Something shook him awake — so firmly that he almost rolled onto his side and slammed into the wooden panelling beside him.

Disoriented under hot breath evaporating against the clear red sky above him, he remembered why he wasn't waking up in a warm bed but on the chilly wooden floor of a horse-drawn cart cloaked in a thin layer of snow. He must've dozed off not long after they embarked on their journey, lulled by the warm embrace of a wool blanket and worn down by the fatigue his recent restless nights had burdened him with.

They'd journeyed all night, taking them all the way out to the open countryside in the southeastern regions of Wall Rose over long plains dominated by nocturnal frost and chilly gusts which no clothing or blankets stood much of a chance against. He hadn't been informed where they would take him, but their position relative to the sun as it set to his left and was now rising a little behind him to his right had made their secrecy obsolete.

His shivering limbs and clammy hands made him reconsider if he'd made the right choice when he decided to rest, but he was still too injured to stay awake the entire night without some serious repercussions. Conventionally, he'd need to lie down for over half a day if he wanted to avoid a severe bout of lethargy for the remainder of the week. He'd need every last bit of energy he could get for what would happen underground.

He shrugged off his blanket and found the top of his coat unpleasantly damp beneath it. The expected dull pain shot through his back and abdomen as he sat up and brushed the snow out of his hair.

Despite knowing that he would push his boundaries, he was confident enough that he could stand on his own two feet and walk the distance by himself. So, when he was offered a hand by one of his Military Police escorts, he politely declined it and crawled off of the cart after grabbing his belongings. He landed on unsteady legs and sank through his knees, struggling for a moment as he held onto the edge of the cart before finding stable footing in the snow.

They'd arrived at a settlement he'd never been to before: a small nine-house town that shared the name Tourze with its adjacent mine. Once bustling with life and operational to house miners, in the past years it had fallen into decay after being abandoned, so he'd been told.

The town had become more active again only very recently, not for the natural resources themselves but for a new, much more imperative function: detaining the Colossal Titan following his capture in the battle to retake Wall Maria.

Today, Armin was here to do what none had been able to do so far: to make Bertholdt talk.

He so direly wished he could've come to Tourze sooner to help out with the interrogation efforts, but his recovery took precedence. He was able to be here now. That was all that mattered.

Slogging through the snow, he shivered intensely underneath the two thick winter coats he wore. He had offered to help the three policemen with carrying their supplies the same way, but they'd waved him away. Something about his injuries making him unfit to carry so much weight, they got it all under control, he didn't have to worry about it; but he knew very well what this was really about.

Their paths diverged and one of the policemen pointed Armin towards the right building. He made his way over, hands in his pockets to shield them from the cold air. Once at the front door, he tested it and found it to be unlocked, so he let himself inside before the frostbite he swore he felt growing inside his veins could shatter his extremities.

Even before he closed the door behind him again, he was already greeted with an enthusiastic "Armin!" as Hange approached him, arms wide with a few drops of liquid spilling out of the cup held in one of their hands from the wild gesture. As was standard, it didn't look like they'd gotten much sleep recently, either. "You made it here, good. Rough weather we're having, huh?"

"Commander," Armin simply greeted back, mindful to be polite. They hadn't communicated much since Hange had been promoted, mostly due to their schedule being filled to the brim, and he had yet to adapt to the warranted level of respect attached to their new title.

He got a few firm pats on the shoulder. "It's been a while since I last saw you. How's that recovery going?"

Armin held up his bandaged hands, one of which Hange took and examined with great care.

"I made it here. I couldn't have a month ago. They advised against going into a dusty mine, but with proper bandage work, I should be able to protect myself from new infections."

"Good," they hummed, letting go of his hand and turning around again to walk into the building's common area, beckoning with their free hand. "Take off your boots before you enter and wring out your clothes. Water's a damn mess to get out of here. You can hang your stuff by the fire to dry and I'll get you something to eat. Can't have you working on an empty stomach, now can I?"

The warmth of the cabin was already divine against his numb cheeks and he couldn't wait to take place in front of the fire. He followed the request and undid his boots to slide out of them, taking them with him to place by the fire. Once he'd taken off his coats and jumper and placed them by the fireplace together with his soaked blanket and socks, he took a seat in the couch nearest to it, placing his bag against the tea table in front of him before holding out his hands to warm them. Wet and cold. It would be a bad idea to keep his old bandages.

Hange placed a bowl of hot soup and a tray of bread in front of him before placing down their own portion, likely not yet having had the time to eat breakfast themselves. Before they could sit down, Armin stopped them.

"Commander, I need to refresh these and wash my hands. Can I get some warm water? It doesn't need to be hot, just clean," he requested as he started peeling away at his bandages.

"Can it wait a few minutes? I'll need to heat some water first."

"That is fine, I just need to do it before I go underground."

He could eat after his journey, but preventing a relapse in infection was a higher priority. After briefly hanging a pot of water over the fire to heat, Hange mixed it with some cold water and placed it by Armin's side on the tea table before sitting down on the couch in front of him and starting on their own breakfast.

Armin retrieved a fresh roll of bandages from his backpack before he got started. It was standard procedure for him by now: remove his bandages, then soak his wrinkled hands into warm water for a few minutes as he stretched and bent his fingers before getting them out again and drying them thoroughly. Winter times incentivised the practice, especially in the morning, when it would help him heat his frozen fingers. He'd bandage them again with a clean roll when he was done with breakfast.

