**written by: thesketchytepe**

11:23 PM

Annie shut the basement door behind her and stared at Armin over her shoulder. Her thick lips were ajar like she wanted to tell him something, but it was lodged deep in her throat, a grenade waiting to burst. He held onto her hand tightly and watched Berthold and Reiner hurry down the carpeted stairs before disappearing around the corner. He whipped back to Annie; she lowered herself onto the top step and gripped the hand that held hers. He did the same thing.

"Is this real?" she whispered to his face, hot air pushing against his lips as she rested her forehead against his.

The darkness made everything worse. It was much darker here in the basement than it was in the living room. He tried to focus on her snow-white skin, her lemon-colored hair, her electric blue eyes—anything other than the deep blackness that surrounded them, an army of fright closing in on them, readying to strike.

"I—I don't know," he breathed.

Historia was dead, that was a fact. But how did she die? There was so much blood and her skin so white; his stomach churned at the thought of it. And Eren, was he actually stabbed? He was also soaked in blood, though nothing to the extent of Historia. Was it his own or all hers? How severe were the wounds? Eren appeared genuinely horrified and was truly convinced there was someone out there. But Ymir wouldn't abandon Historia, would she? Where was she? Was she dead too? Was the killer someone they knew? Was Eren telling the truth? Was any of this real?

He swallowed, his tongue dry, his skin hot. The darkness crept into the edge of his vision and he felt the violent shaking of his own hands, despite Annie's strong clutch on him. His head felt warm and light as if he were a hot air balloon. If only he could float away from here, away from the Jaeger cabin and even further away from this everlasting darkness.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed to Annie in a strained whisper.

She hesitated, but then he felt her squeeze his hands even tighter and held them up a little higher. "Then I'll tell you what you're going to do."

He locked eyes with her as she murmured in a firm tone (though he could plainly see the dread behind her own stare): "You're going to act like everything's okay. Don't let the others know that you're just as lost as the rest of them—that'll upset them even more. They're going to look towards you for an answer and you can't let them down. If you tell them enough times that everything's going to be okay, then they'll start to believe you. It's like in history, right? A commander doesn't let his soldiers know that he's just as scared as the rest of them, that they're all at the brink of a hopeless death. Instead he tells them to stand for the cause they think is righteous. Don't let your soldiers panic, Armin. There's no time for that."

The words sunk into his brain and he repeated them over and over again as if he were studying for an exam. Don't let them know, everything's okay, don't panic—there's no time. Annie pressed her lips to his sweaty forehead.

"You've got this. You can do it."

He briefly wondered if that was a lie she conjured just to get him out there. But, like she said, there's no time to panic. He slowly withdrew from her and then stood up and walked down the steps. He stared out into the madness before them.

Eren was sitting on the loveseat against one wall with his pants halfway down, exposing a decent size tear in his right thigh. Marco sat next to him with the first-aid kit in his lap; he was currently pouring alcohol on Eren's wound while lightly swatting at it with a towel. Mikasa sat on the armrest, holding Eren's hand as he winced at the sharp pain flowing into his thigh; she also held up her phone's flashlight to help Marco inspect his work. Reiner had gently laid Historia down on another loveseat across from Eren, Mikasa, and Marco. He now had her blood soaked into his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were stuck on Historia's bloodied corpse. Berthold was standing off to the side with his hands covering his mouth, looking just as shocked as Reiner. Sasha was throwing a fit, sobbing hysterically, grabbing at her hair and clothes. She fell to her knees and crawled over to Historia. She reached out hesitantly to her but pulled away before collapsing into another panic attack. Connie was trying his best to control Sasha's hysterics, but was having a hard time just coming to terms with what just happened. He was pulling at her waist, trying to hold her down while aiming his phone at Historia, but it was like attempting to catch a panicked cat, darting from corner to corner at each noise it heard. Jean was pacing back and forth with his own head in his hands. He was mumbling something to himself, but it was hard to hear over all the other chaos.

