A/N: This chapter contains spoilers pertaining to chapter ch. 53, 'Stupid Believers,' aka, the chapter where Hanji tries to have Eren harden his skin and Mikasa wants to kill her.
Please note that Hanji is referred to as a female, mostly because it's easier for me to work with, so please don't take offense!
This isn't beta'd like most of my longer chapters, so I apologize if there's any mistakes. I also took some liberties with Eren as a titan but tried to keep as true to form as possible.
For guest/anon user 'Trick,' who requested Mikasa bonding with Eren while he's a titan. (This was a lot of fun!)
It is painful for Mikasa to watch Eren lose control of himself; it aches in her bones to watch him follow commands with ease then slowly struggle to follow basic requests with no real evident reason for the decline. When his fifteen-meter self falls, she's there to help hold him up, her lips tight and body rigid as his human form goes slack in her arms. It is not up to her to stop him and she knows even if she could he could stop he'd want to persevere and keep pushing himself, with or without nudges from Hanji and Levi.
She doubts that when he tries again thirty minutes later and reappears as a thirteen meter titan he's aware of the way he swaggers with frustration or tears and rips things from the roots, that even when he's destroying the house he'd constructed he's still doing it with an anger that he carries in his person every day. She bites her lip when he rampages and is once more there again when he exits his titan form, holding him up with noticeable concern etched on her face, wrinkles around her eyes and mouth causing her to look more unfriendly than usual.
The third time he attempts to transform is the worst, when he cannot stand and is barely ten meters. She wants to rip Hanji apart for pushing him so far, would probably have taken her sword to her if she wasn't so wrapped up in Eren's health. It comes as a surprise to no one that, later when he is filled in, Eren is clearly disappointed in his lack of results, his failure in being unable to harden his skin.
Mikasa does not blame him and nor is she disappointed. Levi doesn't blame him, so he says, and she believes him. Hanji is more interested in her experiment results than she is in blaming Eren. Others who were there have their own opinions but their thoughts mean little to her.
Eren, she knows, blames himself. He tends to try to carry the weight of humanity on his shoulders without much success, for Mikasa has lost count of how much slack she's had to carry for his failures. It is because she cares about him—loves him, she might even say—that she doesn't mind cleaning up his disasters as much as she should. She expects him to succeed as much as she expects him to fail—that is, to say, she expects both equally, because his luck is dependent on far too many variables.
It shouldn't surprise her when, later that night as she lies sleeping (resting, really, as she hasn't slept peacefully in years) near his bed, she hears the floor creak and an unmistakable pause as the feet wait to see if they've been noticed. When she opens her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the dark, she hears a quiet sigh of relief. Soft, tired footsteps make their way down the stairs and even then she hears the calculated steps as the person moves slow in attempts to avoid making noise. When the feet reach the steps at the bottom, she sits up and walks over to the stair landing, taking as much care and caution as the person before her.
She's not surprised to see a shock of dark hair disappearing around the landing and does not think twice before making her way down as well, though with less mindfulness than she should be using, worried he might escape her line of vision for too long. She worries that when he steps outside something might happen to him; should the wrong people catch him alone it could certainly be the end of him. He's unlucky that way, sure to get captured and snagged at every opportunity.
There's a soft click as a door closes behind him and she picks up her pace to catch up, unsure of when he'd managed to get that far without her noticing. When she steps outside after slipping on shoes, she lets him slink around and pretends to not see the way he wraps his cloak around him in the chill before scampering off into the woods. When the inside of her cheek begins to bleed, she realizes she has been biting down on it hard, frustration in her welling at Eren's stupidity to think he can escape into the night unnoticed for any reason.
Without her around, any luck he has diminishes significantly. Leaving him alone is not an option and for this particular reason, that he is sure to be harmed on his own, she follows him into the woods, tugging her own cloak around her neck tighter.
It's particularly challenging in the night to follow him, for although he's only going on foot, the sounds of his shoes crunching blends with the noise from animals around them, swallowed into the night, and the trees and their shadows conceal his body. It's lucky for her she knows Eren well enough to know how he handles things, knows that Eren does not walk in straight lines but prefers to zigzag, typically starting left before alternating right and so forth. She sees remnants of him in snapped tree branches and tramped flowers under the moon and knows she's not far behind. When she eventually hears his labored breathing, still exhausted from the stress Hanji had him under earlier, and sees his body in a clearing, no longer moving but looking determined, she knows he's found what he's been seeking.