Hange watched carefully, occasionally asking about his healing process. Slow, but things were getting better. His skin still looked rough around the edges and was still too stiff to allow for much finer movement. The good thing was that most of his feeling had returned, save for the areas above his thumbs and some patches of skin where he barely felt softer touches. It would take him years to fully recover.

"What made you think to come here? After everything, I mean," Hange changed the subject when both of them were done eating and they'd cleared the tea table. "I mean, no offence, but it went against all of my expectations. It is rather curious."

No annoyance was audible in their voice like the way the others would question him, only curiosity. It was a welcomed change which Armin cautiously appreciated.

"It's by no means a new idea. I've wanted to be here since the start, but… You know."

"Ah."

Spoken too soon. There it was, because of course. That all-too familiar look on their face despite their neutral tone. One of disbelief. One of pity. One that left nothing to the imagination about whether they were wondering how out of his depth he had to be to come here, if he'd maybe hit his head in Shiganshina.

"I'm healthy and mobile again. Those are the only factors that were holding me back from my duties," Armin added to his explanation.

Again, Hange eyed him with an undertone of scrutiny, but it vanished as soon as it came. They nodded and hummed affirmatively, leaving a silence hanging between them as Armin worked on rebandaging his hands, losing himself in thought over Hange's question.

Everyone had advised against him coming here when he'd expressed the desire to do so. Eren, Jean, Mikasa, his other friends in the 104th, Hange — even his physicians. Why would he want to face Bertholdt again? Why would he? If one of them had to be the one to do it, he was the worst candidate.

For a long time, he himself had been strongly against the idea of ever facing his assailant again. The scars were too fresh.

But what he said wasn't a lie, was it? By the time he'd woken up from his coma and the subsequent delirium after Shiganshina, they were already done with Bertholdt. Recovery took absolute precedence. If Armin protested, Eren and Mikasa would make sure that he stayed in bed and rested anyway.

There hadn't been time, it wasn't safe, and he'd lacked the desire to come here.

He was lucky not to remember much of his caustic days writhing and gnashing his teeth and his feverish nights wailing and convulsing, hands and feet restrained so that he wouldn't scratch himself to the bone, as the skin cooked off his muscles by the Colossal Titan slowly reinstated itself. Extensively damaged as it was from having medical help postponed for so long and abused by the constant cycle between fighting off shock, dehydration, fever, and infections.

"He's much too weak," he starkly remembered one doctor tell Eren and Mikasa when the damned analgesic drugs (a pathetic excuse for medicine, he'd screamed at the top of his lungs) barely took the edge off and only disoriented him. "It could stop his heart. This is the most we can give him."

They should've. He wished they would've. If he had to flip a coin between being relieved from this torture for a few hours and forever, he failed to find any downsides.

What he'd felt — gruelled through. Wound dressing changes like stripping his skin. A constant fire that ran deep within his nerves. The desire to stop, stop, just STOP all sensations by any means necessary. The utter shame of having to lie in a bed naked because his body would reinfect upon the introduction of even bedsheets. His snail's pace of a crawl away from the brink of death where he lost most of his muscles and fat.

Maybe he was considered a hero for sacrificing himself in the Battle for Shiganshina and being prepared to give up his life to aid in the defeat of the Colossal Titan. If he were honest, there were too many times where he wished that he hadn't. That he'd left becoming a brave fighter who consistently contemplated jamming a needle deep into his artery and injecting it full of air to some other poor soul, just not him.

"Have you read them?" Hange abruptly broke his thoughts, motioning down to his bag. It was as if they knew what was coursing through his head after he'd finished with his bandages and had been staring out into dead space.

Armin nodded. "I have."

"And?"

"Nothing," he responded, digging through his bag and fishing out a folder, which he placed down on the table between them. "It's as you said: useless and cryptic. I couldn't learn much from the summary, it's far too vague. I need more information."

Hange reached for the folder, pulling it to their side of the table and leaving it there. "Ah, shame. So you haven't changed your mind, then? I think you'll sleep better at night if you don't read the full version."

"I can handle it. It'll be detrimental to our efforts if you keep me in the dark. I already have a few uses in mind for the detailed report ahead of time."

Hange nodded as they stood up. "Suit yourself. Once you have your mind set on something you're usually right, so I'll let you make this call."

They walked away and Armin's eyes fell onto the folder again.

What horrors did these severely abridged documents cover up from him? What use would he find for them once he had the full story?

There had been a time when he would've been ecstatic to have these read out to him as if it were a bedtime story.

They had to break the news eventually, and knowing the bond that had reigned between them in a past that felt far longer ago than it truly was, they had feared it.

What did they truly know?

"They've taken him underground. He will never emerge again," Eren had explained, and the relief that washed over him had been incomparable to anything he'd felt for weeks. He'd never have to look upon the face of the man who'd done this to him again.

"They had no choice. They had to do it," Mikasa followed up, and the guilty sense of comfort that he hadn't been the only one to suffer worked better to suppress the itching flame that danced under his skin than any painkiller they had administered yet.

"He will rot. Until we find him a suitable replacement, he will rot." Eren sounded certain of himself, and the corners of his lips had actually curled up as he'd gritted his teeth under Mikasa's concerned gaze and Eren's surprise.

Did they really think Armin would have remained the same after all that had happened?

