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Camila, Angela's mother, was a doctor.

She had been well-known for doing a lot with very little. At the start of her career after moving to United States and studying, people expected little from her because she came from Argentina, but she pushed through and became well-known for little known techniques and improvisations that worked. When Angela grew up enough, Camila admitted she wished her daughter as a doctor as well, but Angela had always been too in love with herself, according to her mother. She was in love with the introspectiveness and the melancholy that haunted Angel, so it was not a surprise when she turned towards the arts – while not exactly supportive, Camila had understood where she had come from.

As Angela rise to fame was harder to ignore, Camila's attentions turned to her younger son. But Liam did not want to be a doctor, nor a veterinarian like his father or even a soldier. He wanted to be a programmer, perhaps create his own videogames one day.

Camila was cursed with two creative children with no interest in her dreams.

Fortunately, their father Michael had been so excited with both of the paths his children had chosen that had gone as far as paying for Liam's extracurricular courses outside of his middle school time. Now, in high-school, Liam was recognised as being one of the smartest students and the most likely to get into university with a scholarship.

He had been as supportive as he could while being so busy, but still hoped Angela and Liam would learn a thing to two, so he insisted they would sit through boring attempts of lesson of first-aid and basic anatomy (that saved their grade in high-school).

If only Camila could see Angela now.

During the deep winter, Angela sat in front of the fireplace with the firewood that Eren had got them burning and illuminating the small common room they had as she read the Nurse's Guidebook in her hands. Eren was almost asleep on the chair near Adawolf, Mikasa was sitting near her and reading the rules and regulations over her shoulder.

"What is 'unprotected intimate confraternization'?" Mikasa asked.

Adawolf opened his eyes, looking at the scene with some interest.

"Like, dating," Angela answered, trying not to get into details.

The older man held back his laughter and looked away.

A passing thought haunted Angela. Did the children ever get any sort of education in intimate matters during their time in the military forces? There was no case of pregnancy, by what she had seen in the anime, but still... it had to be a coincidence, right? Regardless, she wasn't ready to talk about that.

"What does it mean for this to be unprotected?" Mikasa pressed on.

"You'll understand when you're older," Angela said.

Again, Adawolf closed his eyes, glad to not be involved in the conversation.

Angela was quite glad to find out during the past few months of the existence of condoms in this world. Given the time-period, she had imagined something far less useful to be the chosen method, such as pulling out of following the calendar or something stupid like that. Sure, the condoms weren't as comfortable or thin, and they were expensive, but they existed.

She went back to the rules.

No casual unprotected sex with the soldiers, doctors or other nurses; that seemed to be the main rules. Which Angela thought to be stupid and somewhat demeaning given that the target was mostly young women around their 20s and 30s. Sure, men were welcome, but it was targeted towards women.

Another rule that caught her attention, sitting halfway down the page, written in the same stiff bureaucratic tone as the others. She frowned, pursing her lips in distaste.

"Nurses must present themselves in a manner befitting the dignity of the Military Health Division. Hair must remain neatly tied and of appropriate length, uniforms must not be altered to attract attention, and behaviour that may invite familiarity from soldiers will be considered improper conduct."

Angela snorted softly, feeling like she had suddenly joined the nursing staff during the Second World War or something worse.

Mikasa leaned closer.

"What?" she asked, peeking into the book.

Angela highlighted the page with her finger.

"They're telling the nurses to cover up," she said. She turned to look at Adawolf. "I really think this is going to be mostly women if they are writing rules like that."

Mikasa tilted her head slightly, frowning as she read the line again with quiet concentration.

"That's not what it says," she said after a moment.

"Yes, it does, just a bit more politely," Angela replied.

She flipped the page, continuing to read. But almost immediately another paragraph caught her eye. Her eyebrows climbed to the middle of her forehead.

"Pa, listen to this. It's ridiculous! 'Nurses intending to enter marriage must notify their commanding officer prior to the arrangement. Approval will be required if the intended spouse is a soldier within the same battalion, in order to prevent disruption of discipline'," she read. Adawolf just stared at her. "I mean, I understand the necessity to warning the CO if people are in the same battalion and all that, but doesn't it seem invasive to you?"

