So I rushed to upload this chapter when I had been planning on updating Saturday because my computer just broke. It was the housing, so it's not like it crashed and I lost anything (pheww) but I still have to take it in tomorrow and idk when I'm getting it back. I'm also leaving for Canada on Monday so it was now or never.

Chapter 37: The Verdict Is In!
Eren

"Mr. Barba, you may call your next witness," the judge instructs and the prosecutor stands.

"I call Mr. Eren Jeager to the stand," he declares.

Levi releases my hand from where he had been holding it loosely between us, our fingers intertwined. I stand and wince slightly at the faint pounding in my head. It has been three whole days since I was released from the hospital, but I still have the remnants of a headache that won't go away. Hanji said this is normal, that I should just give it a couple of days for the headache to fade. But it has been a couple of days and it still hurts every time I walk outside, or hear a loud noise, or even stand too quickly. Levi is worried, of course, and has me doped up on pain medication. It's working, but the judge's banging of the gavel calling the court to order earlier did not help matters at all.

I leave the galley and make my way towards the witness stand, stopping only for a moment to be sworn in by a court marshal. Once that's taken care of, I take my seat and prepare myself for the questions that are about to begin.

"Good evening, Mr. Jaeger," Mr. Barba says as he gets some papers in order at his table. Then he looks up at me with a small smile. "How are you feeling today."

"Fine, thank you," I tell him.

"That's good to hear," he says. "You were supposed to testify on Friday, is that correct?"

"Yes," I answer, leaving my answer at that. He told me that I should always answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no' unless I'm asked to elaborate or explain something. And even in that case I should keep my answers a simple as possible so not to throw off his line of questioning, or to supply the defense with any extra ammunition to use against me.

"Can you explain to the court why it was your testimony had to be delayed until today?"

"Friday afternoon I was rushed to the hospital due to... a complication with my illness," I answer.

"If the jury can recall, Friday afternoon Mr. Jaeger's fiancé, Mr. Ackerman, received a call from Mr. Jaeger's sister saying that he was being taken to the hospital," Mr. Barba reminds the jury. Levi did tell me a little about that after I got home from the hospital on Saturday. He explained to me what had happened in court before he had left to come see me. Then Mr. Barba turns back to me. "Mr. Jaeger, if you could, please explain what your illness is to the jury."

"Objection," the defense lawyer says, standing. "Relevance?"

"Mr. Jaeger's medical condition is a major factor in this case, Your Honor," Mr. Barba quickly explains. "The court should hear from Mr. Jaeger himself what the illness is and it's serious effect on his health, especially after his absence Friday due solely to said illness."

"Overruled," the judge agrees. "You may answer the question, Mr. Jaeger."

I nod and turn my attention to the jury. "I have a blood disease called hemophilia. It's a defect that causes a drastic decrease of the production of clotting factors in blood. In my case, I produce almost no factors. This means that if I'm cut, or I start to bleed, I suffer the risk of bleeding out depending on the severity. My blood cannot clot on its own. Other symptoms include spontaneous bruising, aching joints, spontaneous fatigue, and prolonged migraines, to list a few. Friday afternoon, it was one of these migraines that had me hospitalized. Even today my head is still a little... fuzzy."

"Thank you Mr. Jaeger," Mr. Barba says, glancing down at his papers. "Now, on the afternoon of Thursday, January... eighteenth, at five twenty-two in the afternoon, Trost Police Dispatch received a 9-1-1 call from your cell phone. Do you recall the events leading up to that phone call?"

"Yes," I answer simply. We prepared for this. He'll ask me to elaborate with specific, strategic questions.

"Did you say anything to the dispatcher that answered your call? Did you tell her anything?"

"No, I don't believe I did," I answer. Honestly, I'm still a little fuzzy on everything that happened. I know what happened, and I can remember the actual attack with great clarity, but the part where I'm stabbed, and then falling in the snow, and calling 9-1-1... I don't remember it as well as I feel like I should.

"The recording of Mr. Jaeger's 9-1-1 call shows silence on Mr. Jaeger's end of the line. But thankfully, the dispatcher had asked a nearby patrol car to drive by, and that officer, who will be testifying later, in turn called an ambulance to have Mr. Jaeger rushed to the hospital," Mr. Barba explains to the jury. "Mr. Jaeger, can you tell the jury what prompted you to dial 9-1-1? What was your emergency?"

