The Outside World - Chapter I
It was dark when he regained consciousness. What sounded like rain steadily grew louder, and he heard the slow drip-drop of water somewhere.
What time was it? Where even was he? He was certain about lying in an unfamiliar bed under heavy covers, but where, or how he came to end up here was a mystery. His head swam, his mouth was dry, and he felt unbelievably tired and nauseous while his left side ached as if it was on fire.
His blue eyes opened wide and he jolted out of bed when an overwhelming pressure in his stomach built to the point where he could no longer hold it in. He scanned his immediate surroundings desperately and spotted some sort of ceramic urn sitting on the nightstand to his right. He grabbed the vessel, bringing it to his mouth, right on time to retch. Coughing and gasping for air, he returned the urn to the nightstand with a trembling hand and leaned back against the headboard of the bed he was sitting on. Sweating and panting, he pushed his blonde fringe out of his eyes, and wiped his mouth and stubbly chin on his shirt sleeve already stained with blood. It was the first time he saw that he was in some kind of shack, with a slanted ceiling which leaked in several places, and cracked walls, and two dirty windows strangely not broken. There was only a bed and a small night stand, as well as a round table and two chairs in the middle of the room.
He could still not shake the sharp pain in his left side and he reached for the offending area. The second his hand landed there, his breath stopped short. By now, he trembled uncontrollably, and with one swift move, he yanked the blanket off of his body. In his horror, he pressed both hands to his mouth in an attempt to contain his emotions and muffle his sobs, but the tears ran freely when he realized that half of his left leg was gone.
"Armin!" a familiar voice cried.
"Mikasa!" he choked out when he recognized his friend. However, it was a sight he had not been prepared for. He couldn't cry; not now! He needed to hold it together. The young man composed himself by force when she approached him.
Her right arm was wrapped in bandages, and so were her legs, and her head. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises. Traces of dried blood were still discernible over her face, and the bandages over her legs were darkened from her own blood from the wounds beneath.
Armin was overwhelmed with concern and guilt and suddenly forgot all about his previous grief. "Mikasa! Are you hurt? Are you alright!?" he asked in a panicked manner.
"Calm down, I'm fine," she assured, as cool and collected as ever, sitting herself beside him on the edge of the bed.
Armin would often marvel at her ability to keep her emotions in check in almost any situation, and this was no exception; the years of seemingly endless struggle had visibly hardened her. He observed her suspiciously, as though trying to read her. As was typical of Mikasa, she guarded her emotions well and would let nothing slip. To ease his troubled mind, she added, "It's not as bad as it looks."
"Mikasa...I'm so sorry," he whispered, his tone full of remorse. He stared down at his own leg that ended where his knee had been, wrapped up tight in bloodied bandages.
"You're alive, that's all that matters," she proclaimed softly and stroked his shoulder in comfort. "I'm so sorry about your leg."
Her pained expression spoke volumes about her inner turmoil and the guilt she was feeling about her friend's condition.
"H-how did this happen?" he finally asked, his voice shaking.
As much as he tried, he could not for the life of him remember. In fact, his memory was for the most part muddled, and he had no recollection whatsoever of the events that came to lead them here.
"You were unconscious and your leg was in horrible condition," Mikasa explained. "It was crushed beneath the rubble when the walls came down, and it was trapped so I couldn't free you."
In that moment, there was a flash of memory; she suddenly remembered Carla Jaeger, and how she and Eren were forced to leave her to her fate at the time, and here was the same scenario, all over again. Seeing Armin unconsciously sprawled out on the ground, the walls crumbling and large pieces flying and falling all around, when one chunk fell so close to his body that Mikasa froze in her tracks, her entire world falling apart in that one moment. She ran over to him, and only remembered to breathe when she realized that his life had been spared, but much to her horror, the lower half of his leg was completely smashed, bleeding profusely. Mikasa would not have been able to move that human-sized compact slab of rock to free him, but she was not about to lose anymore of her family! She would be damned if the cycle would repeat itself and she let it!
