Chapter Text
On Jean’s s third sleepless night in the sparsely filled barracks, his disturbed thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of feet coming down the hall. He’d memorized the hall guard’s rounds by now, so he knew before the door even opened that it wasn’t just a check-in.
His suspicions were confirmed when the faint light from the hall illuminated the slight form of Armin Arlert. Although he couldn’t quite make out his face, he could tell by his posture that he was weary –and alone. Immediately after the rescue mission in Trost he, Mikasa and Eren were taken away to another town to attend a trial by the higher ups, or so he was told. The three of them had been absent since the “success”. Eren not being back now with Armin no doubt had to do the outcome of the trial.
It dawned on Jean then that Armin was currently unaware of any fatalities since the wall-sealing mission. An already all too familiar ache in his chest accompanied the thought, with Marco’s face flashing through his mind. He knew deaths were to be expected in his line of work, but never did he consider it would happen to someone that close to him –he was supposed to have lived a comfortable life behind as many walls as possible. Perhaps that’s why he felt like he was taking it worse than some of the other trainees; to Jean this was his first taste of the Titan’s devastation and his first loss of anything important to him. It made him feel weak and small, and despite the days off given to all the trainees leading up to their branch selection ceremony to allow for “emotional rehabilitation”, he felt no better than he did after the numbing shock of seeing what was left of his friend’s face, jaw gaping and skin off-coloured. He felt pitiable, alone, having a hard time connecting to the friends still with him. So instead he had allowed the sour, sickly feeling of his loss, all the grief and loneliness and helplessness to spread and fester and leave him empty and ultimately unable to sleep.
For the past three nights he felt envious of the soft sounds of snoring around him as he laid with his blankets up to his chin, staring at the underside of the bunk above him. Since the burning of the pyre the best he could do has been a fretful half-sleep, which, if not plagued with the thought of Marco’s end, was instead fouled at the memory of all the other comrades he watched get devoured as he stood unable and unwilling to do anything to help. These thoughts prevented any rest at night, and cast a depressing atmosphere during the day.
Jean wasn’t sure what prompted him then, as Armin shuffled quietly past his own bunk to get to his own (despite the number empty spaces now, everyone remaining still felt the strange obligation to their old bed) to speak up –he wasn’t particularly close to the kid, his associations with Jaeger enough to warrant some distance, but he knew Armin frequently spent time with Marco; their quiet dispositions seemed to make for easy friendship.
“Marco’s dead.”
His voice made Armin jump, startled. He looked over to Jean’s form on the bed. He felt their eyes connect and for two or three terrible seconds, and Jean felt like he was reliving the horror of his own discovery as the realization flashed across Armin’s features. Yet Jean kept his face unreadable, aided by the dim lighting.
Finally Armin’s hushed voice, “No. Oh no, not him.” It was said in the tight, broken way of someone shocked by grief. A sound that had become way too familiar. Jean could see in the weak light that his fists were clenched, and he was a little surprised to realize his were too, bunching up the sheets under his blanket. “Did… you see? Was it…” Armin’s thin voice trailed off. Was it meaningful? Was it helpful? Was it fast? It was a question that couldn’t really be put into words but he knew what Armin was asking. Was Marco’s death a good death, in the abstract way one could hope to die in situations like the one humanity faced. It was the sort of question that was getting asked a lot.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see. It was… I found him during the cleanup. Or what was left.” He found he had to stop there. Armin was closer now, kneeling down so that he was almost at eye-level next to his bed. He could see his face now, eyes wet and shining. He felt oddly grateful that the boy didn’t respond to the news with an “I’m so sorry Jean” or something similar. Everyone still alive in the barracks had been mourning, but anyone who was aware of Jean and Marco’s close friendship seemed to have taken the time to apologize. Apologize for what? Did you rip off half his skull?
Armin’s voice was tight again and he momentarily put his hand on the edge of his bed, in what he assumed was to be a comforting gesture. He didn’t say anything for a while, and averted his eyes for a time before bringing them back up to catch his own. “Thanks. For letting me know.” He got up then and stiffly finished making his way to his own bed. Jean could no longer see him as the bunk was located behind the one he was currently curled up in, but he could tell from the sounds that the guy didn’t bother changing into his sleeping clothes and instead seemed to just fall straight onto the creaky mattress.
Jean was left again to only his thoughts and the soft sounds of sleeping around him for just a short while before a new sound entered the mix. The muted noise of hitching breaths, and barely audible whimpers. Armin was… crying? Perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel some of the noxious feelings trapped in his chest escape. He knew it was in poor moral taste to benefit from someone else’s grief, especially someone as pitiful as Armin Arlert, but despite himself he could feel some of his pain numbing.
