An: This AU is inspired by BBC 3's 'In the Flesh', which is amazing. I've actually had this AU stuck in my head since season 2 of ItF came out six weeks ago but I was dead set on keeping the plot the same but the characters just didn't fit, so now it's set in the same universe as 'In the Flesh' and with elements of the season 1 plot line added in. Oh and an obvious disclaimer, I don't own anything from 'Attack on Titan'/'Shingeki no Kyojin' or 'In the Flesh'. Or 'Lady Lazarus', which is a poem by Sylvia Plath, and the chapter names will be based on lines from that poem.


Sasha had just gotten off her flight at Memmigen airport. This was luckily one of the only airports to have not been completely destroyed during the rising in 2009. The ones back home had not been so fortunate. The denser populated America, with its higher rates of gun crime, had more risers than the average civilian could handle.

There probably weren't any partially-deceased on the plane except for Sasha. She was glad to have been able to hide her neurotriptyline so well. She really thought that security would have been tighter, considering her trick for hiding her medication was the same from when she used to shop lift candy bars in the local convenience store when she was seven. However given the time, Sasha knew she had to get to a bathroom quickly in order to take her injections. Once she was out of the airport, she would be fine.

Germany, unlike America, had a large amount of openly-undead people milling around. Most of them weren't boarding planes, but a lot of them were chatting with people, or being hugged within an inch of their life, or afterlife… perhaps?

The baggage claim was taking too long. Sasha was looking at her watch, in two minutes the alarm reminding her to take her neurotriptyline would go off.

She was owner of bag 143. The bags coming past were currently in the 80's. She was waiting for sixty sets of luggage to go past.

Bag number 90 went past, Sasha checked her watch, one minute and forty five seconds to go. An old woman pulled a large brown travel suitcase off of the conveyor belt. An old silver flip phone pressed to her ear as she did this. She loudly complained about the awful rotters who ruined her town and how she had to live with her awful sister in Germany, and how awful everything was.

Bag number 100, Sasha checked her watch again, her foot started to tap slighty. One minute and twenty five seconds until she had to take her neurotriptyline. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

A business man picked up a light leather suitcase and walked away briskly. He wore fine leather shoes which tapped against the floor smoothly.

Bag number 110, one minute and ten seconds to go.

A family grabbed their respective suitcases, except the mother who was helping the little girl pull off her bright pink Barbie suitcase. The boy held a plastic gun which he pointed around the place yelling "Bam! Hey dad, dad look! I shot a rotter, dad! Just like you did in the war!" Sasha felt faint, which was strange because she usually didn't feel anything.

Bag number 120, 50 seconds before she had to take her neurotriptyline.

Sasha couldn't focus on the people taking their bags anymore, she felt dizzy. She was going to go rabid in an airport, in a highly populated airport, in a foreign country. She had no idea how the partially deceased were treated here, she just knew how they were treated back home. Not that she could really say it felt like home anymore.

Bag number 130, 35 seconds to go.

If she ran, she could make it. She just might be able to make it somewhere private enough to take her neurotriptyline. Looking to the north, she could see her bag coming soon.

Bag number 140, 20 seconds to go.

Sasha grabbed her bag, her world becoming fuzzy, and ran to a huge display of plants in a five foot tall enclosure, of sorts, with plenty of alcoves. She sat in one of the alcoves, the back of her neck facing the huge plant pot. Her hand was shaking as she loaded the neurotriptyline in the syringe-slash-gun, 5 seconds to go.

"Let me help you with that!"

Before Sasha could speak, someone had grabbed her neurotriptyline, shoved it in the hole in her neck and injected it. They then passed the injector back to her; Sasha felt the cold metal instrument in her hands for a second. Then the sense of feeling anything at all was gone again, almost immediately.

