Chapter 21. When The Levee Breaks

A/N: Wow. So, unlike the previous chapter, I cranked this guy out in two days. But I'll utterly drained. Heavy angst ahead. I can't believe this thing is almost done, guys! I've so enjoyed going on this ride with you all. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me through it, and to everyone just arriving for their kind words and support!

This was it. This was how she died.

One minute she was standing, the next she was flat on her back, all the wind driven from her lungs. For a moment, all she could do was roll onto her side and hold very, very still.

After a moment, when her breath had returned some, confusion set in. She should be dead, or at the very least spluttering blood. Her chest really fucking hurt…

Tentatively, Mikasa tucked her chin and peered down at her person. There was...there was no blood. In fact, there was no wound at all. Still, her fingers fumbled along her shirt, pressing and prodding. She hissed in a breath when she crossed over her sternum. Bruised, but she could breathe alright, so probably not broken.

"I'm fine," she mumbled mindlessly. And she was. She was absolutely fine. She should have been dead. "I'm...fine…"

Someone was yelling. She sat up too quickly, her head pounding in protest. Efran had his back to her, his stance defensive. Rikard, nose bloody, mirrored his pose. "Look! Just look!" he was yelling, pointing at her. Efran, of course, was not about to turn his back to an enemy, and rushed in for another attack.

"Efran!"

The man lurched mid stride, whipping around in a near comical fashion at the sound of her voice. His eyes bulged, mouth twisting. "Sweet fucking shit." Rikard forgotten, he rushed to her side, falling to his knees and taking her face in his hands. "Lovely, are you alright?"

The fall had done more damage, it seemed, than the actual gun. Her coccyx was sore, and no doubt she'd have a nasty goose egg on the back of her head. The most egregious injury remained the cut across her bicep—it had finally stopped bleeding, but a surprising amount of blood had soaked down her arm.

"I'm alright," she replied. Efran tried to offer his arm as she stood, but she brushed him away, eyes searching the area.

She couldn't see Levi. Or Rubie.

There was a strange feeling of emptiness inside her, as if a background noise had suddenly shut off, thus making her aware of its presence in the first place. She reached out for that familiar connection, but the action suddenly felt silly––like she were leaping from a height sans her gear and expecting to fly. The feeling troubled her, inspired a mild panic, and she sought harder for his presence.

There was no bond.

Efran was speaking to Rikard, angry again. "You wanna fucking explain?"

The redhead sighed, eyes fluttering in exasperation. "I was trying to tell you." His fingers prodded at his damaged nose. "Fuck, I think you broke it."

"Did you a favor, gingersnap. Now you don't look so much like a fucking vulture—"

"Where's Levi?"

The inquiry froze both men, and something in her knew.

"Efran. Efran, where is Levi?" It was all she could do to keep her voice even.

Efran opened his mouth to reply but didn't speak, the words seemingly caught in his throat. She didn't miss the brief glance he sent the bluff's edge. She looked herself, back to him; the look on his face was enough of an answer. A strangled exhale left her involuntarily, and for a moment all she could do was stare at the ledge.

"He drove them both over," he murmured.

No one said anything for a moment, not even Rikard. She gave the edge her back, walking toward the rocky slope up which she'd chased Rubie. Efran called her name, but she ignored him, mind elsewhere. Stopping, she turned back to the gorge, standing where he had been. He had been right here. She looked to her left, saw the patch of ice she'd slipped on.

"Mikasa," Efran said again.

From here, she guesstimated about six yards lay between where Rubie had stood with the gun and where she'd slipped on the ice; both an equal distance to her current position. Like a triad. He drove them both over.

"I made a blank," Rikard said suddenly. "The kid. Dennard. She was having some kind of fit in her cell. Started saying things she had no possible way of knowing, and then she was talking about seeing you die." He gestured toward Mikasa, a bleak chuckle leaving his lips. "Rubie was gonna shoot you, no way around it. At least, that's what she saw in the vision. I needed time, a distraction."

