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Chapter Text

Eren

Eren's mouth gaped open in a silent scream, hoarse and unable to project any longer. He blanched, his stomach emptied and only burning his throat. The pain was all-consuming; it no longer had an origin, battering his every muscle, every bone. He didn't know where he was... did he want to know where he was?

"No matter what era it has found itself in, it has ever pushed forward, seeking out freedom."

Only one voice could match his pain, demanding his attention like a witch reciting her curse, over and over.

"For the sake of freedom, it fights."

Eren could not ponder, could not argue. Under a storm of blades, he could only endure.

"Have a family."

The rhythm of his pain mimicked the blaring sirens, varying between low throbs that consumed his thoughts to unbearable peaks that didn't allow him to think of anything besides those words.

"Love someone inside the walls."

Yes - he wanted to know where he was.

Stay awake.

"If you can't, it'll only repeat."

Stay awake.

"The same history... the same mistakes... over and over... to save Mikasa, Armin, and everyone else, you must see it through."

Endure.

"...whose memories are those?"

Stay awake.

"Mr Kruger? Ah, hello there. My name is Varlet, I'll be your primary nurse while you recover and adjust to life back in Marley. I hope we get along!"

Offered to him was a calloused hand, which he stares at blankly. It hovers there for five seconds or so, before it drops.

Eren doesn't look up to see the nurse's expression. Rather, he looks down, eyes unable to stray from his newly absent leg for long. It only throbs in random bursts now; much like an itchy mosquito bite would... if the itch stole his breath and made his nails dig into his hands until they drew blood.

The nurse had moved onto introduce herself to his new roommate. Eren barely remembered his face, despite waiting with him for the last hour. Just like Eren's leg, his psychological state rose and fell without warning. An unpredictable mess, Eren's already turbulent sleeping patterns would fall to the wayside with his incessant mumbles.

Eren had felt pity for the man, a few days ago. The man's mind was completely broke, leaving him a muttering mess. He felt pity for many people in the trenches, in the internment zone – in Marley. Such feelings were fleeting and unimportant, but unrelenting in their own irritating way. Eren's willpower could only suppress those feelings for so long, and after losing a limb keeping his guard up had finally fallen to the wayside. His mind and body were completely exhausted – his body fighting on its own without his healing abilities for the first time in his teenage life, and mind fighting to stay conscious and refrain from helping his own body.

It seemed the nurse had finished with the other soldier now. She was asking to tend to his leg.

"...yes."

With 'Mr Kruger' giving his consent, the nurse politely thanked him and went to grab the clean bandages. With nothing else to do than to be tended to like a dying animal, Eren's mind wandered, no particular train of thought guiding him as he let time pass him by.

A week had passed now, and Eren was outside at his usual spot, sitting next to the warrior in training he'd now met a couple of times: Falco Grice. The blond was a cordial boy, bearing a kind heart on his sleeve with his trusting nature, which he'd swiftly exploited during their first conversation.

"So, Udo ended up having to do thirty laps extra. He looked so exhausted... but aside from that, everything turned out alright!" Falco finished recounting his story with a smile. Despite his initial intentions with the kid, Eren had listened closely, nodding along with sparse comments.

"I see. Do they not get along?"

"No, it's not like that... Gabi and Udo can argue over anything, but they really care about each other." Falco clarified. Then he snorted adding: "they once fought over a slice of carrot."

Most of Falco's recounted stories were like that – childish tales, simple and to the point. To Eren, it was very endearing: Falco's tone unable to hide the affection he had for his friends, all too honest. That simplicity made it easy to latch on to, a brief distraction from Eren's new, stale lifestyle.

He asked about the carrot incident, and allowed Falco's voice to keep him afloat so that his mind didn't trail back to his unavoidable reality. Rather, he felt an increasing level of genuine interest in Falco's and the other cadet's escapades.

It only lasted so long.

Soon, Falco was off with a nod and farewell, leaving Eren to watch the sky slowly fade into darkness.

Eren felt pity for many people in the trenches, in the internment zone – in Marley. For a child trying his best to save his friend. Eren couldn't help that. What he could do was refuse to let them make him hesitate or control him in anyway.

Two nights later, and Eren hears his roommate sneak out in the dead of night.

The morning after, he overhears Varlet and another nurse speaking in hushed tones, mourn his death. A suicide.

Eren felt little surprise. He could have prevented it, if he'd wanted to do so. However, that would have made him stick out to the nurses – what unstable veteran suffering from memory loss could keep an eye on others around them? The answer is very few, so Eren had chosen to close his eyes and fell asleep.

His room is empty now. No other patient was immediately sent to fill the dead man's place. When night comes, he closes his eyes easily with no incoherent mumbles to keep him awake.

He doesn't fall asleep for hours.

Chapter Text

Falco

Memories from before the war were a jumbled mess in Falco's mind, tangled together like an entirely separate life – different people, in different landscape, a different everything. Four years in and out of trenches made up a third of his young life now, and most of his memories.

In that haze, were memories of his family – his grandfather, to be specific. The earlier they were, the more innocent. One of his earliest memories, at five, was watching his grandfather repeatedly beating Colt at various board games until his brother ran out the room in a huff, Falco giggling nonstop at Colt's pouty face.

His grandfather seemed so jovial and kind back then, joking around with his son whilst teaching him and Colt valuable skills for adult hood. That was why; a year and a half after that memory Falco had felt such a paralysing fear and shock upon stumbling into his grandfather's apartment for a surprise visit.

It was on his way home from playing with Udo in the park – a normal day, when his armband was still a dull brown and smile still unstrained.

He remembered the rancid smell. He remembered the bottles everywhere. Green, brown, surrounded by damp patches. Most of all, he remembered his loving grandfather, kind brown eyes turned black due to his huge pupils. The elder scrambled to his feet with his face morphing from confusion to anger as Falco gaped at him, Asking him what he was staring at, why he came without permission. When he didn't receive an answer, his grandfather struck at him suddenly like a viper, gripping his hair viscously and pushing him to the ground.

His grandfather had begun mumbling constantly, cruel words and then – pain. Pain across his backside hit him like lightening, making his tiny body freeze completely. Then again. Again. Again. Again. Over and over, until the briefest pause had Falco jolt into action, scrambling away and out of the apartment.

At the time, he was confused. His father was no stranger to physical punishment either, using a cane to discipline him and Colt regularly – one strike per age, six for him, and twelve for Colt. His father was stone faced while doing so, making them apologise for their mistake after putting the cane away, and then returning to normal. It was a normal, if slightly harsh, punishment by Liberio's standards, many residents seeing it as a commonplace discipline for children. Falco had also known his grandfather did something similar to his father in terms of punishment. Yet despite this, a single one of the strikes from his grandfather was worse that any punishment from his father. Falco couldn't grasp why it was that way at the time, but it was terrifying.

The next time he saw his grandfather, the elder had bought him a stuffed bear. As Falco hesitantly clutched the new toy, the man apologised to him gently and promised it wouldn't happen again, and because it wouldn't happen again, he didn't need to tell anyone about it. The gesture confirmed Falco's feeling of that punishment being different, wrong, somehow. Yet Falco believed him, knowing his grandfather wouldn't lie to him.

Maybe it was just different because of those bottles and that weird smell. As long as that stayed away, his grandfather would be nice again.

Despite this, the stuffed animal lay under his bed, untouched. Every other toy had been precious to Falco. He cared for and played with them all regularly, even now when he was too old for them, he still treasured them, and even washed them upon returning from war. The stuffed bear became the first toy he ever neglected, now laying in a pile of dust in that same place.

A week after he was given the bear, his parents decided to have a glass of wine to celebrate his mother's promotion, the two adults laughing and smiling about the news. However, upon smelling the wine, Falco had freaked out. A distinct memory still in Falco's head was of running to grab his brother, who was sitting with his wooden train under the table, and tugging him upstairs.

"Let's stay in your room Colt... mummy and daddy are going to change now."

"Change?" Colt had asked, utterly confused.

"Uh huh. It's that smell."

"Smell? Falco, do you mean the alcohol?" Colt had only received a massive hug in response, the younger now feeling safe in his brother's room. Colt's hugs were the safest thing in the world.

"Falco... dad says alcohol only makes you more impulsive about things you would do anyway. Uhm... he said something like, it reveals you like money does, or something... I don't remember the saying..."

Those fumbled words had sent Falco into a pit of confusion, making little sense to the six year old. However, Colt wasn't there, and Falco wasn't allowed to tell him what happened, so he only hugged his brother closer.

It didn't end there. It was far more gradual this time, but his grandfather gradually became less patient, less kind with him. The atmosphere had changed permanently; leaving Falco to delude himself into thinking everything really would be fine. That the increased insults and subtle threats weren't as bad as he thought.

His grandfather wasn't scary. He was nice, and kind, and patient, and everyone else loved him, so why wouldn't he?

Two months passed since the initial scare. He was once again alone with the elder, who was babysitting him while Colt was at warrior training. Falco had heard his grandfather swearing profusely in the other room before he walked into the kitchen where Falco was. He had meekly approached the man, going to touch his shoulder and ask if he was okay. But the moment his hand touched his grandfather's shirt, the rage was redirected at him. Manhandled onto the floor, his shirt hoisted up, now angled to face the elder. He had turned the belt folded over into a weapon.

That time, he didn't get away so easily. Eventually returning home made him audibly sigh in relief. In the bathroom, he could only see red across his back, the centre a dark, ugly purple with dots of orange around it. The elder had targeted that area, and he recalled it'd hurt so much more there.

No apologies had been uttered. Only a warning before his parents arrived that he had to be quiet because if he told anyone, he was be very naughty and then need to be taught another lesson.

By the time Falco was seven, the beatings had become routine. A single slip up and his back, still not fully healed, would be covered in welts once more, the skin splitting on multiple occasions, causing cuts and scars to join the now always damaged back. The threats escalated as well, from receiving more beatings, to the beatings getting worse, to his brother having the same punishment for not teaching his little brother right from wrong. Falco also became aware that his grandfather liked watching him cry, beg, and curl up into a ball bellow him and to view his injuries. He liked to make Falco get to the floor or kneeling down so that he could tower over him and order him around.

At eight, Falco had joined the warrior cadets. Abruptly, the beatings were reduced dramatically. At first, Falco had thought this was because his bruises may be seen, but his Grandfather was quick to correct him. They'd know he was a bad child, and be glad he was being taught better. It was an act of kindness: his grandfather had given him the chance to perform his best and redeem himself.

Nevertheless, it did nothing to soothe his grandfather's apparent need to hurt him, to watch him sob. The man berated him for even the slightest hair out of place, yelled until he was red in the face about nothing, backed him into small corners, and dragged him by his hair at every opportunity. When Falco cut it to an extremely short length (his mother not approving of him going fully bald) the excuse of being in the military did nothing to soothe his grandfather's rage at being denied another method of hurting him.

All of this remained in private, when his parents entrusted the man with looking after him. In their presence, he still appeared to be the lovable man, smiling through them to smirk at Falco who lingered behind them. His insults and threats echoed in his mind, the ones about hurting Colt being the loudest above all others.

Falco had occasionally wondered about telling his parents what was happening. As he matured, his threats to hurt Colt became less viable as he realised that perhaps his parents wouldn't allow him and Colt near the man if he confided in them. Unfortunately, the realization came too late; he was already in warrior training with the bruises reduced to a far more explainable amount. Besides, his grandfather was still beloved by everyone else. He could earn that back if he was only good enough.

Then, the façade of needing a specific reason to hurt him was abandoned. Just existing in his grandfather's presence was enough to be sneered at, to be reminded of how worthless he was and how a pathetic person like him should drop out from warrior training, since he could never be worthy of inheriting a titan. Those vicious words still kept him up at night, taunting him when Gabi bested him over and over. They whispered that he really couldn't do anything compared to a good child like her. If he were like Gabi, his grandfather would never need to beat him.

He loved his grandfather. He would work to prove to his grandfather he was worth something. It was possible. It was achievable.

Only, that wasn't the case. He realised that over one particular incident.

It'd happened after Falco had mustered the courage to ask his grandfather to give him a fresh start, a new chance to prove himself. The man punched him clean in the face. It left a nasty, dark bruise extremely visible on his cheek. When his parents came, he said that Falco came to him crying after being bullied by two suspiciously generic looking kids picked on him (brown hair, average height, no standout features).

"Isn't that right, Falco?" his grandfather looked at him with those brown eyes, that trademark trusty smile and his calming voice. Out of the corner of his eyes, his parents turned to him, clearly believing every word.

"Yes."

Falco agreed, just like that.

Afterwards, he felt sick. He'd sucked up to Marleyans countless times just as every other Eldian was forced to in order to keep their lives, but this made him feel physically ill. He felt as pathetic as the man claimed he was.

His parents would never side with him. As his grandfather would begin to repeat over and over, Falco's word meant nothing to them: he would only be seen as a trouble making attention seeker. How could he compare to his grandfather?

The war came shortly afterwards. It was another form of torture, hell on earth. Dead bodies and disease surrounded him and the other cadets at all times. It was hard to tell which had made their lives more miserable; the demeaning Marleyans taking their woes out on the Eldian children, or the rats that were determined to take everything they had for themselves.

Udo was the first to verbalise their thoughts, cursing out the Marleyans once they left the trenches briefly for additional training. Even three years ago, Gabi had no rebuttal apart from that they had to show them how good the Eldians from Liberio were. Nevertheless, it seemed that it'd finally sunk in for her how hard that mission would prove be.

Those years in the trenches made him closer to his brother than ever, Colt quickly becoming the most important figure in his life. No one else even came close, his parents nor Gabi even contenders. To Falco, Colt was amazing: brave, caring and dependable – even learning to talk to Marleyans the way Mr Zeke did! He had complete faith that his brother would be a worthy inheritor of the beast titan, he was perfect, and he should have been glad their Marleyan supervisors saw him the same way.

...Should have been. In reality, hearing his brother excitedly tell him he would be inheriting one of the nine sank his heart into a tidal wave of dark emotions. Sixteen years... fifteen years... and now it was only fourteen years until his brother would leave him.

In the year following his brother's announcement, Falco's distaste for the warrior program grew into a visceral antipathy. His aim of protecting Gabi became far more crucial to him, reaching its height upon Reiner finally confirming to him that he wasn't alone or misguided in feeling that antipathy.

However, with that endorsement from Mr Braun (Gabi's older cousin) there came another revelation – Colt may be tactical, but he was far from all knowing. His loving brother was firmly indoctrinated, willing to give his life to a country that saw him as scum.

The war was over, but Falco felt little comfort from that fact. Instead, he could feel only dread for what could turn out to be his very short life. It was as Reiner said – saving Gabi was all that mattered. He wanted take that burden for her, the way he could no longer could for his own brother, and spare Reiner the same pain of watching a family member willingly shorten their life.

Falco had hoped he could be strong enough. He knew himself to be a weak and pathetic coward, unable to stop his grandfather – a single elderly man – so what chance did he have to beat Gabi? He pledged to do his best; but what did that even matter when his best was so pitiful?

The following day, he was thrown down onto the hard ground, getting up to Gabi already aiming her rifle at his face. He'd lost, again.

In his frustration, he'd slammed his fist into a nearby wall. But as it slid down from above his head to his shoulder, the anger drained into something more forlorn. He had to change; somehow, he had to be stronger. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to change a single thing!

"You're a good guy. I hope you live a long life."

"Everyone is pushed by something. But those who push their own backs see a different kind of hell. They can see something beyond the hell. It might be hope. It might be another kind of hell. Only those who keep moving forward will ever know."

Then, he met Mr Kruger.

From the day he met him, Falco hadn't stopped feeling that great admiration for the man. Mr Kruger entrusted him to know that he was faking his injuries, a trust Falco returned by promising to keep it a secret – even confessing that he didn't like the other candidates inheriting a titan.

... Not to mention, Falco couldn't recall ever being told he deserved to live a long life, with what that implied. The lifespan of a titan shifter was a taboo he'd yet to cross even with his own brother.

Mr Kruger talked in a way Falco had never heard anyone do before. On the surface, it seemed dismal and pessimistic. Nevertheless, as he'd found himself hanging onto each word, Falco realised how brave and forthright the man really was. He wanted to be like that. That determination to move forward, even if that leads to more suffering for him... he needed to hear that. It was simple: he had to keep trying no matter what.

Arriving home that day, he was in good spirits, happy to have helped his new acquaintance deliver a letter to his family, his treasured advice still lingering in his mind. He couldn't wait to talk to such a wise man again.

It didn't last long. Greeted by the man he was previously avoiding, Falco froze in the doorway.

As his mother would later explain, his grandfather would be staying with them every Friday from then on. She gave some reason why, but Falco could smell the bullshit, able recognise that it was just one of his grandfather's lies she regurgitated.

One look at the elder had Falco feeling his stomach plummet. He told himself to be hopeful, that now he'd been at war for years, maybe his grandfather had a change of attitude. It was possible.

Tomorrow would be the first time his grandfather would stay over. On the day his parents worked the nightshift at the factory (what a lucky 'coincidence'. His grandfather really knew how to get his way).

Falco was perched by the window, staring into the night sky, stars hidden from dark clouds threatening to rain. He imagined what if would be like if he were to simply jump out and fly up, up and away. The chilly breeze would hit his face and the further he went; the less the air would smell of pollution, more like pollen and freshly cut grass. The clouds would be damp yet refreshingly cold, open skies blue and endless. Maybe he would fly over the ocean, faintly smelling the salt no matter how high he soared.

It was a common daydream – a common dream at night, too. For as long as he could remember he had been blessed with vivid dreams of flight where he soared above the clouds, that waited bellow him like a fluffy mattress ready to catch him before he hit the harsh ground. They gave him comfort when no one else could.

He hoped he had that dream once more tonight. He needed it.

The sun had barely had time to greet the sky before Falco did, the young boy jumping over puddles as he weaved through various streets and alleyways that made up the quickest possible path out of the residential area. The rain had stopped at before sunrise, leaving only shallow puddles behind from its eight-hour long effort. Rays of the early-morning light peaked through the closely-knit apartments to dye his khaki uniform with amber streaks as he jogged on his way to... well... he didn't exactly have any place in mind; the internment zone isn't exactly known for its wide variety of parks and entertainment.

Despite the looming prospect of seeing his grandfather once again, Falco had indeed been blessed with his favourite dream, which as usual made him feel lighter than the clouds upon waking. With time, it would always fade as reality stole his youthful optimism. Nevertheless, that time was not here yet, and so he was more than content to wander the streets until the warrior candidate training began.

His pace slowed upon seeing a homeless man upon turning a corner, not wanting to splash water accidentally onto the poor mister. He lay in the shade, drowning in the shadows, with only cardboard to mimic a mattress. Briefly, their eyes met as Falco passed. Then the man's gaze fell back to the floor, eyes sunken and dark.

Falco felt his heart clench for him, but he couldn't think of anything he could do for his situation, and he probably would not appreciate a disturbance by some random kid who had it so much better than himself. Still, the man lingered in his thoughts until he finally escaped the vast housing estate and came into the market, where all the various vendors were setting up their stalls.

The market was a beehive of activity; small parties working together in clearly established routines forming an almost overwhelming bustle of organised chaos that would form the perfect place for shoppers to find whatever goods they were looking for.

Falco ambled along, now taking his time observing those around him. A constant murmur of voices filled the air, punctuated by the occasional raised voice and thud of boxes. Compared to the drab alleyways, it was an explosion of colour and personality as all sorts of products – clothes, wooden toys and vegetables – were carried to and fro.

There was no choice; he most definitely had to draw this.

Finding a relatively empty corner where he wouldn't be in the way, he clambered on top of a sturdy looking pile of boxes no one was using and took his sketchbook from his bag. From the higher position, the rays of sun were far more visible, making the scene even more captivating. Buzzing with excitement, he laid the sketchbook on top of his knees, flipped to the next blank double page, and began taking his pencil over the paper with a gentleness befitting crown jewels. He outlined the wide street, slowly adding more detail with deeper strokes, his head bobbing up and down periodically to switch between observing and drawing.

However hard he concentrated though, he was simply no match for the rising aroma of baked bread filling the street. Freshly baked bread, that was. Falco couldn't prevent himself from peaking again on a nearby stall as a middle-aged woman dons a flour-covered apron and lilac dress whilst she set up, slowly filling it with baked goods. She peered overhead, caught his eye, surprise filling her eyes before she gave him a smile (one of those that seemed exclusively reserved for mothers), and gestured him over. Subconsciously tilting his head in curiosity, Falco jumped down, pressing his book and pencil against his stomach as he walked over.

"Falco Grice, is that you?" The woman greeted, peering at him with her shimmering eyes squinted slightly.

"Uh, yes, it's nice to meet you Miss?" Somehow, it came out as a question. She smiled wider at that.

