[Normally Bertholdt’s jump might make her feel bad; not right now. She’s not mad at him (but she is), it’s what he’s saying (but he’s saying it), and if he didn’t actually move—]
[Well. He does. And it’s no rush, but it sounds like it should work, and it doesn’t, and Bertholdt’s being so callous but it’s not his fault he’s a ghost, of course he was defeated before he got here—]
[Aubrey looks like she’s still fuming. Her hands are tense, still hovered over Armin, but—useless. As far as she’s concerned he started dying when she wasn’t paying attention, and it makes her want to jump off the roof.]
I’m not giving up. [Hands ball into fists, dropping hard on the tile. What, does she have to punch him? It’d feel like desecrating a corpse. He just got his arm gouged open, for god’s sake.] I’m not, I am not giving up on him.
[Back to Bertholdt; furious, desperate.] If he’s an illusion then he’s yours. Why is he like this to you?
[The question catches Bertholdt off guard; cuts through him like a knife, in fact. It's a good question. It's one he's not prepared for; not even prepared to think about, really.
[She's probably right. Of course, Bertholdt never did see Armin quite this way-- The thought dies before it can complete itself. Upon looking at Armin again, he's young, just the way Bertholdt left him; longer hair, a smaller build, more intense trembling.]
I...I don't know, I...
[Armin never quite seemed scared of Bertholdt when he was still alive, nor did he ever show quite so much mourning, but...Of course, it makes sense, when you think about it for more than a few seconds...
[His jaw clenches. He feels like he might cry himself.]
I'm the reason he's like this...
[The reason for Armin's pain and grief. The reason for everyone's pain and grief. The reason that humanity has been driven right up to the brink of extinction. The reason there's famine and shortage inside the interior. The reason Armin's grandfather is dead; he and countless others. Armin grieves by pure virtue of Bertholdt's existence.
[He feels sorry for him. He isn't supposed to - he never was - but...he does.]
You must know, right? It's our fault. [He, Reiner, and Annie.] All of it.
[A moment later, however, desperate:]
But we didn't-- We had no choice. We thought we were doing the right thing. We didn't know...
[Something changed. Armin changed. It confirms the illusion and it’s a stab through the gut. Is the real him trapped—in that shifting body, somewhere else?
[Bertholdt pulls her attention back. He looks like he’s going to cry. Guilt claws its way in; the pieces haven’t quite settled, to Aubrey, but the outline is faint. He was a titan. Armin ate him, had to eat him. And, nine years ago…
[He’s so human, for a monster. They all are.]
[There’s a temptation for the anger to grab that admission, claw at it til there’s nothing left. How could anyone think attacking a town was the right thing? Even if they were young—
[“We didn’t know.” And the past can’t be changed. No matter whose fault....]
[Aubrey is silent for a while. The fury dissipates in a figurative steam; she looks at Bertholdt, past him.
[It’s all so goddamn sad.]
It’s already happened. [Finally, she sounds distant again. Not entirely, not dead yet. But not quite here.]
[Finally, tears do spring into Bertholdt's eyes. He's good enough at holding back the worst of the emotion, but only in the way that makes it rot in his chest.]
I know. I know that.
[At this, he lets himself fall back into a seated position on the roof, immediately pulling his knees up to his chest again.]
I'd accepted it. I really had.
[Reiner, on the other hand...
[A shadow appears behind Bertholdt without him noticing; his friend, but older, kneeling on the roof with a rifle in his mouth. Bertholdt continues, unaware.]
I had no choice but to live with myself, you know? Even up until the end, I could tell myself they were all Devils if I tried, but...
[He shakes his head. Reiner cocks the gun. Bertholdt still doesn't notice.]
It wasn't true...They were our friends, we...We came to love them...
[His voice sounds quiet, broken.]
How couldn't we...?
[Another shadow; this one should be unmistakable to Aubrey. Eren Jaeger, removing the rifle, holding out his hand, pulling Reiner to his feet. A ghostly echo makes Bertholdt turn his head:]
"We are the same."
[The shadows dissipate. Bertholdt's eyes are wide.]
[The sight, the rifle, jolts her back. She wants to yell; not even a shadow— Bertholdt continues, Eren appears but it’s not him, and it’s Bertholt’s turn to startle first.]