So for some reason he couldn’t quite sort out, to the backdrop of Armin’s muffled sobs Jean was finally able to fall asleep.
Jean woke up that morning feeling a couple shades closer to merely “tired” and further away from borderline comatose. His couple hours of sleep was making him feel more like himself than he had felt for days.
A quick look around the room let him know that he was the last one up; even Connie’s bed was empty and made. Connie made his bed? Now Jean noticed that most of the trainees have their stuff cleaned up; small packs sit at the ends of a large proportion of the beds. Right, today is the day the former trainees move out and join their chosen factions. An anxious feeling bubbled up from his gut, remembering his earlier resolve to join the scouting legion.
No time to think about that now. Hoping he hadn’t missed breakfast entirely, Jean quickly dressed himself in his uniform and rushed down the corridor. He’d have to pack his things later.
Entering the mess hall he’s relieved to see most people seated still have their trays on the tables in front of them. He quickly grabbed one and helped himself to whatever slop was being offered for the day. It was then he realized that he must have missed breakfast, as it was lunch that was put on his plate.
Trying not to think about all the vacant tables, he made his way over to where some of his friends are seated, talking quietly amongst themselves.
“Connie you ass, you could have woken me up –I still appreciate meals you know.”
A very slight look of relief passed Connie’s features as he slid his empty tray to make room. “Eyy, it looks like you’re feeling a bit more like your charming self again.” He knew this was said in jest, but there was some amount of truth in it; Jean hadn’t been trying too hard to partake in any of the attempts of light conversation. There was something awfully sickening in the way everyone, after the initial evening of the burning pyres, seemed to try and force themselves back into their normal mannerisms. For Jean, he had found this completely impossible, choosing instead to keep to himself. In retrospect this had probably made everyone --even people like Connie, feel a little alienated around him. Luckily he now felt he had the energy to patch things up with an abrasive jibe or two.
“Connie tells me you looked so angelic in your bed, he didn’t have the heart to rouse you from your beauty sleep,” Sasha piped in, a faint smile on her face too.
Ignoring her comment Connie went on, “You managed to sleep through Armin’s entire stack of books collapsing as he was trying to pack this morning, I doubt I could have woken you up even if I tried.”
Through a bite of food his eyes reflexively looked to the corner where Eren usually sat. Armin was there, facing Mikasa whose back was towards Jean. They looked to be engaging in conversation, but Armin must have noticed the glance because he stopped momentarily to give a smile and a small wave in Jean’s direction. He didn’t return it.
“Speaking of Armin,” Jean began, “what happened with those three after they were taken away? Jaeger’s presence is a hard one to miss.”
“Oh right, you weren’t around when they were telling the story this morning.” Sasha spoke up again. “Long story short, Eren’s been put into the scouting legion’s custody. Apparently it was either that or get “tested on” by the military police.”
“So that’s why he’s not here?” Eren could turn into a titan. That itself was some pretty messed up bullshit, to say the least. He couldn’t blame the military police for being curious, although if he could use his… power to further help out humanity he supposed that was a pretty good option too. Admittedly, from what he’d seen, Eren was able to do a lot more damage than all of their swords combined. Hell, Jean couldn’t recall any of the trainees killing titans during the mess in Trost, although he suspected Mikasa may have been an exception.
“There’s more too but, eh, I don’t really understand it myself,” Connie said, eyes closed in what Jean supposed was his best attempt at a face deep in contemplation. “You can try talking to Armin or Mikasa about it, if you want.”
Jean was about to call Connie out for his useless crypic tidbit but at that moment the mess hall door swung open.
A military police officer Jean didn’t recognize marched in towards the center of the room, and started loudly, “Alright you bunch, I know you guys were supposed to be having your new branch initiation ceremony this afternoon but there’s been a bit of a change of plans.” He paused a moment, the murmurs of others in the room already bubbling up. “Quiet! Now there’s been a bit of a situation last night, and two very valuable titan specimens have been killed.”
“They captured titans?? We can actually do that?”
“Shh, shut up Connie.” Jean kicked him lightly under the table.
The booming voice continued, “So we’ve been instructed to inspect everyone’s gear, check for gas usage and such to make sure you guys are all off the hook. In an hour and a half you are to report to hall 14 for an inspection. All ceremonies will proceed after the check.” With that the official looking man nodded at Shadis, turned on his heel and left, door slamming behind him.
