A/N: I honestly don't have a reason as to why this is so late, although I did rewrite it numerous times because I didn't like the way I portrayed their actions. Again, I thank you all for your patience and I hope you like this update (it is a slightly longer one) :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan.

Chapter Fourteen: Memories of Nightmares

To say the weeks are flying by would be an understatement. Everyday is different and new but it comes and goes in a blur. We train for the ODM races, we go about our daily lives in school, I tutor Mikasa on her nights off and sometimes on her breaks at work and I drop her home each night.

Needless to say, rumours have started to spread.

I ignore them for the most part, people don't really have the guts to say them out in the open when I'm around. Mikasa is a different story. They don't know that she is actually a trained assassin belonging to some ancient organisation so they confront her about it. I've told her on many occasions to ignore them or kill them, whichever suits her best.

So now they just talk about us behind our backs.

I can feel the stares right now as we sit together in biology. Mikasa is indifferent as usual while the teacher gives a lecture to the students who forgot their homework. When I hear someone whisper our names, I turn around and glare, causing the girl to yelp in surprise and cower behind her friend.

"I'm pretty sure that's harassment," Mikasa mutters under her breath.

"You're pretty sure, you're not a hundred per cent certain," I reply as I settle back into my seat. "Therefore no charges can be applied."

"Since when did you become a lawyer?"

"Since when did you become talkative?" I shoot back.

She scoffs and shakes her head. "I suppose spending time in a public school and around a midget like you has loosened me up a bit."

"We're the same height," I deadpan before my eyes narrow on her face. I turn back to my copy and casually flick through the pages. "In fact, I'm slightly taller."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," she mutters before she turns towards me. "By the way, I won't be at training today."

"Why not?" I demand, not at all pleased considering the finals are coming up soon.

"I have to collect a friend," she replies vaguely. "I'll be there tomorrow."

"What do you mean 'collect a friend'? You can't even drive, you don't own a car," I point out in annoyance.

"I know, I'm taking the bus," she replies.

"Take a later bus," I tell her. "Then you can make training."

"I can't, I need to be there before seven," she says, her voice slightly lower and containing less patience; a sure sign I'm treading on thin ice.

"Any time before seven?" I enquire.

"Yes," she slams her sheets down on the table and looks towards me with fiery grey eyes. "What does it matter?"

"Then I will drop you up after school, we can collect your friend and we can train at a later time," I answer, ignoring her sharp tone. "Ok?"

"That is not a good idea," she says immediately.

"Why? Are they rude and unpleasant?"

"No more rude and unpleasant than you are," she mutters.

"Do they bite? I can deal with biters, you've bitten me on many occasions-"

"It was once and you deserved it."

"That's irrelevant," I tell her, before turning back towards the board. "Now meet me outside the school and I'll drop you up and bring your rude, biting friend back and we can train. Deal?"

She pauses and looks back towards the board as well with a dejected sigh. "There's not much point in me saying 'no', is there?"

Unlike most of our trips in my car, this one is full of conversation. Mainly about study and tests and college. Right now, I'm questioning her on her maths, getting her to recite formulae and define some key words for statistics. At this rate, she just lists them off automatically, proving to me that she really does have them learnt off by heart. I'd be lying if I said I'm not impressed with her.

As the lessons run dry and silence descends on us, Mikasa finally approaches the topic I've been most curious about.

"About my friend," she chokes out the last word and I glance at her sideways, but I don't say anything, "don't ask questions and don't give personal details."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I said so," she replies bluntly. "Now turn right in through these black gates."

I do as I'm told, slowing down as the car moves onto a gravel surface and a long lane way stretches ahead of us. My eyes follow it slowly, until they raise to gaze at a large concrete facility with high electric fences, barbed wire and security cameras.

"This is a prison," I say immediately.

"It's a juvenile detention centre," she corrects me unemotionally as we pull to a stop in front of the high metal gates. A guard approaches us and Mikasa hand reaches out to open the door but it shakes slightly. I say nothing as she steps out of the car. She moves calmly with her hands away from her sides but not completely held in the air, showing she has no weapons on her. The two don't come any closer than four feet and Mikasa says something I can't hear. The guard nods once and says something into his walkie-talkie.

Mikasa takes a step back as the gates open and she looks up at the large facility with blank eyes. Her hair ruffles in the cool wind and she shivers for a brief moment, but somehow, I don't think it's from the cold. Her hand raises and she moves towards the gates.

It's then I see the other girl approaching her. She's about the same height, with pale skin and ice-cold blue eyes and a nose as big as my hand. Her blonde hair is tied back in a low bun with strands framing her stony face.

