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dorminchu · 8 months ago

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Between Heaven and Earth: Chapter Four

Elsnir is the name I gave the Scouting Legion’s old HQ, for simplicity’s sake—there’s no direct relation to the aptly-named castle featured within the visual novel Attack on Titan: Escape from Certain Death. I've also moved and retooled a scene with Annie and Hitch from Ch02 into this one, for the sake of continuity.

Once the hole in Wall Rose was sealed, there wasn’t any time to mourn. That same evening, Private Jaeger was interned under the authority of Nile Dawk, the Commander of the Military Police Brigade. For two days after the operation, Jaeger remained in a comatose state. Until there was a clear indication of his intentions, it was best to err on the side of caution. Once Jaeger was up and talking, there'd be a tribunal.

In the meantime, the soldiers who had been present for Jaeger's transformation were called into the Garrison HQ for questioning. Those who had lost their lives were catalogued and rounded up to be immolated. The death toll was somewhere in the hundreds.

Captain Kitz Woerman of Wall Rose’s Garrison, Southern Division, refused to step into the same room as Jaeger until he was interned, but he was more than happy to join Nile in Commander Pixis's office for the interrogations. Without a consistent outlet for his nerves, he would fidget from one leg to the other. On any given occasion, he would check his pocketwatch for lack of anything better to do.

Instead, the constant, subtle click of metal opening and closing made Nile’s day just a little more aggravating. No wonder why Pixis carried around a flask full of whisky. Not for the same reasons as Nile would, if he had the luxury. He couldn't afford the label of an eccentric tactician.

The Garrison soldiers who’d detained and assisted Jaeger during the operation in Trost were unsure what to make of him. Despite the illogical notion of a human turning into a Titan, Rico Brzenska said, he’d saved a lot of lives—if not for their luck with the boulder, Wall Rose would’ve been forfeit.

The survivors of the 104th Training Corps were baffled by his transformation. Initially, Jaeger had ignored the other soldiers in favor of pursuing the Titans wandering the streets, and eventually to the larger mass of Titans that swarmed the supply depot. His method of attack wasn’t mindless—in fact, the cadets had described it as a crude form of unarmed combat, reminiscent of the techniques they’d learnt in military academy that year.

As Private Kirschtein walked out, Nile checked his own pocketwatch with a scoff. "We've been at this all morning and we're as close to an answer as when we started. There must be something we're not seeing."

Pixis took a swig from his flask. "What about Private Arlert? He's close friends with Jaeger, from what Shadis has told me."

Nile relented. "Bring him in, then."

With the oak desk between them, Private Arlert seemed smaller than he was. The haircut did him no favors. He saluted once, waiting for Pixis to address him.

"During the battle for Trost, how did Eren's Titan behave? Did you communicate with him at any point?"

"He didn't demonstrate a capcity for communication with any of the soldiers, but he didn't seem to mind us either. The first time, we were able to corral him through the streets toward the supply depot, whereupon he killed every Titan he could get his hands on. When he transformed to absorb the cannonfire, he didn't even acknowledge what he had done to me or Private Ackermann. All he wanted to know was if we were all right. And during his final transformation, after I got down to him he was able to retrieve the boulder and dam the breach. In each case it was as though he already knew what he had to do beforehand."

“According to Captain Woerman, and the other soldiers present,” Nile said, “Private Jaeger stated his intent to “kill them all” after he was pulled from the Titan’s neck.”

“Private Jaeger was referring to the Titans, sir. When he transformed in front of Captain Woerman, it was in self-defense.”

Woerman scoffed. “So he disguised his true nature from his comrades—even those were close to him.”

Private Arlert said, “Sir, I truly had no idea he could transform in the manner he did, let alone in a controlled capacity. Furthermore, the body he formed to absorb the cannon fire was incomplete. After his initial transformation, I don't think he was able to create a fully-formed Titan. Enough time had passed before he transformed to pick up the boulder.”

Woerman’s voice shook with incredulity, “But he lost control of himself during the operation. He attempted to strike Private Ackermann multiple times and injured himself. How can you explain that?”