Maybe it was tragic, knowing his history based on what was written about the warriors in Grisha's journals, but Armin was so far beyond the stage where he still had the energy to worry much about the suffering of someone who'd caused him this much pain when he was still fighting through his every single day.

So why, then, would he ever again want to meet the very monster who had cooked him alive and chained him to such a horrible sentence? There'd been no appetite at all for it, and it seemed that Hange, too, had caught onto that.

Maybe, he'd mulled over in his head a thousand times and then again, it was just the type of person he was.

That fist that twisted his gut despite desiring his glee over not being alone in his suffering.

That reminder that even if he'd wanted, Bertholdt would've never had the chance to sit down with the scouts and talk during their battle, surrounded as he'd been and subjected to their overwhelming lack of information and power against so many enemy shifters as they'd been.

That voice that screamed at him for failing to communicate when he still had the chance, until he lost it and others fucked everything up as a result.

How much progress had they lost because they didn't have a chance to sit down in peace and exchange information to learn more about each other?

How much progress had his rash plan cost them?

As Armin's pain quieted down, his curiosity grew louder. The idea had been planted in his head from the start, it just needed to germinate once the twin toxicity of suffering and grudge had begun to wash out of his veins. He needed to understand Bertholdt better, and he had to start with what had happened to him for that.

For the first time since the outside world attacked the walls, they had a shifter safely in their custody, alive and powerless to fight back and conscious; and yet the first thing they did to him was try to beat answers out of him instead of talking. Yes, they were limited by time, but wasn't that a huge waste of time, resources, and opportunity?

A thick binder landed in front of him with a smack that jerked him out of his thoughts with a gasp. Hange sat down again, crossing their legs and folding their hands over their knees.

"I won't lie, I'm curious to see what will come from this. You said you had an idea already?"

Armin reached for the binder and opened it, quickly rifling through the pages.

At first glance, it seemed to contain every piece of detail they had on Bertholdt: information protocol, screening, military paperwork, assessments from his time spent in the 104th Training Regiment, information gathered that led to the discovery of his and Reiner's identity, notes on the Colossal Titan, a wordy report on the Battle for Shiganshina, and finally, all the details of his incarceration.

If this fell into the wrong hands, the outcome could be catastrophic.

Most importantly, this was the file he'd been anticipating looking into for weeks. Off-limits to anyone but the Commander and various other on-site staff. In volume alone it already overshadowed the meagre folder he'd been sent.

Who knew why none of the elite Survey Corps members who survived had been allowed to look into this unless they could provide a solid reason. Maybe there were details inside that Hange was ashamed of. Maybe, with how thinly-manned the Survey Corps had grown, they feared they'd lose the respect of their few remaining subordinates because they were forced to reach for such drastic measures. Maybe they wanted to spare their subordinate's feelings, or maybe they expected that their sense of camaraderie was still strong enough to warrant losing faith in the Survey Corps upon reading the horrors they'd inflicted on their former friend.

They already avoided bringing him up around him when he was still hospitalised to avoid pouring more salt into his wounds. He was glad they did. The less he had to be reminded of Bertholdt's existence while he was still confined to that hospital bed, the better.

Even after his discharge, no one talked that much about Bertholdt. Not even Eren, though he seemed to avoid the topic altogether in his recent collectedness. Old kinships hadn't been enough to make them break the silence despite knowing what had happened. Hard to sympathise with Bertholdt when he showed he was so prepared to kill them all.

There was something healing about denying he existed altogether, but that couldn't last. Something had to change if he wanted to be useful to his regiment.

"I do." He closed the binder again and looked up from it, back at Hange.

Feeling he wouldn't elaborate, Hange stood up, already on their way to walk out. "I'm sure you'll have your hands full with these for the rest of the day, if not the next few days. Let me know if you need anything and when you're ready to make our descent."

"Actually," Armin immediately replied, "before you go, I was curious to know how often he speaks to you these days. When you ask him questions or when he needs something from you."

"He's been a real pain in the ass," Hange groaned, turning back to loosely drape their hands over the back of the couch. "Never answers my questions even when I give him incentive to do so. The only times he does talk to me is when he's in pain after administering something. We tend to sedate him after that to make sure he still cooperates with us afterwards. Do you know how hard it is to inject a thrashing target even when he's restrained?"

They adjusted their glasses, pinching their nose bridge in the process.

"At least when we don't put him through too much pain and we take the edge off when it gets bad, he lets us do what we want with minimal resistance."

Armin nodded, lifting the binder off the table and placing it on his lap instead. It sounded like Bertholdt had surrendered, only doing what he could to avoid more pain.

"So I don't have to expect much cooperation."

Hange shrugged. "It's a mystery, honestly. Apart from Eren, we don't know much about what he thinks about all of you. Maybe he feels like you abandoned him, maybe you're just another enemy like me. I don't think you should expect even a word out of him, but if you believe you can get him to talk, it would be unwise of me to try to stop you. I'm not sure if there's anything meaningful he can tell you. They've done things to those kids to make them this way."

Armin made a mental note of that comment on Eren, deciding it was a topic for later. "Did you tell him I was going to come over one of these days?" he asked instead.

"No. I didn't want to interfere. If you wanted me to inform him ahead of time, you should've sent a message."

"No, that's ideal, actually. I think it's better that he doesn't know." He thought for a moment, eyes sinking to the red cover of the binder, then looked up from it. "Do you know if he's awake right now?"