Shadis stood up and his voice bellowed, “You heard the man, get your gear and get moving! I doubt there will much time after the inspection so unless you don’t mind never seeing them again I suggest you grab your belongings too.”
Shit. Jean shoveled in two more spoonfuls of food (porridge?) before adding the sound of his chair pulling out to the symphony of others as everyone tried to shove their way out of the hall. He was fast enough to avoid the bottleneck that was forming at the double doors, and slipped through them. Instead of making his way directly to the sleeping quarters, he turned a corner and stopped by the bathing rooms to pick up his toothbrush and his bar of soap (a gift from his mother). By the time he made it to his bunk most of the people had already left, only a few stragglers trying to shove some things in their packs. Jean followed their example and shoved what few clothes he had, his sketchpad, a packet of dried fruit (another gift sent from his mother…) and his book on the history of the military police. As he tied his bag closed he thought with some grim irony that he wouldn’t be needing that anymore, but as it had been given to him by Marco it had more sentimental value than anything else he owned.
Taking a side exit he quickly made his way to the 3DMG shed, quickly found his gear in his cubby and fastened the clips as quickly as he was able. This time he was truly the only one left in the small building.
By the time he made it outside, Jean groaned at the spread of people out ahead; he must have been the last person to leave. Not having fond enough memories of the place to warrant a nostalgic look behind him, Jean jogged to catch up with the back of the bunch. He tried to ignore the slight pang of annoyance at the realization that none of his friends bothered to wait up for him. Jean never got along the greatest with everyone, but Marco had by no means been his only friend.
After a minute or two of hasty walking he managed to catch up with Armin’s familiar face. The boy didn’t only have the standard issue backpack, he also had another bag slung across his shoulder. Why would he bother bringing all his books? Does he not realize there are libraries where he’s going? Jean couldn’t help but think with irritation.
“Oi.”
Armin turned to him, his face already starting to look sweaty from the trek. “Jean?” He looked ahead again, looking slightly confused. “I saw you were one of the first to leave at lunch earlier, we all thought you would have been way up front by now.”
“I overslept a bit and forgot to pack my things ahead of time.”
“I see.” He adjusted the strap on his shoulder pack and continued looking ahead. Now that he was closer, he noticed the bags hanging under Armin’s eyes. Dark and purple, just like Jean’s, except the boy was so pale that somehow they looked much worse. A sudden feeling of awkwardness hit him then, now reminded of the crying he heard last night. Armin didn’t appear concerned nor ashamed though, his face still looking determinedly ahead.
“It’s okay to feel sad you know.”
If Jean was drinking anything he surely would have choked at that moment. “Ehh? What are you talking about? --Don’t assume things!” If Eren could turn into a titan, was it possible for his friend to read minds?
Armin’s side glance made him feel sheepish as he tried to regain his composure. “I just mean no one is expecting you to be fine. Maybe it’s not as obvious when looking at other people, but no one is fine right now, Jean.” Jean didn’t say anything to that, just kept looking in front of him, his lips a tight line. Armin continued, “Of course, if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. But…” He sighed, and there was a silence long enough that Jean thought Armin decided to stop talking. “... sometimes things are easier to deal with when you have someone to talk to.”
If this was Connie or Reiner, Jean might have kept up his passive-aggressive charade, asked them what the fuck they were talking about and had the whole thing dropped immediately. Strangely though, the blunt sincerity from this guy he knew just barely enough to call a friend had him a little at a loss for how to respond.
“R-right.” He chewed the inside of his cheek a moment and shuffled his bag more comfortably on his shoulders. “I, uh, thanks. But I don’t think I’m really ready for any of… that. Talking I mean.” He laughed darkly, “I’m finding it hard enough just waking up in the morning in case you didn’t notice.” He doubted he would have the emotional capacity to open up to anyone for a while. What was there to talk about anyways? How shitty their lives are? He doubted that would cheer him up. He hoped Armin wasn’t going to push the subject, his thoughts were already beginning to wade in the same waters of the past few days.
They still had quite a bit of a walk until they would get to hall 14, although it was now faintly visible up the hill. They were all trained with the horses, of course, but considering the time it took to have them prepared they were usually only permitted to use them for longer travelling.
“Right of course.” Armin’s tone of voice changed then, and became a bit brighter and more conversational. “Did you know a single spider web can contain up to 60 meters of silk? And a single spider is capable of producing up to 6 different kinds, all from special glands in its abdomen.”
There was little silence after that point, and by the time they reached the doors to the hall, Jean had probably had Armin speak to him more than in all their years as trainees, and found he now knew much more about spiders than he ever had any desire to know.