Work Text:
Everything was an utter wreck. People rushed back and forth, desperate to get to their patients. Meanwhile you had been waiting patiently for your own, knowing well that you were about to treat some of the Warriors returning. You couldn't tell who was injured until a familiar face came into your peripheral.
You found your heart skipping a beat upon the man's face, matted with sweat and blood while his face twisted in increasing pain. There was no mistaking it, he was back, your childhood friends Bertholdt with streaks of crimson marks tracing along the outlines of his cheeks. He mumbled incoherently, your eyes then trailing south to see the horrible gash that traveled up the span of his rib cage. It caused his body to palpitate; skin saturated with dry blood splattered everywhere. Upon observing closer in detail, you noticed small bits of exposed, soft pink muscle beneath the endless gushing of dark maroon. Blossoming on his pale blue button down, quickly spreading on your hands, onto your shirt, moving up to engulf your face-
Feeling your stomach sink in horror, Zeke's demanding voice urged you on.
"He needs medical attention now. Stabilize him so he can heal!"
You pushed down the frightening thoughts and assessed the extent of Bertholdt's wounds. Taking deeper breaths to clear your mind, panicking was definitely the last thing you wanted. Other than a couple scratches that adorned his arms and legs, the largest threat was the blow to his abdomen. Still seeping blood increasingly with each second, you realized there wasn't a moment to lose. With your other medical teammates, you hauled him off carefully from Pieck's back.
Reiner and Bertholdt had finally returned, battered but alive. Annie and Marcel were nowhere to be seen, but whatever uncertain fate the remaining two now faced would have to be saved for later, as you slipped an arm around Bertholdt's limp form. You let out a relieved sigh, barely audible when hearing his breathes, languid but otherwise steady. Pulling out a roll of bandages, you were left with discarding his shirt, wrapping the plaster several times around and tying it securely with throbbing hands. For now, he was holding on, but you couldn't imagine him surviving without the best medical treatment when returning to Marley.
Eventually you decided to place your hand in his, and although he didn't squeeze back, you'd hoped that he would at least feel something, even the slightest of tingles. It was an unbearable weight to witness him like this, stripped of his childhood innocence and covered with bloodshed. Your chest was left suffocating and weak with the growing worry that lasted as you turned your eyes towards the diminishing shore that had stirred endless, perturbing memories...
The boat pulled up at your familiar home at last, your mouth unable to form a single word throughout the entire ride, focused on feeling his pulse. The weak heartbeat that otherwise was proof that he was alive. Eventually you were required to escort him towards a safer area, where you could have access to treat him. Pulling him to his feet with every drop of strength you had left, you along with the rest of your team managed to carry him further down where you resided. The hometown that brought back powerful desires and aspirations of childhood, but also uneasy nightmares, as well as lingering fear that consumed at your insides until you could no longer breathe.
Another step and you entered the building, ignoring the carnage, forcing down the nausea that rose up when hearing shrieks from wounded soldiers. They were surrounding, you had grown accustomed to this environment but this time your apprehension seemed to ripple and heighten, every noise grating on your nerves.
A tiny, pained groan snapped you back to him. That's right, you couldn't let him go, you had to focus. Bertholdt's entire body was drenched in sweat; your eyes couldn't rip themselves off of the feeble movements that made up his chest.
You pulled back to level your team leader's attentive gaze, overcome by new tension that sent your senses barrelling into territory you've never imagined before. You weren't hoping that this would become personal, it was highly doubted but determination did not have its holds barred. You were already blurting out the request, the tone acute and hating how desperate you sounded. "Let me handle it, captain. I can take him to one of our private cabins."
Surprised was etched on his features before he clenched his fists, aura morphing into admonishment. "Absolutely not. Are you crazy? Sure, you might be my most skilled individual but this should be handled together!"
You found your brows furrowing and purse your lips. "Trust me when I say that I know more than I might let on. Bertholdt isn't your average trauma patient."
"Of course the superiors told us that when we were accepting the rescue mission!"
"He'll be much safer with me, I can't explain now but I promise I will!"You resisted the urge to yell. Every second wasted was additional suffering that piled up towards Bertholdt. And although your captain did not understand the full extent of your knowledge possessed, it was only doomed to add excessive fuel to the fire.
