See You Later, Eren

by Yarfathom

[MANGA SPOILER WARNING] Mikasa opens her eyes, her mind fraught with pain and grief after having decapitated Eren. Only, she is back where she started, in the 104th cadet corps, with complete knowledge of the future. Will she use it to save lives and remedy her mistakes? And will she discover the mystery and purpose behind her transportation? Hard Eremika, fluff, angst, drama

20. This is What You Deserve

See you Later, Eren Chapter 20

Title: This is What You Deserve

Hello! I'm back. It was gonna be SYLE Sunday but I uploaded too late again noooo. It's okay, there's always next time! I apologize for not getting this out sooner, especially when I suggested I'd get it out by the 12th of December. For those of you who read my author's notes, you're probably aware that while I'm a second year college student, it is my first year of non COVID schooling, and as a result these recent finals have been particularly hard. I wanted to focus on that instead of stressing myself out over this fic, so that's what I elected to do. I hope that's okay with you all!

Anyways, this chapter is super long and intense (and I mean SUPER long). I really didn't want this chapter to drag, and I honestly cannot fathom on a mathematical level how the amount of content I wrote managed to be 20K words, but I'll leave that up to you all. It was honestly a little strange writing it too, and I think it kind of carries its own tone, a little bit different from the others, but I'd love to know if you guys thought so. A lot of my opinions of my own writing tends to boil down to my current mental state, so I can't really trust myself :p. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! -Y

CW for mentions of sex trafficking.

---

"To hell with this, I'm going to bed," Eren mutters, indignance clear as the night sky in his voice. Jean cracks a sly, but not really all that sly, grin from the top of his bunk.

"Ahhh, c'mon Eren, what's the big deal? No one's here to judge you. I'm sure Ymir would understand your predicament just fine."

"There's no predicament! I'm going to bed!" he snaps, abandoning any façade of exhaustion.

"You don't sound tired..." Marco says, cocking his head slightly. He knows Jean is doing everything he can to annoy the brown haired boy at the moment, but Eren's never been one to back down from a fight. He can't help but wonder what the difference is here.

Eren turns his head from his position on the top bunk bed opposite from Marco, Jean, and Armin, eyes glowing with a thinly veiled rage. Marco thinks that his anger is plenty justified, what with the way Jean is making up falsities about Eren's... taste, so to speak. For the past thirty minutes or so, they had been engaged, more so as a result of boredom than anything else, in a discussion about girls, one that they all knew was sure to send Eren into a state of strong disinterest at best, and at worst, whatever he was feeling right now.

"Unlike you guys, I actually give a shit about my training. I'm not getting anything done by listening to you bitch and moan about girls."

"He's right, Marco," Jean interjects. "Killing yourself takes a lot of work, we should respect his effort."

The silence is palpable, neither Marco nor Armin knowing what to say to that. Marco, to an extent, recognizes Jean's point, even if it is put a little crudely.

"Enjoy your life in the Military Police. If you're lucky you'll meet a girl whose skull is half as empty as yours." Eren closes his eyes, calmness finally overtaking him now that he has the last laugh. Marco can see Armin raise a hand to his head, sighing at the increasing severity of their insults, following a pattern the young cadet and Marco know all too well.

When Jean turns his head back to the pair, seemingly ignoring Eren completely, Marco thinks for a second that he's finally taken a step to become the better man. Once again, though, he's proven to be too naïve for his own good.

"Suit yourself. Anyways, where were we? Oh right," he flashes a smirk, "back to Mikas-" a force jerks his head forward with a thump, Marco recognizing it to be a pillow. The three turn their heads to see Eren sitting up with a harsh frown.

This was basically how the night went in a nutshell. They started talking about girls, they'd spend ten or so minutes fantasizing about Krista, and the ever so faint possibility that she liked any of them enough to want to go on a date. Armin would spend a few minutes blushing profusely at any mention of Annie and refusing to say anything, and Eren would spend the entire time tucked in his own corner of the bed they sat on waiting patiently (not so patiently) for the subject to change. Marco would mention Sasha to Jean, seeing how they spend so much time together, at which Jean would scoff, eventually raising the subject of any and all controversy to emerge out of a talk as innocent as this: Mikasa Ackerman.

When they start to talk about her, Eren is all ears, though not in a good way. It starts by him making gagging noises at Jean's compliments towards her, and it ends with Jean alluding to a quality about her that was a bit too personal for Eren's comfort, in this case talking about how if she spent more time with Jean then maybe she'd smile more, and they start to argue. Marco can tell, though, that it was all by Jean's grand design, only going as far as to talk about a known sore point (her smile) so he could get a rise out of Eren, and it worked like a charm. Insults were traded, one of which being the notion that Eren, because of his apparent disinterest in girls, wasn't attracted to them altogether.

As even a fool would expect, the idea pissed him off like nothing else, relegating Eren to his own bed to try and catch some sleep. Though not before a few disgruntled murmurs shot out of his mouth.

Obviously they all know the truth of the situation. Eren doesn't like talking about girls because he only really cares about one, even if he's too dense to realize it himself. To be honest, it's something Marco hadn't picked up on before Armin had pointed it out not long ago, and Sasha's little revelation a week ago about the nature of Eren and Mikasa's meeting only further set into stone the reality of Eren's feelings. Whether he's in love, an overprotective best friend, or a brotherly figure, it's clear that he cares about Mikasa far more than any of them gave him credit for when they first met the pair. First impressions were dominated by his hands, calloused but immature as they swatted away her own when he was so easily exasperated by her care, petulant shouts and childish frowns ever present on the boy's face.

But that was years ago, when Marco first met Eren and Mikasa. He's had the opportunity, though from afar and mostly through Armin's musings, to witness Eren and Mikasa grow to appreciate each other in different ways. Personally, he finds it really sweet, which is why he doesn't have the heart to side with his best friend, even when the subject inevitably results in a fight that he and Armin have to calm down.

"What the hell was that for?!" Jean flashes him if a scowl, seemingly surprised at a series of events he did everything in his power to instigate, much to Marco's exasperation.

"Shut up!"

Both of them look poised to jump from the two bunk beds that lie in the room, and Marco is once again reminded of how unfortunate a situation it is that Eren and Jean, out of all the boys in the 104th, were placed in the same room in the sleeping quarters.

"Jean! Eren! Settle down, we'll talk about something else! You're going to wake people up at this rate!" Armin pleads in a hushed tone, placing a hand on Jean's shoulder from where he sits, closer to the wall adjacent to the bed. Marco heartily agrees.

"It's fine, the subject was getting boring anyways!" he tries at a smile to alleviate the tension, Armin quickly joining in. After a few moments of silence, Jean relents, sighing as he puts his hands behind him on the mattress, letting them support his frame.

"Fine, what do you want to talk about?"

Marco's glad Armin knew to make the right decision, avoiding putting fault on anyone, because neither would go as far as to admit their part in it.

The three discuss other matters, talking about what their grades might be for the mountain expedition, with Armin wondering how exactly they'll go about grading their performance on a test in which none of the instructors were present. "There's just so many factors... like our ability to coordinate with our teammates, our endurance, our dedication to the laid path..."

Marco grimaces. "I hope that first one isn't a big factor. We let half our members go on that shortcut that ended in failure. Do you think we'll lose points for something like that?" his eyes expand with worry as he looks at Armin expectantly. The boy can only give a shrug in response. Jean lays a hand on Marco's shoulder.

"I wouldn't worry about that. So long as no one tells, Shadis will never know about that, right?" he smiles, although it fails to comfort Marco much. He's a terrible liar, and the guilt that would accompany keeping that information from him would probably be too much to contain. Shadis is smart, too. He'll know exactly who to ask for an honest report of the expedition.

"You put too much faith in me, Jean. I'd probably give it all away just with my face."

Jean puts up a dismissive hand. "The real problem is Eren. I bet he'll rat us out and pretend it was all my idea." The three glance across the room, seeing the huddled figure of a sleeping Eren, head buried under the covers. It's always been hard to tell when Eren's sleeping, as he's the only one among them who doesn't seem to snore.

"I doubt that. He's probably too embarrassed to talk about it." Marco laughs, letting his head rest on the wall behind him. Armin gives Jean a small frown.

"Still, he has plenty of reason to. Especially after you've been giving him such a hard time recently," Armin chastises, referring to the events of tonight but also the other day, where a confrontation about Mikasa resulted in Eren using a fighting move no one would have expected him to know. Now that Marco thinks about it, he looked a bit confused at his own actions, which is strange...

"What are you talking about? The bastard won that one, I'll give him that. But don't you think it's wrong to drag Mikasa to that hell? I get that you and Eren are joining the Scouts for your reasons, but we all know Mikasa will, too, just because Jaeger doesn't care to stop her."

Armin sighs, shaking his head. "If you were on the receiving end of Mikasa's stubbornness, you'd let her follow you to the Scouts, too."

"I wouldn't join the Scouts. And besides, you get my point. She doesn't want to join, but she's got too big of a crush on Eren."

"It's not like that..." Armin mutters, looking at the bed sheets. Marco and Jean give him a questioning look, one that he answers timidly.

"It's pretty easy to rile Eren up. But if there was one topic that's always been more sensitive than the others, it'd be Mikasa." He picks at the fabric of the bed, eyes shy, and Marco can tell that this is a delicate topic even for Armin, but he wonders why.

Evidently, so does Jean. "Why's that? Hasn't he known you longer anyways, Armin?" he crosses his arms skeptically. "The past few days have been the exception, but Jaeger never pays much attention to Mikasa. He's off in his own world and she's just trying to make sure he doesn't kill himself while he's in dreamland."

"To be fair, you're probably more aware of Eren's feelings than he is himself." Armin looks off into space as he thinks about his words. Jean furrows his brows, to which Armin can only sigh. "You'll have to trust me with this. I've known Eren long enough for it to be clear."

Marco doesn't really see the connection, but trusts Armin's judgement more than anything. He makes a valid point as well, as Armin surely knows a lot more about Eren than the other two boys.

Armin casts Jean a look of sympathy, putting a hand on his leg. "Eren can take a lot of teasing, but that's one line I don't advise you cross. Mikasa's very important to him, I'm just waiting for the day Eren realizes that himself," he chuckles.

Jean groans, swatting Armin's hand away. "Okay, okay... I'll give up on that front. But none of this makes me feel any better about Mikasa's fate. She should be smarter than to let herself die so she can stay with Eren, dammit. It's probably because of those damn kidnappers Sasha was talking about.. he saved her and stole her heart before I even got the chance..." he whines. Armin widens his eyes, shocked that Jean knows the information, and Marco gives him a light nudge with his foot.

"Hey, Jean, Sasha told us not to tell anyone about that!" his face turns red with shame, hoping Armin isn't terribly shocked by the reveal, but Jean dismisses his concern.

"You really think Armin of all people doesn't know about Eren and Mikasa's past?"

Armin looks away, face lost in a wistful contemplation. "I know about that. Eren told me about it when we were kids..." The pair look at him, somberness painting Marco's features as he remembers Armin's lost home in Shiganshina.