“And Private Arlert was able to revive him,” Commander Pixis said, “whereupon Jaeger successfully retrieved the boulder and sealed off Wall Rose.” He caught Arlert's eye and gave a slight nod.

Woerman grimaced. “That’s what a Titan sympathizer would say.”

A muscle jumped in Arlert's jaw, but he held his tongue. Nile said, “Arlert, you’re dismissed.”

As Private Arlert walked towards the door, he caught Ackermann’s eyes and nodded curtly.

“Private Ackermann,” Nile said. “Do you believe Eren Jaeger is a threat to humanity?”

“No, sir. Eren saved my life and the lives of many soldiers.”

“But he struck out at you,” Woerman said, unable to contain himself any longer. “The final time he transformed, he didn’t recognize you. He attempted to crush you with his fists several times, injuring himself in the process. Why would Private Jaeger turn on one of his fellow cadets?”

Ackermann met his gaze. The scar along her eyelid stood out prominent against her softer face. “When I cut him out of the Titan the first time, he was delirious and running a fever. As long as I've known him, he’s never raised a hand against me, or Armin.”

Woerman’s nervous laugh raised an octave. “Not as a human!”

"Woerman," said Dawk, "if you cannot conduct yourself I’m going to ask you to step outside." He looked at Ackermann. “Do you have any idea what would have caused him to strike at you?”

“No, sir.”

“Has he expressed any desire to harm himself, or others?”

Ackermann adjusted the scarf around her throat and said, “Eren can be headstrong, but not to the detriment of others. He was able to follow orders when the need arose. Armin managed to get through to him. He’s not a mindless Titan.”

Even after she was dismissed, Nile was facing down another stalemate. Private Ackermann’s story didn’t contradict Arlert’s. Despite Woerman's heightened state, Nile could sympathize with his concerns. This sentimental defense of Jaeger by his peers grated on his nerves. Mankind wouldn’t survive for long in the hands of a wildcard.

Ordinary Titans weren’t capable of communication, nor carrying out complex tasks. Jaeger’s inexplicable, volatile behavior was more reminiscent of an Aberrant Titan—but so too did it suggest a capacity for free will. The convenience of his transformation couldn’t be brushed aside as a miracle, or some underground project to create super soldiers—it wouldn’t be the first time Pixis pulled a bluff out of his ass.

Nile stopped himself. Eren was a human turned Titan. Humans possessed no ownership of the Titans that saw fit to consume them. To entertain such a notion, even as a slip of the tongue, would no doubt encourage the same line of thinking as Pixis’s bluff.

A knock at the doors stirred him from thought. One of the Garrison soldiers, a sandy-haired cadet with a fresh, unremarkable face. Nile couldn't place a name.

"Grice," said Pixis with an air of familiarity, "I trust you've got good news."

“Jaeger is awake, sir,” said Grice. “Commander Erwin’s expressed an interest in questioning him before the tribunal.”

“I'll inform Private Freudenberg and Feulner,” said Nile. "Were you stationed in Trost?"

"No, sir. I was called in along with the rest of my division from Karanese, in order to assist the displaced civilians. Captain Brzenska bade me to pass along the message in her stead."

Something was off. Brzenska wasn't the type to pass along orders to a junior officer. Ever so, Jaeger was under the Military Police's jurisdiction. Grice shouldn't have the clearance to be made aware of Jaeger's location, let alone his current condition. Throughout Nile's time in the Military Police, it was common for senior officers to pawn their duties onto those below them under threats of extortion, or other perks. Grice didn't seem the type to take such an underhanded deal, but that didn't mean he was incapable.

Pixis said, "Very well. You're dismissed."

Grice inclined his head. "Sir."

As the doors shut behind him, Pixis said, “Nice lad. He was in the 103rd Training Corps, if I recall rightly. He'll make a fine Captain if he keeps up the pace, wouldn't you agree, Woerman?”

Woerman glanced fitfully at Nile. "This matter isn't Grice's concern. I expect an MP must have bribed him somehow."

