All the way down the steps—moving carefully this time—Eren kept his eyes pealed on the clouds, hoping to catch another glimpse of Corporal's dragon form. At one point he thought he saw something ruffling the tops of the trees over in the forest, but by the time he turned fully it was gone. Beyond that there was nothing but the occasional bird.

Truthfully, Eren was glad to step back into the boiler room. The concrete walls acted as a barrier between the barn and his desire to run back to it. And wouldn't that be stupid? Sneak over there without Corporal and get eaten by his own family. Eren grimaced, pushing the images forcefully from his mind.

Besides, his clothes were still damp from that impromptu showering and the oppressive heat immediately set to drying them. Connie and Sasha were still in the same positions he'd left them in, covered by the blankets he'd found. Despite his original plan Eren didn't actually want to wake them. In fact, with Corporal's instructions still ringing in his ears it felt natural to tuck the blankets more firmly around their frames, demonstrating the affection he wasn't sure he could maintain while they were awake. It was all he could think to do. Yeah, it was hot in here, but everyone needed a blanket to sleep with. The one he'd pulled out for Sasha was a scratchy red color similar to Mikasa's scarf. Eren felt a pang in his throat as he realized it was probably gone forever, ripped to shreds when she transformed.

He'd buy her another.

Friends taken care of, Eren snuck back to raid Connie's hidden stash of food. He had every intention of digging in—he'd apologize afterwards—when a voice sounded behind him.

"What are you doing down here?"

Eren shrieked, dropping the packet of crackers and accidentally crushing them underfoot. He whirled and very nearly cried out again. He'd gotten used to seeing weird, almost horrific things around the bathhouse: workers with vicious, animal characteristics, inanimate objects that taunted or cursed, spirits who hardly resembled anything life-like at all, and for the most part he'd gotten used to it—sort of. This guy was different though, through the mere fact that he looked real. Everyone else seemed like they'd stepped out of an imaginative child's nightmare… but this guy was from the stories Hannes had told.

He looked like he'd been in the war.

Overall he was surprisingly handsome, tall, lean, with healthy looking black hair that he'd parted straight down the middle. In the light of the boiler Eren could make out a scattering of freckles. Most would consider him cute too, one of those guys who could move seamlessly from elegant to adoringly dorky. Cliché as it sounded, Eren would bet a hell of a lot that he had a fantastic smile. Really, he was anyone's dream—minus, of course, the mutilations.

The guy wore a pink, puffed sleeved uniform just like Eren but his right sleeve fluttered under the boiler's steam. There was no arm there to steady it. Instead, there was in ineffective stump, covered in a mass of scars so thick the skin appeared to have been layered with hundreds of strips of paper-mache. The sleeve pulled up high for just a moment and Eren could see that the scarring continued to at least his shoulder, possibly farther. He'd pretty much bet on it because the right side of the guy's neck was equally cut up… as was the right side of his face. There was a hollow cavern where his eye was supposed to be.

The guy lifted his good arm to rub at the back of his head, then smiled. Yep. Eren blushed a little because damn, his smile was gorgeous.

"Sorry about all this," the guy said. He gestured to… well, everything. As if it were actually something apologize for. His voice was warm and sincerely regretful. "It has a tendency to freak people out."

"No. I'm good." Eren hastened to say. And he was. For all the disfigurements he really was handsome, enough that it sort of made up for his right side. Of course, as soon as Eren thought that he could have kicked himself. The guy seemed nice enough and he hadn't, you know, attacked him or threatened him or taken away his family. That made him awesome in Eren's book already, no matter what he looked like. Trying to stay firmly in the we're-totally-friends-so-don't-hurt-me sphere, he asked, "So you're…?"

The guy laughed. "I should be asking you that! It's obvious though. You're the human right?" He touched the side of his nose. Eren noted that a bit of the nostril was missing. "I can smell it on you. And ah, no offense, really, but you don't smell so great otherwise either." He laughed again, raising his hand at Eren's disgruntled expression. "Sorry. That was really rude wasn't it? I think Jean's starting to rub off on me."

Eren blinked. "Jean…wait. Are you Marco?"

"That's right! How—?"

"Jean told me about you. He… helped me."

Eren was hesitant to outright say that Jean had scurried him around the bathhouse before he'd officially been given a job. After all, Corporal had said to make allies but he'd never specified who it was safe to make allies with. He just supposed that he'd have to be smart about it and Eren's instincts regarding Marco proved well founded. The older boy's face settled into something resembling understanding. He nodded once before his grin returned, so large it snapped his scars taut.

