53.

—

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE — Rally

~§~

...

Grief and loss are two things that Rosalie Turner was intimately familiar with. It has been this way, literally, since the day she was born.

As she grew older, she collected names of those gone forever much like one would precious stones. Writing them down in an old, ratty notebook for safekeeping.

And if anyone were to look closely, they'd find annotations filling the margins of those yellowed pages— of funny and sweet things said or did— in hopes of keeping the memories alive.

Eventually, this sense of mourning, as depressing as it was to say, had become an integral part of her very existence. But if it meant that someone would remember them— remember their sacrifices— then so be it. Because it was the least she could do.

They say hardships are what form a person. That it gives them a perspective on how they should approach life. If that's true, then…

Levi was rough around the edges but kind in his own way. He wore his pain like an armor; akin to a fabled dragon— whose nigh impenetrable scales protected its vulnerable heart.

Eren was like fire. Something that needed to be handled with care, but not underestimated. Because he could and would burn the world whilst keeping those close, warm.

Armin, on the other hand, was mailable— like clay. He could be softened by the blows life dealt, but still able to roll with the punches that would later shape who he is.

So if that's true, then… Rosalie liked to think of herself as a mixture of the three. She was but hollowed marble; porcelain. Pressured, edges sanded down, and polished. Her insides were sensitive and tender to the touch; hidden beneath a thin shell easily cracked.

Eren always called her a crybaby. Maybe she is, maybe she isn't (he isn't exactly the poster child for emotional stability, after all). But what is true enough, is that she's tired.

She's tired of losing… She's tired of mourning…

Maybe that's why this hurts as much as it does.

The little note pinched between her fingers crinkles further as her grip tightens, and she barely has the wherewithal to wipe away a stray tear before it can fall and muddy the ink.

Her father was a simple man. He was steadfast in his beliefs and didn't often stray from his core values. He didn't do things without reason. He also didn't do things in halves; it was either all in or nothing.

Thus, with this knowledge, the hidden meaning behind the quickly scrawled words was obvious. The note held an immense weight of importance— more than any random third-party interloper would realize should they intercept it.

For it wasn't a simple, casual message between a father and daughter. It was a—

Rosalie flinches, startled as someone plops down next to her on the stairs leading to the riverbank. Her pondering thoughts come to an abrupt halt; metaphorically floating away with the flowing river below as her attention is diverted elsewhere.

As her gaze settles on Jean's side profile, she finds his— in her opinion— handsome features soured by his discomforted expression; he looked every bit as somber as she felt.

Lowering her eyes, the brunette wipes away another stray tear as it rolls down her cheek. "Hi…" She murmurs in a hoarse voice; uninspired to say more but unwilling to let the silence linger.

Jean grunts in response and meets her gaze when she glances his way a second time. However, he doesn't hold eye contact long, opting to instead look out across the canal and at the distant buildings on the other side.

"…"

"Today was a close call." He breathes out after a moment's pause; his head bowing as he hunches forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees as his forearms rest against his thighs.

"Mmhm…" Only able to hum in quiet agreement as her bottom lip begins to tremble, Rosalie swallows back the urge to cry and inches closer— finding a little bit of comfort as she presses against his side.

Immediately, Jean shifts and wraps an arm around her waist to pull her closer. And Rosalie can only further the embrace by clasping his free hand with both of her own, playing with his fingers mindlessly in hopes of soothing the tremors found there.

"Why didn't she shoot, Rosie?" Jean croaks out, his own eyes filling up with tears. "She had the upper hand but— Her face—! I can't get it out of my mind…!?"

Shaking her head, Rosalie doesn't acknowledge the dampening fabric on her shoulder. "I don't— I don't know. I don't think there's an answer that I can give that'll satisfy you." She whispers gently before craning her head to meet his gaze fully, eventually giving in and reaching up to use one of her sleeves to wipe his cheeks. "All that I know— All that I can say, is that I'm glad she didn't. I'm— Honestly, I'm glad that Armin beat her to it."

When Jean's expression wavers at the admittance, Rosalie returns her attention to their intertwined hands; a slight grimace pulling at her lips. "I… I know how that must sound. I know it's a selfish thing to say— horrible even, especially considering that Armin had to do something he thought himself incapable of doing. But, Jean, I— I'm just— I'm so tired, Jean. Of it all."

Rosalie pauses then, wanting to collect her thoughts, and the period of silence is stifling. Finally, she sighs. "It's… It's easy to say things— to threaten people like I threatened Bertolt and Reiner— but to actually do something? That's a whole different matter entirely… So, don't think for one second that any of us fault you for freezing. Because we don't. We're just happy that you're still alive. That's all that matters."

