A curve dark as night cut through a field of white. Another line met up with a first. Charcoal-stained fingers smudged the space under the lines to give the illusion of a shadow. The eye sketched on the canvas now looked up at its creator with a level of disdain. It was covered in part by the strokes made to emulate bangs falling over the subject's face. They appeared wavy and soft, a counter to the harsh expression they partially covered.

The artist's hand stilled. He studied the canvas in his lap, wondering if he'd really gotten the depiction right.

"Are you finished with your drawing?"

Jean raised his head. Across the room Marco was sitting on a twin bed like his own, his knees pulled up to his chest. Eyes lined with dark bags blinked in a weary fashion. It made Jean's heart sink; he'd hoped the silence from earlier had indicated Marco falling asleep for the first time in days.

"Not quite," Jean said. He crossed his legs under him, turning the canvas around for Marco to see. "I don't think I have it right. What do you think?"

Marco squinted. His eyes widened when he realized who the subject of Jean's drawing was. "Is that Celine?"

"Yeah," Jean said. He made a frustrated sound. It was a moment too late before he realized the fingers he'd run through his hair would definitely leave streaks of black behind. He leaned his head against the wall at his back, resigned. "I know it's not very good."

Marco was as quick as ever to come to his defense.

"I wouldn't say that," Marco said. "It's just … the angle you drew her from makes her seem … tall? And she looks really mad."

That's because the clearest picture I have of her was from the time she knocked my ass to the dirt, Jean thought.

But it's not like I'm going to say that.

"Your sister is a fighter," Jean said. "She doesn't give up easily. That's the sort of message I was trying to get through."

Marco's eyes roved over the drawing for a moment longer before dropping his gaze. He stared at the wooden floorboards as his shoulders slumped.

Two days prior, Marco and his partner Boris had been escorting a caravan of lumber and other building supplies north to Wall Sina. It was around lunch when Jean had come across them, driving his horse at a full gallop from the south. Foam from the horse's mouth had spattered at their feet when he'd pulled on the reins and come to a stop. Jean's boots had been on the ground a moment later.

"I need two fresh horses," Jean had said, holding Marco's baffled stare. "We're going to Trost. I'll explain on the way."

No one had been allowed inside the surgical room. Jean had kept himself glued to Marco's side as they waited in the hall. There'd been talk of bone fragments being meticulously removed one-by-one. A whispered debate had been heard around the corner concerning if the doctors were going to attempt a risky new procedure known as a blood transfusion. One doctor had stepped past Marco with purpose, a bone saw longer than Jean's forearm in her hands.

'I can't be here.'

The statement had come as a surprise to Jean. Marco had done nothing other than attempt to stay as close to Celine as possible when she'd been injured from the explosion atop the wall. Now it seemed he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Probing for an answer only prompted Marco to shut down entirely. The best Jean could do was to put Marco up a few blocks from Trost Headquarters; dragging a spare bed into his own childhood bedroom. There had been some worry over his mother's inherently fussy nature, but luckily Jean's mother gave Marco his space aside from a tight embrace when he'd first arrived.

"What about their father? Does he know?" Jean's mother had asked, her voice low in the kitchen when she handed Jean a tray with two omelets. A hand had reached out to cup Jean's cheek when her son gave a defeated shrug.

"You know, Marco," Jean said, setting his canvas aside. "Watching you is starting to get kinda worrying." There was a pause to see if this would cause a reaction. Jean shifted with a sigh. "I wouldn't say your sister is the 'doting' type, but I could imagine her giving the doctors a hard time if she was in your place. She'd probably be insisting she should help even though she'd know jack shit about what she was doing. Your sister can be a real pain in the ass, but I think she does care about you."

"She shouldn't."

Jean's brows drew together. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

There was no answer. Marco kept his eyes averted, his hands balling into fists.

"Oi, Marco."

Any further probing from Jean was interrupted by the sound of someone pounding up the stairs. The door opened with a bang, an enraged stare meeting looks of surprise.

"Eren?" Jean said, dumbfounded.

Eren seemed nothing short of furious. He looked about ready to tear Marco limb-from-limb as he strode across the room. The canvas Jean had been working on clattered to the floor as he scrambled to his feet.

"I don't care if you're pissed at me!" Eren said. He stopped at the side of Marco's bed, baring his teeth. "But your sister needs you! Get your ass up and come with me to HQ!"

Marco sat back in apprehension. "Eren …"

"Hey!"

Jean grabbed Eren by the shoulder, spinning him about to bring them face-to-face.