"Well if Jean likes you, you must be pretty amazing. He hardly likes anyone." The grin settled into something fonder. Marco obviously didn't believe that. "Tell you what, why don't you head back upstairs with me? I've got some more scrubbing to do in the smaller tubs. They'd be just about your size, yeah? C'mon. You might still smell human but at least it won't be filthy human anymore." Marco laughed at Eren's growl. "I can get you some food too. You know, if you want. Bit better than stealing, yeah?"

Eren startled and looking down at the crushed crackers underfoot. Slowly, half horrified at what he'd see, he turned to face Sasha. Amazingly, she was still asleep. Connie too.

Their conversation had attracted others' attention though. At a familiar chirping Eren found maybe twenty or so of the soot creatures swarming his feet. They tugged happily at his laces. Three of them started an impromptu double-dutch. A few picked at the crumbs and nibbled them, eventually spitting them back out with high-pitched icky sounds.

One made eye contact, squeaking at him hopefully.

"Why are you always doing that when I don't have time to play?" he asked. Still, he bent and rubbed a finger over his head. Marco cleared his throat.

"That's what? Thirty more recommendations in your favor? I'm sold. Come have breakfast with me."

Eren hesitated. "Sure," he finally said.

A bath and food… you couldn't beat that deal. A small, tentatively logical part of Eren hissed that he shouldn't just follow any spirit that beckoned him but Marco wasn't any spirit, was he? He was Jean's boyfriend, probably knew Hanji as well, and best of all, he hadn't immediately run off to inform someone that the newbie human was sneaking around while everyone else slept. Even just watching him stand there, shifting from foot to foot, Eren could tell that Marco moved like a cat. He could have easily slipped back out of the boiler room without him ever knowing he was there. He hadn't even pressed his question about what Eren was up to, just glanced at the crackers and came to his own conclusions, ones that surprisingly seemed to give Eren the benefit of the doubt. That was… nice.

Right.

Dodging the soot balls Eren scooped the reaming crumbs into his hand, determinedly ignoring Marco's chuckles as he trotted to the boiler's opening, tossing them and the wrapper inside. Hopefully Connie wouldn't notice them missing. It would suck to get in trouble for stealing food he didn't actually get to eat.

Of course the soot balls followed. Just as they had before, they tugged insistently at his shoes when he tried to leave. At least this time Eren understood them a little better. With a sigh he slipped out of his sneakers dutifully.

"What's up with you guys and my shoes?" he asked. Not that he expected an answer. "Take them back to Hanji?" Enthusiastic chirping. "And…" Eren lowered his voice, making sure Marco couldn't hear. "Take care of them, yeah?" His face heated and Eren hid his cheeks as best he could. Stupid. They were just shoes. But they were his. He didn't have a whole lot of things left that were 'him.'

Eren took a moment to remember his name. That was far more personal, and it warmed him.

"Come on," Marco urged.

As the two of them tiptoed back through the door—which was silly really, if Sasha and Connie hadn't woken when Eren screamed or when their soot balls went wild, they certainly wouldn't be waking up now—and Eren made sure to keep his distance. Just a little. Marco seemed to get it and he moved subtly to the side. It also didn't escape Eren's notice that he moved so that his right side was hidden in the shadows.

Oddly enough, that more than anything else screamed that Marco was one of the good guys. It wasn't his consideration but the scars themselves. No matter how hard he tried Eren couldn't see Irwin recruiting Marco because, for all his inner ugliness, Irwin was still a beautiful man. His office was spotless, tastefully cluttered with colorful knick-knacks, he wore pressed shirts without one errant crease, and he surrounded himself with Corporals friends, all of whom were equally stunning. Marco didn't fit Irwin's perfect, ordered world.

And that was awesome. Eren deliberately scooted closer.

"What's your name then?" Marco asked. "You've been the talk of the bathhouse recently. How are you settling in?"

"Fine." Little bit of an understatement. Whatever. "And it's… Shifter." He took a deep breath and yes, the word 'Eren' was still there, it just wouldn't come up through his mouth. Mentally Eren hugged his name to his chest fiercely.

"Shifter, huh? That's a fascinating name. What's the story behind it?"

"Irwin." There was a word Eren could still say; he stuffed it full of sharp edges.

Marco frowned. "Ah. Irwin…" he hesitated. "Irwin does that sometimes, with workers he's… wary of. Corporal had his name taken too. If anything it means he considers you a threat." Marco made that sound like a compliment.