Hange leaned onto the back of the couch. "We had to sedate him yesterday. He sleeps better when we do, so he probably got a full night. Unless he reacted badly to what we gave him, he should've been up for about an hour, since he lives by the wardens' schedule," they informed. "You want to go there now?" they added, tone questioning the decision.

"I do, if that's okay."

"What did I get you that binder for if you won't even go through it?" Hange sighed.

Armin sheepishly shrugged, unsure how to keep his response polite. It indeed felt like he'd just made them do extra work for nothing.

"Reading material for when I'm down there."

Hange raised their eyebrows. "'Reading material'? Is that what you're going to call it, Armin?"

"I— That's not what I meant!" Armin defended, straightening his back and hands placating, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. "Not leisurely reading material, but…" Fingers tapped on his lap. "… If he refuses to talk to you, he will probably also refuse to talk to me. I'm staying with him until he does or until I get tired, so it's useful to have something with me to go through while I wait. I can find inspiration for ways to convince him to speak as I go through it instead of just sitting there. That… That kind of reading material."

The words rapid-fired out of his mouth with the last ones trailing off a little.

Hange let out a low chuckle. "Oh, I know. Don't take it too seriously." They fished a pocket watch out of their coat and looked down on it before stashing it again. "I'm needed here in the afternoon, but we can go for a few hours no problem."

"Actually… I was hoping that I could go alone," Armin advocated. It earned him a weird look from Hange and he knew he might have to defend his request.

"Huh? Alone? Why?"

"Well, it's just… He already sees you as a threat, doesn't he? If you stand there with me, he may choose to stay quiet the whole time. We did once know each other, so maybe he'll agree to talk if it's just me."

Hange pondered the matter for a moment. "Will you be able to take notes if you're the one doing the talking?"

"You have taken notes under far more stressful circumstances, I believe."

"Ah, I suppose that is true," they answered. Then, they smiled at him. "Well, I trust you with this, Armin. If you think you'll get better results when you face him alone, I trust your judgement. I'll go with you to drop you off, I need to pick up a couple of things anyway. After that, do what you think is best."

It was validating to get his Commander's praise, but he hadn't gotten any results yet. No need to get ahead of himself. He nodded at Hange, a small "Thank you" accompanying the gesture before he slid the binder into his backpack and got up again.

"The mines are warmer than the surface this time of year. You won't find yourself getting cold down there anytime soon. Don't drag all your coats with you, one will probably be more than enough to keep you warm." They walked over to the building's entrance. "I need to get the lift in working order, I'll come get you when it's ready. Shouldn't be more than twenty, be ready by then." With that, they left.

And here Armin expected they'd make him walk the full way down. Considerate that he got to use the lift, but it reminded him of how poor his physical condition had gotten. Standing up so briefly, he already felt a mild soreness in his legs, though lying down on a hard wooden floor all night had a hand in that. He'd never make it to the depths of the mine like this, let alone back to the surface. He itched for his physicians to finally approve a more intensive exercise regime so that he could regain his lost weight and get in shape again.

He wanted to heed Hange's warning, but Shiganshina had left him cold in the bones. Something to do with losing so much weight in so little time. Maybe one coat was enough for the average visitor, but he didn't want to stand there shivering when he had a confident impression to make. He considered grabbing his blanket too, but soaked as it still was, it wouldn't do him any good.

Dressed and ready to leave, he sat down again to await Hange's return, stretching his upper body to exercise his scarring skin as the nerves started to flood his veins.

This was it. If he wanted to back out now, this was his final chance to do so. They wouldn't exactly be eager to see him backpedal after they'd already gone through the trouble of transporting him into the mine. He wasn't going to run away from this.

He'd already had second thoughts since he'd requested a chance to visit Bertholdt, not because everyone told him that he was wasting his time, but because he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to face him again. There was no knowing how he'd react to Armin's presence. If he would be angry and try to attack him, if he would yell the most venomous words he could think of at him, if he'd show fear, or if he'd just be indifferent and refuse to talk in defiance of the Survey Corps.

In his current condition, there wasn't much Bertholdt could do, but it was still a daunting confrontation. There was no shame in being aware of his own mortality. Bertholdt had tried to kill him several times now. With Armin's recent dip into darker thoughts, he was not keen on letting Bertholdt pry deeper and further erode his psyche. It would benefit Marley, so he just might, if that was where his loyalties still lay.

No. There was already no going back. Turning back now meant he was running away from something that could help humanity and something that could offer him catharsis. That wasn't how he set out to do things.

A knock on the door signalled everything was good to go. Armin grabbed his belongings and hurried over, putting on his second coat and fastening his backpack before he left.

Hange had already left for the lift by the time Armin left. Ever since they inherited the Commander position from Erwin Smith, they'd been so much more pressed to get to places. The only reason they had time to come over to Tourze to carry out tests was because of the heavy snowfall that forced them to cut down on most operations anyway and left them more spare time, but even then, their schedule overflowed with meetings and paperwork. Without Moblit around to assist, the workload must've been much heavier.

Still, once they heard the door close, Hange stopped and waited for Armin to catch up. The two of them made their way towards the lift — an old but sturdy metal and wooden contraption that allowed several people to go down multiple levels at once, powered by horses.

Hange broke the silence between them.

"We only use the lift for goods," they informed. "It's funny to think, really. The last person we transported with it who wasn't someone on a supply run, was the Colossal when we first brought it here. We weren't going to risk dropping it from so far while maneuvering down together, now were we?"