Armin's eyes inched to Historia's body. His gut twisted and pulsed with a different kind of sickness as his gaze outlined the puddle of blood that was her stomach. Mud and leaves caked her clothes and hair, and he swore he spotted some beetle scuttle around her chewed-up ankle. He never saw her skin so white, so translucent; the blood was black and thick and, most likely, still warm. But her face was the most disturbing part of it all. Her eyes were open and her mouth was ajar. And those eyes—God, those clear, empty blue eyes—stared into space, trapped in a blackness that was much darker than the basement of the Jaeger cabin. What did she see before she died? Whose eyes was she forced to look into as she bled out? What filled her heart and spilled out of her veins in her final moments? Terror, anger, confusion, pain, betrayal—

Oh my God.

The sickness leapt to his throat and he slapped a hand over his mouth to keep it down. He ran away from everyone and into another room in the basement. It served as some office—probably for Grisha—with a long wooden desk and a chair on wheels on one side of the room and a wall of bookshelves on the other. He went for the small trash can right by the desk; he fell to his knees and threw his undigested dinner inside.

His hands trembled as they gripped the sides of the can and he could feel fat beads of sweat roll down his temples. His body was on fire and his limbs couldn't stop shaking. He tried going up for air, but Historia's eyes flashed across his mind again, and he puked once more. His head—his hot air balloon of a head—was starting to fly away, leaving the rest of his body on the ground to wither like a sunflower with no rain. His vision blurred in and out, in and out, and he slumped to the side with the sun on his back.

"Hey."

He felt Annie's hand run up and down his spine; she shifted around so that he was leaning on her instead of the floor. Her other hand was rummaging through her coat pocket; she fished out a small water bottle.

"This is from home," she confirmed. "Drink it."

He complied, nearly drowning the thing in four huge gulps. When he was finished, Annie took it and stuffed it back in her pocket. With his head tucked in the crook of her neck, he clung onto her waist desperately, breathing heavily. She simply held him in return, rubbing his back in slow circles, which felt really nice despite how shitty he felt now.

"I can't do this," he huffed. "I can't. Th-There's so much blood, and Eren is really hurt. Everyone's panicking—Sasha's broken, I mean, can't you hear her screaming? And, oh my God, her eyes. Historia's eyes—they're so…bright and glossy and-and somehow aware. She's dead, Annie, and we're next. I don't know if Eren's a part of this, but I know someone else will die. Ymir's probably dead now."

Tears lined his eyes. "Annie, I can't do this."

"Yes, you can."

"No. This isn't—I don't know what I'm fucking doing."

"Armin."

Her voice was hard, rock solid, maybe a little aggravated. It was clear that she wasn't going to let him win this argument. Her free hand reached up and cradled the back of his head which was probably drenched in his own sweat by now.

"You can turn the tide of wars," she explained slowly, making each word count. "If anyone can figure out a way of such a complicated or ambiguous scenario, it's you. It's not about who can withstand the sight of blood or who can kick his way through a brick wall—it's always the plan, the thinking process that saves people's lives. I got your back, but you have to get us there. You will get us there. Your worth is priceless and no one else can do this but you."

They sat there in silence for a moment, hearing Sasha's loud crying and Jean's confused yelling and Eren's painful curses. Armin closed his eyes as another tear slipped down his cheek. He concentrated on Annie's hand on his back and hung onto her words for motivation. A shaky sigh escaped his lips.

You can turn the tide of wars.

He placed a slow kiss on her neck and finally straightened up. He felt her eyes on him as he staggered back to his feet, wiping away the mess off his face with his sleeves. He offered a hand and she took it. He kissed her knuckles and gave her a shaky smile before letting her go and walking back into the madness.

"Shit, what are we gonna do?" Reiner finally spoke for the first time since Eren came back from outside. "We can't just sit here."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Jean yelled back, throwing his hands in the air. "The guy's a crazy psychopath with a knife! He knows we're here and will kill the rest of us in order to get to Eren."

