Funny this life is.
Join the effort, train for a couple of years, now you're ready to be a soldier. Watch the people you practically grew up with get eaten on your first day in the real world then shrink into obscurity. Offer up your heart and follow after the man of the hour. Lose everything, your commander, your childhood friends, a piece of yourself. It is only then that you realize that some lives truly are more important than others, but then you suck it up, because you're a nobody.
You might be a little more than that to the two clowns in your squad who are nice to you because they pity you, or the guy who puts up with you because he sees a little of himself in you, or the boy whose teeth you broke but he still looks out for you. Your deranged commander might have a soft spot for you, but she has a little in her heart for everybody, and your captain roughs you up even though he still means well. But in the end you're still the same.
Fodder, and Floch knew it.
Floch sat rigidly in his chair, indifferent to the judgmental gazes of his fellow scouts as he faced the regiment's disciplinary panel at Ehrmich. Their eyes flicking nervously between him and commander Hange who was joined with a couple of high ranking officers at the front. She cleared her throat, her voice cold and steely as she cut through the silence. "Floch Forster," She began, her tone sharp and commanding. "You stand accused of assaulting a superior officer, and leaking sensitive information to the public. How do you plead?"
Floch took a deep breath. "Guilty." he said, murmurs rippled through the room.
Hange leaned forward, her piercing gaze locked onto his. "Good," she said. "Then we can move on to the matter of your punishment." Just as she was about to continue, Hange addressed him personally. "You won't be court-martialed," she said reassuringly. "We've already gone through a lot to release you from the Military Police's custody. Fortunately, Queen Historia intervened on your behalf and spared us a major headache."
"Understood." He frowned, trying to process the situation.
Hange seemed to sense his inner turmoil. "Floch," she said, her voice softer now. "Before we get to it I need to know why you did it."
His grip tightened on his thighs, eyes betraying hints of trouble. "...Why?" He muttered back to her, his voice low and hoarse. "Because someone had to."
Hange raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I beg your pardon?" she prompted.
"Our most valuable weapon has fled alongside one of our strongest soldiers, and nobody seemed to have raised any safety concerns with the fact that our last remaining titan and the holder of the colossal- which we sacrificed nearly our entire regiment to acquire, might I add - has been allowed to fraternize with the enemy for the better part of the last three and a half years," Floch explained, his eyes hardening as he met her gaze. "Besides, we can't keep hiding the truth from the people. You should know that. Was the government ever planning on informing the public? Or were you all simply hoping that Eren would see the error of his ways and come crawling back with Mikasa?"
Hange's glare was fierce, but he no longer had it in him to care. "Be that as it may, what you did was dangerous. You put this entire nation at risk. If that information had somehow leaked to the outside world, we could have been threatened by immediate action from our enemies."
Floch kept himself from snorting in disbelief at her excuse. "Good, then instead of doing damage control, you should start preparing our military. How long would you have preferred that we kept it hidden from the public? Until Marley comes knocking on our doorsteps again?" he challenged. "You don't lose thirty-two scouting ships and simply forget about them. Time is running out commander. Sooner or later, their war will end, and they will focus their attention on us again. The government's priority right now should be filling the void that Eren and Mikasa left behind."
"We can sit here and point fingers, but you are all just as responsible for getting us in this mess. Frankly, I don't care about that, and neither do I care about what happens to me, demotion, discharge, prison, execution. Whatever it may be. What I care about is what we're going to do from this point forward to protect our country, the people have a right to know, and we have a duty to Eldia." He continued.
Hange's expression softened. "You're right," she said, her voice calm. "But your actions cannot go unpunished. You will be demoted to the rank of recruit, and your squad will be assigned new leadership. You will also be placed on probation for six months."
Six months.
The deadline Eren gave him was even less than that.
"That is fine."
He didn't think they had that long.
He stands there in the corridor days after the hearing with Hange, just outside of the conference room he's no longer allowed to be in, a thin wall seperates him from the men who send the likes of him to die on their behalf. Acknowledging that the only reason he's not dead yet is due to his ex-classmate now turned Queen needing some form of closure out of him, because of the man who had pushed her towards pregnancy for their now useless plans.
