Chapter 10: Bonds That Break

Later that night – or was it early morning? she couldn't tell at this point – Mercedes lay awake in bed in the room she shared with Baena and two other young women. Baena apparently had known them from her time as a trainee in the Northern Division, and while they all got along well enough sometimes Mercedes hungered to sleep alone, or rather, have a room of her own.

How long until morning? How long until Jean gets put in the line of fire? she thought, turning over on her side. Don't be ridiculous. He can handle it. He's been living outside Wall Rose for the past few months for crying out loud, and Captain Levi knows what he's doing.

Nonetheless she was plagued with thoughts of anything and everything going wrong – a discovered disguise, an unanticipated variable, more men than they'd expected…who knew. As much as she'd tried to put these thoughts out of her brain, it was agonizing to think that the first time they'd embraced like that, or the first time their lips had met, would also be the last.

You've never been like this over a guy. Julia would tease you no end if she knew. Truth be told, she barely knew what to do with herself. Most of her 'prowess' – though it was far from that – was based on Julia's unsolicited, reluctantly-and-secretly-accepted advice and, lately, Baena's scheming.

But she did know two things – one, that what she'd said was real, and true; and two, that she had to deny it to everyone and to herself in the interests of what she had to do.

Mercedes heaved a sigh and turned onto her stomach. She felt hot and constricted and realized that it was because she'd managed to cocoon herself in her sheets. Irritably she spasmed and writhed and pulled to rid herself of them and throw them to the floor – in the process she smacked the wall beside her bunk and Baena, above her, stirred. Her snoring momentarily stopped and Mercedes froze, not wanting to discuss why she was still awake. Then, the oddly melodic but still nasal sounds grew again until they settled into a quiet rhythm like the peeping of a frog. Mercedes relaxed and her head fell back on her pillow.

She reached up a hand to wipe her hair back from her clammy forehead. Her imagination, dark and yet hopeful as it was, began to fog her vision and lull her back into that strange fever of anxiety and yearning. She barely noticed her hand drift down to graze its fingers over her bottom lip. Then she pushed away the memory of his kiss and her arm flopped down by her side.

Jean. Don't forget your promise. I won't forget mine.

Wednesdays before lunch were devoted to training or, as her squad had come to call them, 'armpit cobweb sweeps'. Although Baena had woken bright and early – a cheery morning type to rival the sun – to find her sitting against the wall on her bed red-eyed and disheveled, Mercedes welcomed the mindless physical activity. Despite her exhaustion, it served to take her mind off the fact that at that very moment Jean, disguised preposterously as Eren, was being seized from his horse.

The four of them were in a line doing push-ups on the red earth of the Garrison HQ's small training yard behind the stables. There were a couple of other soldiers working out, but otherwise Mercedes' squad had the space to themselves. She and Oliver were fairly convinced that it was either Fhalz's complaining or Baena's scattershot moments of singing that had driven everyone off. Oliver's low whisper of his personal count was a steady metronome that they all tried to keep to.

"I've been thinking," Baena announced, rising gracefully into her fifty-eighth.

"Careful, now," Fhalz commented as he grunted upward into his fiftieth.

"Maybe we should have a squad name!" she continued. "Y'know, since we're not technically elite but still pretty fucking awesome."

Mercedes came down from her eighty-first and rose again into the eighty-second. "I don't understand," she descended again, "how you two can talk so much," she rose, "while working out. No wonder you've only done fifty or sixty in fifteen minutes." Beside her, she heard Oliver pump into ninety-eight.

"So what do you think?" Baena carried on as if her friend hadn't spoken. "I think it'll be great for morale. It'll be fun! How about the Jackals?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Fhalz whined as he collapsed onto his stomach.

Normally up for shouting at him to continue, Mercedes let it slide and hopped into a crouch. Oliver rounded out one hundred and stood. He dusted the dirt off his hands with two loud slaps of his big hands. "Or the Knights!"

"Too prissy," Fhalz said.

Baena rounded out sixty and slowly stood, stretching her back. "What do you suggest Mr Know-it-All?"

