Chapter 46

My lips pucker, sour as the day I shoved lemons sliced between my teeth. "Who knows." Even as my brain begins to spiral in a hundred different directions, wondering just what made Armin so wary of me, I keep my face only partially disgruntled. As if inconvenienced. A pedestrian annoyed at how long a light takes to switch to green, but no angrier than that, because they know that eventually the light will turn in their favor. I glance at Pyxis. "I see that you're humoring him?"

The commander smiles, slimming his eyes and hiding whatever thoughts squirm behind those lids. "I am. He reminds me of you; so calculating, so cautious. I confess that this old man is interested in what kind of mischief my favorite trainee has been up to."

Some of the tension leaks out of me. There's a grandfatherly quality to the guy, something that makes me feel at ease. I never knew my grandparents in either life. "Favorite, huh?"

"Surprised?"

I shrug. "I thought your favorite would've been someone prettier."

Pyxis grins in full, the cheesy smile of a cheshire. "Good point. I retract my statement." I snort, and by the time I've finished shaking my head, the commander is all business again. "Miss Moreau. We've helped each other, haven't we?"

"Yes," I agree slowly. I can't help but avert my eyes to redirect them towards Trost. So far, no other smoke signals. Just the distant din of earthen feet striking streets and leveling houses.

"So help me again. Or–humor me, just as I'm doing for Arlert."

I think for a second, trying to figure out what he's dancing around. Finally, sighing, I look at my feet. "You want me to tell you why I think he said what he did. So you get me on your next mission after cleaning up my mess."

"Even rain on sunny days calls for umbrellas."

I press my lips together. There's so many different possible reasons for why Armin would be suspicious enough of me to ask the fucking commander he just met to keep me separated from the action. My tampering with his grandfather's name on the draft. My inability to read suddenly. Forgetting the name of my medicine. Making it back into the 107th division after effectively being dismissed from it. Being caught in Hannes's bloody meeting room. Pushing Eren into the mouth of a titan. How much more is there that I'm currently blanking on? Armin is freakishly adept at putting together a thousand pieces. One mistake today is dangerous, but a dozen over nearly a decade…that's too many.

The easiest one, then. The most emotional. I clench my hand into a fist. There are claws against my skin, sharpened after a lifetime of scraping against the edge of a barrel, of fighting over a single scrap. Armin will not take what I've worked so hard for. Not if I can help it. "I watched my best friend die today," I say, and the way my voice comes out of my throat like an iron cannonball makes me wish I could swallow the confession back down, let it fester and rot in all its metallic agony. "And–I got in a fight with Eren Yeager after it happened. Because he saw it and ignored me. Ignored her. So–and I, I'm not saying it was right, but–I got in his face. Pushed him. But he'd lost his. Um. Leg. And so without proper balance, he fell backwards off the roof and into the mouth of an awaiting titan I hadn't noticed in my anger."

The thing about lies is that there must be truth in them in order to be seen as truth themselves. No part of me wishes to taint Mina's name by dragging her into this mess. But without that vulnerability, how am I to stand against Armin's intellect? How am I to twist his arm behind his back before he can twist mine?

"Armin was there. He was frozen on the rooftop, just watching. As everyone died. And so he was there when I screamed at Eren. When–" I cut myself off and look away, pretending to be far more distraught than I am. After a moment, I breathe deeply to 'collect' myself, and look Pyxis square in the eye. "I would've been responsible for Eren's death if he hadn't transformed into a titan, thanks to your secret experiments. It's entirely possible that the principle of my actions will not be forgiven by them, simply because he did survive."

He grunts. It looks like he's about to say more, except that a snaking funnel of smoke draws both of our attention away from the conversation at hand. In an instant he's reabsorbed into the fold of his posse. "Yellow flare confirmed! Looks like the operation…was a success." The woman whose name I still don't know lowers the spyglass just slightly, face struck with dewy awe.

Pyxis, however, doesn't waste time gawking. "Send in reinforcements now! Rescue the Alpha Squad!" Troops scatter his message all around us, echoing his missives like a doctrine of god. Then a messenger rolls up. Whispers in Pyxis's ear. He seems relieved when he gets the news. He turns to the woman who has become a sort of constant escort for me. Murmurs to her; she salutes and heads towards me. "The scouts have been spotted," he explains, announcing the turn of events. "They should converge on the Alpha Squad's last point likely before even we do."

The scouts.

My head whips towards the wall, to the place where Eren and the plugged-up hole is supposed to be, as my heart kicks into a higher gear. How different will they be, from the people I saw on a screen? How similar? I don't have time to wonder. The woman comes over and stares me down. "Time to move," she says.

"What's your name?" She blinks. And effectively ignores me the rest of the way back into that tiny room with the shoddy desk and the dusty window.

I plop back down into the same chair as before, melting into the back of it. "Pyxis will be here shortly," she tells me.

"Okay. Thanks."

The woman moves to the door, just about to leave, and then stops. "...Anka. Rheinberger." I'm surprised that she bites her name out at all. Anka doesn't give me a chance to respond before shutting the door firmly, leaving me alone in the office.

