Chapter Text
“Your name is Mikasa Ackerman, age 18. Shiganshina District in Maria City, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And we have your full consent to conduct our questions?”
“I’m sitting in front of you, aren’t I?” Her voice was hoarse, quiet and fractured. There was an added shortness behind her words, too.
There’s a thick pause, then the clearing of a throat.
“Right. Before we start, I’m Dr. Erwin Smith, and this is my colleague, Agent, uh - “ He laughs, perhaps a little too forcefully. “Also Ackerman. Any relation, perhaps?”
“Just Levi, is fine.” It’s a curt response, and Mikasa finds that she appreciates it.
A tension fills the spartan room that they’re sat in, Mikasa seated on one side of the wooden table and the two men seated side by side on the opposite. Erwin has a strange expression, and Mikasa guesses he wishes he hadn’t made such a flop of a joke, clear that neither Mikasa or Levi had found the coincidence of their last names matching funny.
The man’s strange expression passes, settling for a pleasant neutralness.
He speaks again, resting his hands on the table. “I just want to reiterate that this is nothing more than a conversation. The events around your circumstances are vague and uncertain. We only want to do what’s best for you, and help right the wrongs that happened to you and the other girls.”
His tone is calm, reassuring. It sets Mikasa on edge, and she drops her gaze in a feint of tiredness only so as to not look at the men across from her.
“Tell us a little about yourself. What was life like for you before the traumatic incidents of the island?”
Mikasa stiffens briefly, and she scoffs. She feels the pull of a cynical smirk at her lips and she shakes her head.
“Is that what the others told you?” She inquires, looking between Erwin and Levi.
“We haven’t spoken to anyone else yet. You’re our first.”
“So, then… that was just your assumption, right? That there was trauma? That the island was hell on earth?” She locks eyes with Erwin briefly, unable to read him.
She lets out a dry laugh once more, mostly to herself than anything. She regards them with an unreadable expression in her grey eyes.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong - what happened on that island was traumatic. Of course it was. To wake up stranded in open water with no recollection - “ Her voice catches, a sting at the back of her throat. She pauses, regaining composure. “To end up where we did, the things we lost…”
The last part is uttered quietly, hardly louder than a whisper.
“You guys can pour hours and hours and hours into scouring every square inch of that island searching for the cause, but you won’t find it. Not there.”
She leans back in her seat. Her gaze wanders, falling on a discolored patch of concrete, just shy of Levi’s perfectly shined shoe.
“Which is the real question, isn’t it?” Grey eyes flicker to meet Erwin’s, waiting patiently for an answer.
“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I follow --” Erwin starts, brow furrowing.
“What the fuck was so good about the lives we left behind?” The impact of her question leaves a long, lingering silence in its wake.
Mikasa grips her knees, her still-dirty fingernails digging into the plain denim of the jeans they had provided her with. She bunches the fabric between her fingers, feeling the tension dig into the crook of her knees.
“Because what I remember from all that is feeling like a constant disappointment, no matter how hard or how long I worked. Pushing myself until I was sick for people I barely knew. I remember feeling like an outcast, and trying so hard to fit in that I lost parts of myself permanently.” She continues, a pointed bite to her words.
She inhales deeply, pausing as she recalls the moments leading up to the day she boarded the private jet holding promises of recreation in Hawaii.
There are flashes of angry, green eyes. Furrowed brows and snarled lips. Contempt. She thinks of the exact moment of her brother screaming at her. Her adoptive parents, the Jaegers, tensely and with uncertainty, telling her that she was being sent away for a while, until things with Eren calmed down. She recalls the waves of rejection and abandonment, as, for the first time, her perfect world began crumbling around her.
Levi clears his throat, loudly and impatiently. The sound snaps her back to the present.
Mikasa inhales sharply, resuming her account for them.
“I remember being told who to be, how to behave, what to say and when - all these people thinking they knew what was best for you without regard or care for your autonomy, or what you wanted. Nobody ever asked us what we wanted. I remember always trying to find ways to climb down from the pedestal I didn’t even want to be on in the first place.”
Her brow furrows and something in her gaze hardens.