"I had been stabbed in the stomach," I answer, pointing to the spot on the left side of my stomach. There is still a scar, and it'll probably be there forever, unfortunately. "And as a result of my condition, I was bleeding even more heavily than normal for someone who had been stabbed."

"The People's exhibit twelve, Your Honor," Mr. Barba says, selecting a large, thin sheet of poster board from his table. He walks over and places it on a stand for the court to see. "This is a photograph taken by the responding paramedics of the stab wound to Mr. Jaeger's side. And this, People's exhibit thirteen, is the switchblade found at the scene." He lifts a baggy labeled 'evidence' in bold letters from his desk and holds it up to show the jury. The blade is still opened and covered in blood. My blood. "Forensics matched the blade to the dimensions of Mr. Jaeger's wounds. Forensics also matched the blood on the blade to Mr. Jaeger using DNA, the match doubly confirmed by the fact that the blood sample on the blade contained no clotting factors. In the forensic report, People's exhibit twenty-eight," he hesitates, picking up a thin packet of papers and flipping the page he wants, "the medical examiner who ran the blood tests remarked that she was 'stunned that this victim survived the attack'. People's exhibit twenty-nine is a sworn affidavit from the head surgeon that operated on Mr. Jaeger when he was brought into the hospital. It details every aspect of the surgery and Mr. Jaeger's prognosis. She declared, and I quote, 'The patient exhibited a severely high level of blood lost. Whereas a normal, adult human being of the patient's size and weight can lose approximately two point two four liters of blood before their body ceases to function, Mr. Jaeger lost nearly two point four liters before we could begin administering a transfusion. In reality, he should not have survived the surgery'."

Well fuck me. No one ever told me that. I guess I really am as lucky as everyone said. When I look up at Levi in the galley, he's looking down at his lap. I know we weren't together at the time of the attack, but I know how much he had still cared about me, and it must not have been easy for him to go through this at the time. It's obviously still not easy for him to hear how close I was to dying.

A look at the jury shows that they're just as surprised as I am. I'm sure that's what Mr. Barba's goal is. He's trying to shock them with all these medical facts that show how close this was to being a murder trial.

"Now, Mr. Jaeger, can you please describe to the court the events that lead up to your stabbing, and the near loss of your life."

"I had been walking home from school. My class had let out at five. I had just reached the intersection where I cross the street to head to my apartment, and I got an uneasy feeling. When I looked back down the sidewalk, I saw three men approaching the intersection. They were looking at me, and like I said, I had an uneasy feeling, so I turned around to head away from the intersection and them. One of them called after me, telling me to wait. Up until this point I had been receiving a lot of harassment over my relationship with Mr. Ackerman. I had a feeling that's what these men wanted to do, and I just wanted to get away from them. I ignored the call and kept walking. I heard them following after me, and when I looked back, I saw they were running towards me. I started running too, but they caught up to me." I pause to take a breath and chance a glance over at the defendant's table where the three of them are seated. One is glaring at me, another looking down at his hands on the table, and the third looking away from me, a guilty look on his face. "One of them grabbed my arm and I spun around and tried to punch him. I missed though and he said... something about 'this faggot having some bite'. Then he punched me in the stomach. When I fell, one of them kicked me in the face. I could feel blood in my mouth and I started to get scared. I knew I needed to go to the hospital. After that, it was kind of a blur. They were attacking me, and I tried to fight back, to fight them off. They were shouting things at me, and then I felt a, uh... a really sharp pain in my side. I looked down to see that I had been stabbed. That's when all three of them ran off and I fell back down. I remember finding my phone to call 9-1-1, but I don't actually remember dialing it. And then I passed out."

"Do you remember the things that they were shouting at you while they were attacking you?" Mr. Barba asks.

"Yeah, they were calling me a 'faggot', and a 'disgusting whore'. They were telling me that it was my fault that Mr. Ackerman was gay, that I must've corrupted him or tricked him."

Levi isn't looking at his lap anymore, I note when I glance in his direction. But he looks absolutely pissed. His thin brows are drawn down, and his lips are pressed tight in a sharp frown. His glare is boring into the back of the defendants' heads and I have this fleeting thought that if he got up and bashed their faces in- which it looks like he's on the verge of doing- that it'd be oddly satisfying.

