Something shook him awake — so firmly that he almost rolled onto his side and slammed face-first into the wooden paneling beside him. He found himself briefly disoriented under the hot breath evaporating against a clear morning sky above him, only to remember why he wasn't waking up in a warm bed but on the chilly wooden floor of a horse-drawn cart cloaked in a thin layer of snow. He had dozed off not long after they embarked on their journey, lulled by the warm embrace of a wool blanket and still too shaken from his injuries to power through the night. It wasn't a good idea to fall asleep on a moving cart with the recent nocturnal temperatures, even with the protection of a thick blanket draped over his shoulder to shield him from the chilly gusts of wind that dominated the plains they travelled through, but he had to catch up on sleep if he wanted to counteract the sleepless nights of recent.

It had been a long journey, taking them all the way out to the open countryside in the northwestern regions of Wall Rose over the span of a night. His shivering limbs and clammy hands made him reconsider if he'd made the right choice when he decided to rest, but he was still too injured to stay awake the entire night without some serious repercussions. Conventionally, he'd need to sleep for over half a day if he wanted to avoid walking around with a severe case of lethargy for the rest of the week. Rest would do much more to help him heal, even in this cold. He'd need every last bit of energy he could get for what would happen underground.

He shrugged off his blanket and found his coat unpleasantly damp beneath it. Dull pain shot through his back and abdomen as he sat up. Not unexpected in his current condition. Despite the knowledge that he would push his boundaries today, he was confident enough that he could stand on his two feet and walk the distance he needed to. So, when he was offered a hand by one of his Military Police escorts, he refused it and crawled off of the cart on his own after grabbing his belongings, landing on unsteady legs and sinking through his knees, struggling for a moment as he held onto the edge of the cart before finding stable footing.

They'd arrived at a settlement he'd never been to before: a small nine-house town that shared the name Tourze with its adjacent mine. Once bustling with life and operational to house miners, in the past years it had fallen into decay after being abandoned. The town had become more active again only very recently, not for the mines themselves but for a new, much more imperative function: detaining the Colossal Titan after his capture in the battle to retake Wall Maria.

Today, Armin was here to do what none had been able to do so far: to make Bertholdt talk.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. It wasn't that he kept his mouth tightly shut, but that everything he said was useless. Hange had been in charge of the interrogation, and while they were annoyingly vague about the details of how they persuaded him to talk and the results opened to the Survey Corps' elite were bare-bones, they emphasised how often Bertholdt chose to lie despite knowing full well that the entire island now knew about Marley's existence courtesy of the three detailed journals Grisha Yeager left behind in the basement of his family home in Shiganshina. To lie knowing his answers could very well be verified by a written account, he must've intended to keep all information to himself. Without the books as reference, it was impossible to tell whether or not he was lying. Any information he gave that wasn't written in the books was essentially useless until the Survey Corps could verify these things for themselves, at which point it would already be too late. The interrogation efforts were put to a halt because of funding issues and Bertholdt was kept imprisoned deep underground until they could find a new dose of serum and a suitable candidate to inherit the Colossal Titan from him. It seemed unlikely so long as they hadn't discovered what the serum was and how they could obtain it.

Armin would've come over to Tourze to help with the investigation sooner, but during the Battle for Shiganshina and his last stand against Bertholdt, he sustained burns across his arms, face, torso, and much of the rest of his body, so severe that by the time his mind was unfogged again after a delirious battle against his infections, they'd already given up trying to get information out of Bertholdt. After that, he had a recovery process to focus on. There hadn't been time, it wasn't safe, but most of all… Everyone advised against him coming here when he expressed the desire to do so. Eren, Jean, his other friends, Hange — even his physicians. For a long time, he himself was strongly against the idea of ever facing the shifter again. The scars were too fresh.

The past four months had been hell. Armin counted himself lucky that he barely remembered anything of the first week, but what he did remember was enough to nauseate him, set his hair on edge. With most of the skin cooked off of his hands by the Colossal Titan's steam and the rest of his body in such bad shape, in addition to proper medical attention being postponed for so many hours after he got injured, his physicians were constantly cycling between fighting off shock, dehydration, fever, and infections. All they had been able to do to facilitate his recovery was make sure he didn't suffer from any complications as his skin slowly restored itself. He was as good as comatose during the first few days.

Once Armin woke up, he felt everything. His constitution was too weak to anaesthetise him without the risk of stopping his heart. The analgesic drugs they injected into his veins barely took the edge off and made him even more disoriented than he already was. Worst were those feverish nights he spent screaming and convulsing, hands and feet restrained to stop him from scratching open his wounds in response to the agonising itch that ran deep under his skin. Eren and Mikasa were by his side day and night to comfort him, but they were ultimately powerless to change anything. He wished they'd just inject that anaesthetic, because if he had to flip a coin between being relieved from this torture for a few hours and dying, he couldn't find any downsides.

Most of his month-long battle against infections, he spent delirious. Time where the pain was manageable enough to focus his mind on other things, was spent on exercising his hands and limbs to avoid his skin stiffening too badly in the hopes that he'd get to keep most of their function after recovery. Eventually, his body conquered its infections and his global inflammation went down. The pain reduced to a level he could persevere through by showing his bravest face, but he still had to deal with the changing of his wound dressing — a sensation almost worse than the initial burn — several times a day.

The weeks that followed, he slowly walked away from the brink of death and started making actual progress. He'd lost a lot of weight, both fat and muscle, during his first few weeks despite eating way more than he was used to. He lacked the energy to even exercise his limbs, often feverishly hot and sleepy during the few hours he spent awake. After his injuries healed enough to let him wear clothes besides underwear again, he flat-out refused for many weeks, worried that the pressure would cause more pain or a relapse of his infections. Much of his rationale had decayed into fear and he felt so useless for it.

