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His head hurt. Everything hurt. All of it had happened so fast.
In an instant, Armin had gone from attempting to stop Daz from touching the detonator attached to the explosives on the flying boat, to collapsing face first on the cold, hard floor of the dock, choking up blood.
Neither his mind nor his body were able to comprehend what had happened right away. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins so quickly that the pain of taking several bullets to the face and torso didn’t immediately register. His blue eyes were wide with shock as he laid incapacitated on the ground. There was a horrible, strangling sensation of drowning and a struggle to breathe after his left lung was punctured and had collapsed as a result. His mouth and lungs filled with blood before he was even able to understand the fact.
At some point during Connie’s brief talk with Samuel and Daz, the situation had escalated. Armin still didn’t understand how he’d gathered the strength in that moment to tackle Daz to the ground.
Connie ended up shooting both of them dead. With Armin having already been shot three times and Daz threatening to put a fourth bullet in his head, he couldn’t take the risk.
Armin lost consciousness at some point after Daz’s body had slipped off the dock and begun descending into the ocean. Connie had been the one to help him to his feet, his body weak from the injuries he’d sustained just moments earlier. He still wasn’t sure whether it had been Samuel or Daz who initially shot him down, but it wasn’t worth asking his comrade the answer to that question. It didn’t matter anymore.
When Armin stirred, he was alone in an unfamiliar room. The porthole beside the bed he was laying on told him that he was on the ship, and that the ship was moving, but he couldn’t yet focus his eyes enough to make out the details in the small fish and ocean plants that passed by outside the small window. Relief came over him, they had succeeded in their plan at least.
His shirt was wet, the bed sheets were wet, his skin was wet. Breathing in, the blond caught an overwhelming smell of iron. Blood. His blood.
It didn’t take long for the pain to hit after that. His entire face felt like it was on fire. Ironically, and unfortunately for him, he understood well what being on fire actually felt like. This wasn’t like any kind of agony he’d experienced in the past, though. It was different somehow. The pain grew worse and more concentrated in the area surrounding his right cheek and jaw, and if not for the fear of half of his face falling off, he was sure he would have screamed.
The only sound he could manage at this point was his previous wheezing, the excruciating pulsing sensation in his chest making it apparent that he was still suffering from a pneumothorax. Hadn’t he been able to heal at all whilst he was unconscious?
Armin had managed to haul himself into a sitting position. For a brief moment, he considered trying to stand, but ultimately decided against it. If he ended up on the floor again he’d be stuck there until someone found him.
He didn’t like being by himself in here, not knowing where the others were or if they were okay. He became aware of the fact that his ODM gear and cloak had been removed, and the top few buttons of his shirt left undone. Someone had been in here to check on and tend to him since the battle. The thought provided him with some degree of comfort, and yet it overwhelmed him with shame. He’d been completely useless while everyone else was fighting for their lives.
He was almost starting to worry that he’d been long forgotten below deck when the door to the room he’d been left in opened, startling him a little. Connie walked in, his expression was somber, most likely from the day’s events. Nonetheless, he did at least appear relieved to see Armin awake.
The blond opened his mouth to speak, to ask questions about what had happened while he was out of the battle, momentarily forgetting the state he was in. That half-second of impulsiveness before he realised his error was all it took for his face to erupt in pain. He felt a weight drop on his lap, and was horrified when he looked down to discover a piece of his jaw had fallen out.
Connie’s expression was a mix of shock, disgust and concern. Armin couldn’t see him too well from the sheer amount of steam in the room, something he was no doubt responsible for. They were below deck, it wasn’t as if they could open a window.
“Don’t try to speak. The injury is messy and complicated, your healing abilities aren’t handling it very efficiently. It’s like your body can’t decide whether to repair what’s there or just grow a new jaw from scratch,” The taller of the two dragged a chair over to Armin’s side and took a seat. “Luckily there were exit wounds for everything, so we didn’t have to go fishing around inside you for bullets.”
The blond shuddered at the thought of his friends having to hold him still while someone shoved their fingers inside the raw puncture holes to try and grasp at any remaining shrapnel. He’d gotten lucky in that regard.
“We’re on the ship with the flying boat in tow. In the end, we had to fight the Yeagerists,” Connie’s face was a picture of regret. “Everyone is on board, except for Magath. He stayed behind to blow up the other ship so the Yeagerists couldn’t pursue us. He died in the explosion.”
Armin lowered his head, saddened by the news. At the very least, having only suffered one casualty was extremely lucky, as outnumbered as the alliance was in that fight. He wished it didn’t have to end in bloodshed, but there was no going back now.
“All of the shifters got pretty beat up in the battle, but your injuries were the worst. The rest of us without healing powers got through unscathed, though,” Connie continued, there was some degree of amusement in his voice. “Mikasa’s worried sick about you, I'll let her know you’re up.”
Armin nodded, albeit very gently, communicating with his eyes more than anything else. He’d been left somewhat paranoid about moving his head after what had happened earlier. The chunk of flesh and bone he’d lost was still sitting on the edge of the mattress. He tried not to look at it too much. Still, he was glad no one else was hurt as a result of his failed plan.
