Several months pass, and yet time seems to run in another plane of existence. She measures it only with the change of seasons, or the growth of their garden.
Mikasa wakes up in the middle of the day, unusually tired and groggy. The deviation from her routine is strange, as if she's not supposed to be here. For some reason, she is itching to withdraw her blades and cast a line with her mobility gear, even though she hasn't done that in years.
Suddenly she finds Eren in front of her, fishing pole in one hand and grasping her shoulder with the other.
"Hey, wake up. You'll catch a cold."
She yawns into her hand, unsure why it feels as though she just woke from a long dream, one she cannot even remember.
Eren bends to gather wood in his arm, and sneaks a small smile in her direction. "Let's just rest for the day. I caught a big fish, after all."
She smiles sleepily, wanting nothing more. With a nod, she moves to help him stack the logs underneath the canopy.
For the next while, the two of them work quietly under the setting sun. The air is balmy and comforting. In the horizon, the cloudless sky is brushed with deep orange and yellow hues. It casts a warm and golden afternoon glow. She steals occasional glances at the brilliant sunset and wishes time would stop right here and now, just so she can pocket this moment and live in it forever.
As he stacks the last of the firewood in the top row, he is so focused on the mindless task that he jumps when she touches his arm.
Mikasa furrows her brows, which Eren concedes with a sigh.
"Everything okay?" she asks softly.
His lips tug to a small frown. Wordlessly, she prods him with a feather-light brush against his cheek. By now there is little need to mince words or leave anything unsaid.
"Can you promise me something?"
She observes his wistful stare, and offers a smile in spite of it.
"I don't have much time left, and I'm noticing it more, day after day. My strength isn't the same as it once was, and there are days where I…" Eren trails off briefly, pausing to exhale a breath and shake off his uneasiness. "I've been feeling… I don't know. Dull. Tired."
She holds his gaze, and tries to be the stronger one for once. Certainly she's noticed his decline. His body is thinning, and wears out easier. He succumbs to ailments and sicknesses that he used to resist. Some of his wounds don't even heal completely.
They seldom mention it, because there's no need. They know the answer.
"You have a long life ahead of you," he pipes up. "When I die, you should throw the scarf away and forget about me. It could help you move on."
Mikasa finally lowers her gaze. For all the confusion and grief she's carried over the years, this is something that has remained lucid and clear. So definite and tenderly simple since the day he saved her life and taught her how to live.
Slowly, she shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I can't do that."
Moving towards him, she leans her head on his shoulder and encases him in her arms.
"You mean everything to me," she echoes her confession. "How could I ever forget you?"
He smiles at her admission, and returns her embrace. For a while, they stay knotted and laced together like that. He feels warm. The comfort of her touch, the calm summer air, everything here is warm.
"Promise me you'll find happiness then, even after I'm gone," he submits quietly in the delicate afterglow.
Mikasa breathes deeply and closes her eyes. She already knows he will remember this down the line. A sweet memory to remember and cling to until his last breath.
She smiles. "I promise."
Eren passes away in the small hours of morning, just before the first leaves of autumn start to drift from their trees.
Mikasa buries him underneath the shade of a sturdy tree. It resembles the one on the hill where he loved to take naps. He is tucked away in a safe clearing within these mountains, close enough for her to visit whenever she needs him.
My most beloved. My dear.
In some far and distant place, Eren is walking ahead of her once again – he used to have a stubborn penchant for that – but she stays behind this time, left on this earth as he floats off and leaves her. All this time walking in step, and now he's gone where she can't follow.
She weeps and wails in despair. She misses him so much. For a short while, she can't find sleep without the comfort of his arms. The grief aches like a dagger to her heart.
It plagues her mind and fractures her soul, but she survives.
On the anniversary of his death, Mikasa scatters campanulas over his grave.
She palms the top of his headstone. In her mind, he is happy and healthy and home. He rests in a place with no suffering or pain.
"It's so peaceful here in the mountains. You picked a good spot for us," she says softly.
A whisper of a breeze caresses the side of her face, and draws out a small smile. Day after day, she tries to make good on her promise. She is always grateful for those four years.
With her legs still tucked underneath, she shifts to one side.
"I wish I could see you again…"
Her scarf trails down to her lap, and Mikasa could never surmise how, in the next fleeting moment, a wonderful dove would catch the tail end of it and toss it back over her shoulder.
She startles, but only briefly. It must be him, watching over her. Steady, and waiting until the day they can see each other again. She can feel him safeguarding and residing in her heart.
Mikasa watches the bird soar into the sky, unfettered and free.
This is his goodbye, sealed with a promise.
Thank you for reading! The alternate timeline in the cabin seems tragic in its own way, but also beautiful. I had this in mind while writing this piece. To all the lovely readers, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the work! – Mint