"She transformed," Mikasa supplied.

Rikard nodded. "Even still, I barely had enough time to pull the bullet. I used wood for the wad. That's what gave you that bruise." He pointed at his own chest. "Bulleted blanks aren't quite as loud as with a bullet, but a bigger crack than powder alone. It needed to look realistic."

"Well it looked pretty fuckin' realistic," Efran spat. "Why all the theatrics? Why carry a fucking gun in the first place?"

Exasperation overcame Rikard's face, his hands flying up in a gesture of submission. "Look, I thought about that to. Believe you fucking me. But that kid was telling me about things that she couldn't have known about. Said this kind of shit has happened before and there's no stopping it. So I wasn't about to go deviating from her instructions."

"What shit?"

"The visions!"

Efran turned to Mikasa, clearly looking for her to share in his dubiety. He was met with her neutral expression.

"I believe you," Mikasa said. "She saw her father's death, too." She looked out to the gorge once more, mind still whirring. Dennard didn't see this. She would have seen this...wouldn't she?

Both men were squabbling again, their words only partly reaching her as she made her way back to the ledge to give the river a proper look. It widened at this point, but she had no way of telling how deep it was. Large rocks lined the marge, framing the water like ugly, black denticles. Impact with one of them, even the flat ones, would be fatal.

But if he'd driven them both far enough, if they'd landed just so in the current, maybe then…

Mikasa turned back to the men. They were watching her. "You need to find Hanji," she told Efran.

"Yes, that's probably best," he replied, nodding grimly.

"And warn her about these stalactites," she added, gesturing at the calcified stakes hanging above their heads. "It's probably best to avoid them with ODM gear."

Rikard shifted awkwardly, glancing between them as if waiting for someone to decide he was next to throw into the drink. He fell into step beside Efran, who followed Mikasa as she passed, both men thinking she was leaving with them.

Only when she reached Levi's old vantage did she turn on her heel and sprint back for the edge. She suddenly wished for Armin's mind—no doubt he'd be able to calculate the correct angle, the right velocity. Or, maybe, he'd just tell her this was suicide and she should keep her feet on land.

Too late now. If she leapt too far, she risked landing on the far rocks; too short, and she'd meet a similar fate on the bank below. Efran was calling her name, yelling for her to stop. She caught Rikard's exclamation of "fucking Ackermans" right before she sailed over the brink.

It wasn't a big drop, and she'd free-fallen much greater heights while killing Titans, but the absence of her gear seemed to make it far more thrilling—there was no safety net here, no room for error.

The river, she found, was rather deep; the water so cold, that for a brief moment she was convinced she'd miscalculated and hit something solid, that the gelid burn was actually her body breaking apart and splitting across some unyielding surface.

A pained gasp tore from her throat as she broke the surface, water assaulting her nostrils and mouth as the river pulled and pummeled her down its winding course. Hydrous hands dragged her under again, spinning her head over foot until she didn't know up from down. She needed to orient herself, needed to regain control.

Salvation came in the form of a large boulder in the middle of the stream, and she only just managed to wrench herself around to avoid meeting its surface with her head. Her legs slammed against the rock, fingers grappling for purchase against its slick surface. She was now wrapped around the boulder, head submerged, the water continuing its relentless pound against her back. Just as her lungs began to beg for air, Mikasa's fumbling hand finally clasped around a notch, and she managed to haul her torso up onto the wet stone.

Shivering violently, Mikasa clung to the boulder as she regained her breath. She grit her teeth in an attempt to stop them from clattering together so violently, but she was too short of wind to breathe through her nose. Her arm hurt, the cold water irritating the cut, but at least some of the blood had been cleaned away. After giving herself a moment to recover, she lifted her weak head to observe her surroundings.

