civilians they had left behind. On foot, they couldn't cover nearly as much ground as cavalry soldiers. The Wall was still easily in their sights, and as they spotted the Scouts galloping in their direction, most immediately turned and began running north as well. Of course, so many people could not act as one. Those further back, the slower and frailer of the group, provided resistance, unwittingly tripping and sending their faster, fitter counterparts stumbling, leading into a massive crush of people who could move neither forward nor back.
He could hear their screams swelling as they threw themselves out of the path of the horses barreling down on them full gallop, but the horses turned, veering off in either direction… leaving them directly in the path of over a dozen flailing, twitching, snarling Titans. Erwin kept his eyes on the trees and grass rushing past him in a blur, not lifting his gaze as a six meter lunged at the crowd, its lips pulled back from the hundreds of tiny, blunted teeth that closed over the top half of a man who had just pushed himself back to his feet. If they continued riding at a gallop, they could easily outpace the Titans pouring in and quickly be out of earshot of the men and women screaming for the Scouts to come back, to save them, pleading for God to help them, sobbing for the Titans not to kill them…
Their deaths would buy the Survey Corps plenty of time to lay down their first cache and return… and maneuver not only through a glut of Titans who would never be satiated, but also the remains of thousands… Trying to drive wagons over that many skulls and torsos was begging to lose a wheel bearing… Galloping over all those corpses would invite nothing but broken legs for their horses, and broken necks for the soldiers… Breathing hard, Erwin loaded another canister into his flare gun, covering his ear as he fired off a second sound grenade. Cecile was closest to him, riding hard to catch up to him.
"Commander, what-?"
"All soldiers are to engage ODM gear and thin out this horde!"
"What about the civilians, sir!?" A young woman, one of the new recruits from the eastern camp and a member of Cecile's new squad, drew in, leading a spare horse.
"Ignore them! We are ensuring we'll be able to make it back to the Wall- that is all!"
"But-!"
"Of course, sir. Jessie, head back to the convoy and pass that on to Lieutenant Mike."
"Cecile, inform-"
"I'm already going." She had preempted his order to inform Section Commander Simon, but there was an edge in her voice that made it clear she wasn't pleased with his orders. That was fine. He didn't need to be surrounded with sycophantic yes-men; all he needed were soldiers that would follow orders.
Releasing his reins, Erwin unholstered his ODM handles, locking a pair of blades into their bases. It had been his plan to wait until he saw a signal that his order was received, but the Abnormals that ambushed the left vanguard had been given plenty of time to catch up with them. It was difficult to tell how big the closest one was- it ran hunched down on all fours, its limbs contorting in angles they shouldn't have been able to as it scuttled along the ground, glassy eyes rolling in their sockets until they fixated on Erwin.
Titans made all manner of sounds, none of them human, but never quite animal enough to sound familiar. This one let out some kind of high-pitched chitter that his ignorant mind could only interpret as a demented laugh as it scurried in his direction. He'd already drawn his feet up to his saddle the moment its attention shifted in his direction, thighs burning as he squatted, waiting, waiting for the right moment. There were too few trees, the buildings not nearly high enough to provide any sort of lift. He had to have some idea of what this… thing was going to do before he acted, lest he fly straight into its mouth. It lunged in the direction he was riding, and Erwin twisted his hips, firing his cables. Their anchors sank deep into the flesh of the Titan's raised knee, pulling him past its head before it could contort to snap at him.
Releasing one anchor, he fired it once again, this time into the creased flesh covering the jutting shoulder blades. With practically no momentum, all the work to cut out the thick skin and muscle at its neck came from his arms. His wrists were screaming in protest, but the Titan collapsed into a twitching pile before going limp.
Heavy thuds filled the air, a percussive rumble accompanying the singing of wires and blades as the Survey Corps veterans took down four more Abnormals. Geysers of steaming blood painted the icy ground crimson as Levi shredded through the spine of a thirteen-meter with the ease of a bone saw.
But it was not the Abnormals that required their attention. Calling his horse back, Erwin loaded and fired off a final green flare, directing his soldiers deeper into the feeding frenzy. Mike and Cecile's squads would be working to keep their supplies, and their youngest members, safe, but the rest of them were venturing into hell.