"I had no choice...I...had to cut it off," she confessed regretfully, shutting her eyes, if only to avoid seeing him in pain.
Armin took a moment to allow this information to sink in. He stared at Mikasa's face, who avoided his gaze, but her hand never left his shoulder.
"How...how long ago was this?" he managed to ask, choking back his tears.
Mikasa was silent for a moment, before admitting, "About a week."
He had to lean back and take a deep breath, afraid that he might pass out from this blow; it was simply too much for him to process. Suddenly, he remembered something. He looked around himself, his reluctant eyes falling on Mikasa once again.
His voice shook when he asked, "Eren...where is he?"
Mikasa's breath stopped for a moment. He watched how his friend went from tender and comforting to distant in a matter of seconds. His inquiry went by unanswered, and she merely stared at the floor absently. Although her exterior gave nothing away, Armin picked up on her body language, like her fists tightening and how she clenched her jaw, and got up without a word to leave the room.
Alone with his thoughts, realization hit him hard, when memory slowly returned to him. It was hazy, and he recalled only flashes of the scene: the earth itself quaked, and he ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He distinctly heard his friends shouts and screams all around him. The din grew louder and the tremors beneath him more violent. Then there was only blackness. He must have regained consciousness for a moment because he remembered when someone picked him up and carried him away. Who it was, he couldn't recall, but he assumed that it had been Mikasa. Nothing in his memory seemed to make any sense; he couldn't quite string the events together into a chronological order; it was all a chaotic mess.
He suddenly became aware of how cold it was in this abandoned old shack; his breaths appeared as little puffs of vapor and he pulled the woolen blanked over his body to preserve heat. Still, the shivering wouldn't stop.
Mikasa returned with a cup filled with a steaming liquid.
"Drink," she said, handing him the cup. "It's only hot water, but it will warm you up."
Armin obeyed and sipped the hot beverage slowly, and blew on it, allowing it to cool.
He still couldn't shake his concern over his friend's wellbeing when he observed her blood-stained bandages over her arms and across her head. "Have you checked your other injuries?"
"You're worse off than me. Focus on your own healing and worry about me later," Mikasa dismissed him simply. While she seemed to trivialize her condition, there was apprehension in her tone. She sat herself beside him again.
"Where are we?" he wondered, surveying his surroundings.
"Just outside of Shiganshina. I found this house looking for shelter. It was abandoned, so I thought we could stay here until you get well." Armin looked forlorn, so Mikasa added, "We're safe here, for now."
He wanted to ask for more information, but before he could open his mouth to speak, he noticed the woman burying her face in her scarf. Armin realized what this gesture meant. He placed the cup on the nightstand, then reached his arms around her and pulled her in, pressing her to his chest. She hugged him in return and nestled her face against his neck. It was as if all the emotions she had suppressed until now caught up with a vengeance and came pouring out of her without relent. Armin anticipated this. Uncontrollable sobs overcame her and she could no longer fight against this barrage of feelings, thoughts, flashes of memories and everything else she had tried in vain to hold off. For too long, she had bottled up her emotions to remain strong, to keep a level head, at least for her friends, for the sake of all of their comrades, and their cause.
But what did it matter now? What did she have to show for all of her efforts? They had fought long and hard, with only destruction and death in their wake; most of their friends had died, as well as the one person she loved the most.
"Eren is dead because of me!" she wailed into her friend's neck as tears gushed forth mercilessly. "When it really mattered, I couldn't do anything!" her arms pressed him harder against her own body as she was practically screaming, "And I thought you were gone too..."
"Mikasa, it wasn't your fault," Armin comforted, stroking her hair gently.
"Because of me, this happened to you, and Eren is dead!"
"No! It wasn't because of you!"
Armin let go of her, grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
"Listen to me," he said firmly, "It wasn't your fault. Do you understand?"