The river had carried her a surprising distance from where she'd leapt––testimony to its celerity. The channel had widened some; the current wasn't as violent here, though it was far from calm. Ahead, a much larger rock than the one she clung to protruded from the water, bisecting the river's flow––the larger half continued downstream, while the narrower flowed into a deep cove. Directly above, the walls of the gorge curved toward each other to form a narrow viaduct—a natural bridge above the river.

There was no sign of Levi or Rubie. The bond was non-existent––a fact that, should she allow herself to think too hard on it, left her with the mortifying urge to weep, in part because she had absolutely no idea how she was going to find him now. Leaping had been thoughtless––instinctive. Now that she was here, the very real possibility that she wouldn't find him dogged her mind.

Just as a wild panic started to claw its way up her insides, Mikasa's ears picked up a sound above the river's clamor. She pressed herself closer to the rock, trying to listen for anything above the water. It had been faint, but she was certain she'd heard someone yell. She needed to move––staying on the rock was doing her no favors, and she could no longer feel her bottom half in the frigid water. Making for the cove seemed like her best option.

Extricating herself from her current position proved difficult, however. Once again she would need to time it; if she could ride the current to the other rock, she could maneuver from there into the cove, but overshooting it too far to the left and she'd be swept farther downstream.

Another yell.

There was no denying it now: someone was out there. A renewed sense of intention woke within her, propelling her forward and away from the safety of the boulder. It was easier to keep her head above the current this time, now that she was in charge of her course and not leaping from a great height.

This rock was less smooth than the previous and therefore easier to grip on to. Her legs were well and truly numb at this point, and for one fearful moment she worried she wouldn't be able to keep herself afloat. The water became dramatically shallower as she hauled herself closer to the cove, and she nearly fell over herself when her feet connected with the smaller rocks lining the bed's floor.

Finding her footing, she pushed away from the boulder, wading toward the cove and away from the main tributary. She stumbled a few more times on the dark, uneven rocks, but the water here was still and shallow and therefore easier to tread.

The river continued its ceaseless bellow behind her; but the cove, with its rocky overhang, cupped and carried sound from its recesses. The yelling was more discernable here—she recognized Rubie's voice. She was shouting something unintelligible. Talking to someone.

Levi.

Impelled, Mikasa continued deeper into the cove, the water now at her hips. A craggy slope to the left of the inlet caught her eye—it appeared to be the only point of progress, and judging by the freshly-dampened rocks along its surface, it had been recently utilized.

Rubie's voice became more distinct as she pulled herself onto the rocky gradient, and she paused to listen for its location. Above. It was coming from above. On all fours, she clambered up the rocks, looking ahead to see how the path curved around and disappeared above the overhang. They were up there. On the viaduct.

"There will be others like me!"

Rubie sounded frantic, angry. Mikasa hurried up the slope, cursing each time her shins scraped against the rock when she slipped.

"They'll only use you! I can help you to realize your full potential!"

She heard Levi then, the low timbre of his voice making her chest flip. She couldn't decipher his words, however, and determined he must be facing the opposite way from Rubie. She continued her ascent up the rock, following the slope's hairpin curve all the way around to where it opened up to a narrow crossing.

The rock bridge she'd viewed from the river now lay before her, and Levi stood at its end; he had his back to her, blocking Rubie, who stood halfway down the bridge. She faltered mid speech, her green eyes going wide as she caught sight of Mikasa. Levi noticed the expression on the redhead's face, and he sent a brief glance to whatever had captured her attention. Then he looked again.

All the color left his face. He could only stare at her, expression so gut-wrenchingly raw, his eyes widening to an extreme which she'd never seen on him before. In the corner of her eye, Mikasa saw Rubie bend to her boot. She cried out too late, hand coming up in a futile gesture. Rubie freed the knife from its holster and hurled it across the viaduct where it landed in Levi's side. He gasped in agony, hitching forward at the impact.

