Chapter Text
When Reiner heard the deep, crackling bellow of the thunder, he knew it was no ordinary storm. He recognized the tremor that rippled through the ground, the golden spark that spread through the sky and shot through his window, onto his humble bunk. He remembered it all like it was a long-lost piece of his own body, returning to him within a fraction of a second, striking him with longing.
In an instant, he shot up, tossing the covers to the ground and bolting towards the light. Porco Galliard mumbled angrily in the other bunk, but for once Reiner couldn’t be bothered. He clambered on top of the desk that blocked access to the window, unbuckled the lock, and pushed the panels open. A hot rush of air hit him in the face, and Reiner almost lost his balance and fell out onto the streets below. He grabbed the sides of the wall, just in time.
“What the hell, Reiner?” Porco was wide awake now, sitting up and squinting his eyes. Another hot gust of air shot through the room, and Porco threw back his covers, aggravated. “And why is it so hot? It’s September, for god’s sake.”
“It’s him,” was all Reiner could say. His eyes were fixated at the golden streaks in the sky, peeking out from just beyond the silhouette of the buildings ahead. They had begun to fade back into the dark tapestry of the night, but Reiner already found what he was looking for. His eyes had caught the smoky pillar billowing from where the streaks had begun. It was steam.
A soft tremor shook the barracks once more. It was subtle — very subtle — and Reiner might’ve missed it if his senses hadn’t already been heightened and hyper-alert with anticipation.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Porco grumbled, now standing behind the desk. “Have you lost your mind? It’s just a damn storm—“ Porco’s words died in his throat as another tremor shook through the room. It was stronger this time, and even he couldn’t deny that this was no ordinary phenomenon. Unordinary, but not unfamiliar.
Reiner pointed at the growing cloud of steam, tiny and far in the horizon, yet steadily rising into the sky. “Look at that, Galliard.”
Porco looked. His face grew grim, and his posture straightened rigidly. He was slowly gearing into battle mode. “It’s a Titan,” Porco said, in a hushed whisper.
Reiner nodded. His hands were shaking. “It’s Bertholdt.”
Porco’s jaw went slack, staring dumbly. But before Reiner could let his roommate respond, he leapt down from the desk, grabbed his coat and ran out into the hallway. He could hear Porco yelling after him.
No doubt this would result in another mental evaluation where officials discussed, coldly, right in front of Reiner, whether he should be fed to Gabi and have his tenure as the Armored Titan prematurely ended. But Reiner couldn’t care — not for now. As he sprinted out of the barracks, he couldn’t even help but let out a strained laugh. Home, was all he could think of. He’s technically home, he supposed, and yet this felt like the true homecoming — the part where that gaping, aching cavity in his chest would finally close in on itself. The ground shook again, rumbling beneath his soles, and Reiner choked back a cry. I’m coming, Bertholdt. I’m coming.
His feet took him to the harbor, where he could finally see the horizon of the sea without any buildings blocking his sight. The air was unbearably hot now, and Reiner struggled to catch his breath. The steam in the distance was clear as day. Marleyans had started to filter out of their homes and peek out of their windows, the heavy chatter of panic escalating. Soldiers on duty shouted at each other, frantically determining the course of action. One of them noticed Reiner, and grabbed at him.
“Vice Captain Braun,” he gasped. “Thank goodness. We need to alert the rest of the Warrior unit, we believe an unknown Titan is approaching—“
Reiner shook his arm free, and continued to run along the harbor, ignoring the soldier’s pleas. He could see the disturbance in the waters ahead, and even in the dark of the night, Reiner could make out a silhouette, steadily wading towards the uninhabited cape at the end of the coastline. There was no doubt in his mind now: only the Colossal would’ve been able to walk through these waters and still poke out like a sore thumb.
Reiner was too far away. He wouldn’t be able to reach the cape before the Titan did at this rate. Without thinking, he bit his own hand and transformed, letting out a roar as he sprinted past terrified civilians and soldiers, his path converging with the Colossal’s. He ran until his armored soles left the concrete harbor and were landing on sand, then dirt, then the dry crackle of grass.
He came to an abrupt stop as he towered on top of the hilly landscape of the cape. The Titan was sluggishly approaching — slow, yet steady — and Reiner almost let out another cry when he finally made out the details of the Titan’s face: The long, crooked nose; the gentle pools of black eyes that hid behind the angry, deep-set brow. Reiner recognized these features. They were scorched to the back of his mind, always rising up in the dead of the night in his nightmares.
Reiner roared — one of welcome — as the Colossal began its ascent onto shallower waters. The ground continued to shake with every step that the Colossal took, and Reiner had to dig his toes into the dirt to keep his stance. Within three earth-shaking tremors, the Colossal emerged out of the water, back bent like a sea creature, and Reiner realized that it was slowly falling to its knees. The water rippled in the turbulence, flooding the nearby coast and raining a torrent on Reiner.
