a/n: Another one. I suppose it's for myself as much as everyone else who's read this far. (To be real with you guys; I've never felt physically ill during the writing/editing/reading process of anything I've posted, until I came up with this.)


It takes a while for his breath to come back. Even longer for him to accept the fact that he is still alive. Unsure how that's possible.

The air kisses his skin where he's exposed. He shivers, and even something that small and involuntary is enough to leave him exhausted. Where are Bertholdt and Ymir? He doesn't know.

Still trembling, he realises it's not just from cold. He grits his teeth, stubborn, clenching phantom fists. Ain't gonna break in front of anyone. Especially not after —

He never finishes the thought; a wave of nausea hits him so hard it takes his breath away. Whiplash, meet vertigo.

Something's coming back up. Panicking, almost hyperventilating, even when he tries not to. No arms, so he has to rock, back and forth, to build up momentum. Tangled up in his own clothes and filth, he's gonna be sick, he's gonna be sick, oh God he needs to be sick but it won't come out it won't come out of him and maybe dry-drowning in his own vomit, dying on his knees, is okay, because it'll be his own decision at least —

But somehow he manages to turn himself over, not quite fast enough. He retches, thin and insubstantial, all over the tree. Some of it gets on his face. His throat is dry and burning. Just when thinks he's done it happens again, waiting in agony for the next purge that will only make him feel rawer; trying to stop, will himself back to control, but his body won't let him.

It goes and goes. Amazed he has so much bile inside him. Eventually left dry-heaving, desperate for air. He groans aloud. Trying to register his own voice. Still trembling violently, still clenching his jaw. Face is wet. Without his volition. Weakness is an undesirable quality of being human.

Pain's getting worse, everywhere. Skin's scraped raw where he is exposed. Bruises forming. Should be healing. Probably bleeding instead.

(That shouldn't make him laugh, but he can't help himself; just a little wheeze, chuckle, his breathing ragged and half-hysterical. Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with him.)

Off-balance, he can't control his own movement and he topples again, face first. Acrid smell pervades his nostrils and he tries very hard not to gag. He curls upon himself the best he can. As though to hide, salvage his sorry self from the world.

(Hide from what? It's done. Maybe Reiner will kill him next.)

New sound reaches his ears, ugly, wretched, continuous. Eren concedes that he might be the one making that noise. Head's all foggy. He knows he must be in a lot of pain still, but it's as if he is floating outside of his physical body.

At some point, though, he stops. Too tired to weep. He could be caught up in his tumultuous emotions again but no, he isn't, not at all. Perfectly calm. The anger, the childish hatred, it's burned out, leaving him hollow. A perfect circle of progression. The stupid, self-righteous boy is back where he started. Only this time, he knows what he has to do.

Absolutely nothing matters except getting his hands on Reiner. Reiner, who won't even look at him.

Fucker, he thinks and does not say, his mind a vicious whirlwind.

On the surface, Eren is perfectly tempered. He has to save his strength. He has to wait. Closing his eyes, he really concentrates on his breathing. Nose all snotty. Probably running. Doesn't matter.

Everything is gonna be okay. You'll make sure he never does that again. To you, or anyone else.

AGAIN: and the word's like a blemish, it echoes and runs revolutions around the inside of his rattled skull. This a cruel world, and an even crueler joke.

That won't help you. Have to get up.

And Eren tries, he really tries. Even breathing hurts. His body protests movement, the monotony of his continued existence. Head pounding viciously.

Fuck you, I'll fight if I want.

Rolling over so he is pressed back against the tree. More pain, but at least he's upright. Unsteady now, he rocks himself drunkenly, trying to concentrate.

His eyes drift downward. Titans are clustering around the base of the tree like hungry dogs. Anticipatory.

This is the perfect moment for Reiner to crush his head in. For whatever reason, though, he doesn't turn around.

Focus. You're almost there. You're so close.

Even pain isn't enough to distract him. Nothing will come between him and this single, precious chance. It's easier to justify his actions when he knows he's about to attack a monster. Reiner's not the one who's injured. Reiner can't transform. Reiner doesn't have the fucking spine to start what Eren's about to finish.

Don't think about it now.