No one had to know that behind that brave fighter who held on was someone who contemplated giving up on a daily basis, and he didn't have the spirit to tell anyone how rough it was. They were worried enough already, he didn't have to burden them with such knowledge. Maybe he was considered a hero for sacrificing himself in the Battle for Shiganshina and being prepared to give up his life to aid in the defeat of the Colossal Titan. If he were honest, there were too many times where he wished that he hadn't survived instead.

He'd rather forget these thoughts ever permeated his mind altogether.

When he learned that they had taken Bertholdt to an underground mine never to see the light of day again, Armin was beyond relieved that he'd never again have to look upon the face of the man who condemned him to this horrible fate. When he learned they had tortured him, he felt a guilty sense of satisfaction to know that he hadn't been the only one to suffer. When he learned they ran out of resources after about a week and made the decision to let him rot alone in the darkness until they could take the last thing he had to offer to Paradis from him, he couldn't find it in himself to care much. It was tragic, knowing his history based on what was written in those books, but he was so far beyond the stage where he still had the energy to worry much about someone who caused him this much pain.

Amidst that whole barrage of information, Armin couldn't help but quietly wonder over and over how things would be different had Bertholdt, or even Reiner or Annie, chosen to talk. Not that there was an option back in Shiganshina, because Bertholdt wouldn't listen and the scouts couldn't trust him even if he surrendered to negotiation due to their overwhelming lack of information and strength against so many enemy shifters, but he'd lie awake for nights thinking about how much progress they lost because they didn't have a chance to sit down in peace, exchange information to learn more about each other.

That's where it started. The thought became louder and louder as Armin's pain lessened, and he became curious to know. Because for the first time since Marley attacked the island, they had a shifter safely in their custody, alive and powerless to fight back and conscious, yet the first thing they did to him was try to beat answers out of him instead of talking. Yes, they were limited by time, but wasn't that a huge waste of time, resources, and opportunity?

Armin had to know if it was possible. By now, the shifter may have turned against them entirely in response to his brutal treatment, and there was no way to know the person Bertholdt really was. The chances that he had come all the way here for nothing were astronomically high, but he was still out of commission to fight and had to limit his exercise, so what else was he going to do with his free time? He'd either learn there was no reasoning with Bertholdt, or he'd get him to cooperate. It didn't hurt to try.

That's why he was now making his way through the snow, body shivering intensely despite the two thick winter coats to protect him against the freezing temperatures, led by three Military Policemen carrying fresh supplies for the MPs down in the mine. Armin had offered to help them carry some of their stuff, since he was going the same way anyway and had a free arm left, but they waved him away, something about his injuries making him unfit to carry so much weight, that they got it all under control, he didn't have to worry about it.

Their paths diverged after they pointed him towards the right building, and he made his way there, hands in his pockets to shield his soaked bandages from the cold air. He'd be happy to be inside to warm up his body again.

Finally at the front door, he tested it and found it to be unlocked, so he let himself inside before frostbite could get his extremities.

Even before he closed the door behind him again, he was already greeted with an enthusiastic "Armin!" Hange approached him, arms wide, a few drops of liquid spilling out of the cup held in one of their hands from the wild gesture. As was standard, it didn't look like they'd gotten much sleep recently. "You made it here, good. Rough weather out there, huh?"

"Commander." The warmth of the cabin was divine against his numb cheeks and he couldn't wait to take place in front of the fire. Even inside, his shoulders were still shivering.

He got a few firm pats on the shoulder. "It's been a while since last we met. How's that recovery going?"

Armin held up his bandaged hands, one of which Hange took and examined with great care. "I made it here, I couldn't have a month ago. They advised against going down a dusty mine, but with proper bandage work, I should be able to protect myself from new infections."

"Good," they said, letting go of his hand and turning around again to walk into the building's common area, beckoning with their free hand. "Take off your boots before you enter. Water's a damn mess to get out of here. You can hang your stuff by the fire to dry and I'll get you something to eat. Can't have you working on an empty stomach!"

He undid his boots and slid out of them, taking them with him to place by the fire. Once he'd taken off his coats and jumper and placed them by the fireplace together with his soaked blanket, he took the seat nearest to it, placing his bag against the coffee table in front of him before holding out his hands to warm them. Wet and cold. It would be a bad idea to keep his old bandages.

Hange placed a hot bowl of soup and a few pieces of bread in front of him before placing down their own portion. Before they could sit down, Armin stopped them.

"Commander, I need to refresh these and wash my hands. Can I get some warm water? It doesn't need to be hot, just clean," he requested as he started peeling away at his bandages.

"Can it wait a few minutes? I'll need to heat some water first."

"That is fine, I just need to do it before I enter the mines."

After briefly hanging a pot of water over the fire to heat, Hange mixed it with some cold water and placed it by Armin's side on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch in front of him and starting on their own breakfast. Armin retrieved a fresh roll of bandages from his backpack before he got started. It was standard procedure for him by now: remove his bandages, then soak his hands into warm water for a few minutes as he stretched and bent his fingers before getting them out again, drying them thoroughly, and bandaging them again with a clean roll. He could eat after his journey, but preventing a relapse in infection was a higher priority.

Hange watched carefully, occasionally asking about his healing process. Slow, but things were getting better. His skin still looked rough around the edges and was still too stiff to allow for much finer movement. The good thing was that most of his feeling had returned, save for the areas above his thumbs where he barely felt softer touches. It would take years for him to make a full recovery, however with his current prognosis, he could start training for combat again in several months. Things were looking good.