"It's the army," Adawolf said, closing his eyes again. "They own you in the moment you step in the training grounds."

She knew that Adawolf understood, but didn't like the fact everybody intended to sign up in different areas. Still, he wasn't wrong. In that world, the military decided many things, controlled most things – and control always started in small things; hair, make-up, skirt length.

Angela was a woman, and even in her world control over women always started like that. In a world with the military with such power, it had to be even worse – she wondered how nothing of that had not made into the anime.

"Still, it's insane," Angel complained, looking down at the book again. "Marriage is supposed to be a personal decision fuelled by love, not something you should take days with the paperwork alone."

She continued reading the guidebook, flipping through the pages slowly.

Some of the rules were practical and understandable. Clean instruments, need to take night shifts, proper sanitation and hygiene. Those parts made sense, and she liked those things. But the rest of the rules sounded completely stupid.

"It'll be difficult," she said quietly.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. Yes, the salary is good from training, but we can make do for a while more," Adawolf said, said turning to her. He leaned back on his chair. "We'll find a way."

She looked at him, shaking her head gently. Angela gave him a little smile.

"I have to do this. I have to help somehow," she insisted.

Contrary to the kids, Adawolf was well-aware that she didn't mean helping around the house with money as she already did. It was about going deeper into a structure that the kids would go in, make sure she was prepared to save them when the time came, no matter the cost.

This wasn't her home, it wasn't her humanity. She cared for her people, not for those people.

"You will," Adawolf affirmed.

The uniform Angela received by mail two days before class was an ugly thing – no! Not ugly. Absurdly horrendous.

A long-sleeved black dress to her ankles, thick leather boots and a white apron that went past her knees and covered her whole chest, being tied around her waist and to the back of her neck. It was comfortable, Angela had to admit, but it was absolutely hideous. She felt like she was wearing a sack of potatoes.

Eren seemed to agree.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, grimacing at the sight of her as she started to leave for her first day of the course.

"The uniform," she said, smoothing it down her legs with a frown. "I know it's bad."

"It's really not that bad," Armin quickly said, hurrying into her defence. "It's just... different from what you usually wear."

Mikasa quietly watched the interaction with her upper lip twitching, trying not to laugh at her obvious distress.

"And why is your hair like that?" Mikasa asked.

She had tied it up in a very tight bun that had made her face feel stretched, it would probably give her a headache afterwards.

"To keep it out of my face and to keep it... orderly, as the rules say," Angela answered.

"You could just braid it," Mikasa said, raising her eyebrows.

"I don't know how to braid hair," she said, poking her hair-bun. She looked at the young girl and raising her eyebrows. "Do you know how to?"

"No."

The matter-of-fact tone would've been a lot funnier if Mikasa hadn't look affronted at the mere implication she knew how to take care of her own hair.

It was something that Angela had noticed before. Mikasa seemed quite uncomfortable whenever people implied that she was typically feminine. Not that the girl was mean whenever she saw Angela dollying herself up to go to work, actually she often sat and watched as she did her make-up, but Mikasa didn't show any interest in make-up or expensive clothes – she seemed quite happy with the normal cotton and muslin even when Angela tried to buy her something prettier; though Mikasa was quite particular about colours, usually wanting light-tones in her clothes.

"Well, if you want to be a soldier, you'll either have to learn how to do braids and buns or you'll need to cut your hair," Angela warned.

Eren frowned, seemingly disliking the idea. He often watched Mikasa brush her hair with some attention.

Mikasa touched her hair, fingers combing through the dark locks.

"Armin, tell Pa that I'm coming home before dinner, but if something happens there's food on the pan, just heat it up," Angela said.

She walked by the kids, kissing their head before going out of the door.

As Angela walked, she worried.

She had no idea what two months of basic training could teach her. Her mother had gone over nine years of studying to get where she did, her father went around six years of studying to get his rank. What would two months get her? -- In her world, nurses went around four years of studying hard to get to a good position. Her two weeks felt more like a mockery of their situation than anything.