"Kitz, for God's sake," Nile muttered. He already had a terrific headache.

Pixis considered his flask. Opened it, tipped it to his mouth, empty. With a small grunt he closed it and stowed it away. "The way Shadis described him in the report, and from what I’ve observed, Colt's not the type to take bribes. But you raise a good point, Kitz. I'll look into it."

"It's more than likely an MP," Nile said through his teeth. "I'll deal with it myself."

As Nile stepped out into the hall for a cigarette, he walked past a pair of cadets. "Some kind of gear malfunction," the taller boy was saying. "He told me he was going back to help Diamant, but that was the last anyone heard of him."

“A Titan must’ve got him,” said the broad-shouldered boy.

Braun and Hoover. They’d been questioned the day before. Hoover caught sight of Nile as he passed and seemed to hitch in the middle of his words. Nile gave him a curt nod. “Friend of yours?”

Braun nodded. “Marco Bodt. We didn’t expect it would be so sudden. Just a couple of days ago, he and Bertholdt were talking about where they’d go up ‘til graduation. He was looking to get into the Military Police.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your colleague.” Nile paused. "If I may ask, what branch are you considering?"

“The Garrison,” said Hoover, “at least originally. Now I’m not as sure. There’ll be an influx of applications to the available divisions. With my skillset, I wonder if I’d be better off in the Military Police Brigade or the Scouting Legion.”

Nile bit back a retort. He’d seen far too many soldiers throw their lives into the Scouting Legion with nothing left to bury. His personal feelings didn’t enter into this. And the Military Police Brigade, hell, he hadn't heard of anyone getting in from the Training Corps since he was a cadet. “You two were in the top ten?” No point in crushing their dreams. Sooner or later, they’d come to accept that it was one lesser evil over another. Nile said, “At any rate, I hope to see at least one of you in the Military Police.”

Hoover started to speak, but Braun nudged him in the ribs with a strange smile. “You and Annie would be set for life.”

Hoover brushed him off with a scowl. “You’ll have to excuse Reiner, sir. He’s been a little overeager since the success of the Trost operation.”

Nile exhaled. “Right, then, I’ll be seeing at least one of you.” As he continued down the hall, Braun was saying, “At least give yourself some time to think about it.”

⁂

The Military Police responsible for Private Jaeger's containment were happy to let someone else talk to him. Jaeger could not answer, nor could he justify in any reasonable measure, his inability to explain what had happened, or why. Accused of something he hadn't even recognized as within his capacity until this afternoon, one would assume his knee-jerk response to be anger.

Manacled, unbridled, he wouldn’t look at the guards on the other side of the bars. If their eyes met by chance, they'd flinch as if he were a dog and he’d look at his feet as if it would quell their response. The heavy door opened and closed, reverberating off the stone walls.

Private Jaeger's eyes flickered to the source of the noise. He sat erect. Standong across from him, none other than Corporal Levi Ackermann and Commander Erwin Smith of the Scouting Legion.

“How are you feeling?” Erwin asked.

Jaeger collected himself. “F-fine, sir.”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions if that's all right.” The MPs had been asking the same questions, as though he'd simply conjure the answer like a body from air. But coming from such an esteemed figure as Commander Erwin, he was willing to answer to the best of his abilities. Jaeger watched in silence as Commander Erwin pulled up the wooden stool Freudenberg had been sitting on and reposed himself. "You transformed firstly when you were in the Titan's stomach, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember what you were thinking at that moment?"

"I just wanted to get out of there and find Armin." He blenched under the implication of his own words. "I can’t explain how I did it. I don’t even remember doing it—I just knew that Armin was up there. He needed me to protect him and so I did, same as Mikasa and everyone else. It was if I'd always been able to do it, not that I had forgotten how or instantly learnt to." Jaeger's attention drifted to the scowl pronounced on the Corporal's face, though his unease seemed to come from a different source. "It doesn't make sense. I should be able to explain how to do something, if I've been taught."

"Your squadmates estimate you killed around twenty Titans unassisted," the Commander said. "Do you remember any of it?"