"I think you might be right, Jean... but I think it's specifically because of that night that Eren and Mikasa have such a disdain for the Military Police." Marco furrows his brows, confused as to what the connection could be. "In serious investigations, such as kidnapping or murder, it was actually often the Military Police that would take charge of the situation," he elaborates. "The MP commander before Nile Dawk had convinced the king to instate the rule. Multiple outposts were set up along Wall Rose and Wall Maria where the Police were allowed to operate." Marco isn't surprised that Armin, ever the historian, knows about this. Of course, in his dedication to getting into the Military Police, he knew about this as well, but Jean's eyebrows rise in curiosity.

"Really?"

"It's true," Marco interjects. "It was a great source of pride for the Military Police until the fall of Wall Maria. After that, all Police were called back to guard the territory within Wall Sina. It makes sense. With Wall Maria's we can dedicate one branch to protecting Rose and one to protecting Sina."

"That's the official answer. But there were reports of Military Police taking a large amount of important equipment as they went. Not only that, but the Police in the outposts could act with impunity as they harassed Garrison members and sometimes civilians. I suspect the higher ups just wanted to boast about their branch having the most power, and when Maria fell, they fled, seeing Rose as too vulnerable." The frown on Armin's face becomes more visible as the subject dances in his mind, reminding Marco that it wasn't only Eren who strongly disliked the Military Police. Often, Armin was very respectful of Marco's views towards them, but ultimately he doesn't wear any appreciation for the Police themselves. When Marco hears stories like these, he can't even say he blames him.

"Their incompetence followed them. It's why Eren had to go looking for Mikasa on his own when she was kidnapped. The police were given the responsibility of finding her, but by the time they made it to the cabin that Mikasa was held at, it would have been far too late."

"Wait.." Jean interrupts, shifting his position on the bed. "What do you mean 'too late?' What would have happened to her if Eren didn't get to her in time?" his voice is filled with caution as he asks, fearful of what he might hear. The possibilities rush through Marco's head as well, and they're only exacerbated when Armin doesn't respond, avoiding their gaze until finally answering. "They don't like to talk about it. I don't actually know, but I have my theories."

Marco decides to leave it at that, silently hoping Jean does as well. He's reminded of what happened last year, when Krista was captured by the thugs who wanted to steal their ODM gear for a profit. They captured her as insurance, to make sure none of them dared to come after them. He can only hope that Mikasa was captured for a similar reason.

"No offense, but you'll have a hard time convincing Eren that going into the Military Police is a noble goal," Armin interrupts his train of thought.

"You think I care what that suicidal bastard thinks? You're right Armin, the reality is that the Military Police are a bunch of lazy shitheads, but that's exactly the reason to join it," Jean tells him truthfully.

Marco tries to hide his frown, but fails. "I know how you guys feel about the Military Police, but really, it's not fair to blame a few bad apples for the entire organization. It's the same with the Scouts and the Garrison." He feels a light nudge at his side, seeing Jean elbowing him.

"Don't be stupid, Marco. You can't deny the fact that a huge number of Military Police are these supposed 'rotten apples.' I'm sure there are some decent soldiers there, but as long as the system lets people who get in live in luxury and be shit at their job, then I'm happy."

Marco exhales, not having the energy present to argue with Jean or Armin on this. Despite having very different goals, they both seem to be able to find agreement on the state of the Military Police, and it isolates the freckled boy. He's willing to fight for what he believes in, even if he has to go it alone in some respects, but he'd be lying if he said he relishes in the solitude of his beliefs. He isn't so foolish as to think everyone else is wrong while he's right. "But, even still..."

He fiddles with the coin in his hand, it's shine reflecting his tired face back to him. Engraved upon it is the king, his crown and beard prominent on his grand figure. His mother always told him that this was the first king, the one who protected them from the titans and united humanity behind the walls. It remains his eternal reminder of the King's will, passed on through the generations to protect humanity from extinction, to fight against the titans, the vicious beasts responsible for ceaseless tears in his youth, the conjurors of countless nightmares.

"To me, it feels like there are two different Military Polices," Armin cuts in, moving his feet to jump off the bunk so he can go to sleep. It had to be late after all. "There's the one that exists in the real world, and the ideal, the one I think everyone wants it to be." He looks at Eren, the gentle rise of his shoulders as his head begins to poke out from all of his unconscious squirming. "If the latter existed, I'd do everything I could to convince my friends to go into the branch. Not that the possibility is feasible, even in that world."

Marco stares at his coin, defeated at Armin's eloquence. As the blond returns to his bed, snuffing the candlelight out, Jean puts a hand on Marco's knee. He gives a look of sympathy, as if to apologize for a fact he knows he can't change, not that he would even want to. "Goodnight, Marco," he whispers as he jumps off the bed as well.

---

Marco misses those times dearly. As he searches his mind for the words his friends gave him that night, the memory of the three as they sat on their uncomfortable bed, letting the chirps of the crickets and the whip of the candlelight fire permeate the cabin, it feels mushy. Like parchment when you let it sit on the water, as if a single prod would be enough to tear it apart, to let it drift away, either disintegrating or sinking into the chaos of more terrible thoughts.

A lot has happened since he got to talk to Armin and Jean. Really talk to them. They've found themselves face to face with titans. Eren and Mikasa, the subject of much of their discussion that day, lost to the razed city, like so many other human beings he knew. They're both dead, and the last time he met Armin, he barely had his wits about him. His ocean blues lost in a storm. It's one of the few things Marco can't say he knows what it's like: to lose the people closest to you. His mother and father still live in Jinae, as safe as anyone could reasonably expect to be, living in Wall Rose. Armin lost his parents when he was young, as did Eren and Mikasa. Truly, they were all the blond had left. Nevertheless, Armin joined the Scouts, like he always said he would. Marco hopes Jean will be there to take care of him. He always was a meek little thing.

Jean... Marco's best friend. Still alive, as far as he knows. Last he heard, the Scouts had canceled their second operation to retake Trost, so he can find comfort in the knowledge that Jean won't be facing anything life threatening, for now. Marco wishes things turned out differently. He wishes he could be sitting in a comfortable chair on the surface, reading the papers to keep him updated on the Scouts' affairs as he looks upon a job well done for the day, working to make the world a better place like he always wanted to.

As he stares at his coin, he can no longer see its reflection. Grime and dirt have worked their way into the nooks of the King's features, and he hasn't bothered to clean it up. A part of him feels as if he shouldn't. Pardon his poetic side, but he feels that the sorry state of his precious token is an accurate reflection of his life's aspirations. Folly. Stained. Unkept.

But he doesn't need a coin to remind him of that fact. The tiny rivers of blood that seeped through every crack in the stony ground won't be leaving his mind anytime soon.

Yesterday had been a colossal failure, to say the least. The slaughter was a disaster for the Military Police, most of all in the way it affected the people's opinion of them. The citizenry had always been indifferent to the Military Police. They've long since realized that the only purpose to their existence is to protect official government business, allowing goods and services to be sent down to the Underground but, more crucially, allowing precious materials to be exported. Not long after the city's abandonment by the government, it was the crime organizations that stepped in and became the effective arbiter of food, shelter, and purpose to the destitute, creating an even tighter monopoly for the crime lords at the top. It was exactly this monopoly that Marco tried to combat, and in doing so, he instilled hope within his comrades, and hope within the victims of the gang's frequent exploits and skirmishes, that things could change for the better.

And the fruits of his efforts have been made abundantly clear.

The higher-ups in the Underground Military Police needed a scapegoat, and they found it in Marco. In order to avoid political fallout, they figured a simple trial and military discharge would do the trick. Apparently it's to be the largest trial ever to be conducted in the Underground MP, by design. It's intention is to get the attention of everyone in the Military Police and the Underground press. "Once you're dealt with, the gang lords will go back to having us in a chokehold... like nothing ever happened," was the way Jen put it as she explained the situation. With the way she implied it, he knows that execution is on the table.

"What do you think now... Ma?"

He's not terribly upset. He probably deserves it, anyways. Their deaths are on his hands, that much he knows.

It's his favorite time of the day. The sun has gotten low enough that it it's able to pierce through the small cracks of the Underground's ceiling, shining light through an otherwise dim world, lit only by the hundreds of thousands of fires and candles that scatter the city. He wonders for what other reason does the large window that sits to his right exist, other than for it to cast this light into the Underground headquarters for a small period of the day, on days when the clouds are too shy to peek. He sits on a coarse wooden bench, in a grand hallway filled with torches and old paintings, their corners chipped away by time. Here he awaits his trial, where a gathering of high officers will determine his crimes and his sentence.

And in a somewhat cruel twist of fate, the soldier to accompany him is the unfortunate victim of his greatest crime, his most vicious betrayal. Ashe carries a piece of cloth, stained with blood, yet soft even still. Marco's first guess is that it belonged to Mia, but in reality, there's a number of people close to Ashe that it could have belonged to. His heart curls with guilt as he stares at him, face blank, features tired. Although he knows there's nothing to be said, he doesn't want his last interaction with the boy to be one of irretrievable pain.

"I'm so sorry, Ashe." His voice is quiet as he apologizes. The boy gives him a somewhat deranged look.

"Why? You weren't even there."

Marco's chest falls as he lets his coin rest in his palm. "I wasn't. All I could speak of was how much the Military Police needed to be reformed, and how lazy everyone but me was, but as soon as I was depended on to show up, I couldn't."

He sees the sun begin to leave the cracks.

Ashe laughs, "You really think you would have made the difference? Don't flatter yourself."

Marco frowns, shaking his head. That isn't the point. "It doesn't matter whether we would have lost. I deserved to be there. It's my fault that any of this happened in the first place."

The boy makes a light sound of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It was Miller, Ashe. He organized the attack because I tried to push the Military Police in a different direction. I tried to lead us all, but I didn't realize that there was no one behind me willing to follow. I dragged us into this hell, and now Mia's gone because of it."

Ashe has nothing to say, the mention of Mia driving him to a painful silence.

Marco places his coin back in his pocket, not knowing if he'll see it again. "I failed the police. I failed the king. I failed you."

Perhaps Armin was right. Maybe there is a difference between the ideal and the real. Maybe the real is full of decadent souls that not even the surface Military Police deemed productive enough to remain. But there are people down here. The Military Police are human beings, it's something Marco's always known.

"I don't remember watching you pull that trigger..." Ashe's low voice cuts through the flickering torchlight.

Marco's features slack, searching for words to respond with, words to keep himself unabsolved, but all that can escape is a simple "Huh?"

"She was confused, when it happened. We all were... We grabbed our guns, but we were surrounded," he explains, voice pained as his eyes travel back to that moment, reliving it. "I don't even know how I made it out of it in the end.. there's no way a piece of shit like me deserves it. So many pieces of shit made it out alive, but not her..."

He tightens the cloth in his beaten hand until his knuckles turn white. Marco is astounded, pained at the revelation. "Ashe fought as well as he could... why is he blaming himself?"

