Chapter Text
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Jean presses a hand to his forehead but it does nothing to stave off the tension building in his skull.
He watched Mikasa pull Eren from his Attack Titan like last time, helped her, Armin, Anime, Reiner, and Bertholdt carry his unconscious weight further into the walls like last time, even left Eren in Mikasa and Armin’s care like the last time while he and the three Warriors started their trip back to the relief area where the rest of the survivors are supposed to assemble...but he can’t just let things happen like last time either, right? He’s not just reliving things, not if Connie, his Connie is here too.
He hasn’t sunk back into that weightless, muted void again, and everything he remembers has played out exactly as in his memories except for his minor interferences, so that means...what? They need to change this? Stop the Rumbling from happening just a handful of years in the future? Make that mythical god-slave fucking around in Eren’s head happy somehow?
Fuck, why me?
He watches the three Warriors walking slightly ahead of him for a long moment and quietly wonders at how young they all are.
He can recall the swoop of helpless hope that knocked the breath from his lungs at the sight of Annie coming to their aid after sleeping for so long. He can remember the breadth of Bertholdt’s back when they were trainees then soldiers then enemies, wide shoulders always shrinking and shrinking despise his kindness and his prowess. He can still feel the faint impression of Reiner’s hand clutched desperately in his own, the phantom ache of his grip tight around his fingers while they hung in suspension surrounded by Ymir’s legacy, a massacre and a bloodbath that still flashes behind his eyelids with every blink.
And Jean thinks, for just a split second, about telling them.
Anything, everything.
The urge sits at the tip of his tongue, burns his insides like bile because they’re fucking traitors -
-they’re allies who flew into the end of the world with him-
-they’re friends he’s slept beside and bled with and hated with every beat of his heart-
-he opens his mouth-
“I’m heading into the inner district.”
The rest of the words clatter behind his teeth, clamoring to escape, but instead he swallows them down alongside a scream.
Coward. Coward.
The trio stop in their tracks. Reiner, with that painfully real soldier mask firmly in place, frowns in confusion. “What do you mean? We were ordered to meet the others.”
Bertholdt and Annie stay silent, waiting.
Now or never. Nerves crawl up his spine, send pins and needles through his fingers and writhe beneath his skin, but he channels it- makes his voice waver just the slightest bit when he gruffly bites out, “My mom’s in Trost. I have to go make sure she’s okay. I have to know if she-” He cuts himself off, lets the silence speak for itself and observes the surprise and deliberation flicker across three faces like flares flashing bright in response to each other.
Quick, concise, practiced, and how could he have not seen it before?
No, now’s not the time.
Reiner likely reads the anxiety lining his face, frowning, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, but…”
Jean keeps his shoulders hunched, takes out the aggression from his posture, tries to appeal to the older brother figure in Reiner’s facade and quiet sympathy in Bertholdt and maybe even a little empathy in Annie. He doesn’t want to incite a reaction stronger than resignation or -- he inwardly grimaces -- pity because he can’t take the three in combat, and he doesn’t want to give them any reason to think of him as anything but a selfish, arrogant, decently competent mama’s boy. Being a threat won’t help him here.
Reiner shares one more long look with the other two before sighing heavily, “Alright, we won’t stop you. But if you get caught, we didn’t have anything to do with it. Clear?”
Jean’s shaky nod isn’t completely fake. “Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.”
He takes off with the feeling of three pairs of eyes on his back.
There’s only one name on Jean’s mind as he slips through the walls' interior on quick feet.
Commander Pixis.
(“Heed my command.”
Three words swept over the panicked masses like a hand of God, divinity and authority absolute, and the silence that followed had been reverent. )
He doesn’t know exactly what he’ll do or say if he manages to find the Commander in time, but he has to do something .
The first time around, the three Shiganshina orphans had made it through the confrontation with the Garrison alive, but it had been a fucking miracle -- a combination of timing and dumb luck and Eren Jaeger’s unkillable nature coalescing into an unthinkable path to survival. He can’t recall the details, but he remembers a column of steam and bone deep terror and the whites of Reiner’s eyes. He remembers balking at the sight of that massive skeleton, a half-formed eldritch nightmare cradling friends within its ribs. He remembers the swoop in his gut when he realizes fellow soldiers had fired on humans before Eren’s trial, remembers the knowledge of it twisting in his chest because his worldview had violently skewed – shifted from black and white, human and titan – to something completely new.
No. No, he can’t leave it to luck again, can’t be naive enough to think Ymir’s blessing or curse will hold a second time around.
