It was a late morning, noon almost, yet the Sun could not have been seen anywhere one looked. Dark clouds that gathered above the island shielded the land even from the faintest rays of light. Only would the occasional lightning bring any color to the world made of gray skies and equally dark sea. Strong winds blew from every direction as if their conscious intent was to confuse anyone who would try to make sense of this mess. Their force, powerful enough to pull the trees out of ground, swirled the waters of the sea, formed the waves that splashed the coasts of the island as well as a deck of a ship sailing towards the island. The sounds of thunders and waves, the mighty power of wind and unrestful sea – it was not a good day to sail home.
Yet, despite the might of the wind and the waves trying to set them off course, with each passing minute the island on horizon seemed bigger in size, with each passing minute it became nearer. Standing alone on the deck on the wooden floors now already soaking wet, ex-Commander of the Survey Corps watched the island the ship was sailing towards to. Cloaked by a simple blanket she found herself a place where the waves couldn't reach her and, without even realizing, Hange Zoe let her mind wander. Soon, very soon, they'll sail into the Paradisian port – the Yeagerists should already be there – one man is constantly communicating with them over the radio. But what then? The things that happened in the last few days unexpectedly shifted her entire perspective on the deal she made with Floch. What if, despite everything Floch says, the new situation is simply not acceptable to Yeagerist army? Closing her eye she let the memories of the last few days play in her head, trying to make sense of all that happened.
Vividly, as if it was happening in front of her eyes, she saw the grey captain's room in front of her, saw the men operating the radio, heard them calling her as the cracking sounds came from the machine. She remembered the joy she felt when she finally heard a word from Jean, when she spoke to him and set her plan in motion.
But like all good things in life, it soon came to an end. Her victorious pride and foolish sense of invincibility were shattered but a mere minutes later. As she walked into a room, full of excitement and fervor, her eye was met with the eyes of an enemy soldier whose life she swore to protect. Terrified and wide open, they stared right at hers and, for the first time, she was able to see the sign of the madness growing inside the boy's soul. Startled slightly by a sight before her, she tried to break the tension, tried to deliver Floch the good news and tell him about her call with Jean. The boy, however, cut her short. It seemed he wasn't interested in any of what she had to say, instead demanding to know even the tiniest of details about her abduction of Jean and prisoners. Perhaps he still didn't fully buy her story, Hange thought… Still, no matter what he feels, he can't deny the facts. Jean is on the island and that is all that matters. The facts, however, weren't enough to put her heart at ease. She answered all his questions and tried not to get herself entangled in a web of lies. Repeatedly she told him the story of how the Cart brought three people to her, how she and Jean had falling out and how she was forced to take the his weapons and let him get taken away by the same titan that brought him. She has already lost the count of how many times she was forced to repeat the same lies and put the blame solely on herself. It was solely her who came up with the plan to rescue Onyankopon and Yelena, Jean just went along with it. It was solely her who failed to see Jean's loyalty to the cause and solely her stupidity that made her think she could persuade him to join her group. It was, finally, solely her who disarmed him and gave the order to Cart to take him away. Nobody else laid a finger on him, nobody else tried to influence him. At least that was what she told Floch. In the end the boy gave up. He muttered something to himself, but she couldn't know what – after that, they didn't talk. No matter how hard she tried to communicate with him, Floch refused to say a word.
The wind was getting stronger, she should probably go inside. Still, Hange just removed unruly strands of hair from her face and stayed on the deck. She had too much on her mind. Floch's unusual behavior concerned her deeply. She thought they established the sort of relationship that, while certainly not friendly, was at least affable enough to have a conversation. But in the last few days she saw a great change. Ever since their talk after Jean's call, he was quieter, more secretive and less willing to share his thoughts with her. Despite the poor state he was in, Floch refused almost all help from Hange. While his injuries made every movement of his arms hurt, while he was barely able to sit, he refused her help when eating, refused her combing his hair or changing the sheets on his couch. She tried to talk to him, tried to understand his sudden change of behavior, his newfound irritations and quirks, but, in the end, it was of no avail. All he told her in the last few days were things of practical importance for their situation – when he was hungry, if he wanted something to drink or if he was in any other need of assistance. She helped him try walking again, but even in those moments in which she would hold him tight to support him, in which he would have to wholeheartedly rely on her, he refused to say a word. When asked, he told her he didn't change his mind over their deal but he refused further talks about politics. He refused to talk about anything unless absolutely necessary. Hange sighed. Yes, it was true that she soon found out what happened to him while she was in the captain's room but part of her refused to believe it was the reason for his change of character.
As weird as it sounded, Hange was sure of it - Floch wasn't a man known to have an ill will towards those who try to make attempts at his life. Perhaps they were quite similar in that regard – after all, she is a traitor helping those who put her in mortal danger more times than she could count. Still, Hange sighed trying to focus once more, this time things are completely different.
