so remember when i said this chapter would be half the length of the last one? yeah, the last chapter was around 10.5k and this one is 12.5k bc i don't know the meaning of restraint. i also really enjoyed writing this chapter, lots of good character moments, so there's that. i hope you enjoy!
It's a dark, chilly night, and the pavement is smooth.
Most merchants and shop owners have closed for the day, though it's now past midnight and in a couple of hours they'll open again. Chatter will fill the streets. Children will play. People will talk and barter and laugh and walk like normal.
Years ago, a young girl, usually surrounded by many others (but one other girl that was always there without fail), would be standing here, either leaning against the wall of any given building, chewing an apple obnoxiously and fantasizing about how she'd rather be anywhere else. It could be another street, or in someone's house, or…
Her eyes would flit up to where two soldiers were standing at the top of the wall. Yes, she'd rather like to be up there. Not just on the wall, but beyond. There had never been any delusions of seeing the entire world, but at the very least she'd wanted to see a sight greater than the same people walking down the same street talking about the same things they always talked about. Even man-eating monsters would be, at the very least, more interesting to look at.
At the time, the plan had never been to become an actual soldier. A job slacking off would have been just fine with her, it would grant her the privilege of being able to escape this stuffy, terrible life without, Rose forbid, becoming a faceless memory like he-who-shall-not-be-named. She almost felt bad, following in the footsteps of someone she'd grown to despise so much, but even the level of disdain she carried for her father paled in comparison to the burning hatred she felt towards these passive assholes who never changed.
She'd been extremely, tragically bored.
That young girl was you, of course, about to make either the best or worst decision of your life. That young girl had no idea what awaited, didn't know she'd meet new friends and rivals and the love of her life. She didn't know that sometimes morality is a fickle bitch, and sometimes she'd end up surprising herself by her own actions. She didn't know that death was going to grip her by the throat and never, ever release its hold.
Stohess hasn't changed one bit. The streets are as easy to navigate as ever. The scent of fresh bread travels through the air and makes your stomach grumble, making you wonder when the last time you had bread that wasn't at least a little stale was. Everything looks as grand yet superficial as it once was, almost like you've never left at all.
Well, the gun being pointed at the back of your head is new.
"You Scouts haven't been permitted inside Stohess until tomorrow morning. I'm going to need you to turn around slowly and then remove your gear."
Oh, right. The cape. And the gear. Stohess hasn't changed, but you have, and now you look extremely out of place. And you'd forgotten that the further within the walls you went, the more your profession was looked down upon.
Good thing you still have a card left to play. A hand that will always work in Stohess so long as your mother lives and breathes.
Deftly removing your hood, you twist your neck, looking over your shoulder at the officer. Even in the dark, you see the way his eyes widen. You're a striking resemblance of your mother.
"My name is (F/N) (L/N)." From the stiff posture down to the constant frigid look in her eyes, you copy her every mannerism. "You'll let me pass or you'll regret it."
He swallows nervously, but then lowers his gun, stepping back quietly. It's nice to see that your mother has kept the family name alive. Influential and terrifying. If that man ever messed with the woman, he'd risk never being able to find a spouse because she would ruin his chances within the entire city.
You're not entirely sure she'd do the same for you, but it's not like he knows that. You'll use his lack of awareness to your advantage.
A part of you wants to antagonize him, ask him what he'll do, but he's already letting you go, so the idea is pointless. Not to mention unnecessarily cruel. Besides, you're the one breaking the rules, he's just doing his job.
You shake your head and keep walking, tossing your hood back over your head. Being back in Stohess must be bringing out your inner she-devil again.
Despite feeling like a stranger in a weirdly familiar setting, you navigate the streets easily, until you're on that street, in front of that house. And suddenly, you're a young girl all over again.
Running in with a tear on your dress that you'll have to hide from your mother. Jogging around in the grass to wipe the dirt off your shoes. Smushing a joint beneath your foot before you enter only to get a knowing look from one of the maids. They never told on you, though, even though you'd deserved it. Sometimes.
The gates appear taller than they were in your memories. You'd been able to climb them easily back then and could do it without breaking a sweat now, but you shake away the familiar urge. For Rose's sake, you're an adult, you should just open the gate and walk up to the door like any sane person.
You're an adult. The idea makes you uneasy for some reason. Why do you feel so childish? Like you just want to stay out a couple minutes longer, Mama?
Does it have to do with the woman in question, who can make you cry like a child again with only a snap of her fingers?
No. If you cry because of some measly harsh words when you didn't cry after getting your comrades killed, you'll never forgive yourself.
Like the tightrope walkers in the circus performances you'd enjoy so much, you walk in a straight line past the gate, making sure not to step a single toe out of line. You try to remember what it felt like to be perfect. Not that you didn't act out. But you did a damn good impression of someone who was perfect and for the most part, that'd been good enough for her.
All too soon, the door is in front of you. Grand and the opposite of welcoming. How many times have you walked through it? How many times have you snuck through the window instead? Fuck. You're not ready for this.
But before you can chicken out, your hand moves of its own accord, and knocks on the large wooden door.
For a terrible minute, you think no one's going to answer.
But then you hear the footsteps, and your heart beats out of your chest as the door opens.
An elderly woman stands there, peering out in the darkness to make out your face. You recognize her instantly. The graying in her hair, her short stature, the mixture of sternness and delight in her eyes, she could only be herself. You know you've grown, so you don't blame her for not identifying you instantly. It's dark, and your heart swells so much at the sight of her that you're glad she gives you a couple of seconds to take in the sight while her eyes adjust.
"(F/N)?" she finally whispers breathlessly.
You smile a smile that doesn't reach your eyes as you gaze upon the woman who raised you. "Hi, Julia."
"Oh." Her eyes fill with tears, and she cups your face between her hands as though she doesn't believe you're real. "(F/N), my (F/N), my baby." You lean into her touch, reaching up to brush the stray tear falling down her cheek with your thumb. Her face wears every bit of the concern and love it always did, even when you'd jump on a bed she just made or firmly refuse to eat everything she'd cooked for you just because you weren't feeling hungry anymore. "My baby's finally home."
And you feel terrible as she draws you into a hug, because you've never felt less at home than you do at this moment. Nothing about this feels like home. Home feels like a door that always creaks when it closes and a cravat that is fairly easy to undo and warm lips on your temple. This feels like a break, a pause from real life.
"It was about time for a visit," you murmur quietly. A visit. Nothing more.
Julia peers into your eyes, observing the state you're in. Aside from being older, you're sure that you must appear like a completely different person to her. "You look tired, (F/N)," she says, evidently concerned, brushing away a few wisps of your hair with all the knowledge and wisdom that she's always seemed to have.
With a sigh, your shoulders sag, and you finally bow your head and lean into her touch. "I am tired, Julia."
Because you are. Tired of what, you aren't even sure anymore. Living, you think. Or fighting.
"Well, let's get you inside, I can put some new sheets on your bed and you can get a good night's rest."