“On top of all the bullshit expectations placed on us since kindergarten, there was everything else we had to worry about. School, grades, parties, sexual awakenings, heartbreak, who was going to prom with who, will the dress even fit -- cliche, teen drama shit.”
There’s a harsh emphasis on the last word, betraying just how precise her disillusionment runs. Mikasa leans forward, her hands sliding along the smooth wood of the table before stopping, resting loosely on the surface. Her hair falls further into her face, casting a dark shadow across an apathetic gaze.
“So, if we’re talking about what happened on the island, then yes, it was traumatic. But the real living hell was the world we were taken from. And the real trauma? That was already there, the island is just what brought it out.”
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There’s a deep churning sensation in the pit of her stomach that amplifies as she slowly starts to come to. Her head aches, a relentless pounding thick against her skull that echoes in her eyelids.
Mikasa groans, keeping her eyes firmly shut as she feels something hard and cold press hard against her cheek. She tries to gather her strength - enough to prop herself up with her arms. She tries to will her arms to move, to do anything other than lay there limply.
Her fingers twitch and that’s about it.
So she just lays there, stomach churning and head pounding.
There’s a heavy heat beating down on her back, soaking into her dark hair and boring into her like an unwanted hug.
She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, but she decides it's been long enough. Get up, she thinks to herself. Her inner voice is unusually loud.
And just as she’s barely opened her eyes, a sudden splash of water slaps her face and she recoils, springing backwards and upright. She splutters rapidly, grabbing at her eyes. She feels the bitter sting of salt bring fresh tears.
“Fuck!” She hisses, her teeth clenching together as she pulls her hands from her face. The stinging subsides, but her eyes remain closed.
She inhales, counting back from three in her head before opening her eyes, for real this time, and when she does the world around her is white, if only for a moment. It only takes a few seconds before the white fades, and a rippling blue seeps into her focus.
Mikasa’s eyes widen and her head jerks upwards in a sick realization. She can feel the thrumming of her heart pick up almost instantly, a violent beat threatening to break her ribs. She can feel her breath quicken as she takes in the careless, blue expanse spread out before her.
She whips her head around, looking frantically in every direction. She’s on the verge of a panic attack, and she vaguely realizes just how thin the line she’s been holding on to with really is.
There’s a scattering of debris and luggage floating around her, bobbing along the water. The sun glints off of peaks and crests of each wave, and Mikasa decides the scene would be beautiful if not for her being stranded in the middle of open water.
She opens her mouth and almost startles at hearing her own voice come out. She’s surprised it’s working at all.
“Hello?!” She shouts, projecting her voice hopefully loud enough for anyone to hear.
There’s no response.
Mikasa feels something twist in her chest before settling heavy in her stomach. Disappointment, she IDs it, but at what? She’s not quite sure exactly what else she was expecting.
The panic begins to bubble once more, threatening to rise and overcome what little composure she has left. Her fingers grip at the wet fabric of the scarf around her neck, clinging to the only familiar thing for miles, whether she realizes it or not.
“Is anyone out there?!” She shouts again, trying once more. She reasons that it’s better than not having tried at all.
Nothing once more, save for the rhythmic lapping of waves against plastic.
Mikasa wants to cry. She wants to scream, laugh, shriek.
Mikasa wants to do so many things in the moment - she feels so many things fighting to rise to the surface all at once, threatening a breaking point. It’s too many things.
But instead she just sits there, blinking in the violent sun and feeling absolutely nothing at all. It’s a familiar numbness, and one she’s felt before - when Eren took her violently by the shoulders, shaking her once as he screamed how much he hated her. Her fingers leave the scarf at the memory.
Somewhere behind her there’s a muffled sound and she’s torn from her reverie. Her head whips around, eyes scanning the debris.
A garish pop-punk ringtone cries out, muffled and far enough away that Mikasa actually isn’t quite sure if she’s imagining it.
A few more seconds go by and the song persists.
She realizes that there are tears rolling down her face as she scrambles off the debris keeping her afloat, plunging off the side and into the water. She swims sloppily towards the source, the drag of her clothing making it hard to move at all.