Once again, she tried to recall all that happened right after she brought Floch the news of Jean's call. As she walked out of Floch's room she was approached by heavily exhausted Mikasa. The girl looked so terrified and weak it took her few minutes just to calm herself down before she could even start to talk. The collective hallucinations, visits by Eren, sudden sickness felt by many of them… Mikasa spat all out as if her life depended on it. At first unsure about the meaning of any of things the girl had told her about, Hange only started to piece the situation together after being joined by the rest. So, it seemed that most of her subordinates suddenly hallucinated being visited by Eren. All had claimed it felt as real as talking to her was, all had claimed it felt just like being transported to Paths – but where the only requirement for entering the otherworldly realm was the possession of Eldian blood, this phenomenon didn't affect all Eldians, where going to Paths meant joining Eren in a world of sand and stars, now the testimonies included visiting the childhood home together with Eren, talking with him in the barracks of Scouting Legion, walking down the forest with him…
The confusion and fear spread like wildfire among the last remains of Survey Corps. The implications of these mysterious occurrences terrified them more than their seemingly unknown origins. A detail left unspoken by those who had seen Eren was constantly on their minds. A secret shared among them, a secret they knew they needed to reveal but the fear of its implication, fear that its dark premise would come true if they put it in words, didn't let them say it out loud. Eren's visit was neither hallucination nor something that had happened at the time – no, it was a memory. The look in their eyes revealed what their mouths couldn't – Eren told them his reasons, promised them their desires would come true and then played with their minds, made them forget all he said, made them forget his visit… up until now. What had happened to make them recall the lost memories, what broke the spell Eren had put them under? The implication was too grim to say out loud. It was a doing of a being stronger than Eren, stronger than Founding Titan – it was the will of Ymir herself. She broke her chains and left the Paths, finally ready to join her people in the afterlife, and with her she took all the magic from this world. The realm of sand and stars was no more, all spells broken and all memories returned. Ymir was free – her freedom achieved by the destruction of the enemies of her descendants. Truly, the Rumbling was finally over – the enemies of Eldia finally destroyed.
In such state of fear and confusion, long moments had passed before Mikasa realized Armin wasn't with them. A fear even larger than the one of world's destruction was born in girl's heart – she can't lose Armin, not him as well. Frantically, she stood as if to address the rest in the room, as if to inform them of her intention to stop them from debating the fate of the mankind and beg them to help her find the last childhood friend she had left – but it was of no necessity. No one could forget how pale the blond man looked when he dragged himself through the door of the cabin. Wasting no time, he told them all of his mysterious dream, as if he knew they had been talking about such things before. Yet, there was one thing that differentiated Armin from the rest – he properly fell asleep while dreaming of his meeting with Eren, he had a headache so strong it made him dizzy and, the worst of all, he had a small cut that wouldn't stop bleeding.
Hange took a deep breath. The fresh maritime air cleared her sinuses as well as her mind. The sounds of waves splashing on the deck seemed to calm her now. As calmly as she could, she forced herself to remember the rest hoping there was a detail she missed, something that can help them when they eventually meet the Yeagerists. The moment Armin showed her his hand she knew her plan is in great danger once more. Not only did it terrify her when he admitted how he got the cut – although Floch had assured multiple times he wasn't going to change his promise because of what happened between him and Armin – but the implication of Armin's wound not closing scared her perhaps even more.
The power of titans ceased to exist.
She didn't want to believe it at first and forced all those who used to possess titan powers to conduct experiments on the nearby island – she tried, hoped and prayed endlessly that the hand of at least one of them would bleed enough, that the ugly wounds of at least one of them would be deep enough to restore the magic of the titans. But alas, it was of no avail. Simple wishes cannot bring something into existence that has long ceased to exist. Despite her best intentions and desperate hope, Hange had to face the fact – the titans were no more. Armin was now just a simple man, Pieck and Reiner two enemy soldiers she betrayed her homeland to fight side by side with, Levi and Mikasa just two normal people, their skills gone, for what were Ackermans but humans with titan strength? But what is going to happen to them now? What if the Yeagerists don't like the new arrangement – will they execute them the moment they find out they have no titan powers, don't have the tools Eldia would benefit from the most? Floch had told her it didn't matter – he had sounded quite dismissive of the whole thing – yet Hange was so sure she could swear on her life she had seen the hint of relief on his face. For the last few days his expression was nothing but that of sadness and fear, and yet, in that tiniest moment she was sure she had seen a glimpse of genuine happiness. And so, she had continued to lie to him, tell him the stories of a broken engine the mechanics are fixing, of all the things Jean had told her about, of all the exciting new inventions they are going to make and how they will help Eldia… at the same time keeping an eye on him, staying awake until her eyelids would start feeling too heavy and her sight would blur, she watched the door and allowed others to step a foot inside the room only after she made sure they weren't armed. No, her subordinates won't kill him, she made sure of that, but she couldn't gamble. She kept on doing her experiments until, finally, even she lost all hope, paid her respects to the man who died while assisting Falco, making him an improvised grave on the island, putting few rocks and flowers on it, as if it was an enough of compensation…
"Commander Hange!" a deep, masculine voice startled the woman pulling her back to reality, at least for a moment erasing her worries.
The sight of her friend brought some relief to her mind. Draping the blanket around herself tighter, Hange looked at a man and gave him a soft smile. Onyankopon looked at her, a slight confusion visible on his face, he didn't expect to find her here.
"I locked the room," Hange said, her voice exhausted, "the doors are made of metal, no one can break in."
"I didn't come because of him," Onyankopon sighed. There was no need for Hange to explain herself, no need to make excuses for leaving Floch unattended for a few moments – no one is going to touch him, no one is going to harm him – especially not after they had told the Yeagerists he was in their custody – killing Floch now would be signing a death warrant to everyone on the ship. Yet, looking at Hange's face, Onyankopon could see she was worried. Despite her poor judgements and decisions he couldn't agree with, he felt a great pain seeing her in such state. "I was looking for you, Hange," he continued, "I… What are you even doing here? You'll get all wet!"
