The Cost of Becoming a Warrior

Chapter 12- The Many Faces of Marco Bodt

TW: EMETOPHOBIA!! THIS CHAPTER HAS MENTIONS OF VOMIT

Everyone's eyes were glued to Marco as he revealed how and why he ended up in Marley and was now sat in front of them with the red armband worn by the chosen Warriors of Marley. He had completely switched sides and was not the same Marco they all knew and loved. It broke all of the scouts' hearts, they had been through enough betrayal in these last few years with all the shit with Reiner and Bertholdt and even Annie. Now, there was another one, the person who they all thought would be the last person on earth to even think of pulling something like this. But, he did, and he was sat in front of them, his eyes, though more vulnerable and obviously more open than before, they were still full of hate for those sat in front of him, the ones he used to call his best friends. After a while of a very heavy silence, Marco got up without looking any of them in the eye and just muttered "get me off this damn airship. Now." The scouts frowned, they were hurt, they thought they had made some good progress with Marco, finally getting him to remember and to open up to them about what had happened years ago, but, clearly not. Was he faking it? Did he lie? The airship landed on the outskirts of Marley as Marco got off without a word, Jean sniffed "Marco..." he said, making a futile attempt at keeping him behind, even just for a little more. Marco ignored him and walked off, not even looking back for a second. 

The airship flew off over Marco's head as he put his head in his hands and tears ran down his face. It was all coming back to him, slowly but surely. The amount of love he had in his heart for those people. The memories. The late nights spent together laughing. All the memories. EVERYTHING. God, from what he remembered, he seemed happy as hell with them. He LOVED them. Especially Jean. Most of the happiest memories he had were with him. No wonder Jean was so emotional seeing him after 4, almost 5, years apart. Marco was emotional too, he was just better at hiding it in front of the island devils, but he was fucking exhausted and confused, he'd been feeling this way for weeks now. He dropped to his knees and vomited all over the grass, he was disgusted with himself for ever missing them. They're the ones who destroyed his home and yet, he knew that deep down he still loved them dearly. He hated it. He hated himself. He DESPISED himself for caring about them. Marco didn't even know who he was anymore. Was he REALLY a Marleyan Warrior who wore his armband like a badge of honour? Or was he just island scum playing a complicated and dangerous game of pretend? He finally finished vomiting as he wiped his mouth and stood up, raising his head to watch the airship disappear over the horizon. "If only you didn't have to show up and make shit so complicated, Jean" the Jaw mumbled to himself. 

Jean sobbed. He didn't know whether it was of joy or sadness or a mixture of both, though. It was Marco. He'd finally spoken to Marco, after almost 5 long years without him. He got to see him again, hear his voice, it was just as he'd remembered. Jean had missed him so much, besides all that, though, Marco remembered HIM. Something clearly clicked in his head between the original raid on Marley and now. Jean didn't care about the details, he was just happy that Marco seemed to be slowly but surely coming back. But, he couldn't help but notice Marco still had hate in his eyes whenever he looked at the scouts. He'd been brainwashed, after all. Yet, he opened up to them and told them how and why he ended up fighting for the enemy, which must've meant that Marco trusted them at least a little bit, Jean KNEW he wouldn't of done that by choice. Jean was clinging onto another thing- he saw a glimmer of the old Marco in his eyes too. The old Marco was still in there somewhere, Jean was desperate to bring him back, he'd do ANYTHING to do that. But Jean wasn't stupid, he knew that the reality was that it might never happen. The Marco he'd known and loved for years might be gone forever and that absolutely fucking broke his heart. Only time could tell what would happen to Marco and whether he could free himself from the metaphorical chains of Marleyan propaganda. He had to, Jean knew Marco better than anyone, and he had faith that with enough time, Marco would come back. He had to.