"Have you read them?" Hange changed the subject when the both of them were done eating. They motioned down to his bag, and Armin nodded.

"I have."

"And?"

"Nothing," he responded, digging through his bag and fishing out a folder, which he placed down on the table between them. "It's as you said: useless and cryptic. I couldn't learn much from the summary, it's far too vague. I need more information."

Hange reached for the folder, pulling it to their side of the table and leaving it there. "Ah, shame. So you haven't changed your mind, then? I think you'll sleep better at night if you don't read the full version."

"I can handle it. It'll be detrimental to our efforts if you keep me in the dark. I already have a few uses in mind for the detailed report ahead of time." Not that he would enjoy reading it, but it was a necessity to better understand everything.

Hange nodded as they stood up. "Suit yourself. Once you have your mind set on something you're usually right, so I'll let you make this call."

They walked away to retrieve the other documents and Armin's eyes fell onto the folder again. Inside it were the summarised reports of Bertholdt's interrogation in the mine, all of its contents confidential. It was sent over on his request when he first got the idea that despite everything, he still wanted to understand Bertholdt better — under the guise that he wanted to catch up to what had happened in his absence and that he could perhaps shed new light on their results and extract answers from the reports. He suspected he was just getting humoured when they agreed, since no one expected there to be any more results after such a long time, so he just had to show them that he was serious about this and persevered, insistent on paying a visit and getting the full file.

The records were pristine and vague. The first days, only two words could be found on the day reports: "Interrogated" and "Inconclusive". No details on the methods, the duration, anything Bertholdt may have said or done, just these two words. On the third day, things changed to "sleep deprivation + starvation" with several results written down, most unintelligible or personal details that wouldn't help against Marley. On the eighth day, things went back to interrogation and largely inconclusive results, as reported by the hour. That's when Bertholdt started lying in his answers and interrogation became pointless, as noted at the end of the ninth and final day.

After that, the interrogation reports stopped. It looked like that would be it and Bertholdt would be left inside the mine until they found a way to make or obtain a new dose of serum. There were other reports of the experimentation that started in December, but none of these had as their goal to extract information, just to test the effects of anaesthetics, analgesics, poisons, and paralytics on the body of a shifter, but they usually were paired with a shifter-specific concoction. Most tests yielded no significant results in halting or stimulating healing, though one component lethal for normal humans stood out as a good paralytic for shifters. Painful and unstable paralysis, but enough to counteract one should the opportunity ever arise. Hange had enthusiastically filled him in on the successful and promising tests over breakfast.

For the island's defences, all of this information was useless. Armin didn't expect that he'd learn something new by reading the notes Hange meticulously penned down in real time during their interrogation sessions, but it would fill him in on what had already been said and done. Especially those non-stop conversations they held for five consecutive days under sleep deprivation. These documents were off-limits to even the other surviving members of the Survey Corps, kept on location with no copies.

Armin could only assume it was too brutal to write down in a report Hange knew would reach the eyes of the 104th eventually, possibly even the public. Maybe they were ashamed of what had to happen. Maybe, with how thinly-manned the Survey Corps had grown, they feared they'd lose the respect of their few remaining subordinates because they were forced to reach for such drastic measures. Maybe they wanted to spare their feelings, or maybe they expected that their sense of camaraderie was still strong enough to warrant losing faith in the Survey Corps upon reading the horrors they inflicted on their former friend.

There was no truth to the latter. No one had talked that much about Bertholdt. Not even Eren, though he seemed to avoid the topic altogether in his recent collectedness. They all knew what was happening without having to be told and they didn't discuss it, because any kinships of the past had been shattered when Bertholdt showed he was so prepared to kill them all and it felt inappropriate to sympathise with him. They avoided bringing him up around Armin when he was still hospitalised to avoid pouring more salt into his wounds. He was glad they did. The less he had to be reminded of the shifter's existence while he was still confined to that hospital bed, the better.

The smack of a binder landing by him on the table pulled him out of his thoughts. Hange sat down again, crossing their legs and folding their hands over their knees. "I won't lie, I'm curious to see what will come from this. You said you had an idea already?"

Armin reached for the binder and opened it, hurriedly rifling through the pages. In volume alone it already overshadowed the meagre folder he was sent. It seemed to contain every piece of detail they had on Bertholdt — information protocol, screening, military paperwork, assessments from his time spent in the 104th Training Regiment, information gathered that led to the discovery of his and Reiner's identity, notes on the Colossal Titan, a wordy report on the Battle for Shiganshina, and finally all the details of his incarceration, including interrogation reports, the schematics for his safety harness, and his containment protocol.

If this fell into the wrong hands, the outcome could be catastrophic.

"I do." He closed the binder again and looked up from it, back at Hange.

Feeling he wouldn't elaborate, Hange stood up. "I'm sure you'll have your hands full with these for the rest of the day, if not the next few days. Let me know if you need anything and when you're ready to make our descent."

"Actually," Armin immediately replied, "Before you go, I was curious how often he speaks to you these days. When you ask him questions or when he needs something from you."

"He's been real annoying," Hange groaned. "Never answers my questions even when I give him incentive to do so. The only times he does talk to me is when he's in pain after administering something. We tend to sedate him after that to make sure he still cooperates with us afterwards. Do you know how hard it is to inject a thrashing target even when he's restrained?" They adjusted their glasses, pinching their nose bridge in the process. "At least when we don't put him through too much pain and we take the edge off when it gets bad, he lets us carry out our tests with minimal resistance."