He has to take a gamble if he wants to make significant change for the better.
But what would I be changing? He thinks, desperate as he moves past patrol groups and out of direct sight. His mind goes back to the Warriors and their mission -- find and capture the Founding Titan. Return it to Marley, and finish wiping Paradis off the map. Was this what caused those three to split between the Scouts and the Military Police? Was it Eren closing the wall?
Fuck, he wishes he’d had time to talk this through with Connie, but his gut is telling him it’s not the worst decision he’s ever made so…
“Once a man surrenders to their fear of Titans, they are no longer fit for battle.”
Pixis.
He needs to find Commander Pixis and- well, he’ll figure something out.
When Connie sees the three titan shifters return without Jean, he very carefully has to dig his fingers into the crate he’s sitting on to not lose his goddamn mind and start demanding answers, violently.
Instead, with all the control he has left in his body, he calmly walks up to Reiner after Bertholdt and Annie split off to stand at their own stations. They don't travel far, but still out of hearing range -- though that probably means nothing with their Titan abilities. Connie can't really find it in himself to care, all his energy having been spent on trying to make sense of everything.
"Reiner!" he calls out, internally wincing at how flat it sounds. Ugh, no wonder why I was never picked for undercover jobs.
Reiner's somewhat grim expression brightens at the sight of him, and Connie can't tell if the twist in his stomach is nausea or pity. Is this even Reiner? Has he ever actually known Reiner? "Connie, you're all here. Good, we need to stick together."
He mentally scoffs. " Right, so where's Jean and them?"
The taller soldier sighs, running a hand through his cropped blond hair – has he always looked this tired? – before sighing, “Mikasa and Armin are taking care of Eren now. Jean was on his way back with us but…”
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm-
“He said he needed to check on something, so he left on his own. As long as he doesn’t go back into Trost he should be fine and we’ll see him soon.” He’s called away not a moment too soon by another officer. "Get some rest, Connie. We might need it."
Dammit Jean, what the hell are you doing?
He’s okay, Connie consoles himself, willing his fingers to relax from the tight fists at his sides, he’s okay. He’s with Mikasa and Armin, he’ll keep them safe.
This he knows without a shadow of a doubt in his heart even as anxiety prickles across his scalp.
“Connie, are you sure you’re okay?”
Connie turns his attention back to the two figures in front of him and is grateful he doesn’t need to plaster on a fake smile after stumbling through a clumsy explanation of what transpired after all hell broke loose. It’s a miracle he’d managed to keep his wits together while in mid-air with Armin in his hold and fending off titans all the while. He’d even managed to steer his two comrades and Titan-Eren away from a particularly troublesome block that had pinged his instincts as unsafe, different path, a gut feeling he likely hadn’t listened to the first time around, lost in the cacophony of fear and adrenaline that even now courses through him.
“Oi, baldie, anyone in there?”
“Connie, are you sure you don’t need to see a medic? Are you really okay?”
“No,” he says, painfully honest, and it makes Historia’s eyes widen in alarm, “but I have to be. We need to be ready for what’s next.”
The eyebrow raise from Ymir is familiar, and Connie is glad to replace his last memory of her as a bloodied Titan with this -- the derisive and callous young woman he grudgingly respected. “The hell do you mean “what’s next?” What’s next is we evacuate as many people as we can while trying not to get killed, and we hope that col-crazy Titan doesn’t come back to finish the job.”
Colossal. Bertholdt. Armin.
Historia- Christa jabs her pointy elbow into Ymir’s side.
The interaction rings comfortably familiar in his mind even as he wonders how much Ymir knows up to this point, if she even recognized the three Warriors and how she could stomach training and living alongside them for three years if the answer was yes.
“Connie’s right,” a voice to his left pipes up, and Connie still has to swallow hard when he recognizes Marco’s even tones. The other teen’s composure even in the face of another soldier’s breakdown is as impressive the second time around. “Trost has been breached, and there’s no telling if and when that giant titan will return to do the same to the next wall. Commander Pixis and the Royal Family must be coming up with a plan.”
Too trusting, Connie thinks, but it’s fond.
Ymir says something biting back, but Connie doesn’t focus on any of it. They’re all so young – freshly graduated, barely beginning their lives, and the bright sun overhead contrasts starkly with the arduous, horrific future he’s seen, lived, survived. How can this be the same life that leads to an end so terrible?
He shakes his head. Stay focused. You have a job to do. Jean’s counting on you- and everyone else. Keep it together.
Connie tunes out the rest of the conversation, head still aching from the impossibility of his situation, and despite his faith, he can only hope Jean knows what he’s doing.