"So it's your opinion, based on what you experienced and are testifying to today, that these men targeted and attacked you because you were in a homosexual relationship with a well known celebrity figure?"

I nod. "Yes I do. I had never been picked on or bullied before it got leaked that I was in a relationship with Levi Ackerman. I think people were upset that their idol turned out to be gay, and they blamed me for that."

"Objection," the defense's lawyer calls again. "Mr. Jaeger can't presume to know what was in my clients' heads."

I can't stop myself as a retort bursts from me, driven by anger brought about from having to describe in detail the entire attack. I remember the anger I felt then and it's coursing through me now. "Yes I can because it wasn't in their heads! It was coming out of their fuc- of their mouths. You want to know what their exact words were? Because I remember them clear as day. They told me that 'faggots don't belong in the MLS' which tells me that they were upset that their precious idol turned out to be gay. They also screamed at me that 'you've corrupted him' and 'you've ruined him', which tells me that they blame me. Oh yes, and that the last thing I heard before I was fucking stabbed was 'this is all your fault'. So don't tell me that I can't presume what was in their heads. I know exactly what was in their heads because they fucking told me."

The judge bangs his gavel, causing me to sit back in my chair with a wince. "Mr. Barba, please control your witness. But the motion is overruled, and Mr. Jaeger's statements are allowed."

A smile pulls at Mr. Barba's lips. "I only have one more question for this witness," he declares. "Mr. Jaeger, do you see the men that attacked you in this courtroom today?"

"Yes. Those three, sitting at the defendant's table," I say, pointing to the three of them. Even the one that had been glaring earlier has now ducked his gaze.

"Thank you. That will be all."

"The defense may begin it's questioning of the witness," the judge declares as Mr. Barba takes his seat.

The questioning by the defense is very brief. They can't refute the evidence, and after everything I just said, they have a hard case to press. Most of the lawyer's questions are very vague and trying to establish that in the heat of the moment, I couldn't have properly seen my attackers' faces, at least not well enough to identify them. But he can't refute the fingerprint match on the knife that had my blood all over it, or that the man it belonged to immediately ratted out the other two. And Mr. Barba even assured me last week during our preparation that my ID of the defendants would be solid, that he doesn't believe the defense could sway the jury into thinking it was a bad ID.

Just like Mr. Barba's questioning, the defense's questioning doesn't last very long. Once he finishes asking his stupid questions, the judge thanks me and instructs me to step down. I leave the witness stand and make my way back into the galley, taking a seat by Levi.

He must see the furrow in my brow, because he reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out his sunglasses and hands them to me. I quickly slip them on and they do a fantastic job of dulling the bright overhead lights that were just bright enough to prickle at my lingering and extremely sensitive headache. He rests his hand on my thigh and I lay mine over top of his, curling my fingers between his. He's still tense, and I realize then that that's the first time he's ever heard in detail what happened to me that night. He's only ever heard vague, basic facts about what happened. Not only that but he and I both were surprised to hear about how much blood I had lost, and how shocked all these medical people are that I'm even alive. It makes a shutter run up my spine at just the thought. And to be completely honest I think I'd feel even worse if mine and Levi's positions were reversed and I had to think about him almost dying. So I guess I can understand how he's feeling.

After another couple of boring hours and a few more witnesses, the judge calls for the end of the session today. And that's how it goes for the next four days. And Friday afternoon, after closing statements, and the jury leaving to deliberate on their decision for about an hour, they come back with a guilty verdict on all counts. And with the charged trumped up to hate crimes, their sentences will be much greater. I'm relieved with the verdict, but honestly Mr. Barba had seemed so confident in this result that I had been expecting it. I would've been much more surprised if they came back with a verdict of not guilty. But I guess, after having watched the entire court trial, Mr. Barba's confidence is understandable. The defense didn't really have a case at all. The evidence against them was just too great.

Levi and I are a little slow to leave the courthouse. I saw all those press vans and reporters when we got here. They knew that today was the last day of trial, and that the verdict would be delivered. Now they're out there waiting to attack us with questions. At least my headache is gone now and I'll be able to handle the screamed questions and flashes of the cameras.