She's about to step out and call his name, ask him why he's wandered so far, when she sees the rise of his hand and watches the tell-tale way his mouth bites down on his skin. There's no time for her to call his name, to tell him he's going to draw attention to them, they'll be discovered—by Levi, Hanji, or anyone else—and he that he should reconsider, because he's already changed, already stretching his muscles under the sky, smoke rising high and arms raised up as if to grab the moon.
The words perched on her tongue catch and she inhales, swallowing the name she'd been about to call; he looks so beautiful, so handsome, so strong, she almost has a hard time believing this shifter is the boy she grew up with for so many years. Torn limbs that regenerate replace his scraped knees and his frustrated cries are harsh screams on her ears in this form. It never ceases to catch her off guard when he transforms and although her natural instinct is to go after him again she hesitates, wanting to see why he came out in the first place.
One hour, she thinks, glancing up at the moon for a vague indication of time. They have an hour, if they're lucky, before Eren will begin to lose his sense of conscious as he did earlier. Her tongue pokes at the cut she'd made in her mouth earlier.
For a bit, Eren seems only to pace in large circles, toying with his muscles. As he sits down and extends his legs, she almost laughs at the way he appears to be reaching for his toes, standing up a moment later to flex his arms in a way that makes her smile. She thinks there's a good chance that he's trying to assess himself and judge if he's capable of working all his muscles. She sees his mouth move, although nothing audible comes out, and she wants to remind him to be quiet, but, again, she only licks at her earlier wound, her eyes alert for any unusual sounds or voices.
Eren seems content with his abilities and Mikasa watches him walk towards a tree and grab at it. It's a small, thin tree that snaps easily under his large fingers. He sets it in the middle of the clearing and looks around before finding another tree of similar structure. With interest, she realizes he's gathering small, twig-like trees, and he creates a pile of them before sitting down in front of them. She almost gives herself away when she chuckles to see his large hands rest underneath his chin in a way reminiscent of his human form.
She watches him lay out four trunks into a square. He reaches for another trunk and places it on one of the corners and then looks around, seeming confused, and it dawns on her he's attempting to build a structure of some sort, similar to the one he'd been making with Hanji earlier. The difference is he has nothing to tie them all together and he's realized this only too late; he throws the tree trunk down in frustration and begins to pull at his hair, pacing around in large stomps that spike her anxiety.
When the taste of blood spills onto her tongue, she realizes she has reopened the wound from earlier, though her initial concern is preventing Eren from drawing attention to him, to their location. She doesn't realize she's stepped over to him until she sees him pause, his eyes locking onto her; when she glances up at the moon and notices no real changes she guesses it hasn't been more than fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes.
"Eren?" Her voice is a loud whisper that she hopes will travel through the breeze and reach his ears. If Eren is surprised, his face portrays nothing, though his titan form is not the most expressive and she doesn't know how to interpret his stance. When Eren steps forward and sits down in front of her, his legs crossed, he points at the logs he's been working on. If he's surprised, he's lucky his titan form is not expressive of emotions.
"You're working on…building something?" She steps forward and is suddenly aware now that she's next to him she's barely the size of his large toe. Eren points at it once more, miming a tying motion—so she'd been correct in her earlier assumption.
"I can't help you and you can't talk. But I don't have any material for you to tie it with, sorry," she says to him. When Eren lowers a hand to her she steps into it without a second thought, though worries for a moment when she realizes she's not wearing her gear and if she should fall there is certainly an increased risk of injury. Eren moves his hand to his shoulder and after a moment's hesitation she climbs onto his shoulder.
His body stiffens as he lets her adjust and sit. She perches herself comfortably near his neck. It's muscular and hard beneath her, though oddly comforting, as the last real memory she has being in this spot was only a moment before Eren attempted to swipe at her. It's nice, she thinks, resting on him. She has never dreamed of there being a day when she would fully trust a titan—any titan—but here she is, undoubtedly willing to protect one, just one, a special one.
Eren still has no solution to his problem, however, but now seems to have given up the idea entirely. After placing her on his shoulder, he'd taken great care in the way he walked over to his logs so she would not fall before sitting down with a surprising amount of grace, though Mikasa suspected it was more for her benefit more than his. He is noticeably not making any attempt to communicate with her, but she can't find it in herself to be offended, for he already invited her to join him without really asking. Only once does she move, shifting to lay sideways on him, her back to his muscle and a leg dangling precariously over his chest.
