' Bertholdt is worried. Today's training has been particularly hard – the Marleyan officers have made the aspiring warriors run longer, fight harder, and shoot further, and they are all literally exhausted. It's late, later than usual, when the day comes to an end, and they're allowed to go back to the internment camp. Marcel and Porco are already gone, Annie is about to follow them, and Bertholdt would really like to do the same, but he knows he can't. Not just yet.
Reiner is nowhere to be seen, and Bertholdt is pretty sure he hasn't gone home yet. Today's been hard for all of them, but especially for Reiner. He's ranked last in all the tasks that had been set for them, and Porco had seized the opportunity to tease him even more. Bertholdt had seen Reiner swallow back his tears and keep running when he was obviously about to collapse.
Sometimes, Bertholdt wants to tell those boys off. He wants to stand up for Reiner because he doesn't understand why they keep picking on him. Sure, Reiner may not be the best at climbing or the agilest, but he has this strength in him that Bertholdt has noticed since the first day.
Reiner has a purpose, something to push him forward, and his determination is to be admired. Not laughed at. He never says anything, though, no matter how much he wants to. Bertholdt is not this kind of guy. He doesn't stand up because he doesn't know what to say to them. He doesn't have any witty or salty comments to make, and he doesn't want the others to hate him, too. But he's there afterward to help Reiner up, to listen to him vent about those morons, and he hopes it's enough to make Reiner his friend.
He heads for the changing room. No one has bothered changing before going home; they're all too tired, and Bertholdt has a feeling that Reiner went there to hide. He pushes the door open. It's dark inside, and at first, he thinks he's been wrong.
There's no one here. But as he's about to walk back, he hears a muffled sound and listens up. It's faint, but it's definitely someone crying. At first, he doesn't know what to do. He thinks of leaving as quietly as possible, but he can't bring himself to it. If the roles were reserved, Reiner wouldn't leave him.
"Reiner?"
The cries stop at once, and he hears someone move frantically in the dark.
"It's me." He feels like he needs to reassure him before searching for the light switch. When he finally finds it, he sees Reiner sitting down on the floor, looking up at him with red, swollen eyes.
"Bertholdt? What are you doing here?"
"I was looking for you."
Reiner looks at him with big eyes, apparently taken aback that someone might be worried for him.
"Are you ok?" Bertholdt asks.
He knows the answer to this question – people rarely cry because they're okay, not like that anyway - and feels stupid for asking it in the first place. He should have said something else; he should have thought more before opening his mouth.
If the roles had been reversed, Reiner would not have sounded so weak; he would have demanded an explanation, and that's what he should have done. 'Oi Reiner, talk to me, what's the problem?' That kind of thing would have been acceptable. 'Are you ok?' is lame and definitely not something Reiner would have said.
"Yeah. I'm fine." Reiner says, sniffing.
Bertholdt doesn't know what to answer. Probably, Reiner doesn't want to talk about it. Or maybe he's waiting for Bertholdt to insist. He has no idea of how to interact with people, and Reiner doesn't make things easy for him. He scratches his nose pensively.
"But thanks for asking." Reiner continues, seeing that his friend seems stuck on his last answer. "Thanks for always asking."
And with that, Reiner starts to cry again. Bertholdt looks down at him, slightly panicked and completely clueless as to what he should do or say next.
"I'm ... sorry." Reiner manages to say between two sobs. "I'm tired .... it's been a hard day ..."
Bertholdt sits down next to his friend and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. He's seen his dad do that to his mum once or twice, and for some reason, it's the only thing he can think about at the moment. He's aware that it's surely as lame as asking, 'Are you ok?', but the pressure he feels now to act as naturally as possible prevents him from thinking of anything else. Because this situation is far from being natural, and he's not equipped to deal with it.
"It's ok," he says finally. "You did well today, I think the instructors were rather impressed."
Reiner stops crying and looks at him bewildered.
"Are you kidding? I'm useless, Bertholdt. I suck at everything."
Bertholdt tilts his head a little to have a better look at his friend. He knows about Reiner's insecurities; he knows he's very self-conscious about his own limits, but he cannot allow him to think that he's useless.
"That's not true. You're brilliant, and not in a clever kind of way. Not that you're stupid. You're not."
Bertholdt stops talking for a minute, the time for him to put his thoughts back on the right track. Reiner is staring at him, mouth half open. That's why Bertholdt dislikes talking – he sucks at expressing himself. He has all these feelings inside him, and he struggles to put words on them very hard. The ones he chooses always lack something - this little extra thing that could convey how he truly feels. It's frustrating.