"Jean, calm down," Marco snapped. "You yelling isn't helping anyone right now."

"Connie was right about reception," Berthold added. He pulled his phone away from his ear. "I can't reach anyone."

"Fucking fantastic," Jean grumbled and continued to angrily pace around.

"Guys, I'm sorry," Eren muttered. "This is all my fault. I should've known better than to bring friends to my dad's cabin. Everyone in town wants me dead and I've only dragged you guys into it by bringing you here. I…" He shook his head and whipped at his eyes. "I didn't mean for this to happen. We were supposed to hang out and have fun, but now Historia's dead and Ymir's missing. All because of me."

"You didn't know," Mikasa soothed. "You had no way of knowing this would happen. It's not your fault."

"This wasn't some freak accident, Eren," Marco agreed with Mikasa. "This was a planned murder. And we're your friends; we're gonna get out of this together."

"But how?" Eren paused to gasp at Marco smearing away the blood running down his leg. The doctor-in-training then pulled out a roll of bandages and began wrapping them around Eren's thigh. "I-I don't think that rock killed him and he's probably heading this way now. What if he has accomplices?"

"We have to do something, Eren!" Reiner barked. "We're sitting ducks down here."

A small pause squeezed its way into the conversation, but it was pushed back by the broken sobs of Sasha.

"S-She was supposed to get married."

Everyone looked at her kneeling next to the couch Historia laid on. She was holding her hand as if it were made of glass, observing all the harm done to it. They didn't require night vision to know that Sasha's cheeks dripped with her own tears or to see the shattered expression on her face.

"What?" whispered Connie. He had given up on trying to hold Sasha back. He now sat in a puddle in the middle of the floor, staring at the back of her head.

Sasha turned to them. "Ymir told me that she was going to propose to Historia next summer on their Europe trip. They were supposed to go to Paris and in front of the Eiffel Tower, she would propose to her. But…but now she can't. Historia can never finish her business degree or go on her Europe trip or marry Ymir. She's dead…oh my God, what is Ymir gonna do?"

The basement became a cave and Sasha's confession became a single drop of water. It reverberated in their ears among the heavy silence and it reminded them of how large, how hopeless the situation seemed to be.

"Fuck," Eren whispered into the abyss. Connie and Reiner pushed their heads into their hands and Mikasa simply bowed her head and closed her eyes. Armin felt the sickness bubble in his stomach again and his heart dropped into it, nearly boiling himself alive. But he swallowed it down as best he could, took a long, deep breath, and then walked toward Historia.

"Reiner's right," he muttered. "We can't just stay here; we're waiting to die down here."

He stooped in front of her body and forced himself to look at her, into her eyes. He would now have to see through them and picture what exactly happened to her and who she saw in her final moments. Could he imagine the pain and fear correctly? He'd have to, if he were to figure this out.

His fingers reached out and lightly brushed down on her eyelids. Despite her paper white skin and the gory mess that ate at her body, she looked like she was in a deep sleep now.

"We have to find Ymir and get help," Armin said as he stood back up and faced the others lingering in the darkness.

Connie was right, however, he thought to himself. Ymir wouldn't have been too far behind Historia. There's a good possibility that she's dead too. His heart sunk heavily at the thought, but there wasn't enough time to properly mourn for her yet, so he dragged onward for the sake of everyone else in the room.

He glanced at Eren in the dark. Marco had just finished wrapping up his thigh and he was looking at it with a cringy expression as if the sharp sting of alcohol still bubbled in the wound. I still don't trust Eren. I can't forget what I saw in that box. He has to have a part in all of this, right? Is there even a killer outside? Is someone else helping him? Would Eren seriously stab himself just to prove a point? He's reckless, that's for sure. Maybe it would be safer if the others went outside and searched for this "killer" than to be stuck in here with him. Nevertheless, we have to find out what happened to Ymir and get help. Get help no matter what.