Hange smiled at Armin. He simply nodded along, responding with a "Naturally" when they were done, slightly alarmed by their wording but keeping it in the back of his mind for now.

They reached the lift, its cabin already loaded with boxes of supplies. A policeman accompanied them into the cabin and began to work on securing the door and communicating with his colleagues operating the structure.

"You should probably sit down, Armin. The cabin has a tendency to go down a bit roughly. It's pretty old, we didn't get to patch it up."

"Right."

He instinctively wanted to protest, but if he kept standing, he knew he'd get knocked on his ass before they even passed the first level. Grabbing the railing, he led his body until he was sitting down, legs crossed. Hange gave the signal that they were ready to go and the cart stuttered and creaked as it began its descent.

Once properly departed, Hange sat down on the floor in front of Armin, grabbing a notebook and a pencil off of one of the crates.

"Alright, let's go over some practical details! You can write down anything you need to in this journal. I urge you to be thorough, Armin, every word the Colossal says can be of importance. In fact, write down what you tell and ask it as well, it's useful to know later. Especially if you talk about anything written in its file. And I don't have to remind you there are things the Colossal shouldn't know about."

"I will, Commander. And you don't," Armin responded, taking the notebook and the pencil when they were offered to him and storing them inside his backpack.

"There's an information protocol at the front. You're smart enough to figure this out on your own, but the Colossal shouldn't get its hands on anything you carry. If you need to leave in a hurry, secure the folder first."

"Grab the folder first when I have to leave in a hurry so that it can't fall into his hands, got it."

"Of course, you can't inform him about his containment protocol at the back either," Hange followed Armin's switch. "The same goes for the safety equipment's schematics. The other documents, I'd prefer if you kept as much of the information in there from him, but if you believe that divulging some of it will benefit us, then I trust that judgement. Don't specify the experiment results and methods, it could disturb the results by creating false expectations, for example."

"Of course, that makes sense," Armin replied, scratching the scarring under his chin as he did.

"Perfect! Moving on, then…" They tapped their chin a few times, subconsciously mirroring Armin's gesture. "I can't stress enough that there is no shame in acquiring no new information. With the Colossal's age and how long he hasn't been to Marley, I don't think that he possesses much useful information he can tell us in the first place. He also lied to us a lot when we worked with him back in September. Even when he was telling the truth, there were always some details that weren't adding up. Those are the two reasons we initially gave up our efforts. My time was better spent elsewhere, too…"

Hange looked annoyed recalling the experience. Armin wondered if Bertholdt chose to lie as a sign of resistance, or if he was too tired to think straight and tell them what he knew. When Sannes was interrogated and they all had to listen to it as it happened a room away, the whole procedure sounded stressful.

"If he's had the chance to rest, maybe he'll be more cooperative," Armin suggested.

"You'd think so, but that wasn't the case. When we came to get him for testing after months of rest, he was irrationally terrified of us. Wouldn't believe that we weren't going to resume no matter how often we told him that we weren't going to hurt him this time. Can't exactly blame him, we dragged him onto that same table. Kid probably thought it was going to happen all over again."

"He didn't believe you when you said you weren't going to harm him?"

Hange shook their head. "To the contrary. He said he was done and that he didn't wish to fight anymore, but when I asked him some questions, he still didn't answer. I didn't press the matter because I had work to do, of course, but even after he's had plenty of time to rest and think and we assured him– no, proved to him that we weren't there to hurt him, he wasn't going to cooperate. I can't lie when I say, Armin, that I am very curious to know what you'll try."

Was that helpful or was that an obstacle? Armin scratched his cheek, looking up at the opening of the mineshaft. They'd sunk rather deep into the mine already, so far that light levels had diluted to a much lower intensity and his eyes hurt just from looking up at the bright sky after getting adjusted to the darkness.

"I know you really want me to tell you, but the issue is… I haven't decided yet. It all depends on how he reacts to me. Back when we trained together, we were…"

He paused for a brief moment, searching for the right wording. Maybe his image had been tinted by the recent happenings, but if their history hadn't mattered to Bertholdt, then it didn't to Armin either.

"… acquainted. While friendship is behind us now, I might be able to use that to my advantage. I want to connect with him again. I don't wish to undermine your efforts," Armin tapped his knees with his fingers, "but… No one who was down there with him used to know him. I did. It might make the difference."

"That makes sense," Hange replied, a hand on their chin to think. "I wanted to bring some of you in here, but you were in a coma and I don't believe that the others would have agreed to it. I allowed Eren only because he asked if there was any way he could be here. If he hadn't requested an audience, I wouldn't have invited him either."

Armin's eyes widened. "Eren was here? When?"

"Early October. He didn't tell you?" Hange frowned.

"I know he sometimes left for a few days around that period, that's all. He never told me what he was doing. I thought that the Queen or the military leaders asked for his presence."

Early October. That must've been the second, maybe third time Eren had left Armin's side at the hospital for an extended period of time.

The first time, it was to go to the memorial organised to honour the heroes who had sacrificed their lives to retake Wall Maria and to commend the few who had survived the battle. Eren had insisted on staying by Armin's side through it, and it took Armin a day to convince him that he'd be fine without Eren and Mikasa with him for a few hours. In the end, Armin ended up sleeping through most of their absence, and by the time he woke up again, they were back, each sporting a medal around their neck. Had Armin not been in excruciating pain, he would've admired the badges of respect they had earned. The one he dreaded to receive for himself when he was in a state to leave his bed.

