Chapter Text
Ymir turned the key to her apartment and pushed the door, opening it up into the dimly lit kitchen connecting to her living room. Stepping in and lightly kicking the door closed, she tossed her keys onto the kitchen counter, and rounded to the left toward the small entryway with one door on the left (leading to the bathroom) and one door on the right (Ymir’s bedroom). As if on autopilot, she turned toward the right into her room, toward the open closet on the left side of the room, and found the safe she kept slightly hidden in the back.
3417 . A small beep followed by the quiet whirring sounds of the safe unlocking filled the silent room. Opening it up, Ymir absentmindedly tossed in the money she had just earned from the day’s heist before locking it back up again and heading out to the living room to flop down on the couch.
She let out a heavy sigh she felt like she had been holding since she got in her car to drive back here.
Today went surprisingly well.
Sure Ymir had been joking while teasing Krista about her lack of heist experience, but she wasn’t exactly expecting it to go smoothly. Ymir had mentally prepared for the worst when she got to the warehouse that afternoon, but the newbie had proved her wrong. In fact, this was one of their best jobs. No one got hurt in the jewelry store, they got out in under 3 minutes, and they made it to the warehouse quicker than anyone expected, even with the change to the original backroads plan. Krista was sure to be a part of a lot more assignments in the future.
Krista .
Ymir sighed, annoyed at the woman’s intrusion into her mind once again. She had only met her just yesterday, but since then, she hadn’t been able to get her out of her head. Maybe it was because she was new, maybe it was because she was so easy to mess with, or maybe it was because she seemed so out of place. It was likely due to all of these things, at least somewhat, but Ymir knew the main reason Krista lingered in her mind was because she couldn’t seem to understand her. She liked to think she was fairly good at reading people, growing up how she did, but Krista simply didn’t make any sense to her. She couldn’t figure out how someone like that ended up doing something like this. She seemed sweet, genuine, kind-hearted, but somehow she was driving getaway for an extensive crime organization. And she was really fucking good at it!
Stop thinking about her.
“Ugh…” She needed to block out the silence of the apartment.
Ymir sat up slowly and reached over to the small table next to the couch, grabbing her headphones and popping them in. Once they connected she pressed shuffle on her playlist and tossed the phone back onto the couch next to her. # The humming introduction buzzed pleasantly in her ears and she closed her eyes for a moment at the brief quiet the music brought to her mind. Opening them again, she glanced at the time. 4:37 . What a terrible time. Too early to eat dinner but close enough to it that you couldn’t go anywhere or do anything (not that she really wanted to anyway). She felt boredom creeping in. Quickly, she stood up from the couch, grabbed her pack of cigarettes and her lighter off of the coffee table, and went out onto her small balcony.
The light breeze that brushed across her face as she stepped outside was peaceful. Ymir inhaled slowly, exhaled, relishing in the calmness. She opened the pack, pulled one out, then pushed the box into her back pocket. Her head swayed with the song still playing in her ears as she struck her lighter and lit the end of her cigarette before pocketing the lighter too. Ymir leaned her forearms on the railing overlooking the city surrounding her apartment.
It looks pretty at this time.
The brightness of the afternoon was slowly being replaced with a calmer blue, and the atmosphere felt peaceful. Ymir placed the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Being on the fourth floor put her high up enough that she could see quite a bit from her balcony, but not too high to where she couldn’t make out the different people on the street. She exhaled, blowing the smoke straight ahead and blocking her view of the street for a moment. Ymir liked being able to notice people. It gave her a peek into their lives, into their stories, without all the bullshit. She inhaled again, this time exhaling the smoke off to the side. People always tend to put on some sort of mask when they know they’re being perceived. She hated that. What was the point? Ymir blew the smoke out in front of her again. She had decided a long time ago that she wasn’t going to fall for anymore bullshit. Not her own or anyone else's. And sure, not everyone was particularly fond of her bold nature, but she found that she didn’t really care anymore. Caring about what other people thought of her just led to more bullshit, and so she left that part of herself behind. Ymir let her eyes wander across the street, picking people out of the crowds to focus on, if only for a moment. A man in a suit walking at quite a pace down the sidewalk. An older woman, 60’s maybe, walking her small dog. A couple crossing the street.
She took a long drag of the cigarette, eyes closing as she tried to feel at ease, then blowing the smoke off to the side.
She liked people, she honestly did, despite what everyone always seemed to think. Just because she wasn’t a social butterfly with the cheery personality of a kid in a candy store didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in other people, she just wasn’t interested in the nonsense people always seemed to think was important. She couldn’t care less about what so and so said about someone else, what the weather was looking like, what Jim was planning to make for fucking dinner. It was conversations like that that made her want to tear her own hair out so, she just stopped having them. Simple as that. That decision wasn’t well received by everyone, but so what?
