A/N: Yeah, so uh, I'm sorry about that whole 'waiting' thing. If you haven't read since super long ago, here is a quick synopsis...
Jean has a naughty Mikasa dream. Mikasa does some soul searching and opens up to Armin. Jean tries to deal with his overactive hormones with mixed results. Krista does whatever she wants. Jean receives a dangerous new assignment while Armin's advice leads to a repeat encounter for Mikasa. Finally, Jean gets a hefty dose of the truth and Armin takes a big gamble.
Mikasa walked silently, her maneuver gear and some clothes stored in a large pack atop the horse she led. She didn't like feeling as open as she did now, walking without weapons or gear in the wide terrain, but it had been Jean's idea. The corporal had told her to follow Jean's lead on this mission since 'her skills lay elsewhere', whatever that was supposed to mean. She had to admit that Jean certainly seemed more comfortable than she felt with the current state of things.
Jean had said to ask about the kiss again today... did that mean she could she ask now? Or did a full day need to pass? He'd stayed silent all morning, unwilling to be the first to broach the subject. No one had ever explained the rules of these things to her, too bad Armin wasn't here to give her some advice.
"Jean, about last night..."
"Later." His response was curt, but not unfriendly. His eyes wouldn't meet hers and she followed his stare to see what preoccupied him. 'Military Police!' Her breath caught in her throat as her mind leapt to where their swords were being kept below their packs. She could reach them in a moment, but were there people who could see them? She would have to be fast...
Jean wasn't moving for his blades, though, he was walking calming toward the MP. Should she go for her swords or try to flank the patrol and come from behind? Humans presented a far different set of problems than titans, ones she hadn't had to deal with in a long time. She was used to attacking directly without any need for stealth or secrecy. Eren would surely attack in this situation, but Jean? He was too much of an unknown to anticipate, and he'd already proven that he wasn't an easy read.
"Hello there, sir." Jean's voice had become friendlier, a genial cadence dancing along his words, an abashed reverence hidden under his tones. It didn't sound like Jean at all. "Is this the Maria district of Stohess? I've been gone so long I thought I'd made a wrong turn."
"One moment." The guard looked toward Mikasa as she'd been moving slowly toward her gear, trying to get at the blade that was hidden so nearby. Shit! "I'm going to have to inspect your packs, by order of the king. State your names."
"Oh, alright..." spoke Jean, hesitant. "But it's rather embarrassing, what we have packed here. I'd appreciate it if we could just..."
The guard turned his glance back to Jean. "I said, state your names."
'Jean must be in over his head...' thought Mikasa furiously, if only they'd decided on a sign for a situation like this. Then again, the corporal had told her to follow Jean's lead, and he hadn't shown any indication of looking to her for an answer. She would just have to be ready for whatever the situation called for. "My name is Jean Tannen, and this here is my newly married wife, Marsha Tannen. We sent some supplies up a few days earlier, looking to move in with my..."
The guard waved him quiet. "Yeah yeah, I just need your names not your whole damn life story. Open the first pack."
'Shit! It isn't working!' thought Mikasa, wanting to dive for her blade and end this intrusion. The MPs would certainly be on the lookout once they had realized this patrol was gone, but that would buy them enough time, wouldn't it? Jean was lifting the travel covers from the first of their horses, just under those supplies was their maneuver gear... any second he would see their gear and Mikasa would have to act, maybe she could snap his neck in one twist? She'd never killed like that and wasn't looking forward to trying... but there wasn't enough time for her blades.
Mikasa circled behind the guard as he moved in for a closer inspection. 'Steel your nerves,' she told herself, 'it will be over in a moment.' Jean sidestepped and blocked her path, taking her in his arms and planting a kiss firmly on her lips. Warmth spread through her and Mikasa froze, astounded. It had been so sudden and unexpected that she'd forgotten what she was going to do. She openly stared at Jean, her eyes wide and heat rising in her face.
Jean stepped back to the guard, his attention now on them and Mikasa's blushing face. "I'm sorry," Jean whispered as if in confidence to the patrol, "it's just a little embarrassing. Marsha here has a thing for the uniform and the men wearing it, and they always tell you that you have to keep the marriage fresh from the start. There is this little shop down in Karanes that will do custom jobs, so I had them make us some replica straps, like your gear. It gets her going something awful, if you know what I mean." Jean smirked, moving the pack ever so slightly to reveal two hanging belts.
The patrol looked from the belts to her scarlet face and nodded, a mischievous grin of his own adorning his face. "Alright, I understand that it's embarrassing your new wife, but it happens a lot more often than you think." He leaned closer to Jean, "the border towns are even crazier, I hear. The women out there, so close to the wall, they're just waiting to show you their gratitude back in your room. Like it's their patriotic duty or something. No, I know the type alright," here he smiled at Mikasa with a look that she did not like at all. Jean let the pack fall back over the belts and led his horse forward, the guard smirking to himself, lost in some distant fantasy.
After they'd gotten a good distance away from the guard, Mikasa moved alongside Jean. "What was that?"
"That?" Jean smiled to himself, clearly pleased. "People already know what they want to believe, you just have to tell him. The MPs, well they want to think they are better than everyone else. You tell them that they are and they won't be looking to make a liar of you."
Jean had handled the situation well. Mikasa was sure that the guard would have been killed if Eren was here instead, maybe they would even have been caught. "Not that, I meant what was the kiss?"
"Oh... that... I'm sorry, I just...," Jean hurriedly apologized, clearly flustered.
