*Author's note*

Before we get started, I just wanted to apologize in advance for the overall shitty quality of this chapter as well as the fact that the style which I use to describe Avian's point of view isn't fully realized. This is probably the most difficult thing I've ever had to write, mostly due to the fact that I didn't wish to write out what happens between Avian and James as it's hurtful, as well as not wishing to write about her interaction with him at all because… he isn't Levi… and I hate him. As a result, most of this was crapped out in terrible spurts and about halfway through I just wanted to get this done, so I didn't put in as much effort as I usually do. I also apologize for any obscene errors in grammar/spelling/ect. I'll come back and proofread sometime, but as of right now I just want to get it posted. Again, I apologize and I hope you can forgive me *bows*

If you haven't read Learning to Fly up to Chapter 23 then DO NOT CONITINUE.

The story thus far: After months of obvious flirting on his part, and fluttering heartbeats on hers, Avian has accepted James' offer of a relationship and are now dating. It seems that the two are 'perfect' together, and in her naïve way, Avian believes that things are as they should be. However, relationships in life are not as wonderful as they are depicted to be in literature, and unfortunately for her, Avian is about to learn that attraction does not always equal love.

This one-shot is told in first person from Avian's POV

Understanding Love

This has to be it, it just has to be.

It happened precisely as I had always read in literature: On a stunning summer day, hours of time just between us, boisterous laughter, tender smiling, a surprise gift, and a simple question asked in the beautiful orange color of sunset. It was as perfect as I had imagined it would be.

What is there for me to say of this man of whom I've come to know? It's as if the warriors and princes from the novels and tomes of my childhood have been realized here in the real world, all brought together to form one man who, beyond my understanding, had his eyes on me.

It happened so swiftly, this growth of bond and affection, yet it all feels as it should be. We started off as strangers, and the only reason we came to know each other at all was by pure coincidence. Yet there is no such thing as coincidence in this world, only fate. How else could this have happened?

Back then, at Wall Rose the night Eren strove to repair the breach, I had saved his life. I knew not of him, or he of me, but the saving of someone's life forges an invisible string from one person to another, and it is that very tie that has brought us here.

I recall being so afraid at first. I still feared people, and outside of the small squad of Eren, Petra and the others, there was no one of which I wished to become close to. There was so much I didn't know, that I didn't understand, yet somehow he had managed to squirm into my life without me even knowing it.

And how a blessing it was.

My heart flutters at the thought of such an occasion, of how it all began. A simple exchange of words was all the strings of fate needed. With them, it spun a wondrous web of intertwining emotion and desire the likes of which I've never known. How different these feelings I harbor are for this man than I do for most anyone else. It is not the affection I had for my father, nor is it that of the one I had for my brothers. Furthermore, it is varied from the bond I feel with my newfound friends. Eren, Gunther, Eld, even Oluo… though they are kind to me and I care for them with every inch of my being, the affection I hold for them does not compare to what I have for him. No one shares this unique bond I have forged, well… no one except one…

My features must betray me, for a strong arm wraps itself around my body and I am drawn into warmth.

"Quit thinking about it." James tells me softly, drawing me closer to him.

I cannot help but prolong my distress just a second more.

"I do not believe I'm capable of putting it out of my mind." I reply, chest heavy. "I knew it was coming, yet I was unprepared for the animosity that was shown to me."

Oh how unprepared I was.

I am not ignorant. I am not as blind as he would have me believe. I knew for a long while of the hatred he had for James, that much was blatant. But of me… I had no idea.

Though I try to dismiss such obstructive thoughts, my mind is flooded with memories of what just transpired not but a moment ago, and I draw my hands across my arms, the fabric of my dress feeling as sandpaper against my skin. I wish to cry again, but I've no more tears to shed.

Just how could he treat me this way? So cruel, unwaveringly dictating, malicious is he yet I understand not the cause of such a flip in demeanor. I've known him to be a difficult man to please, but this… this is beyond anything I've come to expect of him, and I feel as if my insides are trying to split under the pressure of trying to comprehend his motives. And what he said to me… his final words that drove agony through my heart…

'I've better things to do than listen to the misfortunes of a whiny, disobedient child.'

Did he really mean that? Surely not, but in the next moment my mind's eye sees a pair of cold orbs slicing through me as if his gaze were of steel and I were made of paper. I was wrong about him. I truly believed in the jealousy I thought I spied in his actions and mannerisms, but now I realize my assumption was not as concise as originally perceived. He was not jealous, far from it in fact. With mind clear to properly assess his behavior, I conclude that his escalated aggression and callous language are evidence of nothing more than mounting frustration concerning my blatant disregard for his advice concerning the matter of James and I.

I was a fool to believe there could ever be such a thing as jealousy in his gaze. To feel jealousy, one needs to have close affection or attachment toward another living thing, yet it is only now that I understand that the rumors of his consistently aloof nature are true. He came to have a better understanding of me, yes, but there is no possible way for our relationship to evolve from anything more than superior and subordinate. Corporal, it seems, is neither capable nor willing to involve himself in personal relationships.

For reasons outside of my understanding, that fact alone cuts deeper than any curse from his mouth.

An almost unperceivable shiver wracks my form.

"Hey, stop it. STOP IT."

From where my eyes had been glued to the distant ground below, the land seemingly not far enough away from where I sit atop the roof of the sleeping quarters building, James' hands draws my face, forcing me to see nothing but him.

"Don't waste your time hurting over him. Corporal is an asshole who cares about no one but himself."

His voice is mellow, but I can hear the underlying anger he is trying to hide.

"It's all happened before. Though it's not strictly forbidden, it's pretty obvious that none of the commanding officers approve of relationships, so he's probably just pissed that I don't give a shit what he has to say. Just forget about him. He'll find some other hapless trainee to abuse eventually."

It is truth, yet the reality of his statement does not hurt me any less.

"I believe you to be right …."

James nods.

"Good. You've got me now, and I'll make damn sure he never bothers you again."

And for all his courageous, strong words, James upholds them with great fervor and with his constant vigilance, he almost single handedly makes me forget my anguish.

There isn't an aspect of him that I am not fond of. James is, effectively, everything that I've come to dream about and desire for a companion, thanks to the tutelage of my readings. Throughout every adventure painted into my childish mind when I was younger, the descriptions of heroes and princes always fascinated me. Who where these mysterious, charming men? How do they accomplish and succeed in every harrowing adventure and daring trial?

While this world is very unlike the ones of which I've read, the parameters of these fantastical lands still stands, and it is by them that I derive my morals, hopes, imagination, and most everything that comprises my desires and mindset.

It's awe inspiring just how I happened to find someone who meets such standards, especially when I was not looking for anyone at all. The theme of courtship and love, while interesting, never came to the forefront of my mind until recently. Such a thing always seemed to be somewhere outside my grasp, not because I believe myself unable to be loved, but because, for the majority of my life, there was no occasion for such an event to occur. The only men I knew until recently where those of my own family. In such isolation, I never considered the existence of other men outside of my small world, and even farther, how some such men would find me desirable.

A strange notion it is, one I'll likely never fully wrap my mind around, but I do not worry upon it. James is… everything I never knew I wanted. He is outspoken, open, jesting, strong… He is unafraid, steady, charming and kind.

Early on, after the successful repair of Wall Rose, he was one of the only soldiers to ever speak to me outside of my small circle of acquaintanceship, and one of the only ones who seemed unbothered by my foreign biology. Perhaps it is solely due to my saving his life that night, but whatever the reason may be, my unknown power to shift into the form of a giant never put him off unlike most of the others. Where the majority of strangers feared and suspected, he was willing to try and understand. It was difficult, and at the beginning I could easily discern that he was wary of me, as he should, but through it all he persisted and overtime came to accept it without nary a side glance.

From then on, fate wove it's web in its unseen, mysterious way and hopelessly intertwined James' life with mine. It was unexpected, a dashing of whimsical direction concerning our futures of which I could not be more delighted in.

XXX

June

"In the end Dad had to take me to the local clinic for stitches. Hurt like hell too." James finishes nonchalantly, eyes cast down as he works at polishing the leather saddle in his lap.

"That's awful!"

I cannot help but gape slightly at his story, to which he merely laughs.

"What?"

"I don't understand how you can think back upon such an event so calmly. You could have been seriously injured! You were lucky the metal fell upon your brow and not your eye. Does that fact not bother you?"

James lets out another chuckle at my chastising and shrugs.

"Not really. It's just a part of that line of work. Metal working is a dangerous job." He answers easily, glancing up at me from the corner of his eye. "My Dad made sure we took every precaution when we worked, but accidents happen. He had an overheated metal casting bend and fall on his foot once. Burned his boots and the top of his foot right up."

"Not to sound unsympathetic but I believe a scorched boot and foot, though terrible, are not comparable to a tempered blade shattering upon impact with a mallet and nearly gouging out an eye." I frown back, and though I am most serious in my assertion, the man before me lets out a friendly laugh.

"Ahh… See, putting it like that makes it sound WAY more serious than it actually was." He states through a grin. "It wasn't the first time I've ever gotten hurt forging, and besides…"

At this he swings his brown bangs off his forehead and lifts up his brow revealing a straight, slightly discolored scar running from his brow to his temple.

"…I got a knarly scar from it, and only TRUE smiths wear the toil and slavery of their trade upon their body. Piece of advice, NEVER trust a soft skinned blacksmith. If they don't have scars or calluses, they aren't worth shit."

Before I can answer James frowns, leans forward and elongates his face as if trying to look like an older man, and in a deep, gravelly voice adds, "Them pansies got hands like babies; can't even strike an ore more than twenty times a minute with their spindly little twig arms. I says, if you are a REAL man, take up a hammer and sweat!"

Without breaking character, James then flexes his arms in air, emphasizing well defined valleys and hills of muscle.

"See these?" he continues in his gravelly man voice, "These ain't no lazy arms of some washed out tailor. Hell no, these are the products of over thirty years of making the finest blades and swords in all of Trost! True men sweat and bleed for their craft, anything less is just manly disgrace!"

At this point, his face is so distorted and his voice so ridiculous that I burst out laughing, completely disregarding the bridle and bit I'm supposed to be cleaning in a fit of hilarity.

"I'm being dead serious!" James exclaims through a smile, returning to his normal voice. "That's what I was told growing up! And that was my Dad by the way in case you were wondering."

"I assumed!" I manage to answer through a giggling fit, struggling to control myself.

It takes a moment, but I eventually muster the discipline to calm myself back down, and I throw a light glance over James' way.

"I do say, though having never met the man, your impression is quite hysterical."

In reply, James inclines his head in a jesting, pompous bow.

"Why thank you. I always liked to think of myself as a pretty good impersonator, though…" he elaborates, voice mellowing out as he shines a gentle smile my way, " …it really helps to have such a lovely audience."