Jaeger glanced at the manacles around his wrists. "Not as it happened, sir. Just that they had to be eradicated. I don’t remember much clearly, aside from waking up here. But I knew it had to be done, and so I did it. That's what you do, isn't it?"

His tone dulled. His eyes betrayed a glazed-over vestige of anger. It wasn't the Titan alone that frightened Woerman out of his wits.

"What we do is for the survival of humanity," the Commander said, holding Eren's gaze. "But vengeance for its own sake is not a part of our operations in the Scouting Legion. If you're as serious as you claim to be about joining, decide what it is that's driving you."

Jaeger's eyes flickered. He straightened his shoulders, bowing his head slightly. The same light in his eyes melted back into a barely-contained reverence and he said, “Thank you for the consideration, sir.”

For the duration of their conversation, the Corporal had only listened. He reached into his breast pocket and said, "We found this. Nearly lost it when Ackermann cut you free. What's it for?"

The key glittered, dangling on its string. Jaeger stiffened, tilting forwards despite his restraints. The Corporal held eye-contact.

"Private Ackermann believes it's important to you," the Commander said.

"My father gave it to me." Jaeger's tone dropped a few degrees. "It's crucial that I do not lose it."

"So, it's just for sentimental value?" the Corporal asked.

Jaeger seemed to chew on his words. "It's a key to the basement of my childhood home," he said. "It is important that I return there."

"For what reason?" the Commander asked.

Jaeger's eyes lowered, a crease in his brow. "He—my father told me that I needed to return there. There’s something in the basement that will allow humanity to eradicate the Titans, and retake the land beyond Wall Maria. That's all I know."

The Corporal and Commander exchanged a glance that Jaeger didn't catch. "You'll have it back after the tribunal," the Corporal said, stowing the key in the breast pocket of his jacket. "As long as you don't try anything you shouldn't."

"Thank you, sir." The boy's eyes glittered. "I-it means a lot, that you would do that for me."

The Corporal's mouth thinned. With a Titan-kill count reaching into the triple digits, he'd earned the moniker of Humanity's Strongest. Hero worship came with the territory, but coming from a kid who'd turned into a Titan, it wasn't exactly on his bucket list. As the dungeon door scraped closed behind them, the Corporal held back what he'd wanted to say from the moment Erwin began speaking to the kid. It wasn't until they were out of the catacombs that he muttered, “If Zachary clears him for service, he’s going to be a goddamned pariah among his squadmates.”

“They’ll come to see otherwise,” Erwin said. “Titans, as we know them, can’t be reasoned with. Eren has expressed no ill-will towards us or any of his comrades.”

"You don't trust him," the Corporal said.

"I believe him when he says he has no clear recollection of his actions," Erwin said. "Perhaps Hanji will have a better idea of what's ailing him."

“I thought he was going to try and tear the bars off the wall when he say that key.”

“It’s all he has left of his home,” Erwin said, in a careful tone he used whenever he was thinking several steps ahead. “But it’s curious that he mentioned his father. Even Nile couldn’t get that out of him.”

“Nile never asked about the key to begin with,” Levi muttered. “Who the hell would think to?”

⁂

After the crippling failure to retake Wall Maria, the next wave of cadets imported from the fields and overflowing halfway-houses were unprecedentely young. Sure, a handful of kids would lie about their age to get by, but that was to be expected. The 104th Training Corps weren't only young, but hardened by two years of horror. If their families hadn't been killed during the breach, they were sent to their deaths, or else succumbed to illness or famine. When they dedicated their hearts, there wasn't any hesitation or slack like the previous division.

While the instructors took great pains to make sure all the cadets were able to progress beyond simple balancing exercises and free-climbing, there were always the odd few exceptions that, by bad luck or sheer stupidity. Training accidents were infrequent, as were deaths. Cadets with minor injuries would often return to training as usual; the instructors and Garrison infirmary worked as a team to ensure the survivors were kept in good health, all for the sake of having more hands on deck.

