A/N: Don't fast forward to the end notes, you'll get grossly spoiled...

Chapter 48

"They didn't kill all the titans," Annie tells me, keeping her voice low. We sit on a bench underneath a half-dessicated tree. Trainees and members of the three regiments filter by, meandering down the street with gaits suggesting they're impervious to our conversation.

"Is that so?"

I've got my booted foot kicked out in front of me, crutch propped against the bench, other leg bent at the knee. Arms crossed over my chest, it's easy for me to feel equally on edge and at ease. Annie picked this spot to talk, after all. It's public and entirely unsuspicious. At a glance we're just two cadets talking, faces grim and subdued in light of recent events.

Annie sweeps her hair over her shoulder slowly. "Two of them were captured alive. The titans are under scout jurisdiction. Reiner and Bertholdt did some poking around, but they're too noticeable to do much. Best they gathered is that someone is running experiments on the titans."

I glance over at Annie. She's got the faintest downturn of her lips darkening her chin, nose jagged where the setting sun catches her profile. "They're not shifters. Just mindless beasts, at best. I doubt they'll find much."

"I disagree. Any information at all could give them an advantage we can't afford."

It feels weird to be discussing things as if we're finally allies. Did our sojourn in Trost finally change things for Annie? I can't help but wonder what tipped her over at long last, after years of distrust and mutual secrets. It makes me want to push the boundaries of this new development, to see what bends and what breaks. Perhaps that's why I've failed to maintain any sense of stability in this accursed new life of mine. "Marley is leagues ahead of Eldia in terms of military prowess, Annie. Do you really think this will be what tips them off to everything Marley's done?"

Annie flashes me a look that screams silently, a lion's roar, teeth barred in a wordless warning. When I flare my palms in open surrender she glares and looks away. "They need to be disposed of."

"Figured you'd say that."

Annie's nose crinkles in disgust. It's kind of cute. "That experimenter–they've named them. Sawney and Beane. As if they're…human."

It's ironic for Annie, a shifter who was a pure titan–albeit briefly–to be the one to complain about titans having names, but I keep the thought to myself. Instead I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Is that the real reason you want them gone?" She doesn't validate the jab with an answer, so I change topics. "Why me, of all people?"

Annie ignores me for a while. Instead she studies the way people walk by us, one foot in front of the other, feet suffused with lackadaisical purpose. Finally, just when I've started to wonder if she ever plans on answering me, Annie's eyes slide to the side to study me. "I need a second person."

The job calls for two people. That's what I remember, at least. Yet never do we learn who the second person is. It's only Annie Leonhart, with gear stolen straight from Marco's still beating chest. "You've got Reiner. Bertholdt. One of them would be more than enough."

"Too tall, too noisy, too senseless," she dismisses.

I motion to my foot. "I'm half out of commission."

"All the more reason no one would suspect you."

"They'll check our gear," I argue instead, firm for a reason I can't quite place. It feels akin to a premonition, this unease that begins to settle into my gut. "They'll notice if the gear was used recently without authorization."

"I have a backup." Annie's expression draws tight, reserved. I don't exactly expect her to come out and say that she was in part responsible for Marco's death, but…

It occurs to me just then, watching her, that maybe she doesn't want to do this mission with either of the other warriors for that exact reason. That despite seeming so firm in her desire to return to her adoptive father, she grew attached to this place and its people, and realizing that her secrets would come at the expense of their lives shook her more than she initially thought it would. It's one thing to know, internally, fundamentally, that one day lines will be drawn. It's another thing to stencil them into the ground yourself.

"And you do too," she says suddenly. Those harsh eyes of hers are leveled on me again, cutting glass and refracting sunsets.

"I don't know what you mean."

"The soldier's corpse we found you with"–she glares when I open my mouth to interject–"didn't have any gear on, like it was never on in the first place, or it was meticulously removed. And your gear then didn't have a functional side. Your gear now does. Which means you're holding out on the officers, and regardless of which set belongs to whom, you do have the other one stashed away somewhere, don't you?"

Ah, shit. Serves me right, I suppose, for trying to juggle too many things at once. For someone that literally knew Trost would become a warzone, I sure didn't navigate it very smoothly. Not even the reappearance of Alaina's mother is a good enough excuse for how many errors I made. I sigh, closing my eyes, concentrating on the way the sun soaks through my tired skin. It feels nice. If I concentrate long enough, I can imagine another presence next to me, a girl with a smile that shakes the stars and a laugh that splits the sea. Mina. Mischa. I mourn both in dizzying circles, a kid in a koi pond, swimming the same patterns with splashes that disturb all the fish.