Armin nodded, lifting the binder off the table and placing it on his lap instead. It sounded like Bertholdt had surrendered, only doing what he could to avoid more pain. Now might be a good time to question him.

"So I don't have to expect much cooperation."

"Who knows," Hange shrugged. "Apart from Eren, we don't know much about what he thinks about his old comrades. Maybe he feels like you abandoned him, maybe you're just another enemy like me. I don't think you should expect even a word out of him, but if you believe you can get him to talk, I ain't stopping you. I'm not sure if there's anything meaningful he can tell you anyway."

Armin made a mental note of that comment on Eren, deciding it was a topic for later. "Did you tell him I was going to come over one of these days?" he asked instead.

"No. I didn't want to interfere with your process. If you wanted me to inform him ahead of time, you should've sent a message."

"No, that's ideal, actually. I think it's better that he doesn't know." He thought for a moment, eyes sinking to the red cover of the binder, then looked up from it. "Do you know if he's awake right now?"

Hange leaned onto the back of the couch. "We had to sedate him yesterday. He sleeps better when we do, so he probably got a full night. Unless he reacted badly to what we gave him, he should've been up for about an hour, since he lives by the wardens' schedule," Hange informed. "You want to go there now?" they added, tone questioning the decision.

"I do, if that's okay."

"What did I get you that binder for if you won't even go through it?" Hange sighed.

Armin shrugged. "Reading material for when I'm down there, I suppose."

Hange raised their eyebrows. "'Reading material'? Is that what you're going to call it, Armin?"

"I— That's not what I meant!" Armin defended, straightening his back and hands placating, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. "Not leisurely reading material, but…" Fingers tapped on his lap. "… If he refuses to talk to you, he will probably also refuse to talk to me. I'm staying with him until he does or until I get tired, so it's useful to have something on me to go through while I wait. I can find inspiration for ways to convince him to speak as I go through it instead of just sitting there. That… That kind of reading material."

The words rapid-fired out of his mouth with the last ones trailing off a little. The Commander let out a low chuckle. "Oh, I know. Don't take it too seriously." They fished a pocket watch out of their pocket and looked down on it before stashing it again. "I'm needed here in the afternoon, but we can go for a few hours no problem."

"Actually… I was hoping that I could go alone," Armin advocated. It earned him a weird look from Hange and he knew he might have to defend his request.

"Huh? Alone? Why?"

"Well, it's just… He already has a negative image of you. If you stand there with me, he may choose to stay quiet the whole time. We did use to know each other, so maybe he'll agree to talking if it's just me."

Hange pondered the matter for a moment. "Will you be able to take notes if you're the one doing the talking?"

"You have taken notes under far more stressful circumstances, I believe."

"Ah, I guess that's true." Then, they smiled at him. "Well, I trust you with this, Armin. I'm not so sure he'll talk to you at all, but if you think you'll get better results when you face him alone, I trust your judgement. I'll go with you to drop you off, I need to pick up a couple of things anyway. After that, do what you think is best."

It was validating to get the Commander's praise, but he hadn't gotten any results yet. No need to get ahead of himself. He nodded at Hange, a small "Thank you" accompanying the gesture before he slid the binder into his backpack and got up again.

"The mines have a constant temperature. You won't find yourself getting cold down there anytime soon. Don't drag all your coats with you, one will probably be more than enough to keep you warm." They walked over to the building's entrance. "I need to get the lift in working order, I'll come get you when it's ready. Shouldn't be more than twenty, be sure you're ready to go by then." With that, they left.

And here Armin expected they'd make him walk the full way down. Considerate that he got to use the lift, but it reminded him of how poor his physical condition had gotten. Standing up so briefly, he already felt a mild soreness in his legs. He'd never make it to the depths of the mine like this, let alone back to the surface. He itched for his physicians to finally approve a more intensive exercise regime so that he could regain his lost weight and get in shape again. He wanted to heed Hange's warning, but ever since Shiganshina, he was always cold. Maybe one coat was enough for the average visitor, but he didn't want to stand there shivering when he had a confident impression to make. In the end, he grabbed both, holding one in his hand to put on after leaving the building. He considered grabbing his blanket too, but soaked as it still was, it wouldn't do him any good.

Dressed and ready to leave, he sat down again to await Hange's return.

This was it. If he wanted to back out now, this was his final chance to do so. They wouldn't exactly be eager to see him backpedal after they already went through the trouble of transporting him into the mine. He wasn't going to run away from this. He'd already had second thoughts since he requested a chance to visit Bertholdt, not because everyone told him that he was wasting his time, but because he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to face him again. There was no knowing how he'd react to Armin's presence. If he would be angry and try to attack him, if he would attempt to find the most venomous words to yell at him, if he'd show fear, or if he'd just be indifferent and refuse to talk in defiance of Paradis. Without his legs, there wasn't much he could do, but it was still a daunting confrontation.

He wasn't afraid, but he was aware of his own limits. With his recent dip into darker thoughts, he couldn't afford to let someone who'd already tried to kill him once freely pry into his psyche to further erode it. It would benefit Marley and be a detriment to Paradis, so it could very well be a strategy the shifter would utilise, and Armin needed to be prepared for that.

There was already no going back. Turning back now already meant he was running away from something that could help Paradis and something that could offer him catharsis. That wasn't how he did things.

A knock on the door signalled everything was good to go, and Armin grabbed his backpack. Hurrying over, he put on his second coat and fastened his backpack before he left. Hange awaited him outside, walking away as soon as he opened the door. Ever since they inherited the Commander position from Erwin Smith, they were so much more pressed to get to places. The only reason they had time to come over to Tourze to carry out tests was because of the heavy snowfall that forced them to cut down on most operations anyway and left them more time in their schedule, but even then, their schedule overflowed with meetings and paperwork. Without Moblit around to assist, the workload seemed heavier.