He watches the MP girl who hates his guts do her job from the window of the second floor, as she tries to control the crowds who are only there by the gate protesting because of him, because they needed answers to the rumors he started.
But that's the way it goes, you'll always be faceless in the background of somebody else's story. Because that's life, and you're truly a man of the people.
His downcast eyes remain fixed on the protesting group, his lips thinning grimly. He knows what's on the horizon, and he knows there's no stopping it. The writing was on the wall for those with the heart to see it, Eldia's days are numbered, and they no longer have options. Marley's grip on the Middle East is tightening, and when they've finished there, they'll turn their attention back to Paradis. The Colossal Titan may be a formidable weapon, but it's no match for the Marleyan war machine. He can already hear the roar of their guns, the thunder of their titans, and the screams of his comrades as they fall in battle.
A heavy sigh escapes his lips and he turns to the side, catching sight of Daz and Samuel standing with a group of officers he barely recognizes. He hesitates for a moment, knowing what he has to do but dreading it nonetheless, he delayed this meeting far too long, it was time to let the others down gently. As he approaches, he sees the tension in Daz's body, and he knows the young man is already bracing himself for the worst. It's a small comfort that at least one of them saw it coming, but Daz is the type of guy to off himself if he as much as suspects a titan is nearby.
"Samuel, Daz." Floch's voice booms, interrupting their hushed conversation.
The two scouts in question walk up to him, leaving the others behind. "Floch?! You're out already?" Samuel's eyes widen in disbelief. "We just got called back here from up north, we heard rumors but didn't think they were true."
"Y-yeah, I never thought we'd see you again." Daz stutters.
Floch nods, a sly smirk on his face. "Well, what can I say? I had a special someone bail me out of the the clink two days ago."
Daz's eyes dart frantically around the hall, his anxiety palpable. "Damn. You had us worried sick. We thought they had caught wind of our plans."
Floch places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Relax, my friend. I got this under control."
"So.. the thing with Eren and Mikasa..." Samuel trails hesitantly.
"We're gonna have a talk about it this weekend, spread the word, let the rookies know too."
Samuel's expression turns skeptical. "Are you nuts!? They've been cracking down hard on everything lately. The recent rumors made them more on edge, It's gotten very risky to organize these kind of meetings under their noses."
"C-can we not talk about the government inside of the government p-please?" Daz interjects nervously but the two ignore him.
"Don't worry about it, Samuel. The MP can't do anything about a nice traditional beer hall. Nothing repels a pesky green horn better than a filthy watering hole and cheap gut-warmer." He slings his arm around Daz's shoulder, making the teen jump in his skin. "Besides.."
"I heard wine is more popular nowadays." He smirks.
"I knew there was no arguing with you." Samuel sighs, conceding immediately. "So then, same place?" He asks, his eyes scanning the hall for any prying eyes.
Floch confirms with a curt nod. "Same time."
The throng of protestors are in a frenzy, their angry shouts piercing the air, reverberating through the bones of the Military Police officers standing guard at the entrance of the government building. Floch stands at a safe distance from the gate of the military headquarters of Stohess, observing Hitch and her fellow MPs as they try to maintain order amidst a sea of angry civilians. He watches as the crowd surges forward, their shouts and jeers intensifying as they get closer to the gate, only to be pushed back by the team of MP's.
He glances off to the side to check for the rest of his group, the cacophony of sound making his head spin before shifting his gaze back to the woman. She stands firm, her eyes scanning the crowd, assessing the situation, her voice rising above the tumult. Floch surveys the scene with a calculated detachment, weighing his options, before he throws away all doubt and approaches her nonchalantly. He clears his throat, the sound barely audible above the din, and Hitch turns around. Her eyes widen in shock as she sees him standing before her, as if she has seen a ghost.
"You're alive?!" She exclaims, disbelief etched on her face.
"You look disappointed," he quips, his eyes taking in every detail of her expression.