Before you can even open your mouth to tell her that that's not necessary because you're definitely not staying the night, a far colder voice cuts in.
"Julia, who is it?"
You think Julia freezes up more than you do. She'd probably been afraid that the head of the household would wake up and was trying to avoid that very situation. But you'd have requested she go and wake her anyways, so really, it's less work for both of you. And the woman's a light sleeper, at any rate. Not unlike you.
Before Julia can diffuse the situation, you step past her, right into the house you'd left so definitively. "Hi, Mama."
Something in you told you to expect something explosive. But your mother's reaction is only surprised for a second, and then becomes far more appraising than you'd thought it would be. Something in her haughty stance, silk robe cloaked around her and tied at her waist, screams that she'd always known you'd come back. And even though you haven't, anger courses through your veins that she could possibly think you've finally given up on what she'd always considered a useless venture.
All in all, she looks well. Like herself. Perhaps the one person that's never even tried to change.
"So," she says, with an air of arrogant disinterest, and an emotion you didn't know was within you flares up. Some disgusting combination of nostalgia and hurt. "You've finally decided to return."
"I'm not staying." Because if she doesn't beat around the bush, you shouldn't either. Strike where it hurts while you still can. "But I do need to talk to you."
Her eyes trail down, taking in your uniform. You stand tall, ignoring the doubts as a certain letter rings loudly in your mind. You've never thrown it away, not to this day. Sometimes you open it just to reread the cruel words. But you kept it, maybe out of sentiment, maybe with a slight fear that you'd never see her again and it was the last piece of her that you would ever get to keep.
At times, you've fantasized about patching things up with her. But how could you apologize for running away and saying what you said to her without demanding an apology in return? Real apologies should be made without expecting one back, and you could never set your pride aside to that extent. A fake apology will do no good in this scenario. In fact, it would defeat the purpose completely.
Finally, your mother sighs. Not petulantly, like a child, like you do, but like she's seen far worse than you have. Turning around, she murmurs an order. "Julia. Run her a warm bath."
"Yes, madam."
"Didn't you hear me?" You step forward, ignoring the other woman's hand on your arm, silently pleading you not to instigate. "I'm not here for a goddamn flower bath. I need to talk to you now, it's urgent! Are you going to—"
Her hand raises. Without looking back, she speaks. And when she speaks, you listen.
"You are inside my house. I will decide when we speak, when we eat, when we do anything. And right now, I want you to take a bath. I won't talk to someone who reeks, especially not my own kin. You've disturbed the entire household at an inhumane hour, this is the least you can do."
Your glare alone could kill a dozen titans. So now she wants to acknowledge her kin. Big whoop. And you don't reek, for Maria's sake, you're Captain Levi's subordinate.
Unfortunately, you know she won't budge until you do as she says, so you let Julia gently beckon you out of the room and up the stairs, all the while scowling at your mother's retreating form. Like you're a misbehaving child. After death, after adventure, after love and everything else, nothing is different. Maybe she'll lock you in your room next.
Sensing that you're dwelling on dark thoughts, Julia fills the air with some attempted, lighthearted conversation as the two of you step into a brightly lit, grand room with a tub in the middle and a window too high for anyone from outside to look through but a perfect size to gaze out into the street. "Do you remember Darren, (F/N)?"
"Hm?" It's been a hell of a long time since you've heard that name, and it weirds you out a bit to recall the guy you'd lost your virginity to (not that she knows that, or at least you hope she doesn't). "Yeah. Is he still around?"
"Around?" She laughs softly, as though you were trying to be funny. "Him and his wife just had a beautiful baby boy."
"Darren's married?"
"Don't tell me he didn't tell you."
You want to laugh. "I haven't spoken to him once since I left." For what reason, you couldn't really say. The two of you had been on good terms.
But really, aside from your mother, you'd never tried to write to any of them after joining the Training Corp. However, none of them had tried to write to you either, so as far as you're concerned, you're not really in the wrong here. But now, as you think of Darren, other names pop into your head too, people that lived in your heart once.
"How's Emmy? Did she get that degree she wanted?"
Julia leans over and begins to fill the tub with hot water. You stalk over to the window, staring out into the eerie yet gorgeous night. "She got a degree, but not in biology. I forget what she decided to change it to."
In Trost, some lights still flicker even at night. There are shows and festivities well into the wee hours of morning. But in Stohess, people seem to abide by the strict hours of bedtime. Sure, you'd snuck out, but never to places that were particularly well lit. It explains why your reflection is so vivid in the window's shiny glass pane.
A stranger looks back. If you'd been taking a bath seven or eight years ago, you wouldn't be looking at the window to see your reflection, you'd just turn and look at the giant mirror propped up for your rightful vanity. Lately, you've just become a little sick at the sight of yourself, so the blurred woman staring back at you through the window is just…a safer option.
"What about Christine, she must be married now too, right?"
There's no response. When you turn to look, Julia is dipping her finger into the tub to test the temperature. Her eyes are downcast. Suddenly, a terrible feeling rises in your chest.
"Did something happen to Christine, Julia? Is she…" Your mouth tumbles the words out like they're second nature. "Is she dead?"
The woman lets out a sharp gasp. "Sina, no! Dead? No, her husband was caught in an affair, and the poor girl's been unmarried since then. It's just terrible. She won't be young forever, after all. Her age is already catching up."
A boulder is thrown off each of your shoulders. An affair? That's what Julia thought was a terrible fate for Christine? A part of you wants to scream. Petra will never remarry, she'll never even marry once. She's out there in some titan wasteland, wrapped up in a dirty body bag. Her fate isn't the material for next week's gossip session. You open your mouth to say as much, and then bite your tongue.
Finding out your husband was having an affair is a pretty crappy thing to go through. People in Sina will have their Sina-esque problems, and truthfully, you should feel glad that someone can afford to still have such relatively frivolous issues. Had you been here the whole time, you would have taken her out for a night of fun and revenge, in the form of drinking and finding a far more attractive person to waste her time on. You can't fault folks for not having perspective when the only reason you do is because you left this place. Left them.
So all you say, in a quiet voice, is, "She's only a year older than I am."
Some pleasant smelling oil is mixed into the bath. "Yes, well. Talks of marriage never pertained to you, did they, little madam? Not when you stuck your nose up at the idea."
No, you suppose they didn't.
Once the bath is ready, Julia stands. "Do you need help undressing?"
"No, I'll manage. Thank you."
Her eyes soften at the thanks. It's one of who knows how many she's deserved for taking care of you for so long.
She leaves, and you slowly shrug off your cape and uniform, folding them neatly and placing them by the door. Then you strip off everything else, and finally, you grab onto the hair tie keeping your locks in a neat, tight bun and tug it off. The sensation of your hair tickling your neck makes you feel more naked than the actual lack of clothes.
The second you sink into the bath, a soft moan escapes you at how good it feels. The warm water massages your sore muscles, forces them to relax. Shit, shit, when was the last time you had a warm bath instead of a cold shower? How long has it been since your sore legs simply got to lay there without any exertion? It physically hurts to soak inside the heated water, with your skin no longer used to such heat and comfort, but damn does it feel good. It's a pain that would take you no time at all to get used to again.