Mr. Barba leads us out and when the press swarms us, he takes over answering the questions, to my great relief. After a few questions, Levi takes my hand and we manage to sneak away and back to his car without too much more trouble. As we leave the parking lot, I look in the side mirror to see the courthouse shrinking behind us. With a sigh, I slouch down in my seat a little and turn my attention back on the road in front of us.

"Thank fuck that's over with."

...

I didn't realize how much negativity had been weighing us down for so long until after the trial ended. In the weeks that followed the verdict, I go through my routine with this really light, awkward feeling in my chest. At first I can't name it. School goes by so easily, flowing through week after week. My shifts at the coffee shop even seem easier. And with two fantastic results at two back to back art shows, and many paintings sold, I have enough money put away that I am able to reduce my hours at the shop down to the bare minimum, leaving plenty of time for me to focus more on my art. Especially since art galleries all over the state are starting to contact me about hanging my work. Levi keeps telling me that I should just quit altogether, considering how much money he gave me from that settlement with the newspaper, and also his insistence that he has more than enough money to support me. But I like working for my living, and not being completely reliant on Levi. So I keep a few hours at the coffee shop.

But all in all life seems so... easy, and at first it bothers me that I can't figure out what changed or why it changed. Not that I'm complaining, not even in the slightest. It's a nice change for once. And with that thought, it finally clicked in my head that that had been the change. It started with Levi being outed in the papers all that time ago, and ever since then, it's been thing after thing, problem after problem that we've had to deal with. It's been so long since we've been able to sit back and relax. Now with the trial done, and that huge lawsuit still fresh in the minds of all newspaper companies, there's nothing left for us to fear. My attack is finally behind me, and no newspaper would dare publish an article about Levi or I that wasn't about the trial or Levi's recent MLS Cup win.

The only things ahead of us now are positive. Levi is up to his elbows in wedding planning with Isabel and Mikasa, something I'm more than comfortable to hand complete control of over to him. He tries to rope me into it, saying I should be involved, but I see right through him. He just wants to pawn Isabel and Mikasa off onto me so that he can scrub his hands of it. But there's no way I'm going to let that happen. Besides, what Levi wants is exactly what I want. We've already figured that much out. He wants something small, only immediate friends and family. He doesn't want this to end up in the news or on the papers. He wants it to be simple and, as he puts it "boring to the press". And that's fine by me. We've already made up the guest list and distributed invitations. I invited all my close friends and my parents. Both of my parents are single children, and none of my grandparents are still alive, so the family invitees are pretty small. Levi invited the entire team, plus Petra and obviously Isabel. But he makes no mention of any family. I remember everything he told me about his family, how he never knew his father and his mother died young. I remember him telling me that he lived with an uncle for a little while, but that he was scum, so it's understandable why he's not receiving an invitation. And after that it was foster parents, none of which kept him. He does end up adding Petra's parents to the list though, and it makes me happy to know that at least Levi had someone growing up that cared about him enough that Levi would invite them to his wedding.

Other than wedding plans, Levi also has the World Cup to prepare for. The head coach for Team USA sent Erwin a training regiment for Levi to follow, so the two of them, plus Mike who qualified for a position as backup goalkeeper, go to the stadium four days a week to train.

Two weeks left in the semester, and three weeks before the wedding, I'm sitting at my easel trying to work on my final art project, and trying not to think about how in only two weeks I'll be getting married to Levi. Sometimes it still surprises me that I'm engaged and will soon be getting married to Levi Ackerman. I went through high school idolizing the man, and now I love him in more ways than I could ever imagine. If someone had told high school senior me that I would one day marry my idol, I would've laughed in their faces. But it's true, and in two weeks, we'll be tying that knot.

I hunch over in my stool and cover my face with my hands- smearing paint from the paintbrush still in held in my fingers across my forehead- as butterflies erupt in my stomach. Fuck I almost made it. I lasted almost two months without any butterflies or jitters, but now here they are. I hear a key turn in the lock of the apartment and the door opens, but I don't straighten. I can't straighten. My emotions are caught in a tug-of-war between so excited I could scream and so nervous I could puke, and I'm still trying to figure out which one is going to happen.

