Chapter 1: Green on grey
Summary:
A green glimmer against the gray of the ship and the blackness of the docks outside the windows. At first, there was a blissful emptiness in his head. No response, no reaction, only a slightly tingling thought like anesthesia: “who knows, how many green eyes there are in the universe...” .
Chapter Text
Sometimes, when looking out the window of the “Wings of Freedom” during a hyperspace jump, Armin saw his own life. Sometimes, when instead of admiring the blurry ghost of stars and the speed that cleverly deceives the light, more pessimistic and dispassionate associations come to mind.
An indistinct scribble, a weak-willed flow…
Not that it happened too often, but not rarely either. These thoughts just were. Because it was true.
His life was a damn endless flow. He never had the strength to fight, and so he gave in. Became just a passenger on board, obediently floating wherever it too would float. Figuratively and literally.
Not that he cared…
Armin shifted from foot to foot for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes and checked his watch. Annoyances began to grow, because the man could have already been on board and sorted out the replenished supply of medicine, but in the end he was standing and waiting for his sister. By and large, nothing was stopping him from going to the ship without Historia, but Armin had still made arrangements with her. It would be ugly of him to abandon his sister.
“As well as being ten minutes late,” flashed through his head, distantly and with a caustic tinge. This thought caused another sigh full of annoyance.
Arlert did not move from his spot.
Three minutes later, his patience was rewarded, and the familiar blonde-head appeared in the port. A short girl - even shorter than Armin himself, who was not even six feet tall - ran breathlessly towards him with an open leather coat and high boots, which unexpectedly went well with a dull pink skirt. The travel bag was dangling behind her back. Silky hair was disheveled, cheeks were a deep red.
As upset as Armin was about her tardiness, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of his sister. The guy took a few steps towards her before Historia almost crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his back and squeezing him tightly.
Armin returned the hug with a quiet laugh, feeling the poor girl suffocating under him.
“God, Armin, please forgive me! There are some fierce checks at the entrance to the station today, I thought I would never get through this crowd!”
Historia squeezed her brother once more before pulling away and looking into his face.
Armin sighed and, after brushing some hair out of her face, he smiled.
“It’s okay. The main thing is that you’re here, and I'm glad to see you!”
The slight annoyance from Historia’s lateness dissolved, and the guy was simply happy to see his family after a month of separation.
“I'm glad to see you too, I missed you so much! It was great to relax, of course, but you know, in the post-war devastation there aren't that many decent resorts to rush to.”
Armin grinned, and the brother and sister headed to the necessary docks.
“Are you saying that vacation was more boring than on the "Wings of Freedom"?” The guy asked with a chuckle, and Historia chuckled in the same tone.
“You can't even imagine. Next time, even if we take a cargo flight, I'll fly.”
“Great, you'll help me.”
Historia poked her brother in the shoulder, and Armin rubbed the bruised spot with a smile. They slowly walked along the docks between spaceships of different sizes. Here and there, the shouts of ship servicing engineers and fuelers, bursts of laughter, or the hubbub of departing and returning crews and passengers could be heard. The dark port with its rare working searchlights was partially hidden from space, and the beams of the dome frame were visible in the blackness. In the shadows, the ship ploughed through interstellar space and gleamed with metal and polymer windows.
Where did they come from? What planets did they visit, what troubles did they go through? So many paths converged at each station, and from time to time it was enchanting to remember this philosophical thought.
It was precisely because of this that Armin liked such liveliness at the stations.
He had travelled many years with the Wings of Freedom, but he never got tired of seeing the diversity of both places and people. They were all so different, but so similar... there were rough spots everywhere, riddled with dents and rusty spots, and yet the mechanism still worked. People live and fly on scorched, broken planets. At least, you can dissolve in this flow, noticing how some details of life change from stop to stop. How planets and satellites are restored after so many years of destructive wars... Watching someone else healing, you could forget that your own never happened. Even if it no longer evokes the same delight, the man found peace in it. Almost the same as the blurry pattern of stars outside the porthole during a flight. Sometimes this peace comes from the thought that everything can still get better…
There was a creak and a rumble, and a moment later the gates of the port opened - resisting gravity with the work of the engines, an impressive ship appeared inside the port.
Armin and Historia looked up, watching as it slowly floated along the docks to its place, and as the huge hatches closed behind it.
After ten minutes of leisurely walking among the moored ships of various sizes - from tiny two-seater shuttles to awe-inspiring cruisers - the pair reached a medium-sized gray vessel.
On the hull, a stencil of an emblem with two wings, black and white, overlapping each other, shone proudly.
"Wings of Freedom", the one and only.
Armin saw a familiar figure at the open airlock, giving instructions to the loaders. The tall man, standing with his back to the docks and his hands on his hips, was watching the cargo in the compartment, and therefore didn’t notice the newcomers. He had carefully combed, almost slicked-back ash-blond hair and a neat, sparse beard on his chin. The swamp-green uniform with the pilot's insignia on the shoulders sat surprisingly well on his fit, lanky figure.
They had not seen each other since the morning, having passed each other in the countless corridors of the ship, and Arlert considered the moment a good one for a belated "good morning." He silently motioned for his sister to be quiet, after which he approached his friend from behind and quietly said:
“Good morning.”
The man shuddered in surprise, holding back an unmanly cry. It was almost comical, considering how small Armin was in comparison to him. A few seconds after the initial fright, Jean exhaled loudly and laughed, glancing at his friend with light brown eyes.
“Ugh, you scared me, Armin. Good morning.” His gaze caught on another light-colored crown, and the man smiled even wider. “Hello, Historia.”
The girl giggled at her brother's antics and stepped forward.
“Hello, Jean. How's the loading going?”
Kirstein returned his attention to the process and answered, “According to plan. When we finish, the cargo escort will arrive and the flight will be in two hours.” He suddenly sighed, and his expression became a little sour. “Actually, Connie was supposed to do this, and I, as a pilot, was supposed to rest before the flight, but... here we are.”
“Why couldn't he?” Armin asked, looking distantly at the loaders transporting iron boxes into the compartment.
He'd been so busy lately that he hadn't asked Levi what they were actually transporting this time.
"The hospital called him, so he's chatting with his mom now. He told me she finally had her surgery."
"Everything went well?"
"Looks like it." Jean shrugged with a weak smile.
Connie was an open book and never hid his emotions about anything, so bad news would instantly spread to the rest of the crew.
A warm light flared up in his chest, and Arlert was glad that his friend's long-standing question had finally been resolved. Next to him, Historia sighed in relief and smiled.
"I'll have to congratulate him."
"Yeah. We'd better get on board though, I still need to check the medications."
Jean nodded and waved his hand.
"Yeah, let's go. See you later." Armin and Historia waved back - the girl was a little more active and had a wider smile than her brother. They walked to the entrance of the ship and, their boots slamming on the instep, went inside. The Wings of Freedom greeted them with familiar countless corridors and the metallic echo of footsteps, and the smell of iron and recent disinfection. The girl drew in a breath and grinned, having managed to unlearn this.
It's nice to be back where you belong…
In one of the corridors, the brother and sister exchanged glances. Armin smiled slightly and ran his hand over the other's forearm.
“Make yourself comfortable and rest before takeoff, I'll go to the medical bay for now.”
Historia nodded.
“Okay. See you soon, don't overwork yourself.”
They hugged briefly and went their separate ways. Armin took a deep breath and shoved his hands into the pockets of his camouflage pants, hanging his head. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to just lie down and get some sleep. But the guy knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t be able to do that in the next sixteen hours. No matter how full the bags under his tired blue eyes were, they were no excuse for shirking work. Checking and sorting medications, examining the crew and new passengers, filling out medical records… The cargo escort would still need to be questioned for individual intolerances and allergies, implants or prostheses…
It was exhausting to even think about all of this.
Usually none of the above bothered him, but lately he had been so tired…
This work flight was supposed to be the last one for the next six months - after it, the Wings of Freedom crew would get a well-deserved vacation. Perhaps, after a couple of weeks of rest, they would all fly somewhere together… Perhaps. Or maybe everyone will decide to stay in their homes with their families. Armin would be happy if it weren't for one "but".
Their flight goes straight to Shiganshina. Levi agreed to take him only because their destination is Shiganshina.
After nine years, they would finally return home.
Armin didn't know whether to rejoice or cry.
The last week and a half he slept poorly, haunted by the ghosts of the past, which he had so carefully avoided all this time. It was worth lying down in bed, and a stream of thoughts that could not be driven away began to rage in his head. The darkness, the roar of the engines, the smell of his own cabin with notes of alcohol and gauze, brought from the medical bay - none of this could distract him from thoughts about Shiganshina. And not only about that place. Everything that Armin was accustomed to, in which he found comfort - all this lost its power in the face of the fear of returning. Mikasa was happy, but Armin could not find the strength to rejoice with her. More than four years of a new life threatened to crumble to dust under the weight of the past. And although the medic had not been in Shiganshina for more than four years - almost nine years - it was she who was associated with the weight of the past. During their travels, everything that had happened before seemed so... distant. A palm print on glass that could be easily wiped off with a rag, a small change that could be easily tucked away in the far corner of the drawer.
Now, the more Armin thought about it, the more it became real, fleshed out. There was less and less time left with each passing second to pretend that the past had not happened. When their flight came to an end…
Oh God…
They would return home.
The doors of the medical bay opened in front of him with a soft rustle, and Arlert walked inside. Behind the screen near the beds stood labeled boxes with a thin tablet on top. On the table lay a small stack of papers, a computer, and two switched-off electronic panels. A stethoscope was lying around, disrupting the geometric order.
The guy took a deep breath and went to the chair to take a white coat from the back. He threw it on along with the stethoscope from the table, checked the badge and qualification card in his breast pocket. After making sure everything was in place, Armin headed to the drawers and opened the top one.
The next hour and a half passed in monotonous sorting through ampoules, capsules, bottles and other things, as well as checking everything against the list and forms.
Dull.
Towards the end, Armin, sitting on the floor and buried up to his waist in the last drawer, was ready to stay in it and fall asleep. He was distracted by the soft rustle of the doors opening.
"Armin?" a cautious female voice rang out, and Arlert waved his hand from behind the screen.
"I'm here," he said, and the guest approached.
Seeing Armin, tiredly leaning his hands on the edge of the drawer, Mikasa smiled weakly and sat down next to him on the bunk. Her short black hair was slightly fluffy at the back of her head after the shower, and her long bangs framed her chiseled face with a scar on her right cheek. The smile on her face was a beautiful, rare decoration that was allowed to be seen mostly by him, Armin. It warmed his heart with tenderness - the understanding that this incredible, strong, sturdy and beautiful girl was ready to give him her friendship, her devotion, her love and her smile.
“Do you need help?” Ackerman asked softly, leaning towards her friend. Her gray eyes gleamed softly in the cold light of the lamp.
“No need, I'm almost done.”
“How much do you have left?”
Armin looked doubtfully at the remaining set and said, “Ten minutes?”
Mikasa nodded her head.
“Then I'll wait for you, and we'll go meet the escort.”
“Maybe…” Armin started taking the medicine again. “Maybe I'd better stay here? Everyone will be examined anyway, there's no need to introduce me twice.”
“Are you saying that because you really think so, or are you tired and don't want to go anywhere?” The girl asked calmly.
Armin glanced sideways at his girlfriend and laughed weakly, poking her in the knee.
“You know everything about me.”
Mikasa smiled faintly and stroked his head, running her fingers through his short blond hair.
“It won't take long, Armin. We still have a month and a half to fly with them, it's better to leave a good impression.”
The guy only groaned quietly at her words, closing his eyes and leaning into her gentle touch. The girl added softly:
“On the way, we'll stop by the cafeteria and ask Sasha to make you some coffee.”
The offer sounded like a promise not to let him die in the next few hours, and Armin finally agreed. In fact, it wasn't like he had a choice - introducing the team to the passengers was a mandatory part of the flight, but it was nice to succumb to the illusion that he himself had decided to get out.
Armin finished sorting the medicines and checked everything off the list, then got up from the floor with a groan. Mikasa silently got up with him, and they left the medical bay. First of all, true to her word, the girl led her friend to the cafeteria, where Sasha happily made them a cup of aromatic coffee. Her thick chestnut hair was braided in a high ponytail, and her soft caramel eyes sparkled brightly.
“Today I'll make something meaty, since we finally have guests! We haven't eaten real meat for so long, God, I'm so glad we finally got it!” Sasha babbled excitedly, pressing her hands to her chest and giggling under her breath.
A blush of joy burned on her round face. Mikasa answered her something, but Armin could not make out what exactly - his brain switched off for a while, and all he felt was the bitter taste of hot coffee. Something on the verge of bliss and numbness. A minute or ten minutes, and the three of them are walking onto the bridge,where the team was supposed to gather and meet the escort.
Armin couldn't say why, but some kind of uneasy feeling swelled in his chest...
It seemed barely discernible, and yet there. His cold fingers tickled something on the edge of consciousness, there, in the back of his head, causing something in his stomach to clench in a slight nauseating sensation and his fingers to go numb...
It's just your fatigue and the coffee you drank, his mind repeated.
No, that’s not it... something deeper than common sense whispered almost imperceptibly.
Whatever it was, Armin chose to brush it off. He just wanted to quickly finish the procedures for the day and rest.
When the doors to the bridge parted in front of them, the first thing the guy did was meet Levi's gaze. He seemed unexpectedly worried, but whatever the reason, Armin did not have time to ask. His eyes slid slightly to the side, to the lanky Jean and the shaved gray Connie standing nearby, and then to the unfamiliar four figures lined up in a small line in front of Ackerman, and...
A green glimmer against the gray of the ship and the blackness of the docks outside the windows. At first, there was a blissful emptiness in his head. No response, no reaction, only a slightly tingling thought like anesthesia: “who knows, how many green eyes there are in the universe...” . Suddenly, a spark of recognition flashed in the other’s cold and unfriendly irises, which had not yet come to Arlert himself. And not only recognition...
Armin looked into the stranger’s eyes for a few seconds before his own widened in belated realization. Everything around him was rapidly losing its importance - everything except the man standing fifteen meters away, both familiar and unfamiliar.
Armin had been imagining this moment for years, and yet he was still not ready.
The ghosts of the past had caught up with him much earlier than upon his arrival in Shiganshina. They stared at him with emerald eyes from a chiseled face that the doctor refused to recognize as his once best friend, and with a thin blade they ripped apart any coherent thought that tried to form in his head.
Arlert unconsciously scanned the other man's appearance, noticing the long dark hair tied in a bun, the strengthened figure, and the military uniform that he hated to the point of nausea...
Eren...
Eren Yeager himself was staring at him. The same man who had left Armin’s life nine years ago and never bothered to show up again.
Armin thought he would lose consciousness right then and there, as the emotions and memories that had been pushed into the far corner began to roll over him in a gradually growing wave. However, to his own surprise, the doctor did not even move. Not a single sound escaped his lips, parted in shock, and no trembling penetrated his limbs. Perhaps he had been taught to maintain the strength of his body even when his mind was threatening to leave him. It seemed that everyone had frozen next to him. Some were tense - Armin felt Mikasa grab him, although he could not tell whether it was for his support or hers - some were perplexed, and some were curious. Arlert felt the eyes of some of the crew members burning into him, including Levi. The woman standing next to Eren and the bearded blond looked from their comrade to him with interest. It was as if the two of them were twisted reflections of each other: frozen like animals in the headlights, frozen and for a few seconds throwing off the masks they had worn for many years. Bare wires sparking from the brief contact. For some reason, the medic could read something akin to horror on the other man's face.
The awkward pause dragged on before Armin found the strength to tear himself away from Eren's equally stricken green eyes and lowered his head slightly.
"Excuse me, I’m gonna go..." he muttered and turned, leaving the bridge.
Mikasa's hand slid off his elbow, but the doctor barely felt it. His body was numb, and he didn't notice how he walked several corridors before stopping.
His legs buckled, and Armin grabbed the metal wall. He didn't even realize he wasn't breathing until he took another gulp of the missing oxygen.
No. No, no, no-no-no... He had been trying to get himself together for so long... He had spent so many years collecting the pieces of everything that was left of him. He had convinced everyone around him, and himself first and foremost, that he was better, and that he had recovered... That the past was just the past, and there was no point in thinking about it too much. After all, not everything could be summed up in one figure - the doctor had been through so much without him, and that too was just the past. After all, there was only "Wings of Freedom" and his comrades now, and nothing else mattered, and he... He didn't think about it anymore.
What a lie, Armin...
Admit it, it wasn't the return to Shiganshina that scared you all this time...
The guy covered his mouth with his hand and took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes.
Pull yourself together, he ordered himself, clenching his teeth until they hurt. You're a doctor. And you're a soldier. A member of the crew, to whom they trust their lives in emergency situations. You have no right to be hysterical when you see someone who no longer means anything to you…
Armin aggressively ran his hand through his hair, combing his scalp and sobering himself up. A few more breaths, and the muscles in his arms relaxed.
Control. Control. Control... You can't let yourself lose control - it never led to anything good. Every damn mistake was due to losing control, and the doctor made too many mistakes already...
Another minute passed, and the weakness in his legs was overcome.
You’re still on a mission. This is your job. Keep a grip on yourself, like you’ve been doing all this time. Armin thought, as he stood up. He exhaled quickly and loudly, shaking off the remaining tension and straightening up. Keep your head up, keep your heart cool. It’s all in the past. You don’t feel anything. He calmed himself with these thoughts, walking steadily back to the bridge.
When Arlert found himself there for the second time, the entire crew had gathered. The only thing missing was him. Levi was explaining the rules of conduct on the ship, their route, and the flight dates. It might have seemed comical to watch a dark-haired man, who was only shorter than the tiny Historia, sternly explaining everything to strong guys heads and shoulders above him, if not for his menacing and commanding aura. Ackerman was capable of inspiring fear with just his appearance, no matter how short he was. A real captain.
The boy received several worried glances from his comrades and sister, but ignored them. As well as the presence of someone… Or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. The doctor glanced at Eren for just a second and noticed that the initial stunned expression that had mirrored his own shock had disappeared. The soldier looked as indifferent as he had the first second they had met, when they hadn’t realized each other’s presence. Well… that was for the best. Armin took advantage of the noise and stood at the end of the line next to Historia, opposite the escort. Eren, on the other hand, didn’t even give him a glance. Armin looked down indifferently, looking at the floor and waiting for the introduction to be over. Luckily, Levi was never one to get too excited, and so he soon moved on to a brief introduction of the team. With laconic hand movements, he pointed to each crew member in turn and named them, briefly introducing them and the functions they performed.
“Let's start with our ship's AI and part-time android - Major Hange Zoe.”
The aforementioned woman with oval glasses and a disheveled ponytail that contradicted the strict standards of androids raised her hand and playfully fiddled with her fingers in greeting. Looking at this, Ackerman snorted barely audibly.
“I will warn you right away, she is quite expressive, so if you do not want your ears to wither from tons of information and excessive enthusiasm, I advise you not to ask about anything.”
Sighing, the captain continued, holding out an open palm towards Jean.
“Second Lieutenant Jean Kirstein - the ship's pilot and my deputy, Lieutenant Mikasa Ackerman - second pilot and gunner; Staff Sergeant Connie Springer - navigator; Staff Sergeant Ymir Yeager - gunner.”
Levi paused for a moment, then twisted his lips slightly into a barely discernible grin. There was a barely noticeable sarcastic note in his voice, which probably only people who knew him could discern.
“And now the people with whom I do not advise quarreling, because they will be responsible for your well-being and comfort on board. Sergeant Sasha Blause - cook, flight attendant - Historia Arlert and junior lieutenant of the medical service - Armin Arlert, our medic and translator.”
When it was his turn, Armin finally looked up, and therefore managed to notice how, for some unknown reason, Eren's face darkened slightly. They finally met each other's eyes, and something vaguely reminiscent of malice flashed in their green irises. Or disappointment…
And you still dare to be disappointed in me… the doctor managed to suppress the irritation that appeared out of nowhere and only clenched his teeth.
Lord, give him the strength to survive these one and a half months…
Levi was silent for a few moments, giving time to absorb the information received, and then began.
“And now to business: departure in two hours, during which time a medical exam must be completed-”
He was interrupted by the sudden roar of a siren, muffled by the glass windows. A second later, Hange, first in line next to Levi, perked up and said:
“The station has declared an alarm, we need to depart immediately-”
The end of the phrase was drowned out by an unexpected roar from outside - a crimson flash of an explosion from one of the ships appeared in the darkness of the closed docks. Armin flinched, exchanging glances with Mikasa. A split second of confusion, and Levi, drawing his eyebrows together, turned to Jean in a steely tone, “Immediate departure! Hange, close the airlocks and entry compartments, turn on the hyperdrives!”
“But the port is not open!” Jean exclaimed, already sitting in the pilot's chair, fingering the levers and keys.
Mikasa took her place two meters away from him, and Ymir, rough and sinewy and covered in freckles, was below by the guns. Armin grabbed Historia and Sasha by the hands, seating them in the empty additional chairs at the control panel.
“No one will open it now, we'll fly right through it.” Levi answered, striding to his place on the bridge.
The engines roared and hummed, the wiring sparked from the shock waves.
“Whoever is standing - sit down or lie down and hold on to the railing!”
Suddenly the floor shook from the power of the explosion that thundered under the neighboring ship. A bright flash of flame, blinding white, hit his eyes very close, practically at the side of the "Wings of Freedom".
A series of crashes on the station, the wail of sirens and secondary explosions of destroyed ships - everything mixed together, and outside the bridge windows one could see only a mess of fire and twisted metal debris. The flaming remains of the ships tragically fell from their places down. The next moment, Jean gave the engines thrust for a minimal acceleration before the hyperspace jump.
Nothing compares to the distortion of matter at the moment of entering hyperspace ...
However, this time, the usually breathtaking procedure was associated more with horror than awe.
An unusually hard jolt, a monstrous grinding of the scorched port gates against the hull of the ship and hissing sparks of an overloaded onboard system.
Armin, running down the stairs between the decks to arrange the escort people under the panel together with Connie, lost his balance from a sharp jerk under his feet. Having flown one and a half meters towards the floor, he closed his eyes, ready to hit the corrugated aluminum, but contrary to expectations, instead of pain, Armin felt a strong grip on his shoulder and a collision with something softer. They pressed against him from behind, and the doctor, hearing only the roar, covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes.
Lie down, A paradoxically, ironically and very untimely thought flashed through his head in response to Levi's earlier words. Deeply buried memories flashed in time with the explosions outside - they were almost identical, and Armin could smell the sulfur of old shells... Everything inside shrank and went cold - the guy forgot who he was and where for several endless seconds. The world was different...
The sky was red with blue tints...
The grass was green and smoking, scarlet splashes on white fabric and...
A dance of flames, crumpled and torn like a paper ball in a hand, and in its place came a blurred pattern of hyperspace stars.
The ship shook dazzlingly for a few moments, before the powerful hum of the engines became uneven and alarmingly loud, heart-rending. The system gave a second rumble, and then, when the ship shook more strongly than before, the scattered hyperspace outside the windows dissolved.
The engines screeched, made a few booming claps, and died.
A ringing, tense silence ensued.
-
For a few seconds or an eternity, Armin heard nothing but the beating of his heart in his ears and his own heavy breathing, saw nothing but darkness... The red and white flashes before his eyes disappeared, and the doctor reminded himself of what, where and when this was happening. He carefully opened his eyes, focusing on the corrugated floor, and only then did the adrenaline gradually begin to let go of him. The world returned to its outlines and lost its ghostly smell of sulfur.
The second thing the doctor felt was the warmth of someone else's body and breath on the back of his head, the iron grip of fingers on his shoulder...
Armin carefully removed his hands from his ears and discovered that during the fall, someone had put their hand under his head, thereby protecting it from hitting the floor. Turning his head slightly, he saw Eren.
He was looking tensely over his shoulder at the surroundings, and only froze when Armin moved. As soon as their eyes met, the doctor immediately sat up, moving away. The hand clutching his shoulder disappeared.
The rest of Connie's escort - the only ones besides the two of them who didn't have a place on the bridge - carefully rose from the floor. The red-haired guy helped the dark-haired girl up, who had fallen next to the navigation console and was clutching her hand to her chest, while the blond bearded man picked up the scattered cigarettes from the stairs.
Connie's muffled voice rang out in the air.
“What was that...?”
Armin ran his hand through his hair and tried his best to concentrate on the task at hand.
comrade's question, and not on how Eren sat down behind him slowly and without a word.
Hange answered, “Seconds before the emergency siren, there was an emergency alert for terrorist activity. Therefore, I believe the station was just subjected to a terrorist attack…”
Armin remembered Historia mentioning the enhanced checks at the entrance when they met.
Apparently that wasn't enough… flashed through his mind. Brushing the thought aside, he bit his lip and stood up, loudly asking everyone present,
“Is everyone okay? Is anyone injured?”
A negative hum was heard in response - no one was hurt. At least not noticeably... Armin could tell for sure that most likely the escort on the lower deck had bruises or abrasions. Like... No. Unlike him. The doctor turned and looked at Eren, who was massaging his left arm. He only had time to frown at the noticeable redness on the other's skin before the android turned to Levi and continued to outline the situation. Brown eyes stared at the captain with all seriousness.
"As a result of the explosions, going straight through the port gate, and the unprepared hyperspace jump, the FTL and hyperdrives, communication and navigation systems were damaged. At the moment, it is impossible to determine our location or send a distress signal."
It seemed that Ackerman's expression did not change one iota, but Armin could tell that he was getting darker with every word the major said. To summarize briefly, Hange adjusted her glasses and sighed.
"In short, we're in deep shit, guys."
"Do we have the ability to repair the systems ourselves?" Levi asked, and the android shook her head.
"Hyperdrives - no. It is possible to restore the FTL engines, navigation or communication, but there are only enough funds for one of the systems - not enough materials to repair everything.”
The captain considered the situation for a few moments, deciding which of the three critical systems was most needed at this moment... Three seconds of silence, and then a short order was heard:
“Begin repairing the navigation immediately.”
Before the broken parts fly off into space.
Hange grinned and closed her eyes:
“Yeah.” She immediately turned to the people on the lower deck and asked loudly, “Gentlemen from the escort, is there a mechanic among you?”
Armin noticed movement out of the corner of his eye - Eren raised his hand and spoke for the first time.
“I am.”
The android was already heading for the exit from the bridge. She waved her hand expressively and said in a resounding commanding tone:
“You're coming with me!”
“Yes.” Yeager rose from the floor and quickly followed Major Zoe. Armin's medical instinct made him pull him up.
“You have an injured arm!” Despite his raised tone, the voice was dry and even.
“Then you will examine him, Armin. Take care of the rest of the crew and the escort.” Levi's quiet voice was unexpectedly close. The medic did not notice when he approached. Ackerman was still looking at him with a hint of the same primal concern as ten minutes ago.
God... ten minutes ago...
They were in the port less than ten minutes ago.
Just a quarter of an hour ago there was a clear course and plan. Now there is not even a location...
Armin suddenly realized that he did not have the strength to be horrified or worried.
He simply ran his hand through his disheveled hair, pursed his lips and said, “Yes, captain.”
Turning to the rest of the people on the deck, Arlert raised his hand, attracting attention. “Now we will go to the medical bay, regardless of whether you think you have injuries or not. Due to the circumstances, I didn't have time to conduct a medical examination, so we'll do that now.”
Armin made sure that the new passengers and comrades heard him, then lowered his hand and, adjusting his robe, stepped towards the exit from the bridge. He threw everything out of his head and concentrated on the task at hand.
“Please follow me.”
-
When Hange and Eren were far enough from the bridge to stop hearing the voices of the team, the android spoke again,
“You were added to the escort list at the very last moment, although the flight was planned for two months. An unexpected business trip?” Hange asked in a teasing tone, but was met with only stunned silence.
Eren silently followed her, and only his eyebrows, barely meeting on the bridge of his nose, spoke of discomfort.
“Oh. By the way, I know you!” The android suddenly said when they reached the airlock and began to put on spacesuits.
“No, of course I know you as a member of the escort, it would be strange if I didn’t know…” Hange muttered hastily, after which she returned to her ringing speech. “Armin told me about you! It’s nice to finally see Eren Yeager in person!”
The android, despite her joyful and inquisitive tone, looked at the soldier without excessive warmth. Quite the opposite. Not that Eren noticed it - he was focused on the spacesuit. And yet, after someone else’s words, a shadow ran across his face. The major’s eyes did not miss how the muscles under the skin moved almost imperceptibly - the man clenched his jaw.
And yet not a sound escaped in response.
Flashing her glasses, Hange gasped, as if guessing.
“Aa... So you are one of those! The silent type, who won't give himself away with a single word…” She giggled, as if spellbound. “I love to see through people like that! You have a stone face, and yet you're bursting with emotions that you can't contain…”
The android put on the spacesuit and rubbed her palms together.
“Small muscle movements, heartbeat, breathing, the smallest changes in pheromones! So many signs that are almost impossible for an ordinary person to catch, and I can notice them all!” The android clenched her fist and pressed it to the area of the spacesuit where the chin should be. Her voice trembled with an incomprehensible excitement, even muffled through the glass. “What curious people you are after all…”
She muttered with inspiration and a throaty laugh, before Eren, hesitating slightly as if in doubt, barely touched her shoulder. The Major seemed to wake up and blink, turning her attention to him.
"Oh, right," was all Hange said before taking a repair case from the special compartment.
"One last thing..." she muttered, attaching two safety lines to herself and Eren. After checking the strength, they could finally begin.
The inner airlock doors closed behind them, protecting the ship from depressurization. The sound of air being released was heard, and in the next moment, the path to outer space was open.
The stars here were... unfamiliar.
Of course, when you travel a lot in the universe and the environment is constantly changing, the perception of the star map is somewhat blurred. The positions of the stars are never the same long enough to get used to them, and yet there are some general outlines that you recognize. Somehow, but you recognize it...
Maybe it's nonsense, or maybe some kind of psychological trick, but the starry picture here caused a feeling of alienness.
Where the hell did they end up...
The android deftly pushed off from the edge of the airlock and headed for the area of the ship that housed the external component of the navigation system. Eren followed her, albeit a little less gracefully.
On the way, they noticed several flying, twisted parts that had detached from the ship after arriving here, and many scratches on the hull. Some of the ruts were quite weak, some miraculously did not reach the electronics. The hyperdrives looked pretty battered and sparked not very encouragingly. As the pair approached the navigation bay, Hange heard Eren's slightly distorted voice coming from the transmitter.
“Major Zoe, if you're an android, why can't you repair it using your neural link with the ship? Why are we here?”
The android chuckled and attached the repair case to the ship's hull with magnetic pads so it wouldn't fly away.
“Good question, Lieutenant Yeager. We have non-classical damage, and before using the neural auto repair system, we need to patch up the hull at least a little. That's the downside of new models like ours - our neural link with the ship is not all-powerful, and the physical components for repair, which have become less interesting thanks to the addition of the link, take up too much space on board.” Hange muttered thoughtfully as she dug through the contacts and metal plates. She pointed to the radio unit responsible for echolocation, and Eren began to work on it. “I assume your squad hasn't had any cases like this yet? In battle, it's mostly energy damage to the ship, isn't it?”
Without being distracted from the minor machinations over the receiver, Eren hummed in agreement.
Hange giggled.
“I see... I'll tell you the details sometime. As a mechanic to a mechanic.”
That's where their dialogue came to an end.
-
Levi really wanted tea with Valerian.
When the bridge was empty, the man squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and took a deep breath. Something from the depths of his head began to press on his skull with a pulsating pain, and it seemed that only now was what was happening fully beginning to be processed by the brain. As a military man, Ackerman was accustomed to reacting instantly to situations - often lives depended on it. Not only yours, but also your subordinates, and in this case, your children.
However, when the need for complete composure passed and the critical point was passed, Levi could finally understand what a minefield they had all walked into. It was unpleasant to admit, but the man felt... confused.
It all happened in less than ten minutes. A volume that was hard to be prepared for. Not so much as a soldier, but as... a person. Too unexpected. Too fast.
Was it a reason to lose his composure?
Hardly.
And yet, as the seconds passed, Levi became more and more aware of the situation and increasingly lost the line between the feelings of an officer and the feelings of a father who had finally met his son after so much time.
Was he glad to finally see this fool after nine years?
Sure, damn it.
The huge, heavy weight that had been weighing on his shoulders for almost ten years seemed to have fallen off: Yeager was alive, safe and sound. Even if for some reason he was accompanied by a bearded bastard... Levi almost gritted his teeth at the thought of him, but now he forced himself to shift his focus. The second damn Yeager wasn't his top priority right now.
Did he have any questions for the younger one?
A lot.
Levi knew how angry Armin was at Eren, and he knew how many stupid things Mikasa and Armin did because of him... Yeager's appearance now was like a grenade thrown into the room, and Ackerman had a presentiment of a fantastic showdown - the brat would certainly make a noise, he always knew how to do that. What was that brief moment worth when the medic and his friend entered the bridge - for a second Levi thought that in front of him again stood the abandoned boy, in whom fresh pain was so clearly visible. The blood oozing from the wound had rotted and turned black, and agony had long since turned the timid dreamer into an embittered and tired little animal, resigned to the lack of control over his own life... And yet, at that moment, Ackerman saw this spark - bright and alive, albeit painful. Sometimes Levi forgot what kind of boys they all were... Their journey promises to be difficult, now that the air on board is ready to sparkle with tension. And yet...
What Levi wanted most of all now was to understand what had happened.
Let Mikasa and Armin get angry and fight with their childhood friend who had disappeared from their lives for nine years, Ackerman just wanted to talk to him.
Levi stood motionless on the bridge for a while, then removed his hand from the bridge of his nose and headed for the airlocks.
He asked Hange if they were finished. Receiving an affirmative answer, the captain quickened his pace and stopped in front of the closed doors of the compartment.
The man watched through the glass as the android and Yeager returned. Two figures in spacesuits appeared inside, and the next moment the outer doors closed. Oxygen began to flow into the airlock, and artificial gravity was returned. The inner doors opened. Hange took off her spacesuit in a few quick movements and ran up to him.
“We've patched up the navigation, and the neural link with the ship has already started working - it'll be ready in half an hour! To be honest, everything looks worse from the outside than I thought: we'll need major repairs when we find ourselves on an inhabited planet with a repair station. However…” The android changed her excited, cheerful tone to a quieter, almost conspiratorial one. She glanced sideways at Eren, who was taking off his spacesuit, and clapped Levi on the shoulder in understanding. “We'll discuss this when the nanites have finished their job. I'll leave you!”
Receiving a curt nod, the major fluttered away. A ringing silence hung in the corridor.
Levi stared at Eren. Eren looked straight at the floor while he took off his spacesuit, not rushing to meet the captain's gaze. He seemed not to notice him at all.
When the uniform was in place and the repair case was in its compartment, Yeager took a step towards the exit of the airlock. Ackerman blocked his way.
Eren finally looked up, staring at the man, and they stood like that for a couple of minutes. Levi... didn't know what he was looking for. Something. Finally, he chuckled and folded his arms over his chest.
“What a mug, Yeager... I barely recognized you.”
Eren pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes slightly. He straightened up slightly.
“Do you need something, Captain?” The guy asked quietly, almost through clenched teeth.
Levi also narrowed his eyes.
“Yes. I want to know what you're doing here.”
“Working.”
“No, you don't understand me. I want to know what the hell brought you to Marley as an officer, Lieutenant. Where have you been for nine years and why are you showing up on a flight to Shiganshina now?”
Eren clenched his teeth, and an incomprehensible anger flashed in his green irises. It seeped into his gaze with a poisonous gleam and subtly, but as if changed his face... It was both familiar and completely new. Levi could not shake off the dissonance between the images of the young and fierce boy and the one he saw now. The sharpened features of the face, the wrinkle between the eyebrows, the darkened irises... But the main thing was the absence of light.
Whatever had happened to Yeager these nine years, it clearly brought little joy.
This thought responded with a dull pain of regret.
“I apologize, captain, but I need to go to the medical bay.” Yeager briefly waved his hand, damaged after the fall. Not a single question was honored with an answer.
The guy's voice, despite all the anger blazing somewhere in the depths of his being, was... calm. Indifferent.
And Levi realized that he didn't know the man standing in front of him. The man who had once looked at him with a mixture of horror, awe, and sincere love...
Eren passed him, and Ackerman didn't stop him. He only turned around to look at his broad back. There was an uneasy silence in his thoughts: Levi didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think...
He also needed time - at least a little - to figure out what to do with what was now.
He only hoped that Yeager and Arlert's private meeting wouldn't end in disaster.
Chapter 2: White on olive
Summary:
Eren stood there silently, frozen like a deer in headlights. He seemed surprised and annoyed to see Armin there, as if his attempt to escape Levi had been a colossal failure because he had stumbled upon something worse.
Arlert could clearly see that expression, which said, damn, I made a mistake.
Notes:
And so, you are welcomed to the second chapter, in which we will gradually begin to reveal the relationships of all the characters! Of course, thanks to Gilded Lily <3
Enjoy reading :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Fortunately, the inspection didn't take long.
No one had sustained any injuries after the flight, and the brief analysis was completed in the blink of an eye. At least, that was the case for Armin's tired brain.
Allergies, personal contraindications and subtleties regarding flights, vaccinations, prescriptions... Pulse, breathing, nervous system reaction. Everything felt familiar and monotonous. In fact, this inspection was a safety measure, often unnecessary when it came to the military. Almost everyone was healthy as a bull, and yet necessity is necessity, and Armin understood that well.
The results of his comrades were quite predictable - Arlert already knew most of the health features of his crew, so he moved on to the newcomers quite quickly. Finally, the medic could take a closer look at the rest of the escort, whose attention was torn away by Eren.
The first to get to Armin's couch was a woman with black hair and a tired face. The guy quickly looked through her medical record on the tablet, noting in his head the underlined information about her outstanding endurance in exhaustion training, tolerance to many medications and high pain threshold.
Was it because of her childhood in a labor colony? Or just a peculiarity of the body?
His blue eyes literally lingered for two seconds on the top column for memorizing personal information.
Pieck Finger, lieutenant, intelligence officer and signalman. Useful.
Armin put the tablet aside, and with a practiced movement he put on latex gloves and removed the stethoscope from his neck, after which he addressed the girl directly:
“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Finger. Please take off the top part of the uniform, I will conduct an examination.” The guy said politely and almost automatically, inserting the olives of the stethoscope into her ears.
Pieck nodded and obediently followed the instructions.
She didn't make any unnecessary movements, didn't speak, didn't interfere, and was generally a "pleasant patient," as Armin sometimes put it in his head. In the end, the medic treated the girl's hand that had received an electrical burn.
He noted that you can form a first impression of a person during an examination: how they move, listen, look, respond, tense up or relax, how much and what they say...
A thought flashed through his head that it would be pleasant to work with Pieck.
Unfortunately, the rest of the escort did not receive such an assessment, even if they would never know it.
Next in line was a guy with red hair, apparently his age. The couch groaned in pain from the way he sank into his seat. As did Armin's last nerve cell, which was preparing to die. The medic only closed his eyelids for a moment, so as not to let such a disrespectful trifle upset him, and then picked up the tablet again. The first thing that caught his eye was the photo in the corner of the file, and Armin jerked slightly from a suppressed chuckle: the young man's hair looked more like an oddly woven chicken nest than hair. Fortunately, the poor guy's sense of style had apparently improved over the years of service.
The medic had enough self-control not to show his snorts, and he simply turned his gaze to the medical points of the document. Excellent vision, accuracy and endurance, an allergy to the components of some analgesics. Armin mentally went through the list of those who were on the ship, and noted two items that should be put in the far drawer for this flight.
He glanced at the top columns of the dossier: Floch Forster, junior lieutenant, marksman with sniper skills. He should have self-control and restraint, but judging by the simple number with the couch, a leg twitching in irritation and eyes full of defiance, these qualities come exclusively in service. Armin sighed quietly and went through the same procedure as he had with Pieck.
Earlier suspicions about his temperament were confirmed: Floch was not distinguished by tact and moved rather... unceremoniously, if you can say so. The shooter shamelessly assessed him with his eyes and clearly did not find something he wanted, answered questions with a note of hostility. Armin preferred not to think about what could have caused such a reaction to him specifically, and ignored such feints - he was already familiar with all this from his cadet days, and now it did not affect him too much. He was used to it.
"Are you really a junior lieutenant?" Forster finally asked, once the medic allowed him to put his clothes back on.
"Why are you suddenly interested?" Armin ignored the transition to his title, looking at the tablet and quickly filling out the examination form instead.
"You look too skinny for a soldier. Did they push you through the service?" A certain disdain seeped into the voice.
Armin's eyebrow twitched, his fingers hovered over the screen. For a second, he was dumbfounded by such a level of tactlessness. Apparently, Levi's advice not to quarrel with him and his precious friends flew past Floch's ears. It wasn't that Arlert was going to ruin their relationship right now, do dirty tricks or add allergens to his food, but the chance for friendliness was missed.
Armin raised his head and looked Floch in the eyes.
“I studied well. And technically, I'm more of a doctor than a soldier.”
A short pause, after which the medic put the tablet aside and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Is that all?”
Forster folded his arms across his chest, stubbornly not looking away for a few seconds. His light brown eyes shone something incomprehensible, but definitely unpleasant, and then they suddenly closed. Floch chuckled and got up from the couch.
“Yeah. See you soon.” he said, grabbing his uniform jacket as he left.
Armin watched him go and thought wearily that it would be difficult to work with this guy.
Was there a chance that the reason for this behavior - at least partially - was related to Eren? Were they well acquainted? Had he told him something? Or was it just dislike at first sight?
Such thoughts caused a bitterness to spread against his tongue, and Arlert quickly brushed them off, calling the last of the escort for the moment. Eren's examination, apparently, would be later.
A bearded blonde man with round glasses came behind the screen. Armin blinked and briefly remembered how he collected cigarettes from the bridge after the crash incident. The man slowly sat down on the couch and took off his glasses, wiping them with a rag while the doctor leafed through his information. Unlike the previous escort couple, this time the first thing that caught his eye was the personal information.
Zeke Yeager.
Armin's eyebrows shot up as he stared forward. The bearded man was still rubbing his glasses and didn't seem to be paying much attention to him, waiting for the actual examination. The guy stared at him for a couple of seconds, after which he finally returned to the tablet.
Doesn't look like him... he thought.
The first option was that Zeke and Eren just had the same last name. After all, on a universal scale, it's not that unlikely - Ymir Yeager had the title in the Wings of Freedom, and she definitely had no connections with Eren.