And, as it turns out, finding a Commander during a crisis isn’t as hard as he thought it would be.
It’s also not that hard to get through the meager security detail that tries to keep him from approaching said Commander, but even as a fresh trainee, he’s only ever been just a few places behind their best hand to hand combatants (all titan shifters or Ackermans to boot), and that hasn’t changed with the addition of nearly four years of combat experience. Garrison soldiers bring him little challenge when they’ve grown so complacent high up on these walls while he’s been scaling oceans and landscapes twice as mighty, thrice as deadly. He takes care of them efficiently and it kicks up a small clamor further ahead.
“Commander Pixis, sir!” he shouts, and gets the attention of more officers. But he catches Pixis’ as well, and that’s all that matters. He lets himself be grabbed this time, one soldier on each arm and two at his back. “Sir, Eren Jaeger is about to be killed by your men, but we need him! He can help save Trost!”
Pixis has always been a curious man and Jean banks on that knowledge now.
The name is enough to have him brought forward, and Pixis studies him carefully. He looks refreshingly alive, fewer lines creasing his sun-weathered face, still with that same deceptively affable smile hiding a truly terrifying mind. “Eren Jaeger? Ah, you must be a cadet who graduated with the Titan-boy, yes? And you say we shouldn’t kill such a threat?”
Damn, he almost forgot how extensive and quick the man’s information network was.
Rage and desperation punch through him fiercely, leaving him winded, and he struggles to keep his tone within the realm of deferent. “He’s not a threat, sir, he’s a soldier! He just- he can help, okay? So please, we don’t have time! He’s going to be killed!”
“By my men, so you’ve said,” Pixis replies calmly, and Jean doesn’t remember him being so infuriating . Then again, he was always more Armin’s mentor than his own. “And why, cadet, should I save such a threat? He’s one of those very same titans that took down the walls, twice. ” There’s a challenge in his words now, a test, a question. Prove it to me.
Think, think, think-
“Hannes!” he blurts out, heart pounding, “Captain Hannes of the Garrison saved Eren when Shiganshina was attacked.”
Every officer stills at the mention of that fateful day. All…except Pixis.
It’s like being pinned beneath the eyes of a hawk. Jean swallows. “He can vouch for Eren, and Mikasa and Armin. He’s known them since they were kids, he was there when Eren’s mom was-” he cuts himself off, because he knows that even in this desperate situation, the fate of Eren Jaeger’s mother didn’t deserve to be used like this. “He- he can back up what I’ve been telling you. Eren Jaeger isn’t a threat, he hates-” -hated- “ titans, and if that isn’t enough, then-”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, what can he say to convience him? Something that won’t get him detained or outright killed -
Oh.
Pixis, for all his prowess as a military official, has always had a particular weakness for the simpler things in life.
Connie’s gonna kill me.
“A bet,” he decides. It doesn’t come out as firm and confident as he wants, but he doesn’t flinch from the gleam in Pixis’ eye. “I bet Eren can control his Titan form and save Trost. I’ll stake my life on it. He just needs a chance .”
A hush falls over the wall and even the clink of heavy metal pulleys and faraway sounds of battle go mute. The glimmer of interest transforms into something heavier, more intimidating, and Jean can’t pick out exactly what it means now but it must be significant if Pixis isn’t ordering his arrest just yet. A hand comes up to stroke the end of that horrible mustache and Jean has to bite down on a shout of victory when Pixis repeats after a moment, intrigued, “A wager, you say? And why would I want to see the death of a promising recruit?”
This infuriating-
“You won’t,” Jean counters, assertiveness backed by what feels like a lifetime crowding his head, and straightens as much as he can even with two soldiers still locking him in place, “but you will see the death of three otherwise, and hundreds more if that wall isn’t sealed. Eren isn’t the only one who can help humanity. Mikasa is the strongest soldier of our generation, and Armin is the smartest. Where Eren goes, those two follow, always.”
His throat closes at the memory of their first night in Marley.
The lights and the food and the wine-
Even with the threat of war hanging over their heads, with missing friends and endless nightmares dogging his every step, it was one of the happiest nights of his life.
Those memories propel him forward now even as he swallows down the sorrow. “There’s more outside of these walls, and we’ll need all of them if we want to not just survive, but actually live and see what’s out there . ”
The bold declaration rings in the sudden silence, fierce and steadfast.
The men around him eye him strangely, most scoffing or shaking their heads, obviously in disbelief and a few in dismissal. There are even a few scandalized faces because what he’s saying could be construed as conspiracy and near treason.