It's so instinctual, something of which I can neither fight nor control, the way my body seems to react of its own accord. I do not tell it too, but with the way James' eyes soften coupled with the soft swish of his chestnut hair and soothingly upturned lips grinning at me with such familiarity, my heart begins to beat the rapid rhythm of some unknown melody within the confines of my chest and heat rises to my cheeks.

This response is still new to me though I've felt it several times before, so I have no name for such a reaction, but whatever it may be I find myself loving it despite the way it makes me uncomfortable in its foreignness. It's a mixture of happiness and anticipation and embarrassment, each swirling together in some sort of biological solution that fuels the nervously excited touch receptors all over my body making me hyper sensitive to every movement he makes, every word he speaks, every soft brushing of his skin upon mine. It's potent, this energy, so much so that I have no choice but to turn away from his beaming features and focus my attention on the leather in my hands.

"I believe this to be done." I spout without reason, my voice sounding oddly jittery, and turn away from him.

To give myself any reason to avoid looking back at him lest my chest burst into two, I fumble with the leather straps in my hands and strain on my tiptoes to reach for a nail imbedded into the low wooden rafter above me. I know it's futile, I'm much too short to reach it, yet I ignore the obvious fruitlessness of my endeavor and strain anyway, reaching up as far as my small arms can reach in effort to hang the bridle upon its peg.

Behind me, I hear James let out a soft chuckle at my failure, and my chest skips a beat when I hear him stand.

"Nice try, but I don't think stretching will do you any good."

Without waiting for my reply, James comes up behind me, gently takes the bridle from my hands, and hangs it in its proper place.

"You could have just asked you know." He playfully jibes, and I can do nothing more than stutter a reply.

"I w… wished not to bother you." I say, and even I can hear the fluster in my voice.

"Now what makes you think that would bother me? You worry too much."

When I turn to gaze at him, he still wears that same kind face from before.

"Don't be afraid to ask me to help you, that's what I'm here for." He continues with a small smile. "That's part of what makes us such a great pair; whatever you can't do, I can."

"I could have reached it if I scaled the fence." I defend myself, but my justification falls half heartedly about my feet when James' smile broadens.

"Really? You're too short to reach it even with that." He laughs, and my cheeks burn brighter. "I like how you always try to do things normal sized people do despite your, shall we say, obvious short comings."

I frown at him.

"Is there an issue with me attempting to be self reliant?"

James shakes his head.

"Of course not! I find it quite adorable actually."

Heart begins thrumming again, and my eyes are glued to his when he steps a tad closer.

"It's just one of the things I find interesting about you." He continues, and I find myself drawn in my his voice as well as his steady gaze. "Even though I'm nearly twice your size, and you could easily just rely on me to do things for you, you still continue to do things on your own without asking for help. I wish you would sometimes, but it's nice seeing how determined you are."

He takes another casual step closer, and I'm faintly aware of the unmoving wooden wall of the stall behind me.

"Most of the time girls will take any chance they can get to have guys do things for them, but not you. You're surprisingly independent, and that stands out to me a lot more than your height does." He smiles. "It still amazes me how you went all those months pretty much taking care of yourself when your shoulder and leg were jacked up from that mission in Shiganshina. It wasn't good for you to, but I admire your willpower in not going to the infirmary like you were supposed to. Where other girls would lie down and cry and complain about how hurt they are, you pushed through it all by yourself without giving in."

I can feel his body against mine now, softly pinning me to the stall wall, and even though he is so close and he is so much larger and stronger than I, and my chest constricts with warmth and nervous energy, I am not afraid. All of my senses are focused upon the man staring down at me; my eyes taking in his handsome face, my ears soaking up his warming voice, my body radiating where his hands rest upon my bare arms, and my nose filling with his familiar scent. This is all so new, so strange, yet even though I've never experienced such a thing before, all of it is happening just as I thought it would.

How many times have I read of similar events transpiring between hero and heroin in my novels back home? This is all part of courting, of bonding, of growing closer, so even when my chest feels as if it will explode any minute as James' face draws near mine, I do not fear.

"You're strong, determined, independent… you're even brave enough to stand up to Corporal." He mutters, "Despite what you appear to be, you're one of the strongest people I know. You were even strong enough to cut through to me…"

Whatever other words he might have said dies upon his lips, and with breath baited and eyes locked, James kisses me.

It's… nice. In all honesty, it isn't the 'spark of fire' or 'bold of lightning' that I was expecting, but the sensation is just as sweet. As odd as such a gesture is, I instantly enjoy the feeling of his lips upon mine, and as is natural of me, my body acts of its own accord and I close my eyes.

I've no recollection of how much time passes in this moment, but when we finally break apart both of us are flustered and slightly out of breath, eyes wide in muted awe. After a silent moment, James lets out a single, self conscious laugh to which I join out of similar reticence.

"Hi…" He breaths through slight smile.

"Hi…" I smile back.

It takes a few moments of flustered scraping of feet and dashing glances before the nervousness fades and we return to something similar to normalcy, but I can feel that a slight something has changed. Inside I'm a plethora of giddiness and girlish excitement, and I struggle to keep it under control.

A kiss. My first kiss!

I'm uncertain if it is customary for females to be so excited over something so trivial, but I couldn't care less how peculiar it might be. James kissed me, a display of his affection for me, and I am more elated than I thought I could ever be at such a notion.

However, through all my ecstatic joy and muted glee, an itch tugs at me. Automatically, my gaze turns upwards toward a very familiar window in the Recon office building not but a short walk from the stables. It's empty, but I could have sworn I had spied the shadow of a raven haired man watching us from that pane. Of course. I could be wrong. What reason would he have to waste time in surveying us? I'm certain there are matters more pressing than the interaction of two lowly cadets to concern him, but then again Corporal is a complicated man, and through all of my doubt concerning his lack of interest in my relations, I know my instincts to be more or less correct, and I feel certain that at some point he had been watching us from that very glass.

I'm unsure as to how I feel about this information.

XXX

Late July

For the first time in a long while, I'm actually in high spirits following the return from our most recent mission. It had been strenuous and difficult as expected, and though casualties still occur, but with far less frequency than before since the commencement of our new campaign with eradicating the giants from domestic districts and homesteads, there is a slight lightness in my step as I make my way upstairs to James' dorm.

'This is so rare.' I muse to myself, 'Not oft am I one for such festivity so soon after a mission.'

But even with the slight tugging in my body and heart willing to pull me down with exhaustion and melancholy, I refuse to allow myself to step down. Instead of reflecting upon the events of today as I habitually do, I raise my head and walk steadily onward, determined to keep such sober thoughts from my mind.

I make an effort to distract myself with the prospect of spending much longed for personal time with James. Normally, it is he who instigates our travels into the city, but for today I find myself oddly excited. The hustle and chaotic nature of inner Stohess always causes a good deal of anxiety for me, what with so much activity and people, but ever since Petra alerted me to a quaint café renowned for its delicacies and romantic atmosphere my head has been filled with nothing but yearning to visit the small shop.

'Long has it been since James and I last shared time together. This outing will be greatly beneficial for both of us.'

Coming level to the floor of the sleeping quarters where James' room resides, excitement bubbles within me. I can already visualize it; a small yet welcoming building filled with soft candle glow and the scent of various sweets in the air. Other couples whisper loving nothings into each other's ears, and while we eat, James does the same for me. There will be much laughter, soft mutterings, gentle gazes and holding of hands. At some point in time, he will take me to a clearing in the floor and we will dance to melodious song most of the evening, unaware of the eyes locked upon us. We will be happy, and at the end of the night when all is said and done I will become lost in his eyes and we will kiss until my breath is stolen from me.

I know not where such fantasies originate, nor do I understand how I can even feel this way considering I'm much more at home secluded in an abandoned forest than I am with civilization, much less spending such personal time with a single man, but my misgivings are but words on the wind. I hear them, but within the moment of a heartbeat they are blown away and all my confusion with them.

'Do not question, just feel.' I tell myself. 'You have never doubted the probing of your inner nature, why begin now? All is well.'

It's so easy to tell myself that when I am on my own, but when I open the door to James' room the atmosphere within nearly suffocates me.

"I guess no one bothers knocking anymore."

It's brightly lit from bright planes of sunlight that stream through his window, yet everything looks dark. James sits upon his bed, still in the process of removing his uniform straps and doesn't spare me much of acknowledgement aside from a bland side glance.

'All is well.' I repeat, doing my best to ignore his manner and quietly step inside.

"I apologize. I did not think of it before I came in." I tell his downturned head, and he answers with a simple grunt.

"I can tell." He replies curtly, dislodging a boot so as to remove the leather bindings about his legs. "But what is it? You never come to me like this."

Despite his flat tone of voice, a small excited smile creeps upon me.

"Well," I begin, "Petra told me about a quaint café in inner Stohess that she said was very nice, and seeing as how we returned from our expedition early, I wished to inquire if we could go to it tonight?"

James never lifts his head.

"You can." He responds. "I don't feel like going anywhere."

My spirits sink slightly.

"I'm sure you are a fatigued as I am, but this is such a rare occurrence that I wish to take full advantage of it."

"Eh… It's not that great. We're only an hour or two early you know." James deadpans, now working on his other boot.

"Perhaps, but I still…"

"Don't you have a girl friend or whatever to go with you?" He interrupts, and when I don't immediately answer he looks up. "Thanks for asking and all, but I was already planning on doing something with the guys."

'Of course. All his free time is spent with those two moronic buffoons.' I scowl.

Since I first met them about a month prior, steady James has lessened his time spent with me in favor of wasting it in the company of two degenerate Military Police officers. Upon first meeting them, I already disliked their company. Deglan and Fabar are possibly, if not the most, ill mannered people I've ever had the displeasure to encounter. With their constant profanity surpassing the filthy mouths of Corporal, Oluo, and even Zaji and Niche, as well as their barbaric sense of physical humor, the two are likened to mentally disabled bulls in my mind. Both are strong and imposing in stature, layered with heavy muscle and sharp faces, yet it seems their heads are completely empty considering that their favorite time killer is to repeatedly inflict injury unto each other's groins until one ends up passing out from pain.

And for whatever reason, James has taken a great liking to them, and over time I've noticed myself fading into the background, left to watch in mute dismay as his entire demeanor slowly shifts. He never used to be so curt with me, nor had he ever dismissed my presence like this until they came along. His mouth, though not the cleanest to begin with, has only worsened, and another side of him, a more brutish, crude side, has made itself known.

I hate it.

But I do not let such things drag me down. James cares for me, I know he does. It's just… the newness has worn off. That's right… that's the reason behind his change in character. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all.

Forcing a smile back onto my face, I casually step up to him and mentally will him to reconsider.