"What I mean is, you have this light in you, Reiner. And maybe not everyone sees it but I do. It's bright and it's new and that makes you the most remarkable of us. And I would follow this light anywhere because I trust you. And maybe I'm good at shooting and aiming and I'm super precise or whatever. Big deal! I'll never be like you and I must admit that I'm a bit jealous."
Bertholdt looks away. He hasn't meant to sound so vehement about the whole thing, and now Reiner will probably think he's pulling his leg because who says things like that. Really? He should have just shut up; that usually serves him well.
"That's easy for you to say." Reiner finally answers. He doesn't sound mad or offended, just slightly sad. "Everybody knows that you'll get a titan, probably the colossal. But this light you're talking about, you're the only one who sees it. And even if you're not, I don't think it's the kind of thing that makes a difference. When they choose who becomes a warrior, it'll be down to results and achievements."
Yes. Reiner is right about that. The way things are going, Reiner probably won't get a titan. Maybe in thirteen years, if he's lucky. Even Bertholdt is aware of that, and it breaks his heart a little to think that he won't be with his friend anymore. But he doesn't think that it's relevant. Reiner will do great things for Marley with the titan's power or not. He's convinced of it.
Bertholdt jumps when his friend puts his head on his shoulder. He's not used to having physical contact with anyone else but his mother and is a bit startled. But Reiner doesn't seem to notice that he has tensed up because he doesn't move and even sighs longly.
"Thanks for cheering me up anyway. You always say nice things to me and I never do anything to return the favour."
Bertholdt doesn't have the feeling he's cheered up anyone, and the words make him even more uncomfortable than he was. He doesn't want anyone to return any favor. It would be too embarrassing for him to bear because it would mean a lot of attention to him, and that's definitely too much. He feels a wave of panic being born in his stomach and protectively raises his hand. Reiner sits up to look at him, a little surprised by his reaction.
"You don't need to, really. It's fine!"
His face is contorted by fear, and Reiner puts his hand on his knee in a way he hopes to be friendly and reassuring.
"Ok, Bertl. I won't."
"Sorry, I just don't like being at the centre of the attention."
"I know that!" Reiner looks mildly offended. "I meant something small. You know, between the two of us."
Ah. He would still be embarrassed to receive any favor, even privately, but the thought is appealing nonetheless.
"When is your birthday?"
"December 30th."
"Ok. Then I'll make sure to get you something. Just to thank you for having my back all the time and putting up with all my drama. And you know, just to be my friend."
He cannot help the smile that eats away half of his face, though, and it is soon reflected on Reiner's face. They are friends. That's the best favor Reiner could have done him. They both get up and share a hug to seal their pact.
.
.
Bertholdt reluctantly emerged from the clutches of sleep, finding himself trapped once again within the confines of the desolate, gloomy chamber. It was the third consecutive morning that he had awakened to this disheartening sight, the relentless cycle of darkness and despair gradually taking its toll on his weary spirit. The putrid stench of filth permeated the air, assaulting his senses and mingling with the lingering odor of vomit that seemed to cling to the very fabric of the room. A hollow ache gnawed at his stomach, a painful reminder that he had nothing left to expel, as he contemplated the nauseating thought of being sick once more. Peculiarly, a maddening itch tickled the bridge of his nose, a relentless irritation that begged for relief. At that moment, Bertholdt longed for the impossible, yearning to possess his lost appendages just to satisfy the maddening desire to scratch that accursed itch.
A myriad of discomforts assaulted Bertholdt's senses, each one more oppressive than the last. His throat, akin to a barren desert, yearned for a refreshing oasis of moisture while his tongue lay burdened with the weight of an insurmountable dryness as though a brick had taken residence upon it. A heavy sensation gnawed at his stomach as if threatening to detach itself from his body and plummet into the abyss. The conflicting emotions of hunger and satiety waged a silent battle within him, leaving Bertholdt perplexed by his own physiological contradictions.
Bertholdt's heart yearned for a time when he could simply surrender to the blissful embrace of nostalgia, closing his eyes to be transported back to the cherished memories of yesteryears. In those golden moments that now seemed distant, he would frolic with his beloved friends amidst the boundless expanse of a sun-kissed meadow, their laughter echoing through the air like a symphony of joy.
With every glance directed at Annie, his gaze would be captivated by her ethereal beauty, a sight that would stir his soul and leave him spellbound. The playful banter shared with Reiner would ignite an infectious mirth that would reverberate through their very beings. However, amidst the reverie of these treasured recollections, a sudden interruption shattered the tranquility, jolting Bertholdt back to reality as a voice pierced through the haze, demanding his attention.
"You there?"