"We've met before, dear. I'm Miss White, a friend of your mother; I used to see you with her when you were a little boy." She huffed out a friendly laugh, "Well, a little-er boy."

"I see," Falco responded with a nod, only feeling more out of the loop. Having been in trench warfare for almost four years of his young life, he often felt like a stranger in his own town, knowing very few individuals and places. Common knowledge for other citizens was information he had to quickly re-learn and accustom himself to within the past month. No matter how much he tried, or how well he memorised certain routes throughout Liberio, he always eventually felt a step behind somehow.

"Here," Bread – In his face. When did that get there? "To help with your training... I've given your friends twice before, but you weren't with them. Do you not get along with the other candidates, sweetie?"

"I do, they're all good friends of mine," he quickly corrected, "I was just elsewhere." He peered back down at the brown bag of bread that had somehow joined his sketchbook in being squished between his arm and stomach. It looked just as good as it smelt. "But, uh, I don't have any money on me, I'm very sorry..."

She outright laughed at that, shaking her head. "It's a gift. Enjoy it. Now, I have to get back to the kitchen, so eat up!"

"Thank you so much!" He called after her whilst bowing slightly, careful not to drop anything, before carefully manoeuvring the sketchbook into his bag (the pencil had disappeared at some point) and examining his tasty gift. It was a generous size, and he'd been in such a rush to leave the house he'd forgotten all about his basic human need for nutrition, and now his stomach loudly reminded him of this fact.

That man in the alleyway was probably lacking in nutrition too –much, much more seriously than he was.

Falco blinked.

A second later, a timid smile breezed onto his face. He placed the bread back in the bag and ran back from where he'd came, retracing his steps back to through the alleyways.

Unfortunately, the rain had returned. Falco and the other Candidates had changed uniforms after being utterly soaked during training, and were now taking advantage of a brief pause to travel back home. Even worse, this made avoiding going home even harder as he was unable to waste time with the other Candidates in town. He had decided to go see Mr Kruger instead, hoping the man wouldn't find it too odd. After all, who visits an acquaintance in the middle of a downpour?

The road leading to the hospital was once again quiet, which made sense given that it was mostly neighboured by a low density housing area – quite the rarity in Liberio, let alone the internment zone.

Falco slowed his jog into a more acceptable amble as the hospital came into view, walking alongside the brick wall marking its perimeter.

Despite the rather terrible night, he had been in a good mood due to being able to help Mr Patterson that morning, the man's unsure gaze turning into a small, grateful smile making his heart swell with pride. It was a small thing, Falco knew – Mr Patterson was still homeless and his stomach would not stay full forever – but it was something, something Falco could cling to for now.

Entering the building, Falco tries to look casual in approaching the lady sat filling papers at the front desk.

"Ah, here to see Mr Kruger?" It seemed like she had seen him talking to the man.

"Ah, yes please." Falco answered, the lady nodding.

"I've seen you talking to him. He's awfully quiet around staff, you see, so we were surprised to see him so talkative with you." Falco nodded along, not sure what to say without exposing Mr Kruger's lie.

"Any-who... I think you're really kind to spend so much time talking with him. I know it can be frustrating to talk with people who cannot hold a conversation properly but I am sure it makes him feel less lonely to have a regular visitor. So thank you."

The praise made Falco gaze down at his feet, completely at a loss of what to say expect a small: "thanks..." that was barely loud enough to hear. Mr Kruger was always so fascinating to listen to, and he held only deep respect for the man. He hadn't realised the extent Mr Kruger was faking his mental confusion. It was odd to hear him talked about it such a pitying way.

The lady at the front desk handed him a card deck, asking him to see if he could get Mr Kruger to engage with it. Apparently, she thought it would be good exercise for his brain. "Something simple like go fish, anything further may confuse him right now." She had instructed.

Falco turned the corner, entering the 'games room' as the lady had called it. In reality, it was only a few circular tables with chairs staked up by the door and a few scattered randomly at various tables. A singular cupboard with a box besides was stood in the corner, but was far from enough to make the room feel anything but barren and cold.

Sure enough, Mr Kruger was right where she'd said, sitting in the corner with a nurse on the opposite side of the circular table. The nurse had her elbows propped up on the table and was trying to initiate conversation, her slightly scratchy voice heightening in pitch as she attempted to rouse a reply from him.

Hearing the boy enter the room, she turned back to peer at Falco, eyes darting to the cards clutched by his side. She smiled, and waved him over.

"Hello." Falco greeted politely. Inside, he was trying not to squirm with awkwardness. He felt very out of place... but he would rather that then the alternative of going home.

"Hello there. A warrior candidate, are you? How nice! You know, my daughter was in the warrior program for a month or so before they kicked her out... do you know her, her name was Abby, long brown hair in plaits...?" The woman finally seemed to breathe in as she searched his face for answers. On the spot, Falco shrugged a little. Almost fifty kids were there, which dropped to ten in a month, then to the remaining four a month after that. He simply could not recall any girl named Abby (to which Colt tease him that it was because he was too busy staring at Gabi).

Falco was not given time to answer further. "What a shame that is... you know, I was very disappointed. I thought I had taught her to serve Marley well and repent properly. It seems I went wrong somewhere, hmm?"

Falco took a glance at Mr Kruger as he scratched at his cheek, beyond feeling awkward.

"I'm sure she tried her best..."

"I doubt it. Girl always had a lazy streak to her. Still love her dearly of course, but does she think I don't notice when she slacks off on her schoolwork? I have to watch her like a hawk!"

When Falco glanced at Mr Kruger again, their eyes met, a mutual understanding of 'oh, this is awkward for him too,' passing between them.

As no one replied to her, she seemed to finally gage the awkward atmosphere she'd amplified.

"Ah, right. Did you want to play a game of cards, dear? Let's all play something together, hmm?"

"That would be... okay..." Falco murmured, not moving to take the cards from their box. He knew it was rude, but the nurse's over the top enthusiasm didn't match the situation at all as she dominated the conversation, making him unsure of how to talk with her. Usually when he came to the hospital, the atmosphere was calm and relaxed with: just two people simply having an honest conversation.

The conversation stilled. The nurse continued to smile, and gave a laugh that was obviously strained. "Well. Maybe I could go see some other patients. Have fun, then..."

"Yeah..." Falco turned his lips up in a poor attempt at a smile.

Both him and Mr Kruger sat in silence as she left, the rain starting again to hit the window pane in front of them.

"Is she your nurse, Mr Kruger?" Falco broke the silence.

"No. Polzin is not assigned to me specifically. That's someone else." Mr Kruger's voice was as monotonous as ever. "She just doesn't stop talking to anyone in the vicinity."

From this angle, Falco could see more of Mr Kruger's face than he usually did sitting on the bench, though it remained half concealed through his long hair. Mr Kruger's eye was actually a very noticeable feature, a piercing shade of blue-green. His face barely changed as he spoke, even with the slight jest.

Falco gave a slight chuckle. "Still, Miss Polzin seemed nice."

Mr Kruger's visible eyebrow rose slightly. "Nice, huh... she talked quite allot about her daughters shortcomings unprompted."

"I don't think that makes her a bad person."

"It's just an indicator. She cared more about her daughter earning her a higher status than her daughter's dreams and wellbeing. Scolded her for not following the given path."

Falco couldn't help but think of his own family at that. His parents made it no secret they believed in serving Marley, praising his brother for doing so well in the warrior program. Nevertheless, his parent's didn't care as much about being honorary Marleyans as much as protecting the family... at least, he thought so.

Mr Kruger really did think differently than anyone else he knew.

"Mr Kruger, could I ask you something?" Falco asked, continuing as said man gave an encouraging gesture, "did you choose to be a soldier?"

He paused a moment, before replying: "yes. I did. Being a soldier was not the end goal... I thought it'd be the way to get to my real dream."

Falco nodded, curiosity peaked. He had wanted to ask if Mr Kruger had achieved his goal, but he felt he knew the depressing answer. "But your dream isn't out of reach, right? You might still find it if you move forward."

"Yeah. I think so too." The veteran muttered. Falco smiled, happy that his encouragement wasn't shut down. He felt he had learned too much thanks to him.

"And as for your dream, Falco? Any progress?" Said boy gave a little shrug.

"Gabi is so amazing and talented, she works hard too... it's so annoying when she brags about it because she's right. I know I can't compare, but I'm still trying..."

"That's all you can do. It's hard to compete with overwhelming natural talent." Mr Kruger's voice hadn't changed drastically, yet it suddenly sounded more comforting and soft, now looking at Falco more directly with a calm gaze. Falco gave a curious look back.

"You know someone like that too, Mr Kruger?"

The man hesitated before answering, but when he did his voice still had that soft edge. "Yeah. And she was very annoying. I'd get mad at her all the time, more than I should of, because of the jealousy I constantly felt."

Falco smiled at the story. He had always wanted to be as strong as Gabi, but jealously was something he rarely felt. In a way, he saw it as disrespectful of Gabi – to summarise the girl he loved so much achievements simply as natural talent. There was so much more to her than that. In the end, he would rather stand by her side with his own merit than to steal hers. Only, his own merits were hard to find.

"Oh, yeah. Did you want to play cards?" Mr Kruger enquired, looking at the forgotten cards still on the table.

"Ah. The lady the front desk gave me them."

"We might as well play then, huh Falco? Are there any games you know?"

He was glad Mr Kruger didn't question why he'd came on such a rainy day. Falco hoped he'd just brushed it off or forgotten due to Miss Polzin. Outside, the rain continued to pour, Falco happily introducing him to GOPs, a simple two-player strategy game he and Colt would play together.

Time passed easily like that, the daunting time to go home gradually slipping from the blonde's mind with each card throw down. Each time he managed to win, his smile grew a little more, especially when he could see the subtle signs of Mr Kruger also getting a little competitive.

It could not last forever. When the rain began to quiet, the sun lowering in the sky, Falco's previously relaxed posture turned hunched and bent over slightly. He knew he had to return home.

"Then, if you don't have any letters, I'll see you later, Mr Kruger." The cards were neatly put back in the box by the wardrobe, which turned out to hold various board games, as Falco said his goodbyes, his smile now forced.

Rather than an immediate reply, the veteran gazed at him for a moment.

"...Yeah. Falco, it's always nice to see you."

Said boy blinked at the compliment, hand raising to the back of his head as he gave a little m-hmm. 'Did Mr Kruger say that today because of the rain? Had he noticed after all?' Maybe he was over thinking it. His grandfather often criticized him for doing that.

"You're late." In the four years since Falco had left, the elder's presence was daunting as ever. His entire body felt tense, shoulders rising as any lingering emboldening from his time in the hospital fizzled out under the other's presence. His gaze remained locked onto the other's shoes.

"I'm sorry, it was the rain. I couldn't risk getting my spare uniform wet."

"I didn't ask for excuses." The cut off was immediate, tone sharp. "Your brother was home an hour and a half ago, uniform perfectly dry."

Falco kept his mouth shut. After a pause, he heard the old man give a sigh, before sneering: "It seems the war did nothing to make you a better child. Your parents must be so burdened by a failure like you."

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs cut off any further conversation.

"Ah, Colt. You're brothers home, so we can finally eat now." His entire voice changed, taking a lighter pitch, Falco watching even his footing change to greet the newcomer.

"Falco, hey. About time you got back." Falco raised his head to his brother, Colt looking mildly irritated.

"Yeah..." was all he could mutter.

The meal was a simple stew, made up of leftovers from previous meals. Colt happily chatted away with his grandfather, clearly eager to spend time with the old man.

Falco only engaged in the conversation when Colt brought him into it, but otherwise focused on eating. Once finished, he simply kept his hands in his lap and listened to his brother until he and his grandfather were also finished. He knew better than to be rude in the elder's presence – it would only give him fuel later.

Finally, in his room after dinner, he closed the door and changed into regular clothes rather than pyjamas. Once done, he opened it a fraction. His grandfather hated shut doors. Apart from the ones he closed, that was.

Time passed slowly, the light in his room changing with the outside. A lamp lit up his bedside table, allowing him to crouch besides it to try to start another sketch. It didn't work. Falco could not get his mind to focus at all. A book didn't do the trick either.

Just as he was closing the book, admitting surrender on that idea, Falco heard voices from his brothers room A bad feeling in his stomach, Falco walked slowly to the door and began listening in.

"You're a responsible young man, Colt. I trust you'll be fine on your own."

"Thank you, grandfather. Did you let dad get away with this too?"

"Can't say I did. But what are grandparents for, if not spoiling the grandkids?" Falco felt a shiver down his spine – how could he sound so convincing and jovial? "Besides, you've been away for so long, making friends is important. A Friday night is the best time to do so."

He heard Colt chuckle. "I suppose. When it's not threatening to rain, I'll give it a try."

"Sure. My lips are sealed."

'Sealed about what? Making friends where?' Falco jolted with the realisation. 'Wait, was he trying to get Colt out the house on Fridays?' The very concept made him freeze in disbelief. He needed Colt here! If not...

At the sound of his grandfather leaving Colt's room, Falco quickly backed away from the door. His mind was racing. What could he do here? He could not be all alone with that man again!

'Hang on. If I'm right, and he's giving Colt permission to sneak out, couldn't I do that at the same time? Colt would feel it's weird if grandfather snitched on me after promising not to tell on hi, right? Or would he use our ages as an excuse for that?' Falco put his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead as his skull began to ache. 'Is it worth trying? I know what he does when I try to fight back...'

Frustrated tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. Why was he so powerless? Colt was not the one to blame, he knew that – so why did he feel so betrayed by him seeming so eager to leave? He really was selfish.

That night, Falco did not sleep a wink. Instead, he lay by his window as usual, looking out into the night sky. His imagination showed him his favourite scenes of flight and disappearing without a trace into that dark sky. But as tempting as it was to let his mind carry him away, Falco remained grounded.

Gabi needed him here. The only thing that mattered was saving her. It didn't matter what his grandfather did, he needed to be right here, in Liberio, and do all he could to rescue her from such a cruel world.

He would never reach the sky. But she could. And he would do anything to see her fly instead.

Chapter Text

Eren

Lying in bed, Eren's small fists gripped the sheets up to his nose, his gut feeling tight. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gnawed on it.

Put simply, the day had not gone as planned. It had started out regularly enough – the neighbourhood bullies coming to pick on Armin before he and Mikasa could meet up with him.

As was becoming a more and more regular occurrence, Mikasa had ended up fighting all three of the bullies whilst he prowled around, trying to get in a jab or stray punch where the girl hadn't time to stop him.

One thing had changed from the regular, though. Whilst Eren dug a kick at one of the boys, distracting Mikasa, another had managed to grab onto her scarf and yank it off.

He had seen her freeze up. Eyes that had once been narrowed in deep concentration completely flipped, widening as their grey irises staring at nothing. It seemed as though the street had been struck by a sudden, thick layer of ice, trapping each of them in place. The only thing that moved in the silence was her hand, slowly rising to her neck with a noticeable tremble.

Eren's eyes had followed the length of the scarf down to the ground, where the end was drenched in mud. Indeed, the floor was not made of ice but a surface Eren could run on – then out of his stupor, he had done so immediately.

Lunging forward, Eren had gripped the other boy's wrist. In a screech no sophisticated than a wild coyote's, he yelled at him, "Give it back, now!" The boy – who had hair looked like it was coated in sticky pee – jumped, releasing the scarf to fall into the puddle.

From the side, the boy found another fist in his face. Mikasa sent him flying, Eren letting go quickly. They'd turned to the other kids, who set off running at just their glares alone.

Behind them, Armin had reached to pick up the scarf. He had held it tenderly, all ten fingers securing it.

"Mikasa..." the blond called her name softly, passing it to the girl.

She hadn't said a word: hadn't looked at either of her friends. Instead, she held the muddy scarf to her chest, spreading the mud to her dress and cardigan.

It had happened more than six hours ago now. The previous events rattled in his brain and refused to leave. Once again, he'd been the weak link. He had ended up getting her scarf even muddier that it had been – whilst Mikasa delivered that good punch. Those boys had gotten on his nerves before, but this was different... it evoked a rage in him far more personally driven, and thus more dangerous. His young mind couldn't fathom why: it was just a stupid scarf, so why was he still thinking about it? He could just ask his mother to buy her a new one if she liked them so much.

He rolled onto his side, shifting the blankets around his shoulders in an attempt to get comfortable. Mikasa would be fine. She was strong, and shoved it in his face every time he'd act too headstrong (as if that were inherently bad).

Knock, knock, knock.

Eren's head jerked up at the sound. Was that at his door?

"Mikasa?" His mother's voice called, and he recognised it as her motherly, soothing tone. "Could I come in, darling?"

Eren sat up slowly, now intent on listening in. 'Not because I'm worried, I'm just awake anyway,' he reminded no one but himself.

"Here, look at this. Good as new, isn't it?"

A pause, and then, a quieter voice spoke. "Yes. Thank you Auntie."

"I'm glad you're looking better, honey. But it'd be okay if you aren't."

Eren recognised that phrase. She'd told him the same thing countless times, no matter how much he tried to make her stop – he wasn't weak. Yet, his mother couldn't really think Mikasa was weak, could she? She may not have seen her fighting, but she knew what the girl had been through with her parents. The fact she was still here with them was proof she was strong.

"I'm really okay. Please don't worry about me."

"But I do. And I always will. The idea of them trying to drag you down is infuriating to me." his mother took a breath. "Mikasa, you're such a strong girl. And those boys are scared of it."

"I... maybe. I just don't want them to hurt Armin, or Eren."

He heard his mother give a little chuckle. "The three of you are so close. I hope that never changes."

Eren frowned, scolding his mother in his head. She was saying some weird things to try to make Mikasa feel better. He, Armin and Mikasa would always be friends. That was so obvious no one needed to say it.

Breakfast was bland and tasteless that morning. Hospital staff tried their best, Eren knew, but they could not cover much with such poor funding and small staff. Despite knowing this, he could not help but to think his mother would somehow be able to spin it into something he would scoff down in seconds. For years now, he could barely picture her face, but her laughter, her positivity and strength – that would never leave him.

His nurse, Varlet, took his plate as he finished, praising him for eating so well. It was demeaning, to say the least, but Eren felt no ill-will towards the woman. Overtime, she had proven to be well meaning and patient. He felt some guilt towards making her go through such a fruitless effort to attend to him, but he chose not to dwell on it.

Mikasa is there, lingering stubbornly in his thoughts since he woke from that dream. Although he tries to avert his thoughts elsewhere once again, it is not nearly as easy when it comes to his friends. Her softly angled face, pointed nose, and intense grey eyes. In just three months or so, he will see that face in tears, begging for his kindness. When that time comes, kindness will be something he will never show to her, or anyone else, again.

Falco

It was Friday already.

How had the week passed so quickly?

Looking for a familiar comfort, Falco was on route to the hospital. He approached one of the entrances, a longhaired amputee came into view, and sitting on his usual bench, crutch leaned against the bench haphazardly.

"Mr Kruger!" Falco said, announcing his presence with a small smile and matching wave. Said man glanced over, giving him a nod as the younger boy took a seat adjacent to him.

"Falco," he said simply, "and how are you today?"

"I'm alright, Kruger-san. Just glad the rain didn't make it into the day, these uniforms can get so smelly from the rain..." Falco responded. Memories of a few weeks ago with him and the other three candidates drenched and smelling like street dogs flooding his memory – the smell was easily recalled. "What about you?"

"More of the same," he affirmed, voice carrying that even monotone that usually glazed his speech. Falco nodded sympathetically.

"Do the nurses not give you much to do?"

"Don't let those card games fool you so easily Falco. There's nothing substantial, at least not without revealing I'm faking my condition. They insist on having me read various history books over and over, so that I know how to devote myself to Marley... or something like that..."

Falco could take a good guess about which ones Mr Kruger was talking about – after his uncle and his wife were sent to Paradise, the Grice household had become rather obsessive over those stories. Almost every evening, they would fill Colt and himself with their people's horrific history until each word became tattooed upon their impressionable brains – their contents seemingly as important as his ABCs. Nevertheless, was that seriously all the hospital bothered to teach their patients? Patients with real PTSD and memory loss, struggling to comprehend the world around them, have to relearn that before anything else? It was absurd.

Exhaustion abruptly washed over him, the urge to yawn slamming him as a wave would. He blinked; were his sleepless nights catching up to him? He could usually go a little longer before this happened, but today didn't carry that fortune, apparently.

What should have only been a cue to get home and get some rest sent his head spinning.

He did not want to leave yet.

Perhaps, he should. He had come to see Kruger yesterday, after all, making him conscious of overstaying his welcome. Last week, the rain had been his aid, giving him an excuse to stay until it blew over. Today, the sky was almost empty, leaving him to his own. Today, he had no excuse.

