"I'm sorry if I put you in a terrible danger, Phoebe and—" He eyed at your forearm and nodded on it, the one he punctured with his fingers, "And that too."

"Miche I don't regret saving you."

"I'm indebted to you, Phoebe. But I need to ask…"

"What is it, sir?"

"How did you come up with a plan before coming to find me?"

You froze. There was no excuse, no lies, no half-truths, no nothing. From the privacy of these curtains to the empty, silent corners of the ward, there was nothing to protect you from the rousing suspicion of the wounded soldier whom you could almost call a friend.

You tried to open your mouth to say something only to be superseded with blasts from outside.

"What was that?" You tried to sound alarmed, your neck craning left and right as if you weren't used to explosions yet. The consecutive noise alarmed the nurses, their feet scurried back and forth. The panicking whispers of the nurses pondered at the possibility of an evacuation.

"What was what?" Miche asked.

"The explosions," You answered, trying to buy more time to think of something palpable you could convince him with.

"Come on now, that happens every time." Miche chuckled to mask his disbelief and looked straight to your eyes once his dry, humorless laugh had come to pass. What irony this was, because silence used to be your mental hideout whenever you wanted to think. Now, silence only made it impossible to process things.

"There could be a breach in Hermina—"

"But you didn't plan this, did you?" He pressed on while restlessly retracting his form, only to lean closer to face you upfront.

You met his confrontation with silence. Miche tried to regulate his breathing, the noises beyond the curtains started to rile him up.

"If you didn't know what the titans are up to, you wouldn't come running with those injuries for me, Phoebe. Braun and that abnormal didn't seem to know you, but you know them." Miche cluttertalked, laying all evidence available from his memory.

"You knew what that abnormal wanted, and you gave it. What was that about? Did you give your gas tank to help me, or was it an excuse to give them what they wanted from us?"

"Of course I did that to protect you!" You hissed. You understood why Miche would think this way, but aren't your injuries enough to speak for itself?

"Then why aren't you telling us everything you know to help us win over this?"

You opened your mouth in an attempt to say something. Something, anything— y-you could distract him maybe? No, that obviously didn't work.

You could… you could tell a half truth? Leave out the stuff that'll make you suspicious or… or—

"For fuck's sake Phoebe, say something!" You flinched at the sharpness of Miche's threats, your instincts told you to back away and cower at the edge of your bed.

You cradled yourself. The pressure of his stare, the veins protruding at the back of his hands, and that hope in his eyes which said that he wanted you not to be the very enemy they should be fighting against.

"I don't know what to tell you Miche but I think my actions speak whom I'm siding with." You attempted to reciprocate his stare with equal intensity, yet you sounded like you shouldn't be believed with, at all.

"If that's what you're thinking, I'm not a titan or I'm not siding wi—"

"I'm not asking if you're a titan, Johnson, I'm asking," Miche paused to calm himself, his grinding molars visible through his jaw.

"Are titans really who we are fighting against?"

A minute, maybe a few seconds— you don't have any clue, you're not just aware of anything now. Not even the muffled blasts, or the footsteps bouncing left and right within the ward which you were sure used to be there.

You see, trust is a fickle thing. You could lose it faster than you earned it and now, it's your one currency to stay alive.

So if you told him the truth, how much can his trust go into believing you?

Miche's form was blurry now, you couldn't tell if your balance was tipping and tilting, or if the gasps of air was yours or someone else's.

You heard him call for you, your name was slower than the movement of his mouth, Miche's face was closer now than you recalled.

"Phoebe, Phoebe stay with me— nurse!"

You can't go through that again. You wouldn't bear to sit zero strapped in the torture chair, your bum and back, numb yet hurting; your wrists and ankles restrained so they could get a better angle at pulling out your nails.

You can never allow yourself to be punched and marked with tobacco butts again. Not another day of being starved and dehydrated only to be forced to drink a pail of water in one go while lying down just to drown you and make you pass out.

Then they stepped on your stomach— bounced a ball while your stomach was full of water to force you to admit that you are the enemy.

"I am not the enemy." Your mantra was repetitive, your fingers shakily clung to the sheets.

"I am not your enemy—" You managed to mumble between your labored, unstable breathing.

"I am not your enemy…"

"Okay, alright— easy." Miche shushed you, his gentle, yet shaky grip on your elbow propped you right back in the comfort of the hospital bed.

"Easy now, I didn't mean to…" Miche looked uneasy to the point that his eyes darted everywhere but yours.

"But I just have to ask—"

"So you could send me again in your torture chamber?" You swatted his hands away. You met him with a blazing gaze which he reciprocated with a worried stare.