In the dark cell, the air heavy with the scent of decay, Bertholdt's head slowly rose as the sound of that haunting voice pierced through the silence. A chair was placed directly in front of him by the deranged woman who seemed to relish in his suffering. His gaze shifted downward at the iron collar that had been fastened around his neck, its unforgiving grip chaining him to the cold stone wall.
Bertholdt wondered why they went through the trouble of locking his neck. It became all too clear as he glanced at his severed limbs, each stump adorned with metallic plates that cruelly denied him the ability to regenerate his limbs. A bitter realization washed over him, likening himself to a lowly worm - devoid of dignity, crawling in filth, and without limbs.
"What do you want?" Bertholdt inquired, his voice tinged with weariness as he propped his head against the frigid wall, the icy chill penetrating his very marrow. Though the sensation was far from unfamiliar, it still evoked a discomfort that threatened to consume him. Yet, Bertholdt summoned the fortitude to dismiss the biting cold, refusing to succumb to its unpleasant embrace.
"Tell me, Cadet Bertholdt," the crazy woman inquired eagerly, her eyes gleaming with mischief and her voice carrying a hint of anticipation. "I spoke with Reiner," she continued, her tone filled with excitement, "and he was more than willing to share his insights with us. Now, dear Bertholdt. Will you tell us what we need to know?" Her smile adorned her face with an unsettling aura, causing Bertholdt's usual fondness for smiles to waver in the face of this peculiar and disquieting expression.
As the lantern's dim light flickered, Bertholdt's gaze met hers with an air of indifference, his eyes reflecting a blankness that mirrored an empty canvas. With her hand firmly gripping a scalpel, its glimmering tip poised for action, she uttered words that brimmed with conviction, hoping to elicit even the slightest reaction from him. However, Bertholdt's demeanor remained unyielding, his countenance as unmoving as a polished board, unmoved by her words and unfazed by the sharp instrument in her possession.
"We both know you're lying, so I don't understand why you go through the trouble," Bertholdt countered coldly; as he kept a stoic face, he looked insulted by her words.
"You devils are nothing but liars, you have to try better," Bertholdt spat as he glared at the crazy woman; the latter kept a stoic smile, her face barely showing any emotions.
"Devils? You have been calling us that quite often, why though?" The crazy woman asked, and for the first time, her voice sounded genuine as she adjusted her glasses.
"That's what you all are, you're devil spawn." As he desperately sought solace by shutting his eyes tight, an overwhelming cacophony of haunting voices echoed within his tormented psyche, each voice a haunting reminder of the countless innocent lives he had mercilessly extinguished - a somber symphony composed of the cries of thousands, an indelible weight that would forever burden his conscience.
"I see, what about all the people you have killed, how can you live with yourself?" She questioned, again sounding genuine, something that took Bertholdt by surprise.
As a tingle danced along the delicate crevices of his eyes, Bertholdt instinctively averted his gaze, unable to confront the torrent of emotions swelling within him. Gradually, a veil of haziness descended upon his vision, accompanied by the subtle formation of tears that threatened to spill over. "How can I live with myself?" The words escaped Bertholdt's lips, his voice trembling with raw vulnerability, each syllable echoing his internal battle. Refusing to succumb to the overwhelming surge of fragility, he clenched his jaw, determined not to succumb to the perceived weakness that the tears represented. With a resolute swallow, he willed the saline drops to dissipate, hoping against hope that they would be banished from his countenance.
"Why," she demanded, her voice filled with an unwavering determination, "did you try to kill Marco Bott? You know he asked for the two of you, he wants to talk with you both, saying he wants to understand you both," With every syllable uttered, her voice swelled with an intensity that resonated through the air. As her piercing inquiry hung in the tense atmosphere, Bertholdt's fragile composure shattered, his anguish echoing through a poignant sob. Memories of Marco flooded his mind, remembering Marco; if only he hadn't been listening to their conversation, everything would have been alright right now.
"Why did you kill all those people in Trost? Why did you destroy the gate? You say we are devils, but amongst the victims were also newborn babies; how are they to be blamed for something they never did?" She questioned, her voice changing. Bertholdt felt like his mother was talking to him; Bertholdt wanted to cover his ears; he didn't want to listen to her anymore.
"You think your father will be proud of you? To know his son killed thousands of innocent?"
Bertholdt, his heart heavy with anguish, couldn't help but release his pent-up emotions. With a trembling voice and tear-stained cheeks, he uttered a poignant exclamation, "This world is cruel."