Over two dozen Titans had laid waste to the poor souls that had had unwittingly been leading the charge, as if one could call it that. It did not take long for them to rack up body counts in the hundreds, for unlike any other animal that would take the time to eat its fill of its prey, Titans were not driven by any kind of hunger a living creature could understand. They moved from body to warm, writhing body as a glutton moved between aperitifs, biting through bone and tearing apart muscle and sinew with their teeth and fingers, then dropping the remains and grabbing another victim to shove whole into their still-dripping maws. The smaller ones often just went for the head, popping it off and crunching the skull between their teeth, uninterested in the majority of the meat.
It would have been a curious thing to ponder if Erwin's attention wasn't focused on avoiding the broken, twisted legs and contorted torsos leaking their guts likes streamers. A single misstep, and he wouldn't even have to wait for the Titans to get him to join those poor souls. It was so easy to die…
Those civilians who could not run any further, or who simply accepted their fates, curled into themselves in the dirt. A few dozen or so had been armed with crude spears, little more than long sticks either whittled to a point or with knives tied to one end. They stabbed at the grasping hands, twice, three times their size, fury and terror a potent cocktail burning in their eyes as they refused to go softly into that grim goodnight. That bravery would have served them better if they had training and actual weapons.
But there was no time to lament the loss of life, nor the cruelty and injustice of the world. All Erwin cared to focus on in that moment was ensuring that his Scouts did not add their numbers to the culled.
~o0o~
The cold air burned Erwin's throat with every breath he gulped down, but he would rather avoid breathing through his nose. The acrid stench of decaying Titans was all but masked by the blood in the air, so thick and heavy he could taste it coating his tongue. Already crows had begun to swarm, rats scurrying out from their dens to partake in the feast the Titans left behind.
"Commander!" His officers were all coming from the same direction, but arrived at different speeds, Mike and Cecile reaching him first. Horace winced as he dismounted, clutching at his side. There was no blood that Erwin could see, but that meant little.
"What are your orders, Commander? Do we… continue onto the first drop off point?" Dietrich's voice wavered a bit, but it was just as likely from exhaustion as from nerves. The sun looked silver through the thin, misty clouds, the absence of its golden glow denying them any warmth… It would provide as much energy to the Titans as ever, of course.
"No. It's too late in the day, and we've suffered too many casualties." He raised his voice, and though it echoed across the plain, so too did it seem the be swallowed by the cawing of crows, the buzzing of flies. "Our mission is now search and recover! Look for survivors and bring them to the convoy!"
"Even the civilians, sir?"
"Yes. Anyone who has managed to survive is to be brought back to base to be treated for their injuries. Form search parties of three- one soldier in each party is to remain on lookout at all times! Scouts, disperse!"
"Sir! Yes sir!" To the untrained eye, it may have seemed like the soldiers moved with renewed vigor, but a fellow Scout would see how sluggish their movements were, how they slumped in their saddles, their faces already grim before they even began picking through the carnage.
"Erwin." Mike spoke in a low voice, too low for the others to hear. "You did the right thing-" The commander put his hand up, silencing his lieutenant.
"Don't. Not now." Putting a foot through the stirrup, Erwin almost couldn't lift himself back into his saddle, his arms as weak as uncooked dough. His wrists burned from every slight twitch, but beyond that, his entire body felt so heavy, his eyes itching from a sudden tiredness.
How pleasant it would be to just lay down in the dirt, amidst the carnage, and close his tired eyes. To have all the pain and exhaustion and guilt and frustration that ate through him like poison just stop. …maybe his father thought the same thing when those wicked men were breaking his teeth off at the root and bashing their fists against his face until his eyes swelled shut. Maybe death had come as a relief, a release from the torment his idiot son had condemned him to… What an egotistical fool he was, Erwin thought of himself; degrading the suffering of others by comparing his well-deserved guilt to their pain. He forced himself to sit straighter. This was not the time to be tired. What kind of leader could not lead by example?
His lips turned down as he spotted something he would have preferred not to deal with, but had a duty to see to. Levi had not joined his fellow Scouts in looking for survivors despite Erwin's orders. It seemed to be developing into a habit- he would throw himself headlong into danger to aid the others whenever possible, but once the killing had been done, the short man remained on the sidelines, all but ignoring the clean-up aspect of missions. Perhaps the deaths of his friends, his squad, were still fresh in his mind, or perhaps he simply couldn't stomach the mess of blood and vomit and feces that usually accompanied the severely injured.
