In Between The Ends

Chapter Twenty Two

Arya was quite right, of course. Her rib only had a small fracture and bruising that she deftly wrapped and iced, committing herself to taking it easy for the remainder of their stay.

Between the week and a half they had left in the compound and the probable few weeks they would spend traveling to and from Paradis, she was expecting very little issues with healing; however she would go on to note within a few days that the pain had all but disappeared, which came off as strange to her. She hadn't had more than a scrap or two since she left the island, so she had grown unfamiliar with the way her body healed.

Maybe it wasn't nearly as bad as she had feared, or God forbid she might have a touch of whatever magic the captain used to recover at such astonishing speed.

Actively ignoring what had happened while Levi and herself fought together was the steadfast strategy she was sticking to; it did no one any good to try and pick it apart now, not with such a looming immediate future fast approaching. She had a hard time remembering it at all, despite a very detailed recap from her friends that sounded more like a play than real events. Arya could remember moving past Levi and pushing Connie and Quinn back, but anything after that was blur until she woke up surrounded by people.

Levi himself had been giving her a wide berth since the fight, refusing to meet her eyes whenever they happened upon another. Arya couldn't fathom why he chose to ignore her again as if she was somehow to blame for what happened. Working in coordination with a teammate didn't seem like a bad thing to her.

One step forward, three steps back. She thought sourly as she wandered out of her room and crossed the empty field to the tree. Easing herself down gently in a small hollow between the roots, she leaned on the trunk and closed her eyes against the afternoon sun.

Tomorrow was their last day before they shipped out, and tensions had started to build. The whole compound was weighted under the pressure of what they were about to do, mostly keeping to their own quarters and talking in hushed voices.

Arya had spent most of the morning with Armin, locked away in his room. He planned to hold one final meeting the following morning, in which they could finally share their plotting with the team now that all the details had been ironed out.

What was once just a difficult decision to join their forces had morphed into this whole endeavor riding on her success, which did nothing but increase the prickle of panic in her chest.

Exhaling deeply with only  a couple small winces, she tried to stay her anxiety. She could do this; she would do this. What was the point of being free to live her life when her people remained in chains? How could she stand with the Heroes of Humanity if she couldn't find enough strength to do this for them? For everyone?

Arya had never been much of a drinker, but right now she could have made easy work of the mostly full bottle of liquor that sat in her closet at home.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Arya looked up into the branches above her, startled. A boot and part of a calf could be seen dangling over the edge of one of the largest hanging branches halfway up the tree, swinging back and forth lazily.

She scowled at the ground, slightly upset with herself that she hadn't noticed him before he spoke. "I couldn't imagine why that would interest you."

"That's not much of an answer." He chided; grin evident in the inflection of his voice.

"God, I really do need a drink." Arya mumbled, tugging at the frayed edges of her shirt grumpily. Could she not have one moment of peace?

"Is that what you were huffing about, or it that related to my pestering?" He was laughing at her now, and Arya's cheeks warmed.

"Both." She said hotly. "Besides, why the hell do you care?" She didn't mean to sound quite so bitter and accusatory, but his apathetic treatment of her paired with the stress of the mission was a potent mix.