"I didn't get to choose, none of us did. We didn't have a choice. Do you think I wanted to kill all those people. What kind of person would want to do something like that? I never wanted any of this, but in the end, all I can do is live with myself, the world never gave me an option, so all I can do is keep on living," Breathing heavily from the exertion, Bertholdt's voice reverberated through the air as he shouted the last part of his message at the crazy woman. The moment's intensity hung palpably in the air, punctuated by his ragged breaths. As he fought to regain control of his respiration, a sudden realization washed over Bertholdt like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore - amidst the chaos; he had failed to notice the faint glimmer of something unusual.
The Crazy Woman wasn't there, leaving only an abandoned chair as a remnant of her presence. With a heavy sigh, Bertholdt succumbed to the weight of his exhaustion, allowing himself to sink into the comfort of the wall behind him. As his head rested against the cool surface, he closed his eyes, seeking solace in the realm of dreams. In this ethereal state, memories of a bygone era flooded his mind, transporting him to a time when his heart brimmed with genuine happiness. A time when laughter echoed through the corridors, and the warmth of true friendship enveloped him.
' As the gentle rays of the morning sun tiptoed into the room, a loud and commanding voice pierced through the tranquility, calling out, "Bertholdt, wake up!" Slowly, like a slumbering giant roused from his dreams, Bertholdt stirred, his drowsy eyes fluttering open. A warm and genuine smile bloomed on his lips as he beheld the sight of his loyal friend Reiner standing before him, his face filled with determination, urging him to rise from the comfort of his bed.
'Bertholdt, you know the instructor won't be happy,' Bertholdt blinked and turned to look behind Reiner. He saw Jean, Marco, Eren, Connie, Annie, Armin, Marcel, and Porco looking at him with smiles, all of them together again.
As Bertholdt rose to his feet, a wave of newfound vigor surged through his body, invigorating his senses and filling him with a surge of energy. However, as he took a tentative step forward, the strength that had momentarily embraced him quickly dissipated, leaving him vulnerable and weak. His knees wobbled beneath him, threatening to give way, and he found himself teetering on the precipice of collapse, an almost inevitable descent towards the floor.
Overwhelmed by a sudden and overwhelming exhaustion, he felt as though every ounce of vitality had been drained from his weary form. Reiner swiftly interceded, extending his arm to encircle Bertholdt, steadfastly supporting him and ensuring he remained upright.
As Reiner observed Bertholdt's clumsiness, a concerned expression crossed his face, prompting him to inquire, "Bertholdt, you're so clumsy, you kn- Bertholdt, why are you crying?" Surprised by the unexpected question, Bertholdt instinctively touched his wet cheeks, feeling the warmth of his own tears. However, amidst the overwhelming rush of emotions, a genuine smile emerged on Bertholdt's face as he mustered the courage to utter those three simple words.
"I-I'm just happy."
Annie Leonhart
As the sun's first rays timidly peeked through the narrow window, a soft, melodic voice gently whispered into the depths of Annie's slumber, "Wake up, sleeping ass Titan." The sound reverberated through the metallic door, amplifying its annoyance to an unbearable level. Annie's eyes fluttered open, her irritation evident as she groggily registered the familiar resonance of Captain Levi's voice.
But what truly grated on her nerves was the incessant knocking on the door as if he were trying to break through the sturdy barrier with sheer force. Reluctantly, she pushed aside the cozy blanket that had cocooned her, her legs gracefully navigating the expanse of the bed frame before finally making contact with the frigid floor beneath. Aware of the imminent discomfort awaiting her unshielded feet, Annie wasted no time slipping into her trusty pair of shoes, their warmth enveloping her like a protective embrace.
"Why the did they send you? Was Petra busy or something?" Annie's voice dripped with palpable frustration as she fixed Levi with a piercing glare. Though fully aware that she was addressing a captain, Annie saw no reason to conceal her annoyance, particularly in the presence of someone as diminutive as Levi. The mention of Petra's absence only served to intensify her exasperation.
"Unfortunately for both of us, I have to guard your annoying ass until you reunite with the brat. But be prepared for tomorrow," Levi warned as he motioned for her to follow him, completely ignoring her comment about him. Annie, overwhelmed by frustration, emitted a low groan of discontentment, resigning herself to silently trailing behind him.
Annie thought back at the first day of questioning; it had taken 7 hours until Annie answered every question they had, only after Commander Erwin was satisfied; only then was Annie allowed to sleep and rest while the crazy woman had more questions, some that were really inappropriate, thankfully the Commander had told the Crazy woman to not ask such stupid questions.
Annie had been left alone in her small, dimly lit cell with its cold, gray walls. Although she was still asleep, she found solace in the fact that the bed beneath her, while simple, provided a modicum of comfort. In this stark environment, the one thing she could rely on was the softness of the mattress.