Bracing himself. Every inch of him poised to act. Reiner hasn't moved. Eren waits and waits, but nothing happens. So, Eren decides he will act first; lunging, clumsy, still tangled up but moving fast. Mouth open, teeth sinking into his meaty shoulder. Drawing blood.

Shout of pain from Reiner. Another sound leaves Eren in response, muffled around flesh, feral, triumphant.

Titan explodes into being, light flooding the space around him and the beast envelops them both within. The branch cracks under pressure, breaks before the Titan's even fully formed. Falling fast — and Eren's ready (almost) to accept that he is probably going to die here, but it'll be worth it to kill the bastard —


— after all, everything he has forsaken has been building up to this moment —


— and impact shatters him —

— and the Titans fall upon them both —

— tearing at him —

— Eren can't move —

— going to die in the dirt like an animal —


— fuck you I won't give in —

— not like this —

— never never never again


Screaming as loud as he can, his throat raw, pure emotional defiance. The titan screams with him — an unnatural illumination floods the space beneath his closed eyes like some unholy awakening —

Lightning strikes on a cloudless day — all at once, the other titans, they drop him like he's poison, scurrying away. The ground rumbles with the sound of retreat. Inside the nape of the malformed beast, Eren shivers.

Knowing it's temporary safety. Knowing he has seconds to do what he must.

So he forces himself to rise with arms, brittle and malformed — a living abomination he has brought into being — because the broken body of his enemy is nestled under flesh and muscle.

But Eren has to make sure he's dead. Trying not to think on what he is about to do — he makes of himself an offering to the birds — fresh carrion — sending a message: eradicate the tumor festering beneath the skin.

They creep towards him, careful, like he's going to bite — some put their tiny hands on him checking for a breach — and then teeth sink into him.

Eren cries out weakly. Too late to stop. More fall upon him, more hands clawing at the open wound, seeking sustenance within.

Eren gasps, unable to control the sound leaving his throat. He shrieks, and it won't stop, the pain won't stop — desperate, he screams out loud, hoarse and high-pitched because it's agony, sweet, unendurable agony being torn into all over again — hyperventilating unable to tear his eyes away from what is happening to him —


— isn't this what you wanted? —


And he knows by now that Reiner is dead, and the others will come for him (soon?) maybe too late — and all he can do is concentrate on survival but the only question remaining is if that will be enough. He doesn't know if he can make this stop in time; his power over the mob is newfound, he's unsure how to wield it —

Is it better, then, to die here than continue to live, broken and humiliated? He doesn't know, isn't sure he wants to die, but this isn't so bad. He can't even feel pain anymore. Maybe he'll see them again, mum and dad and everyone else who he can recall by face or name, everyone he's failed, let down, forgotten —


— stop, says a friendly little voice in his head, you can't die just yet


Eren blinks.

Why not?


because, like he's being stupid on purpose, there are things you need to see people to protect to live and breath and fight for, you're not done, you need to surviveyou have to live for them live for yourself you have to get over the walls, there are questions you haven't answered


Does it matter? Eren thinks, uninterested. I'm going to die someday.


— coward, sneers the voice, do you want to die that badly? think of your parents, your friends — why won't you live for their sake? or are you afraid of what they will say when they see you —


They can't, he thinks desperately, I can't let them see me like this, please let me die, I want to die I want this to end God let it end why are you keeping me alive there's nothing left for me —


— what little faith you have for the ones that love you —


Titans will take him apart, soon. A heavy, black sickness engulfs him from all sides.


— you must have SOMETHING else to live for —


A new rumbling fills his ears. Sight and sound, everything is blurring into nonsense.


— or are you throwing it all away for the sake of your captors? —


He's nearing the end.


(Maybe it won't be okay.)


The flutter of a pulse, his eyes are lidded and heavy.


(Better off knowing than not at all.)


He opens his eyes.


Another burst of light and heat — the Titans drop him and he's risen from the corpse, reborn, naked and bloody and whole, a god in the body of a boy — and the boy, he smiles, because it's not over, but he isn't going to be lost, he is free —

— steam filling his lungs, and the rumble turns into a roar like the earth splitting open, and they come for him, they take him up into their arms crying his name cursing the enemy, cursing the titans, horses and soldiers circling the corpse at his knees, and he lets himself be cut away by blades, dragged from hell up up up into the beautiful light — finally at peace.