Hitch rolls her eyes, the shock wearing down and replaced by irritation. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to speak to you," he says, his gaze never leaving her.
Hitch's eyes narrow, her jaw tightening. "While I'm on duty? How thoughtful." She spat. "Go away, I'm in the middle of doing my job."
"I can see that,"
"Sure hope so, because this is all your fault. Now leave me alone or I'll write you up." She scowls, turning her attention back to the angry crowd.
"I know it's not the best timing," his eyes drift between her and the other gathered soldiers, before addressing her with a deadpan. "But, I'm willing to bet you're so good at your job that you can.. dare I say, pretend, to be doing it for a few moments."
Hitch's face contorts into a frown. "Why are you here, Floch?" she demands, her tone clipped. "Haven't you done enough?"
"I never apologized for everything I said to you," he admits. "I wanted to say sorry."
Her eyes briefly flash with surprise, but she remains guarded. "You're sorry?" she scoffs, her frustration evident. "Fine, you've apologized. Now go."
"Very well. And no, Hitch. I haven't, unfortunately."
Floch takes one last look at the chaotic scene before turning to leave. Hitch watches him go, her eyes following his every move with an intense gaze, as if trying to unravel his true intentions. As he approaches his squad in the distance, Jean gives him a strange look, his eyes tracing towards the MPs by the gate.
"There you are," Connie says, relief in his voice. "We were looking all over for you."
"What was that about?" Jean asks, his tone laced with suspicion.
Floch meets his gaze with a cold indifference. "Nothing important."
Jean regards him with a lingering suspicion, but drops it after a moment. "Whatever, let's get going. We need to be at Ehrmich by sun down."
"What for?" Floch asks.
Connie smirks and holds up his hands. "Can't tell you, for Armin's safety," he says, his dry tone earning a jab in the arm from Sasha.
"Ow!" Connie winces.
"Idiot," Sasha murmurs, "Owww!" She hisses in pain, clutching her arm.
"Yeah, bet that hurts." Connie says sarcastically.
"Morons, the both of you." Jean says, rubbing his temples. "A bunch of new recruits are getting transferred to us. Hange took your words to heart, it seems." he adds, turning to Floch.
Floch nods, feeling uneasy. "I see."
"It sure is getting intense out there," Sasha comments as they make their way towards the stables. "It hasn't been this bad in over three years."
"They're scared, I don't blame them," Jean replies. "Come on, those recruits aren't going to welcome themselves."
"Do you guys think things will work out?" Connie asks a while later as they guide their horses out of the stables.
Floch looks down at the ground, uncertainty creeping in. Jean and Sasha remain silent.
The ride to Ehmirch is quiet, broken only by the sound of hooves pounding against the dirt.
The weekend rolls by and Floch uses his day off to travel south towards Trost, he steps off the ferry boat and scans his old town. His eyes gleam with resignation before he slips into the crowd and walks away. The closer he gets to his destination, the heavier his steps become. Until he eventually comes to a halt in the middle of a bridge, leaning against the railing and gazing out towards the murky canal below. A memory of his childhood friends floods his mind, and he can almost hear their laughter and feel their warmth. But he frowns, realizing that their faces have now faded, leaving only a faint trace of their existence.
With a heavy sigh, he pushes himself away from the railing and continues the journey towards the shadier part of town. The faded sign of an old seedy bar swings lazily above the entrance, beckoning him to enter. He steps inside, the air is thick with the scent of cheap tobacco smoke and stale beer. The dim lighting flickers from scattered oil lamps and candles, casting a sickly hue on the faces of the patrons who sit in solemn silence.
Floch joins the dregs of society and sits by the corner, surrounded by men whose lives have been shattered by circumstance as he keeps an eye out on the entrance. Their only respite from the factories is to come here and drown their sorrows in cheap liquor and bitter regret. These aren't the kind of people you would invite to your home, but he still fights for them. He's going to borrow their house for his own use, because this is a place of no hope, a last stop for those who have given up entirely.
And tonight, It will still serve that exact purpose.