The ceremony had done much to help Eren find his inner calm. With the sudden barrage of memories from reading his father's journals about the outside world, he often wound up momentarily disoriented or emotionally distressed. He didn't like to show it in front of Armin, like he couldn't handle it alongside the pain of his infected burns, but Armin had still noticed. He gave Armin the benefit of the doubt more often and stopped babying him all the time, even disappearing for short periods of time every now and again. It concerned Armin as much as it assured him that Eren was healing.

When he said that he had to leave for something confidential, Armin hadn't questioned it. Paradis, as they'd come to know was their island's name, was a mess after the knowledge of the outside world got released to the public. With things so turbulent, Armin was surprised that Eren wasn't borrowed all the time.

Turned out that he was down in these mines to assist with the communication efforts. Armin wasn't so sure if his presence was meant to help them obtain tangible information through his former bond to Bertholdt, or if it was through terror. He might find out from the logs.

"I suppose he didn't want to burden you with the knowledge that he participated in what happened here," Hange suggested. "If I'd known, I would've asked him if he wanted you to know about that."

Armin shook his head. "I understand what he had to do and why he wanted to be the one to do it. It won't change the way I think about him."

"Ah, good, then we won't have any issues." Hange smiled at him, leaning back against one of the supply crates and adjusting their glasses. "In any case, once you're down there, there are some safety precautions you need to take. Just because he's impaired doesn't mean he's defenceless. I've gotten some mean punches from that arm when we didn't have him restrained as well as we thought."

Armin's heart skipped a beat. "You didn't put him behind bars?"

"Bars? In an old mine? It's all support beams down there, no doors or proper gates. We put him in one of the dead ends and blocked off the mineshaft's entrance with a pallet of planks and some chains with locks. So far he hasn't shown the will to escape. He knows he won't get far, but if he gets the chance, I do believe he'd take it, so we're careful."

"There's no way for me to talk to him from the outside?"

"I fear that will be difficult and unnecessary. I could post someone beside you but that will probably have an influence on how he reacts to you."

It wasn't the most comforting thought in the world that he'd have no defences against Bertholdt. But if he really became aggressive, Armin could always just leave. Even if he was wounded and out of shape, he was in better shape than Bertholdt. If he could avoid a fight, he would.

Then again, it was Bertholdt they were talking about. Who knew how well he had adjusted?

"It will. I should go alone."

"You should take a set of swords with you just in case."

Armin shook his head. "No, I don't think I should." He quickly amended his tone and his words. "With all due respect, if I take a weapon with me, Commander, I've already assumed that he'll be an aggressor. It doesn't make a good impression and he'd feel rightfully threatened, I believe."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Hange sighed. "Always be ready to defend yourself through other means, then. You're authorised to use whatever force you deem necessary."

If you think violence will get him to talk, then use it, was the unspoken conclusion. Armin responded with a firm nod, looking up again. The morning sky was much farther away now as they descended deeper and deeper into the mine. It slightly unsettled Armin, but he didn't let it get to him.

"Hey, can I just say," the policeman interspersed, and Armin looked down again to face him instead, "the Colossal's been inactive for months now. The only major activity we've seen was during the first week the Commander started testing again, but it got used to it and things went back to normal after that. It's usually pretty much lifeless and stays in the same spot day and night. You should be fine."

"Thank you," Armin responded. Lethargy was to be expected in his situation. It wouldn't be helpful in his endeavour to get him to talk, but it was better than resistance.

Armin sat back against the railing as he let his thoughts simmer in the silence that followed. He considered different conversation structures in his head, planned ahead for what to do in specific scenarios, what he wanted to say and what he wanted to avoid saying, as if he hadn't gone over those a thousand times in his head in weeks past.

Abruptly, the cabin came to a halt as they reached the bottom of the mine, landing them in a pitch-black clearing where only a small radius around the cart and a torch near a passage were lit, leaving a dark void all around him. His shoulders tensed.

"Ah, we're here. Good," Hange announced, lifting themselves up by the railing before extending a hand to Armin to help him up, which he accepted. "Welcome to hell!" they cheerfully added. "Hopefully, you can get some good work done here."

Armin looked up. The opening of the mine was now a small speck of light above him, barely discernible against the pitch-black walls of the natural cave structure, and the sight made his knees go weak in a bout of vertigo. Hell was definitely the right word. He took a moment to find his footing while Hange opened the cabin door.

"What depth are we at?" Armin asked.

"473 metres, give or take! This is one of Paradis' deepest and oldest mines," they said as they picked up a few of the boxes in the cabin and carefully stepped onto the rocky floor of the mine. "We chose it exactly because of its depth, to make sure that even if something goes wrong and the Colossal Titan regenerates, it can't get very far. Even if it detonates the place, only a handful of people would die and it'd have no way to reach the surface. The whole structure might even collapse and take it out. No path leads to the outside world so he'd need the lift that's up at the top, and he ain't going to maneuvre his way up in his state. Every problem solves itself."

So if anything were to go wrong and he got stranded here, Armin would have no feasible way out either. There were ways to get trapped down here without a soul knowing. It wasn't a comforting thought.