"I know you enjoy their company," I persuade carefully, and his eyes are but planks of wood for all the interest I see in them. "But it has been long since we last had an evening together. Perhaps you can postpone your plans with them for just a night?"

James shrugs and slips off his other boot.

"Why? You can just as easily postpone your plans. Or just go by yourself if you want. You like being by yourself more anyway."

"Well…" I'm at a loss for words. "… I was kind of reserving such an occasion for just us… Special outings are what couples are supposed to do, correct?"

"Yeah, but what's the point doing that kind of stuff now?" He questions back, eyeing me. "I mean, sure couples do that, but after the first month or whatever, what's the point in putting in the extra effort? I already have you don't I?"

His voice isn't condescending, nor is it spiteful, but somehow the casual disregard for my request hurts me more than either of those combined. I knew things were changing, growing thin, but never has he waved me off in such a manner.

'I thought he…'

Before I complete the thought I stop myself.

"No. I will not think that. Of course he loves me. Why else would he be with me? How can I expect things between us to progress without incident? Of course there will be friction and disagreements, just as this, so why do I feel so hurt? It's all part of building the relationship. I may not know how this 'dating' arrangement works, but James does. He's lived her his whole life, so he must know how this works, and I trust him. Things will get better, they have too. Love takes time to grow. All I need is more time.'

I'm uncertain whether or not I believe my own words, but in spite of my doubt I keep my features calm.

"You do have me." I answer him, not sounding quite as understanding as I'd like. "And do not fret over missing them. We'll just plan our outing for another night."

"Good. We were going to go for drinks tonight, and I'm not going to miss Fabar making a total dumbass of himself. The man is completely insane shitfaced."

I say nothing in response as he removes the last of his straps and stands.

"If you do go out anyway, don't stay out too long." He includes, unbuttoning his shirt. "We leave early tomorrow. And could you leave so I can finish changing? It's nearly five and I don't want to be late."

I obey without comment, a dark pool of murk clogging up my chest and throat preventing me from speaking. I admit, I'm hurt, but once again I chide myself.

'All is well. It's only been a month. Love will come eventually, just give it time. All I need is more time.'

XXX

Early November

I'm so exhausted, but I've grown accustomed to the fatigue that plagues my limbs like unseen weight. It drags at me, straining my muscles, clouding my mind, darkening the area under my eyes, yet I find myself unwilling to relinquish myself imposed burden. Of course I know that the medics and nurses all greatly appreciate the assistance I offer, and none of them would look down upon me for taking time to rest, but even though I yearn to do just that, something keeps me from doing so.

If I try to delusion myself, I would say that my refusal to respite is due in large part to the nagging knowledge that every hand counts, especially with the number of injured rising, and that guilt would permeate my body if I chose to take time off instead of devoting all of my time and energy into saving lives. Such strenuous hours are not expected of me, I am but a volunteer so no one expects me to work the long shifts I do, but even though I do not carry the title of a trained medic, my medicinal knowledge is just as sharp, and I have a duty to use that knowledge to its fullest extent.

Ever since SOAR was created, my instinctive will to help people has only grown. Along with saving lives while upon the battlefield, I've come to devote just as much time tending to the fallen upon our return after every mission, doing all I can to save as many soldiers as possible. It is grueling, dreams filled with nothing but visions of blood and screams every dark night, but no matter how graphic the wound, no matter how bleak the outlook, no matter how painful it is to witness others in such vivid pain, I give my all in trying to relieve their suffering.

It's what I live for now, the saving of lives, so of course I would naturally devote most of my time toward such a goal. But even though that is the largest reason for my persistence, it isn't the only motive for my disregard for my own rest.

The other is James.

It's wrong of me, I know it is, yet though I know my reasoning's and actions to be despicable, I do not feel remorse over them. Over the course of these passing months we've both grown more and more distant, and for rationale unknown to me, I am not bothered by it as much as I believe I should. It's been such a steady, slow decline in affection that I do not hurt over it.

It's a dichotomy really. Ever sense he began interacting with Deglan and Fabar, his entire demeanor towards me has changed in a way that I'm not exactly comfortable with at all. The lightheartedness is gone, as well as the warmth and familiarity. He does not whisper into my ear as he used to, nor does he reach to hold my hand or brush a gentle finger across my cheek. He does not go out of his way to do things for me, and where he once always greeted me with a smile and a kiss as if me being gone was the worst thing to ever happen to him, he barely manages to mutter a simple 'hello' before going about his business.

The closeness is gone, either that or it has changed, for there was a switch in him concerning me, and with each day it only grows worse. I believe the switch is worse of all to me, for in no way am I prepared or even resolutely sure that such a thing is even good.

This switch as well started near the time when he met the two men back in July. They must have filled his mind with treacherous thoughts, for his character has become quite devious, especially as of late, and I abhor what they've done to him. I can only surmise that my alter in affection towards James began in late July, for that was when the touching started.

It was fine… at first. In fact, for the beginning of it I actually enjoyed it. I was naïve as to what it would eventually entail, but out of the blue it seemed James started to become more physically affectionate. I had grown used to his simple kisses and holding of hands, but he then began to explore and expand his contact upon my body. I remember feeling excited and joyful over the way his large hands began to roam about me, rubbing up and down my arms, and how he would draw circles upon my back and trail his fingertips over my legs and lips. Each touch felt warm and strange in a pleasant way, and without inhibition I allowed myself to enjoy it.

His touch was gentle and loving back then, and he was never quite forceful. Everything he did was out of love, and in response I soaked up everything he gave me. How many hours have I spent in his arms as his palms traveled over me, memorizing every part of me? With a little reassurance from him, he even came to convince me to let him run his fingers over my shirt and feel my torso with light, careful strokes. It was never overly sensual, and though I never much cared for him touching the more shapely aspects of my anatomy, I tolerated it for his sake.

Who am I to tell him no? I know nothing of the courtship between people, or of how relationships progress, or even what's acceptable in such a relationship. All I knew was that the sensation was both pleasurable as well as uncomfortable, but with each instance where he would come to me to further his memorization, I pushed my qualms aside.

I am but a stranger to these things. I've known no company aside from that of my family for over two decades, so misgivings concerning others are only natural, yet I am tired of feeling them. I've been here for over a year now, yet I still suffer apprehension towards socialization of which I am unfamiliar with. I hate it, and James new interest in my body was no exception. So instead of heeding my instinct like I've always done, I ignored it and set my teeth into grim determination. I resolved to end my childish worries, and to do so on my own. I knew Petra would never turn me away if I need her, but I had already bothered her so much with my ignorance, and to do so again felt obtrusive of me. She really is the best friend I could ever imagine having, and I thank fate day after day for allowing her to be in my life, but there must come a point to where I should not rely on her to assist me with every new step I take. James' relationship with me is mine and mine alone, and any misgivings that come with it are mine as well.

So with steely determination to figure it out on my own, I shut my mouth and let James do as he pleased.

Perhaps it was the wrong choice, for within that determination to allow him access to me I discovered that I'm not as in control of myself as I originally believed. I thought I had a firm grip upon my instinct, the natural prodding within my being, but I was direly mistaken.

I tolerated his hands upon me, even liking it at times, but it was there that I swiftly discovered an unspoken perimeter within myself; my skin was off limits.

I couldn't help it, I still can't help it; my body moves of its own accord while I'm left wondering over my own actions and the reasons behind him. It only happens whenever James becomes brave enough to venture underneath my clothing, and it is in those tense moments that his touching stops being pleasing altogether. For reasons I do not understand, I abhor it.

Whenever I begin to feel his fingertips begin to play at the hem of my blouse, my chest tightens painfully and a bolt of tense apprehension renders me paralyzed, only to grow worse as he glides them up me. Every time he will murmur to me, but I do not hear him, too overwhelmed with tension to focus upon his words. His hands will rise, crossing the contour of my stomach, the slight indent of my ribs, all the way up to the edge of my chest wrappings. The moment his fingers brush the fabric, instinct takes me and my hands fly up to stop him. Over and over the process will repeat, day after day, and each instance our interaction always ends the same; with me reflexively stopping him, unable to properly handle his advances.

And because of my constant interruptions, James begins to grow angry. He understood my wariness at first, but such consideration swiftly left him, replaced by constant frustration. I foolishly expected it to pass, but it never did. It only grew. Now, every time my hands fly to stop him and I mutter an apology, he ignores me as if I am nothing more than a pest and relinquishes himself to wallow in his aggravation. So often and potent are his negative emotions that with each passing week, I work in the infirmary longer and longer just to avoid returning to him.

It's not right of me to do so, but with his total reversal of character I just can't bring myself to enjoy his company anymore.

I'm guarded with him now.

'He is but a mere man. What is there to fear?'

There is much for me to fear in this unknown realm of uncertainty, but I tighten my resolve and push all thoughts to the back of my mind.

'Thinking only worsens it. Let it go.' I chide myself silently, yet a sigh escapes me as I remove my filthy uniform jacket from my shoulders.

My whole body aches. The mission from today was unexpectedly intense, and though there were no casualties, by some stroke of miracle, the fighting extended well after our estimated return time, so instead of only a couple of hours to bear down upon me, there are ten, and I feel every minute of that time strain through me.

My gear is removed next, followed by my leather torso straps, yet in the middle of unfastening the buckle to them, the creaking of a door sounds behind me and I freeze. There are only two people who enter into the dorm Petra and I share without knocking, and I know Petra to be out in the offices still turning in reports.

'It's alright. It's alright.'

This mental chant has become a habit to me as of late, and I repeat it now because I know without looking just who it is that comes to me. Without so much as a word of greeting large arms encircle me and James buries his face into my neck.

'It's alright. It's alright.'

I am but a statue under him, unmoving and uncompromising. No positive emotions come when he embraces me; no happiness, no joy, no relief, no pleasure… nothing. This too, I've grown accustomed to.

Behind me James breaths deep, brushing his face across my skin and his hands travel down my sides and across my stomach.

I do not move a muscle.

'It's alright. It's alright.' I repeat.

I continue to not respond as he begins planting small kisses about my neck, leading to my jaw line, and his fingers un-tuck the hem of my shirt from my pants. My heart begins to pound.

'It's alright.'

Heart rate increases as I stare blankly at the stone wall ahead of me, and I do my best to ignore the growing pool of unease forming inside. All this has happened before, so I should be accustomed to it by now, yet even as I think that my heart hitches painfully when his fingers brush the skin of my abdomen, and rigid apprehension roots my body still while his hands glide over my skin.

'It's alright. It's alright.'

I wish to move, to stop him, but I don't. It's a lie, but I can't keep from telling myself that maybe, just maybe this will be the day that my fear will end, and that feeling of love I've been waiting for all these months will finally make itself known to me. Love takes time to grow and build. That's all I need, just more time, but my chest aches with tightness as James' fingers slide slowly upward, and with every inch my heart pounds harder and harder. Eventually he reaches the edge of my chest wrappings, and by this time my pulse is so strong I'm sure he can feel it.