Perhaps, just a little longer. No one else looked to interrupt them, and Mr Kruger hadn't yet seemed irritated. "Falco?" Kruger's voice was a battering ram, interrupting his spiral when it had barely begun. Unusually, he was looking straight at him, rather than that side-glance he gave though thick bangs. It was something Falco was unfamiliar with. Suddenly, Mr Kruger was a raven – the lone, opportunistic bird analysing carefully before swooping in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Kruger..." his voice trailed off, cheeks heating up. Could he not even hold a normal conversation? "Um-"

"Have you not been sleeping well?" but Mr Kruger was no scavenger. Every word he spoke showed a man who had no fear of taking action. When Mr Kruger waited upon his answer, he felt no fear about saying the wrong thing. Only an opportunity, to say more than he knows he should. One he would never allow himself to take.

"Yeah...! I mean, it's good." He didn't mean for the last part to be quite so squeaky, but apparently, his vocal cords wished to hear him suffer. "Hum, uh, do you have any letters for your family, Mr Kruger?"

The man didn't reply immediately. Their usual routine was for Mr Kruger to hand him any letters he wanted delivering at the end of their conversation, when Falco was about to leave anyways, so the warrior candidate was immediately aware of how off he was acting. Unfortunately, his mouth was working faster than his brain right now.

"No. Not today." Mr Kruger had that vacant quality to his voice again, looking away. Falco let out a breath. Trying to change the conversation into their usual laid-back chatter, Falco recalled an afternoon event.

"We were trying to whistle today," he started, "me and the other recruits, with the one where you use two fingers."

"And how was that?"

"Gross." he grumbled. "None of us did much else than get saliva everywhere... definitely no actual whistling" He shuddered upon remembering Gabi nonchalantly wiping it on her uniform repeatedly until countless dark splotches covered the front. As with everything, she refused to give it up for an unreasonable amount of time.

"Is that so? Let's see your best attempt then Falco."

"Oh! Eh... I can't do it at all really." He shrugged his shoulders lightly, knowing how humiliating that would look.

Mr Kruger shifted in on the bench and held out his right hand, creating a C shape with his thumb and middle finger. "Start with this, then."

'He knows how to do it? And is willing to teach he?' Falco smiled brightly – Mr Kruger truly was a kind soul – and held out his own right hand in the same position.

"Flatten your tongue and angle your fingers so they point inwards," he instructed, and Falco followed along, now attempting it properly. He attempted to make a humming noise to show he was still listening, resulting in a strange garble. The veteran gave an approving nod. "Now, make an 'O' shape with your mouth and make an 'bluh' sound. The fingers will change the sound into a whistle."

Falco scrunched his eyebrows. That didn't sound right, in any possible way, but he didn't exactly know how to do a regular whistle either. He tried it out, only to hear a 'bluh', the fingers having no particular effect. He tried again, confused, making his 'bluh' louder.

Baffled, Falco looked over at the man. Mr Kruger had a small smirk at the edge of his lip. Taken aback, Falco paused; had he ever seen the veteran smile before? He couldn't recall ever seeing –

Hang on.

Was Mr Kruger messing with him?

He promptly became aware of how absurd he must look right now, and felt an intense need to curl into himself until he disappeared entirely. He groaned loudly, burying his head in his clean hand in mortification.

"Sorry," the veteran apologised, "It was too easy." Falco huffed – he didn't sound sorry at all! "Come on, I'll teach you properly now."

"But that was so sneaky!" he cried, digging out his face from his palm to shoot Mr Kruger a look of disbelief.

"I suppose it was." Now he definitely sounded amused.

Falco pouted... but found he was far from mad. Rather, as the embarrassment ebbed just a little, he found himself strangely gleeful; because Mr Kruger smiled.

Falco huffed once again, more for the sake of it than real annoyance. "Do you know how to actually do it, Mr Kruger?"

Rather than directly replying, Mr Kruger simply created a C with his fingers and whistled, louder than any whistle he had heard, but quiet enough that it would not draw unnecessary attention. "It can be much louder," the veteran explained upon finishing. To Falco, it appeared perfectly controlled, and unnecessarily cool. Like all things Mr Kruger did.

"You're really good at that," Falco complemented, the initial trickery already forgiven. "Did it take long to learn it?"

"It took me a while, but it's like anything else – once you learn it properly, it's hard to forget." Mr Kruger told him. "You need to cover your teeth with your lips until their not visible," Falco nodded at the admission, and went to try again, creating a C once more.

"Young man, what are you doing here?"

Everything seemed to shift with those words. Falco froze: every muscle tightened, every bone weighing twice as much. His eyes glued to a patch of grass. He heard his blood begin pounding in his ears, heard his heart trying to escape his ribcage.

'Why, why now? Why is my grandpa here? This isn't supposed to – what reason, what possible reason, could he even have for coming here, it's not... he shouldn't know anyone from here!' Every thought was a needle, stabbing him with dread.

The hand was on his shoulder was heavy – an already tense shoulder practically started shaking. He wanted it off, he wanted it off now, right now; he did not move a muscle.

Eyes were on him – Mr Kruger's eyes – he knew it. Embarrassment sunk the needles deeper into his skin. The instinct to run suddenly became overwhelming. It wasn't rational, he had to act normal – he had already messed up today, and now he was doing it again. He was hopeless, pathetic.

His grandfather said something, and Falco dimly recognised the sound of his bag moving. Taken from him. The weight of it by his side lifted. His heart grew louder – everyone could hear it now, Mr Kruger could hear it now. He was sure of it.

Falco got to his feet. Unable to lift his head, he could only murmur out an apologetic goodbye and turned on his heels, dodging past his grandfather's figure and quickly evacuating the area. His pace was brisk. He wanted to sprint. Now that he was moving, he wasn't able to stop; he just had to get away from that old man.

Hours later, and the shame had only grown. Sitting at the head of his bed with legs crossed over, Falco held his face in his hands.

The humiliation still lingered like a rotten taste in his mouth. Why did he have to find him there? Would he ever feel safe there again? Could he ever face Mr Kruger again?

It wasn't fair. He'd found a place to go where he had no expectations on him, no stress of pleasing superiors and competing for a thirteen year death sentence to save his best friend and crush, nor from playing hide and seek in his own home. He'd found an unexpected... friend? (Could he say that? Were they friends? He hoped so...) that'd helped him out so much.

Maybe he was nothing more than a messenger that talked too much to Mr Kruger. He did not think he was particularly good company, nor was he blind to the fact the man needed his help with the letters. The thing was... he didn't care. If he could help such a kind and inspiring man out, there were no qualms to be had. He just hoped he wasn't too annoying.

His thoughts were cut off by a voice from downstairs.

"Are you sure, grandpa?" Colt asks.

"Of course. That money was earned by allowing me to have such a wonderful grandson. Have fun tonight; remember to introduce yourself to as many people as possible. After all, a boy as wonderful as you will make a great impression. Especially with the ladies, I'm sure."

"That's... yeah, hum, if you say so."

"Then I say so. I'll see you later."

"Have a good evening with Falco, then. Hopefully he actually tries to talk with you tonight..."

"I'm sure he's just shy. You don't need to worry so much, Colt."

"Okay." He heard a sigh in his brother's voice. "See you later."

With that, the sound of the front door closing echoed around the house. As it did, Falco took a deep breath, willing it to be steady. The sound of shoes ascending the stairs made him grit his teeth regardless. A haunting second passes, and then his grandfather was in his room.

Falco was eight years old again. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he felt his grandfather loom over him. From his bed, s stray wire dug into his tailbone painfully, but he did not shift a muscle. Said muscles were sore, the familiar sensations making him feel defenceless. He sat there, trying to keep his breathing even in the oppressive silence his grandfather allowed to linger.

"Look at me, Falco."

As fast as his nerves allowed, the boy did so.

The old man's face was about how he remembered it – thin with a large nose that hooked slightly. He was neither particularly short nor tall, neither chubby nor thin. He just looked like any other older man, unassuming and forgettable. The thing that separated him from any other human was not tangible, nor easily put into words. It was the look in his eye as he stared the young boy down, the edge to it, the way his lips parted slightly as his eyes left his face. Something so subtle, even his own son, and Falco's father, failed to recognise. Even Falco himself still struggled to look for too long.

"Colt is worried for you." The elder's tone was rigid. "He's a good young man, working hard for this family. Thanks to him, you and your parents will become Honorary Marleyans in a year. Your parents deserve that, having worked so hard to raise you boys right. They must have done it good to have a son like Colt."

Still not breaking the eye contact, his grandfather took another step forward, making Falco's neck ache as he looked up.

"Do you think you deserve that, Falco?"

"No, grandfather." There was no point in making his grandfather mad by disagreeing. He thought so too, anyway.

"Of course you don't. You've been given everything that your brother has, all the love you could want, yet you're lacking behind. To tell the truth, it never feels like you can do anything right. You're too lazy and inept to achieve anything." The only sounds in the room was his grandfather's voice, the only smell that pungent old-man odour his grandfather always had around him. "We are your family. We put up with you and your behaviour because we have no other choice. But your mother, your father, brother: they deserve better than to wait on you to pull yourself together and become a proper young man."

Falco did not know what to say, or what to do. He knew his grandfather wasn't lying – but something inside him told him he wasn't being truthful, either.

"I hoped that when you came back from war, you'd be a better child. But you've already shown how untrustworthy you are. Falco, do your parents know you go to that insane asylum? That you visit those crippled nutcases?"

Falco shook his head slowly. "No, grandfather." The boy had never told his parents, because he liked the independence he felt from not including them in everything he did. Not once had he considered they might not like him visiting the hospital, especially considering how normal interacting with adults on his own had become in the war.

"You think they'd like you talking to strangers like that? Let alone those crack-heads that could hurt you? If I tell them, they'd be so disappointed."

Falco frowned further. The nurses never scolded him for being there. Were they just putting up with him too? Was Mr Kruger?

"Please don't, please don't grandfather..." he did not want to be a burden, he wanted to be useful. To help someone who needed it... not this...

"Why wouldn't I?" His grandfather snarled as his face contorted to reveal that flowing anger below the surface. "You've been keeping secrets and are now asking for a favour? What a selfish child you are."

"I'm sorry, Grandfather." Falco apologised in an effort to appease him, soothe over that growing rage. "I'm sorry..."

"You think that'll fix it, boy? What you need is proper discipline." The elder was practically standing over him now. Falco's heart sunk, suddenly realising what was to come. His expression must have betrayed him, as the old man continued, "It's that, or I tell you're parent's what a lying little brat you are, Falco. It's for your own good."

For his own good. Falco didn't know if that was true. He thought he had realised the truth in his time away but he felt more confused than ever. His grandfather was so kind with everyone else, his thoughts flicking to what he heard with Colt earlier... why was he so different?

It wasn't that he was afraid of being friends with Mr Kruger – it was the opposite, he was proud to know such an intelligent man. However, his instincts forewarned him that his grandfather would spin it into something it was not for his parents. Moreover, in a worst-case scenario, what would happen if Mr Kruger were found out to be lying about his illness?

"I understand Grandfather. I'm so sorry." His grandfather reached to grab the back of his collar, forcing him to stand. A promise of pain sparkled in the elder's eyes.

"I'll make sure of that, kid."

Eren

Eren cringed when Mikasa's door creaked as he closed it behind him, already imagining a stern lecture from his mother for being out of bed.

The girl was up in a second, grey eyes locking onto him he second he entered. Eren stared back, watching her relax a little before sitting up. His eyes caught sight of the scarf, held in her arms like a teddy bear.

"Eren?" she asked tentatively, "are you alright?"

"Yeah." in the back of his head, he wondered if it would be okay to ask why she was so upset about the scarf. It should be – it's a scarf – but he didn't want to ask, somehow. It was confusing.

He glanced at Mikasa again. She didn't seem any different than usual. Yet, he still didn't want to leave.

"Is the scarf really fluffy?" he abruptly asked.

"It... it's very warm."

"Oh."

Eren shuffled a little, thinking. Then he turned to leave.

"Wait, Eren!" he paused, looking over his shoulder.

Mikasa looked at him a moment. Then, quietly, "please don't go."

Eren's mouth bobbed open for a moment, stuck between words. A little, "okay," resulted from it as he turned back, heart feeling lighter.

Walking over, Eren sat beside her, still looking at the scarf. He still didn't get it, but if it brought her happiness, he had nothing to complain about. Mikasa shuffled over a little, giving Eren room to slip next to her, the children lying facing each other.

Mikasa pulled the covers up until it reached their chins, not looking him in the eye as she burrowed in half her face. It was awkward, Eren feeling like adjusting his position but not wanting to move. Eventually, he gave up and shuffled around, trying not to touch her in case she was dozing off.

Finally comfortable, Eren glanced to see the girl watching him again. Even in the dark, her grey eyes were still visible. Eren hadn't slept with his parents in years, and his chest felt tight as he tried to adjust to the feeling. It was strange, hearing another person's breath besides his. Knowing she was right there, fingers an inch away. Both he and Armin had no siblings, yet he wondered, is this was it's like? Were he and Mikasa siblings? They shared a home, and had for months now, even if his parents hadn't done anything formal about adopting her. 'Will they? How long did that take?' He found himself wishing they'd get on with it already, because Mikasa needed to know this was most definitely her home. Perhaps it was complicated again, and he was missing something. 'Well, they should at least talk to her about it.'

In the dark, Mikasa murmured a soft goodnight.

"Night." he whispered back.

It took longer than usual for Eren to fall asleep, but when he did, it was deep and filled with colourful dreams.

At breakfast, he and Mikasa shared in their new secret, silently deciphering whether his parents knew he'd been wondering around last night. They shared a conspiratorial smile as his mother saw them off for the day without a word – even allowing them to take an extra handful of juicy blueberries she'd gathered yesterday.

Best of all, Mikasa was completely back to normal. She stuck to his side all morning, and he was content in letting her. At least she wasn't protecting him this time. Rather, it made him feel like a superhero, and he walked to Armin's house with a puffed chest.

Then Mikasa completely bested him once more by scaring the bullies off again, and he was back to pouting. By the time they grew up, he'd surely be stronger, and he'd look after both of them. Any bullies that tried to hurt them, any men that dared look at Mikasa too long or in a wrong way would surely meet his fist. Then, he'd be a real superhero for them.

Chapter Text

Falco

"And that," Gabi boasted, "is how it's done!"

The candidates stood in their small group inside the courtyard, waiting for their instructor to arrive. Udo and Zofia looked reluctantly impressed at Gabi's loud whistle, nailing it with only a day's practice. Falco shared the sentiment, though he wasn't surprised; of course she'd managed it after how determined she'd been on Saturday. Unfortunately, Gabi once more dousing her shirt with spit tainted the impressive image.

"How'd you even learn that?" Udo enquired, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Reiner taught me. He wouldn't at first, but I convinced him!" Gabi said, looking off to the side with a grin.

"So you pestered him into doing it?" Zofia deadpanned. Gabi shrugged, but her grin widened.

"He just couldn't say no to this cute face!" Then she turned to look directly at himself. "I suppose none of you could keep up, huh?"

Falco watched her for a second, contemplating to himself as Udo and Zofia argued back, sounding indignant. It was true – he'd once again fallen behind.

Unable to sleep last night, he'd come to a decision. Multiple decisions, actually.

Firstly, he'd no longer rely on others for strength, ever again. He was sick of feeling weak, and would probably continue to do so, but others shouldn't have to deal with his incompetence and laziness. So, he'd make sure he'd improve himself, by himself. He'd double the extra training he did and put all of his effort solely on becoming the Armoured Titan. He would not bother Mr Kruger anymore – the humiliation was just too much – and only visit once a week to deliver letters for him.

Secondly, he would try to avoid his grandfather's tempter, no matter how demeaning. It would not be brave, but he knew it wasn't worth the trouble. Not to say he thought he had the strength to do so either way. It was a hell he couldn't handle – someone like him was just too pathetic for that.

He'd most definitely fail at becoming the Armoured Titan's successor. Gabi was so brilliant, a shining star that he had no choice but admire. No matter what anyone personally thought about the girl, her talent shone too brightly to be ignored. Confident and naturally gifted, no other candidate stood a chance, and could only stand and watch from the shadow she cast onto them.

He stood no chance against her, but refused to give her up. A star like her must brighten up the sky for far longer than thirteen years.

The following week had dragged on for an eternity.

Falco had increased his hours spent training as promised, adding two to three hours daily so that he would barely arrive home in time for dinner. With the training being intensely physical, he would collapse into bed after eating to fall asleep instantly.

The additional extra training took its toll far faster than Falco would have imagined – to the point that their instructor, Mr Kaes, had told him, "just get lost already," looking fed up. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop – this was all he had left to him: ensuring Gabi's safety. If he failed, he'd have nothing, be nothing, forever regretting not being able to save his best friend.

Of course, there was one obstacle to his focus. A face that haunted him at night and caused him increased paranoia.

Falco was never free from his Grandfather for long, even when the man was not there.

It was almost funny. Even in the war, nothing had made him feel this way. He was terrified at many points in those trenches. The knowledge a bomb could fall and end your life without warning wasn't a light thought to have. Fortunately, humans are remarkably adaptable animals, especially when they're young - and so to his great surprise, he and the other candidates had adjusted relatively well to the bleak lifestyle of trench warfare. Coping with the bombs and thuds one day at a time, holding onto a hope that someday it would come to an end, they made do with those dreams that they could be free from war, even if another one would soon succeed it.

His life was no longer directly endangered. There were no enemy lines, bombings, or surprise attacks. Nevertheless, the uncertainty of his grandfather playing games with him, not knowing what he'd try next, and when, made him paranoid and jumpy.

It was Thursday now. Almost a full week since he had last seen Mr Kruger. In the end, Falco had decided to deliver any letters the veteran had at least once a week, not wanting to abandon someone who needed help.

As Falco had discovered, actually going back was even harder than he'd anticipated.

Upon seeing the wall to the hospital, the unease stirring mildly began to heave his stomach over in his chest. Never had anyone before seen the panicked state his grandfather so easily sent him into – no one but the old man himself.

'This isn't about you,' he reminded himself, 'it's about Mr Kruger being able to keep in touch with his family.'

Sure enough, said veteran was right where he always seemed to be. As he noticed his quiet approach, the man fixed him with a look that Falco ducked his head to avoid.

"Hello, Mr Kruger...." Falco tried to project his voice louder than his shame would allow. "Do you have any letters you need delivering?"

"You won't sit down, then?" Mr Kruger asked, not answering the question. Falco just hunched his shoulders, head titling to the side to look even further from the man. 'Could this be anymore humiliating?' he heard the veteran sigh, and a letter came into his peripheral.

He went to take it, the paper slipping as it always did between his thumb and finger, but... Mr Kruger didn't let go for a second.

"Falco," said boy did not look up, but immediately noticed a subtle change to the man's voice. The usual monotone had something different mixed in that was far more visceral. "Would you come here tomorrow? I'd like to see how your whistling has progressed."

Falco felt his jaw slack slightly, followed by the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. His throat swallowed air as he composed himself – 'why are you so happy? Say no.'

The singular word would not come out. The offer was an opportunity to escape, right there in front of him, and he selfishly wanted to grasp it no matter what. He didn't want to miss out on Mr Kruger's advice, his composed presence that reassured him with its simple consistency. He didn't want to lose this calm, sturdy aspect of his life.

But he already had. His grandfather had found him and now this couldn't help him any longer.

"Sorry, Mr Kruger... I'm, uh, busy tomorrow, so..." The air seemingly thickened with every second that passed.

"If that changes, then – I'd like to talk with you."

Falco blinked, looking up at the man. 'But, that isn't... he makes it sounds like...' whichever way, he didn't have a retort for that.

"Uh... Okay."

The letter's full weight fell on top of his fingers as Mr Kruger let go.

Falco quickly put distance between them despite that being the opposite of what he wanted. Quickly, he left the hospital behind. Still, the conversation couldn't be abandoned so easily, Falco's mind turning over all that'd just happened. Mr Kruger had made it clear that he wanted to see him here tomorrow, and not for any reason involving his ability to deliver letters.

Of course, it could just be pity, but Falco doubted it - it didn't quite fit together somehow. Mr Kruger did not seem the type. Still, he couldn't deny how much lighter his steps gradually got. How his shoulders loosened the more he pondered it.

Why did Mr Kruger have to be so nice to him? He wasn't family so he had no obligation. He'd tried to make it clear he'd deliver letters either way and yet the other didn't seem to jump on that opportunity at all. Was he... really not annoyance? Despite embarrassing himself by running away last time?

The day after, Falco didn't know how to feel.

One previous Friday, he was filled with nervous energy, calculating what he could do that evening to avoid going home - wondering if he would seem weird if he visited Mr Kruger on such a rainy day. The time after, his grandfather caught him.