It takes her a little longer than she wanted to find the suitcase - a purple, shiny thing plastered with stickers - and she quickens her pace until she comes upon it, pulling the piece of luggage into her arms like a lost child. She begins pulling it back to the larger debris she had woken up on, pushing herself to move fast before the ringing stops. She manages to slide the suitcase onto the surface before pulling herself on.
Her hands fumble with the suitcase and it’s only when Mikasa struggles to get a grip on the small metal tabs that she realizes just how badly her hands are shaking. She clenches her jaw, inhaling deeply in an attempt to settle some of her nerves.
It seems to work because she’s able to pry open the zipper, fling back the lid, and rummage through clothes and shoes. A brief laugh bubbles up, managing to slip past her lips as her fingers brush against the familiar glass of a phone screen.
She pulls it out, a little too eagerly perhaps, as it slips from her grip. She juggles it, her motions desperate and messy, before it bounces at just the right angle off of her fingertips and out of reach. It plops heavily into the water, the ringing cut dead instantly.
Mikasa wastes little time as she dives after it, barely giving herself enough time to inhale. She manages to get a decent way down, but her lack of diving experience and the heavy clothes she has on weigh her down. The phone sinks further out of reach, into impossible depths before vanishing completely. Mikasa feels an unpleasant tension in her lungs and she rushes to resurface. She lets out a violent gasp as her head breaks the water. Her hair clings to her face as she rolls back onto the debris.
A breathless string of curses escapes from her lips and the familiar sting of tears wells up in her eyes.
She stays there, flat on her back. Her head pounding, her heart racing.
The gentle and persistent lapping of waves.
The utter silence.
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“So, that was your first experience with everything.” It isn’t so much a question as it is a reiteration. Mikasa feels an annoyance, but nods silently.
She watches as Erwin scribbles something down in his notepad.
“Can you tell us what you know about the Wings of Freedom program?” This time it’s Levi that speaks. He still looks annoyed, even though his tone is neutrally soft.
He slides a pretentious looking packet towards her - emblazoned on the front is a gold crest of wings.
Mikasa doesn’t touch it, instead she simply rolls her eyes. “Oh, this shit.”
There is no hiding her resentment.
“I remember the first time I saw this. I was told it was some all expenses paid, all-girl empowerment trip.” She scoffs, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. Not in arrogance, but in an ill-veiled attempt at bringing herself some semblance of comfort. “For me, it was an excuse to ship me off, to be the responsibility and problem of someone else temporarily.”
She closes her eyes, allowing herself to think back on the moment she was told to pack her things. It hadn’t exactly been a surprise, but it had caught her off guard.
————————-
It’s been a week since the screaming match with Eren. A week since he opened up about how much he hated her and how she ruined his life and Mikasa has kept largely to herself during that time, staying to the safe confines of her room. She isn’t quite sure why she’s been so avoidant but there’s no denying that a change in dynamics have happened between her and the Jaegers. She isn’t quite sure what to think about that, so she pushes the thought from the forefront of her mind and doesn’t think about it at all.
Mikasa is seated at her desk, diligent in her academics as usual. She has her AP homework spread out before her in order of priority. Tonight, it's biology. She taps her pen against her notebook, re-reading the information several times. It isn’t sticking, and she’s about to give up when she hears a knock at her door. It’s gentle, and from the other side she can hear the soft voice of Carla Jaeger calling out to her.
“Mikasa? Are you busy? May I come in?” Carla’s request is too polite, and while a daunting feeling settles in her stomach Mikasa can’t help but grant her adoptive mother entry to her room.
“You can come in.”
The door opens with a soft creak, and the kind face of Carla appears in the empty space between door and frame.
“Mikasa,” Carla starts, opening her door fully and stepping inside. She closes it gently behind her, the only noise being the soft click of the knob. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know things have been… strained, lately.” Mikasa sets her pen down, turning her attention fully to the older woman.
“It’s okay. I kind of expected this…” She trails off. An uncomfortable silence settles between them.
“Well -”
Mikasa senses a hesitation in Carla’s voice. Her grey eyes meet her green ones and Mikasa can’t help but instinctively avert her gaze. She’s too reminded of the vitriol seen in Eren’s same eyes.