'It's alright. It's alright.'

But it's not alright. I feel as if my body wishes to explode, for my heart to burst from my chest and pummel itself into the ground. This pounding is different from what I felt when we first started seeing each other. Back then excitement fueled my veins, but now I feel nothing but trepidation so powerful it freezes me in place.

My wrappings loosen, and he starts to work his way under them.

It's not alright.

Lightning, lightning is was energizes me, surging through my nerves with unquestioned speed, power, and purpose. It sings my muscles, spurs them into movement, and before I can even begin to think my hands fly and grasp James', stopping them in place.

"No…"

It's the same ritual every day, I'm powerless to stop it, and the moment that single word comes out of my mouth I know what is to come. Behind me James lets go as if I seared his flesh, and an anger so vivid rises as an unseen wave upon my back.

"Damn it! It's ALWAYS like this with you!"

His tone is harsh, and when I turn to face him he has already backed away a few paces to glare about the room in frustration.

"FUCK. What the hell is your problem!?"

I hate the way his eyes glower at me.

"I just… can't." I tell him steadily, willing my heart to return to its normal pace. "I'm not ready for this."

I've said this all before, and though I'm not exactly afraid of him, I am wary of his swift swings in mood, and I know I must tread carefully.

In answer to me, James lets out a great heaving sigh that sounds like a low growl and draws a large hand through his brown hair.

"Not ready? It's been six fucking months already, what the hell!?"

His frustration is written in harsh lines about his youthful face, and they almost make him look like a different person entirely. Returning his gaze to me, he glowers.

"What do you want me to do Avian!? I can barely even touch you anymore without you getting all defensive and stopping me. Why? It's been over half a year and we still haven't done anything. Don't tell me you're really one of those shitty 'uptights' who refuse shagging until marriage. You expect me to just tuck myself in-between my legs and be blue-balled until you eventually feel like letting me have you, whenever the hell that will be?"

I'm still not fully accustomed to the dialect used here, so vocabulary such as 'shagging' and 'blue-balled' go over my understanding, but even without knowing their true definition I can easily surmise their meaning, and it makes me uncomfortable in a way I've never been before.

"I just cannot bring myself to feel at ease with such gestures yet." I tell him steadily, face hard and heart pounding. "I apologize, but your people's ways are still strange to me, and it will take time for me too…"

"Time? How much more time do you need!?"

Irritation grows, and James looks upon me in disbelief.

"Quit using that damn excuse! You're just being a little bitch. 'Oh no! I'm scared! James wants to shag me, how terrible!'"

James' voice contorts so that he mimics me, and he waves his hands in the air in mockery.

"Shut the fuck up, Avian. You're a grown ass woman, so stop cowering like some ten year old bitch. People like each other, they get together, they shag, simple as that."

My body is rigid again, unmoving as he steps closer, boring his eyes into mine.

"I buy you shit and give you someone to talk to, and in return you let me have my way with you. That's how this works." He continues, stepping closer to me again, and through inborn instinct I step away with my back defensively toward the wall. "Haven't I already given you enough? You love me, don't you?"

Automatically my mouth opens in response. Of course I love him, but when I go to speak no words come, and for a second I'm left hanging in silence.

'I love him. That's what the feeling from before was, right? So why can't I say it?'

I try and try again to force any type of answer from me, but something stops me, and uncertainty weighs upon my conscious. This is love… right? I know I like him, even now, just a little bit… is that not the same?

I don't know. The only love I've ever known was from my family, so how am I to recognize this different type of love if I've never felt it before? I wish to make myself believe that, yes, I am in love with him, but even my own words fall flat upon my lips. Something isn't right. This… this isn't what I imagined it would be. In my books love was always described as being warm and powerful and kind and energizing, but this… this isn't it. The kindness and warmth are gone. There is no power or energy flowing between me and him, so this can't be love. It can't.

Suddenly, I know that I need to end this. I need to tell him before things go further, but before my words come to me James speaks again and answers for me.

"If you love me," he continues lowly, and I suddenly feel the twinge of warning in my gut. "then you'll give me what I want."

I wish to speak, but James silences me. Before I can process the sudden lustful desire that so abruptly spawned in his eyes, he is upon me. He kisses me with such force that the back of my head cracks against the stone wall behind me, and in one strong, vice like motion his hands are upon me; one painfully forcing itself between my legs and the other sliding under my blouse and grasping my breast.

Instinct kicks in.

I move without moving, and I have no idea what it is that I'm doing until, from the deepest corners of my conscious I watch in mute awe as my hand flawlessly forms a fist, just as Corporal taught me all that time ago, and also as he taught me, my fist flies and James lets out a gravely grunt when my knuckles connect with his temple.

I'm not strong by any means, but the force upon his pressure point is enough to make him release his grip upon me, and he takes a step back to grab at his head.

"Fucking DAMNIT!"

His curse means nothing to me, for deep dread cloaks me then. James was never one who could control his anger well, especially when it comes to physical assault. He doesn't like anyone laying their hands upon him, and the moment I saw him stumble back from my blow I know I've made a terrible mistake.

James is gone, replaced by a dark stranger fueled by dark fury. His eyes are black voids, completely lost in emotional response, and suddenly I no longer see a man at all. Blinded by fury, he is but a beast, wild and domineering. Deeply I know that James has lost his mind, he knows now what he does. I recognize the expression of someone controlled by their emotions, but even though I know James is lost within his own tribulation, it does not stop is body from responding reflexively. All at once, seeing him stare down upon me I fully realize just how much larger and stronger he is than I. He is two feet taller, a giant compared to me, and his body has been bulked up from many years of blacksmithing. His physiology is more ox than man, and just like the herd animal of which he resembles he too is lost in his own instinctive prodding's. It is then, when the full scope of him comes to me that I comprehend that, in this moment, I'm scared of him.

There is danger here.

I wish to speak, to try and calm him as best I can with swiftly spoken words, but not a moment after I open my mouth is the air cut from my throat. He is so much larger than I, oh fate is he so much larger, for his single hand is big enough to encompass the entirety of my neck, and my eyes gape at him.

A switch is flipped.

Self preservation kicks in.

I move without moving.

All I'm aware of is great heat enveloping my right arm, and before I know what is happening James shrieks in pain and backs away. I take in air with greed all the while I watch as he clasps hands to his cheek, blood pouring in rivers down his skin from large gashes.

"THE FUCK!"

I'm stunned. What just happened? I'm frozen again, but this time from awe, and it takes a second for me to come to myself and I glance down at my hand. Except it's not my hand that hands by my side, instead a large limb composed of lightweight flesh clings to me, and I blink, unable to speak. How is it that I transformed only a portion of myself into my giant? It has never happened before, I've only morphed into full body, yet here I am wielding a single limb from my alternate form, and the blood dripping from the ends of my blackened claws startle me.

I struck him.

Still in shock I raise my eyes again to James' floundering as he tries to stall the bleeding. Picking up the nearest cloth to him, in this case my uniform jacket, he compresses the fabric to his face and he locks his gaze with mine. The black void is gone, replaced by his customary steady gaze, and now that he veil of wrath has been lifted from his eyes, I see a slight confusion plaguing him there. He knows not what just transpired here either.

For a long time we just stare at each other, both in hushed wonder, and though I am glad to see him return to his right mind, something climbs its way up my chest. His gaze is muddled, uncertain, as if he is surprised by his own actions. I recognize somewhere deep in him that James, truly, did not mean for that to happen, but even with that information an influx of emotion rises, and the heat of an emotion I so rarely experience overcomes me.

Anger.

He doesn't love me. I'm hard pressed to believe he ever loved me at all. All those soft spoken words and gentle caresses mean nothing to me anymore. All of a sudden, nothing concerning him matters to me. Fury begins as a small flame, then grows with each pump of my heart, giving my body more and more energy. It holds me still, pounding through me in rampant prowess, and it forces a simple phrase from my lips.

"You lied to me."

It is but a whisper at first, causing James to raise a brow in question for he did not hear, and the next time I repeat it my voice is louder, more solid, and I feel my eyes narrow into a foreign look of contempt.

"You LIED to me!" I repeat, and like opening floodgates within my soul, words pour from me. "I thought you cared for me, but you don't! How DARE you lay your hands upon me in such a way! Have you no control!?"

"I didn't mean to do that." James quickly retorts, not exactly remorseful but not upset either. "I don't know what came over me. I just.. blacked out."

I have none of it. For once in my life, my empathetic ears are closed off.

"Blacked out… is that your excuse?" I spit. "I thought you loathed excuses. That is what you told me but a moment before, you two-faced hypocrite!"

"Don't yell at me! You're the one who nearly gouged my eye out!" James spits back, clinging to the jacket upon his cheek. "You just attacked me with your titan bullshit! What are you pissed off for!?"

"Pissed off!?"

I never knew of the bottled up wrath I had kept inside of me all these months, but now that I've raised my voice it all seems to come out with vengeance, and I wish to strike him down into pieces with words alone.

"You treacherous serpent!" I yell back, surprised at the amount of venom dripping from my lips. "You are the one at fault here! How many weeks have I tolerated your belligerent vulgarity and your extensive physical assault upon me!? I told you time and time again about my feelings concerning those matters, yet you did not heed me. My wishes are but dirt under your boot for all the concern you've shown me as of late! Those grotesque swine you've spent so much enjoyable time socializing with, they've poisoned you, twisted your being into that of some despicable fiend. Of course I will feel the need to transform when I believe my life to be in jeopardy! I run on instinct, remember? You should have thought of such a thing before grasping about my neck with your filthy hands! The only reason I never did so before is because I truly thought that things would return to the way they used to be, that I would eventually find what it is that is described in the tomes of my childhood; of the beautiful blossom of emotion that comes between two people over a developed period of time. I truly believed that my affection for you would grow, and yours as well, but I presume myself to be gravely mistaken."

"What the hell are you even talking about!?" James yells back, seemingly unperturbed by my rant. "You're just talking crazy shit now."

"No, I'm not. You know exactly what it is I am speaking of." I glower, then suddenly a dark sheet of hurt covers me and I cannot help the feeling of betrayal that burns my throat. "I thought you loved me James…"

At this James blinks and looks highly astounded.

"Loved? Who the hell said anything about that?"

My breath stops.

"W… what?"

James holds my gaze steadily before letting out a single, unbelieving chuckle, and I swear the expression he wears now makes him look as if he is trying to figure out some exceptionally bothersome puzzle.

"Since when did I ever say that I loved you?" he states simply, and though the room around me is solid and unmoving, I can feel the area about my body begin to sink. "Look, you were… interesting at first, and I honestly DID like you. You were different, and nice, and you're even kind of cute, but even back then I knew none of this was going to go anywhere."