Suddenly, a head of blonde hair caught her eye on the street below.
“You’re shitting me.” She mumbled to herself. There she was. The woman that had gotten stuck in her head like a catchy song, simply walking down the street in her same converse as the day before, headphones in, probably listening to some old song.
Ymir watched her move down the sidewalk at an impressive speed. She almost seemed angry or annoyed by something, but it was too difficult to make out specific facial details on the balcony so Ymir just observed and wondered. What had upset her? Did it have to do with the heist? And if she was walking around here, where did she live? Must be close. Or maybe she just works near here? But why would she be working today?
The amount of growing questions and the lack of answers was starting to annoy Ymir and make her antsy, which was exactly what had been trying to avoid.
Part of her wanted to run down the stairs of her building, catch up to Krista, and just ask her. But a bigger part of her realized that was a bad idea for a number of reasons, so instead, Ymir decided she would wait until the other woman had walked out of sight, then just go back inside to fight off her boredom the rest of the day.
~
“I’m a terrible father!” Rod sobbed, dropping down onto the couch, hands covering his face.
“No, no, you’re not dad.” Historia suddenly felt guilty for being upset with him. He needed money, and she had money to give. “Here, you can have it. I don’t really need it anyway.” She said, trying to hand him the small stack of money she had just gotten from Hange.
“I can’t. Honestly, I don’t deserve it.”
Historia sat down on the couch next to her father with a hand on his back. “Seriously dad, I make enough from working. I don’t need it. Please just take it.” She laid the money in his lap and he raised his head.
“Thank you, Historia.” He said, finally accepting her offer. “You are such a wonderful girl. I truly don’t know how you turned out so amazing.” Historia didn’t give a response and simply smiled, getting up off the couch to head to her room.
Once she finally arrived and closed the door behind her, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She then stumbled across the room to her bed and fell onto the covers, relaxing into the soft blankets and the warm, dim light of the room, and letting every emotion she had been avoiding all day finally wash over her.
She recalled the nerves she had managed to quiet down on the drive to the warehouse and the drive to the jewelry store. That was a level of anxiety she had never felt before, but it made the thrill and excitement of the drive that much more rewarding. As she layed on the bed staring up at nothing, she began replaying every moment of the escape with crystal clear clarity, going over everything like she always did after her races, trying to determine what went well and what could have gone better. She found this exercise to be beneficial, as well as relaxing. Historia recalled the evasion of the first cop, the use of the semi truck to escape the highway,
the collision she had caused .
While she didn’t have the time to feel guilty about her actions while on the job, she could feel the guilt slowly seeping in as she remembered each part of the heist. She had caused one officer to crash into the highway barrier. She had injured an innocent civilian when she ran that red light, causing the cop behind her to slam into that truck, who also got hurt. Not to mention the people who were in the damn jewelry store while it was being robbed at gunpoint. Even if nobody got hurt it still wasn’t an ideal situation for them. And after all that effort, what did she have to show for it? Well, she had about 2,000 dollars, but not any more! I guess working for a criminal organization in order to pay off his debt just wasn’t enough and now he needed to take the money she had earned from that as well!
Historia stopped her train of thought and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to be angry at him. She didn’t feel she had any right to be angry at him after everything he had done for her. He took her in when he had nowhere else to go and this was simply retribution for his sacrifices. Hell, she had given him the money! He told her he didn’t even want it! (that was of course he had confessed he needed the money, but still)
So why was she still upset?
Historia decided she was just harboring some tension from the day's exhausting events and decided to try and take the edge off by going on a walk. That usually helped her to calm down and clear her mind. She slowly sat up on her bed, grabbed her MP3 off the side table, and headed out of her room towards the front door. As she walked through the living room, she popped her headphones in and hit shuffle, the familiar intro to “Talking in Your Sleep” by the Romantics playing through the small speakers and making her feel just a little bit calmer.
She closed the door behind her and headed off in a random direction. Her thoughts were still swarming with a colorful array of emotions as she walked, hardly paying attention to where she was going. She knew the area well enough that concerns of getting lost weren’t even on her mind, simply staring down at the sidewalk and rhythmically placing one foot in front of the other. Focusing on the familiar song was helping to soothe her a bit, but not as much as she would have hoped. Today was too much to just brush aside and ignore, so she let it come back in pieces.