His breath hitches as the realization hits him. "Isn't that what I'm doing..?" he looks to the doors, clean and large as they spell his trial. He is on trial. Miller staged an ambush on him. He had a responsibility, not Ashe.

"I couldn't give less of a shit if it was your fault, or if you failed some assholes at the top," Ashe continues, resentment sharp on his tongue. "I'll never forget that man's face, the one that shot a bullet straight into her eye. I'm going to kill him, no matter what. Mark my words, Marco..."

"Ashe..."

"I don't think I'll be able to forgive you, but right now I don't even care. You failed, but the fight isn't over yet."

To that Marco can say nothing, blinking his thoughts away, staring at him.

The two are interrupted by the creaking of the nearby doors. The sound presses into every corner of the hallway, wrapping around Marco's bones, willing them to make him stand on his two feet. Ashe stands as well, grabbing Marco by the arm, though both are aware that there's no need to force him into the room. "This is your fate Marco. I'll accept the consequences of my crimes, whatever they might be."

---

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-thr-

Eren practically jumps from the floor as he sees the house centipede, squirming on its hundreds, no, thousands of legs directly next to his ear. The yelp that escapes him is a bit too loud for his own comfort as he stands up, muttering a quick "shit.." That thing could have crawled into his ear!

"What happened?" Mikasa asks, a little panicked, lifting her head from the book she was reading.

He frowns, turning his face away in embarrassment. "Just a stupid bug."

"Oh.." she resumes her activity, but Eren swears he hears her chuckle quietly

He ignores the pressings of his brow at her amusement, thinking to kick the bug, too big for its own good, but refrains. It might crawl on his foot and eat him alive, or something. He's not afraid of bugs. On the contrary, he's very willing to kill them if they give him a shock. He just finds them too creepy, the stuff of campfire stories that Armin used to tell in the night, scaring himself as he recounted them more than Eren or Mikasa.

His mind flashes back to those days, a wistful smile findings itself on his countenance. Looking back, Mikasa always looped her arm through his during those stories, and there would be times when later that night, she would ask to sleep with him, being afraid of the monsters.

Eren never really believed her. Asking, "Are you really scared of Armin's story?" She'd look away, shrugging. He can't quite remember if it was the kind of shrug she'd give when embarrassed, or the one she'd use when she was lying.

He doesn't mind, though. Because if she was lying, it means she was doing it just to sleep with him. He doesn't mind.

He stands, stretching out his tired arms as he massages the sore area around his abdomen. Core exercises were probably the most important type of body exercise for a soldier in the Scouts, as ODM use requires the heavy employment of abdominals. His job was physically taxing, sure, loading and unloading heavy cargo only really worked his upper body and his arms.

If Shadis' (and often Armin's) constant lectures about the importance of core strength didn't convince him that it was something he needed to maintain, then seeing Mikasa shirtless certainly did. The first thing he noticed about her when she accidentally took her own shirt off weeks ago was how nervous it made her. It was adorable. She's attractive, sure, but Eren never really took interest in her for specifically that reason, and they're both aware of that. Beautiful is a better term for her anyways.

The next thing he noticed was her scars. They were abundant as they scattered her, to the point that Eren could hardly believe human beings were capable of taking such a beating. She didn't look terribly ashamed of them, which is good, he supposes, but his heart still rang with guilt. Here he was, fighting the exact same war as her but not a single damn scar on him.

Now that he thinks about it, it is rather curious how shiny he looks. He can't say he's a fan of it, either. He wanted scars to call his own, mementos to the battles he fought to avenge his mom, to win their freedom. And yet it seems he's let Mikasa take all of them for herself. He's always been a good healer, whether it was hitting his head on the ground as a kid or losing the black eye that much faster than Jean after one of their fights, but something about this defies all logic.

Didn't that female titan throw him to the ground? What all did he end up with? Fatigue and a bandage wrapped around his head?

He sighs as he lays on his bed, doing it too quickly to realize that he's still plenty sweaty and Mikasa shares the bed with him. Oh well. If she actually complains he'll eat rocks.

Speaking of the girl, she sits at their table reading a book of fairy tales, eyes glued to the page as the book hides her features from the boy. Her body is wrapped up in a black long-sleeved shirt, slightly too big for her own body. She bought it back when finances were less of a concern, but it was still a strange choice to the boy. Eren had questioned her as to why she would buy something that hid her hands in the sleeves and hung so low as to expose the entirety of her collarbone. Her only defense: "I like it. It's comfortable."

Though right now he can hardly believe her choice of wear. "It feels like a damn oven in here," he complains to no one in particular, wiping sweat from his brow. He's sure exercise contributed to his state, but the humidity in the air makes it stick to his skin. He feels gross, especially compared to the smooth, soft, perfect skin of Mikasa as she delicately closes her book.

"It must be a hot day out," she offers, laying her head on the back of the chair.

"Must be.." the notion makes him pout. It's like the Underground is one giant basement that he's been stuck in for months. He learned recently that the unlucky bastards who were born here can actually be stunted due to a lack of sunlight. Some never become fully grown, while other's legs give out entirely. The sun isn't just a powerful symbol of light and freedom, like Eren had always thought. Apparently, you need it. He pities the poor souls that are too destitute to even feel the rays of sunlight touch their skin. Their only sense of heat the humid bog of the Underground.

He supposes that they'll be under that category of destitute sooner rather than later, once Mikasa leaves the gang. Still, he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he'll be able to rest easy with an untroubled conscience and, perhaps more significantly, the knowledge that she's safe.

Clearly, though, the thought troubles her a great deal more than it troubles him as she squirms in her chair, flashing him a questioning look, as if she's about to ask for something.

"Is it okay if I buy another book?"

Eren furrows his brows, letting out a light "huh?". He didn't know Mikasa to be such a spendthrift. "Have you already finished that one?"

She gives a cute little nod, the image making him sigh as his chest squeezes in the most annoying way. "Why are you asking me then?"

"I want to know what you think… It's our money we're spending."

Eren chuckles, voice tired from his exercising. "I think you're making a lot more than me for it to be considered 'ours,' really."

At this, she frowns. "Books aren't cheap anymore, especially down here." She looks at him with a particular type of expression, a mixture of concern and sagacity. He's quick to understand that she's referring to the money that's soon to melt away if Mikasa goes any further with leaving the gang. According to her, she hasn't quite found an opportune time to confront Miller about it. He's anxious to have her leave, but ultimately if she needs to wait for the right time, then he's willing to wait with her. Eren had earlier asked if she even needed to tell anyone, suggesting she just stop showing up. Mikasa looked at him as if he were insane, saying they'd just find her and demand an explanation, putting them both at risk. That's what she said, but it was clear whose safety she was particularly concerned for.

He looks at her, soft eyes looking at him expectantly, and he has to shift away so as to not get lost in the gaze. Dammit, was he always like this around her?

"It sounds like you want me to convince you not to buy the book," Eren tells her honestly, and the way she averts her gaze slightly lets him know that's exactly what she was thinking. She puts the book down, drawing her knees up to her chest as she somehow manages to sit comfortably on the hard chair.

With her sigh, he feels his heart sink a little, and so he asks. "What's wrong, Mikasa?" He doesn't know why he says her name, they're the only two people in the room. He just loves saying the name. Plus, if he does it a lot, it might increase the chances of her saying his name, which he loves just as much.

"It's just going to be a lot more difficult to pay for things when I leave. I'm worried about it." She looks away as she says it, but the anxiety is clear on her face. Eren can tell that she's torn about her decision, a part of him hoping that she doesn't feel trapped just because she promised Eren she'd leave.

But no… he's willing to stand firm on this subject. One of them has to, if they want to get anything done. After her confession, he's resigned himself to being the assertive one of the pair. It's as scary as it is fulfilling. He always wanted to provide for Mikasa, to make her feel safe and warm the same way she does for him, and now he has the opportunity. Though if you asked her, she'd probably say his mere presence is enough to comfort her. But honestly, if what he needs to do is to just exist in her life, then he's going to exist like no one has before.

He sits up from the bed, dragging a nearby chair to sit by her. He realizes that the longer the silence lasts, the more her eyes tremble as she's consumed by thoughts. He doesn't like the sight one bit.

"Don't worry," he flashes a warm smile. "You can just get a job where I work. I bet someone who can lift three boxes at a time wouldn't have a hard time getting hired." He keeps the small bit of jealousy present from swimming into his voice. He's overcome a lot of the jealousy towards her skill that he used to have, but he certainly wouldn't ever be opposed to being as strong as her, that's for sure.

Her inky pools shine, a silent gratitude at his words wreathing her features, and it makes his heart soar. She's quick to shake her head, though. "It's not that simple. I'm sure there are a few workers who recognize me from before." Regret taints her eyes as she looks down, referring to Miller's ambush on the Military Police at Eren's place of work. She takes Eren's hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. "I kept them out of harm's way, like I promised. But... they won't see it that way. I still had a job to do."

Eren shoots her an understanding gaze. He never approved of her actions at that moment, but he gets why she had to do it. At the end of the day, Ingrid, and many others, are still alive. It could have ended up a lot worse.

"That's true..." he admits, looking down. Mikasa sits back upright, scooting herself closer to him so their knees touch. Though he'd never say it aloud, even her knees make him feel comforted.

Has he always been like this?

"I know you did all this because you wanted me to be safe, Mikasa. I'm not mad at you for joining." "I don't hate you..." he thinks to say, the phrase still echoing in his voice from the first time he said it, but he refrains. If he said it every time the thought crossed his mind, she'd probably get sick of hearing it. Though that's better than the alternative.

She lets her head droop down, her soft hair brushing her cheeks.

"I know. I promise I want to leave, Eren. It's just..."

He can see the way her figure moves with each breath. The way she scoots ever so closer to him, gripping his hand like a lifeline. Eren gives her an empathetic look. The boy can't imagine ever being as upset with her as she always seems to fear. She's been gripped by fear for as long as they've been down here. Fear of what may come, fear of what he would think of her for every little action she takes.

In fact, it does strike him as odd. She's loved him for as long as she's known him, right? She said as much, and as Eren looks back on his life with her, he couldn't see it being any other way. The way she always treated him, wholly different from anyone else she knew, even Armin, was more indicative of her feelings than anything else. And yet now it feels as if she's becoming more desperate. When he would lash out while they lived in the orphanages, when he joined the military and she followed, when he got in fight after fight with Jean and other trainees, none of it drove her to desperate measures the way their life in the Underground has.

Maybe it has to do with Trost. He remembers getting flung by that abnormal, female titan.

He can only assume she eventually killed the thing, but the risk it posed to his life, not to mention her insubordination, must have been too much for her to bear. "Is that what happened to you, Mikasa? Are you really... that scared of my death? You'd run away with me down here, worrying about if we can afford the bare minimum to survive, just so I can be with you…?"

"just please don't leave me... please..." her words echo through the core of his soul. He stifles his breath, letting his forehead press against hers as he tries to convey his care, knowing his own words couldn't possibly do it justice.

"I'm here, Mikasa. I'll always be here."