I do not want to listen, but I am immovable as he continues in that same mellow tone.

"I liked you, really I did, but love? That's way too deep for me to get caught up in. Besides, what we had in the beginning was fun and all, but after a while I realized you were more trouble than you're worth. For one, the way you talk is annoying and makes me feel like an idiot with the way you always use big words and shit like that. You're small as hell, not to mention pretty stupid, and I won't buy the whole 'I haven't lived here long enough to understand your culture' shit again. You've had enough time, you're just retarded with some things. And the staring we get…"

At this he groans and turns away.

"Ever since I started dating you people have been looking at me weird, and it pisses me off. The reason I never to into the city with you is because I'm tired of all the shitty looks people give us. Being out in public with a shifter, DATING one, I didn't know that it would make me look like some kind of monstrous bastard too. All I ever get are funny looks, and I just don't feel like dealing with it anymore."

I wish for his words to be lies, just more of his deceit, but when he returns his gaze to mine I know every sentence to be true.

"You're cool and all I guess, but I won't deal with this anymore. You can't help that your half freak, but you could at least quick acting so strange. There's no point in talking like you do, who are you trying to impress anyway? No one cares about your damn vocabulary or how many books you've read. Who the hell even reads books anymore aside from that sissy baby-geek Armin?"

"Don't you DARE insult Armin!" I sneer at him, and my fists clench in rage. "He's a hundred times more intellectual than you, and more of a man than you'll ever be! Your cantankerous insecurity concerning your palpable lack of self assurance grants you no justification for berating others this way!"

"See! That's the shit I'm talking about!"

James glares at me, pointing as if I'm some kind of strange creature.

"Stop doing that! It's like you're speaking another language and it pisses me off. NO ONE CARES AVIAN. Why can't you just be fucking NORMAL for once!? THIS is why NO ONE will ever love you!"

My heart stops completely, and James seems to notice my abrupt halt for he straitens his back and lifts his chin.

"Don't tell me you actually believed you'd ever find someone who could care about you like that." He mutters. "Like I said, you're interesting and kind of cute to look at, but at the end of it all… no one will ever love you. You're a freak, remember? A titan. Who in their right mind would ever fall for some kind of half human-giant mix? Even if they did, all you'll have are freaking monster babies that no one will want. Face it: you're not human, not really. You may look like one of us, but you'll never fully belong. You know about what those other three shifters did to us: Annie, Reiner and Berthold. They killed thousands of us, broke the Walls, tried to wipe us out. Eren is an exception but even then no one really likes him, even after all he's done with retaking Trost, Wall Rose, and Shiganshina. He's done WAY more than you ever have, and the government and Wall Cult still want him dead, not to mention half the people inside the Walls don't trust him. What makes you think you're any different?"

I've never seen him wear and expression so serious, and my vision narrows until it is only him that I see.

"Quit lying to yourself. You may be on our side now, but no one will want you like that. The only people who could ever love you are your family, and their dead. Let it go already. They aren't coming back."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. How… just how could such harsh things come from the same mouth that once spoke nothing but sweetness to me? I won't take it, not anymore. I'm fed up with his abuse, and my family….

'No one speaks ill of them and gets away with it.'

Wrath feels alien to me, the searing heat burning my limbs uncomfortably, but I do not question it. Instead, it fuels my movements and steadies my gaze and dries my tears. I've had enough.

"Do not speak of which you do not know." I tell him darkly, and without any fear I stalk toward him and glare up at him with such detestation that my eyes burn. "And as for your request, I shall grant it."

It's almost satisfying seeing the confusion that springs to his face, and I feel no guilt when I take stance and ram my elbow into his gut. Immediately James gaps and kneels, clutching his abdomen with both arms, and I stare down at his pitiable form.

"You want me to be normal, then I shall do just that. Instead of catering to my abnormal sense of empathy, I shall ignore it and respond to this situation just as a normal girl would do. Congratulations, you are now disgracefully dismissed, or in normal terms…" I mock, "… you're single. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Without another word or so much as a glance, I stalk out the threshold of mine and Petra's shared dorm and slam the door behind me.

XXX

Anger, nothing but anger burns me now. Despite the temperature outside being quite harsh in wintery chill I ignore the stinging cold upon my bare arms and stalk across the courtyard, dismissing every glance cast my way. I walk without thinking, yet I am unsurprised as to where my feet take me. Marching with solid steps, I stop outside the stall I know to be mine and open the hatch. As is his way, Stonewall trots to me and places his large, broad head upon my shoulder in greeting, an act of which I happily return.

"Hello there." I greet, and though I've not been in his company for more than a few seconds, already the searing heat in my body begins to die as acid recedes back into my stomach.

I know Stone feels my anxiety, he always does, for he lifts his head and rests his muzzle upon my forehead so that his dark eyes can stare into mine. I smile.

"I missed you too, friend. And I will be well." I tell him, giving his face a light scratch before gently taking my head away from his. "Listen, what say you about taking a ride? Long has it been since our last excursion."

Stone lifts his grand head and gives it a vivid shake and paws at the ground with a single feathered hoof all the while letting out a nicker so eager that I can't help but laugh.

"Well that is a yes if I've ever heard one." I chuckle. "Very well then, let us be off."

Taping the command for 'follow me' upon his neck, I turn and together we both make the short hike to the fenced in corral. It isn't as grand as the woods near my home, lacking both the foliage we both love as well as the seemingly endless space, but we make do with what we are given and are happy with it. After making sure the wooden gate is closed, Stone lowers his head, and with ease gained over almost two decades of being together, I mount him and we set off.

In my haste, I didn't even bother with fitting him with saddle and stirrups, but such a thing is of no consequence to me. It has been a while since I've ridden bareback anyway, and it's nice to ride with no restrictions and equipment to tether us down. I need not of their assistance as well. Once upon his back, it feels natural to me, not having anything to hold onto or steady myself with. I'm so small that he barely notices my weight, and I sit higher up upon him so my legs can fit about his shoulders.

As it always does before a ride, my chest begins to pound with adrenaline, and even before I give the command for him to go, Stone has already read my intentions and begun. We start of in a trot, but after a few seconds it turns into a gallop, and a few more after that, we are in a full sprint, his steady stride and pull of muscles propelling us forward across the empty corral.

It's exhilarating.

I hang on with nothing but the muscles in my legs, and since I never use a bridle, I lean forward slightly and rest my hands upon his neck. Wind cuts through me, tossing my hair and Stonewall's mane into a flurry of gray and ginger, but I do not feel the sting of cold. This is one of the things I live for, this feeling of power and flight upon the back of a horse. The military issued mare I have is also well trained and a good deal faster than Stone, but there is just something about my best friend that no other horse can ever replicate. He is not as swift as they, or as slim and lean, but he has a certain strength to him unlike any I've ever seen. After so many years, Stonewall is like a brother to me, strong and steady just like Romulus was, and though he is growing into his age considering the white streaks appearing in his fur, his spirit hasn't aged a day.

Without speaking, I know that he is aware of my turmoil. I don't know how I can tell, but I just do. It is an understanding we've both grown to have after so many years; he can read my body language just as well as I can read his. It is this very understanding that comes into play while we ride, and I begin to lose myself.

With James, it was easy for me to remain angry, to have his words and presence fuel my animosity, but out here with nothing but Stonewall and the wind, my previous rage is swept away. I sit upon his back, blinking against the winter gusts, and I choke. Oddly, it is not losing James that hurts me most, or even James himself, but the content of his words.

'Why can't you just be fucking normal for once!? This is why no one could ever love you!'

My throat tightens.

'He can't be right… he just can't. I'm not that strange… am I? I can find someone who loves me back… I can… I can…'

My hands clench.

'I can…' I repeat, but with each mental uttering my mental voice grows weaker and weaker, and the weight of reality rests upon me. 'There… has to be someone… there has to…'

Not even I can believe my own lie. I loathe to admit it, but deep in the most intimate domain of my heart I believe James' words to be true.

'He was right, of course. Who could ever love me? I'm a freak after all. To wish for a man to love me back is unreasonable and impossible. Such a thing is akin to expecting a rabbit to fall in love with a wolf. I'm the very embodiment of what humanity loathes most. How much of a fool must I be to believe that what I read reflects life as it is? There is no hero waiting for me here, no knight in shining armor or prince to sweep me off my feet. There is no man who could care about me despite the fearful power I have inside. There is no such thing. There will never be such a thing. I'm a fool, an outlandish, naïve fool.'

My face is numb from the cold, but I feel the warmth of tears beginning to trail down my cheeks.

'No wonder Corporal was always angry with me; he knew what would come of this, that no one could possibly love me the way James acted like he could. What I mistook for jealousy that night in his office was nothing more than mounted frustration at my ignorance. He was right, he's always right. I should have listened, but I didn't.'

Now I am paying the price for my insolence. With no one to watch me and no will to hold myself together any longer, a single choking sob thrusts its way from my chest and I buckle. Another sob comes, then another, repeating and repeating until I am left crumpled upon Stonewall's back. It hurts, it hurts so much, and there is no cure for this ailment that pains me now.

I'm barely aware of Stonewall slowing beneath me, ears turned back at the sound of my sorrow, and under the canopy of a single tree mercifully left to thrive within the otherwise barren pasture, he stops. A horse can neither speak nor give condolences, but I find comfort in him anyway. He does not protest as I bury my face into his neck and grip his mane in my tiny fingers. I'm sure that I must be tugging, but he does not complain; he merely stands and waits for my agony to pass.

For a long time we stay there, and months worth of pent up misery and unhappiness pour out of me until there are no more tears for me to shed. Throughout it all, it is not James that I weep for, though his betrayal does wound me. No, it is my own fate that grieve over. Within these walls with thousands upon thousands of people, there is not a one who will ever commit their life to me… to love me… and that is the most painful thing of all.

With the entirety of humanity about me, I'm still alone.

XXX

It is nearly sun fall by the time Stonewall and I return to the gate. I've shed everything I can, I've nothing left.

Once at the gate I hop off his back and turn to him one last time. His eyes stare back into mine with such depth that I feel his gaze pierce into my very being, and he lets out a low, soft grunt.

"I will be well." I tell him, drawing my hands across his muzzle. "Do not pity me. You have done wonders to still my aching soul, but I must leave you now…"

In response he pushes into my hands and flares his nostrils in a sigh. He does not wish for me to go. I frown and stare at him, and I can see from the expression in his eyes to the lowered dock of his tail that he wants to stay outside with me.

"I apologize, but I cannot."I tell him then, an idea coming to mind, I smile.

Normally, every horse is to be put into their box, but I know how much he loathes his box. Stone is a stallion accustomed to roaming as he pleases, and the confines of his wooden stall hurt him just as much at it hurts me. So in a stroke of rebellion, I pat his head, step out the open gate, then close it behind me with him inside. Stonewall swishes his tail and leans his head across the fence, a question playing upon his eyes.