The second option was a suddenly discovered family branch, which was less likely, but also not impossible, and-
And it was probably worth it to stop thinking about.
Armin blinked several times quickly to stop the whirlwind of thoughts, and focus on the task at hand.
So.
Zeke Yeager, Senior Lieutenant, a chemical bioengineer working with chemical and biological weapons. His activity is mainly intellectual due to restrictions on service due to a certain degree of myopia... Armin ran through the lines and did not see any deviations from the norm, except for poor vision.
The examination also passed without excesses and much tension, but unlike Floch, who expressed obvious hostility, and indifferent to Pieck’s, Zeke was more... studying in response. He didn’t really say anything, and calmly followed all instructions, and yet Armin felt his gaze on him. The assessment of the doctor's actions shone through in everything Yeager did, and to be honest, this confused Armin a little.
At the moment when Arlert was checking the relevance of the minus of someone else's vision, Zeke suddenly spoke:
“So, you are Eren's friend?”
Armin almost flinched in surprise. He raised his eyebrows in shock, and pulled back from the device for a second, confused.
Friend? Of Eren's?
Maybe he was, once upon a time...
“No.” The medic answered quietly and briefly, returning to the matter at hand and moving on to the second eye. And yet, he wanted to satisfy his initial interest. “And you?”
Zeke shrugged, and chuckled weakly.
“I don't think he likes me. Older half-brothers are generally not liked by anyone, judging by everything.”
Armin couldn't keep the surprise from his face.
Older half-brother..?
The theory of the second option was confirmed.
How?
Where?
When?
What the...
Stop, the medic cut himself off again, feeling growing nervousness. A strange lump of tension, irritation and surprise tickled the roof of his mouth, and Armin knew himself too well to understand that he should stop now and think only about the examination.
He entered the minus results into the tablet, and took a deep breath unnoticed to calm down. Having finished the last procedures, the guy concluded.
“Your minus differs from the previous indicators, so I recommend changing the glasses in the near future. Otherwise, there are no deviations or contraindications to the flight.”
Not that there is a choice now…
“You can go free.”
Zeke hesitated a little before leaving. He stood up, taking his uniform jacket with him, and chuckling under his breath as he walked away. The doors to the medical bay rustled softly, opening and closing again a few seconds later, allowing Arlert to be alone.
Armin sighed deeply and tiredly, ruffling his hair.
All that was left was to enter the examination results into the tablet, and he could lie down and get some damn sleep. There was a faint buzzing in his head from fatigue - the tension was pressing from the inside of his skull.
On the one hand, Armin was irritated that his sentimentality and ability to easily succumb to anxiety were depriving him of normal sleep before such an important flight. On the other hand, he was a little glad that he was so tired, since he would most likely be able to finally sleep normally. Probably. I wish.
The guy closed his eyes, enjoying the silence and darkness. A few moments of rest stretched out into an indefinite period of time, and it put him in a trance. Was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? What difference did it make...
Suddenly, thoughts about Eren's medical file flashed in his head, which he could access.
It was not enough to make him open his eyes and do something, but enough to relieve the feeling of calmly floating in a vacuum. The annoying desire to irritate his wound and snatch as much information as possible, to see in solitude what had been inaccessible for so many years... to plunge into the pool, to let the green-eyed bastard occupy his mind again...
Gradually, the nervous thirst became even stronger than the tiresome itch, Armin was almost twitching his leg.
He began to get angry at everything all at once: at his anxious nature and for being tired, at Eren for suddenly appearing without an invitation, at Levi for not giving him a warning, but most importantly - at himself, because he allowed all of this to touch him. He let memories and feelings timidly but inexorably knock from the bottom where they were buried...
This is unacceptable, Armin.
You have to control yourself.
You have to convince yourself that Eren is just another member of the escort, nothing more.
He is not who he once was. Or, as you thought, was...
Everything has changed.
You don't know this man...
He abandoned you... Abandoned you in this huge damn swamp...
The medic realized he was reaching for his tablet only when he heard the rustle of the doors to the medical bay opening. It pulled him out of his stupor, and he pulled his hand away.
There were no footsteps, but Armin knew for sure that he had a visitor. A specific one.
A slight smile appeared on his lips - the guy raised his head and looked at Mikasa, who cautiously peered behind the screen where he was sitting.
Armin lightly patted the place next to him, and the girl sat down next to him, pressing her thigh to his thigh. Not a word escaped either of them, but they both knew what they were going to talk about.
Not now. A little later. Maybe in a moment, or maybe in a minute... At that moment, Armin and Mikasa were just sitting side by side in comfortable silence. They had spent so many years together that each other's presence seemed natural in any form. Breathing, pulse, warmth, the smallest movements - everything was so familiar that sometimes it felt like his own.
At some point, Mikasa lowered her head onto her friend's shoulder, and Armin pressed his cheek to her hair. The black silk of the strands soothingly warmed his skin, and the guy closed his eyes again. After some time, the girl's quiet voice was heard:
“I still can't believe... that he's here.”
Armin raised his eyelids, looking ahead.
“And I don't want to believe that he's here…” He answered her just as quietly.
Mikasa didn't move.
“We were looking for him for so long, Armin…” She said, in an echo of old sadness.
“Because we couldn't come to terms with the fact that he left us behind... I don't think he'll care now. He barely glanced at me.” Without his desire, a caustic bitterness seeped into the guy's voice. Resentment.
Mikasa carefully wrapped one arm around his back in a soft embrace, pressing him slightly to herself.
“Armin…”
“This is not our Eren anymore, Mikasa. Just trust me…”
The girl did not answer, and they continued to sit silently on the couch, overcome by the melancholy ghosts of the past.
Armin knew that Mikasa was as touched by Eren's appearance as he was. He had not seen her so… defenseless, not in a long time. A lost, vulnerable look that she did not even try to hide, timid but sincere attempts to grab onto Armin, like a life preserver in the midst of overwhelming emotions.
The guy felt ashamed that he had not thought of her earlier and was immersed in his own shock.
They had both lived through the entire weight of these years… They had shared the burden of being lost and cadets, military service after graduation and years of flying on the Wings of Freedom.
They were a duet, the remainder of the trio. And even though friends couldn't heal each other's pain, or fix a multitude of problems, they stayed close. And that was more than Armin could ever ask for... Even though sometimes he felt as though he didn't deserve it.
Mikasa stayed with him, like his precious family. He couldn't let her down.
The medic carefully grabbed the other man's free hand and squeezed it tenderly.
Some more time passed in silence before Hange's voice was heard from the speaker:
“Mikasa, you're needed on the bridge!”
The girl pursed her lips in displeasure and still, after a slight hesitation, stood up from her seat. Armin immediately felt the loss of her warmth, but he didn't let the pang of sadness dig too deep into his heart. He didn't let go of the other man's hand right away: only after stroking the girl's knuckles, roughened by many training sessions, to convey his affection and support, did Armin finally unclench his fingers.
“See you at dinner.” The boy muttered, and Ackerman nodded.
“See you there.” She confirmed and left the medical bay.
Arlert was alone again.
If Hange had returned to the ship, then so had Eren. Which meant he would most likely head here...
Unless he decided to run away again.
Armin shook his head in frustration to get rid of the petty thought. Getting up from the couch and sitting at the table instead, the boy nevertheless took the tablet. If he wanted to get rid of Yeager as quickly as possible and get him out of sight, it would be better to look through his file in advance.
With an unreadable expression on his face, the medic opened the document.
Eren Yeager, lieutenant, test pilot and mechanic. The attached list of medical indicators contained a lot of good and bad: excellent strength and endurance, incredible immunity and reaction speed, but also some problems with the joints of the hands and the need for psychotropic substances to control impulsivity. Armin raised an eyebrow: he was someone who had anger issues. It was both surprising and not.
These medications weren't on the ship due to Yeager's late addition to the list, and the medic hoped that Eren was carrying them with him. Of course, from a purely medical standpoint, not that he was actually worried...
The lack of other health issues like allergies made life much easier, and the following standard items didn't attract much attention.
Well, that was enough.
Just as Armin was putting the tablet down, the doors to the medbay opened and footsteps were heard.
The guest walked a little further into the bay until the medic's desk became visible from behind the extended screen. At that moment, the footsteps stopped and Armin turned his head.
Eren stood there silently, frozen like a deer in headlights. He seemed surprised and annoyed to see Armin there, as if his attempt to escape Levi had been a colossal failure because he had stumbled upon something worse.
Arlert could clearly see that expression, which said, damn, I made a mistake.
Perhaps Yeager had forgotten that Armin was the medic of the Wings of Freedom.
Refusing to think about it any further, the doctor rose from his chair and waved his hand at the couch, simultaneously picking up the stethoscope and scanner he had abandoned.
"Sit down."
Eren's initial stupid expression disappeared, and he sat down, his expression cool again. Armin could have chalked it up to some kind of paranoia, but he could feel someone else's gaze watching his every move. It was both unnerving and a little irritating.
The medic quickly put on his gloves and picked up the stethoscope again, wiping it with ultraviolet light. At that moment, standing with his back to Eren was no longer possible, and the boy snuck a deep breath, silently asking himself for strength. He turned around and, without looking at the soldier, said:
“Take off the top of your uniform.”
“Actually, I came here because of the hand.” Yeager commented dryly, not rushing to follow the instructions.
“Actually, you didn't pass the general inspection, and your hand needs to be examined completely. Without unnecessary layers of clothing.” Armin said a little more sharply than he intended and pursed his lips. “Don't argue and just do what I say.”
In response, Eren narrowed his eyes, looking out from under a few strands of hair that had escaped from his bun. Armin could have sworn that the boy clenched his jaw. The air was gradually becoming more and more tense, even if they did not exchange a single curse word.
Eren's presence seemed more and more unnatural, absurd and, most importantly, unpleasant. Armin wished he wasn't here. So that the childhood anger and resentment that had tormented him for years, eating and burning him from the inside, would stop seeping through the dam and not make him feel... so disgusting. He felt how just the sight of Eren was gradually winding his nerves around a metaphorical fist, and oh, if this went on, sooner or later the medic would just explode. Arlert couldn't let that happen, no-no-no...
Life - a filthy, uncontrollable, dirty stream - could have stopped tormenting him already.
But no, no way...
Less than ten seconds passed before Yeager finally pulled off his uniform jacket and sleeveless vest. A well-built, trained figure could have delighted anyone, especially coupled with a tanned copper shade, but Armin couldn't think of anything except the desire to slap him in the face out of pure petty anger. Alas, such sweet thoughts had to be pushed to the very bottom. There, where the bitter, burning sadness and anger hardened by resentment were stored.
Armin nonverbally forced Eren to straighten up and listened to him, periodically saying, breathe or, don’t breathe . The scanner counted the pulse and pressure, as well as the absence of infections.
The medic stared blankly at the slightly increased heart rate for a few seconds. The rest of the indicators were normal, and the medical record clearly stated that Yeager, as a test pilot, had no and could not have any heart problems. Armin glanced quickly at the lieutenant and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Angry? Maybe.
However… it hardly mattered.
The guy put the devices aside and finally grabbed the other man’s injured arm, carefully lifting it and turning it slightly to examine it. A slight frown and a cold, critical gaze could have gotten rid of any deceptive feeling of tenderness created by careful movements.
Barely running the latex-covered pads along the edge of the torn skin on the back of the palm and the growing bruise, Armin pressed on the wrist joint and into the palm on the bones.
“Does it hurt?”
“Just the skin.” Yeager answered quietly, and the medic let go of his hand, retreating to the shelf with drugs.
“Then be glad - nothing is broken, dislocated and almost not bruised. A scrape and a sore spot, nothing more. Fine motor skills may be out of order, but otherwise the hand is fully functional.” Armin took out a bottle of antiseptic, healing ointment, cotton wool and a bandage.
Sitting down next to Eren and still not touching him with his hips or knees, he took his hand again. The medic ran a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic over the abrasion, and rubbed in the ointment with precise and quick movements, wrapping it around the bandage.
Maybe he should have said thank you for not letting Eren bash his head in. Maybe…
The words of gratitude were stuck in his throat and couldn’t get out, no matter how hard Armin tried to force his conscientiousness to push them out.
All this time he had kept his head down so as not to see the other’s face, and yet he was burning with the sensation of a dull green gaze. At some point it turned into an almost physical itch, and Armin still risked raising his eyes for a split second. Eren was indeed looking at him, although the medic didn’t have time to discern how exactly. Instead, he stared again at the process of wrapping the limb with a bandage and pulled it a little harder than necessary. The guy almost didn’t think when he blurted out:
“Could you please stop drilling me with that creepy gloomy look? I’ve gotten out of the habit of seeing it for nine whole years.” It was quiet, but filled with something caustic, repulsive. Almost sarcastic. Clearly far from a thank you for helping.
As much as Armin wanted to force himself to let it all go and not think about Eren, he just had to accept his presence on board. He couldn't drown that dark and purulent part of himself. The wound that never fully closed and began to rot, causing unbearable pain - it had changed him long ago.
He and Eren were so close... So many years, full of unaccountable and selfless affection, love... It was all gone. Eren took it with him, leaving a hole that Armin could never fill. Instead of giving himself freedom, he ended up ruining all his dreams, all his hopes, distorting his own "I" into something he always despised...
If only his little version could see what the once dreamer had eventually turned into. Who became a boy who believed with all his soul in a good world and good people...
If it weren't for Eren...
Eren, who had enough fortitude to just up and run away from them, unlike the too weak and too attached Armin.
The medic clenched his teeth and forced himself to stop pulling on the bandage.
However, the hand in his grip suddenly tensed and, despite the fact that the bandage was not finished, clenched into a fist. The voice very close bordered on a growl.
“Very funny.”
Armin raised his head and met a gaze full of burning, deep-seated rage. Eren flared up like a match, and the medic felt the tension that almost turned the other's body into stone.
The sight of someone else's anger ignited his own, because why the hell was Eren angry?!
“Yes, it's damn funny!”
This phrase made Yeager almost grind his teeth, and Armin raised his voice slightly. “Like seeing you, nine damn years later, Eren! At least you recognized us!”
“What, I shouldn't have? Is it inconvenient?! Is it in the way somehow?” Eren pulled his hand out of the other man's grip and rose from the couch, looming over the sitting medic. Both fists clenched until the knuckles turned white, and the bandage rolled like a useless roll across the floor of the medbay.
Armin clenched his jaw and rose as well, practically pushing Yeager away from his dominant position and defiantly throwing his head back. He wasn't going to be scared by such nonsense as a threatening pose.
Anger boiled inside him like a geyser that had shot out, displacing all the words he had wanted to say for so many years. There was nothing left but a sore grievance: no longing, no hope, no timid, weak, almost ghostly and painful, but still joy, which he wanted to deny so much...
For the first time in his life, Armin wanted to stab someone with all his might, to hurt them. He would have been terrified of this revelation when he was little...
“It's in the way, yes! I've been getting used to living without you for so many years, and then your mug shows up again! If you had stayed in Marley, we would never have found you there!” Armin took a step forward, hissing the words through his teeth.
Eren, stunned by his anger, did not retreat, and the medic came almost right up to him. He could even distinguish the deep growl coming from Yeager. How like him...
“Did you think that if you showed up here, everyone would immediately rush to embrace you, ‘Oh, our beloved little Eren!’?” Armin asked ingratiatingly, after which a poison entered his voice that he himself did not expect from himself. “Well, fuck you, Eren. I don't want to see you, it's just a shame we're God knows where and I can't throw you off board.”
The medic hissed the last part, and Eren's growling suddenly died down. He was still looking at him with eyes blazing with rage - Yeager's heavily breathing figure looked almost ominous and shadowed against the background of the medbay light, and the sparkling green of his irises would have made anyone shudder. In the silence that followed, the crunch of knuckles was heard.
Eren slowly raised his palm with trembling fingers and spread them out in a semicircle, as if he wanted to strangle the man in front of him. Armin didn't break eye contact for a second. He wasn't sure what Eren could read in his eyes, but in the end, Eren cracked his knuckles from the tension and, clenching his fist, lowered his hand.
“Go to hell.” Yeager almost spat as he turned around.
He tore off the dangling bandage in one motion, grabbed the uniform lying on the couch, and stormed out of the medical bay with the unfinished bandage.
The same second the doors closed, Armin felt something akin to a heavy, crushing despondency. Disappointment.
The guy almost instantly regretted everything he said, and yet he wasn’t going to take back not a single word. Yes, he should have said it a bit differently. He shouldn’t have let his resentment take over and say not only how angry he was, but also how he yearned, how he searched, how desperately he hoped to meet again someday and see such a beloved smile...
Yes, Armin should have said all this. And yet he didn’t lie. And therefore, it would be useless to renounce his own words.
The medic exhaled and sank to the floor of the medical bay, his hands folded limply on his knees. He had no strength. No desire to do anything either.
The first fucking conversation in nine years...
Now he didn't even want to cry.
-
Mikasa suppressed a twinge of anxiety, scanning the dining room from time to time and not finding Armin. Ten minutes had already passed, and he still hadn't come to dinner. The girl understood that perhaps the guy had simply fallen asleep - he had been so tired lately, and after so much stress from the events of today, only a damned person wouldn’t fall asleep. However, Ackerman couldn't help but worry.
Historia was worried next to her, too, but she was still a little calmer about her brother. Besides, she was more... accustomed to being at a distance from him than Mikasa was.
This was a slightly complicated story between brother and sister, and now was not the time to remember it. Ackerman thought about what was relevant.
She knew that Armin would most likely run into Eren today, if he hadn't already. And this thought... bothered her. It made her more nervous than usual, go somewhere deep inside herself and feel a corrosive nervousness crawling under her skin.
Eren ...
This name was the cause of many emotions, but now Mikasa felt only cautious. She wanted to feel puppy-joy and relief from the fact that she saw him. Many years had passed, full of angry confusion and deep longing, but now she just wanted to see her family member again. Maybe talk to him and find out what happened. Or just talk. Or just sit next to him and feel the familiar, native warmth again...
The red scarf that the girl had not dared to throw away lay folded in her personal belongings.
Ackerman looked around the dining room again, but this time, instead of Armin, she saw Eren.
He entered, gloomy as a cloud and with a bandaged hand. The main part of the bandage looked normal, but closer to the wrist, the gauze was loosened and tangled, and the tip was clumsily and rather poorly tucked under the coils. Yeager took the tray and, taking the offered dinner set, sat in the corner, as far away from the rest of the crew as possible.
Mikasa took her tray, quietly apologized to Historia and went to the table where Eren was sitting. She sat down next to him in silence, not meeting his gaze and started to eat her soup.
The girl didn't want to say anything because she didn't know what to say. And yet, there was a desire just to be near him. To let him know that she wanted to be near him. Maybe to delude herself a little that nothing had changed since the old days, and that they could still comfortably coexist with each other even in silence nine years later.
However, Eren obviously didn't share this desire.
As soon as Mikasa sat down on the bench, he immediately stood up and slipped out from behind the table, going to the table with the other members of the escort. Not a single word or glance.
The girl stared at his back, confused and upset.
There was something unpleasant and sad in her chest. Ackerman was amazed at her naivety when she thought that she had gotten used to this feeling of heaviness.
She watched the man go like a lost kitten for a few minutes, before accepting the rejection and eating her soup alone.
After dinner, she and the crew, minus Armin, stood on the bridge. The escort had been released to rest, and they were currently thinking about their next plan of action.
Levi stood in front of a holographic table, on which their immediate space environment was visible - the navigation system was working, albeit with some defects and not as powerfully. The burnt-out amplifier would also have to be spent in the future. But what they had was enough to find an inhabited planet with a station nearby. The only one among the nearby planetary systems.
Liberio .
A small working colony, not very often used in routes due to its remoteness and quite isolated, but still working. A seedy place, and yet it was their hope for repairs and resumption of the route to Shiganshina. At least, they wouldn't survive until the next more populated and developed station if they flew without hyper and superluminal engines.
As a navigator, Connie calculated and gave a week and a half of travel to Liberio in the current conditions.
Levi took note of this and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
“I've never been to Liberio and haven't heard from any ships about it, so it's unknown what the situation is like there and whether they'll have everything they need for repairs. Without communication, it's impossible to find out or even request permission to dock. Once we're there, I'll first send a shuttle with someone who will notify the local authorities and get us permission. We'll repair what we can and head to another repair station if necessary. I'll decide who will be in the shuttle while we'll be on our way. Questions?”
There was a unanimous: "No, captain."
Ackerman nodded.
“In that case,” he glanced at Hange, who brought up a rather large table on the screen. “A cleaning schedule for the duration of the journey.”
While the female part of the crew sighed mournfully, Connie and Jean groaned in unison. However, the captain's stern look quickly cut off their whining.
They should have guessed that this would happen...
Despite the new ship disinfection systems, Captain Levi always preferred additional traditional cleaning, in which his crew occupied an exclusively slavish position. Every room, every airlock and corridor, even the ventilation systems - everything was subjected to manual cleaning.
Not a single. Damn. centimeter was allowed to be missed.
This torture was carried out once a month, and alas, it was impossible to avoid it.
Connie buried his forehead in Jean's shoulder, and Jean sympathetically patted him on the back.
“One more whine and you'll be scrubbing the ship with toothbrushes like you did in your cadet days.” Levi said irritably, folding his arms across his chest. Every time it's a damn circus, as if they don't do it regularly.
“At least let the escort clean up with us this time!” Jean snorted, not wanting anyone to get a free ride.
“I second that.” Ymir raised her hand, putting her other arm around Historia's shoulders.
“They're passengers, it's not their job to look after the ship.” Mikasa objected, frowning slightly. The incident with Eren was still fresh on her mind and was affecting her mood.
“Yes, but it could help improve our relations with them. Besides, because of the accident, we have almost no means of entertainment, and there's not much to do…” Historia reinforced the proposal, considering the problem from a work point of view, like a flight attendant.
Ymir smirked and hugged her tighter, muttering something like, "My girl is always right."
"We can dump the cargo hold or storage on them..." Connie muttered, hoping to get rid of the most unpleasant parts. Sasha and Jean immediately poked him in the shoulder.
"I won't let them near the food!" Sasha protested in unison with Jean.
"Connie, are you an idiot? Suggesting passengers hang around our provisions and equipment?"
Springer immediately raised his hands in surrender:
"Okay, okay!"
Levi clicked his tongue loudly, and the discussion ended in an instant. Hange giggled under her breath, but then fell silent, covering her mouth with her hand. She always found it amusing how the crew would shut up in the face of Ackerman's authority, even though he was below all of them except for Historia. As if they were a bunch of children in front of a strict father.
In a way, it wasn't far from the truth...
Ackerman folded his arms over his chest and looked at the android. She knew that look - the captain was waiting for her opinion. Despite the fact that Hange was not human, she was better at reading other people, and sometimes Levi turned to her for reliable communication. He could be vulnerable in front of everyone without anyone realizing it, and the android felt something akin to joy at the thought of this trust.
The major grinned and put her hands on her hips.
“Yes, I think it's a good idea. Although, of course, they have the right to refuse…”
Levi closed his eyes and after a few seconds of silence, he finally agreed to involve the escort in cleaning.
The crew began to quietly rejoice - more hands meant less work. Besides, many were eager to expand their social circle a little. Without much indignation, the crew began to study the cleaning schedule and divide the ship's compartments in the hope of snatching the least unpleasant ones. Friendly arguments, irritated sighs and competition for comfortable areas - all this was quite familiar, and even somewhat relaxing. Something familiar that made the tense situation with the accident in the middle of an open and unfamiliar space easier...
Amidst the general hubbub, Jean quietly approached Mikasa and asked, “Everything alright? After meeting the escort, you and Armin don’t seem like yourselves.”
He glanced sideways at the girl. She did not answer, which made Kirstein frown.
“Is it because of that guy? I haven't had time to look through his files yet.”
Suddenly his eyes widened in guess: of all the people in the Universe, these two could only react to one person like that. The pilot unconsciously raised his voice slightly.
“Don't tell me it’s damn Yeager?!”
Mikasa drew her eyebrows together and sharply turned her head to her comrade, looking at him with a sharp, irritated look. It was a clear demand to shut up.
Jean realized that he was correct.
He growled something unintelligible and ran his hand over his face, looking at the floor. Over the years that Kirstein spent with Armin and Mikasa, he had developed an absent-minded dislike for Eren. It wasn't that the two said nasty things to each other, or tried to present him in a completely negative light, no. In fact, they didn't even really talk about Eren - only at the very beginning, in the cadets. Armin and Mikasa were looking for him. Almost everyone in the corps knew about it, but no one could do anything to help. Time passed, and the search eventually stopped, leaving a gaping wound. If it weren't for Eren, the two would never have ended up in an army they didn't want to be in...
And that was why Jean couldn't stand Eren, even without knowing his face.
Now was the chance to finally see this freak.
“Jean, this is none of your business, leave him alone.” Mikasa said quietly and with a warning in her voice.
The look she received in response made it clear that Kirstein was unlikely to listen.
Of course, this would not lead to anything good. And yet, all that was left was to resign herself to it.
-
Before going to bed, Mikasa and Historia went to the medical bay to see Armin again, and brought him some food from dinner - he had passed out on the couch, and they didn’t disturb him. The medic rarely spent the night in his cabin before, so this was not something out of the ordinary. The girls only covered him with a blanket and left.
The conditional lights-out announcement came, and the crew went to sleep.
The next morning, the situation had changed subtly, but not immediately.
At breakfast, before the further announcement of the situation and the future course, the crew could see the tension hanging over them. At least between two specific people. However, instead of the confusion and bewilderment that had been felt yesterday, it now seemed like an oppressive suffocation.
Neither Eren nor Armin acknowledged the presence of the other in the same room, and yet the hostile fire in their eyes during the short glances burned to the point of coals. If Armin was not mistaken, at one point the spoon in Eren's hand was ready to bend in half. The two tried, really tried, to pretend that they did not exist in the same Universe next to each other. But who were they kidding? This was a cold war.
Once the entire crew was on the bridge, Levi made the announcement about Liberio and the cleaning. Historia's calculation on boredom turned out to be correct - there were no objections among the escort, although someone was clearly not too happy to return to the days of scrubbing dust and dirt. Hange let him see the schedule and the zone assignments she had made with the escort in mind, and that's when Armin's hair stood on end.
The medic shared almost every zone he was in with Eren.
The look Armin sent the android was indescribable. Hange met his eyes and shook her head, cutting off any chance of arguing with him: orders were not discussed.
Armin knew that the android had probably paired them up for good reasons. Maybe also for research purposes - she loved studying human behavior. The medic knew all of this, and yet it was still cruel.
He wasn't ready. He just wasn't ready.
Every second of the last few weeks had been sucking away his composure and sanity, and Armin was afraid that soon his last nerve cell would simply die. After the conversation with Eren that ended in disaster, the last thing the boy wanted was to be in the same room with him for more than ten minutes.
It's not fair.
It's just not fair...
The medic felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder.
“I see, you're unlucky, huh?”
Armin lowered his head and took a deep breath, understanding what Jean was talking about.
“Yeah…” He muttered, and the other's fingers slightly squeezed.
“I can work the shift with you. Even if you're with that idiot, at least you won't be alone.” Jean slid his palm and hugged his comrade encouragingly. “I promise, I'll help as much as I can. I could break his nose!”
Armin himself didn't realize that he had giggled at the other guy's cocky tone. The warmth of the strong hand and the undeniable support eased the burden on his soul a little, and Armin leaned his head back on the other guy's shoulder. He smiled gratefully.
“Thank you, Jean. Although no one needs to break his nose.”
Kirstein grinned and ruffled his friend's blond hair.
“Well, I can't vouch for myself here!”
Armin laughed again: his chest thawed.
Earlier, when they first met, Arlert could not even in his wildest fantasies imagine that Jean would one day protect him. Would stand by his side, no matter what it took. Support him in difficult times, no matter what... That a bully and a weakling would find a common language.
And yet here they were: as comrades, as close, precious friends. One of the few gifts provided by the wretched flow of life.
Levi gave the minimum amount of time to prepare for cleaning, and half an hour later the crew was distributed among the rooms. All the doors and compartments were open, and chatter could be heard in the corridors. The smell of cleaning products hung in the air. As expected, the first item on Armin's list was the medical center. Neither Levi, nor Hange, nor especially Armin himself would trust anyone else to clean it - at least not without Arlert. The guy was extremely sensitive to his work station - any shuffling of medicines, equipment or documents by someone else was unacceptable.
Now he was without a white coat, and nothing hid his unloved military uniform. The feeling was unusual and very unpleasant, but he didn’t want to dirty a clean coat, so he had to put up with the openness of a black T-shirt and camouflage pants. It was not that they were bad or uncomfortable... Armin just did not like them.
As well as any designation of his belonging to the army, if we are being completely honest ...
Armin silently walked into the medical bay with rags and sprayers with cleaning products at the ready, ignoring Eren behind him. Apparently, he wasn't eager to spend his time with me either. His eyes were wild, and yet not a word of protest escaped his lips. He returned to where they had started - to cold indifference. This suited Arlert more than well.
The doctor turned to Jean, who had come up to him:
“Are you sure that nothing will be said to you? After all, this is not your area, Jean.” He asked with a note of concern, frowning.
He had no doubt that Levi would find out about this one way or another. The only question was whether he would be angry or not.
Kirstein snorted and shrugged.
“The main thing is that the job gets done. I think Connie and Sasha can handle it.” A sour expression appeared on his face. “At least, I hope so.”
Armin nodded and pulled on his gloves:
“Then let's get started.”
Arlert handed out medical masks, marked the front of the work station and briefly explained where they could and could not go. The most important condition, of course, was maintaining the order of the medicines. Jean took in the information without any problems and got down to business, as it wasn't the first time he had cleaned the med bay with Armin. Eren hesitated slightly before he began to slowly take out the boxes of medicine to wipe off the dust.
Armin watched closely for the first few minutes, to ensure Eren was doing everything correctly and that all the boxes were being returned to their place in the same order. Seeing the impeccability of the other's actions, the boy relaxed and exhaled, getting down to his own areas. He pulled his mask down over his nose and began wiping and scrubbing the table, drawers, corners, and two couches with practiced movements.
Even if Levi's monthly cleanings were more like an act of slavery, Armin could admit that they had a certain therapeutic effect. Even in spite of a certain irritant in the room, the measured movements and focus on thoroughly cleaning all nearby surfaces were calming.
It freed his head.
The boy was immersed in himself, but not in a bad way - the outside world simply disappeared, and the inner demons were silent. There was only Armin and the dirt that needed to be gotten rid of before Levi could get rid of the shitty cleaners...
It had always been like this, as long as the medic could remember. At least while he lived with Levi. Regular cleanings had become a habit for the team, but for Armin and Mikasa, they went even deeper into the past. This ritual was ingrained under their skin better than anything they had been taught at school or cadetship, and Arlert was grateful to Ackerman for getting them used to it. Of all the actions, cleaning was the one that allowed him to take a break from himself.
It was nice.
It was... peaceful.
Like when he was a kid...
Armin glanced sideways at Eren, who was dusting the shelves. For the first time in a day and a half of their interaction, he looked peaceful. Almost soft... Nostalgic.
And he never liked this damn cleaning...
Realizing that he was looking at Yeager, the medic blinked and quickly returned his attention to his own actions. The annoyance of his own carelessness spurred the hope of returning to a blissful semi-meditative state, but the calm slipped through his fingers.
Armin didn’t want to think about Eren.
Not in any way.
No way.
They had figured everything out yesterday, and Armin just wanted to endure their entire flight to Shiganshina.
Echoes of childhood memories would only anger him in the future. He did not need them. There was no point in simply stirring up the once pleasant past.
Armin snorted under his breath and tried to crawl out from under the table, under which he was cleaning out the dirt that had gotten stuck in the corners.
There was a loud metallic thud, and the guy grabbed his head, hissing in pain. Too hurried.
“You alive?” A worried voice came from behind the screen, where Jean was.
“Yes…” Armin squeezed out through his teeth, crawling out from under the tabletop and looking at its edge with displeasure. A dull pain throbbed in the back of his head. The blow was not strong enough to cause a knot, but it was still unpleasant.
After a few seconds spent rubbing the sore spot, Arlert rose to his feet and reached for the mop. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eren's gaze on him, but chose to ignore it. As well as the sudden feeling of heaviness somewhere in his stomach, as if a small black hole had formed there.
While the medic was mopping the floor, he persistently drove away any thoughts about why his hands had suddenly started shaking.
The three of them managed to cope fairly quickly and in surprisingly peaceful silence. However, it did not last too long.
They left the medical bay to work on the adjacent corridor and ventilation. Jean got a stepladder from the adjacent storage room and placed it against the ventilation hatch. After climbing a couple of steps, he took a small screwdriver from a hard patch pocket on his belt and opened the grate.
Armin sighed briefly - who else would have to climb in there if not him. Jean and Eren were too big for this task, unlike him. Kirstein knew this too, and so they did not need to talk about it - only Eren looked at their actions with a bit of confusion.
This gloomy incomprehension in his gaze manifested itself even more strongly when Jean got off the stepladder, and Armin climbed in his place. The rectangular opening was small, but large enough for the medic to curl up and turn around if necessary.
“Be careful. It’s a bit unstable.” Kirstein habitually gave parting words and slapped his comrade, who had half climbed into the ventilation, on the thigh with a laugh. Armin hissed and tried to kick him in response with his knee, to which the man only laughed. The doctor rolled his eyes at such foolishness and extended his hand - Jean responded to the silent demand and put in a sprayer with a rag.
“Don't destroy the ship.” Arlert said, and slid into the pipe in one movement.
He crawled several meters, wiping off every centimeter of dust and potential dirt. The thought flashed through his head for the umpteenth time that cleaning is great, but sometimes Levi still overdoes it...
It's good that the ventilation in the medical bay is completely cut off from the ship and it is impossible to clean it manually because of the filters... Otherwise, who would climb in there? Of course, it would be me. Armin thought distantly, slowly making his way forward to the nearest fork. He stopped there and turned around - the rest of the way wasn't his territory, and the medic wasn't too keen on doing someone else's work in the damn ventilation. He was even less happy about the prospect of running into a closed hatch and crawling back a hundred meters instead of fifty.
Inhaling the fresh scent, Armin finally returned to the starting point and stuck his head out.
Offhand, he could tell that Jean and Eren had already washed the corridor in the last forty minutes, and their work was done for the day. The men themselves were nowhere to be seen, and the medic assumed that they were either in the medical bay or had gone somewhere. Not that it made a difference. Humming contentedly under his breath, Armin returned to the shaft and hunched over to climb out feet first. He touched the top step with his sole and a couple of seconds later stepped onto it more confidently. The fastenings creaked pitifully. A couple of seconds later, both feet were on the step. However, it was worth transferring all the weight in one jerk, and the stepladder toppled over, practically folding in half.
Before Armin had time to squeak, he flew down on his back in the opposite direction from the structure that had slipped out from under his feet. Instantly realizing his mistake, he cringed and hoped that he would not land on the legs of the stepladder.
However, instead of the floor, he was met by someone else's hands, catching the failed trickster in mid-flight.
“Where are you going?!” Jean said excitedly and with a hint of fear, grabbing his comrade more comfortably under the back and knees. Where the pilot came from at that moment did not bother Armin one bit: he grabbed the other man's collar and exhaled, stunned by the adrenaline rush.
A couple of seconds later, their eyes met, and Kirshtain laughed.
“Still clumsy, eh? I told you that this stepladder is shaky, you should’ve waited for me.”
Armin snorted nervously and cringed:
“Thank you.”
Jean just grinned and set him on his feet. The warm hand lingered on his shoulders in a protective gesture, and Armin himself did not notice how he giggled, pressing his hand to his mouth.
“Damn, that was unexpected…”
“It's always like that with you, Armin. You are the most reasonable of us, but dexterity is clearly not your strong point.” Jean said good-naturedly and patted his friend on the back. He waved him off, but did not argue - it was true.
Suddenly, Armin caught a barely noticeable clicking sound a couple of meters away from them. He glanced sideways and noticed a frowning Eren, looking at them with something like contempt. He lowered his eyelids and muttered something under his breath, and the medic caught only the last part of the phrase: “...and for whom? For horse...”
Jean turned and stared at Eren. There was no longer any warmth in his gaze. He folded his arms over his chest and said defiantly:
“Did you say something, Yeager?”
He straightened his shoulders and frowned even more, readily meeting the other boy’s goading.
“Yeah. I can't believe Armin messed with a horse.”
Armin was speechless for a second. Jean grit his teeth, walking around the medic and approaching his opponent.
“Who are you calling a horse, idiot?”
Eren grinned evilly.
“You, horse face.”
The pilot came close and loomed over Yeager, using the difference in height to his advantage. He quietly squeezed out through his teeth, “Are you looking for a fight, bastard?”
From where he sat, Armin felt a chill in his chest as Eren's knuckles cracked. He began to suspect that the answer was yes. The answer was almost always yes - Eren used to get into fights all the time, whether he wanted to or not. Letting off steam, responding to an offender's aggression, shutting someone up, or "solving" a problem - it didn't matter. He solved a lot of things with his fists, it was a familiar language, in which the guy could communicate very well. Obviously, this hadn't changed in nine years. It was even more obvious that it had acquired a clinical connotation, since Yeager had been prescribed medication.
The conflict needed to be broken off. Urgently.
Armin quickly squeezed himself between the two men.
“Are you crazy?!” He persistently pushed Jean in the chest with one hand to establish distance between him and Yeager. Armin was not trying to touch Eren.
“Do you want disciplinary arrest?!”
Jean threw up his hands, pointing at Eren and trying to find the words.
“He-”
The medic didn't let him continue. He threw his palms in the air saying, “Excuses aren’t accepted, are you the pilot of the ship or a snotty cadet who falls for provocations? And you,” He turned and looked at Eren, immediately meeting his eyes. Yeager seemed to be looking at him the whole time. Armin only got angrier at the thought.
“Why the hell are you picking a fight with the crew? Just because you have anger issues doesn't mean you can break discipline! Go take your meds, I hope you have them with you!”
A grim surprise appeared on the other’s face, and Eren, unlike Jean, did not try to object or interrupt. It seemed that he was shocked by the other's ruthlessness - before, Armin would never have dared to press on a person's vulnerable spot, especially in the presence of others. The same shade of unacceptable and bitter disappointment that had hatched during their first meeting flashed in his eyes.
Yeager looked down for a moment at the other's hand, which never touched him, and then snorted dismissively and headed down the corridor to the cabins. On the way, he bumped into Armin with his shoulder, and the latter almost fell due to the difference in their sizes.
Jean, who had supported him by the shoulders, was about to pounce on the boy again, but the medic grabbed his hand and shook his head.
“Leave him alone.” He ordered dryly, and Kirstein obeyed, only staring at Yeager with aggressive displeasure.
Jean had never liked Eren in absentia before... He never denied that maybe, when they had met, he could change his mind and find out that Yeager was a normal guy. This happens when you don't know a person personally.
But now... Seeing how this boy treats his comrade and - at the slightest provocation - picks a fight...
Damn it, this is war only flashed through his mind.
Notes:
Thank you for reading this far!
Good luck to everyone, I love you all :3
Chapter 3: Black on blue
Summary:
Jean generally understood that objectively he had no reason to dislike him - they hadn't even had time to talk. The boy looked normal, didn't pick fights with anyone and, in general, gave the impression of a polite quiet guy, but God, Jean really didn't like him.
Notes:
Hello again, here is the third chapter) I want to thank my friends who help me with this work and Gilded Lily who helps me with translation - without them I would not dare to post this)
And now - time to bring a little bit of the past into this world!
Enjoy reading :3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jean was probably different from most of the people gathered here.
Maybe even too different.
The cadet school was located on a satellite called Trost, and Jean's hometown was literally three hours away. The boy did not want to fly anywhere, and he didn’t have to.
It was good luck for a boy who wanted to study and get the privileges that came with the military. He didn’t have to fight for this, frankly. He just wanted to end up somewhere in the headquarters, and work there.
And the cadetship... Well, it was just a duty. He would somehow endure it and achieve his goal.
Life had been going smoothly before - there was not a single reason for it to cease.
The lanky boy with shaved temples and disheveled ash-blond hair looked around at the assembled young men and women with slight disdain. Most of them were either skinny, or had a grayish tint to their skin, or had deep shadows under their eyes. Some of them were all of these things. Many of them were either a size too small or too big - either way, they appeared ill-fit and worn.
Not all of them were like that, though.
Jean and a few other guys seemed quite... nice, if he may say so. Kirstein's mother had fitted him with new army clothes: they fit perfectly, and were clean and comfortable. Their families had probably done the same for the other cadets who were just as neat. They looked like shiny, freshly minted coins in the middle of a darkened old batch.
Not that Jean was going to feel sorry for anyone else though.
These are the circumstances, what can you do... the guy thought and shrugged, folding his hands behind his back and looking at the soldier walking in front of him. He was tall, bald. He had dark skin and frightening shadows around his light, and he had piercing eyes. He paced the dusty training ground like a predator stalking his prey, and looked at the recruits in the same animal-like manner. The fences made of chain-link mesh with barbed wire on top and beams of spotlights surrounding the trampled field only added to the feeling of a cage.
Several minutes passed before the instructor finally took his place in the center at the front, and he stuck out his chest, taking a deep breath. A bright beam of light hit him in the back and outlined his bulky, impressive figure.
A sharp, loud voice rang out,
“Today you will be allowed to join the ranks of the 104th Cadet Corps! And I am the one who will have to suffer along with such scum like you - I am Instructor Keith Shadis!” The soldier practically screamed, and the wrinkles on his face cast frightening shadows.
He seemed like a mad dog barking into thin air. Jean thought that it would certainly be difficult to cope with such a man.
“Don't think that you'll get a warm welcome - now you're good-for-nothing brats who shouldn't even be allowed on a spaceship! That should change in about five years! But will you become a burden, a deserter, a piece of meat that was shot, or a first-class soldier who maintains order in the new peaceful time - that’s up to you to decide!”
While the instructor was straining himself, pushing his speech that was simultaneously motivating and at the same time mixing the recruits with shit, Jean was distracted. He glanced at the people: his attention was drawn to a girl with luxurious black hair in the next row. She had an unusually refined appearance, a stern, cold gaze, and an amazingly straight posture. She looked as if she had already completed her military training and ended up here by mistake.
Beautiful... thought Kirshtein, but he immediately glanced away, feeling that if he stared any longer he would blush. Instructor Shadis had already left his seat and was walking between the rows, pestering the cadets, so the guy didn't want to get into trouble for the blush on his cheeks.