Regardless, Erwin would have been willing to grant him leniency- "playing favorites"- if he had been using this brief window of calm to rest, but instead, he was bearing down on the only kind of soldier his height would allow for- one huddled on the ground. Their ODM gear must have broken- he could see a scabbard laying a meter from them, a pair of broken blades scattered across the scrub. The commander's thick brows furrowed as he drew closer to the scene. He'd assumed the off color of this cringing soldier's cloak was simply washed out from the steam and dust, but now he could see that no, it wasn't a standard issue cloak at all. It was too long, the material too thin, the Wings of Freedom nowhere to be seen, not even a faded spot where the emblem could have been ripped off. Those thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind as Levi's voice finally reached him.
"-so fucking what!? Get up!" The short man viciously grabbed the arm of the soldier cowering under his fury, growing even more upset as they struggled against his grasp.
"Levi!" Slate eyes snapped up to meet his, surprise at getting caught rather than any form of shame or reticence adorning his face for all of a second before his feature returned to their usual set of mild annoyance. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you."
"Helping me what; terrorize our new recruits? If you have the time and energy to yell at our soldiers, you should make yourself useful by helping them. Go… transfer the supplies- we'll need at least two wagons for the injured." Levi's lips pursed for a moment, as though he wanted to say something, but what it was must not have been that important as he released his vice grip on the poor soldier at his feet, dropping them unceremoniously back into the dust.
"Whatever you say, sir." Erwin watched as Levi practically sauntered over to his horse, pulling himself into the saddle without even bothering with the stirrups, just rubbing his immense upper body strength in the other man's face. Erwin allowed himself a moment of a weakness, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'm going to kill that man…" he mouthed to himself. And at once, any sign of anger or frustration or exhaustion was wiped from his face, his posture. He was once again Commander Smith as he dismounted and approached the soldier. "Forgive Officer Levi; he means well, but has trouble showing it." The soldier did not respond, did not even turn to face him. They doubled over, curling into themselves; he could see by the way their back moved that they were breathing hard. Perhaps they had fallen from their wires- that would explain their damaged gear and why they did not heed Levi's orders to get up.
"Are you alright, soldier? What's your name? Whose section are you in?" The closer he stepped, the louder he could hear their quick, shallow pants. They straightened suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath.
"Erwin…" He froze mid-step, a hand poised over their back, ready to pull down the hood pulled up against the cold. He was so tired he was hearing things. Groaning softly, the soldier turned themselves to face him using their arms as they seemed to have trouble moving their legs. Their leg. That small effort clearly exhausted them as they struggled just to lift their head, still panting. "Erwin… it really is you…"
They were still beyond the walls, in territory where Titans could appear en masse at any moment. It was the last place anyone should have let their guard down, lest of all the man who needed to lead his troops, but Erwin threw all of it- the danger, the Titans, the corpses, the Survey Corps- from his mind as he went down to his knees. His fingers were stiff from the cold and from being locked around his triggers, but he still managed to, albeit somewhat clumsily, push back the worn gray hood, revealing tangled, filthy curls pulled back from a face he had been struggling to hold onto for the past eight months. The picture in his mind that had been fading, slowly but terrifyingly surely, was retouched in an instant, so brilliant that the dismal gray landscape awash in blood and viscera seemed like little more than a bad dream.
He moved on instinct, no different from combat, a renewed strength in his arms as he wrapped them around her, drawing her against him, crushing her to his body as though he could undo all the distance that had ever separated them if only he squeezed her tight enough. A quiet, but very much pained whimper pulled Erwin back to his senses. He jerked away immediately, though he kept his hands on Thomasin's shoulders, ensuring she remained no further than arm's length from him.
"Are you hurt?"
"I-" She struggled to collect her thoughts. "Kind of… I can't… stand. My leg…" Tearing his gaze from her face was as painful as tearing his eyes from his skull would have been, but Erwin forced himself to look down. Now was not the time nor place for his emotions to get the better of him. The first thing he noticed was not an injury, but that she was in uniform, the first time he'd seen her wearing the tan jacket and once-white riding pants in nearly a decade.
It was not her uniform, that much was immediately evident, the clothes far too large for her, bunching up around the leather belts, the single boot she wore probably two sizes too big. A man's boot- no, no, emotions in check. Suspicions and incongruities could wait. The left pant leg had been folded half a dozen times, held in place by a net jerry rigged with the belts that were meant to cross around a soldier's calf and foot, the dingy white dotted with dark red blotches. She noticed where he was looking.