His eyes drifted to Annie near the staircase. She was mostly shrouded in the darkness, yet he could still see her pale blond hair, wrapped up in a messy bun on the top of her head. She was staring at him, awaiting his command, and, as he peeked at everyone else, so were they.

"Yeah, thanks for the tip, Sherlock," Jean muttered. "But how are we gonna do that? There's a psycho out there and we have nothing to defend ourselves with and all our phones are shit."

"Not to mention that we're stuck in the middle of nowhere," Connie moaned into the ground.

"We know that Historia and Ymir were heading to the barn, right?" Armin reminded them. "Eren found Historia outside with the killer. So, obviously, they somehow got split up and Ymir probably ran for safety in the barn. She's most likely still there."

"How are we gonna get to her with that guy still running around?" Reiner prompted.

"We need to distract the killer. I propose we send out three groups while another stays here, in case Ymir comes back. One group should head out the back door and sneak around the cabin and go get Ymir at the barn. Another group should try and throw the killer off our scent. They could take one of our cars and start driving around aimlessly in the woods, making as much noise and commotion as possible. He's on foot and has a knife—we'll have a huge advantage over him with a vehicle, the bigger the better in this case. And the third group needs to go and get some help. I think our best shot is to take another car and head towards the highway, where the reception is better. They'll call 911 and stay on the highway and wait for the police to show up. They'll be safer there anyhow, instead of staying here in the cabin or running around in the woods."

"So the group that goes to get Ymir would probably be the most vulnerable in this scenario," Marco thought aloud, pinching his chin. "True that the killer will most likely be on the second group's tail, but they have a car. They could just hit him and be done with it."

"We'll probably want to keep him alive. We don't want the tables to turn on us for whatever reason. If we screw this up, the cops may make us all suspects of killing Historia."

Sasha gasped beside Armin on the floor and he looked down at her. Her cheeks were shiny with tears and her ponytail was loosened, her hair sticking to her wet cheeks.

"They wouldn't think that, would they?" she cried. "How could they? Historia is our friend." Her eyes flew to Annie. "The cops wouldn't think we killed her, would they?"

Armin watched Annie through his bangs as she stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. "If someone reports a crime, usually the first suspects are the ones who called it in. Keeping the killer alive is the better option so Eren and Ymir can confirm that he's the guy that killed Historia and, if we're lucky enough, he'll confess to the crime." She shrugged. "Depends on how cocky he is."

"Who would be fucking proud of committing a crime, of killing someone?" Connie growled as he dug his fingers into the carpet.

"More than you'd think," Annie answered lowly.

A moment of silence passed before Mikasa spoke up. "Marco has a point. How would the first group, the one getting Ymir, protect themselves in case anything slipped up?"

Armin pondered. "Maybe we'll have the group distracting the killer run by the barn and pick them up along with Ymir. They'd have to make a quick getaway, but it'd be safer than running by foot back, especially if Ymir's injured in any way."

An idea popped in his brain. "Wait, Eren, do you know if your dad's guns are still here?"

Eren peeked up at him and paused, deciphering what he meant. His eyes suddenly lit up like cat's in the dark. "Oh yeah! They should still be in his office."

He struggled to get up from the couch and, remembering that he had been sitting there with his pants halfway down this entire time, twisted around to pull them back up and adjusted his belt. Mikasa stood up with him as did Marco. Eren grunted a little at the sudden movement, but limped pass the staircase and into the office rapidly.

"Uh, quick question," Connie called out, lifting his head from the floor and looking Eren's way. "Why does your dad have guns here? Guns, as in plural."

"My dad and mom were super into nature and shit," Eren answered from the darkness ahead. "That's why they built this cabin here. But animals roam around here all the time: raccoons, deer, rabbits, all sorts of stuff. My dad would sometimes hunt while out here and he kept his guns in his office."

Eren limped back out of the office with two guns in his hands, a hunting rifle and a shotgun. He set them on the ground and then went back into the darkness only to reappear a second later with two ammunition boxes. He slowly lowered onto one knee and began filling the magazines with shells.