"Don't come in here shouting at him, asshole!" Jean said. "How can you talk to him like that if you know what sort of condition his sister is in?!"

"Because I know he'll regret not being there when she wakes up!" Eren said. He jerked his arm out of Jean's grasp. "Haven't you thought for a second how the Unit Captain is going to feel? She's gonna be totally freaked out! Marco is the one who needs to be there for her!"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Jean said, taking a step closer. "Maybe instead of basing your arguments on hypotheticals, you base it on what's in front of you right now. Let Marco go see her when he's ready. Forcing him isn't going to help anybody."

"That's bullshit, and you know it!" Eren said, eyes aflame. "We're his friends! Isn't it our job to call him out when he's acting like a total jackass? We do the same for everyone else – Marco's no exception."

Jean grit his teeth. "You …"

"Get the hell up, stupid!" Eren said, rounding on Marco. "Are you really the type of guy to turn your back on your family when they need you? Is that who you are, huh?!"

Jean didn't get along with Eren even on the best of days. He tolerated him because Eren was a means to an end – a tool needed to defeat the Titans and break the hold some faceless bastards from a place called Marley had on their home. Reading Annie's report had made it clear Eren was vital; enough so for Jean to look the other way and hold his tongue when Eren would act oblivious toward the affection from a girl Jean could only dream of having, or the times his self-righteous attitude made Jean want to do nothing more than bash his nose in.

During the past few weeks of the research excursion, Jean's newfound attitude had meant they'd coexisted in a manner he would almost call civil. They weren't friends by any stretch, but a foundation of respect had slowly been built.

That foundation crumbled in an instant.

"What the fuck did you just call him?!" Jean said, grabbing the front of Eren's shirt and yanking him forward with enough force to leave a tear down the collar. His arms were slapped away, Jean's second attempt at grabbing Eren failing as Eren raised his arms in defense.

"Get the fuck out!" Jean roared, fire burning in his gut. His heart was pounding against his ears and all he could think about was slamming Eren's enraged expression against his knee. He balled his hands into fists as he bared his teeth. "You fucking bastard … you're going to get the hell out of here and leave Marco alone, got that?! I better not see your–"

"Wait, Jean."

Jean turned, his jaw going slack. The tension in his hands fell away as he watched Marco get to his feet. His friend was regarding Eren with a heartbreaking expression.

"Eren," Marco said, voice soft. "Why would you come here? After all the terrible things I said to you?"

Eren lowered his arms. The hostility in his gaze waned. "Geez, man – that isn't important right now. Whoever said those things to me wasn't you, anyway."

"That …"

Marco clutched at the material of his shirt as if the thin green cloth was somehow making it hard to breathe. "That's not true," he said, lowering his eyes. "Everything I said was me. It was a part of me I don't like to acknowledge. Every ugly feeling I had was building up … and you pushed me far enough for things to come spilling out. I'm sorry … about all that."

A hum escaped Eren as he shifted his weight. "I guess you did go a bit far that time," he said, eyes narrowing. "I just don't get what's up with you. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that you can just talk to me about stuff that's bothering you. It's not a big deal, Marco; you're not putting me in a spot I don't want to be in by venting every once in a while."

Eren closed his eyes with a heavy exhale, scratching his hair. "And how you were acting before … You were a lot like me right after my mom died. I was really angry and didn't know what to do with myself. I already forgave you, so just forget about it."

Jean met the glance Eren shot in his direction. He didn't move a muscle, prompting Eren's expression to shift to one of determination before stepping up to Marco.

"Come on, man," Eren said, indicating the door behind him with a tilt to his head. "I'm not getting out of here without taking you, too. If I have to knock you out and drag you to HQ then that's what's gonna happen."

Arms wrapped around Eren in an embrace. He froze, eyes growing wide as he stared over Marco's shoulder.

"Thanks, Eren," Marco said. He backed away, the expression on his face growing sheepish. "A-ah. Sorry. I just … I guess I need someone to knock me back to my senses in this situation. I was feeling that I didn't deserve to be around Celine, and I wasn't thinking about what that could mean in the long term instead of just this moment."

Eren's shoulders had gone stiff, his arms halfway raised from Marco's embrace as if taking a defensive stance. His eyes locking with Jean's appeared to knock him back to reality and he turned his head away.

"You don't deserve to be around her?" Eren asked. "What do you mean?"

"I was angry with her," Marco said. He lowered his head, his lip trembling. "No … I hated her."

