When he regains consciousness, he's hot and his body is on fire – at least, it feels that way. His head is delirious and disoriented. He can't open his eyes; they feel swollen and heavy. Half-conscious, he doesn't know if he's dead or alive and suspects he's somewhere in between. He hears voices around him, unfamiliar and unfriendly. There are phrases and sentences being tossed around and he doesn't know what any of them mean.
"I suspect it's typhus," a voice says. "He did cough up blood before he passed out."
Eren wants to tell them he's awake and can hear them fine. His attempts at using his voice fail; he hasn't even made a hum. He tries to move his hand, but realizes it's numb. He can't move it. The voices keep talking.
"What about pneumonia?" The second person clicks their tongue in disagreement with the first speaker. "The vomiting could be caused by any number of factors. He was perfectly fine right before."
"Well, we need to think of something," a third voice says, clearly distressed. "We can't afford to lose him. He's too valuable."
"We know!" the first voice snaps back in an angry whisper. Are they trying to avoid disturbing him or letting others around know his condition?
Eren wracks his brain, trying to remember his last moments before his eyes closed, but finds it too jumbled and mixed to form anything coherent. His own thoughts are confusing him more. In his attempts to recall his memories, he falls into an even deeper sleep.
When he feels his brain waking itself up again, he hears more voices, but they're familiar this time, comforting to his restlessness. He hears Armin first, laughing quietly as he says, "Did Eren really do that?"
"Yes." Although Eren can't see her, he hears her smile, always stern and serious but sincere. He wants to ask what it is he'd definitely done but the moment has passed, even if had been able to make them aware of his consciousness.
He hears them talk about the food being served, about the weather, about the shared childhood between Eren and Mikasa. Their small talk is everything but what Eren wants to know of – how did he get here? He tries again to wake his hand but finds it to still be immobile. If he can make a noise, he hopes they'll be aware of his presence. He attempts to make a sound and although it's uncomfortable at first, he feels a small hum in his throat and he's excited because surely they've heard it.
The room has gone quiet and it's Armin who speaks first. "Mikasa… Don't look at him like that. He could just be dreaming." Eren wants to shout at him, his frustration building. He knows Armin is trying to comfort Mikasa, misguiding her in his attempts. He tries to make the sound again, pleading with his body to rouse from slumber.
"He's going to wake up," Mikasa answers. Eren feels her fingers touch his hand, the calluses on them rough from her training and their explorations; the familiar touch is comforting. It reminds him of how they held hands when they were younger.
"He just needs time." She laces her fingers through his and although he can't move them to hold hers, he wishes he could. She sounds so confident and he reminds himself to thank her for believing in him when his eyes open.
Armin sighs and Eren hears how exhausted his friend sounds. He doubts they've left his bedside long except to sleep. "Of course he will, you know I believe that. It's been a week. I'm sure he's going to wake up any day now."
A week? It's only been that long? He thinks of how a week feels like an eternity when it's impossible to remember. He hears Armin ask, "I'm going to go get some food and rest. Are you coming, Mikasa?"
"In a while…" Mikasa sounds tired and Eren wants to tell her to go sleep. He hears Armin leave and the room is quiet with just him and Mikasa, her hand still in his.
"Eren, please wake up," he hears her say quietly into his ear, her lips tickling him. He's quiet and though he thinks about making another attempt to reach her, he holds off for just a moment. What will she say to him, thinking he may never rouse?
He feels her lips kiss the side of his jaw, the movement so quick and chaste, so unsure with childlike hesitance, he knows she's never done something like it before with anyone. "I miss you," she says, gripping his hand tighter.
Her voice hardens, and he hears her voice grow stern, as though she can tell him what to do. "You have to wake up now, Eren. You don't know what they're planning." She softens in the next moment, whispering close to his ear again so the walls won't hear, "I don't know what they'll do with you if you don't wake up soon."
She sounds so sad, so fucking sad, he wants to wake up just for her in that moment. He tries focusing his energy on the hand holding hers and imagines himself squeezing it, tightly. There's a sharp intake of breath and he knows, at least to a limited extent, that he's been successful. He's overjoyed that finally someone is there to acknowledge him.
"Eren? Eren?" He feels her shaking his body and though he wants to move it, it's dead weight to him. Still, she tries in vain, and grasps his hand again. "Do it again, Eren, do it again!"
He tries once more to squeeze her hand and, although it's a noticeably less strong than before, she feels it. Her excitement radiates and he swears it's going to pour into him and rouse him, wake his soul. It's wishful thinking, however, and the opposite happens; he finds himself exhausted and starting to seep away again. He last recalls Mikasa's words in his ear, promising, "I'll be here when you wake up," and, for a brief second, he feels her lips on his forehead before he's asleep again.
The next time Eren is conscious, his eyes are willing to open. They're heavy as rocks but they try, fluttering repeatedly. There are voices around him, some familiar, some not, and a lot of muffled noise. The room is bright, too bright, and his eyes struggle again, closing this time. He wants to tell them to pull the curtains over the window, but someone has already caught on, and the room dims once again. As his eyes start to open again with more ease than the previous time, he slowly becomes aware of the people in the room.
There's Mikasa to his right, Armin to his left, closest to the door. There are other unfamiliar faces around him too, and although he wants to ask who they are, they're not his priority. He hears one of the unknown voices say, "He's finally awake."
His eyes skim over to Mikasa, who meets his gaze. He suspects she wants to hug him but is weary of his condition; he tries to say hello to them, but all that comes out is a pained moan. An unfamiliar face immediately steps forward, says, "Please rest some more, Eren, you need to conserve your strength." He doesn't know who the man is and he's more annoyed at being told what to do after having just woken up.
It takes effort, but he turns his head to face Mikasa and offers her a weary smile. There's relief in her smile to him and he feels her hand grab his and he squeezes it gently; he relaxes when he feels her lace their hands together. It's an act that's almost intimate for them and it feels exposed with so many people around them. Her other hand touches his forehead and she announces, "His fever is gone."
Armin relaxes into the seat behind him, leaning forward as he says to Eren, "You've been gone for over a week. You couldn't have woken up sooner?" It's an attempt to be funny that falls flat. Eren smiles for Armin's sake and looks around, attempting to take in the surroundings.
The room is dark, lit only by two candles, with no decorations. There's an empty bowl of soup next to his bedside, closest to Armin, who catches him looking at it. "Mikasa's been helping feed you," he says, glancing to her for a second. "It took her a while and it didn't always go down… You might be hungry now, actually."
He is, but he doubts anything will go down easy; his throat aches and he attempts words again. "Yeah… I am." He's surprised by how his voice cracks and how wheezy it is. He sounds like an old man and when he laughs, it sounds more like a cackle. He turns at the sound of the door opening and closing, sees the unfamiliar faces that had been talking around him earlier leave.
"They've been waiting for you to wake up, Eren… I think they were going to cut you open if you didn't wake up in the next few days," Mikasa says. She states it as a fact but he doesn't miss the touch of malice in her voice.
He considers this information, wonders if he would've felt them make incisions on his skin. Would he have been unconscious or awake to feel the pain? Would he have simply passed out again and never woken up? It would've either been painless or the most agonizing way to die. "I'm glad they didn't," he says slowly. "Too many titans to kill."
"Is that all you really care about?" Mikasa's voice threatens to break into a high pitch, as though all her frustration could be shoved into one question. Her hand releases his.
Eren wants to tell her he's too tired to be dealing with serious matters and his face must form a pout; she sighs, deeply, and says, "I'll go get you some more soup. Your bowl is empty." She leaves and he can't help but notice she doesn't grab the empty bowl from earlier.
"Try to be more considerate." Armin sighs. Eren opens his mouth, perhaps to object or complain, but Armin rushes to continue: "She's been worried about you all week, Eren. She barely sleeps. She had to fight with the doctors to keep you going for a few more days. She was being kind in saying you had days left, a few more hours is probably more accurate."
"Oh." He wants to get up and walk, to go find her, but he's barely able to push himself up. Armin assists him, propping pillows behind him to better his balance.
"They were in here discussing what to do with you if you didn't wake up." The way he says it leads Eren to believe his friend wasn't sure how they were going to stall for much more time. "Mikasa kept telling them you'd survived worse. God, Eren, she's been a wreck. I hope I don't see her that way again."
"What did I survive?" Each word comes out a little more coherent than the last, voice gaining more definition and clarity. "As if I'd die that easy." Short, simple sentences that are straight to the point are easiest for him to say.
"Your body didn't recover so well from the last battle," Mikasa answers as she pushes open the cracked door with her hip, balancing a large bowl of soup in her hands with a spoon. "You looked at Levi, threw up, and said, 'Fuck,' right before you passed out. At first he was more worried you'd gotten it on his shoes." She sits down in the chair opposite Armin and adds, "It would've been funnier if you had."
Armin glances at the door and back at Mikasa. "I'm sure Levi would want to know he's awake now, though… I'll go find him. Try to rest some more okay, Eren? But don't walk, I don't think you could handle it yet."
"Yes, yes," Eren answers, trying to stretch out his arms and legs. They fall after a few seconds, his body unable to hold the weight entirely. "I'll be fine." Short and simple sentences.
When Armin leaves, Mikasa is still sitting with the bowl and she offers to help him eat it. He accepts, but tries to rush himself in sipping and burns his tongue. She sighs and makes a point to blow on every spoonful afterwards. Was she this attentive his entire stay?
"I heard you," he tells her after some time. They had been silent for quite a while but it was peaceful, a quiet he could enjoy – his last few days of silence had been restless and uneasy, filled with thoughts and unanswered questions. He likes that he can think clearly now that fever isn't racking his mind and body.
She seems to pause for a second before pressing the spoon to his lips. "Heard me when? I talked to you a lot when you were asleep."
"You promised you'd be here when I woke up." He can't help but give her a grateful smile after he's swallowed more soup. "And you were." If he's honest, seeing her face before anyone else's was the most welcoming part of waking up after being so unsure of his surroundings. He notices the way her head dips down a little, her short hair unable to hide her face as well as her long hair had. He's sure she's blushing.
"Someone has to watch out for you, you obviously can't do it yourself." She shoves more soup in his mouth before he can answer. "Everyone has been asking about you. Even Jean."
"To see if I'm dead?" Eren thinks he's being funny until Mikasa's relaxed demeanor stiffens. What a poorly timed joke, he muses, that he ought to have saved for a less threatening situation.
She looks up at him with something he thinks is pity. "They wanted you to stay asleep, those men. They wanted to dissect you. Do you remember when we found that dead dog with Armin when we were younger? How it was torn to bits from a wolf? They were going to take you apart just like that, Eren." She swirls soup around with the spoon.
"Good thing I woke up." Eren reaches out a stiff hand to her, which she takes after she's set down the bowl. With more ease than the last time, she holds his hand. He wants to let her know he remembers that she'd done it when he was asleep, but he saves her that embarrassment. He's liked holding her hand the past couple of times; she's a comfort that reminds him he always has someone he can rely on.
She plays with his fingers in her hand, traces the outlines of them with her own. She counts them quietly, as if to verify he's still whole. He notices that her hands are softer than normal and he's sure she hasn't left his room the entire time he's been there. How much time did she spend talking to his listless body? He's startled out of his thoughts when he feels her lips on each of his fingertips and still hears her counting them in whispers.
"Mikasa?" His voice is unsure, weary of this type of closeness with her. The memory of her kiss on his forehead when she thought he was unconscious floats to the top of his head. He knows he's blushing when she kisses his palm, her lips tickling the sensitive skin, causing little bumps to rise on his arms. He's lucky she's holding up his arm, for it surely would've fallen on its own by now.
She doesn't answer him, and instead turns her head sideways, her cheek now in his palm. He's confused and bewildered, wanting to ask her questions but sure if he speaks now this moment will be lost. His heart speeds up and he's convinced his fever has started anew. She smiles and it's so warming, so genuine, for that brief moment she's the only person he'd die for ten times over. She doesn't speak, but her lips move, and he doesn't need to hear her words to know she's said I love you.
But this isn't the girl he knows, the one who played in the dirt with him and outranked him in training. She looks vulnerable, like any other woman her age would in her position. Eren realizes, with a tinge of regret, that his choices brought her here, to give up the chance she had for a normal life to find someone who wouldn't toss her in harms way. She would never get another opportunity in life to be this age again and yet, of her own volition, she was willingly spending it with him.
He can think of nothing to say, except mouth back, I know. It seems to be a satisfactory answer, one he suspects she knew she'd get. He prays she understands, that he's not ready to love her the way she loves him, not yet. He needs more time, something they're not guaranteed at all. It's a flimsy excuse, but it's the best he can do. He tightens his hold on her cheek a little and wonders if it would be selfish to kiss her.
She pulls away, slowly at first, and then gently places his hand back down on the bed. He finds it oddly inspiring the way she can keep her composure so well while dealing with rejection. He knows one of them has to speak and break the private world they'd placed themselves in.
It's fitting it should be her.
"More soup? More soup." She's not really asking and she's not really demanding, either. She picks up the bowl and places the spoon to his lips. She's as gentle as before, taking her time with him as she patiently waits for him to recover from their moment.
As he drinks it, he can't help but notice the broth has cooled considerably.