She trembles, pressing a hand to his cheek. "Eren…" her voice is soft, angelic, "You don't have to ch-"

"Stop saying that. I want to change," he interrupts her, knowing that they're talking about something completely different now, something more important. He has absolutely no idea where to go forward with their relationship. He's not exactly worried that she'll leave him if he makes the wrong move, it's more about what he'll do to himself. He cannot bear to hurt her again. It took her entire heart just to tell him the truth. He won't take it for granted.

"It'll be okay. Your skills will get you a job anywhere you want. Don't you remember that you got into a gang at fifteen years old?" Mikasa Ackerman is so silly, being scared despite something like that.

She breathes, making an indiscernible face as she hesitantly nods. He nudges himself against her forehead, but it appears that Mikasa may have interpreted it as him getting up, as she gently places a hand on his arm, wordlessly begging him to stay. His heart swells past the breaking point as he closes his eyes, tasting her own breath, moving against the smoothness of her gentle skin.

"I know, Eren. I think I can do anything as long as you're with me..."

Eren trembles, adoration spilling over as he loses his train of thought. His head and his heart, both full of only Mikasa. Her smile, her touch, her strength, her radiance, her love. He can think of nothing else as he moves his head upwards, holding her jaw and pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

He quickly realizes what he just did, his face blazing as his heart races in his chest, but she doesn't move. From his position, he can't see her face, but neither of them make an effort to move. "S-Sorry…" he lets panic overtake his voice. He hears her let out a held breath as she grabs his arms harder,

"I-It's okay. Stay… please…"

Eren wraps her in a hug, one that she's quick to reciprocate and melt in, as always.

He doesn't think he'll ever understand why she loves him.

---

The pub carries a lively atmosphere on this night. The clinking of cups and the laughs of men fill her ears, the air she breathes is thick with a sickening joviality. But for Mikasa Ackerman, at least, nothing here is worthy of celebration. This may as well be a funeral.

Just about every seat in the large pub is filled as she walks in. Fire burns on the sides of the walls, women with half exposed chests dash around to tend to the men, a few of the bold ones groping and squeezing as they please, making her want to gag. Mikasa could never work here, that much is certain.

She conceals her grimace well, as she always does, substituting it for an impassive frown, a face wiped clean of emotion. "Now is not the time. I need to wait for a better opportunity to leave the organization. One word from Miller and everyone here will be an obstacle in my way. I don't know if I could take them all on, especially if some of them are armed."

She's armed herself, of course, though with nothing more than a knife, hidden on her person. Handguns any smaller than the standard military rifle are too hard for someone like her to get her hands on, too steeped within the black market. Besides, she never really learned how to use one anyways, not that it'd be exceedingly difficult to understand.

As she snakes through the sea of people, she can hear gruff voices shouting enthusiastically of their recent victory.

"Ha! Those idiots in the Military Police didn't see it coming!" one voice shouts with a laugh.

"Yeah, you'd think they'd be more equipped over at the docks. The only place safer than that is the HQ itself."

Mikasa scowls, not at all pleased with the obvious information. They aren't exactly making groundbreaking revelations, but the facts of the matter make her shoulders slump in defeat, her own stupidity making her want to grind her teeth together. It had taken enough convincing out of Eren just for her to let him make some money, and when he found something by the docks, she thought it the best possible place. That was until the police started to become more active, inciting this entire ordeal in the first place.

A part of her wonders if she's cursed. The moment she gives Eren ground, it blows up in her face, without fail. It makes the decision too hard at times, the decision to cease her persistent babying, to stop being so damn protective. Normally she might think the result of one wrong move could be catastrophe, that the end of the world as most of humanity knows it lay at the end of the road from one wrong path, but she knows she's on a collision course. At this point, her strategy is simply to hide. As she thinks about her confession, about the way he put his lips to her forehead and melted her very soul, reforming it to the tune of his own, she thinks that she made the right choice. Her and Eren will live down here, or above, hiding for the rest of his days. That's what she wants. That's what's best for humanity.

But she can't go on like this, staying in the gang. Even if the effect it had on Eren didn't fall under her consideration, which it absolutely does, she can't continue on this violent path, for the sake of her own conscience.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. For a moment, she freezes, her mind flashing to where her knife is hidden, but she turns around. She faces a man, sitting by the table nearest to her with a bored expression. "Oi, Mikasa," he lets out, putting his drink back on the table. She hasn't quite learned the names of everyone in the gang, being one of the biggest in the city, but it's clear that they all know hers very well.

Physical features aside, she's done much to earn notoriety in their gang. She played a crucial role in the success of the very operation they were celebrating tonight, and they all know it.

The bulbous man points to another man a few tables away. This one was waving at her, and from her distance she can't ascertain much, but she can see his thinly, casual stature. He looks rather comfortable in his own skin, despite not being a day younger than 40, at least. His hair is limited, with most of it completely gone at the top, only sticking to the sides and the back as he flashes her an innocent grin.

Regardless of his unassuming features, the man gives her a dreadful feeling. However, the last thing she expects is what the man close to her says next.

"Mr. Miller would like to see you." He points to the man, and her heart goes cold. Was she to believe that that man only a few tables away, dressed in nothing but a plain reddish brown shirt and drinking from a chipped wooden cup, was Mr. Miller? She hadn't before laid eyes upon the man himself, but she would have guessed someone of his class would prefer a more lavish... style.

"So this is the grand Mr. Miller everyone talks about?" she can hardly believe it as she nods, walking over to him with a face that betrays as little as she can manage. Despite his demeanor, she can't help but be a little intimidated by the man. He has the power to destroy her life, should she trigger his wrath. She ponders if that's the result of his reputation preceding him, or if it's an intentional psychological move.

"It's impossible to say. I need to be careful around him, otherwise I'm never getting out of here. He wants to see me, so he's already aware of my existence..." she thinks to herself.

When she makes it to the table, large enough to fit four people, she sees two men sitting on either side of him. The one on his left she knows to be Henry. His gaunt features and slim beard make him recognizable enough. He was the one to lead their ambush against the MP. The one on his right she's met before as well, though she can't remember his name. This one was much less amicable to her presence when they met, borne out of what she can only assume to be jealousy at her skills. She's used to it, though, remembering Eren's petulant outbursts that would ensue the moment she ever accidentally showed him up. However, her stomach curls just at the idea of comparing the two. Eren was jealous because he cared.

"I believe introductions are in order!" the balding man says happily, offering his hand. Mikasa takes it hesitantly, not at all used to a situation so social, even though she should be twenty two by now. Miller seems to revel in it, smoothing his thumb over her own hand. Her insides tighten, pulling her hand back a little too roughly. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice. "You can call me Miller. I'm the leader of this entire organization."

The juxtaposition is strange to the girl, knowing that every word of that sentence was true, despite the way the man carried himself.

"So," he takes a seat again, offering her the one across from him. "how are you enjoying the celebration, Mikasa?"

She blinks, surprised that he knows her name, but she instantly corrects herself. "I'm enjoying it fine." She crosses her arms, taking a look at the uninhibited laughter of the people around her. It's a celebration, she knows, but it feels wrong to see them here, it feels gross.

"Clearly." Miller laughs into his mug, giving Mikasa a probing glare.

Henry cuts in, patting her on the shoulder, his hand large against her fifteen year old self. "You should be proud, brat. Your skills were what won us the day in the end. If it weren't for you, we would have lost a lot more men."

"Still, it's not like we would have lost either way." The man to her right frowns, eyes closed as he crosses his arms grumpily.

"What's wrong Dieter, you jealous because some girl's better than you?" Henry asks with a grin.

The man huffs. "Don't be stupid, Henry. She won't last long here. I saw her taking the time to save civilians when her priorities should have been eliminating the police." Mikasa grows cold again, almost glaring at the man... Dieter, was his name... for giving away that information. However, Miller only shrugs, eliciting a great deal of confusion from the girl.

"They got caught up in this fight, there's no point in letting them die," Mikasa retorts, wanting to make it clear, mostly to Miller, that she wasn't doing it for any subversive reasons.

Dieter smirks, making Mikasa frown harder. She continues, "besides, I don't see why we even had to do this. The Military Police never actually threatened your organization." She knows she's letting herself get too comfortable, complaining to Miller himself, but as she's sat here growing used to the man's presence, she doesn't actually feel all that threatened. She's not so foolish as to assume he isn't far more powerful than her, but if it came down to it, she could probably slit his throat with ease. "People around here aren't dependable anyway. Who's to say they don't betray Miller and try to seize his position instead of focusing on me?"

But she doesn't, because she needs to play it safe for now. It's too risky to not take a more diplomatic route. She wishes Armin were here.

"I'm hurt," Miller feigns offense at Mikasa's comment. "This is our organization now. You're a vital part of it." He flashes her another toothy grin, and it makes her heart sink. She can't have him depending on her. In fact, it might be better to fight against him. If she can prove to be more trouble than it's worth to keep her around, then things might be less difficult.

"Even if they started putting up more of a fight recently, why would you dedicate all of your forces to an area full of civilians." She's not just complaining for complaining's sake, either. Eren sticks to the back of her mind, as well as the innocents who lost their lives because of these criminals. Was there really a point to it?

Miller sighs, scratching the back of his bald head. "I know people. That's why."

Mikasa keeps her frown, slightly furrowing her brows. Miller answers the silent question. "You have plenty of skill, but you're obviously not a people person. Strange how those two things never seem to go hand in hand, I guess it's just too much to ask for these days..." he laments, placing his elbows on the table. "Anyways, I know people, and I know my enemies. Those soldiers are lazy, greedy, and weak. I like it that way. But they're only going to get stronger if we let them. We could have killed one or one hundred, I don't really care. I'm telling these MP's to stay where they are, or there will be consequences. Sure, they started getting cocky, but no one is going to be stupid enough to mess with us now."

Mikasa keeps her frown, still not satisfied with the death she helped to incur.

Miller quirks a brow. "Would you have rather me sent a strongly worded letter? I know you're not from here, but you know better than that. No one who's as skilled as you are with a weapon hasn't taken a life," he explains, seriousness creeping into his voice at the last sentence. His eyes are piercing, exposing Mikasa like an open book.

She doesn't respond, averting her eyes to the poor bartender attending a group of sleazy perverts. Mikasa thinks about the woman's life, whether she was forced here by her circumstances. "Who would do this willingly?" she asks herself.

"When was your first kill, girl?" Miller asks out of the blue. Despite the personal nature of the question, Mikasa doesn't feel flustered, her mind simply jumping to Eren.

"If you don't fight, you can't win!"

"Fight."

"Fight!"

It fills her with strength, as it always has.

"I only kill when I have to. This operation wasn't necessary," she answers, a sudden boost of confidence allowing her to talk back to her boss.

Dieter scoffs. "Stupid girl. You won't last another week here."

"I disagree," Miller interjects. "I think you have incredible potential. Once you shake your militaristic thinking, I wouldn't be opposed to making you my right hand.. err, woman." He catches himself before saying man, the phony courtesy not lost on Mikasa.