"I am in that room almost all day long, please don't ask me to go back, not yet."
Onyankopon looked at her. There was no reason to tell her again she'll get wet – the woman was already fully aware of her situation. Not wanting to spoil her the enjoyment of freedom she felt, perhaps for the last time as the only thing waiting for her is arrest, Onyankopon quietly joined her, stood next to the woman under the ship's awning. And they stood there, completely silent as they listened to the sound of waves and wind. There was no awkwardness, their silence was not of uneasy kind – no, it was a type of silence that comforts, type that exists when two trust each other greatly. Yet, as the minutes passed and the distance between them and their homeland grew shorter, the anxiety the woman felt grew bigger. She wanted to forget her worries, to enjoy these moments of silence with her friend, to cherish this moment as a precious memory for what she knew it could be her last – but she couldn't escape reality, couldn't hide from the fact that soon all her subordinates will be in the mercy of Yeagerists. All the possible scenarios of doom played in her mind, and, for the last time, Commander Hange tried to come up with another plan.
"We'll be there in less than a half an hour," Onyankopon said. His eyes were fixated on the island before them, not even seeing the fear his sentence put on the woman's face.
"I should probably get going then," Hange whispered as she lowered her head, "I still need to get Floch ready… but thank you for making me company… I am sorry I wasn't brave enough to sacrifice his life, you know, now, I can only hope the worst won't happen."
Onyankopon looked at her with a slight confusion. She spat out everything so fast, as if she was making a confession.
"I believe we'll survive," he replied. Certainty in his voice wasn't feigned, for once, he truly believed Hange's plan would pay off. "That kid owes you his life," he continued before she could even voice her concerns, "besides, this ship carries the best engineers the mankind has to offer – killing them would slow the advancement of Eldia."
"I know, it's just that… I just…" Hange didn't know what to say. The facts were, once again, on his side, yet the fear she felt clouded her judgement greatly.
"Back when Falco was about to transform – what did you want to tell me?"
Hange stared at him with puzzled expression on her face, but as the moments passed all her confusion was replaced by the fear. Yes, in a moment of weakness and hurt, she wanted to confess to her friend the worst crime she had committed – she thought that her life would be better if she shared her guilt with someone, that her death would be easier. But now, looking at him, fear once again clouded her judgement. This man has never blamed her, no matter what she did. When Eren attacked Liberio, he understood her decisions, when she doomed the world, he was there to comfort her. And even now, he was looking at her with eyes full of acceptance. But how could she ever tell him the crimes she committed, the satisfaction she was feeling in those moments, the sadism with which she took revenge? Not now when he admired her for taking care of enemy soldier, no, he can't find out what she used to do with her enemies. She can't lose the little amount of respect and affection he holds for her – no, he certainly wouldn't judge her, not in her face, but Hange knew he'd still see her in a different light. What would he think of her reasons for sparing Floch's life? Would he think it was out of goodness of her heart or as an attempt at redemption. Hange's eye widened with fear. Which of these was true, anyway? Would she feel the same level of affection had it been any other Yeagerist, or did she care so much for Floch because he reminded her of herself, his actions of her own, his mistakes and crimes of those she had committed? Was her desire to protect him nothing but a selfish urge to wipe her own sins, to fix the past and her mistakes? Was the desire to shelter him from the future, to keep him away from the path she walks nothing but a selfish wish to by-proxy protect herself? Both Sannes and her, and who knows how many before them, had walked down the same path – each meeting the same end – does she seriously think sparing Floch from meeting such fate could somehow save her as well? For a moment, Hange's mind conjured an image of a raven haired man so clear, she felt as if he was standing before her. His eyes tired and sad, lips pressed, wrinkles deep and nose crooked. Djel Sannes – what would he think of her now? Did he feel the same conflict in his heart when he congratulated her on her victory and prophetised her doom? Did a part of him truly wish her the best, truly wished she would find a way to escape her destiny, just like now, she is hoping Floch Forster would?
"Hange, are you alright?" Onyankopon asked, worry clearly present in his voice.
"Oh, I…" Hange tried to reply but it was of no avail. There was no need to pretend everything was alright. "I," she began slowly, "don't really want to talk about that now. I'll tell you one day, I promise, but please, not now…"
Onyankopon looked at her and saw nothing but sadness in her expression. She looked as she did back when they tested Falco's flying abilities for the first time. Crouched under that blanket, she looked miserable.
"It would be better for you if you share your burden – life is already as hard as it is – I would be happy if I could help you."
"Thank you, it means so much but…" Hange quietly begun, her lips forming a hardly visible smile, "not now. I am not yet ready."
"It's alright, I'll be there for you once you're ready!"
Hange smiled at the man before her as she watched him go. Happiness and sadness mixed in her heart – one unable to exist without the other. The friendship and affection she received from the dear people warmed her heart yet weighted on her soul – such wonderful people who love her so much, how grateful she was for their mere existence, yet the ache she felt in her chest was growing larger – she had betrayed them all. She took a deep breath letting the cold air fill her lungs. The ship's siren was blowing, the time was for her to go.