Eren… [Nearly breathless. She knows that wasn’t him, the real him; the sight caught her anyway. The suicidal man, the other one, Reiner—less important, for the moment. And they’re both gone just as suddenly as they appeared.]
[Toys. A captive audience to shadow puppetry. When will it end…?]
[Bertholdt whips his head around, desperately searching for his long lost friend, but Reiner is nowhere to be seen. He shouts his name again, as useless as Aubrey's hands on Armin's shoulders.]
[Ah… he keeps begging. Sobbing, now. Aubrey is pulled in two: empathy for the mourning, and for the love of god shut up. It might be a clearer judgment call if he was a complete stranger, if she didn’t know he was just as if not more tortured than every single person she’s met out here. Or, of course, if he was Armin or Eren, someone she knew and would never dream of being… cold to....
[She would, though. She has been.]
[And so the hook pulls.] It wasn’t really him. [At least biting back irritation.] He’s not here.
[Like Armin’s not here, a shivering husk in his wake. Like Eren’s not here. Nothing but fog and grief.]
[Bertholdt squeezes his eyes shut tight, his entire body rigid with tension. He looks like he could explode. "Get it together, dammit. You're a warrior. You're a--"]
God...
[Just one more sob. Just one. He sucks it back in with a sharp breath, forcing his eyes open. He slaps clumsily at his eyes, frustrated - overcome.]
This is Hell, this is...
[It's just what he deserves, but...
[He tucks his head in between his knees long enough to scrub his hands through his hair a couple of times. He feels like he's about to lose it.]
[Strange how it doesn’t dawn on her to do the same. Try to resurrect Armin, maybe. But the world’s risky enough, never mind a person....]
It changes when we’re in control. Of ourselves. [Which, somehow, Aubrey doesn’t feel like she is. But she’s grasping for it; it’s how she’s explaining anything at all.]
[He feels the shame of a soldier. 'Be in control.' What Aubrey's saying doesn't make sense, though. He can't just make home out of nothing - certainly not out of this place.
[It would seem impossible, if only this were the sort of place where that word made sense. Bertholdt closes his eyes. He visualizes it. Liberio, with all of its coldness and hatred; with all of Bertholdt's friends and family. He knows this town like the back of his hand, even after all these years.
[He's wanted so badly to see it again. It's hard to do that with his eyes still closed, but, even so, the scenery surrounding he and Aubrey does begin to shift.
[Liberio is nothing like Shiganshina - nothing like anything Aubrey will have seen from "Eren's world". The streets are paved with uniform cobblestone, the buildings tall and lit with electricity, not torches. There are even cars (albeit old-fashioned) rattling up and down the street. Here in Bertholdt's neighborhood, there isn't anyone outside without an armband on. He's wearing one too. In fact, his entire outfit has changed.
[He opens his eyes. They're still perched upon a roof, but it--]
It...it can't be...
It's...?
[Home. Home! Bert lets out a breathless laugh, tears springing back into his eyes again. Another laugh follows, then another, until he's properly laughing. It's a joyous sound. Despite everything, his home is his home is his home. And he is finally, finally home...]
[First thing Aubrey notices is Armin-not-Armin fading with the initial rooftops. It tugs at her, but it at least confirms he’s not actually here. (She thinks. Hopes? That… may or may not be a good thing, when he was distressed last she heard of him. Hell knows what he and Eren will be like when she sees them next.... But worrying about that right now is more useless than anything.)]
[She does, at least, spare a glance around the new scenery. It’s… weirdly anachronistic, she thinks, compared to Eren and Armin’s memories. And what’s with the armband? Those dots will connect later, maybe—but for now, Bert’s commanding her focus, and he’s thrilled.]
[“Heartwarming” is a strong word, right now. She manages a small smile, though. It’s not wholly forced.]
Ah, be careful— [Not just because they’re still on a roof, but that’s part of it.] It’s still not the real thing…
[“So enjoy it while you can”? …Nah. Too callous. Let him have this.]
[The last thing Armin remembers is having a small episode in the Wal-Mart. Here and there, he'd have flashes of Bertholdt's memories in Shiganshina, but once it was all over, he was simply...back in the aisle with the wet floor, alone.