Some time passes, though she is not aware of it nor his actions, for her eyes have grown heavy, drowsy from the rhythmic movement of his muscles beneath her, rocking her to sleep. It is not until she feels his body tense up once more that she startles, rubbing blearily at her eyes and murmuring, "Eren?" To her surprise, he picks up one of the thin trees from earlier and tosses it; the loud clash of it breaking against a larger tree shakes any sleepiness she'd had left. It's hard for her to maintain balance and she grapples at the tough skin beneath her.
With another glance at her surroundings she realizes the moon has shifted; it's probably been close to thirty or forty minutes they've been out here now.
It startles her to see on the ground that Eren has used the trees to messily construct words, or what she assumes are supposed to be words—cant remember. Can't remember? She tosses the words around in her head, tries them on her tongue before noticing that Eren has started pacing and is now pulling at his hair.
"Eren, can you hear me?" She's gripping onto him tightly, sure that she must be leaving indentures, though doubts he feels a thing in this state. His arms above her weaved into his hair are intimidating and she knows she's nothing more than a fly to him; should he chose to brush her off or forget her presence, she could easily be harmed. His motions are more erratic and he's pacing louder, kicking the trees he'd pulled earlier. Strands of his pulled hair fall to the floor and rise up in small waves of smoke.
He either can't hear her or is ignoring her. The last time she'd been in this situation, she had her gear on, able to scale him and her surroundings. Now, in nothing but the clothes on her back, she feels one of the few things she hates: useless. There is little time to react and as he's pacing with larger clumps of his hair following and his kicks growing wider, she does the only thing she can think of—on unsteady legs she climbs to the crook of his neck and bites hard, to where her teeth sink completely into his skin and she has to pry them off him after.
She doubts it feels like more than a bug bite but it's enough to make him pause. When she feels the movement of his hand she flinches, curling in on herself, and finds herself swathed in darkness; it takes her a minute to realize he's only covering her with his hand. Steady bumping beneath her lets her know he's walking and she stands, her head nowhere near the curve of is fingers. When moonlight filters through and he's stopped walking, she sees his hand uncurl, lowering to her level. There's hesitation again and as she steps onto his hand, she feels, for the first time, the quiver in his muscles: he's nervous or anxious about something. He's careful to cross his legs as he sits down and she notes with interest that, despite all the hair he'd pulled out earlier, his scalp is not patchy.
As he settles she copies him, crossing her legs on his hand to sit down. He rises up his hand so she's facing him and—like always when she's so close to him, so close to potential danger—her throat closes and her words fail to come out immediately. She can't help but notice the way his fingers naturally curl in, almost as if to put her in a cage. She coughs to clear her throat and says with more confidence than she feels, "Are you…feeling better?"
An unsure nod answers her.
Her tongue skims across the cut in her mouth as she replies, "Your memory is fading again, isn't it? You're worried about not remembering things when you change, aren't you?"
The even longer pause with an even less sure nod lets her know she's hit the mark fairly close; after all, she hasn't spent so many years with Eren to not know him sufficiently.
Her moments alone with Eren are rare and even more so (read: never) when he's in his titan form. Should he lash out at her now there would be no one around to save her and despite this, she trusts him, trusts he has a better grip on himself as much as it worries her to put so much faith in a form he cannot always handle.
"Bring me closer."
The hand beneath her quivers more before bringing her closer; so close, in fact, she can almost feel his breath on her. His eyes stare at her with an unnerving amount of patience and although they are much larger than she's used to, the shade of them is relatively the same. It's calming and, with newfound confidence, she stands up and walks on unsteady feet to his nearest finger. She points at it, glancing over at him, pleased to see the way they widen in curiosity; she knows him far too well and even as a titan, he cannot conceal all his emotions from her. Even she can't prevent the smile that crosses her face as he leans in to see her better when he curls his pointer finger down in her direction.
Even with his help she still has to stand on her tiptoes and it takes more courage than she's ever felt fighting any enemy titans to lean up and kiss the tip of his finger. The reaction from him is immediate—he pulls his finger back abruptly, nearly knocking her off him in the process. She doubts he felt anything but is sure his vision is perfect enough where he had clearly seen her action. Still, his sharp movements cause her to stumble forward and she latches onto the finger she'd just kissed to regain some balance.
After a moment she feels his hand rise, this time to bring them both at eye level (though, it is unfair that his eyes are so much larger than her own). He does not need to speak or even indicate what is clear in his eyes, just as expressive as a titan as a human: Why?
At least at this question she has the grace to blush, praying to any god that may exist he can't see it in the dark with his large eyes as she rolls her shoulders and smiles. "Maybe you can't remember everything that happens as a titan or everything that happened with Grisha. But you'll remember that, won't you?"