She began with the more positive emotions, which she was surprised to find were abundant. Yes, there was guilt about her actions, but there was also excitement, thrill, pride. The rush of having done something so dangerous, all of their lives riding on her shoulders, and then having pulled it off flawlessly, it was a high she had never felt before. And then, when they had finally gotten back, having them all congratulate her on a job well done made her feel amazing. She felt appreciated, recognized, important, and above all, for a moment, she felt like she was a part of something.
Historia felt herself smiling as she recalled the end of the job, Hot Head yelling in excitement, Red, M.S, and even Captain genuinely being proud of her, even Jaws' annoying comments felt endearing. It was nice, and while she would hate to admit it to anyone else, she didn’t mind admitting to herself that she was looking forward to the next job.
Historia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She felt a bit better realizing in hindsight that the day, despite what she had initially thought, was a good one.
So why was she so agitated? What was wrong?
Historia started by going over the more negative parts of the day, namely the accidents she had caused. And yes, of course she felt bad about those, how could she not? They were her fault and people did get hurt because of it. Thankfully nobody died (she had checked the news almost immediately after getting into her car), and sure their injuries weren’t even that bad, and it’s not like she wanted to hurt them she was just doing a job, and if she hadn’t done those things then the people in her own car could have been hurt or killed and that would have been bad too, right? She would have felt just as guilty about that, if not more so in fact and so…
A car honking cut off her train of thought. She had stepped out into the street without realizing it.
Quickly, Historia jumped back onto the sidewalk and started walking quickly, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. As she walked, she slowed down a bit to take in her surroundings. She had gone surprisingly far without realizing it, and when had the song changed? She was now in the middle of “Livin on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi and was unsure of how many songs had passed while she was falling further into her own thoughts.
Brushing it off, Historia considered turning back and heading home. She was currently near a main road with businesses and apartment buildings on either side, and while she wasn’t incredibly familiar with the area, she did know it was a good 25-30 minute walk from her home. Round trip was almost an hour, and she was already feeling a bit tired, but for some reason the idea of turning back bothered her, so she chose to push on instead.
She wanted to continue this walk in peace, without letting her mind run wild again. She even set a course for the boba shop she knew was only about a ten minute walk away, but she had always used walks as a way to process things, so she fell into that habit and her mind once again took off without her.
She did feel guilty about the events of the day, she eventually decided, but not incredibly guilty. She certainly wasn’t guilty enough to be feeling this unnerved, and even if she was, it wouldn’t feel like this. So what is it? What’s causing this? Why did she feel so annoyed?
Even as she her mind asked the questions it knew the answer. Her father. He had needed the money she had just earned, he said so himself. Needed. But that didn’t make sense, it shouldn’t make sense. He made good money and if something had happened with work he would have told her that, and would have given her a good reason. But no. He just said he needed the money, and that he was sorry, and that he was a terrible father. Which tended to mean only one thing with him.
Gambling.
Why hadn’t she recognized it sooner? That’s exactly why he needed the money. He was gambling again. Historia felt herself walking faster as her mind argued with itself. She was of course upset that her father was gambling again. She was only working these jobs for Hange because he had gambled away borrowed money from their organization and couldn’t pay it back! But, he was her dad. He was family. And even though she was certainly angry with him, rightfully so, she felt guilty about it. Addiction is a difficult thing to quit and maybe she hadn’t been there for him enough. Maybe the stress of having another person in the house was too much and he had to turn back to the old habit. Once again, Historia had talked herself into feeling like a burden on the people in her life, which only fueled her agitation.
As she walked though, she suddenly got an odd feeling. A strange prickling on the back of her neck that made her feel like she wasn’t as alone as she felt. Sure there were people all around her, on the street, on the sidewalk, in the buildings, but they weren’t paying any mind to her at all. Still, she felt watched, and over the years she had learned to trust her instincts, so Historia carefully slowed her pace, trying to determine whether it was a false sense of danger or a real one. After a moment, she stopped altogether, and turned her head to the right to look across the street. Following her gut, she quickly locked eyes with a woman standing on her balcony staring down at her. It took a moment, but the distant face suddenly registered in her mind.
“Jaw?”
~
On her balcony, Ymir noticed Krista beginning to slow her pace. She continued to watch her with eyebrows furrowed in confusion and curiosity. Had she seen something? Maybe she was remembering something, or thinking about something important? Ymir continued to look on, despite something in the back of her mind telling her it was a bad idea.
Suddenly, the blonde woman turned and locked eyes with her.
Whoops.
Even from a distance, she could make out the word that left Krista’s lips. Jaw. She had been busted, but rather than panic, she chose to play this out and see what would happen. She was bored after all, and saying ‘hi’ shouldn’t have consequences too dire. So Ymir gave a quick, casual wave to the blonde and waited a moment to see her response. She had expected a wave back and then for her to keep walking, but instead, after a moment of contemplation from the other, Krista smiled and then held her hand up in a circular shape before bringing it to her lips to mime a drink.