Today that thought process had been even more confusing.

He wasn't sure exactly how much Mr Kruger had picked up on, but he'd clearly come to some realisation. More than that, he hadn't pushed him away.

One thing he was confident about though, was that Mr Kruger would keep his word. He didn't know the man that well, but despite his curiosity he didn't feel like he needed to. He didn't know the names of any of his family members or even his first name, but he knew other things. Mr Kruger liked summer the best out of any season, was surprisingly into cooking, and was undeniably bad at math. more so than that, he had the type of personality that couldn't be overshadowed. Despite what his appearance and modulated tones would suggest, he was passionate and fierce. He was the type to go after what he wanted without hesitation, and not back down.

That was something Falco could not help but admire and take strength from. He was sure that many others had been inspired by that raw determination, too.

All of that meant nothing.

Disobeying his Grandfather was not an option when he knew where the hospital was. Going again this Friday would certainly evoke that rage, the consequences of which Falco was never allowed to know until it was too late.

Under the threat of it repeating today, the memories of last week would not leave him alone. From the moment Colt left him behind, being cornered in his room, and then... his grandfather teaching him a lesson. As he had grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him to the kitchen sink, where he was pulled above the water, filthy from being used to clean up the dishes.

"It'll clean out your filthy, lying mouth now." It went on forever.

Falco could barely concentrate on his training.

The morning had been regular mathematics, which was one thing he actually had a solid lead on compared to the others, since he usually enjoyed it. Gabi would tease him relentlessly about that (Udo and Zofia weren't shy to join in either), but he didn't particularly care: unlike most subjects, it wasn't biased and coated in propaganda, so he actually felt like he was learning something that was one hundred percent factual for a change. He wasn't a natural by any means, but he once he understood something it was very satisfying to get the answers right.

Marleyan children have to learn all sorts of things, like art, languages, music and dance. How lucky they were.

Afterwards had come target practice. Zofia had done surprisingly well today in target practice, having taking to a handgun far better than the large riffles they were more accustomed.

At his best, Falco could compete with her, getting bull's-eyes on occasion but consistently shooting in the centre. Udo tended to be a little more behind, often shooting to high then overcompensating by going too low.

Today, however, Falco was dead last.

Gabi had stolen the show as per usual. Despite only using the handguns for a month, her aim was slowly climbing back to its usual near perfection.

"Ease up your shoulders a little more, Udo, Falco," Zofia suggested, noticing Falco getting stressed after missing twice in a row. "You'll find your flow again in time."

Falco was clearly being the dud today, yet Zofia seemed in the mood to tease Udo instead. "You're always too quick to get emotional."

"Am not." Udo retorted, reloading his pistol with more force than necessary. He earned a harsh side-eye from the girl for that.

"You won't get anywhere like that," Gabi chimed in, gazing at them over her shoulder. "A warrior must keep a level head at all times, you know."

The three other candidates exchanged exasperated looks. Without a word, they silently decided it wasn't worth it to point out the obvious irony – they needed to focus right now anyways.

Taking aim once more, Falco drew in a deep breath, then held it has he shot at the target. The gun's recoil was far more controllable than he was used to, and he saw he'd almost gotten a bull's-eye, maybe an inch off.

"I definitely see where you were coming from, Zofia," Falco commented, referring to something she'd said much earlier. "Once you've got the hang of them, these pistols make the usual riffles seem clunky."

Zofia responded in kind, and the relaxed chatter continued to fill the air for the next hour. The others all steadily improved, progress quick with the skill slowly forming new muscle memory.

Falco had emptied out yet another clip, reloading and taking aim once more. It could almost be fun, when it was like this; when their supervisors got too lazy to watch them properly and only come in occasionally to take notes (to satisfy the higher-ups). Everything seemed a little easier. As if they were just four friends at a shooting range together, competing for the just the sake of it.

Falco used to think like that, before they left for war. As much as he sometimes longed to do so again, he couldn't work his hardest if he simply thought of it as a game, so he refused to let himself. Instead, he faced the current reality; he was practicing to kill other humans, so that he could inherit the Armoured Titan and save Gabi.

...But, this in turn would mean slaughtering thousands in war if he was successful. That the skills he learned will someday be put into action.

The gun in his hand suddenly felt much too heavy. He'd avoided taking lives in the trenches, but if it came to it... could he raise this pistol, point it at a head as easily as he did at a target, and shoot without hesitation?

He shook his head, clearing it and raised the pistol once more – this was not the time. It was simply yet another thought he couldn't risk ever saying aloud.

The training didn't last much longer than that. Soon, the clock hit four o'clock and they were free to leave.

"Not coming again, Falco?" Udo had his hands crossed over his chest, face scrunched together.

"I'm not tired yet... go ahead." Falco muttered back. He had no energy to sound more enthusiastic.

"Suit yourself. Try not to drop dead though." Udo walked off to catch up with the others, giving a small wave.

If he didn't want to upset his grandfather, he had another half hour at most to train, walking back with Colt whose training lasted a little longer.

Despite the added time, Falco could feel himself retrogress with more and more shots missing their aim. Frustration built up fast. 'Stop focusing on the inevitable. There is no point trying to fight back, you know how it ends. What else do you want, anyway? You don't deserve anything more.'

Each tick-tock, tick-tock echoed in his mind. His focus kept lingering from the gun onto anything else, his mind refusing to listen to him. He felt like stomping about in anger, without an outlet for his frustration.

When the clock showed half four, the boy didn't move to put the gun away, but didn't move to shoot again either.

"Would you come here tomorrow? I'd like to see how your whistling has progressed."

Falco's grip on the gun tightened. 'Stop thinking of that. It's not an option. Don't be selfish again.'

Four thirty-five.

The clock marched on, making him squirm. His grandfather would notice if he didn't run to Colt right now. He would not excuse him being late for the third time.

Every joint was stiff and every muscle tense as he unloaded his gun and hefted the gun over his back. He was going home, he was going home, he was going home.

Much to Falco's surprise, Mr Kruger had begun to stand upon seeing him.

Rushing to help him stand up with the crutch, he stood at his inured side, holding out a hand nearby just in case the veteran stumbled – standing up was one of the things the other man found the most difficult with his disability.

"Mr Kruger, did you want to go somewhere?" he enquired, looking up at the older man, who nodded.

"We can talk inside, the doctors know about you anyway." He clarified. Then, in a lowered voice: "The hospital staff would check anyone who enters."

Falco looks up at him, eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting. That only lasted a moment before a rush of emotions caused his eyebrows to rise and mouth was left agape. With a soft sound of agreement, he remained by Mr Kruger's side, and cherished these rare emotions. Mr Kruger had truly thought about this, making sure his grandfather couldn't just waltz in and do what he wanted as if he owned the place.

Falco hoped it would work. His grandfather always got what he wanted.

Just as Mr Kruger had surmised, the doctors seemed familiar enough with the warrior candidate much like the nurses despite him never talking to them. 'Do I really come by that often?' he wondered, 'or are visitors just that rare?'

The hospital room was about what he had expected – it was rather small, cream paint with various stains made up the walls, and he quickly spotted mould in one of the corners, dark and blotchy. He could only see a thin locker as storage. Two beds were positioned at opposite ends of the room, the gap between them only seemed about half a meter wide. Mr Kruger lowered himself onto the bed on the left, and Falco sat beside him rather than on the stranger's bed. It was far more familiar anyways.

"Thank you so much, Mr Kruger." Falco said, hearing his voice come out wobbly, "You... you're so kind. I don't know how I can repay you."

"You already have. Those letters, remember? You've really saved me."

Falco shook his head, fighting the embarrassment the praise caused. "It doesn't feel like enough. It's barely anything compared to all the trouble I'm casing you; I should be doing more in return..."

Mr Kruger was as calm and gentle as ever when he answered, "when you helped me back in the street when I fell, did you do it for something in return?"

The warrior candidate's eyebrows pinched together. "No, but –"

"Then, you've done enough." He said it so firmly, Falco almost believed him. "For many, they're content to watch the world's injustices without ever intervening, sticking to their own routine without lifting a finger to help others. If you asked them why they didn't, they'd tell you they were just minding their own business." Mr Kruger paused briefly, and Falco distantly felt himself lean forward, immersed.

"It's a flimsy excuse. Ever since I was a child, I found it pathetic. They talked about themselves as if they were cattle, living each day the same without a mind for changing it, content to eat their own patch of grass without knowing if it will continue to grow or where it came from. I promised myself I'd become more than that – that I'd make a difference: I'd make a change to this world, make something of myself."

Kruger looked back down to him again, the ocean swirling in his visible eye. "You cannot shoot without training. You cannot change anything big without changing something small. Every decision you make, no matter how insignificant, it matters. You cannot do anything great without starting small."

Falco let the man's words sink in, mulling them over in his head. He was starting small, and that would give him a foundation to go beyond that in the future. He thought back to Mr Patterson, the way he'd gone back once he'd found a way to help him. It had made him feel so happy to return to something he previously couldn't change and make a difference, however slight.

Still, something else had him confused. "Cattle?" he questioned.

"Those who are content to live in an unjust world." Mr Kruger said.

Falco pursed his lips. "But... I don't think anyone is fully content with the world. Maybe they're just focused on their own lives."

"Even in their own lives they'll live how others tell them to. It may not be their fault, or their choice: but they are strung along without a say."

Once again, Falco paused to think, his young mind processing those words. He tried to relate it back to Mr Patterson again – he had missed out on that bread, after all, so maybe it was that kind of thing Mr Kruger meant? Or, Falco supposed it could be far less literal – like personal beliefs and dreams, something in their personal lives.

Falco immersed himself in his thoughts for a while, mulling it over. The sounds of birds chirping outside were the only sound for a while, as they both sat in a comfortable silence, but Mr Kruger's steady breathing kept Falco reminded that right now, in this moment, he wasn't alone.

Outside the window, a gust of wind shook the branches of a tree, filling the air with the sound of rustling leaves.

"You always seem to know what to say, Mr Kruger." He spoke softly, ending the silence. He saw Mr Kruger's expression shift subtly at that, eyes woven with emotions for just a second. The soft shaking of his head would've gone unnoticed had it been any more subtle.

"It'd be so much easier if that were true." He responded.

Outside, the wind came to a stop. Silence filled the room once more. As the noise calmed down, Falco's hands clenched the sheets. The voice he spoke in was barely audible, strained. "What more do I need to give?"

He wanted his grandfather to love him, so bad. Regardless, something in him urged him to disobey, over and over. He wasn't willing to become his puppet in order to be loved. He didn't want to be cattle.

"You've done enough." Mr Kruger repeated once more. "Falco, could you look at me?"

Confused, Falco did so. Their eyes met, and Falco was taken aback. Where he once saw a raven, he saw an eagle, bold and intense.

"You are a good kid. If something is happening to you, it is not your fault. If you can, tell someone you trust about what's happening. Another family member, a family friend... even someone from the warrior unit. Don't put up with something you could never deserve."

Everything deep in his bones shook, nerves spiking his adrenaline until he was unable to stop fiddling with his fingers. He tried to keep his nerve with a deep breath. He felt as though he was standing on a cliff, wondering whether it was safe to drop. It wasn't – every thought would tell him – you can't do this. Even if Mr Kruger could provide an endless amount of water in an effort to soften his fall, he would die on impact all the same.

"I don't think I can. What's the point? I don't want to involve you, I don't want to risk this getting worse... what if it interferes with my training even more? Then I could never save Gabi, I wouldn't stand a chance!"

"Falco..."

"I'm sorry, Mr Kruger... for getting you involved. Please just forget about it, okay?" he continued, shaking his head.

"Falco, listen." Mr Kruger interrupted voice a little louder to get his attention. "Just listen for a moment."

Falco wanted to keep explaining himself, but... he heaved in a large breath instead, from where he'd lost it amidst his panicked rambling.

"You're not a bother. You never bother me. I look forward to seeing you, because you're kind and considerate. And I want you to live a happy life, because you don't deserve anything less." Mr Kruger sounded completely sure of himself, a calm confidence that made him seem to be the perfect rock to lean upon.

"I..." his heart beat inside his tense chest, and the act of breathing became a conscious effort. "Last week, you... I..." he felt as if he was dangling from a string.

"Falco. I believe you. Whatever you say, I'll believe you."

Tears gathered in his eyes, the words hitting home as his body shook with emotions he'd never thought he'd share willingly. Overwhelmed, he turned to rest his knee on the bed and press his forehead into Mr Kruger's arm, pressing on his armband. The physical contact grounded his racing mind just a little, pulling heavy breaths out of his lungs.

When the arm pulled away, he froze. 'Wait, he, did I–'

It landed over his shoulders. Gentle, the touch easy for Falco to escape. His tears ran faster as his heart pounded. Unable to keep up with his own emotions, he tried processing everything as he instead leaned his head on Mr Kruger's chest, and the arm around his shoulders gently squeezing.

"Why," he agonised, the words heaving out of his chest, "why does everything have to be so horrible? Why does he have to do that to me? I don't understand... I don't... why?"

Once he started, the words kept coming; a barricade had finally broken, and wouldn't be properly mended for some time.

Chapter Text

Grice was a rather reserved man; that much Grisha had surmised easily.

He kept his past to himself, rarely talked about his family (with an exception for his beloved sister) and kept a certain level of distance between him and their fellow patriots both emotionally and physically.

It was partially due to this that Grisha valued the man's trust so much. They'd been close since he'd first introduced Grisha to the Restorationists all those years ago, the respect and trust they had for each other as comrades obvious to everyone around them.

That's why today had come as such a shock.

It was an average day. As usual, Grisha sent Zeke off to warrior training before leaving to decipher texts with Grice. It was repetitive work, and would have been dull if not for the overwhelming passion Grisha held for discovering their history, retaking it from the Marleyans. Dina, like the angel she was, had just brought them both fresh mugs of coffee, replacing the previously emptied ones.

"This language is truly unique," Grice said, picking up his mug and blowing gently.

"It certainly follows a completely different set of rules, but we'll get there." Grisha responded, picking up his own coffee and placing it to his lips, and – hot! He pulled his arm back, the jerky motion sending coffee flying from the cup.

Immediately regretting the impulsive move – how utterly childish of him spilling things at his age (even Zeke knew better than that) – he saw with dismay he'd managed to spill it all over his trousers and his friend's side.

"Shit, my mistake." Grisha cursed, quickly going to get a wet cloth. Upon returning, he impulsively went to wipe down Grice's side, pressing the wet cloth into his thigh to clean with spillage.

The reaction was immediate.

Grice bolted up from his seat and before Grisha could blink, he was standing a few paces away. The eye contact was brief, but he could describe his friend's eyes as if he had stared for hours – the flash of intense fear unforgettable; a flash that lasted not even a second, before returning to normal.

It had happened hours ago now, but it kept replaying in Grisha's mind. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. What that thing was, Grisha couldn't put his finger on. Nevertheless, it left him unable to concentrate properly, refusing when Dina gently suggested he took a break.

In the end, Grisha had never figured out exactly what'd gone so wrong that day. Both men had opted to act as if nothing was happened, neither willing to bring it up before the other. And as Grisha sat in the basement, writing the story of how Grice had introduced him to the Restorationists, he felt a weak smile tilt his lips. In an ideal world, he'd of had that discussion with Grice, bite that bullet and offer the man his shoulder to lean on.

Because now, almost eleven years later, he could only reflect on his mistakes, knowing nothing further could have been done.

Eren

Eren watched Falco flee the scene as the older man arrived, unable to make out what the boy had said, though the tone was obviously apologetic.

His gaze quickly switched to the newcomer, observing his dime-a-dozen face. The elder held a relaxed smile that accentuated his wrinkles – it was too wide and his eyes remained dull, without squinting.

"Ah, sorry about him... the kid's just a little shy. I'm his grandfather, you see... I hope he wasn't bothering you." The elder chuckled, as if trying to appear easy-going.

Eren kept him gaze even. He hadn't asked him who he was, nor for an explanation of Falco's behaviour – and yet he'd been provided one anyway. Add that too his body language (rigid, shoulders slightly hunched) and the picture became clear.

It appeared that a single encounter had answered all of his father's questions.

Receiving no answer to his question, the elder chuckled again. "Quiet, huh? You got something to hide, son?"

'Projecting, huh?' Eren thought, a scowl threatening to creep out at just how blatant this man was to his eyes.

"I don't," he replied instead.

With the conversation dead before it could begin, the elder just nodded his head, turning to leave. "Well, I'll be leaving then. Don't worry, he won't be bothering you again, I'll make sure he–"

"One wasn't enough for you, is that it?" Eren interrupted. He watched with satisfaction as the man blinked, shoulders hunching an inch further. "Ruining childhoods for amusement must be a joy I've yet to discover."

His satisfaction multiplied upon seeing the monster's face flicker across the mask, even when it was quickly replaced by an even larger grin. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that, sir."

Instead of answering, Eren grabbed his crutch and slowly lifted himself, keeping his balance despite the absence of assistance threatening to make him fall back onto the bench.

He didn't look back once at the elder, despite hearing him continue to mutter –instead ambling forward.

Getting himself involved with this would have consequences – and none of them beneficial. Back on Paradis, he would have already intervened and refused to let any child return to a home with someone who caused such a viscerally terrified reaction.

Not that this mattered. Here in Marley, he was a crippled soldier with severe PTSD, vulnerable and passive to the world around him. He held no power, no authority. Anything he did was more likely to hurt Falco, more than help him.

Even with that logic, his proactive nature was not willing to be suppressed so easily and simply walking away made his mood plummet for the rest of the day, on edge and unable to forget.

"There you go, Mr Kruger, breathe in slowly now." The nurse was a rather short man with bobbed brown hair that he didn't see around too often. He nodded at the other, keeping his eyes downcast as the nurse cleaned his wound, the painful prodding making him involuntarily wince.

It'd been days since he'd last seen Falco. Since the incident with the boy's grandfather, he'd yet to return. So far, Eren had yet to come up with a reliable backup plan in case he never did.

Whether he wanted to be so or not, Eren was entirely reliant on Falco whilst in Liberio to contact both Zeke and his comrades. There weren't many Eldians who had permission to leave the internment zone on a regular basis, and fewer he'd trust to never peak at the letters or ask too many questions. Zeke couldn't risk being seen with him either, and so all their talks had to be in private. He could only hope the man would catch that something had changed.

With the recent revelation, that misuse of Falco's trust was hitting him harder than ever. Taking advantage of a child never sat right with Eren, but knowing that child was likely in a vulnerable position made the titan shifter even more guilt-ridden. The world was so fucked, giving him trial after trial in order to protect his loved ones. Perhaps if Zeke did come to talk, he could ask for another solution.

"There we go, looking good!" The stout man smiled, gazing at the newly cleaned bandages around his covered eye. He bobbed his head up and down lethargically.

"...Yes... thank you." He slowed his words slightly, barely noticeable unless you knew what to listen out for. The nurse just turned to clean up the equipment.

"And would you like help going to your favourite spot, Mr Kruger?"

"Yes," he said, response little more than what one would expect from a puppet.

On the bench he always sat on, he watched the nurses retreating figure disappear back into the hospital.

Playing a wounded soldier was about as exciting as one could expect, but time seemed to pass by easier out here. When he'd sit, gazing at clouds, without any particular line of thought. It was easier not to think of the future, sometimes, and just stay in the present. There wasn't much more he could do – his future was set in stone. He just had to see it through now.

Something kept his mind from wandering too far.

Out here, he distantly waited for the familiar call of a twelve-year-old boy, his frequent visits turning into a routine he slowly grew accustomed to. At some point, Eren couldn't pin point when, he had grown to appreciate his company as well as his help. For his age, he held a mature conversation well, listening carefully with a calm gaze. And it would take a fool not to notice the boy's clear admiration.

Eren preferred when Falco talked rather than listened. It was rare, but he enjoyed listening to his stories, his naive perspective describing a world Eren had barely ever seen. It'd always take some encouragement, the boy seemingly unsure if Eren was even interested in what he had to say... even though he was usually the one to lead the conversation there. If Eren had seen the cruelty of the world from a young age, then Falco saw the beauty, focusing on small details and kind acts of others that brightened a dim picture just a little more. And even for just a minute or so, simply nodding along to what the boy was saying gave him a respite from his own mind.

When the boy was gone, and he was left alone once more, he'd push out any lingering thoughts and make his way back inside, knowing he must keep his resolve untouchable.

He was prepared to do anything for his family – for Mikasa, Armin and everyone else, there was no limit to how low he'd sink. He would never leave their fates to chance; it was unthinkable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Falco approaching, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. Good, he was okay... and, this letter had been around for days now; he needed it gone before some nurse got too nosey.

He noticed the usual tinge of guilt that was growing steadily as he had gotten to know the kid more had suddenly become far more noticeable.