"Obviously it should relate back to the Garrison. A rose is a nice motif but you want to strike a bit of fear and awe so maybe something to do with thorns is the way to go. But it also needs to show off and combine our unique skills –"

Beside her, Mercedes heard the toe of Baena's boot tap the ground with a chuff. "Ugh, why do you always have to turn the fun things into homework assignments…"

As the bickering continued Mercedes tuned it out. Anyone who didn't know them well would be hard-pressed to believe that they could work together seamlessly like four limbs of one body, and would happily lay down their life for one another without hesitation.

Still in her crouch, she twisted the bangle on her wrist. The precious and semi-precious stones making up the jaguar's coat and one remaining eye twinkled, while the gold they were set into shone as if it were liquid. Her stomach was churning as it seemed to remember what she had to be nervous about even before it began to creep back into her brain. Would they still work so seamlessly without her? They were so good at protecting the Walls and each other…could she protect them from herself and the repercussions of what she'd been asked to do?

"Hey Boss."

Mercedes dragged herself back from the doorstep of her personal hell and looked up at Oliver. His gentle face was smiling hesitantly down at her.

"How about it? Would you be all right with the Jaguars?"

She glanced at Baena and Fhalz, who were looking back at her curiously. Baena was shaking her hand furiously and Fhalz was rubbing his chin. She had to repeat Oliver's suggestion in her head to remind herself that the conversation existed. It was only then that she was able to process it and when she did, maybe it was all the rest of the emotional shit in her system but she felt her face contort into the start of a sob before she choked it down. She wanted to embrace them all, confess everything, but also send them away from her forever. Her head dropped and nodded; she composed herself. When she looked back up she had a measured smile on her face.

"If you're all okay with it, why not. Knock yourself out," she said. "Speaking of," she forced herself to her feet. "Come on, shadowboxing for fifteen. You know the drill. I'm letting us slack enough as it is."

"Yay! The Jaguars! Go us!" Baena exclaimed. Birds on the roof of the stables took off and their shadows darted over the grounds.

A few more rounds of exercises and a couple of hours later, the squad took another water break, sitting together in the middle of the yard gulping from flasks. Mercedes didn't like the downtime – it meant less distraction – but had to follow their pattern as closely as she could. Otherwise there'd be questions. Questions she didn't know how to answer.

She was raising her flask for another sip and nudging the twenty-five pound dumbbell with her foot when she noticed a familiar figure coming out of the shadow of the stables wearing maneuvering gear. A woman of average height with her messy chestnut hair tied up, a glint of glasses. She seemed to spot the group and waved. Baena waved back even though Mercedes knew she had no real idea who this was. She got up and, taking her flask with her, walked swiftly over to the edge of the yard. She glanced around for onlookers.

"Hanji-san," Mercedes acknowledged as she came into the shadow of the stable eaves. "Is this safe? Shouldn't we go somewhere more private?" she hissed. Although worried for their sake and in the interests of keeping Commander Erwin's plan as quiet as possible, she was also searching the other woman's face for any sign that she came bearing bad news.

"Nah, this should be safe enough!" Hanji said. She surprised Mercedes with a brief embrace. She held onto her sweaty, bare arms and looked her over, "It's good to see you. Though must say you look more haunted than usual."

Mercedes averted her eyes and didn't comment on it. "Do you have news?" was the only way she could think to ask.

The twitching of the corner of Hanji's mouth and the twinkle in her eye told Mercedes that she'd caught on. "I'm told the kidnap is going as planned and…" she looked up and waved a finger around as if reading a clock in the sky, even though the sun couldn't be seen from their position, "right about now the rest of the squad should be busting them free."

Mercedes sighed in relief. Then it struck her that Hanji wouldn't be all the way out here – and take the risk to see her – just to tell her that.

Seeming to sense this too, Hanji said, "That's not precisely why I'm here, though. A question and an answer. The question's mine, the answer's for you."

Mercedes frowned. She had little patience for riddles right now. "The question?"

Hanji's expression, too, darkened. "I was hoping you could tell me anything you knew about the torture and death of one Pastor Nick. In particular, the stationing of Djel Sanes, of the First Interior Squad of the Military Police in Trost."