"When I got old enough," he continued, "Dad showed me how to use these and I went on some hunting trips with him. Mom didn't want me to get hurt, obviously, but I ended up being a pretty good shot."

"Thank God for Armin's memory," Reiner said, sending a grin his way. "You might've just saved our lives, buddy." He slapped his bicep in a friendly manner, but his huge hand left it aching for a moment or two.

"So, what?" Jean asked. "How are we gonna distribute two guns among us?"

"Maybe one for the group that's getting Ymir and the other to the one that'll distract the killer?" Marco suggested. "Those positions have to take the most risks."

Armin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds like the best."

"So…who's going in which group?" Jean finally asked the inevitable.

Silence once again drowned the basement, anxieties rising up. Armin glanced at each worried face and then opened his mouth to speak, but Reiner beat him to it, raising a bloodied hand above his head.

"I'll go and distract the killer. I've used a shotgun in the past; I know how to use those things." He paused and then turned to Annie. "Annie will come with me. She knows how to use those things too, probably more than—"

"No."

Reiner frowned at her sharp response. "No? What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not going with you."

Reiner glared at her and took a step forward, pointing a finger at her. "You may not like it, but you and I are the best ones for the job. We can use those guns just fine and you beat people up all the time. You're almost a cop, Annie. This will be a part of your career, so what better way than to start hunting down a crazy killer than now."

She hissed back at him, "I'm not going, Reiner. Have someone else go with you; your thick skull alone could scare the guy off."

"This isn't the time to argue, Annie! You're coming with me, alright!"

Armin's shoulders sagged at Reiner's points. They made sense and Reiner would probably win everyone else over and urge Annie to go. But the threat wasn't outside—he was in this very room, hurriedly sliding shells into the shotgun like he was being helpful. Annie was prepared to take care of Eren if things came to that, but…if she stayed by Armin's side like he asked her to, she could get hurt too.

He sighed quietly. "Annie, you—"

"I'll go with you, Reiner," Berthold interrupted, raising his own hand.

Everyone, including Reiner, Annie, and Armin, were surprised by Berthold's bold gesture. Reiner snapped his head to his boyfriend.

"What? No, you can't—"

"I can work with shotguns, too, you know," Berthold reasoned. "You, me, and Annie go on hunting trips ourselves, remember? I'm not afraid of handling one. And Annie wants to stay with Armin, and I'm not the one to separate them, especially at a time like this. And who am I to let you go a very dangerous path without me by your side?" He inhaled, his breath trembling like he were caught in a cold gust. "I'm going with you, no matter what you say."

Reiner stuttered and turned to Annie, expecting her to interrupt Berthold, but she didn't. Armin could see the worry clear in her eyes; her lips were pursed as if she wanted to say something to change Berthold's mind.

Berthold stepped back into Reiner's line of sight. "I'm going with you, Reiner." As if for good measure, he bent down and grabbed the shotgun out of Eren's hands and finished shoving the shotgun shells into the gun. He snapped it into place and nodded at Reiner.

"We can do it."

Reiner stared at him for a long time, but eventually nodded back, though slowly and unsure.

"I'll go get Ymir," Marco volunteered next.

Jean snapped to him. "Like hell you are."

Marco glared back at him. "Why wouldn't I go? She needs our help, Jean, and I can do that."

"No, you should go to the highway and get help or stay here and wait for Ymir to come back."

"Those are the safest options, but Ymir needs help now. What if she's injured like Armin said? I could bring my kit and help her as best I can. I can offer medical help, so getting Ymir is the best option for me."

Jean stared at Marco with the same worry that Reiner gave Berthold. "But-but, what about…how can you—"

Marco squeezed both of Jean's hands and locked eyes with him, confidence and bravery shining through his gaze. "I can do this, Jean. Trust me on this; helping people is what I want to do with my life, even if I must risk it for others."