[Nothing more to do aside from clean up, so that's what he's doing when Aubrey arrives.]
Aubrey! [He's glad to see her and he looks it.]
I'm sorry, I...I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to freak out like that - where...did you go?
[Huh. Closing her eyes and thinking of the last time she saw them actually worked.]
[Aubrey looks a little disoriented, stepping back into view under those buzzing fluorescent lights. But when she sees Armin, up and okay (and mopping up, at that) she’s tempted to run at him with a hug.
[But, caution. Slippery floors.]
Armin! [A big smile will do, then. And, less intentionally, watery eyes, which she promptly blinks away.] No, I— I’m glad to see you. I’m glad you’re okay. There was just…
[Hm. Does she want to risk another panic, mentioning Bertholdt? But that ended well enough....] The world was being weird again. [It’s awkward, and an obvious dodge.] It’s fine.
[Aubrey's tears startle Armin a bit, but his first reaction is to hold an arm out for her in case she'd like a hug. It almost seems like she could use one...]
He wasn’t. [Not in any way that mattered. Her smile fades, at that.] I hope he’s—
[She cuts herself off. Bad to think of steaming stumps, right now. Armin’s offer is noted and watched (so he could use one, she thinks), but Aubrey hesitates just a big longer.] If I see him next, before you… do you want me to tell him anything?
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[Normally Bertholdt’s jump might make her feel bad; not right now. She’s not mad at him (but she is), it’s what he’s saying (but he’s saying it), and if he didn’t actually move—]
[Well. He does. And it’s no rush, but it sounds like it should work, and it doesn’t, and Bertholdt’s being so callous but it’s not his fault he’s a ghost, of course he was defeated before he got here—]
[Aubrey looks like she’s still fuming. Her hands are tense, still hovered over Armin, but—useless. As far as she’s concerned he started dying when she wasn’t paying attention, and it makes her want to jump off the roof.]
I’m not giving up. [Hands ball into fists, dropping hard on the tile. What, does she have to punch him? It’d feel like desecrating a corpse. He just got his arm gouged open, for god’s sake.] I’m not, I am not giving up on him.
[Back to Bertholdt; furious, desperate.] If he’s an illusion then he’s yours. Why is he like this to you?
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[She's probably right. Of course, Bertholdt never did see Armin quite this way-- The thought dies before it can complete itself. Upon looking at Armin again, he's young, just the way Bertholdt left him; longer hair, a smaller build, more intense trembling.]
I...I don't know, I...
[Armin never quite seemed scared of Bertholdt when he was still alive, nor did he ever show quite so much mourning, but...Of course, it makes sense, when you think about it for more than a few seconds...
[His jaw clenches. He feels like he might cry himself.]
I'm the reason he's like this...
[The reason for Armin's pain and grief. The reason for everyone's pain and grief. The reason that humanity has been driven right up to the brink of extinction. The reason there's famine and shortage inside the interior. The reason Armin's grandfather is dead; he and countless others. Armin grieves by pure virtue of Bertholdt's existence.
[He feels sorry for him. He isn't supposed to - he never was - but...he does.]
You must know, right? It's our fault. [He, Reiner, and Annie.] All of it.
[A moment later, however, desperate:]
But we didn't-- We had no choice. We thought we were doing the right thing. We didn't know...
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[Something changed. Armin changed. It confirms the illusion and it’s a stab through the gut. Is the real him trapped—in that shifting body, somewhere else?
[Bertholdt pulls her attention back. He looks like he’s going to cry. Guilt claws its way in; the pieces haven’t quite settled, to Aubrey, but the outline is faint. He was a titan. Armin ate him, had to eat him. And, nine years ago…
[He’s so human, for a monster. They all are.]
[There’s a temptation for the anger to grab that admission, claw at it til there’s nothing left. How could anyone think attacking a town was the right thing? Even if they were young—
[“We didn’t know.” And the past can’t be changed. No matter whose fault....]
[Aubrey is silent for a while. The fury dissipates in a figurative steam; she looks at Bertholdt, past him.
[It’s all so goddamn sad.]
It’s already happened. [Finally, she sounds distant again. Not entirely, not dead yet. But not quite here.]