And maybe one or two pause for just a second in consideration.
Pixis doesn’t seem to share any of their thoughts, only continues watching with those eyes of flint and steel.
“Hm,” the Commander hums, deliberating for an agonizingly long minute that makes Jean more and more aware of the time he doesn’t have ticking away, before nodding once. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Very well, I haven’t had a good bit of fun in a long while. I accept your wager.”
He almost goes lightheaded with relief despite the indignation rearing up in the back of his head because fun? Some of it must show because Pixis merely chuckles and gestures to the soldiers beside him to stand down.
“Now then, why don’t we go see your friends, hm?”
In the end, the whole affair is taken care of swiftly and...maybe not quietly, but Jean admires the Commander’s unflappable efficiency anyway.
They make it just in time to catch the end of Armin’s impassioned, if embarrassing, speech.
Despite the self-conscious disbelief at Armin’s outspokenness, quavering voice and all, Jean is reminded of why this young man would one day wear the mantle of a Commander. And, he reaffirms quietly to himself as Pixis and a few other officers make their entrance, if there’s any way to help Armin get there sooner or without the heavy burden of a thousand corpses on his shoulders, Jean will do it.
The most important thing right now however is that-
Eren hadn’t transformed.
All it had taken was Pixis swiftly swinging down in front of the three idiots while the wild-eyed Captain had his hand up to signal the firing squad, and the old man hadn’t even flinched at making himself the target of several cannons and dozens of rifles. Just the sight of their Commander had all soldiers scrambling to salute and lower their weapons without accidentally firing or clubbing each other.
Erwin isn’t the only Commander with a penchant for dramatics it seems.
An added bonus is that he doesn’t have to reveal himself and instead is held back under guard at the top of the wall, so while he doesn’t get to hear what kind of dressing down Pixis is giving the pale, sweaty Captain attempting an unfair and hasty execution, he also doesn’t have to face questions from Armin or deal with Mikasa’s steely gaze. He also gets to put off seeing Eren up close, awake and not half-out of his mind, for a little longer until he can get his head on straight.
Things move quickly from there, and Jean stays out of sight as Pixis questions Eren and his two friends -- likely looking for information on his transformation and intentions and- Jean squints at the glinting metal hanging around Eren’s neck-
Fuck.
The basement.
Shiganshina .
Explosions firing, hot steam, a massacre- a spray of blood splattering across an entire city, houses falling from the sky in a hail of death-
Not now, not now, not now-
“Cadet!”
Jean sucks in a breath even though his lungs feel impossibly full, then lets it out in a ragged exhale that leaves him lightheaded. He looks up to see a new soldier, ranks higher than a normal Private -- a Sergeant, maybe more like a Captain by the way the others subtly defer to him through body language alone.He’d also been standing in Commander Pixis’ shadow for a majority of the time Jean’s seen him, so like a right hand man or a trusted one.
“The Commander is sending an order to all available soldiers to wait in the courtyard for further instructions,” the Garrison soldier informs him. His face is vaguely recognizable, like he’d been someone who’d been present for a particularly harrowing event Jean can’t quite put a finger on, but he puts that away too.
He knows his moment doesn’t go unmissed, but it’s not addressed, and for that he’s grateful.
It still takes him a second to come back, caught between now and the past, his future, Armin barely breathing and Bertholdt screaming and bones cracking- “Right. Understood.”
An important detail prods at him now that he’s trying to recall this day twice-lived.
He doesn’t know if this will make a difference, but- “If you can, please tell the Commander that the titans seem attracted to Eren in his Titan form. The titans at HQ didn’t really care about the humans in the building even when there were dozens of soldiers crammed in there so...if there are horses to spare, they might give us an advantage on the ground where there are no buildings.”
Shadis’ training was hellish but comprehensive if nothing else, so most Garrison soldiers who graduated from training in the last 10 years would have at least basic training in combat while riding, though their skills will be laughable compared to the Survey Corps. It’s better than nothing though.
He wants to fidget under the soldier's hard stare before the man nods sharply. “Noted.”
Jean slips away into the forming crowd and carefully avoids the three Warriors and his fellow trainees-
-keeps an ear on the scuffle broiling a dozen meters away-
-stands his ground as soldiers threaten to desert in the middle of humanity's greatest current crisis-
-lets the inspiring and condemning words of Commander Pixis wash over him-
-avoids looking directly at Eren Jaeger with fire in his eyes and a fist over his heart, and thinks-
In the end, this is all he can do.