She tries to hide her shock at his insinuation that she once belonged to the military. For a moment she wonders how he even could have guessed, forgetting that she spend four years of her past life in the Survey Corps.

"What? You didn't think I'd figure you were an ex-soldier? 'I only kill when I have to.' You're biased towards the Military Police." His tone is accusatory, startling Mikasa a bit. "Not to mention your fighting style. I ordered Henry here to make sure to pay close attention to it. He says you're able to react to attacks just as easily as you're able to go on the offensive, a rare trait around here. The only thing most people know how to do is shank, shank, shank..." he makes a thrusting motion with his hand, sighing in exasperation. The man clearly doesn't care for most of the lackeys around here.

Mikasa sinks in her chair a little, worry festering in her mind as she speculates the extent of his knowledge about her. What else can he guess based off of what he knows already?

Miller catches this, raising a hand. "Don't worry. I don't actually care about your past. If you were still on their side, you wouldn't be hiding in the Underground. I know you aren't undercover either, because no soldier good enough to play the role of detective would end up down here anyways."

"So... you just trust me?"

"I didn't say that," he lets out a light laugh. "You want to know some people who fought by your side during the attack? Here.." the man cracks a wicked smile, directing their gaze to a man at a far table, a large smile on his face as he holds someone's arm to keep him from doubling over in laughter.

"That man's named Heins. He's a mole for a rival gang, just found out yesterday. I'm letting him have one last drink before he's killed." His voice is low and dangerous. "Don't need trust to get some usefulness out of people." Henry smirks at the interaction, with Mikasa tensing up in shock, Ackerman blood rushing throughout her.

"Look there." He directs her to a woman, not many tables to her right. One of the few woman here in the gang, actually. "Louise. She's a mole as well, for a different gang. She's a bit higher up, you can just tell, so I'm not going to have her killed yet." Mikasa's frown hardens on her face, excising any and all emotion as Miller continues. "We captured her son, so it's only a matter of time before we get the information we want."

"This is for Eren." She has to remind herself, repeating it over and over again. "You're going to leave. You don't have to stay here. This isn't you..."

Miller, once again, seems to read her, shrugging once more. "I feel bad for her, too, but she made her choice. You don't get to the top by caring for everyone's sob story. But everyone has a weakness, you'd do well to know it. Especially when you come across someone stronger than you," he stares at her long and hard, mind moving in imperceptible ticks behind his eyes. "If, in your case."

Mikasa crosses her arms. "Why are you telling me this? What if I'm a mole just like them?"

Henry laughs. "With your acting skills? We're smarter than that." Miller and Dieter smile as well, the former nodding.

"He's right. That's why I invited you here. I'd like to propose a toast." He raises his mug, his brown eyes wrapping Mikasa in a chokehold. "To Mikasa, the teenager that somehow knows twice as much about fighting competently than half the shitheads in this pub. Myself included, ha!" he finishes with a laugh.

Mikasa's no Ymir, but she gets the feeling that Mr. Miller doesn't find a single thing about this amusing.

---

The extravagant man slams the polished gavel into the table, once, twice, three times, settling the miniature uproar that's seized the trial room. Each bang of the hammer feels like a blow, forcing him further into the ground until he's buried. But this is his fate. The high officers may have political reasons for the expensive trial, but at the end of the day they have a job to do, and Marco must accept it.

"Quiet, quiet. Let's just get this over with," the bored voice of one of the officers fills the room. The room itself is large, covered in white walls with grand draperies depicting the symbol Military Police hanging from them. Marco stands in the center of the room, facing a semi circle table, seating twelve high officers of the Underground, the only one he recognizes being Konigsmann. Each officer is supposed to be in charge of a certain district of the city, but there's so little police activity in some sectors that the boy wonders what they could be doing at all.

Behind him and to his sides stand a multitude of soldiers, dressed in semi-formal gear with rifles, as if they were needed to stop Marco from trying anything funny. "Do they think of me as some kind of one-man army?" he ponders, but realizes that it is likely for ceremonial reasons more so than practical.

That's what this trial really is after all: a ceremony. His fate has already been long decided, whatever it may be. He feels his body shake at the hundreds of eyes, all staring at him now, awaiting his testimony. Marco steels himself. If he has one more objective before he dies, it's to inspire hope in his comrades one last time. He failed them, but that doesn't mean they can't go on without him.

An officer near the center of the table, slightly to the left, speaks up.

"Mr. Miller claims responsibility for the attack on the dock yesterday. According to your own testimony as well, Miller had attempted an assassination against you, meaning that he had his attention set on you as a part of his larger goal. Faced with this plurality of evidence, we have decided that it is you who deserves punishment." His voice is bored, yet authoritative, shifting the papers between his fingers.

"That's officer Tafi. He's technically the administrator of the district I was assigned to. Though, I can't remember the last time I stepped foot in that sector, not that anyone cared until now."

"Anything to say in defense?" he asks, finally glancing at him. Marco feels his shoulders grow heavy, crushed under the weight of silence as they look to him.

"I-..." he stutters, looking down. "I'll accept any punishment that you believe is necessary…"

Most of the officers make surprised faces, with the exception of Konigsmann, probably not expecting Marco to acquiesce as easily, especially if his life was on the line. But as the silence grows to replace his voice again, he looks to his right, seeing the dazed and indignant look in his eyes, Marco realizes that now will be his last time to speak.

"Just, please.. Whatever you do with me, make sure something is done about this."

Ashe blinks, letting out a light sound of confusion as he stares at the boy.

"Hmm? About what?" Tafi asks, stacking the papers back together. Marco gasps, features twisting in anger at the officer's complete lack of care about the tragedy that occurred.

"About the attack on the dock! You lost fourteen good soldiers, and thirty six more were injured. That's not a blow the Underground Military Police can sustain!" he finds the power of his voice despite himself, saddened completely by his officer's disregard.

"Will nothing be done about this? Have my comrades died in vain, the same way I'll be executed once this is over?" he looks to Ashe and Jen, standing together. Jen looks resigned, staring listlessly at the ground, but Ashe's fury begins to take hold, a frown surging through his worn features. "Will my friends not be able to avenge the dead, after a lifetime of doing nothing?"

"And I assume 'doing something about it' in your eyes would be to retaliate?" the officer answers cooly. Marco stutters, grinding his wrists against the chains.

"Well… maybe not an immediate offensive, but too many soldiers died for us to just forget about it!" he argues, passion flaring up within the boy. He's never been one to shout or raise his voice, even against unfair situations. But this goes above and beyond unfair. It's wrong, simple as that.

Another gaunt officer chortles. "Do you really not get it? The more we push back, the more they'll chew us apart. And they will. They're stronger than us in every way. More firepower, more manpower, and more influence."

Memories of Armin's story flash in the boy's mind, memories of the Military Police's incompetence, memories of Jean's countless assertions that the police was full of corruption, almost guaranteeing an easy life, unless you were someone like Marco. "How do you think it got this way?" he looks around at his comrades, their faces shocked, some contemplative, while others still don't react. "Crime lords don't just pop up overnight. It's people who benefit from their existence, on both sides!"

"What are you implying, Bott?" Tafi asks with a displeased grimace.

"It's more than an accident that the existence of these criminal organizations like Miller's is making your job easier. You let this happen, and this is the result!" he accuses, voice echoing throughout the room, back to his ears as he hears his own words. He thinks himself partly insane, shouting at the people in charge of the organization he's spent his whole life admiring. Is it really the right thing to do…?

"To me, it feels like there are two different Military Polices. There's the one that exists in the real world, and the ideal, the one I think everyone wants it to be…" Armin's words haunt him, reminding him of what it is that Marco truly cares about.

He spent his life idolizing the ideal, fighting, training, hurting for the ideal, not this rancid pit of corruption and decadence he sees before him.

"Result?" Another officer stands from his seat, offended at Marco's tone. "The result of your naivety is that crime has gone up exponentially. Criminals don't fear us, they see us as a challenge, one that they're happy to fight against. It's not a coincidence that that girl showed up around the same time you started trying to get you and your comrades killed!"

A sea of uproar ensues, another officer at the far right piping up, "that's right! Rumor has it that she works for Miller, she's been causing our police problems for the past week and a half!"

Marco blanches at the reminder of "the girl." This mysterious woman had gained quite the reputation in the Underground for being startlingly efficient, a true bane to Marco's efforts if he ever had one. It's true that it wasn't until he began causing a ruckus that she became prominent. He doesn't know the identity of this girl, not having met her face to face, but he thinks she's all the more reason to continue to fight.

"Their pushback is the price we have to pay for letting crime destroy the Underground… if we don't do anything, it'll only get worse!" Marco snaps.

Tafi shakes his head. "I'm not letting the warnings of a naive boy change the directive of the Military Police." He slams the gavel into the table, silencing the crowd.

The words finally shake Marco's chest, eliciting his justified rage. For too many years he's been called naive for endeavoring to do the right thing. "If I'm naive for thinking the citizens of the Underground deserve a dignified life, then so be it. The king would be ashamed to see you excusing the actions of people who blatantly break the law and kill your own soldiers!"

Tafi twitches, gripping the papers harshly enough to tear them. "You green idiot…"

"Enough of this. I have a proposal to make." Konigsmann stands, chair scraping against the wooden floors. Tafi looks at him with wide eyes. "What is the meaning of this, Konigsmann?"

Marco gasps, furrowing his brows. "What could Konigsmann be planning?"

Once silence takes hold, the large man clears his throat. "Bott is clearly of the right mold. He may be naive, but he cares far more about this organization than many of you here."

"He cares enough to drive it into the ground, you mean!"

Marco can only watch as the two bicker, realizing his life may rest upon the argument of a man he's barely gotten the opportunity to know.

"I disagree. If Marco Bott were to be made captain of the Underground Military Police, I think we would benefit greatly," he says in his signature brusque tone, though a layer of calculation is inscribed within his features.

Gasps and movement can be heard from the soldiers around him, but Marco can only stare at the man in shock. "Captain of the Underground..? Is he crazy? After what I've done? Besides, surely Konigsmann realizes that the officers would never go along with that! If they don't sentence me to execution, the Military Police would look weak!"

Tafi looks at his other officers with bewilderment, and, as expected, they share his astonished expression. "This is absurd. If we're all in agreement then, I hereby-"

"Absurd to who, Tafi? To you officers, who sit in your chairs twiddling your thumbs and making deals through the black market, or absurd to the people who lost friends and family, who will be forced to continue to submit to Miller's will."

The wrinkled officer snaps, slamming his hand on the desk and rising from his chair. "Enough of this! I won't stand for this farce! The council hereby sentences you, Marco Bott, to death!"

Marco gasps, surprised at the certainty of his words despite his hopes, despite Konigsmann's argument, despite-

The sound of a rifle echoes throughout the room, shutting them all into silence. Marco freezes, turning around to see his friend, cocking his gun and aiming it straight at Tafi.

"Ashe…!" he exclaims with wide eyes, heart stopping at what his desperate friend is about to do.