Was she asking if Ymir wanted to get a drink with her?
Ymir pointed at herself with a questioning look. She wasn’t sure if she had misinterpreted Krista’s message. But her initial assumption was confirmed when Krista nodded and motioned for Ymir to come down and meet her.
Was it a bad idea? Yes, most definitely. They had just done a heist a few hours ago and she wasn’t sure how well the newbie understood the unspoken “don’t talk about the job” rule. Not to mention, it probably wasn't the best idea for them to be seen together so soon after. But, Ymir barely thought about it as she gave Krista a thumbs up, turned to put her cigarette out on the ashtray, and headed into her apartment to leave. She quickly grabbed her jacket (it wasn’t cold enough for her to need it, but she hadn’t had time to change and going out in the same clothes as earlier really seemed like a shitty idea), shoved her phone, headphones, wallet, and keys into her various pockets, and headed out to meet with Krista.
~
She had no idea why she had done it. She was planning on going to the boba shop alone, getting a drink, and having a peaceful, solitary walk back home. But before she could stop herself, she was asking Jaw to come with her. What a stupid idea.
But, under the rising thoughts that this was a mistake for so many reasons, she was pleased to have the company. It had been a while since she had spent time with anyone outside of work or family. Plus, having someone around would also help her take her mind off of her frustration with her father (and with herself ) so she couldn’t help but smile as she saw the brunette walking out of the apartment building's doors.
Historia gave her a small wave and watched as the woman jogged across the street to meet her. “Well, this is quite a surprise.” Jaw said casually, not stopping as she spoke and instead choosing to turn and walk down the sidewalk the way Historia had been going before stopping. The blonde woman followed on her left, the same way she had in the warehouse the day before. “So where are we going?”
“I was going to go to a boba shop a few minutes away.” Historia replied, already feeling a bit better with the company.
“Oh that sounds good. Is it that little one down Fritz street?”
“It is, yeah.”
“Cool." Jaw paused before saying anything else. "So what did you invite me for?”
“Uh," Historia should have been expecting that question. Of course Jaw would ask that, but suddenly she couldn't think of an answer, "I don’t really know.”
Jaw hummed in response. “You do know. You’re just choosing to keep it to yourself, which is fine.”
Historia's face scrunched a bit at the accusation. “If I knew I would tell you.”
“Wouldn’t.”
“Would.”
Jaw laughed softly at how defensive Historia had become. “You had a reason for inviting me, otherwise you wouldn't have done it."
Jaw's reaction helped Historia realize she was getting a bit defensive over something ridiculous, and so she just decided to drop it. Instead she said, “You’re kind of a strange person to talk to.” It wasn't meant negatively and Historia was pleased to see the other woman didn’t take it as such.
“You are not the first person to tell me that, and I don’t imagine you’ll be the last.” Jaw replied with a smile. Historia smiled in return, feeling herself relax a bit more as they walked on.
"So, you got an answer yet?"
"To what?"
"Why'd you invite me?"
This time, Historia gave herself time to think before giving her response, “I think I just wanted the company.”
"Makes sense. Any particular reason for that?"
A part of herself felt like she should be annoyed at Jaw's prying, but she just simply didn't feel that way. In fact, she was almost grateful for it. The prying forced her to actually think and be honest, whereas normally she could take the easy way out. Keep up a mask of polite niceties, watching everything she said and crafting responses to match an expectation rather than a truth. It seemed like Jaw wasn't going to let her get away with that, and that was sort of freeing.
“Sort of stuck in my head about some stuff, and company helps.” It felt mildly uncomfortable being open with, what was essentially, a stranger, even if it wasn’t anything particularly personal, but she felt oddly compelled to trust this woman.
“I was a bit in my head too.” Jaw admitted openly. “Maybe that’s why I agreed to come down. Or maybe it was just because I was bored. Not sure, could be both.”
“Could be.” Historia shrugged as they both turned left to continue walking a bit further to the shop.
In the silence, Historia felt a dozen questions buzzing in her mind. Unfortunately, she knew that she couldn’t ask most of them, given the sensitive nature of their topics.
Eventually she settled on the only thing she could think of. “I didn't know you smoked.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to discuss, but she had wanted company so she could talk to someone and this was better than nothing.
Jaw tilted her head to face Historia with a raised eyebrow. “Do you actually care or are you just trying to make small talk?”
“It’s not exactly the topic I was most dying to discuss at the moment,” Historia confessed, rolling her eyes. “But most of the questions I would like to ask aren’t exactly appropriate within our current setting.”