The two of them made their way towards the lift — an old but sturdy metal and wooden contraption that allowed several people to go down several levels at once, powered by horses. Hange broke the silence between them.

"We only use the lift very rarely. It requires the expertise of multiple people to operate, so we usually only use it to transport heavy goods or those with leg injury. It's funny to think, really. The last person who was brought down with it who wasn't one of us, was the Colossal when we first brought it here. We weren't going to spend hours lugging someone like that down through the shafts after we had already severed its legs, now were we?"

Hange smiled at Armin during their explanation. Armin simply nodded along, responding with a "Naturally" when they were done, slightly uncomfortable by their wording but keeping it in the back of his mind for now.

They reached the lift, its cabin already loaded with boxes of supplies. Since the lift didn't operate often, now was a good time to take along a bunch of supplies as well. An MP accompanied them into the cabin and began to work on securing the door and communicating with his colleague operating the structure.

"You should probably sit down, Armin. The cabin has a tendency to go down a bit roughly. It's pretty old, after all."

"Right." He instinctively wanted to protest at first, but knew for certain that if he kept standing, he'd get knocked on his ass before they even passed the first level. Grabbing the railing, he led his body until he was sitting down, legs crossed. Hange gave the signal that they were ready to go and the cart quavered and creaked as it began its descent.

Once departed, Hange sat down on the floor in front of Armin, grabbing a notepad and a pencil off of one of the crates. "Alright, let's go over some practical details! You can write down anything you need to in this notepad. I urge you to be thorough, Armin, every word he says can be of importance. In fact, write down what you tell him and ask him as well, it's useful to know later. Especially if you talk to him about anything written in his file. And I don't have to remind you there are things he shouldn't know about."

"I will, Commander. And you don't," Armin responded, taking the notebook and the pencil when they were offered to him and storing them inside his backpack.

"There's an information protocol at the front. You're smart enough to figure this out on your own, but he shouldn't get his hands on any of these. If you need to leave in a hurry, secure the folder first."

"Grab the folder first when I have to leave in a hurry, got it."

"Of course, you can't inform him about his containment protocol at the back. The other documents, I'd prefer if you kept as much of the information in there from him, but if you believe that divulging some of this information will benefit us, then I trust that judgement. The containment protocol is, however, entirely off-limits. The same goes for the safety equipment's schematics. For the rest, use your mind. Don't specify the experiment results and methods, it could cause a placebo effect, for example."

"Of course, that makes sense," Armin replied, scratching the scarring under his chin as he did.

"Perfect! Moving on, then… With Bertholdt's age and how long he hasn't been to Marley, I don't think that he possesses much useful information he can tell us in the first place. He also lied to us a lot when we worked with him back in September. Even when he was telling the truth, there were always some details that weren't adding up. Those are the two reasons we initially gave up our efforts. My time was better spent elsewhere, too…"

Hange seemed slightly annoyed recalling the experience. Armin wondered if Bertholdt chose to lie as a sign of resistance, or if he was too tired to think straight and tell them what he knew. When Sannes was tortured and they all had to listen to it as it happened a room away, the whole procedure sounded stressful. He'd have to find out just how brutal they'd been with Bertholdt when he got a chance to comb through those records to formulate an answer to this question.

"If he's had the chance to rest, maybe he'll be more cooperative," Armin suggested.

"You'd think so, but that wasn't the case. When we came to get him for testing two months after we stopped interrogating him, he was irrationally terrified of us. Wouldn't believe that we weren't going to resume interrogating him no matter how often we told him that we weren't going to hurt him this time. Can't exactly blame him, we dragged him onto the same table where he was interrogated. Kid probably thought it was going to happen all over again."

"He didn't believe you when you said you weren't going to harm him?"

Hange shook their head. "To the contrary. He said he was done and that he didn't wish to fight anymore, but when I asked him some questions, he still didn't answer. I didn't press the matter because I had tests to carry out, but even after he had plenty of time to rest and think and we assured him — no, proved to him — that we weren't there to hurt him, he wasn't going to cooperate. I can't lie when I say, Armin, that I am very curious to know what you'll try."

Was that helpful or was that an obstacle? Armin scratched his cheek, looking up at the opening of the mineshaft. They'd sunk rather deep into the mine already, so far that light levels had diluted to a much lower intensity and his eyes hurt just from looking up at the bright sky after getting adjusted to the darkness.

"I know you really want me to tell you, but the issue is… I haven't decided yet. It all depends on how he reacts to me. Back when we trained together, we were…"

He paused for a brief moment, searching for the right wording. Something not too familiar, something not too distant. Maybe his image was tinted by the recent happenings, but he couldn't say that they were too close during their training days.

"… somewhat good friends. While all of that is behind me now, I might be able to use that to my advantage. I want to connect with him again. I don't wish to undermine your efforts," Armin tapped his knees with his fingers, "but… No one who was down there with him used to know him. I did. It might make the difference."

"That makes sense," Hange replied, a hand on their chin to think. "I wanted to bring some of you in here, but you were in a coma and I don't believe that the others would have agreed to it. I asked Eren only because he asked if there was any way he could be here. If he hadn't requested an audience, I wouldn't have invited him either."

Armin's eyes widened. "Eren was here? When?"

"Early October. He didn't tell you?" Hange frowned.

"I know he sometimes left for a few days around that period, that's all. He never told me what he was doing. I thought that the Queen or the military leaders asked for his presence."