"It snapped off about a kilometer back, when the Titans came." Erwin was tempted to ask how she managed to outrun them a second time, but the wooden ODM barrels were still at her hips. Daring to close his eyes for a moment, he climbed to his feet. When he opened them, Thomasin was still there, her own eyes never leaving his face. He offered both his hands, and she placed hers in them at once. They were rougher than they had been, the callouses once again built up thick, her skin dry and cold. As he pulled her to stand, she bit back a whimper, leaning her weight against him. Her leg shook something fierce as she tried to balance on her toes. Of course she'd injured her foot trying to use ODM gear; there was a reason the Survey Corps required soldiers to have all four limbs…
"You'll ride back with me." It was not a question, not an offer, but an order that brooked no refusal. Calling his horse over with a shrill whistle, Erwin stooped a bit, wrapping his hands around Thomasin's waist, wincing internally as he felt her ribs through the too-large button down. She weighed almost nothing as he lifted her onto the horse's flank. It was nearly enough to make him wonder if his memories of her weight on his back were wrong. He climbed back into the saddle with none of the ease Levi had demonstrated earlier- in his defense, Levi weighed almost half as much as him.
When he pressed his heels behind the stallion's girth, spurring him forward, Thomasin's arms went around his middle, her fingers twisting into the heavily starched cloth of his shirt so tightly the buttons strained, nearly popping open. Releasing one of the reins, Erwin covered both her hands with his, the sudden tightness in his chest leaving him lightheaded. As he rode, taking reports and issuing new orders, very few of the soldiers under his command didn't look curiously at the strangely clad, half-geared up soldier clinging to him as though their life depended on it. She had pulled one hand back for a few seconds, long enough for him to assume she'd donned her hood against the stares as much as the cold, before it found its way back to his stomach. At the very least, the Scouts had the common sense to keep their thoughts to themselves.
It would have been more prudent to have Thomasin ride in one of the wagons with the other injured, not only so she could be treated quicker, but to raise less suspicions. Erwin learned through his predecessor that a commander's reputation was one of their most important assets- the second your soldiers began raising questions was the second your ability to lead would also be in question. But prudence and common sense be damned- his position, his authority, all of it be damned. All that mattered was the weight, the warmth pressed against his back, the deep, slowly evening breaths he could just barely feel between his shoulder blades through all the layers that separated them, the hands beneath his just beginning to relax that still squeezed him just as tightly as he had squeezed her. The world once again made sense.
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For as early as they left, and for as little progress as they made, the Survey Corps still returned to Wall Rose well into the afternoon. It was early enough in the year that the sun set quickly, so despite it not even being half past five when they finally returned to the Trost base, the lamps that lined the streets were already being lit. A hundred and eighty four people filed into the courtyard, fifty eight more than had left that morning, but only ninety of them were Scouts. Ninety four civilians, out of two hundred and fifty thousand… It hadn't even taken a day for the population of humanity to fall by another twenty percent. A grim day for humanity, but one wouldn't have guessed as much from Erwin's voice.
"Get the injured into the infirmary, civilian and soldier both. Cadets!"
"Sir!" Forty odd voices shouted back in response.
"Which of you are the best riders from each branch?" There were a few seconds of whispers, before six teens stepped forward, four boys, two girls. "Take fresh horses from the stables. Three of you, go to the Garrison headquarters, the other three to the MP headquarters. Tell them we need medical supplies- bandages, antiseptic, pain relievers. If they tell you they don't have enough to spare, demand to speak with Commander Pixis or Commander Jones. And if they continue giving you problems, get their names and tell them that if you come back empty-handed, Commander Smith is coming to that base to personally see them held in contempt of the Charters of Humanity."
"Sir! Yes sir!" They hadn't even started jogging off in the direction of the stables before Erwin's attention was elsewhere, searching for his Section Commanders. Dismounting, but still leading his horse close behind, he met them halfway.
"The four of you, get the civilians that aren't injured situated in the east barracks. Cecile, Greta, deal with the women, and since there are less of them, when you're done you can help Horace and Dietrich with the men. Take their names; they may not be personnel, but we still need to keep track of everyone."
"Is… that allowed, sir?" Greta asked, frowning slightly. "I mean, the last thing I want is to send these poor people back up north, but aren't there rules against allowing civilians on base?"
"There are also rules against allowing civilians outside the walls. According to our bylaws, the only people allowed in Titan-infested territory are soldiers." He cast a glance to the shaking, weak-kneed men and women being helped off the wagons that once carried their supplies. Some of them managed to limp inside the base with minimal aid, while others collapsed as soon as their feet touched solid ground, screaming, weeping, vomiting, clawing at their faces and pulling their hair as the horrors their minds had shut out came flooding back to them.