It raised an interesting question though. Perhaps foolishly, Eren had just assumed that everyone lost their name after signing their contract. But if that wasn't the case…

"So your name's really Marco?" he asked. Even to his own ears Eren's voice sounded embarrassingly small. It was stupid, especially considering his relationship with Corporal, but he could hardly imagine being close to someone and not know their real name. Knowing now that Jean, Hanji, Connie and Sasha… were really Jean, Hanji, Connie and Sasha, was reassuring in a way Eren hadn't expected it to be.

Marco nodded. "Yep and I'd like to know your real name someday too."

"…Okay."

"Great."

…Was Eren supposed to say something else?

Everyone he'd met so far was sort of hyper, carrying the conversation for him. Hanji certainly excelled at it. In contrast Marco though seemed perfectly content to let the silence hang heavily around them both. Eren snuck a peak… but no, he didn't appear annoyed about it, or even bored. They continued along the hot hallways together, Marco smiling slightly at every little thing they passed.

Eventually they emerged from the bathhouse's depths, taking the elevator up and up. Soon the doors opened and a kitchen area came into view, the same one Eren had visited the night before. He'd been too tired then to be moved by the smells but now saliva flooded his mouth, almost painfully. He could still catch hints of garlic and something spicy in the air despite the fact that the worktables were deserted. Marco gestured for Eren to sit on a stool while he ducked behind the counter. He came back up a moment later with a pan in one hand and a whisk under the crook of his arm.

"You cook?" Eren blurted.

"Only a little. I'm a pro compared to Jean though. He burned pasta once. I… didn't realize that was possible."

"No, I meant…" Eren gestured to Marco's arm—the lack of it actually—and then flushed, realizing exactly how rude he was being. To his surprise Marco just laughed.

"Don't worry, everyone stares. You're at least polite about it. So?"

"So?" Eren parroted.

"Aren't you going to ask?" With an easy grin Marco started cracking eggs and adding flour to a bowl. He moved gracefully despite the handicap, using his torso to steady anything that needed a second hand. Salt, butter, and milk appeared and soon he had a thin batter whisked to perfection. Eren's mouth watered.

"You can ask about the scars," Marco said and Eren's mouth snapped shut.

"Uh…"

"It was the war." He offered. Marco shrugged but there was definitely a tense line running through his shoulders now. "I'm not much for fighting. I will if I have to though and the pay was decent. Way back, right at the start, they used to give your family a whole crate of foodstuffs for every month you remained enlisted—and alive of course."

Eren nodded. He'd been told time and time again how lucky he was to have been born after the war. Now that there was peace there was everything else as well: food and textiles and more toys than any one boy could want; enough of everything that a family in good standing could take in a little girl with no hesitation at all. Mikasa was lucky too.

Marco poured batter into a heated pan. He swirled the mixture until a perfectly thin crepe was bubbling. "I had a little brother. So of course I stayed. Did work on the walls for a while. They're architectural masterpieces. Seems a terrible way to think, huh? But I stand by it. Their purpose may have been to keep people out, to contribute to a war… but that doesn't take away from their beauty."

"They're thinking of tearing them down." Eren said and Marco paused in flipping the crepe.

"… Ah." He shrugged again, tightly. "Anyway, I did that for some time but eventually moved to the battlefield. 104th squadron. Basically a suicide mission I'm afraid. It didn't take long for me to hit a landmine." Marco put down the spatula, gesturing to his right half. He took up a knife and started cutting up a variety of fruits. Their bright colors seemed out of place for such a discussion. A desecration.

"It didn't take me long to die either, not with injuries like these, but I was awake just long enough to be stereotypically maudlin about it. I'm never going to see my family again, never going to fall in love…" Marco's face suddenly lit up. "But what did I know? Stupid sixteen-year-old kid. Spent a couple of years wandering around without a form, rediscovered my body, found the bathhouse—" Here Marco's grin faltered.

"Irwin," Eren concluded. Even with no one else around he dropped his voice low. If he had any lingering doubts about Marco they disappeared at the furious twisting of his lips.

"Yeah."

"Why did you stay?"

Then the grin was back, quick and effortless. "Jean," Marco said. He waved a fork at Eren. "Don't let anything stop you from falling in love, kid. Not even death." He put a plate down on the counter. A crepe, stuffed with fruit and drizzled with a bit of chocolate. A tall glass of orange juice was placed beside it. Eren was so distracted by stuffing his face that he couldn't even muster up the energy to be annoyed. Still,

"I'm not a kid," he said around chipmunk cheeks. To his surprise Marco actually paused in washing up the pan to consider him.