"Just so you know, I've had enough drinking your fucking water."

The blasts got loud enough to jerk you from the trance, the squeals of the nurses started to resurface in your hearing again.

You tried inhaling as much air as you could, relieved that the surreal feeling of 'present but not here' was starting to wear off.

You noticed Miche's hands hovered over your shoulders, his worried pair of grey eyes were just a tad bit lower to meet your gaze.

"You okay? D'you need water? Fan?"

"I'm sorry— I'm really sorry," You mumbled between your breaths. "I didn't mean to be rude, I—" You paused to look at him.

"Something's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong—"

"There is something wrong!" You gulped on dry throat, you bit your bottom lip.

"What is? Swearing in my face?" Miche lightly chuckled.

"No— no you see, I was never tortured with water, Miche." You informed him, "I was strapped in the chair, they pulled my nails, but never the water."

"So…?"

So why did I have someone else's memory as if I was reliving as my own?

"You know what? I must be tired. I'm really sorry." You attempted to climb back to your bed, hoping a deep rest would solve the problem and it won't happen again.

It wasn't the vivid feeling of lying in a wet, cold cobblestone, or the feeling of fullness in your stomach that alarmed you, it was the lingering dread that came with it. An utter hopelessness; as if the light was put out that you couldn't even frisk your way out.

"But… I'll answer your question." You groaned with a leg climbing to your bed. Miche caught your wrist and as if your body anticipated another round of pain, you flinched with his touch.

"I'm not going to hurt you, so please tell me one thing now." His grip loosened, yet his eyes locked in yours.

"I know you're not the enemy, but please, tell us what you know."

Somehow, the earnestness in Miche's eyes gave you warmth and comfort. Your trembling fingers searched for his dry, calloused palm, and the man reciprocated the gesture when he gripped your hand with reassuring tightness.

He still believes in you.

"Humanity can't be fighting against its own." Miche's eyes flickered in searching for assurance in yours. "I promise, I'm not going to ask anything else. Just be honest with us."

You felt his hand tremble against your own, his eyes were undeniably expectant that you won't fail him.

"Please."

All you could do was flash a small smile to respond. It was weak and small and apologetic, but it was sincere.

It was all you could give.

"I can't do that," You caressed the back of his hand, letting him know that even when you couldn't speak about their circumstance at the moment, even when you couldn't tell them everything you know about them and their futures, they could count on you for doing the things they couldn't afford to do.

Even when it breaks you.

Even when it kills you.

"But I promise, I will never do anything that will harm Paradis." You expected Miche to retract his hand and withdraw the trust he invested in you. You expected another hurt or insistence that you tell them the whys and the hows but not this .

He seemed content with your promise, and rested his case.

LEVI ACKERMAN

It had been a few days after the raid, and I swear , one more trivia from Erwin and I'll lose my fucking mind.

"You know Levi?" Erwin started, the bastard was half amused for some reason. "I don't think I've ever gotten a chance to take you to the comfort room because of an injury before. It's usually the other way around."

"Well, aren't you lucky? You won't see it often, so feast on it while you can." I replied flat out, not bothering to look at him as I took his forearm for support. What could be the better options? His waist? His shoulder so I can dangle like a fucking monkey around this goddamned tower? The fuck would I do that? If only I didn't injure my leg, if my knee didn't decide to give up on me, that could've been the 'always' way around.

I would be on a chair, in my uniform, visiting a friend who just had his whole arm taken out.

Instead, I'm in a hospital gown, sharing the fucking room with him, all because of a fractured knee.

With a groan he took me, itty bitty steps to the common crap room, we go.

"You know, when I go to gatherings in Mitras, it's usually a lady—"

"Sorry commander bushbrow, I don't wear ballgowns and twirl around under a glowing chandelier."

"I don't expect you to." The bastard responded with a small, suppressed smile. "But don't you think we're going a bit slow?"

"We haven't even gone out of this goddamn room, so don't talk like you could piss all by yourself." I said, his silence flaunted just how amusing he thought this was, that I'm rocking the same boat as him.

"You can't even take a clipper and trim your beard."

"Some ladies actually prefer facial hair."

"It doesn't suit you, you look unhygienic."

Erwin's eyes squinted in amusement as he watched me scuffle over our room's doorknob. Why can't it fucking open? I swear to god, if this is Hange's oily hair…

"Levi, you could've walked around on your own if you didn't give away your crutch."

"Because I like being swung around like a fucking knapsack sometimes. Hand me the hem of your shirt, the door won't fucking budge." I said while waiting on Erwin's shirt to wrap against the goddamn door. I heard him hum as he wrapped his shirt around the knob.