"No!" Mikasa nearly stumbled over her own feet in her race across the rock to his side. He stumbled and she caught him by the shoulders, holding him steady. It felt strange, touching him like this without the presence of the bond; almost like its absence focused her sense, heightened it. Real.

"Mikasa," he breathed, one hand leaving the blade to clasp at her elbow, leaving a bloody streak across her skin. "How…?"

"I'm here." Her throat was tight, voice a reedy rasp. She cupped his face, and he let out a shuddering breath, as if her touch were the proof he needed that she was real. "I'm here."

Rubie was retreating farther across the bridge, periodically peering over its side as if gauging the distance to the river; she was trapped between them and the far wall of the gorge. The only way out was down.

Something cold pressed itself against Mikasa's arm, and she looked down to see Levi offering her the hilt of the knife he'd just pulled from his side. Her eyes flew to his, searching.

"Here," he grunted, pressing more insistently and jerking his chin toward Rubie. "Make that practice count."

Taking the blade, Mikasa returned her gaze to Rubie, suddenly incredibly thankful for all those hours she'd spent hurling knives at a target board in the training room.

Rubie leaned over the edge, eyes moving, calculating. Her long hair had come free from its customary braid, hanging wet and tangled across her back and shoulders. She pulled herself straight, a resolute purpose to her movements. She was going to leap. Her gaze returned to the Ackermans for a parting look.

That's when Mikasa threw the knife.

It landed with a sickening thud just to the left of Rubie's breastbone. Her eyes bulged, a short huff of air forcing itself from her lungs. Tucking her chin, she looked down to observe the weapon protruding from her person. Then she groaned, the sound one of frustration rather than pain. Her hands lifted, shaking wildly about the hilt but not touching it.

"God," she croaked, mouth contorting in sorrow. Tears flooded her eyes, accentuating their color. She lifted those emerald orbs to Mikasa. "Wait…"

Blood oozed down the front of her robe, staining the crimson material a deep garnet. She stumbled then, knees buckling, and for a moment it appeared as if she would keel over the side of the bridge; but she remained standing. Mikasa took a step onto the viaduct, some dark desire to watch the woman's face urging her forward.

Suddenly, there came a terrible rumble from above their heads. Mikasa glanced at the ceiling, and the grumbling cut off abruptly—suspended. She looked back to Rubie, the woman's face turned upward in horrific awe. The stalactite seemed to fall in slow motion, descending through the air like a great, chthonic blade.

Rubie was on her knees, knife still buried in her chest. "Mother," she breathed, and Mikasa could only stand in horror as the spike impaled itself through the woman's shoulders, down the length of her torso.

For a moment, there was a dreadful stillness, as if everything were a mistake. It felt like a mistake. A big, cosmic mistake in the form of a three-meter-long spear. The unexplainable urge to cry stole through Mikasa. She heard Levi's labored breathing just behind her, his own shock palpable in those quiet exhalations.

Then the ground shifted. Or, rather, the bridge did.

Angry fissures split down the rock, slabs of stone breaking free and plummeting to the river below. The impact from the stalactite seemed to be more than the rock overpass was able to withstand, and it began to crumble at a dangerous rate.

"Mikasa, get back!" Levi barked, his hand grasping her arm and pulling her to him.

For the second time that day, Mikasa was knocked off her feet; the floor disappeared, the feeling of weightlessness making her feel sick in her stomach.

Levi reached for her madly, his face nigh unrecognizable in its alarm. She clawed upwards, fingers seeking and finding purchase on his arm.

And for a moment he had her.

Then they were both falling, tumbling with the rock to land in the river once more. Mikasa writhed, taking in water through her nostrils, gagging as she surfaced only to be dragged under again.

Never had she felt such unbridled panic. Even in her closest calls with Titans, she had never felt this kind of fear, this extent of desperation. Because she just couldn't surface. She'd cheated death many times and now it had come to collect its due.

