Sillage

Chapter 2: Aftermath.

Author's notes:

TRIGGER WARNING SELF HARM/INJURY/SUICIDE

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Exhausted.

That's the only way you can describe how you feel. Absolutely exhausted. Both physically and mentally. And you're still not done. You still have work to do. A lot of work. You still have things to think about. A lot of things. But for now, at least, you don't allow yourself to think too much. Because if you do...you don't know how you will act. With that logic, you decided to just move and work on muscle memory. That was the best thing you could've done. That was the best way you could've helped people. By choosing to feel nothing, and just work frantically.

For now, at least, you chose to feel exhausted. All the other feelings be damned. As long as, there's still work to be done, you will not stop. You cannot stop.

The wind picks up, blowing your hair and tangling it even more. The sun is setting and you can see some dark clouds gathering on the horizon. You hope it won't rain, that'd be another pain to deal with. But maybe a heavy summer rain wouldn't be so bad, after everything is settled. Sure, everything would turn wet and muddy, not the best case scenario, but at least it would feel like the world is cleaning itself. Like a cat. You remember a white cat with green eyes. You stop. You don't go there.

You've been sitting outside for the last 15 minutes, munching on your food ration. You hate military food. It's tasteless, dry and hard to swallow. But it's not like you have much of an option or an appetite, anyway. You're just eating so you wouldn't get dizzy again. A tired doctor is no good. You've been awake for 36 hours and working like crazy for 32. And you're still not done. Everyone told you to stop, everyone told you to get some sleep. You refused them every time. In fact, you even took up a few extra shifts. You know you look like a mad woman; you haven't even had the chance to take a shower or change your clothes. Maybe you should've. Dry blood, dirt, sweat and God knows what other body fluids (fortunately, not yours) surely do not make a good look for a physician who is about to treat a potentially life-threatening wound. At least your hands are clean. But you promised yourself that whilst they are not shaking, you will not stop. Until the moment you cannot stand anymore, you will just go on like this. You will rest and sleep plenty when you die. Until then, you will go forward.

The backyard of the military HQ is quiet. Everyone is busy setting up the fire for tonight, filling in paperwork or trying to reunite the survivors and their families. Not to mention taking care of the wounded, distributing rations and making sure conflict between people doesn't arise. You lean your head against the wall, basking in the last rays of sunshine you will get for today. There were not as many casualties as 5 years ago, they say. But you know it doesn't matter. There still are casualties. People still lost their lives. Men, women, children, old, young, good people, bad people. They all still died. You are a physician, yet you've never understood statistics like these. How can someone call yesterday's events Humanity's First Victory when so many people died? Maybe, from the outside, it looks different. But from where you stand, it sure doesn't look like much of a victory to you. It sure doesn't look like much of a victory to your patients either. Nor to the people who lost someone dear yesterday. The military managed to plug up the hole with the help of a kid who, apparently, can turn into a titan. You don't know how to feel about that either. You guess you should be happy you can go back to your regular life after everything is over and done. Humanity hasn't lost Wall Rose. Not yet. But you sure feel far from happy.

You give an audible sigh, your shoulders slumping down. You look at your disheveled appearance. This was one of your good outfits and you liked the way it hugged your curves perfectly. Not to mention your white coat. But since yesterday, you decided you should start wearing pants more often, they would've been much more comfortable when you.... You stop again and shake your head. This is why you didn't want to stop and relax. When you have time to relax, you give time to dark memories to kick in. You can't afford that now. It's been 36 hours since disaster struck, and you want to go another 36 before you fall into your reflection on yesterday's events.