"Can you grab a couple of lanterns for us, Armin? We've got our hands full." Hange motioned over to one of the tables near a cave wall, covered in various mining supplies as well as a collection of lanterns.

Armin walked over to the table. No Reiss cavern crystals. Curious. He lit two of the lanterns, one for each hand. If the passages weren't lit, they wouldn't want to risk getting lost if one lantern failed on them. He made his way towards the cabin where his two fellow travellers were unloading the supplies and suggested helping, but they told him to just wait for them to finish.

Once they had, he followed them to the entrance of the mineshafts, where Hange placed down their crates and started clipping something to their gear. A safety line, perhaps?

"It's a bit of a maze down here, so it's best that you walk ahead of us with the lights. We'll send you in the right direction. Not afraid of the dark, I hope?" they said as they finished up and picked up their supplies again.

"Ah, no, I'm not," Armin replied. He took a look inside the dark tunnel, his heartbeat stilling as he did. Deafening, his brain spat out at him, and he stood frozen in place for a moment before the two pairs of eyes that were cast upon him forced him into action and he picked up his lanterns.

The first few dozen steps were the hardest. He swore that this place smelled of putrid gunpowder and dusty debris, but he couldn't spot anything that didn't belong there. It must've once been a storage place for these kinds of volatile materials, its past still lingering in the air. Or worse, maybe they had placed explosives all around the passages to detonate in the event of an escape.

Best not to dwell on the idea that there might be bombs stored here that could easily cave everything in on top of him. Phantom booms of collapsing tunnels rang in his ears and he had to think of the trees and cabins above to distract. Just breathe and keep his legs steady. Think about where he was being sent by the policeman's guiding words that sent him past diverging ends and snaking tunnels that branched every couple of metres.

The maze must've been one of Tourze's other perks. Even if Bertholdt managed to regenerate and chose to escape in human form, he wouldn't get far without getting hopelessly lost, even with a lantern on him. The only way he'd stand a chance would be with a hostage that would lead him right to a heavily-guarded cave entrance. Everything about this had been meticulously thought out.

It didn't seem possible back in Shiganshina, but they'd come through and managed to safely detain one of the most dangerous weapons known to humanity. It truly stood out as an impressive achievement for mankind.

"We're here!" Hange announced when after a good fifteen minutes of walking, a light source showed up in the distance. "Still holding up?"

"I'm fine."

His legs and back ached and his arms and shoulders were weary from holding out a lantern in front of him, leaving him out of breath after the trek. The exercise did him good, he needed something like it after getting no physical activity for so long, but he could do without the dust assaulting his airways at every breath and making him cough every once in a while.

"Good!" Hange said as they entered the broader, lit-up section of the mine. A sort of main area with an elevated ceiling, with several chairs and tables placed along the cavern and a handful of policemen in the room. They greeted the new arrivals and got a greeting back, after which Hange and the policeman dropped off their supplies on a table and engaged in small talk with their companions that didn't much interest Armin.

He focused on steadying his elevated breathing to get his pulse down. The last thing he wanted was to make an impression of weakness on Bertholdt.

He looked around the cave section. Clearly a common area where the wardens spent most of their time, tables strewn with playing cards and dice, mugs, and dirty bowls and plates. He placed down both lanterns on an empty spot, too lost in thought to notice that one had flickered out.

"—exactly what I'll tell him. But that's for later." Hange patted Armin on the shoulder a few times, harder than was comfortable, making him yelp and flinch. "Let's not force Armin to stand around here to listen to small talk. Is the Colossal awake yet?"

"Fed it about an hour ago," the shorter of the policemen responded, crossing his arms. "Should be awake right now. Not that it makes a difference." His words were accompanied by a badly-disguised belittling look in Armin's direction that he chose to ignore.

"Perfect. I need someone to bring him there."

"I'll go," one of the taller wardens volunteered, standing up from her seat. She went to retrieve a lantern and Armin prepared to follow, but before he could, Hange stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder and leaning closer to him, voice hushed but reassuring.

"Take good care of yourself first when you're down there, Armin. It's not worth it to push yourself past your limits just to get answers. Prioritise your own health, mental or otherwise."

Maybe it was meant as concern, but to Armin, it felt infantilising more than anything. He knew it hadn't been Hange's intention. They were looking out for him, nothing more. But hadn't he more than proven himself against Bertholdt in Shiganshina? This was nothing compared to a fight to the death.

Ever since he got burned, people wouldn't stop handling him with kid gloves. What must he do to stop receiving this treatment?

"Thank you, Commander. But I assure you that I will be fine."

He received a confident smile in return as Hange let go of him. "Good luck down there," they said with a wave.

"Thank you." Armin nodded back, grabbing a lantern for himself before making his way towards the policewoman waiting for him at the entrance of a lit passage. He wanted to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen, but the policewoman interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you really think you'll get anything out of the Colossal?"

Armin looked up at her, caught off-guard by the question. The wardens did nothing to mask their distrust of his abilities. The best he could do was to avoid antagonising them.

"I think so, yes. We've known each other for years. I know more about him than the Commander does, which is why I think it's worth it to talk to him."

"We already tried everything, kiddo. If it was going to talk, it would've done so long ago."

"Have you sat down at a table and tried to have a conversation?"

The woman let out a huff, an amused smile on her face. "A tea session with a monster? It's your time you're wasting, but I can't object if a bit of entertainment keeps it quiet at night."