"It's fine." I tell him. "I care not if I get in trouble. I may not have the power to help my own troubles, but I can help you with yours. Go and run."

His ears flick at my command, yet he stays rooted to the fence.

"It's alright. You've been confined to that box for too long. Go and roam for me please. It will bring me much joy if you did."

With stern hand, I pat the command for 'Go' upon his neck, and once again speak it aloud. Another moment passes during which he does nothing, but when I neither speak again nor look away, the eventually turns. Before making my way down the path away from him, I look back over my shoulder to see him buck, a gesture of which I haven't seen in quite a long time, and I smile as I see him gallop away, the dock of his tail erect in pure bliss.

'Be joyous my friend, for it brings me joy as well.'

My walk is solitary with no other soul in sight, yet as I wander down this dirt road toward the place where I know my friends to be, I do not wish to return just yet. Instead, I carve a path through rough, dead grass behind the Recon buildings, eyes upon the monolith of stone rising in the distance.

All is quiet as I walk, and it's even quieter as I use my newly discovered partial transforming to scale the Wall surrounding Stohess. Once up top I walk.

And walk.

And walk.

Following the path of the Wall, I make my way around its vast perimeter until I eventually tire of walking and find a seat near the edge and face the great city below.

The sun is on its downward decent, just beginning to color the sky in pastel hues of pink, purple, and gold as I take my seat upon the chilling stone. Once settled, I cast my eyes over the valley of buildings below and I draw my legs to my chest. Gazing out, it is easy to get lost in the beauty of the scene. Though I've lived here for over a year now, the sheer scale of this civilization still astounds me.

Whether intended or not, this strange place has become my home now, the house out in the woods beyond the farthest Wall all but abandoned. It is provoking of thought for me to stare out upon the world below, fifty meters in the sky. I yearn for my home back where I was born, for the forest I know so well, the land I've claimed my own, yet I find it difficult to want to leave this place as well. This city may not be where I grew up, but it is here that I found purpose, friends, a second beginning. It is here that I met Petra and Eren, Oluo and Gunther and Eld and Hanji. It is here that I can put my abilities to work, to serve people, help them. It is here that I gained another chance to live, a chance to be more than a woman living in ambiguous space in the woods with no other goal than to survive until the next dawn.

Despite myself, I've grown to love this land and the people in it.

'Yet such feelings are one-sided.'

Eyes locked on to the golden sky before me, my thoughts wander. I am no longer sad, but neither am I content. I'm in some mysterious space in-between. I do not hurt anymore, I've done my crying, and James is but the shadow of a memory upon my mind, yet I still ponder over the events of today with calm acceptance.

Somehow I'm not entirely surprised by James' rough treatment of me. I've noticed his growing agitation for a while now, and with him being a man that is not skilled in controlling his anger, such a thing is to be expected. It hurt of course, and my skin is tender when I draw my fingers across it, but I can't exactly say that I did not predict this.

I was just too blinded by my own childish hope to give it any thought. And to make my decision even worse, I had someone very dear to me warn me of it all, and I didn't listen.

I'm such a fool.

'I deserve every bit of retort Corporal throws at me.' I muse, burying my neck into my folded arms. 'I should have believed him, but my indignation barricaded my sense of truth, and look where it brought me.'

I'm such a fool, I can't repeat that enough. I made the wrong choice, and even long after I realized that I was mistaken, I idiotically refused to back down and give in. I was naïve in thinking that things would go back to the way they were between James and I, I believed it so much to the point where all joy was taken from me, and it took an assault that made me fear for my life to get me to realize my folly. Corporal was right to say what he did to me that night.

'When he eventually fucks up, don't come crying to me.' I repeat, letting Corporal's words ring in my ears.

I do not blame him for anything. James and I screwed up, and I do not fault Corporal one bit for not wishing to hear about my troubles after putting in so much effort to help me avoid it in the first place. If I were in his position, I would not bother to listen to myself either.

I'm unmoving upon the wall with my arms tight about my knees and my eyes staring lost into the sky, and though I twitch nary a muscle my chest tightens and a stinging that has nothing to do with the harsh winter wind blowing about my form pierces me.

'Corporal…'

A deep, sad longing sits in my abdomen when he comes to mind, as well as a burning of shame in my throat.

'He must hate me by now...'

Pain aches inside me, a clenching about my center that feels as if life itself is trying to squeeze the breath out of me. It hurts, oh does it hurt, but I'm well past familiar with this pain; I've only felt it nearly every day the past four months.

Since the time James began to change and the touching started, I had found myself making habit out of getting lost in thought, of purposely distracting my mind with daydreams. It was one of the ways that I learned to cope with James' altered character while I was with him, and back then, I thought it treacherous of me to let my mind stray away from him, but thinking back upon it now, I don't feel so anymore. I wish I had done it more often.

During those long days after missions when James was exceptionally irritable and forceful, I found comfort in my thoughts and how they helped me ignore the sensation of his hands running about me. I would think about my home, my family, my friends. I would visualize scenes from my favorite childhood stories, relive old memories, even ponder over the future. While all those topics were good and well, there was always one that stood out to me the most, that helped me feel most at peace even while James muttered and cursed about me.

This topic, of course, was always of Corporal.

Even in thought he makes me feel safe, and all throughout these past long months I yearned for nothing more than to be released from James' grasp and return to helping my captain with his work in his office, just like I used to do.

Those days were the best. Talk was seldom and rare coming from him, but I always enjoyed his silent company, especially after the retaking of Shiganshina earlier this year. After I got injured, I wasn't expecting anything to happen, yet I was pleasantly surprised and grateful for his sudden increase in interest in me. For once, he began asking me question and, though they were nothing special, I was overjoyed at the prospect that, after so many months of trying, that Corporal finally began to return some of my familiarity, if only by a little.

It makes no sense as to why such small talk made me so happy, but it did. It's in those minute, casual conversations that I really began to see him clearly, that I began to understand the depth of his character.

It was those talks that made me realize that he is more than just a soldier, more than just scowls, insults, and strict discipline. He never spoke of himself, but I learned much about him just by observing. He and Romulus are quite similar in demeanor, and though Romulus was just quiet and rarely spoke instead of being prickly and closed off like Corporal is, their behavior is similar. After years of figuring out how to read my brother's unspoken language, I found it easy enough to use that very same judgment to decipher Corporal's actions, and it was in those unconscious gestures that I began to see.

I noticed simple, silly things at first, such as the odd way he holds his tea cups and how he always leans his head slightly to the right when he is reading. There was never anything for me to find in little quirks like those, but I enjoyed noticing them nevertheless. It's traits like that that make us individual, and I often times wondered over why or how they even began in the first place.

But more significant than those petty oddities were the slight changes in posture or expression that gave evidence to his thoughts, and it was those hidden messages that I strove to notice. It took a long while for me to recognize most of them, but once I did, a new layer of Corporal was opened up to me, and I began to understand his true feelings hidden behind that calm façade he always wears.

I began to notice the slight narrowing of his eyes whenever he concentrates on a task, the tightness in his lips when something is on his mind, the almost unperceivable downward slope of his brows that only happens when he reads over casualty reports. I noticed it all, and with no spoken words or explanation I started to comprehend his seemingly emotionless face.

Corporal isn't an emotionless man, far from it. The thing about him is that he is impossible to read, and it's difficult to see the kindness and good in him, unless you know what to look for. And after some time, I learned exactly what to look for.

I never missed the way his face would slacken just the tiniest bit in comfortable ease when he was with his squad.

I took notice whenever the tone of his voice would harden or soften depending on who he was talking to.

I saw the way he calmly stood by the injured and dying, how his hand would clasp their's just a little tighter in the seconds before they breathed their last.

Others say that he doesn't care about his soldiers, that loss does not bother him as it does the rest of the legion, but they're wrong. Corporal DOES care, I'm sure he always has. He fights for us, advises us, protects us…

How can any one man take on so much responsibility and not go mad?

That is one thing I've always admired about him. He's infinitely strong it seems. As long as there are soldiers to fight beside him, he will never falter, his resolve will never weaken….

He is literal Leader of the soldiers, 'Humanity's Strongest'.

And it is that very man, in all his strength, prowess, strictness, aloofness, and rigidity that has me helplessly enraptured.

It's impossible to tell just when it was that became aware of my feelings for him, or even when I began to like him in such a way in the first place. Even how is a grand mystery to me. He's brutal, severe, closed off, vulgar, commanding, and even intimidating. He isn't anything near to the princes and men I grew up reading about, yet somehow, it is him that I've grown to have deep feelings for.

Sitting alone atop the Wall, I stare out into the glowing sky and I let myself get lost in him.

Perhaps it isn't such a wonder as to why I feel this way. Thinking of him now, my chest warms and tightens in a pleasant way, and fantasies play about my head in moving pictures.

Not only is he a diamond in the ruff, but he is as appealing as a man can ever be in my mind. I could never help but stare at him whenever he happened to walk by. I've always been aware of just how attractive he is, from the sculpt of his face to his raven hair and piercing eyes, but it was only after Shiganshina that I really began to appreciate it. Just the sight of him is enough to make my heart pound in earnest, and that moment after the mission…

Heat rises in my cheeks despite myself when I think back upon the day I treated Corporal for the kink in his shoulder. I must have seen hundreds of men half dressed by that time, but none of them invoked the kind of response Corporal did then, and I'm both enamored and confused by it. Is it normal for someone to be affected so strongly by the sight of another's body? I've no idea, it had never happened to me before, and I ponder over the feeling in interest.

In my mind's eye I see him just as he was, and even a simple vision of a memory causes my heart to beat rapidly and blood to flood my face. Corporal is so well built, tight skin drawn over a body made of nothing but honed, lean muscle. Even now I gape at just how good-looking he is, and I can feel the ghost of his body under my fingers. He was so strong, so warm, and there is something oddly fascinating about the scars and slight callous gained from years of 3DMG usage upon his skin. It's the body of a warrior, sturdy and powerful, yet even in its ruggedness I had been intoxicated by the feel of it. I had purposely taken my time treating him just so I could feel and look at him just a bit longer.

His back was smooth for the most part, and even relaxed his muscles bulged and dipped in a way so tantalizing that I drew my hands over his form just to feel the valleys. It felt good to me, feeling him like that, and from what little I could see of him, Corporal seemed as if he enjoyed it as well.

Offhandedly, I wish to know if his front feels the same, and I yearn to glide my hands over his chest just to know what it feels like….

A jolt spurs me from my ponderings and, at the realization of what I've been fantasizing about, my body grows unimaginably tight and hot, and though I'm alone I bury my face in my arms out of embarrassment.