He knows the risks of organizing a meeting at a place like this, but Floch's determined to see it through. It was time to draw the curtains on Eren's sick lies.
As the minutes tick by, the sounds of clinking glasses and hushed conversations fill the room. More soldiers in casual attire trickle in, their anxiety palpable. Floch watches them make their way downstairs from the shadows, his mind racing with a million thoughts. He takes a final sip from his cup before standing up, nodding to the owner as he drops a pouch of coins into his palm. He then walks down to the basement, where the others are gathered.
He strides purposefully down the rows of chairs towards the center of the basement, his shoes echoing against the cold concrete floor. A group of no more than thirty people has gathered, a mix of men and women from different branches, regions and ages. He comes to a stop, and the low murmur of conversation dies down as all eyes turn to him.
'Small crowd, but It's better this way, the rest will find out soon.'
Taking a deep breath, he surveys the faces of the assembled soldiers, noting their confusion and eagerness to hear what he has to say. "Welcome," he begins, his voice steady and firm. "I'm glad you could all make it here. I'll keep this brief, given the current circumstances."
"As you know, Eren Yeager was supposed to infiltrate Marley as part of our plans for the upcoming coup, But I realize there has been some confusion regarding Mikasa Ackermann's role in this plan" His gaze briefly pauses on Daz and Samuel, and he can sense their tension. "I came here with a heavy heart to inform you that Eren Yeager has abandoned Eldia as a whole and fled elsewhere with Mikasa."
There's a moment of stunned silence as the reality of the situation sinks in. The soldiers look at each other, their faces reflecting a mixture of anger, confusion, and disbelief. Floch manages to suppress a wince as the people around him finally erupt, he lets them vent for a few moments before raising his hands to silence them.
"The fuck?!" One of the men barks.
"Abandoned us?! But he has the founder's powers!" Another one interjects.
"What the hell do you mean?!" A woman shouts angrily at him.
He steels himself as he elaborates. "You've heard me right, Eren cut off all communication and left." He repeats, "And now our group is all that's left, our plans are dead in the water."
The men begin to murmur amongst themselves, their faces contorted with frustration and confusion. Floch can see the doubt in their eyes, the fear that they had been used as pawns in a game they didn't understand. One of them stands up, his fists clenched in anger. "So what do we do now? Just give up?"
"We disband."
Their eyes widen in shock. "We're just going to throw everything away and pretend like it never happened?!" A young soldier shouts nervously.
"Yes. Fortunately, we didn't go through with our other plans so we're not burned yet." He assures, "We pull out quietly, and the government will be none the wiser. You and your families will be safe."
"For now." One scoffs from the back.
The room falls silent, and Floch can feel the weight of their disappointment and anger pressing in on him. "We can't afford to go through with this on our own. We have no backup and there are external threats ready to strike. We have to set our differences with them aside and focus on the bigger picture. Eldia needs every man and woman it can get."
They begin to bicker and argue between themselves, but Floch's voice booms through the basement stronger. "This isn't up to discussion! The premier and his goons don't realize this yet, but we already lost all of our allies. No Eren means no rumbling, no Zeke, no Volunteers, no Azumabito. It's entirely up to us Eldians to fend for ourselves."
"No rumbling?..."
"Then It's... It really is over..."
The room quiets down again, their expressions contemplative as they begin to see reason. But one man speaks up, his voice shaking with anger.. "This is bullshit! You lied to us! We wasted our time, our energy, put our necks on the line for you!"
Floch furrows his brows, the guilt eating him up on the inside. "You're right." He admits, surprising the military police officer.
"I can't stand here and not take responsibility, I've been fed enticing lies. And as consequence, I've spent the better part of the last six months giving you all false hope." He begins, shame washing over him. "I've recruited all of you, gave you promises of a better future, a powerful new empire. But that's all gone now, and we have to face the harsh reality. I can't win us this war, our one and only hope turned out to be nothing more than a fraud. Our only option is to fend for ourselves against the entire world. It's not enough, but know that I am deeply sorry."