She doesn't look excited to be getting out, she doesn't look happy to see Mikasa, she looks like she's about to murder someone. Her face is an iron mask but her eyes betray the murderous intent within.

I did not sign up for this.

The two girls pause before they reach each other and then embrace stiffly. Mikasa's lips move against her ear as they pull away and the girl's eyes narrow before she looks directly at me. Her glare intensifies briefly, but as Mikasa draws her attention back to her, she seems to relax slightly.

As the girls move towards the car, I'm suddenly glad that Mikasa is with me. It's not that I can't handle a fight but when I'm driving, I'd prefer to have a skilled assassin with me to help if things do get hairy.

The back door opens and the blonde haired girl hops in, throwing her rucksack into the seat beside her. Mikasa sits in the front with me as the gates begin to close.

"Are we finished here?" I ask turning towards Mikasa.

The last word is barely audible as my voice lowers once I see her face up close. Her eyes are darker than usual with a slightly blank, unfocused look to them. Her skin is white, like her friends and her lips are cracked and dry which is very unusual for her.

She nods once and I realise that she's even more tense than ever. "Yes, let's go."

As I begin to reverse, the girl in the back speaks up. "Who's he?"

"Alexander," she answers, not looking back towards her friend - or whatever this girl is to her. "I hired him to drive us."

"Alex for short," I add, if only to make the lie more believable. "So where are we heading ladies?"

The question is directed towards Mikasa but her face is blank. She looks back towards her friend with a raised brow. "Annie?"

Something stabs at me from the inside and I fight to keep the grunt of shock from escaping. An image flashes in my mind of a large room, filled with grown-ups dressed in suits and fancy gowns. But as soon as it comes it fades and I'm left with what feels like a cold stone in my stomach.

A bead of sweat runs down my temple and I barely hear the location she tells me as I drive away from the juvenile centre. Something about this girl is extremely off, but I can't place my finger on it. The answer is constantly on the tip of my tongue but it never makes it out of my mouth.

Annie.

Why is she so familiar?

She tells me the name of her place and gives me directions to a motel on the outskirts of the next town. Mikasa says a quick goodbye, I say nothing as she leaves my car for good. Mikasa takes a pen out of the side pocket and writes down the name of the motel on her hand discretely as we leave. I still remain quiet.

When we're a good distance away, Mikasa slouches in her seat and sighs. She looks drained all of a sudden, her skin is paler than usual and she shivers again. I wonder if she has the same bad feeling in her gut as I do.

"Hey, how do you-?" The question falls from my lips as I see her peaceful face and hear the soft snores emitting from her. Dark lashes fan out over soft, red cheeks while her mouth is slightly open and head is lolling to the side.

As she shivers again, I notice the rosiness of her cheeks and the shine on her forehead. She shifts slightly and I take my hand off the gear stick to feel her cheek.

She's running a fever.

"Crap," I mutter, driving past our school and towards my own place. Once I pull up into the drive, I move around to her side of the car, undoing her seatbelt and lifting her up. One of my arms hooks under her knees and the other supports her back, while her head rests on my shoulder. She struggles slightly, pushing weakly against my chest but I shush her and surprisingly, she obeys.

Thank whatever divine force out there that Erwin isn't home, I can't imagine the amount of slagging he'd give me as I lay her gently down on the couch. The first thing I do is grab the strongest anti-fever tablets I can find before filling a glass with water and returning to her.

"Hey, wake up, for a second," I say, patting her cheek gently.

She groans but her eyelids flutter open. "Why am I in your house again?"

Well, at least she's not hallucinating. "Because you're running a fever, now take these tablets."

"What about training?" She mutters.

"Forget about it, brat, you can barely stay awake never mind use ODM gear," I tell her, "now come on, take your medicine and be a good patient, I can't have you bailing out on me for the finals."

She tries to lift a hand but she's weaker than I thought. I'm not sure if she caught something or the meeting with Annie took it out of her but I'm glad I didn't let her go alone now. I lower her hand and pop a pill in her lips before raising the glass to her mouth. A bit dribbles down as she manages to swallow and I wipe it away as I give her the next pill.

She's asleep as soon as that part is done.

"Why do you have to be such a pain in the ass?" I mutter in annoyance as I pull the hair back from her clammy forehead.

I'm probably going to have to change her clothes too.

Shit.

Well I certainly can't just leave her in her own ones, they're already damp with sweat and made for winter weather. Besides, she needs to cool down.

