A/N: This is basically my first attempt to write a fanfic, so reviews are very welcome. It'll help in the construction of following stories :)) But to all who read, I do hope you enjoy!
It was the most rigorous mission the Survey Corps had ever embarked on outside the walls; Titans of different classes advancing towards them in all directions, leaving them entirely baffled and unprepared- the vast space was always the 3D Maneuver Gear's nuisance. A tremendous amount of comrades were lost and wounded severely while fighting for the belief of mankind's imminent victory. This weighed down on every living soul that witnessed their demise, throbbed in every cranium and heart that belonged to the ones whom they spent their days with. Lucky ones were salvaged, now struggling to recover, assisted by pals hanging onto a thin string of hope that miraculously remained dangling. And this was no foreign feeling to Mikasa.
If anything, she thought, she should already be immune to this; numb and worry-free, for she has seen this scene in her life all too many times now. But it wasn't simply that easy to disregard. Never, when it got to Eren.
There he lay, all bandaged up again: an ugly stain of gore creeping and seeping into the gauze that wrapped around his head- his head that held secrets and dangerously unfavorable ideas highly associated with his burning desire for triumph against the Titans. Mikasa knew he wasn't renowned for his combat skills and strength, but she knew that his intellect was precious and his determination is what has kept him going.
Such a superior semblance has he set for himself, yet it was a fragile being that was now sprawled on a clean-sheeted mattress before her, whose chest rose and fell in a steady beat, thankfully. She believed he would be fine, just as always, though in the ticking seconds and through the audible thumps of her heart, at the very back of her mind (which she made a point to evade, but failed) worry has welled up.
It wouldn't exactly be considered rash action, but Eren transformed into a Titan on that mission. He had the will to defend a crowd of retreating soldiers from a hoard of Titans with frightening speed trailing right behind them. If Eren hadn't done it, more than 20% of the measly 40% of troops who made it back would cease to exist. But in doing the heroic deed, he put his own life at stake-and that was no place for a life to be if it had been the only glinting ray of hope for mankind's survival.
Yes, Mikasa was indeed aware of the fact that humanity fears and relies on him because of his odd capabilities. But she saw beyond what was merely stated: he was her backbone, the source of all her abilities. He was what is keeping her on her feet, for he taught her to fight. If only she knew how hard he was fighting, how much effort he's exerting to recompose himself. If only she knew how to fight for him now.
She's itching to reach out because it was just too unnatural for her to just be there; she was present, yet she felt completely absent. And these were the moments in which Mikasa felt most pathetic. Despite all her skills, all she could do in situations like this was to sit by the bedside and mope internally, grasp his hand in hers while desperately waiting for a reaction. He hasn't been recovering as quickly as he used to.
"Eren," she whispered. It has been roughly a week now and there's still no response. "Eren," her eyes stung and she heard her voice crack in the echoing room, and the sound that bounced off the walls convinced her that she was alone. But something disrupts the distressing silence, and it startles her a bit. She turns her head towards the wall to conceal her face as she wipes the tears off her eyes in a swift gesture.
"Who's there?" Mikasa calls. With some hesitancy, someone replies.
"It's getting late. Don't you think you should get going?" Jean's figure emerges from the doorway.
"What are you doing here?"
"I-I was doing rounds, thought I'd drop by -"
"Oh, is that so," she said in a blunt tone while keeping her eyes fixed on him. A somewhat insulting gaze, he thinks.
"He's been out for a while now, hasn't he," Jean said in an attempt to divert the conversation and her attention. As a response, he receives the silence he interrupted when he stumbled into that room. She arcs her neck down to hide her face.
Shifting her bowed head after a couple of pacified moments, she turns to look at Eren, leaving a lingering glance at him before she decides to rise from her too-warm seat. She has been oblivious to how long she's been in there, but none of those were significant at the moment. She lets out a sigh then heads for the doorway, paying minimal attention to Jean, yet allowing conversation to conclude at least a bit decently. "Yes, it's late. I'll be back tomorrow."
She exits the room and pulls up the tattered scarf around her neck to cover the lower half of her face, having it rest on her nose, halfway through her cheeks that were damp once again. It pained her that of all possible instances, it was now that the scarf was damaged. It was all she could cling to, what somehow kept her sane- that fabric she had over her mouth, now barely noticeable from the severs that that mission etched. She attempts to breathe in childhood, take in the origins of her scarf once again, but her head was too clouded and the shredded cloth offered no consolation. But she thought, in a weak attempt to be optimistic: at least having the fabric over her mouth muffled the sobbing.