"It's alright, I was just, well... surprised." Had that been the kiss that he'd said he was going to give her? It had been so fast she hadn't really learned anything about the technique, she'd just been left with a feeling of warmth that sent tingles down her back. Mikasa wanted to try again, but was that because she liked it or because she wasn't sure? Surely that one didn't count, did it? "Where are we going?"
"There is a safe house not far from here, just toward the north end of town before we pass through the wall." He gestured in the general direction, his eyes flitting back to her from time to time as they spoke. "It will be getting dark soon anyway."
A safe house? It sounded just like the thing Erwin Smith would have arranged. He was always speaking of the real enemy, someone hiding in the shadows where Annie's road led. Now they were hiding in the shadows too.
Coming to an inn, Jean led the horses around back and directly to the stable's side door. He unlocked the padlock with a key he kept on a small chain and led the horses silently inside. Mikasa was starting to get anxious, wouldn't a stable hand notice? Inns held lots of people, that was their specific purpose, and didn't they want to avoid people right now? "Jean, I don't think this is a good idea. Someone is going to notice us. Can't we just..."
"It's alright, trust me on this one, okay? The owner knows we are coming. It's all settled." He slipped quietly out the door again and locked the padlock back into place. Mikasa followed Jean through the back door of the inn that led into the kitchens; there was a woman tasting from a pot in front the kitchen fire, her eyes strained in concentration as she held the stew in judgment. Seeing them enter, she nearly dropped the spoon back into the bowl in shock.
"Shit," whispered Jean, his face reddening a little as he turned and walked quickly up the stairs and pulling Mikasa behind him.
"What's wrong Jean? Will she tell?"
"No, it's, uh, actually my mother."
Jean's mom? Mikasa hadn't heard Jean talk about his parents before, or maybe he simply hadn't with her. He'd grown up in Trost, his family must have moved after he left, maybe even after the Colossal titan had returned. She felt the skin of her arms tingle with an involuntary shiver.
Mikasa followed Jean up the stairs and set her pack next to his. They were on the top floor of the inn, only a small hallway joined two unnumbered rooms up here.
"Mine and my mom's", explained Jean, gesturing to either side before heading to his room.
Mikasa sat on the edge of Jean's bed looking at the dusted bedside table and folded sheets, tell-tale signs of motherly affection that she had so often let pass unnoticed when she was young. She had tried to cherish them with Mrs. Jaeger, but those subtle kindnesses so often went unseen. "So that's your mother?"
"Yeah," said Jean, his cheeks reddening slightly as he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "I expect we will be seeing more of her shortly." Jean offered no further explanation.
Mikasa frowned. Jean was supposed to be the one with the plan here, now he was off in his own world caught in a childhood dream. Did the owner know they were coming? Who could they trust outside of the Survey Corps? Now Jean wasn't even talking. What was their next move?
"So, she cooks here?" Mikasa offered.
"What? Oh, no. She's the owner. There's a barmaid downstairs and a cook and some others to run the inn, but she's a real stickler for quality and likes to do things herself sometimes when there are important people staying at the inn." Jean shrugged. "Tonight, that's probably us."
Footsteps sounded on the stairs below as Jean's mother climbed up toward them. She was dabbing quietly at her eyes as she tried to force back tears.
"Mah, come on, you don't need to fall apart like this every..."
"Oh, you know I can't help it. You seem like you are eating well enough, still won't grow out that silly haircut of yours I see. Been having your vegetables?"
"Mah!"
"Don't need to get yourself worked up, I'll stop, alright? Well, this must be Mikasa then," she said, pronouncing the first syllable like 'mu'. It reminded her of the little hunting villages that her father had gone to when trading their furs. "Jean-bo has told me so much about you in his letters, I feel like I know you myself."
Jean's eyes danced quickly between his mother and Mikasa, his red cheeks deepening with each passing breath. "I... uh... think I will change out of my pajamas. Or into. Them." Jean walked out the door, his shoulders hunched as if to cover his ears. He was embarrassed, but he didn't need to be. He'd already told her that he'd thought about her. At least she wasn't the only one feeling confused. "It's nice to hear that Jean writes you. And thank you for allowing us to stay here."
"Well aren't you sweet. I'd do about anything to get Jean-bo under my roof again." She smiled but Mikasa could tell her eyelids were heavy with worry. It had been a long time since she had been fretted over by a mother. "Mikasa, you must tell me what you use for your hair, if it isn't silk itself of course!" Jean's mother set some plainclothes on what must be Jean's bedside table and sat beside Mikasa. "Jean tells me that you're quite the fighter, too. Now, I don't mean to ask anything of you, but my Jean, well he can be a bit of a handful sometimes. He doesn't always know when to stop speaking or when to speak up, and he can act so entitled, I suppose he gets that bit from his father. But he's got a good heart and he wants to help people, even though he won't admit it sometimes, especially to himself. Can you be honest with me, does he have many friends?" She blinked back tears, wiping her eyes with unsteady hands. "I just want to make sure he isn't alone when he goes out there."
Mikasa's first thought was of Marco, lying broken in the ruins of Trost. There were others, Mikasa was sure, but what could she consider herself? What did she want to be to him? "We're all a family, Mrs. Kirschtein, he's never out alone."
Jean's mother smiled, from behind her reddening eyes. "Oh now, it's just Ms. Kirschtein. I'm going to fetch you two some dinner, will stew and fresh bread be alright?"
"It would be wonderful, Ms. Kirschtein."
She stood and walked to the door, turning before she left, "Oh, and Mikasa? Thank you."