At least that's what I keep telling myself as I take off her coat and unbuckle her belt. I try my best not to look as I pull her trousers down, taking off her shoes and socks as I do. The scars on her legs stand out like crows against clouds, some are more faded than others, some seem very fresh.

Is she doing this to herself?

I try not to focus on that as my own mother comes to mind but of course, as I look away my eyes land on the dainty black panties that cover her most private parts.

Goddammit.

I cover her with a thin blanket before making my way to her top half, removing her cardigan. I'm delighted to see she has a thin, strapless vest beneath it, so I don't need to remove it and I can avoid another awkward situation. At least she'll only have one reason to kill me in the morning.

Wetting a cloth, I place it on her forehead and watch as she flinches against the coldness. More shivers come from her and she tries to move away but I hold her steady, telling her it's for the best. It never ceases to surprise me that she actually listens and fades off into a dreamless sleep.

I'm not sure how long I stay up, changing the cloth and making sure she doesn't kick the blankets off of her. I can remember doing her homework and my own after her fever has fully come down. It must be at least two o'clock in the morning before my energy gives out and I fall asleep too, sitting on the floor beside the couch, my head resting beside hers, our breathing matching.

"My god, Levi, look at you, you're becoming so tall, just like your father."

The women coo and caw at me, squeezing my cheeks and laughing every so often when I groan in annoyance. I can see my mother from the corner of my eye, her long dress covering her arms which are still red raw from the 'accident' this morning.

In spite of the unpleasant event, this stupid party still went ahead.

Now I'm standing in my suit, a book under my arm while all these grown-ups fawn over me as though I'm a toddler. I want to tell them I'm twelve years old and there's no point in squeezing my pudgy cheeks as they won't get any bigger. I want to tell them that there's no god, or else my mother wouldn't be so stressed and hurt by my father the whole time.

But most of all, I want to stab them for comparing me to that monster.

I resist the urge, for obvious reasons. Too many witnesses, too many eyes, too much evidence. Besides, they're not my target. The man who stands with my mother, holding her hands with false love and smiling sweetly for show, is my target.

However not today. Again, I'm not strong enough and my mother will be upset. Even though we would be better off without him, she still insists that she can't live without him because she loves him.

If love involves bruises and suffering, then I don't ever want to fall into it.

So I excuse myself politely, making up some excuse to go to the bathroom but really, I'm just going to escape for a half an hour while no one will notice my absence. Our guests will be too busy fawning over my parents.

I sneak around to the back of a curtain, positioning myself on the window sill and opening my book. I don't even get to read a word though as a girl passes by me, a girl different to all the others in appearance and aura.

She has blonde hair, and blue eyes, with an unfortunately shaped nose and a porcelain, cold mask of an expression. Her blue dress swishes out behind her and the knife gleams by her side as she makes her way through the crowd, head held high and eyes determined.

She's the same age as I am.

"That's Annie Leonhart," a man says beside me. "She's the one who's gonna free your mother from her prison, kid."

That's when chaos explodes and blood splashes the elegant marble floor. Guests scream, glass smashes, furniture is knocked over and amidst it all is the girl.

I don't hate her for ruining the party. I don't hate her for destroying the perfectly clean floor. I don't hate her for stabbing my father three times in the chest or for smirking as his lifeless body crashes to the ground.

I hate her for not stopping her attack when my mother threw herself in front of the knife to protect my father.

I hate myself for not being there to stop my mother.

I hate the man who brought the little blonde bitch to that party.

I jolt awake as a hand squeezes mine. It would be my natural instinct to grab, twist and break the wrist of this person but for some reason, the warmth and gentleness of her touch stops me. I raise my eyes to meet hers and it surprises me that concern is present there.

Is it concern for me? Or for the fact that she's half-naked on my couch?

"Nightmare?" She asks in a whisper.

"Sort of," I answer in the same tone of voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replies.

I stare at her dubiously, noticing her rosy cheeks, tired-looking eyes, and pale skin. Her breathing is slightly uneven still and she's made no move to strangle me for undressing her or carrying her into my house.

"You're a terrible liar when you're sick," I tell her as I get to my feet and move towards the kitchen. "If I make breakfast, do you think you'll be able to eat it?"

She opens her mouth to reply however before she can utter a word, a loud grumble erupts from her stomach and her blush increases tenfold. I raise a brow at her and she closes her mouth, nodding silently.

"I'll help you," she says, getting to her feet and conveniently holding the blanket around her.

"You will not," I respond immediately, pointing the wooden spoon at her. "You're sick, you need to get better so sit."