As he suspected, Falco was awkward, not knowing how to say what he wanted and looked like he would bolt at any second. Of course, Eren couldn't let that happen. Until he could ensure contact with Zeke once more, he needed the boy to keep in contact with his comrades. No matter how long it took to get the boy to deliver his letters he'd -

"Do you have any letters you need delivering, Mr Kruger?" Falco asked.

"You won't sit down, then?" Eren asked, something uneasy brewing in his chest as he handed over the letter. The boy refused again.

Eren hadn't thought of Falco as selfish, but he'd thought it'd take more than just continuing to help him deliver letters for him (supposedly only to let his family know he was okay) and to return after what'd happened. Falco was so obviously uncomfortable, wanting to leave as soon as possible, yet he'd put that aside to help him.

In other words, no guilt-inducing manipulation was needed. Falco would deliver his letters without Eren needing to do anything.

No more amicable chats or careful wording required – he'd secured a reliable and effortless delivery.

Eren could go of the letter.

Nothing more was needed.

The next time he saw him, it would only be to deliver letters.

...It'd be for the best.

"... I'd like to talk with you." He ended up saying. He saw the widening of hazel eyes, his childish face unable to hide it morphing into something akin to joy.

He missed them.

Every thought he had seemed to aim only to contradict the former. What he wanted, what he had to do.

This was supposed to be nothing. This should mean nothing. Eren was still unwilling to let go of that letter – to let this play out. It was only when Falco agreed to his appeal, only then could he let go of the letter.

Nevertheless, in that single moment, his emotions won out. To a boy he had only known for two months, not involved in his years of struggles, a innocent party. Falco, who was equally in need of an opportunity to freely express his thoughts, with his feelings of inadequacy being all too familiar. It was only when Falco agreed to his appeal, only then could he let go of the letter.

No matter what he would claim otherwise, he knew this was a selfish decision, a false promise of safety where there was none.

He'd acted on impulse once again, allowed his emotions to control him once more. It'd only make it worse in the long run, when – fuck, he knew his path, what the future held.

The last few years of Eren's life had been an uphill battle, trying to suppress emotions that he felt so passionately. His natural instincts were to act first and think later. Think much, much later. Going against this in order to achieve his goals was necessary. Since arriving in Marley, he had been pushed to extinguish his burning anger time after time, becoming the docile Mr Kruger who could barely speak in full sentences.

Freedom he knew to be a delicate thing. To let it go – becoming what he was not – felt like a betrayal of the highest order, even knowing it was temporary.

No matter how stubbornly he suppressed those thoughts, they remained, suppressed, and allowed for cracks to form, refusing to let him catch the ball Zeke willed him too.

In the present moment, the entire wall succumbed to those cracks, swept away.

Now, there was only Eren Yeager. Everything that Falco confided to him sent tremors of rage throughout his body, that which had suppressed for months. He focused on nothing but ensuring those words continued to flow out.

Once the floodgates opened, they would not close. Eren wrapped an arm around the child, holding him close as he bawled into his chest. Those sobs were what made his rage boil to such extremes – a child's desperate call for help when they'd lost their foundation and had little left to lean on.

The arm he lent was a pillar, supporting the weeping boy without a second thought – a response equally as instinctual, as human – to answer the child's call. It was all Eren had – he had never been around many children, beside those in the last few years who idolized him -never considered how to care for them. All he had left to respond with was his gut feelings and memories of others caring for him.

"I... I didn't... I didn't get it. At the time, I..." Falco paused as his face scrunched up further. Wordlessly, he took the tissue Eren's free hand passed him. Trembling hands rubbed his face vigorously, as if the harshness would force his emotions down. Bloodshot eyes reddened further under the harsh treatment, and his trembling escalated.

Eren pulled him closer. The arm he'd placed on his back squeezing him a little tighter than what would be comfortable. The other hand reached slowly to take away the used tissue, placing it on the side table and shaking another one haphazardly from the box. This time, he did not offer it to Falco, but did it himself, and watched as the boy's initial confusion from doing so dissipate into a trembling "Thank you..."

Slowly, Eren rubbed Falco's shoulder. The gentle, repetitive motions seemed to work – though tears still continued to glide down his reddened face, Eren felt his heartbeat slow, trembles subsiding. With his free hand, he slowly placed it on the top of Falco's hair. When the boy didn't flinch away from the movement, he stroked over it slowly, memories of his mother doing the same for him flashing fleetingly though his mind – an overly headstrong nine year old weeping about something most certainly insignificant, but always able to turn to his mother.

He felt arms wrap around him slowly. His attention returned to Falco as quickly as it'd left, however fleeting. 'What about Falco's mother...?' as Falco had briefly told him how his grandfather had slowly escalated his horrific behaviour he'd yet to bring up any other adult getting involved. Eren wanted to ask, but opted to let Falco tell his story in his own time.

Right now, the boy had opted to take a pause, letting his breaths even out as the emotional breakdown subsided. Eren let his embrace loosen a relax more into a gentle hold. Whatever was going on with the boy's family, he'd chosen to tell him, and that said enough on its own.

Eren's hands stayed gentle – gentle and steady. He was infuriated, but he was not that impulsive boy who made his mother worry over him constantly anymore; he wouldn't let himself be. Dousing his rage was a heavy blanket so that Falco could not see it he took a steadying breath.

The boy had spoken of a monster, one that preyed on children for nothing other than their own sadistic pleasures. A predator not fit to see the light of day – no, that didn't deserve to breathe.

Humanity was truly filled with vile individuals. People who hid behind a mask in public, whilst letting themselves behave as the monsters they truly were in private, were individuals Eren had never always despised. Those who felt the need to wear masks rarely had anything good to show. Even Historia, who was truly kind-hearted, had bothered him simply by hamming up her sweet nature to an unbearable degree to appease others.

If that'd made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, this made him want to vomit.

Eren knew that if it wasn't for his father, he'd never of been able to help Falco – it was his memories of the older Grice that'd made Eren realise what had been going on so quickly. However, choosing to help was acting of his free will. He chose what to do with his father's memories, and how they affected him.

Before crossing the ocean, he'd decided to cast memories of the internment zone out of his mind, preferring to let himself believe there was nothing on this side of the ocean but monsters, enemies to be destroyed.

It hadn't taken long before he could no longer let himself think that way. There are monsters here, but only in ways that could also be found in Paradise. However, there were good people here too. If he were to destroy all his enemies, they'd die along with them.

His hand brushed over Falco's hair again, the soft blonde strands smoothed back into place. Falco was one of those people... or, he had been. With this evening, he was no longer someone Eren would be able to overlook in a crowd of his enemies surrounded by innocents.

The feeling of the small boy pressed against him, clinging to him as though he was somehow capable of fixing everything, made Eren feel as powerful as the God some claimed him to be; all he wanted to do with that limitless power was keep the cruel world at bay.

"I don't know what to do, Mr Kruger..." Falco spoke once more, his cheek still pressed against him. His voice was far more even, but the deep sadness still permeated every syllable. "I feel like... I always thought that when I came back from the war, that things would change. And if they didn't... that I'd be brave enough to face him. But really, I've done nothing."

"You told me." Eren replied. "That's not 'nothing'. It took me years to learn how to be vulnerable, to tell my family how I truly felt without worrying they'd just see me as weak."

Falco shifted to look up at him with a gaze brimming with admiration. "See you as weak...? No way they could of!"

Eren felt himself smile in a brief flash of levity, and he couldn't help but to give his shoulder a quick squeeze. This kid was far too adorable at times.

"I know that now, of course. At the time, though... it was probably projection. I saw myself as weak, because I hadn't been able to become as strong as I thought I had to be. Things I strived to do, I failed to accomplish. I wanted to show them I could be strong, that I could protect them, not the other way around..." Eren paused. His gaze returned to Falco who listened with rapt attention. "...but I was too young. I needed their help, even if I couldn't admit it. Without my family, I'd be dead, ten times over. Falco, there's nothing wrong with needing help – in fact it takes a kind of courage to do so."

Falco hummed, looking off to the side with a thoughtful gaze.

The door opened, a nurse entering the small room with a tray – Miss Varlet, he recognised – and immediately sent them a gaze filled with questions. She'd seem him speaking with Falco before, but this was obviously very different, and he could already hear all of the questions she'd have. Falco tensed immediately, moving to no longer lean on him, though staying close by.

Varlet offered him a smile, strained but with good intentions. She set the tray holding Eren's dinner onto the nightstand by the tissue box. "Shouldn't you be heading home, young man?" She questioned, tone friendly with an undercurrent of sternness. She backed off to allow breathing room in the small space, before turning back to face them from the end of the twin beds.

"He'll be leaving soon." Eren answered, slipping back into a monotone voice. Varlet pondered for a second, before ultimately nodding: "within half an hour, then. I'll be back." With that, she was out the door.

With her quick departure, Eren heaved a sigh. "Falco, try asking your brother if you can sleep in the same room as him tonight. Ask him as soon as you get home, before he gets too fixated on his plans." He said, subconsciously copying Varlet's earlier tone.

"But, I don't want him involved, Mr Kruger..."

"And for now, that's okay. But what's more important than that is your safety... this doesn't mean telling him everything right away."

"Or ever... but... okay." He sighed to himself, looking down. "I really feel like I haven't grown up at all, like I'm just some scared little kid..."

'Because you're an abused child who'd been made to feel worthless and disgusted with himself... what could you possibly do?' Eren thought better than to say this right at this moment, however.

"It's not your fault. You'll work through this Falco, and come out stronger on the other side."

"Strong enough to inherit the Armoured Titan, do you think?" Falco questioned, perking up at the thought. Eren watched him carefully.

"You already are. You just have to prove it to some higher ups." He reassured.

Falco practically beamed at the praise, before he stood and gathered the used tissues, throwing them in the bin.

"I'll see you later, Mr Kruger. Um... sorry about your clothes..."

Eren waved it off – he'd barely noticed that – and said his goodbyes.

After Falco's departure, he shrugged off the jacket to leave his shirt, putting at the end of his bed before going to eat his dinner, (soup with bread at the side with a glass of water accompanying it) chewing slowly.

In his absence, the silence returned.

Chapter Text

Eren

Eren had not been expecting to see Falco again quite so soon.

It was the early morning. Eren had awoken before sunrise as he always did (a strict habit that had remained since he was twelve), getting himself ready and resisting the urge to shave – he seriously hated the stubble – for another day of meandering.

Upon opening the curtains, however, he'd spotted Falco sitting on the ground by the bench they sat at, by the large, bare tree. His back was turned to him, and he seemed to be looking down at something in his lap. He looked up at the bench for a moment, before his head ducked back down.

Confused, Eren grabbed his crutch. 'Shit, did something happen?' he questioned, 'how long has he been there? Did he not feel safe at home? That bastard... did he do something?'

The familiar thump, clack, thump, clack of his crutch kept him company as he walked over, lamenting the slow pace it forced upon him. Falco didn't notice him immediately, seemingly too absorbed in whatever he was doing, only turning to peer at him when he was already close enough that Falco had to crane his neck a fair amount to look at him.

He held a pencil in his left hand and on his lap was a little book.

"Morning, Falco." Eren greeted, amused at Falco seemingly realising how out of place he looked.

"Morning, Mr Kruger," Falco chirped whilst offering a small smile, suddenly looking his age as he peered up at him, his expression unburdened, unlike the stress than usually ran bellow it.

Eren felt something lighten in his chest, and he breathed a little deeper than he'd been previously able to.

"... Is everything alright?" Falco asked, peering at him with his eyebrows drawn together.

"I was going to ask you that," Eren said, stopping besides him and peering down at the book. Although too far to see it clearly, he could make out a sketch of the scene in front of them – the bench and tree framed by the brick wall with the sunrise peeking over.

Noticing his gaze, Falco draped his arm over the book in an attempt to conceal it.

"Eh? Ah, hum, I was just drawing. I thought it was kinda scenic, so..." he looked sheepish, a hand rubbing at his neck.

"You like drawing?"

"Yeah, it's nice. I did it in the trenches a lot to pass the time. There wasn't much to draw there, though, so I mostly drew people, or made things up... it's nice to have things to actually sketch now."

Eren nodded along. "Mind if I take a look? It's probably not as bad as you're thinking."

Falco hesitated for a second, before getting up and holding out his sketchbook for him to see. Eren noticed just how worn it was, the edges creased and cover bent, obviously having been used for quite some time. "Just keep your expectations low, Mr Kruger..."

Eren peered at the drawing with his good eye. It was half done, an overall picture mapped out without much detail. Well done in terms of proportions, the care put into it radiating off the page. The bench and grass hand been done in far more detail, the grass at the bottom of the page done individuality, and the detail faded as it went up. The bench looked slightly lopsided, and he could tell Falco had also noticed from the amount of lines trying to correct it, which was what had drawn his attention to it in the first place.

Falco shifted on his feet, withdrawing Eren from his observation.

"That's impressive. The grass looks really nice." Falco shuffled his feet some more at the praise, retracting the book.

"It does? I mean, that took forever... I didn't know how detailed to go..."

"Seemed like a good amount." Eren responded, surprising himself with how gentle his voice seemed. He hadn't really ever cared about art, and comment on it was a foreign language. Regardless, when Falco looked off to the side with a small smile and demurely thanked him, he figured he said something right.

"I slept in my brother's room last night," Falco said, looking back at him. "I thought he'd laugh at me – and he did, sort of – but he was the one who wanted to cuddle."

Eren nodded, a weight lifted. "Well done. And nothing happened?"

"Nothing happened." Falco echoed affirmatively.

"I'm glad. But you should still consider telling him what's going on... at least think about it." 'Find someone other than me to rely on, kid.'

The younger gave a one-sided shrug. "I really don't think I could do that... but I promise I'll, uh, think about it." It wasn't a yes, but Eren figured that's the best he would get for now.

"You came here pretty early, though." Eren commented. The kid probably didn't want to be around his grandfather all the same, which was more than understandable. "You had breakfast, right?"

Falco immediately looked away, and that was answer enough by itself, despite offering a little: "Probably..."

"Come on, then, the staff won't mind. Some other patients have family that eat in the dining hall anyway." Eren instructed, beginning to walk back inside. Falco trailed by his side. A second later, Eren registered what he'd just done, suddenly feeling as if he were in Mikasa's shoes. 'If she could hear me now...'

"You're sure?" Falco asked cautiously.

"Don't worry so much. The staff members are nice... lax, too."

Falco seemed to believe that, giving a little nod and walked along side him.

Eren remembered that he already had another letter to send, this one to Hange, but wasn't sure about handing it to Falco today. Even if he didn't understand what the letters were right now, he most definitely would in the future. Making him deliver it today, after last night...? It never sat well with him, per say, but that seemed especially cruel.

His mind drifted back to Zeke... the next letter should be to him asking for a more reliable communication method. If he could set it up quickly enough, Falco would not have to be involved anymore... for now. After last night, Eren was far more bothered about misusing his trust.

When the boy departed half an hour later, it was with a good breakfast, no letter, and a far brighter smile.

Falco

"You seem awful happy today, Falco" Gabi accused, eyeing him suspiciously.

Falco peered at her over the textbook that detailed Marley's military history, the obviously biased work barely holding his attention anyways.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Falco retorted, slightly indignant. The longer Gabi stared him down, the more he felt his cheeks start to heat up. 'Does she really have to stare so much...? Wait, did I even brush my hair this morning? Is my breath bad...? I did rush brushing my teeth, and ate afterwards....'

A snort from Zofia distracted him. When Falco looked over, the other candidate pointedly rolled her eyes at him. His face flushed further.

"Have you two even finished reading this yet?" Udo asked.

"I've already read it, so I don't need to. I'm just checking the details over, really." Gabi answered.

Falco and Udo both had the same idea, simultaneously flipping to the end of the textbook.

"What was the name of the battle in the year seven hundred and seventy eight?" Udo challenged.

"I said I had to check it over, don't test me yet! Where you even listening?" Gabi spluttered, her face scrunching up in a way Falco found oddly cute, even if she was full–of–it. She was so easy to tease – not the first to pick up on when it was happening but could be melodramatic when she did. Other times she threw the insults back just as well, if not better than whoever challenged her, confident enough to shrug off any mild blow to her ego. Then, when she would accidentally go too far, she'd not so subtly keep glancing at you to check that you weren't actually hurt by her words.

"You're doing it again!" Gabi's eyes narrowed at him. "Smiling at nothing!"

"I'm just in a good mood, Gabi. Come on, let's just read this over before the instructors get back." The fact that Gabi hadn't actually read ahead gave him a boost in confidence – he'd make sure to memorise the entire thing!

Luckily, it was slightly more interesting than what he'd initially assumed: after a drawn out introduction, a good deal of it was dedicated to detailing the various military tactics embellished with brief autobiographies of the various commanders and captains responsible. Even though they had horrific outcomes, the tactics themselves and the unique looks into the minds that came up with them actually had him genuinely interested.

Three hours later, and their day was finally over, with the final few being hand-to-hand combat. After training, he'd asked the nicest out of their instructors if he could take the textbook home to make notes, and had surprisingly been given the go-ahead.

On the way out, he spotted Vice Chief Braun leaning by a wall, head ducked with a rather serious gaze.

Falco watched for a second, wondering whether to snap him out of it or leave him alone. Something had been bothering him about Mr Braun since the train journey back to Liberio: something was off about Mr Braun, or at least there was more to his story than what could first be assumed. Anything more than that, he couldn't say, and he did not want to pry – he didn't know the man as personally as the Warriors or Gabi, so he wasn't sure it was his place to do so.

'No, it's probably not,' he decided. 'I shouldn't be rude.' Leaving it there, he turned and walked away, but his mind didn't follow his body quite so easily, intuition pinned on the man.

He was sure Mr Braun had quite the story to tell, having been stuck on Paradise for five years. The reports were more akin to a brief timeline than any real information besides the military tactics – at least the ones Falco had access too. For a mission as important as retaking the Founding Titan, he'd of thought there'd be far more to say.

He walked around the back, feet automatically taking him around the alleyway to his brother and Zeke's pitching spot. Sure enough, he heard the familiar thump of a baseball hitting its mark and easy chatter.

"So, I let him, of course. He's still my little brother." Colt said, and Falco immediately furrowed his brows.

'Oh, he isn't talking about what I think he is...'

"You two have always been so close. Falco's lucky to have you, Colt."

Falco did agree with that much, there was no one in the world he loved more than his brother... however.

"I'd be even luckier if he didn't gossip about me behind my back." Falco interrupted, taking a bit off glee in the way his brother seemed to bristle and hunch up like a startled cat. Colt narrowed his eyes at him, and Mr Zeke chuckled.

"Ah, it seems we've been caught." good-naturedly, he threw up his hands in mock surrender and gave him a relaxed smile. Falco also smiled, though a little smugly, at his older sibling. He understood why Colt liked Mr Zeke so much: he was always friendly and charismatic with a good (though perhaps a little strange) sense of humour, which could be hard to come by in the military. Nevertheless, him telling Zeke that he asked to have a sleep together with him last night? He didn't like that at all. He understood that to Colt, there was no deeper meaning to it than Falco simply missing him, or something similar, but it was so much more than that... even if Falco knew it wasn't particularly rational, he felt disheartened.

The two brothers had ended up walking home together, leaving Zeke to his business. It was a Saturday, so Colt had more free time in the late afternoon than usual.

"I said I'm sorry already, Falco, can you stop pouting?" Colt whined at him. Frustratingly, he easily kept up with Falco's rather childish speed walk with his long strides. Falco just gave an exaggerated pout, sticking out his bottom lip until it started feeling dry from the wind, being purposefully annoying.

"Yeah, real mature... will you forgive me for a fresh apple? I know you love them." Okay, that did sound nice, he really liked those slightly tart red apples..., but he would also feel bad making his brother bribe him with food, no matter how much Gabi claimed it was the right of a child to do so.

"Can we go to the town centre instead? And hang out?" he asked instead.

Colt beamed at him. "Yeah, of course!" he paused to readjust his bag. "I'm glad we're spending time together, though. I feel we haven't been doing much of that lately. I didn't say anything bad to Zeke, really – I was really happy when you came over to my room. You used to do it all the time when you were tiny, you loved cuddles more than anything else. I'd always read you the same three books over and over, and you'd fall asleep cuddling me."

Falco felt warm all over. He missed his brother, too. Growing up sucked in that way – why couldn't you cuddle your sibling when you were adults? Falco didn't consider it odd, just lots of other people did. He hadn't thought that Colt would actually be willing to stay home with him rather than go out, but Colt had gotten the biggest smile on his face instead.

Still, nothing was perfect. Every time he was around Colt, he always thought about their grandfather. Falco would sometimes wonder if he'd been abused, too. If Colt didn't have it as bad, for Falco would surely notice the busies – he'd looked before – or he just didn't remember it. Falco remembered every time it happened, but maybe that was just because he was so weak. His grandfather had never mentioned doing so... but it's not as if Falco still believed everything he said. Not anymore.

