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It had been Bertholdt's hope that Reiner would stabilize once they were away from their comrades. With himself and Ymir as the only familiar faces around, surely he'd stop getting those devastating looks of non-recognition. Surely, he'd be able to look the blond in the eyes and see his warrior; confidant and sure, the only person who truly understood him at all.
This hope was for naught, as leaving the wall seemed to serve only to fracture his mind further. He flitted in and out of lucidity to the point where Bertholdt was afraid to look at him, never knowing if the gaze he'd meet would be full of love and a warrior's pride, or confusion.
Bertholdt was the follower and Reiner was the leader, it had always been true of them and always would be. However, the leader's instability had thrust Bertholdt further and further into the leadership role he was so unaccustomed to and so uncomfortable with.
Ymir was worse than useless.
"Braun, fucking cut it out," Bertholdt's insides twisted up in knots the moment he heard the girl's harsh voice while he was keeping watch. He couldn't make out Reiner's reply, but he was already turning around when she followed it up with, "Bertl, the psycho's fucking at it again!"
"Reiner!" He called firmly as he turned to walk back to them; as sometimes his voice seemed to be enough. His lover was already standing and turned on his heel at the sound of his name.
And drew one of his blades.
Bertholdt's insides turned to ice. He'd been looked on with confusion many a time, but no matter how severe the episodes had gotten he'd never been perceived as a threat. "Reiner!" he managed to choke out again, unable to get over the shock of the situation.
Ymir seemed to agree with him, as he heard her mutter a "… shit."
Now that he was close enough, Bertholdt could see the expression in Reiner's eyes. Nothing had ever made him feel so lost and sick. They were hard and full of hatred, and even so he was not ready for what came next.
"Traitor," he was immediately reminded of Eren's cries of 'murderers!' and fought the urge to throw up. Reiner's lip was actually curling into a snarl, that hateful gaze still fixed on him.
"Braun, put that thing down. Don't hurt him, you fucking moron." Ymir hovered near him, obviously hesitant to approach someone so much bigger and more well armed than her with nothing, but unwilling to sit idly by either.
Bertholdt fought to harden his resolve, fought to keep the gaze he'd always bowed under when it came down to it. Reiner needed him, and this was no time to be weak. "You are a warrior. We're warriors, Reiner. Please, remember." He kept his voice level, slowly raising a hand to show he meant no harm.
"We are nothing."
He did not have time to be wounded by the words, as his instincts made him draw his own blade and bring it up just in time to stop Reiner cleaving down into his shoulder. The blades were not at all meant for hitting each other, but he managed to flick the blond's out of his hand and acted fast. Reiner was stronger but he was no weakling, so he dropped his own blade and used his weight to slam the bigger boy back against the tree behind him.
"Reiner," his voice came out in an uncharacteristic growl that scared even him a little. "It's me, Bertholdt." Something seemed to have startled Reiner into inaction, there was no telling if it was that alien tone in his soft-spoken lover's voice or the war going on in his own mind. "Remember me, remember Berik. He died saving you. Remember our hometown. We're going back there, now."
Reiner's gaze had drifted from his own, and Bertholdt gathered all the aggression in his meek, passive being to fist a hand in close-cropped fair hair and force him to look back.
Such a dominant motion broke what was an apparently temporary spell, and Reiner snarled again and knocked him back with almost enough force to wind him. He landed on his ass on the ground in a clatter of 3DMG, and though his own mind refused to let him look upon the only person in his life who had never harmed him with fear; this was the nearest he'd ever come.
Ymir jumped in front of him, unarmed, and it was the last thing he'd expected.
"Reiner, for fuck's sake, don't do this!" Behind her, he scrambled to his feet, subtly sinking into a fighting stance, something he could defend himself from. He knew Reiner more than well enough to know he could hold him at bay as long as it remained hand-to-hand.
As long as he could bring himself to strike him.
"Stand aside, Ymir. He's not really our friend."
Bertholdt swallowed it, pushed the echoing we are nothing out of his mind. He needed to be strong. It might be Reiner's voice that said it but he did not mean it. He would never say something like that.
"I won't stand aside and let you do something you'll regret. It's fucking Bertholdt, you piece of shit, you live to protect him! I get that, okay? So if you can't do it, I will until you get your brain back, you fucking psychopath,"
"Ymir," Bertholdt managed to keep his voice level, though any measure of confidence was beyond him. "Stand aside. I can fight him."