"Eren?" Levi questions in mild surprise, and he hurries over to my side, a gentle hand resting on the small of my back. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Levi, I'm getting married in two weeks," I murmur, my voice muffled by my hands.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he straightens, his touch turning into a caress. "I know," he says. "But you know what? I might be there too, so I will have your back."

"I haven't decided if I'm inviting you yet," I say, my face still pressed into my hands.

He laughs again, easing the paintbrush out of my fist and setting it down on the easel. "No?"

"Well I didn't see your name on the invite list," I retort.

"Alright," he says with an over exaggerated sigh. "I guess you're in this on your own."

"No wait!" I shout, leaping off the stool and nearly knocking him to the ground. I didn't realize how close he was. But he catches himself and his arms wrap tightly, securely, around my waist. "Maybe I do want you there after all."

He laughs yet again, picking up my ratty towel and wiping the paint off my forehead. When he looks into my eyes, it's with more love than I feel is possible for one person to feel. But I feel the same exact way so obviously, what do I know?

"Then I'll be there. How about this? I'll even stand up there at the altar with you. I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?" he breathes.

"You promise?" I whisper, my voice barely a breath between us.

"I do," he replies.

"Oh my god guys, save it for the wedding," Armin suddenly says, causing me to jump and cling to Levi in surprise. I totally had no idea he was in the apartment. I thought I was here all by myself. He must've snuck in while I was in my artistic trance.

"Sorry," I apologize, separating myself from Levi to rub at the back of my neck.

But Armin is smirking, and he winks at me as he makes his way to the door, dressed in his hospital scrubs. "I'm just teasing you. You two are too cute. See you tonight, Eren. Maybe you too, Levi. Try not to get married before I get back."

I snort and roll my eyes as Armin leaves the apartment. Pressing a quick kiss to Levi's lips, I seat myself back on my stool and take a look at my half finished painting. Levi comes up behind me to look over the painting as well, but before I can pick up my brush and figure out where to start again, my phone rings in my pocket.

"The universe is plotting against me to not get this project done," I mutter as I fish my phone out of my pocket. The caller ID reads that it's my mom and I quickly put it to my ear. "Hi mom!"

"Hello baby," she coos. As the wedding gets closer and closer, she's become more and more gushy over me. She treats me like I'm still her baby boy, but I don't fight her about it. It's probably hard for mothers to watch their children grow up and get married. "Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm just working on my art final. I'm going to put you on speaker phone so I can keep painting, okay? Levi's here with me," I tell her. "What's up?"

"Well, I know that the wedding is only two weeks away, so I'm sure Mikasa and Isabel have almost everything prepared already, and I know they're both doing such a wonderful job, but..."

She trails off, but I have a very good guess about where she was going with that. I smile as I finish her sentence for her. "But you want me to ask Isabel if you can help?" I guess as I clean the brush and dab it into the paint.

"I would hate to impose on her planning and organizing, especially since she's done such a good job so far, but it's not every day that you're only child gets married. And you're my baby and I would like to lend a hand, if it's okay with Isabel," she says.

"I'll ask her, but I'm sure she'll be fine with it," I tell her, adding a few more strokes to the canvas.

"I'll make her be fine with it," Levi adds, loud enough that his voice will be picked up by my phone.

"What about your parents, Levi? Are they helping with the planning?" my mom asks, and we both tense. I feel the way Levi's hands tighten on my waist. I never told anybody about Levi's past after he divulged it to me. It wasn't my place, and it was obvious he was very secretive about it.

"No, my parents are both dead," Levi tells her.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry Levi."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Jaeger," Levi says with a soft smile on his lips, his hands relaxing on my hips. "It happened a very long time ago."

"Okay dear," she says, but rather than hold that particular subject, she quickly changes it, something I think everyone is grateful for. "Thank you both for letting me help. Please pass on my number to Isabel? And I'll come to Trost in a couple of days and stay through the wedding so that I can be of more use. Your father wasn't able to get very long off of work, so he won't be here until three days before the wedding."

"Okay, I will let Isabel know. And don't worry about getting a hotel. I'll clean up my room and you and dad can stay here with Mikasa. I'll stay with Levi."

"Okay. I'll see you in a couple of days then. I love you baby."

"Love you two mom."

And any Law&Order SVU fans out there probably recognize that I stole their prosecutor. I just couldn't help it I love Barba so much XO