Eren gasped. He meant to scream, to voice his despair, but all that escaped his lips was a silent utter— a silent, useless, intake of breath.
"Mikasa!"
She had been swatted aside like a fly— like some kind of insignificant insect— by a giant, ruthless hand. And she had been trying to save him. Again.
Eren watched her delicate form crash into the ground, and his teeth may have broken on impact as he heard the heart-wrenching crunch of her bones. She didn't get up. She didn't roll away effortlessly like the times before and dust off her knees like she was some kind of demigod. She just lied there, and Eren felt his blood run cold, no, stop running—like ice—as he waited to see her chest move.
Then, even from such a distance, he could discern the slight, shaky rise of her breast, indicating that she wasn't snatched from his life just yet. She was okay. For now.
With renewed strength, Eren leapt at the Abnormal, slicing madly across its forearm until he reached the hairless, penetrable portion of its neck. He slashed, and the familiar hiss of his sword against the skin, the familiar scent of spilt blood, flickered in his senses, confirming it.
Another dead.
He rode the steaming Titan on its descent to the ground, and took off in a dash towards Mikasa.
She hadn't moved, and the red scarf billowed like a flag of surrender around her.
"Hey," he said urgently, kneeling beside her. She seemed to look fine on the surface, but he knew that beneath the clothes, beneath the outer layer of her skin, she bore sever internal damage.
And her face, usually so stoic and solemn, depicted just how much pain she felt. Others may not have been able to tell, but he could. He saw how her eyes quivered with agony, how she blinked hard to wipe out the pain. She wasn't crying. No. Mikasa didn't cry.
Except for the times when he was unconscious, according to Armin.
He always missed all the damn action.
In reality, though, he was glad to have never seen her burst into tears. He probably wouldn't be able to take it. He'd have to kill something...or beat up Jean.
"You're going to be okay, Mikasa," he assured her, or maybe assured himself.
She swallowed slowly and sighed nervously.
It suddenly hit him how scared she was, how empty her energy and thirst for life was. She was not okay. She was...she was...
There was a soft vibration in his bones, like a tremor. But then, he realized it was coming from the ground.
Looking up, Eren felt his whole world drain into black and white.
Titans. An entire army. An entire herd.
They had drawn them out. The plan had succeeded.
And they needed to get out of there.
"Eren..." she said, wincing slightly. "I can't...I can't get up."
Eren swore to himself, but he couldn't show his fear. He had to protect Mikasa. At least this once.
"Then I'll carry you," he said, unwavering. They had been in worse situations before, after all.
Carefully, he gathered her in his arms. She seemed small, fragile. And that was unsettling.
They just had to get to the wall. It was in sight, just a few hundred yards within reach. They'd have plenty of time before they were overtaken by the fleet. Plenty.
Mikasa was warm against his chest, and she bunched his shirt in a death grip, out of pain or out of reassurance he wasn't sure. But he didn't mind. Closeness to Mikasa was something he was perfectly comfortable with. He'd never tell her that, of course. But he enjoyed her company. He thrived on her persistence, her confidence in him, her belief in his humanity. He could do without her preachy overprotection, but he knew deep down it was because she cared so much about him, and that just made it worse when he snapped and yelled at her for it.
Like that morning. She had insisted on accompanying him, and since she was scary as hell to all of the officers, including Levi, no one objected. Except Eren...
He started to run, trying not to move her body around too much, to put her through too much pain, but they were out of options.
"Eren."
"Don't worry, Mikasa. We'll get there!"
"Eren, I need to tell you...to tell you something..."
He glanced down at her face, pressed against his shoulder. She was looking at him with an expression he had never seen before. At least, something she'd never directed towards him. After all, he knew all of her facial features, all of her frowns, her smirks, her pouting lips, her set jaw, her cold eyes, her warm eyes, her sad eyes, her rare happy eyes. Her. He knew her.
But this expression was different. It held something peculiar. Longing? Want? Desire? He didn't know, but it made his stomach flutter.
"Eren..."
"Mikasa..." he panted, eyeing the wall. They were close. Couldn't she save whatever she had to say for then?
She tugged on his shirt.
"I..."
The emotion in her voice was off. It was too much. Too strangled. Too raw.
"Eren, I..."
And then, he knew what she was going to say. He knew. Because he wanted to say the same thing. But there was no need.
"I know, Mikasa."
He dared to look down at her face and see her slightly agape mouth morph into a smile. Their eyes met, and she understood. She knew the feeling was mutual. It always had been, since the day he saved her from her fate.
Then the ground rumbled, and he stole a glance behind them. The titans had gained remarkable distance. They were less than a mile away now.
And he still hadn't made it to the wall.
Shit.
The ground shook with its terrible quiver, like the earth was shivering with a cold sense of dread, and it scared him, it angered him. But they couldn't mess up the plan. Armin had put too much thought into it. He had planned it out for a month with Levi's assistance, and this was the final stage. They had cornered the Titans in different areas of the walls. They had slowly eliminated their enemy. And now they had drawn the last of them out for a final brawl. A final determination of whose race should persevere.
And it sure as hell wasn't going to be the Titans'.