It was only the second time Eren had left Armin's side at the hospital for an extended period of time. The first time, it was to go to the memorial organised to honour the heroes who had sacrificed their lives to retake Wall Maria and to commend the few who had survived the battle. Eren insisted on staying by Armin's side through it, and it took Armin a day to convince him that he'd be fine without Eren and Mikasa with him for a few hours. In the end, Armin ended up sleeping through most of their absence, and by the time he woke up again they were back, each sporting a medal around their neck. Had Armin not been in excruciating pain, he would've taken his time to admire the badges of respect they had earned. The one he'd earn as soon as he was in a state to leave his bed.

The ceremony had done much to help Eren find inner calm. With the sudden barrage of memories from reading his father's books about the outside world, he often wound up momentarily disoriented or emotional. He didn't like to show it in front of Armin, like he couldn't handle it alongside the pain of his infected burns. He gave Armin the benefit of the doubt more often and stopped babying him all the time, disappearing for short periods of time every now and again. It concerned Armin as much as it assured him that Eren was healing.

When he said that he had to leave for something confidential, Armin didn't question it. Paradis, as they'd come to know was their island's name, was a mess after the knowledge of the outside world got released to the public. With things so turbulent, Armin was surprised that Eren wasn't borrowed all the time.

Turns out that he was down in these mines to assist with the interrogation efforts. Armin wasn't so sure if his presence was meant to help them obtain tangible information through his former bond to Bertholdt, or if it was through terror. He might find out from the logs.

"I suppose he didn't want to burden you to know that he participated in the interrogation," Hange suggested. "If I'd known, I would've asked him if he wanted you to know about that."

Armin shook his head. "I understand what he had to do and why he wanted to be the one to do it. It won't change the way I think about him."

"Ah, good, then we won't have any issues." Hange smiled at him, leaning back against one of the supply crates and adjusting their glasses. "In any case, once you're down there, there are some safety precautions you need to take. Just because he's impaired doesn't mean he's defenseless. I've gotten some mean punches from that arm when he panicked and we didn't have him restrained as well as we thought."

"You didn't put him behind bars?"

"Bars? In an old mine? It's all support beams down there, no doors or proper gates. We've put him in one of the dead ends and blocked off the mineshaft's entrance with a pallet of planks and some chains with a lock. So far he hasn't shown the will to escape. He knows he won't get far, but if he gets the chance, I do believe he'd take it, so we're still careful."

"There's no way for me to talk to him from the outside?"

"Fear not. I could post someone beside you but that will probably have an influence on how he reacts to you."

It wasn't the most comforting thought in the world that he'd have no defences against Bertholdt. If he really became aggressive, Armin could always just leave. Even if he was wounded and out of shape, someone without legs most likely lacked mobility. If he could avoid a fight, he would. Then again, it was Bertholdt they were talking about. Who knew how well he had adjusted?

"It will. I should go alone."

"You should take a set of swords with you just in case."

Armin shook his head. "No, I don't think I should." He quickly amended his tone and his words. "With all due respect, if I take a weapon with me, I already assume that he'll be an aggressor. It doesn't make a good impression and he'd feel rightfully threatened, I believe."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Hange sighed. "Always be ready to defend yourself, then. You're authorised to use whatever force you deem necessary."

If you think violence will get him to talk, then use it, was the unspoken addition to that sentence. Armin responded with a firm nod, looking up again. The morning sky was much farther away now as they descended deeper and deeper into the mine. It slightly unsettled Armin, but he didn't let it get to him.

"Hey, can I just say," the MP interspersed, and Armin looked down again to face him instead, "the Colossal's been inactive for months now. The only major activity we've seen was during the first week the Commander started testing again, but it got used to it and things went back to normal after that. It's usually pretty much lifeless and stays in the same spot day and night. You should be fine."

"Thank you," Armin responded. Lethargy was to be expected in his situation. It wouldn't be helpful in his endeavour to get him to talk, but it was better than resistance.

The silence which followed alerted him that the conversation ended there and Armin sat back against the railing as he let his thoughts simmer. He considered different conversation structures in his head, planned ahead for what to do in specific scenarios, what he wanted to say and what he wanted to avoid saying.

With a shock, the cabin came to a halt as they reached the bottom of the mine.

"Ah, we're here. Good," Hange announced, lifting themselves up by the railing before extending a hand to Armin to help him up, which he accepted. "Welcome to hell," they added, "hopefully, you can get some good work done here."

Armin looked up. The opening of the mine was now a small speck of light above him, barely discernible against the pitch-black walls of the natural cave structure. Hell was definitely the right word. He took a moment to find his footing while Hange opened the cabin door.

"What depth are we at?" Armin asked.

"473 meters, give or take! This is one of Paradis' deepest and oldest mines," they said as they picked up a few of the boxes in the cabin and carefully stepped onto the rocky floor of the mine. "We chose it exactly because of its depth, to make sure that even if something goes wrong and the Colossal Titan regenerates, it can't get very far. Even if it explodes the place, only a handful of people would die and it'd have no way to reach the surface since it would have just blown up the tunnels above it connecting to the outside world. The whole structure might even collapse and take it out. Every problem solves itself."

Armin nodded. The choice to detain Bertholdt inside a mine always made sense to him, but it was interesting to hear the thought process behind the measure from its orchestrator.

"Can you grab a couple of lanterns for us, Armin? We've got our hands full." Hange motioned over to one of the tables near a cave wall, covered in various mining supplies that were no longer in use as well as a collection of lanterns.