Two months of basic training, then she would be pushed forward to her chosen division (or chosen for her) to get specific training. After all, they were right in telling her that there was a great difference between treating gashes from fights in the MP, sore muscles from the Garrison and the need of amputations on field from the Survey Corps. Two months of training and then, if she went to her correct way, she would be cutting off people's arms and legs on the back of a wagon.

She hoped she wouldn't kill anybody accidently.

"Excuse me, miss," said a young voice.

Angela startled, turning to face the one that called her.

It was a young girl of dark, curly hair, small structure and soft facial features. She had square glasses balanced on her small nose, which she used one of her long, skinny fingers to push up the bridge of her nose.

"Yes?" Angela said.

The girl looked at her for a second, narrowing her eyes and scrunching her nose and eyebrows before blinking.

"I'm sorry, you looked familiar for a second," the girl said. "Regardless," she dismissed, shaking her head, "are you searching for the General Hospital?"

Angela nodded.

"Oh, yes. Are you one of the Student Nurses as well?" she answered.

"Yes!" the girl said, walking forward. "I'm a bit lost since I'm new in town and –"

"No worries," Angela said. "We're almost there. Turning left over there and right afterwards, and we're there. Come on, let's walk together."

She smiled, inviting the girl with her hands as well. The girl answered with a smile as well, nervously shuffling forward.

"I'm Angela, what about you?" Angela said, resting her hand on the bag's strap.

The girl seemed to trip, stumbling forward. With a yelp, Angela reached over to hold her, stuttering.

"A-Angela?" she asked, shocked. "I'm Julia. I know you! I – Oh, God. I thought you were and – and you are!"

Julia seemed to vibrate in place in something akin to excitement as she reached over and held Angela's arms, mouth agape.

"You are Angela Relish," Julia whispered in devotion.

It was Angela's turn to frown, a strange feeling growing in her stomach as she stared at Julia. She knew that reaction; she had grown used to it as her fame took roots. That girl had called her by her real name – the name she had before she had grown fond of her new life with her new family. Julia knew who she was.

The stage, the lights, the make-up, the expensive clothes. Angela Relish was dead.

She froze on the street.

"How? What?" Angela muttered, shocked.

The air seemed cold in her lungs, her ears rang a bit. She couldn't move or think too much.

Julia fixed her uniform's sleeves.

"I don't know either, to be honest. I woke up here just after the Fall of the Wall, as apparently everybody was talking," Julia said, giving a little chuckle. "It took me a while to understand how things worked or what had happened, but I overheard conversations and copied people – I'm very good at it, copying people, I mean. I got through well after I learned the alphabet. It takes a very similar structure to German and English. I... well, I'm German, so it was easy to learn."

Her rambling came as a vomit of words that made Angela stare at her with wide eyes.

"You came from my world," Angela whispered.

It seemed obvious and needless to be said, but still Angela needed to say it loud to make it real. And it was real; she finally had company.

There was a small part of Angela that thought it was somewhat selfish to call it 'my world', but she couldn't help her mouth or words when the weight of the world doubled on her back. Julia and Angela, for some reason, were the same.

"Yeah! But I'm shocked that you're here, I mean... I saw you die," Julia said, shaking her head and fixing her glasses again. "Well, not die, but almost."

Angela shook her head, putting a hand on Julia's shoulder.

"Wait," she said. "I thought I was dead. I'm not?"

"No. The story about your shooting was everywhere when it happened. A stalker got into your concert and shot you straight to the chest – it was a lucky shot, it was a handgun," Julia said. "By the time I ended up here, you were in a coma for a few weeks already. Your family was in always in the news, doing movements for awareness of gun-control."

The news made her stomach churn. It was a lot easier to accept her place in this new world if she thought she was dead, but being aware that she was alive and her family was waiting for her, suffering for her made things a lot harder.

Angela put a hand over her face, trying to swallow down the bile. She felt anger that she had never felt before warming her body to the point of dizziness.

Still with a hand over her face, Angela asked. "And how did you get here?" she asked.