"You… you really have no intention of fighting back, after what they've done?" Bewildered frowns and silence is his only answer, triggering his rage once more "If this is what the lives of my comrades have come to… then maybe someone like Marco should be in charge!" he lets out, eyes searing with hate for the recipient of his gaze.

Tafi shakes, face molding in utter shock, a hint of fear beneath his countenance. "How dare you?! You're both committing treason! Arrest them both!" he shouts to the audience of soldiers. Any one of them could walk up with their gun and arrest them, and Marco awaits for just that with bated breaths.

But… the moment never arrives. The soldiers wear shadows on their eyes, stares cast at the floor. Not one of them raises their gun to counter Ashe's. "What are you waiting for? Arrest them or it's treason!"

Jen's shoulders shake, and she mutters a quick "shit…" taking her gun as well and aiming it in the same direction as Ashe. Another follows suit. And another. More and more, until the vast majority have their guns pointed at the object of Marco's battle.

"What is this?!" an officer shouts, Marco fearing that this could turn into a bloodbath as the silent tension pulls at him in every direction. All it would take is for someone like Ashe, one of the many of the disgruntled policemen in this hall to pull their trigger, and they'd all be hanged. This is treason of the highest degree. It's a coup d'etat!

"Wait!" Marco shouts, heart hammering in his chest. How could he forgive himself if he was the reason the Military Police swallowed itself whole?

Konigsmann keeps his steady frown, looking down the barrels of dozens of loaded rifles. "I request to the council that Marco Bott be made captain of the Underground Military Police. The terms of this promotion will be settled hereafter. He will be given full leadership over the field MP's in this hellhole. I strongly advise you, Janek, that you don't reject this offer… Otherwise, your forced resignation might be your best hope," he addresses Tafi by what Marco can only assume to be his first name.

The officers look mortified, slowly raising their hands in surrender. Marco cannot believe his own eyes, the structure of the military police turned upside down with a few words.

"Konigsmann… was this your plan all along? Did you expect the soldiers to turn on the officers with this trial? All of that depended on me. How could you have guessed how I'd react?" he contemplates, as soldiers begin to escort Tafi and the others down the hall.

And he still stands, in the middle of the room as a new audience takes form. This one, however, is not asking him to give up. It's demanding that he fight.

---

Mikasa has to do it today. She left her home specifically to achieve this goal. If she turns around now, she'd have gone this far for no reason at all. So she walks.

It's a scary sight, the main base of operations for Miller. She wasn't clued in on his whereabouts, probably like most of his goons, but she has good reason to assume he'd be here. What's the point of a fortress such as this if their boss didn't reside here.

Secretly, though, a part of her hopes that she doesn't find him here, and that she has good reason to turn around and go right back to Eren.

"He wouldn't even be home. He has obligations, too, Mikasa..."

She wishes he didn't. But things are easier than it used to be. When she was a child, faced with an upsetting or uncomfortable situation, all she ever wanted was to run back to Eren. To hold him in her arms or bury herself in his scarf. Now his memory gives her strength, it has for so long now.

He doesn't hate her... he knows that she loves him. Her will to keep Eren safe couldn't be higher than it is now. She may never learn why she lied to her, why he committed the rumbling and ended the lives of billions.

But maybe... that's okay. He knows how she feels now. He knows how much she wants him to stay, so he won't leave her. In the past few days she's spent with Eren, she feels like she's learned more about him than the last four years of their lives in the last timeline. She never realized he could be so tender, it never quite clicked that he cared for her that much.

It's created a firestorm of emotions within her, her mind scorched by his blazing passion before she can so much as think about anything else. She'd be a total liar if she said the main reason she's trying so hard to leave the gang wasn't completely because Eren asked her to with those eyes. He has a point to. It's not fair to expect him to stand there and take it while she endangers herself, especially when they both know she wouldn't allow for such a situation if the roles were reversed.

Mikasa huffs, shaking the thoughts from her mind and lifting her head to gaze at the large gate in front of her. The gate extends on either side, forming into large, wooden walls probably three times her size.

Still, it did strike her as odd, at least initially. Crime lords such as Miller occupy a pretty snug place in the Underground, considering their lack of pertinent opposition from the Military Police. Apparently, though, it was the product of skirmishes between rival gangs. She remembers Henry explaining it to her, saying that anyone would have a hard time breaking through the walls even with a cannon at their helm. Because of it, everyone in he Underground, the Military Police most definitely included, know they couldn't penetrate this place if they tried.

She psychs herself up, entering through the narrow passageway, guarded by two men, slouching on the wall and conversing. She could probably sneak past if she wanted to, she thinks, with how careless they're being. Not so different from the guards of Maria's gate.

She thinks about Hannes as she approaches the pair, wondering what the drunken man would think about all of this. His final wish was to return to the days where his most pressing worry was making sure they didn't run out of alcohol before the end of the day, the days when Mikasa and Eren's biggest threats were local bullies. But is this so different, now? Is she not running away for the exact same reason? Taking Eren into a world where they can find even a semblance of normalcy, a sense of peace, because life as a soldier, and the discoveries they'll bring, will be the end of them all?

But her life now and her life then still cannot compare. Those good old days are truly and utterly gone. Mikasa can only grasp at remnants, grasp at Eren and never let go, hold him for dear life until they have no life left to give. Eren has to stay with her.

She sidesteps through swathes of people and alleyways, the home of shady deals and secret meetings. Sometimes the place feels more like its own city than a base for a single gang, but it occurs to her that there could be plenty of people living here not under Miller's direct influence. This just happens to be territory firmly under the gang's control.

Eventually, Mikasa makes it to the door, hit hard by the smell of liquor, the sight of smoke, and the sound of laughter. The place looks run down, the walls full of cracks and lights swinging haphazardly from the ceiling, as if ready to fall at any moment. It was surprisingly dark as well, though that didn't seem to be a significant issue to the people in the first room she entered, a bar to her right and various tables for playing games she couldn't begin to understand the rules of. The smoke enters her nostrils, making her eyes burn as she coughs, but it doesn't take a long glance throughout the room to realize that Miller isn't here.

It doesn't take a great deal more searching before she's found her way to the room. Near the center is where she finds him, flashing his rotting teeth in a harsh laughter as he holds a knife to a man's throat, playing some kind of game.

He looks up then, seeing Mikasa enter through the door before anyone else could hear her through the rowdy game. His face morphs into something Mikasa can't decipher, quickly tossing his knife to one of the subordinates next to him. "Make sure to keep him hung," he warns. The subordinate nods with a grin, taking the knife back to the poor soul's throat.

Miller lifts his arms. "Well, if it isn't my most valuable friend! What can I help you with?" His tone is light, a hint of amusement in his voice. She can't tell if he honestly expects such a fake expression of excitement to work on her. She makes a quick survey of the room, noticing guns and knives clinging to most of the criminal's persons.

"Can we talk somewhere in private?"

Miller halts his exaggerated enthusiasm, grunting slightly in surprise. He eyes her, his expression turning into something akin to resignation, stirring confusion within the raven haired girl. His stare shifts into nonchalance as he nods. "Why don't we take this to my office?"

Mikasa is hesitant, but acquiesces, realizing that she's not going to get a much better position than that. Nodding, she lets Miller lead the way. The two exit, sticking to the sides of the rooms as they pass crowd after crowd. The noise starts to diminish, and eventually the people as well, and though she knows it wouldn't have been a good tactical decision to announce her departure in front of other people, the solitude she shares with the man presents a new type of discomfort.

That discomfort only seems to increase as they march through a new, stony hallway. Only a few torches light it up, and based on the muskiness of the air, she can tell they're near the basement of the compound. What unsettles her the most, however, are the other doors that the pair pass by, more specifically the sounds of terror that resonate out of them.

She hides her grimace, knowing the sound of torture when she hears it. Djel Sannes' screams weren't all that dissimilar. She expected there to be torture of this caliber down in the Underground crime organizations, that isn't necessarily what disturbs her. It's the fact that she was being taken down here. "Could they ambush me? If Miller's goons get the jump on me, all they have to do is throw me into one of these cells, and I won't see the light of day again..."

She cannot allow that. No, she can't even risk it. She has a home to return to, and she will. Mikasa slows her steps, steeling herself to end this here and now before she can go any deeper into this criminal underworld.

"Miller." He turns around, muttering a "huh?"

"I want to leave the gang." Her face is stone, and her tone leaves no room for argument. "I'm going to leave the gang."

The man standing in front of her doesn't even react, but Mikasa pushes that to the back of her mind, pressing the empty silence. "This isn't the life I want. I needed to do this to make some money, but the cost is simply too much. There's no point in waiting any longer to tell you." She purposefully omits any mention of the true reason for her sudden departure. The indominable boy she loves.

After what feels like minutes of painful silence, he sighs, looking dejected. "Why did I expect you to say that?"

"I'm sorry, but my mind is made up. I don't wish to remain here."

Miller takes a long exhale through his nose. "It's a shame to hear that. Follow me."

Mikasa stutters as he resumes his walking, his voice leaving little room for argument. She tightens her knuckles, reminding herself of the situation. Just because Miller is less hostile than she thought, it doesn't mean she's in the clear yet. He looks like he could be convinced if she just emphasizes the finality of her decision, so turning around now and risking that wouldn't be a smart move. Reluctantly, she continues walking, and as he finally stops at the door she can only assume to be his office, she asks him something.

"Do... do you plan on forcing me to stay."

The silence draws on too long for her comfort, but Miller eventually responds. "Look at my shape, Mikasa. I couldn't force you into anything. In fact, I doubt my entire crime syndicate could stop you if you really wanted to leave.."

He opens the door, its languid creak filling the hallway.

Miller walks in, obstructing her vision of the room inside. But when he moves aside, Mikasa's heart stops.

It thumps to the bottom of her being.

In an instant, thanks to the window of the room filtering light into the interior, she sees it clearly. Eren, her Eren, is strapped, no, bound to a chair, black and purple swells dotting his face as blood stains his torn clothes.

She gasps, fear fluttering through the entirety of her being as she reaches for him with her hand. "Ere-"

Miller points a handgun to his head. The boy gasps, not at the muzzle pointed directly at his temple, but at the sight of her. "M-..Mikasa!" his voice is strained, broken, and at the horrifying sight she feels her power rush through her veins. Suddenly, all at once, everything she thought she had in control of the situation slips through her fingers like sand. Eren's on the precipice of death.

"I do expect him to force you, however." His voice is cold, eyes tight as they gauge her reaction.

Her blood freezes, eyes wide as saucers as the situation blasts into her mind, everything so much more dire than she had originally thought. But above anything and everything, she sees his eyes, the scratches on his face and the bruises on his cheeks and eyes. He's been tortured. "E-Eren!" she shouts with a terrified voice, fury melting the ice of her previous gaze as she reaches for the knife she keeps on her in at all times, ready to stick it square into Miller's head.

Miller is quick to catch it. "Ah..." he pushes the gun further into Eren's face, forcing a pained gasp from the boy. "If I see that knife in your hand I'm blowing his brains out."