He's almost beautiful in a way. Everything from the soft tresses of his ebony hair to his narrow eyes, his slim face and strong build, his steady gaze and mellow voice…

'Oh fate…'

I'm so attracted to him, I don't know what to do. Every bit of me longs to be with him now, a thousand times more so than James ever did. Is this what love feels like, this deep affection I have? I'm unsure, I don't even know if this feeling even has a name, but I'm completely taken by it. I want to know more, I need to know.

But… I can't.

All of the warmth and tightness in me disperses, and a sort of cold plummets into my being.

If I'm honest with myself, I'll likely never know more about this feeling I have. I'm… unlovable. That's what James said, right? I'm interesting, and cute in the face, but I have this terrible power in me, a power that sets me apart from the rest of mankind.

I'm the embodiment of what humanity hates most, that's right… Such a thing as wonderful as love will never come to me. Why would it? Who would ever be attracted to me in such a way when there are more than enough 'normal' girls to go around?

I pull my head out from within my arms and return to looking at the sky, and at the sight of the setting sun I grow oddly calm.

What is the point of getting my hopes up? I do not need such a thing as love to survive. I did just as well without it before, and I shall do so again. I do not need a man to fulfill me. No man would have me anyway…

Yet as I try to convince myself a vivid image of Corporal comes to mind, and it feels like his eyes stare straight into mine. As expected, my heart quickens again, but I swiftly make it still.

'He most of all. Corporal… is in a place above what I can reach, and he is a leader as well. He has neither time nor heart to drabble with the likes of me.'

It's difficult, but with a little maneuvering of emotion, I bring myself to accept this fact with solemn dignity.

'It is what it is. No use fretting over what cannot be changed.'

And with that, I push all thoughts of him to the back of my mind.

XXX

I've no idea how long I sit there just staring out into space, neither feeling nor thinking. My limbs might as well be frozen as cold as they are, and chill bumps dot my skin like a rash, yet I refuse my move. Instead I watch the sun slowly set, lost in a daze, and just let the wind as well as the colors of the dying light upon the horizon draw me away.

So lost in daze am I that I do not notice the presence standing a few steps behind me until they abruptly speak.

"Skipping out on your nursing duties like a lazy-ass, I see."

I jump at the sudden voice, and my head swirls around until my gaze lands upon the form of the person I least expected. It takes me a second to register who it is before my body allows me to respond.

"Corporal…" I breathe, more than surprised to see him all the way here.

How did he find me? Why? Surely he has work to finish? Yet here he is, and just as it always does, my chest gives a slight leap at the sight of him.

'He really is amazing, isn't he?'

Instinctively I wish to greet him, but words stop in my throat and I purse my lips.

'I can't. He hates me. The only reason he must be here is to chastise me.'

His handsome face is completely blank, and though his eyes are just as piercing as always they reveal nothing to me. He is a closed book.

Gathering my thoughts, I do my best to squash the thudding in my chest and cast my eyes away.

"Are you here to order me back to my station?" I question flatly.

A second passes.

"No."

'So he requires my assistance with something them.'

"Is there something you need of me then?"

Another second, then his voice calmly repeats the same answer.

"No."

I'm confused. If he is not here for those reasons, then why? My eyes slide back over to him in vain hope of figuring out his motive, but of course there is nothing for me to find. Corporal is very skilled in that way, of keeping his intentions hidden, and it is an ability he has honed to an art so fine that not even I can peer around it.

I wish to say something, anything, but nothing comes. What is there for me to say? We have hardly spoken in months, and the burning of shame and guilt over my disregard of his advice renders me mute.

'There is nothing I can say to make amends for my actions anyway. What's done is done.'

So in the end I keep my mouth tightly shut.

Silence passes between us, and each second makes me wish to fidget in place. He's just staring at me, steady and impassive. What is he thinking? It's impossible to tell, and I refuse to ask.

More time passes in that way, until eventually he speaks up again.

"I saw that asshat Tucker with his group of shitty friends."

I cast my eyes away. Of course that is what he would speak about.

"I see." I reply flatly, unfeeling.

My curt answer must irritate him for he speaks again.

"So instead of goofing off with them, you're up here? I thought you were dating him. Aren't you supposed to be all over each other or some kind of weird shit like that?"

'I believed so as well, but not anymore. That connection has died.'

At the mention of James' name, I sink lower into my arms and hide my neck with my hair without responding. I do not want to talk about James.

Corporal returns to staring at me in silence, and I feel his eyes burning into my skin. He knows something happened, I'm certain he can tell. I both hope and dread for him to mention it. It's an odd feeling, and it makes me uncomfortable. Why does he keep looking at me like that? What is he trying to find? Why does he even care? Corporal loathes James, always has. Why bring him up now?

I wish to flee, to hide, to do anything just so I can get out from under his calculating gaze, yet it is that vey gaze that holds me fast and renders me unable to move. I'm trapped, and he must see the distress in my features for I can feel his eyes narrow upon my face.

"What happened."

It's a direct order, and so accustomed am I to obeying him that I return my gaze to his face despite myself, but once there I once again freeze. He can't know, he mustn't know, I don't want him to know. What happened between James and I is a burden for me and me alone. It was my own fault that such a thing happened, and to speak of it now will only do to increase the amount of shame I already feel concerning the whole matter. Corporal will only sneer and reiterate that he was right, anyway. He isn't a man that takes disobedience lightly, and I'm sure there would only be extensive punishment for me if he finds out.

For the first time in a very long time, there is something else that weighs against me more so than honesty.

"I…" I begin, hesitant against the blowing wind, yet the lie forces itself from my lips. "It… It's nothing."

I feel the physical air about me shift as well as the unseen atmosphere that has sprung between Corporal and I, and a certain knot forms in my throat. I hate lying, I really do. Nothing comes of it except misery and shame, yet it is that very shame that spurred me to tell such an untruth in the first place. It's childish of me, yet the inevitable burden and consequences that come of deceit does not weigh upon me as strongly as the humiliation I should feel admitting my fault to the one man who knew how my endeavor would pan out. I made a complete, utter fool of myself, and for this moment all I wish for is to find a crevasse in which to hide myself and just wait for death to take me.

Corporal's eyes are daggers upon my skin, slicing into the very heart of my being and I whither under his heavy gaze. He doesn't believe me, and why would he when the evidence of my falsehood wears itself upon my features and in my voice? As such, I'm unsurprised when I hear the telltale tap of his boot upon the stone, a habit indicating he is not pleased, and his voice cuts with severe purpose.

"Now we both know that's complete bullshit. You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

'I know.' I tell myself when I look back up at him, and I hate how he sounds so disappointed in me.

"What happened." He says again, though not as callous as before, I cannot bring myself to hold his gaze and instead concentrate on his feet.

I know I cannot fool him, yet I am still hesitant. I'm embarrassed by the sequence of events that brought me here, and I wish not to speak of them, but I know there is no hiding from him anymore. Corporal is a very intelligent man, more so than people give him credit for, and as such he has come to demand nothing less than honest, satisfactory answers to his inquiries. I know I need to tell him, there is no way that I can NOT tell him, yet there is something of which I need to understand first, so instead of replying directly, I craft a question of my own.

"May… I ask something first?"

Corporal does not move aside from a curt nod, and at his approval a wave of heat tinges my cheeks.

"I… apologize if this is inappropriate," I begin, voice unsteady. "but… is intimate physical contact between involved persons common here?"

You could hear a pin drop with as quiet as the air is between us, and it takes a long moment before Corporal flatly answers.

"Yes."

I figured as much. Of course it would be common here, it's exactly as what I read it to be. Guilt rises in my throat.

'Perhaps I was wrong after all then.' I muse softly, before I speak again.

"Are… we supposed to enjoy it?"

Again, nothing but heavy silence, and I wait for his reply with beating heart and held breath. After what feels like an eternity, he moves.

"Yes…"

My heart falls. James was right, of course. He's lived here all his life, it's only expected of him to know how courtship and relationships are supposed to progress. I was mistaken in my feelings of hesitance around him, wrong in my dislike of his constant physical contact. It's normal here, yet because I am foreign to this place and it's culture, I naively believed that I could skirt around such socially accepted expectations without qualm, but not anymore. James was right to be angry with me. I messed up what we had by sinking into my meekness and leaning upon uncertainty. No wonder he was so frustrated with me.

My face falls when I mutter a half hearted answer.

"I presumed as much. I should have known…"

I can feel Corporal's eyes harden.

"Why?"

'Why? Why what?'

I knit my brows in confusion and look at him, not understanding. He must see my confusion for he asks again even though I know how much he loathes repeating himself.

"Why ask such a random ass question?"

If possible, my expression falls further at his heavy tone.

"I inquired because… I needed to know if I was at fault." I begin, and despite myself I feel the stirring of a hundred emotions battle within me. "I had to understand if my misgivings were out of place, and from your answer, I can only believe that they were."

Corporal remains as stoic as ever.

"Why does it matter?" he replies, almost annoyed. "Of course you should enjoy it. That's the whole point. Why did you even need to ask?"

A ball of shame, guilt and something else chokes me, and I barely manage to squeeze words out.

"Because I didn't."

As if it was the key to opening a gate within myself, words bubble up in me, and it's almost painful as they force their way past my closed throat and out from my lips.

"I don't understand." I mutter desperately, and I wince at the pain I feel not only in my body but my heart as well. "Something is ill with me, there must be. No matter how I tried, I could never bring myself to fully delight in James' attention. It was… nice… at first, but when it began to escalate, so did my uncertainty, and he began to get perturbed with me because of it. I didn't give his change in demeanor much thought, but perhaps I should have. I naively assumed that the phase would pass, but it never did, and now…"

I can't help but turn away, and I continue in nothing more than a whisper.

"… he reached his limit with me today."

Shame overwhelms me, and I can almost feel James' hands wrapped about my neck again. I'm torn between the battle of emotions that plays in me now. One moment I'm angry, the next accepting, then it turns to shame, indignation, then anger again. I know not what I'm supposed to feel. According to Corporal's answers and what James said to me, I'm a fault. James was only doing what is expected of couples who life here, yet I denied him such a privilege thanks to my apparent ignorance. Never has my lack of knowledge concerning relationships with other people been so prevalent. I'm so awkward, clumsy, socially self conscious in everything I do, and finally it has all come to a head.

I'll never belong here, not fully. I'm too… strange, too odd.

For the first time in my life, I really begin to loathe who I am.

Why can't I be normal like Petra or Mikasa? Why do I have to constantly struggle with wondering whether what I do or say is socially acceptable, always questioning my every action and thought just so I can appear to fit in? I stick out from the others like a sore thumb, an abnormality among a group of abnormals. Everyone I know is different in their own way, with Jean and his prideful horse face, Sasha and her obsessive eating, Connie and his ridiculous antics and stunts. Even people like Hanji with her eccentric love of giants and Eren with his indomitable shifting power and greed for revenge, not even they are as much of an aberration as I.