“Why not ask me my name?" Jaw suggested with a shrug. "That’s a perfectly appropriate question, and it’s one I’m sure you thought about asking.”
“Well, obviously it crossed my mind, but I thought we were supposed to keep those, you know, under wraps?” Obviously one of the first questions she wanted to ask was what Jaw’s real name was. She hated calling her Jaw in her mind, it felt ridiculous, but she didn’t think, with the nature of their work, that it was something they were really supposed to discuss.
Jaw laughed and Historia suddenly felt a bit silly. “I guess you’re a bit of a stickler for the rules. Within the organization,” she suddenly paused to reconsider what she was saying, “or I guess just our sector at least, I don't know about all the other ones, we all know each other's actual names. The code ones are just for jobs.”
Historias eyebrows furrowed, still hung up on the first part of Jaw’s statement. “I am not a stickler , I just don’t exactly know how this all works yet.”
Jaw’s smile softened a bit. “You’re right. Sorry. Well, now you know. Code names are only really used on the job, nobody cares if you know their real name. And if they do care, then they won’t tell you. Simple as that. No harm in asking.”
With that they arrived at the nearly empty boba shop and Jaw opened the door for Historia, bowing dramatically and forcing the blonde to roll her eyes. “Well, what is your name then?” She asked as they both walked up towards the counter, Historia eyeing the menu on the wall, suddenly realizing she had no idea what she wanted. In response, Jaw simply shrugged and stepped up to order, earning an exasperated “ugh” from Historia.
“A medium Taro Milk Tea, please.”
Oh, that kind of sounds good. Historia thought, vaguely paying attention to the interaction. But no, I want something a bit sweeter.
“Cash or Card?”
Do I have my card on me?
“Cash.”
I do, yeah.
“And can I get a name?”
Maybe I want the passionfruit, now that sounds good.
“Ymir. Y-M-I-R.”
Historia’s line of thinking froze, just barely catching the information.
Ymir
“Ok, I’ll have that right out for you.”
“Thanks.” Ymir then turned to wink at Historia before backing away from the counter so Historia could order next.
Historia blinked, then shook herself of of her slightly surprised state to walk up to the counter. After getting a passion fruit tea with strawberry popping pearls (she did want something sweet after all), and giving the woman at the counter her name as well, Historia turned back to Ymir who was standing nearby waiting for her, and they both sat at the nearest table along the wall.
“So Ymir, huh?” Historia asked after a moment of them sitting. She held herself back from jumping to the question immediately, worried it would come off a bit, well, crazy.
“Yep.”
“Is that your real name or a fake one you gave the cashier?” It wouldn’t surprise her if the other woman was just messing with her.
“Someone seems a bit paranoid.”
“Maybe.” Historia brushed past the comment. So what if she was paranoid, she had every right to be. “Still didn’t answer my question.”
“It’s real. Yours?”
“Real.”
Ymir paused in thought for a moment. “Historia. That’s certainly unique.”
“That’s what people say when they can’t come up with anything nice to say.”
“No, I like it actually. It’s very pretty. Makes you sound like a pretty princess.”
That comment affected Historia more than it should have. “Why did that feel like an insult?”
Ymir, seeing the evident shift in Historia’s demeanor, switched to a more serious tone. “It wasn’t.”
“You don’t take me very seriously, do you?” Historia snapped back.
“What?” Ymir’s clear surprise masked the slight pang of hurt she felt by the observation.
"You don't take me seriously." She repeated a bit stronger, crossing her arms. "Everyone always tries to treat me like a kid, and you're no different."
"I do take you seriously, I promise." Ymir was doing her best to sound as genuine as she felt. The last thing she wanted was to do was make Historia feel bad. "I'm sorry I made you feel like I don't."
Historia scoffed. "I'm not stupid, I can tell when you're making fun of me, and you've been mocking me since I arrived."
"Historia," Ymir started, leaning forward. "I promise, I never meant anything by it. It was just teasing, that's all. It's what I do, I can't seem to help it. Honestly, try not to take anything I say seriously. I'm an asshole, alright?"
That last statement surprised Historia and made her forget about her anger for a moment. “I don’t think you’re an asshole.”
“I am, trust me. I mean, you just had to yell at me for literally being an asshole.” Historia cringed a bit at that. She was quickly regretting the slight outburst. “And you were right to.” Ymir quickly added, noticing Historia’s reaction.
“No, Ymir, I wasn’t. I shouldn't have been so upset at a stupid comment. I'm sor- ”
“No.” Ymir quickly cut her off. “Don’t apologize to me. That’s stupid.” Historia’s eyebrows furrowed again, though now it was in confusion rather than anger. “You’re allowed to be angry or upset about anything you want.”