However, after a few seconds, he snuck a peek at the girl again.
She suddenly began to look not straight ahead as she had throughout Keith's speech, but to the side towards some skinny blond guy whom the instructor was pestering.
Jean felt a stupid and unfounded pang of jealousy. What did she see in him that caused her eyes to flare with such concern? Unconsciously frowning, Kirstein also cast an appraising glance at the blond.
Like many here, he was thin. But not just thin; he was also small - a dangerous combination for a recruit. His light hair reached the middle of his neck and framed his round pale face with a button nose. The guy, squinting, answered the instructor with a shout, trying with all his might to keep his shoulders aligned and his back straight. His voice was high, almost girlish. He spoke of something about Shiganshina, service to humanity and so on... Kirstein missed the name, but it wasn't like it upset him that much. He didn't care.
A weakling and a brat , flashed through Jean's mind with disdain, and he looked at the girl again. A feeling of disappointment tugged at his chest that such a gorgeous woman was paying attention to such a... weakling.
The instructor passed her by, and Jean still didn't learn her name.
Shadis yelled at a few more people, including a guy with a bunch of freckles standing next to Kirstein, and then moved on to Jean himself.
“Who are you and why are you here?!" The man almost growled, looming over the teenager.
“Jean Kirstein, from Trost! I'm here to serve at headquarters!” The guy summed up almost with a smile, and Keith narrowed his eyes, looking at him.
“So, you want to serve at headquarters…”
The next thing Jean remembers was a stupefyingly painful blow to the stomach, knocking all the air out of his chest. The teenager bent over, clasping his torso with his arms and falling to his knees.
“Did I give the command to fall?! The rear and headquarters must be a hundred times stronger than those serving on the front lines - such wretchedness as you are of no use there!”
The guy did not find the strength to answer, and the instructor, folding his hands behind his back, headed for the next recruit.
Jean clenched his teeth until they creaked, feeling a hot, caustic humiliation from which his cheeks burned and his chest tightened.
Closer to evening, when everyone was placed in the barracks, his stomach still hurt.
Jean, of course, did not intend to show it, but the discomfort seemed strong. The guy was sure that before lights out, while changing, he would see a bruise start to form. To be honest, it was more offensive than painful. He wanted to believe that all the other recruits had already forgotten the incident, but the unpleasant truth was that he himself remembered it very well. It was enough to make him cringe with shame.
At dinner, Jean sat alone, maintaining a proud look and occasionally glancing at the huddled groups of people. How people managed to become friends in less than two hours was beyond the teenager's understanding. He picked at his mashed potatoes with a spoon and occasionally sipped water from an aluminum mug.
Ten minutes after the start of dinner, Kirshtein again found the girl from the formation as he scanned the mess hall. She was sitting with the same skinny blond guy from earlier and they were talking about something, quite familiarly, as far as Jean could tell. The boy didn't look even a little bit embarrassed when communicating with such a beautiful person, on the contrary - a relaxed smile played on his lips. Had they known each other for a long time, or did they just feel comfortable together..?
Jean snorted under his breath and with a little more aggression stuck a spoon into the puree.
Suddenly, his neighbor in the formation sat down next to him - the freckled guy with short black hair and kind eyes. He put down his plate and mug, and he smiled at Kirstein.
“Hello! It’s Jean, right? I was standing next to you at the formation, I thought it would be nice to become friends!”
Jean raised his eyebrows, looking at the teenager next to him in surprise. After only a second of hesitation, he slightly cleared his throat and said:
“Ah... yes. Probably.” Realizing that his voice sounded too uncertain for such a proud image that he had built for himself, the guy raised his head and continued more confidently, more impudently. “You’re Marco, right?”
Marco stretched his lips even wider, and his brown eyes sparkled with joy. He resembled a good-natured puppy, and Kirstein couldn't shake off the strange feeling of inconsistency - how did this guy even get accepted into the army?
“Yes, Marco Bodt! Well, it’s nice to meet you!”
Marco extended his wide palm, and Jean tried to ignore the stupid tremor when he shook it. He was not a stupid little boy to be happy like a child to have new friends in a new place at the slightest thing. Moreover, they were not even friends yet. They just... met.
And yet, something playful and fizzy tickled his chest, like a sip of sweet soda.
“Likewise.” The teenager answered shortly and returned to his food.
Marco continued to chat about the day and his impressions of the barracks, instructor Shadis and the other guys, and Jean listened to him with half an ear, forgetting about the pain in his stomach for a while.
Later in the evening, before lights out, it turned out that the blond boy was his bunkmate. One of three, at least. Jean had managed to take the bed below, and, fortunately, Marco too - so now they slept side by side.
The blond had settled in above Kirstein.
Jean generally understood that objectively he had no reason to dislike him - they hadn't even had time to talk. The boy looked normal, didn't pick fights with anyone and, in general, gave the impression of a polite quiet guy, but God , Jean really didn't like him. Unlike the black-haired beauty he was talking to...
After dinner, Kirstein managed to intercept the girl for a moment and compliment her hair. The coldness with which he was thanked was more eloquent than any explanation - she genuinely didn't care. And although, yes, Jean understood that the hostility towards the innocent boy was not objective, all the same, the anger and resentment now threatened to spill out on him.
Therefore, when his newly-made neighbor got off the bunk to say hello and get acquainted, Kirstein did not respond to friendliness with friendliness.
The teenager carefully got down from the step and stood next to the stranger's bunk, timidly shifting from foot to foot. Jean sat cross-legged and quickly moved a simple pencil along the notepad, but as soon as the boy came close, the tip of the pencil stopped. Kirstein did not look up, but tensed up.
The same almost girlish, soft voice was heard:
“Erm, hi... I'm Armin. Armin Arlert.” The boy cleared his throat slightly and leaned over, holding out a thin, trembling hand. Obviously, he was nervous. “Since we are bunkmates, then-”
“Not interested.” Jean snapped a little more angrily than he should have. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other man's fingers trembling. Armin opened his mouth, but found no words, and in the end simply hugged the rejected hand.
“Oh, ahem, sorry... Anyway, it's nice to be acquainted.” Most likely, the guy said this purely out of politeness, but it angered the lanky teenager.
“Not to me. Get out of my sight, Armin.” When he said the other’s name, he distorted his voice, making it more squeaky and crooked.
Jean raised his eyes and stared at the startled Arlert, meeting his blue gaze full of upset confusion. He had probably never seen such deep blue eyes, but now Kirstein denied any attractiveness to the man standing in front of him.
“S-sorry…” Armin muttered again and lowered his eyes, turning to the ladder to the second floor of the bunk and grabbing it. And then Jean did something he didn't expect from himself - he gritted his teeth and threw a pencil stub at Arlert.
For a second he was scared himself, but then he got carried away.
“Enough of apologizing, you fucking weakling.”
Armin looked at him with a wide-eyed astonishment, and then a gray shaved head hung down from above.
“Hey, man, what are you doing?!”
Marco, who had been sitting with his back to them with a book on his lap, turned to look at the showdown.
Jean realized that everything was going in an alarming direction, but his character did not allow him to give in. The whole day had been terribly tense, humiliating and irritating, and the blond weakling was some kind of walking mockery, in which the only girl he liked here was interested!
So the guy began to defend himself:
“Why is he such a snot?! “Sorry” and “sorry”, no character-having ass! You could throw a pencil at him, or spit at him - he will endure it and apologize again!”
“Jean…” Marco called him anxiously, but his cautious call was swallowed up by the ringing voice of the boy from above.
“Don't go rushing to spit on him, you freak!”
“Connie, it's okay…” Armin himself tried to intervene, lowering his head and hiding his face behind his hair.
Jean threw his hand at him, spreading his fingers.
“There, see?!”
“I don't give a damn, stop acting like an asshole when they're only trying to befriend you! Apologize before I come down and kick your ass!” The shaved boy, Connie, showed his fist and shook it. Yellow-green eyes narrowed warningly, although overall the teenager looked harmless despite all his threats.
Jean remembered him - the instructor scolded him for the wrong salute. He was short, maybe even shorter than the blond wimp.
“Aren't you a bit short?” Kirstein teased mockingly, and Connie choked on air from someone else's impudence.
“What?! I'll-”
Connie was about to climb over the railing of the bunk, but then Marco intervened.
“Enough! Are you crazy?! You’re gonna get kicked out - on the first day. All because of a fight!” Bodt looked at Jean and frowned, although his expression was still soft. As if he physically could not look threatening. “Jean, we've all had a hard day, but you shouldn't rush at others. Apologize to Armin.”
Jean put his notebook aside and folded his arms over his chest:
“I won't. I still believe that he's a snotty weakling, so I don't have to apologize to him.”
“Jean…” Marco pressed reproachfully, but Armin interrupted them, waving his hand slightly.
“Thank you, Marco, but no need. Let's just... forget about it.” The boy summed up and began to climb the stairs to the indignantly puffing Connie, thereby cutting off further argument.
Jean snorted contemptuously and rolled his eyes - that's what I was talking about.
Weakling.
You don't even want to live in the same place with someone like that, let alone be friends with him.
They definitely won't become comrades.
—
As it turned out, the black-haired girl's name was Mikasa Ackerman, and she and Armin were childhood friends. The two were from Shiganshina, a satellite in another star system, and it was unclear what they were doing here in Trost.
Mikasa was almost always next to Armin: during training, in her free time, and at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Just the sight of the two of them together made Jean feel sick: it seemed pathetic to him how the girl constantly protected her friend. Like some kind of helpless kitten, honestly.
Ackerman earned herself an incredible reputation from the very first days - she was strong, precise, smart, cold-blooded and incredibly agile. Almost a machine. The training androids did not stand a chance against her, and no one was particularly eager to spar with her.
Arlert, on the other hand, was very, very weak. He was known as one of the weakest cadets, if not the weakest. Skinny, small and not particularly good for anything. Even Connie, who was shorter than Armin, had much better grades. The worst results in all training focused on body development and fighting with people or androids... The only thing Armin shone in, to Jean's displeasure, was classes and his medical specialty. The guy turned out to be one of the few who chose the medical field.
He should have become a doctor, weakling. Why even join the army , Kirstein thought dismissively, looking with disdain at Armin standing next to Mikasa. He was constantly tense and looked down, as if he didn't want to see the world around him.
He didn't want to be here...
Always tired from training, a little disheveled and silently sad. Always exhausted, but in some... greater sense than just physical exhaustion.
Not that Kirstein cared. Although Jean and Armin no longer fought as much as on the first day, the lanky teenager still showed open hostility and often teased him sarcastically. Arlert silently endured it, and it was incredibly annoying. Especially when he saw how Mikasa was protecting him…
Disgusting.
However, gradually, as the weeks went by, the veil of jealousy and anger passed. Jean could look at this couple from a different angle. Maybe it was partially because of Marco's soothing stories, the teen had managed to make friends with the entire corps. Maybe strict discipline and getting used to the school did their job and smoothed out his character a little, reduced stress... Or maybe Jean just looked for so long that he finally saw something that others did not see.
He made an unexpected and strange discovery: Mikasa did not protect Armin.
She was hiding behind him.
No, of course, the girl protected him from attacks with her mere presence and helped him with training as much as she could. But it wasn't he who followed her around like a lost puppy, it was she who followed him.
When Jean first thought about it, he didn't believe his own reasoning. And yet, the more he looked into it, the more he realized that it was true.
When Mikasa and Armin sat somewhere in the middle of a gray reinforced concrete camp, it was the girl who listened to her friend, who looked at him like a timid child looks at an intelligent adult. Reveringly, but modestly. If they were at least in relative privacy, she would tuck her knees under herself and hide her nose in a red scarf, hiding between Armin and the wall. Like in a shelter.
On strategic missions, Ackerman unquestioningly obeyed her comrade if he was paired with her. Nothing could make the girl confused or embarrassed: sparkling faulty equipment, menacing and terrifying androids, unfamiliar and dangerous weapons, a creepy instructor, or the very sight of a gloomy cadet school in the middle of a dusty and bare rocky desert with a purple sky. And yet she was embarrassed when other people approached, more friendly people. Ackerman pursed her lips and let Armin speak, only shifting her gaze from him to the interlocutor. Usually it was Connie and a silly girl named Sasha, or, to the surprise of those around them, a rude and abrupt girl named Ymir. The Corps was still racking its brains over how these two could find a common language...
In short, even if she was frightening to others, Mikasa stood behind someone else's shoulder and always tried to be closer to her only friend... Was it because she was afraid of something?
The two of them looked like two huddled puppies, abandoned in an unfamiliar and scary world they didn't want to end up in...
For whatever reason Armin and Mikasa hadn't come here... it clearly wasn't their choice.
That, or they really regretted their choice.
—
For a long time, Jean couldn't figure out what was keeping him from sleeping.
He was in a state of half-sleep, in which consciousness seems viscous and strange, unstable through the reddish darkness of closed eyelids. Thoughts don't become clear, or meaningful - they float, as if in a swamp... And if something is wrong, then the disgusting, wrong feeling lasts for an eternity before the brain finally understands what the reason is.
In Jean's case, it was quiet, almost imperceptible to the human ear tapping of fingers on the plasma screen.
The sound was terribly insignificant, almost like the breathing of the cadets sleeping around him, and yet the teenager woke up. He never complained about light sleep, but for some reason this time his hearing failed him.
Jean closed his eyes, burying his face in the pillow, and groaned softly. Reality slowly came to him with the warmth and hardness of army bed linen, dry air and the smell of washing powder from the pillowcase. The barracks were dark, and the other cadets were snoring and snoring around.
After a few minutes attempting to wake up, the teenager opened one eye. Light, barely perceptible blue reflections on the white blankets and iron railings of the bunks were visible from the plasma screen, coming from somewhere above. From there, he could also hear the tapping of fingers.
Armin.
Jean growled softly and threw off the blanket, sitting up.
“Hey, what are you doing up there?! You’re keeping me awake!” Jean whispered, tipping his chin up as if he could see his neighbor through the bunk. The tapping of the fingers stopped immediately, but the light did not go out.
Armin paused for a few seconds, and then he answered just as quietly.
“I'm writing a letter to my sister.”
Kirshtein hissed and leaned back on the pillow.
“You can write it tomorrow, finish up!”
“No. It's quiet, and no one else is awake, so the problem is probably exclusively yours. Cover your ears if it's bothering you.” Jean probably heard such a harsh uncompromising attitude in his neighbor's voice for the first time, even though he didn't raise his tone an iota and spoke in the same whisper.
There was silence for a few minutes.
Armin continued writing on the screen, and Jean sat, not knowing what to say. This was the first time Arlert had rebuffed him, and the guy was not ready for it. Even the irritation subsided... It seemed that the sudden harshness had cooled Kirshtein's temper.
In the end, he asked unexpectedly cautiously.
“Do you... have a sister?”
His neighbor upstairs stopped again.
“…Yes.” He answered with a delay, not hurrying to return to the letter.
“Is she also from Shiganshina?” Jean raised his head, staring at the metal in
the top bunk.
“Yes. But... now she lives deep in the rear, in safe territories, so…”
Jean hummed understandingly, and then sat up in bed again. The realization that this was their first normal conversation since the beginning of their cadetship seemed strange. Even stranger was the fact that this conversation happened only after Arlert's harsh response. Jean did not know and did not want to know why he suddenly cooled down and wanted to talk without barbs.
Maybe it was sleepiness. Maybe it was just the magic of spontaneity inherent in deep and quiet nights, when there is only you, your interlocutor and the darkness shrouded in blue haze... A moment when even with an enemy you can find a common philosophical theme.
Suddenly, the strange, almost girlish voice stopped irritating him. Jean, without expecting it from himself, asked a question.
“How did you end up here if you came from Shiganshina? I just can't figure it out…”
Armin was silent for almost a minute, and then the blue light of the screen went out and the rustling of sheets was heard. The lanky teenager on the bottom bunk had already thought that everything, the conversation was over, and he would either be ignored or sent away. In general, after everything that Jean had said and done to Armin, he would not be surprised by this - answering his bully's personal questions seems at least reckless.
Kirshtein did not have time to swallow the unexpected bitterness, when suddenly a blond head hung over the edge of the bunk. Armin was not looking at him, but somewhere down, at the floor. Or, perhaps, deep inside himself. He opened his mouth, and only a few seconds later whispered:
“I... we’re looking for someone.”
Jean blinked and stared at his interlocutor.
“…So, have you found them?”
Armin closed his eyes and shook his head.
Jean remembered the rumors from Marco - that Armin and Mikasa had asked some cadets about some guy at first, but no one could answer them. Probably, these two ended up in Trost thanks to a transfer from school to school, and if so, then their search here will end - the only attempt to transfer from satellite to satellite was wasted. They will not be able to go anywhere else.
Not even home...
Jean would never have thought that he would say this, and yet he said anyway.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
The neighbor twisted his lips. Almost imperceptibly in the darkness of the barracks, but Kirstein, accustomed to the darkness, saw it. Armin opened his eyes again and squinted, turning his gaze to the interlocutor.
“Honestly, I don’t really believe it... Why are you suddenly talking to me like this?”
Jean snorted and whispered in a more familiar manner.
“Pfft, then why are you answering? If you don't want to talk, don't talk. You're still a snot, oh my god…” The guy got excited and spat, continuing his thought. “I don't understand at all what got you to join the army - this place is clearly not for you.”
Armin frowned, and his eyes again stared somewhere into the void. The deep blue, frightening in the darkness, seemed almost black and glassy... In the end, without responding to someone else's explosion, the boy suddenly said quietly:
“You're probably right…” The teenager pushed himself off the edge of the bunk with his hands, and his head disappeared from Jean's field of vision. Only after a few seconds of rustling sheets and further silence, Kirshtein caught a barely audible conclusion.
“It's a pity that nothing can be done now…”
-
Jean opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his cabin. A relaxed, numb feeling reigned in his body, the kind that comes with a good night's sleep.
Taking a deep breath, the man turned his gaze to the table by the bed and saw the time on the small alarm clock: two o'clock in the morning. Relative, of course. After all, there is no time of day in space - people make it up themselves, just so their bodies don't go crazy.
Squinting for a few seconds, Kirstein hissed and jerked out of bed, putting on his uniform pants and a black T-shirt. Sleep was unlikely to visit him anytime soon, and the chances of finding an interlocutor for the near future in the dining room were definitely there.
And the pilot was right.
An almost sad, understanding smile touched his lips when he saw Armin hunched over the table in the dimly lit room. A white robe was thrown over his shoulders, his blond hair seemed disheveled, and his face was tired. The palms held a tin mug with something emitting steam. The doctor seemed lost in his thoughts and not noticing anything around him.
The dining room was quite small, and the “night” lighting made it almost cozy - instead of the main overhead light, only contour lamps and two wide panels on the walls were on. They were a warm yellow shade, and also with patterns, and created the feeling of an old kitchen at home, when only one table lamp or built-in hood lamp was working. Twilight, meaning safety, not the unknown...
The Wings of Freedom was more than just a ship.
It was home, and no one except the crew would ever understand this softness of the night kitchen that this pile of metal kept within itself.
Jean quietly came up and sat down next to him, practically pressing his thigh to his thigh. Armin shuddered and sharply turned his head to the unexpected guest, but seeing his friend, he relaxed.
“Hey.” Kirstein called softly, and the medic smiled faintly.
“Hey…” He answered.
“Can't sleep?”
Armin chuckled and shrugged.
“Something like that… My nerves still won't let go, you know? I want to sleep, but I can't. Here I am, drinking tea with sleeping pills...”
Jean pursed his lips in frustration and put his arm around his friend's shoulders, rubbing them. Armin smiled a little warmer and turned to him with interest:
“And why aren't you sleeping?”
“Well, I don't know myself. I just woke up.” the pilot twisted his lips in a grin. “I dreamed about the first days of cadetship and our first normal conversation... When you were still writing a letter to Historia, remember?”
The medic raised his eyebrows and stared into space for a few seconds, remembering something. A few seconds later, his eyes lit up with realization, and he giggled.
“Yes, I was rude to you for the first time. I remember.”
“Pff, only you could call something like that rude. But yeah. Then Marco asked me about it, and I got so angry, ahah…”
“Yeah…” Armin smiled warmly, pulling the mug closer to himself. “If he could see us now…”
Jean laughed softly, but there was a sharp note of sadness in that laugh, and then it completely faded away. The men didn't need to look at each other to see the imprints of old, deep sadness.
“I think he would say that he thought we would become friends, in the end.” Armin whispered. “He somehow managed to guess such things... Who would get along with whom, who would get along with whom... He was probably one of the first besides me to understand that Ymir liked Historia.”
“I still can't believe how it happened. They hadn't even met once by that point! It was only through you that they started writing to each other!” Jean snorted and threw up his hands in bewilderment.
Armin chuckled.
“Well, that happens... In the end, they can only be envied now.”
Jean caught something bitter, acrid, like a hint of painful pus under the skin. Not directed at Ymir and Historia, of course, but something else. Something that made his soul feel bad.
“That's true... I think everyone deserves something like what those two have.”
Armin weakly mumbled something in agreement in response, and Jean only sighed and ran his hand over his shoulders in a supportive gesture.
“Armin. Stop thinking. Don't worry. Especially if it's because of that fucking Yaeger, you-”
“It's not just about him.” The medic suddenly interrupted him, and Kirstein raised his eyebrows.
Arlert stared at the steaming tea with an empty, thoughtful expression.
“The thing is... in general. Something's weird... I…” The guy glanced at Jean for a second, as if he was hesitating, but eventually decided not to hide. “I got a little distracted from the whole situation with Eren over the course of the evening. And now, I can't figure out what exactly, but something is bothering me. I'm too tired to think about all this, and I want to sleep for the next eternity, but I just know that something... Something is wrong. My thoughts are confused, and I…”
Armin took a deep breath and buried his hand in his hair, squeezing the roots. Jean frowned with concern, watching this tossing and turning.
Finally, the medic exhaled sharply and weakly lowered his hand, as if he had suddenly lost all strength.
“It doesn't matter.”
“Armin…” Jean said tensely, not wanting his friend to somehow devalue his own experiences and fears.
Arlert only smiled tiredly and closed his eyes.
“I'll explain. Just later. When I figure out what's going on myself.”
The pilot didn't answer, but nodded and ruffled the medic's hair. Armin snorted, waving him off, and then offered his drink to his comrade.
“If you want, you can have a sip of tea. Just enough to sleep well.”
“Mmm... Yes, please.” Jean took the extended mug and took two large sips.
The pleasant, velvety taste, which was not spoiled even by the slight bitterness of the sleeping pill, left no doubt - this was tea from Levi's reserves. Perhaps he had also been sitting here before?
Having savored the warm liquid, Kirstein sighed with satisfaction and returned the tea to Arlert.
“Thank you,” he gratified and, ruffling his friend's hair again, rose from the bench.
The pilot would have preferred to be in the cabin as soon as possible: unlike Armin, he was quite susceptible to medication, and the sleeping pill would work on him quickly.
“Good night.” Armin said softly, and Jean waved goodbye.
“Good night. Try to get some sleep too.” He said and headed towards the exit of the dining room.
The semi-darkness gradually engulfed him as he approached the doorway, and when the man found himself at the threshold, the darkness in the corridor seemed impenetrable in comparison with the dining room.
I need to tell Hange to fix the night light here, Jean thought, taking a step into the corridor, and suddenly froze.
He turned his head to the side.
Eren stood motionless by the doorway, his shoulder pressed against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants. His figure was almost completely hidden by the darkness, and only weak yellowish reflections from the dining room made it possible to discern his skin and thoughtful eyes lowered to the floor. When Kirstein left the dining room and stopped, he did not even move, as if he had not noticed him.
Only after a few seconds did Yeager blink and look up. The green irises seemed almost black in the darkness, and the memories, which seemed too vivid after sleep, ached in his head with an unpleasant similarity. Jean could not understand what exactly seemed similar to him, but he did not like this feeling. He did not want to think about it now...
Squinting in response to the other's gaze, Jean looked his opponent in the eye for a few seconds. He could say something to him now. Anything. A taunt, a question, a wish to go far away from here and never catch Armin's eye - he had already suffered enough because of this idiot.
He could.
But Jean would not.
One only has to say the word, and it will attract Armin's attention. It is not worth it... Not now.
Jean only whispered with his lips, "Stay out of it."
And he left.
-
Left alone, Armin took a deep breath and pulled his robe tighter over his shoulders. The chilly feeling didn't go away, no matter how warm it was around.
It wasn't that he was lying when he said that he was distracted from the situation with Eren... It was just... He slightly understated it, if I may say so. The worries hadn't gone away - they had intertwined with new ones. That frightening premonition that he had told Jean about - the medic didn't think that it was separate from Eren, apart from him. It might seem stupid or paranoid, and Armin was ready to admit it with a sober, fresh, calm head, but now... He couldn't shake the feeling that the whole nightmare that the team was trying so hard to distract itself from had happened for a reason... And that it was somehow connected with Eren... Or not with him? Or not only with him..? Maybe it wasn't about the people. Or only partially about them.
Staring at the swirling surface of the tea in his mug, Armin couldn't shake off the suffocating loop of inexplicable fear. He'd felt it many times, and just as many times he'd managed to suppress it, but still... Now, when there was no way to calm his shattered nerves, it felt like something was terribly missing.
Some detail.
They weren't seeing the whole picture...
Damn, how he hated this state...
Armin. Stop thinking.
The medic dug his fingers into his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.
I'd be glad to… The man thought bitterly, feeling the fatigue pressing on his skull from the inside.
Why is the damn sleeping pill working so slowly...
You just have to rest, and you'll be able to look at the situation calmly. The way you should always do - without a shadow of intuitive horror.
Even if thoughts helped more often than not, you shouldn't become their slave. One mistake due to overthinking can lead to consequences...
Sometimes you just need to not think.
Marco...
If only Marco were here...
Marco isn't here because you made a mistake.
Jean reminded him of him at the worst possible time, to be honest. Thoughts about him didn't help him calm down. Armin suppressed the emerging reflections of red on white, blue on purple, black on green with willpower...
Damn you, Eren... If only you hadn't left...
Armin realized that he had buried his head in the surface of the table, lost in anxious, depressing thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he removed his hands from his hair, straightened up and drank the rest of the tea in one gulp.
Enough , the medic ordered himself shortly, getting ready to go to his cabin and wait for the sleeping pill to take effect there. If only this feeling of a taut string would disappear, when any little thing can throw you off track...
However, as soon as the man put the mug on the table, he shuddered - there was a man standing next to him. Eren. Silent and somewhat frightening in the semi-darkness, like an angel of death.
Armin did not hear the footsteps.
Recovering from a short fright, the medic exhaled and closed his eyes.
Bastard, he's going to scare me yet… flashed through his mind, and Armin tried his best to suppress the inappropriate irritation brought on by his nerves. Even though Eren was not his friend right now and annoyed him on principle, Arlert didn't want to snap at him - he had already. Twice.
The medic ignored the uninvited guest and stood up, intending to clear away the dishes and leave.
"You know, you're a hypocrite..." a quiet, deep voice was heard, and Arlert froze right at the doorway.
“...What?”
Eren finally stirred, turning sideways to the medic and boring into him with angry eyes. Armin slowly looked at him, experiencing something... God, he didn't even know how to describe it. The calm before the storm - his head became frighteningly quiet after all the thoughts swarming there. There was only the feeling of an approaching storm - a string about to snap, and everything that had been building up would spill out in an unsightly and disgusting hysteria. It was impossible. He absolutely could not.
Control, control, control...
Please, let Eren stop. Right now.
No.
He would not stop.
He never stops.
Armin realized that he simply could not listen to more complaints now.
He needed to leave, and leave immediately...
As soon as Eren opened his mouth to continue his thought, Armin turned around and walked quickly out of the dining room. He was not going to listen to whatever they wanted to tell him.
However, they were unlikely to let him go.
Now the medic could hear the sound of boots following him, and so the boy picked up the pace and covered his ears with his hands. Unlike him, Yeager walked measuredly, unhurriedly, and yet not lagging behind.
Shut up, shut up, shut up...
How untimely!
Eren's growling voice could still be heard even through his palms.
“You yourself constantly discouraged me from joining the army, argued with me, preached kindness and honesty, swore that you would never touch a weapon... And look where you are now.”
“Shut up…” Armin hissed, and Eren grinned evilly.
“Where are you running? I never ran away, and now-“”
“Hey!” a loud voice rang out, and the next second Armin crashed into someone's body. He thought he was going to fall, but someone grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him to himself - the medic smelled gun oil and cheap shower gel.
Ymir.
The girl was a head taller than him and had a stronger character than ten stubborn stallions. Now she was wearing a nightgown with a peeking sports bra and loose, disheveled hair down to her shoulders. The other Yeager drew her eyebrows together and looked defiantly at Eren, who had stopped.
“Hey you... Are you pestering my brother-in-law?” Ymir asked with pressure, throwing her arm over Armin's shoulders in a familiar gesture. He was still trying to catch his breath and shifted his gaze from the girl who had suddenly appeared to his pursuer.
Eren regained some of his lost composure and gritted his teeth. He didn't need to answer for Ymir to draw conclusions. She smirked.
“Listen here, get out of here while you can, before I throw you off the ship.”
“Ymir…” Armin began, but suddenly his throat went dry, and he didn't find the strength to finish with the standard ‘Everything is fine.’ He felt what he wanted to avoid - the approach of a nervous breakdown. His breathing became faster, and instead of saying a thousand words, the medic squeezed the other man's nightshirt on his back.
Ymir glanced at him, sensing the other man's gesture, and then returned her attention to Yeager. Seeing that he hadn't moved, she bared her teeth.
“Are you deaf or something? Get out of here!”
“Yea, okay.” he hissed under his breath and turned around, walking back to the dining room. Or somewhere else.
Not that Armin or Ymir cared.
Meanwhile, the girl shook her brother-in-law slightly.
“Hey, are you okay? Do you want to go to my cabin?”
Armin just nodded, and Ymir led him to the doors five meters away from them. She must have jumped out because of the noise she and Eren had made here...
As soon as they were outside the threshold, and the door rustled shut, the medic asked hoarsely.
“Is Historia here..?”
“No, she's in her room today.” Ymir answered with a hint of surprise.
But before she could finish speaking, Armin's legs buckled under her after her answer, and he squatted down, hugging himself and sobbing. He simply didn't have the strength to hold back, and the man could only be glad that his sister wasn't there.
Oh, shit flashed through the girl's head, and she rushed to the bedside table for a bottle of water. Taking it out, she quickly opened the lid and was back at Armin's side, kneeling down next to him and holding out the bottle. Her strong, thin fingers held tightly to the boy's shoulder, supporting him and preventing him from losing his balance.
Armin nodded gratefully through ragged sobs and took the water, taking sips as much as he could. He was shaking, his eyes were red and swollen, his face twisted in pain. His robe had almost fallen off his shoulders onto the floor. He looked tiny and tired, huddled on the floor on his haunches.
Ymir didn't know what the medic was crying about, but she didn't need it to lightly stroke his shoulder with her thumb and keep him from falling.
It must have been almost ten minutes before the breakdown subsided.
The sobbing eventually died down, and Armin bashfully wiped the tears from his cheeks. He realized that his legs were numb from the awkward position, and his nose was stuffy from crying. His head was now aching, the skin on his face was itchy from the salt, and yet...
When the medic somehow got to his feet, the hand on his shoulder was gone. The robe finally rolled off his shoulders and fell to the floor. Armin sobbed and sat on the edge of the bed, and a few seconds later Ymir joined him. The guy croaked in a broken voice:
“I’m sorry…”
Yaeger snorted and waved her hand.
“Don't apologize.” She said casually, and then frowned and glanced sideways at her friend. “But... What was that all about?”
Theoretically, Armin could talk about this with someone closer to him from the team. With Historia, as with his sister and psychologist. With Mikasa, as with his adoptive family. With Jean, as with his best friend. Even with Hange or Levi, one of them is an incredible and very understanding android, and the other one is practically a father to him, but... That was the problem.
How could he bother these people? They were already constantly worried about him. They sensed that something was wrong, they hung around, they watched... But he should be the one taking care of them, not the other way around. They were too dear to him to take out the worries that were building up inside of them. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth it... Armin wouldn't let them worry about him more than they already did. He wouldn't make them fuss over him. They couldn't do anything anyway...
Ymir was a different matter, however.
The woman would never sign up to be anyone's nanny. Even if she cared for and protected a person, she wouldn't become a hen and wouldn't start winding herself or him up. Of all his closest comrades, Armin wouldn't be afraid to lose his temper only with her. The girl he entrusted his little sister to all those years ago...
Armin let out a final sob and folded his hands in his lap.
“I've been slowly going crazy lately, and something is always bothering me. Especially after Eren showed up. I knew it was going to be the last straw, and then he called me a hypocrite and started accusing me of... I don't really want to remember.” the medic wept, looking into the space in front of him. Ymir looked at him attentively with her light brown eyes.
Then, the boy's voice broke into a whisper. “Actually, he's right, basically... Who have I... become…”
Armin shakily inhaled through his nose and exhaled noisily, closing his eyes. God, he was so tired...
Ymir pursed her lips and patted her brother-in-law on the shoulder. She looked forward and said, “Yeah, that sucks.”
Armin made some kind of guttural sound, vaguely reminiscent of a laugh. Meanwhile, Yeager continued.
“Well, maybe it doesn't matter. At least I'll always be grateful to you for introducing us to Historia. I don't care about the rest. You're family. Don't worry about some idiot's words, even if he's telling the truth.”
Armin looked at Ymir and snorted.
“I guess I should just say thank you - at least now I should feel better. It's good to finally free my head…”
Ymir snickered and laughed, hugging the other's shoulders and shaking her brother-in-law from side to side.
“Now that's a different story! I recognize good old Armin!”
The girl continued to laugh, and Armin involuntarily began to laugh along with her, albeit weaker. A dulling heaviness filled his limbs, and the medic realized that after such an emotional roller coaster, the sleeping pills had finally begun to work.
While still laughing, he squeezed out, “Ymir, I think the sleeping pills will work now…”
“To hell with it then, sleep here!” The girl waved her hand widely from her chest. She had a large enough bed for two, considering that Armin himself was not much taller and larger than Historia.
The medic snorted and shook his head, but did not argue. It was not a fact that he would have reached his cabin.
In a moment of leaden fatigue, long-awaited after long and painful worries, his head was finally blissfully empty. At least for the short rest of the night, in a rumpled bed, shared in half with his sister's girlfriend, after a devastating nervous breakdown... Armin could say that, damn it, he was released. Everything ceased to matter.
Plopping down on a place by the wall and closing his eyes, the guy muttered,
“Thank you, Ymir…”
The doctor only felt how the girl lying with her back to him waved her hand, as if to say, it's nothing.
At least that's what he assumed before falling asleep.
Notes:
Thank you for reading this far! Until the next chapter)
Good luck to everyone, I love you all :3
Chapter 4: Pink on cobalt
Summary:
If Armin managed to slip away from the barracks before roll call, he did not miss a second of this enchanting, beautiful spectacle.
He was ready to describe this picture in letters to Historia every time, to share with her at least a part of this admiration.
Chapter Text
Eren, you don't understand - joining the army is just suicide!
Now that the war is over, all they need is cannon fodder to suppress riots - they don't care about your lofty goals, no one will blink an eye if you die! Why do you need to go there?!
Have you forgotten what happened to my parents..? Grandpa? Or your mother?! It's all one big meat grinder, please don't get involved, Aunt Carla asked you to!
Please, Eren!
Eren!
He never listened, did he..?
Always, even when the arguments died down and a flimsy agreement was reached, he still thought about his own... He didn't retreat from the goal - he just stopped talking about it…
And you believed him, you fool…
You bought it, you let him fool you…
And here you are again, tiny, helpless, running out of the gray reinforced concrete high-rise building onto the street and shouting his name. It's already dark, and your memory has recorded only the neon flashes around - you can't remember any other details. Just you and a faceless crowd…
The rains after the wars have become not the most harmless, and the caustic water mixes with the tears on your cheeks...
How is it, Eren..?
Where are you?
An anxious feeling of the present crept through the dream, making its way through the haze of vague memories and emotions. It was both desirable and not desirable - he was wounded then, and yet innocent, pure as white paper...
There were no nine years then, which ground everything he believed in like millstones, distorting him into what he had become now. The feeling of wholeness from being one with his most precious friend, practically a lover, was still fresh, and then he did not know how long the separation would be...
It hurt, but not as much as it became later...
And even so, now everything seemed so dulled that it almost did not touch the soul. Only echoes of past emotions.
It was calm...
Eren...
Those green eyes haunted him for a very long time. Their reflections were visible in the grass torn apart by explosions, enchanting cosmic nebulae...
The hand of reality, tenacious and merciless, penetrated deeper into the peaceful dream, clutched at the veil, threatening to pierce the fragile fabric at any moment.
A shaking, cautious at first, but growing stronger with each passing second.
It scared away all the foggy visions, and a few moments later a voice that was not at all ephemeral penetrated the dream.
“Armin!”
The shell of the long-dead boy was thrown off, and the man abruptly opened his eyes.
Reality greeted him with the gray metal of Ymir's cabin and the warm blanket with which she, apparently, had covered him at some point. Before his eyes was a wall, on which felt the shadow of a man standing in front of the bed.
Armin blinked, and a second later he was shaken by the shoulder again.
Then he groaned weakly from a slight pain in his head, awakened by someone else's unceremoniousness, and turned over on his back.
Historia was standing above him. She already looked in her best: her flight attendant uniform was on her, impeccable and clean, and her hair was braided into a neat hairstyle. As always, she was delightful.
A faint smile appeared on her lips despite the pain at the thought.
Seeing that her brother had woken up, the girl removed her hand and straightened up.
“Sorry, I know you're tired, but it's time to get up. And…” She looked at him doubtfully, fully dressed in uniform, with disheveled hair and, probably, a swollen face. “What are you doing in Ymir's bed? In uniform. I mean, fully dressed, even the robe is lying on the chair…”
Armin saw how his sister's face acquired that worried expression that she gets in moments of nascent anxiety. When the gears in her head start turning until everything falls into place, and her anxiety either finds a justified reason or not.
This is exactly what he didn't want when he walked with Ymir to her cabin... Damn. The guy knew that he needed to recover. And also that the circumstances were unlikely to allow him. He probably wouldn't be the most pleasant person to talk to anytime soon, but Arlert couldn't let his problems affect his family. Historia didn't deserve it. So he couldn't let her know that something was wrong.
Clearing his throat slightly, the medic gave a short, playful smile and tilted his head.
“Would it be better if I didn't have a uniform?”
They both froze for a few seconds, after which Historia snorted in disgust and hit him on the shoulder. And again. And again.
“God, Armin! Don't even joke like that!” The girl said with a laugh, not wanting to think about her brother and her girlfriend in the same bed without clothes.
Armin chuckled weakly, protecting himself with his hands from the other's slaps and squinting.
When Historia finally stopped slapping him with her palms, he sat up in bed and ran his hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath after the fierce battle. His soul felt lighter - even with the first blow from his sister, the sticky unpleasant feeling after sleep disappeared, and the medic realized that now he felt much better than the day before.
Even after a short rest, he still felt tired, and the pressing problems did not go away, but at least the feeling of a taut string disappeared. It snapped. Deliciously, with a crack, and yet it snapped, allowing him to splash out at least some of the accumulated experiences. In every bitter tear shed here, in every sob and spasm...
Armin was exhausted, and he needed rest - preferably a damn month without Eren and all the troubles that came with it, that's for sure. As a doctor, he understood that perfectly well. But as a soldier, as... a member of this crew, Armin knew that he had no time. No place.
Maybe he should ask Levi to limit his workload? At least to a minimum... The captain knew that he wouldn't ask without a good reason - Armin didn't want to further put the entire crew at risk because of his problems.
“Armin…”
The medic broke out of his thoughts and looked up at his sister. She looked at him seriously again, and he smiled softly.
“What?”
Historia sighed, and the frown finally disappeared from her face. Suddenly, she took his hand and pulled him off the bed.
“Let's go. Levi won't appreciate it if you skip breakfast.”
Her warm palm pleasantly warmed his cold skin, and Armin allowed himself to briefly enjoy this moment. He squeezed his sister's hand in return and playfully pulled himself up to the edge of the bed, almost causing the girl to lose her balance. She snorted and slapped her brother on the shoulder again with her other hand.
Getting out of bed, the medic ignored the slight dizziness from fatigue and the sudden rise and obediently followed his sister. On the way, he grabbed a robe from the back of a chair. Before going to the dining room, Armin and Historia went into the shower section so that the man could wash up and at least tidy himself up a little, and only then - for breakfast.
The small dining room had lost its nighttime coziness.
As it did every morning. Such is the nature of everything nocturnal, even if the night in space is an illusion created by man.
The main overhead light created a rather strict atmosphere, and Armin's slight headache was not too happy with the bright rays. The thick, heavy hum in his skull made the movements a real challenge, but alas, all he could do was endure it.
Imagine you're hungover, Armin recalled Jean's advice, given back in the cadet days. Or maybe later? No, probably later... In the cadet days, they hardly had enough alcohol to experience a hangover, much less get used to it. Most likely it had been said in the first year after graduation, when his head hurt more often than not, and he wanted to convince himself that it was after a pleasant time with a bottle of alcohol. And not the result of a lot of sleepless nights, screams, work, noise and other things...
What was all this for? This was because Armin preferred to take the old advice and only humbly closed his eyes from the bright light.
Almost everyone was in the dining room, with the exception of Sasha, Levi and Hange, who were most likely still in the kitchen. The latter two had probably already left.
From one of the six-person tables, Connie waved at the new arrivals, smiling widely. Two plates and two mugs sat helpfully on empty seats, one next to Springer and Mikasa, and one across from them, next to Ymir and Jean. The Arlerts moved safely toward them.
The table where the escort sat was closest to the exit, and Armin and Historia walked past it. Armin glanced briefly at Eren, who was sitting by the aisle, but he didn't blink, focused on his food. It seemed he hadn't even noticed that someone else had entered. With a brief sense of relief, the medic returned his attention to the team in front of him...
A spot flashed at the edge of his peripheral vision, and a moment later his feet tripped on something.
Armin, losing his balance, flew forward a couple of meters before he managed to stop. His insides clenched from a brief surge of adrenaline, even his breath caught in surprise. The man froze. Everyone else in the dining room fell silent.
A few seconds later, Floch, sitting opposite Eren, began to laugh. Zeke was eating next to him as if nothing had happened, while Pieck, who was next to Yeager, was looking at the emerging picture with a hint of surprise, her spoon halfway to her mouth.
