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If death is release from pain, Jean remains firmly rooted in the land of the living. Perhaps even a bit too firmly rooted. He comes to lying on his back inside one of the Scouting Legion's horse drawn carts. A low, pained moan escapes his throat; everything hurts. Splints immobilize his left arm and right leg and the rest of his body aches as if he fell from top of a tall tree and hit every single branch on the way down.
"You did actually," Connie confirms as he coaxes his mount into flanking the cart and matching its pace. "Dunno what went down exactly, but something went wrong with your gear when we were trying to get higher up and you fell."
Jean's stomach sinks. The memories filter in one by one: pulling the triggers once, twice, three times and still no response; a brief, awful moment of weightlessness; and then falling, falling, falling.
Connie continues, his tone quieter and more subdued. "Squad leader said you were lucky to fall where you did. If the tree branches hadn't been there to slow your fall..."
"There were titans approaching," Jean intercepts, steering the conversation away from the road he does not want to go down, "What happened then?"
"Eren," Connie says with a wry grin and a nod towards the cart's other passenger. "He transformed and held 'em off while me and Sasha got you out of there. No need to thank me, by the way."
Jean turns his head to the right for a better look at his neighbor and inwardly kicks himself for not noticing him sooner. His eyes rest on Eren's unconscious form for a beat longer than necessary; Connie clears his throat.
"You gonna alright?"
"I will be," Jean replies after a moment of careful deliberation. He turns back to Connie and quirks a brow. "Isn't your place in formation further up ahead?"
"What? That eager to get rid of me? Geez, the thanks I get for being a nice guy." Try as he might to appear off put, Connie makes no effort to hide the smile bleeding into his tone. "I can take a hint. See ya later, you ingrate."
Jean flippantly waves him off with his good hand and Connie departs. With little else to do aside from watch the pass overhead, Jean shuffles a little closer to Eren, gritting his teeth as his injured body protests at the movement, until only a hair’s breadth remains between them. The heat from the steam curling off Eren’s rapidly healing body slowly begins to warm his right side before spreading to the rest of him as Jean quietly waits for Eren to wake.
-x-
The cart hits a rocky patch of earth none too gently and his body punishes him for his lack of vigilance. Jean jolts alert and hisses loudly as pain flares in his splinted arm and leg at the jarring movement.
"You okay?" asks the now half-conscious Eren in a voice thick with sleep and barely audible over the sound of hoof beats and the low rumbling and clattering of the cart.
Of course he isn’t okay, not with fresh pangs of agony coursing through his limbs, but the unexpected light sensation at the sound of Eren's voice makes it difficult Jean to stay annoyed.
"I'm ...alive," Jean finishes lamely. He can always blame possible head trauma for his lack of eloquence later. "How’re you holding up?"
Eren briefly raises an arm from beneath the green material of the cloak draped over him. He's missing a hand, but the steam wisps rising from the stump of Eren's wrist ensure that wouldn't be the case for much longer.
A host of emotions hit Jean all at once. Jealousy, anger, guilt, and relief: these are emotions he can expect given Eren's involvement in the events that transpired. Then there's that feeling of warmth that blooms in his chest at the thought of Eren coming to his rescue. Jean doesn’t know where to begin when it comes to putting a name to that particular feeling.
He turns his head and studies Eren’s face as if clarification for the tumult of emotions running rampant in his mind appeared on his visage. To his credit, Eren doesn’t turn away, opting instead to match Jean’s scrutinizing gaze with a curious look of his own.
“Jean?”
Jean remains silent for a beat, then draws in a deep breath.
“You’re an idiot,” he replies with all the exasperation and finality he can muster, if only to downplay the undercurrent of gratitude bleeding into his voice.
For a moment, Eren stares at Jean in disbelief before a flash of bemusement glitters in his eyes and his lips quirk.
“You’re welcome, horse face.”
-x-
Jean rests his eyes as the cart passes beneath wall’s gate. There’s no need for him to stay alert for possible titan attack now that they’ve made it behind the wall.
His lapse in vigilance leaves him open to a different kind of attack.
A familiar, warm hand settles atop his own and gently squeezes, telegraphing a silent message. You’re here, you’re still here.
His heart misses a beat and something within him stirs at the tenderness quietly conveyed. Jean opens his eyes and immediately glances down at the hand covering his own before turning his attention to Eren’s visage.
A dusting of pink tinges his cheeks at being caught in the act, but Eren doesn’t shy away from Jean’s eyes. His hand remain where it is while his expression remains unreadable, as if challenging Jean to make the next move.
Jean readies his own tacit reply. He turns his hand over so Eren’s palm rests against his, curls his fingers between the gaps of Eren’s digits, and squeezes. Still here, still here.
Eren smiles, really smiles, and the nameless, warm feeling from before surges with full force.
His body’s still a wreck and he suspects he took one too many branches to the face when he fell because it actually hurts to smile back, but Jean can’t imagine feeling any better than this.