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I know. I know that.
[At this, he lets himself fall back into a seated position on the roof, immediately pulling his knees up to his chest again.]
I'd accepted it. I really had.
[Reiner, on the other hand...
[A shadow appears behind Bertholdt without him noticing; his friend, but older, kneeling on the roof with a rifle in his mouth. Bertholdt continues, unaware.]
I had no choice but to live with myself, you know? Even up until the end, I could tell myself they were all Devils if I tried, but...
[He shakes his head. Reiner cocks the gun. Bertholdt still doesn't notice.]
It wasn't true...They were our friends, we...We came to love them...
[His voice sounds quiet, broken.]
How couldn't we...?
[Another shadow; this one should be unmistakable to Aubrey. Eren Jaeger, removing the rifle, holding out his hand, pulling Reiner to his feet. A ghostly echo makes Bertholdt turn his head:]
"We are the same."
[The shadows dissipate. Bertholdt's eyes are wide.]
Wh-what...what the hell? Reiner!
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[The sight, the rifle, jolts her back. She wants to yell; not even a shadow— Bertholdt continues, Eren appears but it’s not him, and it’s Bertholt’s turn to startle first.]
Eren… [Nearly breathless. She knows that wasn’t him, the real him; the sight caught her anyway. The suicidal man, the other one, Reiner—less important, for the moment. And they’re both gone just as suddenly as they appeared.]
[Toys. A captive audience to shadow puppetry. When will it end…?]
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What the hell going on?!
[Bertholdt whips his head around, desperately searching for his long lost friend, but Reiner is nowhere to be seen. He shouts his name again, as useless as Aubrey's hands on Armin's shoulders.]
Reiner! Please! C-come back!
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It’s an illusion.
[Somewhere between cold and empathetic, quiet. Aubrey doesn’t move. It’s such a sorry sight.... She wishes he weren’t pleading.]
[Louder:] Bertholdt, he’s gone. It’s just this… this stupid world.
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[The rifle. The way he positioned himself over it. The barrel in his mouth.]
Wh-why would he do that?!!
[As if he doesn't know. As if Bertholdt doesn't know exactly why Reiner would do something like that...
[It's because he's not there to protect him anymore.]
God, no...[The tears really begin to overflow now. Bertholdt sobs, mournful, devastated.]
P-please, tell me he doesn't-- Tell me didn't-- R-reiner...
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[Ah… he keeps begging. Sobbing, now. Aubrey is pulled in two: empathy for the mourning, and for the love of god shut up. It might be a clearer judgment call if he was a complete stranger, if she didn’t know he was just as if not more tortured than every single person she’s met out here. Or, of course, if he was Armin or Eren, someone she knew and would never dream of being… cold to....
[She would, though. She has been.]
[And so the hook pulls.] It wasn’t really him. [At least biting back irritation.] He’s not here.
[Like Armin’s not here, a shivering husk in his wake. Like Eren’s not here. Nothing but fog and grief.]
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God...
[Just one more sob. Just one. He sucks it back in with a sharp breath, forcing his eyes open. He slaps clumsily at his eyes, frustrated - overcome.]
This is Hell, this is...
[It's just what he deserves, but...
[He tucks his head in between his knees long enough to scrub his hands through his hair a couple of times. He feels like he's about to lose it.]
I want to go home...I just want to go home...
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[She’s watching a grown man (or is he?) cry like a baby (but doesn’t he deserve to?). He wants to go home. He just wants to go home.]
[Don’t they all?!]
We all do. [Some crumb of conscience, making her say it that way instead.]
[And then, a thought.]
You could make it, if you really wanted. [Think of home.] Might be a comfort.
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Make it...?
[His voice is wary. Is she messing with him?]
What do you mean...?
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I already said. You can control it.
[Strange how it doesn’t dawn on her to do the same. Try to resurrect Armin, maybe. But the world’s risky enough, never mind a person....]
It changes when we’re in control. Of ourselves. [Which, somehow, Aubrey doesn’t feel like she is. But she’s grasping for it; it’s how she’s explaining anything at all.]
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[Can he...?]
How...do I do it? Tell me. Please...
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[How? Play pretend really, really hard.]
