Hey chicabebs! So this is my first SnK fanfic so please tell me my room for improvement! I accept criticisms! Just no flames, i guess. :)
Enjoy the Story.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from SnK, only do i own the plot of this story.
~LameDeer
"Hey Jean!"
The sun's rays blinded the resting man as he looked up to the voice. His intense light brown eyes met a freckled face after adjusting to the bright light.
"Marco, what is it?"
Geez, he needed rest. After nearly a whole day of sparring with the other trainees, his body hurt like hell. The panting man however ignored the slight irritation coming from Jean, and spoke again.
"Jean, did you hear? The scouting legion number of recruits has been reduced to half this year! Then a fifth of them backed out during the initiation!"
Big eyes grew even bigger as Marco bent down and sat beside him on the ground beneath the tree where Jean was lying.
"I haven't heard. I'll bet it's cause they don't have a death wish like Jaeger. The Scouting Legion is like being sentenced to death, and every crusade outside the wall is like a suicide mission. The recruits don't wanna die get their 'angel wings of freedom' too soon."
He stretched his arms out, then bended them again behind his head. Jean needed a makeshift pillow for his head if he didn't want his hair to get dirt and grass in it.
"Do you really think that, Jean?" Marco leaned his back onto the tree, a light smile grazing his face as he looked up at the leaves that adorned the branches.
"That if you die you'd grow the actual wings of freedom?"
Jean looked up at him curiously, also eying the leaves.
"Well I don't know. I haven't died yet, have I?" The last two words sounded sarcastic, but it wasn't meant to have sarcasm laced in them. It was a legitimate answer for he didn't know about the afterlife.
No one knew about the afterlife.
"Oh okay then…" Marco closed his eyes, letting himself rest for a moment. He too like Jean needed a break.
"I hope that when I die, I'd grow wings of freedom."
Jean closed his eyes too.
"Yeah, that'd be nice. Just don't die too soon yet, okay?" Shit, he was getting soft. "This may sound weird but I need you by my side to be the good leader like you said."
Marco bit his lip in an attempt to stop laughing. Did Jean really say that?
"I promise I won't die any time soon, Jean."
His laughs eventually ceased and left a smile on his lips.
"You swear it?"
Jean opened his eyes again, staring at Marco's freckles and counting how many there were on his face alone. He knew that Marco didn't really have any control over how or when he died, but still, Jean had to voice it out; that no matter how much of a giant douche bag he may be, he didn't want Marco, or anyone else, to die before he did. Jean needed Marco to live alongside him forever, for as long as that cute, brown-eyed, freckled bastard was there, he could do anything.
"I swore my heart to the King, and I'll swear my life to you too."
Jean let out the breath he'd been holding in, and sighed contentedly. Everything was fine.
…
…
…
"Marco."
…
…
"Hey Marco."
…
…
"Marco!"
…
…
"MARCO!"
Marco gasped awake, eyes wide but unfocused. His chest was heavy from panting. The light around him was familiar, not too blinding, and yet not too dim at the same time. A trance like state filled Marco's mind as he tried to jolt himself back into reality.
Where was he?
When the setting cleared, Marco couldn't believe it. His eyes widened at the sudden pang of nostalgia and the happiness of the memories.
He was back home.
It wasn't a big house, but it was enough.
It felt amazing, waking up in bed, safe and warm. No titans to kill, no training to do, no crappy food, and no commanding officer to yell at him.
But as soon as that amazing feeling came, the dread washed over Marco.
He remembered everything.
Marco had died yesterday. There, in Trost. He remembered thinking, I need to move now, I need to move, to act, to do anything, but Marco didn't recall how he died.
Then he remembered Jean.
His comrade who would run his mouth so loosely that it'd get him into trouble. His partner who would probably be a great leader one day. And his best friend, who he probably liked more than just that.
Marco was dead.
He had to be dead.
His eyes darted around the room, trying to keep his tears from filling up. Marco promised he wouldn't cry. He knew he was going to die eventually, but not that soon. Marco didn't want to die getting feasted on by a titan. He wanted to die by the King, by his friends, family, and by Jean.
Marco left his best friend. He bent his head downward, eyes cast to the sheets as he sat cross-legged on the bed. He was still wearing his trainee uniform, but without the 3dmg and the swords. One tear escaped his left eye, then another one on his right. Then another and another came, falling out and hitting his hands that were grasping his thighs so tightly. Sobs wracked his lean body as he tried to stop feeling so helpless. Moving his arm to his eyes, Marco wiped the wetness off, wetting his brown sleeve with salty tears.
"Marco, why are you crying?"
He quickly jerked his arm away from his face, eyes wide with surprise.
"Who are you?!"
Was he not dead?
The voice answered him, but asked the question again.