Notwithstanding the bleakness of her circumstances, Annie was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food in her cell. It far surpassed the meager rations she had consumed during her time in the Training Corps. As she savored each bite, she couldn't help but appreciate the flavor and richness of the meals. The nourishment provided a temporary respite from the harsh reality of her confinement.
While Annie was allowed the basic necessity of using the toilet, a sense of discomfort persisted due to the constant scrutiny she faced. Petra closely monitored every visit to the restroom. This strict surveillance was particularly reinforced because Petra was the only woman in the Levi Squad.
' With a flicker of irritation glistening in her eyes, Annie rose gracefully from the comfort of her bed, her voice laced with an edge of impatience, as she cast her gaze upon the ugly one on the other side of the bars.
"Hey," she inquired, her tone tinged with a touch of exasperation, "which one of you has the key?" As the words escaped her lips, she couldn't help but ponder the mental capacity of the grotesque individual before her, questioning the threads of logic that wove through his mind, for he had the audacity to inquire, "Why do you need it?"
"Toilet, or should I do it right here?" Annie questioned with growing irritation while crossing her arms; her words seemed to get the point across as Petra walked forward with a key.
"I will walk you there," Petra offered. Annie simply shrugged her shoulders as she could finally leave the stupid cell, even if it was only for a few minutes.
As Annie and Petra strolled down the seemingly endless corridor, their footsteps echoed softly, enveloping the surroundings in a serene hush. Annie lost in her own thoughts and not in the mood for conversation, found solace in the tranquil silence that enveloped them. The rhythmic tapping of their shoes against the polished floor was the only audible sound. However, just when Annie thought she could relish in the silence a little longer, Petra discreetly cleared her throat.
"I'm sorry for putting you in the cell, but Commander Erwin will get you out as soon as possible," Petra encouraged. Annie kept quiet; if Petra expected an 'Appreciate it,' then she was proven wrong when Annie simply kept silent and didn't say anything.
Eventually, Annie reached the bathroom; as she sat down to do her business, Petra talked once again. "I know people might not have shown it as much, but I'm grateful for what you did for us." Petra's voice was heard through the closed door. Annie had to stop herself from groaning; she didn't understand why Petra wanted to have a conversation at such an inappropriate time.
"I know putting you in the cell wasn't the right thing to do, you helped Cadet Marco, revealed the identity of the Colossal and Armoured Titan and you helped humanity capture them." "What are you trying to say?" Annie interrupted her mid-sentence; this time, Annie didn't bother hiding her annoyance.
"I'm just trying to say 'Thank You for helping Us' that's it," she replied earnestly, the weight of her words hanging in the air. A heavy silence enveloped the room as her voice trailed off, leaving Annie to share in the moment's weariness.
With a weary sigh escaping her lips, brimming with empathy and understanding. She softly, almost as if to herself, murmured, 'You are welcome.' '
After that day, Petra was the only one who had any kind of conversation with Annie; she would often tell her what was happening outside and how everything was going. Annie was thankful that at least Petra was kind; the others were also good enough, except Olou, who was probably more annoying than Reiner, which was quite a feat to achieve.
Annie escaped her thoughts when they finally stopped walking and reached a door. With an air of anticipation, Levi pivoted to face Annie and cast a penetrating gaze in her direction, his eyes ablaze with intensity. The weight of his stare conveyed a silent message, a warning echoing through the air as if to say, "There won't be a second chance." Annie instinctively understood that Levi's words were not to be taken lightly; this was no game, and the consequences were real.
Levi's hand reached out, slowly and deliberately, to wrap around the polished handle of the door. With a gentle twist, the door swung open, revealing the hall of the Survey Corps Headquarters, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight streaming through the high windows. And there, standing before Levi, was a sight that made her heart skip a beat - Eren, Mikasa, and Krista.
Yet, amidst the flurry of emotions, Annie's gaze was irresistibly drawn to Eren, the one who held a special place in her heart. In that fleeting moment, her joy surged, causing her heart to soar with a newfound sense of belonging.
Overwhelmed by the surge of emotions, Annie found herself instinctively taking a step forward, her legs moving of their own accord, mirroring Eren's movements as if an invisible thread connecting them. And then, Annie and Eren found themselves locked in a tight embrace, their arms wrapped around each other, offering solace and reassurance.
As their bodies melded together, Annie's voice, barely above a whisper, escaped her lips, carrying with it all the emotions she had kept hidden for so long. "I missed you," she breathed, her words laced with vulnerability and relief. She found solace in the warmth of Eren's embrace as if all the pain and uncertainty had momentarily faded away.