Floch's body tenses as a man stands up and walks towards him. He can feel his heart racing as he anticipates what is to come. Suddenly, a fist comes flying towards his face, it connects with his nose before he even thinks of dodging it. Pain shoots through his face as he falls to the ground. The sound of his own breathing is deafening as he looks up to see the man spitting on him before turning on his heel to leave. Floch's head spins as he struggles to get up, his senses overwhelmed by the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the acrid smell of saliva.
One by one, they all stand up and leave, Floch's eyes are glued to the ground listening to their footsteps fade away as he hangs his head low in shame. He had promised them a better future, a chance to change their country for the better. But now, all that remained was the bitter taste of failure. As the door slams shut behind the last of his previous men, Floch lets out a deep sigh.
He becomes acutely aware of his surroundings, as his eyed widen in surprise. He's not alone in the room. Three figures loom ahead of him, their presence casting shadows on the empty rows of chairs.
"Hell of a first meeting, huh?" He asks outloud in a dry, sarcastic tone.
The three figures approach him, and Floch's heart quickens with apprehension. "I'm sure you'd all like to take turns, just not the face, please," he adds defeatedly. Without a word, a female figure leans down and offers him a handkerchief. "Your nose is bleeding," she says, her voice soft and concerned.
Floch hesitates, looking at the handkerchief in her hand before taking it gratefully. "Thank you, Louise," he murmurs.
Turning to the two boys beside her, Louise motions to them with a subtle nod. Holger and Wim spring into action; They help Floch to his feet, and he leans heavily on them as he tries to steady himself. "Thanks," Floch mutters, holding the handkerchief to his nose. "Is it really over? Isn't there anything we can do?" Holger asks, his voice laced with desperation.
Floch goes silent for a few moments, studying their confused and worried faces.
"Sir?" Wim breathes out quietly.
Floch shakes his head, his face etched with resignation. "We're on our own, and I'm not your leader anymore," he says, his voice heavy with regret. He looks between the three teens, his eyes flashing with pain as he sees the troubled look on their faces. "I shouldn't have gotten you mixed up in this. I'm sorry."
"Don't be! It wasn't your fault!" Louise frowns, her voice fierce with conviction. "Besides...I-.. The person who inspired me to join the effort... she fled as well." She lowers her gaze to the floor, her eyes brimming with tears. "You couldn't have known. I can only imagine what you must have felt coming here. None of us saw this coming."
Floch's eyes widen momentarily, taken aback by her words. He chuckles weakly, gaining their attention. Reaching out, he wipes away the tears then ruffles the girl's hair in a gesture of fondness. "Tell me about it," he smiles, a hollow, empty smile. "You three should get going, forget about all of this, I'm not your leader, and you three have never been here. Spend more time with your families and train hard." He says, seeing the intensity in their eyes.
"Now go, get out of here." He says again, a little louder.
The three salute him instincitively and walk away in a brisk pace. He watches as their feet disappear up the stairs until he hears the door slam shut behind them. The silence in the basement is deafening now, and Floch is left alone with his thoughts. He takes a few steps forward and collapses on one of the chairs, his gaze fixed on an oil lamp hanging on one of the support beams.
Funny this life is.
He looks around the now empty basement, an ugly feeling festering in his chest. Another day, another thing to lose. His reputation, his allies, and his dreams for a better future. The only thing they haven't taken away yet was his homeland, not yet at least. He knew he had no one to blame but himself, he's the one who eagerly followed after Eren, blinded by his own ambitions.
He takes a deep breath and begins to clean up the basement. He picks up the chairs and stacks them neatly against the wall. He wipes away the blood from the floor, erasing any trace of the meeting that had just taken place. Then he goes back up stairs and sits back in his original table.
Tonight, this house of forsaken souls has a new guest.
Hello, Thank you for reading!I appreciate all the kind words and i'm glad this story was well received. (Just wish there wasn't a tiny shipping war in the comments lmao) I've been having a lot of fun writing this story, it's definitely got a whole different vibe from what I'm used to writing. Anyway, see you later!
Edit: retconned/removed the hint of Eren being the father.