“I came down here to try and get away from the seasickness, but I think you’d be better off if we tried to move you above deck,” Connie glanced around the room they were in. “It’s so stuffy in here, the cabin’s gonna get moldy and you’ll get an infection if this condensation keeps up.”
Although it was said in a half-joking way, Armin understood what he was getting at. While Eldians with the power of the titans could heal wounds with varying levels of severity within a day, their powers did nothing to erase illness and infections. They’d discovered that the hard way a couple years ago after one of their experiments got ugly.
The neverending flow of steam coming from his body was making the room uncomfortably humid. The air was growing pungent with the smell of blood and decaying flesh. Connie took hold of his left arm and slung it around his neck, placing his other hand around the injured boy’s right side in an attempt to shoulder some of his weight. The blond had bordered on being underweight his entire life, so the action of lifting him into a standing position wasn’t difficult in the slightest for a trained soldier like him.
It was, however, painful, evident by the way Armin’s eyebrows furrowed as he drew in a sharp hiss. It was more of a gasp than a hiss; He was missing several teeth and half of his tongue, the sounds he was able to make were limited.
Connie had hurriedly apologised, offering to slow down or stop and let him lay back down, but the shorter of the two tentatively shook his head. It was frustrating, borderline infuriating, being unable to communicate how he was feeling or what he wanted. His friend was patient with him, and while he was doing a good job at guessing what Armin was trying to convey, it still wasn’t easy without a voice of his own.
Eventually the pair managed to get out of the room and down the corridor, the process slow and painful. They arrived at the bottom of the staircase that led up onto the main deck after a few long minutes of cautious shuffling.
“You sure you’re okay to keep going?”
Armin nodded, with a little more vigour and intent than before. He was confident his jaw was no longer at risk of falling off, now that the fibers of torn muscle and shattered bone had started to reattach themselves.
Moving down the hall was tedious enough. The way Connie had to half push, half drag his comrade up the narrow staircase was almost impossible in comparison. The blond didn’t have much strength to assist him either, and they lost their footing and stumbled several times, nearly toppling over each other in the process. Armin’s heart caught in his throat every time he felt them sway too far to one side. Thankfully, he was always able to regain a sense of balance and prevent himself from tumbling to the very bottom of the stairs.
Armin didn’t even need to ask Connie if they could stop and take a breather, not that he could even if he wanted to. He was grateful that his friend had noticed how strained his breathing had become and allowed him to lean against him momentarily to compose himself the best he could.
They reached the room above deck where the others were situated. Thankfully, the window was open and he could breathe in the fresh salty sea air. He wouldn’t have to worry about stuffing the room up with his steam anymore.
“You look worse than me.” Levi commented dryly from where he was sitting in bed, pillows propped up behind him. It was the most lucid Armin had seen him since the accident, he was glad he seemed to be recovering. The man’s Ackerman blood was responsible. No other human would have been able to live through an explosion like that, let alone be sitting up and talking two days later.
The blond tried to give him a sad smile in response, but his lips wouldn’t curve upwards the way he wanted them to, the nerves there not yet repaired properly. His Captain’s expression could have easily been mistaken for one of apathy or uninterest, but Armin had been working under him since he was a prepubescent cadet. The man had practically raised him and the rest of his squad, and he could see traces of concern and sympathy written on his face.
Levi was visibly worried about someone like him, despite the state of his own body, and it made him feel ill.
If only they could switch places. If only the Captain were the one able to heal his wounds instead. If only Armin could just be a corpse slowly rotting on the dock back at the port, no, burnt to a crisp back on top of some rooftop in Shiganshina. That’s how it should have been. It wasn’t fair that someone as useless as himself was given this power, this privilege, over someone as valuable as Captain Levi.
Over someone as valuable as Commander Erwin Smith.
The shifter frowned, his features scrunching up in disgust at his own worthlessness. His mouth was getting so dry, he hadn’t yet grown back the muscles needed to close it. He was so desperate for water but had no possible way of drinking it. It was nothing short of torture.
The blond heard muffled voices from further down the corridor. Curious to understand what was being said, he attempted to take another step forward, nearly crashing to the ground face-first when a stab of pain in his chest caused him to falter.
“Armin! If there’s somewhere you want to go then you need to tell m-“ Connie realised the error in his sentence a little too late, but Armin wasn’t going to get irritated by it or hold it against him. Everyone had already had a rough day, and it was hardly noon.
He caught sight of Annie and Mikasa nearing the end of a difficult conversation. Armin shuffled further forward with Connie’s help, earning a few concerned glances from Jean and Reiner in the process. He’d only managed to catch the last few sentences spoken, but the way that the usually stoic and stone-faced Annie was kneeling on the floor in tears as Mikasa tried to comfort her, told him everything he needed to know.
“I don’t want to fight anymore. Not with any of you. Not even with Eren.”
It struck a chord in him that he couldn’t place, and he could feel his wounds piece themselves together faster as a result of it.