Julia hesitated.

"I...I was sick. I was always sick," she admitted. "My kidneys were never good and I didn't get a transplant. I think I died." She looked at Angela, who seemed taken aback. "Don't worry, I don't mind it. I was ready for that since I was twelve."

Julia gave a nervous little chuckle, showing many of her teeth. The curls that had escaped her braid bounced as she did that. Her smile lingered a second too long, as if she had practiced it in mirrors and had never practiced getting it out.

"You're taking this very well," Angela whispered.

There was a part of her that hated how calm Julia was. When she woke up and realised where she was and the probability of her being dead in her world, she had been frantic (mentally, at least). And now, she had Julia – she had been dying slowly, she was always prepared for the other side. Angela hadn't been given that comfort.

It felt selfish to complain about it.

"I suppose," Julia answered with a shrug. "I was sick for a long time. You get used to the idea of things just ending. This," she said, looking around, "feels like extra time that nobody told me about. Though... the idea of Titans scare me."

She pressed her lips together.

The word 'extra' seemed out of place, landing poorly in the conversation. It was like Julia wasn't aware of the mess she had gotten into; the world was a brutal, blood-soaked and disgusting here, ad the girl seemed to look at it with some sort of gift. The unfamiliar manner she had said the word 'Titan', as if she usually wouldn't say it out loud, made Angela wonder something.

"Did you watch Attack on Titan?" Angela asked.

"Hm? No?" Julia said, confused. "What is that?"

That was when Angela's world shook.

It was already hard to understand that the anomaly that happened to her had happened to another person, now to know that this other person didn't even know what was happening felt like a slap to the face.

Angela cleared her throat.

"Come on," she said, voice weak. "We can't be late to the Hospital."

Still, on the whole way, she continued to worry.

Every free time away from classes that Angela had for the first two days of the course, she used it to explain the reality and situation to Julia – who had appeared in that world just a few months before and was living in a shelter instead of a home.

Julia had been horrified in learning that she was living in a story rather than just in another world. Her fear seemed to only grow the most Angela explained the possible outcomes of the original story and what she was trying to change. But the most shocking experience for her wasn't understanding her new life, but learning that Angela had found a family.

"...and my son –"

"You have a son?!" Julia squeaked.

"Not exactly. Not by blood," Angela said, showing her palms. "I was taken in by a family when I first got here, when the Wall fell, I was officially part of the family through the new documents. It was safer this way."

"What's his name?"

"Armin," she answered. "The Armin that I told you about, the one from the story. You'll meet him, Eren and Mikasa today. Oh, and Adawolf! He's the one that took me in, I call him Pa nowadays."

Julia shook her head in disbelief.

They continued walking towards Angela's home, where they would dine together. Their thick boots scraped against the cold ground. Angela had invited her with the intention of alerting Adawolf about Julia's background and origin. She was beyond excited to have somebody new in her corner.

"You look different," Julia said suddenly, glancing at Angela.

"Different how?" she asked, stiffening.

Julia hesitated, fingers fidgeting with her sleeve again.

"I don't know," she admitted in a whisper. "On TV you were always bright and loud, now... well, --" she pointed at the uniform.

Angela smoothed down the cotton. Black. Heavy. Anonymous.

"I suppose," Angela whispered, uncomfortable. "I'm just doing something that might help everybody. I'm very grateful for the help I received when I first got here, besides if I don't do anything and everything that I happened originally happens again, I fear I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"Yeah. The whole 80/20 thing," Julia whispered, lowering his eyes. "I remember."

Julia tugged at the strap of her bag, holding it closer to herself, seemingly to fold her body within herself. She wasn't dealing too well with the pressure of knowing the future even though she didn't know any of the main characters personally yet. Still, Julia had asked so many times to meet Eren, Mikasa and Armin in the days they had known each other that Angela couldn't bear to refuse it any longer.

"He's just a kid for now. He wouldn't do it right now," Angela said, crossing her arms.

Julia shouldn't fear him, not yet.