“Actually, it might be best if you just come downstairs. Grisha and I would both like to talk to you about something.” There’s a hint of remorse painting her words, and Mikasa looks at her with a questioning uncertainty. She says nothing and simply nods.
“Can I ask what about?”
“You’re not in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll make us some cocoa and then we’ll explain everything downstairs.”
Mikasa simply nods, silently following Carla from her room, down the familiar path and around the corner to the stairs. She can see the bright lights from the kitchen reflecting on the wood, casting intense shadows from the railing.
Everything from the moment she stops on the bottom landing goes by in one long, continuous blur. She’s sitting in a seat towards one end of the table, vaguely aware of just how much distance is between her and the Jaegers, who are at the other end, sitting close to one another. Her mug of cocoa, topped with marshmallows, sits warmly between her hands
“We think it’s best that there’s some distance between you and Eren, for now.” That was obvious. That made sense. Mikasa is glad that at least her adoptive parents recognized the toxicity growing in their household. She almost drops her guard, almost sighs in relief.
“We’ve decided to send you on this two-week long retreat.” Her head snaps up, eyes wide. Her usual stoicism is gone in an instant.
“W-what do you mean?” She stutters. She never does that.
“We just think it might be a good idea if there was some separation between you and Eren for now. We’ve been talking to a psychologist about it, and that was her recommendation that Eren take priority for now.” Carla offers her an explanation, her face set in a look of concern as she waits for Mikasa to respond.
“This isn’t a punishment, Mikasa.” Grisha adds, a little too callously for the situation. It certainly feels like a punishment, Mikasa thinks.
“We talked it over and we both agreed that you being here while Eren gets adjusted to his new psychologist would agitate him. He probably hasn’t told you, but he envies your abilities and you know how he gets when he’s jealous.” There it was - the real truth behind their decision to ship her off was, of course, first and foremost for Eren’s sake. She makes a mental note that they don’t broach the topic of what he screamed at her, and suddenly the implication is that they blame her mostly for how things transpired.
That’s ridiculous, she chides herself internally, banishing the thought that the Jaeger’s would ever treat with such ill contempt. Not after they took her in at the age of five, after the grisly murder of her birth parents. They’re too kind for that. It’s an unfounded notion, but it still tugs at the back of her mind.
“We’re also doing it for your safety, as well. We don’t know how things will go now that we’re monitoring your brother. We don’t want you getting hurt.” The last part feels particularly insensitive, and although she doubts Carla means anything by it she can’t help but wonder if Carla dismisses emotional pain as a valid definition of the word.
“Now, the program is called the ‘Wings of Freedom’ Young Women’s Retreat. Dr. Yelena gave us the name of the person who runs it, Hange Zoe. We called them and explained the situation, and after a little back and forth we reached an agreement that all expenses would be covered for you.”
Mikasa doesn’t respond, simply nods, and excuses herself from the table. She thanks them on her way up. She doesn’t know what for. They’ve given her no reason for gratitude. She still doesn’t know why.
The next week finds her in the back of the Jaeger’s car, saddled with a suitcase stuffed full of clothes and other things at the insistence of Carla. She has her earbuds in and a wistful stare focused on the passing scenery, all with the intention of listening to music - but she never presses play. She catches Grisha and Carla giving each other brief, wordless glances in the way that adults did when she was younger. It feels patronizing.
She deliberately sighs, and Carla looks back at her. “We’re almost there, Mika.” She pats her on the knee, drumming out a quick tap, tap, pat of sympathy, her hand warm as it lingers before withdrawing.
“Hopefully this retreat will be enough time to help stabilize things, and get you and your brother out of this funk that you two are in.”
Mikasa sighs, trying hard to not roll her eyes. “I’m not sure if a fight where someone yells “I hate you” can be classified as a “funk.” Her response is snarkier than she intended, and she silently curses herself for being so defensive.
They finish the car ride in tense silence - Mikasa eventually does press play on her music and resigns her last ten minutes amongst familiar faces to staring wistfully out the window.