Despite the gray clouds covering the sky the entire morning, the rain had been so light it hardly managed to form puddles on the ground. The hurricane, however, so strong it ripped the trees out of the ground forced the people of Paradis Island off the streets. A pity indeed for a week of celebration and drunkenness to end in such inglorious way. First the Rumbling, then the birth of Queen's child – people of Eldia had something to celebrate each day, something to cheer for when they drink, something to sing about – a reason to be happy. No labor, aside from that necessary for survival, was done that week – no shop had been open, no merchant had sold – food was free and so was the drink. For economy and losses, no one had cared – it was a celebration of life itself. And today marked the last day of such carefree life. Tomorrow they'll all have to go back to work, will have to clean the streets and go to their neglected fields, as if the time of hedonism, when one's only worries were which song to sing and how fast to dance, had never even existed. This was supposed to be the last day of celebrating victory. So to be banished from the streets on the last day by the hurricane, to be forbidden from watching the procession of traitors walk right past them, to be forbidden from spitting on them and cursing them, from throwing rocks and sticks at them, all because of a whim of nature, felt like a great insult. For where's a suffering of people, eventually, the hatred is born. Such hatred cultivates both into the righteous anger but in the sick desire for revenge as well. Even more than celebrating the birth of Historia's child, people of Paradis wanted to feel the sick pleasure of slowly torturing those who put them in harm's way. And now, due to wind, a force more powerful than they'll ever be, their plans were ruined as they were forced to hide themselves in their homes, barricade their doors and windows – not even from afar could they watch the traitors being paraded around the town.
Far from the city, on the shore, stood an army. Cold wind, strong and mighty yet incomparable to the hurricane that roamed the city in its strength, was striking young people's faces, ruffling their hair and freezing their hands. Trembling in the cold, the youth of Paradis could feel their fingers getting number, the hold they had on their guns stiffer. The skin on their mouths and hands cracked and dry, hair ruffled and eyes half shut, messed uniforms and flags the wind had almost torn apart – they could hardly be described as the victorious party. And yet, they stood on the ground undefeated waiting for their enemies to return with their tails between their legs.
In front of his troops stood the young man, the oldest of the bunch, his hair fair and eyes stern. His hold on the gun firm and his gaze focused on the horizon. With great impatience he observed the ship becoming bigger and bigger with each passing second. Soon, they'll come. Truth be told, Jean Kirstein still couldn't believe Hange's plan had worked – a part of him still dreaded the possibility of it all failing in the very last moment, feared his army would point guns at all of them, laughing in his face for ever believing he could save at least few people he loves. As the hollowness filled his soul, Jean felt colder than he did the entire morning. Soon they'll come and it will solely be on him to protect them. His men will want them dead, want their blood to paint the streets of Eldia. He'll need to prevent it from happening, he'll need to keep them safe. Unknowingly, Jean's grip on his gun tightened. She'll be with them. The thought of any of his men harming Mikasa terrified him. For her to be harmed and him to continue living this lie – he couldn't take it.
"Listen up," Jean screamed as he turned back and addressed his troops. "Those who betrayed Eldia will be here soon. They say they are bringing our leader with them, but I doubt their words! As disheartening as it may sound, I don't believe Floch managed to survive the slaughter let alone end up in their captivity! I can't lie to you and tell you what I wish was true but only what is most likely to be true. When they say he is with them, they are probably only doing it because they don't fully believe our promise. They are traitors, that's how they work – they broke their oaths of protecting their own country so they can't believe we won't break our of sparing their lives. I know you hate them and your hatred is completely justified!"
Young men and women of Yeagerist army looked at each other in a confusion. They did not expect to hear Jean speak so honestly about the crimes people he used to call friends had committed, let alone so bluntly. Trembling in the cold they focused their attention on Jean, willing to hear his every word.
"Still, with or without Floch, what they are bringing is of vital importance to Eldia! The knowledge they have will ease the lives of you and your loved ones. Your parents won't need to work long hours in the fields in the July's Sun until their hands are too weak to hold tools, you will have better medical care than any generation in the past did, your children will be taught to be the engineers of the future!" Jean continued shouting, hoping it would stop the dreadful feeling he felt from growing, "The locomotive changed our lives and it's only the first thing they gave us! I've been to Marley," Jean eyes widened as the memories of some happier times flashed before his eyes. "I've seen the technology they have," he continued, hoping nobody noticed the slight trembling of his voice. "Flying boats, carriages that don't require a horse, the communication technology more advanced than a radio they already had brought us… we are going to have it all!" As he closed his eyes to collect his composure, Jean heard the cries of happiness and applause coming from his troops. Well, there is still hope. "Still, all of that will only be possible if we let these people live. I know it might sound unfair but if you dare to attack them, you'll be given the harshest penalty." Jean could hear the quiet sound of muttering coming from the crowd, but he knew he needed to finish his thought. "What you'll be doing by setting aside your anger, no matter what they do, no matter if they provoke you or insult you, will be serving this nation once more. You fought to give this country present, now, I beg you, fight your urges to give her the future. If you love your country, set aside your anger!"