Her throat seemed to swell and she had to clear it to even breathe again. She hated the way Julia seemed to be scared of Eren, but her curiosity was greater than her fear.

Through the little time she had spent with Julia, Angela had understood that she was a very curious and determined person, spent most of her free time reading and studying because she knew that study was the only way of getting out of the house (almost a shed, really) that she lived in.

Julia nodded, trying to be convincing, but failing as she pushed her glasses up her nose again.

"I know," she murmured. "I just find it... strange, knowing what someone will become before even meeting them."

Angela's jaw tightened.

It wasn't something that Eren would become, it was something people would make of him. Generations of trauma, of war and of manipulation falling in the shoulders of a teenage boy that was alone in the world. She wanted to snap at Julia, scream at her, slap her face.

But she swallowed it down.

"He's just Eren," Angela insisted.

For now, he wasn't a weapon nor the future of the world.

He was just a kid with a dream.

He was just the Eren that liked her pies, the one that had nightmares so often that he had created methods to go back to sleep afterwards. He was the Eren that liked to wear the same shirt until Angela forced him to put a new, clean one on.

They finally got to the house, and it was warmer than usual.

"Pa?" Angela called out, coming in. "I'm back, and I brought that friend I told you about."

Julia came in right behind her, hands behind her back, looking smaller than ever before, almost hiding behind Angela's back.

Adawolf came out of the kitchen, cleaning his hands. His eyes first went to Angela for confirmation – then, he looked at Julia. He did not look away. That girl in front of him was also from another world, the one that Angela had told him about.

"Good evening," Julia said quickly, stiff.

"Evening," he answered.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Adawolf nodded at Angela once. Neither of the girls knew what he was trying to say with that nod, but Angela forced a smile nonetheless, putting a hand on Julia's shoulder.

"Julia is in the same program as me, as I told you," she started saying. "We've been studying outside of class together."

"Then you both should eat to gather your strengths," Adawolf said, gesturing towards the small table.

It was simple and an attempt of warmth, but Adawolf seemed so uncomfortable with everything that it felt almost like staring a Coca-Cola commercial near Christmas – Angela, for a second, really missed watching television.

She nodded, leading Julia further into the house.

"Come on, the kids are probably waiting for us," Angela said.

And they were, already seated in their usual places, but with their plates empty.

Eren was the one that looked up first, curious in the blunt way he usually was. He raised his eyebrows at Julia, taking her in completely before turning his eyes to Angela before grimacing at her uniform again.

"That uniform really isn't flattering," Eren grumbled under his breath, but Angela heard him loud and clear.

Mikasa didn't say anything, but took in Julia as well before looking away. Armin, sitting beside Mikasa, had the decency to wave shyly.

"Hm..." Angela said, clearing her throat. "These are –" she started.

"I know," Julia answered, too quickly.

Her breath caught as soon as she finished talking, realising what she had done. The awkward girl looked around and met Adawolf's eyes as the silence settled again. Then, she turned to Angela, widening her eyes in horror.

"I mean," she stuttered, then gulped. "You told me everything about them," she corrected herself.

Angela blinked, taken aback by Julia's reaction.

Armin tiled his head, looking eerily similar to Adawolf when he caught Angela in a lie.

"Right, of course," Angela whispered.

The meal did not get any better as it went on.

At first, it seemed like things would be nothing beyond ordinary. Julia kept her hands to herself, trying to occupy the least space possible, but her eyes betrayed her far too often, making her stare whenever she was distracted.

Eren was not the first to notice, but he was the first to say anything about it.

"I don't bite," he said, frowning.

"Eren, please," Angela whispered in warning, lowering her head in exasperation.

"It's fine!" Julia said, voice too high-pitched. "I'm distracted. I have been staring and... it was rude. He's right."

She looked at Eren again and, for a second, Angela could see it – the fear Julia insisted on harbouring. Fortunately, Julia seemed to be growing used to Eren's presence and childishly blunt manners, because by the time she left, she had said polite parting words with a genuine smile on her lips.

If Julia continued being so willing to grow closer to the kids, she might end up helping Angela to change the future.