And it was so dark. Dark and very cold, the water holding her down and twisting her out like a rag. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see. It was a very lonely thing, and some vestige of rage stirred in her at the thought. Levi wasn't here. She had held his hand and then he was gone.

And she wanted to cry. She wanted to weep, but she couldn't breathe.

•••

He'd thought her some cruel specter; a fabricated facsimile his mind had crafted to torment him.

The knife in the side had been decidedly real, though. And so were her hands, cold and tender against his face. He'd looked at her and saw reflected in her eyes the same things he had wanted to say but never did. And he thought that, too, was cruel.

The current carried him deeper through the gorge, the sky above disappearing behind rock, leaving only water and darkness. He was disoriented, light-headed––though that was more likely due to blood loss. The wound was deep, but her aim had been shit and the knife had been small. The possibility of him bleeding out in this river was high, however.

Levi's voice was barely discernible to his own ears above the river, yet he continued to call out for Mikasa. Each time only the roar of the water replied.

The watercourse dipped suddenly, submerging him for a moment. When he broke the surface again, the sky was visible, the light restored to the gully. The river was far more savage at this point in its course; far wider than farther back up the channel. This would be much more difficult, if not impossible, to escape from.

And then he saw her, pale arms reaching, dark head dipping under the water only to emerge once again. Ignoring the pain in his side, he began to broadstroke with the current, pausing every so often to check his position to her.

Kenny's voice, of all things, entered his mind as he struggled to keep his head above the surface. Loyalty will make you weak, and weakness will get ya killed, kid.

A bone-deep exhaustion crept over him. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt this physically spent. His vision was blurred, Mikasa's form no longer visible in the rapids ahead. And he knew it was pointless, but he called out for her.

Her name was stolen midway from his mouth as he suddenly collided into something in the water. Euphoric, he thought it to be Mikasa, but then the thing curled around him.

Levi's stomach clenched terribly as he was pulled from the river to meet the colossal face of a Titan. "Fuck," he breathed, more pissed than anything. The strangest urge to laugh overcame him; after it all, of course a fucking Titan should be the thing to kill him. It was too fitting, really.

But it wasn't eating him. An abnormal. It held him in the palm of its hand, regarding him carefully with its amber-colored eyes…

"Dennard," he croaked, the urge to laugh still there.

The Titan's yellow gaze shifted, and he craned his neck to see the dark-haired form she held in her other hand. Something shifted within him, burning through the haze of debility from before; no sooner had Dennard lowered her hand to the ground, than he was scrambling across to Mikasa.

Dennard's Titan had begun to steam, and for once he was grateful for the much needed heat the giant remains could offer. He didn't wait to see the girl herself emerge, however, focus entirely on Mikasa. He kept a firm hand to his side, hissing in agony as he fell to his knees beside her. He brushed the hair from her face—her jaw felt so small in his hands, her skin too cold. Her pallor was disturbing, too.

"Oi, Mikasa," he prompted, turning her head to either side. He placed an ear to her nose. Nothing. He checked her pulse––the point at her neck and then with his ear to her chest. Nothing. "Shit."

Thirty compressions to her chest, one hand above the other, droplets of water flinging from his hair as he pressed. He went back to her face, tilting her head, fingers beneath her pale jaw. He pressed his mouth to hers, a grim parody of a kiss, and watched her ribs expand as he breathed for her. Another breath, and then he was back to compressions.

"Come on, brat. Wake the fuck up."

Twenty nine compressions. Thirty. Back to breathing. She remained unresponsive. Compressions again. Dennard had finally emerged from the steaming remains of her Titan and approached cautiously, the stricken look on her face making his gut seize.

"Oi, Mikasa. C'mon."

Twenty nine. Thirty.

"C'mon," he begged, delivering her a second breath. Still nothing. Back to compressions. "Come back to me. Come back, you stubborn woman."

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen...

The stab at his side screamed each time he pressed down, but he ignored it. Dennard had taken off running—maybe to find help. He didn't look up from his task to see.