So you voice came out dangerously low, practically seething in a tornado of pressure. "I can handle it. I insist captain, please."
The world blurred around your vision, there were still noises in the stressful background but they had been muffled as if the present had become sluggish. You waited in bated breath, preparing for the bombarding of rebukes. He wasn't going to; you had just disobeyed orders and put him on the spotlight.
It was downright impossible, he wouldn't forgive you. "Fine."
"...What?" You blinked once before being met with the ghastly sight of sticky, dark red. Instinct took reign and you pressed firmer onto Bertholdt's chest.
"You heard what I said. I trust you, so you'd better make sure you don't regret it." He released his hands on the bleeding gash and turned towards your friend, "Maddie, help out on moving him."
You were left speechless, his retreating back the last thing you saw of him. The medical wing was in a constant state of livelihood, you were positive he was rushing out to treat another patient coming in.
So you turned to your nurse friend, nodding at Bertholdt's form with an uncertain frown. "Let's lift him up on three. I'll take a closer look at his injury while you go check on Reiner, Zeke, or Pieck."
You didn't miss the way Maddie hesitated. Your ears caught her footsteps slowing on the way out of the doorframe, attention secured on loosening the soaked bandages. Immediately blood began oozing out, causing your gut to twist in worry. Your body began to break out in cold sweat; maybe it was a terrible idea after all to be independent with a fatally injured patient.
"You sure you're fine on your own?"
You sighed, pulling up different trays that contained scissors and string. "I can handle this." No matter how much you tried to force your mouth open, the words refused to come out.
You could sense the clear tension in the room; however you pausing to explain were bound to raise suspicion. Treading carefully was the only option; you were walking across egg shells. Maddie couldn't know. It would only stir trouble among your medical peers.
"But why him?"
The hair at the back of your neck rose at the question. She was probing too much; it wouldn't be long before she caught your true intentions. Conceal all the while establishing your authority over her. If only you could interact with him. If only you knew how to get through to him. You didn’t know any better and might’ve seemed exaggerating to save yourself from getting hurt, but nobody else could intervene. "The Warriors have different healing properties and I have done my research."
As time pressed on, you had already pushed her out of your surroundings. Clammy palms stuck uncomfortably against the gloves you were wearing, but your gaze concentrated solely on his wound, battling to delay blood loss.
Several heartbeats went by before a huff reached your ears and the door clicked close.
Hands shaking, you racked your brain which had become a muddled mess of thoughts. You struggled to recall stitching a wound as awful as this one, coming up empty to your surprise. You decided to start with the basics, figuring out how deep the injury had cut.
Layer after layer Bertholdt had been slashed; at this point you were wondering what weapon or object could be sharp enough to make such horrible gauges. It clearly went through skin, past the layer of fat that accompanied his fluids, but it didn't stop there.
If you weren't observing with such peculiar attention, you'd almost conclude that some interior parts of his body had been destroyed and caved in, since there appeared to be an inadequate amount of strength for him to heal. Or perhaps it was too slow, as you peeled back the tourniquet again, wide eyed. You noticed a sliver of new muscle poking out to wriggle west across his wound and replace damaged with healthy, a slow process but beyond astonishing. You had not once seen this, you'd almost believe that it was some miracle or illusion; however time did not give you the choice to dwindle. The elated lightness in your heart was rapidly shadowed by inexplicably shivers down your spine. It wasn't enough.
Bertholdt must have lost tons of fluids, bordering on what could possibly be irreversible impairment. The gash was taking more than you could stop.
Looping the needle through the hole, you attempted to hook the string through, at least knowing the basics. Then came tying the knots. One stitch down. Your breaths shuddered on the way out, judging by the length, you had numerous more to go.
Bertholdt let out a sudden high-pitched whimper, and you felt your stomach clench at his contorted expression. Eyes squinted shut, quiet yet harsh breathes escaped his gritted teeth, his mouth twitched as if to form a tight line. You hated to admit it, nevertheless closing his gash was necessary, even if doing so created excruciating stings. By now the flow of blood seemed to have slowed at the area, your unquenchable worry giving way to relief that the healing process had finally been gaining momentum.