Ymir let the statement sit for a moment, and Historia knew there was no use in continuing to argue, so she instead decided to at least try and explain why she had blown up.
“I’m just so sick of people treating me like I'm a child.”
Ymir nodded. “How do people treat you like a child?”
“I don’t know. Little things I guess." Once again, she was happily sharing with a stranger. At least now it was a stranger whose name she knew. "People talking down to me, always assuming I can’t do things on my own or that I need help. And, when I can do things like driving or my own damn job, they’re always so shocked or overly excited. Kind of like how you’d act if a kid showed you they could play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the piano. Everyone always assumes I’m just some weak, innocent little kid who can do no wrong, and I’m so sick and tired of it. Even my family does it. My dad, my sister, both treat me like I’m a child. Until they need something from me I guess.” She mumbled the last part under her breath, though she was sure Ymir had caught every word.
They both sat in the silence of the confession for a moment.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, and I’m sure it doesn’t really, but I don’t think of you like that.”
Historia let out a bitter laugh, knowing that was untrue, at least partially. “Maybe not anymore, but you did, when I first showed up.”
“Fair enough. You’re right. I did. And I’m sorry. But you certainly proved me, and everyone else, wrong.”
“Thanks, but that’s part of the problem.” Historia sighed, still frustrated but more exasperated than anything. “I’m going to have to keep proving that I can do it over and over again on every job I’m put on with new people, because the assumption will always be that I can’t .”
“Okay, well here’s some good news then, you won’t.” Ymir said, smiling. “I’m certain word has already spread about you, probably from Eren, and they’ll believe him. Next time you’re put on a job, they’ll know all about you and how good you are. You won’t have to prove yourself again, not with us.”
Now that really did make Historia feel better. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well that is some good news at least.” It shouldn’t seem like a lot and she wasn’t even sure if it was true, but Historia felt like such a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
“Ymir?” Historia said after they sat quiet for a moment.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think you’re an asshole.”
Ymir rolled her eyes, but it hurt her how genuine Historia sounded when she’d said it. “Alright don’t go getting sappy on me.”
"I've got a drink for Ymir and Historia!" The woman working behind the counter shouted through the shop. The two women stood from their seats, grabbed their drinks, and headed back out into the afternoon to begin their return trip.
The walk back was nice, even if it was a bit shorter than Historia would have liked. They talked for a bit about what Ymir had meant by ‘other sectors of the organization’ (Historia had wanted to ask about that the moment she’d heard Ymir mention it). They also talked about what the other people in the organization were like, and who Historia might be put on a job with, and what roles everyone tended to play. Historia was suprised by how comfortably Ymir could discuss all of this. She didn't seem particularly worried about someone overhearing or keeping everything a big secret. Instead she talked about it like it was any other job, and Historia was happy to listen.
And as they talked, Historia found she really did enjoy being around Ymir. She didn’t feel like she ever had to lie, or act in a certain way, or be something she wasn’t. She didn’t have to prove herself, or feel bad about herself, or worry about just existing for a moment.
They weren’t friends, not really. Historia knew that. They were coworkers that got along, but when she was here, with Ymir, it somehow felt like more than that.
Historia waved goodbye as Ymir crossed the street to go back to her apartment, and started her walk back home.
She was still upset. She knew that it wasn't just going to go away like that, not this. And it wasn’t something she was going to bother pushing down right now. She was still upset about her father, his gambling, his lying, him putting her in this position, upset about everyone underestimating her, upset about every little backhanded comment made about her appearance or her skill or her stature. But despite that, she did feel better. Much better.
‘You’re allowed to be angry or upset about anything you want’
It was an such obvious statement, because of course she was allowed to be angry, but it was still one that she had needed to hear regardless. All of a sudden, she didn't feel so guilty about her anger, and that helped more than anything else could have.
I guess having company was helpful after all.
~
8 Days After The Last Mission
A voice broke through the static on Hange’s walkie talkie and they could have sworn they felt their heart stop. Quickly, they jumped up from their seat and grabbed the walkie, holding down the button on the side. “Who’s speaking?”
“This is Colt!” The man’s voice shouted over the speaker. “The Giant’s been shot!” The panic in his voice was evident. “It’s really bad!”
Shit
Hange looked to Levi who seemed just as worried. They steadied their own breathing before replying. “Get to the meeting point as fast as you can. The captain will do what he can when you arrive. Albatross knows what to do in the meantime.”