"No. You're not are you? A kid age-wise yes, but in terms of maturity?" He frowned down at the suds. "It takes a certain level of wisdom to survive a place like this, especially as a human. You're pretty amazing."

He could feel his cheeks heating. Eren quickly stuffed more crepe into his mouth.

"Now," Marco said. "I've told you my life story—or my death story at least. Your turn."

Eren choked. Luckily a laugh came just a moment later, followed by Marco thumping his back.

"Kidding, I'm kidding! You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. More juice?" Eren nodded. It still felt like there was banana sticking to his throat. "Don't stress over it. Besides, I know enough. Word travels around here, you know? About our boss's latest… acquisition." Marco's mouth twisted again. "Two adults and a little girl. At least that's the rumor. You know… I meant it when I said I wasn't a fighter, but I also meant when I said I would fight if I need to. Especially if someone, maybe a new friend, asked me too." He handed the newly filled glass over. Marco's gaze caught Eren's and refused to let go. "You're old enough to get that, aren't you?"

"Yes," Eren said. He gulped the juice.

"Excellent." Marco said and then was all smiles again. He tried lifting the heavy pan and wobbled a bit. Eren reached across the counter to lend a hand, literally. The thought sent him to smiling as well.

"Thanks. Now, lets see if we can't get you smelling a little better…"

Eren had no qualms about punching his right shoulder and Marco's laughter followed them out of the kitchen.

They had gone up two more levels and were strolling down an adjacent hallway when Marco suddenly froze. His whole body went rigid, his left leg comically suspended in mid-air. He hardly seemed to breathe.

"What?" Eren asked.

Marco only shook his head. He started walking again, though it seemed that he did so with a fair bit of effort. It was only when they'd entered another hallway, this one lit only by the light of the rooms up ahead, that Marco edged closer. He dipped down and pressed his mouth against Eren's ear.

"We should be careful about what we say from here on out," he whispered. His eyes danced from one spot, to another, to another still—cautious. "Irwin's returned."

Maybe it was just the darkness of the hallway that left Eren's skin feeling cold. Maybe not.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Positive. We can tell when he's near. It's part of the contract." Marco cast him a faintly puzzled look. "Can't you feel it? It's deep inside, close around your heart."

Eren concentrated, trying to ignore the chills skimming along his arms and legs so he could focus on his chest. However, after a moment he realized that was it. There was something there, a light ache that started a few inches below his collarbone and radiated outward. It was a shiver, a cold pulse, like a silent beacon that, instead of drawing attention to Eren himself, allowed him to know who was nearby; a particular someone. It was faint enough that he could probably ignore it again… just as soon as he managed to forget it. Like trying not to think about blinking, or breathing. Eren shivered again.

Marco smiled. There was nothing happy in it though. "Found it, huh? Yours is probably fainter than ours, being human and all." He hesitated. "Come on. I'll show you…"

He trailed off completely. Eren didn't need the reminder but Marco put a finger to his lips regardless. There, on the far wall was what appeared to be a decorative mask. Just a short time ago Eren would have ignored it entirely if he hadn't already met Irwin's talking doorknobs. That experience had clued him in… that and the fact that the mask's eyes were moving. They headed out of the dark corridor together, silent and slightly scared.

They came out into an area brighter and happier than any place had a right to be now. There were bathtubs everywhere, of various sizes, all sparkling and waiting for occupants. Eren heard a low thrumming and at first he assumed it was water coming in from the boiler room… but Sasha was probably still asleep. Marco led him over to a collection of windows where Eren stood and gapped.

It was pouring.

Not, 'oh look a summer storm,' but 'wow run for your lives I'm fairly sure this is the apocalypse.' It wasn't until he was right against the plane of glass that Eren even realized it was raining, so thick were the droplets. The once beautifully sunny day was a thing of the past. Where just an hour before it had been nothing but blue skies now the heavens were a sickly black. Lightening threaded above them like the threads of a spider's web.

"Did he…?" Eren couldn't finish the question. It was the kind of storm that literally took one's breath away.

Marco answered anyway. "Yes. That's Irwin's doing."

"Why?"

"Why? Because it brings in customers." Marco's smile remained fixed, his words complacent. Only Eren was close enough to see that everything was strained. "What better time for a hot bath than after you've been caught out in a storm? Wash the grime from your skin, warm your core, maybe get a bite to eat…" He sighed. "Speaking of, if you want that bath you'll have to hurry. Irwin will let the storm run for a while but that's basically our cue." One finger tapped against the glass. "Work will be starting soon."

The luxurious bath he'd been dreaming of just wasn't a possibility anymore. No sooner had Marco compared the storm to their work bell than the sound of waking feet overhead could be heard. Not so below though. Without Sasha and Connie up and running there was no hot water, which meant that Eren had to deal with buckets of stored water that had turned icy long ago. By the time Marco had him stripped and scrubbed—sounding terrifyingly like his mom, "Honestly, you could have at least found time to wash your face"—he was more than happy to hop out and draw his uniform back on. The thin cotton did little to help the chill though.

"Here," Marco rubbed a towel over his hair, making it stick up every which way.

"I can do it myself!"

"Sure," he agreed and kept rubbing.

What made things worse was that by this time spirits were streaming in, most still tugging on uniforms of their own and stifling yawns. Eren could see them whispering behind their hands. No doubt they were laughing at the human boy being manhandled by the goodie-goodie. Eren scowled.

"Found yourself a stray, Marco?"

Yep. There is was. Eren was an instant away from screaming at this guy to fuck off when he actually recognized the voice. He pushed the towel away, blinking.

"Jean!"

He was half-jogging towards them, his smile looking more natural than Eren had ever seen it. He pulled Marco into an easy embrace, with one arm around his waist and the other tugging at his hair. The ensuing kiss brought cat-calls, croaking, and—sadly—a few disgusted noises from the nearby workers. Jean released Marco's hair and blindly lifted his middle finger to more curses and much laughter. After enough time had passed that Eren's ears started turning red they parted with an obscene 'smack.' Jean turned to him.

"You managed to get a job then?" he asked. His eyes were hard pinpricks of gold. It was a stupid question too—Eren wouldn't still be here if he hadn't succeeded, right? Still, he nodded sharply.

"Yeah," he said. "I also…took him down a peg…"

Not really. Not even close. But it was the thought behind the lie that counted. Jean grinned and Eren had to gap when he bent and slapped him companionably on the back. He paused though, staring into Eren's face, looking hesitant.

"I'm sure I know your name…"

"Shifter," Eren bit out. Jean's eyes narrowed.

"That's not what it was before. I'm no Marco, but I'm not stupid either."

"Jean, really."

"No." Eren agreed. "It's not the same."

"So let me get this straight: you went up there, talked the bastard into giving you a job—" ("Jean," Marco hissed), "he took your family, took your name… and you're still here kicking."

"Damn right."

Jean grinned. "Then you did take him down a peg. Maybe even two." He wrapped an arm around Eren's neck. "It's really good to see you in one piece, kid." Marco nudged him.

"Eren doesn't like being called 'kid', Jean."

"Uh huh. And since when do I care what this pip-squeak wants?"

Eren nudged his other side until Jean exaggeratedly grabbed his ribs. "Since you have to start working with me," he sniped but Jean was already ignoring him.

"Marco, what the hell? I woke up and you…" Jean trailed off and Eren was amazed to watch his cheeks heat. He coughed a few times. "Well. You weren't there."

"I had things to do. Daytime's always the best time to get work done. It's quiet, not crowded at all… besides, if I hadn't stayed up I wouldn't have run into this guy. We had a lovely breakfast together."

Jean side-eyed Eren. "You trying to steal my guy?"

"Uh…"

"Leave him alone, Jean."

Marco suddenly sighed, his eyes running over the rapidly filling room. There were spirits everywhere now, folding towels and filling baths and generally making everything look like controlled chaos. "I'd better find Hanji for you, Eren. You're her assistant right? As much as I'd love to keep you with me because heaven knows you'd be a harder worker than Jean—"

"Hey!"

"—it's really best if you stick with her." He grinned down at Eren, but the smile was strained at its edges. Jean ducked his head and looked away. "So, you ready to start your first day of work at the bathhouse?" The 'Under Irwin,' went unsaid.

Eren had thought he'd be ready. After all, a bath, no matter how terrible, and a hot meal could do wonders for the spirit. But that was before the storm and the image of his family locked away in a barn was still there, just behind his eyes. So if he were being truthful…

"Not really."

Marco's hand settled on his shoulder. The weight was surprisingly comfortable. Reassuring. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be great."