"If I do?"

"You owe me a favor," Annie says, like that explains it all.

And I know I do. I do. If Annie hadn't helped build up my exercise regimen I never would've had enough stamina to survive in the camps. I owe her for that. I do. But I know what will happen to Annie later–this becomes the moment that Armin begins cataloging incidents for her downfall. He notices Marco's gear, and then suddenly he's aware of everything Annie does and doesn't do.

But–maybe, because I already know how his mind works and where he'll go from here, I can outmaneuver him. He'll be busy taking note of the fact that Annie presents Marco's gear for the inspection. So all I need to do is make sure he can't see me when I present Hannes's gear set that I've effectively adopted. I'll use my old set, the one with only one functional cable, to help Annie. Then I'll bury that gear somewhere that Armin will never find it, not when it matters. Cast it over the wall, drop it down to the bottom of the irrigation channels…something that'll prevent him from realizing I ever had a second set. And I have the commanders ready to drag me into a mission up in Stohess. I'm safe, relatively.

Actually–if I know that Armin's going to use the gear to suss Annie out…

I can do this. I'll settle my debt with Annie. "Two conditions," I decide.

"...Which are?"

"After this–we move as former associates. Cut ties. Lay low. We become nothing more than people who trained together before our paths diverged."

Annie almost laughs. The sound comes out a bit too breathy, a bit too skeptical. "Fine. We'll move tomorrow night."

"That won't work," I say, recalling the plot. "The scouts will be preoccupied tonight. It's our best bet." I try my best to look confident, reassured. I know that Eren has been given to the survey corps–I was there when the court met, after all–but Annie doesn't know that. Another angle, then. "You said yourself that the longer they have the titans captive, the greater the risk. We shouldn't waste any time. Their intel and defenses will only grow from here."

This seems to do the trick. Annie grunts and leans back against the bench, tense and rigid, before deflating. "Tonight."

Okay. Good. "And the other condition," I wedge, not entirely ready to lose her focus and attention yet. Annie turns my way lazily, but her eyes are as attentive as ever. "Use the spare gear tonight. Show your normal set at the inspection."

"You sound so sure about the inspection."

My finger twitches. "I am. And even if I'm not–isn't it better to use the set you can discard and leave no trace?"

I watch Annie's tongue run along the inside of her mouth, skirting the edges of her teeth as she mulls over my words. Take that, Armin. "Alright." Annie shoves off the bench, stretching up to her full height. "Bring your other set and meet me at the top of the supply HQ at midnight."

The moon stands out like a crescent nail scratching the sky. Annie and I are perched on the banister of the old supply headquarters, seated at an optimal angle to study the ground below. Two clusters of stakes jut out from the earth like man made trees, fashioned in mutated fashion to subdue the titans for whatever experiments Hange is currently running. Little lanterns set on the ground throw rings of firelight out in a flickering radius, highlighting the few soldiers still on site. They meander about slowly, figures slanting in wary jerks every time they patrol near the titans. We watch as they continue to check and recheck the thick ropes, bars, and collars coiling around the dormant creatures, but still the titans don't move.

Annie shifts next to me, restless. It's unusual of her to fidget like this; I can't help but feel antsy too. "They're sure taking their sweet time," I murmur.

"Shh."

My lips purse in irritation, but I stop talking. We wait in silence for another half-hour until, finally, the last soldier leaves. I move to stand but Annie shakes her head, holding up a single finger. Another half hour passes until she finally relents. We hook into the wall and drop off the side of the building, night air whooshing past my ears and chilling my exposed neck with its kiss.

I land on my good foot, carefully scrutinizing our surroundings, before finally unhooking and setting my other foot down. I hook my triggers into new blades and draw the metal, careful to avoid letting it sing on the way out. Next to me Annie does the same. Silent as ever, she points to her chest before moving her finger and jabbing it in the direction of the titan to her left. Then she points at me and the titan to her right. I nod and we split off towards our respective targets.