Helga was just another nurse. She was fortunate enough to be living in Wall Rose when the news came in. She made enough money to get by, and lived within visiting distance of her mother and sisters.

Displacement from their civilian lives had denied them much room for individual expression, though there were glimpses—Private Springer was unparalleled at throwing horseshoes. Private Lenz talked little, for all of the interest in her by the other boys about her peaceful, maternal air. There was a disconnect between her reputation for generosity and the quiet, stolid girl whom Instructor Brecken described to Helga. Lenz struggled to remain in the top twenties, more content to fetch hay for her horse than speak to anyone. It was a miracle that she'd reached tenth best in the end.

Private Jaeger was no stranger to injuries. The first year of enlistment, his gear malfunctioned and he’d cracked his head—though he only came away with a minor concussion and his spirits undeterred. He’d had several sprains, a couple broken noses, between overextending himself and getting into friendly sparring matches with Private Leonhardt. Never anything that he couldn’t weather with enough rest and due diligence.

His blunt naivete resonated in the way he fought, throwing himself wholeheartedly into training exercises. By fifteen, he’d earned the nickname "Suicidal Bastard" and took it on the chin. Nothing could deter him from his stated goal of joining the Scouting Legion.

The last time Helga spoke to him, he'd wound up in the infirmary again. The other nurses said he’d been impaled on a branch about the size of his forearm. Private Jaeger was a very courageous boy—as easy as it would be to blame his zealous nature, accidents happened even to the best of soldiers. Pale-faced and clammy, he had groped clumsily at the front of his threadbare shirt, the same one he’d been wearing since he was thirteen, and pulled out a little metal key hanging from his neck. He looked her in the eyes and said, very seriously, that if he didn’t make it, Helga was to give this key to Private Ackermann.

Helga promised. What else could she do? Any hopes of him joining the Scouting Legion would be discarded—the field missions, at least, were out of the question. He could still get by as a technical instructor, they'd say, as if it would fix things. An idealistic boy such as him still had to learn that the world did not make much room for their fancies. Why should Helga make him feel worse than he already did?

In the week he was bedridden, he never complained about his injury, nor bad luck while his friends were visiting, but he’d confided in Helga about not wanting to end up back in the fields while his friends moved on.

Helga told him that a proper soldier had to think of the consequences. It wouldn't do to be so reckless. There were plenty of ways to fight for humanity that didn't revolve around the front-lines. And Jaeger didn’t argue, just set his jaw and held the thought without a word.

Then, one day, his bed was empty. Either he'd moved on, or been sent home to whatever family he had. She didn't see fit to ask. She wouldn't have the luxury of grieving when so many lives depended on her. Enough tragedies within the last decade had dulled her inclination for an immediate response. With a weight in her gut, she got right to work. She was laying out sheets for the bed he'd slept in. Instructor Shadis was barking orders. Out of habit, she glanced out the window and froze. The sheets tumbled from her hands onto the mattress. A scream clawed its way up her throat but wouldn't relinquish.

A trick of the light. Of her memory, she told herself.

Even when the nurses asked if she was feeling well. Especially when the doctor took her aside, into his office, and explained that Jaeger had been cleared for training.

Helga's breath wouldn't come back to her. She'd seen him, still, running laps, as if nothing ever happened. Just a few days ago he’d come in coughing up blood and bleeding through the sheets. There was nothing anyone could do to remedy his condition, even in the most optimistic of circumstances. At best he'd be a cripple. More likely, he wouldn't live more than a week. That was what Helga and the doctor came to an agreement on.

As it turned out, Jaeger was never officially cleared for medical discharge. When Helga made to contest this decision, Jaeger’s medical records came up missing. None of the other staff were keen to discuss the topic, and Helga couldn’t kick up a greater fuss without risking her job—by the time Private Jaeger had graduated, it was water under the bridge. When had these instructors become so willing to overlook a grievous injury? The thought of this boy winding up in a worse spot than when he’d left was not only cruel, but wholly irresponsible in the face of preserving mankind's future.