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Another interruption pulls Mikasa from her memories. It’s Erwin’s voice, this time. “Ok. That’s helpful, thank you.” He shuffles papers before continuing. “Now, let’s skip ahead a little. When you arrived at the plane, did you know any of the other girls before? What about Ilse Langnar?”
Erwin turns his gaze to her, boring into her with a new intensity she hadn’t felt before. Mikasa sinks a little in her chair, feeling herself buckle slightly under his eye. She averts her gaze.
“She was the first to go.”
“Go?”
“She didn’t even make it through the first night.” Mikasa inhales, thinking back on how Ilse had collapsed, dead on the spot and in her arms. She shudders. She doesn’t want to think about that, let alone talk about it. “She was the only one who came alone.”
She’d rather talk about the brief time before everything went to shit, on the plane heading towards Hawaii. "Ilse was the only solo girl. Everyone else came in pairs, or at least were acquainted with one another in some way."
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After the briefest exchange of farewells she’s ever had in her life, Mikasa finds herself climbing the steps to the private jet. While she’s not particularly entranced by the whole ordeal, she can’t say she isn’t impressed at the lavish interior that greets her when she steps through the entrance. The other girls are seated already, and Mikasa places her gaze anywhere but on the smiling faces looking up at her as she passes by.
Mikasa ends up seated by the back of the plane, a single row in front of two girls - another sullen girl who has her hood drawn up and is turned away towards the window, intentionally obscuring her face, and a chill-looking, dark-haired girl sitting in the seat next to her. She offers a quick nod, casting one final glance at the strange duo before sinking into her chair.
What a cold bitch , she thinks offhandedly as she settles into the seat in the row ahead of them. She’s deeply aware of how hypocritical she’s being, ultimately doing the same thing as the hooded girl, just in a less obvious manner.
She pulls the earbuds from their case, placing them in and quickly pressing play. The hum and chatter and laughter of the other, more sociable girls fades instantly and Mikasa feels her agitation recede. She also settles for staring out the window, watching as airport crew run to and fro, making sure operations run as usual. Her fingers play with the fraying edges of her scarf, a reminder of Eren and the only thing familiar to her now.
The window grows boring after a few minutes, and she settles for observing the other girls. It’s a varied group, and Mikasa is secretly thankful that there’s more diversity than she had first been anticipating. And almost all of them had ended up coming in coincidental pairs - Mikasa thinks back on the strange feeling that flooded her chest upon seeing Sasha Braus, a bubbly brunette with an incredible penchant for all things food that she knew from her school.
So, two familiar things. Sort of.
She and Sasha weren’t particularly close - Sasha ran in the dramedy club circles and Mikasa ran in no circle. She doesn’t remember really ever having a full conversation with the other girl. She wonders why she never changed that. Sasha seems a nice enough girl, sociable but weird enough that she probably wouldn't snub her like the others.
She continues to study and watch the other girls - Sasha talking excitedly to a much shorter blonde girl and a tanned brunette with a full smattering of freckles across her nose. Mikasa makes note of the possessive arm slung around the thin shoulders of the blonde. Her eyes turn to another pair - Another freckled girl with dark hair is sitting and attentively listening to a sandy-haired, catlike girl and her pigtailed companion.
Mikasa feels a shy tap on her shoulder, and turns around. She’s face to face with the dark-haired girl from before, who has taken to leaning on the headrest of her seat and resting her cheek on her hands.
“I’m Pieck.” She offers Mikasa a little smile and her hand, holding it out for Mikasa to shake. She doesn’t shake Piecks’ hand, but offers the nicest smile she can muster.
“Mikasa. It’s nice to meet you.” She says, and she reasons that it was the correct thing because Pieck’s smile broadens slightly as she leans back in her seat. She looks satisfied at having caught Mikasa’s attention and roping her into conversation.
“That’s Annie.” Pieck says, pointing lazily at the hooded girl still sitting with her back turned. There’s no indication that Annie heard her companion, so Pieck leans forward slightly as if to whisper a secret to Mikasa. “Don’t worry, it’s not personal. She might seem like a big, antisocial badass but she’s really just a five-foot softie.”