Mercedes blinked. She didn't understand why Hanji had come to her about this or what it had to do with anything, but she tried to be patient. Her thoughts were cast back into the last month or so, trying to recall if she'd heard or seen either of the two names anywhere. Now that she had some inkling that Jean was safe, it was easier to concentrate.

"I remember seeing the name Djel Sanes on a report that my supervisor was given." She figured Hanji knew who her supervisor was, but still didn't want to name names if she didn't have to. "My supervisor didn't seem pleased to give up room and board to him and his team. Said it didn't make sense."

"What didn't make sense?" Hanji prompted, and Mercedes was reminded of Erwin or Rico leading her on, drawing out her theories like string up her throat.

"Why they would be here. It's not like we need backup."

"Did you ever see him? Speak to him?"

"No. I'm sorry. But…my supervisor's impression of him was negative."

"How so?"

Mercedes tried to recall Rico's exact words. "'A zealot', 'somehow always present when a liberty has been snuffed out', 'a stain'."

Hanji fell quiet and her face grew thoughtful. Mercedes could hear her squad conversing loudly and she wondered if it was deliberate.

"I've only heard about Pastor Nick in passing," Mercedes added.

"A Wallist. His fervor regarding the sanctity of the Walls was merely a rouse to keep workers from knowing about the Titans inside them. He could have told us much more about how the Titan-shifters are linked to the Interior and the royal family. So much could have made sense. But instead he as tortured to death."

Mercedes thought back to her own torture, and like a nervous tick her hand rose to rub at the many-pointed scar on the breadth of her shoulder. She used to wonder if those that'd beat her, molested and nearly raped her, were part of a conspiracy related to the Interior like the Wallists but now, it became clear that the Wallists would have had no reason to ask her about the Titan-shifter's identities or whereabouts, or accuse her of being one. The clarity she thought she'd receive was gone.

"Well, I'm grateful for what you were able to tell me," Hanji said, bringing her back from her dark thoughts.

"You think Djel Sanes is behind Pastor Nick's death," Mercedes surmised quietly.

"It's a possibility that will soon be investigated, yes."

Suddenly there was a huge burst of laughter from Mercedes' squadmates. She spun around and saw them doubling over and beating the ground in hysteria, and it caused Hanji to chuckle. She couldn't help but smile.

"Seems you've got a good squad."

Mercedes felt her smile deepen and warm her. "Yeah. We just decided today to call ourselves the Jaguars," she reflected. "I'm very lucky."

Hanji made a long sigh, and it filled Mercedes with a sense of foreboding. Her smile died. She remembered that there was still something left to be said. She didn't want to turn around and her hesitation to do so must have stood out to Hanji, for the slightly older woman put her chin on Mercedes' shoulder.

"Erwin has been arrested under suspicion of murder," she whispered.

Mercedes tried to keep her composure and ignore the smile in Hanji's voice – a smile that she knew was painted on for the benefit of whomever might be watching. "What? Of who? When?"

"Dimo Reeves, a contact of ours that helped with the original kidnapping. Historia and Eren – the real Historia and Eren – have been captured. Earlier this morning."

"Then the kidnap didn't go well!" Mercedes' head reeled. She turned back around. "You lied to me! Jean –"

"I need you to focus, Mercedes," Hanji said sternly. "I didn't lie to you. The first kidnap did go as planned. We didn't anticipate this." Her face took on a slight hint of nerves, pinching her eyebrows a little and straining her mouth. "I am acting Commander in Erwin's stead according to his instructions. We have to be ready. We can't crumble now. I need you." She placed her hand on her former comrade's shoulder and squeezed gently, insistently.

Mercedes felt her blood run cold. Her voice was a crack in the earth, an ache, "You mean the shot."

Hanji frowned and nodded almost imperceptibly. "If it's what you choose."

Mercedes looked away; she looked for Jean and the futility of it stabbed her, like her ribs had been broken again.

"He'll be tried tomorrow morning. They'll be in the throne room."

A Note from the Author: Yes, I did take a couple of liberties with some of the timings of the events in the manga. Please bear with me and don't send a plague on my firstborn. :)