"I see more battle-weary veterans here than I ever have in the Interior… Get these people somewhere warm to lay down, and when they're done with the horses, have your squad mates find them clean clothes."
"Yes sir."
"What about me?" In spite of his size, Mike's presence practically went unnoticed in his silence. He wasn't looking at Erwin as he spoke to him, his slate gaze fixated on the figure still seating the lathered white horse.
"Collect the survivor lists from the captains. I'll see to it in a few hours."
"That it?" Erwin fixed his friend with a pointed look, silently warning him to keep his keen nose out of the commander's business.
"If I need you for anything else, I'll inform you."
"Alright." It was impossible to tell if Mike was satisfied with that response, or if he simply decided to cut his losses and try poking around in matters that didn't concern him a bit later. If he valued being above stable duty, it would be the former.
Satisfied that the Corps soldiers would be busy enough with self-explanatory duties to not require his oversight, Erwin finally turned his attention back to Thomasin. She was just as quiet and unassuming as Mike, somehow blending into the background despite standing out from it so completely. He held his hands out once again, motioning that he would catch her when she dismounted. Swinging her leg over the saddle, Thomasin slid down the flank of the horse as slowly as she could, her expression tensing beneath the hood with the anticipation of pain.
Hopefully, Erwin managed to preempt it as, before she could put any weight on her foot, he moved his hand from her hips to the backs of her thighs, the other anchoring onto her arm as he lifted her in one sweeping motion. A sharp gasp and her arms instinctively went around his neck. He could only enjoy her cheek pressed against his for a moment, however, before she caught herself and drew away from him, seemingly embarrassed by her momentary panic.
"You don't have to carry me," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I can walk."
"No, you can't. You can hop, and you're in no condition to be doing that right now."
"I'm fine, Erwin, really. You don't have to-"
"Thomasin." His voice was quiet, but firm, silencing her immediately. He'd almost forgotten how dark her eyes looked in the absence of light, almost black. "Let me help you. …please."
It hadn't struck him until that very moment how much he needed this, needed to do something, anything to make up for the past eight months when he did nothing of use, nothing but mourn and lament. She picked up on his desperation at once- she had always been able to read him so easily- and while she did not cling to him so tightly as he would have liked, she relaxed in his hold, growing more pliant the further he carried her into the base.
"Don't drop me, Smith…"
"I would never."
~o0o~
Erwin walked straight past the sick bay, turning right and heading up the stairs, up all three flights, to the commanding officer's quarters. His reasoning was simple- the infirmary was already overcrowded. They had limited space as it was, and it would probably be several hours before any of the medics had time to look over Thomasin. If it was something serious, he would take her back down, but if the problem was what he assumed it was, he knew enough field medicine to deal with it.
Bending uncomfortably, he managed to open the door to his office after a bit of maneuvering, lowering her onto the leather couch as he set about lighting candles before darkness engulfed the room completely. He broke more than one match focusing on her instead of the task at hand, a grain of doubt in his mind leaving him to wonder if what he was seeing was truly real, or if this was some deathbed delusion and he was still on the battlefield, bleeding out. Several times, Erwin looked up and caught Thomasin staring back at him, quickly averting her gaze. Once, he continued watching long enough to see her surreptitiously glance up, meeting his eye again. She offered him a small, apologetic smile- at least, it may have been a smile long ago.
"Sorry. I just can't believe you're real… I feel like I'm going to wake up back in the camp and realize all of this was just a dream…" Shaking out his last match, Erwin knelt on the plush rug in front of her, setting the lantern he'd just lit on the wooden floor. The shadows the flickering light cast over her face were ghastly, darkening the bags under her eyes, further carving out the hollows of her once full cheeks. She looked so vulnerable. Miserable. Ethereal. The most beautiful person he'd ever seen.
"You'll never have to go back there. Not now, not ever. You're here now…" 'With me…' Her lips, cracked and scabbed with dried blood twitched into another almost smile.
"You finally dragged me back to Trost, huh? Devious as ever, Smith." His smile came easier, but it felt just as stiff as hers looked. His cheeks hurt, unaccustomed to the strain.
"We can discuss what you'll cook for me later. Right now, we need to see about your legs. Let's start with the right one." He took hold of the heel of the boot, ignoring the dried mud flaking off onto his pants and the floor. Given its size, it should have come off easily, but the moment he began pulling, Thomasin's hands balled into fists, nails digging into the leather. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"I'll be quick."
The knee-high boots were designed to protect their legs from lacerations caused by the ODM cables, but they came with the drawback of being difficult to put on and remove, especially for an injured soldier. Broken legs usually had to be cut out of the leather. Erwin hadn't been expecting anything good when he finally drew the boot off completely, but his heart still clenched painfully at the sight of the bloody, mangled flesh.
Despite being lined with chamois for comfort, the thick leather straps that went under their insoles inevitably dug into the feet of any soldier using ODM gear, as all their weight was directed into those two straps. Injuries could be crippling even when a soldier was able to evenly distribute their weight. He didn't know how long she'd been using wires out there, but it had been long enough for Thomasin to put all the force generated by vertical maneuvering onto that one foot, the resulting pressure leaving the strap embedded in her flesh, so thoroughly saturated with blood that the brown leather looked black. The belts around her ankle didn't cut in nearly as deep, but still scraped away all the skin and left dark purple bruises on the sliver of skin he could see.
"How bad is it, doctor?" she joked weakly. Erwin slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers.
"Where did you get this ODM gear?" At once, the ember of levity in her eyes was snuffed out, leaving them dark and cold as she met his gaze evenly.
"It's not important."
"Yes, it is-"
"No." She cut him off, her voice hard, stern. "It's not. I didn't get it from the Survey Corps, so it's not something you need to concern yourself with."
"Who's uniform is this?" He tried a different tactic. Positioned as he was, he could see the left breast pocket of the tan jacket peeking out through the gap in her cloak, but whatever insignia had been sewn there was gone now, ripped off if going by the few threads that remained. Thomasin shook her head.
"No one's."
"Why won't you tell me, Thomasin? I'm not going to get you in trouble."
"I know that, Erwin."
"Do you not trust me?" Pain flashed across her features for the span of a heartbeat as she lifted a hand, pressing the pad of her finger between his eyebrows. Her hands felt like blocks of ice.
"I trust you with my life, you silly man…"
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"Because it's not something you need to worry about. That's all. Don't you worry about enough, Erwin?" If anyone else had asked, the answer would have been a resounding "yes", but when it came to Thomasin, none of those other concerns meant anything. Still, he knew the woman before him well enough to know that she would not be so easily made to talk. There were more important things he needed to deal with now; he could figure out which branch the equipment and uniform both came from later.
"You need to take your pants off so I can see your other leg." Unbuttoning his cloak, Erwin laid it over her legs, turning so that his back was to her.
"You're still so polite… I'm a bit surprised." He could hear the leather creaking as she shifted, the faint clinking of belts being unbuckled almost completely drowned out by the metallic rattle of the holster still attached at her thigh.
"Why would that come as a surprise?"
"You're in a position of power, now." The rustling of cloth painted a vivid image in his mind of her shimmying out of the pants, crisscrossed indentations on her thighs where the belts dug in there too.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Silence behind him, no movement, no breath. Voices rose from downstairs, from outside, but they were inconsequential.
"…nothing. Forget I said anything." That was impossible. Every word she spoke was branded in his mind, on his heart, every compliment, every insult, words from a decade ago that still shaped the way he thought about certain things. "You can revert thine virgin gaze."
Thomasin had tucked his cloak tight around her legs. His first assumption was that she was reluctant to let him see so much of her, but she'd also wrapped her arms in the thick green material. She was shivering even harder now than she'd done outside. Sitting still with no body heat to share, the pants haphazardly folded on the couch beside her were so beaten in with dust they appeared more gray than white, to say nothing of the blood… the rest of her questionably obtained uniform was probably just as dirty, doing as little to hold in warmth as that ragged, moth-eaten cloak.
Lifting his cloak as little as he could to keep her other leg covered, Erwin raised the lantern to better see what remained of her left thigh. It wasn't as bad as her foot, no lacerations at least- the blood on those pants wasn't all hers. The thickly folded pant leg helped in keeping the belts from cutting too deeply into the flesh there, but the main reason for the comparative lack of damage was that she clearly hadn't been putting as much weight on that side of her body. She had to shift her weight occasionally- there was no other way to remain balanced while vertically maneuvering- but for god only knew how long, she had to have been leaning heavily to her left. Not leaning too far to either side for too long was the first thing they learned in the Training Corps- simple traversal alone like that could- and did- result in spinal damage. Dozens of questions collided and piled up in Erwin's mind, each frustrating and sickening him more than the last.
"It can't be that bad, can it?" He climbed to his feet, and the smallest twinge of fear crept into her voice. "Erwin?"
"Put your arms around my neck." Her hesitation lasted only a second, and once she was holding on, he lifted her, her bare legs still covered by his cloak on top, but underneath, the soft skin of her thighs burned his own chilled hands. He carried her through the open door leading to his bedroom, setting her down as gently as he could manage on the bed. She called his name once more, her bemusement growing as he opened various drawers, pulling out a set of pajamas that he laid beside her.
"I'm afraid I don't have anything in your size, but this is clean at least. I'm going to go get supplies to dress your wounds." He took no more than a step away from the bed when a slight resistance pulled him back. Thomasin held the hem of his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. The bed of her nail was white from the pressure. She didn't say anything, staring at some nondescript spot on the comforter. Bringing his other hand up to cover hers, he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm only going downstairs to the infirmary. I'll be back immediately."
"…I don't want to dirty up your clothes…" …oh. Was that all she was worried about?
"And I don't want you to be cold and pantless. A little dirt and blood won't ruin anything; that's why we do laundry." Her full lips pursed in thought as she looked up at him. The desire to throw himself onto the bed beside her and crush his lips to hers, bloody as they were, was so powerful it left him dizzy.
"Do you still have to help with doing the laundry?"
"Of course not. Do you think I'd have accepted this job if I was responsible for everyone's bedding as well as their lives?" For the first time since she'd pulled her hood down, Thomasin managed to muster up a genuine, joyful smile. Squeezing her hand again, Erwin slipped from the room before the tightness in his throat could be read on his face.
The hallway was empty, thank god; his officers were still sorting out the refugees. Closing the heavy oak door as quietly as possible, he leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. His body was too small to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. He wanted to laugh and cry all at once, his heart pounding from fear as much as excitement. He had so many questions; where had she been, why hadn't she attempted to contact him, where had she gotten that ODM gear from? There were so many things he needed to do, duties required of his station- drawing up the list of soldiers killed and MIA, informing their families, writing his report and getting ready to explain to the Assembly why this first mission had been a total wash, figuring out what to do with the refugees he'd dragged in like stray cats… And yet, his mind was empty save for the thought of Thomasin. Thomasin. His heart. His soul. The only thing of value this wretched cage had to offer.
The vertigo finally passed, and he made his way downstairs. Just as he had assumed earlier, the infirmary was bedlam. Every bed was occupied, their occupants groaning and swearing and crying, their few medics rushing between them. The smells of blood and vomit and the astringent sting of alcohol formed a nauseating perfume. Erwin did his best to stay out of everyone's way, hugging the wall as he made his way to the supply cabinet. It wasn't nearly as empty as it should have been, meaning that at least one of the other branches pulled through the supplies. He didn't need much, a bottle of antiseptic, two rolls of bandages and two compresses. Well, there was something else, but he wouldn't find it in this tiny cabinet. Turning, he nearly ran into Captain Webber, quickly redoubling his grip on the brown glass bottle before it slipped from his fingers.
"Commander, what are you doing here?" She frowned as she took note of what he was carrying. "You're not injured, are you?"
"No, this isn't for me. Captain, do we have any crutches laying around?"
"Crutches?" Her eyes glazed over, her mouth just a bit slack as she tried to comprehend just what he was asking. He could tell from the sweat soaked into the neck of her blouse that she was physically exhausted, and probably on her last legs mentally as well. Blinking hard, she shook her head.
"Not in here, no. There might be one or two in the supply closet in the west hall, though." Frowning, the captain glanced down at Erwin's legs. "You sure you're okay, Commander? Even a shallow cut can become life-threatening, and if anything happens to you, we're up a creek."
"I assure you I'm fine, Captain Webber. Thank you."
He barely managed to squeeze into the dark recess that mostly housed cleaning supplies, though he assumed the lack of cobwebs getting caught in his hair was courtesy of Levi. All the way in the back, behind ancient brooms and sour mops, he managed to dig out a pair of wooden crutches, the underarm padding long since rotted away to reveal the bare wood beneath. They weren't perfect, but it was better than nothing. Hooking his arm through them, Erwin carried his haul back upstairs.
The peace and quiet of his office almost felt oppressive. Pausing at the door that led to his sleeping quarters, he held his breath for a moment to listen. Complete and utter silence.
