It's been a long day~ without you my friend~

The man under Jean's hands – for it really was a man – suddenly gave an almighty thrash. Jean stumbled back with a shout of surprise, wincing as he slammed into a pile of crates piled up near the wall (he was assuming that it was a wall, as he still couldn't see).

The crates tumbled to the ground, crashing to the floor, tinkling noises ringing through the room as what sounded like countless empty glass bottles shattered on the ground. Jean stumbled, landing on his rear, wincing as broken glass pierced his skin.

He stood again, holding his knife carefully, approaching the spot where the man had been earlier. He knelt slowly, moving his hands over the man's body until he reached his face, feeling a spit-soaked bundle of fabric. Schooling his disgust, he pinched a small piece of it, tugging it out and tossing it behind him.

The man took a shuddering breath, coughing a few times. "Boot," he croaked out.

"What?" Jean tightened his grip on the knife.

"Boot," the man gasped again. "In my boot. Left foot. Matches."

"Oh," Jean moved his hand again, feeling for the boot. "Uh, do I –"

"In it."

Jean slid the boot of the man's foot, feeling immensely awkward (and slightly disgusted, wrinkling his nose as the smell of stale sweat and moldy cheese pervaded the air) (Wait, cheese?). He tipped it upside down. "Uh, there's nothing in here."

"In it, wimp."

Jean winced, reaching into the boot. He pried at the bottom of the boot where, indeed, a number of matches were waiting, stuck to the leather by what he really hoped was glue, and not a mixture of sweat and melted cheese (He was not so lucky).

Gagging silently, he struck the match, holding it up near the man's face. "Shit, not so close, brat!" he yelped, shuffling backwards.

"Oh, sorry." Jean moved the match, looking at the man again. He was middle-aged, maybe around Hange's height, with stringy brown hair, a small bald patch at the crown of his head. He blinked watery blue eyes as he squinted at Jean.

"What's your division, rookie?"

Jean's eye twithed. "Not a rookie, thank you very much. Jean Kirschtein, Survey Corps, Special Operations Squad."

The man's brows furrowed. "Survey Corps, huh?" he grumbled, and Jean felt a familiar prick of irritation. "The Underground isn't in your jurisdiction."

"Don't you have better things to worry about?"

"Don't you sass me, youngster." The man titled his chin at the knife still in Jean's hand. "Get me out, will you?"

"Not yet," Jean said, holding the knife a bit higher. "Answer some questions first."

The man rolled his eyes. "We can't do this while I'm untied?"

"No. First, what is this place?"

"Does it look like I know, kid?" the man snorted. "I was drugged and, when I woke up, I was in here."

"How long ago was that?"

"I dunno, kid. Maybe a day or so?" the man shrugged (as well as he could with his bindings). "Slept twice. Wore myself out yelling."

Jean narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't make any sense," he said. "Why would they keep two soldiers –"

"Are you dumb, brat?" the man snapped. "Look around you. We're not the only ones."

Jean's eyes widened and he whirled around, waving the match about. The weak light flickered as he swung it, but it was enough to illuminate at least three more people tied up and tossed into the room like potato sacks. "What the shit?" he breathed.

"Do you believe me now?" the man said. "Now, about these ropes. . ."

"Two doors," Levi said, looking around. "Trapdoor and the one we've barred. They know there's intruders in here, now, so fat chance getting out of either of them."

"Where could Jean be?" Hange pondered out loud. "We know they came up here, but past that. . ."

Eren winced as he looked at the barred door, which shuddered as people on the other side pounded on it, shouting furiously. "Yeah, about that. . ."

"This isn't good," Hange muttered.

"No kidding, Four-Eyes," Levi said, looking around the room. "Shit, we don't have a fucking chance here," he growled. "Are you sure there's no other doors?"

"Levi, we've looked!" Eren said. "Where else –"

"There has to be somewhere else!" Levi gripped his head, wincing. What the fuck's happening?

"Levi, face it!" Hange said. "We're trapped?" they frowned, peering at him. "Are you okay?"