She stops in her tracks, her breath hitches. She... she can't... she can't kill him. She may be fast, but his finger is already laying on the trigger.

Why? What... what even happened? How did she get into this situation? Miller knows about Eren? He captured him? How did...

"I captured your group of workers. The ones you bothered to protect on the night of the ambush. I knew there must be something, some reason that you'd go to such lengths when you were already risking your life enough." His breaths are unreasonably steady against her trembling inhales, eyes filled with an ungodly focus. As soon as he makes the slightest slip up, gun pointed just a little bit the wrong way, she'll strike. She'll stab at his throat again and again until he drowns in his own blood, and she'll get Eren out of here.

He saved her, and now she has to save him.

But this is no petty kidnapper. This is Mr. Miller, his glare challenging her deadly gray eyes. "I found it. I could tell from the beginning that you weren't interested in riches or power, and that someone as powerful as you would slip through my grasp a second time."

She has no mind to wonder what he means by a second time, gasping for air as she only barely keeps herself from leaping at him right there and then. Every precise movement, down to her blinks, may determine Eren's life, and it makes her heart throb in her chest, quaking in fear. "L-Let... him go."

"Give me the knife. You're going to be staying with me for quite a while longer..." her hand jolts to life, giving her exquisite feeling as she pinpoints exactly how to throw her knife for it to go right between his eyes. "Actually, wait, don't. I'll let you hold on to it for a while," he smiles, having predicted her exact train of thought before she could so much as grab the knife.

She looks back at Eren. His face is weak and beaten, but behind those emerald eyes she can see the passion that's always been there, the passion that only grew stronger once she told him how much she loved him.

Mikasa scowls deeply at Miller again, and Eren, despite his broken state, does the same. "Let me go you piece of shit!"

"Tch, don't be an idiot," Miller lets out, tapping his head with the barrel of his handgun. The seconds tick by, the force of her soul tugging her, begging her to make a move, but she can't... "If I try anything, Eren will die. It's... just like with Annie..." her mind flashes to the horrific image, her Eren squished between the titan's enormous fingers, thumb pressed up against his head and ready to separate head from spine in an instant.

"So... don't make any sudden movements." He cocks the gun deeper into Eren's skull, pushing against his skin.

"You must realize it by now, if you kill Eren, then you know nothing will stop me from making sure you die, here and now," her voice is low, desperation clawing at each word.

"You're absolutely correct. But, if you care about this boy half as much as he seems to care about you, then you won't risk doing a damn thing," he squashes her vain threat into pieces, eyes tempting, as if to say "We both know how trapped you are in this situation. Do as I say, and in return I'll let you beg that I don't kill him right now."

They both know he has the complete advantage, and it makes her stomach lurch. Never before has she felt so incapable, and so angry at her own uselessness.

"We tried to torture him-"

Mikasa's eyes grow wider as she lets in a shaky breath, knuckles bleeding white as she stands in front of them, her heart reaching out to her only love. Eren looks down in shame, which makes her being ache in unshed pain. "I'm sorry, Eren... I'm so sorry..."

"but the bastard was practically immune to everything we tried. It's actually quite funny... we could kick him and cut him all we wanted, but he only began to talk once we started threatening you... Mikasa Ackerman," he lets out her full name.

"You're going to be staying here for the time being, Mikasa."

"I-If I agree, will you let Eren go?"

"I might," Miller grins. She can sniff the bullshit from a mile away. He has no reason to- "We both know I'm lying. But you're in no position to negotiate, Ackerman."

She grits her teeth, letting her rage and fear get the better of her. "You aren't in any position either!" before she can even fully comprehend her own words, she feels a gun press against the back of her skull. Miller howls with laughter.

"Perfect timing! I can always depend on you, Henry!"

She shudders as she feels Henry's hands travel down her body, searching for her knife. She skips a breath, strength overtaking her as she moves to grab his wrist with ease, ready to break it until Miller interjects.

"If you need anymore convincing, Mikasa, I can always shoot Eren in the leg. We'll keep him alive, don't worry, but he'll feel every bit of pain we can squeeze out of him," he gets low close to Eren's face, practically whispering to him, causing the boy's face to freeze up.

Mikasa's chest plummets, the reminder of her most existential fear stabbing into her mind. "N... no... if Eren heals his wounds... it's all over... he'll discover everything... he'll lie to me again... he'll... he'll hate me again..." She feels hot tears worm their way to her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall.

"Your strength is too valuable to lose because of your pathetic moral quandary. I could monopolize half this cursed city with your help, Mikasa."

Mikasa scowls at him, eyes red with a primal fear, an utter desperation. She doesn't understand how he could possibly expect her to help him after what he's done.

The bald man continues. "I plan on keeping you here. Perhaps a permanent change of residence for you and Jaeger is in order so I can keep an eye on both of you," he falls into another laughing fit, Mikasa utterly dazed at seeing this knew, psychotic side of the crime lord. She moves her gaze to Eren, catching the fear in his eyes that she knows so well, the fear that she's seen time and time again.

"It's okay, Eren... calm down. I'll get us out of this," the words only seem to make Miller laugh more, but she doesn't care. She sees Eren's emerald greens tremble, touched by Mikasa's reassuring words. She's resigned herself to the situation, knowing she has no choice but to accept Miller's demands. The best decision now is to await for a better opportunity.

"Miller... I'll do whatever you want," her voice finds it's strength, because she's doing it for the only thing she has left to love. The one thing she refuses to lose again.

"You ought to. For Eren's sake."

Eren tries to jump out of his chair, anger flaring up once again. "You bitch! You're just a goddamn parasite who uses extortion to get what he wants. You pathetic little-"

"Oi, are you going to be this annoying the entire time?" Miller groans, nodding to his goon. "Henry, slap the bitch."

Mikasa blanches as Henry turns her around, delivering a hard smack across her face.

"Hey, stop it!" Eren's voice pierces through the room, his desperate voice clinging to her heart.

Miller grimaces. "I don't care how pretty the girl's face looks, as long as she can keep her strength and stay useful to me."

"You monster!" Eren shouts again.

Henry snorts. "So, Miller, are you really going to trust this bitch again? How do you expect her to do anything we tell her to?"

"Shut up!" Eren keeps shouting.

"I told you, I know how people think. I see the look in Mikasa's eyes. It's one I've seen many times before, actually. She's in love with the shit head. Her entire life is flashing before those eyes because I'm threatening to kill him right here. Isn't that right, Mikasa?"

"I'm going to kill you!"

he grins, kneeling down at Mikasa's figure. She gets up, frowning in defeat. "Just endure this, Mikasa. As soon as Eren's open, we'll get out of this mess. This world is cruel..."

"This world is cruel," she reminds herself.

"From now on, your missions will be simple, foolproof. You won't have an ounce of discretion when carrying out your missions," he demands, keeping his gun trained on the boy. Her eyes glow with hate, but eyes alone are powerless. "If you fail, we torture him. If you try to escape or act up, we torture him. If you look at me funny, we torture him."

She closes her eyes, desperately stopping the violent tears as the well up. She never should have joined this gang. She never should have been so afraid that she thought it was her only choice. She never should have loved Eren so much to take them both to this extreme.

Miller hums in questioning. "Are you going to cry? I don't know what to tell you, you should have been a better liar, otherwise it wouldn't have been so obvious that you had second thoughts the moment you joined this organization. You're not going to escape either. I have eyes and ears everywhere in this city, and you won't be escaping from the surface unless you want to be hanged for your crimes against the military."

She thinks about Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie. They're still on the surface, scheming, preparing their next move. A fate far worse than death awaits her on the surface. A fated curse... Eren's curse.

"This world is cruel."

All that's left to do is-

The bright boom of an explosion echoes from outside, startling the four of them. Miller gasps, standing straight up again and looking out the window. Fire litters their impenetrable wall, horses scream and prance around as the flames cling to them, criminals scurrying from the epicenter as screams erupt. "What?!" he lets out, only exacerbated as a short man dashes to their door, interrupting the scene.

"Boss, It's the Military Police!"

Mikasa gasps, as does Eren, a hopeful shine to his eyes as he looks to his best friend. Miller draws a shuddering breath. "What did you say?!"

"T-Their using ODM gear! They jumped right over our walls and blew it from the other side!"

She can hear it, the nostalgic whiz of ODM cables swinging about the complex as gunshots are fired, signaling the beginning of a battle. Despite it not being a terribly favorable development, she has to bite back a breath of relief, knowing that at least this hell will end. If the Military Police were to catch them, her and Eren would probably be far closer to death than they are now, though, and she knows it. She knows, too, that Eren won't like what they'll have to do, but...

"They're using ODM gear..." the usually cunning Miller looks utterly shocked, not having expected such a development at all. Who would have? It's an obvious decision from the MP's perspective, but what's surprising isn't how they've managed to infiltrate Miller's compound. It's that they decided to do it at all.

Miller seems to come to the same conclusion, staring out the window once again, watching many of the policemen using their swords to injure or outright kill his men. Others still have flied up to an advantageous position, taking their guns and sniping from above. "I contribute to half of some of those officers' damn salary... and this is how they repay me?! Why didn't they crush the force that was giving me such a hard time?"

Mikasa herself is surprised at just how deep Miller's roots go, not realizing he had thumbs in the Military Police's pie. "It makes perfect sense. What else explains the complete lack of a military response, considering all of the blatant crime...?"

"What do we do boss!?"

Miller is silent face down in contemplation, but as the gunshots continue, Henry, too, grows anxious. "Miller!"

Eventually, the bald man sighs, turning to Mikasa and Eren. The two narrow their eyes at the man, anger simmering within them.

"Neither of us have an interest in getting ousted by some small band of military police, Mikasa."

She turns away, not willing to admit the fact out of sheer stubbornness. She'll never be able to work with him in good faith after what he did to Eren. He'd have to force her.

"Even though they somehow managed to get their hands on ODM gear, rerouting the base's best defense, they don't have the power to win a war of attrition..." he stares back at the window, thinking. "Eventually, the brass will get bored of this slaughter, and they'll execute the perpetrators and the useless bastards in the Underground high command that let this happen."

The Police, with their superior training and mobility, begin to outclass the criminals in the firefight, now that the element of surprise is on their side. "Miller must realize that he can't win this fight, so... the only conclusion he can make is.."

"We're going to leave. Me, Henry, Mikasa, and Eren."

Eren gasps, fierce rebelliousness coursing through him again. "Like hell we are!" he squirms against his iron chains once again, burning his own skin with the friction.

"Eren, stop it!" she shouts weakly, but he ignores her.

"Luckily for me, there's no need for negotiation. Henry, grab Mikasa and keep that gun trained on her. If Eren tries to act up, shoot her." Henry nods, shoving his handgun into her back. Mikasa bites back a scoff.

"There's no way he would let me die. It would render his entire operation pointless. Don't believe him, Eren..."

But it's clear by the look on his face that she does. She can't blame him, he's blinded by fear, the way she's been for the past month.