Perhaps, Colt had never seen another side to their grandfather. Considering his idolisation, it'd make sense. That was better, in a way, yet Falco didn't like the thought. Colt only saw a mirage, and for as long as he kept a distance, it could stay. However, if he tried relying on it for water, he'd surely be left empty. There was no guarantee their grandfather wouldn't hurt him in the future.

"Can we do it again?" Falco asked, quietly. "Like a weekly sleepover? On Friday."

Colt smiled at him. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can see the guys at the weekend instead. Besides, I should spend some time with grandpa too." The last past was far from ideal, but he avoided it for now.

"And don't tell Mr Zeke."

"Okay, okay."

Another thought occurred to Falco. "Did you tell Mr Zeke about when we were younger, too?"

Colt paused, looking guilty. "It's not a bad thing, it was really cute..."

"Colt...! Ugh, I can't believe you!" Falco blushed furiously, sending him a glare.

"It was for context, Falco! So he knew why sleepovers are so special to us!"

"...I'm going home."

"Eh? What happened to hanging out?"

"Don't want to anymore." It was fun to be petty sometimes.

By the time the brothers got home after an hour of window-shopping, idle chatting and people watching in the main streets, dinner was already served.

Eren

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Eren looked up to see an old man – no, his grandfather. Balding with white hair. A small, friendly smile.

"Sure."

So the man did.

"Thank you. I'm Yeager, a doctor here in this internment zone. I come here once in a while, see how things are." Eren sensed he was going somewhere. He played along.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Kruger."

"It's pleasure to meet you. I noticed you had company at breakfast today."

"Yeah."

"I believe that boy is part of the Grice family. Nice folks, despite their situation. Do you know them?" Indeed, he was circling something, ready to drop down the centre. If Eren were able, he would kick him down himself.

"I know their situation."

"And you're not from here."

"I believe not."

"Whoever you're delivering those letters to isn't, right?" the other had the audacity to turn, look him in the eye, as if he were a petulant child. "I don't know what you're doing, but that boy - that family – has enough on their plate. And if you're really healthy, you should go back to your own family. Don't wait around for regrets to fester."

His hands twitched, wanting it drag down his face in exasperation. Who was this man to judge him?

Eren was his own lawyer. His morals, the truth, they came second to his singular objective; to defend his client so that he may remain a free man.

"Regrets, huh? Do you have regrets about your own family?"

A simple deflection was all it took.

Eren watched, silent, as he began to break down.

How pathetic.

A pathetic man, little more than a piece of driftwood: aimlessly floating, content to let the tides dictate his course.

He had no one to blame but himself when he was drowned in a wave of his own guilt, left washed up, soon to be forgotten.

Pathetically pitiful.

Eren wouldn't pity him.

Chapter Text

Eren

"It'll be strange tonight," Armin hummed. "I can already feel it."

Leaning on the wall next to him, Eren took a sip of water from his glass before answering. "Of course. You won't have my snoring for company; it'd be a sad day for most.

"You only snore when you drink too much," Armin smiled. "Compared to Connie, you're not so bad."

Across from them, Mikasa leant against the table with a raised eyebrow. "Try sleeping next to Sasha. She sleep-talks, all the time... I'm sure I don't have to say what about."

Eren snorted at the dry humour, Armin gave a light laugh, "you haven't gotten your own place yet, though."

"I haven't," she confirmed, voice softening, "I probably won't for a while. It's not like I sleep perfectly, anyways."

Eren knew what that meant. Nightmares, much like himself and Armin. So vivid they were memories, another world within themselves, playing with their fears until they woke trembling, screaming hoarse.

Indeed, it was a strange time. A year after seeing the ocean, and life on the island continued like normal for the majority of its citizens. However, a new paranoia had spread, infecting even the children and especially the elderly – existence beyond the walls still dividing the people on how much they believed, despite the developments happening around them.

Life trudged on. Kids went to school, the workers went to work, and the soldiers patrolled. Eren bought his own home, finally moving in today. It was a comfortable place in Trost, well kept, and layered with character. The previous owners, young parents with two young children, had profusely apologised for not being able to clear up some stains left, the toddler even drawing all over one of the rooms upstairs.

Eren did not mind such minor inconveniences: rather, he already felt attached to his new home. He would be further from his friends than he had been in six years, and living alone for the first time, the thought eliciting a soft sigh from him.

"I have two spare rooms, I'll probably make those into guest bedrooms." he said. Mikasa made eye contact, her eyes boring into him, leaving no crevice to hide.

Armin spoke first, offering him another smile. "You worked hard for this, Eren. You deserve a nice house, a place of your own."

'Deserve?' Eren pondered the word. With what he'd been given, he doubted he'd made the most of it... so many people could wield his abilities better, make a truly meaningful difference.

"You always work so hard," Mikasa adds.

Of course he did. They deserved nothing less than all he could give them. Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, Sasha... Captain Levi, Commander Hange – they worked too hard to protect him to deserve him blundering more than he already had. Why congratulate him for doing what needed to be done?

"Thank you." Eren said.

Mikasa's gave does not relent.

"Really, Eren," she murmurs, "you do."

Eren nods again.

A familiar ache grasps him, one that always springs upon him when Mikasa is so open, gentle with him. She says such kind words, those he could never agree with, and places upon him a false crown.

"You've always been... by my side." He'd never been there for her enough.

"You showed me how to live with purpose." He showed her the cruelty of the world.

"You wrapped this scarf around me." If he hadn't, would she still care for him so?

Why did she protect him so much? Because of that day, when they were children? Because they're family? Above all, why thank him for anything?

It seemed he could never force himself to ask any of that.

How Eren wished he were a better person for her. He didn't want her crown, he just wanted to deserve it.

Still, he knew: if he deserved her crown, he would not have the strength to do what he must in order to protect them. The man Mikasa saw him as could never survive such a cruel world.

Eren heard him again last night. His muttering. Though the nameless patient had long passed away, his presence never seemed to leave this room. It was stuffy, windows unable to open more than a crack for unspoken reasons, and doors kept shut. His new roommate was quiet, speaking fewer words than even he. In their joint silence, the dead haunted them.

This room wasn't new. Many patients had come before him. Eren wondered, of those, who were still alive? Moreover, of those who had regained their footing, how many had gained their freedom? The answer would surely be none.

The former roommate, who Eren had never spoke a word to, broke yet another piece of him. All Eren had wanted to do since he was a child was to bring change. When he was told to abandon his comrades, to run away or even merely to compromise, every part of his body rebelled. He would never give up, and he'd taken pride in his own determination.

Then he'd watched a man kill himself, and not lifted a finger. After, he'd realized this was only a fraction of what he'd feel three months from now, when corpses surrounded his feet in an endless concoction of mashed bone, gore and rubble.

His determination will lead him there. When he discards all his morals that determination was fuelled by, and do what he must to protect Paradis, so that it may stand tall atop the endless pile of bodies.

"Mr Kruger? Did you not hear me?" Eren snapped his head to the left. It's Falco. To this, he wanted to grit his teeth; the world was especially cruel in the face of kindness.

"I hear you now. You just arrived?"

"Yeah. I was just asking if you wanted that letter delivered." The boy pointed to Eren's side.

Ah. The one he'd written last night, awaking from his nightmare. Eren lifted it up, recalling what he had intended to send his half-brother. "This one might be a bit too emotional." He half-excused, with his words fittingly being at least half-true.

Falco walked closer, sitting by his side. "Mr Kruger, please don't think like that. I'm sure everyone you've ever even thought about writing too has been thinking of you, and wishing you well. They'd want to know how you're really doing... even if it isn't what they've hoped for."

Eren sighed. He could count on one hand how many he'd met as good as Falco. "It isn't always so simple, Falco. Few people are so good in this world."

In response, Falco's face screwed up a little. He shuffled, hesitant. "Well... people overcomplicate everything, too. If your loved ones are anything like you, Mr Kruger, they wouldn't ever judge you."

Eren's working eye gazed at the boy, the youthful optimism a stray raw of sunlight to this decrepit place. Without a verbal answer, he handed over the letter. Falco looked beyond pleased, and gave Eren a big grin before placing it in his bag.

"Now, are you up for a board game, Falco?"

Luckily, the change in topic wasn't refuted. Falco hastily agreed, and rushed off with a promise to find a good one before Eren could get another word in. He returned quickly with two boxes, with each looking equally tattered at the corners.

Everything fell into their usual routine. Easy chatter filled the room that casted away any lingering emotions, replacing it with a calm, comfortable atmosphere. They both needed this; the brief escape, the frivolous, short games that made time slip away easily.

As time passed, Eren was sure – Falco was different today. It was subtle, but he seemed to sit a little straighter, laughed more often.

Only when the sky began to darken were the two finally convinced to get up from the floor, Falco rubbing his leg from where he'd gotten pins and needles. After he was certain every piece was accounted for (at least the ones the box still had), Eren stacked the boxes and shuffled to get onto his bed.

"Oh, uh, do you need help with that...?"

"Don't worry about this. I'm aware I look like a flailing fish, but this is actually a calculated routine." Eren felt pleased with the short laugh he got from that. His missing leg was a pain, sure, but manoeuvres like this were commonplace now. "Are you alright going home?"

Falco's surprise couldn't be more blatant, but a little smile followed. "Yes. Could I... see you tomorrow?" The underlying request was obvious to Eren – making this into a daily routine.

"I'll look forward to it." he answered, his chest tightened despite his calm exterior. "Be safe."

"I'm not sure I follow, Eren." Zeke's tone had dipped with the eye contact unyielding. Eren gazed back, unfazed.

"I'm not paranoid about him opening the letters. But when the Tybers arrive with their personal guard, they'll be partly dispersed around the city to try and catch out any rats. Certainly around high foot traffic locations, like the entrance to the internment zone."

"You think Falco will be caught at the post box, then." Zeke concluded, nodding to himself. "I see your worry, brother, but even if we find someone else to deliver them, they won't have better chances."

Eren felt a twinge of annoyance; calling him brother whilst clearly withholding information – how arrogant. Eren knew Zeke had many of those rats under his orders, including Marleyans and Eldians in the internment zone. His loyal little lackeys pathetic enough to call him a God. Having one from the internment zone to take his letter to Zeke would only require an excuse to visit a mental hospital – not much else. Falco simply had an advantage in the way of being a warrior candidate capable of directly leaving the internment zone – not to mention being a trustworthy seeming child with a good set of puppy eyes.

Only those would not save him from Marleyans, or anything that will happen as a result of those letters.

"Furthermore, the chances of that happening are still pretty low. You can even ask Falco to deliver them nearer headquarters – he'll listen."

Something about that last part struck a nerve. Eren turned to Zeke sharply, "have someone else come to the hospital to pick up my letters, I won't take such pointless risks any longer." Composing himself quickly, he added, "You already got me here, brother. I know this is nothing for you."

It worked – Pathetically easily, as it always was. Zeke was agreeing to find a way, reassuring his little brother he'd accommodate his wishes. Eren thanked him, eyes hollow. Every interaction with Zeke was equally draining and irritating. At the very least, Zeke didn't question him – even if Eren knew better than to presume he was completely believed. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Eren from questioning himself.

Eren hobbled back inside. He caught the clock – Falco would be here in an hour. The thought provided some temporary relief.

In the end, this tiny change would prove pointless. None of this is important compared to what is to come. This only complicated what was begging to be simplified, this only made the eventual end of his facade more painful.

'Because that's what this is,' Eren reminded his reflection, staring back from a cracked bathroom mirror, 'this is a facade. A meaningless facade.'

Falco

The past few days had passed smoothly for Falco. He'd successfully improved his previously unsteady aim, the progress finally smoothing out giving his confidence a deserved boost. Not to mention, seeing Mr Kruger had become a daily routine, and something he decidedly looked forward to after a hard days training.

Every day, they talked inside the hospital, the dining hall empty that time of day making a great alternative spot. After initially discussing the more important matters, the conversation once again flowed easily into their usual chatter.

They discussed their favourite times of day (Falco loved the sunrise, the start of a new day with beautiful colours. Kruger preferred early evening, particularly on a hot day, when it began to cool down and a more relaxed atmosphere would blanket the hard day's work.), how to drink coffee (they both disliked coffee in any fashion, so that was easy). Falco found it so refreshing: the one time he could really stop thinking about his home life and the pressure of saving Gabi from their grim fate.

Maybe that was the ease of a getting to know someone new – the lack of former interactions made things far less complicated – and Falco had always been fond of meeting new, unique friends, it was a nice feeling. Maybe Kruger's stories would gradually be a little less vague, with actual names and faces he could picture.

Not everything could be so easy, it seemed. Upon coming home on Tuesday, he was greeted by his father's stern gaze and the dreaded, "let's talk."

Sitting across from his father at the table, the lecture centred around his attitude with his grandfather. "You really upset him, Falco. He's getting older, shouldn't be worrying about you. He seemed to think you've been avoiding him. Colt also said that you haven't been talking to him much." His father paused, glancing at Falco as the boy didn't offer a reply. He sighed, "so, you're going to go up and visit him. Regularly, just the two of you. I expect you to take responsibility and do this yourself in the future, and you're starting today. Get going."

Get going Falco did, but not to where he was expected too. He was straight back to where he had just left – the hospital, lamenting to Mr Kruger.

"I see." the veteran, patient as ever, listened to him talk with an attentive ear.

"I should be there right now... I don't even know if my dad told him I was going over today..." Falco said, leaning his cheek in his palm. "He's at his worst when we're at his apartment."

"He would feel more control in his own home." Mr Kruger muttered.

"Well, his neighbours have always been... off-putting. He lives in The Slatewood Apartments, which can be pretty dingy. Lots of people get robbed in that area."

"In a way, that's perfect."

Falco's eyebrows rose. "Huh?"

"You can use that as an excuse to not go there," Mr Kruger explained. "Tell your parents you're scared of criminals in that area, and if they insist, ask to meet with your Grandfather in a public place, like a park."

The boy's face brightened considerably – 'that could really work!'

"Okay, I'll try that. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me so much." Despite coming up with such a good idea, Mr Kruger just looked downtrodden.

When his parents agreed to him seeing his grandfather in the local park instead, Falco was relieved. Happy? not quite. That was impossible to say about seeing his grandfather. This was simply the best he could do, and he tried to appreciate that.

The following morning, inspiration struck. He finally decided to visit the hospital in the morning again, the urge to complete his sketch finally demanding he ditch his sleeping pattern. This time, he finished off the wall and sky, making sure to cut himself off from overdoing the bricks. Kruger came out again, enquiring if something had happened. Falco couldn't help feel a little happy he seemed to care so much – they were certainly friends now.

Then, Friday came around again.

As promised, Colt stayed by his side. Falco practically clung to him the entire evening, trailing his older brother around like a baby monkey would it's mother. It was humiliating, but he reminded himself of how Mr Kruger continuously reassured him he was doing nothing wrong. Colt had noticed his odd behaviour, only reluctantly letting it go after Falco promised to talk to him if something was seriously wrong – a promise that made him feel as though he was stabbed from the inside by wasps when his brother believed him.

It was calming to talk to Mr Kruger after that. The veteran was so patient with him, and always willing to listen and ease his burden. To his delight, Mr Kruger had been slowly starting to give more anecdotes and casual stories over the time they'd been talking– though the faces were blank and names unknown, he somehow had the charisma to make them seem real in Falco's imagination.

This Saturday morning, Mr Kruger was telling a story Falco found particularly amusing. It was about how another female soldier had stolen a potato and had eaten unashamedly in front of him – regardless of him being able to report it to the Marleyan officials. And the only reason she had was that she was hungry! Falco thought she had been very lucky it was Mr Kruger who was present; there were many Eldian people willing to snitch on their own people to appease the Marleyans.

"Lucky indeed," Kruger had replied. "She offered me some to keep quiet... but it wasn't even half."

That had made Falco laugh – "she really thought that was a good time to be stingy?"

"She wasn't the brightest."

"Then I hope she's okay still. Hopefully she doesn't take risks like that often." Falco murmured, mind briefly flashing to his family history. Something about that comment had made Mr Kruger suddenly show some emotion, even if Falco struggled to pinpoint his exact thoughts.

"As do I, Falco."

He'd then transitioned to asking Falco about how his brother was, him being someone the candidate always enjoyed talking about.

As Falco motioned to leave, he asked if he would need to deliver another letter. Only, "You don't have to do any more sneaking around for me."

Falco tilted his head slightly, before looking down, a sudden weight in his stomach. "Ah. Are you going home soon?"

"Not for a while. But I've been making progress according to the doctors – I can get away with more in my letters than when I first came here without being discovered." Falco nodded along, despite the nagging thought that to him, Mr Kruger hadn't acted any different around the nurses. 'Maybe I'm just not picking up on something, or his acting is very subtle. Mr Kruger is really smart like that.'

The boy fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, before he stood with renewed courage, making sure he faced the man to look him in the eye. "But Mr Kruger, you shouldn't have to take that risk! I want to help you... your my friend, so I'll only be worried about you being caught. Please allow me to deliver your letters!"

Still sitting, Mr Kruger stared at him, visible eye widened. "You don't need to – that's..." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I appreciate all you've done for me, but I'll be alright."

This did little to appease Falco, whose heart rate skyrocketed. "Mr Kruger, you can't! I don't know what security was like in your internment zone, but the police are really strict here! If they think you're lying they'll kill you!"

Mr Kruger reached out, placing a hand on his arm with a gentle firmness. "I'll be okay. I understand the situation and I ensure you, this letter only contains what the nurses would expect it too."

Falco huffed, the back of his legs hitting the other bed as he stepped back. Mr Kruger didn't reach out further, rather pulling his hand back and watching him contemplatively. Falco felt childish, but his emotions wouldn't calm down. All the warnings his parents drilled into him circled unendingly in his mind.

"They'll kill you. My family – my family knows what they can do. When you think they don't know, they're already gathering evidence against you – even other Eldians spy on you for them! They'll read those letters, and they'll pick it apart!" He tried to give Mr Kruger his most determined glare. "Just avoid all that by having me deliver them!"

Only his strained breathing filled the air. Their eye contact did not falter. He could see Mr Kruger thinking, Falco refusing to break the eye contact.

"... here." The man reached under his pillow to pull out a letter, handing it to him. Falco took it, staring at the letter in his hands. 'He actually listened to me?'

Falco smiled after a moment – it was clear Mr Kruger wasn't happy, but he listened. Not many adults would. "Thank you," he whispered, putting the letter into his bag.

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." His tone held that blankness that he had heard so much in the beginning, making Falco frown. Did he dislike it that much?

"Could I hug you first?" Mr Kruger took a breath, but nodded. The man was obviously strong, something he hadn't noticed previously, and he was taken aback by how rigid his body was, not leaning into the hug at all. It was not at all like the previous time when he was held firmly as he cried, feeling protected, cared for. Even as Mr Kruger hugged him back, it was loose and felt forced, as if he were hugging a statue.

...What had gone so wrong? Did he offend him so much by demanding that letter?

Leaning back, the boy put his bag over his shoulder, now feeling stiff himself. Mr Kruger didn't look at him.

"Uh. Sorry, Mr Kruger. I didn't mean to offend you. I just wanted to help. I'll, uh, get going."

Turning to the door, Falco clasped the hand and pulled it open. As he did so, the other suddenly called his name. Turning back, Mr Kruger's green eyes bore into him, intense and filled with secrets Falco felt he could never decipher. His mouth hug open, choking on whatever the man could not say. Silence lingered. Slowly, Mr Kruger looked away, staring at the floor rather than him. Voice barely there, even quivering, the man forced his words.

"I wish it wasn't you."

Falco stiffened, blinking at the man in utter confusion. "What...?"

Long hair covered Mr Kruger's face, obstructing his view. Falco stared at the back of his head, eyebrows high and eyes crinkled. For as many questions he now had, the air forbade him from speaking. Rather, as a he heard someone enter the hallway from in front of him, he turned back and shut the door behind him. A woman turned to face him – a doctor, it seemed – eye contact brief before she continued with her day. It took another second; but Falco trailed behind her, towards the exit.

His stomach felt as though he had simultaneously eaten for days straight, and been fasting for a week. When dinner came, he could only eat a little before trudging up the stairs. He'd won the argument, technically speaking, yet he felt no shred of joy. Rather, his mind slowly became alight with countless questions and torn up emotions.

He wanted to understand. Falco tolerated being kept in the dark well, courteous of the man's privacy, but his curiosity burned too bright to be satisfied with such an abrupt phrase.

The morning light caused the brothers to squint as they walked together, Colt idly talking about some trouble Mr Galliard had landed himself in. Falco nodded along, but was distracted as he glanced to the side of the road.

