𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍

𝐈𝐈.𝐕

No. She was not going to cry.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Valen's head perked, the Captain popping up in her head. It was hardly eleven a.m.— had Levi already arranged a meeting with Erwin? She shoved the card back in its envelope and raced to the door, nearly smashing her hand down on the doorknob. Swinging the door open, disappointment weighed down on her shoulders, and disposition quickly soured.

No. Standing at her door was a portly man no taller than Valen who sported a thinning patch of hair that exposed a sunburnt bald spot. His handlebar mustache complemented his round glasses perched halfway between the bridge and the tip of his nose— in simpler terms, he was one of the ugliest men Valen had ever had the displeasure of setting her sights on.

Dr. Sauer.

"Oh, Valen!" Dr. Sauer greeted, smiling brightly. When Valen had begun having her nightmares, this was the man the medics at the Corps had brought in; she never precisely loved the man, but she cared for him— well, for his pills. Two years and a couple of months of withdrawal later, she no longer reserved any concern for him. "My, my, it's a pleasure seeing you again."

Valen's lips thinned— she despised his happy-go-lucky mannerisms, acting like she'd invited him for tea. "Is that so?" she half-growled.

Dr. Sauer laughed, overlooking her subtle aggression. Even though the doctor likely made heaping amounts of money, Valen wondered why he hadn't invested in dental treatment— his teeth were crooked and yellow, some even chipped at the edges. "Yes. If memory serves me right, we last spoke in January. Over half a year since then!" He gave her a cursory glance. "I must say, you look dazzling. That blouse suits you better than your uniform."

"Much better..." Valen said, her disdain growing harder to conceal. "Why have you come?"

"Why else have I come?" Dr. Sauer, sliding a hand into his pocket. Resting in his palm was a small, glass bottle, opaque in the sunlight gushing in through the window. An invisible hand punched through her chest, winding her in seconds.

Sleeping pills.

"One of the medics informed me you were having some issues obtaining your medication," Dr. Sauer said— Valen couldn't peel her eyes from the bottle. There it was: the solution she so desperately wished for months. Though she knew better than grab them right away, Valen's fingers ached to wrap themselves around the bottle. With one of those pills, she'd stop having her terror-inducing nightmares, the ones filled with blood and strange soldiers and doctors and fog that crushed her throat.

The temptation, Valen discovered, was harder to ward off than she'd expected.

"After some discussion, we managed to reach a compromise. It looks like your high ranking among the Scouts warranted an exception." Valen still couldn't believe it. She'd obsessively mapped ways to make her paycheck count so she could get her hands on a bottle just like the one Sauer held. Was the investigation even worth holding? Perhaps if she only took them every other day, she could still catch a dream every once in a while, hopefully enough to aid her in her journey for the truth...

Ground yourself. It terrified Valen how easily a bottle of pills impaired her judgment. They'd tampered with the chemistry of her brain, suppressing potentially revelating dreams that could give her even the slightest hint of her origins. If she continued gulping them down as if nothing had happened, she'd deliberately be acting against her best interest.

And that she couldn't, and wouldn't allow.

"The withdrawal symptoms." Valen produced a paper detailing all of her medication's withdrawal symptoms— courtesy of the barracks' medics. She'd asked out of curiosity, but now that Sauer had shown up, she wanted to rub his incompetence in his face. "Convulsions? Hallucinations? Delirium?" She lowered the paper and met Sauer's gaze icily. "You refused to mention any of this when you first prescribed me my medication. Not a word. It was one of the Scouts' medics who had to inform me of what exactly I was taking."