"Right!" Armin walked over to the table and lit two of the lanterns, one for each hand. If the passages weren't lit, they wouldn't want to risk getting lost if one lantern failed on them. Once done, he made his way towards the cabin where his two fellow travellers were unloading the supplies. He suggested helping but they told him to just hold onto the lanterns and wait for them to finish. Once they had finished, he followed them to the entrance of the mineshafts, where Hange placed down their crates and started clipping something to their gear. A safety line, perhaps?

"It's a bit of a maze down here, so it's best that you walk ahead of us. We'll send you in the right direction, but it helps to see where we're going. Not scared in the dark, I hope?" they said as they finished up and picked up their supplies again.

"Ah, no, I'm not," Armin replied. He took a look inside the dark tunnel, his heartbeat stilling as he walked inside followed by the others.

They made their way through the many tunnels, Armin at the front and his two companions behind him. If it were up to him to lead them, they'd get lost in here in no time. A diverging path every ten or so meters, the many tunnels snaking and turning with no reasonable pattern to them, and that for hundreds of meters on end. The MP was expert in guiding him to take the correct turns. Armin briefly considered the navigational skills needed to get through this place without getting lost, and tried to memorise the route they were taking, looking for any landmarks to identify his location by at a later visit.

The maze must've been one of Tourze's other perks. Even if Bertholdt managed to regenerate and chose to escape in human form, he wouldn't get far without getting hopelessly lost, even with a lantern on him. The only way he'd stand a chance would be with a hostage. Everything about this was meticulously thought out. It didn't seem possible back in Shiganshina, but they'd come through and managed to safely detain one of the most dangerous weapons known to humanity. It truly stood out as an impressive achievement for mankind.

After a good fifteen minutes of walking, a light source that was not Armin's own finally showed up in the distance.

"We're here!" Hange commented. "Still holding up?"

"I'm fine." His legs and back were starting to ache pretty badly and his arms were weary from holding out both lanterns in front of him, pretty out of breath after the trek. The exercise did him good, he needed to get in shape again after lying in bed for months on end with no physical activity, but he could do without the dust assaulting his airways at every breath and making him cough every once in a while.

"Good!" Hange said as they entered the broader, lit-up section of the mine. A sort of main area with an elevated ceiling, with several chairs and tables placed along the cavern and a handful of MPs in the room. They greeted the new arrivals and got a greeting back, after which Hange and the MP dropped off their supplies on a table and engaged in small talk with their companions that didn't much interest Armin.

His heart was beating fast, breathing elevated from the walk down into this area of the mine. He focused on steadying his breathing. The last thing he wanted was to make an impression of weakness on Bertholdt. He looked around the cave section — clearly a common area where the wardens spent most of their time, tables strewn with playing cards and dice, mugs, and dirty bowls and plates. He placed down both lanterns on an empty spot, too lost in thought to see one had flickered out.

"—exactly what I'll tell him. But that's for later." They patted Armin on the shoulder a few times, harder than was comfortable, making him yelp and flinch. "Let's not force Armin to stand around here to listen to small talk. Is the Colossal awake yet?"

"Fed it about an hour ago," the shorter of the two MPs responded, crossing his arms. "Should be awake right now. Not that it makes a difference." His words were accompanied by a badly disguised belittling glare in Armin's direction that he chose to ignore.

"Perfect. I need someone to bring him there."

"I'll go," one of the taller MPs volunteered, standing up from her seat. She went to retrieve several lanterns and Armin prepared to follow, but before he could, Hange stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder and leaning closer to him, voice hushed but reassuring.

"Take good care of yourself first when you're down there, Armin. It's not worth it to push yourself past your limits just to get answers. Prioritise your own health, mental or otherwise."

Maybe it was meant as concern, but to Armin, it felt infantilising more than anything. He knew it hadn't been Hange's intention. They were looking out for him, nothing more, they were just concerned with his well-being. But hadn't he more than proven himself against Bertholdt in Shiganshina? This was nothing compared to a fight to the death. Ever since he got burned, people wouldn't stop handling him with kid gloves. What must he do to stop receiving this treatment?

"Thank you, Commander. But I assure you that I will be fine."

He received a confident smile in return as Hange let go of him. "Good luck down there," they said with a mild wave.

"Thank you." Armin nodded back, grabbing a lantern for himself before making his way towards the MP waiting for him at the entrance of a lit passage. He wanted to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen, but the MP interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you really think you'll get anything out of the Colossal?"

Armin looked up at her, caught off-guard by the question. The wardens' did nothing to mask their distrust of his abilities. The best he could do was to avoid antagonising them. "I think so, yes. We've known each other for years. I know more about him than the Commander does, which is why I think it's worth it to talk to him."

"We already tried everything, kiddo. If it was going to talk, it would've done so long ago."

"Have you sat down at a table and tried to have a conversation?"

The MP let out a huff, an amused smile on her face. "A conversion with a monster leads nowhere. It's your time you're wasting, but I can't object if a bit of entertainment keeps it quiet at night."

Armin decided not to push the issue, already feeling he'd overdone it. At the end of the day, he didn't expect that the people who thought of Bertholdt as a monster would try to talk over a cup of tea. Not that Armin would make it that familiar, but it was leagues removed from what they had done to him.

They turned a corner. The next part of the passage was unlit. Walking on in silence, the tunnels felt narrower than they had earlier. Taking a few more turns and walking straight at a branching path, Armin's heart jumped when a wooden pallet chained to support beams finally came into sight after walking for a minute with only void laying in their path.