"Please." His vision blurred, and he blinked rapidly to clear it as he bent to breathe for her again. "Come back to me, Mikasa." He grit his teeth against the pain and started again on the compressions.

One. Two. Three…

"Goddammit! Breathe!" His chest stuttered painfully, and he drew in a ragged gasp of air, voice emerging as a whisper, "I need you here, so wake the fuck up." Come back to me.

It was when he descended to breathe for her again that she spluttered to life. He reeled back to avoid the gurgle of water escaping her mouth.

Mikasa flipped onto all fours, hacking and wheezing; pulling in great, shuddering breaths. He suddenly had no idea what to do and merely stared dumbstruck as she collapsed onto her back again in an exhausted heap. Her glassy eyes rolled to him, dark lashes fluttering against her pale skin. She mumbled something.

His momentary spell of inaction broke, and Levi went to her, ignoring the protest from his side. He suddenly felt light-headed, lowering himself to his elbows for fear of keeling over on top of her. "What? Say it again." He hunched over her, his hands framing her face, thumbs tracing feather-light against her cheeks. They'd been like this before, in the training room. He'd wanted to kiss her then. Should have. "What did you say?"

"Efran says," she croaked, working her mouth a little before starting again. "Efran says you have a good singing voice." Her eyes fluttered closed, a gentle smile on her face. "Is he right?"

A hoarse laugh bubbled out of Levi's mouth, the sound morphing into a grunt of pain. Oh, he needed to lie down. He did so, right beside Mikasa, shoulder against hers. "Wouldn't you like to know, brat."

Black spots had started to encroach upon the fringe of his vision. His fingers groped his side, coming away slick with lifeblood. He felt as if some tether were being pulled from him through the wound; pulling and pulling and taking with it something precious, vital. Mikasa sighed beside him and he succumbed to the dark.

A voice, one he knew well, was saying his name. He listened carefully, trying to pick out the words through the black. It was calm and warm here in the dark, and some rational part of him knew that wasn't a good thing.

"You stay alive, you son 'a bitch."

Efran.

"We came all this damn way to get you, so don't fucking go now."

The ceiling was moving. No, that wasn't right. His head lolled to the side, vision swimming. A gurney. He was on a gurney. A twinge of annoyance moved through him, and he made to sit up. A hand stopped him, firm on his shoulder.

"Easy, cap. We got ya." Kirschtein. "You've lost some blood, so just hang tight for a bit."

He drifted in and out, Efran's constant barrage of threats and demands permeating his subconscious, disrupting his descent back into that dark place. He found it annoying. That was probably the intent.

They passed buildings, each an umber copy of the one before, bland and filthy. Even through his haze he could smell it—the fetor of the Underground's megalopolis. Time seemed to be turning back on itself; he was leaving the tunnels, departing the Redeemer hive and passing by the city-squalor of his birth, returning to the surface.

A group of civilians clung to the side of a particularly ramshackled establishment, their faces a wash of nebulous features and indiscernible in his state. He looked past them, searching for something but not recalling what.

A woman sat slightly apart from the others, rail-thin and dirty. An infant slept in her arms. Her hair was long and dark, her face partially hidden behind its curtain as she cooed to her child. As if sensing his eyes upon her, she looked up. The dark circles beneath a familiar slate gaze made her appear older than she probably was; but despite the sunkeness of her cheeks, the elasticity of youth remained. She looked tired, but not afraid. She smiled.

A/N: Ok, so, I did a lot of research for this scene. Like, a lot. For months. If you're interested/confused, I'll do a lil A/N at the beginning of next chap. I can hear you asking, much like Efran did, "if Dennard saw Rubie shoot Mikasa in her latest vision, why not skip the elaborate plan and just take Rubie out and prevent the whole thing?" Well, because (I really wanted to trick you) drama. Call me basic, idc. Thoughts? Ily all.