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at his stern face. She wanted to speak, but she bit back the words and managed to nod instead.
They held each other as she cried, until she thought she would never stop. Time slowed down but the ache in her, the hopelessness, never dulled.
They remained huddled next to each other for warmth throughout the night. Through the internal madness, the other's presence seemed to be their sole anchor to the corporeal present, keeping their minds from plunging straight into insanity.
Sometime before sunrise, at the brink of slumber when their minds were clouded with fatigue, Mikasa revealed something she had been keeping hidden from the world all this time. "I'm pregnant."
Silence. Armin's heavy lids closed of their own accord and his brain not quite in the condition to process her words.
"What?" he mumbled sleepily.
"I'm pregnant, Armin," she repeated, a little louder and clearer.
"Shit, what?" as if struck by lightning, he sat up and faced her, suddenly wide awake. "You're...pregnant? But how...when...who?"
He shook his head and tried again. "I mean...who's the father?"
From the dark look that she gave him as she touched her still flat belly, the answer dawned on him.
"I'm sorry," he said, rather embarrassed, "I should've realized."
For so many years, Armin had witnessed his two friends' constant bickering, mainly due to Mikasa's overprotective nature and Eren's stubbornness, as well as Eren's feeling of inadequacy. But there was something else there hidden beneath the surface, and everybody around them could see it as clear as day, while the two seemed to remain oblivious. Armin had always known about Mikasa's feelings for Eren, and as the years passed by, he witnessed Eren softening for Mikasa. It was obvious to him that the nature of their relationship had transformed into something else. Funny how it was only now in this moment that he realized just what that entailed.
"But...when did you find out about this?" he asked.
"I knew for certain about a month ago."
"Did Eren know?"
Mikasa nodded. "He was protecting us."
He let her words sink in. Now that he thought about it, all the pieces fell into place. For the past month, he had observed her odd behavior. She would often arrive later than usual, seemed tired, and excused herself frequently to 'take a break'. He had of course inquired about it, but she assured him that everything was in order.
Then, on that hellish night, Eren heroically laid down his life to protect Mikasa, knowing that she carried his unborn child. Mikasa had then blamed herself for Eren's demise, thinking that she had inadvertently caused his death.
"For once...just for once in your life, you have to be strong," he told himself. "For Mikasa. She needs you this time, now more than ever. It's what Eren would have wanted."
All these years of strife had hardened his heart. His body was beaten, broken, torn apart and his leg had been taken from him, he was pushed to the brink of death, barely hanging on. Yet somehow, he made it out of that hell alive, but only by a hair. It was all because of Eren and Mikasa. Had it not been for those two, the two people who he trusted most in the world, he would not have been sitting here now, talking to her. Eren gave his life for theirs. Now, Armin told himself, it was his responsibility to make sure that Eren's death had not been in vain.
"We need to get you some care," he proposed. All sleep had vanished from his eyes.
"Armin, you can't walk. You need to rest. I can do it by myself, but...let's get some sleep for now."
It was strangely peaceful. The silence was almost otherworldly. But in his mind raged an endless battle with only death and destruction and loss as the outcome. It was always the same story with the same ending; it played before his eyes and he would relive that hell over and over again. But at the very least, he still had Mikasa here with him.
"I suppose you're right. Then let's try to sleep, we'll figure it out in the morning," he agreed.
Mikasa was on board with that; exhaustion finally caught up with her. She went straight to sleep next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, but Armin could not help but ruminate on the situation they found themselves in. They were all alone, and for some miraculous reason, alive, and at least they had each other. On the other hand, the news of her pregnancy complicated matters significantly. He realized that they couldn't possibly stay where they were, he needed to get her immediate care; who knew how serious her injuries were, even if she insisted that they weren't?
And also, they needed food, supplies, and weapons. Because now that the walls were gone, who knew what was going to happen. Who knew what waited for them out there, in the outside world.