"I am known by many names. Some call me god, life, the universe, or just simply, the truth. But you may call me anything you desire for I am everything, and I am also nothing. So Marco, why are you crying?"
It's tone sounded as if it were ridiculing him, but Marco knew that someone as powerful as that voice had the right to ridicule someone as small as he. Although the voice answered his question, he was still confused on what to call him. He decided on the name of 'Truth'.
"I'm crying, Truth, because I died and left my family and my comrades."
Marco said this as calmly as he could, but his lip was trembling.
"You're sad because you left Jean, right?"
The voice questioned him again. If Marco could imagine Truth's face, he would have a giant grin on it to match his tone of voice.
"Partially. I guess." Marco answered. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either.
The voice laughed, a throaty one that lasted only two seconds.
"Hmm? It's because you left Jean and couldn't fulfill your promise to him. Isn't that right, young soldier?" It laughed again, lasting a longer time. Marco could feel himself getting irritated again but quickly pushed it down. He figured that he didn't want to anger the voice. Yes, that was the truth of it all, the voice just summed it all into one sentence. Now what? Is this the afterlife?
"Don't try to hide things, Marco. I am god, remember? And the universe too! I know everything! I know your every thought, feeling, and action, ever since the day you were born."
Then the voice grew more serious.
"You recognize his place, don't you?"
Marco's eyebrows furrowed together.
"Yeah, this is my home."
If the voice had a face, he would've grinned widely.
"Correct."
"Am I dead, sir?" Marco finally voiced his thoughts, not that it was needed since Truth probably knew about it already.
"Yes, you are actually. Quite a brutal death yours was too."
The voice sounded sad.
"If I'm dead, then is this heaven?"
The voice laughed suddenly, not the taunting laugh, but a genuine laughter that rang through Marco's ears for the next few seconds. Although Marco could not see the voice, he had a vague idea of how he looked.
"Nope, this isn't heaven, not yet at least."
Ears perked up at the last four words.
"Not yet?"
And it grew silent. The voice was still there, but it remained quiet. It was as if it were waiting for something. Then eventually, it spoke.
"Yeah, not yet. You're in limbo right now."
"Limbo? I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talking about. When will I reach heaven?" Marco, the poor lad, was so very confused. The voice hummed and chose to explain things to the freckled man.
"You're in Limbo, a place between heaven and hell. You're in waiting, because it's still being decided which place you are to go. As a paene, you grow white wings, not the wings of freedom that you and Jean talked about. They come much later."
Marco nodded, taking in the information that the voice was giving. So he was in Limbo, the place between heaven and hell, the people stuck in Limbo are called paene, and the paene grow white wings. But there were still so many questions. Thankfully, the voice could read the questions in his mind.
"You remain in Limbo as a paene until the time comes when you are chosen to go to either heaven or hell. This choice may be made in a short time, or the decision may last until forever. In whatever time it decides to show itself to you, you would be ready to enter."
Marco remained quiet, and the voice took it as a sign to continue.
"You will be living in the same world as those who are alive. However, they cannot see you so-"
"Does that mean I can watch over everyone?" Marco interrupted the voice. His eyes widened in embarrassment as he realized what he had done. Normally, he wasn't this jumpy, but considering all the shit he'd gone through, aka dying and waking up and crying and talking to the voice, Marco somehow had the right to be jittery.
"Sorry…" He quickly apologized to the voice, but the voice just laughed.
"I think you mean, 'Does that mean I can watch over Jean?" The voice, despite having humor laced with those words, spoke the truth. Marco just remained quiet, counting the freckles on his wrist.
"Of course you get to watch over Jean. I said you could. Now before I was interrupted-" Marco mentally noted not to EVER interrupt the voice again.
"-so communication by any means is SAID to be impossible-" The voice watched as Marco's shoulders hunched forward slightly as if he were disappointed.
"-but this can't be right because you see, Marco, everything is possible." And again, if the voice had a face, he would be smirking.
Marco had one last topic of interest.
"So, uh, what happens now? Do I grow wings and fly around and watch over people? Just waiting for the ultimate decision?" He asked the voice.
"That's it, basically. You'll learn more things eventually, Marco. Remember, it's all just a matter of time until the decision for you is made." The voice grew more serious, and Marco wondered if something was being kept from him.
"Lastly, will I get to talk to you again?"
Marco felt safe with the voice, although he had only met it moments ago.
"…Maybe. Sooner or later, we'll have to meet again."
The freckled man nodded, not wishing to ask any more questions. Time would acknowledge his speculations.
"Sleep, Marco. Go to sleep." The voice soothed him.
Now, the only thing he needed to do, was wait.
so was it alright? Please tell me what you think. Thank you.
~LameDeer