Unfortunately, the usual post box had two Marleyan soldiers nearby, seemingly just standing around without much purpose. Falco frowned to himself – he'd been planning to deliver the letter on the way to headquarters, but those soldiers could question him on why he, an Eldian, was sending letters from outside the internment zone. Usual citizens wouldn't think too hard about it, but Falco wasn't going to risk doing it around soldiers.

Walking on ahead, he figured he'd just have to do it later.

"Stupid rain!" Gabi groaned, echoing all of their thoughts exactly.

Together, the candidates sped walk back to the internment zone, knowing better than to run with Marleyans around.

It was a total downpour, a sudden drenching that'd been enabled by a powerful wind sweeping it over them just as they'd left headquarters. As if he'd been whisked into a photograph, the sky had turned grey as the drab grey city lost its main source of colour. Raindrops did not allow for any illusion of stillness, however, breaking the spell with a thousand projectiles.

"This was the worst timing," Zofia agreed. The girl's platinum blonde hair was the opposite of its usual orderly look, frazzled by the rain. None of them were any better off than she, all being equally drenched.

As they walked, Falco felt the dampness creep into his skin, clothes slowly letting it leak through. Luckily, most Marleyans had gotten out of the downpour by now, and so the Candidates could speed their pace up further.

As they walked, Falco spotted the familiar red post box by the internment zone, the bold red invading the grey tones, unwilling to dull itself down.

'...The letter!' Falco's brain decided to remember. 'Damn it, it's probably soaked right now! This bag's supposed to be water resistant, but so is this uniform!'

Unfortunately, even with the realisation, there wasn't much Falco could do other than put a hand on the drenched bag and hope to get home quickly.

Entering the internment zone, the candidates quickly broke into a sprint. They soon split up with hurried goodbyes and with another five minutes of running, Falco was home.

Practically collapsing in the doorway, he braced himself on his knees for a second to catch his breath.

He was completely drenched now, as if he'd fell in a lake rather than get caught by the rain. He headed to grab a towel from the bathroom, trying not to wet the floors as much as he could.

Five minutes later, and he was in his room, clothes changed and towel around his neck, the letter drying on his bedside table. His room simply couldn't fit something like a desk, so he sat down on his bed instead.

Luckily, the thick leather material of his bag held up far better than the uniform, but the top left of the letter had managed to get wet. The address was still readable when he held it up close, but he decided it would be a good idea to replace the envelope just in case. Paper always looked distorted when t had dried.

He opened the letter carefully, hyperaware of how easily it would rip when it was this wet. Laying the folded letter back down, he took the spare envelope he'd grabbed from the kitchen and began to copy down the address.

Mr William Palmer

49 Piper Lane

Liberio

KA26 1LR

Huh. He'd never really felt the need to analyse where it was sent before but... he was sure it was a different address. This one was not even being sent out of Liberio. Falco's eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Did Mr Kruger send this one to an acquaintance rather than his family? Moreover, one that in Liberio, outside the internment zone...? How would he know, or even be on good terms with a Marleyan? From the trenches, perhaps?

Falco's hands became clammy, and he shifted his weight. The letter was still folded neatly besides the envelope. If he felt uneasy about this, then wouldn't an officer feel the same? Mr Kruger was planning to mail this normally, meaning this letter would be analysed in it's entirely, not just where it would be sent.

If he could just check the first few sentences, make sure it really didn't contain anything they'd deem suspicious...

Slowly, he reached his hand over the edge of the paper, itching to unfold it. Falco paused. He breathed in slowly. If there was nothing, he would be sure to apologise profusely to Mr Kruger. But if he didn't check it, he knew this feeling of paranoia would linger – this heavy feeling in his stomach was too intense to simply be brushed away with words.

His fingers curled around the edge of the folded letter, opening it up.

Chapter Text

Falco

‘...What? What is this?’

Falco sucked in his breath at the contents of the letter, and his heart thumped with the spiking adrenaline coursing through his body.

He couldn’t read a thing. Falco had been taught multiple methods of ciphering as a Warrior Candidate, both used by Marleyan forces and those known from other countries, but he didn’t immediately recognise this one. Both letters and numbers were used, and lacked spaces between them to indicated separate words.

As if rejecting the letter’s very existence, Falco jolted backwards, his breathing becoming erratic. ‘Why would Kruger – No, there’s no way he would, this was far more important – it has to be!’ A throbbing began to ache from his head, even as he tried to calm down, taking shaky and uneven breaths, and forcing his shoulders to relax from their hunched position, moving them in harmony with his breaths. He focused back on the letter. ‘Okay. This is happening. But you can deal with this, just stay calm.’ Luckily, being in a war and harsh training did have its uses – this wasn’t the first time he’d been under such severe pressure. Reminding himself of this fact helped alleviate some of the worry. He could deal with this.

Adrenalin kept him uneasy, jumping at the sound of his father cursing the stove. Falco shifted again, placing the letter down on the desk.

He stared. For a long time, he stared. The letter stared back.

He’d been tricked.

The man he’d confided in about almost everything, his biggest secrets, was just using him for his own gain. Kruger (if that was even his real name) didn’t care: he just wanted Falco to be an obedient delivery boy.

Finally, his eyes left the page, simply unable to look further. His eyes slipped closed as his head hung low, slow breaths and a thundering heartbeat all he could hear, and his tightened chest all he could feel.

For a short moment, he felt blank. As if there was no world outside his own head, and the pain he felt as it throbbed.

He wanted the letter gone, from here, from his life, from existence. Yet, he could not; that would change nothing. The implications of this could never go away. As the adrenaline faded, Falco held on to reason, grasping at it with trembling hands. ‘Focus, focus... what you need now is information.’

If Mr Kruger was really a soldier for Marley, he’d of used encryption Falco was familiar with. He wouldn’t of had the opportunity to create an entirely new one and communicate what it was with whoever he was sending it too if they were at another internment zone, which his supposed family would be.

With one last deep breath, he picked up the letter.

The most likely option was that Mr Kruger was a spy from one of Marley’s opposing forces. Regrettably, Marley had many, many enemies. That didn’t narrow it down in the slightest. Falco pondered it over, looking at the encryption. It did not look like anything the Middle-Eastern Alliance had used, even the encryptions they hadn’t figured out. Ergo, it wasn’t likely they planted Mr Kruger.

Falco moved on to studying the letters and words, focusing on any patterns. It was five cramped lines of letters and numbers without any spaces, so it was a little overwhelming on his eyes. However, one thing that stood out was that the numbers were always two-digits, four-digits, or six, which could indicate pairs of two meaning something, like a letter or even a word. After realising this, he looked at the letters again – sure enough, the same pattern emerged, but only with a few.

Falco took out his sketchbook and carefully removed a page with a ruler and noted down all the reoccurring pairs and the numbers: 9, 18, 42, 29, 2 and 57.

AS, JT, BU and KV: those pairs repeated at least three times and stuck out the most, each letter never appearing without its pair. Of course, there was no way to tell if it was a coincidence or a rule with only one source. He also noted that in these pairs, they were ordered how they were in the alphabet – A before S, B before U. He looked back at the numbers, hoping to see it’d be the smallest first... he had no such luck. However, when ordered, he noticed a pattern emerging, and he calculated the nth term to be n2+4n−3... yet that seemed almost too simple.

‘Okay, some progress. I doubt I’ll be able to decipher it fully, but there’s not much I can do when it’s still raining that heavily outside.’ he thought to himself, looking back down at the paper.

Falco took down a few more notes, writing down how many times each sequence appeared and all the other letters. They were all there, apart from D, M and N. KV, with I, 18 and F appearing very frequently.

Unable to find any further information, he put the papers in his draw and flopped down onto his bed.

Now, what next? Stay calm.

Firstly, he could go straight to the source and confront Mr Kruger. That was an obvious no – as much as Falco wanted to know why he was doing this, his real identity that was by far the riskiest. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared for that, especially if he had to... turn him in. Undoubtedly, a death sentence.

Falco could not trust Mr Kruger, still, he knew better than to be blindly loyal to the Marleyan government in his place. Falco cared about his people, his family, and friends in particular, but felt no particular loyalty towards the higher ups – they were often cruel and were to blame for the horrible lifestyle Eldians had to endure in these Ghettos. He believed that could change, but not through blind obedience. Even if Mr Kruger weren’t to be executed, he would be given a fate worse than death – tortured and sent to become a pure titan. Falco couldn’t do that to him, not without knowing his goals.

Another option was seeking help from another Eldian. It wouldn’t be anyone from his family – he refused put them at risk like that – but what about one of the warriors? Wait – Vice Chief Braun! Falco sat up at the thought. That could work, right?

Falco had already wondered if they wanted the same thing – for Eldians to be free from the war – and the man had always been kind to him and the other candidates. He was the obvious choice: anyone who had survived the brutal, five-year long mission on Paradise surely had a good head on his, their, or her shoulders! Yes, that option was quickly shaping up to be the best one.

There was one last option he could think of. Something risky, something so foolish it should not be worth considering. It was to investigate this further on his own, following the address Kruger was sending it to. As a warrior candidate, he was free to leave the internment zone as long as it was related to his training. However, this didn’t shield him from any Marleyan soldiers looking to give Eldian’s trouble. They had never ventured far from their usual route to headquarters for a reason. Not to mention, he didn’t have an excuse ready for if a soldier found him wondering the streets.

Still, it was the only the one that meant not getting others involved, which kept the matter from spiralling into something beyond him. Not to mention, what would happen if he had gotten it wrong? Mr Kruger was most definitely a spy of some kind, but what if he really was an Eldian soldier from Marley being blackmailed with his family’s safety, or something similar?

Suddenly, the theory made too much sense; it would take connections in high places to sneak into the internment zone holding the warriors – paperwork would have to be forged, proof that he wasn’t an enemy soldier provided: not easily done by an individual. It seemed like a realistic possibility.

If he told anyone, even someone like Mr Braun, he could be putting Mr Kruger’s family in serious jeopardy. On the slip side, if he didn’t act soon he would risk his own loved ones: an attack could be being planned, or valuable information leaked.

Through his window, a cool breeze blew on his nape, the sun hitting his face as he turned around. It seemed, whilst occupied by his thoughts, the downpour had made way for a pleasant blue sky.

Falco pondered on this for a while, knowing he had to do something as soon as possible. Whatever he chose, he could only hope it would be better than letting this situation continue.

The map he’d bought had good detail, stretching over the whole of Liberio, and when laid out was at least a meter long. Quickly, he scoured it for the address: ‘49 Piper Lane’. Much to his relief, it was close by, Piper Street only a few blocks away from headquarters. The exact house was in the near the end of a block, nothing special.

Falco was determined to act right away. It was only half-past four, to his relief. He had a few hours. The boy had already put on his uniform again (luckily, they did provide two for each candidate) and memorised the address and housing layout. Two doors down if he came from the west. He’d try to walk around casually for the most part, as if he was supposed to be there, but try finding alleyways once he got close – he was used to them.

Leaving the house with an apple, he took the quick route towards the gates, handing off the fruit to Mr Patterson. The simple routine act helped calm his nerves, before he headed out to the gates. The guards (who’d had to keep watch, even in the rain – but somehow remained cheerful as ever), let him pass with no queries.

If today resulted in nothing, he would find a way to tell Mr Braun tomorrow in private. Perhaps he was being stupid, but he still wanted to think the best of Mr Kruger, and give him a chance... to do the right thing and not assume. No – he was fully aware how stupid this was. This level of impulsivity was on Gabi’s level: taking the risky course despite it not logically being the best option. He’d certainly tell her off if she was the one doing this.

Still, he kept moving forward.

Funny, how Mr Kruger was the one who hand inspired him to think that way, yet even knowing who he was Falco still couldn’t help but admire him on some level.

Headquarters came and went, and he was now in unknown territory. Luckily, the map was seemingly up to date, each road sign he saw read exactly how he expected it to. Ludwell Street, Sandford Lane... Piper Lane.

The residential street was quiet. Only an older woman passed him by, a sneer tugging on her lips as she glanced at his upper arm. The sound of distant footsteps and chatter could be heard all around, the smell of gasoline in the air from a source he couldn’t know.

The house had no lights on. The blinds were open, no movement inside. To be sure, he gave a firm knock at the door, before darting into the alleyway to the side of the door. Ducking behind a large bin, Falco waited for any sounds from the house, for the door to open or a voice from inside.

Nothing.

Not a single sound came from the house. He waited a little longer, just to be sure, but he only heard the footsteps of someone walking past.

‘This is so stupid. What am I doing?’ The house was most likely empty. He had to actually go through with it. Falco walked around the back, and sure enough a backdoor lead into the alleyway between the houses behind it.

‘Warrior training really does come in handy,’ he mused, taking out a lock pick and getting to work on the door. The two little tools were expertly twisted, nimble hands working with practiced ease. ‘Even if this was never meant to be used on a supposed Marleyan’s house...’

Fortunately, a little click sounded from within. Falco slowly put the tools back into his bag whilst listening carefully for any noise. Nothing came. Slightly reassured, he ditched his bag back behind the bin, and replaced his usual boots with a pair of flats (reducing the noise his footsteps would make) before going back and entering the house.

Silence greeted him – a fragile one that could easily be broken by the front door opening. Staying low to the ground, Falco checked what areas could be seen through the windows before daring to look around. At a glance, the interior looked unlike any other house he’d been in, significantly more luxurious and less lived-in; as though it was straight out of a newspaper advertisement. There were no family pictures, peculiar stains, or random clutter to give it character.

Falco looked around for anything suspicious. Armed with his warrior training, he first checked any exit points, checking what doors and windows lead where and how creaky they were, aside from the ones at the front of the house. Following this, he checked for false bottoms in draws, checked any dead space he found in the house’s layout and checked the floorboards under rugs to see if they’d been pulled up. Anything that could be perceived as even a little suspicious, he analysed. He found nothing; the entire downstairs area he dared to scour was completely clean.

At the stairs, he hesitated. ‘This is such a bad idea.’

He went up the stairs. The steps creaked under his weight, even when he experimentally crouched down so he could use his hands to distribute the weight better.

The top floor looked just as sterile as the ground floor. Walking down the hallway, he entered the room to his right. To his discomfort, the door was the creakiest one so far. The room was even more barren than the downstairs with only a single bed in the corner and basic furniture – a spare bedroom perhaps. Did this person really have nothing sentimental...?

Falco sighed: this was exactly what he’d presumed it to be – an unnecessary risk that would result in nothing. Still, he did not let regret take over – he knew if he’d of just reported Kruger immediately, the guilt would gave never left him. Had he just simply given the man up to the Marleyans like a loyal dog, he’d truly feel like the weakling he so desperately tried not to be. This hadn’t given him any answers – more questions, actually – at least he was doing something.

Grappling himself from spiralling thoughts, Falco tried to hurry up. It was now almost half past five and he could hear the neighbouring houses fill with chatter as their occupants returned from a stressful work day. The window of opportunity had passed.

Falco stepped back out of the bedroom and turned to close it. When he did, the sound echoed. He jolted, head whipping to look down the stairs. The front door was completely out of sight, but he could tell from the jangling key chain and direction of the sounds that’s exactly where the newcomer came from.

The boy backed up. He was out in the open, nothing to hide behind and nowhere to go except further in. Various thuds sounded from bellow. They didn’t move around, staying by the door. Low to the ground, Falco could only back up further and further. ‘Why didn’t I bring a weapon?’

A sigh. A multitude of thuds and rustling. Footsteps. Towards him.

Falco’s chest burned. The footsteps passed the steps. Falco allowed himself to breathe once more. They sounded to go left, into the bathroom. The door opened, and shut with a click.

It was time to go.

Tracing back his steps, Falco quickly started to descend the stairs. He stuck to the wall, hoping to keep the creaking to a minimum. Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. Left.... right... left... right. Creak. Loud, it was so loud, but there was no time. Left, right, left, right. This was the creakiest part, about two thirds down. Whatever he did, this would cause a noise. So, he waited for any noise to cover it up – a sink, a flush, something.

The sound of rushing water spurred him into action, the loud flush of the toilet giving him the courage to descend further. He opened the back door – ‘it’s all too loud!’ – and bolted out. The figure heard that. He must’ve. The door opening was way too loud and he could hear another door opening.

Falco bolted back into the alleyway. Clumsily diving for his bag, he shoved it over his shoulder as he fled.

The thud of his heart and footsteps was all he could focus on as his vision blurred. He turned right, then left, then saw people. Stumbling to a halt, he backed up. ‘Damn it, if Marleyans spot an Eldian running out of an alleyway’... he had no choice. He adopted a fast paced walk instead. He’d have to risk it, just try to blend in whilst taking a faster walk.

Now that he could no longer only hear only his own footsteps, he heard another set come up behind him.

Before he could turn a hand clamped over his mouth. Something sharp against his neck... a knife, most definitely, and the hand over his mouth pulled him backwards with an urgent tug.

Hazel eyes locked onto the crowd of Marleyans, everyone of them walking past without a glance. Desperation clawed at him, and he yearned to yell out. But Falco kept silent – he would most definitely be asking for a death sentence for being caught out here without reason. Besides, he had no proof on his person and he knew many guards wouldn’t hesitate to discredit his story.

He allowed the person to guide his movement back into the alleyways, turning so that they were out of view. Adrenaline pumped through him, overwhelming, as he feared for his life. Falco vaguely recognized this was most likely a man, tall and strong. He kept the boy moving backwards for a while, each step nerve-wracking.

A hand grasped his shoulder, shoving him against the wall.

“Don’t make a sound. This won’t end well if you do.” the man hissed. His voice was low, strained. He was light-skinned with darker hair, and wore a suite. His exact features were difficult to pinpoint in the shadows, though.

Falco nodded slowly, knife lightly grazing his neck. In return, he heard the man sigh slightly, as if he were relieved. The knife was lowered.

“Let’s go.” the man said, and Falco could only nod once more.

The hand remained on his shoulder. It pushed him along ahead of the man, replacing the knife with a duller threat.

Falco kept his cool, trying to calm his heart. In situations like this, his warrior training meant virtually nothing – against a grown man, he would never win. His instinct was to bargain or try to talk with the man, but the knife formerly at his neck seemed to frown upon that thought.

If Gabi were here, he could imagine her pretending to be terrified, lowering his guard before stabbing the infiltrator with his own knife: she’d certainly done fair riskier and far more brutal things during the war. He wasn’t sure if he could pull that off – he was a terrible actor. Colt teased him about that whenever he was given the chance.

The walk lasted an eternity, dread seeping out from the shadows and into his bones. The man’s hand remained ever present, keeping Falco moving at a fast pace.

They entered through the backdoor, stepping into the living room. The door was closed and locked behind him. The man walked in front of him, allowing Falco to get a proper look at him.

“Take a seat, kid.” The infiltrator instructed.

Slowly, he obeyed the man, taking a seat on the edge of the maroon sofa, not taking his eyes off the man for longer than he had to. He was indeed tall, around 190 centimetres, with a thin goatee and light hair. His face was more youthful than Falco would of guessed, looking to be in his twenties. Although he wore a proper suit, his socks muddied from running after him without shoes. Falco winced, knowing the feeling. The man watched him with equal, if not more, caution. He’d taken Falco’s bag and had placed it away from them, making the boy wonder why he wasn’t searching it.

“You’re a warrior candidate, then. What’s your name?” the infiltrator continued, looking at his armband. His voice was tired, but carried an air of command.

“Ben Martell.” Falco answered, keeping eye contact. The boy hoped he hadn’t been told who the candidates were by Mr Kruger – he’d certainly told the man multiple times whilst recounting his days, and he had no idea how much of it had been passed on. The man did not react outwardly with his face remaining sombre.

“You look pretty young. How old are you?”

“Twelve, sir.” no point in lying there, he looked his age.

“Twelve, huh. I knew they started young but...,” he sounded distant, looking away from him to gaze to the side, and Falco got the distinct feeling he was reliving something. He’d seen that look enough in the trenches. It only lasted a second, before the man pulled back to concentrate on him again. “How did you find this address?”

“I overheard my superiors talking about their suspicions of the residents here, and I wanted extra points so I could inherit a titan.” Falco answered, silently praying he wouldn’t dig into that.

“And you’d tell me all of that after lying about your name, huh?” if possible, the air became even more stilted with intense pressure.

‘Am I that obvious?’ Falco shifted his weight around, nervous energy building up.

“Don’t be so nervous. I don’t want to hurt you, not if I can help it. Do you have any weapons on you?” He sounded genuine, and Falco wanted to believe he was. The man’s body language remained tense, but not openly hostile – only weighted and even resigned.

‘But how good of a judge of character could I possibly be when I didn’t pick up on anything about Mr Kruger...?’

“No, I don’t.” just another mistake he’d made.