Marco took a shaky breath. "All I wanted was to grieve. Instead, I had to hold everything together so she wouldn't fall apart. And part of me wished … something bad would happen to her so she'd get what she deserved."

"What the fuck?"

Jean flinched, realizing he'd said the thought aloud. Hearing Marco wish anyone unwell, much less his sister, was the last thing he could imagine. He shared a glance with Eren, wondering if he had any idea what the hell Marco was talking about. The baffled look he received in return indicated Eren was just as much in the dark as he was.

"Marco," Jean said, the name slow on his tongue. "What the hell happened between you guys?"

A droplet appeared on the floorboards beside Marco's feet, then another. Marco's hands began to shake. "I'm … I'm horrible. How could I think something like that? Now she might die, and it's my fault. All of that … is my fault. "

Slow footfalls prompted Marco to look up. A hand rested on his shoulder as Jean watched him with a somber expression.

"Last I checked, you didn't shoot your sister," Jean said. "You're not some god, Marco – you don't have the power to project your thoughts into the world and make bad things happen. Everyone thinks things they don't mean sometimes; especially about family. I've got a cousin who I wished was run over by a cart on more than one occasion. My point is – you and Celine aren't always gonna get along. And you can't control what happens in her life anymore than she can control what happens in yours. The only thing you can do is decide whether you want to move past whatever it was she did and be there for her now."

"It was the gate thing … wasn't it?"

Jean mirrored Marco's stunned expression as they looked at Eren. Eren was studying Marco like he was piecing together a puzzle.

"Before … you asked me what I would think about someone closing the gate at Stohess on purpose," Eren said, keeping his eyes locked on Marco. "Then you got really pissed off when I told you that I thought they did the right thing. It didn't make any sense why you would react like that over something that didn't actually happen. And you got me thinking that maybe you knew something we didn't. That when the gate closed to stop Reiner, and ended up killing all those people … it wasn't an accident. That was the Unit Captain, wasn't it?"

No way …

Jean slowly turned to regard Marco. His friend only continued to stare ahead, tears rolling off his cheeks in heavy droplets.

"But that … was a malfunction," Jean said. He grimaced when Marco made no move to argue the point; to come to Celine's defense.

His sister … Did she really close the gate? She killed all those people … and his mom?

"Thank goodness," Jean's mother had said. She'd embraced Jean after the attack, holding him tight. "We were so scared! Everyone said that monster would've made it into Rose had the gate not closed. We could've been overrun again!"

A pit opened up in Jean's stomach. He'd gone out of his way to avoid Celine as much as possible during the training excursion. The two of them had hardly shared a word. But he'd noticed she'd always been moving; inspecting ODM gear, sketching diagrams, fixing any damaged furniture or equipment no matter how minor the task. He'd only caught her still once – staring out a window in a manner which gave the impression of her not taking in any of the view. He'd recalled what Bertholdt had said to him about Celine months ago after Jean had told her Marco's life would be better off if she wasn't in it.

"She seems different now. Sort of like she's looking at us, but not seeing anything."

"Damn."

Jean looked up, watching Eren as he shifted his weight with a frown. "She was carrying that around all this time, huh? I can't imagine having something like that on my shoulders. That must've been rough."

Eren flinched. His head snapped up as he reached into his jacket. A slip of blue paper came into view, Eren brandishing it at Marco.

"She gave me this for you," Eren said, an intensity behind his gaze. "It's just been in my jacket this whole time. I totally forgot."

Marco accepted the letter from Eren in a mechanical fashion. He stared at the paper for a moment before popping the simple seal and opening it up. His gaze roved over the message for only a second before his eyes went wide. Almost immediately Marco lowered the letter to his side while wiping his face

"Thank you for letting me stay here, Jean," he said. "But I better pack my things; I need to get going."

The corner of Jean's mouth tilted up. He placed a reassuring hand on Marco's shoulder. "Don't worry about your stuff, I'll take care of it. I'll see you later."

Marco nodded. He made his way past Jean and Eren, opening the door and disappearing into the hall. The sound of his footsteps grew louder as his pace increased down the stairs. The front door closed a moment later, followed by the thud of heavy footfalls on the street below.

Eren made no move to linger. "See you," he said, closing the door behind him.

Jean stared at the door. He took a deep breath, lifting his head as he recalled the letter he'd been able to read over Marco's shoulder. The entire message had only been a single line:

'I'm proud of you.'

Jean clenched his fists. "For his sake … don't die."

He looked down at the image of Celine staring up at him from where her portrait had fallen to the floor.

"For Marco … don't die."