Her brows draw together. "But-"

I give her a stern look. "No. For once, just listen to me and do as your told."

Reluctantly, she does so and I busy myself making toast and tea for her. Grabbing two plates and two cups, I fill them both before taking a seat on the opposite side of the coffee table. She nibbles on her toast at first before I glare at her and then she begins to take bigger bites.

We eat in silence and I can't help but notice the blanket exposes her left thigh, crumbs dropping onto her uneven skin. The scars are like letters, spelling out a story of her life but I'm not sure if it's one I want to hear or not.

As she sips her tea and I finish my toast, I can't hold it back anymore. "Was it you?"

She pauses in her sipping, lowering the cup slightly and gazing at me with uncertain eyes. "What?"

I nod downwards, towards her leg. "Did you do it to yourself?"

"No," she shakes her head slowly. "No, it wasn't me."

"Ok." I don't push the topic, surprised that she actually gave me a straightforward answer. However she's the one who decides to delve further.

"Did your mom do it?" She asks softly. She turns her head away, looking towards the floor in discomfort at my intense gaze. "You just... talked about her a lot in your sleep."

She really is as perceptive as Hanji warned me she would be. Goddammit, why did I choose to sleep beside her in the living room last night? Why couldn't j have just had a normal dream instead of going back to memories I had nearly forced myself to forget?

"Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn't," I reply after a short silence. "If it wasn't for my father, I doubt she would've started at all. She'd still be alive, anyway."

"I'm sorry," she hangs her head, her black hair covering her face and masking her expression. "I didn't realise she was..."

"Dead?" I finish harshly, causing her to look up at me in shock. A muscle jumps in my jaw and I swallow down any attempts at giving a caring response. "Well, it's not your fault, you didn't kill her."

Your little blonde friend did.

"She's not my friend," she says, breaking the tense silence. For a second, I'm sure she's read my mind but then she continues on, not noticing my surprised look. "She's bait. I need her for a while longer, but after that, she's all yours if you want to avenge your mother. I won't stop you."

"Bait for Keenan Mrynack?" I question with a raised brow, watching her reaction tensely.

"Exactly," she says with a nod. "The CEO claimed that he travels alone but he once had a young girl with him however she disappeared off the radar a few years ago."

"Annie Leonhart," I growl lowly. "What is she to him?"

"I don't know for sure and I don't care, the only thing I can tell you is Annie is a witness to his crimes and it's doubtful that he will let her live, that's why she's relying on me to cut him out before he gets to her."

"Then you're just going to hand her over to me?" I ask dubiously.

"If that's what you want," she replies with a shrug.

I still don't fully believe it can be this easy. There's no way, after all these years of wondering what happened to the blonde brat, of dreaming of skinning her scrawny neck, that she will just fall into my pocket - like a pig to slaughter.

"Why?"

"Why what?" She asks.

"Why would you help me like this?" I clarify in a low, serious voice, meeting her blank eyes with my own intense ones.

I hold her gaze, waiting for my answer and then something happens that I never thought possible. Her eyes widen and she swallows nervously, her blush growing as she bites down on her bottom lip and looks away, her hair hiding her features.

She doesn't really know the answer herself.

"You..." Her voice has a strange tone to it and she clears her throat before continuing, "I don't know why you've kept my secret for so long, ever since that night in the Devil's Maiden, but you did and I'm grateful."

"You have a funny way of showing it," I mutter and I receive a whack over the head with the newspaper.

"Be quiet and pay attention because I'm never going to say this ever again," she hisses, her blush growing to an almost adorable state.

Almost.

"You've really helped me with school and friends and without you, I don't think I would ever have had a chance of getting into college. I had just accepted that I wasn't going anywhere after high-school until you came along," her voice becomes lower and lower with each word as she tries to speak. "I guess, I'm just..."

Her eyes clothes and her hands curl into fists as she looks into her lap. Somehow, I think that if she suddenly stripped in front of me it would be less awkward than this, it would probably be easier for her to do as well. Even so, she persists and manages to lift her head high enough to expose her embarrassed features and meet my eyes with her unmasked ones.

"Thank you," she says firmly. "For everything you've done for me."

Scientists can't explain why certain things occur in our bodies when we feel certain emotions. So I can't really explain why my heart is beating so fast, why I'm suddenly warm and sweating or why I can't even blink or break our gaze.

I don't even know what emotion is causing this.

Yet I still manage to conceal a smile and take a bite of my toast as we revert back to our normal selves, as the moment is broken.

"Now that," I begin, sipping my tea calmly, "is a proper sentiment of gratitude."