She meets his gaze once more, and her expression hardens with determination. "When Papa had said that it would get worse, I never expected things to turn out this way. But— thanks to today— I see what I have to do now, and I don't care how harsh or cruel it may seem in the long run… Because everyone we've had to deal with so far wasn't afraid of taking or doing what they wanted. They did it, no matter the consequences… So, I'm going to do the same. If it means everyone will be safe, I'll do it without hesitation."

For a moment, Jean ponders over her words before eventually nodding in understanding. He, however, doesn't say anything more on the matter; seemingly becoming lost in thought.

The conversation tapers off after that, leaving the two in a comfortable silence. That is until Jean speaks up a second time.

"What did the note say…? The one your father sent by Nifa…"

Plucking the note from where it lay on her lap, Rosalie wordlessly hands the crumpled paper to him.

Swallowing thickly at her despondent behavior, Jean steels his nerves before beginning to read silently.

.

'Rosalie,

I hope this message reaches you safely; although knowing Nifa's resilient capability, I have little doubt that you will receive it by the day's end.

This letter will never be nearly as long as I want. There's not enough time to write, nor enough paper within the three walls to hold all of the thoughts I wish to share with you. So, like old times, I suppose we'll just have to make do with what we have, eh?

By the hour, the Military Police's presence within the barracks grows. And I suspect they'll make the reason why that is, known soon enough. I also believe that when Eren and Historia are not brought back to Trost, Erwin will eventually be taken further into the Capital for questioning, and when that happens, the rest of us being sequestered here will be forced to follow thereafter.

If I'm right and if that happens, do not expect to hear from me again any time soon. Do not come looking for me. Stay where you are and do as you're told. Do not put yourself in unnecessary danger.

The locket attached was your mother's and has been passed down through her family for generations. I had planned to give it to you when you were older and in better circumstances, but this will have to do. It's yours now, do with it as you wish. The same could also be said about the accompanying rings. I know you'll recognize them immediately.

Make sure you and Jean stick together and with the others. Watch over one another and stay safe. Be brave and keep making me proud… Also, give the rest my warmest regards.

With all my love, Papa.'

.

"…"

"It was his way of saying goodbye…" Rosalie murmurs once she's certain he finished skimming the words.

Jolting somewhat, Jean leans back slightly to get a better look at her face. "Wha…?"

Rosalie's solemn smile wavers and she looks down, raising a hand to thoughtfully fiddle with the locket and rings that now hung around her neck. "He knew it would make me upset if he said it outright. But I picked up on it… He doesn't expect to come out of this unscathed."

"You can't think like that!" Jean chides, shaking his head as he tightens his grip on her hand. "You'll see him again. I'm sure of it! Squad Leader Turner is tough, he can handle anything they throw at him—!" He then pauses, stumped when he spots the small, amused grin Rosalie was sending his way. "W-What is it?"

"You might as well call him James, or something else that's less formal… He's basically approved of you at this point."

Jean flushes at the genuine honesty found in her answer. "S-Shut-up, idiot…"

Rosalie snickers at his embarrassment but refrains from teasing him further. Instead, she lays her head against his shoulder, feeling her spirits a little lighter than before.

...

...

-One Hour Later: Reeves' Company Warehouse, Distribution Sector; Trost District, Wall Rose-

Once the sun sets behind Wall Rose, submerging the city within the growing shadow of night; Rosalie relinquishes her post to Sasha for second watch. Only entering the warehouse to rejoin the others after ensuring that her fellow brunette had everything she needed for the next few hours.

Quietly, Rosalie makes her way through the aisles; weaving between rows of crates and shelving alike until she finally steps into the dim light of the lantern placed on the floor.

Levi's gaze finds her immediately upon arrival, however, the scrutiny doesn't last long as he quickly returns to observing those in front of him. And eventually, he focuses solely on a perturbed Armin— who currently sat staring down at the field ration pack in his hands. "What's wrong? This grimy place kill your appetite?"

Rosalie snorts to herself as she approaches. "Not the words I'd use at the moment…" She mumbles chidingly at the man's unintentional play on words, taking a seat on a small box next to Jean— who immediately hands her a portion of the rations.

Briefly, does Armin meet Levi's gaze; shaking his head once he does so. "No…" He begins with a murmur before looking toward the male his opposite. "Jean, there's something I don't understand…"

Jean tenses, but doesn't outrightly dismiss whatever the blond's curiosity may harbor. "What's that?"

Armin's brows furrow; his expression turning thoughtful. "When I shot that gun to save you… I honestly thought I didn't make it in time." He informs, pausing a beat at the look on his friend's face. "Sorry, but… Why was I the one to shoot first?"

Jean averts his gaze, disposition grim— even as Rosalie rubs comforting circles on his back. "That's—"

"Because the other person hesitated." Levi interjects, turning heads his way. "It's true." He adds with a shrug once seeing the looks on their faces.