Straightening up, Armin looked around and noticed how Eren slowly and almost demonstratively removed the foot with which he had tripped him. At the same time, his expression did not change one iota - he continued to eat calmly, looking at his plate. Only a few moments later, when Floch's laughter died down, his green eyes stared intently at the medic. It seemed that they exuded nothing but stony indifference, but Arlert recognized this inquisitive, intense expression. As if waiting for a reaction...
Armin's eye twitched.
He wanted to finish him off. That was obvious. Unfortunately for Eren, he already did it, and now Armin simply didn’t give a damn about all the attempts to finish off his nervous system. He could stand it. Incredible fatigue is his protector from unnecessary stress.
Not that it’s good… But at least it works for now.
Historia, who saw everything that Armin saw, noisily sniffed the air and was already moving towards Eren. There was a decisive displeasure on her face - the medic could not even remember the last time he saw it. Usually, this was on Eren’s own face when he protected him from enemies in childhood…
Who would have thought that he himself would become one…
Armin knew that Historia, despite her position as a flight attendant, would not stand on ceremony with her brother’s offender. This was similar to all members of the crew. That is why he couldn't let her make a claim on Eren now - it was unknown how long they had to fly, and they didn't need an even more tense atmosphere on the ship.
At least don't join the skirmish club with Eren, Armin desperately asked himself and grabbed his sister by the wrist, thereby not allowing her to take a step. The girl turned to him indignantly, her mouth open, but he only shook his head.
“No need. Let's go.”
A loud, dismissive snort was heard from Floch, threatening to turn into laughter again at any moment. Eren only narrowed his eyes, watching Armin lead Historia to the crew table.
When they approached the table, Connie pointed his palm at the escort and asked in bewilderment.
“What was that?!”
“An act of assholery, that's what.” Jean chuckled angrily, aggressively thrusting a spoon into the porridge. Some things didn't change - for example, the habit of taking out anger on the unfortunate food.
Mikasa, who was closer to the wall, simply looked upset. She probably saw everything, and Arlert felt sorry that she had to watch their skirmishes. He assumed that in the future there would only be more of them.
Ymir, as usual, put her arm around a gloomy Historia's shoulders.
Armin, who sat down next to Connie, sighed mournfully.
“Jean, don't…”
“What "don't"? You know, sometimes your lack of conflict still angers me! Did you see that?!” Kirstein leaned over the table and pointed his spoon at the escort, or more precisely, at Eren. “He's acting like an asshole, and you're not fighting back!”
Armin calmly took the cutlery and stirred the porridge.
“I didn't say I won't fight back.” He said quietly, looking at his plate.
Jean and Ymir narrowed their eyes. Kirstein was defiant, while Yeager was more curious. Unlike many, even very close people, she never underestimated Armin and knew how to keep her discontent under control.
“Really? Enlighten me!” Jean bowed his head, putting his elbow in front of him.
Armin ate the first spoonful and answered shortly.
“No.”
The pilot raised his eyebrows in angry surprise.
“No?”
“Exactly. I will do as I see fit.” Armin glanced sideways at his comrade and ingratiatingly remarked. “As I did with you, for the record.”
Jean instantly soured. Ymir grinned defiantly, understanding what was being said.
Connie, hearing this, choked and eventually burst out laughing. He slapped Jean's hand on the table and looked at him slyly:
“Oh, don't remind him of that, or he'll get depressed again!” He laughed again, clutching his stomach with his hands. Even the escort from the far corner began to glance at them.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Historia blinked questioningly, losing her gloomy mood.
Connie, choking with laughter, pointed a finger at Armin.
“What, you didn't tell her?!” However, the question was rhetorical, and the navigator immediately turned to Historia. “Your little brother taught Jean a very solid lesson about why you shouldn't be an arrogant piece of shit, haha!”
“Shut up.” Jean hissed, but no one was listening to him. Even Mikasa smiled briefly - of course she knew this story.
Springer leaned over the table conspiratorially and began gesturing with his hand for emphasis.
“You probably know, but Armin and Jean didn't get along at all at first. Jean was our mama's boy, well-fed, tall and downright arrogant!” Kirstein groaned in pain and covered his ears with his hands, burying his forehead in the table and blushing deeply.
Connie continued, not paying attention to this. “He even threw a pencil at Armin on the very first day!”
Historia raised her eyebrows in shock, but nodded anyway - she remembered her brother's letters, and that he was not treated very well at school at first, but there were no such details. Connie grinned.
“This attitude went on for several months. You know Armin, he is as peaceful as God, and he endured it so as not to escalate the conflict. Until one day, apparently, he finally got tired of it, and did what only he could.” Connie hugged the medic around the neck and pointed his thumb at him proudly. “A kind-hearted man, but as an enemy - oh, formidable and dangerous! Anyway, they paired him with Jean for sparring. This fool,” he waved his hand at Jean, “thought, ‘hooray, free training!’. But it was not so! Then we found out that Armin can be terribly cunning - he hid a shocker in his sleeve. Not strong, but enough to paralyze a person for about ten seconds. And so, when the sparring began, this sly fellow waited a bit, played innocent, and then zapped him with electricity!”
Springer waved his hands, adding weight to his words and causing Historia, who was focused on the story, to flinch. Ymir immediately looked sternly at the navigator, but he didn’t notice — he continued the story.
“Jean shuddered and was knocked out for ten seconds, so much so that he wet himself — he lost control over his body, and that happens in such cases. The instructors came running, and Armin immediately started acting like ‘oh, how can that be, he probably hit his head!’ No one accused him of anything, of course, sparring is sparring, such things happen. But the main thing is that it was all public, and so humiliating that Jean couldn’t look anyone in the eye for three weeks after that! And Armin-”
“Hey, maybe that's enough already?” Kirstein asked insistently, but a little pitifully, shaking his hands imploringly. “You're undermining my authority!”
Connie cackled even louder, while Mikasa hid her smile in her palms. Ymir immediately grinned sarcastically from ear to ear:
“What authority? You have no authority, my dear! Or are you talking about them?” She shook her head in the direction of the escort and stretched her lips even wider. “You don't want to humiliate yourself in front of your opponent?”
“Exactly!” Jean flared up, raising his head sharply.
“In that case, accept it, colt. At least the less authority you have, the more of it Armin has - this story will definitely make anyone who tries to get to him think twice!”
“I'd prefer my opponent not to know what to expect.” Armin put in his word, taking a sip of coffee.
Ymir chuckled.
“That's right.”
“After all, I would never have pulled something like this off without the element of surprise. If Jean had known that I was capable of something like this, he wouldn't have let me anywhere near him. It's my good fortune that his pride went to his head.” Arlert continued calmly, earning a look full of betrayal from Kirstein.
In response, he only looked at him and smiled softly, as if to say, sorry.
However, the smile quickly disappeared from his face.
“This won't work with Eren. As far as I can tell right now, he's cautious and has good self-control. So I need to think carefully about what to do…”
“Oh-ho, watch out, Eren, Armin is using a cunning genius…” Connie whistled, and Ymir immediately kicked him in the shin under the table.
Armin sighed.
“No. I just want him to leave me alone.” He lowered his tired, thoughtful gaze into his cup. “I'm too tired to come up with any lessons for him... It's none of my business. I just want to rest.”
Silence fell over the table, a stark contrast to the previous bursts of laughter, discussion, and so on. Armin felt the warmth of someone else's hand on his own - Historia, who had been mostly listening to everything around her this whole time, smiled at him.
“We'll help you.”
Connie chuckled.
“Yeah. As always, by the way. Anyone who offends our team will get a punch in the face.”
Ymir hummed in agreement, and only Mikasa said nothing: Armin met her gaze. He knew what she was thinking: she didn't want to offend Eren and somehow get involved in a conflict with him. The medic understood. Really, he understood.
Now that the initial anger had subsided - had broken loose along with his nerves, or rather - he only wanted everything to return to a peaceful norm.
However, he is not the only one who determines everything.
Eren makes decisions too. And he made his choice in favor of the conflict.
After all, Yeager could have easily done nothing and limited himself to exchanging angry glances with Armin, like he had done yesterday throughout the day. He could have pretended that nothing had happened and simply ignored the doctor for the entire flight. He could have argued with him in private, because it was unlikely that Armin would have aired their disagreements in public, and they both knew it. But he had challenged him in front of his entire crew. Intentionally. There was no way Eren wouldn't have known how the ship's crew would react to this - he had already encountered the temper of Jean and Ymir.
So... alas.
The choice had been made.
Mikasa looked into Armin's eyes for a few seconds, and then, blinking, lowered her sad gaze.
Of course, she understood...
“By the way, does anyone know what kind of altercation happened between the Captain and that bearded man over there? Levi seems to really dislike him.” Ymir suddenly asked, pointing a spoon at Zeke.
Armin, sitting with his back to the escort, turned his head slightly and glanced at him. He frowned thoughtfully.
Traffic? With Levi?
Jean and Connie were less secretive in their curiosity - Kirstein turned around, throwing his arm over Ymir, who was sitting next to him, and Springer stretched out, trying to look over the shoulders and heads of his comrades.
“Mm, I doubt it. Maybe they knew each other before?” Jean suggested, returning to his normal position.
Connie only shrugged.
“At least, he didn’t tell us about him.”
“Strange…” Historia muttered, more cautious than her comrades. After all, she had the most open view - she sat opposite to Armin, that is, on the edge, and facing the escort. Her gaze scanned the imperturbable bearded man. The Captain usually has no problems with passengers, even if he is taciturn and gloomy…
“I think we should ask him personally. No point in guessing.” Armin sighed and finished his coffee. His plate was already empty.
No one argued, and the rest of the breakfast was spent in silence.
---
After breakfast, the medic decided to go to Levi to ask for a break from cleaning. Or at least from Eren cleaning.
As expected, the captain and the android were on the bridge. They were quietly discussing something when Armin entered the doorway. The guy made his presence known by clearing his throat slightly - the voices immediately died down.
Levi, standing with his arms folded on his chest and a gloomy expression on his face, turned to Arlert.
“Did you want something?” He asked.
“Good morning, captain. Yes.” Armin folded his hands behind his back in a practiced official gesture and bowed his head slightly. He nodded briefly at Hange in greeting.
“I would like to request a partial release from the cleaning duties. Or at least share less with Lieutenant Yaeger.
Levi raised an eyebrow. Hange placed her hand on her belt and tilted her head in curiosity.
"Is there a reason?" Ackerman asked, and the medic nodded.
"Yes."
"A valid reason? More valid than your reluctance to see him?" The captain added a moment later, implying that if the answer was "no," the request would be immediately rejected. Armin nodded.
"Yes. I'm afraid our interactions have led to... consequences." The boy frowned and looked up, meeting the captain's gaze. He hoped Levi would understand. He had to understand... "Please, Captain..."
You know I wouldn't ask without a good reason… The doctor thought, pursing his lips. He didn't want to imagine the next week in the company of Eren, who had declared war on him and was in a state of nervous breakdown.
Levi looked at the boy for a few moments.
Someone else's bags under his eyes, a tired, frankly unwell look, a clenched jaw... Ackerman knew that Arlert was having a hard time, but apparently this was already going beyond all limits. Hange reported that there had been some kind of commotion near the dining hall last night, but she didn't know what exactly. The captain could bet that it was related to Eren and, by extension, Armin.
It was expected, and yet unpleasant.
Levi knew that the android had paired them with good intentions. She wanted them to have a chance to talk. Get used to each other's presence on the ship and not run around like little children. Perhaps they would even make peace as a result, although it would be too much to hope for.
The experiment had been a failure.
Perhaps the boy really should be given the opportunity to rest before arriving in Liberio.
There are more important problems than the argument between two childhood friends.
Levi's face smoothed out slightly, taking on a softer expression. He closed his eyes.
“Good. In that case, you can rest alone today, and Hange and I will review your future cleaning schedule.”
Armin sniffed and relaxed his shoulders.
“Thank you, Captain.” The medic whispered gratefully.
Ackerman nodded and turned his head away, looking out into the open space beyond the polymer windows.
“If that's all, you may go.”
“Bye-bye, sweetie.” Hange added, waving her hand.
Armin nodded and turned to leave, but as soon as he had taken a few steps, Levi stopped him.
“Wait.”
The doctor stopped and looked at the captain again. His gaze was still directed at space, but now the frown that Arlert had seen upon his arrival had returned to his face. Wrinkles lay between thin eyebrows, and dark blue eyes stared somewhere far, far away, as if they were looking for something among the deathly pale stars. Or perhaps not among them..? Probably, Armin himself sometimes expresses such a look. It seems that it is directed outward, but in fact - it’s deep inside. Things that are sought with such a look can always be found only somewhere inside yourself.
And you don’t always even want to look for them... Sometimes they look for themselves, without your will.
A thing more insidious than the most insidious rogue...
Armin responded, “Yes, captain?”
Levi asked the question in an unexpectedly quiet tone, as if he was afraid that someone might overhear them.
“Have you found anything strange in the last couple of days? Maybe strange injuries to our passengers…”
To be honest, it was unlikely that Armin could remember any of them now. It was bad, but honest.
And yet, recalling his experiences from yesterday, the medic felt a certain mixture of joy and fear. On the one hand, he was glad that he hadn’t gone crazy enough to invent reasons for concern, and that he wasn’t the only one who had felt them. On the other hand… real reasons for concern are not something you want to welcome. Perhaps it would have been better if Arlert had made them up.
“I’m afraid I can’t remember now, captain. Sorry.” The guy shamefully pursed his lips and stared at the floor. “I’ll think about it and let you know if anything happens. May I ask what prompted this question..?”
Levi blinked and looked at Armin. He clearly saw doubts. No, not in him, the medic. In general. Ackerman didn’t want to worry his team without a reason, especially in a stressful situation, but in case of trouble, there is nothing more important than information.
And again the man looked at Hange with a question, silently asking her opinion.
The android shrugged and turned to Armin.
“We suspect that someone interfered with the electronics and, possibly, caused its breakdown.” The major sighed and adjusted her glasses. Her usually sparkling, inquisitive and slightly overexcited with energy gaze was now cold and serious. She still hardly resembled an ordinary android, but now an inhuman analytical ability was traced in her. Armin had no idea how, but it felt. - Of course, this is only an assumption, there is no proof, since broken systems have external damage and their failure may have nothing to do with sabotage. But the navigation also had internal damage - an amplifier, whose transformer blew out for some reason...
Armin frowned, listening to the explanations.
The more information he received, the less he liked it. If such concerns are found sufficient on the grounds of making sure of them, then...
Arlert pursed his lips.
That meant there were traitors on board the ship.
The first to come to mind, of course, were the members of the escort, and Armin didn't want to admit that he felt a little chill inside at the thought of Eren. The chill spread even more when the medic thought about the rest of the crew. It should be absurd, but how many stories were there about traitors hiding among the closest friends...?
Armin swallowed and looked up at Hange and Levi, who were staring at him. He realized that they had made a huge gesture of trust by telling him this. And even if all this did not go beyond the usual, cautious suspicions... Armin understood how important it was.
He nodded and took a deep breath, straightening up slightly.
“I will let you know if anything comes up.”
Levi looked at him again with a hint of fatherly gentleness.
“Thank you.”
Armin was about to leave, to rest and think about the situation as he was allowed, when he suddenly remembered the conversation at breakfast. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then asked cautiously, “Captain? And you... Are you acquainted with Zeke Yeager?”
Levi immediately darkened. One could even say that something vaguely resembling hatred flashed across his face. Quiet, and yet deep and terribly poisonous. The man narrowed his eyes and said:
“You could say that.”
“You-”
“That's enough. Go rest.”
Armin opened his mouth, but Hange threw up her hands and quickly approached him, putting her hands on the other's shoulders.
“It's okay, don't bother your head again!” The android began to babble in a soft voice, simultaneously leading the medic to the exit from the bridge. “First, get some sleep, and then you can think about anything your heart desires! And you'll share it with us, we know you have no equal in strategy! But that's all later, we're in no hurry, it's still a long way to Liberio!”
The major practically walked Armin to his cabin before letting him go and saying goodbye, wishing him a good rest.
The guy was stunned into silence for a few seconds before shaking his head and going inside his cabin.
Since they've seen me off so kindly… consider why they've seen me off.
To be honest, compared to other crew members, he was rather... faceless. Maybe because Armin spent most of his free time in the medical bay, or maybe because he had a special desire to somehow furnish the premises. What could he offer this place? Besides books and clothes, at least...
Once, as a child, he wanted to fill his future room with all sorts of things from his travels.
The boy dreamed of the seas of different planets, of incredible flora and fauna, geologically unique landscapes and masterpieces of unfamiliar worlds and cultures... A pile of shells, roots, pebbles and empty trinkets, looking at which stupid but dear to the heart stories come to mind...
When did he manage to forget about these dreams?
Apparently, somewhere along the way...
Instead of evidence of his mind-blowing travels, the smell of medical preparations, disinfection and books reigned in the cabin - the only things that have not lost their charm even after so many years. And although they were not very popular in the universe where electronics and subspace impulses reigned, Armin found them everywhere and treasured each copy.
The medic sighed and went deeper into the cabin, pulling off his white coat. Then it was the turn of the uniform: a T-shirt, pants, boots. Was it really time for civilian clothes?
The man took out a pair of loose black pants and a light blue long-sleeved shirt from the drawer. The fabric was so soft that it felt like it was a fluffy, heavenly cloud under his fingers… Mikasa’s old birthday present.
Plopping down on the made bed, Armin took a deep, relaxed breath and closed his eyes.
After a few seconds of blissful silence, thoughts began to creep into his head.
Eren and the skirmish he had declared… The flight to Liberio and the repair of the ship… Levi’s connection with Zeke… The possible organizers of the sabotage… The cadet days that Jean had mentioned yesterday… Marco…
Marco… Armin still had the book that Marco had given him before his death.
Jean had never blamed him, but Armin knew that he was to blame…
The man raised his eyelids and looked at his palms. Thin fingers, narrow hands, skinny wrists...
Once upon a time, Jean was right when he said that they were not meant for weapons. When he was indignant about why Arlert joined the army, although he was clearly not fit for it...
He didn't want to.
Armin didn't want to be a soldier. Never.
He just wanted to be a doctor. Maybe a pediatrician, or maybe a surgeon. To treat people, children... To help them as best he could and bring something good into this world. After all, it was so important while there's so much bad around... A drop of light in the middle of the black, endless space. Something small, but warm... Even if the guy didn't do any great things, he could make other people's lives better...
Perhaps he should have let Eren go, and gone his own way.
Now it seems to him that this would have been the best thing. Then he wouldn't have traded his dream for God knows what. He wouldn't have become what he became…
And he wouldn't have to wonder whose blood it was on his hands - those he had saved, or those he had killed.
A leaden weight filled his muscles, and Arlert recognized the ghost of approaching sleep. Relief, almost euphoria, spread through his veins at this realization - the boy only wanted to be allowed to really sleep this time.
His hands fell onto the blanket with a quiet clap, and the medic took a deep breath, willingly plunging into the blissful blackness.
--
The first thing Armin knew was that Levi would be terribly angry when he found out. There was no way he would approve of them joining the army.
But Levi was far away now and should not return soon - maybe half a year, maybe more. The Wings of Freedom was on a long voyage near the borders of Marley, and Armin and Mikasa had not received any news from Ackerman for a long time. It was both disturbing and a relief, because he wouldn't have to hide anything or lie about anything.
And yet, Levi clearly wouldn't stay for the five years it took to study at the school, and even if he did, it wouldn't save them. Not anymore...
Well, I signed up for this myself ... Armin thought bitterly, looking around the unfriendly reinforced concrete cage that was the school. The only colors were some of the cadets' personal belongings, the bright clothes of the training androids, and the sky. Even the uniform was gray.
As for the sky, it was truly beautiful. During the day, in its normal state, it pleased the eye with a rich purple, almost purple, with blue streaks. Such an unusual pattern was formed thanks to the Rose Nebula around Trost, a bizarre circle encompassing this and several other star systems. Towards evening, the purple turned fiery red, almost crimson, due to the dust raised in the air during the day. At night, the dust settled, and in the morning, when the sky, shimmering from blue to greenish-aquamarine, brightened in anticipation of dawn... God, how tender was the pink, almost carmine lightness, intertwined with the purest airy cobalt...
If Armin managed to slip away from the barracks before roll call, he did not miss a second of this enchanting, beautiful spectacle.
He was ready to describe this picture in letters to Historia every time, to share with her at least a part of this admiration. She must be terribly lonely there, somewhere far, far away, in safe but destroyed territories... There is unlikely to be anyone there who will hide with her under a blanket with a small yellow rocket-shaped night light and read aloud about unseen worlds that distant ancestors dreamed of... Someone who will hug and comfort her when she misses her parents, or who will make her favorite treats, even if ineptly, but with all his heart...
Armin would like space to be as delightful and exciting as they dreamed before. Even if they encountered scary stories, not beautiful ones, the boy was sure that it is better to believe in good, not terrible. Why would alien organisms attack those they have never seen? It is unlikely that the goal of any creature would be a thirst for blood and cruelty. They are all as alive as people, and it would probably be possible to find a common language with them...
Even though the Universe was inhabited, it probably still contains many secrets. They must be beautiful, right..?
A beautiful, mysterious, friendly space... Perhaps, if people had not come, it would have been like this.
Armin looked at the bizarre pink shimmers in the sky and thought about those books that he read aloud to his sister. How he wanted to go back and stay with her, Mikasa and Eren forever under the blanket and with a rocket night light...
So the second thing he knew was that he really didn't want to be here, even if the sky amazed his imagination with its beauty.
“Hello! Are you admiring?”
Armin shuddered in surprise and sharply turned his head towards the uninvited guest. The boy was sitting on the stairs at the entrance to the training block and clearly did not expect anyone to cross paths with him. Marco walked up to him with a soft smile on his face and then sat down next to him. Close enough, but not close enough to violate his personal space.
Marco was taller and a little bigger, but not as gangly as Jean. His black hair was cut short and parted in half with short bangs, setting off his pale, freckled skin. Softness seemed to be imprinted in the very core of his being, and was forever reflected in the depths of his brown eyes, always directed at other people with a tremulous and kind-hearted attention.
Armin exhaled and looked again at the sparks of the dawn ahead.
“Hello. Yes.” The boy glanced sideways and muttered, “I didn't think anyone would get up this early... At least, no one usually does.”
Marco giggled and rubbed the tip of his nose with his finger.
“Well, sometimes that happens to me. I noticed you weren't at the barracks, so I decided to check…”
“Mmm…” Armin shivered from the chill and wrapped himself more tightly in his gray cadet jacket. “Thank you. Actually, I often go to watch the sunrise. It's very beautiful... I don't know why, but it somehow reminds me of the stories my sister and I used to read.”
“Oh, I understand. Jean recently told me about how you have a sister…” Marco hesitated uncertainly, and then leaned slightly towards his classmate with curiosity. “Will you tell me about her?”
Armin blushed a little and became embarrassed, clearly embarrassed by this situation. Even though Marco was friendly to everyone, Arlert had never really talked to him. He had few friends here... Mostly those who didn't care and those who didn't like him.
And yet, Bodt seemed... very kind. You wanted to talk to him despite any feeling of embarrassment, because this man inspired trust. It seemed that he would keep any secret you had, would understand and support you in any situation...
Armin lowered his head, biting his lip slightly, and then said timidly.
“Her name is Historia. She is a year younger than me. Everyone around us constantly says that we are twins, but in fact we are just very similar.” A smile appeared on his bitten lips without thinking, and the uncertainty retreated a little. As soon as he started talking about his sister, his heart immediately became calmer...
“She is very kind and curious, although to be honest, I think I spoiled her a little - she has some queenly tendencies.”
Armin chuckled quietly, remembering Historia's sternly drawn eyebrows when she didn't like something. It would have been menacing if it hadn't been so sweet.
A few seconds later, the warm smile caused by bright memories faded slightly.
“A couple of years ago, when Shiganshina found itself in a danger zone due to military action, our grandfather sent her to distant relatives in the interior so that she would be safe... And I stayed because boys over ten years old were not allowed to leave - due to their proximity to the age for conscription into cadet schools.”
Marco pursed his lips sympathetically.
“So, you haven't seen each other since then..?”
Arlert shook his head:
“No. We've only been texting for about two years, and to be honest, I miss her a lot…” Armin took a deep breath and folded his hands on his lap, squeezing his pant legs with his fingers. “She has to pretend to be someone she's not... They treat her badly, and she has no choice but to endure it and be around people who don't really care about her. And I can't do anything about it, because she's there, and I'm here…”
The boy bit his lip - it was painful even to think about it. Life does nothing but hurt him and his loved ones...
Eren used to be there, and he promised that someday they would be able to take Historia and help her. He hugged him with his thin, long arms and stroked his back with passion, whispering encouraging words. To be honest, he wasn't very good at it - Eren wasn't very good at lyrics - but still, Armin felt calmer.
Now Eren wasn't there.
Or rather, he was, just... somewhere. Lost in the endless space and, probably, free in his decisions. Just like he wanted...
Armin tried to find him, but in the end he was left with nothing... It was only him and Mikasa against a huge, hostile world.
Suddenly, the weight of a warm hand fell on his shoulder, and the boy saw Marco smile softly at him.
“You're always there for her, even if you're here. I think she's happy about that too…”
Armin looked down and briefly raised the corners of his lips:
“Yes, probably…”
Suddenly, Marco giggled and leaned over conspiratorially.
“And did you tell her about Jean?”
Armin's eyebrows shot up and he chuckled.
“Yeah, a little... I don't think it would be possible to leave out such an unfriendly person in a story without lying.”
Marco laughed, but didn't take his hand away. His honey-brown eyes sparkled in the rays of light, and freckles played like a scattering on his skin. Maybe they were little stars? Bodt seemed to be made of some kind, warm light...
“Yeah, he has a fireworks type of personality... But you know…” Marco's smile faded slightly, but still didn't cool off. He just became a little more serious, although he didn't lose his softness. “Forgive him. For the way he treats you... He doesn't mean to. He just hasn't figured out what to do yet. I think if you help him slow down, you'll find a common language…”
“Are you suggesting that we take his arrogance down a notch?” Armin narrowed his eyes. Marco laughed again, removing his hand from the other's shoulder and straightening his legs on the steps.
“You could say that, although it's a little too rude for me.”
“Hm…” Armin mumbled thoughtfully, turning his head again and looking at the dawn. He was turning over Bodt's proposal, and gradually the thought came to him that, in general, it could work. He didn't really hope that he and Jean would become friends... From the very first day, Kirstein had been openly aggressive, and hoping for a truce with him would be too presumptuous. Jean was... different. He seemed like a man who knew what he wanted and how to achieve it, who thought only of himself and looked at life with his shoulders straight and his head held high. Armin was not like that at all and Kirstein clearly didn't like him, although he hadn't even had time to do anything. They are just different kinds of birds - such people never get along...
If it weren't for Marco's initiative, he would hardly have thought about doing anything about it at all.
And yet...
Armin smiled and nodded slightly to himself:
“I think I have an idea.”
Marco raised his eyebrows with interest, but the other cadet only pressed his finger to his lips and, matching Bodt's recent conspiratorial mood, whispered, “It's a secret for now.”
The freckled guy nodded understandingly, and then suddenly said, “You know, we never really got to know each other properly. I mean, we know each other, but it didn't work out very well at first, and then we never went back to it... And you're a nice guy, actually, and I'd like to, well, I don't know, haha…”
Marco chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He was clearly referring to the first day when Jean threw a pencil at Armin. And also the fact that he obviously wanted to be friends.
This was unexpected - Armin wouldn't call himself a "nice guy" or even good company. He was like an eyesore here, weak, unsightly and rather mediocre, and yet... A timid warmth trembled in his chest at the thought that someone like Marco wanted to be friends with him.
Arlert shrugged and, after a moment's hesitation, extended his hand.
“In that case... Armin. Armin Arlert.”
Marco, glad that his stupid offer to get to know each other again had not been rejected, smiled broadly and shook the extended hand.
“Marco. Marco Bodt. Let's be friends!”
---
Dear Historia,
Hello, my beloved little sister.
It's been almost two months since we last wrote to each other, and I have a lot to tell you. First, I want to send you greetings from Mikasa - she remembers you with special warmth, and we are both counting down the seconds until our first long-term leave so that we can finally fly to you and see you. I can't wait to see how you've grown and to hug you.
Remember, I told you about how my admission to the school went? The strict instructor Shadis is still as scary as he was during the six months I spent here, and the training is exhausting to the point of death. I don't think I'll ever get used to them...
I made a couple of acquaintances, whom I also mentioned. Now that I've gotten to know them a little better, I'm sure you'd like them. Connie is shorter than me, but he has an incredibly lively character - sometimes I think he can match you in agility. He helps me with training and seems to believe more than me that I can match the others in strength or agility. It's too optimistic of him, but I'm grateful for his faith in me. Sasha, with whom he constantly goes, also encourages me at every opportunity, but I think she has slightly different priorities, haha. I don't know how many times over the past six months she's stolen food from senior officers and not been caught for it - she definitely has some kind of superpower. However, I'm not a fool to complain - she often shares this food with us, even though it's obvious how hard it is for her. Sharing, I mean.
Besides those two, Ymir is kind to me. To be honest, for a long time I wasn't sure why she treats me well. I thought that maybe at some point the catch would come to light, and one wonderful day I would be beaten up somewhere in a corner... She's rude, stubborn, straightforward as a bayonet and doesn't miss out on an advantage... Many people think that she was brought from a juvenile colony, and sooner or later she will kill someone. But in fact, Ymir is a good girl. And quite lonely... I haven't yet found out why she is in the army, but it seems to her that she is no better off here than Mikasa and me, even though she is one of the best in the corps. Sorry, but I told her a little about you... If you want, I will share the address of her receiver - I think you will find something to talk about.
Now for something that might surprise you.
Remember what I said about the guy who wasn't very nice to me and who was always looking for fights? He has a friend here, a really nice guy... His name is Marco, and he's really kind. We may have known each other formally, but he only asked us to be friends officially a couple of weeks ago, so now... I have a friend.
Honestly, after Eren, applying the "friend" status to someone else feels weird and terribly incomplete, because no one will ever compare to Eren... But I have a good feeling about Marco. Maybe you don't have to be as connected and deep as you are with Eren to be friends, huh..? I wish we could actually be friends.
And about that brawling guy, there's an interesting story with him. I don't really want to describe it in detail, but I recently had an unexpectedly successful sparring match with him. In fact, I cheated a little, but I don’t regret it - as Marco suggested before, it was worth hitting Jean’s arrogance, and he became much easier to deal with. I must admit, he’s... Not a bad guy. Lately, after that sparring, he’s expectedly very humiliated and doesn’t really look anyone in the eye, but I think we have a chance to get along. I’m shocked that I’m saying this... In the end, I have to thank Marco again - without him, I wouldn’t have even thought to try.
In short... Slowly, but things are going well. I still wish I had never ended up here, but at least there are wonderful people here.
And how are you? I really hope that you’re doing well, or at least that you find something that makes you happy. That Rod doesn’t offend you too much... Every night I remember our cuddles under the blanket, and they comfort me... I wish I could hug you right now.
I love you very much, Tori. I can't wait to hear from you.
With love and best wishes, your brother, Min.
Notes:
Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think :3
Good luck to everyone, I love you all)
Chapter 5: Black on chestnut
Summary:
And even if his contact is damn attacks and a declaration of a stupid war, this can be worked on competently. Yeager chose him for his games, so...
So the only option left is to accept the challenge and continue this ridiculous skirmish with Eren.
Notes:
Thanks to everyone who is waiting for new chapters and supporting with comments! You guys are very helpful, I love you :3
Events are slowly accelerating)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Armin woke up, he was not alone in the cabin.
Unlike when he fell asleep, there was now a softer, night-time lighting. Apparently, the other girl decided to spare the medic's eyes when he woke up.
Taking a deep breath after waking up - as if taking a sip of reality - Armin turned his head. Historia was sitting on the edge of his bed, leafing through an old book. Her hair was soft, and gathered in a loose half-bun. The warm lighting made it look like golden liquid silk...
Armin squinted softly - a shadow of a smile hid in the corners of his lips.
And although the medic barely moved, Historia said,
“Oh. You're awake.” She closed the book, put it on the bedside drawer and turned her head to her brother. Armin chuckled affirmatively.
“What time is it now?” He asked, running his hand over his eyes.
“You slept all day, it was lights out an hour ago.”
“Mmm, my whole routine just went to hell…”
“As if you had a routine.” Historia grinned and climbed onto the bed with her feet pulled up. Instead of a flight attendant uniform, she was wearing civilian clothes - soft gray pants and a dull pink T-shirt. Armin smiled in agreement.
“That's true…” The medic closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant relaxation after sleep. “But what are you doing here? If it’s lights out.”
“I don't know... I just have a feeling that you're... distancing yourself somehow.” Historia looked at her brother with soft, sad eyes. “As if you were getting lost somewhere inside yourself. So I wanted to be close.”
Armin didn't know what to say in response to this. A strange silence settled in: not comfortable enough, but not oppressive either. Just... silence. As if there was something left that could be added to the conversation, but there was no reason to yet.
The medic looked at the ceiling, which was engulfed in semi-darkness, and Historia looked at him. She seemed like some kind of unearthly sorceress in the dim light, and although her sweet, innocent appearance could deceive others - the younger Arlert was a very smart and cunning person. Almost unbending and able to look under the shell of a person in an effort to get to the bottom of their essence ... The medic no longer remembered at what point she transformed so much, but it was not that he was going to complain - Historia could stand up for herself. And that was the main thing…
At some point, the girl smiled and easily leaned back, laying her head on her brother's lap. Armin shuddered in surprise, but did not argue. In fact, he missed this - Historia had not been on the ship for more than a month, and even before her vacation, she rarely allowed herself to behave childishly. It was calming...
The guy hesitated for a couple of seconds, and then put his hand on his sister's head, gently stroking her hair and occasionally burying his fingers in the light strands.
“Do you remember how you read books to me out loud?” Historia asked quietly, looking somewhere up.
Armin hummed in agreement - of course he remembered. In the cadetship, this was one of the few memories that comforted him in difficult times.
“I still remember all those worlds you told me about... We were delighted to invent our own. Even if part of space was explored, it was always exciting to imagine something bigger, something unexplored…”
“Mmm... I tried to read with expression, and sometimes I got so carried away that I scared you when there was an intense scene in the story.” Armin stretched his lips into a smile, continuing to sort through his sister's hair.
“We also had a rocket night light, and we imagined ourselves flying through the Universe of hologram stars that our mother bought us…”
“Yeah... If only we knew how it would all turn out in the end…”
The movements of his fingers slowed down as Armin thought about someone else's words.
Having his sister with him during his awakening was a pleasant reprieve from returning to reality. An immersion in the comfort of family, a return to the soft nest where he always felt safe...
Sometimes, being there, the boy forgot that he was no longer a chick. That he couldn't be there - otherwise the nest would remain defenseless. Armin had to protect it - as the eldest. As the only one...
The burden returned to his soul, and the fragile illusion of comfort dissipated.
Armin allowed himself to enjoy the remains of it, burying himself in Historia's hair and feeling the weight of her head on his hips.
“Armin.” The girl suddenly addressed him, turning and looking into his face. The medic lowered his head, answering her gaze.
“What?”
“I know, you are not a little boy anymore, imagining mysterious unknown worlds from books and sitting with me under the blanket with a night light. I know that you missed Eren very much for many years and thought that without him your life had lost its foundation, and you yourself fell apart, but…” Historia frowned slightly and bit her lips, and then - grabbed her brother's free hand with her fingers. “Don't think that you can't dream without him. I've already told you this, many times, but he does not define you, Armin. With his absence or presence…”
“Tori…”
“Wait, let me finish.” The girl snorted and squeezed his fingers. “I understand that you will always protect me and the whole team from problems. Even from your own, because you don't want to burden us, but... You are our family, Armin. Don't forget that. We are here for you.”
Historia pressed Armin’s hand to her cheek and whispered, "Do what you have to do..." then let him go.
Armin took a deep breath and stroked his sister's hair again.
"I'm trying, Tori... I'm trying so hard. It's just..." He paused, wanting to get it all out, but not wanting to dump it all.
Like Historia had said, the medic didn't want to shove his problems on the crew. On his family...
"It's complicated. I want to help Levi and Hange, and I have to look after the well-being of the crew and passengers... I want this absolutely stupid skirmish between me and Eren to go away. But most of all, I want to rest. I had a nervous breakdown yesterday, and I need to give myself time to recover so that it doesn't cause problems later..." At the mention of a nervous breakdown, Historia turned her head to him again and raised her eyebrows, but the doctor just waved his hand, and she didn't insist. At least now she could guess why Armin was in Ymir's cabin this morning...
“So... Sorry if I seem distant.” Armin summed up, sighing. Even though he had slept all day, after a short period of wakefulness he felt sleepy again.
“You too, don't forget that I love you. All of you.”
Historia purred in agreement and curled up on the other's thigh. Apparently, she wanted to sleep too - unlike him, the girl had probably spent the whole day on her feet.
Armin smiled and carefully covered the other's shoulders with a corner of the blanket they were both lying on. Pulling it out completely would be problematic, and he didn't want to ruin such a cozy moment.
Even if Armin was no longer a chick to hide in the nest... He could warm himself there, welcomed by his family. At least sometimes.
“Good night, Tori.”
“Good night, Min…”
—
Luckily, this time Armin woke up closer to the rise of daybreak, and not the following night. His exhausted body took its lion's share of rest, and now the medic felt fresher, and better. One of good passive ways to recover from a nervous breakdown is a long, good sleep, and the medic was glad that he was allowed to enjoy it.
The deep, all-encompassing darkness began to gradually recede, and a certain clear state came, when reality had not yet forced you to open your eyes, but nevertheless your thoughts were clear and distinct. When the brain, at rest, thinks, searches, analyzes...
Possible sabotage, conflict with Eren, tension on the ship, Levi and Zeke's unknown connection...
Strange things, unusual injuries...
Armin himself felt all this, and thought about it... Even if the recent tension before the breakdown was caused by his nerves, it was not groundless. Especially when it turned out that Levi and Hange also suspected something.
Something was spinning, flickering on the edge of the subconscious... It was so inconspicuous, almost ordinary, and yet for some reason Arlert was sure that it was important. It was precisely in light of recent events, precisely because of what the Captain and Major said...
Strange things, unusual injuries...
None of the crew members received any injuries. And... despite fears that someone from the team could be a traitor, Armin did not believe in it. His mind understood the possibility, but his whole being refused to accept it.
They were his comrades.
His family...
Almost four years of free floating in space and no problems, why did some traitor have to show up now?
No, no, it wasn't them...
And if they were, then... he could hardly bear it. Not again...
That left only the escort.
The only one injured was Eren, who saved him from hitting his head on the floor. It couldn't have been him, unless Yeager had somehow taken advantage of the confusion and concealed the original cause of the injury with a bruise... But why on earth? Why?
Armin felt the familiar chill of knowing that he didn't know this man. He couldn't calculate or read him, he couldn't understand his possible motives or goals...
Stop. It doesn't matter now.
Trauma, trauma...
Wait a second...
She didn't make any unnecessary movements, didn't speak unnecessarily, didn't interfere, and was generally a "pleasant patient"...
In the end, the medic treated...
...the girl's hand that had received an electrical burn...
Armin suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.
Historia, still curled up on his thigh, winced in displeasure, but didn't wake up. The man only glanced at her and immediately returned to his own thoughts, biting his lip.
This in itself doesn't mean anything, power surges could injure people nearby, especially if they instinctively grabbed the panels... And even if the suspicion is correct, the motives are still unclear. Why interfere with the navigation system, let alone break it? The safety of the ship and the people on it depends on this, after all, without navigation you can drift in space for centuries, or you can end up right in a star or planet during an unsuccessful exit from hyperspace and die as a result... Why the hell take and expose yourself and others to such a risk?
Be that as it may, there is a terrible lack of information of which to draw conclusions.
The escorts are practically strangers, about whom nothing is known. How can you think anything about them and suspect anything, or consider their intentions , if there is no data about them except for the dossier?
If the assumption of sabotage and interference was in the navigation system - and in some other areas too, did they just not notice it? - right, then it is necessary to get information before they fly to Liberio.
But how..?
In theory, they have no reason to contact them more than formally.
Escorts - they were passengers with whom the crew interacted minimally. Any attempt to gain deeper trust will certainly be met with reluctance and, perhaps, suspicion. And if there is a potential saboteur, then he will clearly not say anything extra. Perhaps, he will even feel threatened...
They are all taciturn - with the exception of Floch, but with him things aren’t that pleasant either - and just coming up and asking "hey, how are you?" would already be strange. Moreover, there are no personal connections with them to cling to, with the exception of ... perhaps ... Eren ...
Armin blinked, grasping at this thought.
Floch can't be removed from the equation as a possible source of information, but there are no unsuspicious paths to him. Although he is loud, pompous and rather emotional, Forster is still a soldier and knows how to keep his mouth shut. It will be difficult to offend him personally so that he starts talking, and asking questions will be strange for the same reasons. In addition, he clearly doesn’t have the most friendly attitude towards Armin...
Eren is the only one who in some sense makes contact himself. The only one with whom they had a deep emotional connection, and not only him, but also Mikasa and even Levi. They were his family.
And even if his contact is damn attacks and a declaration of a stupid war, this can be worked on competently. Yeager chose him for his games, so...
So it should be possible to bring him to emotional vulnerability and, as a result, to possible information. It would be even better if the rest of the escorts started to join in after him - they are clearly emotionally dependent on each other, just like the Wings of Freedom team. After all, Zeke is Eren's half-brother, and he is clearly their commander...
So the only option left is to accept the challenge and continue this ridiculous skirmish with Eren.
Armin took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face, feeling how all his strength was evaporating at the mere thought of it.
And he wanted to spend this week recovering... He even talked Levi into taking a break. So what, should he go back and ask to be returned to his partner with Eren?
No way.
The need for rest has not gone away, he just needs to act more cunningly. He can even ask the rest of the team to help him, but the first step must be taken independently - to demonstrate that the challenge has been accepted.
Eh, Eren... Despite everything, you are still looking for a fight.
The medic thought that in addition to searching for information, this whole situation could have another advantage. his comrades would certainly find a way to get some fun out of all of this…
Bread and circuses, huh?
“Armin..?” A quiet voice rang out, and the medic turned his head to Historia. She looked at him sleepily, frowning her light eyebrows. “What's the matter?”