“Ok, we’ll meet you there.” Jean responded, taking his thumb off of the button and throwing the walkie back into the cup holder. He turned around to the backseat where Armin was doing his best to keep Bertolt alive and tried not to cringe at the amount of blood that covered the seats. “The M.S says to get to the meeting point. Captain’s there, he’ll be able to help.”
“You hear that?” Armin said to Bertolt in the calmest voice he could muster. “Everything’s going to be fine. Captain has fixed up plenty of stuff worse than this. Just stay with me okay?”
Bertolt barely nodded. He was fading, fast. “Buzz! How much longer!” Armin shouted.
“Ten minutes, maybe?” He yelled back, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Any chance we could speed that up?”
“I can try!” He pushed harder on the gas, swerving in and out of cars. The cops weren’t on them currently because they had left the bank as soon as Bertolt was shot, which was almost immediately.
Less than 5 minutes ago, Colt, Albatross, and Giant had run into the bank, shouting with a clear intent to rob the place. The location had been vetted beforehand so they knew the staff didn’t have any weapons on hand, but what they hadn’t accounted for was an armed patron. A man standing in line pulled out a concealed gun within seconds of the three having entered the establishment, and shot Bertolt. Thankfully, the other two were able to act quickly. Jean killed the armed man on the spot and together, Albatross and Colt were able to get Bertolt back into the car with little issue, everyone else in the bank too scared by the sudden events to make any movements.
They didn’t get the chance to steal anything, and the cops didn’t get the chance to show up, but that didn’t mean they weren’t called, and that didn’t mean they couldn’t show up and chase them down at any moment.
Connie exited the highway, nearly hitting a car as he crossed four lanes to make it.
Bertolt let out a pained yell as Armin pressed harder on the bullet wound in his left side. “I know, I’m sorry, but I have to stop the bleeding.”
Connie suddenly took a sharp right, shifting Bertolt who was lying down in the back and causing him to hit his head on the car door. “Be careful up there! I don’t need him concussed!”
“I can get us there quicker or safer! You can’t have both!”
“Dammit Buzz just try!” Armin shouted back.
“How is he?” A man’s voice asked through the walkie. Jean fumbled to grab it quickly and held down the button. “Not good, Captain.”
“How many bullet wounds are there and where are they located?”
“He’s just got the one, and it’s in his side on the left.” There was silence on the other end for a brief moment.
“Shit. Okay. Albatross is keeping pressure on it, yes?”
“He is, yeah. But the Giant’s still losing a lot of blood.”
“He checked for an exit wound, right?”
Jean turned to the back seat. “You checked for an exit wound, right?”
“Of course I did! There isn’t one!” Armin shouted, frustration and panic boiling over, despite his attempts to keep it contained.
“There isn’t one.” Jean responded into the speaker.
“Okay. Keep him conscious, that’s all you can do for now.”
“We’re trying.”
“I know.”
Just then, the sound of sirens could be heard throughout the car. It was quiet, but distinct, and it was getting closer.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Connie shouted speeding up again, hoping to lose them with a more creative route before they could catch up.
Bertolt mumbled something to Armin, but all he understood was ‘cops’. “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.” He tried to reassure him. Stressing about going to jail certainly wasn’t going to help him stay alive. “Buzz is a really great driver, he’ll get us out of this, no problem.”
“Armin…”
He brushed off the use of his real name under the circumstances. “What is it?”
“I’m,” he paused and took a stuttering breath. He clearly wasn’t going to last much longer like this. They needed to get to the meeting point, soon. “I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? This wasn’t your fault, okay?”
“No, Armin…”
“Shhh, don’t try to talk, alright? I need you to save your energy. We’ll get there, you just need to hold on.”
“I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Stop apologizing Bertolt, you’re going to be fine.” He wasn’t able to keep the crack out of his voice as he spoke. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“I think I’m going to die.”
“No you’re not. Don’t say that.”
Bertolt coughed and blood splattered across Armin’s chest.
“I don’t want to die, Armin. Not like this. Please .”
“You’re not going to die, Bertolt.” Armin lifted the cloth now soaked red to check the bleeding, cursing quietly when he realized it wasn’t helping. “Where are we at, Buzz?”
“Five minutes maybe? Cops are still closing in though.” He took a sharp left. “I’m hoping we can get to the garage before they catch up, but I can’t promise.”
Armin turned back to Bertolt, treating his wound and trying to give him any amount of hope he could. “Five minutes, that’s all. You can hold on for five minutes Bee, I know you can.” Armin shifted his eyes to Bertolts face when he didn’t get a response. “Bertolt?” His eyes were closed. They shouldn’t be closed. “No, no no…” He reached up to grab his face. Cold, definitely too cold.
“What’s happening, Tross?” Jean shouted from the front, hearing the concerning remarks from Armin.