Once again, Yeagerists exchanged glances. Jean's speech was grounded in rationality and none of them could find a fault in his reasoning. With timid expressions and uncertainty in their eyes they looked at each other trying to find the understanding in the person next to them, each time only finding equally confused expression on the face of equally young recruit. Jean's speech seemed to have an effect on them as each of them only feared their comrade would be the one to disobey his superior's orders. Their eyes once again fell on Jean as he gave them an order to follow him at the harbor – the ship was almost there. Their quiet murmurings but the lack of protest made Jean feel more confident his and Hange's plan is going to work. Still, the uneasiness in his heart grew even larger. A thought that has been gnawing at his soul for the last few days, despite all the attempts he made to suppress it, forget it, now, once again started to feel like an unbearable burden. As he walked towards the harbor, he felt the burning sensation in his lungs and warm tears in his eyes. There was no place to run or hide, he'll soon be faced with the truth he's been avoiding – his friends will come back – all of them but one. That one is now rotting somewhere on the bottom of the ocean, his grave far from his homeland. His soul will never know peace, will never be at rest – and a man who sentenced him to such fate was no one other than the one poor bastard used to call a friend, no one other than him, Jean Kirstein.
Jean's face twisted itself in a painful grimace. With his eyes half shut he watched as the ship sailed into the harbor, its large size looking even more massive now that it was in front of him. He looked at the ship as if he saw it for the first time. Not moving a muscle he observed every inch of the ship – its massive chimneys, strong metal exterior, bow with its name neatly painted… yet, he couldn't bring himself to look at the deck. With the corner of his eye he could see people standing there all squeezed together, but he couldn't bear to look at them. As the people around him began to work, some helping tie the boat to the harbor, some securing the gangway, Jean stood in the place silently, as if he was bewitched. Ultimately, when the noise was finally over and work done, he was forced to avert his gaze from the ship and finally face the people coming out of it.
It was no time for cowardice, their fates now depend on Jean. Yet despite rationally understanding the weight of his task and the stoic expression on his face, he couldn't help but feel pain seeing their faces. First two engineers, poor people who just wanted to help, then Connie, his dear friend he shared so many memories with, Yelena came next, her eyes full of arrogance looking right at him, even in defeat she looked dignified, then Reiner with an expression full of sadness. Jean couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. He remembered Mikasa's words. Yes, she was right. As much as he didn't want to admit it at the time, seeing Reiner in such state cleared any doubt Jean had left – he forgave that man everything long time ago. One by one as the people would step their feet on the harbor, each with their hands in the air, one of the Yeagerists would approach them, search them for hidden weapons and tie their hands. It went smoothly and without much noise Jean didn't even need to give any orders. One command was, however, given by him – he demanded he be the one to arrest the traitor's Commander.
When Armin stepped on the ground, three young men jumped him – two immobilizing his hands, the other putting a knife in front of boy's throat. Armin looked at his friend with terror on his face as the men forced him to kneel on the ground.
"I am sorry, Jean, I really…" Armin cried but before he could continue one of the men put a rug into his mouth.
"If he bites his tongue he'll transform," a man said as he saw the expression on Jean's face. Closing his eyes, Jean simply nodded, he shouldn't show too much care for them or someone might suspect something. For now it's going smoothly, he can't mess it up. And so, with the stoic expression and coldness in his eyes he continued to oversee the arrest of people he loved the most, his heart almost breaking as his men tied Mikasa's arms while shouting at her. The girl did not respond to their insults but simply averted her gaze to the floor. Her scarf fluttered in the wind as did her hair. He could see her shaking slightly – she was cold. How desperately he wished he could take off the coat of his uniform and cover her with it, protect her from wind and the rain. Yet, for her own safety, Jean was forced to stay still, his gun firmly in his grip, his eyes looking at her with hatred.
One by one, almost all of the people left the ship and yet, before the last few could leave, Jean heard loud noises from his troops. Some cheering, some gasping with disbelief, but none silent. He turned around to see the source of their excitement and for a moment, he felt as if the time had stopped. Stepping off the gangway, a tired woman looked at him with an expression others couldn't read. With her whole body she supported a sickish looking young man. Dressed in a jacket that was too small for him, with one hand around her shoulder, red in face and shaking, the man hardly stood on his feet even with her help. The noise around Jean grew louder – questions, cheering and questions of disbelief all mixed in one loud, unintelligible sound. But Jean didn't hear it. He simply stood watching two people as if the rest of the world did not exist.
The noise was stopped by a loud sound of gun hitting the ground. Startling the youth of the Paradis, it stopped them from chatter and gossip as they averted their gazes towards their leader who, in the complete silence, was heading towards the woman and the boy she helped. The woman looked at him with a confused expression as he approached her, for a moment dreading his intentions. Her worries, however, proved ungrounded. With a swift movement, Jean took Floch from her and firmly hugged him. He squeezed him tighter as if to feel his heartbeat, hear his breathing, make sure his friend before him is real and not just a sick illusion his brain is playing on him. As the heavy burden fell from his chest, Jean felt tears falling down his face and welcomed them with joy. He didn't think if this would affect the survival of the rest, instead, in his mind he continuously thanked Armin for not listening to his ill advice. "You survived," Jean quietly said, his tone desperate, as if he was trying to convince himself the man before him was truly alive. Floch didn't respond, but simply leaned his head on Jean's shoulder. Only then did Jean realize how warm Floch's body is. The man in his arms had a fever. Pulling Floch tighter to shield him from wind, Jean finally addressed his troops. "Floch Forster is in critical condition, Wim, Holger, you guys are coming with me. We'll be taking him to hospital with train – the rest of you – bring those traitors to Shiganshina barracks and put them in jail – if I see a single scratch on their faces, you are all going to get shot, understood?" The Yeagerists looked at each other in fear but finally positively replied to Jean's question. "Good," he concluded and looked around until finally, his eyes met the gaze of one of the Yeagerists. "You! Yes, you! Here, catch this!" he said as he threw a shiny object in boy's direction. The other caught it, but when holding it in his palms he couldn't help but feel confused. Jean gave him a silver badge with the insignia of Survey Corps on its front and Jean's name carved on its back. "You'll go first in line," Jean said, "and if anyone dares to attack you or if the guards refuse to imprison these people show them this, it's the sign I gave you temporary command. Now, move!"
"Wait, Jean," Hange finally spoke up, her voice worried but not loud, "I operated on him to save his life. I should go with you, perhaps the doctors will need to know what exactly I did to better help him. You don't know that, you can't tell them. Please, let me go with you."
Jean looked at her with visible distress on his face but, after a moment or two of observing her, he was able to see something in her eye he hasn't seen in a long time – Hange was sure in herself.
"You say You preformed a life-saving operation on him, right?"
"Yes."
"These types of operations are highly dangerous. I doubt You did it alone. Who helped You?" finally asked Jean, cursing himself a bit for never asking Hange about who she picked as his replacement in saving Floch's life.
"Armin Arlert. He helped me carry him and with operation…"
"That's all we need for now, we have to hurry," Jean cut her off and addressed his men, "ex-Commander Hange is coming with us, the rest of you, do as you were told!"
Before hearing his army's answer, Jean felt the full weight of Floch's body as the red haired man finally lost his consciousness.
When he woke up at last, Floch found himself in an unfamiliar room. It was quite big and had a large windows he could see the buildings of Shiganshina through. The room looked nothing like a cabin he was stuck in for the last week or so. Unlike the couch he was forced to sleep on, his bed was comfortable, his sheets clean and clothes light to wear. Several plants served as a decoration, and, until he saw them, Floch didn't realize how desperately he missed nature. The village he was born in, and a forest that surrounded it, fields and meadows he played in with his friends as a child, the forest full of big trees he spent his military days training in… he was so happy to be back. The same four walls, sounds of waves and blue void in every direction one can look at – he couldn't understand how anyone could willingly choose such life. Perhaps it had to do with how one was raised, if he learnt how to sail at young age, maybe he'd consider the blue vastness as familiar as he considers the sight of green forest. But he was happy with the place he was raised in. In fact, Floch was happy about every aspect of his childhood. He was a beloved child, popular amongst his peers and praised by adults. The easiness with which he cried and the depth with which he felt every emotion weren't held against him but were what made him beloved in the first place. The day he and his peers left for the army, he remembered how everyone praised them and wished them well, he remembered how his mother… Floch's eyes suddenly widened. He hasn't thought of that woman in months, a year maybe. He can't say he didn't love her – far from that. When his father died and left the two of them, a sickish widow and a child who barely knew how to walk, she did all in her power to make sure he has a good life, and he in return, loved his mother more than any other child did. She was a lovely woman, beautiful and kind, and he used to love her dearly. Even in early teen age, when most children become ashamed of showing affection to their parents, Floch would joyfully hug her each time she would pay him a visit, would happily write her letters and send her gifts from town for the special occasions. And then, it all changed. He remembered walking down the streets and being paraded as a hero. As the crowd cheered and celebrated, all he felt inside was numbing emptiness. He looked at the crowd and saw a group of people who cried, some in each other's arms, some wiping their tears as if they were ashamed of them, but most of them just stared numbly at the parade as their tears were falling down their faces. He remembered how his eyes caught a couple in embrace, both shaking with intense grief – Sandra's parents – and how he lowered his head in hopes they wouldn't recognize him. In such moment a woman came running from the crowd and threw her arms at him. Her face was red from all the crying but happier than anything he'd ever seen. It was his mother, yet he didn't recognize her. The woman seemed so distant from him, as if she belonged to a different world. Her hugs and the happiness she felt because of his survival felt uncomfortable, as if she mistook him for someone else. That woman's son was dead, so why was she hugging him? After that day, he wrote her just a few letters, all written dryly and without care, informing her solely of his wellbeing and another excuse why he couldn't come home for holydays. He avoided her when she came to visit, often feigning he was suffering from an illness or taking the hardest, most time consuming job for that day. Truth be told, Floch himself did not understand what happened. The woman did nothing wrong, but neither did he yet for some reason he was unable to feel the affection he felt for her his entire life. When she died, he tried with all his might to cry or at least to mourn but he wasn't able to do it. He felt guilty about all hurt people on her funeral shaking his hand and expressing their condolences when they were the ones her death affected far more than it affected him. As he watched her casket be lowered to the ground, all he felt was a sense of relief – that nice woman was finally with the son she so deeply loved. It only hit him later her son was considered, indeed, still alive. Ever since the woman's funeral, Floch Forster has never returned to the village he was born in. It wasn't his village anymore, just like the house he was born and raised in wasn't his home, just like the woman who gave him birth and raised him wasn't his mother. No, his mother died alongside the rest of his comrades that day, his house was destroyed by the ape's stones and village ravaged by his titans. The woman's son died that day as well. The one who survived had no mother but his homeland, no home but a room in barracks, no purpose but to give his life for the greater good.