You dip your face under the water slowly, cautiously, and after making sure your hair is completely soaked, you lean your head back, sighing at the drops coating your eyelashes and dripping down your face.
Annie Leonhart.
That's the name Armin gave you. He provided a basic description when he was explaining who she was, making a point to note that her features matched that of the Female Titan almost exactly. Of course it did, considering the idea that he was proposing was that Annie Leonhart was the Female Titan.
Despite the vivid image Armin attempted to draw, you can't picture her. You can't picture her because all you can see is a titan, opening her mouth and ripping Eld in half. In your heart, you don't want to believe she's a human, because thinking of her as the bloodthirsty titan that stole the lives of your friends so mercilessly is so much easier.
If she's human, it means she had a motive. And a pretty strong one, to do so many heinous things in such a short time. It means that everyone is going to attempt to question or understand her. With titans, it's easy. One kills your friend. you kill it in response. Simple. There's no need to ask why it killed them. You know the answer. The easy one, that is. The titan was hungry.
Hange would drill for more, but sometimes the easiest answer is the right one.
Tomorrow morning—actually, today—there is a high likelihood that you will come face to face with Annie Leonhart. In human or titan form, well, that remains to be seen. And then…
And then there'll be questions. And if all goes well, you might…someone might kill her.
Would it be easy, killing another person? Not that the task will fall to you, it would probably be an executioner's duty. But back then, in the forest, if you had the strength, if you were just more capable, more strong, it felt like you could have done it. The willpower had certainly been there.
Taking a glance down at your not yet wrinkled fingers, you note that they look clean. Even though titan and human blood have both soaked them, you've never done anything that wasn't for the survival of either you or a comrade.
Meanwhile, Christine's worried about finding a second husband.
Maria, you have to stop dwelling on that. All in all, it's not nearly as strange as your first lover being married with a child. Attending that ceremony would have been weird as shit.
You wonder what it's like, to live a normal, sure life. To wake up in someone's arms everyday, to laze around in bed before making breakfast for your…your family. To experience happiness and grief at a steady pace. To clasp someone's hands in your own and tell them you love them without any qualms or reservations.
How revolting. Or is it?
It's dull. It's exactly the thing you'd tried to escape from, this poster life. So why, all of a sudden, does the idea sound so appealing?
The water is still warm, and here inside this house, you're safe. Your heart doesn't beat out of its chest, and death doesn't loom around every corner. Would it be the worst thing in the world to stay here, in the lap of luxury where you were born and raised, and leave the sacrifices and danger to the people who didn't cower in fear when faced with it? The heroes. Not you, who sees a titan and feels your stomach twist at the terrifying way it opens its mouth as a greeting.
Eventually, you'd find someone to settle down with. Instead of the news of deaths and being greeted by screaming parents and spouses and children, people would come to the ceremony to congratulate you. Instead of waking up before the sun had risen every morning, you could sleep in, on a nice, soft pillow instead of a thin one that looked like it was going to fall apart any day now. People would greet you by your name instead of a title. Some form of your carefree attitude would surely return, and you would find it in yourself to go to parties again, go on dates again, dance the way you wanted to dance all through the night. There'd be a terrible routine, and people would be catty and fake, but at least they'd be alive. Really, what could be the worst thing that would happen if you stayed here forever?
Tilting your head up, you exhale, staring at the marble ceiling. Perhaps you could stay right here until the titans finally break into Wall Sina, grab you, and end this burning pain that you've been feeling for good. Or until the water gets cold.
Blonde hair the color of bananas and raven hair the color of the prettiest nights flash into your mind at the same time.
Oh right, the promises you've made. Not to other people, but to yourself.
Fat lot of good those promises did for your squad, though. Nothing meant anything when you gave the order for them to charge to their death.
But you can practically taste how big of an excuse that is on your tongue. It's just another reason for you to run away, to hide from the failure and find some kind of comfort in selfishness. Being selfish, as taxing as it was, kept your heart safe.
You don't want to die. A sharp, fearful pang forms in your chest. You really, really don't want to die. But you also really, really don't want anyone else to either. That's why you know that this little fantasy you're building in your head will never amount to anything.
Not just Levi. Not just Ricky. But everyone you've met. People whose light should never go out. Hange. Moblit. Nifa. Nanaba. Henning. Rashad. Keiji. Lily. Sven. Jonie. Vivika. Peter.
Eren. Armin. Mikasa.
Mikasa had sought you out, a little bit after the expedition. Staring straight ahead, eyes hollow, she'd apologized.
"If I hadn't been reckless, I wouldn't have gotten the captain injured. I'm sorry."
And with the knowledge that you were the real guilty party in the situation, you'd said, "Mikasa, I'm never going to be angry with you for trying to protect Eren."
Because you understand the overwhelming need to protect those who seem invincible. Your wish is that both of you will be successful with your respective endeavors.
Your fingers are all wrinkly now. They wrinkled quicked, not used to soaking in water like this.
Right. Bathtime is over.
For what feels like the shortest minute of your life, you savor the soft towel as it dries your skin. Then the uniform comes back on, but the cloak stays in your hands. For a quick lookover, you chance a look into the mirror.
The woman looking back looks slightly more familiar. Your hair sticks to your face, but you tie it up, seeing all the bits and imperfections on your face stand out. You look…human. Not weak, but not strong.
You appear prepared, at the very least. Not for the titans, that is, but for the real threat on the floor under you.
Tossing the cloak over your shoulders, you step out and leave the room.
At first, you mean to go straight downstairs. It's not like you have time to waste. But somehow, you convince yourself that taking one last look at what remains of your youth isn't a waste. That rather, it's something you need to do.
Your bedroom door is ajar, as though someone has just walked inside. Luckily it's not your mother.
Sitting on your bed, your grandmother makes herself at home, not sparing you a glance as you step in and look around. Not much is different. The expensive perfume bottles that once littered your desk are gone, as are the gold necklaces that you'd always take such pains to separate and organize.
At least the room isn't dusty. Actually, it looks like it's waiting for you to come back and live in it. And that, you realize, is exactly the point. The bath, the clean room. Every little thing is a trap disguised as a nicety.
"Hellspawn," your grandmother greets. You snort. She must think she's in a work of gothic fiction. No wonder you and your mother are both the way you are.
"Grandmother. How are you?"
"Better, now that I know someone has beaten some manners into you." She looks up, less wrinkles on her face than Julia's despite her being significantly older. "The wild child has been tamed."
Hellspawn, wild, this woman has nothing better to do than sit in the darkness of your room and come up with names to describe you. She should take up a hobby. At any rate, sneaking out sometimes doesn't make someone wild. Maybe running away from home and joining the military does, but hellspawn is still a bit of a stretch. Oh, whatever. You'll enjoy your moment even with her dark, bitter soul and whatever nicknames it can dream up looming behind you.