I'm appreciative of Annie's selection process: the titan I'm tasked with killing is nailed down to the ground, tongue lolling out the side of its still mouth. With its head pushed so close to the dirt it'll be an easy kill for me so long as I can maneuver up to the nape stealthily using my single viable cable. I carefully aim and fire, hook burrowing into titan flesh and avoiding clanging on the roped collar around its neck. I walk on its exposed back, mindful of the peculiar terrain as each ridge of its spine carts me closer and closer to my end goal.

I turn to check on Annie's progress. She's studying the metal collar around her target, as if trying to assess the angle with which to strike that'll allow her to make contact with the nape. I don't envy her the task–all I've got is ropes between me and this titan's lifeline. It'll be tedious to strike and bothersome if I cut through rope and nothing more, but at least I don't have to maneuver my way around metal.

I grind my feet in place, checking my balance, and give my blades a few experimental swings. The titan underneath me doesn't move, doesn't give any indication that it's aware of its approaching demise. I glance over at Annie. She nods.

Metal shirks downward in the reflection of the moon, splicing through the night. Liquid darkness froths up on impact. The living ground beneath me slumps further, a release of breath, of viability. Steam begins to rise, hellbound heat desperate to escape its once-host.

Annie and I steal away into the night. We say nothing, darting from shadow to shadow, picking the places where the light doesn't bother to go. The sounds of the sleeping district fold up over our heads and make every miniscule motion seem even louder to my ears. My palms grow clammy with nervous sweat, but the deed is already done, the actions of my accomplice and I set in firm stone. The two of us hurry away from the buildings, making for the place that still smells of char and death. A freshly-turned mound full of cooled ashes awaits us.

We drop to our knees and dig.

"This should be deep enough," Annie finally says, breaking the silence I've grown accustomed to.

I shake off the nerves, the adrenaline, and swallow it straight down into the depths of my stomach. "Right."

Marco's gear is buried next to my old, broken set, and no one is the wiser. The dirt here is all fresh. And no self respecting soldier would be cavalier enough to suggest desecrating the graves of their lost comrades on a hunch that someone stowed away evidence of two titan's murder here in the soil.

I stand, brush the dirt off my legs, and let the weight of my last mission with Annie sink in full. "I guess we're done here."

Annie makes a noncommittal sound. She, too, is watching the earth like she half-expects someone to crawl right out of it. "Strangers from now on."

"Old acquaintances," I correct, almost itching to nudge her shoulder. Instead we stay firmly apart. "Nothing more."

Our midnight assassinations are pulled off without a hitch. I steal back into my new room, the other girl sound asleep. And it takes me a while, but eventually, I fall asleep too.

That is, until harsh knocks against the door startle me awake. "Open up!" The other girl, I notice, isn't even in here. Groggily I rise, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. "I said, open up, before I bust this door down!"

"I'm awake, Sir!" I call back quickly, tossing off the covers and moving to quickly dress. I knew they would be upset about the titans being murdered in the dead of night, but to rouse all the cadets like this…I suppose there really are some detailed elements of this place that the original show could never afford to fixate on.

I've only managed to slip on new undergarments when the door crashes into the wall, blown open by a firm kick. My whole body starts and I flinch, hands flying to my frame. "Wait–"

"Aliva Moreau, you are under arrest on suspicions of murder and treason." Two men slip into the room, suppressing me with practiced ease. I'm too shocked by the words of the supervising officer to even put up a fight.

"I don't understand, I haven't–"

"Save it for interrogation," one of the soldiers grunts, wrenching my arms behind my back so hard I cry out. The other one shoves me forward from behind, marching me unceremoniously forward.

"Let's go."

Panic begins to rise in frantic bursts. I need to buy time for something: to think of a plan, to escape, to call for someone that can help me–someone like Pyxis. Or Erwin. One of the two. Maybe both, actually. "I'm–wait, I'm not even dressed, I can't just–"

My words die in my throat as I'm escorted harshly out of the dorm and into the hall, where cadets have already gathered. I can't tell how long I've slept, it's hard to judge precisely, but everyone I see is already fully dressed. Shock and murmurs dilute through the crowd. I see eyes drift from the officer, to the soldiers suppressing me, to finally land on me. But one pair of eyes doesn't waver and drift about like the others. One pair of eyes immediately finds me, minds me and stays level with my face, studying every inch of my expression, watching. Waiting.

I lock eyes with Armin just before the officer throws a bag over my head and sinches it tight around my neck.

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH HEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHHEHE YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I'VE WAITED FOR THIS CHAPTER HEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH