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Ch.25- "Shine"
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Try as he might to keep his companions at bay, Erwin's rank could only subdue their thirst for gossip for so long. Everything seemed normal when Mike first entered his office, handing him a letter bearing the blank sheild of the Premier's office. He'd stayed quiet as Erwin slit the envelope and scanned its contents, a copy of both his mission proposal as well as an invoice for the supply cache they would be dropping off with "APPROVED" stamped across the top in bold red letters. Erwin paid his lieutenant no mind as he walked behind the desk to gaze absentmindedly out the window. Mike's presence was a comfortable, however unassuming thing. Like a houseplant. That was probably why it took as long as it did for his mind to catch up with his ears.
"You guys can come in." His attention had been focused on a note from Zachary informing him that, unless they actually began making headway with this route, the Assembly would be diverting funds from the Survey Corps to the Garrison engineers, and as such, he didn't notice the others filing into his office until Hange was behind him, pulling his chair (with him in it) back.
"Hange?! What are you-?!" The bespectacled soldier ignored him, staring at the space under his desk as though it had stolen something from them. They grumbled, straightening.
"Eh, I guess Mike would've sniffed out anything untoward going on already…" Erwin practically choked on his indignation when he realized what they were on about.
"Are you out of your mind, Hange? Do you really think I'd be engaging in sexual activities in my office?" They gave him a pointed look. "…I will kill you."
"Maybe you aren't getting your cock sucked at work," Horace conceded, before immediately adding- "it'd be more interesting if you were, though. Regardless, something has to be going on, and I think you owe us some details."
"I don't owe any of you a goddamn thing. Please leave."
"Oh, no no no, I don't think so…" Cecile sat down heavily on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and making it clear she had no intention of leaving any time soon. "We've been going above and beyond running damage control for you. Do you have any idea of the kind of shit that's being said about you and Thomasin? No, you don't- because of us." Erwin frowned.
"Like what? What are people saying?"
"Derogatory things…" Hange muttered.
"Immature shower bullshit," Horace assured him with a wave of the hand.
"About a third of the remaining veterans are mad 'cause they thought you were into men, and now the other two-thirds are trying to figure out if you're actually attracted to women, or if it's a situational thing." Mike's tone was no more concerned with this revelation than he was with the current weather.
"…why does anyone care about what kind of genitals I prefer?" All of his, ahem, "friends" had their own theories.
"You're attractive."
"They want promotions."
"Gossip is fun!" The commander groaned, leaning his head forward to press his palms against his eyes, red blooming across the insides of their lids.
"Why is this happening to me…?"
"Because you pussed out last year." There was no sympathy in Horace's voice or his words. "And because you're still pussing out. I'm not going to lie and say all the rumors and talk would go away, but most of it would stop if you would just come out and say 'This is my wife. She's a normal woman; please leave us alone'. It wouldn't look as bad either."
"How does this look bad? She's a civilian; even if we were sleeping together, clearly I'm not giving any soldiers preferential treatment."
"It's not that, it's more…" Hange picked at their nail, clearly uncomfortable. "The way she looks…" Cerulean eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What about the way she looks?" Hange shrank under his stare, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Someone… might have said you… went to the Underground and…" They winced, preemptively dreading what was about to come out of their mouth. "…bought her." The room fell silent, tension heavy in the air.
"…who? Who said that?"
"I don't know!"
"Look, there's no tracing it back now," Cecile told him sharply. "Some of the new recruits were saying some stupid shit about how she looks, and Levi of all people stepped in to defend her."
"Levi did?"
"He said there are lots of people who don't look like they hail from the same pig-fucking clan in the Underground, and I guess that's how it started. You know what they do in the Underground, right?" Of course he did. Everyone did; it was one of the worst kept secrets within the Walls. Humans, bought and sold, most commonly by brothels that were little more than chattel markets. Any sex, any age, and if the rumors were to be believed, any race once upon a time. Erwin's jaw hurt from clenching his teeth so tightly.
"I want to know which one of these soldiers is stupid enough to think I could afford to buy a person, because they clearly don't have the mental capacity needed to maintain formation."
"That's what's bothering you about this? The fact that you're broke?" Mike sounded offended on his behalf.
"The last thing I need is for some disgruntled rank and file to accuse me of embezzling government funds for my sexual deviancy. My dealings with the Assembly are unpleasant enough without bringing that into question." Horace sat on the arm of the couch.
"The only reason anyone is brave enough to say these things is because they think Thomasin is just some floozy you picked up. Just walk into the mess hall at dinner and nonchalantly announce to everyone that she's your wife and if you hear one more person talk about her, they'll be on stable duty until a Titan eats them."
"She's not-"
"I know it's not true, Erwin. I'm telling you to lie." Erwin inhaled deeply through his nose.
Once again, Horace was offering him practical advice. While he was not keen on the idea of punishing his soldiers for saying and thinking things he did not like, he was well within his right to imply there would be a punishment. If Thomasin asked what possessed him to make such a claim, he could tell her it was just a practical move on his part. She wouldn't mind him lying to protect his job- she might even go along with it for a laugh… Hange drew him from his thoughts, leaning on the back of his chair, lightly drumming their fingers on his shoulder.
"I mean, it doesn't have to be a lie… There couldn't be a better time for a proposal, Erwin! You literally rode up on a white horse and rescued her from the battlefield. You treated her wounds and let her sleep in your bed and wear your clothes- not that I would know anything about that…"
"…you're right, Hange."
"I am? I mean- of course I am!"
"She's terrified and alone… she has no money, no family, no friends… she's completely dependent on me. I can cast her out into the streets with nothing whenever it pleases me." The almost hopeful mood quickly turned sour as Erwin's voice grew colder, his words seething with disgust. "It's perfect. Clearly what she wants after living through hell for the past eight months is to hear about badly I want to fuck her. Asking her to marry me now definitely wouldn't come across as an ultimatum." The abject horror on Hange's face would have been amusing had it not been so frustrating.
"…oh."
"Yes. 'Oh'. I have considered this- probably a great deal more than any of you, seeing as I'm the one this actually affects. So if you could all just…" he sighed deeply, "not, I would greatly appreciate it." Silence fell over the room again, broken finally by Cecile's quiet voice.
"You know we're not harping on this just to annoy you, Erwin. We just want you to be happy."
"I know. And I appreciate that, truly I do. But you seem to be forgetting about the other person in this equation. Her happiness should matter just as much."
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Even though his harsh description of the situation had been laid out as starkly as possible to drive the point home to his friends, when they finally returned to their duties, Erwin was left lamenting just how true it was. He did not tell them of the guilt keeping his tongue tied whenever he sat with Thomasin and thought of confessing just how badly he'd gone to pieces without her last year before she would offhandedly mention another nightmarish thing that had become her reality.
Any attempt he made to steer the subject into a direction more suitable for a romantic proposal would just sound as though he didn't want to listen to her horror stories. He didn't- if he'd gone his whole life without knowing how many babies were buried in shallow graves south of Utopia, it would have been too soon- but he could see in her eyes, her posture, how desperately she needed to share what she'd lived through with someone. Everything she spoke of was detached, impersonal; he wondered if those were the things she cried over in her sleep, and just how much she still wasn't telling him. How much she didn't trust him enough to speak of.
…can you really claim you love someone if you aren't even willing to open up to them…?
No, a confession, a proposal, needed to be the furthest things from his mind. There were other things Thomasin needed from him more than a declaration of undying love. He'd received news of one of those things just after noon one Sunday in March.
There was still a chill in the air, but the sun was warm and bright, and almost all of the Scouts took advantage of their day off. Not Erwin, of course- he hadn't taken a proper day off in almost nine months, back when the memory of what he'd lost was still a raw, open wound on his soul. Just like how he'd stopped going to school for several weeks after his father died.
But now, while Shiganshina may have been as far away as the lands beyond Wall Maria, he once again had somewhere to go. First, however, he needed to see Thomasin. The second story landing was practically abandoned, his Scouts already dressed in their plain clothes and heading off base. The rooms he passed were silent, save for the one closest to the bathroom. Erwin lifted his hand to knock, but the door was already open, just enough for the rhythmic scratching of straw against wood to reach him. He pushed the door further, the confused tilt of his lips turning into an outright frown as he stared at a back that most assuredly did not belong to Thomasin.
"Levi. What are you doing here?" The short man stopped, turning slowly to face his commander. He wore a cloth over his nose and mouth, much the same as the medics, but he didn't need to see the other man's lips to know he was scowling. He held up the broom in his hand.
"Sweeping." Erwin closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and breathing out once, twice, three times before he trusted his voice.
"Levi. When I ask 'what are you doing here', what I am actually asking is 'why are you doing this in this specific place'?" Levi didn't even blink, his stare intense enough to put a cat's to shame.
"…sweeping cuz it's filthy in here." …technically, he had to accept that as a proper answer. Erwin was certain he'd done a good enough job cleaning up, but judging by the pile at Levi's feet, there was more dirt than he'd realized. Those clumps looked a bit too dark to be the dust bunnies he recalled seeing, however… The "thump-step" from the hall was a familiar gait, if not pattern, Thomasin's voice preceding her.
"Damn, Levi- you could've cleaned me up a bit. I look like a patchwork quilt-" The door opened, nearly hitting Erwin, and she sucked in a quick breath. "Smith! What're you doing here?" His reason died on his tongue, horror stealing his voice as he turned to face her.
"Guh- Your hair! What happened to it!?" Thomasin lifted a hand from her crutch to run it over her scalp, water dripping onto her collar. Her once thick corkscrew curls were gone, hacked off with a dull knife if the choppy, uneven fuzz she was left with was any indication. In contrast to his shock, she seemed more bored than anything.
"Oh, Levi cut it-"
"He what!?" Erwin rounded on the dark-haired man, ready to finally make good on his old promise to throw him off a balcony. By that time, Levi had pulled the cloth down from his mouth, his annoyance no longer muffled.
"Don't be pissed at me; that rat's nest was probably infested with lice-"
"No, it wasn't, you little asshole!" Thomasin hopped closer, bearing down on the short man with a righteous fury. "You know damn well it wasn't!"
"Not yet. I'd give it another week-"
"I'll give you another week-!"
"Both of you, that's enough! Now, what happened?" Levi leaned his hip against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I came in here to sweep; bad enough the gimp's dragging filth from the sick bay to this room, don't need her tracking puke and shit all around the barracks, too. …I got here, and she asked me to cut her hair. Pretty sure those scissors are dull now- it's like cutting through steel wool." Frowning, Erwin looked back at Thomasin, who had become distracted with a loose button on her cuff.
"Is that true?" Her own full lips turned down slightly as she met his eyes.
"Of course it's true- I just said 'Levi cut it for me'. What, does he make a habit of lying to your face?" …no. If anything, he was honest to a fault. It was all just so… unexpected. Levi groaned, pushing himself off the desk.
"Ugh. If you two are gonna fuck, I don't need to be here for that." He thrust the broom at Thomasin, and she scrambled to catch it before it could hit the ground. "I already got under the bed and desk- I assume you have the mental capacity required to put this pile in the trash can." Something odd flashed in his eyes as he passed her, a twitch of the lip, but before Erwin could even wonder what emotion that could be, his face was once again pinched with annoyance. "And if I find a single one of those frizzy little hairs anywhere, you'd best pray you die in your sleep before I get a hold of you."
Anyone who had seen Levi take down a Titan, or even one of his fellow Scouts, would have the sense to, at the very least, keep their mouth shut. One could never tell when his threats were serious. Alas, Thomasin was uniquely ignorant of the danger the former thug presented. That was the only explanation as to why she would not only roll her eyes but lift her hand and set it atop his head, petting his hair absentmindedly.
"Yeah yeah, I think I understand… Thank you, Levi~ …you can leave now." Every muscle in the short man's body tensed, the tendons in his neck standing out like iron cables… and then they all relaxed and, with a quiet scoff, he walked away. It was a miracle none of his subordinates were around, for try as he might, Erwin could not pick his jaw off the floor. Sputtering for a moment, he tore his eyes away from the now empty door frame and looked back at Thomasin, who had hopped over to the pile of dust and what he now recognized as her hair, leaning awkwardly on her crutches to try and sweep it into the dustpan that was also left behind.
"…what was that?!"
"What was what?"
"That! You- you touched Levi!"
"Yeah."
"…and he didn't break your arm or suplex you…!" She frowned, pausing in her pitiful attempt to clean.
"Uh… what? Is- is that something that regularly happens? Is there something you wanna tell me about him, maybe?" Erwin recollected himself, his initial shock wearing off.
"No. Of course not. I'm just… surprised. Levi usually doesn't take kindly to being touched in the most offhand way, especially by strangers…" Thomasin's dark eyes looked black, shielded from the soft yellow light casting a glare on the newly washed windows.
"We're not strangers." No… no, they'd spent a good three hours talking, they were definitely… acquaintances, at least. Still, it wasn't like Levi to tolerate such behavior from an "acquaintance"- even Hange had to be careful just how familiar they got with him.
Of course, the simplest answer was probably the correct one- he didn't mind beating an able-bodied soldier into next week, but maybe even Levi drew the line at hitting a cripple. That didn't exactly explain Thomasin's overly familiar behavior, but then again, maybe that needed no explanation. She touched people. As early as their second conversation, she was already getting in the habit of touching Erwin's face (usually to flick his empty head). It really wasn't all that strange… and yet, there was something in their interactions that he couldn't simply write off. And the worst thing was, he had no idea what it was. Something hard poked him in the stomach, and he pushed his confused thoughts to the back of his mind.
"What?" Leaning on her crutches, Thomasin idly twirled the broom.
"Nothing. I was going to ask what you came here for, but then I wondered if I poked you hard enough, would candy come out?"
"I haven't eaten candy in over twenty years; you're going to have to poke harder than that to get any out of me." She laughed, but as much as he would have loved to revel in the peal of her voice, his good mood was instantly soured by the sight of her hair… or what was left of it. "Why did you cut your hair?"
"Because it was a mess. I haven't been able to comb it properly in months. Levi's full of shit- I don't have lice… but I don't want to risk getting them, either. It's easier to just cut it off rather than spending three days and catching a cold trying to wash it." She paused, looking him over and giving him the same kind of long-suffering smile his father used to after he'd just spent several minutes unsuccessfully trying to convince him that something was alright when his childish mind told him it clearly wasn't. "Don't worry, Erwin; it'll grow back. It might take a few years to get as long as it was, but it should be past my neck at least by July."
"How do you know it'll grow that quickly?"
"Because it always grows that quickly." The smile slowly faded from her lips. "Erwin… when was the first time you saw me? Actually saw me, more than a passing glance?"
"What, when we were cadets?"
"Yeah." He frowned as well, closing his eyes as he tried to sort through his memories of the Training Corps. It had all been so long ago, half his life at this point… He singled out the clearest even he could remember.
"…when Commandant Stark pulled you to the front of the class to humiliate the rest of us 'fuck nuggets' for not being able to reassemble our rifles as fast as you."
"Do you remember what I looked like back then?"
"Uh…" When he thought back on that moment, the details were blurry. The main thing that kept coming back to him was the feeling of so many eyes boring into him as the commandant singled him out, taking a good three minutes to insult his mother for giving birth to an arthritic, brain-dead goat fucker who couldn't grasp the concept of how a flintlock worked. Having swept up all the remaining traces of her hair, Thomasin dumped it into the trash bin beside the desk, sitting heavily on the edge of her bed.
"You don't. Just admit it. My hair was so short you couldn't tell it was curly back then, so naturally you didn't notice me until it grew out. Until I looked 'different' enough to catch your attention." Erwin shrank under her gaze.
"You'll never forgive me for that, will you?" To his surprise, when she smiled at him this time, it was more sympathetic than teasing.
"There's nothing to 'forgive', Erwin; you didn't do anything wrong. I was trying not to attract attention. That's why my mom started cutting my hair short in the first place. Well, that and to stop the merchants from sniffing around."
"What?" She gestured with the broom to the chair, and he dragged it closer. When he sat, his knee brushed against hers.
"They were all perverts, or friends with perverts, or had perverts for clients; the richer you get, the more perverted you're legally allowed to be. Some gross spice trader from Mitras came into the bar one day and asked the owner 'how much for the "exotic" one?' …Ramos was a greedy, coldhearted piece of shit, but even he didn't abide by kiddie diddlers, and he threatened to blow the guy's head off if he ever came back. After that, my mom started shaving my head twice a year, and I kept up the tradition until I joined the Training Corps… The thing is, I never knew what 'exotic' meant until a few years ago. My mom said it meant 'different', so…" Nausea welled up inside him as he recalled how distasteful her expression always turned when he ranted and raved about her "differences".
"That's… Why didn't you tell me to stop talking like that to you?" Thomasin leaned back on her arms, her foot swinging just enough to brush against his shin.
"…because you were the first person I'd met who thought being different was a uniquely good thing. At first, I thought you were some kind of pervert too, but… as soon as you started talking about other races, I knew you weren't like that. You never asked me what color I was down there, or if I had the same parts as a 'normal' girl. You were like… a little boy who just found a new bug and couldn't stop talking about it. Innocent."
Erwin wanted nothing more than to avert his gaze, guilt eating away at him like acid, but if he did, she would know that he wasn't the wholesome person she thought he was. What could he do but make his expression into something sympathetic, lean forward in his seat and pretend he was still "innocent", a "little boy" who didn't have perverted thoughts about her?
"Being different is good. Differences are what make life interesting… just imagine how interesting the world outside the walls is."
"Probably a smorgasbord for perverts; so many 'exotic' holes for them to fuck…"
"I like to have more faith in the human race than that."
"I don't." Her voice was unusually chipper for how grim her words were. "I don't think most people are like you, Erwin- interested in things simply for the sake of learning about them. Even you're not that much of an incorruptible scholar, admit it." He wanted to swallow, to wipe away the cold sweat beading at the back of his neck, but he couldn't so much as shift for the tinniest movement could give it all away. He did not blink, did not breathe, and Thomasin grinned. "You wanna touch my hair, don't you?"
"So badly." Her teeth flashed behind her lips and she leaned forward, inclining her head a bit. Finally letting out the breath he'd been holding, Erwin's smile grew wider as he ran his hand over the inch or so of damp fuzz that covered her scalp. Whereas the ends of her hair formed coils, the roots rippled in tight waves.
"Well?"
"It's like a lamb!" He recalled a trip his class took to a farm south of their district when he was… oh, he couldn't have been older than six. They spent the day learning about where eggs and milk and wool came from- the details of how those animals were also butchered for meat had been conspicuously left out- but as children, they were far less interested in knowing how the food they ate was made and far more interested in petting and riding the animals. Looking back on it, that was the first time Erwin had ever ridden a horse…
"Really, now? Huh. Maybe next time I cut it, I should try to spin yarn out of it. Naturally dark wool is pretty expensive, after all."
"That's gross."
"No grosser than selling any other part of your body. Gotta make money somehow, and it's kinda hard to do that when you can't even stand on your own…" A guilty pity flared in Erwin's heart for a moment, but was instantly snuffed out. He stood, grabbing Thomasin's free hand.
"I can't help you with your human yarn scheme, but I can help you stand on your own… well, not two feet…" She pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the smile threatening to break out.
"Did you just make a cripple joke, Smith?"
"Was it bad?"
"Awful." Leaning the broom against the bed, she grabbed his other hand, pulling herself up and quickly leaning on her crutches. "So, what's the plan? Grave robbing?"
"You must be mad if you think I'm going to do any heavy labor on my day off. No, this is the kind of problem best solved by throwing money at it," he said. Thomasin's shoulders slumped.
"But… I don't have any…"
"No, but you do have a pension. And I'm a better commander than my predecessor." The chill that had crept into his voice vanished as he gave her arm a slight tug. "Come with me. I hope you didn't have anything planned for the day."
~o0o~
The differences between Trost and Shiganshina were apparent at a glance. More streets were paved, and with higher quality stone. More buildings were spaced closer together, with fewer homes in between, erected of red and gray bricks rather than wood coated with cracking plaster. There was less foot traffic and far more carriages. Walking through the middle district looked different, but it felt exactly the same. Thomasin moved slower, and having to use her whole body to move forward left her catching her breath as she spoke, but Erwin simply adjusted his stride to match hers and waited a bit longer for her responses.
There were no Titans scratching at the Wall, no plans or problems waiting for him back at base; there was nothing in the world but the two of them, his arm brushing against hers every so often, the sounds of the city drowned out by the sounds of their voices, their footsteps, their breathing. They stopped before the storefront of a chairbler, beautifully turned chaises and throne-like dining chairs carved of deep mahogany and shining birch on display in the window. A small bell above the door tinkled as Erwin pushed it open, standing back so Thomasin could limp past him. A voice called out from somewhere in the back.
"Just a minute!" Thomasin stiffened, taking half a hop back before her shoulder blades brushed against Erwin's chest. Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her forward.
"Calm down, Lindemann; we're in a furniture store, not a combat arena."
"I'd prefer the latter. I don't like new places." Mocking words were on the tip of his tongue, before he remembered that, at least as long as he'd known her, "new places" were usually preceded by some ruinous event. Instead, he squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. He could no longer feel the bones jutting out under her fingers as sharply.
"Don't worry. Nobody's going to draft you."
"Then why are we here?"
"You've got a brain in that skull of yours- use it." She looked over her shoulder at him, but before she could hazard a guess or chew him out, the door leading to the back room opened, a massive blonde man with burly arms and thick glasses walking out as he tucked a varnish stained rag into his belt.
"Now what can I-" He finally noticed the people standing in front of the door. "Commander Smith! I was wonderin' when you'd be back."
"Forgive me. My schedule doesn't allow me much time for personal errands."
"Think nothing of it; I know you Scouts work yer asses off." His gaze dropped to Thomasin. "And this must be the soldier you told me about. Come outta the shadows, darlin'- lemme get a look at ya." From the way she leaned back against Erwin, it was clear that she wanted nothing more than for the shadows to swallow her whole, but ultimately, she limped forward. As she drew closer, the chairbler's genial smile slowly morphed to confusion, but he quickly hid it with a mask of stoic professionalism. Stooping with a grunt, he closely examined the empty space where her left leg once was.
"Ah, damn shame… damn shame, that. One of my old buddies lost his leg minin'. Still had the knee, though; that made things easier. This…" He straightened, towering over her. "You ever use a fake leg before?"
"Yeah. For the past eight years."
"Where'd ya have it made?"
"Shiganshina." The older man scoffed.
"Shiganshina… didn't no tradesmen worth their salt set up shop so far south." Erwin could see her bristle, could hear the annoyance in her voice.
"Dr. Grisha Yaeger thought highly enough of him."
"Dr. Yaeger was the good sort who pitied the down and out, tried to throw a few coins their way. I tell you what; none of them lords and ladies he treated in Mitras woulda let him used unfinished wood on their delicate humors." He shook his head. "Good doctors need good tools, and good soldiers need good legs. I got somethin' that'll put whatever manky old peg you were using to shame. Come with me, darlin'. You too, Commander; need ya to sign off on this."
"Sign off on what?" Thomasin turned half her body to look back at him. "Erwin, what did you do…?"
"It's a surprise."
"Oh no, what did you do?" He gave her a light push.
"You'll spoil the surprise…"
The back room was heavily perfumed with a mix of sweet sawdust and acrid varnish. Moving around a few incomplete pieces of furniture, the carpenter lifted something from his workbench wrapped in oilcloth.
"Sit." He pointed to the plainest chair in room, and Thomasin hopped over to it, leaning her crutches against the wall. "Now, the belt might be a bit too big- had to use the Commander's leg as a guide- but we can punch a few more holes if need be." He uncovered what he held in his hand, and Thomasin inhaled shakily. It had the same basis as her old leg, a wooden beam, this one with a wool-lined platform for her stump to rest on. But bolted to it were two other beams, one shorter, reaching about six centimeters above where her stump ended and dangling a thick leather belt. The other was twice the length of the others, an even bigger belt attached to it.
"It'll need some planning to be the proper height, but I can do that quick. Let's see how it fits." Thomasin took it from him with shaking hands, setting it across her lap as she undid the knot in her pant leg, rolling it up. Erwin quickly averted his gaze, his hand on the back of her chair tightening its grip. This prosthetic was far less complicated than her old one, and it took less than a minute for her to fasten the belts around her thigh and waist. "Well? Stand up. Try it out." Breathing deeply, she rocked back and forth a few times to build momentum, and pushed herself out of the chair. For a second she stumbled and Erwin's heart stopped, but she quickly caught herself, her arms outstretched for balance. Straightening slowly, she took half a hesitant step forward, afraid to put weight on this new leg.
"Ya don't gotta worry about snapping this one, darlin'; it's got an iron core. You could kill a Titan with this baby."
Inhaling sharply, she took two quick steps. Stopped. Another step. Her breaths became shaky, her back moving the same way it had done when she sat on the battlefield. She turned around, and there were tears rolling down her cheeks, dripping past the massive smile she wore.
"Erwin… Erwin, look! I'm walking!"
"I see," he whispered, his throat too tight to speak any louder, blinking his own tears away. She laughed, taking one step forward and two back.
"I don't even need a crutch! I can actually balance on this thing! Holy fuck…" She looked back at the carpenter, drying her eyes on sleeve only to have a fresh wave of tears replace the ones she'd just wiped away. "You're a miracle worker." He smiled.
"No, nothin' of the sort. I just spent twenty years making legs for chairs, and twenty before that making parts for ODM gear. Those anchor reels y'all wear? That was my expertise. Ya don't work in the factory towns without learning some engineering on the side…"
She could barely stand still as he marked places where the wood needed to be shaved down, pulling her chair closer to the workbench so she could see him working the lathe and punching new holes in the belts. She was like a child opening a present on their birthday when she put it on again, her steps far more confident this time.
"Oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you so much…!" She was practically bouncing on her good leg as the carpenter handed her back her crutches.
"Don't thank me. It weren't no charity. Your commander commissioned me." She whipped around, her beaming smile replaced with a severe frown.
"Erwin, you better not have spent any fucking money on this…" she hissed.
"I didn't. Quality of life resources like this are supposed to be covered by your pension. Given that you haven't been receiving it for almost a year, the premier was quick to sign off on this expense." In truth, Erwin got the feeling Zachary simply didn't feel like discovering just how litigious he could get. The letter he'd sent requesting this "oversight" be rectified was already six pages long, with enough citations to fill a library shelf.
"…really?"
"Yes. All I did was fill out some paperwork." She pressed her lips together, fighting against the tears welling in her eyes once more as she walked- not hopped, not limped, but walked- over to him, wrapping her arms around him, her cheek resting over his heart.
"Thank you, Erwin… thank you so much…" He already didn't like the knowing look the older man was giving him, but he couldn't just let his arms hang down awkwardly any longer. He returned her embrace, letting his chin rest on the top of her head.
"You're welcome. But really, if you want to thank someone, thank Mike."
"Why?"
"Michaelis is my nephew," the carpenter answered for him. He was sweeping sawdust off the lathe onto the already carpeted floor. "He's always writing home, telling us about how hard y'all are working… Asked if I could fix up somethin' for a friend of his. He's a good boy, an even better soldier. His momma acting all shocked when he joined the Scouts, like he wasn't tryin' to put as much distance between him and that factory as possible since he could walk."
"…I will thank him. And thank you, too."
She made good on her promise about a day later. Erwin was making rounds when he spotted her just outside the infirmary, her entire body alight as she spoke to Mike. Tall as she was, the top of her head didn't even reach his chin. Even from a distance, he could see the taller man's face softened with a warm smile, but when Thomasin threw her arms around his wide chest, he hesitated for a second before patting her back. His hesitation was only because he knew Erwin was watching their exchange…
Thomasin clearly didn't, however, her back to him as she tugged on Mike's collar, bringing him closer to her level. He bent almost double and for one horrible second, Erwin thought she might be leaning in to kiss his cheek, but thankfully, no. Her lips moved to his ear, whispering something. Mike straightened, his mustache twitching as he fought to keep his expression straight. Erwin couldn't hear what he said, but he certainly heard Thomasin's response.
"If I wanted to ask him myself, I wouldn't have asked you!"
…him? Who was "him"? Surely she didn't mean… him? Frustrated, she stormed into the sick bay, and when Mike caught Erwin's eye and his lips slowly curled into the most devious of grins, his heart sank into his stomach. He turned on his heel, heading back up to his office. He wanted to ask the medical staff if he needed to put in an order for more supplies, but it would have to wait until he felt he could open his mouth without running the risk of vomiting. Throwing himself into the pension forms for the rest of his now disabled Scouts helped quell some of that nausea, but when lunch rolled around and he stepped into the mess hall, the questions flared back up in his mind with a vengeance.
He grabbed a tray and, as calmly as he could, walked over to where Mike was sat with the rest of his squad. Their laughter fell silent at once as they hurried to salute, all but the man with his back to him.
"At ease, Scouts. Mike, I need to speak with you."
"…okay." He scooted over on the bench, pushing one of his newer recruits, a man with mousy hair that reeked of pomade (he wasn't going to last long), almost completely off.
"I was thinking somewhere a bit more private." If he'd taken that tone with anyone else, they would have been on their feet at once, but Mike didn't even stop eating.
"I know what you wanna talk about, and I'm not getting up for that." With as much poise as he could manage, Erwin took a seat beside him.
"Very well. Since you know why I'm here, talk."
"No." His indignation must have shown on his face, because Nanaba quickly muffled a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
"Mike, I'm ordering you to tell me what you were discussing earlier."
"That's private, Commander, and I'm afraid your authority ends where my private life begins." He could have reminded his lieutenant that Scouts had no private life while they were on base, but he knew what the older man wanted. Sighing heavily, Erwin handed over his roll. Mike snatched it away and tore almost half of it off with one bite.
"Ugh, goddamn. Chew with your mouth closed, you savage." Levi pulled his tray out of the line of fire of any possible flecks of food, his lips twisted in disgust. "I've seen Titans take smaller bites than you." Mike paid him no mind, cheeking his bread to form coherent, if not muffled, words.
"I'm gonna burst your bubble now; she didn't confess her undying love for you." He honestly hadn't been expecting that, but it still hurt to hear regardless.
"I don't want to know what wasn't said- I want to know what was." The taller man turned to face him, that damnable smirk twisting his lips.
" 'What does Erwin smell like?' " The entire table, sans Levi, burst into laughter, and Erwin felt his authority dissolve.
"What did you tell her…?" he asked in a horrified whisper.
"Thought you'd be able to figure that out. I said 'ask him yourself'."
"Why?Why would you say that?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you rather I tell her you smell like a crypt opening for the first time in a century and unleashing all its evil into the world?"
Inhaling sharply, Erwin snatched his bread back, took a slobbery bite out of it, and dunked it into Mike's soup. Was it petty? Yes. Was it unprofessional? Grossly. Did he revel in his lieutenant's disgusted shriek as he pushed his tray away from him? Immensely. Standing and gathering his own tray, he balanced it on one arm as he clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant Zacharias." As he made his way from the mess hall, he could hear the other man's roaring voice.
"Gelgar, give me your soup!"
"What? Aw, come on- I didn't even start eating-"
"GIMME YOUR GODDAMN SOUP!"
Lunch was a quiet, but no less stressful affair, even though he ate alone. Pastor Daniel had returned to make good on his promise to retrieve the rest of the refugees who survived that long, proudly informing Erwin that most of those he'd brought the first time decided to stay in the parish, taking their second chance at life to devote those lives to God and the Walls. The idea of worshiping a cage was rather disconcerting to Erwin, but he could not fault anyone who had seen the horrors that lay beyond the walls for wanting to remain as far behind them as possible. The sick bay once again only housed soldiers, about seven all together. The rest had either recovered enough to rejoin the ranks, recovered enough to be granted an honorable discharge, or else, succumbed to their injuries. He'd put off the last visit of his rounds long enough.
The first thing that struck him as he stepped into the sick bay was that it finally smelled mostly of antiseptic again. For so long, there had been so many patients that no matter how many officers were brought in to mop and scrub, the stench of sickness always lingered in the air. It was quieter now, the footsteps and groans quiet enough that he could ignore them if he wanted. Well, aside from the thumping of wood on wood; his ears would always perk up when he heard that, memories of that dark, tiny room in Shiganshina now tinged with a sense of melancholy. Had the Titans destroyed those apartments, and all the others surrounding them? Had the other tenants managed to escape, or had they hid behind their flimsy, warped doors, hoping, praying that the Scout who came to visit every month would come back early and save them?
"There you are, Commander. I almost didn't think you'd be coming today." Ramirez approached him, drying his hands off on a towel, and Erwin locked his thoughts and memories away.
"My apologies. I've been finalizing the compensation requests for these soldiers."
"You're a good man, Erwin."
"No, I'm a good commander. To that end, have you finished taking inventory? I'll be ordering supplies tomorrow, and I'd like to finish taking stock today."
"No, we're still good from last month. It had to have been the MPs who donated all those supplies; the Garrison would waste a crate of bandages on a scraped knee, pansy-ass crybabies… At least the MPs know they're never going to be in any real danger."
"That's good to hear, but I hope we don't end up needing to 'borrow' from the other branches again after our next expedition." The medic's lips thinned into a hard line.
"If I may speak candidly, sir?"
"Of course."
"It isn't bandages we're going to need after the next expedition." He leaned closer to the other man. "Please. For the love of the walls, re-enlist Lindemann and assign her to medical duty. We need more medics."
"I thought Hange was studying under you?"
"Yeah, but…" He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "They're less interested in treating wounds than they are in… cutting people open and seeing what they look like without skin."
"You make them sound like a serial killer."
"I'm pretty sure they would be if they hadn't become a Scout. Hange only wants to know how humans 'work', and only so they can apply that to Titans. Lindemann actually understands the point of being a medic, and doesn't just see it as a stepping stone to bigger targets."
It wasn't even a loophole, per se; her personnel file was still in his office. Allowing her to volunteer in the infirmary was no different than a new recruit doing the same, only this recruit came to them with years of medicine and herblore knowledge… Erwin let his gaze wander, over to where Thomasin was working with Webber and Glover, wrapping a fresh dressing around the head of Officer Till. He remembered the deftness with which she had cleaned and bandaged his hand, her misery at the time having no impact on her work.
"Thomasin is ineligible for deployment-"
"That's great! Let her stay here, to ensure that no matter what happens in the field, we'll have at least have one medic on call. I know it's unorthodox, but unless you want to spend half the Corps' budget on an actual doctor, we're going to have to start thinking outside the confines of the regulations for our medical staff. Maybe she didn't train under a physician, but neither did I, and at this point I will take a farrier if it means there's one more person to-"
"Shit! Ramirez! Otto's seizing again! Get the salt!" The captain pushed Erwin aside, rushing to the cabinet.
The previously limp Officer Till was now contorted in a rigid spasm, his legs jerking so violently the bed creaked. Thomasin was working with Glover to turn him onto his side, not a trace of fear or concern on her face as she moved almost mechanically. Erwin quietly slipped from the room; the best thing he could do now was stay out of their way.
~o0o~
It was just past ten when Erwin gathered his nerve enough to head down to the second floor. It was still somewhat early, but he kept his raps on Thomasin's door quiet just in case she was already asleep. He wouldn't be surprised. There wasn't good news from the infirmary; he'd spent the last fifteen minutes writing a condolence letter to Mister and Missus Till. Captain Webber looked dead on her feet when she brought the report up to his office, dragging her feet when she left. There was no response to his knock, but he could hear movement inside. Leaning closer to the door, he called out softly.