"Don't we have other things to worry about?" Levi snapped, slamming a fist on the wall. He frowned at the noise it made, then pounded it again. "What the hell?" he muttered.

"What?" Mikasa asked, looking at him.

Levi's fist landed on it again. "It's hollow," he muttered. "There's nothing behind this wall."

"Are you serious?" Hange whirled around to gape at him. "But, then –" they slammed their fist on the wall as well. "Jean!" they called, slamming their fist on it again. "Jean, are you there?"

Jean jumped as a loud echoing noise rang through the space they were in. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, looking around as the man behind him sat up, wincing and rubbing his sore wrists.

"Probably those fuckin' thugs again," the MP muttered, standing up, teetering slightly. "Out of the way, greenhorn, I'll handle them."

"No, you will not," Jean snapped, surprising even himself with the authority in his voice as he snapped at the older soldier. "Sit the fuck down, alright?"

"Who do you think you're commanding, brat –"

"Sit the fuck down!" the man jumped, flopping onto his rear. There were shuffling noises as the other hostages shifted, trying to get a look at them. "And stay quiet," he hissed as another banging noise rang through the room.

"Jean!" His eyes widened at the familiar voice. "Jean, are you there?"

"You think Jean's behind the wall?" another voice asked.

There was a lighter rapping noise. "Jean?" another, gentler voice called.

"Pals of yours?" the man asked.

"Shut it," Jean snapped. "Hange?" he called. "Meeks? Armin?"

"Horseface!"

"Can it, brat."

"Jaeger! Levi!" Jean scrambled to his feet. "Yeah, I'm here!"

"How the fuck do we open this thing?" he heard Levi demand.

"Kick it, Captain!" Eren cheered.

"I'll kick you."

"Jean!" Armin called. "See if there are any hinges on that side. There aren't any here."

"Yeah, got it!" Jean stood up, making his way towards the wall. He moved his fingers along the edges, frowning. Then – "Yeah, there're some here!"

"It opens towards you, then," Hange concluded. "Jean, step back!"

"Wait, what are you gonna –"

"Levi, do your thing!"

Jean threw himself back, tossing his arms in front of his face, as the wall – or, rather, oversized door – crashed open. There were muffled screams as the other captives frantically rolled away from the door and light flooded in. Jean held a hand up in front of his face, wincing as he blew out his match.

Hange grinned as Levi brushed his hands off, despite clearly not having used them. "Heya, Kirschtein!" they greeted. "How ya doing?"

"I've been better," Jean said as Armin and Mikasa began rushing towards the captives. Eren walked towards Hange, handing them a massive, leather-bound book that they accepted eagerly.

Levi, meanwhile, had knelt down next to the shattered bottles Jean had knocked over. He gingerly picked up a piece of glass and held it close to his face, sniffing it. "Drugs," he muttered. "Some kind of street sedative. Probably cooked in an alleyway or some shit."

"Lemme take a sample," Hange said, kneeling down next to him and holding out a little baggie in which he dropped the glass. "Bit more, please."

"Uh, Levi?"

"What is it, Armin?" Levi asked distractedly as he lifted another shard of glass with the tip of his knife.

"Can't we just take a bottle?" Hange suggested.

"Yeah, cool."

"Captain?"

"What the fuck –" Levi turned around and froze.

The entire back wall was plastered with pictures of him. Newspaper articles, rough sketches, detailed drawings, and handwritten notes were pinned up all over the wall, pieces of string connecting them.

"What the hell?" he muttered, walking over to the wall. There was him walking down the street. Him with Hange and Moblit in town. Him in a meeting with Erwin. Him being led out of the Underground by Erwin in handcuffs. Him facing down a man twice his size in an alleyway holding a gun to his forehead and a knife to his throat. Him, Isabel, and Farlan walking down the street. Him –

He tensed at the last sketch, eyes widening, inhaling sharply. "What the –"

Plot twist: the thugs were all actually Levi fangirls who wanted to hug him irl.