“Bertolt! Come on man, you gotta wake up!” Armin moved a shaking hand to his throat to check for a pulse. It was there, but barely. “Colt! Get the Captain back on now!” Armin shouted, shaking Bertolt trying to bring him back to consciousness without hurting him further.
With the walkie already in hand, Jean yelled into it, “Captain! The Giant is unconscious! What do we do now?”
Almost immediately, Levi’s voice broke through the static. “Dammit! What did I say! I told you to keep him conscious! That was the one thing you had to do!”
“We tried! But there’s only so much we can do in the back of a car speeding away from the fucking cops! Now what do we do!”
“Do whatever you have to do to get him awake!”
“You hear that in the back?”
“Tell him I’m fucking trying!”
“Nothing we’re doing is working, Captain.” Jean was trying to stay calm, but with Armin clearly freaking out, he was finding it difficult.
“You need to shock him somehow! Is there water anywhere in the car?”
“Does anyone have any water!” Jean yelled, frantically looking around the car to see if he could find any.
“I don’t think anyone brought any.” Connie said, chiming in despite the fact that his attention should have been fully directed towards driving.
Jean was checking the side of the car door, under the seat, in the glove compartment, but to no avail. “I don’t think so either.” He then turned around to see if he could spot anything in the back. “Any luck?” He quietly asked Armin who was frantically searching the car for anything useful. He was in the middle of leaning over Bertolt to check under the seat he was on. After a few struggling grunts, a loud sound of surprise left Armin. “I found one!” He yelled, dragging a half empty water bottle out from under the seat.
“Are we sure that’s water?” Jean questioned.
“It’s the best we’ve got.” Still, Armin carefully smelled its contents once he opened it, just to confirm it was safe. With a nod to Jean, he took the water and poured part of it down Bertolt’s face. They were rewarded with a small sound of discomfort from him and he opened his eyes, just barely.
“Bertolt!” Armin shouted with the biggest grin of relief. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. His eyes were still fluttering, he was clearly struggling to stay awake, and he was already pale as a dead man. “Here,” Armin said, lifting the bottle to Bertolt’s lips and trying to get him to drink what was left, “drink this.”
He slowly started to swallow down what Armin was giving him and Jean felt comfortable enough with his current state to inform the Captain. “We got him awake. Barely though. Albatross has him drinking a bit of the water we found and we’re almost to you.”
“Good. We’ll see you soon then.”
“Yeah.” Jean wasn’t so sure, but he had faith Connie could get them there. He checked the rear view mirror on his side to see if there were any flashing lights gaining on them. Nothing yet, but the sound of sirens could still be heard in the distance.
Soon, Connie took a sharp right up a short hill and into a parking garage. He swerved into a spot across from their new car, not giving the lines a second thought, and jumped out to start the new car as quick as he could. Jean threw open his own door and scrambled to help Armin drag Bertolt into the new car.
The drive to their final location was silent, tense, only broken by Armin’s quiet reassurances to Bertolt. Everyone’s hope was dwindling and a collective dread fell over the group. They pulled into a warehouse parking lot after only a couple of minutes and found Levi and Hange waiting for them outside. The three followed Levi and Hange as they carried Bertolt to a makeshift operating table in the warehouse. Even with the sounds of Levi working, the silence of the room was deafening. They all knew this feeling. In this line of work they had felt it before. He was going to die and there was nothing they could do about it.
“You three are free to go.” Hange eventually said in the most professional voice they could muster given the circumstances as Levi continued working to keep Bertolt alive. The statement was not an order, but a kindness. Hange would not force them to stay and watch their friend die. But nobody moved. Hange knew they wouldn’t.
The sector of the organization Hange and Levi were in charge of was close. Much closer than they were supposed to be, but they had found that that had its advantages. There was a stronger trust, they could rely on each other, and they knew not one of them would ever sell out the others. But it also had its disadvantages. This was one of them. Losing a member of the organization meant losing a friend. It made the stakes to an already dangerous job that much higher. And Hange had to wonder if it was worth it.
Levi’s cursing echoed off the walls of the warehouse as the other four in the room watched with a shared despair. Watched as he grabbed item after item to keep Bertolt from dying, but they all knew it was too late.
After an hour, Levi slumped down into a chair, head in his hand with the shame of having failed.
Hange stood to go comfort him. No one blamed him. They all knew he had done everything he could. Armin, Connie, and Jean stood as well. Stood to leave, go home, back to their beds to wake up the next morning and continue to live. It felt wrong. It wasn’t the first death any of them had been through, and with the job being what it is, they all knew it wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t make it any easier. Living with all of this death.