"Thomasin? Are you dressed?" No response. The momentary calm he had felt downstairs was shattered at once, his heart galloping in his chest. The worst case scenarios played out in his mind; she died, she left, she had never been there to begin with- it had all been a dream, a hallucination he had been stupid, stupid! Enough to believe…! "Thomasin, I'm coming in, alright?" He stepped over the threshold, still holding his breath. The lantern on the table enlarged the shadows it threw across the walls, making them more menacing, but the small radius of its light was warm and comforting. Within that radius, Thomasin lay on his bed, curled into a tight ball within the folds of his too-large clothes.
As quietly as he could, Erwin set the supplies down alongside the lantern, leaning the crutches against the wall and drinking in the sight before him. She did not look nearly as peaceful in her sleep as she once had, her brows drawn ever so slightly together, resulting in a tiny wrinkle on her forehead, her teeth clenched, jaw tight… but at least her breathing was deep and even. Erwin sat on the edge of the mattress, lowering himself down slowly so as to disturb her as little as possible. Gingerly, his movements careful and precise, he rolled up the pant legs until he could see her injuries. It was slow going, and uncomfortable, twisted as he was, but he managed to clean her lacerations without waking her.
She jerked from his grip several times, kicking at him, but did not rouse; the blow to his hip was worth it to see the way her toes twitched as he carefully sloughed off the quickly drying blood. Thankfully, they were not so deep as to require stitches. With the hardest part done, he placed a compress against her sole to absorb any additional bleeding, wrapping it firmly but loose enough to avoid putting too much pressure on her bruises. With her foot done, he rolled the pant leg down and turned his attention to her stump.
While it didn't require as much cleaning, it was more difficult to properly wrap as, with no joint to anchor them, the bandages kept wanting to slide off. Erwin worked around this by tying the linen strips higher up than he would have preferred, working hard to keep his mind clear, his thoughts professional, his eyes from staring too long at the plane of her inner thigh. Her skin really did seem to be dark all the way up, but more than that he realized how much smaller her leg looked now than it had when he'd guiltily peeked at it several years ago, muscle and fat both noticeably lacking. The guilt felt different this time, and he pulled the left pant leg down quickly.
Standing, he stretched, wincing as pain flared in his back and wrists. It was still early- not even eight- far too early to sleep, yet his aching body clamored for rest. As carefully as he could, Erwin pulled down the meticulously folded comforter from under Thomasin, throwing it over her once it was free. She was exhausted; he'd have to be a monster to wake her and demand his bed back. He could probably commandeer Mike's bed for a few hours; after all, there was so much paperwork waiting for him, and he needed to start on it as soon as possible…
Toeing off his boots and unceremoniously tossing his jacket over the back of the chair sat closest to the window, the commander began the arduous task of unbuckling his belts. Clad only in a thin shirt and pants, he could fully appreciate how chilly the room was. One blanket wasn't enough- opening the chest at the foot of his bed with one hand as he loosed his bolo tie with the other, Erwin pulled out another comforter, exactly the same as the one already on his bed. As he shook it out and laid it over the bed, he instinctively turned down one of the corners of both blankets. Thomasin flinched in her sleep and wriggled further down, away from the opening he had created.
He was so tired, he moved purely on habit. His eyes itched and burned as he struggled to keep them open. Mike's room was too far away; the couch in his office was decently sized. Maybe not comfortable, but he'd slept on worse. The commander's bed, however, was quite large, easily twice the size of the beds in the captain's quarters. He was cold and exhausted. Thomasin would understand; she always understood everything. She understood him in a way no other person could. That was part of why he loved her so. Sitting, he blew out the lantern and swung his legs onto the bed, pulling the comforters up to his shoulders and creating a pleasantly warm cavern.
It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't make out the vague shape of Thomasin's silhouette. She slept with her hands resting beside her cheek, like she had done when she dozed off on that first picnic a lifetime ago. All this time, and he still recalled how her skin felt against his lips as he kissed the faded scar on her wrist. If he weren't so tired and it weren't so dark, he would have liked to kiss her again- her fingers, her cheeks, her lips. But as it grew harder to open his eyes again after each blink, Erwin settled for lacing his fingers through hers. Finally, her hand was warm again.
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A/N- She back! Part of me feels like Thomasin wasn't gone for long enough, but that's probably because, for the last four chapters, I legit forgot this was supposed to be a romance story.