While I wait, I think about Armin. He'd watched me with hollow eyes back in the supply headquarters. Even then I hadn't been part of the plan. I'd assumed–foolishly so, I now realize–that they hadn't needed me because there were so many people. But what if…what if Armin had asked Marco to have me stay behind?

I hadn't suspected a thing.

In the best case scenario, Armin sees me as someone who nearly killed his best friend by accident. Worst case is he suspects I did it intentionally. Which I did–but he can't know that. None of them can know that. Why would I do it on purpose, unless I was the enemy, or I knew about Eren's ability beforehand?

I raise my knuckle to my lips, gnawing on the skin idly, shifting my finger so my teeth can fidget with my cuticles. To what extent am I willing to go to keep my secret? When I'm up against Armin–stupid genius idiot Armin–where do I draw the line? Would he even understand me, if I tried to explain away his fledgling suspicions, or would he see right through them?

I pause. Actually: does it even matter if I convince him? All I have to do is make sure the people in power, the ones with real weight to their words, are on my side. People like Pyxis, for example. As long as he'll take my side then I'll be okay. Partially reassured, I lean back further in the chair and wipe my fingernail against my pants. How, then, to reassure those in charge that I'm loyal to a fault? I frown. Maybe with the new mission Pyxis mentioned…?

The sound of the door creaking open startles me. I jolt upright, instantly on edge. All that adrenaline goes ice cold as I lock eyes with the intruder. Sky blue spheres, the world as told by the birds, peer back at me curiously. There's the sparkle I remember from the last time I ran into this man, that same ageless dexterity and amusement. As if he lived for these sorts of things. I catch a glimpse of Pyxis just a half step behind the blonde man. "Ah," he rumbles, side-stepping to let the bald man through first. "We meet again," he says warmly. I don't know him well enough to know whether or not there's real warmth in those words. His face gives away absolutely nothing, which strikes me as odd, given who I know him to be. Surely he would have some kind of reaction to learning that titans stole into Trost while his division was away?

"Miss Moreau has been patiently waiting for us," Pyxis says, shooting me a thin glance. As if he's assessing me, learning what kind of shock I simmer in. "You remember the Commander, don't you? He put in a good word for you when Shadis was ready to kick you to the curb."

I nod. Suddenly my mouth has gone dry. Having two division commanders here, in a cramped office with me of all people, suddenly makes me anxious about what Armin ended up saying after all. "Commander Smith," I greet him, as respectful and casual as I can manage through the thick fog of my caution. "I never did get thank you."

Erwin Smith, Commander of the Scout Regiment, smiles one of those indecipherable gambler's smiles at me and takes a seat. The three of us are at near right angles from each other: less ways in which for power to tilt in one particular direction. I breathe easier. This feels doable, somehow. Less suffocating. When I lacked my memories I'd engaged just fine with the blonde, even with Shadis spewing venom down the front of my face. I could handle him and Pyxis now.

Erwin won't stop watching me. It's like he's suddenly noticed something incredibly funny, and he's waiting so see if the rest of the room will notice as well. I squirm. Finally, he crosses his arms. "You've become a cadet," he observes.

"Yes sir."

"Have your intentions changed?" I frown, racking my brain to remember a conversation almost two full years ago. Erwin gives me a sort of apologetic inclination of the head. "You said you would join the scouts, if you graduated."

"Ah." It all starts to filter back, those words I spoke so candidly. I should've kept my mouth shut.

Pyxis chuckles. "Did you, now?" He shakes his head. "So many are eager to make the titans pay nowadays. Record recruitment, I tell you."

I shrink into my seat as Erwin's head tilts casually to the side. "Hardly, Dot." The fading sunlight catches in his eyes as his head turns my way. "Or have things changed for you?"

Does anything change, ever? I've become a mess of the person I once was. There's so many reasons to stay close to the main cast. So many to stay far, far away. I want to stay alive. I want to make sure the future I end up witnessing is one that can sustain itself far beyond the show. And Mina–I want to make sure I don't lose anyone else like that. Not Ymir, not Krista, not even those who stand against me. I want to be vicious. I want to be cruel. I want to be selfish, conniving, too slippery to catch and too human still to lose sight of the fact that I never wanted to be like this at all. But Mina is dead. Mina is dead and I have a responsibility to be the kind of person she thought I was. The kind that can make this world worth living in.

My lack of a response introduces a new expression to Erwin's face. He's lost that faint amusement and replaced it instead with something I recognize, like a cross between the way he looked at me like one looks at a tool and something with firm will adhered to it. "Let me rephrase it this way: Miss Moreau. Join the scouts."

I can feel my eyes widen just a fraction. For the Erwin Smith to ask me, personally, to join the scouts…can't be good. I'm a tool to him. I learned as much when he helped send me off to Trost to play undercover spy. "Why?"

Pyxis leans in a little bit, shuffling his jacket around to procure his trusty flask. "I'd like to know that as well. I think she'd be more comfortable working with me in the garrison."