Kneeling down, you open a shelf to find piles of romance novels. Too bad you didn't bring a bag with you, you wouldn't mind rereading some of these with your captain. For years, they had been a major source of entertainment on nights when everyone was too busy. Sneaking out, as you've always said, is no fun alone.
The jewelry box is next. With an impressive collection cramming the entire space, there's barely any way for you to dig through it without emptying the whole thing, so you just run your fingers over the gemstones and reminisce on fancy parties that could be classified as balls, and cocky boys reaching over tables to say that would accept your necklace of the week as a reward if you were really that willing to bet (you'd lost a fair share of jewelry that way).
Lastly, you open the armoire, eyes widening at the sheer amount of clothes. Ultimately there's no reason to keep them unless your mother wishes to keep them for herself, in which case she can move them to your room. But otherwise, your teenage self prided herself on her taste, and any young woman would appreciate such a lovely donation. Or she could even sell them if she didn't want to be generous. Not that you've kept up with the fabric market, but surely these would still go for a pretty penny.
You really don't have time to be nostalgic. The sun will rise in a matter of hours. But that's fine. Being in this room isn't really doing anything for you, not in the way you want it to. All it's doing is showing you how…mature you've become. And you suppose you should be happy about that.
"I hope you remain in good health, Grandmother." It sounds ominous, but you're being genuine. With her, everything sounds ominous, so you might as well say things the way they're meant to be said.
Taking one final look at the large vanity and the fancy designs and dips of the headboard behind the softest bed you've ever laid on, you turn around and leave your childhood behind for good.
Right, you're an adult now.
Not enough of an adult to resist sliding down the banister one last time, though. Even ODM gear doesn't provide the same thrill that the curve of the railing as it spins around the stairs. As you go, further and further down, you imagine that Petra would have loved doing this with you. Flair. Something the two of you always tried to have in common.
All of a sudden, it's not so fun anymore. But you go all the way down dutifully, to a thankfully empty hall. You know where she is. She's in her favorite room, the drawing room, with its intimidating fireplace and perfect atmosphere for chewing people out.
You don't bother knocking before walking right in. Nor do you care to alert her of your presence before telling her what you came to tell her before she can distract you any further. She's standing right in front of the fireplace, staring down in a deep contemplation that you're only too happy to interrupt.
"Pack what you can. Tell the rest of the household to do the same. Leave before the sun rises, and go into the inner wall."
You've had no qualms walking up to her, standing right next to her, shoulder to shoulder. She doesn't face you as her mouth curves in displeasure at your boldness.
"What makes you think," she begins in a low whisper, the fire glittering in her eyes, "that you can come into my house and give me orders?"
Ignoring her question, you continue. "Tomorrow, Stohess could possibly be under siege. It's in your best interests to leave."
Her irate glare mirrors yours. Any other day, it would make you smirk. Unfortunately, you're serious. In a couple of hours, Stohess could very well be made into a complete bloodbath. The city you grew up in, crushed beneath your own feet.
"And why shouldn't I just go to an officer and report what you and your…comrades are doing?" She spits the word out like it's poison, and that's what really gets to you. It forces you to look away, her words burning far more than the fire licking at her dress but never catching. You can look at anything else, the fluffy cushions on the couch, the chandelier hanging overhead, or the crystals that decorate the center table elegantly.
You can't look at her, because suddenly, there's tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. You've never felt more ashamed in your life.
Your four teammates get the lives beaten out of them in front of your very eyes, and it's her crudeness that brings you to this state. Rapidly blinking, you tilt your head up, willing the wetness not to fall down your cheeks, and thankfully, it doesn't.
The way she hisses about your comrades, like they hadn't been one of the dearest things to you, is the cause of the distress that's threatening to rise up and spill out.
No tears. You focus on that. No. Tears. In the least shaky voice you can muster, you continue.
"Because you still hate them. And anyways, reporting what we're about to do won't stop us from doing it. It'll just give us less of a chance to succeed."
"Have you considered that I don't want you to succeed?"
"That would mean the deaths of thousands." Of course, success doesn't come without its fair share of deaths either, but that part you leave out.
"You act as though that concerns me."
"Including your own!"
The most horrifying part of this, perhaps because she looks so much like you, is that you could easily see a different version of yourself, standing there and only giving a damn when her own life came into question. Your grandmother said someone had beaten manners into you, but that wasn't it. Someone beat some basic empathy into you, and that someone wasn't a single individual. It was all the people, and all the tragedy, and the experience—as terrible as it had all been, you've come out better. You are not selfish. You want to be, but you're not.
Your eyes begin to dry.
After considering her options for a couple of seconds, your mother asks softly, "And what of your life?"
You turn back to face her, finding her looking directly at you. Despite your every rational thought screaming at you to let it go, you can't help the bubble that bursts. "My life? Now you care about my life? You didn't care about my life when I wrote to you and you told me you wished I had died!"
"Don't be dramatic." She waves a dismissive hand. How rich, coming from her. "I thought that, if you came back one day, it would be because you got this ridiculous fantasy of being a soldier out of your head. Can you not think clearly, foolish girl? The Scouts will land you nowhere but dead in a ditch! What about your life was so awful that you decided to run away, hm? You had a house, a mother who invested everything in your future, a future! A few meaningless words and a ring and your future would have been secured! A long, luxurious life where you reaped all the benefits of your birthright!"
Well. She's not wrong.
So why don't you stay again?
Why leave in the first place?
Why is it that as you look around, you feel more disdain than comfort?
A part of you knows the answer, and a part of you doesn't want to admit it.
"You're right. It would be easy to marry and live out my days comfortably." Stepping up to your mother, you peer at her face, seeing your own reflection in her eyes. "But unfortunately, Mama, I haven't changed. You raised me to be a selfish woman, and I find this luxurious life…" You pretend to think for a second, and then spit out, hoping the word pierces her heart, "Boring."
Finally, some kind of understanding dawns on her. You see a thought spelled out in her gaze. You were never going to stay.
Not that she needs further confirmation, but you nod anyway.
Her eyes drop from your face to the wings of freedom on your chest when you ask, "Are you going to leave?"
A bit of silence, then a muted murmur of assent.
"I'll see to it we're out before the sun rises."
"Good." The ache in your mind nagging you about the possibility of seeing your mother's dead body crushed beneath a titan's foot ebbs away. "Thank you."
This time, she nods, and you know it's the last bit of kindness you'll ever get out of her. Taking a quiet, shaky breath, you make your way towards the entrance of the drawing room, open the door, and with only one glance back at the woman who birthed you, you step out and close the door behind you.
"(F/N)? You're leaving already?" Julia. A single pang of guilt spreads across your chest.
"Yes." You walk up to her and allow yourself to be pulled into another tight embrace, pretending not to notice the wetness that coats her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I—I wish I could stay." No, you don't. But that's one lie you won't feel bad about. Stohess is filled with liars, and as much as you've tried to escape the bullshit and learn from people like Levi, who is blunt and truthful and real, some things just run in your blood.
"No, don't apologize." Her voice is all choked up as she strokes your hair. "I hope that captain of yours takes care of you."
At least the smile that graces your face this time is genuine. "He does. More than he needs to."
Her grip loosens, convinced by your statement, but you hug her for a couple seconds longer, pressing a kiss into her hair.
"Goodbye, Julia. Thank you, again."
You're grateful she doesn't say that you don't need to thank her.
As you leave the house you grew up in, you look up at the sky, considering the fact it's the same sky you'd looked at from the base back in Wall Rose, because the world really is just that small.
The window is open, just the way you left it, and you have no problem sneaking past their guards and entering the house through it.
Next to a dimly lit lantern, Levi is sitting on an uncomfortable looking couch, a cup of tea in his hands. He's dressed in his formal clothes, the suit he wears for both galas and funerals. From the looks of it, he hasn't even attempted to sleep, which isn't abnormal for him, so you don't let yourself worry about it.
"You manage to warn her?" he questions, eyes not on you but the lantern. You don't think he could make you out in the darkness at any rate.
"Yes. Thank you for letting me go, sir. Another cup?"
"Tch. Yeah, might as well. The leaves they've stocked up here are better than the shitty stuff they send down to headquarters."
Fascinating. The Scouts getting the bottom of the barrel? That's definitely never happened before. If you'd gone to Stohess earlier in the day, you'd have purchased some tea leaves from some merchant so that you could gift it to him, add to his personal stock for a change.
You brew the tea in a comfortable silence. Everyone else must be asleep. Everyone else included the commander, a couple of trusted soldiers, and Jean, a soldier who would be acting as Eren's body double in the morning. Somewhere, other soldiers wait for orders, and somewhere else, Eren and his friends prepare to set the plan in motion.
It's ungrateful, but you half wish you were with them. That would be better than being on house arrest. But where Levi goes, you go. And with his leg injured, he wasn't part of the assault plan. Not to mention, the MPs would definitely demand to see him as well, considering Eren was put under his care. If you were in a humorous mood, the thought of Levi being interrogated would make you laugh. As though anyone could get anything out of him by just asking.
Except you.
You blink at what shouldn't be a revelation.
The tea is finished brewing.
Taking a seat next to him, you pass the steaming cup over, waiting for the usual grimace when he brings it to his mouth. Instead, his brows furrow in surprise, and he mutters, "That's not bad."
Now that's a first. "Yeah?"
"Hm. Only took you six years to figure it out."
"I think it's the leaves. See, I can work with quality."
"I'm sure," Levi says dryly, before passing the cup back to you. "Try it."
It's not a suggestion, so you tentatively take a sip. The drink tastes no different to you, just barely tolerable. But it is warm, and you're craving warmth, so you take another few sips before giving it back. The scene feels domestic. But then you look at your uniform, and the way he winces every couple of seconds and moves his leg to stretch it, and you remember that whatever this is, it is far from domestic.
That thought depresses you, for whatever reason. As though you haven't found the idea of marriage dreadful most of your life.
"So how was it?" You look at him. "Seeing your hometown again."
A puff of air escapes you as you lean forward. "Strange."
"Strange how?"
"Strange because tomorrow it could be a graveyard." The lantern is pretty tantalizing, you realize. "And that…that's strange."
Horrifying, is the word you should use. Or maybe abhorrent. Awful. Sickening.
But they're not the words that rest on your tongue.
"I want to protect Stohess because there's people there, but not because it's my home." The thought of innocent people being killed makes your stomach turn, but the fact that they're your people doesn't seem to matter. "I feel nothing for that place. Does that make me a terrible person?"
Levi stares at you, but you don't stare back.
"This isn't about Stohess." It isn't a question.
Your laugh is humorless. "They all die in front of me, on my command, and I only tear up when my mom's a little mean to me. What's wrong with me, Captain? How can I not cry for them? For anyone? You relieved me of my promise, so how can I…"
Oh, that promise. Instead of a burden, it was freeing. From now on, if you're going to cry, you're only going to cry because of me. Hardly something romantic to say until you consider that he's never even come close to making you cry, at least not intentionally or even recklessly.
"Then I'll take it back. I'll make you another promise if you want. Blame it on me. Blame it all on me if you have to." His hand is on your shoulder, and then on your chin when you don't budge. His fingers apply a light pressure to make you look at him. "Nothing's wrong with you, dumbass. Blame every single thing on me if you want to, but don't ever fucking think there's something wrong with you."
And despite those words, words that would and should make anyone swoon, you don't think you've ever felt further away from him. Somehow, you have to make him understand.
"I didn't survive because of skill." He has to know that, that the others didn't fail, not any more than you did. "I only lived because Eren showed up when he did. I wasn't any better than the rest of them."
"I know." Levi's lips are pursed. "I know what your skill level is. I made you."
That, for whatever reason, is more comforting. Something has shifted between you two—you're not sure how to describe it, but you're out of sync, and have been since the expedition. It's unfair that the Female Titan not only took your squad, but broke something that you thought was unbreakable.
But then, maybe that's one thing you can't blame on her. Maybe this is something you broke yourself, when you decided to kneel down to him in the stables. Fundamentally you know why that would bother him. You know he hates being treated like any kind of hero. But you don't think he understands that you weren't doing it as a form of hero worship, just showing that you were…
Taking hold of his wrist, you tug yourself out of his grasp, but you focus on the slate of his eyes. The difference between this relationship breaking versus the ones back home are that you don't think you could run away from him even if you tried. And unlike everyone else, he'd probably want you to run away. Running away from him meant safety.
You don't want safety if it means not being with him. That sentiment, those feelings, they terrify you.
Maybe marriage wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, not if it was with him.
"I…I'm…" The words get stuck in your throat.
His eyes close for a brief second. "Don't say you're sorry again. I'm sick of hearing that goddamn word."
"Okay," you agree softly. "I won't."
It's early morning now. And you desperately miss when early mornings with the captain meant two hours of brutal exercise and amusing banter. Oh God, you wish you were still a cadet, that you'd never graduated. But you also know that if you get stuck in wishes and regrets for too long, you won't be able to do anything to pave the future. That is one lesson that he's ingrained into your head, the one thing he learned from the commander after he'd joined the Survey Corp. And at the same time, having no regrets whatsoever is next to impossible, and is a feat that you are incapable of.
Fuck, there really is no permanent relief from all this, only solace.
And your solace is right in front of you, but you can't reach him.
Tenderly, you place your palm on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the eyebags that never seem to disappear. Levi's head ducks, surrendering to your touch. He's starved for you, as you are for him.
Trailing down the features of his face, you refamiliarize yourself with your favorite map. Ghosting over the bridge of his nose, the pores on his cheeks, down straight to the plumpness of his lips.
It's been a long, long time. When's the last time you let him feel all the love you could never talk about out loud?
Wetting your lips, you lean in closer, tilting his head up. Your pain is reflected in his pupils, or maybe it's his pain in yours. Years later, you can't tell anymore.
How many times have you forgotten this way? What's once more?