So, after hearing of Jaeger’s transformation in Trost, and the outcome of his tribunal, the situation made even less sense. It was as if the Goddess herself had thrown Helga's intentions back into her face. If Helga had done what she assumed to be right, insisted that he was unfit for military service, then Eren Jaeger would never have made it to graduation. He wouldn’t be making headlines as an icon of humanity’s strength, the new bastion of the Scouting Legion, inspiring his fellow cadets to enlist in his wake.

He’d seemed like such a brave, earnest boy. The idea of a human that could turn into a Titan was beyond all reason. What kind of nightmarish world would that be, if people could explode into monsters without their prior knowledge?

Now the Military Police were going around, trying to retrace his steps. The majority of the officers arrived on Nile Dawk's behalf. Without a commanding officer to ensure they did their jobs, the regular MPs allotted the bare amount of effort asking questions and complained to each other about wasted time. There was one officer, though, who spent a great deal of time chatting with the doctor—by the time Helga was finished tending to her latest patient, he still hadn’t left.

One of the aides tapped her arm. "He wants to speak with you."

There must be a mistake. But Helga wasn't going to make a scene. If an MP asked to speak, you went along with it. The officer bade her into the doctor’s office and shut the door behind him. He walked over to the desk, upon which a series of files had been laid out. He gestured, and said, “You recognize these names?"

Helga glanced over the files. Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover, Annie Leonhardt, Eren Jaeger, and Ymir Fritz. She looked at the officer. He had a cruel, aged face, grey eyes. His hair and beard were greying, making him look older still. Most likely in his forties.

"Five cadets from the 104th Training Corps," the officer said, "were reported to have experienced discrepancies in their medical history. Only one of them is being paraded around as an icon of humanity’s future.” He smiled good-naturedly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “The doctor told me you were one of the last to tend to Jaeger. Says he had some kind of training accident.”

Helga’s blood went cold. Her eyes darted to the doorknob. The Military Police had ways of making inconvenient details go away. She hadn't allowed herself to consider the possibility that the doctor was in over his head. By adhering to her own loyalties, she'd trapped herself within a much bigger problem. But the officer had not accused her outright of tampering with the documents. Perhaps he was willing to give her an out, as long as she played along. "I wasn't responsible for Eren Jaeger's release from the infirmary. He'd come in several times before. Given that he was able to pass the technical examination, I suppose it must've been a miracle."

"I suppose that's why his medical records have come up missing," the officer said, gauging the stutter in her composure with a slow, unfriendly smile. "Now, to me," he said, placing his body in front of the door and lowering his voice, "this whole situation reeks of bullshit. I get the feeling you have your own idea, and if you're telling me what you think I want to hear, well. Let's do us both a favor and not insult my intelligence."

Helga's heart hammered in her throat. All she could picture was her ailing mother and sister. "Please," she whispered, "don't make me do this. I have family."

The officer paused. As if flicking a switch, his demeanor lightened. “Ma'am, I’m not here to make an arrest. But I've heard second-hand from the other nurses about this situation, and I think it's worth the attention. You know how they love to talk." Helga forced herself to chuckle even though she sounded on the verge of hysteria. He took her shoulder. "For the sake of the public’s faith in their new icon, you have my word that I'll get to the bottom of this.”

“Sir—”

“Please,” the man said with a smile, “call me Kenneth.”

⁂

Life in Stohess's Military Police HQ wasn’t much to write home about. Leonhardt kept waking up expecting the sound of crickets.

Her roommate, Hitch Dreyse, was a handful. Her side of the dorm room looked as if a storm had run through it. She smelled like perfume and kept getting into trouble with her superior officers, who interpreted her talkative persona as a source of untapped vulnerability. Dreyse wasn’t an idiot, nor particularly promiscuous, despite what most of the other MPs would insist to Leonhardt. If she were truly stupid, she would have been promoted up the ranks a while ago.

The only other person who would tolerate Dreyse was Marlowe Freudenberg. He'd been in the 103rd Training Corps division, along with Grice. Leonhardt hadn't asked if they knew one another, because there wasn't a good enough excuse to, and Freudenberg was the type to follow-up on any inconsistencies in a story.