Armin chuckled and ruffled his sister's hair, watching as she squinted and waved him away.
“Oh, I just thought of something.” he said with a chuckle, and then abruptly crawled to the edge of the bed and began to look for shoes. Historia's head fell on the blanket, but she immediately picked it up, looking at her brother in bewilderment. Apparently, the rest did him good, since he started jumping like that...
“Where are you going? It's too early to get up…” The girl glanced at the clock on the nightstand and added, “There are still twenty minutes left.”
“ Only twenty minutes. I need to do one thing…” Armin muttered, pulling on his boots and quickly lacing them up. There was no time to change from civilian clothes into uniform, so he would have to show off such an unfortunate and funny combination.
Lightly tapping his heels on the floor and making sure that the shoes fit well, the guy stood up and almost at the exit of the cabin turned to his sister:
“If anything, I'll see you at breakfast.”
Historia blinked and only nodded, watching her brother go.
Armin returned to his cabin five minutes after getting up, and Historia was no longer there. On the way, he met with Jean and Connie - they asked him with slight concern about yesterday's absence, but the medic assured them that everything was fine.
To be honest, his thoughts were occupied with something else right now.
Less than twenty minutes left before he would return to the dining room and do what he was going to do. It would be hard to imagine a more demonstrative thing. Maybe it would even be a bit childish.
No more childish than a banal footstool.
Appropriate for a childhood friend…
After changing into his uniform and exhaling to relieve the tension, Armin left the cabin again. He tried to calm himself down, knowing that he should not overexert himself. As much as possible.
And yet, as soon as he crossed the threshold of the dining room and found himself face to face with the escort and the crew, a strange jitter took hold of the man. A small tremor of something between fear and anticipation made its way into his limbs, and his heart began to beat faster than before… He wanted to laugh or run away, to once again play out his intentions in his head and run them through a filter screen, but Armin knew that would simply mean he'd back down.
Do what you have to do.
Go ahead, you don't have to think. Just do it.
Armin sighed and took a step toward the escort table, not letting himself lose face. A confident look was one of the things he needed to make this work. It was like... facing bullies.
With every movement that brought him closer to the still indifferent Eren, everything inside him simultaneously froze and boiled. The trembling disappeared, and as soon as the medic was at the table, he stopped hesitating. Unnoticed by the others, he took a quick sniff and picked up someone else's aluminum mug.
He looked inside for a couple of seconds, as if he'd found some kind of interplanetary bug in his newly started coffee, and then turned it over and poured the contents onto Eren's head.
It was as if time and space had collapsed in that instant, allowing the dark liquid to flow down other's half-bun, petrified face, and soak into the uniform in spots, dripping onto the floor. There was such silence that you could probably hear the sound of dripping water on the other side of the ship.
Eren, holding the spoon, froze, looking ahead.
Armin swung the mug slightly in the air, shaking off the remaining drops, and then slowly returned it to its place.
“Oops.” He spoke coldly and calmly, as if he had accidentally hit a person in transport.
Somewhere from the table of his team, a murmur of the crew and an approving whistle, undoubtedly belonging to Jean, could be heard. At the same time, the stunned Floch with a wild expression was about to stand up - the medic thought he heard a nascent roar - when Zeke suddenly pulled into place. He slapped his hand on the guy's shoulder and pulled him back, forcing him to sit down. Levi and Hange, sitting next to the main team, also stared at this scene in shock. The captain even froze in place, with a mug to his face.
As if on cue, Eren gritted his teeth and lowered the spoon into the plate with a loud clang. His chest swelled in a deep, angry breath, his knuckles cracked from the tension in his hands. Armin did not see the stranger's gaze, but he was sure that he was now sparkling a rich green from irritation. Maybe rage .
Leaning his palms on the table, Yeager turned on the bench to stand up. Surely, to straighten up to his full height and cause at least some discomfort in him, tiny, puny Armin, maybe even fear.
Bold, scary, and furious Eren...
However, as soon as Yeager planted his feet on the floor to stand up and straighten his shoulders, his boots slid across the corrugated aluminum with a loud squeak. One brief moment of graceful flight, and Eren fell backwards with a crash, instinctively throwing his arms out to the sides and staring up in shock.
Silence fell over the cafeteria for the second time.
Floch's jaw dropped, Zeke and Finger stared with mixed emotions. Laughter and a warm, hearty round of applause from Kirstein erupted from the team table.
But Armin paid them no attention at all - his gaze was riveted on the confused Eren, who finally showed something other than indifference, a little surprise and anger. His face lengthened, and for a few moments he seemed to drop the mask of an insensitive and tough cracker. Green eyes darted to Armin, who towered over his opponent, and he could read something akin to... admiration in them.
As if Yeager couldn't believe that he had just been pinned down without a single movement.
The medic suppressed a wave of something akin to triumphant gloating and said dryly:
“Challenge accepted.”
And then he went to the crew table, ignoring the burning gaze on his back.
The crew greeted his demonstrative trick with delight and applause. Even Mikasa smiled somewhere into the collar of her clothes - apparently, she appreciated the idea of a spectacular performance without a drop of harm. Well, hurt pride doesn't count...
While everyone was discussing this, clapping the medic on the shoulder and laughing, Historia leaned over the table and quietly asked,
“How did you do it?”
Her light blue eyes sparkled with interest - after all, she knew that her brother had somehow prepared for this trick. Armin grinned at the corner of his lips and stirred his porridge with a spoon. Jean and Connie had gotten into some heated discussion, quite loud, and yet Arlert was not afraid of not being heard. He also answered quietly:
“I took some dehydrated polishing gel from the storage room. In powder form, it practically sticks to metal surfaces, and I sprinkled it on the floor. Eren always sits in the same place, so…”
Historia's gaze lit up with understanding, and she looked at the medic with wary delight.
“And you spilled the coffee-”
“Yes, so that the powder would turn into a gel. So he slipped as soon as he stood up.” Armin took the mug with a quiet chuckle, looking at the dark liquid inside. From this day on, he will look at coffee a little differently... “Nothing complicated. Just a little trick…”
The girl straightened up and laughed in amazement. Yesterday's conversation about the insidious sparring with Jean in the cadetship surfaced in her head, and Historia was glad that she personally did not have to deal with the insidious and hostile side of her brother.
Ymir, who had been listening to the conversation, eventually chuckled proudly and extended an open palm over the table.
Armin closed his eyes and gave her a high five.
--
After breakfast, Levi called him to his cabin for a talk.
The medic assumed that the captain would have questions about this speech, and he was right. It would be strange if he wouldn’t .
When they both found themselves in a small room, Ackerman closed the door and went inside to sit on the bed. Armin briefly looked around - he hadn’t been here for a long time. However, nothing had changed much - Levi’s perfectionism and love of cleanliness were evident in every inch of the cabin.
The small bed was perfectly made, the floor was washed to a dull aluminum shine, and any personal items were arranged in absolute order. The main part of the crew had light panels along the walls either with patterns or with partial stains, but Levi didn’t like that. The walls and panels were perfectly clean, there was not a single speck of dust on the shelves with books and tools. The papers, some equipment and several electronic media were organized in perfect order. The only thing that stood out from the overall picture of impeccability was the multi-colored packages of tea in the cabinet with a translucent door.
Green, black, oolong, white, chamomile, with thyme and herbs... The list is endless - Levi was a true connoisseur. One of his few sensual attachments, except for the "foster children" with whom he surrounded himself.
Ackerman sat down on the bed and gestured for Armin to do the same. The medic obeyed.
The captain rested his elbows on his hips and looked closely at his subordinate.
“Well. Explain what that was about.”
Armin closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, formulating everything he wanted to say, and then briefly outlined all his recent conclusions. Thoughts about potential saboteurs and how a war with Eren could help in identifying them at the very least.
Levi listened carefully to all his arguments, concerns, and suggestions, looking thoughtfully at the floor.
Beyong the essence of what the medic had stated, the man could see something more in it. Even if Armin refused to think about it, or he thought about it but did not accept it, then this was a chance for mutual interaction with Eren.
Recalling his earlier thoughts about Hange's failure in her intentions to bring Arlert and Yeager together, Ackerman thought that perhaps this was not such a failure. Although there was certainly a risk - if Eren had already brought Armin to a state of urgent need for rest, then it might only get worse.
Or the medic would somehow adapt and either endure this ordeal with dignity, or even extract some benefit from it. Apparently, that trick in the dining room was to Arlert's liking...
The other crew members are unfriendly towards Yeager due to recent events, but if Armin provides such a frivolous but emotional war, then it could become something like... a game. A team game and not very fair, but relatively harmless and allowing you to relieve tension without serious damage. Some type of entertainment…
I can't stand games, Levi thought, and yet the prospect of such a release for his subordinates seemed attractive.
After all, they had a little over a week to deal with potential saboteurs on board. Either this, or they will have to go crazy from inaction...
"And you want to arrange a circus on board?" Ackerman grumbled, looking at the doctor. Armin nodded, and Levi with a deep sigh waved his hand.
“Okay. Go ahead. Hange and I will be looking for possible evidence of sabotage, so don’t let anyone from the escort suspect anything. If you want, you can rely on the rest of the crew and share with them the information you deem necessary..” The captain frowned and looked the medic seriously in the eyes, again showing his trust regarding the suspicions of sabotage. He was allowed to dedicate someone he deems necessary to this….
Armin pursed his lips and decisively drew his eyebrows together.
“Yes, captain.”
Levi's expression softened a little after these words, and he said more quietly, with awkward notes. “Be careful. I don't need you to have a fit because of a stupid game with Eren.”
The medic smiled slightly at these words, recognizing Ackerman's rough concern. Whatever one may say, the crew and Armin in particular are practically adopted children for him.
They are not exactly military in the usual sense. The Wings of Freedom is a mercenary ship, and its crew is free to choose their own work. And although Levi, Armin, Mikasa and the rest of the crew are under military oath, thanks to a special order they are free in their careers. Up to a certain point, of course...
Should war break out, or an army calls in the necessary forces, the Wings of Freedom will also be forced to return to the state's control.
But for now...
In three years of free sailing, they have become softer. More friendly. Warmer... More relaxed in their behavior than ordinary soldiers. Especially Levi - unlike everyone else, he has been aboard the Wings of Freedom for more than ten years, since the ship's inception. With the very first crew...
He is no longer part of the army he once was long ago. Not a cruel machine, obeying only orders from above.
Armin knows that Levi hates the heartless and amorous side of the army. With all his heart. He despises the need to make sacrifices and show inhumanity in order to achieve goals, and yet he knows that sometimes it is necessary to do so.
It does not hurt to hate this knowledge less.
A familiar, deeply dark and painful feeling, as if it had surfaced at the mention of Zeke... Armin is familiar with it, and yet he will never understand and pass through himself the way Ackerman does.
Levi values his team more than the need to find criminals or traitors. They will not go anywhere...
And he will take care of his children, even if the words of love are unfamiliar and strange to him.
“Yes, captain.” Armin said softly, thereby promising not to let the current situation finish him off or completely knock him off track.
Ackerman nodded and again looked down at the floor.
“Dismissed.” He said shortly, letting the medic go. Armin stood up, saluted, and left the cabin feeling a little better and a little freer.
The captain's approval gave him a slight confidence, and now Arlert could use the information he had as he wanted, and that was a good thing. He wouldn't have to analyze what he was allowed to say and what he wasn't.
As he left the cabin, Armin came face to face with Hange, who spread her arms in greeting:
“Hello, our theatrical talent! That stunt with Eren was impressive!” The android let out a throaty laugh, in which there was something akin to pride and curiosity. As if the scientist's favorite object of observation had given him unexpectedly pleasing results, and he would like to see more... “Are you having fun?”
Armin curled the corner of his lips in a weak, uncertain smile.
“I wouldn't say so…”
“Care to share?”
“I told the captain everything and, frankly, I don't really want to repeat it. At least in the near future. Sorry, Major…”
Hange pursed her lips, but nodded understandingly.
“I'm an android, I can't be upset with you. Besides, it would be wrong to torment you unnecessarily.”
The medic chuckled and shrugged.
“I'm not made of sugar, but thank you. And…” The man narrowed his eyes. “...most likely, I'll need your help soon. Right after the captain brings you up to speed.”
Hange's eyes flashed with interest. A glint ran across her glasses, her lips twitched in a slight grin.
“Oh…” However, after a couple of seconds, some madness disappeared from the stranger's face, and the major said more good-naturedly. “Of course, Armin! I'll be happy to help you.”
The guy smiled briefly and looked down.
“Okay, thank you.” He straightened up, folding his hands behind his back and lifting his chin. “Can I go?”
The android nodded and waved at him. “Yes, you're free.”
Armin automatically saluted and left.
And an idea was born in his head.
---
As a result, Armin did not return to Eren's pair for cleaning. And yet, he took advantage of someone else's schedule to pull off a new trick.
The medic was not going to wait for Yeager to decide to answer a barb with a barb and come up with something of his own, no.
Even if it's not real, this is war...
...What are you doing..?
While traitors may be hiding on your ship, your systems are broken, and you are floating in space to one single almost unknown planet with the hope of repairs, you are coming up with ways to piss off Eren..?
Are you serious?
Is that all your vaunted brain can come up with? A strategic mind?
Damn, here we go… Armin froze halfway to his destination and clenched his fists. He couldn't let his own doubts get in the way.
A medic was sometimes his own worst enemy.
I'm not just thinking of ways to tease Eren, I'm trying to get him to give me information and ease the tension on the ship. This might help my comrades and escorts relax, which means we can get closer to them and get information as well.
We can't do anything but wait for Liberio to arrive, and even Levi's attempts to keep us busy cleaning up aren't enough to distract us. After all, we don't have a network connection and we haven't had time to bring many things onto the ship. A fight with Eren will be demonstrative, as entertainment for the rest of the crew. Besides, this way we'll avoid tension and an atmosphere of suspicion while Levi and Hange are looking for clues and observing suspects.
Stop trying to convince me that I'm wrong.
Even if I'm wrong, this is the only thing I can do now. And even if it's childish nonsense, it should work.
“Oh, Armin!”
The man blinked and turned around at the cheerful girl's voice. Sasha actively waved her palm at him, approaching with a springy, active gait. The medic belatedly waved back - the cook came almost right up to him and tilted her head in curiosity.
“Why are you standing there?”
“Just... thinking.”
Armin resumed his pace, and Sasha went with him. She didn't even ask where Arlert was heading - the girl just decided to keep him company.
“I heard you put on some kind of show at breakfast! Why?”
Blouse seemed unaware of his squabbles with Eren — after all, she had enough to do in the ship's kitchen. She hadn't seen them bickering, and apparently no one had gone into detail when it came to gossip.
Armin shrugged.
"Eren challenged me. I retaliated.”
Sasha's eyes widened in shock. She paused for a moment and looked closely at the man walking next to her, as if he were a stranger in someone else's skin. Armin continued walking, and the girl resumed her pace, catching up with him.
“You? Answered? Someone's challenge?” Blouse comically raised her voice, and then poked Armin in the shoulder with her finger, as if checking for authenticity. “I don't believe it. Who are you and what did you do to Armin? Oh, wait... Did you say ‘Eren’?”
Armin sighed patiently and turned down the corridor at the fork in the road towards the cafeteria. It was funny that for some reason the cafeteria was the epicenter of all the action...
“Yes.” The medic answered shortly, and Sasha squealed, pressing her hands to her mouth:
“God! Now I understand…” she whispered conspiratorially under her breath at the end. Armin only closed his eyes.
Sasha was one of the most emotional people he had ever seen. Her spontaneity and openness had won over many people in her time and had become the reason for many friendships. After all, how could you not get along with such a friendly girl? It was extremely difficult to even be angry at her narrow-mindedness...
However, even though Blouse did not shine with academic success, she had incredible intuition and had helped the Wings of Freedom crew with it many times. Her emotional intelligence was higher than many on the ship, and that was why she had almost no equal in understanding emotions. Well, with the exception of Historia, of course...
And, of course, she knew about Eren in general terms. Who on the crew didn't know about him anyway...
“You know, I was wondering why you were so tired and all... nervous somehow. But now it's clear.” Sasha drawled, putting her hands behind her back and thoughtfully biting her lips.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to Armin. He blinked and turned his head to the other girl.
“Sasha, can you help me?”
“Hm?” The girl looked at him with interest.
“This may seem stupid, but I need to piss Eren off. With all sorts of... jokes, if I may say so.”
“Are you going to play... pranks on him?”
God, how pathetic that sounded... Not very inspiring after all the skeptical thoughts.
Armin pursed his lips briefly and agreed with a sigh.
“Yeah, kind of.”
Sasha let out a short laugh, but seeing the sour expression on the medic's face, she hid the smile. She cleared her throat and tried to look serious.
“Okay, okay. And how can I help?”
“I need you to do something about lunch…”
-
“You don't understand, the middle is the best part!” Eren waved his free hand towards his friends. The other one was occupied by a small fluffy danish with curd and a pink dot of cherry jam. The rims were almost eaten, and only the curd-berry center with a piece of dough on the edge remained. “If you eat from one edge to the other, then in the end only the dough will remain, and the taste of the filling will be interrupted. So you need to eat all the worst parts first, damn it, so that only the best part remains, and then savor it!”
To add weight to his words, the boy cupped his fingers and shook them vigorously.
“Eren, the danish is about to fall apart.” Mikasa quietly and timidly noted, watching how, due to the looseness of the texture, the curd part was ready to fall off the piece of rich dough.
Eren cursed, and at the last moment managed to catch the ‘most delicious part’ with his other hand before it would have ended up on the floor. His cheeks were burning with emotion, and his chest was swelling after his passionate speech.
Armin was sitting at the kitchen table with a small book. It was open, but the boy hadn't read it yet - he was distracted by his friends' discussion.
Well, not much of a discussion... A one-sided attempt at persuasion.
Mikasa had simply asked why Eren was eating the danish so strangely, and off we went...
The girl had only recently found herself in their company.
Her parents had died at the front less than six months ago, and Levi was her only relative. They weren't even sure which one - either a brother, or an uncle, or who knows who...
Because he was busy on a long-distance ship, Ackerman soon asked his acquaintances, the Yeagers, to take care of the girl. It was pretty easy, since the Yeagers were already acquainted with Mikasa, and Mikasa with the Yeagers, and yet... And yet, it was a bit difficult at first.
Quiet and withdrawn Mikasa spent almost all her time with her newfound stepbrother and his friend, and only recently finally began to express her thoughts. Even if these were most often various warnings and requests for caution addressed to Eren, who did not like them very much... Yeager was still proud of the girl for her activity.
Armin, on the other hand, watched all of this.
Mikasa showed less interest in him than in Eren. At least, it seemed so at first glance - in fact, Arlert was one of the few to whom girl trusted her back. With whom she could sit silently and, perhaps, even doze off. Perhaps, with him she was not embarrassed to comfortably remain silent...
Sometimes Armin read books out loud to her, as he did with Historia. He really wanted to introduce the two of them, but he understood that it was too early to expand the social circle of the timid and withdrawn girl.
Maybe soon…
-
Eren was gloomy at lunch.
At least, even gloomier than usual, as far as Armin could tell. The pilot had already gotten rid of the coffee stains on his clothes and hair, and there was nothing to indicate the morning incident except for the guy’s mood.
This time, the medic got to the dining room before Yeager, and they had no chance to be closer than twenty meters. It would seem a safe distance for those who decided to play on each other's nerves...
And yet, Armin watched.
This time, he chose a place to sit facing the escort table and not spend too much effort on observation. He needed to accurately time the moment ...
Yeager was quietly talking about something with Pieck, who was sitting next to him. The girl was looking only at her plate, even after she finished eating, and still answered. If it weren't for the movement of their lips, Arlert wouldn’t have even realized that they were talking. At some point, Eren took his portion of dessert - this time it was a small danish with curd. Modestly, but Sasha knows how to make tasty and filling dishes from meager provisions.
Armin looked at Eren and chuckled briefly to himself as he watched him proudly score his bite…
The man didn’t interrupt the conversation and didn’t even glance at the part when he bit into it. Without a second thought, he slowly ate the danish around the edges, saying something unintelligible in between bites. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his gloomy gaze darted from time to time to his interlocutor.
Armin realized that something unpleasantly pricked inside...
It seemed that all these few days that Eren was on board, this was some other Eren. Strongly changed, both externally and internally. Yes, much was familiar, but still not enough to relieve the feeling of alienation. As if... as if his Eren remained somewhere in childhood, in memories. Even though Armin had long since stopped being sure that he knew Eren — he only thought that he knew him—and yet that image of little Yeager had always remained somewhere in him. Caring, explosive, loving, and passionate in his pursuit of something…
The medic didn’t want to draw parallels between that Eren and this one.
But such a habit — silly, childish, not very significant and yet important — added a note of something long lost… It made the illusion of the separateness of the two images of Yeager thinner.
Armin wished that Eren would get rid of this stupid habit at some point in nine years. He was counting on it, and yet, he hoped it wouldn’t work…
The pastry around the edges was gradually running out, and now there came a moment when only the middle remained…
Three…
Two…
One…
Yeager bit into the curd part and almost choked, bending over the plate and practically spitting out the food. Everyone at the table stared at him in surprise - Pieck even patted him on the back, worried that the man had choked. The commotion had attracted the attention of the crew as well, and of all the people, Armin was the only one who did not show the slightest bit of surprise or curiosity.
Eren's face twisted in disgust, and he couldn't even close his mouth - apparently, the taste was so unpleasant that it almost bordered on burning his tongue. The pilot looked at the danish in his hand with furious bewilderment, and then, as if he felt someone else's gaze on him, he turned his head towards Armin, who was sitting at the other end of the dining room.
The medic looked at him over the rim of his tin mug, and his eyes were openly laughing .
Suspicion bordering on understanding instantly flashed in his green irises. Eren narrowed his eyes and quickly grabbed Pieck's danish. He broke it open and tried the curd part, and oh , the medic could see his eyes light up, because Finger's treat was absolutely normal .
Eren took a deep breath and looked at Armin with something that was familiar and not at the same time - like a mixture of Eren's past, bright, fiery and wild, and his present, dangerous, hostile and much more reserved...
Because damn it, the medic could swear that Yeager looked angry, but full of excitement .
Throwing his absolutely disgusting danish center onto his plate with a loud clang, Eren rose from his seat and left the dining room, under the puzzled looks of his comrades and crew.
Notes:
This chapter was difficult to write because of one shock in my personal life. You could say that my brain was simply thrown into a stupor for some time, so it was not easy to get back on track. I hope this didn't affect the quality of the text.
Thank you if you've read this far! :3
Good luck to everyone, I love you all and take care of yourself!
P.S. One funny detail caused some difficulties in translation, and you may have noticed it, haha. The "danish with curd" was a Slavic dish called "vatrushka", very popular in Russia. As it turned out, there are no literal analogues in English (and if there are, please let me know!) so I had to find a way around it with help of Gilded Lily)
Chapter 6: Scarlet on white
Summary:
Kindness breeds kindness...
Notes:
Hello everyone! I'm very sorry for the delay, but I think the length of the chapter will make up for it! There were a lot of technical difficulties with the publication, plus the last time was full of work and trips, so... Sorry again, guys.
I want to recommend listening to the amazing soundtrack "2 Volt - Hiroyuki Sawano" towards the end of this chapter to fully experience the atmosphere!
Enjoy reading! :3
P.S. I will attach a link to the art(s) a little later
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
An answer came quickly that same day.
Armin spent about an hour in the cabin, thinking about what and towards whom to say about the whole situation, and what challenges to expect from Eren now. In the end, regarding Yeager, Armin came to only a single thought - it would be useless to assume anything, because he no longer knew Eren and couldn’t say what was going on in his head. The medic only thought that most likely he would act rudely.
Well, nothing that he wasn’t used to.
As for the rest of the team, Arlert planned to dedicate everyone to his intentions in a kind of... game-ish manner. Like Levi, Armin would not want to sow anxiety ahead of time, and therefore it would be much more effective to tell everything in the form of a large interactive entertainment. Like gossip, to dispel boredom during the flight. Only the part with observing the escort and a stupid war with Eren, no more, no less.
Information, information, information...
We need to find out if the electrical burn on Pieck's hand is related to possible sabotage and if Yeager is aware of it... And if he is aware, did he take part in the planning... What role could...
Armin sighed heavily and began rummaging through the drawers in search of the small cameras Levi had given him just in case. Of the entire crew, he could only trust Arlert and Ackerman with them, since he knew for sure that they would not fool around with them and use them for other purposes.
A couple of years ago, Armin had thought that this was just an absurd gift, but now he was grateful for it.
At the exact moment when his long fingers opened the small box from the very bottom of the closet, there was a loud knock on the cabin. The metallic echo spread throughout almost the entire ship from the intensity of the blows, and the man sighed heavily, putting the box on the bed and approaching the door. A short press on the panel - and here he came face to face with the guest.
Hange practically flew into the room, her disheveled hair even more tousled, and her eyes were burning with fire.
The android took two quick steps inside, forcing the medic to step back. She slammed the door panel shut with a sharp movement, then grabbed Armin by the chest and pulled him towards her, asking with a maniacal smile:
“Are you really going to do this?” She screamed excitedly in the man's face, biting her lips from irrepressible energy. It seemed that a little more and the android would start sparking. “Levi said that you, Armin Arlert, Mr.-most-reasonable-and-peaceful, are going to play prank pong with damn Eren Yeager in order to uncover possible sabotage?! I would never have expected it from you, and yet only you could come up with such a thing, haha!”
The major let out a throaty laugh and abruptly let go of Armin, who was gritting his teeth from screaming. She threw up her hands and pressed her palm to her chin, smiling with notes of delighted madness.
“People never cease to amaze me..!”
The medic cleared his throat briefly and adjusted the collar of his black army T-shirt.
“Major, I would like to ask you for a favor…”
“Ask anything, sweetie!” Hange folded her arms over her chest and grinned.
Armin narrowed his eyes, but did not delay with his request to find out why the android was so pleased by the thought of a terrible violation of the regulations and discipline on the ship. Not that the regulations and discipline played such an important role for this creature... Especially when such funny and exciting human games were on the horizon.
“I need your help in machinations with artificial gravity in certain sections of the ship.”
Armin thought the glint of Hange's glasses could be compared to a supernova explosion. The android stretched her lips into an even wider grin and adjusted the frames slightly.
“Do you want to throw a fun party for little Eren in zero gravity? How exciting... I could test his reactions as a test pilot, and also-”
“Major?”
“Mm? Oh yeah, sorry. Of course I'll help you, dear!” The android removed her hand from her face and hurried to break out of her excited trance. She finally glanced around the cabin, as if remembering that she was in someone else's personal space, and then asked at the sight of several scattered things and a half-open box on the bed, “What are you doing?”
Arlert returned to the bed and picked up the box, then opened it. The major came over and looked inside, seeing many tiny eyes.
“It’s Levi's gift.” The medic commented briefly, and Hange giggled.
“You never know when you might need it…” She looked up and took in Armin's appearance. After a few seconds of silence, the android said, “By the way, Levi asked you to return to duty. You don't have to spend all your time in the med bay like you usually do - after all, you have more important things to do right now, but... Still, make it look like you're doing your job, sweetie. At the very least, put on a robe.”
Armin sighed and nodded. He picked up a few small cameras and put them in the hip pocket of his combat pants, then grabbed a robe from the back of a chair.
“Do you want to turn off gravity now?” Hange asked as the medic headed for the exit of the cabin.
She followed him.
“From the bridge. I just want to see this.” The guy shoved his arms through the sleeves of his robe as he walked. It seemed a bit tight around the shoulders, and the medic frowned. He prepared to bend his shoulders to straighten the robe more comfortably - there was probably a crease somewhere.
The android grinned, slightly overtaking the doctor and walking in front of him.
“I didn't think you were such a little…” a loud crack of fabric was heard, and the major faltered. Armin and Hange stopped, and only after a few seconds of deafening silence did the android finish the sentence, “...sadist.”
She turned to the medic and raised her eyebrows.
“What was that?”
Armin seemed to have turned to stone, and his gaze was directed into emptiness. He slowly opened his mouth and bit his upper lip, and then just as slowly began to take off his robe. In one smooth movement, the guy grabbed the shoulders of the robe and straightened it out in front of him, and, oh, his fears were confirmed.
The hole between the shoulder blades was truly impressive, torn from the fastening marks and leaving no chance for an unnoticeable repair. Apparently, someone had stapled the area on the shoulder blades, and as soon as the doctor put on the robe and pulled it over his shoulders, then...
...Bitch.
Armin felt something between rage and annoyed bewilderment, because, firstly, it was his only robe, and secondly... How did this bastard get into his cabin without a code or biometrics? No, how did Eren even know where his cabin was?!
There was no doubt that the creator of this setup was Yeager.
The medic didn’t realize that a short hoarse growl had escaped from his throat until Hange burst out laughing next to him.
“I like this boy more and more! He makes you react so much, I'm just delighted!” The android wiped away imaginary tears, not taking her eyes off the hole in the back of her robe.
Armin snorted angrily and folded the robe in one motion, leaving it in his hands - putting it on would have been a shame anyway.
That's where you ran off to after lunch, you bastard…
"Let's go." Arlert said, and walked even faster towards the bridge, not wanting to leave something like that unanswered. This wasn't just a joke - it was an insult to his professional image!
Hange continued laughing and followed the medic.
On the way, they met Jean and Ymir scrubbing the corridor. Armin felt sorry to walk on the freshly washed floor, but the desire to respond with a barb for a barb was stronger than his sympathy for someone else's work.
Noticing his friend, Jean leaned both hands on the end of the mop and smiled teasingly at the doctor who was coming closer.
"Are you out for a walk?"
Ymir also noticed Arlert and the android, but unlike Kirstein, she remained silent. She only narrowed her eyes, and a mischievous grin flashed in her eyes at the sight of Armin practically seething with indignation - it might have been almost unnoticeable to those around her, but Yeager had spent enough time with the Arlerts to understand their similar patterns of anger. Both were very sweetly or very hotly angry. At least until it crossed the threshold of rage...
Armin raised his palm and snapped, passing by his comrades:
“Not now.”
Jean raised his eyebrows in confusion and exchanged glances with Ymir, who snorted with laughter. The pilot stared in confusion after his rapidly retreating friend and asked after him, seeing how strangely he was holding his robe in one hand.
“What’s up with the robe? Hey!”
“Not now!” Armin repeated once more, louder this time, and disappeared around the corner. Kirstein waved his hand at Hange, who was following the medic, with a bright question. The android only grinned conspiratorially and waved it away, leaving Kirstein without answers.
Jean waved his hand in the direction of his departed comrades in complete bewilderment and looked at Ymir, as if asking, ‘What the hell was that?’.
Ymir finally allowed herself to laugh and didn't answer either, continuing to scrub the floor in the corridor. She liked making a fool of Jean more than explaining such simple things as arguments between childhood friends.
Meanwhile, Armin and Hange had almost reached the bridge. Levi, who was there, greeted them with only a brief glance, and then returned to the ship's electronic circuit.
The medic approached the panel with the ship's warning systems, namely, the microphone. He threw the ruined robe over the back of the nearest seat, then turned to Hange.
“Major, could you-”
“Of course.” Hange immediately agreed, not even letting him finish his sentence. She folded her hands behind her back and turned her gaze slightly to the side, bringing up the images from the cameras on the ship. There weren't many of them - the cost of basic security. The view only included the corridors, main rooms and airlocks - the private cabins, gym and kitchen were kept private for the crew and passengers. Not that it was a problem for the android, who literally felt every inch of the ship...
Almost every member of the crew and escort was visible. Many were calmly and evenly going about their business, and some were distracted and fooling around. More precisely, Sasha and Connie, throwing rags at each other. The hum of conversation could be heard.
Armin found the camera of the room Eren was in in one second. It was one of the empty cargo bays, cleared from their previous flight. The medic squinted as he watched the man steadily brushing the floor. Hange leaned towards Arlert, waiting for his words, with a curious gleam in her eyes.
The guy waited a few seconds, and then said briefly,
“Let's go.”
At the same second, a barely perceptible click and a dying hum were heard through the camera. The artificial gravity system turned off.
It was visible how Eren instantly froze in tension, and then slowly began to rise off the floor. Brown strands began to float in the air, and Yeager, perplexed, released the brush from his hands, allowing it to fly in a direction known only to it.
It took the man a few seconds of free floating in space to start trying to grab onto something next to him and regain control of his own movement - oh, what a pity that in the empty cargo bay there are only walls, a floor and a ceiling. So trying to grab onto some ledge or bucket seemed just pathetic, and Armin twitched the corner of his lips with grim satisfaction.
"Fuck." A quiet voice came from the speakers.
At some point, it became obvious that Eren's irritation was bordering on discomfort, and the man looked for anything to save himself from this stupid situation. Yeager's gaze fell on the camera.
Armin leaned towards the microphone and said in an icy tone.
"If you mess with my things again, I'll mess with yours."
Eren raised his head in the direction of the sound, and his face reflected annoyed irritation. He snorted loudly, saying something like "fuck you," and gave the camera the middle finger. Then Armin chuckled and added,
“Have fun.” And then he moved away from the microphone and headed towards the exit from the bridge, without giving Hange a sign to stop mocking.
Eren continued to hiss curses and eventually found a way to turn over. Pushing off the very tips of his boots from the floor, which he still reached, the man flew to the ceiling and from there pushed off even harder towards the exit from the cargo bay - after all, if he understood correctly, gravity was the only one who didn't work for him.
Finding himself in the corridor, Eren almost fell, but still got out of the discouraging and humiliating situation with dignity, proudly standing up again.
Hange, watching this, narrowed her eyes in satisfaction.
She definitely liked watching what was happening.
Somewhere to the side, Levi snorted contemptuously.
---
Of course, nothing ended there.
Eren took other people's words as a challenge and his next victim was again his personal belongings.
Armin had a somewhat specific reaction to citrus fruits. Or rather, to one specific one - lemon.
The boy simply could not stand its smell. It was hardly an allergy, but God, it was worth sniffing a lemon, and immediately it was necessary to sneeze from its sharpness and sour richness. Long and inexorably, almost continuously, until the source of the citrus stench disappears. Alas, in childhood this was found out by experience and in an extremely visual way - right in the kitchen of the Yeagers, where Aunt Carla baked a lemon pie. The smell was delicious and very persistent, and the boy reacted so strongly that he had to postpone visiting until any presence of lemon disappeared. Why exactly lemon is a mystery, because other citrus fruits like tangerine or grapefruit did not cause such a strong reaction.
Well, it is what it is.
Armin really didn't like this nuance, because sneezing on the verge of insanity is not the most pleasant and sterile activity, and lemon flavors are quite common.
And what a wave of disgust washed over him when, some time after the prank with gravity, the medic returned to his cabin and felt it.
One second of the rich lemon smell was enough to pinch his nose and almost recoil in horror. The entire cabin was perfumed with a "refreshing" flavor, not too bright for an ordinary person, but simply unbearable for Armin. The guy choked on the citrus stench and even despite the closed face felt how disgustingly familiar it tickled in his nose.
Oh, no...
Exactly four seconds passed before a spasm seized his nasopharynx and an incessant series of sneezes began. Deafening, juicy and rhythmic.
Armin doubled over and slammed his hand on the entrance panel to prevent the lemon "freshness" from spreading throughout the corridor and, as a result, the ship.
What if it spreads through the ventilation..?
The medic quickly walked as far away from his cabin as possible, as if a rabid plague rat was scurrying around there. His face and eyes were red, there was not enough air, and the medic was ready to swear that tears were about to burst from his eyes.
What a douchebag!
Choking from sneezes and still holding his lower face with his hand, Armin furiously knocked on Historia's cabin. Thank God, she was inside.
Hasty footsteps were heard behind the door, and the girl opened it almost immediately. A slightly worried expression of anticipation played on her face - the furious knocking clearly gave the impression that something was happening.
At the sight of Armin sneezing and sniffling, Historia's eyebrows went up, and she practically pulled her brother into the cabin.
“What happened?!”
The girl sat the medic down on the bed and settled down next to him, waiting for the fit of crazy sneezing to subside.
As soon as it did, Armin punched the blanket and croaked.
“Bastard!”
Historia gaped.
“Who?”
“Eren, who else! Scenting my cabin with lemon air freshener is just mean! How am I even going to get in there now?!” The medic buried his fingers in his hair and took a deep breath, finally realizing with relief that the fit was over and the citrus stench was no longer blocking his nose.
Yes, bastard, but I have to admit - a good move...
Historia sympathetically patted her brother on the shoulder, but the guy realized that something was wrong. The girl trembled slightly, biting her lips, and then... laughed. Lightly at first, but then louder, covering her mouth with her fingers and leaning back. It was a good-natured, sincere laugh, and yet Armin stared sourly at his sister.
“Very funny.” It reminded him of something...
Historia snorted with laughter and nodded with feeling.
“You have no idea, hahaha!” She laughed again, but this time for a short time, already out of breath. A few seconds later, the girl sniffed and tried to catch her breath, smiling at the same time. Her face flushed, and even a strand of hair fell out of her hair. Historia giggled one last time and exhaled long through tightly pressed lips, removing the strand of hair along the way.
She looked at her brother with light blue eyes full of joy and warmth.
“You are like two fools terrorizing each other, forgive me, but it's really funny! You haven't had this much energy in you in a long time…”
Armin snorted and turned away, not wanting to acknowledge the slight blush. Historia leaned over, trying to look into his face.
“You needed to rest, why did you suddenly start answering Eren's calls?”
“Just like that…” The medic blinked and realized that he had a convenient chance to dedicate Historia to this matter in the right way. And through her, the whole team. The guy turned to his waiting sister and rested his elbows on his knees. “Here's the thing…”
Historia instantly narrowed her eyes, hearing her brother's careful tone, and it took all his acting skills and all his fatigue not to flinch. He continued calmly.
“The captain found this a funny and harmless way for the team and escort to have fun together. After all, Eren is the only one who is making some kind of contact, albeit... like this. So this could be called an opportunity to unburden myself after so many years.”
There was silence. Short, and yet eloquent.
Historia squinted at Armin, Armin squinted at Historia, before the girl said doubtfully.
“You're not telling me something.”
Armin tried to feign genuine bewilderment, but he knew it came out badly.
“Me?”
The girl squinted even more and leaned almost right up to her brother.
“Yes, you. Don't forget which one of us is the psychologist.” She returned to her normal position and folded her arms across her chest in anticipation. “Speak. Now.”
The medic quickly figured that it would be better for Historia to know everything and be able to keep the necessary details quiet so that no one would suspect anything, than for her to start digging herself later and involve the crew in this at the same time. In the end, he sighed quietly and briefly told her about the whole situation.
By the end of the story, the girl had lost the spark of fun in her eyes, as the situation turned out to be more serious than simple games between two offended childhood friends. Historia looked down at the floor of the cabin, frowning slightly and thinking about what was said.
“And you don't want the others to know?” She finally asked without looking up.
“Yes.”
“Because you don't trust them with such a subtle game?” The girl said with a barely perceptible note of sadness.
Armin was silent for a few moments, thinking about it. On the one hand, he knew that the fewer people knew the secret, the less likely it was that someone would give something away. The performance would look sincere and not arouse suspicion, and it would be easier to relax the escort, but...
“No.” The doctor answered quietly, also looking ahead. “I just want them to believe it too. Have fun and relax…”
“And you wouldn't tell anyone, anyone?”
“Most likely not. At least to you or Jean.”
“Even Mikasa?”
Armin pursed his lips.
“Especially Mikasa. She... she couldn't stand the thought of Eren being a saboteur. Even a conflict with him already upsets her, so…”
Historia hummed understandingly, and then sighed, running her hand over her brother's back.
“Okay, I'll tell the guys so that they'll be more careful about the escort and be ready to help you if necessary.”
Armin relaxed slightly and smiled with relief.
“Thank you…”
A few seconds passed in comfortable silence, and then the medic looked at his sister and conspiratorially approached her.
“By the way, do you still have any hair dye left..?”
---
After the sparring incident, Jean avoided direct contact with Armin for about three more weeks. In some ways, Arlert was both proud and confused - he was afraid that he had gone too far. But his attempts to approach Kirstein were hardly fruitful - he, like a beaten puppy, did not give in to his hands, and Marco simply recommended leaving him alone for a while.
During this entire period, Armin became even closer to the freckled boy.
Marco was not just... a good friend, as Connie and Sasha seemed, or a silent informal comrade, in the role of which was played by Ymir. No. The desire to really become friends was taken absolutely seriously by both Armin and Marco. At least as much as it was possible at the age of 14, with teenage hang-ups and all the consequences that entailed. The army is the army, but children are children...
Marco turned out to be a devoted and sensitive listener, a pleasant conversationalist, a silent and not so silent support during harsh training. It seemed that he knew how to talk - correctly, clearly and with the right words.
This man was too kind for this world...
Armin tried with all his might to respond in kind, but he had the feeling that Bodt was simply wasting his energy on him. The boy opened up timidly and carefully, like a barely opening young bud. He didn't feel like he deserved this kindness, this gentleness, this care...
Eren, the only person in the world who had known him practically his entire life, who had promised him boundless worlds, all his love and trust... Left him. Ran away.
Then why should anyone else stay? Love him? Accept him?
Armin really wanted to swallow someone else's friendship like a sweet, refreshing drink, but he was simply afraid. He was terrified of the thought that he was stealing something that he wasn't supposed to have. Marco, he was... so bright, so kind, so sympathetic, as if woven from the brightest and most gentle stars... How did he end up in the army? How would he survive here?
And how could fragile, weak, cowardly and rather awkward Armin respond to his outstretched hand? Nothing but his sadness and a shattered dream, which was replaced only by a twisted and mutilated version of it.
And yet Armin tried.
During these three weeks, Marco tried to console Arlert and support him. You could say, to warm him up. He did not skimp on spending as much time on his new friend as needed, and in every way showed that he enjoyed the other's company. His honey-brown eyes looked warmly at the timid blond, and Armin involuntarily began to feel like a truly desirable interlocutor.
Five days later, Marco met Mikasa, and the girl blushed with embarrassment for the first time in a long time.
A week later, they began to sit at the same table for breakfast - Bodt shared lunch and dinner with Jean.
After a week and a half, Armin felt a little freer and found the courage to approach all sorts of issues independently.
The training was still as hard for his weak and puny body, the instructors and androids showed no mercy, and the longing for Eren did not leave the boy for a second, but at some point Armin felt this warm and fluttering little lump like a tiny butterfly - the feeling that he had a friend.