But he stood his ground. He stood his ground until the Colossal’s head rolled forward, eyes locking with the Armored Titan, and gaped its mouth open. The teeth closed around the rocks that surrounded the cape, biting down tightly, anchoring itself, and then just like that — The Colossal was finally still. Steam began to diffuse from the flesh.
A familiar growl came from behind Reiner, and out of pure instinct, he turned around and punched the Jaw Titan square in its face, propelling it into the Cart Titan looming just behind. His fellow Warriors must have feared for Reiner’s perceived mental breakdown, and given chase. They leaped back into battle stances almost immediately, but Reiner held up his hand in a desperate yet firm command. Wait.
Thankfully, Porco and Pieck did.
Inside his own Titan, Reiner was trembling. But he gathered himself and began climbing over the Colossal Titan’s head, onto his nape. He knew he wasn’t wrong about this — he knew Bertholdt’s Titan like the back of his hand — but he still felt fear. He feared that when he opened this nape, he would find someone else carved inside it.
There was only one way to find out. Reiner carefully traced the Colossal’s nape, mentally noting the borders and depth of the flesh that he deemed safe to peel away. With as much care as he could muster, Reiner gnawed on the nape and stripped away the first layer of flesh, then another, then another. At his fourth attempt, he began to see a protruding silhouette. With bated breath, Reiner extended a finger and dug under what would be the shifter’s torso, slowly extracting the body out. He removed the strings of flesh still grabbing at the shifter’s body, and carefully turned them over onto his Titan’s palm. When he saw the face, Reiner began to weep, the sounds translating into a shaky, rumbling sound from his Titan form.
The dark hair had grown much longer, but Bertholdt’s face, peaceful in his state of unconsciousness, was unmistakable.
From the coast, the Jaw Titan and the Cart Titan watched on as the Armored Titan cradled their comrade, once thought to be lost forever to the devils of Paradis.
Reiner was hunched over, his forehead pressed flush against his clasped hand. The exhaustion was really starting to set in. He could feel the warmth of sunlight filtering in through the window at the end of the hallway — dawn must have broke. That meant he had been waiting in the hospital for a couple of hours now.
Something kicked at his shoe. Reiner looked up, and saw Porco holding two steaming tin mugs. He offered one to Reiner.
“You look like shit,” Porco said. Reiner sighed and took the mug, sipping at the bitter coffee gratefully. He supposed he did look like shit. He was still clad in the military-issued tunic bedwear; only his coat gave him some semblance of modesty. Porco, on the other hand, had taken the time to change into a more respectable outfit. He sat down next to Reiner on the bench. “He still hasn’t woken up?”
Reiner shook his head. They were facing a large glass panel, through which they could see the room where Bertholdt was being held. His arms and legs were restrained to the hospital bed with leather straps, and a tight gag had been inserted into his mouth.
“I don’t know why they have to restrain him like this,” Reiner hissed. “If he had wanted to hurt us, he could’ve headed straight towards the harbor and attacked. But he went for the cape, because he knew it was uninhabited.”
To Reiner’s surprise, Porco conceded. “He’s a hero to Marley,” Porco muttered. “And this isn’t exactly a hero’s welcome.”
Reiner ran his hands through his face. “I’m sorry, by the way.”
Porco sipped at his coffee. “You’re sorry for a lot of things. Be more specific.”
“About earlier. When I punched you.”
Porco shrugged. “I barely felt it. Hand-to-hand combat was never your strong suit.”
Reiner didn’t even balk at that. He was used to Porco’s insults. It was becoming comfortable at this point, like he could trust that the earth was still under his feet if Porco Galliard hated him. At this moment, though, something akin to a truce was forming between them, fueled by their mutual excitement and curiosity at having a fallen Warrior back home.
“Magath and Zeke are on their way,” Porco said. “I told Pieck to get some more rest. She was barely recovering from last week’s mission and she already had to chase you around.” He paused. “Reiner, this shouldn’t be possible. The officers are going to want answers.”
Reiner didn’t have to be told that. They had been defeated together by the Survey Corps just two years ago — him, the Beast Titan, and the Colossal. And now, Bertholdt made his way back by himself. “I know.”
“Zeke said it wasn’t possible to save him,” Porco hissed. “And of course you weren’t the least bit helpful, with your memory loss and all. Have they just been keeping him prisoner?”
Reiner thought about it. Annie had the crystallization quirk, enabling her to stay untouchable. Bertholdt, however, would not have the same advantage. “They must have,” Reiner replied. “The slightest injury would allow him to transform, so they would have to restrain him at all times.”