Jean grits his teeth and looks back at the troubled blond. "Armin, I'm sorry…! I should've done what I had to do."

Armin lowers his gaze, expression dour. "I know what it is…" He whispers as his eyes began to water. "The person that I killed… I bet they were a nice person. Someone that was much more human than I am… I pulled the trigger so easily—! I did—! I'm…"

"Armin," Levi calls, effectively bringing the boy out of whatever spiral he started to descend into with the beckoning. "You've got blood on your hands now. You can't go back to who you were."

"Why would you say that?!" Mikasa snaps, her gaze filled with hostility as she stares at the short Captain with a scowl.

Levi is unbothered by her vitriol and keeps his eyes locked with Armin's as he continues to speak. "Embrace the new you. Just think, if your hands were still clean, Jean wouldn't be here right now… So, I'll tell you why you pulled the trigger. It's because your comrade was about to die. Armin… Thanks to you getting blood on your hands, nobody in our squad ended up dead today. Thank you."

The silence that follows is heavy.

"Captain Levi, I… I thought it was wrong to be fighting other humans. And wrong for you to order us to do it." Jean admits after a moment, lowering his gaze to the ration pack on his lap. "I was afraid of hurting other people. But I— I'm the one who was wrong. Next time, I'll shoot."

"I never said anything about who was right or wrong." Levi objects, continuing when Jean hesitantly meets his sunken gaze. "I don't even know myself… So, are you really the one in the wrong?"

After letting those words soak in for a moment, Levi stands and turns to look at the tied-up male sitting in the corner; his actions prompting the rest to do the same. "Now then… It's about time we hear what he has to say."

The man squirms in place as Levi approaches, his yelled response muffled due to the cloth gag in his mouth. And once it's removed, he's pressing his back against the crates behind him with all of the force he could currently muster, trying to put more distance between himself and the rogue Scouts before him. "WAIT…! I'm just an old man used for moving wagons around the—!"

"I've met this man before."

All eyes look to Mikasa as she interrupts whilst rising from her seat. And the unimpressed disquietude she expresses as she leers at him from over Levi's shoulder is enough to tell them all that the introduction was anything but pleasant.

Said girl continues, "…In the city, people were calling him boss."

"Yeah, I know." Levi informs with a nod before turning his attention back to the man he crouched in front of. "Dimo Reeves, right?"

Displeased that his identity was revealed so quickly and so easily, Dimo clicks his tongue and looks to the side. "We were just following orders the Military Police forced on us— And failed big time. They'll plunder the Reeves' Company now, for all it's worth." He informs angrily, visibly disgusted by the surmised scenario.

"And they won't stop with me and my dumb son." He adds, pointedly nodding his head toward one of the unconscious men tied up across the aisle. "They'll make sure all of my employees die in so-called accidents, too."

"So, you'll just die without a fight?" Levi questions dryly, and Dimo meets his gaze once more. "Trost should have collapsed by now, but it's persevered. That's because the Reeves' Company brings people and work together… But if the Company was gone for good, just how few would survive the winter?"

Dimo eyes him warily. "Are you suggesting I team up with you?"

"We just need to know where Eren and Historia are. If you're supplying the Military Police, then we can figure something out."

"But can you stop my city and employees from dying of starvation?"

Levi meets the merchant's gaze earnestly. "I can't guarantee it. However, you can trust that we'll move towards that end."

Dimo falls silent at this, thoughtfully pondering over the options laid out before him.

Believing he may need a little more persuasion— but also growing impatient— Rosalie clears her throat, earning his attention. "I can't say that I'm well versed in merchant politics… Nor am I savvy in running a business. But I do know that those who have nothing to lose aren't afraid of doing what needs to be done to get what they want. And as you can see, the Scouts aren't exactly in a good position right now— Which is something we have in common."

"You aren't building a good case right now, missy." Dimo drawls.

"Maybe not." Rosalie shrugs as she waves the older male off. "But hear me out, first… Think of it this way— Who has more to lose here? You said it yourself just a moment ago… You and your men failed, so the Company and its workers are gonna be the ones paying for it… Sounds to me like your business is gonna go under, regardless of whether or not you help us. Thus, Trost will suffer no matter the outcome."

"So I should just go all in? Bet everything I've got on the underdog, is that it?"

Rosalie grins at the inquiry; the gesture sharp and cunning. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend… Isn't that the way it goes? I'm not saying it'll be easy, but should we succeed, I think the payoff for this reluctant partnership would be well worth the trouble."

Huffing, Dimo slumps against the crates behind him. And although he appeared contemplative, the look in his eye and the slight quirk of his lips eluded to his decision.

"Well, Mr. Reeves? What's your answer?"

~§~