At first timidly, but then more and more firmly it settled in his chest...
Mikasa watched this with cautious joy and hid her face in a red scarf, feeling that finally something good was appearing in their chosen wrong path. Really good...
This realization was finally strengthened by the time Trost was enveloped by a seasonal storm. It was unlike the native rains of Shiganshina - torrential, caustic after the war, and yet relatively calm. No, in Trost, a storm meant icy gale winds, terrible downpours of carbon dioxide-saturated water, and powerful thunderstorms. There was no clear sky for weeks because of the black clouds. Landslides were common due to the rocky terrain.
Of course, in such weather, training simply had to take place…
There weren’t as many of them as usual, and long trips outside were significantly reduced - from a week to two days of walking in the storm. Usually, one observer went with each group, most often Shadis, but in such weather conditions the number increased to two or three for a dozen cadets. Most often, these were senior officers assisting Keith.
Not that it helped much when you could barely even see your own feet…
Armin had already had a hard time coping with the workload, but the arrival of the storms turned his existence into a living hell.
The ground beneath his feet became viscous, almost liquid and slippery, becoming loose lumps of mud and clay. Yellow puddles foamed from the countless steps of the cadets and the impact of drops, carbon dioxide hissed in the water and on his clothes. The wind changed the direction of the rain so mercilessly that it soaked everything that was not tightly hidden under the protective cloak - at some point, Arlert was sure that upon returning to the barracks, his face would be peeling and sore, and his hair would become dry and brittle.
His legs ached terribly, as if filled with molten metal, and his hoarse, heavy breathing only made his head spin because of the humidity in the air. His back was ready to crack from the ossified feeling of the weight of the backpack. Armin practically could not see where he was stepping, did not hear anyone around him. Every step he took at a trot felt like torture, as if the boy was about to simply drop dead.
He was suffocating.
He was falling apart.
He was lost in the endless whining of his own body, which was always letting him down and leaving everyone behind...
And yet Armin kept running, his boots cutting through boiling puddles and a violent downpour.
The teenager couldn't say whether he saw the gray cloaks of his classmates in front of him, or if his vision was just swimming. He was sure that Mikasa and the other group had already reached the temporary shelter and were waiting for them. Armin forced himself to think about the dark gray, worried eyes looking anxiously into the window of the small building. He couldn’t linger - Mikasa shouldn’t be more worried about him than usual…
Almost growling under his breath, the boy picked up the pace and made his way to the middle of his group, and then almost to the front.
The storm was getting stronger.
Twenty minutes later, they reached the temporary shelter. A small reinforced concrete building, designed for a maximum of thirty people, jutted out from the rock so that if something happened, it wouldn’t float down due to soil erosion. Above it, a fence was visible, protecting the entrance from possible landslides.
For just a moment, Armin doubted its reliability, but what could he do?
A hot, almost desperate relief washed over his insides from the proximity of the long-awaited rest. When the boy found himself inside a barely warm, and yet dry room, he collapsed on all fours and exhaled exhaustedly - his body was almost on fire from fatigue. The other members of his group also fell nearby, finally getting a chance to catch their breath. There was a hum of tired groans and the rustle of cloaks being pulled off, soaking wet through.
Armin heard footsteps and was convinced that he was right - Mikasa and the other group had already arrived here and rested a little in the second part of the building, located directly in the rock. Their clothes and hair were dry, and they did not seem on the verge of fainting.
Ackerman hurriedly approached her friend and sat down next to him, assessing his condition. The boy barely waved him off, wheezing.
“I'm fine…”
Mikasa pursed her lips and helped him pull off his backpack and wet cloak, and then handed him a small towel. Armin nodded gratefully and tried to dry his tangled hair, feeling himself shaking slightly from the cold. A few seconds later, Marco approached with two aluminum mugs, steaming. He smiled softly and crouched down with a groan, offering the hot liquid.
“This is a hot tonic, a mug for each of us.”
Armin exhaled unevenly and smiled weakly, accepting the aluminum container with his numb fingers. The heat spread like a tingling sensation over his frozen skin.
“Thank you,” Arlert thanked, and glanced up at his friend. He noticed that despite the softness, there was a shadow of pain on his face. The boy frowned worriedly. “What's wrong with you?”
Bodt only shrugged and laughed awkwardly.
“I twisted my ankle badly. Well, not badly, but unpleasantly.”
“There should be first aid kits here. Find one of the observers and ask for ice or ointment.” Armin suggested worriedly, and Marco smiled tenderly. The freckled boy quickly ran his hand through his damp blond hair in a friendly gesture, and then stood up. There was still one mug in his hands.
“Of course, don't worry. I will a little later. For now, I'll go and offer Jean a tonic too.” Marco chuckled and headed to the other end of the group, where Arlert recognized Kirstein's ash-blond hair. Armin frowned a little more, but waved goodbye.
Meanwhile, Mikasa got to her feet, and then helped him up.
“Let's go find a better place.” She explained, not wanting the boy to catch a cold on the floor at the entrance. Ackerman took other's backpack and headed towards the bunks. Armin snorted good-naturedly and followed the girl, taking his cloak with him. Both groups would spend the night here, and then move out to continue training.
The shelter was dimly lit only by wall lamps and some of the cadets' personal flashlights. Every now and then lightning flashed in a couple of small windows, and muffled thunder could be heard through the polymers. A storm wind whistled. The cadets were given dry rations and mugs of tonic, after which most of the teenagers found themselves a bunk and settled down to sleep. Training in bad weather was one of the most brutal and exhausting, and no one wanted to reduce their rest time. After a hellish run, sleep seemed like a blessing...
Armin settled down on the bottom bunk, Mikasa - above him. After half a year, sleeping next to her again seemed a pleasant pang of nostalgia. The boy missed her at night, her calming presence...
A couple of hours passed in a peaceful, tired stupor.
Within half an hour of arrival, almost all of the cadets had gone to bed: only snoring, the occasional rustling of sheets, and the storm outside could be heard. Wet coats and uniforms were drying closer to the entrance, backpacks lay under the bunks, torn apart in search of personal items to replace the damp clothes.
Despite the noise outside the windows, it seemed that at some point everything had gone quiet for a few seconds.
A few unnaturally quiet, uncomfortable seconds that no one had noticed in their sleep, before it was heard.
A deafening crackle of lightning striking very close, and the ensuing monstrous roar that made almost everyone in the shelter jump. A booming vibration swept through the reinforced concrete building, causing it to shake. The cadets murmured warily and began to exchange glances.
Mikasa leaned over her bunk to take a quick look around Armin, and then looked warily into space. Her drawn brows deprived her face of its usual calm, and one look at the girl was enough to understand that her instincts were whispering of a threat. Armin, who had sat down in his place, looked around quickly, before something even louder was heard.
A rumble, a clang, a grinding sound and a piercing, ringing metallic echo. A landslide had broken through the fence and covered their shelter.
But that was not the most terrible thing.
Armin looked closely at the metal door to the building and discovered that it was bent. Water began to flow in dirty streams through the twisted cracks.
It took a few seconds for the cadets to start jumping up from their seats. Shouts of "water!" were heard, several senior officers ran between the bunks to wake up the teenagers who had not yet woken up. Instructor Shadis ordered them to get dressed and grab their things. The other men reached the twisted door and tried to open it to let the cadets out.
The bent iron wouldn't budge, and it became clear that a landslide had blocked the entrance.
The turbulent flow of penetrating water drowned out the frightened murmurs of the cadets, and within minutes of the chaos, the moisture was already squelching underfoot.
Armin froze, looking at the confused cadets and the instructors puffing senselessly at the door. He realized that it would only take a few moments before everyone realized that they were walled in.
His pulse pounded heavily in his ears, and the boy realized that he could barely remember to breathe. An icy shiver of fear ran down the back of his neck, and the teenager bit his lip until it hurt to sober himself up.
You can't give in to panic. Turn on your brain. Find a way out.
Armin took a few deep breaths and finally cleared the spots before his eyes, quickly looking around the room. The darkness was dispelled by the personal flashlights of some cadets, and their white light flickered on the walls. Fear began to creep into the cadets' voices, and Instructor Shadis was busy making sure that the green kids did not destroy discipline and did not drive each other into panic. The children had only been studying for a little more than half a year, and they were really scared.
Mikasa jumped off the bunk next to the boy. She called out to him warily and grabbed his shoulder, but Armin only waved her away - he was searching. In his head there was a constant noise of thoughts, assumptions, hopes and their destruction.
At some point, the gaze of blue eyes froze on a polymer window, one of two.
Below was a rather steep slope due to the eroded soil and rocky terrain, and yet ... And yet, damn it, now this was the only way out. In addition, it was possible to try to climb onto the low flat roof.
Throwing Mikasa's hand off his shoulder, Armin ran up to Keith Shadis and grabbed his sleeve, attracting his attention.
“Instructor Shadis!” Having received a brief glance from the man, who was distracted from organizing the cadets, the teenager did not waste time on formalities. “We can get everyone out through the window! Climb onto the roof or jump, the slope is not that far!”
A disbelieving amazement flashed in the instructor's eyes for only a moment before the man clenched his jaw and headed through the already ankle-deep water to the window. Opening it through the electronic panel, Shadis barked at all the cadets to calm down and start climbing through the window and then either onto the roof or down the slope.
Armin let out a shaky breath of hope and nervousness before he realized that most likely not everyone had woken up, because there was still the inner part of the shelter. The noise could have woken some, but perhaps not everyone. A quick glance at those present showed that there were fewer people than expected. He didn’t see Marco or Jean anywhere…
The instructor and the officers were too busy to count everyone, and it was unlikely that anyone would think about it for the next few minutes. This time could be decisive, it couldn’t be wasted…
With a convulsive breath, Arlert rushed to the door to the second part of the building. Mikasa called out to him with a bit of fear, but the teenager only shouted at her to evacuate with everyone else. Armin slammed the door open and shouted so loudly that his throat hurt.
“Rise and evacuate immediately!”
Most of them were already awake by this point and were only listening warily to the commotion behind the door, but after the command they jumped out of their beds in readiness. Armin stayed behind, holding the door and trying to spot Marco or Jean. It was hard to see anything in the semi-darkness, and at some point the boy caught a familiar lanky figure urging someone on.
Armin ran up to Jean and saw that he was yelling at Marco, who was squeezing his leg. Through the bright aggression, excitement was visible, and it was clear that the teenager was swearing like an angry mother for good reason. Pain played on Bodt's face, and Armin realized that he had ignored Arlert's offer to treat his leg. Apparently, he thought that it was not serious and would pass overnight.
An icy feeling rolled through his insides, but the boy ordered himself to remain calm. He crouched down in front of Marco and rolled up his trouser leg, examining his swollen ankle. Apparently, the adrenaline had softened the sensations before, and Bodt had not realized how serious the injury was.
Damn... flashed through his head, and Arlert grabbed a sheet from the bed. Jean was shouting something in his ear, illuminating the cadet's area with a flashlight, and Armin said sharply, “Please shut up!”
Jean broke off mid-sentence, and Armin continued.
“Right now, there is an evacuation route through the window, the doors are all blocked. Marco,” He turned to his friend and looked into his frightened honey-brown eyes. “You can't jump in this condition, so you need someone from the roof to help you climb up. There is no other way.”
“I can!” Jean volunteered impulsively, and Armin nodded. He assessed the resulting rags from the sheet, and then tightly wrapped them around the other's ankle. Marco groaned painfully through clenched teeth.
There was no one left in the room except the three of them, and almost no noise was heard from behind the open door. Only the rapidly flowing water, which had already reached the middle of the shin. While bandaging the other's leg, Armin was practically sitting in a dirty gray puddle.
Having finished the bandage with a jerk and pulled the pant leg back down, Arlert stood up and looked at Jean.
“Let's carry him.”
Kirstein nodded, and they helped Marco up. Bodt whispered an apology for his recklessness, but he was shut up. Jean and Armin grabbed him by the arms and led him to the exit.
As expected, there was no one left in the room. They probably thought that everyone had evacuated - in a large pile, the loss of three people would not be immediately discovered.
Splashing water, the boys reached the window.
Jean climbed in first. He quickly turned around, looking at Armin and Marco. The pouring rain instantly soaked his hair and clothes, causing them to hang down like wet icicles. Arlert gestured for him to move.
“I'll push him towards you, go!”
It seemed that for the first time they forgot who they had been to each other all this time. Armin didn't think about how ashamed he was in front of Jean, or how hurt he was by other people's mockery. Jean looked at the boy for the first time in three weeks, and, moreover, obeyed him without question.
The lanky teenager grabbed the upper ledge above the window and pulled himself up in one movement, catching hold of the edge of the roof. Another movement - and only his legs dangled in sight, and a second later the boy disappeared from sight altogether.
Armin lightly pushed Marco in the shoulder, saying,
“Your turn.”
Marco exhaled heavily and somehow climbed onto the wet windowsill, with Armin's support. He stuck his head out, looking up, and saw Jean's outstretched hand. Grabbing it, Bodt closed his eyes and pushed himself off the windowsill, pulling himself up. Armin pushed his friend up as best he could, clasping his legs and gnashing his teeth. When Marco reached the top, the teenager almost fell out of the window, but quickly returned back.
Armin brushed the sour water off his face, hurrying to catch his breath and prepare himself for his own attempt to climb up.
He had just started to climb onto the windowsill when water began pouring from above - a powerful stream, apparently slightly changed direction, and now flowed over the window. The boy staggered back in surprise, splashing dirty water that reached almost to his hips. There was no chance that a weak boy would not be washed down by such a powerful current.
Marco and Jean were still at the top, so Armin could assume that they had escaped this fate.
Breathing out a sigh of relief and at the same time a little fear, the boy again approached the window with the intention of looking down at the slope and jumping, when suddenly the electronic panel sparked from a new portion of water. Arlert screamed, covering himself with his hands, and the next moment the polymer window slammed shut due to a malfunction. The panel flashed for a second, then went out.
A few seconds passed before horror ran like goosebumps along the back of his neck, and his breath froze somewhere in his throat.
No…
Armin stared wide-eyed at the closed window, and then somewhere below, realizing the situation he found himself in. Walled up in a concrete box, with a limited supply of air and time… With rapidly rising water, for which there was now no escape.
He would die…
A stabbing, suffocating sensation enveloped his chest, and Armin sobbed desperately, approaching the window and in a futile attempt trying to break it with blows. The durable polymer obviously did not give in.
No, no, no-no-no-no…
How could this be..?
Silence reigned in the half-flooded shelter, cut only by the murmur of the inexorably flowing dirty water and the boy's breathing. His rare movements were accompanied by splashes. A cold shiver shook from the cold, dampness and horror, and Armin grabbed his head, ruffling his hair. There was one cadet flashlight left somewhere, and the teenager could see his future grave - a dirty clay pool with rare floating things, a reinforced concrete coffin from which there was no escape for him.
Armin sobbed again, clenching his teeth and frantically looking for some kind of exit. His hands raked through the gray-yellow water on the way to the second window, although the teenager knew that it was useless - it could not be opened without a code. Thoughts rushed one faster than the other, and his chest was torn with pain at the assumption that these would be his last thoughts.
He should never have joined the army...
He was never cut out for it, and everyone knew it. His weak character would never have been useful in this merciless structure, where there is no place for pity or kindness. Here, strength and discipline reign, and Armin was so wrong for thinking that there was something that could tame this…
Life simply weeds out everyone who is not capable of submitting or subduing.
This world is so kindly simple...
Eren, how right you were...
Armin sobbed even more bitterly at the thought of Eren. His breathing was shallow and intermittent. The teenager desperately wanted to go back to the times when he could feel his own warm body and not be afraid of the surrounding reality. He wanted to feel the embrace of sinewy arms and hear clumsy consoling whispers, absurd reasoning about danishes and awkward words of affection.
He missed him so much...
And now he will have to die here, in the pit to which his many mistakes led. Never having found his loved one in the vastness of the Universe and becoming a victim of his own searches…
Was there any other way..? Or for his miserable existence, he was destined from the very beginning to die the same inglorious, dirty death as a dog in a ditch?
Armin tried to open the second window, but, as expected, to no avail. The water was already waist-high. The boy hugged himself, trying to summon at least a ghost of his beloved warmth.
I'm sorry, Historia...
I'm sorry, Mikasa...
I'm sorry, Marco...
I'm sorry, Eren... Please, please, forgive... Live, wherever you are, for whatever reason...
There was a clanking sound, and the water practically bubbled from the new stream from above.
“Armin!”
The boy let out a ragged sob and looked up, seeing how a hole had appeared from nowhere at the top. Hatchway...?
Jean was hanging out of it, his eyebrows drawn together, his expression bordering on fear, relief, and furious tension. Someone was holding the lanky boy from above, allowing him to bend down as low as possible and stretch out his arms to Arlert. He was practically hanging, relying only on the people above.
Kirstein waved his arms vigorously, urging his classmate to come to him.
“Come on already, damn it!”
Armin was stunned for a moment, not believing his eyes, but after another aggressive gesture, he quickly jerked towards Jean. Because of the opened hatch, the water level began to rise even faster, almost reaching his chest, but Arlert stopped caring about it at the very moment when a hot, wide palm grabbed his own.
Jean bent down as low as possible and, with a jerk, pulled Armin towards him, grabbed him under the arms by the ribcage. The blond grabbed the other man's back, and together they began to lift them up.
The roof was a chaos of water, wind, flashing lightning and dirt. And yet, Armin was almost ready to cry from the hot, all-encompassing relief that replaced his disbelief.
He and Jean collapsed onto the roof, covered in hissing water, and the teenagers around them exhaled in joy. Arlert looked up briefly and made out at least four figures besides himself and Kirstein: Mikasa, Ymir, Connie, and Marco. The first three were obviously holding Jean so that he could go down after the drowning boy. Mikasa let go of the lanky teenager's gray uniform and exhaled unevenly, clinging to Armin's hand. Her grip was tight, almost convulsive, cold. Poor girl, she must have been so scared... Ymir leaned back and ran her hand over her forehead, as if wiping away sweat. Although it was pointless in the pouring rain...
“Phew, Arlert, I thought you’d kicked the bucket!” the girl shoved him in the shoulder with feigned aggressive displeasure. “How would I explain this to Historia? That's it, let's not do this anymore…”
Armin chuckled weakly and rubbed his bruised shoulder.
Connie tried to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees and looking at his rescued comrade. As it turned out, Sasha was still nearby - she was waving her hand and loudly calling the others for help. The girl turned around for a moment, assessing the situation with her brown deer eyes, and then screamed even louder, putting her hand to her mouth as a megaphone. Apparently, the rescue operation was organized quickly and independently, without the help of an instructor or officers... Found a hatch from above?
Marco pursed his lips and rushed to Armin, hugging him around the neck. Armin practically felt how he was whispering words of apology to him - if it weren't for him, the other two boys would not have stayed in the shelter for so long. They were all shaking slightly from the cold, and yet it seemed that Bodt was shaking with emotion.
Armin closed his eyes and hugged Marco back with one arm, burying his nose in his shoulder.
"It's not your fault..." he muttered barely audibly, and then, when Marco pulled away, he looked towards Kirstein. He was sitting with his elbows folded on his knees and gloomily glaring at the space in front of him. All wet, with hair stuck to his face and his uniform stuck to his body. Somewhere in the distance, the instructor's shouts could be heard, and other officers were clearly approaching them with the intention of finding out what was going on here.
Accompanied by shouts, splashes and stomping, Armin asked him.
"Why...?"
Why did he go after him? Why did he trust him initially, why did he decide to help after all, although he clearly did not have the slightest sympathy for him? Why did he look so worried, as if he was actually worried about the fate of the puny weakling he didn’t like…
Jean snorted and after a few moments, his gaze turned to poison on Armin.
“I don't know. It's just…” He looked somewhere at his feet again, fiddling with the skin near his nails with his fingers. Combined with the carbon dioxide-saturated rain, this would certainly lead to inflammation in the future, but it was unlikely that the teenager was worried about this now.
“...I didn't want you to die. And... I thought that in fact, maybe you might be... a good guy. Even if you are weak, but... you helped me. Helped us.”
Kirstein pursed his lips and said more quietly.
“I couldn't let you die because of this…”
If it weren't for the storm, the downpour, the general condition and the situation as a whole, Armin would have found it cute. From other's words, some tiny, pinpoint warmth arose in his chest, and the boy himself did not notice how he smiled. Looking at the people around him, who had taken risks for him, cared about him and believed in his success even more than the teenager himself... People with whom he had already shared some part of his life and would continue to share it...
Right here and now, with his body frozen and burning from the carbon dioxide in the water, shivering from the rain, after the horror of imminent death and in a state of complete ruin, Armin laughed weakly. Because he had a family... Strange and awkward, but they cared about him. For some reason, they cared, even if he was a pathetic weakling and a wimp... The teenager desperately wanted Historia to be next to him now and feel this wave of trembling tenderness that washed over him. To meet these eccentric, but amazing people...
And at that moment, Armin felt a surge of love for each and every one who sat next to him. Even for Jean. He looked into Kirstein's wary brown eyes and smiled carefreely, slightly moving his leg and pressing his knee to another's knee - the warmth of the boy's body through the fabric scorched his own cold limb. Sour water poured down his red from the burning face, tangled in the hair stuck to his skin, and his shoulders hunched from the icy rain, and yet his voice was full of genuine warmth.
“Thank you.”
---
With the help of the same Historia - thanks to her position as a flight attendant and her knowledge of the location of the passengers - Armin now also knew where Eren and the rest of the escort's cabins were.
For the sake of his mission, the guy decided to skip dinner and use Hange's authority to enter any part of the ship. This time, her presence was not needed, and the medic entered the other's cabin alone. The crew members, whom the younger Arlert had managed to inform about the situation, promised to help distract the passengers if they decided to leave dinner early.
Armin felt a brief wave of nervousness in front of the door of the stranger's cabin. It was... strange. Strangely exciting. All this time on the ship, Eren seemed to just be there, coming from nowhere and going to nowhere. A curious feeling that does not disappear until you come to the abode of someone else's personal space.
It was strange to realize that his childhood friend and now enemy was temporarily living here.
Armin pursed his lips and, after a short breath, brought the key card to the panel. The door opened.
The light panels were set to a dimmer light than usual. Armin inhaled the scent without realizing it - through the sterility that was typical of the guest cabins, there was a hint of other's cologne, gunpowder with gun oil and something clean but old. Books or maybe clothes... The bed was not perfect, but it was made, and on the nightstand stood the source of the stench in the doctor's cabin - a lemon-scented air freshener. Armin looked at it with disdain. A uniform jacket hung on a chair. A bag lay by the bed, on the table - a tablet, a black pistol and several cards. As Armin approached, he realized that these were documents: an identity card and an additional copy indicating the specialization of a test pilot. Next to the cards stood a bottle of pills. Empty.
Bad, but what can he do...
Before starting to prepare for the "prank" - Arlert was still cringing at the name - the medic took out several tiny cameras from his pocket, which he had left there the day before. The man would never go to his cabin for them now, so he was lucky that he decided to take them earlier.
On the one hand, he did not like unethical interference in someone else's personal space, on the other... in his life he had to show a lot of hypocrisy. Necessity is necessity, it makes sense to piss off Eren only if he eventually gives something away. And it is unlikely that this will happen outside the cabin...
To be on the safe side, Armin was going to leave at least one camera in the cabins of the rest of the escort.
The medic cracked his neck and began to look around the places most untouchable from Eren's side - the last thing the guy wanted was for him to stumble upon the peephole of the camera at some fine moment. He carefully looked at the slotted drawers for use, the shelves, the corners and the protruding parts of the light panels. Where there was nothing and no traces of dust left, Armin carefully placed a couple of cameras. He did not have much of a way to check whether they were transmitting a signal, but Arlert felt some semblance of confidence - Levi would not give a bad or easily destroyed thing.
Once the cameras were placed, the guy headed into a small separate shower - one of the privileges of passengers. He was interested in shampoo.
Contrary to hopes, the bathroom was almost empty, without any organizers or bottles. Only a razor, shaving foam and a toothbrush with toothpaste. Armin squinted, looking at the can of shaving foam, but then sighed and took a step out of the bathroom.
“Okay, another time…”
There was only one option - the shampoo was clearly in the bag.
The medic again felt a wave of discomfort, even stronger than in front of the door. And yet he hesitated for no more than five seconds - the guy could not throw away such a precious thing as time.
Armin squatted next to the bag and carefully unzipped it.
The first thing that caught his eye was a small stack of civilian clothes: gray and white T-shirts, a black zip-up sweatshirt and black sweatpants, several pairs of socks and underwear. Nothing remarkable. Deeper still lay the dress uniform, and this was a little surprising - did Eren go on a one-way trip to take even dress clothes with him? As his hands penetrated further and further, they briefly felt the characteristic shape of the weapon and some of the covers.
The guy really didn’t want to rummage through other’s things, even though he had threatened to do so to Yeager. Therefore, Arlert was glad when he found what he needed almost immediately - a bottle of shampoo was sticking out of an inside pocket when he managed to push aside a pile of clothes.
Armin reached for it and half-took it out when something caught his attention.
The medic frowned and barely bent the corner of the clothes - in the depths of the bag lay a book. Old and really shabby: its light cover was faded and grayed, the edges were torn and torn somewhere, there was even a strange-looking stain in the lower right corner. And yet it was clear that the book had been taken care of. Armin recognized it immediately.
Because he had once treasured it very much.
For a few long moments, his hands went weak, and the boy simply stared blankly at the pale yellow cover. An old, very old science fiction book, which in their time was already considered a rarity. And yet, Armin loved this book. Because it was not about science fiction, which is now irrelevant, but about people... About good, about bad, about stupid and about treacherous...
Armin read it aloud to Eren a little, but not to the end. Eren generally had difficulty concentrating for long, and reading clearly did not seem to be his forte...
However, after Yeager disappeared, the boy could not find this book and assumed that it was lost. This is rare, but it happens even to him.
And now, almost a decade later, Armin finds out that she was with Eren all this time...
The medic, barely breathing, took the book in his hands and carefully ran his fingers over the folded pages. Rough ridges, a matte flexible cover, velvety shabby... Armin slowly opened it to the title page and lost his breath for the second time, seeing a small photograph of Aunt Carla. She was as old and worn as the book, and yet... It seemed like the guy would never see her face again, and yet she was here. A painful tenderness involuntarily washed over his chest, and Armin ran his fingertip over the image. What a gentle and kind-hearted woman she was...
With an uneven sigh, the medic carefully closed the book and put it back. He had the feeling that he had found something he shouldn't have, and yet... And yet...
Something both painful and unwelcomely trembling played in his chest - the border between the past Eren and this one was slowly thinning. Only at that moment, Armin didn't want to think about it and get angry at himself once again - he just... briefly plunged into the old and almost forgotten tenderness of the past, its weak ghost, imprinted on a small piece of paper.
Armin shook his head, forced himself to come to his senses and return his attention to the bottle of shampoo. The discovery made the boy feel lost and calm at the same time, although he couldn't say why... As if he had... grown younger. A mischievous smile flashed on his lips when Arlert unscrewed the cap.
Tomorrow morning, a surprise awaits someone…
---
After infiltrating Eren's cabin, Armin also visited the cabins of the other members of the escort to leave a camera there.
No one except Floch had really settled into their cabin, and the medic had to be careful. He could hardly tell anything about these people from the appearance of the rooms - the initial medical examination had given more information.
In short... Armin simply hoped that this would yield some results.
The next morning, Armin realized that Eren had arrived before he saw him.
It was just that at some point, Jean practically choked on his breakfast in front of him, and Ymir shamelessly burst out nickering, baring her teeth predatorily. Historia covered her mouth with her hand, but it was clear that she was holding back her laughter. Connie and Mikasa turned around, wanting to find out what had caused such a reaction.
Armin didn't need to turn around to understand, and yet he did.
Eren walked slowly into the dining room, his face completely stony, his gaze focused only on the road ahead. He walked calmly to his desk and slowly, slowly sat down on the bench, ignoring the snorts of the crew. The escort, completely astonished and bewildered, stared at him, or more precisely, at his lovely deep pink hair.
Armin bit his lip, but still couldn't hide his smug grin when Eren looked straight at him and stared at him with a promise of inevitable revenge. The medic could practically hear the grinding of other's teeth.
No matter... He would find a worthy response to any prank of Yeager's.
The guy didn't want to think about the torn robe.
Armin glanced sideways at Connie, who was laughing, and then caught Mikasa's sincere smile. The girl shook her head, as she did in childhood, when two boys behaved like idiots. And yet the medic could notice how even her cheeks were flushed with joy. At the very least, this was worth all the nerves spent on the war with Eren.
Armin hid his smile behind the rim of his mug and simply enjoyed the effect produced.
As a result, after a week, these two played on each other's nerves in a way that no one had ever played before. It was like a hybrid of childish, completely harmless pranks and a bloody, merciless massacre.
Armin played dirty, but gracefully - he liked to make Eren look like a fool one way or another. What was the pink hair worth... The shade on the dark chestnut hair, of course, did not turn out as bright as he would have liked, but still very recognizable. Eren walked around with a pink head for two days, and the crew cackled, teasing Yeager. Jean was especially addicted to this - he seized every chance that Armin gave him to mock his despicable opponent. It seemed that at some point it could come to a fight - at least with Yeager's ardent supporter, Floch, who was almost more angry at the pranks on his comrade than the object of the pranks himself. Eren, however, was clearly preoccupied with more pressing issues, or more precisely, a counterattack. Replacing cleaning products with glue, adding a nuclear pepper additive to shaving foam, and providing absolute nonsense instead of instructions for the transformer that Yeager had asked Hange to fix — all of this only made the pilot more excited. It made him angry, and to some extent, it probably amused him, and it gave him a thrill that encouraged him to take action. It made him contrive and make his own moves in an absurd game. Armin enjoyed how Eren got lost and forgot about his stone mask in these fits of excitement, confusion, or outright bewilderment.
Eren may have played a little tougher, but at the same time he was more straightforward. He probably wouldn't have had the patience for such tricks as a child, but now the man knew how to play the long game. If Armin was trying to mock Yeager's collected and cool image - the more observers the better - then the pilot would respond by pressing on Armin's anxiety and excessive brooding, his physical weakness. Eren would make the medic nervous over small problems and snags, like a shuffled list of medications on a tablet, broken minor equipment, or suddenly being locked in a compartment for a while, like in a school locker. He would anger him with little things that a normal person would pay less attention to than the paranoid and anxious Armin, who had recently suffered a nervous breakdown. Eren knew where to press, and it again found a bittersweet response in the medic's chest.
However, despite all this, Armin had not felt so alive in a long time.
For the team and even part of the escort - let's not point the finger at one bearded man and a curious girl - this whole war turned out to be a truly interesting entertainment. Despite the fact that Zeke was the commander of the group, he was in no hurry to interfere in this blatant deviation from all norms of discipline and somehow reason with Eren, oh no. He just watched and, probably, chuckled to himself from time to time.
It seemed that the only one who was truly infuriated by the state of affairs was Floch.
Forster's initial disdain for Arlert grew into outright hostility, and at some point, angry looks grew into insulting words. Rarely, but they still flew off the other's tongue. The sniper wasn't just angry at Armin for mocking his comrades in some way... He looked at the medic as if he were some dirty and ungrateful heretic who didn't understand his good fortune in the form of a gift from God. It was rage, bewilderment, and even a hint of envy, although Armin honestly didn't understand what Floch could be envious of.
Arlert tried to avoid Forster's company or ignore him in every possible way - Eren was enough for him.
---
Almost a week had passed while thinking over tactics, and the moment of arrival in Liberio was approaching. In order not to completely lose himself in this newfound - or simply forgotten? - feeling of immersion, Armin shared access to the cameras with Levi and Hange to advance their investigation. At some point, the medic changed the bandage on Peek's hand as planned and this time took a closer look at it - the electrical burn occupied almost the entire palm, but did not burn the flesh to coals or peel off the skin. It was weak, almost without blisters, as if a person had been in contact with the current for an extremely short time: got in and out. Could a person get such a burn, convulsively holding onto the panel in search of support..?
Armin also shared this with the captain and the major, but decided to do without categorical statements and conclusions. And yet, suspicions were gradually fleshing out...
He was just returning from the bridge, deep in thought, when he stopped at the sight of a figure near his cabin. His eyebrows flew up at the sight of the guest - it was Zeke Yeager.
The man stood, leaning his shoulder against the wall and thoughtfully chewing an unlit cigarette. His gaze was directed somewhere at his feet, but with the appearance of Arlert, his gray eyes rose and stared at him. Several excruciatingly tense seconds of silence passed before Yeager tore himself away from the wall and put the cigarette in his pocket.
“Can I talk to you?” He asked politely, holding out his hand in a questioning gesture.
Armin took a few moments to assess the situation before blinking and saying, "...Of course." The medic walked around the guest and opened his cabin, silently allowing him to follow him inside. Fortunately, the lemon smell from Eren's prank was gone.
Once the engineer was inside, the guy closed the door and pointed to the bed, "Sit down." He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down on it opposite Zeke. His head was teeming with fragments of thoughts, full of apprehension, and yet his brain could not formulate clear words. It was just... an alarming noise.
Yeager slowly sat down on the other's bed, slowly and not too secretively looking around the cabin. He seemed to be thinking about something...
Several minutes passed in silence, full of awkward anticipation on Armin's part. The guy sat calmly, not fidgeting or showing any particular signs of nervousness, and yet his gaze did not leave the man in front of him.
What did he want with him?
To ask him something?
Or tell him something?
Yaeger Sr. realized that the escort was being followed, and was about to tell him to stop it immediately under threat of a military scandal? Up to and including a court martial...
Or did he want to know something about his old relationship with Eren? Or maybe with Levi?
Or-
"I haven't seen him so animated in a long time." Zeke suddenly broke the silence, taking a cigarette out of his pocket again and twirling it in his fingers. The man didn't look at Armin, as if he was talking more with his thoughts than with the medic, but Armin knew better - his reaction was being watched.
The doctor blinked and raised an eyebrow. Then Zeke sighed and continued.
"Eren didn't tell me much about his life in Shiganshina. You know, he was very reluctant to reveal information about you and that girl, Mikasa, I think... And yet, at first, it was hard for him to sit still, as if he was constantly looking back. I don't know what Eren was thinking, but after the first few leaves, it was as if he had been replaced and he became completely silent. I almost thought that there was nothing left of that energetic and angry boy…” Yeager brought the cigarette to his mouth, clamped it between his lips and cast a questioning glance at Armin. He did not immediately answer it, since he was sitting in a slight stupor. Only after a few moments did he return to the present and, quickly catching the question in someone else's eyes, gave permission. Zeke lit a cigarette and took a drag.
“And now, after so much time, he reminds me of that boy again. I don't know why, but you did something... I wanted to say thank you.”
Armin was practically speechless, looking somewhere in front of him. How should he answer this? How should he react? He wanted to find Eren and shake him by the lapels until he explained everything to him, but the boy knew that it was just a fleeting impulsive desire.
The doctor lowered his head and ran his hand through his hair, finally squeezing out,
“I have no idea why…”
Zeke only chuckled and took a drag on his cigarette smoke. He gave his interlocutor time to think. Suddenly Armin opened his eyes wider, as if in some kind of guess.
“So it was you who invited him to Marley…” The medic said quietly, and he nodded in response.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Zeke stretched his legs out in front of him.
“I finally found my half-brother and wanted to tell him something. We started texting, and I invited him to my place.”
Eren never told him and Mikasa that he started communicating with a certain relative. Armin felt another stab of pain from the realization that the boy had hidden something important from them. Didn't trust them...
The medic exhaled and finally looked up at the man.
“And talk about what?”
“Family matters.” Yeager shrugged.
Arlert narrowed his eyes.
Family..? Carla was born and raised in Shiganshina, she couldn't have children in Marley. Then something related to Grisha..?
But what?
Grisha... from Marley..?
Suddenly Zeke sighed loudly and threw his head back.
“And I see that old Levi still can't stand me.”
The abrupt change of topic made the medic understand that the conversation about Eren was over. Zeke said his ‘thank you’s and even more, so the topic was obviously closed.
Armin raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded anyway.
“You two know each other?” That's the last place he expected to get this information from, from the opposite side of some conflict rather than from Levi.
Zeke chuckled and took a drag on his cigarette.
“Something like that. He didn't tell you?”
Armin shook his head.
“No way.”
Yaeger snorted with a bit of ironic laughter.
“Of course, it's not the happiest memories for him... When we crossed paths, Marley had not yet stood under a single flag and was fighting with Paradise. He and I found ourselves on opposite sides of the barricades...
Zeke looked away somewhere to the side, looking at Armin's stacks of books.
“In that battle, I was one of the commanders, and had just developed a prototype of a new bioweapon…” Armin felt a nasty, chilling shiver from guessing where all this would go now. Meanwhile, the man continued, absorbed in his memories. “The battlefield became a testing ground. I suggested it. With the help of partial penetration of saboteurs, it was possible to attack the ventilation systems, in addition, this bioweapon had its own... features that facilitated the attack. Unfortunately, most of the Marleyans also became victims, but the enemy units fell entirely. Or almost completely... I don't know how Levi managed to survive. He probably had a long and painful rehabilitation ahead of him. And also the search for a new crew for the empty ship. Its commander, Erwin Smith, gave me a good thrashing - if not for him, Marley would have won without a single victim.”
The man inhaled smoke for the last time, savoring its bitterness on his tongue, and then put out the cigarette on the sole of his boot. He put the butt in his pocket.
Armin sat, his eyes wide open and staring somewhere in front of him. A pulling, bitter heaviness settled inside, and with it a touch of horror - it did not seem that the man sitting in front of him regretted his actions. Zeke told about this whole situation as if it were a light story for the night, maybe an unsuccessful, but very fascinating experiment ... The guy almost felt sick at the thought of how inhumanely and mercilessly biological weapons took and continue to take people's lives. And the officer opposite him created it with his own hands and insisted on using it...
Armin clearly realized at what moment all this happened - shortly before Eren disappeared, and he and Mikasa went to the cadet school to look for him. This was the same Levi's flight, which lasted more than a year and a half and resulted in the loss of his crew, which even they, children, caught a glimpse of. Noble and stately Erwin, gentle and kind Petra, professional and resourceful Gunther and Jean, arrogant, but putting the captain in absolute Oluo... Even Hange, at that time just a factory model with light, but almost imperceptible quirks...
All the time that Armin and Mikasa were ruining their own lives, Levi clung to him and underwent rehabilitation.
“It's funny that this was the last battle before Marley stood under a single flag.” Zeke added, and Armin, clenching his pants with his fingers, barely managed to keep himself in check.
Levi's entire reaction to Zeke became absolutely clear, and the boy gritted his teeth.
“Thanks for telling me.” He said dryly, and then, sniffing the air and wincing from the tobacco stench, pointed to the exit, “I suppose that's all?”
Zeke blinked and seemed to return to the present. He shrugged and got up from the bed, putting his hands in his pants pockets.
“You could say that yes…”
Yeager seemed to be heading for the exit, but suddenly he approached the medic and hung over him. He leaned over, carefully examining him, as if he were some kind of experimental animal, and dousing him with the fresh smell of cigarettes. Armin needed self-control not to recoil and only slightly recoil within the bounds of decency.
Zeke stared into the blue, wary eyes for a few seconds, then said quietly:
“Morality and empathy... The world would be a better place if people had them, huh?”
A long second of stifling silence, and the man straightened up, striding towards the exit of the cabin.
Who would say that Armin automatically replied in his mind, and yet his tongue seemed to have grown to the roof of his mouth.
The entire following evening, the medic was haunted by a disgusting, chilly feeling that even Eren's pranks or the crew's jokes could not dilute.
---
There were less than two days left before arriving in Liberio. Armin was walking to the medical bay past an open gym, when his gaze caught on someone. The medic involuntarily slowed down, and then stopped altogether, looking closely.
"Someone" turned out to be Eren, pulling a barbell from a prone position. He paid no attention to anything around him, concentrating on drawing his eyebrows together and working the barbell methodically, with rhythmic inhalations and exhalations through tightly pressed lips. Sweat appeared on his tanned skin, partially soaking his tight black army T-shirt with a high neck and short sleeves.
The training equipment was mostly in its place, but it was clear that some had been approached for work. Now Yeager was the only one in the gym - perhaps he was avoiding being with a hostile team and found time when everyone was busy, or maybe this was just speculation and this is how things turned out. The more Armin was around Eren, the more he thought that he didn't care about other people's opinions or other people in general. Well, with a few exceptions, of course... Previously, Yeager would have punched anyone who said even a word against him in the nose.
Armin thought for a few seconds, and then took a few steps towards the gym and stopped at the doorway. He leaned his shoulder against him. He was wearing his white coat, although not as immaculate as before - Historia and Mikasa helped him somehow stitch up the hole in his back, but it was far from ideal. Every glance he cast at the crooked seam caused almost physical pain...
“Has your arm healed?” The medic asked coolly, folding his arms over his chest.
Eren glanced at him briefly, but did not stop, continuing the exercise. His breathing was out of rhythm for only a split second, after which it returned to rhythm.
Almost a minute later, Yeager finished and put the barbell back in place with a heavy metallic clang. The man exhaled loudly, rising to his feet in a smooth movement. Slightly disheveled and breathing deeply, with flushed skin, he stared at Armin in the doorway.
“Yes.” Eren said dryly, and then narrowed his eyes, and a malicious sparkle flashed in his eyes. “Are you worried?”
“No, I’m not. I don’t want to transfer medications to a reckless patient.” Armin retorted, and his voice was filled with sarcasm. They both knew that they were enjoying this in some way - otherwise neither of them would be having this conversation. The doctor would have passed by, and the pilot would not have responded and ignored the intruder.
Eren chuckled unpleasantly and defiantly:
“Don't worry, I'm not a weakling like you.”
There were a few moments of almost deadly silence.
Yeager looked at the medic, as if torturing him - he was waiting for a reaction. A response. As if checking if Armin was still himself...
Armin froze for several agonizing seconds, looking into the inquisitive sparkling green irises. Everything inside froze from the old and painful "name" - how much it haunted him from other people's lips, from his own... Arlert had not heard it for several years, since he was surrounded by a devoted and caring team, but this word once again ate into his eardrums.
However, instead of painfully cringing, as Armin would have cringed a few years ago, he smiled weakly.
“Do you want to check?”
Eren's eyes widened for a moment, and then the man grinned crookedly.
He retreated a few steps to the center of the room, free of equipment and installations. A place for sparring. Yeager spread his legs shoulder-width apart and folded his arms across his chest in impudent anticipation.