Countless questions roamed your mind, but you placed the scissors down, cutting the last knot. Treatment always came first regardless of wealth, status, or if you knew the person. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to imagine talking to him after eight years. Personal connections with patients were frowned upon; Bertholdt probably didn't even recognize you anymore. Yeah, that was it. You'd check to see if he's startled by your appearance, and if not, then you'll move on.
You pulled out another roll of bandages, wrapping around his torso. You found your hands moving on their own accord, the repetitive action providing additional comfort that your aching fingers craved. Nothing needed to be said unless prompted to.
Except watching him limp as a doll, you could only feel remorse, your heart agonizingly shattering piece by piece similar to the small blossoming blood stains that seeped through the thick cloth. Only time would give answers now.
"Hang on, Bertholdt, just a little longer..."
By the time you were finished, your nerves were fried and you couldn't think properly. Frigid muscles ached with each step, but you wouldn't trade anything else to save Bertholdt and help him recover. At last you were finally free from the gruesome nightmares, he was right here. In what felt like forever, he was within arm’s reach, breathing and alive.
You had already done everything in your power to treat him; however his squirming and incoherent mumbles hadn't ceased, much to your dismay. You drifted back and forth between whether to get up and leave, despair sinking into the pits of your stomach. You were scared of touching him, uncertain how he would react. Judging by the way his eyebrows and mouth twitched, you assumed that he was conscious enough to feel and hear his surroundings, even if it was dream-like.
Screw it. He was human all the same, and a tiny, childish part of you wanted to remember how it felt, fingers entangled while his thumb brushed delicately over your knuckles. It was selfish, but you wanted him back, calm laughter, heartfelt smiles and all. Knowing Bertholdt, you were positive he must have discovered it and felt the same way too. How there could be glimmers of beautiful light in a dying world this cruel. How joyful people existed who could show mercy in the darkest of hearts. Or maybe they could see through the crimes, and gain understanding for your suffering. You had grown up with belief that there was a reason for everything.
The haunting blood splatters had melted into thin air as you watched his breaths even out. They were steady and peaceful as if your touch gave him comfort, lifting the horrible burdens that plagued his body.
"Can you hear me, Bertholdt?"
You hadn't expected him to reply, for his eyes to flutter open with a fragile glance. He surveyed the room for a moment before his hands pushed against the bed, struggling to stand up. You silently place a hand on his chest, meeting his pupils with a soft smile yet forcefully above the idea of overexerting himself. Instead you shook your head and handed him a glass of water, he surely had many questions circulating around the current situation.
In a hoarse voice, he spoke words for the first time since he came back."Where am I? What happened?"
You internally grimaced as his eyes ghosted over his hands, along his chest to see the bandages, and then back at you. They were void of warmth; you flinched at the man as he glared menacing daggers like a cornered kitten.
"What happened with the mission? Where are Reiner and Zeke?"
You still refused to meet his gaze, petrified that this was Bertholdt's true colours after the mission that had trapped his sanity. Upon receiving silence, his tone then softened considerably, taking onto something closer to a desperate plea.
"Please answer me..."
Your thoughts began spilling slowly at first. "Well, Reiner and Zeke are fine for now. You're currently at Greenfield's Hospital Wing, located in Liberio. You suffered major trauma to the abdomen and required medical attention immediately upon being rescued from Paradis." You raised an eyebrow at his blank face, his pupils like the swirling darkness of an empty portal. You made a mental note to tread with caution. "What do you remember in regards to previous events, Bertholdt?"
"Sorry." He placed a hand on his forehead, frigid as a stone. The way his jaw tensed and air inhaled shakily through gritted teeth made your gut wrench. "I can't remember..."
You had despised the harsh military training after you had not heard from the Warriors in a long time. Witnessing Bertholdt's passion throughout the entire course gave you a tiny ray of hope, but it crumbled when he proudly told you that he was going to leave. You had known the inevitable, however when it struck you found out you were never prepared. You had never wanted him to leave from the beginning.
It wasn't a surprise that you became disgusted once the government fed out lies and dismissed the queries on the Warrior's progress. No sooner than that, mistrust began to spread rapidly around the methods of taking in Eldian children.