Floch sighed. It was of no use to feel the self-pity. He'll visit the woman's grave when he gets better, she deserved at least some gratefulness from him after all she's done for him, but for now, he should focus solely on his recovery. After that, he still has a lot of things to do, establishing the new government with Yeagerists and royal family as rulers, getting rid of unnecessary military branches…
Floch's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of doors opening and he saw the familiar face. Jean Kirstein walked into the room. Quietly, not to disturb his sick friend, he closed the door and sighed. He was exhausted.
"Entering without knocking I see?" the redhead teased him.
"Oh, you are awake!" Jean was pleasantly surprised. With a tired smile on his face he sat on a chair near Floch's bed. He could see a mischievous look on his friend's face but the calmness in his eyes. The two stood in silence for a few moments, neither knowing how to break it in a graceful way. Floch looked through the window, finally realizing it was already nighttime.
"So, what did they do to me?" Floch said, his voice clear.
"The doctor was forced to do another operation, it was critical, but as tragic as it may sound, you have survived."
"You truly wish the worst to me," Floch replied. Despite the teasing and the tendency of the two of them to exchange insults as if they were jokes, a part of Floch's heart was uneasy. Sure, Jean expressed the greatest of concerns when he saw him that morning but worries Floch had for the last few days weren't so easily forgotten.
"I want it so much I was the one who gave you my blood."
Floch looked at him with confusion. Was his condition so bad they needed to operate on him while giving him other's blood?
"What exactly did the doctor say, what exactly did they do to me?" he asked.
"I wasn't given all details, you should ask them in the morning," Jean sighed with exhaustion, "from what I understood, Hange did all she could but she was unable to remove some of the smaller parts of the bullet from one of your wounds so the lead got stuck in your arm. It wouldn't do much to a healthy person but, according to Hange, you spent two days without a food or drink in the ocean and later hardly ate. No wonder such thing caused complications to you."
Floch looked at his arms and saw new bandages on them. To think he was operated on and put in new bandages when the last thing he could remember was Jean shouting orders to Yeagerists. What else has happened while he was sleeping?
"It was a complicated operation and you needed a donor so I volunteered myself," Jean continued, "We are of similar temperament so I thought my blood could be compatible with yours. Guess I was right."
"Don't they usually try to find your closest relative for such things?"
"Your aunt is far away and you needed blood immediately, be happy the theory of temperament worked or otherwise you'd die slowly from the fever that lead caused."
"Oh, don't get offended Jean," Floch smiled, "I am very grateful for your blood. Truly, I am. I just find it incredibly funny how no one has yet figured out how the blood compatibility works. You know, our good friends Marleyans, may they rest in peace," Floch continued, his voice mischievous but eyes full of hatred, "they could take your blood and figure if you are one of ours or theirs, you know? But figure out if your blood could save a life – no they were too smart for that."
Jean looked at Floch with a painful expression. The war was over, they slaughtered all Marleyans, there was no need to bring them up again. The world was now a clean slate and Jean silently begged no one would ever bring any of what happened again. No matter how impossible it was, for a moment, Jean wished he could simply forget everything that happened in the last ten years.
"When did you wake up?" Jean interrupted him.
"Few minutes ago," Floch sighed, it was clear to him Jean didn't want to turn this conversation into the one about politics and war. Pity, it has been like that for the last nine months or so. Each time he would try to tell Jean about his views, Jean would try to change the subject. He considered his ideas ridiculous until he finally saw the Rumbling in practice, then he was finally able to understand his position and join him in the ranks of Yeagerists. Still, it seems like even after all of that, Jean's interest in politics has not grown. "Besides," he continued, "what kind of hospital is this? You just left me alone in a room. Where are the nurses, where is anyone?"
"There is no more place in the hospital so we brought you to barracks," Jean stated quietly as the events of that day played before his eyes, "you have no idea how much chaos the Rumbling has caused. Many died immediately or were wounded because of the destruction of the walls and nearby houses, great many were wounded in the combat and then there are those who harmed themselves or others while celebrating. There are far too many of those." Jean sighed and averted his gaze towards Floch. His friend was looking at him with a great intrigue yet he also looked calmer. "You are a political figure, so we couldn't leave you lying in the hospital even if there was enough space. Many people lost their loved ones because of Rumbling, we don't know what such people could do to you so as soon as doctor confirmed you are going to be fine, we brought you here. Two people are always outside guarding your door and doctor will be here tomorrow morning."
The two sat in silence once more. And while it didn't bother Floch, the silence drove Jean insane. He knew he needed to ask Floch a question of great importance but knew he needed to do it in a subtle yet smart way.
"So what did you do after you brought me here?"
"I visited our prisoners in the jail…" Jean begun honestly. This was perhaps his chance. He needed to make Floch confirm once more he is willing to let his friends live.
"Ah, dear Jean, so nice of you. While I am here fighting for my life you are visiting them," Floch's eyes shone playfully.
"Even if you were on deathbed, you'd still be jealous," Jean smiled wholeheartedly, "the doctor said you were going to be fine, no need to be dramatic. Also, until the hour ago there was always at least one person watching after you in a room." Jean's expression became worried once more. "I spoke with Hange and the rest, you know," Jean begun and averted his gaze to the floor, he didn't want to see the look in Floch's eyes as he is talking about such stuff, "Hange told me you said you are willing to spare her and her subordinates…"
"Yes, I did," Floch said dryly, cutting Jean from finishing his thought.
"And you are willing to do it?" Jean said instinctively and regretted the words as they came from his mouth.