Levi comes closer first, his breath warm on your aching lips. Just a bit more, and—
A rustling from one of the rooms has you two separating immediately, pressing onto opposite ends of the couch. You busy yourself in readjusting your gear while Levi downs the cup of tea you made him, and that's the sight Commander Erwin is greeted by as he steps out of his room.
In full uniform, his gaze flickers between the two of you, but thankfully, he doesn't question or comment on the situation.
"Morning."
"Not a good one," Levi grunts.
"I didn't say it was." Laying out a map of the city on the little table next to the kettle you left there. "Shall we go over the plans again?"
The captain sighs. "Might as well. (L/N). Make sure the kid's costume is ready."
Swallowing down the last of your desires, you take the empty cup from his hand and stand up, not bothering to salute the commander.
"Yes, sir."
"This is bullshit," seethes the brunette next to you.
Jean Kirstein is, in a lot of ways, exactly what Eren told you. And very different in other ways. A part of you had expected a spoiled brat who was always running his mouth. Kinda like you back in the day. But he's far more brave and mature at fifteen than you had been. Pretending to be the person that everyone thinks is public enemy number one is no easy task.
"Hopefully, it'll be over quickly. Best case scenario, everyone is so focused on the Female Titan being captured that they never even realize you're not Eren." You're standing by the door with him, taking a peek outside the glass panes every couple of seconds to see if they're coming to summon you yet.
"I don't even look like him."
You give him a quick, dubious look that he scoffs at. You know that the sentiment is coming from his nerves, so you take a small risk to help calm him down.
Grabbing the wig right off his head, you toss it on your own head, placing your hand in your mouth as though you're going to bite down.
"Should I do it instead?"
Jean looks bewildered at first, but then he laughs, shoulders relaxing for a couple seconds. Before he can say anything though, there's a loud pounding on the door.
"Jaeger! Time to go!"
Shit. You toss it to him in a flurry, keeping your foot against the door just in case, as Jean shoves it back on. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Erwin's jaw set crossly at your extremely inappropriate timing. Instead of appearing bashful, you award him with a withering glare of your own. What happened in the forest was your fault, but he still withheld important information that would have left all of you better prepared. You haven't forgotten.
The door opens, and just as planned, you step out first, before Jean, heading for the carriage. And just as planned, one of the officers steps in front of you.
"What do you think you're doing? No one's supposed to go with Jaeger."
"So you all can turn him in some other direction and kill him off nice and quietly before the trial? No way. He needs a bodyguard."
"That's not going to happen, you need to step aside—"
"I am not letting you take him unsupervised!"
"Hey!" A voice interrupts your bickering before it can escalate. "Let it go, if Jaeger has a bodyguard, then he has a bodyguard."
Commander Nile Dok, in the flesh. His reasonable attitude is why you're going to get away with this. He sits perched atop his horse, not even sparing your argument a glance. Instead, he's focused on the gate to Stohess ahead, clearly anxious to get this all over with.
With a nasty huff, the officer steps out of your way, letting you into the carriage that Jean has already gotten in while you distracted everyone with a brief spectacle so they couldn't get a good look at his face.
All according to plan. You hate to hand it to Erwin, so you won't.
Before you step in, someone sitting astride a horse a few feet behind Nile Dok catches your attention. Because of the blinding sun, you can't get a good look, but it looks strikingly like—
You're shoved inside, and the carriage door slams behind you. You tsk in a suspiciously Levi-esque way, but you take a seat across from Jean anyway. He breathes a sigh of relief, tossing his head back. Unfortunately, you're not out of the hot water yet. Still, you don't share that sentiment with him.
In a couple of minutes, you're being transported through the gate to Stohess, as though you didn't just illicitly sneak in a couple hours prior. Your fists clench, then unclench. You're not sure what to focus on. The idea that your home could be destroyed, or the thought that it's worth it if it means you get to take a shot at Annie Leonhart.
If you look conflicted, Jean is having the worst day of his life. But you're not sure whether the Eren wig is giving him bad vibes in general or if he and Leonhart were close. You figure it's a mix of both.
Half an hour in, there's an explosion.
Both of your faces snap up in horror, but as Jean moves to get up once the carriage halts, you slam a hand down on his leg, shaking your head. Not yet. Not yet, that's not the cue. But he only manages to deal with a whole three minutes of hearing people shouting outside before he can't bear it any longer. There's something he and Eren share. Stupid impulsivity.
"Who told you to move, Jaeger?"
"Get your hands off him—"
"How about this damn wig said I could, moron? Call me Jaeger again and it's your ass, you got that?"
Welp. Cover blown.
You shove past the guard who tries to keep you still, zeroing in on Levi as Jean rushes over to the commander. "She's transformed," he tells you under his breath, and you nod, one fist clenching discreetly. Your heart pounds so loudly that you feel it in your ears, half expecting her to show up and crush you under her foot right this very second.
Stohess is about to go. With that thought in mind, you stand a few steps behind Erwin's shoulder, ready to listen to his orders as Jean runs off to get his gear. Levi cautions him before he leaves, and you catch a glimpse of Commander Dok's face. "Hold on! What the hell?"
"Commander! Here!"
With Levi out of commission, you naturally assume that you'll follow either Hange or Mike into battle. But with Hange in charge of Plan C and Mike keeping an eye on the Scouts holed up outside of Wall Sina, Erwin is the only next option. In a matter of seconds, he has his gear on.
"Alright, all of you with me! We're rendezvousing with the capture squad!"
"No! The hell you will!"
In a shorter matter of seconds, Nile Dok has a gun pointed to his face.
Your blade is already three quarters out of its holster, ready to attack, when the rest of the Military Police officers' guns follow.
"Shackel!" Dok barks.
A woman to his right switches her attention from the commander to you, and you realize why you did a double take getting into the carriage earlier. Hair in a pixie cut, curls framing her forehead, in a regal pose by the commander's side, you almost didn't recognize her.
But no, it's definitely your best friend who is now facing you with the barrel of a gun aimed straight at your forehead.
The two of you stare each other down, not a single crack in either of you. There is no hint of a past relationship, and as one commander accuses the other of treason, she stands as nothing more than the steed on her uniform and you as nothing more than the wings of freedom on yours.
Everyone notes your position, facing sideways with a blade almost drawn, and you know everyone must privately realize that there's only so much time you could have to throw a sword before a bullet fires. But what everyone, aside from Levi and maybe Erwin, doesn't notice is that you're also in a prime position to fire off your cables and sink them into someone's flesh. You really don't want it to come down to that.
"Think, Nile," Levi cuts in, and perhaps only you and Erwin can hear the urgency behind his bored inflection, "I find it hard to believe you're actually as thick-headed as you look. You're a hair trigger away from making the biggest mistake of your life."
"Take off the gear before I shoot you!"
It sounds like he's begging, honestly.
You are well aware that you could now get shot before the Female Titan can even take a crack at you. And by Millie Shackel, no don't take your eyes off her for a second, not because she's pointing a gun at you, but because seeing her has been the closest you've felt to actually missing the place you grew up in. You take in the sight almost hungrily, like a mother who's finding her long lost child. From the little girl who would snort into her hand not so secretly every time you made a rude remark about the Military Police to standing with them, ready to kill you on their command.