Looking at Bertholdt now, you felt a small flame being rekindled in your heart and you take his trembling, sweaty hands from their clenched state on the sheets. "It's okay, you don't have to answer that."
"Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I..." You averted your eyes, uncertainty surging up against your chest. There were countless things you wanted to say and ask. Damn it all, you couldn't even bear to form a single coherent thought. You lowered your hands, there was no point. He gazed at you, irises glassy for anything, waiting for you to spill. What came out of your mouth came as a breathtaking shock to him.
"It's me. You still...remember, right?"
An elated sigh escaped his lips, his fingers brushing over his face. The colour of his cheeks dusted pink, mouth curved in a pleasant smile you could barely recall. You still couldn't be affected by his overjoyed expression yet. "I just can't believe..."
Meanwhile, you couldn't voice your growing euphoria; you thought he had buried those memories in the cold, irretrievable depths of his shattered mind. Warmth spread over your body, across every expansion of your skin. Long ago on the day he'd left, you thought he'd lost his way back and you were powerless to halt the plan.
Tears brimmed at his eyes, rolling down his cheeks in numerous droplets. You watched as they splattered onto the floor, his rasp whisper tearing your heart into overdrive. "I thought I'd never see you again. I wasn't even sure if I'd make it back home."
You couldn't utter another sentence, reaching to envelop him in a hug. The both of you were in a private world, hidden away from society. "It's okay. I'm here now, you're safe."
Transfixed by his safe embrace, it soothed your trembling hands as he squeezed tightly around your back. You found your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, wet sensations travelling down your neck as droplets rolled like falling crystals.
"I've done unforgivable things. You don't understand, I can't face Marley like this...We've failed, our mission wasn't finished!" You were appalled by this cynical side of him, breaking down, shoulders shaking and hopeless.
But what made your breath catch were his intense eyes, glaring at you with such anguish that it made your throat burn. In closer proximity, you could see the detailed flecks of emerald, tiny shards shining around his irises. Eyebrows furrowed, you hesitantly placed your hand on his head, fingers running through matted raven hair. "You've had incredible resolve, even if the main goal wasn't accomplished. You've already done more than enough, and I'm sure Marley will accept you as a hero."
"I just wanted to prove to everyone that I wasn't a spawn of the devil. That I wasn't bad, that I could free myself from this hell. But it's obviously not how this cruel world works."
You hated seeing him vulnerable like this. He looked up at you blankly, the tears drying on his face, and then he growled, dangerously low but hindering on intentional hurt at you, instead it seemed borderline on a feeble outburst. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because you deserve happiness." It occurred to you that no other thought could be simpler.
At first, the only sign he had heard you was the tightening of his fingers against your back, digging in painfully. You'd much rather have that then live through another nightmare of losing the only person you had left. You were starting to think that what you said might have taken a heavier toll on him when the sobs came louder, harsher. Those heartfelt words shocked him into silence; you were on the verge of tears yourself. You'd like to find out what everything was truly for, the sacrifices, the hardships, but in reality it was an endless journey to come back where you began, right back in the presence of your long, lost friend. There was only so much Bertholdt could take, and this time you had another chance. In this life, you couldn't afford to let him go. Searching wasn't going to be an option.
Inside, he wasn't who you remembered him to be. He was a shell of his past existence, numb to the world and its precarious balance. He was nothing but a broken soldier, and you had to pick up the pieces of his delicate essence. It would have to start tiny, caring for his every need and telling him each day that he mattered. But eventually, you believed there would come one day where he could live his years free of enemies, free of death and destruction, in a whole new harmonious lifestyle. Where he could be recognized, and achieve contentedness with himself. Only then could he learn to love, to perceive others as equals in plain light.
And with that, you took his face in your hands, brushing away the bitter remains of his tears. You gave him a smile, the one that you would only ever dare to show him during the colours of your childhoods, before pressing your lips briefly to his in a breathtakingly aching, wistful kiss.
And when you pulled away, he smiled back, small and yet resonating deep within the roots of your throbbing pulse.
"You're finally home, Bertholdt..."