There's a good chance if he were in his human form he'd either be laughing or gaping at her in a combination of shock and awe. She hopes it's the latter in both cases, for he does nothing to respond for a few minutes. Then, when she thinks maybe she really did screw up, his other hand comes up and oh-so-gently he touches the top of her head, stroking his finger downwards, as if to pet her or pull her hair. He's playing with her, she understands, and she reaches up to playfully swat at his hand, smack at his fingers.
They banter wordlessly for some time, till she realizes that his movements are becoming jerky and less coordinated. It isn't until his empty fist clutches tightly that she realizes they've been fooling around too long and it's certainly been over an hour since his transformation.
"You have to put me down, Eren," she urges suddenly, receiving no response; his attention is completely on his other hand, opening and closing erratically. The same hand reaches up, beginning to pull at hair once more. Her time with him as a titan is dwindling and finally, as if a child who has not had their demands met, she stomps her feet and yells, "Put me down, Eren! I can't jump from here."
As childish as it is, he's either listening or acknowledging her, for within a few moments after her near-tantrum she finds herself lowered; not completely, but enough to where she can get down without injuring herself. There is little she can do for Eren, however, and as he starts pulling at hair and clawing at his face, she knows there is nothing to be done. She will have to let him run is course and pray for him to be able-minded after.
It happens, of course, the moment when he becomes human once more. He's conscious, but barely, and doesn't respond to her calling his name. She pulls him onto her lap before realizing that while his pants are still on, his shirt is not. The cloak around her comes off to be draped around his body while she slumps down on a tree, his body awkwardly held against hers. He's too big to be cradled like a baby but she does it anyway, keeping her eyes and ears alert in a way she'd stopped doing earlier, so absorbed in being entertained by his titan persona was she.
She's cold but Eren is hot, so damn hot, she feels herself begin to sweat. Even as his body cools and hers picks up heat she holds him tighter. A glance upwards at the sky sparks alarm in her—they need to head back soon before they're missed, if Levi hasn't noticed their absence already (and god dammit, she's sure he has, nothing slips by him so easily). Her eyes begin to droop, heavy and tired once more, when she feels him stir in her arms a while later.
"Mikasa?" His voice is hoarse and cracked, tired like hers. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Are you going to be okay to walk?" Her grip on him lessens, her voice a rasp as she catches her voice in the mornings chill. She feels him touch his chest and sigh when he realizes he has no shirt; silently, she pulls the cloak over him completely.
He supposes it's out in the clearing somewhere, but now that he is not a titan the effort to walk the distance seems too strenuous and tedious. He's far too exhausted to care as much as he should. His eyes glance at her face for a brief moment, noticing the purple moons beneath her eyes and the struggle it is for her to keep them open. He stands, pulling her with him, and feels her weight against him. While he's almost sure—no, he knows—he's got less energy than her, still he lets her lean on him in silence the whole way back; as worn out as she is, he knows she's refusing to be embarrassed by letting him carry all her weight, well aware he's running on empty, too.
When they get back, creeping in with as much silence as they can muster, Eren intentionally stops by her bed first. She protests, as he expects her to, but he's firm, pushing her onto her bed with a hand on her shoulder.
"My bed is right there, you can see it from here…I know that's how you knew I was leaving," he murmurs into her ear. He stops for a moment, sure he felt her shiver, before brushing it off. She turns to face his standing figure, her mouth poised to speak, before he shakes his head sharply—the more she speaks, the more likely they are to be caught. Tentatively, he reaches out to twin their hands together, intentionally using the finger she'd kissed earlier to stroke the top of hers. He wants to ask her with words—real words—what her true intention had been kissing him earlier, but he knows now is not the time.
For all her fighting, it takes her only a few minutes of silently protesting before her grip slackens in his and he knows she's fallen asleep. He's careful in taking time to remove her shoes after and pulling up a blanket around her, tucking her in at the edges (but not too tight or she'll fear she's trapped when she wakes). She's snoring softly and while he wants to laugh and commit the image to memory, all he can think of is the way her lips had felt as she'd kissed his finger—a tiny warm spot, a prick of sunshine on his rough titan skin. Her words (You'll remember that, won't you?) ring like bells in his ears.
Before he forces himself away from her he leans down to kiss her forehead, a soft touch that stirs her for a moment before she sighs deeply. His voice is unsteady and unsure as he murmurs, "How could I possibly forget?"