The ground shakes a little, breaking you out of your reverie and reminding everyone that political drama will be of little consequence if you all perish.
"Nile." Erwin's voice comes out in a steady boom, coaxing you to move your blade out a little further, elbow still frozen in the position to strike down anyone who wants to take a shot at him. Millie notes the slight movement, and her finger ever so subtly brushes over the trigger. "Let her go, or this will take longer."
Wow, it only took him years to bat for you and vouch for your skill, and it's so he can send you to the very monster you've been having nightmares about for the past three days. What a guy.
Even without tearing your eyes off Millie and the gun in her hands, you can hear Dok's hands shaking a little. "Shackel," he says semi-firmly, "you go with her. Both of you handle it while we figure this out."
Finally, you look away, because while Erwin grunts his assent, it's not his approval you need. Levi nods, and you and Millie both stand down, firing off cables simultaneously.
With the smoothness and fluidity that only two girls raised in Stohess could have, you both leap on top of the same building, then another, and another. It's like a silent race, and race you do, swerving over, sideways and under, letting the sounds of screams and destruction guide you.
You can feel it—Annie Leonhart is getting closer and closer, and no one is going to stop her, not before she grabs hold of you and slams you into the nearest structure, ending your life right then and there, quick. Easy. Effortless.
Exactly twelve houses later, and you're looking at the wake of the fresh hell that the Female Titan has left. Houses crushed. Carts thrown aside and broken. And then, under the rubble, bodies.
Footsteps come closer until they're next to you. You turn your head to the side, finding Millie staring at her home down below with an open mouth and wide eyes. Then she looks back up at you, presumably to try and find an answer for why this is happening.
Before you can give one, though, she raises a fist and punches you square in the arm.
"Ow, Millie, what the hell?"
"Three years," she hisses, looking as though steam is about to start coming out of her ears, "three years, and the longest letter you've sent me is a single page."
This…this is worse than Christine and her cheating husband. There are corpses underneath you, and Millie is talking about your piss-poor mailing skills. A titan is inside the innermost wall, and she wants to know why you never sent her a lengthy anecdote.
It's so horrifying, so bizarre, so heartless, that you laugh.
And suddenly you're embracing her, squeezing her tighter than you've squeezed anyone in your life, and she's got her arms wrapped around you just as tightly, holding you close to her like she's never going to get the chance again. With the way things are going, she might not.
"Damn bitch," you huff into her neck, not wanting to let go, "I would have cut you open before you could even think of pulling that trigger."
"Don't be ridiculous," Millie responds, voice all disgustingly choked up, "a bullet moves faster than a person."
Pulling back with a tight grip on her arms, you focus on the closest thing you've ever gotten to a sister, the only person in this stupid city who wanted to come with you all the way to the Training Corp and the reason you were never alone. The city blurs behind her, leaving only what your eyes wish to see. "Would you actually have shot me?"
You're not sure why you want to know.
Millie tucks one stray hair of yours back into place. After a small pause, she says, "No."
It's not an of course not, but you believe her. You swallow, fully realizing how much you have missed your best friend.
"I heard about Gunther and Petra. The squad. I'm sorry."
When other people have mentioned them, it's felt like someone turning a dull blade inside your gut. But when she says it, for the first time, it feels like someone is asking about them, as people, and not just memories that exist merely in your head.
"Petra always did better than you in ODM maneuvering. You never liked her."
"And I'm not going to take that back. Little Miss Perfect deserved it."
Even now, you marvel at how she can manage to get away with crossing the line without feeling bad about it. How you never feel offended, just amused. How much you love this girl.
"There's a titan ravaging the city." Your expression hardens. "She's the one who killed them. Help me get rid of her."
Millie pulls out a sword of her own. "Lead the way."
"She took down the elite squad in a matter of minutes," you warn.
Her eyes narrow. "Don't be condescending, (F/N), just lead the way."
Without further ado, you do just that.
Sometimes you fly in front, and sometimes she does. The two of you have run through these roads millions of times, and seeing them destroyed doesn't change the fact that you know them like the back of your hand. Better than the rest of the Scouts. Better than the titan. Better than everyone else.
You follow the damage until the shouts and the footsteps become thunderous, and then, before you can get the chance to chicken out, you rise up to the highest building you can and finally face the Female Titan again.
Just like before, she's an indescribable monster, like nothing you've ever seen before. A cold-blooded killer, blood on her arms, blood on her lips, blood on her nails. The blood of people far braver than she is.
Gunther sliced open—
"Hey!" you scream, a furiosity filling your bones. It works. It gets her attention.
Her head turns to you, and you can see the surprise dawn on her face as she recognizes you. Like she didn't think you'd come. How very wrong she was.
No, you can't think like that. The last time you thought like that, they died.
Behind her large shoulders, you can see Armin, and you feel a rush of protectiveness. No one else should die. No one.
So you make sure your feet are light when you continue.
"Finish the job," you tell her, fists clenched.
She starts running.
You step back, and back, and back and back andbackandbackandback until you're on the edge, tipping over, and you faintly hear the hooks of your wires sinking into a wall as you fall. Right as the ground begins to look too close, you're yanked backwards. Come and fucking get me.
You travel, from building to building, facing her, watching her come close several times before pulling out of her reach. Careful not to get too close to the ground, because—
Petra smashed against a tree—
Millie is next to you, looking straight ahead while you look back. You motion to her and she nods, soaring up, up, up, out of view. The Female Titan's fists rise, ready to swat anyone who gets too close. You'd be worried, if that's what you'd told Millie to do.
There's so many damn bridges in Stohess. You fly overhead, crying out, "Get out of the way!" at anyone who will listen. After all, she isn't going out of her way. The titan is charging straight ahead, and the only people who get hurt are the ones under her or who are coming at her directly.
"Lieutenant!" you hear Armin crying.
Eld bitten in half—
Run, fly, your ODM gear is a part of you. You think. Wind's blowing on your hair. Your hair. Your hair?
In your speed, your hair tie has flown off somewhere into the city below, most likely never to be found again.
Right as you notice, you arrive, and with a howl, you hold your swords out, pointing forward. "Now!"
There's wires shot off in every direction, and this had been the real dangerous part of the plan, to get out of the way so that you don't get torn apart. But if your task had been difficult, then the one you gave Millie was nearly impossible, and you'd never have told her to do it had you not had full confidence she wouldn't get herself killed.
Swerving through the cables fired, she latches a cable into one side of the wall, flattening herself on the opposite side. With a thud, the Female Titan trips over the wire and falls to the floor, right as Millie's wires break.
Annie Leonhart is trapped. Again. You fall against a set of shutters with a breathy sigh of relief, locking eyes with Hange from across the street. She grins maniacally, offering you a thumbs up that you shakily return. Remembering that you have to pick Millie up from the ground and bring her to safety, you're about to do just that when you hear a whizz and see that someone has already done it for you.