There was the occasional drunken brawl outside during the evenings, but those were easy to break up. Leonhardt was excellent at breaking up fights. Last week, she’d done some ground-work on behalf of a private client. She was so apt at interrogation, that her commanding officer pulled her aside the following afternoon and asked how she’d feel pushing papers, for a change.

I’d be happy to, sir.

Just like that, no more stress relief. Doing her job was directly antithetical to the MO of the Military Police. As if that weren’t enough, Grice’s correspondence had slowed to a standstill. No doubt he was busy, trying to blend into his role as a dutiful Garrison soldier. The last time she’d received a letter from him, she was still in the Training Corps.

But even on a good day, Dreyse was not the first person she wanted to talk to in the morning.

Hitch Dreyse sat next to her. "The food's better quality here than in military academy. It's 'cause they use beef stock instead of beans. The royal family has its own pastures, and all these high-faluting types can't bear to have anything less. So half the country is eating as usual, and half of them have to be happy with beans and potatoes. Which I suppose is a hell of a lot better than starving."

Leonhardt's mouth was dry. The taste of salt and iron lingered in the back of her throat. "That's nice."

"You look tired," Dreyse said. "Or is it just the way you look naturally?"

No matter how monosyllabic or innocuous Leonhardt kept her responses, Dreyse would initiate conversation. She was a decent source of intel, because she truly didn’t have a filter. Leonhardt held her gaze. "Does that line work on guys?"

Dreyse's eyes widened, as if she hadn't heard correctly. She cackled, drawing the attention of half the other soldiers in earshot. That wasn't the reaction Leonhardt was hoping for, but it was better than hurting the other girl's feelings. Dreyse was a magnet for interpersonal issues, so there wasn't a point in holding her nature against her. Leonhardt took a sip of coffee and scowled. They were out of sugar.

"What's so funny?" Feulner called.

"This kid's got a sense of humor," Dreyse said, clapping Leonhardt on both shoulders as if she were a human-sized doll. "'Course, they'd never know it, living with you," she intoned, as if they were the only two people in the mess hall. She was putting the brunt of her weight on her feet, sitting forward on the bench. Flipping Dreyse over the table after a week of being on her best behavior wasn't ideal, but old habits were tempting. For all her faults, Dreyse wasn't nearly as obnoxious as Braun.

"Do you and Marlowe ever talk?"

Dreyse sighed. "God, Freudenberg's too busy working to think about anything else of consequence." She side-eyed Leonhardt. "He's a real pain in the ass, though I think he means what he says about reforming this place. I bet he's the only onehere who cares half as much as you."

Leonhardt intoned, "You're a real comedian, Dreyse."

Dreyse simpered. "Come on, I'm serious. Have you ever heard of an MP who wanted to do his job? There's Commander Dawk, but he's hardly around, is he?"

Leonhardt hmphed into her coffee.

“Anyways, that's not what I wanted to tell you. I heard that Eren Jaeger's been made an honorary Scout. They’ve got him locked up someplace. I think it’s Castle Elsnir, the old Scouting Legion HQ. Over to the east of Trost." Leonhardt hummed noncommittally. “He was in your training division, wasn't he? What was he like?”

Leonhardt shrugged. “He was very interested in joining the Scouting Legion. I thought that he’d make a good captain if he didn't get himself killed first.” As she turned, Dreyse looked a little underwhelmed. “Why?”

Dreyse shrugged. “I just wondered, is all.” Leonhardt wasn't sure what to make of such a concession. A person like Dreyse didn’t do anything by half-measures. "But, God, it's a horrible idea, isn't it? A human turning into one of those things."

If the Military Police had their way, Private Jaeger would’ve been sentenced to a firing squad.

“Yeah,” said Leonhardt. “It’s like nothing I could imagine.”

#snk #aot #fanfic #fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #eren jaeger #nile dawk #dot pixis #kitz woerman #armin arlert #mikasa ackermann #erwin smith #captain levi #kenny ackerman #colt grice #I said I'd write short chapters didn't I...

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