"Sorry, for just kind of taking that from you without really asking," Sasha looked up and saw a short blonde girl. One of her eyes was blue, the other was, well, white, like a zombie's, or a partially deceased syndrome sufferer. Sasha preferred the word zombie, if she were to be frank.

"Oh, it's fine," Sasha laughed, "I shouldn't have waited until the last possible second, really."

"It's so difficult trying to do it yourself though, isn't it? And if you don't do it properly, who knows what might happen."

"Yes, thanks for the help," Sasha replied, "I might've gone rabid and eaten everyone here." Sasha laughed again.

"That would be pretty unfortunate, wouldn't it? So whose bags are those?"

"They belong to my aunt, I came to meet her, here, because she wanted to see me since I'm, well, back from the dead, and stuff."

"Oh, really I came to meet some family too, my mother, actually," the blonde girl replied.

"That's nice, I think."

"Krista," a much taller called. She unlike the blonde girl, was not wearing cover-up, or contacts. Her skin was grey, like a lot of zombies. She had long stitches going down the side of her right temple as well. Sasha wondered how she died.

"Who's this?" the taller girl asked.

"I don't know, she's one of us though."

"I'm Sasha," she replied out of nature. Crap. Her passport, told a different story.

"Great. Look, Krista, I found your other contact."

"Thanks," the girl, Krista (Sasha assumed), smiled, then her face fell. "Ugh, Ymir, it's dirty."

"Go to the bathroom and wash it then, or something."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Can you keep an eye for my mum, you know what she looks like, right?"

"Yes, you only showed me the photo about a million times before we got here."

"Great. Okay, be right back," Krista turned to say goodbye to Sasha, however there was no one there. Sasha had taken off while the two were distracted because, well, she wasn't going to explain the truth to two complete strangers.

If she could breathe, the air outside the airport would be cold and fresh. Now she just had to get to the train station. It was a new one, built after the rising. Apparently a lot of train stations in Germany had been a place where zombies liked to congregate, no one really knew why. But, a lot of the military had bombed train stations in order to try and take out a lot of the zombies. Strangely enough, it was not as good a tactic as originally assumed, it just lead to a lot of crispy zombies.

There were more of the openly undead on the streets of Memmigen, it seemed to be a fashionable aesthetic in this part of the world. There was even a poster advertising a type of foundation that made people appear to look more like a PDS sufferer. That's disgusting, Sasha thought.


The train station was a little less diverse, there was even a piece of graffiti saying "Rotters go back to your grave!" Definitely not the most punchy piece of spray painted abuse, but it certainly got the message across.

The train to Ulm arrived faster than Sasha had expected it to, but it was probably because she had arrived later than she expected to. A few people got on the train, but not many. Sasha removed her phone. It was her old phone from before she died, four years ago.

The world seemed the same and yet it also seemed drastically different. Everyone had experienced an apocalypse, a long period of time with almost no TV or luxuries or anything good and fun. It was a time when you couldn't leave your house because you might get torn limb from limb and feverishly pecked apart by a reanimated corpse.

She flipped through her phone contacts, looking for her aunt or cousin's number. Aunt Springer popped up first, it was logical when the name filed began with an A.

"On train 2 Ulm. R u meeting me ther?" Sasha texted, her fingers were slightly stiff making texting on her tiny keypad even more awkward than it had been four years ago. Her phone beeped a few minutes later.

"Were meeting you at the train station love lara," the message read. Sasha closed her phone and put it back in her backpack. She'd be safe soon.


AN: So the first chapter is kind of world building and introducing you to Sasha's situation and then the next one is more Mikasa centric, which is going to be similar to Kieren's story from 'In the Flesh' in the season 1 arc. Anyways, thank you for reading. Also, wish me luck because the 'In the Flesh' season finale is on tonight and I know it's going to break my heart. Oh and in Lara's text message, I know it's the wrong W-E-R-E but it's supposed to be because they have older mobile phones and a lot of adults can't figure out how to add in apostrophes and commas, I remember this from 2009.