Erwin doesn't shift. No part of him seems to acknowledge that Pyxis even spoke. "You would fit well within the regiment. There is use for you under my jurisdiction."

"As fodder," Pyxis grumbles, and this time Erwin raises an eyebrow. Pyxis tosses his hands up lazily, miming affrontedness. "What?"

A spark leaps from the fire into the grass. Suddenly my eyes are ablaze with possibility. Pyxis is one person, yes…but to have Erwin on my side–to earn Erwin fucking Smith's trust–that would be enough to keep Armin out of my hair. I bite back the eagerness swelling to life in my chest, schooling my features. "Some see me as a hindrance, Sir. I don't know if I can keep up with the scouts. I certainly wouldn't want to deter your missions simply by being there."

"Hn." The two commanders share a look. For a while, silence reigns in the room. I regret speaking. Maybe if I was as important to this place as Eren I could pull off something like this. Not for the first time, I'm reminded of my doomed status as a side character. And by that logic–perhaps it's not such a bad thing to be so unimportant to the plot. It's a sign, I suppose, that I should join Pyxis and find my way around the plot from the safety of the walls. Not like I could survive outside of them. Riding horses? Evading rabid abnormal titans? How will I maintain the same sort of distance between Eren after I pretty much sent him off a building to die? There's no Mina to keep me sane anymore. Things from here will only grow more tense. Stakes will climb so high that eventually, for fear of losing breath, I'll have to jump down.

Pyxis screws the cap back onto his flask now that he's fully drained it. "Well," he starts, speaking sharp enough to sever whatever awkward quiet settled between the three of us, "I think it's time to discuss business. Don't you, Erwin?" The taller of the two inclines his head, arms still crossed. Pyxis scratches his eyebrow and turns to face me more fully. "It's come to our attention that the military brigade has been handed an interesting case. Elliot Gurnberg Stratmann's daughter, Carly Stratmann, is missing."

The name rings a bell. But of course it would–how could I even think to forget the name of Adelheid's daughter and former husband? I run a fingernail beneath another nail, thinking. "You believe my father and stepmother are behind it."

"It's a possibility," Pyxis acknowledges.

I find something dark under the nail and extract it. Move onto the next nail. "Where?"

"Stohess."

I pause in my ministrations. That's…that's where Mina's family is. I shake off the distraction, the image of Mina's smiling face pulling at my heartstrings and turning my throat to lead. "Then it's definitely military brigade jurisdiction. Right? It's in wall Sina."

"Yes," Pyxis acknowledges, that secret smile back in full. "But we want you to handle this."

I glance between the two commanders. "Me. After everything that happened last time?" When neither go to speak, I rub the space between my brows. "What do I need to do?"

"Find them. Both the Moreaus and the missing Stratmann. Alive is preferable. Any hard evidence is appreciated. Determine whether or not the coderoin business can continue without them."

There's another black speck beneath my nail. It won't budge, no matter how far I reach, no matter how hard I scrape. It refuses to escape my notice. "There's something I don't understand," I say slowly, risking a glance at Erwin. "I fail to see why this warranted you coming in person."

Erwin's got that gambler's mask on again. I see nothing but a sea at standstill, silently churning invisible waves. "I have personal interest in the affairs of the Underground. And"–here those sea-blue eyes sparkle once again–"I have an interest in seeing how you perform the second time around."

I don't get it. I try racking my brain, trying to remember what on earth I said to Erwin the first time, back before I realized the weight of it all.

"I plan to join the scouts, if I manage to graduate. But it's a secret."

"And why the scouts? Do you wish to serve humanity?"

"Goodness, no. I'm not that selfless. Maybe I used to be, but certainly not anymore."

"Humor me, then. Why the scouts?"

"When I first enlisted, I believed that standing here in this camp would be my way to earn a shot at a second chance. I think about the scouts that way, too, I guess. As a means to an end. Regardless of where I go, the division I choose will use me like human fodder. Is it so wrong of me to choose the one division I feel I can best use in return?"

"No, I don't suppose it is. It's a rather refreshing answer."

When my old words hit me like a truck, I barely fight off the instinctual urge to grimace. Stupid Aliva. Stupid loose-lipped former self. Well then–if I've already been this transparent with him…perhaps the best way forward is to continue to keep surprising him. To be frank with my lies and frequent with their truth. The way forward begins to fall into place, a single step at a time, curving far off into the distance. If I am to play the long game–and I certainly intend to–then I need this man on my side. I need him to choose me over Armin, again and again.

I extend a hand to shake. I give Erwin my best grin. "I look forward to using and being used."

To my great pleasure, the commander chuckles.

And then shakes my hand.

A/N: HERE COME THE SCOUTSSSSSSSS RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Quick plug, but if you'd like to see more of me, I'm on Twitter under the same user (HoneyLizbet)! I'll post more about my fics and my writing there, if that's something you guys are interested in. Thanks for continuing to read and support my work! Love you all, mwuah