There she strides through the empty corridor, the heels of her shoes echoing as she trails away from Eren's room. Mikasa was certain that the night was going to be as long as the hallway that kept unfolding before her.
The light seeping from the slits of the drapes stung as it played upon her eyelids, illuminating the dust in the air and desolate corner in which her bed was situated in. Mikasa swings her body sideward and allows her bare feet to dangle from the bed, touching the tips of her toes to the cold concrete floor. She felt as if volts shot right through her as the two came in contact, and in what seemed like a chain reaction, a certain memory was triggered as that jolt passed; "Eren," she mutters, then makes her way for the bedroom door.
She's pacing through the tediously long corridor again, tugging her scarf up to her face just as she did night before- now feeling the rough marks of stitches engraved on it, sewn last night in an effort to restore the tattered thing. The outline of the door to Eren's room began to emerge, and to her surprise, she finds a visitor walk out the room even before she could arrive.
"Oi, Armin," she calls from a distance.
"Mikasa," he turns and replies.
"How's he doing?"
"H-," he stutters a bit before he replies, "still no drastic changes. Although he twitched the slightest bit and muttered undecipherable words moments ago. He wasn't completely awake, but that's good, isn't it?"
Her eyes grow wide as she receives the news and finds herself pacing for the door before she could even respond to Armin's question, leaving him standing startled as she disappears into the cell.
"I'll take it from here," a follow-up note was delivered to Armin as Mikasa's head cocked out the door. She disappears once more, and that was his cue to walk away.
"Eren," she calls out in a serene tone as she positions herself onto the seat by the bed."Were you, by any chance, already conscious this morning?" she's aware that he won't respond; she just wants the message to come across, one way or another, after all. A soft chuckle followed as she stared off into the distance (it would seem to someone who saw her that she was laughing at the wall). There, a curve crept and drew up the edges of her mouth, forming smile for the first time in a long time-relieved to finally hear news on Eren. He's fighting, she thinks, don't stop now, Eren. Mikasa shuts her eyelids for a moment, and finds that she is rather drowsy due to lack of sleep. She allows that smile to linger on her face a little longer though, having it fade as she drifts off into slumber.
She remains in her chair, half-asleep, half-awake; a yawn escapes, and she is tempted to rest her eyes once again. But just as she is about succumb to drowsiness for the second time; she hears faint muttering in the world behind her closed eyelids. Having disregarded it at first, she finds herself having a late reaction: realizing after some moments that the only other person in the room was Eren. Her eyelids fly open and her head swiftly shifts to the area of where he lays. Her eyes widen as she sees faint movements: the occasional toss and turn of one who is about to awaken.
"Eren!" she crouches forward in glee to welcome him back. His eyelids slowly lift, and it's her face that first greets him. After several blinks-as if attempting to grasp the events- he finally speaks.
"Wh-where am I?" he says, slowly rising to a sitting position and finding his hand on his wounded head. "What happened?"
"Eren-" her voice trailing off as the name rolled off her tongue, "you really don't remember?"
He puts on a distant stare, gaze plastered on the vacant space ahead of him. He attempts contemplation on the matter, but to no avail—and that is when he directs his attention to her, "Who are you? Where am I?"
All the color that painted her face drained out and she froze in that instant. She was utterly speechless, and so was he.
Mikasa is sent forward by a rather violent jolt, waking her from sleep. She finds herself sweating profusely and detects a pain in her throat emerging, somehow making it hard to breathe. With large eyes, she scans the room and finds relief in seeing Eren exactly where she left him. She lets out a sigh at this sight and allows her muscles to relax as she sinks into the chair. Staring at the floor, she shakes her head, wearing a smile, she thinks: dammit, that was extremely stupid. Though she chuckles, her chest still throbs from that traumatic dream. I could never lose Eren. She shakes her bowed head once more, still wearing that smile but now with a trail of a single tear adorning her cheek. Never. The glum thought began to bear its claws into her, and it's sinking deep into her skin.
Just in the nick of time, Eren comes to save her (a familiar memory). She hears a distinguishable tone at the back of her mind: fight, Mikasa. The ghostly voice began to gain consistency as it echoed... Mikasa... Then reality sinks in and startles her to the edge of her seat: the actual Eren was muttering her name! This is no longer a dream. And before she knew it, he was already in her arms.
Relief floods her entirely and she hugs him with all her might. He squints as he says, "Ouch! Easy, I just recovered!" which only makes her grin wider and grasp tighter. You scared me. Don't ever leave me again. She lets out an alleviated laugh and perhaps blushes a bit as she buries her face in his shoulder, keeping it that way throughout their embrace. In a muffled voice, she exclaims, "Welcome back, Eren!"