Thinking about it was fueling a pit of anger in Reiner’s chest. He tried to shake the thoughts off as he stood up and pressed against the glass panel, focusing instead on Bertholdt’s face. Reiner didn’t know how he had recognized the man just a few hours ago, in the darkness. Now that Bertholdt was illuminated by light, Reiner could see the exhaustion in his face, the fading Titan marks and the patchy beard that covered half his face. His dark hair was long and tangled, reaching past his shoulders. This was not the same boy he had spent his days camping and training with.
Porco joined him. “Then what about Annie?” he asked, surprisingly quiet. “Where is she?”
Reiner shook his head. There were far too many questions, and he didn’t have the capacity to try and answer them all. All he wanted was for the man behind the glass panel to open his eyes, to look at him, and to—
Bertholdt’s face was suddenly facing them, eyes wide open.
Porco leapt back in surprise, but Reiner could only stand still, transfixed. Bertholdt’s eyes didn’t look like they were registering anything. He slowly blinked and craned his head around, limbs pulling against the restraints — first gently, testing the bounds, then harshly as he found resistance. His chest began to heave heavily, the panic in his green eyes settling in. A muffled cry escaped his lips.
Reiner couldn’t take it any longer. He shoved his mug into Porco’s hands, splashing his shirt, and rushed into the room while Porco cursed. He immediately came to Bertholdt’s side, grabbing at his face and steadying him. Bertholdt’s eyes locked with Reiner’s — green meeting gold — and for a moment they were back in the training corps’ bunks, on one of the days that blurred together, just looking at each other to find anchor. Before long, Bertholdt’s limbs slowed their struggle, and his breath started to even out. His mouth moved around the gag, producing an unintelligible sound.
“It’s okay, Bertl,” Reiner whispered. He thought he’d never utter that nickname anymore, only spoken in hushed whispers when no one was listening. “You’re home.”
Bertholdt’s eyelids fluttered shut. His breaths had come to a slow, deep rhythm. Reiner was looming over him, shielding him from prying eyes that could’ve intruded on their reunion. In this illusion of privacy, Reiner quietly tucked a strand of hair behind Bertholdt’s ear.
He was only able to enjoy a few more minutes of calm before he heard his commander’s voice. “Reiner. Step back, please.”
Reiner sighed, and begrudgingly obeyed. Zeke and Magath did not look impressed. Porco milled around behind them, dabbing at a coffee stain forming on his shirt.
“I told you to leave him be until we get here,” Zeke chimed in. He looked aggravated, despite his usual aloof temperament.
“He just woke up,” Reiner said. “He was disoriented. I was calming him down.”
Bertholdt blinked, looking away towards the wall. Magath patted Reiner’s shoulder. “Thank you for securing him, but we need to interview him now.” He nodded towards the door. “Galliard, take Reiner back to the barracks. Get some rest.”
Porco grabbed at Reiner’s arm, but he shook him off. “Commander, let me stay.”
Magath huffed. “I’m not going to repeat this one more time. Let Zeke and I handle this. You’re…“ Magath paused, before settling on his choice of words. “Too close.”
It was non-negotiable. Reiner couldn’t even deny it — the Battle of Shiganshina still haunted him daily — and he couldn’t possibly defy a Marleyan superior.
Desperately, Reiner threw one last look at Bertholdt, but was disappointed to see that he was still facing away towards the wall. Porco tugged on his arm once more. “Come on, Reiner.”
He begrudgingly followed Porco out of the room, and Zeke closed the door behind them. They even lowered the blinds over the glass panel, shuttering them close. Reiner was completely shut out. He turned to Porco tiredly. “I’ll wait out here.”
Porco snorted. “Suit yourself.” He cast a wary glance at Reiner. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Reiner sat down on the bench, massaging his temples. “I don’t need this right now, Galliard.”
“The sooner you accept it, the better it will be. Don’t make me spell it out for you.”
Reiner looked at Porco, who continued: “You failed him in Shiganshina.” His lips pursed grimly. “He’s not going to be the same Bertholdt you knew.”
Reiner pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding.
“I need you to admit it, Reiner. Believe me, I’m not doing this for you.” Porco was squatting on the floor now, forcing Reiner to look at him. “If you go into another spiral, they’re going to make Gabi take your Titan. We both know she’s not ready yet. Would you do that to her?”
Reiner forced himself to look Porco in the eyes. He might’ve been Vice Captain of the Warrior unit now, but Porco often still commanded authority over him. “I understand.”
“Good,” Porco said, standing up and walking away. “I’ll come back during lunch time. You owe me a new shirt.”
Reiner laid back on the bench, squeezed his eyes shut, and promptly fell into a restless sleep.