"Your clothes can't do that?"

"I'm wearing a fucking dress with nothing under. You wanna see that?"

He cringed.

"That's what I thought."

But it was too slippery. The fabric just rubbed against the smooth metal brushed finish instead of giving me the friction I needed.

"Let me—"

"No, I can do this." I mumbled, attempting again with my bare hand.

"I can do it."

I could feel Erwin's eyes looming at my hands, the silence was just what I didn't need because I know that someone's watching behind me, and I feel like I'm holding off a line that's never there.

"Levi, let me—"

"Shut up and wait. I've got two hands for this."

And there was a shift of air at the back right after I said what I said, and immediately wished I should've shut up and let him take it.

I let the knob go, and let Erwin open it with one twist of his wrist.

"My hand is usually sweaty and it doesn't completely dry off, it just gets sticky."

I sighed to calm myself. Surely a doorknob isn't something to fume about.

"Hopefully the noble women dig it."

"Yeah, too bad I can't dance with one hand now. But it's enough to open the door, at least." He sounded sincere and sarcastic at the same time.

"It's also enough support for a friend who can't walk at the moment—"

"Alright, let's go." I slapped my hand on his forearm, uncomfortable to think that I have to hold on to him and that I'm receiving all the help I should be extending instead.

"Well, as long as I'm helpful…" The bastard was pushing it.

"Well, you are. Now stop talking."

And in silence, I limped my way to these wide hallways, the light that reflected from the limestones was refreshing to the eyes. Somehow, it eased the headache I've had since sharing the room with Erwin.

But that silence didn't last long.

These are the times when I wish it was his tongue that they ripped off, not the arm.

"What is it?" Erwin broke it.

"What is what?"

"What are you getting antsy about?" Erwin popped the question suddenly, and so did my neck turning to him.

"I'm not antsy."

He hummed as if dismissing the conversation, but I know him and he's not one to let it go. He was waiting for an answer.

"You usually let things go after you've said what you needed to say. This isn't the usual."

"What's not the usual?" I replied.

"You're easily irritated when something bothers you."

"Well, if that isn't everyday…"

"You know what I mean, Levi." We stopped in our tracks, letting the nurses through while they resuscitated some soldier they probably rescued from the raid.

"Yeah? Well, let me play dumb on this one—"

"Is it the one we talked about in the office?"

"My world doesn't revolve around her." It is about her, the thing that's bothering me.

She wanted the gear like she knew what the monkey wanted from us, then that would mean she knew they're coming. And yet, she never told us.

"So if it's not about her…"

It's too accurate for a coincidence. I can't rule it out as a coincidence.

"Nothing's about her—"

She can't be an enemy. If she is, she wouldn't have tried to warn us in the forest, or risk her life saving Miche. She won't spill such crucial information that there's a whole ass civilization outside the walls if she's an enemy, right?

"Or you don't want to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine. It's just this damn leg."

Or were all her rescue antics just a play to get what they truly want from us?

And if I'm keeping this information— if I'm keeping her from Erwin, from the legion, from everyone that believes in the cause, for the safety of everyone in the walls, what does that make me?

If I want to keep her safe, then where does my loyalty fall into?

"You give yourself too much credit, Miche."

Erwin immediately halted me with a hand and I knew exactly why.

I could feel frigid waters being poured at the top of my head. If we're in the doorstep of the right room, then what in the devil's cock is Phoebe doing inside the men's comfort room?

I knew Erwin had to stop me when I held my hand on the knob. For which is better? Being caught in a place you shouldn't be, or hearing something no one should hear?

I turned the knob and Erwin's hand tightened against mine.

"And besides, Lev— Sir Levi chose to go after us."

If she says something to endanger herself— something to incriminate herself, then there's nothing I can do.

"Levi," Erwin mumbled. He knew then that Phoebe was hiding at the back of Hange's door, and he told her everything she wanted to hear.

And now he's asking me the same thing he asked in his office. The one I couldn't bring myself to answer despite attempts.

"To whom is your loyalty? To whom are you betting your life for?"

That I was sure, but not anymore.

Three things:

Miche and Levi defo sniffed something's fishy.

Miche's kinda trusting her because he nose it but Levi, considering the weight of his responsibility, is somehow confused. Or maybe he already has an answer, he just doesn't like it because it feels treacherous for the old things he stands for. He still does stand for the same things, he's just not aware that MC is standing on the same ground as him.

We get a glimpse of MC's identity for the first time.

About Bertholdt and Reiner... We'll see them maybe after the next chapter. It all depends on the word count. :)

Thank you for reading! :)