Jean stared at his eyes and then at their hands. Armin thought he saw a tear glistening in his dark eyes, but he quickly turned away before he could confirm it.

"Shit!" he yelled into the dark. "Fuck!" He huffed and paced around some more, hands on his hips, his stare drilling holes into the carpeted floor. He finally stopped and turned back to Marco. "Then I'll go with you."

Marco blinked. "Are you sure? We have to be quiet and carry a rifle with us."

Jean hesitated but nodded. "Yeah, I can handle a gun. I'll be fine, I just…gotta go with you. I can't let anything happen to you."

Marco looked at Jean for a while. He seemed to be searching for something in Jean's clearly anxious expression, perhaps an excuse for him not to go. He searched hard, but ultimately failed to find anything as a defeated sigh escaped through his lips. He then straightened up and grabbed Jean's hand again and gave it another squeeze.

"We got this," he whispered to him.

Eren then showed Jean and Marco how to fire and reload the rifle—Marco paid attention carefully and asked questions when needed and Jean tried paying attention as well, but his hands shook so bad that Marco offered to carry the gun for now.

As they finished wrapping up, almost in unison did Sasha and Connie bolt up from their spots on the ground and declare, "I'll go get help."

Their heads whipped toward one another, but, like the soulmates they were, a look was exchanged to which the other seemed to understand completely without any words having to be said. Sasha faced Armin and told him, "I have to do this, for Historia and for Ymir. I'll get Ymir help and, in this way, I'd help avenge Historia."

Connie huffed a big sigh, his shoulder raising and falling with it. "We'll be quick; we'll be alright."

"Are you guys sure?" Armin asked. "If you—"

"I have to do this for them, okay?" Sasha interrupted a little louder than necessary. "I just have to."

With the faraway look in her eyes, it seemed like she was trying to convince herself more than Armin. But he didn't talk back. He understood that he couldn't stop her, so he wouldn't even try.

They all hugged each other before Sasha, Connie, Jean, Marco, Reiner, and Berthold departed. They were long and hard and tears fell like waterfalls. Even Jean, who wasn't really fond of physical affection (except when it came to Marco, of course), sprung a few tears as he tightly embraced Connie and Sasha, the veins in his arms bulging at the closeness he shared with them.

Reiner and Berthold held Annie for a very long time—she almost entirely disappeared behind Reiner's muscular arms and Berthold's long, skinny back. But Armin did see her tiny fists grip at their shirts and a strip of blonde hair fall over Reiner's bicep. His heart sunk once more. He was asking too much of her: not only was she restricted to staying by his frail, little pathetic side, but she had to give up her friends for his sake. Annie was in a greater risk of danger while staying with him, down here in the dark with Eren and Mikasa. The regret was starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders, and he knew it wasn't going to get any lighter.

Armin thanked Reiner and Berthold as many times as he could, he held onto Jean and Marco so tightly his body ached a little bit after he withdrew, and he cried along with Sasha and Connie, who were always so full of smiles and jokes—it was troubling to see them this way. Mikasa also held onto their friends with a somber expression; she embraced Sasha the longest, running her fingers through Sasha's auburn hair.

Eren thanked them all and apologized as well. He roughly patted Jean's back as he hugged him as if they were good friends and didn't bicker at every chance they got. He wiped away Sasha's tears and smiled wobbly at her, saying that she was going to be just fine. He thanked Marco for being a wonderful friend and a great human being as he squeezed his shoulders. He was spreading as much love and positivity as he could as if this was really their last time all together.

Once Reiner, Berthold, Sasha, Connie, Marco, and Jean quietly climbed up the stairs and embarked on their impossible mission, a different kind of silence fell between Armin, Annie, Mikasa, and Eren. They exchanged looks at one another before their eyes eventually fell back on Historia's body, on her bloody sleeping form.

"They'll be fine," Eren said into the darkness. "They'll come back."

Armin could only pray that he was right.