With a quiet sigh, Armin approached the nearest exercise machine and took off his robe. He slowly folded it in half and hung it on the barbell. A lazy regularity shone through in almost every movement - as if the medic was confident in himself.
Honestly?
He was confident, but not in his success.
You don't have to be a genius to understand that he doesn't stand a chance against Eren in hand-to-hand combat. Rather thin, initially not very well built and not having trained for a long time, Armin is clearly no match for Eren, who is in good shape - his dossier was worth it. Besides, the man towered over him by at least half a head.
But Eren had no way to assess how much Armin had trained - Yeager didn't know if his abilities had changed since childhood, if he had succeeded in the cadet school, and how he compensated for his short stature or wiry frame. You can't underestimate an opponent, even if the opponent is a puny toothpick.
Eren didn't know that Armin was truly weak, and that was exactly what was needed.
The medic pretended to stretch his wrists and headed towards the sparring area, stopping a couple of meters away from the opponent. The pilot immediately opened his hands and, slightly moving his shoulders, stood in a stance. His hands were clenched into fists, his legs were bent at the knees. Armin took a deep breath and mirrored the other's pose.
Mikasa tried to pull him up in combat disciplines, she really did. She connected all her skills in an attempt to improve her friend's skills, and, to some extent, it helped - Arlert passed, albeit very close to the minimum bar. But nothing more. Even as a cadet, Armin simply trembled, not knowing where to put his hands, or how to coordinate them with his legs, and even more so how to attack an opponent who was twice his size: there were practically no opponents in the squad that were actually equal in size.
Eventually, he got a little better over time, and after graduation the crew would shake him up and make the boy participate in combat training with them from time to time.
But looking at Eren now, ready for action, Armin realized that he would have to try very hard not to fall flat on his face in the first few seconds. Maybe he needed a little more training...
His heart began to pound loudly in his chest, his fingers grew cold, and yet the medic remained collected.
Because it wasn’t in his nature to retreat.
Armin exhaled silently through his lips and made a trial lunge.
Eren pulled back in a graceful, almost dance-like gesture. His gaze never shifted from Armin's torso to his flickering hand. They were only on the goal, only on the big picture. None of the distractions that had taken place earlier could affect him now.
A moment later, Eren himself began to test the waters, trying to touch his opponent with a fist from the side or catch him on his feet. Armin, though not as graceful, slipped back, keeping his distance and circling around the pretend ring.
There was a rush of footsteps, almost running, and the heads of the team poked through the doorway. Jean and Connie exchanged words, first shocked, then excited, immediately moving inside the walls to observe, while the girls remained in the doorway. Historia pressed her fist to her chest, watching with a mixture of apprehension and ardent excitement, like a football fan, Mikasa squinting appraisingly behind her. A few seconds later, Ymir and Sasha joined in, and then, oddly enough, the members of the escort. Hange must have blabbed; she was aware of everything on the ship.
Flock practically shoved Ymir out of the way, watching with his mouth agape, while Zeke and Pieck remained behind everyone.
Ymir glared at Forster, but only for a second; her attention was entirely focused on her brother-in-law and his opponent. She threw her arm over Historia's shoulders and, pressing her palm to her face like a megaphone, shouting,
“Take him, Armin!”
A series of encouraging shouts immediately began - Jean and Connie, grabbing each other by the sleeves of their clothes, incited them to kick Yeager's ass, while Sasha, who was located next to them, threw her fists in the air.
“Come on! If you win, I'll make you a kebab from the best lamb I can find!”
“Eren, twist this weakling!” Flock's voice was heard.
While the unexpected circle of fans threw words, Armin managed to avoid the other's well-aimed and sharp blows in circles. They had no power, and yet they were dangerous. Eren pursued the medic, carefully but quickly moving his feet and almost playfully cutting the air with his hands. His fists unclenched, and he tried to first hit his opponent's defensive block with an open or half-open palm.
Armin knew that Yeager was about to realize his incompetence, so he exhaled briefly and tried to respond anyway. The quick blow hit the other man's arm and was instantly deflected, but this seemed to excite Eren. Ignoring the screams of those gathered, the man completely immersed himself in the fight. His face was impassive, but his eyes shone with complete and undivided attention.
Watching this, for a few endless moments, Armin forgot that he did not know how to fight. He wanted more.
He gritted his teeth and kicked again, this time with his foot, barely grazing the other man's shin in a trial low kick. And then, exactly one second later, he decided to immediately attack a second time, but from the other side, in the other leg. Eren managed to soften the blow and aimed for the body, while the enemy's attention was focused below. Armin barely parried the attack with his forearm and immediately began circling the ring again.
However, Eren got tired of waiting and did not continue to chase the medic with the same easy, dancing movements. The pilot approached his opponent with one quick jerk and, while he was trying to retreat, grabbed him under the knee and by the arm, turned around and threw him over his hip. A dull thud was heard on the tatami - in less than a second, Armin found himself on his back, with his arm captured. Another moment later, Eren grabbed his wrist and sat on top, pressing his elbow to his neck and thereby immobilizing him. The medic felt almost the entire weight of the soldier on himself, and a weak wheeze escaped from his throat.
The circle of fans fell silent for exactly a moment, after which a roar of annoyance was heard, through which the encouraging calls of Sasha and Historia and the joyful whistle of Flock could still be heard.
Eren looked into the eyes of the heavily breathing Armin and grinned briefly - the mask of composure cracked. Unlike the medic, Eren was almost not out of breath, and yet Armin felt the heat of the blood running under his skin, his and the other's. Green eyes sparkled with victorious satisfaction. Armin narrowed his eyes, trying not to focus on how skin pressed against skin.
Just what he needed.
The medic extended the index finger and thumb of his only free hand, and then accurately poked under the other's ribs and began to tickle.
Eren let out a completely unmanly cry in surprise and arched to the side from the painfully ticklish touch. The captive hand was free, and Armin began to terrorize the other's ribs with both hands. Oh, he remembered very well that in their periodic playful scuffles, his only weapon against Eren was tickling, because he was simply scared to death of it.
Yaeger instantly intercepted the enemy's hands and pinned them above the other's head, briefly trying to catch his breath from a panic attack. He looked at Armin with wide-open eyes, and Armin looked back.
Silence settled around, broken only by a couple of confused chuckles.
Armin saw how Eren's cheeks inexorably, although slightly, blushed - because it was a damn shame. Or was it not only because of this..?
...And yet, at first, it was hard for him to sit still, as if he was constantly looking back. I don't know what Eren was thinking, but after the first few leaves, it was as if he had been replaced and he became completely silent…
I don't know why, but you did something...
“What did you do here?” Levi's cold voice rang out, and the entire crew instantly stood at attention. Floch, for some reason, too, even though he wasn't the captain's subordinate - maybe it was just his instinct towards Ackerman. Could he be blamed?
Eren blinked and the next second he was on his feet. He took a few steps back, returning to a normal distance.
The man didn't extend his hand.
The medic rolled over and got up from the floor, leaning his hands on the floor. His wrists still burned from the stranger's grip, but Arlert doubted that there would be bruises.
"Sparring." Armin answered as soon as he stood up. The girls and part of the escort moved away from the doorway to let the gloomy captain through - he took a couple of steps towards Yeager and Arlert. He raised an eyebrow at the other's words, but said nothing more.
Instead, he turned and stared at the crowd of hapless fans:
"Disperse to your posts and get back to work - arrival in Liberio is in twenty-four hours. Arlert - come see me in three hours." Ackerman's tone was even, and yet full of gloomy discontent. It seemed that he was not worried about the fact that these two had decided to have a fight, but that for some reason the rest of the ship had come running to it. After all, sparring was allowed and encouraged, but slacking off before an important event was not.
However, Armin thought that the man was worried about something else besides that...
"Yes, captain," the guy answered, and Levi, after another quick glance at him and Eren, left along with the dispersed crowd. Jean threw his hand up in the air and shook his thumb, Connie just cackled under his breath, while Sasha actively said something to him with accompanying gestures. Ymir snorted with a mixture of pride and annoyance, nodded and left the training room. Zeke and Pieck seemed to disappear - Armin did not notice how they were leaving. The last to leave were Mikasa and Historia. Historia approached her brother and gave him a quick hug, clapping him on the back:
“Well done.” She whispered in his ear, knowing full well how bad he was at hand-to-hand combat. As soon as the girl pulled away, she turned her head to Eren, who was standing silently, and fixed him with a strange gaze. There was no sparkling protective rage in it, which was visible at the beginning of their flight. It seemed that she was studying him inquisitively - not without biased aggression because of her brother, Historia seemed to be trying to understand this man after all... To see what others did not see.
However, without saying a word, the younger Arlert once again patted her brother on the shoulder and left, tugging Mikasa by the sleeve on the way.
She stood in the aisle for a few more seconds, her arms folded across her chest and glaring at Yeager. Armin glanced at him briefly, and saw that the man did not return his gaze. Moreover, he was avoiding him.
The feeling of liveliness had disappeared, and Eren was once again reminiscent of the man they had met nine years later - indifferent and heartless. His green irises had faded into thoughtfulness, and any hint of recent excitement had dissolved.
Armin tried to ignore the pang of loss that had stabbed him in the chest.
Mikasa removed her hands from her chest and left without saying anything. A few moments later, Eren left as well.
Armin ran his fingertips over his wrists.
---
There was half an hour left before Levi's visit, and Armin was sitting in the medical bay. Not that it was necessary, but the doctor thought it would be a good idea to tidy up the paperwork and dig through the escort's dossier one more time. Besides, the familiar, almost native atmosphere was calming - due to the proximity of arrival, the atmosphere on the ship had become somewhat tense, because Liberio was their only chance to repair the ship and, as a result, survive.
Was this the plan of a possible saboteur? And was there such a saboteur at all?
Armin was sure that this was exactly what the conversation with Levi would be about, because it was the captain and Hange who were working on the information they were receiving, while the medic was busy teasing Eren. Did they get any results? Did they come to any conclusions?
Was the threat even real in the end..?
The guy felt some shame that he had practically thrown himself into the war with Eren simply because he liked it. Even despite the frequent fatigue due to the lack of proper recovery, Armin felt unusually... bright.
And yet now he sat, resting his chin on his fist and looking at the documents. A state bordering on a thoughtful, tired trance.
The compartment was silent, allowing one to completely immerse oneself in thoughts...
Most likely, he will be one of those who will fly on the shuttle because of his translator skills. And if something happens, a doctor will not interfere with the one who flies with him - instead of Arlert, there will be a backup option on the ship, namely Hange. In the end, she is an android, and also a companion of the ship - her functions include an impressive medical base. She will be able to replace Armin.
Who will be the second passenger is a more difficult question. It must be a person who understands technology and will be able to obtain the necessary materials on their own in the event of a ban on docking, and also control the shuttle itself, because there was no autopilot on it. Jean is unlikely to leave the ship, after all, he is its pilot, Mikasa is good at piloting, but she is not a mechanic, just like Ymir...
Armin blinked slowly and closed his eyes in defeat, realizing that there was only one option left.
Of course, of course it had to be Eren.
But was he really so unhappy about it..?
Before the medic could begin to dissect this barely glimpsed cape, when a faint knock was heard.
But it's open… the medic thought in surprise, even with a bit of bewilderment, and rose from his chair. He approached the doors of the medical bay and pressed the panel, opening them.
Even before the door had fully risen, the iron smell of blood hit his nose.
The second thing that caught his eye was the deep crimson stains, spreading almost all over his clothes and even part of his face. Armin was dumbfounded for a second and only then noticed the cold green eyes staring at him.
Oh God...
Eren stood rooted to the spot, practically covered in blood. It flowed down half of his face, dripping from his matted hair and soaking into his uniform, emitting a smell that the medic knew all too well.
“Oh Lord, Eren…”
Armin exhaled sharply, and then something clicked - something professional, something that his comrades and classmates, and later his colleagues, always valued in him. He grabbed Yeager by the sticky hand and dragged him to the bed.
“What happened, where are you injured, what hurts?” He began asking questions, instantly sitting the pilot down and taking out gloves with gauze, antiseptic and bandages. Although his voice vibrated from the tension, the doctor's movements were precise and confident. Eren did not answer, and this worried the guy even more - a change in consciousness? Doesn't understand him because of blood loss? A blow? Pain?
Half of face was practically bleeding, and an empty honey-brown gaze was directed somewhere through it...
Having put on latex and thrown the bandaging materials on the tray near the couch, Armin instantly looked at the places of the supposed injuries. First, the head, dripping with blood. Eren was pliable in his hands, but still unresponsive.
Gloved fingers carefully but precisely ran over the scalp, searching for damage…
...and found nothing.
Armin frowned in confusion, feeling fear and confusion begin to itch in his head. He put his hand to the other man's artery on his neck and felt a completely normal, strong pulse, and shone a flashlight from his pocket into his eyes - the pupils responded normally.
...This isn't his blood..?
He... hurt someone? Killed someone? Or...
Armin almost dropped the flashlight from his hands when it dawned on him.
Eren was simply testing him. Provoking him. Unnerving him.
As if to confirm this theory, Yeager finally looked at him and let out a short snort, almost a laugh. Apparently, he was amused by how seriously the medic took the possible injury of such a hated passenger.
Another prank...
But Armin wasn't amused.
Black hair flying about, the smell of sulfur from old shells and gunpowder right in front of his nose - the boy would never forget the recoil from that shot...
The white fabric was crumpled and creased, the red on it looked painfully familiar, and yet unnatural...
The medic felt his breathing quicken and the blood rushing to his ears was buzzing. His hands began to tremble, and he finally dropped the flashlight. He stepped back, pressing his shaking hand to his aching chest.
There wasn't enough air, no matter how hard he tried to breathe. Hyperventilation made his head spin.
The screams of those around him, the groans of those who hadn't been finished off, and his own guttural cry that escaped him only a couple of hours later...
Armin's vision swam, and he didn't understand at what point Eren rose from the bed and stopped in front of him, suddenly looking into his face with worry. Warm hands fell on his shoulders, and the guy felt a slight shaking, but it didn't tear him out of the swamp.
The flashes of worried green eyes, so similar to those he had lost nine years ago, were absorbed by visions of soot-stained grass and white sheets...
Whether he eventually passed out or simply sank so deeply into himself - Armin couldn't say, but the last thing he heard was his name from someone else's lips. They pressed him against a hot body and began to rub his back with a palm, and the world was erased, replaced by blurred colors of the past...
Scarlet on white...
---
It was sad and ironic that immediately after graduation, the 104th Cadet Corps found itself in a hot spot directly on Trost. During their training, Trost as a colony began an uprising that broke out at the moment the cadets graduated.
Most of the teenagers who had just become soldiers were born and raised here.
Now they were sent to battle with their own home...
Armin could not imagine what it was like, and yet he saw the haggard faces of his comrades. This especially affected Jean when it turned out that his mother had become one of the victims in the crossfire.
At that moment, he fell silent, and then at the first opportunity he left the small support room on the front line. Armin found him ten minutes later on a rocky field, among bunches of wild flowers and craters scorched by explosions. A warm, dry wind walked and swayed the beautiful blue buds... Kirstein was sitting on the ground, hunched over and looking somewhere into the distance, not trembling and not noticing the tears dripping from his chin. His wet, reddened eyes were directed somewhere beyond the horizon, as if there was that one path home, to his mother, whom he would never see again... And although the man was already almost two meters tall, now he seemed tiny, defenseless and ready to fall apart at any moment.
Armin silently sat down next to him, pressed side to side, knee to knee. His thin arm gently hugged his friend's shoulders, and that's when the first sob escaped from the other's lips.
"She promised to cook me my favorite omelette when I get back..." a hoarse voice rang out, and Kirstein lost control of his breathing.
It was an ugly and deep, growing sob, shaking his entire body in uncontrollable pain. Howling, comparable only to an animal rushing about in agony... Jean pulled his knees to his chest and covered his ears with his hands in a childishly vulnerable habit, breathing unevenly and crying, while Armin pressed his temple to the other's jumping shoulder and in a comforting gesture lightly stroked his tense, spasming back.
Marco joined in a bit later, and the three of them sat for over an hour on a deserted field, where flowers swayed on the earth dug up by explosions…
It was impossible to count how many cadets had lost their relatives in these battles. Many of their families were members of the rebellion, and their own children took their lives one way or another. And then they cried, tearing out their hair.
Against this background, a certain percentage of former cadets began to desert…
Could they be blamed for this?
Armin was never able to answer this question… He could look at the night sky countless times to give himself strength to survive the next day, and yet the stars no longer gave him any consolation or hope…
Arlert had trained as a military doctor, and now, regardless of who was right and who was wrong, his duty was to save lives. For him, there were no enemies, even though the higher-ups said there were. Who were they trying to convince? The children of these very "enemies"? The teenagers they had made their tool to suppress rebellions?
What had once taken the life of Armin's own family had returned. Only now he stood on the other side of this monstrous meat grinder...
The only difference between him and his comrades was that the boy saved lives, not took them. And even so, he felt how with each day spent in battle with ordinary people, the rejection was growing inside him... A flimsy faith in something good desperately clung to his insides, whispering that Armin had to stay strong and do the little he could so that at least something bright would accompany his comrades.
The boy still believed that good would be answered with good… Kindness breeds kindness…
Is that so..?
His hands sank into blood up to the elbows, but it was the blood of life, not death. Armin put his mind to it and worked, worked, worked... He operated on everyone, even some of his close friends - Sasha's monstrous shoulder wound was stitched up with his own hands, Mikasa's fractures and bullet wounds were treated under his supervision.
Marco, who also trained as a military doctor, shared with him the torturous shifts and waves of fear for his friends while they were on the offensive... From time to time they just sat next to each other, exhausted, elbow-deep in blood and pus, and listened to each other's breathing.
Armin no longer went out to watch the dawn - anyway, it was covered in smoke...
Sometimes he wanted to start smoking - Connie offered him hand-rolled cigarettes many times, teasing him slightly and tugging at the half-tail of his light, sun-bleached hair. And yet the medic refused this idea, because there was no way he would let the stress of nicotine addiction distract him during operations. The guy just ran his hand over the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, also tugged at his ponytail and returned to his work, feeling his head split from lack of sleep.
"Imagine you're hungover," Jean said with a hoarse laugh.
The whole corps laughed, but still took note.
Over almost half a year, this advice came in handy more than once. Half a year of fighting with people desperately fighting for their own right to a good life, against the fate of workhorses dying in the plowing...
During his training, Armin became so close to his comrades that it seemed impossible to tear them apart. Skin to skin, heart to heart... They clung to each other in a small group in this bloody chaos, and the guy thought from time to time that his parents and grandfather would be happy for him.
Almost a year and a half after starting his studies at the school, Levi returned from the distant borders, which had become part of a single territory. At some point, the commandant simply came to Armin and Mikasa and said that they had received a subspace call.
Ackerman was calling from Shiganshina, from their once shared apartment, and was practically screaming - the boy had never seen him so furious and upset at the same time. Levi looked tired, cracked, and yet full of relief that the negligent foster children had been found. He was simply shocked that his seemingly intelligent children had done such a stupid thing, and yet the man could no longer do anything about it. He looked at them, dressed in gray uniforms, and understood how he had screwed up...
Armin knew that this would happen, but still a new wave of shame and guilt washed over him.
They talked for more than half an hour until the free time ended and the cadets were forced to return to training. From the conversation, Arlert and Ackerman learned that the entire crew had died on the voyage from which Levi had returned, and that the bespectacled android apparently had all of her gears jammed… The man didn't explain what exactly happened, but could he be blamed for that?
In the end, the captain said that he would soon fly to Trost and this time he would not take his eyes off the little idiots.
The promise was fulfilled, and a month later Ackerman became part of the officers helping in the training, and along with him, Hange came as a trailer. An android who became one of the units that received permission for an official career in military ranks and research activities - her behavior went beyond the norm of an android, but fit into the boundaries of human inclinations without losing machine functions. A precedent that eventually terrorized the entire cadet school...
Levi and Hange became some of the most respected and at the same time terrifying trainers. Sometimes Armin thought that he and Mikasa would be cursed by their classmates for such a "present".
The Wings of Freedom were in the hangar until better times. Until the captain was ready to return to the ship...
After graduation, when service in a hot spot began, Levi offered to become part of the new crew after the end of the operation.
Perhaps he wanted to protect his children and the newfound good-natured people from the corps, to whom he himself did not notice how attached he had become; or maybe he just wanted to return to the ship and escape from the flames that had flared up again. Either way, Armin was almost certain that in that vulnerable moment, Ackerman was driven by pain...
When Armin told Historia about this, he felt a surge of hope and horror at the same time. Because no one could say whether they would all live to see this moment...
The boy was scared, and during the first nights of combat, he wrote letters to his sister with quietly dripping tears, as if they were his last.
On one of those nights, Ymir came to him and silently hugged him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly in a familiar gesture. She had grown taller than before, and her long brown hair was now pinned up. The wild, daring girl had grown into an equally daring, yet very good girl… Was she like that simply because that was how growing up was? Or had Historia's countless letters softened her character with something tender and deep, penetrating the hearts of even the most callous people? Love…
Ymir had told him then: "You are the one who gave me the opportunity to touch this, and I will be indebted to you for the rest of my life and even after that…". She had acknowledged him as her family…
Surely Historia, worried, had told her, and yet… Armin was grateful for every drop of warmth that his friends gave him.
He waited with timid but inexorable hope for the moment when he could introduce them to his sister.
After all, the Wings of Freedom promised to be a home, because Historia had also asked to come on board. Levi didn't refuse.
This became their unspoken goal.
To survive, to reach for the stars...
There was no one in the entire universe to take care of them except each other.
At some point, looking at the green grass against the background of smoke, Armin almost forgot about Eren's emerald eyes. After so many years, it was still useless...
Running his hand over his dry face, the doctor sighed and stepped back from the windowsill of a small hospital. Nothing particularly outstanding, just a reinforced concrete box that had once been abandoned, and yet they had saved many lives here. The main hall contained almost twenty couches, some were separated by screens, some were not. Doors to other rooms were visible in the walls: some were operating rooms, some were separate sections for infectious or especially severe patients. There was also a dining room, although most patients ate on their couches. Not everyone could get up to go to the other end of the building...
Arlert was wearing a tightly buttoned white coat with an apron, weighed down with some instruments that he never parted with. A scanner, a plasma scalpel for rough but emergency work, and a couple of doses of tranquilizers and painkillers. In the pockets of the coat were several pairs of gloves, under the coat on his hip was a holster with a pistol.
Something under his skull was itching from fatigue, and Armin thought that after the rounds he would still take his right to rest and go to bed. It was calm now, and he was unlikely to be needed urgently in the near future.
The doctor waved wearily at Mina, who was passing by and smiled at him. The nurse was carrying a stack of bed linen. A good girl, kind...
Suddenly a hand fell softly on his shoulder, and Armin turned his head - Marco's honey-brown eyes looked at him with warmth. Beneath them lay the same shadows as beneath his own, and yet no force could take away their deep light. Armin smiled back.
“Have you rested?”
Marco removed his hand and shrugged.
“Yes, at least now my vision is clearer.” Bodt answered easily and with a hint of laughter, keeping pace with his friend as he headed toward the rows of beds. “Are we going to do our rounds now?”
“Yeah, I'll finish it and then go to bed too.” Armin yawned as if on command and laughed weakly, running his hand through his tied-up hair.
Marco inclined his head toward him. “Let me help then.”
“Oh, thank you!” Arlert thanked him with feeling as he exhaled, and they both giggled.
Together work went by pretty fast.
In general, the hospital, when there was no particular blockage and the seriously wounded had just arrived, had a relatively peaceful atmosphere. Many of the faces were familiar, and during rounds, examinations and bandages, the soldiers started small talk. They joked, distracting themselves and entertaining the doctors and nurses, tried to play some games with each other and from time to time inquired about the affairs of Armin and other doctors.
This time, too, it was quite easy.
Armin and Marco worked on neighboring beds and periodically exchanged phrases. At some point, Bodt looked up from the shoulder of a patient to whom he was slowly injecting medicine.
“By the way, how did you like the book?” He asked, and the blond shrugged.
“I haven't finished reading it yet, I somehow didn't have time... But the plot is incredibly catchy, I barely tore myself away from the pages for the sake of operations.” Armin chuckled, carefully bandaging the soldier's stitched up arm.
He blinked and quietly asked what the book was. The doctor replied, "The Hellboy and The Saint," and the soldier said that he might find it later and read it too. Marco cheered and thanked his friend for the advertisement, immediately laughing.
Armin soon approached the patient behind the screen. The relaxed expression on his face evaporated to some extent, and the guy pursed his lips.
Apart from the others was the rescued deserter.
He was to be patched up and sent to a tribunal, after which he would most likely still be shot. Perhaps sent to prison or to work in another colony... It was Daz, and Armin knew him. Maybe even too well: an emotional guy who often overestimated his abilities and still tried his best. At some point, perhaps after saving him from the flooding shelter, Daz became quite friendly with Armin. You could call them buddies.
The doctor felt bitterness from the thoughts about other's fate, and yet he could hardly do anything except his job. He could only save another's life with an operation, bandages and procedures... The guy could not and did not judge people for their choice, because the thought of attacking his own home made his heart clench.
And yet the army is a merciless trap... Or a swamp. Whichever is more convenient.
Armin rolled a small table on wheels to the screen and went behind it, looking over the patient. The bandage on the side was soaked with blood, and it needed to be changed, and at the same time the stitches checked.
The quiet clanking of metal instruments, a small tray with cotton wool, antiseptic solution and pieces of gauze, the rustling of bandage packages... The medic was silently preparing for a simple procedure, when suddenly Daz on the bed opened his eyes and jerked. Arlert recoiled in surprise.
The deserter looked at Armin with wild eyes, and then grabbed the scalpel from the table, scattering the rest of the instruments on the floor with a clatter. People around began to look around at the noise, Marco looked warily at the image of his tensely recoiled friend.
“Stay back!” Daz screamed, trying to somehow get up from the couch and tripping over his own legs. A panicked expression bordering on insanity froze on his face, the hand holding the scalpel was shaking. Screams of nurses and the movement of worried soldiers on their beds began to be heard. Marco exhaled, "Armin!"
Arlert raised his open palms with a confused expression on his face and said as gently as possible,
“Daz, calm down, it's just me-”
“I know who you are!” The deserter squealed, shaking the scalpel and leaning over slightly. He was frantically searching for something in the calf of his pants. “You all are still going to turn me in, right?! First you'll save me, and then you'll take me to be shot?! Just because I, damn it, didn't want to kill my family and die myself?!”
Armin went cold - most likely, Daz was looking for a weapon.
Kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness...
The guy exhaled sharply and with one movement of his trembling hands pulled his own pistol out of the holster, pointing it at the maddened deserter.
“Daz, please calm down and lie down on the couch!” Armin asked in a breaking voice, trying to get through to his comrade who had gone crazy. His hands were cramping from the mere thought that he would have to shoot. No, no, Daz would not attack his comrades and the doctors who saved his life, he just needed to come to his senses.
“Please, everything will be fine, just lie down!”
No... No-no-no, he won't shoot, he won't kill, that's not why he's here!
Kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness...
The soldiers around started calling for one of the patrolmen, some nurses tried to come up behind them with tranquilizers at the ready. Marco, who was literally a couple of meters away, looked from Daz to Armin with growing anxiety. His brown eyes were filled with fear for other's life, and he tensely called out to his friend to move further away, damn it.
“Armin!”
Daz sobbed, then dropped the scalpel and pulled a pistol out of his shin pocket. In a split second, he removed the safety catch.
Kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness...
How is that possible...
“I won't just fucking give in!”
Armin's eyes widened and he let out a sharp breath as he realized the death's hand was raised above him. And still the fingers did not pull the trigger.
...for his miserable existence, he was destined from the very beginning to die the same inglorious, dirty death as a dog in a ditch..?
...Life simply weeds out everyone who is not capable of submitting or subduing....
Armin was not capable, and he will pay for it, as he should have several years ago...
“Armin!”
It all happened in one second.
The cry of a cornered beast, a desperate call by name, a blow of body to body and a series of deafening shots.
Hot blood splashed on his face in a disgusting wave, his head hit the floor, and his body was pressed down from above by something heavy and warm. His ears were ringing, his eyes were clouded with pain for a few moments, and yet Armin rose on his elbows and in a wave of affect completely numb, fired. His hands were burned by the recoil and gunpowder, the smell of iron and sulfur pierced his nostrils, and the boy groaned. His chest burned from rapid inhalations and exhalations, and yet the oxygen did not bring a feeling of sobriety.
Although at first nothing was visible, the doctor stared ahead with wide-open eyes. The trembling picture began to clear up, and attention clung to individual blurry details: splashes of blood on the white screen, the smoking barrel of a pistol, instruments scattered on the floor, a deserter who had fallen backwards with a bullet in his chest, and several bodies of random soldiers and nurses... Mina stared at the floor with dead, stunned eyes, the tranquilizer in her hand smashed on the concrete. The soldier to whom Armin had told about the book was hanging from the bed with a bullet through his torso. Some people were screaming, some were running...
There was a ringing cotton wool in his ears, through which screams could be heard in the distance.
Both trembling hands held the pistol.
Armin, breathing unevenly and shallowly, slowly lowered his eyes...
Half of face was practically bleeding, and an empty honey-brown gaze was directed somewhere through it... A through shot had torn part of his head into the flesh, and crimson shreds of flesh, brains and cracked skull bones hung on snow-white, freckled skin...
Marco's head lay on his stomach, and blood soaked his once snow-white robe.
At that moment, the whole world... disappeared. Armin stopped trembling, practically frozen, and dropped the pistol from his hands.
He didn't hear the screams of Jean and Sasha running up, didn't feel Connie shaking his shoulders or Mikasa snapping her fingers... The ringing of silence began to grow, almost hurting his ears, and an icy feeling of... emptiness spread through his chest.
No... This... is some kind of very unfunny and stupid joke. This simply can't be... Where is that wonderful, gentle light that was reflected in dozens of freckles?
Kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds…
There will be tears, but much later, when hysteria will grab his throat with a merciless hand and squeeze it, so hard that suffocation will seem like a heavenly end after what he did. Or what he didn't do...
Jean never blamed him, and yet Armin knew that he was to blame...
The light of a thousand stars hidden in one person went out.
Before Armin’s glassy eyes, all that stood out was the image of scarlet-scarlet blood spreading across Marco’s robe…
Notes:
I added a link to a fanfic in a fanfic? Hell yeah! I probably already mentioned "The Hellboy and The Saint", but I'll say it again because it deserves your attention!(https://archiveofourown.org/works/57260590)
So we found out what happened to Marco... My poor boy, forgive me for what I did to you T-T
I hope this pile of information has given you answers to some questions and given you the opportunity to ask new ones :3
I also hope that you enjoyed the prank pong of two idiots as much as I did, haha)
As always, I would like to thank the Gilded Lily for their help with the translation and for the wave of inspiration from our communication! This chapter was really hard for me due to many reasons, but here we are, we've passed this bar :.)
I hope you enjoyed it!
Good luck to everyone, I love you all, take care of yourself! <3
Here is link to art (and there is music a bit lower in channel):
https://t.me/TulkaVTomatnomSouseOriot/336
Chapter 7: Black on pink
Summary:
She had a bag of things on her shoulder, and on her feet were daring combat boots, unexpectedly but beautifully combined with a pink skirt, and the tears in her eyes... The younger Arlert stood on the threshold of the cargo bay, ready to step on board the Wings of Freedom, and two meters away from her stood the same petrified Armin.
Notes:
So my studies have begun... It's only been a week, but this week has been incredibly hard. I hope it doesn't go on like this, otherwise I'll just go crazy...
And yet - here it is, chapter 7!
Well, I hope everyone has recovered from the horrors of the last chapter. Stay strong - there are more to come :D
Enjoy reading :3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Armin didn't know how much time had passed... Was it hours? Minutes? Seconds? What had happened in that hazy, fragmented slice of time..?
He couldn't remember, but he doubted that he even wanted to...
Marco's body was pulled away from him, and everything around him began to stir, squirm, like worms in rotting flesh. But the doctor didn't notice anything... Neither how they removed the corpses, nor how they wiped off the blood... The stifled sobs of his comrades, the angry grunts of soldiers and other doctors, the surviving nurses...
It seems Armin was helped up. Or did he do it himself..?
Was someone talking to him?
Or were they just holding him..?
Or maybe, none of this happened at all...
People flashed past, like hazy portraits. Armin could make out Mikasa's red scarf, Jean's ash-blond hair, and Connie's bald head, but all of this seemed like a piece of a blurry picture that he couldn’t fully develop...
He needed to leave.
This was all unreal.
This was all just some kind of nonsense...
All this fuss, all this noise, the smell of death and traces of blood on his hands... He was just tired after the operation, wasn't he?
His vision cleared in one of the storage rooms next to the operating room, and Armin refocused himself, pressing his back against the wall and hiding from the whole world behind a flimsy door. His eyes were slightly tingling from the dryness - the guy forgot to even blink.
For a few seconds, there was nothing in his head except a ringing emptiness.
But then something inexorably squeezed in his lungs, expelling the air out of them with monstrous force. A hoarse exhalation scratched his throat, and no matter how hard Armin tried to breathe, oxygen couldn’t manage to seep in...
There was not a single coherent thought in his head, only scraps of words and images, and yet the medic felt his chest cracking with pain.
Marco...
A deep, hysterical sob escaped his lips, and Armin, closing his eyes, slowly sank down the wall. The white coat with dried blood stains crumpled under his back in ugly and uncomfortable folds, the back of his head slid along the rough concrete, but the medic did not feel any of it. Uncontrolled muscle spasms tore at his ligaments, and the guy covered his mouth with his palm - previously unnoticed tears flowed down his fingers.
Marco...
This can't be...
Armin curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and sobbing into his palm to muffle his screams a little.
It hurts, it hurts, it all hurts... Why does it hurt so much?
Forgive me... Flashed in his head. The voice refused to obey, and his bleeding pleas remained only in thoughts. It gnashed on his skull from the inside, scratched his eyes with hot tears and tore his throat to shreds, but it remained inside. These unspoken hoarse cries of regret united his insides and turned every tender emotion he had ever experienced before into a poisonous weapon. All the love, all the wariness, the friendship and devotion towards Marco turned against Armin and surged with a caustic wave.
Simply because they lost their meaning...
After all, Marco is dead.
No matter how much Armin denied it, no matter how much he tried to cut himself off with pain and make sure that all this was a stupid joke - the fact remains a fact.
Marco died.
And it was his fault...
Armin buried his forehead in his knees and whined.
Oh, God, why didn't you just kill me instead of him...
The sudden creaking of the door went unnoticed, but the guy felt a weak touch. He sniffed convulsively and confidently raised his head.
Jean gazed sympathetically at him, slightly leaning over and putting his hand on his back. His eyes were red and swollen, his jaw was clenched, and his hands were shaking...
As soon as Jean met the medic, despite all his efforts, tears again rushed across his face. He immediately collapsed next to Armin, clasped his shoulders with his hands and pressed his temple to Armin’s. Their hair tangled together, and Kirstein's fingers dug into the boy next to him. Armin closed his eyes and responded to the painful and dear embrace by pressing himself with all his might against the man who was drowning in the same fresh grief...
“I... I should have... I should have shot…” The medic whimpered, hiccupping and constantly losing syllables.
Jean shook his head and put his palm on his comrade's light hair, burying himself in it. Was he trying to keep Armin afloat or to keep himself afloat...? He wanted to deceive himself with this warmth, which flared across his fingers in the soft straw strands...
“No. You…”
Shouldn't have?
Acted according to your conscience?
It's not your fault?
Jean didn't say anything or agree with any of this, but he had every such thought, rising up his throat. All this screamed in his gestures, including how he clung to the medic and how he continued to cling to himself... They had learned to speak with difficulty over the years - usually Marco spoke between them. He helped them warm up to each other and find the right words...
‘Marco would understand you’, Jean wanted to say, but not a single word escaped from his constricted chest. How could he say this..? How..?
Jean felt a new discovery of this alien and so wrong reality.
Is this how it will be from now on..?
What should they do now?
How would they even begin to pick up the pieces..?
He just wanted to go back for a second and stop at the fateful moment that broke this whole dome of love and categoricalness that they had all been building for so many years... The house that they themselves had created in the middle of a deserted and alien universe, the only cozy corner...
Please, let them just go home...
Jean sobbed and hugged the boy even tighter, trying to drive away the ghost of honey-brown eyes concealed behind the white film of death...
Armin buried his forehead in his neck and uttered pleas and forgiveness between loud sobs...
He should have shot...
But he didn't.
-
Armin was one second short...
What stopped him from shooting just a second before the irreparable..?
Maybe Armin always thought a little better of people than he should have... Even though he was never really lucky and often encountered the worst manifestations of human nature, the boy always believed that there was room for good.
After all, even though he was bothered by bullies, Eren and Mikasa were there. Even though he ended up in the most hated structure in the Universe, Arlert met wonderful people with whom even the lost meaning of existence seemed unimportant - and without that it was not bad. Although the teenager had unintentionally but irreversibly abandoned his dream, he had managed to partially realize it…
Armin believed that some principles were absolute. That a black streak is always followed by a bright one, and a person reaps what he sows…
Kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness…
Let the world bleed, let it be full of pain and despair, there must be something good, something fair and comforting…
Please, please-please-please, good must win in the end…
Armin stared with wide-open eyes at the spreading scarlet stain on his medical gown, and this image was doomed to forever sit in his head and appear in his nightmares and in reality.
The gun fell from his hands into a pool of blood, and Marco continued to stare at him with empty, dead eyes - the captivating honey color of his irises was already covered with that white film...
And yet, no matter how much the boy deceived himself that he could have done something then... he couldn't. Like all people who think that they could change something - they couldn’t. Based on what had happened, on everything external and internal that made him who he was, the doctor made the only correct choice at that moment.
Armin didn't pull the trigger because he desperately believed that Daz wouldn't shoot. Daz wouldn't kill his comrade and the doctor who saved his life, wouldn't kill innocent nurses helping patients, wounded and vulnerable colleagues who once shared rations and nights full of fear with him...
The medic was wrong.
And he had to pay for this mistake alone, as a heretic who will suffer God's punishment. After all, it was his mistake, and he was wrong to think that the world was better than it really was...
As it turned out, life was even more cruel than Armin thought in those seemingly last seconds, when he looked into the barrel of a trembling pistol.
In addition to Marco - his most gentle, kindest, most sympathetic, most... most... - five other people died: nurses and patients. Daz fired indiscriminately in all directions, blinded by rage and despair, before Armin finally pulled the trigger himself. Splashes of blood, shreds of flesh, screams, stomping...
Seven people died, and Armin survived . The only one who should have died, he survived ...
And it was his fault...
It was his fault that the man who was too kind for this world had left it, leaving behind a void full of agony in the hearts of his loved ones. Jean, for whom Marco had long been the only truly close friend, and maybe even more , seemed to fade before his eyes. He never blamed Armin or abandoned him, but Marco's absence had become a gaping void between them. They both knew it, and it only made it worse... At the same time so close and so far away, the teenagers spent a lot of energy trying to dispel the shadow of grief over their communication.
Blood-stained fingers intertwined in painful consolation, and there was no counting how many nights the boys cried together in sorrow.
If he could, Armin would trade places with Marco without thinking. Because Marco deserved it.
He deserved to laugh, he deserved to love, he deserved to know this world and travel among the stars, he deserved to live …
Kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds kindness, kindness breeds…
…sheer nonsense.
…Justice does not exist…
…Kindness does not exist.
Eren was right all this time. In people's lives there is only power , and it was precisely this that Armin lacked to protect his family…
This world is cruel.
From the very beginning, Armin did not have control over his own life - reality is determined by the strongest. And he is not one of them…
This realization flared up again on the back of his eyelids as if for the first time, and the smoldering weight in his chest reminded him of itself. It was not worth deceiving himself with stupid games…
Armin took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze immediately rested on the familiar ceiling of his native medical bay.
Despite the heaviness in his chest, there was a blissful emptiness in his head - the air rhythmically and calmly filled his lungs, the cold blue irises did not move, and in his ears there was only his own measured breathing. The guy did not want to think, and his own insidiously paranoid nature finally gave him a slight respite...
As the medic said - from time to time he was his own enemy.
After one or dozens of slow blinks, quiet breaths and untraceable seconds, Armin finally emerged from his apathetic whirlpool. In fact, he wanted to be in a vegetative state - then the problems of the surrounding world wouldn’t concern him... The ghosts of the past obediently left the consciousness tormented by self-flagellation, and the merciless hounds of the present did not tear the mind to shreds with urgent matters. It was possible to pretend that the universe did not exist, and Armin was only floating in the middle of an empty darkness, although in theory there can be no space in which there could be emptiness, no time, no matter... Infinitely huge and at the same time unimaginably insignificant nothing.
But alas, it doesn’t work like that.
Slightly turning his head, the medic saw Eren sitting next to the couch.
The pilot sullenly and silently leaned back in his chair, folding his arms on his chest and spreading his legs. The blood had safely disappeared, and his brown hair seemed slightly damp. Washed off.
The dull green gaze was directed at the floor, the lips were tightly pressed together, the eyebrows were furrowed. Unlike the entire previous week, now the man was not burning with a thirst for some kind of revenge, righteous anger or insidious inspiration... Now he was truly gloomy.
It seemed that Eren had not noticed the doctor's awakening, but this assumption was refuted the next moment.
Yeager slightly opened his lips, as if he was going to say something, and then closed them and frowned even more. The fingers of his folded hands clenched and unclenched, as if the man was trying to relieve at least a little of the internal tension.
Armin looked at all this coolly, not moving a single muscle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that he was hastily wrapped in a sheet in an attempt to warm him up after a panic attack. Commendable, although this thought did not cause the proper reaction now...
The medic did not feel anything yet, but a painful and bitter anger was rising deep inside of him. It seemed that over the last week and a half, it had managed to transform into something more playful, bright and lively, like fireworks. But in reality, this feeling only sank to the bottom again... The pranks were a good attempt to vent, and yet now that Eren had shown real cruelty , the caustic and destructive emotion had returned. It was presumptuous to assume that it would be possible to get rid of it so easily... After all, the root of the problem was not solved.
How could he do this..?
Why?
This is too much to bear...
Armin should not have forgotten his lesson.
And he should not have let the illusion that the Eren he once loved was here cloud his thinking ability. The Eren he loved would never have abandoned him nine years ago... Which means that instead of that Eren, there was always only the one Armin didn’t know .