Visualize it. [Another small victory. He’s not crying; the stakes, maybe, are lowering.] Just focus.
[She couldn’t explain better if she had the full mind to.]
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[He's wanted so badly to see it again. It's hard to do that with his eyes still closed, but, even so, the scenery surrounding he and Aubrey does begin to shift.
[Liberio is nothing like Shiganshina - nothing like anything Aubrey will have seen from "Eren's world". The streets are paved with uniform cobblestone, the buildings tall and lit with electricity, not torches. There are even cars (albeit old-fashioned) rattling up and down the street. Here in Bertholdt's neighborhood, there isn't anyone outside without an armband on. He's wearing one too. In fact, his entire outfit has changed.
[He opens his eyes. They're still perched upon a roof, but it--]
It...it can't be...
It's...?
[Home. Home! Bert lets out a breathless laugh, tears springing back into his eyes again. Another laugh follows, then another, until he's properly laughing. It's a joyous sound. Despite everything, his home is his home is his home. And he is finally, finally home...]
I-I can't believe this! It's a miracle!
["Armin", for the record, has not followed them.]
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[And thus, the shift.]
[First thing Aubrey notices is Armin-not-Armin fading with the initial rooftops. It tugs at her, but it at least confirms he’s not actually here. (She thinks. Hopes? That… may or may not be a good thing, when he was distressed last she heard of him. Hell knows what he and Eren will be like when she sees them next.... But worrying about that right now is more useless than anything.)]
[She does, at least, spare a glance around the new scenery. It’s… weirdly anachronistic, she thinks, compared to Eren and Armin’s memories. And what’s with the armband? Those dots will connect later, maybe—but for now, Bert’s commanding her focus, and he’s thrilled.]
[“Heartwarming” is a strong word, right now. She manages a small smile, though. It’s not wholly forced.]
Ah, be careful— [Not just because they’re still on a roof, but that’s part of it.] It’s still not the real thing…
[“So enjoy it while you can”? …Nah. Too callous. Let him have this.]
But I’m glad it worked for you.
[There.]
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[Bertholdt's eyes aren't on Aubrey. He's too busy staring at Liberio with stars in his eyes.
[It had never been all that wonderful of a place when he was growing up, but now, it seems...awe-inspiring.]
Any time I want to go home, I just...?
[Ah. Freedom, then.]
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[Is it really this easy…? Somehow, Aubrey hasn’t considered it. (Maybe it’s the baggage.) But he’s got a point....]
I think… [Armin made it look easy… Maybe Bertholdt’s gifted, too.] …it can be.
[She’ll leave him to it, if the world allows.
[Now where did Eren and Armin go....]
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[Nothing more to do aside from clean up, so that's what he's doing when Aubrey arrives.]
Aubrey! [He's glad to see her and he looks it.]
I'm sorry, I...I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to freak out like that - where...did you go?
[Despite everything, he sounds calm.]
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[Huh. Closing her eyes and thinking of the last time she saw them actually worked.]
[Aubrey looks a little disoriented, stepping back into view under those buzzing fluorescent lights. But when she sees Armin, up and okay (and mopping up, at that) she’s tempted to run at him with a hug.
[But, caution. Slippery floors.]
Armin! [A big smile will do, then. And, less intentionally, watery eyes, which she promptly blinks away.] No, I— I’m glad to see you. I’m glad you’re okay. There was just…
[Hm. Does she want to risk another panic, mentioning Bertholdt? But that ended well enough....] The world was being weird again. [It’s awkward, and an obvious dodge.] It’s fine.
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I am okay. Really. And...you are too?
[Oh...]
Where's Eren? Was he with you?
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He wasn’t. [Not in any way that mattered. Her smile fades, at that.] I hope he’s—
[She cuts herself off. Bad to think of steaming stumps, right now. Armin’s offer is noted and watched (so he could use one, she thinks), but Aubrey hesitates just a big longer.] If I see him next, before you… do you want me to tell him anything?
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No, I...think I'll get to talk to him again soon.
Thanks, Aubrey.
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[May this terrible, beautiful world prove him right.]
A-all right.
[And then she gives him a hug. He’s warm, again. It’s nice....]
Stay safe out there.
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