bertolt hoover, peacekeeper | finished

There are times when it burns through his arm like a chemical fire — a glowing red scar that throbs in the bend of his left elbow, tracker jacker venom coursing through his veins and making sweat pool in the palm of his hands. And it's tragic that the only path to home can be found when he's lost inside of his mind, and he knows that it upsets Reiner when he presses against the mark over and over, but he's learned that pain can be comforting; it makes sure that he doesn't forget. He sees the steel sky of Thirteen and the gaunt faces of his family in burning white flashes, and the memories of his childhood ground him, no matter the suffering that is attached to them.

His mother's screams shoot through the marrow of his bones, and he swears that he can feel them fracture. She didn't get the chance to say goodbye when he was taken from her, chosen alongside Reiner and Annie to be Thirteen's next pawns in the unending rebellion against the Capitol. The officials prepped them on their future mission, strapping them to chairs before they could ask their questions and scream for help, and months were spent conditioning their minds through a seemingly endless torture of biweekly tracker jacker injections. They were left shaking and hollowed out, hearing their duties preached and learning what they would soon be trained to do — they were called murderers before weapons were placed in their grasp and they were told which way to swing.

Only one month was spent being taught by professionals. Annie excelled in hand-to-hand combat, and Reiner's sturdiness was matched only by his own wisdom. Bert followed after his newfound friends, never succeeding in any particular field, but he always managed. By the end, he could take a grown man down within a minute, and could solve complex puzzles within two. Average, but acceptable. He stopped asking for his parents and siblings long before they forced them out of Thirteen, dropping them in the woods with only a faded map to guide them to their destination, with all of their instructions drilled into their minds. To survive the forest meant they'd survive the Capitol, so alone they went marching 
— as a team of three;

Annie,

Reiner, 

& Bert.

He winces when he remembers the tree where he and Reiner would sit and watch the sunset, and he hears the creek where he'd help Annie catch fish. His fingers would always slip over themselves, too large for their own good, but she never scolded him. Reiner would fell lumber for their shelters, and Bert was never able to saw the wood alongside him, only there to help drag it to the destination. He patted Annie's shoulder the first time she shot a fowl through its neck, but he couldn't handle watching it be plucked and gutted — still, Reiner and Annie were able to talk him into eating the meat. 

His friends had carried him through their training when they were tossed out into the forest, and all that Bert ever did was hold them back. Through conflicts with other wanderers and coming across stray muttations, it was always him following the leader and leaving slack that they were forced to pick up. His suit of armor always felt foreign, never growing used to it even during the initial month of Thirteen's lessons, but his friends were always two storms that could never be conquered when they merged as one. He was always the eye of their hurricane. They told him that it was fine, that three terrorists were better than one — but that doesn't mean the third one isn't an expendable shield that can be sacrificed for the other two.

The day they finally made it to the Capitol, Bert was the first to show his love for the world that he had been bred to hate. Wide eyes opened up to see even more, and chapped lips parted to let loose an excited squeal. The colors assaulted him, the buildings making him feel small and pathetic — but masochists have an acquired taste, and he found pleasure in the clawing feeling that burned in the pit of his stomach. He felt at peace when nervous bile started to flood his throat.

{ He's only able to breathe when he's suffocating — but life and death cannot exist without the other, so he pays it no mind. He holds a bird in his hand, consoling it with a soft whisper, but he still crushes it before it can finish singing its song. }

An apartment was prepared for them in advance, identification already processed, and within two weeks, they were on their way to early training as members of the Peacekeeper Academy. They had the edge, hardened children standing among spoiled brats who had petty dreams of being heroes, and Bert found solace in no longer being the worst of the majority — he could handle not being at the top, but Atlas' shoulders can only carry so much self-hatred.

Years went by, growing into a man with sweaty hands and a forced smile that was trained to be genuine, and he became comfortable with the Capitol. Only the permanent pain that shot through his arm reminded him of his approaching future, and looking at the faces of his new friends and family was nothing more than an early access to an obituary that he never wanted to read.

He baked for them when they were missing homemade food, and he gave them pointers through their training out in the wilds, just as Reiner and Annie had done with him when they were kids. He followed in their tracks and made himself into a peacekeeper that was to be respected, but he never once got close to where they stood.

He graduated third of his class, below Reiner and Mikasa, and only above Annie if not for his more submissive personality. She could still down all 6'3" of him in seconds, and he knew not to test her. He followed his comrades when they joined the Survey Corps — the branch tasked with patrolling the forests of Panem and monitoring escaped muttations, capturing wanderers that go against the laws of their nation. The commanders called him a man that was to be respected, a fine peacekeeper who would do well to serve the Capitol and its citizens.

But Reiner still holds him at night when it becomes clear what he soon must do, when he feels the familiar pain getting stronger and his fists clenching tighter. He was made to destroy, to eat the Capitol raw — to burrow inside of it and break out, even if it meant dying in the process. He doesn't want the life that's been forced on him, wants to go back to that tree in the forest and hold Reiner's hand while the setting sun stains them in hues of orange and red — all he wants is to exist without being; to be the fireflies that make the terrors of the night less frightening.

But there's still chocolate staining the floor from the fudge he dropped when the news reports came in, when Annie acted on their mission first and murdered a handful of civilians and wounded a ranking officer. And he could not fault her, could not love her any less, but she was the foreshadowing of the beast he would eventually become. And he stutters when Reiner walks in on his remembering, grabbing his hand and removing it from the scar, begging him to stop hurting himself.

'It's the only way I can remember her,' Bert whispers, still feeling like a piece of him has been ripped out after Annie left. 'I don't want to forget her, Rei.'

Reiner pulls him close, chest against chest and hearts becoming one, and he's terrified of being the last of the three to give in. Because what's left of them when the Capitol is ruins and they're standing alone with blood on their hands? What becomes the new purpose of the three that were only given one choice?

He doesn't know, and he wonders, but Reiner tells him to sleep and forget
— so he does.

He forgets until the fire comes for him again.

---

[ table: rave ]