"You don't have to insult me," Floch replied, "but yes, I am going to spare them. Unless the people so demand their execution, but alas, it won't be my decision but that of a royal family then. And frankly when Eren comes back…"
"He is already here," Jean gritted.
"Really?" Floch was in a disbelief, he never really thought about Eren's return but he certainly didn't expect him to come home so quickly. "That's great. The sooner we start rebuilding the government the better. You said there were people who got injured during celebration – what is that all about?"
"While you were away there was a weeklong celebration. All everyone was doing was eating and drinking. The queen gave birth so she was out of town and couldn't command. I thought it would be the best if we let people celebrate and don't interrupt – at least for a few days," Jean sighed, "Eren came to the island one night but no one has seen him walk through the city. He is currently on Historia's farm but only me and two other soldiers know about it – he wished for us to leave him alone for a few days and we agreed to give him time for the rest of the week. Tomorrow we should announce the people he came back so the celebration was also an excuse to buy time."
"That was a smart thing to do," Floch commented, his voice expressionless, "few days of drinking won't hurt society in the long run but I am unhappy about Eren's attitude. Even if he has no desire to rule, he still needs to exist as a figurehead."
"Would it be so bad just to leave him alone, he has already done so much for the island…"
"The monarchy needs a king, Jean. Even if he is an absolutely useless slob, it still needs someone who sits on the throne."
"That's Historia."
"What right does Historia have compared to the savior of Eldia, what right do the Yeagerists have? If Eren doesn't sit on that throne even as a figurehead it leaves an option for the third party. Someone could claim they speak on Eren's behalf and cause the mayhem on the island and that's the last thing we need. Besides, if the queen expresses her desire to rule while the king declines his, it will only cause even more confusion among the people."
"Eren just came home from doing the Rumbling, he is in a terrible state…"
"So am I, Jean, so am I. But to a king the wellbeing of his subjects should be more important than his wellbeing. We can't focus on one man's wellbeing while occupying the masses with celebrations. It's not a way to lead the country."
"Eren isn't even a member of the royal family, why not make a new title for him while leaving the title of king to a man Historia decides to marry? Why are you even insisting on calling Eren a king?"
"Because he is the father of Historia's child and her husband," Floch stated bluntly.
Jean's eyes widened and without realizing he clenched his fists.
"When did… How…"
Floch looked at him, slightly confused. "Jean, do you seriously think a random nobody would be the father of queen's child? The two got married soon before you left for Marley, that's when the child was convinced as well. We lied about the due date and the father to protect our mission…"
"Does he love her?" Jean asked. Nothing but anger present in his voice.
"Huh?"
"Does Eren love Historia or was their marriage just a part of your political scheme?" Jean repeated his question with so much anger each word felt like a curse.
"I don't know," Floch replied, the tone of his voice clearly showing he wasn't interested in this discussion.
"You don't know?" Jean asked in a complete disbelief, "You don't know if their marriage was out of love or just out of interest? You sound like you don't even care, what about…"
"I don't," Floch stated bluntly, "who Eren marries makes no difference to me and neither it should to you. If the king loves his queen, well, that's a happy story for everyone, if not, who cares, all they have to do is lead the country the right way. But why are you fuming about it?"
"He didn't tell us," Jean begun sadly, "he didn't even tell Mikasa…"
"And what does Mikasa have to do with it?"
"She loves him," Jean shouted. He didn't even realize how loud his voice was but simply continued, "she loves him so much she is willing to die for him, and for that idiotic bastard to marry someone else without even telling her, when she loves him so much…"
"And why should it matter to Eren?"
Jean looked at Floch with a mixture of hatred and anger but the redhead simply continued to talk.
"Look at you Jean, defending her like your life depends on it… and tell me, Jean, would you call your dear Mikasa "idiotic bastard" if Eren chose to marry her instead?"
"Why would I…"
"Because you love her, Jean, and everyone can see it! If I can, certainly she can as well. So does she owe you an apology if she decides to marry someone else, does she need to beg for your forgiveness because she doesn't love you back? And you, Jean, what about you? Say tomorrow you get married to Mikasa but it breaks the heart of one who is in love with you – does it make you an "idiotic bastard", do you have to stop living your life because of everyone who might have feelings for you? Of course not! Think with your head – Mikasa loves Eren but Eren doesn't love her back. A tale as old as time."
Jean sat on his chair again and closed his eyes. He could feel his temples hurting.
"You know you are a heartless bastard," Jean said. His voice was sad, but Floch could hear in his voice that Jean has accepted the situation as it is.
"Quite contrary," Floch smiled, "I suggest you don't go running after Mikasa. She is a traitor and you should be an example to the people… But if you can't help yourself, this might be a perfect time to win her heart. Think about it, she'll learn her beloved got married and then you'll come to be her shoulder to cry on."
"Even on deathbed you are doing everything you can to corrupt one's soul."
"Oh, Jean, don't pretend you have the moral high ground. You supported a genocide, what is flirting with a girl as she is grieving compared to that?"
"I guess we are both scum," Jean sighed.
"I guess we are," Floch smiled as he looked at Jean. He truly knew the man in front of him, even Jean admits it now. Neither Armin nor Hange could make him give up on self-centric life, neither of them could pursue him to go with them. This is a man who just chose to pursue a relationship with a heartbroken girl, this is a man who chose his safety over the world, this is a man who stayed on the island…