"Thomasin? Are you awake?"
"Wh-what do you want?" He couldn't tell if her voice sounded strange because if was muffled by the door, or because of whatever emotion she was holding back.
"I wanted to talk to you, but if you don't feel up to it, that's fine." More silence, but more odd noises from inside the room. "I'll come by tomorrow-"
"Wait! Just… just g-give me a second…" Something rustled, and when he pressed his ear to the door, he could just barely make out the sound of panting. "Okay… you can come in." Pushing the door open just enough to squeeze through, Erwin shivered.
"Good god, Thomasin, it's freezing in here. What are you doing?" She stood in front of the wide open window, her back to him, leaning heavily on the sill.
"Nothing." Her voice was tight, her shoulders stiff. "I just needed to clear my head… I thought… some fresh air might help…" He sighed quietly, closing the door behind him and approaching until he stood by the foot of her bed. The covers had all been pushed to one side.
"I saw you today in the infirmary. I didn't stay long, but I saw you work. I never knew you were such an adept physician."
"Don't patronize me," she whispered.
"I'm not. I'm being sincere. The other captains have nothing but praise for you. I wasn't aware that you were learning physic along with medicine."
"I wasn't. I didn't. You learn… a lot of things when you can't afford to have someone else do them for you. Can't afford a tailor? Learn how to mend your own clothes. Can't afford a restaurant? Learn how to cook your own food. Can't afford a doctor? Learn how to relocate your own bones and lance your own wounds." She laughed, or at least, made a strange chuffing sound that could be mistaken for laughter. "Dr. Yaeger was in a state when he found out I'd been draining my leg on my own. He said he was worried I'd hurt myself, but I think he was just mad that he wasted so much time in fancy medical school when he could've just learned from a bunch of drunks and druggies… Are you regretting it now? Letting me lay my hands on your Scouts?"
"No. Not in the slightest. As I said, the medical captains say you are quite skilled, and I trust their judgment." He paused for a moment, taking a few steps closer until he stood only a foot away from her. Despite spring quickly approaching, the night air was cold enough that goose flesh prickled across his arms through his thin button-down. "That's why I'm here, actually. In the past three weeks, all of them have, at some point, requested that I re-enlist you."
"…rejoin the Survey Corps…?"
"As a medic. You wouldn't go on expeditions; you'd stay at base." Her arms shook, but he couldn't tell if she was trembling from emotion, or from cold. "I know you didn't enjoy you time as a Scout, Thomasin. I know you think what we're doing is foolish… but a job is a job. You would have food, board, a salary… in this day and age, those things aren't easy to find." It wasn't what he'd had in mind, all those times he'd joked- and not joked- about her moving to Trost. If she re-enlisted, she'd be his subordinate, and that would be its own form of nightmare, but… she would always be close by, always be safe. She remained quiet for a long time, the only sound that of her heavy breathing.
"That soldier… Otto… he was doing pretty good last week. He'd have to retire, but… he'd probably be able to walk with a cane… then he started seizing. It wasn't that bad at first, just for a couple seconds… but he's been getting worse all week… When it was over today, we thought he'd wake up again after a few minutes, but he just… stopped breathing… and didn't start again." Erwin winced. He knew all this- it was in the medical report, but still… reading words on a page didn't carry the same weight as hearing someone who was there describe what happened.
"I'm sorry-"
"Why? I'm not the one who's dead." Her arms shook harder. He just then noticed her fingers digging into the wood of the windowsill, the tendons in her hands standing out like cables. "…you wanna know something really awful? While I was watching Glover try to resuscitate him, I wasn't thinking about him. I barely even noticed the person suffocating to death right in front of me… I was thinking about you, Erwin. About how many times you've been hurt on missions… about what kind of state you were in when they brought you into the sick bay… I hated seeing you limp around my apartment; I'd probably have a stroke if I saw Mike drag you in, covered in blood." She straightened, turning around to face him. Her face was pinched, ashen, her eyes red and swollen. She looked like she was fighting the urge to vomit, and very close to losing that fight.
"I hate being here so much…" she whispered, ver wavering voice almost swallowed by the night air. "I hate what happens here. What's going to happen here. I'd rather work in a brothel than be here when you come back from an expedition…" …oh. Well, there went his half-formed fantasies, that growing sense of comfort that came from passing by her multiple times a day going up in flames, burned away by the misery that seemed to age her several years.
"I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to even bring it up." Thomasin shook her head, still supporting herself with her right arm on the windowsill.
"No… I want to help you… I wish I could stop thinking and stop feeling and just be useful… but I don't want to watch you die. I can see you hurt, but standing there completely useless while you bleed out and stop breathing? That would kill me…" Erwin closed the remaining distance between them, taking hold of the hand dangling limp at her side. Her fingers were ice cold, and he pressed them between both of his. There were flecks of blood on the cuff of her sleeve, still fresh enough to be bright red. Death followed them back inside the walls.
"I would never ask you to."
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A/N- Sorry for the delay- I was having technical difficulties. Also, I did not do a good job of describing it, I know, but Thomasin's new prosthetic leg is meant to resemble one worn by Clayton "Peg Leg" Bates. If a man can tap dance with it, I figure she can walk decently with it.