The MP clipped her keys free from her belt after hanging up one of her lanterns on a hook in the support beam. She fiddled with the lock keeping the pallet in place, all unlocked save for the one at eye level. Armin watched on, quietly cursing himself for not turning back when he still could, but calming himself at the thought that he was confronting Bertholdt head-on without backing down. Not many would choose to do what he was doing right now.

The lock opened and before Armin knew it, the MP pulled open the wooden gate. He almost expected something to jump out at him, but instead he was met with darkness — now partially illuminated by their lanterns. He had anticipated this from the unlit passages, but it was interesting to confirm that they kept Bertholdt locked in a passage devoid of any light. Armin made a mental note of it in case he could use that later.

Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice that the MP had already walked inside, waiting behind the gate for him to join. He did so after the slightest hesitation, eyes searching for his target as soon as he entered the improvised cell, but he wasn't too hard to find.

Bertholdt lay on one side of the mineshaft, on his back, with the left side of his body pressed tightly against the wall. Holding up his lantern but only glancing his way through the corner of his eyes, Armin could see that he had his eyes closed, chest rising and falling softly. It would be better if he weren't asleep — having him wake up to the presence of an enemy would be less than ideal. It complicated things, but didn't make it impossible.

Armin didn't realise he was holding his breath until the MP bumped into him, her elbow digging into his side, and the air left his lungs in a huff.

"I'm going to return upstream. I'll leave the gate open for you, but don't forget to close it behind you again when you leave. We'll come lock it again later. The Colossal knows better than to try to leave, especially if someone's observing, so there shouldn't be any issues while you're here and after you leave again."

"Right," Armin nodded, and the MP made her way back into the hallway after returning the gesture and wishing him good luck.

Armin kept his eyes on her until she disappeared behind a corner. Finally, with more effort than he'd expected it would take, he turned his head again to look at Bertholdt. He was still asleep, his right arm wrapped over his chest to gently hold onto his left shoulder. He looked at peace, not yet alarmed by Armin's presence. Maybe Hange was wrong about the amount of sleep he'd gotten that night, because the light and the noise weren't enough to wake him.

He'd been told about it beforehand, but it was still an unusual sight to see three of his limbs gone — legs amputated a good 15 centimeters below his hips and left arm completely gone to make space for the equipment that prevented him from regenerating. When they first captured him, they had to improvise something to put pressure on his limbs: they had wrapped tight textile around the ends of his sliced appendages and pierced his flesh with blades in the hopes it would be enough to keep him from regenerating. As easy as it would be to amputate them whenever they'd grown past the knee or elbow, Bertholdt had lost so much blood already after half his torso had been emptied of its organs in his final fight that they didn't want to push his limits. It would be a shame if he came back after ten minutes of not breathing only to lose the power of the Colossal Titan to the void because he bled out.

The primitive bindings worked, but Hange wanted more control, so they commissioned a team of engineers to design a new set of equipment. They came up with a set of safety equipment much like the military's 3DMG that capped off his limbs and surgically grafted the metal and leather to his flesh, gear running over his torso to keep the whole arrangement in place and prevent it from accidentally or purposely getting loose. Even after they let him regenerate an arm to give him more autonomy and reduce the workload of his maintenance, he wouldn't be able to do much. The gear was virtually impossible to take off without the right keys and tools to unlock the various components, and that was after cutting its edges out of his flesh. A lot of money had gone into ensuring that Bertholdt would never again fully regenerate.

Armin took a moment to breathe, suddenly aware of how hot he felt from the walk down into this area of the mine. To his left, he saw a sturdy-looking wooden crate, likely used in case any of the guards needed to be posted inside the cell. It'd be perfect. He walked towards it and placed his lantern and backpack down, carefully, so as not to alert the sleeping shifter. He undid the buttons of one of his coats and took it off, placing it down on the wood to have something soft to sit down on. Hange had been right, the mine had a cool but pleasant temperature incomparable to the frost of the surface. He wasn't too worried about not following the advice because now he had something to pad the rough-looking wood with.

Retrieving the notebook and pencil from his backpack, he looked over at Bertholdt again, studying his features with greater care now that his eyes had adjusted to distinguishing smaller details in the dim lighting. He looked much thinner than he did when Armin fought him in Shiganshina. Lean before, now better described as gaunt and emaciated. His shoulders had definitely narrowed down from the loss of muscle and his bones poked out of his skin even more prominently than before.

It was most visible in his face, his cheeks no longer round and his features sunken with a generally unhealthy look to him. Not that this was easy to tell, with the amount of dirt that caked his skin, moreso on his hands and neck than on his face. His shoulder-length matted hair showed that he hadn't been given the opportunity to take care of his appearance. Judging by the crude way the sleeve and legs of his dress shirt and pants had been cut loose — the textile unraveling where blades hastily cut the clothing to their appropriate length — and with the sorry state they both were in — covered in dirt from lying on the dusty floor day and night and with an overabundance of dried blood specking the collar — Armin couldn't imagine he'd been offered a change of clothes or a chance to bathe in the months he'd been here.

Neglectful but not unexpected. He couldn't imagine that mankind's worst enemy would get treated delicately by the people he had tormented.

So this was it. One word, and Armin would enter one of the most gruelling conversations he'd had to face in quite a while. He crossed his legs and straightened his back, placing down the notebook beside him and opening it to the first page. Empty. No notes left by Hange to distract him with, so he was forced to push on. Tapping his fingers on it, he breathed in and out deeply a few times, then decided it was better to bite the bullet and go. He placed both hands on one knee, determined that he was ready to proceed.

"Bertholdt," Armin called out, his voice calm and confident. "Let's talk."


A/N: More author's notes and artwork over on the AO3 upload - /works/26989504/chapters/65880622