"You're an idiot." Her voice was thick with disbelief.
Bertholdt had no self-confidence, and would be the first to admit that. He had no aggressive drive, submitted to the first show of dominance, and socializing with his peers was so beyond him it was like they were speaking another language. But he knew he could fight, he knew he had skill, and most of all, he knew he had to do this.
He grabbed Ymir by the back of her shirt and bodily pulled her comparatively small frame out of the way. She was too shocked by this show of assertiveness to resist and stumbled to the side, leaving nothing between them.
As a child being taught so young how to fight, the adults had to pair Berik with Reiner during sparring practice because Bertholdt wouldn't strike him. This was not Reiner - it just looked like him. There was an absence of any of that loving kindness in his eyes.
So Bertholdt not only struck, but first. His forearm was blocked but he'd expected that and drove his fist into Reiner's chest, following it with a knee to the stomach because what he lacked in muscle he more than made up for in speed. He crossed his arms in front of his face, but it left him unprepared for an uppercut that damn near broke his jaw.
Almost no one had seen Bertholdt truly angry, and it scared even him when he recognized that right now, he was pissed. This was not sweet, confused Reiner who turned to him with a look in his eyes that said he really didn't know where he was, nor was it the macho boasting soldier he sometimes became on the way to his confusion, the young man who joked with his friends but failed to give a spark of recognition when he looked upon his lover. This was someone else entirely, and whoever it was Bertholdt hated them for what they were making him do.
He did not hold back this time when he drove his forearm into Reiner's throat, and when he heard him choke he used the opportunity to kick him back towards the tree; again bodily pinning him there, one foot set back and bracing against the inevitable brute-force retaliation.
"Murderer," Reiner spat, and the pure venom in his voice only solidified that he was someone else entirely.
"You're a fucking murderer!" Bertholdt was shocked to hear himself yell, his voice breaking with how little-used it was to speaking at any volume. "You're as much a murderer as I am, you broke Maria!" He was desperate. He slammed himself against Reiner's chest again, unable to shake him any other way, fighting back the tears pricking at his eyes. "You're all that I have and you can't fucking leave me!" He was barely aware of Ymir standing and staring in shock. His body trembled without his permission and he fought to stay strong.
For a moment he thought he finally had him back, one desperate, glorious moment that made him let his guard down.
Reiner's huge hand was at his throat, squeezing, and stars popped in front of Bertholdt's eyes. "Goddammit, Reiner!" He heard Ymir screech, saw in his peripheral that she was raising her hand to her mouth. She really was going to try and protect him.
Too well-trained to instinctively claw at the hand cutting off his air or try to choke in return, he made use of his longer arms and knocked his fist hard against Reiner's temple to stun him. It made him temporarily loosen his grip, and utterly hopeless, Bertholdt used the last available thing in his arsenal.
He surged forwards roughly, but the hand that slid around to hold the back of Reiner's neck was gentle and caring. Before the other boy could react, he pressed their lips together - at first chaste, then moving his mouth softly, pulling and tugging at Reiner's lower lip and trying to encite him to kiss back, to take control.
Bertholdt's heart physically ached. We are nothing. His eyes felt wet, tears that longed to fall caught in his long lashes. His thumb stroked through the fine hair at Reiner's nape and every moment the blond didn't respond to him the urge to fall against his broad chest and cry like a baby got stronger. He could taste blood in his mouth, undoubtably from Reiner's fist having loosed some of his teeth.
"Please," he mumbled against wet lips, his barely audible voice shaking. "Please, please…" he couldn't do this alone. He needed Reiner desperately, he always had, and now…
"Why are you crying, Bertl?"
His voice was foggy, like he'd just been woken from a deep sleep; and Bertholdt knew instantly that he had him back. If he'd tried to answer his voice would not have come out level, so he just threw both arms around Reiner's shoulders and pressed his face into the warm skin of his neck.
"… well, I'd say that you just tried your best to kill him might have something to do with it." Though Ymir had regained her usual flippant tone, even Bertholdt could tell she was relieved.
"I what?"
"Yeah. And then he kicked your ass and it was totally awesome."
Bertholdt didn't care. All he cared about was that he didn't have to be strong any more, that he didn't have to be the leader.
That he didn't have to be alone.