"I knew that my little Millie Willie couldn't stay away," Ricky is cooing as he lands next to you, Millie's arms around his neck. She smacks his chest with a grimace, stumbling onto the roof. You hold onto her arms and steady her, squeezing a little so she realizes she's in the clear now.
"Shut up," she snarks at the blonde, waving the both of you away from her to indicate that she's fine, but then almost buckles two seconds later, grabbing onto Ricky's hand. "I thought you would have died by now."
Ironic, because you know Millie and Ricky send way more letters back and forth than you and Millie do. Millie's more likely to find out that you've died several weeks after it's actually happened.
It's so weird, to see both of them standing together, on a roof in Stohess at that. For a moment, just a moment, it feels like you're about to go inside for a dinner, and there's a red-haired boy to your right, looking up from his notes when you tell him it's time to eat and nodding with an eager smile and telling you to just give him two more minutes.
Your heart flutters, and you open your mouth.
The entire rooftop shakes, Millie shrieks, and it's all you can do to slide on your stomach and catch her before she slides off the corner. And Ricky's shouting, terrible words like she broke free! and something in the pit of your stomach drops because it happened again. You got cocky. You got comfortable. How many times do you have to be beaten over the head to learn that you can't afford to get comfortable?
"Stay here!" you bark, not waiting for her to answer before you're off, Ricky a couple feet behind you, Hange a couple feet ahead.
A rock crashes into your stomach, knocking the air out of you but thankfully not piercing anything. You gasp, clutching onto your stomach as you go down with the rest, but before you hit the ground, your wires act on their own and tug you back up, still in pursuit.
"Mikasa!" you hear someone cry.
Straight down, you see a lump of black hair in a red scarf, and without thinking, you dive, landing ungracefully and turning her over quickly. The Female Titan is getting away, but you're not stupid—with both Levi and Eren out of the picture, she's the only one who has a chance of landing a blow and she has to wake up.
"Mikasa." You shake her desperately, one hand on her pulse to confirm to yourself that she's alive. "Mikasa! Please, Mikasa, open your eyes! Mikasa!"
Now, you've never been superstitious. Not overtly so. But you could swear that it is your cry of her name that triggers a crackle of light, a roar, and in a couple of seconds, Eren Jaeger.
You almost want to cry at his timing.
In the same moment that you're grateful for his sudden appearance, your heart sinks when you see he has tackled the titan straight into the church. To stop the nausea rising when you begin to think of how many people were just crushed under the weight—Oluo crushed on the bark of a tree—you focus on Mikasa, forcing all your attention on her.
Pulling the girl into your arms, you try to rouse her every way you know how. In the screams and deaths of everyone around you, you compel yourself to forget about all of them, about everything, and divert your efforts to waking a single girl. One girl. Save one girl. You can't get mad at her for protecting Eren if she never wakes up to do it. You saved her once, you can do it again.
"Mikasa."
Please.
"Mikasa."
Wake.
"Mikasa!"
Up.
Her eyes open and she sits up with a yelp, breathing heavily. Your chest swells, and everything resumes all at once. Screams. Pleading. Begging. Crying. Everywhere, nonstop.
"I have to—" she starts.
"Go!"
She leaves and you stand, throwing a quick prayer up to the now destroyed church, you follow behind.
Dip. Leap. Jump. And never falter.
There's some kind of horrid cry, then the sound of skin breaking and blood gushing, and you land on the rooftop with Hange and the others just in time to see the Female Titan grab onto the wall in an attempt to escape.
"Lieutenant!" Mikasa jumps off the roof as Armin screams something, but you follow her. She goes left, and you go right. With just the right angle, no need for any fancy spin or tricks, you cut through her fingers, pulling back. Mikasa lands on the titan's forehead, clearly relishing in her frightened expression as she speeds towards the ground so far below.
The most fearful part of you doesn't want to watch what happens next. But you do watch, like it's the finest entertainment you've ever seen.
And what you see, when Eren rips the titan's nape open, is…
A tiny blonde girl, crying.
You don't have any time to feel. No time to process that this tiny blonde girl single-handedly killed your entire team. No time to think through the fact that she's right down there, vulnerable and open, and you could kill her. If you wanted to. Do you want to?
No time at all. A blinding light forces you up, back against the wall to avoid getting blown away, and all you can make out in the light is the silhouette of Levi flying through the air and cutting Eren out from his nape.
No time at all, because when you come down, there is no woman to kill. Or scream at. Or hurt. All there is, is a cocoon.
Without knowing her reasons, you can't tell if she's a coward or a legionnaire for doing this to herself.
Her eyes are closed, she never even got to look you in the eye before hiding.
No time at all, and yet you still sink to your knees, one face buried in your hand, because you never thought success could taste so terrible.
Later, you get time.
Later, you tell the noblemen that there was no other way.
Later, you get a glimpse of Annie Leonhart being carted away in her safe haven and you realize with a start that you're more interested in knowing why she did what she did rather than taking her life before you can find out.
"I still don't get it," you say with a frown.
"And I still don't get how you don't get it," Jean responds, exasperated as he exchanges a look with Armin, who shrugs helplessly.
"There's really not much to explain, Lieutenant." He leans over the table, drawing another line on the paper. "It's just about who makes more boxes."
"But until we're near the end of the game, there's not much competition."
"We could…draw less dots, I suppose?"
You brighten slightly. "Sounds like a good idea."
Jean drops his head on the table with a groan as Armin begins to erase half of the dots on the page. You bite back a small smile. The two of them acting like this makes you feel much, much older than you actually are.
Now that mostly everyone has given their testimonies, there isn't much to do except wait for a verdict. With Erwin being cleared of all charges (which you're only slightly disappointed about), you figure that Eren's fate will hopefully be the same. Patience is a virtue. One that neither you nor the boys you're playing whatever this game is called with have.
You make a box on the page, marking your initials inside. You're not sure, but you think you're winning.
"How's Mikasa doing?" you question absentmindedly.
For a second, Jean looks away, while Armin answers. "I think she's still in Eren's room. They're both still recovering."
Something tells you that Mikasa isn't truly recovering the way she should be, but if it brings her comfort to see Eren alive and well, then there isn't really much you can say to protest. It's just, for whatever reason, you feel oddly protective of her. And Eren, and Armin, and Jean, and even little Krista who visits your favorite spot at the base every morning. Something's wrong with you, that's what's happening.
You're about to take your turn again, when loud, panicked voices suddenly sound outside the empty Mess Hall where you've been hiding out with the two baby Scouts.
Armin looks at you, confused, but just as you're about to stand, the doors burst open. Thomas, a man in Mike's squad, stands there with sweat running down his face. Your first instinct is to get him water, but you don't have any on hand.
"Thomas? Are you okay?" You rise, taking note of how terrified he looks. All of a sudden, you have a very bad feeling. No one in Mike Squad should be here.
"I have to alert everyone here," he pants, appearing as though he's about to collapse, "the titans have broken through Wall Rose!"