I'm a freak, just as James said I was.

That is what hurts me most of all, not James himself but the truth in his words. I'm a weed trying to thrive in a garden, it just won't do. Though I'll always do my best to try and learn all I can to fit in, I'll never fully acclimate, and eventually when all is said and done I'll be plucked from the soil bed and set apart so as I will not tarnish the beauty of the others about me.

'Not even Corporal will vouch for me then.' I muse, watching him from the corner of my eye.

An ensemble of emotion plays about his gaze, and though I do not wish to exert the energy required to figure out just what plagues his mind, I continue to watch him with idle curiosity, waiting to see his reaction to my answer.

I'm waiting for anger to flare up, for indignation to darken his features and annoyance to color his voice when he finally decides to reprimand me for my idiotic ramblings, but as seconds tick by, nothing happens. I watch in wonder as his gaze scans my body as if looking for something, and I feel heat wherever he looks. When he finally stops to stare at where I hide my neckline from view, my heart begins to beat harder.

'Do not tell me…'

No. There is no possible way for him to know about my injury there, but when his gaze hardens and he starts his way toward me, my eyes widen and my chest tightens. When next I blink Corporal's face is right in front of mine, so close that I can see the pattern of his eyes, and my breath nearly stops. I wish to move, but his cool gaze has me transfixed, and I become lost in his gray orbs.

I do not know what to make of his close proximity, I'm flustered enough at it is, but when he moves my cheeks only grow more heated. Though his skin is callous from years of fighting, his fingers are gentle, almost soft upon me as he takes my chin, and I have no heart to fight him when he lightly lifts my head.

Instantly his steady gaze that was calm but a second before sharpens, and a fury so dark discolors them that I openly gape. He is completely still, a statue beside me as he stares at my neck, and I dare not move. With lethal intent, a single word escapes him, threatening and murderous.

"Why."

I do not know if it is the intense power behind his gaze or a sort of want to relieve myself of such a burden, but I do not hesitate to answer him.

My voice is steady in mute wonder.

"I refused to give him what he wanted."

I've never seen him so angry. I truly believed that the anger I witnessed when he lost himself after the revelation of Eren's basement was the extent of his fury, but not even that explosion of emotion is comparable to the wrath I see in him now. For the first time since I've known him, I see the will to kill in him.

"That shitfaced, unicorn fucking bastard."

His curse is pure venom so potent it erodes his voice into nothing more than a gravelly baritone, and though the fingers still gripping my chin are still, I see the barely contained shaking of his body where rage threatens to burst from him. With a sweep his steel eyes return to mine.

"What else." he demands briskly. "What else did he do."

"Nothing." I reply, still gaping at the sheer strength of his reaction. "I promise I speak truth."

Corporal doesn't reply, allowing me to watch him, and with his face so close to mine I cannot help but bore my gaze into his, searching. Why is he reacting this way? Sure, I'm his subordinate, and I'm certain he does not appreciate soldiers hurting me or any of the other members of his team, but this… this is far beyond normal anger.

Looking at him, my chest thuds in time with my shallow breaths, bemusement as well as fluster heating my face where continues to hold me. This is a kind of anger I've never seen before, an almost defensive, protective anger. Why does he feel defensive? Protective? We have hardly spoken to each other in weeks, and after I so rudely dismissed his warning about James all that time ago, I was certain that he would not wish to have anything to do with me. Yet here he is, upon this great Wall simmering with rage at what James has done to me.

This can't be normal of a corporal to his subordinate, it just can't. I've never seen anyone else react this way to any kind of situation concerning cadets like me, and seeing the enraged look on his face knowing that it's because he loathes that James put his hands on me, for some reason it makes me… happy.

Why am I happy over Corporal becoming angered? That makes no sense. And yet as I stare at him, taking in his icy gray eyes and handsome face contorted into a poorly hidden expression of wrath, I feel an odd sort of comfort. Corporal is concerned about me, why else would he react like this.

'He… still cares about me?' I gawk in wonder, hard-pressed to believe my own words.

But the evidence is right here in front of me. There is no mistaking the look in his eyes, and after a moment of tense silence where we do nothing but stare at each other, I see something highly unexpected stir in his gaze. I watch in mute perplexity as the fire in his eyes slowly dies, replaced by something else, and I almost don't believe what it is that I see.

'Is that…'

No, it can't be. I don't believe Corporal to be a man capable of feeling such a thing, but I cannot deny the way his expression relaxes and, if possible, his eyes are almost… soft.

I've never seen Corporal look this way, especially towards me, and at the revelation of his shift in emotion I grow even more flustered and my chest warms and tightens inexplicably.

I love the way he looks at me like that.

I've no idea how much time passes with us staring in silence, but with a sudden jolt Corporal seems to come back to himself. The softness dies swiftly as he moves abruptly away, and by the time I register his sudden withdrawal his face is as expressionless as ever.

"What?" He demands, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "Why are you making that face at me? You look constipated. You need to take a shit or something?"

It was such a swift turn of events, abrupt and uncalled for, and when I catch the end of his harsh comment a strange noise forces itself from me, and I make a face at it's oddness.

Corporal's eyes narrow more.

"That's even worse." he chides, and am I mistaken when I spy a slight tinge about his cheeks?

"You want me to turn around?" He continues, looking as if he is uncomfortable in his own skin.

I don't know what it is, perhaps a mix of his abrupt change in tone and his contorted expression, but from out of nowhere a laugh bursts from my chest and suddenly I'm lost in hilarity. I know not what was so funny about him, Corporal is not a joking man, yet something about him makes me crumple over and I am overwhelmed by a wave of loud, unadulterated laughter.

My reaction must make him mad, because he lets out a scowl.

"What the hell is so damn funny! You think this is some kind of joke!?"

I can't help it. I try to stop but his yelling only makes me laugh harder. It feels so good, laughing like this. I haven't laughed like this in… I've no idea how long. These past months with James, as well as the extended hours I volunteered helping the nurses and doctors treat patients after every daily mission had all but drained me, so this moment, as ridiculous as it is, is like a renewing in me.

It's quite chilling up here with frosty November wind constantly blowing upon me, but I suddenly feel very warm. Corporal's eyes are upon me, burning holes into my head, and though I do not wish to I try my best to stifle myself.

"I… I apologize…!" I stutter through echoing chuckles. "It's just… Your comment was highly unexpected… and the way you said it…"

Another fit overcomes me, and it's an even longer moment before I regain myself enough to continue.

"I apologize again." I start again, confused by my own antics as I'm sure Corporal is. "I know not where it came from. I just… couldn't help myself. I… haven't laughed like that in a long while…"

For the most part he makes no expression at my apology, but after a moment a sneer pulls at his face.

"Tch. I know…" He glowers. " It's because of him, that fucking colossal, unhygienic asshat."

I blink.

'Colossal, unhygienic asshat.'

Corporal's insults never cease to surprise me, and the hard tone of his voice makes it all the more hilarious.

'He speaks as if he just stepped in a mount of horse dung.'

Corporal's face is so distorted in disgust that I laugh once again, lost in myself. He must find my complete disregard for the gravity of the situation annoying, yet he says nothing as I laugh into the sky and muse over him.

He is such an interesting man. He is stern, yet he is considerate to his men while out on the battle field. He is closed off, yet does not hesitate to offer condolence to the fallen and take time to write letters of sympathy to the families of every soldier killed. He is rude, yet his unorthodox comments can lighthearted and even jesting if you listen hard enough. This moment is no exception.

Looking upon him now, I am again lost in just how wonderful he is, how wonderful he can be. He truly is a diamond in the ruff, a gem hidden in adversity. There is so much about him that I admire from trivial traits to virtuous qualities. I adore his resolve to fight, his strength and skill in battle, his brilliant mind and unwavering bravery. I'm in awe of his fit, muscular form, his soft raven hair, his narrow, calculating eyes….

It's his eyes that I love the most. It's said that eyes are the windows of the soul, and I believe it. His are hooded and even blank at times, but there is so much to see in them that it makes up for all those moments of hidden mystery. They can be angry, content, annoyed, interested, determined, questioning and, just recently discovered, even soft.

I stop.

'This feeling… could it be?'

No, I won't get my expectations up like that just yet, but the warmth of affection still persists in me and I cannot help the glimmer of hope that blooms in my heart when I look upon him. It's undeniable how strong my feelings are for this corporal of mine, yet I do not wish to fight it. I can't fight it, even if I wanted to. There is too much about him that compels me, too much about him that makes me want to know more about him, and despite his crude demeanor and harsh words… I feel comfortable with him.

Safe.

Looking into his steel eyes a smile brightens my face, and my body feels just the tiniest bit lighter and warmer when he looks back at me, and in that moment I know, out of all that was said here, one thing alone is the most true to me.

"Under normal circumstances I abhor using such vulgarity," I begin evenly. "but in this instance I shall relent."

Corporal's expression shifts slightly, a small twitch in his jaw that lets me know that he is interested, and I only smile more at him as a curse falls from my lips.

"James is, in fact, a colossal, unhygienic asshat. Whatever that means…"

A mute color of surprise crosses his eyes, and I don't blame him. Cursing is so rare from me, yet for this moment, just for him, I oblige with joy. And just as rare is my cursing is the open look of awe upon Corporals face. It isn't much in the grand scheme of things, just a slight relaxing of his features and widening of his otherwise slender eyes, but even such a miniscule alteration in expression does wonders to get my heart to leap in my chest.

He's so gorgeous when he looks like that.

I'm not ashamed of the color that must be upon my cheeks, nor do I care if my expression is openly readable. I'm content with just memorizing him and wondering over his seemingly perfect physique.

Unfortunatlely my appreciation is interrupted by a strong gust of wind, and I'm forced to close my eyes and draw my arms about myself in its cold.

"Shitty wind…" I hear Corporal curse, and from the corner of my eye I see him glowering at the dying sun. "Let's go. Your neck needs to be treated before it gets even more hideous. Plus you're freezing, and I'm not about to haul your frozen carcass all the way back."

The softness is gone, the stern and stoic Corporal I normally see returning, but my smile does not fall. My kind, compassionate Corporal is still there, just hidden.

Mentally, I make a vow to myself.

'I'll see the other side of you one day. You are more than just what you appear to be, and I won't give up until I truly understand just who you are, Corporal.'

There are no words spoken between us as I stand, but his seemingly uninterested side glace at me is enough to drive a bolt through my body, and hope flares up again.

'Maybe…' I think, locking my eyes onto his and I swear I still see a hint of softness there. '… just maybe.'

Perhaps there is still a chance for me to find someone who will care about me like the princes in my childhood fairytales always did for their dames. Perhaps love is still possible, even for an abnormal like me. It may take a while, but I'm certain I'll find it.

All I need is time.