Mikasa's dark hair tickled his neck. It smelled like the ocean. Or what he imagined the ocean to smell like. Graceful. Fresh. Sweet.
Fucking focus.
"We're almost there Mikasa."
He could see the others beside the base, waiting to pull them up on the elevator. Jean. Levi. Connie. Armin. They were standing as one. He could tell by Levi's face that he had expected more of them. But the others had all died back there. They had sacrificed themselves to initiate the plan. Forgotten heroes.
Mikasa wasn't as heavy as he had predicted. She had muscles, and abs, but she was as light as a bird, which made sense, since she slayed titans like she owned wings.
"We made it, Mikasa!" he exclaimed, now only several yards away from the others.
"Mikasa!" he said again, glancing down at her smiling eyes and grinning lips.
Only, her smile was soft, and her eyes were closed, and her skin was white.
He halted. "…Mikasa?"
She didn't respond.
All at once he felt the sky fall on top of him, crushing his heart and his hope in one beat.
He sagged to his knees, bringing his hand up to her cheek. It was cold.
"Mi..ka...sa..." he breathed, shocked, confused, numb. No, no, no, no, no. God no. She couldn't be...she couldn't.
The scarf fluttered in the breeze, the only fleshy color on her body. The only movement. The only sign of life.
"MIKASA!" He screamed frantically, choking on his own words as they grew hoarse. Tears prickled his eyes, blinding him. Armin began to come forward but stopped short, his hand drawing to cover his mouth as the situation dawned on him.
How? When? WHY?
Eren started to hyperventilate, and his hands trembled like the ground he sat on. He swallowed the lump in his throat and desperately pressed his ear to her chest, wishing, praying.
Silence. Horrible, gut-wrenching silence.
He sobbed, convulsing.
How had this happened?! She had been fine seconds ago. She had been talking; she had been smiling!
But she was gone, like the flame of a candle. Gone.
His world had fallen apart. Just like that. She had been the sole thing keeping his paradigm in one piece. And now that she was dead— dead—his life shattered before him.
"Mikasa. Please. Please don't leave me..." he whispered, high-pitched. The solitude overcame him in a wave— dark, creeping hands of the lonely pulling him down. He hung his head, tears streaming down his face. Her hands were in his, and they didn't squeeze back like when they were kids.
"Eren..." said Jean, his face worn and red with grief. "We have to go."
Eren shook his head. He wasn't leaving her.
How could he? He had failed her. Again.
In the end, she was the only one who could protect anyone. He couldn't save her. Just like he couldn't save his mom.
But Mikasa had meant more to him than just family. She meant more than the world. She had meant his entire being, his entire existence. And he'd been an ass to her two thirds of their time together.
Levi broke the harsh silence. "Jaeger..." he said, his tone soft and urgent at the same time.
The Titans were close now. He could smell them.
But at the moment, none of that mattered.
Eren glared at Mikasa through his tears. He had told her to fight. Why didn't she fight?
Who was supposed to be by his side when he defeated the titans now? Who was supposed to tell him he wasn't a monster? Who was supposed to hold his scarred hand and baby him and yell at him and scold him and protect him and hug him and love him?
She'd loved him.
She'd told him, without words. Not just before she died. In so many ways before. All the moments, the memories bubbled to the surface. And so did all the times he just didn't see it, ignored it, or buried it away for a later time.
But he'd loved her too. He always would.
He felt empty all at once. Like she had been keeping him sane and compassionate all along. Like she had been his anchor to humanity.
He bent down and kissed her soft, chapped lips. Gently. Unconsciously, he tucked the scarf around her thin neck; his last goodbye.
At least, in this life.
"Something like that, I'll wrap as many times as I have too." He had told her. It was supposed to be a kind of confession. But maybe it hadn't come out that way. He would change that, if he ever saw her again. He would pour out his heart and never let her go. In his dreams. In the afterlife. Somehow.
He turned towards the others.
"Take her and go."
Connie started, peeling his watery eyes from Mikasa's limp figure. "Eren, what are you talking about? We have to get inside the wall! We've got the squads ready and the canons and—"
"Eren we aren't leaving you! Do you think you're the only one who is mourning over —?"
"Armin! GO!" he yelled at his friend, voice catching. The blonde boy was his best friend, next to Mikasa. They had been the golden trio, naively expecting to make it through it together. Hoping.
Armin had grown so much over the years. His innocent eyes were hard with experience. He had become so mature, and strong, and intelligent.
He'd be fine.
Levi seemed to understand; he knew the guilt of losing someone so close to him, of losing everyone he ever cared about. Without a word, he grabbed Armin and dragged him back towards the elevator as Jean and Connie picked up Mikasa.
Eren turned to face the stampede of Titans.
This was his battle. No others would die in vain. No others would lose their lives for him.
This was for him. For him and Mikasa.
He smiled bitterly at her bright coal eyes, at the way she fiddled with her goddamn scarf.
For us.
He bit fiercely into his hand.
Just an experiment of sorts. I may continue...we'll see. Sorry I didn't warn you about the sadness, but I felt like it would spoil the whole thing. Review? Pretty please?