Armin decided not to push the issue, already feeling he'd overdone it. At the end of the day, he didn't expect that the people who thought of Bertholdt as a monster would even try to talk over a cup of tea. Not that Armin would make it that familiar, but it was leagues removed from what they had done to him.

They turned a corner and the next part of the passage was unlit. Walking on in silence, the tunnels felt narrower than they had earlier. Taking a few more turns and walking straight at a branching path, Armin's heart jumped when something came into sight after walking with only void laying in their path. A wooden pallet chained to support beams.

The policewoman clipped her keys free from her belt after hanging up her lantern on a hook in the support beam. Of the locks that hung against the pallet on chains, only one was locked. She fiddled with it. Armin watched on, quietly cursing himself for not turning back when he still could, but calming himself at the thought that he was confronting Bertholdt head-on without backing down. Not many would choose to do what he was doing right now.

The lock opened and before Armin knew it, the policewoman had already pulled open the wooden gate. He almost expected something to jump out at him, but instead he was met with darkness, now partially illuminated by their lanterns. He had anticipated this from the unlit passages, but it was interesting to confirm that they kept Bertholdt locked in a makeshift cell devoid of any light. Armin made a mental note of it in case he could use that later.

Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice that his companion had already taken her lantern and walked inside, waiting behind the gate for him to join. He did so after the slightest hesitation, eyes searching for his target as soon as he entered the improvised cell, but he wasn't too hard to find.

The only reason he knew what he was looking at from the get-go was the context. A pile of man lay on his back against the right wall of this dead-ended mineshaft, blackened by dust and so noticeably shorter than he should be. His arm lay over his gently rising and falling chest, the rest of his limbs under lock and key. Hange's commissioned design when they had to improvise a way to safely detain him.

Armin's mouth tightened. Bertholdt had his eyes closed. It would be better if he hadn't been asleep. Having him wake up to the presence of an enemy complicated things, but didn't make things impossible.

He didn't realise he was holding his breath until the policewoman bumped her elbow into his side and the air left his lungs in a huff.

"I'm going to return upstream. I'll leave the gate open for you. Close it behind you again when you leave. We'll come lock it again later. The Colossal knows better than to try to leave, especially if someone's observing, so there shouldn't be any issues while you're here and after you leave again."

"Right," Armin said with a nod, and the policewoman made her way back into the hallway without a goodbye, pulling the gate half closed behind her.

Armin kept his eyes on her through one of the openings between the planks until she disappeared behind the corner. Finally, with more effort than he'd expected it would take, he turned his head again to look at Bertholdt. He was still asleep and strangely looked at peace. Maybe Hange was wrong about the amount of sleep he'd gotten that night, because the light and the noise weren't enough to wake him.

Nailed to the ground and shivering on his legs as the overwhelming heat that his walk generated ran over his back and his collarbones itched, he wouldn't get anything done. He had to breathe first, anchor himself.

This was a battle he had already won once.

Shiganshina was theirs. Wall Maria had been retaken and was being cleaned up, soon to be travelled beyond to find those sights he had been dreaming of all his life. Bertholdt was powerless and defeated, and never before had it been as clear as now that Armin could see what they had reduced him to.

He had no reason to fear anything that could be found down here.

So he took one deep, steadying breath and found that the lantern in his hand no longer shook. He'd be fine.

To his left, there stood a sturdy-looking wooden crate, likely used in case any of the guards needed to be posted inside the cell. He walked towards it and placed his lantern and backpack down carefully. He undid the buttons of one of his coats and took it off, placing it down on the wood to have something soft to sit down on. Hange had been right, the mine had a cool but pleasant temperature incomparable to the frost of the surface and his Survey Corps coat was enough, but at least he had something to pad the crate with now.

Seated at the opposite wall, his eyes finally fell upon Bertholdt in full focus now that he could no longer avoid it. Lean before, now better described as gaunt and emaciated. His shoulders had narrowed down from the loss of muscle and his bones poked out of his skin even more prominently than before. The surface of his shirt dipped below his hip bones. Sharp edges of gear were visible through his flimsy shirt, but they didn't do much to pad his volume.

It was most visible in his face. His cheeks were no longer round and his features had sunken with an unhealthy look to him. Not that this was easy to tell, with the amount of grime that caked his skin, moreso on his neck than on his face. His matted hair had grown out a little and if Armin squinted, he could distinguish that he had the beginnings of stubble on his jaw.

His clothes were filthier than he was. The textile of his pants unravelled where blades hastily cut clothing and appendage alike to their appropriate length and everything was covered in dirt from lying on the dusty floor day and night. An overabundance of dried blood specked the collar of his shirt. Armin couldn't imagine he'd been offered a change of clothes or a chance to bathe in the months he'd been here.

Neglectful but not unexpected. He couldn't see mankind's worst enemy get treated delicately by the people he had tormented.

Retrieving the notebook and pencil from his backpack, he looked over at Bertholdt with a mind so turbulent it looped back around to being blank.

So this was it. One word, and Armin would enter one of the most gruelling conversations he'd had to face in quite a while.

He crossed his legs and straightened his back, placing the notebook beside him and opening it to the first page. Empty. No notes left by Hange to distract him with, so he was forced to press on.

Tapping his fingers on it, he breathed in and out deeply a few times, then decided it was better to bite the bullet and go. He placed both hands on one knee, determined.

"Bertholdt," Armin called out, his voice calm and confident. "Let's talk."