That elicits a response from the other girl. She finally turns to them, extending her arm and middle finger towards Pieck. “Fuck you.” Her voice is bored, monotonous, and Mikasa can’t discern if the other girl - blonde, now that she’s able to see hair peeking from beneath the hood - is serious in her offense or not. Pieck laughs, answering her unspoken question.
Before Mikasa can say anything else, the click of the plane’s intercom interrupts the hum of the various conversations. It’s the simple take-off announcement and Mikasa feels the plane jolt as it begins to roll down the runway. Moments later and they’re in the air, the saccharine introduction video plays upon their ascent, and finally they’re cruising at a steady altitude.
Mikasa settles in, resuming her music and closing her eyes. She’s intent on taking a nap, feeling the heaviness settle in her eyes. No such luck. She hears cheerful clapping as the short blonde and her girlfriend both stand up. The taller girl lets out an obnoxious “Shut up!” and the cabin falls quiet, all eyes on them.
“Ymir, that’s too rude!” The shorter girl chides, placing her hands on her hips and pouting up at Ymir. “But thank you.” She smiles eventually, turning her big blue eyes to the rest of them. “Hello everyone! I’m Krista, and this is Ymir. How does everyone feel about doing some ice breakers?”
There’s a mixed response, generally positive. It’s the other freckled girl that stands up, a wide grin on her face. “Oh! Hi everyone, I'm Ilse Langnar! How about “Never Have I Ever? Except the version I played you take a drink every time --”
“Maybe not!” Krista’s cheerful reply effectively shuts down the drinking idea. “How about something simpler, like… Twenty Questions!” She begins walking down the aisle, pulling at the wrists of the other girls and beginning to swap their seating order.
Mikasa watches as Krista pairs the girls off. She’s drawing nearer and nearer, pulling Ymir behind her, and Mikasa feels a sudden surge of social anxiety as she stops in front of her.
“We’ll probably have a group of three, if - “ Krista trails off as Annie turns away, tucking herself towards the window once more. “Or not. Here.” She tugs at Mikasa’s wrist, pulling her from the seat and plops Ymir down, who protests loudly but relents at a particularly pointed look from the short girl.
Krista leads her back to the two open seats. Mikasa sits tentatively, and puts her phone away as Krista begins to talk to her. She learns that Krista comes from Trost, has an older half-sister named Frieda, and that she and Ymir do baking streams on the weekends. Mikasa's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, and she glances back at where Pieck and Ymir are chatting idly. She doesn't see Annie, and assumes the reclusive girl's gone to the restroom.
She's about to address Krista when a violent jolt shakes them, stilling all conversation and replacing it in favor of frightened yelps and screams. The turbulence continues, perhaps getting worse with each second, and Mikasa has a single thought. No, perhaps not a thought and more like a regret. Her fingers tighten around the scarf, knuckles white and the fabric straining in her grasp. She regrets how she left things with Eren. How she hadn't seen him for half a month and then was shipped off on a retreat she didn't even want to be on.
More turbulence. More screams. The lights begin to flicker and her stomach drops with each jerky motion of the jet.
Mikasa should be crying and screaming, but she isn't. She doesn't feel panic or fear. She's entirely too calm, in the way that anyone looking in from the outside would think there's something wrong with her. She glances around the cabin, at the girls around her. Ymir has moved from the back of the plane to Krista's seat, where she's cradling the girl in her arms protectively. Sasha, bent over with her head tucked beneath her arms and with tears and snot running down her face. She's not sure why, but she glances towards the back of the plane, where Pieck and Annie are. She sees Annie holding Pieck, chin firmly resting on the dark-haired girl's head. Mikasa meets icy-blue eyes, full of protectiveness and fear all at once. Another jolt of turbulence throws Mikasa back into her seat, almost tossing her onto the floor. It's only when she's trying to pull herself back upright that she realizes she feels wrong, that something is off with her. Her body feels heavy, sluggish.
Another shudder of the plane. Another round of screams and cries and panic.
The smell of smoke. The lurching feeling in her gut. The fog in her head.
It's too much. It's too much of everything.
Then, nothing.
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