---

Henry throws Mikasa into the small, unassuming carriage, landing on her ass with a grunt. Henry climbs in, sitting across from her. Miller is next, taking a seat right next to Mikasa as Eren is placed next to Henry. Even in this carriage, Mikasa and Eren are diagonal from each other, as far as they could be.

Miller knocks on the wood behind him, signaling to the rider to begin.

Henry grimaces, looking out his window at the carnage around them. "Don't you think they'll chase us down?"

Miller shakes his head, gaze solid in deliberation. "It's the Military Police's one chance to raid the base and see what information is held there. There are names, reports, files, plans... not to mention our surplus of coin sits in this complex's vault. They're not going to dedicate their forces to chasing us innocent strays..."

Mikasa holds in her shaky sigh. This may have been the best thing to happen to them. Their organization will be severely weakened by this blow. This way, Mikasa and Eren will be able to evade the hands of the Military Police, while having a better chance at escaping from Miller's gang.

She lets her trembling soul settle, if just a little. "Stay strong, Mikasa. Stay strong for Eren." She looks at him, his eyes terrified at the future. She wants nothing more than to hug him and tell him things will be okay, that she loves him, that she'll never leave him. But she can't.

"Most of the policemen here are under twenty five years old, too. Don't you think that's brilliant?"

Henry stutters, furrowing his brows.

"ODM gear isn't something that's often used around here. The expense would be too costly, and demand isn't nearly high enough. But the younger members of the MP... they'll at least remember how to use the gear, and use it well. Even though they ended up in this shithole, they still technically had to pass the top ten to be given the option to join, right?"

Mikasa's eyes widen, recognizing the fact as well. She can't help but wonder who it is that's behind this counter attack.

Miller sighs, placing a hand over his face as a few light chuckles escape him. "To think this went so horribly..." he laments, turning to Mikasa. "If you only you'd kept Eren from controlling your actions for one more day... you stupid whore..."

Mikasa feels the prick in her stomach at the insult, but she steels herself, looking away. Eren gasps, tossing in his seat as he throws insult after insult at the bald man.

"You bitch! Idiot! Piece of goddamn shit!"

"Still," Miller ignores him. "now that I have you all to myself... I can rebuild my organization and go so much farther."

"Asshole! Worthless monster!"

"Shut him up," Miller commands. Henry punches Eren square in the face. Mikasa cries, hoping beyond hope he didn't break his nose. Eren groans, but his murderous glare never fades. That glare... one of the first parts of Eren she ever saw, as he mercilessly stabbed her kidnappers. As he saved her.

"Eren... stop... please, Eren..."

Miller laughs once again, flashing his ugly teeth. "Is 'Eren' the only word you know now? Don't worry Henry. I have great hope in Mikasa's future cooperation. She'll do anything to protect this boy. She's practically a slave."

Mikasa's soul quivers. It sends shocks up into her skull in the form of a headache as the desolate memory returns. And to her utter shock, Eren's eyes hold that same fear. They hold that same pain. But where tears form from pain for her, guilt claws at his face. It rips it to shreds.

"I'll fucking kill you!" he roars through his tears. "Shut up, shut up! I'll end your pointless existence! Bastard!"

Her stomach flips and flows, turning to mush as she can hardly comprehend anything through her tears. She wants Eren to stop. She just wants Eren to stop and keep her warm.

Miller hollers in laughter, doubling over in his seat. "You idiot, boy. Ha ha ha!" he takes languid inhales, unable to compose himself without laughing more, only making Eren more upset.

"Oi, Miller, don't you be losing your mind at a time like this!" Henry warns, eyes wide with concern.

"Don't you see, Henry?! It's just so goddamn funny! Mikasa's only weak point has the biggest mouth in the world! It's a pity, you idiot, because now I'll have to punish you!"

Eren widens his eyes as Miller moves an arm closer to the raven haired girl. Despite her terrible state, she's still Mikasa Ackerman, instinctively catching his arm with ease. Miller looks at her with disapproval sharp in his eyes. He gestures to the gun Miller still has pointed at Eren. She wants to cry. But she can't.

"This world... is cruel..."

"No, stop!" Eren shouts, before Mikasa lets Miller grab the back of her hair, harshly shoving her face into the wall, drawing blood from her forehead.

"Eren cannot get wounded. He can't heal... I can't..."

"Quit it!"

"You don't seem to realize your making it worse!" Miller howls, delivering a sharp punch to her gut. She yelps, bending over slightly in her seat to ease the pain. The bald man nods to Henry, who delivers another blow to Eren's skull.

"No!" she shouts, looking to Miller with pitiful, pained eyes.

"Mikasa..." he says weakly. "I'm going to get us out of this.. I promise... they're no different from them," he says with absolute hate seeping from his mouth, referring to the kidnappers they killed so long ago.

Miller smiles. "Huh? Who's them?"

Eren gives him another death glare. "I've killed pieces of shit like you before! And I'll do it again!"

Mikasa can only shake her head. "Stop..."

"Oh ho! What did they do to be at the mercy of the mighty Eren Jaeger?"

Eren doesn't explain, only grimacing in pain at the previous blow, but his silence earns him another punch, earning another wince from Mikasa in turn.

"Hold on, Henry... this will be a fun game." He stares at the beaten boy, smiling, the cogs turning in his head. "So you were in the military, right? But you're too young to have been in a branch for very long, which means you must have killed these supposed criminals when you were young."

Mikasa's heart pounds, her head throbbing at the ancient memory.

"And seeing the hilarious contrast between Mikasa normally and Mikasa when her precious 'Eren' is around, my guess is that she wasn't always this way. No... kidnappers might be to blame for that," he finishes with a smile.

Eren's reaction is strong, once again twisting his arms to try to break free of the chain that binds him, which is all the confirmation Miller needs, laughing hysterically.

"It makes perfect sense! After all, she's so exotic. It's no wonder why you have such a big crush on her-"

She cannot keep her tears in her eyes any longer, fighting back a sob with all the might of Mikasa Ackerman. Her eyes shine in abject terror as she watches him laugh, remembering her parents, remembering the night she was taken. Eren's eyes explode with fury, tears blanketing the fire from burning all who see it. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"I'll bash your fucking head in! I'll do it! You deserve to die in the most painful way imaginable!"

Miller cackles. "You better be careful, Jaeger! I might just take out my offense on Mikasa."

Eren leaps from his place, trying at a chokehold on Miller before Henry yanks him back. He just laughs.

ODM gear rockets around there carriage, with Henry's eyes wide as saucers. "Miller, snap out of it! They'll be on our tails soon!" He just laughs.

Eren screams viciously against Henry, attacking him with his own head as he sobs. Mikasa can only watch, flashbacks of her lives searing her mind. Flashbacks of Eren, of how he abandoned her, of how he saved her, of how nothing makes sense, nothing ever made sense.

The ODM gear can be heard from above, with Henry shouting out a final, "Miller!"

"She's a bit on the older side, but I have a few connections in the human trafficking world. She'd still be sure to fetch for a high price!"

"No... no... NO!"

She delivers a flying kick to Henry's head, the one pointing a gun at Eren, causing him to fall back in his seat with a thump.

But that was the worst mistake of her life.

Because she set Eren free.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he pulls the iron chain off his wrist, severing half his hand as he does so.

Hot blood flies from the chain as yellow sparks jut out from his body. Mikasa's heart shrinks, her senses fail her, her strength fails her.

And there's nothing left to do.

The carriage explodes, chunks of debris flying into the air as a horrible squelching sound erupts from around her. It's the last thing she hears until anything and everything is replaced by a horrible ringing. She opens her eyes, head spinning as she attempts to survey what's left of the scene. As her shock leaves her, however, it's replaced with a gripping fear. She struggles to breathe, darting her eyes back to the wreckage to see it.

A partly formed titan lays on its chest, its lower spine nothing but bone as it lies across the street like a dead worm after the rain. The sight reminds her of the first time she ever witnessed his transformation, its sole purpose to protect, to save her life.

And she can't keep herself from shaking, curling into the ground as she hears Eren's cries. She wants him to stop. She wants everything to stop. She wants to go back... to somewhere else. For the second time in this cursed life, everything's fallen apart.

"Mom... Dad... Auntie..." she needs them back. She needs their strength. She needs Armin's strength. She needs Sasha, and Jean, and Connie...

But as she hears him crying, as she hears him call her name, again and again, she stands on shaky legs. It's Eren... She will always hear Eren. She will always love him.

He will always be her home.

She trudges over to him, holding her scarf for dear life as she fights tears of her own. She's strong.

---

Eren sits on the comfortable bed, staring at the window that overlooked a large part of the Underground. He feels his head sink into the pillow, the covers and pleasant warmth try to overtake him, but it fails. Nothing could overtake him now. No sleep could ever find him.

He crushed Miller to a pulp. He knows he did. And that's all he knows. He doesn't regret it, it's exactly what the bald monster deserved. In fact, he probably deserved worse.

But he wasn't a real monster, was he? No... not when titans are out there. Not when Eren's out there.

"I just knew that I wanted to kill him. It didn't matter what happened to me after. Actually, I don't even remember much of what happened right before."

He only remembers his hate. His desire to crush Miller in his hands after daring to speak to Mikasa the way he did. He laughed and laughed, at not only his rage, but at her pain. He truly threatened to take her back to the hell Eren saved her from when they were so young. He hates him...

Eren's head throbs with pain, every reminder of that night bringing forth the same image. The one of that blond man... glasses sitting snugly on his face and baseball going up and down, tossed in his hand.

His head is mush. His body is goo. And worst of all, he's a monster. He transformed his own arm just to kill Miller, and when all was said and done, it disappeared like...

Like a titan. There's no sense in denying it. But why... why...

The door opens. He turns his head, eyes wide as he sees Mikasa on the other end. Her face is still stained with dried blood, and judging by the way she cradles her side, she's injured that too.

No... he injured it. He hurt Mikasa with a power that felt like he was tapping into his innermost dreams.

"Mikasa..." it's all he can say. He can't even apologize, as he doesn't really know what he did.

But her face... it says it all. It clues him in. She knew exactly how to handle the situation. It's almost like she wasn't mortified at all to see Eren's power.

"Eren..." her eyes are pained, her face regretful.

"There's something I have to tell you."

---

OMG there you have it! I hope you all enjoyed! There were a lot of things going on in this chapter, and I obviously have my gripes with it, often being my own worst critic, but I've noticed a lot of my authors notes are full of negativity. When I reread chapters 13, 15, and 17 for example, my AN's are so negative even though those are perfectly good chapters! Hindsight is 20/20, and for that reason I just want to celebrate getting this chapter out and leave it to you guys to decide what to think. I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you all for reading.

ps. I know I omitted the aftermath of Eren's transformation and many of Marco's scenes. That is by design and will be featured soon! (next chapter will be a bit different in terms of plot structure)

ALSO I've been asked by multiple people at this point, so I might as well drop it. My twitter is yarfathom. If you guys want to DM me asking writing questions or just follow me there then feel free! It's the best way to reach out to me! Have a nice day! -Y