Arlert played too much in childhood...
"I..." Yeager finally said quietly, and then sighed. The words came hard to him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
The man's voice was hoarse - he was practically whispering. His eyes didn't leave the floor, but something aching and melancholy flashed within them.
The medic briefly remembered how before plunging into memories they had shook him and tried to bring him to his senses with quick rhythmic rubbing of his back, as if to help with fainting - the ghost of warm hands and tart cologne was imprinted in his head. Although there was always a chance that on the verge of losing consciousness the guy simply fit...
Just like their first meeting here, Arlert wanted to thank Yeager, but he couldn't find the strength to overcome the lump in his throat.
Thank you for trying to take care of him after you yourself brought him to a breakdown?
Armin didn't answer and slowly sat up, throwing back the sheet.
All the weight that had been released over the past week and a half seemed to fall on him at once and settle in his bones and skull.
...Be careful. I don't need you to have a fit because of a stupid game with Eren.
Well, the mission has failed. But it was somehow too late to do anything about it - Armin didn't know how long he had slept, but he was already one hundred percent late to meet with Levi. And yet the medic wasn't going to ask Eren for the time.
The guy took a deep breath and got off the couch, straightening his wrinkled robe. Eren finally looked up, and something vaguely resembling bewilderment, or maybe even displeasure flashed across his face:
“You shouldn't leave yet.” He said as dryly as possible.
Armin replied coldly, “I don't need your medical advice.”
“Armin-”
“Go away.” the doctor cut Yeager off and, without looking at him, left the medical bay.
—
A few minutes later, Levi met Armin on the bridge, and the captain clearly appeared to be annoyed.
“You're an hour late. What happened?” Ackerman asked discontentedly, sitting down in the nearest chair.
On the lower deck, Hange was fidgeting in her seat, kicking the floor with the heel of her boot, as if out of boredom.
Armin lowered his head and clenched his jaw in shame.
“Sorry, captain... An unpleasant incident occurred, but it will not happen again.” Levi raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, examining the doctor more closely. Fear crept into his gaze.
“Why are there blood stains on you?”
Oh... Indeed.
Arlert quickly glanced at his uniform and saw small, smeared brown marks - probably from the way Eren pressed him to himself, being smeared with blood.
Where the hell did he get it from anyway...
“That happened in the aftermath of the... incident.” Armin immediately cleared his throat slightly and changed the subject. “Everything is fine, there is no reason to worry. Did you want to talk about something?”
Levi's expression darkened, and he leaned back in his chair. Hange stopped playing the fool in her seat and froze, clearly realizing that the humans had finally gotten to the point. Ackerman lowered the corners of his lips.
“Yes... The saboteur's presence has been confirmed. Hange and I have found solid evidence and patterns. And…” The man glanced briefly at Armin, and something like painful regret flashed in his dark blue eyes. “I'm afraid Eren is involved in this.”
...Events once again forced Armin to return to reality, hitting him with a sobering slap. However, as always... Has his life ever stopped being a damn stream of endless shit?
The medic stared blankly at the floor, but did not answer. He only submitted to the cold wave that washed over him from within - there was no point in resisting the facts. The guy simply nodded, waiting for further explanations.
Hange rose from the lower deck and stood next to Levi and Armin.
“We briefly disabled the navigation panel and collected samples from the damaged wires. Among them were biological components, the DNA of which belongs to Pieck Finger. We can conclude that it was she who disabled the navigation. Moreover, in addition to the breakdown, she probably interfered with it - judging by the databases loaded before the loss of communication, she is a citizen of Marley, but her home colony is Liberio. She broke the navigation system, probably to cover up the traces of entering a new course.”
It is hardly possible to find fault with this conclusion, considering that Pieck is a scout and communications specialist.
Armin frowned.
“What is the connection with Eren?” He asked.
Perhaps Yeager was Finger's comrade, but this does not mean that he was involved in the sabotage. Even the sabotage itself was carried out for unknown reasons...
Levi pursed his lips.
“First off: these two served in the same hot spot three years ago, in the same unit and squad. They know each other well. Their "friendship" would mean very little in this investigation if it weren't for this…” The man nodded to the android, and she slightly turned her head to bring up something on the screen. Armin almost turned around, feeling something inside him die...
It was a video from one of the cameras the medic had set up. Pieck’s cabin.
Eren paced the small room, while the girl lay on the bed with her arms outstretched and her eyes closed. At some point, the man growled and sat with his back to the camera, resting his elbows on his hips.
“Why the hell did they do that?” Yeager hissed quietly, lowering his head.
“I don't think it's worth talking about this…” Pieck said softly, almost lazily. Eren turned his head sharply towards her.
“So what, do nothing? We can't just escape from the ship to hide. The plan was completely different than blowing up the damn port!”
You could see the girl frown.
“You're right about that... It's like they decided to use us up too.”
“And they screwed up anyway. It's just... shit.” Eren took a deep breath and covered his head with his hand, squeezing his hair with his fingers. “...Now they'll openly try to blow up the Wings of Freedom to finish what they started, and it doesn't matter whether we're here or not - we'll probably be eliminated as witnesses anyway. And the crew…” The man's voice broke. “...Why are they here, of all the ships..?”
Pick opened her eyes and looked at Eren. Her hand gently patted his back:
“We'll fly to Liberio, and they'll help us. We'll take my family and figure something out... But, Eren…” The man hunched over in response to that ingratiating tone. “...don't forget why we're here. I'm afraid the past is just the past - sometimes you have to sacrifice a few things for the future.”
Eren didn't answer.
The recording ended, and Armin realized that a cold emptiness had formed inside him. Perhaps there was no room left for the acrid anger that had raged inside him some time ago, or for the burning disappointment... Just a painful and terrible nothing, when even the bitterest tears no longer flowed.
If Mikasa finds out, she'll fall apart...
The medic thought about those quiet, almost unnoticeable conversations between Pieck and Eren. Many of them had been in the company of the rest of the escort, and Armin wondered if Floch and Zeke were also connected to this.
But one thing was clear: Pieck and Eren were directly involved in the terrorist attack on the station, albeit unwillingly, and in the breakdown of the navigation, and they had specific intentions. The crew of the Wings of Freedom, obviously, were supposed to be collateral damage...
Was the entire previous week just games on Eren's part to distract him..?
Armin sank into the nearest chair by the panel and folded his hands in his lap. Hange approached him and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
"I'm sorry, Armin," she said quietly and unusually seriously, lowering her sympathetic brown eyes. The medic did not react. A few painfully empty seconds later, he looked at Levi and saw that he was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, his dark gaze averted. His usually perfectly straight posture was hunched, and his brows were furrowed in defeat - Ackerman was also hurt by what he had learned. It was almost imperceptible, but Armin had known the captain long enough to notice these faint, yet heartbreaking signs.
Perhaps he wondered how it had happened.
Maybe he blamed himself for the fact that at the most important moment for his adopted children, he found himself on the other side of the Universe and was unable to prevent a series of destructive mistakes.
Maybe he just didn’t understand what to do with the understanding that his son had once been in cahoots with terrorists… How to deal with a danger that had risen from the rank of potential to very real, how to protect the team and do at least something right. As if he hadn’t been very successful at it before…
How many times had Levi lost the only ones he loved? Had another time really snuck up so close and unnoticed again..?
“Captain,” Armin called quietly, and Levi, without moving, glanced sideways at him. “Send me and Eren on the shuttle, and I will do everything to prevent a possible threat from Liberio or from him himself. We can’t leave him on the ship at the moment of docking.
For just a second, the dark blue eyes flashed in protest, and the eyebrows drew together even more...
And yet, Ackerman, pursing his lips and lowering his eyelids, nodded.
Armin weakly twitched the corners of his lips and sighed.
“By the way, I never had time and forgot to ask…” The medic added a few seconds later, receiving questioning glances from the captain and the android. “What are we carrying?”
Levi shrugged.
“I don't know. The cargo is strictly classified.”
Armin blinked.
“I see…” he answered quietly. “I think we should lock it with a combination lock known to no one but you. Sorry, Hange, but you are always likely to be hacked by a skilled hacker.”
Hange chuckled darkly, but did not object. In the end, she knew perfectly well that such a chance existed and it was greater than she would like.
“Do you think it's the cargo?” Ackerman asked, and Armin nodded.
“At least I doubt that it was the ship or the crew. The attack happened precisely when some cargo and its escorts were on board... Eren... Lieutenant Yeager and Lieutenant Finger made it clear that it was ‘not according to plan’, and yet this was the most clear way to trace this pattern.”
“If everything had gone ‘according to plan’, the crew would have known nothing and would most likely be dead.” Hange finished quietly. Armin nodded again, albeit hesitantly.
How he wished he hadn't said any of this...
To believe that everything was just an unfortunate coincidence, or maybe even a bad dream due to the paranoia that had rolled in before the flight... That all his past premonitions and thoughts swarming in his head were just speculations, to which the guy was prone...
But you can't deceive yourself, Armin. Have you seen this too many times and are you going to step on the same rake again?
“It would be wiser to assume that there may be accomplices in Liberio. If not terrorists, then specifically Yeager and Finger.” The android put her finger to her chin and looked down.
Armin hummed in agreement.
“Yes. It can be assumed that even for some “friends” they have lost their value, so now they need support from the outside. However, this does not mean that the assistants from Liberio will be hostile to the crew, although such a possibility cannot be ruled out... It is simply not in Yeager and Finger's interests to get rid of the crew in one way or another, after all, the Wings of Freedom is connected to us by biometrics and simply will not fly without its crew. They should know this, because this innovation has affected almost all modern ships.
“You are correct on that, but nothing prevents them from capturing the ship without killing the entire crew. You can always leave at least one..." Levi snorted darkly.
“But even in this case, the android must remain.” Armin turned his gaze to Hange, and she nodded. “In fact, the major is an extension of the ship, just as the ship is an extension of the android. If the cybernetic shell itself can be hacked, then in the case of merging with the ship's systems, this will be many times more difficult, and you, Hange, will pose a serious threat to potential violators.”
“True. There is practically no chance of getting rid of the obstacle in the form of an android's protective protocol that has switched to full fusion mode with the ship, unless you hack the ship itself. The chance is extremely small, about one percent. Such a path is too risky for two people, but it cannot be ruled out. If Eren flies with you, Armin, then we will isolate Pieck from the bridge so that there is not even a chance for her to connect to the control panels.” Hange put her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to one leg. “In that case, your job will be to ensure the safety of the docking or recovery of repair parts, and to prevent Eren from contacting any possible allies. If you can't limit his contact with them, then do everything you can to ensure that it doesn't harm Wings of Liberty. Even if Pieck and Eren were in cahoots with the terrorists, their role is unclear now, and there's a chance they'll change their course of action.”
“That's worrying…” Armin muttered, and the android nodded.
“Indeed. I've made a few predictions, but none of them have much basis so far. I'm hoping to get more data from you, Armin.”
Hange glanced at Levi briefly, noticing how his lips pursed.
“Levi?”
“…I think we should limit access to the entire escort, if that's what it takes.” Ackerman answered hesitantly.
Armin blinked and remembered Zeke's story.
...With the help of partial penetration of saboteurs, it was possible to attack the ventilation systems, in addition, this bioweapon had its own... features that facilitated the attack....
“Makes sense.” the guy answered shortly.
“In that case, the plan of action is as follows: separate Yeager and Pieck, isolate the bridge from the escort, and carefully inform the team about what is happening. Sorry, Armin, but you will get one of the most important roles.” Hange summed up and suddenly dropped to one knee, looking the medic in the eyes. Her brown irises glistened, and from this angle Armin could see a barely noticeable pattern of the finest cybernetic work in the depths of her pupils. “Do what you think is necessary, Armin. Levi and I trust you. As an android, I am one hundred percent confident in your competence. So stop emitting this self-deprecating pheromone and raise your head.”
The android slapped the soldier on the thigh and stood up, Levi's snort could be heard.
“Agreed…” the man finally lightly kicked Armin in the ankle, who was sitting opposite him, and said, “Now, be gone and go get some rest. I need you to get some sleep and be ready to disembark.”
Armin suppressed a weak smile and stood up from his seat. He saluted, pressing his fist to his heart and said with slightly exaggerated enthusiasm, practically squeezing this energy out of himself.
“Yes, captain!”
Hange laughed, and Levi rolled his eyes.
When the medic turned to leave, the smile disappeared from his face.
He almost returned to his cabin, but stopped right in front of the door. A terrible weight rolled over his shoulders, his chest was squeezed, and the guy just... couldn’t find the strength to raise his hand and enter the panel code.
He had less than twenty-four hours to spend with the team before they would be separated for a while. If all went well, that time would be short, maybe even less than a day, but if not…
Armin didn't want to leave.
The Wings of Freedom was his home, and in the entire universe, it was the only place he felt safe…
He didn't want to spend his rest time alone - he would be alone anyway. Eren didn't count, because he was just a stranger .
With a sigh, the medic opened the door to the cabin, but only to pull off his blood-stained robe and throw it somewhere deep in the room. Closing the door, the guy headed further down the corridor and knocked on his sister's cabin. It was lights out soon, early due to the imminent arrival in Liberio, so Historia was most likely inside…
The door opened a few seconds later, and the girl let him in without further ado. Surprisingly, Mikasa was also inside - she was sitting on other's bed. Apparently, the girls had been discussing something before.
Armin went inside and greeted his friend, and then turned to his sister.
“Sorry for barging in, but... Can I stay with you tonight?”
Historia raised her eyebrows and exchanged glances with Mikasa. However, a smile blossomed on her lips almost immediately.
“Of course.”
The younger Arlert returned to her place on the bed opposite Mikasa and moved slightly - the bed was wide, like all the crew members, so they were not in danger of being cramped. Armin lay down on the vacant spot and, without words or embarrassment, laid his head on his sister's lap. He looked up slightly, and was met with a weak smile from Mikasa. The girl carefully ran her fingertips over other's bangs and returned Historia's attention. The flight attendant, in turn, buried her whole palm in her brother's light hair and also continued her conversation with Mikasa.
They were not embarrassed by him, because... Because. They seemed so familiar, like they were all breathing the same air.
Armin listened, but did not hear a single separate word - the voices of the two girls closest to him merged into a melodic background. His gaze floated over the cabin, Mikasa's black hair, the sleeve of her uniform and the visible wreaths on her graceful pale hand, the dim lighting. His eyelids gradually became heavier, his breathing more measured and deeper, and soon the medic allowed himself to fall asleep, lulled by gentle touches.
—
Armin had not seen his sister for more than three years when he finally met her again.
As he had promised, during their first long leave, he and Mikasa came to Historia on the satellite in the Sina region, but this was their last meeting before plunging into the sticky swamp on both sides. Armin was happy to see how much his sister had grown in a couple of years, but the shadow of deep unhappiness in her blue eyes made his throat dry up. The first thing the girl did was run to her brother and hug him so tightly around the waist that she squeezed the oxygen right out of his lungs, and Armin tried and even managed to spin her in the air.
They spent less than a week together, and parting again was even more painful than before.
Historia said that as soon as she could, she hoped to leave Rod and go to school, but not a cadet school, rather a technical school to be a ship's personnel member. So, someday... she would be free. She would become part of the ship and fly as far away as possible, simply because she could , simply because she wanted to . To a place where no one would expect anything from her except her chosen competence… It was as close to their dream as it could get, and this fact gave off a dull pain in his chest, because Historia spoke so quietly and uncertainly... As if she doubted that she would ever succeed.
She was a bird in a cage, forced to sing sweet songs for the joy of others and the misfortune of herself.
Looking at Rod, the man who convinced his sister of some kind of "duty to the family" that obliged her to forget about herself, Armin wanted to hurt someone for the first time in his life. This large, arrogant man, who got drunk in difficult times for the entire universe, pretended to be a savior for the girl, but in fact used her and made her feel guilty for receiving help... That she had to be good to repay his kindness.
His small, dreamy Historia, how sad she became...
Armin hugged her and longed to stay or take her with him. But he knew he couldn't do either... The grey cadet uniform had become a burden, a chain, and yet it was only thanks to it that he was able to get out of Shiganshina and get to his sister.
But it also pulled him back to Trost, where he had no home, no warmth, no safety... There was simply nowhere to take Historia.
Years passed, and finally that ray of hope, a goal, appeared. The Wings of Freedom appeared, and Historia did not hesitate for a second when she left Sina for the unknown on a hired ship.
There were many nights spent in tears in bed, when the girl looked at her brother's long and tender letters. She dreamed that he would be near her again and would tuck her under the blanket, reading incredible exciting books and helping her blow her nose when her nose was stuffy... She missed his protection, his warmth so much... Historia carefully cherished every word of love spoken in the messages in her heart, and yet she missed him so much...
It was not even clear whether they would ever see each other again.
Her family surrounded the girl with walls, and the feeling that she would not escape from them grew stronger. The man convinced her that since Armin was in the cadet school, then most likely after training he would be sent somewhere to a hot spot, where he would die. That this was the highest probability, and the naive, wounded Historia believed and cried, sending letters to her brother again and again.
But one day something different happened...
One day Armin wrote about a girl, and Historia received the address of her inbox. And then she wrote…
“Hello!
This is… the sister of Armin Arlert, a cadet of the 104th Cadet Corps. He said that you wanted to get in touch, and he gave me your web address. I hope you don’t mind if we… became friends?
It’s lonely here, but I don’t want to impose myself.
I hope your training is going well, I heard you’re one of the best in the class.
With respect and hoping for a response,
Historia…”
Almost that same night, a response came.
“Hello, Historia.
Armin told me about you, but the first thing I want to tell you is: be more confident. What kind of belittling of your intentions is this? If you want it, then say it more insistently. I won’t bite. Probably.
It’s a bit lonely here too: everyone is mostly either arrogant and untalented or plain old stupid. Armin is funny, but he’s also timid, almost worse than you. Is that in your family?
Training is going well, and I’ve already earned myself a reputation. Not many people like me, but what can I do - it’s better to be honest and angry than to pretend to be God knows what. I’m not going to lie to others or to myself to meet someone’s expectations… Let them choke on it.
I heard you were sent to safe territories. What do you usually do?
Waiting for an answer,
Ymir.”
Historia could have burst into tears, she could’ve put the radio down and never written to the rude, straightforward Ymir again… But she didn’t.
Because she liked it.
Yes, at first such harshness hurt and made her lips purse painfully, but it was something… Something like knocking on the wall that she had built for herself.
Be a good girl, obedient, generous and affectionate, not refusing anything and ready to give the last piece of food to people who are so generous and kind to you.
…But is that what you want?
Trying to be pretty..?
And so Historia wrote letter after letter, received letter after letter…
In her brother’s letters she found comfort and tenderness, and in Ymir’s letters - confidence and love. Ymir often snapped, cursed, although not at her, and said it directly when she didn’t like something or found it funny, although it shouldn’t have. She was so… simple. Honest.
Historia herself didn’t notice how the desire to see Ymir became comparable to the desire to break out of her cage. She didn’t just want it - she furiously longed to break the wall separating her from what she wanted, and at some point, disobedience boiled in her veins.
Because she felt that she could .
She could say “no”.
She could go to school.
She could become whoever she wanted.
She could not just helplessly wait for her brother, but go to him.
She could fly away to wherever she wanted…
She simply could .
She could be the worst girl in the universe, if that meant it was her freedom of choice.
And five years after she last saw Armin, Historia finally met him again.
She had a bag of things on her shoulder, and on her feet were daring combat boots, unexpectedly but beautifully combined with a pink skirt, and the tears in her eyes... The younger Arlert stood on the threshold of the cargo bay, ready to step on board the Wings of Freedom, and two meters away from her stood the same petrified Armin. He had changed greatly, was tired, pulled up and matured, looking with such love at his sister who had grown up and become a proud, strong girl...
Historia took her step, Armin - his.
They grappled like two puzzle pieces that had been looking for each other for so long, and the girl buried her nose in the other's shoulder with a quiet sob. The warmth of the embrace that she had dreamed of for so long finally enveloped her - Historia felt like she was back under a warm blanket...
Mikasa's gentle arms greeted her without her red scarf - at what point had she gotten rid of it? - and loud greetings from people whom Arlert knew only from correspondence and Armin's descriptions, but at some point...
A woman came out of the ship and into the compartment, and everyone belatedly fell silent. Armin, looking between the girls, smiled briefly to himself and walked away. He only nudged his sister by the arm, and she, not looking at her brother, but only at the tall woman with a short ponytail and a swarm of light freckles, exhaled.
“Ymir…”
Ymir suddenly blushed, pursing her lips - God, in awe? - she was gazing at Historia as if she were a Goddess. She took a few unusually timid steps, and then suddenly sped up and, clasping Historia around the waist, spun her in the air.
Arlert squeaked in fear for a moment, and then laughed and wrapped her arms around his thin but strong shoulders. The bag fell somewhere and was forgotten, and the team happily hooted and applauded.
There were cheerful and teasing shouts, whistles, bursts of laughter, grinding and groans of other ships on the station, and at that moment Historia, laughing and crying with happiness, realized - she was home .
-
Two hours left.
Armin was already in uniform and was getting ready to sit with the whole team for a while before flying off on the shuttle. But before that, he wanted to talk to his sister.
The guy felt ashamed that he had distanced himself from Mikasa a little lately. However, he simply could not torment her with all the... news about Eren. But keeping it all inside now seemed beyond his strength.
The medic was tired.
Really, really tired.
And now he was sitting on a chair opposite his sister - she settled down on the bed, folding her hand on her lap. Unfortunately, this time the silence was more oppressive than not, because in the last fifteen minutes Armin had explained his bleak state of affairs. Historia was looking ahead dully, and the boy felt guilty for being the one telling her all this news… But it was better for his sister to be upset and alive than to be in danger because she didn’t know the state of affairs on the ship.
She was strong, she would figure it out…
Armin pursed his lips and lowered his blue gaze somewhere to the floor.
“Besides everything else… Despite the fact that the outlook in general can be both deplorable and, on the contrary, inspiring, I can’t get rid of this nasty premonition. It has been haunting me since we’ve been drifting, and… I just want to say,” Armin rose from his chair and sat down next to his sister, carefully grasping her wrist. Not like Mikasa, in careful support with all his might, no. More like protective tenderness, as if Historia were something fragile and sensitive, one extra push and she would fall apart. Armin, of course, knew that this was not the case, but no one would stop him from treating his sister like a precious treasure. “It is unknown what will happen, and I ask you to be extremely careful. Please. Whatever happens, take care of yourself, Tori.”
Historia looked at her brother with something like melancholy bitterness. The medic thought he saw the ghost of tears.
“Why are you speaking as if you are saying goodbye?” The girl whispered hoarsely, and Armin hugged her shoulders, laying the other's head on his shoulder.
“I'm not saying goodbye. It's just... just in case. You know - I'm paranoid.”
Historia chuckled quietly and hugged her brother around the waist.
“In that case, take care of yourself too. I know you have a big mission, but just… don’t let anything stop you from coming back.” She paused, then added. “Not even Eren.”
As much as Armin wanted to say he would do it, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His throat tightened at the thought of… actually being at odds with Eren. Not making fun of each other with clever pranks, but actually trying to interfere, harm, kill …
And yet he couldn’t trust him. Not after everything.
What should he do..?
“I’ll do my best.” Armin smiled, and then shook his sister’s shoulders slightly playfully, making her laugh. “Okay, let’s go.”
They got up and went to the dining room, where the crew was sitting.
Or, Armin assumed, where they were sitting…
The first thing he heard was the rumble of benches and a growl. The creak of soles. A scream.
“Son of a bitch, are you out of your mind?” Jean roared, so loudly that the echo reverberated off the walls of the dining room. Armin recognized the corrosive pain and incomparable rage . The medic frowned and quickened his pace, practically flying into the dining room.
Eren was getting up from the floor, leaning on the bench he had knocked over when he fell. Connie was three meters away from him with Ymir holding Jean, who was rushing towards Yeager, his face twisted and contorted. Sasha tried to wedge herself in, but didn't know how to avoid getting caught up.
“How could you even come up with something like that?! How could your ugly head come up with something like that, you-”
“Jean, calm down!” Connie croaked, trying with all his might to pull Kirstein back.
“Leave me alone, he deserved it! He hid God knows where for so many years, ran away like a cowardly brute, and then he showed up and decided to make fun of Armin, getting covered in blood! Bitch, of a military doctor! Because of him! Armin! We... In Trost-”
Jean's scream broke, and he clenched his fists helplessly until his knuckles turned white. Kirstein bared his teeth in pain, watching Eren wipe the blood from the corner of his lips. He didn't try to argue, just looked at him with burning eyes when Jean croaked.
“How can you do that, Marco... he's-”
“Jean-”
“Get away from me!” Kirstein growled sharply and shook off Ymir and Connie, when he suddenly froze. Everyone froze.
Armin, who had quietly approached amid the commotion, silently grabbed Jean by the sleeve of his uniform.
He stared into space for a few seconds before looking up and meeting his friend's agonizing brown eyes. Jean was breathing heavily, and the medic could see the same thing he had experienced just recently - a new and painful immersion in the events of the past. They had never gone away and would never go away, and every trigger about Marco was like a shot...
“Jean…” Armin called quietly, and his friend clenched his teeth. He knew this damn medic's superpower to appeal to reason, but how it’s so hurt now... “Everything is okay. Everything will be okay. Breathe…”
Kirstein, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, complied. He had been looking into Armin's eyes the entire time, seeing the dull, tired blue and knowing that this blue saw the flame in his own brown irises. A mixture of rage, pain and longing beat against his chest like a stormy sea, and Jean remembered the carefully suppressed emotions: the thirst for revenge for Marco, for Armin's pain, for his own pain, about grief and anger at the whole world for the fact that everything turned out this way and not otherwise...
Maybe Eren wasn't even really involved.
It wasn't his fault that he didn't know...
Jean took a deep, uneven breath and unclenched his fist. He looked away.
"I'm fine..." he said quietly, and Armin let go. The medic turned to Eren and found that he hadn't risen yet. The man was just... sitting, looking at them. On him...
After a few seconds, Armin repeated his last phrase addressed to Yeager, frowning.
“Go away. The assembly for the flight will be at the hangar in an hour.”
The voice was dry, even, and Eren, for some unknown reason, obeyed.
He left like an exile who was not welcomed by anyone.
Armin felt his heart prickle slightly at this thought, but... wasn't that right? Why should it be any other way?
Don't forget why you can't trust him, Armin...
“I hoped that the farewell would be more fun…” Connie joked, and Ymir hit him on the back of the head.
“Shut up, you fool. Farewell is too flashy of a word, even for a dumbass like you. A flight there and back for permission to dock, it’s nothing supernatural.” She snorted and folded her arms across her chest. When her eyes found Historia, sparks of joy flashed in her brown irises. The girl immediately relaxed and melted, losing her stern look.
Connie rubbed the back of his head and looked at the woman who was already almost four years shorter than him by a couple of centimeters, but still behaved like in her cadet days.
“Freak…” He muttered under his breath.
He was lucky that Ymir turned all her attention to the younger Arlert and did not finish off the navigator, and yet Sasha hissed at him warningly.
“Are you crazy?” she whispered quietly, and some kind of quiet emotional argument began between Blouse and Springer. However, it soon turned into a playful exchange of jabs.
While the others were absorbed in the noise, Jean turned his head to Armin and muttered.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper... It's just that this idiot casually approached Sasha and thanked her for the blood, and no one had any idea why he needed it, and-”
“Don't, Jean. It's not your fault. Everything is fine.” The medic sighed, and Kirstein chuckled doubtfully.
“Yes?” His voice sounded skeptical, and Armin frowned.
“Even if not, I don't want to think about it. I'd just like to sit with you until Levi names those who will fly in the shuttle.”
It's not that I don't know who it will be... Arlert thought after him, but didn't say it.
Jean sighed and put his arm around his friend's shoulders, shaking him slightly. It reminded him of how Armin himself recently tried to cheer up his sister, and the guy smiled weakly.
“You know, I'll tell my children how you beat him. Tickling is too treacherous even for you. That was a masterpiece, I haven't laughed like that in a long time.” Jean snorted with a chuckle, and Armin inevitably picked up on this mood. He raised his head, looking at Kirshtein, and defiantly twitched the corner of his lips.
“So, pink hair didn't impress you?”
Jean first bubbled up, and then burst out laughing. The slight redness around his eyes was still there, but it became a little easier.
The atmosphere lost tension, and the crew nevertheless chose to sit down at the table.
Armin chose a seat next to Mikasa, who had already been sitting by the wall all this time - she was looking at the table, without saying a word and pursing her lips. She was probably upset... The medic carefully pressed his own knee to hers, and when the girl looked at him, he smiled at her. The general hubbub almost swallowed up his voice, and yet he said quietly,
“Don't worry. It's better…” The guy turned his attention to the table and reached into the middle for a small cup of chocolate pudding that Sasha had prepared for everyone. Grabbing a dessert spoon with his other hand, the medic handed the items to Mikasa. “...it's better to take the pudding and raise your dopamine and endorphin levels. Just what the doctor ordered.”
Mikasa blushed slightly and smiled timidly, accepting the treat.
“Again with your medical terms…” She snorted good-naturedly, taking a spoon and scooping up the elastic sweet substance with it. A pleasant chocolate smell tickled her nose, and the girl began to savor the dessert with pleasure.
“Come on, everyone knows them.” Armin chuckled, taking a cup of pudding for himself.
“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Connie called out to them, waving his hand. His face was slightly flushed from the heated discussion, and Sasha next to him was excitedly clinging to his T-shirt and shouting something in his ear. Jean, sitting next to Armin, nodded in agreement with one or the other and laughed at both of them. “Join us, we're trying to figure out which ice cream is better: vanilla or strawberry!”
“How dare you even ask such a question, you damn blasphemer!” Sasha appealed to the other's conscience in righteous anger, shaking the navigator by the lapels and almost crying.
“Ice cream is an art in all its manifestations, each taste, each variation and shade is unique and incomparable! Refined, delicate vanilla, like a cloud of classic lightness, and sweet with a hint of sourness, mind-blowing strawberries of different varieties and soulfulness, they cannot be compared!”
“And I think that strawberries are better.” Ymir threw in with a sly grin, forcing Sasha to throw her hands up to the ceiling and ensuring a new explosion of discussion.
They spent the next hour in friendly conversations, word games and memories. It seemed that the tension before arriving in Liberio became almost imperceptible, unnoticeable - not here, not in the small dining room on board the Wings of Freedom. It was a tiny bubble of comfort in a huge universe, full of warmth and a sense of belonging, like a soft fluffy blanket...
I wish it could always be like this.
But alas, reality does not wait.
The bubble burst when Hange entered the dining room. The conversations died down. The android folded her hands behind her back.
“Well, guys, let's go.”
The soldiers rose from their seats, the soles of their boots creaking and folding empty pudding cups so that it would be easier for Sasha to clean up later - she was clearly not going to fly on the shuttle...
For a brief moment, Armin caught Hange's eye, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. At the same time, relief and a huge whine under his ribs washed over the medic: he was glad that no one from the team was exposed to possible danger, but at the same time, this closed off any way back for him. The weight of responsibility touched his shoulders, ready to fall on them at any moment...
The crew walked to the cargo bay without further ado. The escort and Levi were there.
Armin immediately caught Eren's gaze, but ignored it, looking only at Ackerman. Next to him, he could feel Jean's forearm, almost touching his hand, and the medic used this presence as an anchor to keep his thoughts from wandering.
As soon as the team was settled and all attention was focused exclusively on the captain, he sighed and began to speak.
In twenty minutes, we will be within range of Liberio, and I have decided who will fly to request permission to land.” Ackerman removed one hand from his chest and pointed an open palm at Armin. “I assign Armin Arlert to resolve possible communication problems as a translator and medic in case of unpredictable complications.”
The crew turned their gazes to the medic: some were gloomy, some were worried, some were just... plain. Ymir, for example, had enough faith in her brother-in-law not to doubt him and not worry in vain. Arlert also noticed Zeke's gaze from under his shiny glasses, but he could not recognize the emotion hidden in his gray eyes.
Levi, meanwhile, continued and pointed with the same open palm at Eren, standing behind Pieck.
“And Eren Yeager as a pilot and mechanic in case permission to dock is not received and we have to buy supplies ourselves. Lieutenant, any objections?” The captain addressed the pilot dryly, giving him a choice, as if he were not a direct subordinate. He only drew his eyebrows together.
“Not at all.”
He couldn't say that this decision pleased... well, anyone. Floch pursed his lips in disdain as he looked at the medic, and sidelong glances began to be seen from the team towards Yeager. Armin could have sworn that an aggressive glint flashed in Jean's eyes, and the muscles in his arms tensed slightly. He was angry and probably worried...
“You have fifteen minutes to prepare: weapons, documents and local currency from Hange, as well as radios for ground communication with each other. Dismissed.” Levi finally finished and took his hands off his chest.
—
Connie was discussing something with Sasha, and they glanced at Armin from time to time, who was busy getting ready. Jean was standing next to the medic, and the girls were sitting on a bench to the side: Ymir, Historia, and Mikasa.
They were alone in the armory: Eren had gone to his cabin to get his own weapon.
Some, like him, kept their personal weapons on their own. Here, unlike the cabins, there were “common” weapons, part of the standard military arsenal of ships like the Wings of Freedom. The selection was not the richest nor the most sophisticated, but that’s just what it was - every crew member was trained to use them.
Armin was attaching the holster to his belt and thigh, and the knife to his shin. He would have preferred not to use them, but given the circumstances... who knows what might come in handy. The pistol was an unfamiliar and unloved weight - as was the entire uniform. The guy was returning to what he was running from...
To the understanding that first and foremost he was a soldier, no matter how much he hated it. In the eyes of the law, this was his first role.
On his other hip was an emergency and compact medical kit, no larger than a pouch. A plasma scalpel, a roll of bandage, two painkiller injections, two hemostatic and one anti-shock, as well as a pair of gloves, an antiseptic and a plasma stapler. Armin thought about it, and then added tweezers.
“Why do I have a feeling that you're up to something?” Jean drew, and Armin glanced up at him. When a question flashed in his blue eyes, Kirstein nodded at the other man's hips, namely, at the holster and medical pouch. “That's exactly what I mean.”
“Just in case.” The medic dryly noted, tightening his belt and pulling the pistol out of the holster for a quick check. Several magazines were lying in additional pouches.
Jean narrowed his eyes with a hint of skepticism and took the pistol from the other's fingers.
“This one's aim is a little off. Take mine.” Kirstein took out his own weapon and held it out to his friend. Armin's hands hovered in the air for a few moments before accepting the gift.
“Thanks…”
“You're welcome. Just be careful, we know how deft you are.”
There were a few chuckles, and the doctor felt a smile flicker on his own lips.
“Yeah, right.”
Jean sighed and plopped down on the bench next to Armin, on the other side of the girls. Stretching out his legs, he clicked his tongue.
“I can't believe Levi sent you with that idiot... It's not like him - he may seem like a cold-hearted, cross old man, but he loves us. And then he does this to you…”
Armin, not looking at his comrade and patting his clothes and pouches to check, objected.
“His choice is understandable, and I can't argue with him - it is dictated by iron logic. Most likely, I would have done the same.” The medic ran his palms over his clothes one last time, tightened the laces on his boots and stood up. All that was left was to put on the uniform jacket with the red cross on the shoulder, and he would be ready. “Just do what you have to do - keep an eye on the ship. So that when I return, it will be in its right place, okay?”
“Don't worry, Armin, we will make Jean behave well while you are gone! We will not let him destroy the ship!” Connie exclaimed and high-fived Sasha, who burst out laughing.
Jean rolled his eyes.
“Morons, you're usually the ones who wreck the ship…” He grumbled, to which the couple only giggled more.
“Really? We all know that you're just being a good boy in front of Armin, because he zapped you with a stun gun and-”
Jean growled sharply and leaned his whole body towards the jokers, stomping his foot. Sasha and Connie burst out laughing and flew up from their seats, running from the armory, while the provoked Kirstein got up to follow them and strangle them.
Of course, all this was not serious. Good-natured teasing.
Historia, looking at this, exchanged glances with her brother, and they both just shook their heads. Idiots, what can you expect from them... In the end, the girl followed, Ymir - after her.
Only Armin and Mikasa remained in the armory.
As Arlert was about to leave to head to the cargo bay, Ackerman stopped him with a careful grip on his sleeve. The medic stopped and looked at his friend questioningly.
“Mikasa?”
The girl hesitated, as if unsure of what she was about to do, but then she let go of the other's hand and reached into her pocket. A few seconds later, Mikasa pulled out a red, tattered scarf, folded in several layers, and carefully pressed it to her friend's chest. Armin's eyes widened: he... didn't think he would see it again.
Old, slightly faded, with a few pellets and scuffs, and also repaired more than once - the medic knew this scarf. Mikasa kept it for many years, wrapping herself in it like a ghost of boy's love, because it was a gift from Eren...
Six years after the other's disappearance, she took it off, and Armin no longer saw that red mark on the girl's neck. After everything they had been through: training in the army, serving in Trost, many losses and sorrows... Eren never found them, just as they did not find Eren, and it all seemed empty . The search seemed empty ... Armin thought that Mikasa had thrown the scarf away.
But here it is, near his chest, and the boy mechanically wraps his fingers around it, not letting it fall.
It was just as soft as he remembered it...
“Take it.” Mikasa asked quietly, and Armin frowned.
“But-”
“I know that you don't believe that our Eren is hiding somewhere out there. You don't want the past to make you hesitate or feel pain again, but... Take this not as a gift from Eren. Take it as my gift. A talisman, call it whatever you want.”
When Armin tried to object again, Mikasa sternly drew her eyebrows together, and steel penetrated her voice. “Just take it.”
After a moment of cringing, like a boy under a stern gaze, the medic nevertheless hugged the scarf to himself.
A few awkward seconds, and Armin sighed and put it in his pocket.
“Thank you…”
After that, he and Mikasa went to the cargo bay, where the others were waiting. Mikasa gave Armin's elbow one last, unnoticed squeeze, and then stepped aside.
The crew said goodbye to the medic briefly and easily, patting him on the shoulder and saying kind words. Sasha promised a hearty dinner for getting back "on track," and Ymir nudged her brother-in-law's shoulder into Connie's playful chokehold. Taking advantage of his helplessness in the navigator's hands, Jean chuckled and ruffled Armin's hair.
Historia chuckled to herself for a few seconds, but then finally made him let go of his brother. She only gently ran her hand over his, looking him in the eyes, and then let him pass. They had already discussed everything... Armin forced himself to push the vague uneasiness as deep inside as possible.
Levi and Hange were standing by the docking gate leading to the shuttle.
The android, seeing Armin, adjusted her glasses and smiled.
“There you are. Here.” She handed the medic documents on an electronic medium, a small radio-earphone and an inconspicuous suitcase. Probably with money in case they had to buy spare parts on their own.
“Thank you.” Armin thanked and immediately inserted the earphone to get used to it during the flight on the shuttle. Levi folded his arms on his chest.
“Eren is already in the shuttle.”
“Got it.”
“Armin.” Ackerman suddenly called even quieter than usual, but nevertheless firmly. Armin froze, looking into the captain's eyes. Dark blue irises exuded deep seriousness and, most importantly, concern. An ocean of emotions, so carefully hidden behind the icy shell, found a gleam in the depths of his gaze for a second. Levi relaxed his face, and this made it softer. “I'm counting on you.”
The medic twitched the corners of his lips, and he nodded.
“Yes, captain.”
Levi looked down and nodded, then silently motioned for them to enter the shuttle. Hange giggled and ran a familiar hand over the medic’s shoulders. “Cutie-Levi wants you to take care of yourself and come back in one piece, with all your limbs, fluids, organs, and a landing permit or spare parts as a nice bonus, so! I want to wish you the same. I’m afraid you won’t be able to contact us once you get to Liberio – the radios only have a two-kilometer radius. Use your own discretion.” The android slapped the other’s back. “Good luck.”
“For an android, you rely too much on luck.” Ackerman snorted, and Hange grinned, placing her hand on her hip. “For you humans, that’s a more inspiring formulation than ‘put the possible probabilities and odds in your favor.’”
“Thank you, Major.” Armin interrupted the discussion, taking a step back in the direction of the shuttle. “I'll be going now.”
“Bye, sweetie!” Hange sung goodbye, and the next second the medic found himself in a tiny airlock corridor.
A second later, Armin entered the shuttle.
Eren sat in the pilot's seat, his arms folded across his chest and his legs spread wide. Now, like the medic, he was dressed in full military camouflage with ID cards sticking out and a holster on his hips and belt. On his shoulders were visible shoulder straps indicating rank, on the left side of his chest were almost imperceptible marks of military merit. To an uninitiated person, these were just tiny spots of color, but Armin could discern awards for bravery in battle and for several other military merits. Arlert himself had some awards, but he couldn't remember where he kept the marks...
Yaeger's indifferent and joyless gaze was directed at the dark polymer window - the hull of the Wings of Freedom, with which the shuttle was docked, was barely visible from the outside.
As soon as Armin went inside, green eyes pierced him in the reflection. Eren glanced at the medic and stopped at his shoulder, where a sewn-in white bandage with a red cross was visible.
Arlert silently put the case with the money in a small compartment with an electronic lock at the entrance, and then headed for the passenger seat behind Eren, one of five. He didn't want to sit next to him, but at the same time he should have seen what Yeager was doing and where the hell they were flying. The shuttle was small, the size of an average room, so it would have been impossible to sit far away anyway. Not as far as Arlert would have liked, at least...
Eren watched this passive-aggressive action and removed his hands from his chest. His fingers began to quickly click on switches, buttons and runners. The airlock and door closed, the engine hummed. A muffled clank was heard, and the image outside the shuttle window changed - they undocked from the ship.
Armin mechanically held on to the pilot's seat, as he always did when Jean was at the helm. Until a certain point, the boy liked to peek out from behind someone else's seat and watch Kirstein masterfully pilot among the stars...
Realizing what he was doing and how close his hands were to Eren, the medic immediately let go of the seat and leaned back. If Eren noticed this, he said nothing.
Meanwhile, in addition to the inky darkness with scattered stars, the red-pink surface of a large satellite with a dusty-yellow atmosphere began to be visible, occupying almost the entire width of the shuttle window.
Liberio.
Notes:
Here we come to the end of the first arc and the beginning of the Liberio arc!
Poor guys, cold reality gave a juicy slap in the face after all the games...
I hope you enjoyed it!
Good luck to everyone, I love you all, take care of yourself :3
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