“Neither do I. So let’s just talk this through, alright?” Falco startled, wide-eyed as the knife formerly held to his throat in the alley was pointedly tossed aside. The candidate’s eyes darted between the man and the knife. After a moment of consideration, a small spark of hope flared within.

“Okay, sir. I’d like that.” Falco responded, eager. Slightly less intimidated, his head filled with questions, ones from when he had first discovered the letter to ones just formed.

“Good. Me too, kid. Here,” the infiltrator offered his hand, pausing exactly in the middle of them. “My name is Jean Kirstein; it’s nice to meet you.”

Pleasantly surprised by just how courteous he seemed, Falco reached out to shake it, letting a hopeful smile peek through. This was the opposite of the intense interrogation he’d expected, and he would much prefer to keep it this way.

“I’m Falco Grice, sir. Where are you from?”

“Paradise – what you would call an island devil, I suppose.”

Falco instantly reeled back, going tense. It took a few moments to register that: an island devil, here, in Marley, in front of him. Nevertheless, as the two held a prolonged eye contact, Falco found himself relaxing again, even if simply because nothing else happened. The man opposite him remained composed, though clearly keeping an eye on him.

After the initial shock, the boy found he was surprisingly calm, despite what he would have expected an encounter with an island devil to be like. Mr Kirstein’s lack of aggression helped him stay rational – he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a mask, but his gut told him otherwise.

“...You’re not really a devil though, right?” Falco was reminded of his brother. Colt would surely be freaking out right now – for as far back as Falco could remember, his brother was dead set on improving their family’s reputation and show they weren’t sympathetic to the island devils. If his family were here, if Gabi were here... they’d most definitely call him crazy for what he was considering.

He watched the man carefully, seeing an intrigue that mirrored his own.

“No. I’m not. Despite what you’ve been taught, we’re just people like any other nation.”

“But... how? How are you here?”

“The titans roaming the island were killed years ago, and that let us built a port, along with other things.”

Falco recalled what his brother had shared with him, the older brother now trailing Mr Zeke to war meetings and so privy to more information than him. “I heard that none of the ships sent to survey the island came back...,” what Mr Kirstein said seemed to line up.

“We dealt with them. The soldiers are mostly imprisoned, but some were willing to co-operate.”

“Is that why you’re here? For a reconnaissance mission?”

At that, the infiltrator’s expression instantly became hardened once more. “No. I want that to be the case, but one suicidal bastard thinks he knows better than anyone else. And we don’t have a choice in following him.”

“Is he threatening you, Mr Kirstein?” Falco enquired, curious about Mr Kirstein’s higher-up. The man answered his questions almost too easily, but he was too curious to stop. Perhaps he was in the same boat as Mr Kruger, rather than his superior.

“He doesn’t have to – the bastard is invaluable to our survival and he knows it. He tells us what we have to do, and we have no way of saying anything back.”

“...How does he tell you what to do?”

“Letters. We have no way to tell where they’re from, but we have our suspicions. They just arrive detailing what he plans to do, and what he wants from us.” Kirstein huffed, leaning back to look to the side for a moment. The brief glance away preventing the man from seeing the slow tide of emotions flickering across Falco’s face, mind now going over a new possibility that only just registered. Mr Kirstein glanced back, seemingly noticing the boy’s face pale with eyes anchored on something he couldn’t see. “Hey, what is it? Falco...?”

“Is he... a titan shifter?” his voice sounded like it came from the end of a tunnel, echoing in his mind as he distantly heard himself speak. Mr Kirstein straightened once more, his tone instantly changing to become more clipped.

“Yes. He holds the attack and founding titan. You know something about that?”

“I think... I’m the one who delivered them. The letters, from outside the internment zone.”

Falco finally looked up to meet the man’s eyes, searching for his response once more. Mr Kirstein stared past him, as if in disbelief. Did he not believe him, or had Falco made a mistake? No, that wasn’t it. He somehow knew that Kruger was the man he spoke of, like one would know they were being watched from behind.

“Hah? You’re serious? You’ve talked with Eren?”

“He told me his name was Mr Kruger... he said he was an injured soldier pretending to have PTSD so he didn’t have to go home.”

A brief pause followed that story; both individually processing what was happening – and what it meant. Kirstein sighed, a noise so resigned it struck Falco with a dose of sullen sympathy.

“Yeah, that makes sense. He was named after the guy. Shit, that’s what he’s been doing this whole time?”

Falco just shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say to that. He felt so very out of his depth – he’d been expecting to glimpse into a wasp’s nest tonight, not shove his head in full force.

“He holds the founding titan, right?” he asked, suddenly feeling lethargic. So what if a few more wasps stung, everything that’d happened in the last few hours was already making his head throb relentlessly.

“Yeah. That’s why we can’t risk losing him, as I said.”

“But... why? It sounds like he didn’t even talk to you at all Mr Kirstein, I thought you were comrades.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. I was aware he didn’t believe diplomacy would be of any use, but I never imagined he’d simply leave us behind, not when we’re all counting on him.” The more Mr Kirstein spoke, rational and straightforward, the more Falco trusted him. Both of them were far less guarded than they had been a short while ago, unwillingly stuck in the bleak atmosphere.

“... So, you don’t want to attack Marley?”

“Not like this. What he’s planning will cause so much bloodshed, so many innocent lives... he’s starting a war we can’t win.”

Falco hunched his back, subconsciously retreating into himself as memories of slotting those letters through the letter box taunted him. “What exactly did those letters say? Please, I need to know what I did...”

“I burnt anything incriminating, so I can’t show you, but... the plan is to interrupt the Tiber’s announcement of war they’ll give during the festival.”

“The Tiber’s... announcing war of Paradise?” Falco hadn’t heard of anything like that. Surely that meant it was a classified Military plan... did his brother know...? “How do you know that...?”

“Because Zeke Yeager informed Eren of the Militaries plans.”

The words hung in the air. Taunting, malicious in their clarity.

Falco almost huffed a laugh. He might as well, since the universe was already laughing at him.

On any other day, Falco would have immediately gotten to his feet and told Mr Kirstein that he was wrong, that Mr Zeke would never do that to his comrades, that he was loyal to Marley. A large part of him still wanted to, but Mr Kirstein hadn’t lied to him – not like Mr Kruger who’d abused his trust. Any rebuttals of ‘Mr Zeke wouldn’t do that,’ or ‘he’s loyal to Marley’ simply died on his tongue before they had a fighting chance.

‘Just how much of what I know... is a lie?’

“Hard to believe, huh? I thought so too four years ago, after he’d massacred my comrades.” He must be referring to the last Battle on Paradise... if those vague reports he had were even accurate. The man sitting across from him was there in person... subjected to Marley’s brutal tactics. Mr Kirstein was fully aware of how brutal they were when it came to seizing victory. He only didn’t want to attack because of the consequences for paradise, not necessarily out of morality.

Perhaps Mr Kirstein had also been reminded respective positions, for his demeanour shifted. “You know, you’re taking this better than I would of thought.” the tone was still free from hostility.

“Eh? I guess, but I’m actually really confused...”

The man did not seem surprised, only more resigned. “I think we all are, Falco.”

The conversation paused after that. Despite so much more needing to be said, neither Falco nor Mr Kirstein continued talking.

Recognising the atmosphere, Falco changed the subject slightly.

“Mr Kirstein... what’ll happen now? You told me so much...” the kind of information a spy would kill to keep. He somewhat doubted Mr Kirstein would simply kill him on the spot, though.

“Well, I can’t exactly let you go home. If you tell anyone about this Paradise would be finished.”

Falco hummed slightly, expecting that much (that did not make it easier to hear, however). “So, what...?”

“For tonight you’ll stay here. In the morning, I’ll figure out what to do, contact my superiors. Unlike Eren, I’m not so full of myself to think I have all the right answers.” Mr Kirstein’s words fell heavily in the room. Looking him in the eye, he continued, “Look, I know this is hard kid, but maybe you can go back sometime in the future. And... I’m sorry that Eren got you involved in this.”

“This isn’t your fault...” Falco replied, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like this was ideal for the other man either, that was clear by now. There was no chance he could simply return to the interment zone like nothing had happened, the Marleyans would likely have him killed either way at this point. Night had fallen.

“At the very least, you won’t be hurt, alright? I’m promising you that now, and I don’t intend to break it.” Mr Kirstein sounded firm. Similar to how he’d talked at first, only now Falco could feel how much he wanted to reassure him. A devil surely wouldn’t care for something like that, and Falco felt the need to return that kindness.

“Thank you for looking out for me, Mr Kirstein.”

The man just nodded at him, accepting, and got to his feet. “I’ll give you some space. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, okay Falco?”

“Okay...” Falco replied, nodding back.

As he watched Mr Kirstein leave, he leaned back in an effort to force his muscles to relax. He felt sore all over, both in body and his brain throbbing in his skull.

His thoughts only grew louder.

‘Is this how it ends? I can’t even go back to the internment zone... Colt, I’m sorry. I really messed up.’ Falco felt his face scrunch up with a jolt of emotions. ‘Gabi... have I already failed you? I promised Mr Braun I’d save you, but instead of going to him as I should of, I tried to do this on my own. I trusted him so much, I’m such a fool. Colt, Udo, Zofia... I failed you just as much. Now I may never see you again. God, all of this is my fault...’

There was something else that made it even harder, that made the guilt suffocate his lungs. Although he regretted his course of actions, he was undeniably happy with a portion of it – of being able to uncover truths kept secret. If he’d gone to Mr Braun, would he have been so truthful? Or would he only talk in half truths like he did on the train...? Falco didn’t know. But at least gaining some semblance of answers from Mr Kirstein gave him a rare clarity.

His thoughts then lingered to Mr Kruger – no, Eren Yeager – once more.

As if they’d never left, his chest was constricted by all the feelings he’d shoved aside. After how much he’d respected him, after the man lifted him up and given him a safe space away from his grandfather... Falco had really felt as though the man had cared for him. That he wanted him to live a long happy life, just as he’d said the first time he’d met. He’d understood and believed him without question – as though Mr Kruger had trusted him just as much in return.

His chin trembled as he hunched over himself. Fist pressed against his lips, Falco tried to harden his jaw, clenching down when his chest only constricted further.

Eren didn’t care. He’d simply done it all to keep him delivering those letters. He hadn’t outwardly doubted his stories because that would be more effort than just simply listening.

The personal aspect had never existed, he just wanted to destroy Marley rather than help a single individual. If only he hadn’t confided so much in the man, if only they’d stayed friendly acquaintances as it had been a month and a half ago, rather than a seemingly genuine friend.

‘No, that doesn’t matter, this was all my choice, and I shouldn’t live in what-ifs.’ Falco quickly chided himself.

All the moments of comfort and reassurance that’d meant the world to him was build on lies, and done to continue said lies. He’d probably only wanted Falco to be quiet and deliver the letters quickly, but felt obligated to listen so that the boy would trust him.

‘Well, it worked.’ He poured acid into each syllable, redirecting the incoming storm, ‘I trusted you. I trusted you with things I couldn’t tell anyone else.’

No matter how he tried, the acid flowed into him. Stinging and painful, eroding any hope he’d clung onto for the man in the past. Falco’s vision blurred, cheeks wetting as tears finally were able to escape. His chin trembled, mouth open behind his fist as he silently wept.

Time passed slowly, and Falco had memorised the patterns on the rug by the time the noises from the kitchen came to a halt. Mr Kirstein appeared in the doorway, calling him in.

Falco got to his feet, entering the kitchen. It was just as empty as before, but the two plates of home cooked food filling the room with a sweet aroma somehow helped make it feel more homely.

Falco felt no trace of hunger, but approached the table out of politeness. The dish was a fluffy looking omelette with a few vegetables as the side, and Falco couldn’t help the small ‘o’ his mouth made at how delicious it looked. Eggs were quite the treat for Eldians, and this looked better than any he’s ever seen.

“It looks really good... thank you, Mr Kirstein.”

“Well of course it does. I’ve been perfecting this dish for years, and was the best to begin with. Here, eat up.” A hint of pride entered his voice with that, the other having a considerably warmer presence than before.

Even as his mouth watered, the boy hesitated to dig in. Although his tears had dried, they might as well have turned to concrete, as his head hung low, feeling almost sluggish. When his hands curled around the utensils and he cut off a piece, it was only to appease the man across from him.

Slowly, he began to eat. The taste was – oh, that was delicious! The omelette was surely the best thing he’d ever tasted, the smooth and fluffy texture aiding the brilliant flavour coat his tongue. “Wow! You’re a really good cook!” Falco gushed, quickly shovelling another mouthful.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t believe me?” Mr Kirstein said, but he didn’t receive an answer other than an indecipherable mumble from the boy. He mustn’t have been too offended however, because he only chuckled. The sound startled Falco a little, still on edge even with the assistance of heavenly food, but the man just sent him a smile. Falco hesitated, but returned it awkwardly.

By the time Falco had scooped up most of the remaining crumbs, now completely full, the light outside had all but disappeared. To avoid sitting in an awkward silence, he quickly stood up and took it over to the sink, which already had a few pieces of various pieces of cutlery soaking in sudsy water.

With Mr Kirstein not even halfway through his meal, Falco went about making himself useful, cleaning at the sink and slowly working through the various utensils and cutlery, making sure to be extra careful with a stranger’s possessions. The repetitive nature of cleaning helped ease his mind back down from the distress lurking bellow, further delaying the inevitable.

Eventually, Mr Kirstein placed his plate beside him with a nonchalant, “here”, before picking up a cloth and drying what he’d already washed, putting them back in their various places.

It was so odd, thinking that his life would completely change from here. Of course, Falco hadn’t resigned himself to a fate of simply going along with whatever Mr Kirstein said – but he also didn’t want to simply run off. He longed to compromise with the man, and to resolve this with words. Maybe he was being naive again, but he didn’t think Mr Kirstein had to be his enemy.

After all, didn’t they want the same thing - to stop Eren from attacking Liberio? Maybe it was for different reasons, but they could work towards the same goal temporarily at least.

It was rather odd to think about, but if he simply turned up to training tomorrow, there’d likely be no consequences for being outside of the internment zone. The only way they’d know is though the guards at the gate disclosing the fact he hadn’t come back through, or his family reporting him missing. But his family wouldn’t do that unless they had no other choice, and Falco had come to trust the guards. They’d never minded when he’d come and gone a few extra times to deliver letters or return to headquarters, not even asking him what he was doing and instead engaging in light small talk about how his training was going. Compared to the guards posted before they’d left for the war against the middle-eastern alliance, they were absolutely amazing. Due to his yellow armband, they didn’t even have to keep logs.

Despite the worry he felt due to years of warnings and death threats, a logical part of him realised that returning may not be impossible just yet. The thought made him crack a smile, the feeling of hope returning making him feel a little more energetic.

Before his young mind could think the idea through more thoroughly, the sudden emotional switch was written all over his face far too obviously, and he soon noticed Mr Kirstein giving him an odd look in his peripheral.

The realisation made him stiffen up. ‘Well, this is once again, stupid and impulsive. But I have to do something. I won’t let this play out without doing anything to change it. I won’t sit back and let this happen to the people I love. I have to push on and not take the easy route.’

Still, he felt himself begin to tense up. In preparation, Falco breathed in and out deeply.

“Mr Kirstein... I know you don’t trust me, but isn’t this your only chance?” He started, voice cracking the silence in half. Wet hands dangled over the water, hovering nervously as Falco tried to analyse the man.

The man gazed back, noticeably stiffening at the abrupt subject change.

“What are you getting at?” His voice remained even, but the deadly seriousness had returned. Falco turned to face him, making his voice as even and strong as he could.

“Let me deliver letters from you. I can get you in contact with Eren, if you let me.”

Chapter Text

Jean

"Sorry kid, but it's not happening." it was blunt, intentionally so. Jean did not want to take a child from his home anymore than any sane person would – especially knowing what would happen to the internment zone – regardless, it was necessary.

"But, you need to get in contact with Eren as soon as you can, right?" Falco insisted, "you said it yourself, attacking the internment zone is a bad idea for your home, too!"

"It's better than risking those plans leaked to the Marleyan Government and loosing the founding titan." he tried to explain again, even when the determination in the boy's eyes made it clear he would get nowhere.

What a strange kid.

Jean hadn't missed how devastated he'd been, not only because of Zeke, but over Eren, too. Cleary Eren had befriended him somehow, or at least earned his favour.

At the very least, he could empathise with the kid. He still remembered the feeling of finding out about Annie, then Reiner and Berthold; the pain and the confusion such betrayals caused. Zeke had been acting for years, no doubt close to the warrior group... even those on Paradis didn't fully understand him.

So why was Falco so quick to trust him, and island devil, after all of that?

"I wouldn't say anything. I don't want war. Or for Marley to attack Paradis at all... it's the Eldian soldiers that always take the brunt of war anyway. Please believe me, if I can help to have this end peacefully, I will. I don't even want Mister Yeager to be eaten, not really."

Jean sighed, a little lost on what to say – repeating he couldn't take that risk was surely meaningless when Falco was so insistent on helping him... or saying that he could help him in order to escape back home (Jean knew, though, the former was the truth). They'd simply repeat themselves all over.

Noting his silence, the boy sighed too. "Okay. I'll ask again in the morning."

"My answer won't change."

Jean was offered a sad smile. "I know. I'll still try, though."

Jean strolled down the road, hands in his pockets as he watched the warrior cadet, walk ahead of him towards the Military Headquarters, turning a corner where Jean would soon keep walking forward.

Loosing track of the boy, Falco Grice, sealed it – they were moving forward with this bizarre plan.

Only a few hours ago, Jean had sat down with Falco to discuss what exactly the boy had in mind. It was long and stressful, ending in him penning a letter (with Falco present) explaining the situation to his squad and commander Hange Zoe: a person he'd come to respect for their openness and intelligence. Their eccentric nature seemed to find joy in living on the edge, of danger being at their heels all hours of the day. More than ever, he hoped that quality of theirs stayed strong as it was four years ago, lest this idea be called out for what it was – an incompetent, desperate gamble.

As the letter left his grasp and fell into the post-box, Jean couldn't say he'd come to understand that thrill-seeking nature. This insane premise of trusting a warrior candidate with this key information, even to enable him to walk straight to his superiors and tell them everything, reminded him of four years ago. Of the feeling he got when Armin announced some insanely risky plan or when he was ordered to do something only a suicidal maniac would actually obey. The pit of dread in his stomach he forced down in order to follow through, anticipating what was to come with as much bravery as he could hope to muster.

More specifically, it reminded him of the first time he'd ever suggested his own risky plan; when he'd convinced Corporal Levi to let him decipher Marlo and Hitche's loyalties when they were on the run. He'd believed in Marlo's conviction, had seen both himself and Eren in the other teenager, and so wanted to give him a chance to prove himself a valuable ally.

Jean didn't believe the same could happen here. Falco wanted the same thing as him for now, but as soon as Eren was no longer a direct threat to his hometown, they'd oppose each other soon after. Unlike Marlo, Falco wasn't looking out for the people of Paradise. They could only ever work together temporarily. In a few years from now, he could be fighting the boy who would bear a newly obtained Titan.

His mind drifted to Eren –for as much as Jean never said it aloud, he wanted that suicidal bastard back home as much as his friends – for Mikasa, and all of their sakes. He was Eren, impulsive and irritating, before he was the founding titan. The Eren he always put in his place, the Eren he still wanted to reach out to – the offer too tempting to dismiss.

Turning back around, Jean left the post box behind him. This time in tomorrow, he'd know if this risk could pay off.

Falco

"Brother!" Colt almost leapt at him, firm hands squeezing his shoulders as the other leaned next to him, before they wrapped around in a stiff embrace.

"Hey. Colt." he muttered back, voice sounding as if he was currently hoisting up an elephant. His brother only held him closer. Luckily, no other soldiers were in the courtyard, the other candidates yet to arrive. Even if they had, Falco doubted his brother would have the patience to leave for somewhere more private. No one was looking at him, no was suspecting him, not yet, not in this moment... he was with his brother again. As he felt Colt's grip turn more gentle, taking a deep breath, Falco felt himself melt into the hug, finally, for a moment, able to breathe deeply, calm. Together, they breathed in, hearts slowing.

With Mr Kirstien, he'd felt so lost. Regardless of niceties, regardless of how he'd tried to seem reliable, sure of himself, the simple truth was that he'd been confused, with not a single clue of what he was doing. He still didn't know – not really: should he tell someone what was happening? Who? Mr Braun, another warrior, Miss Pieck or Mr Galliard? On the other hand, should he prioritize keeping the situation as deescalated as possible, and put his trust in Mr Kirstein? One wrong step and he would lose that string of faith that kept him afloat. One wrong step, and his home could be in even more danger.

In another moment, Colt pulled back, hands on his shoulders once more. His big brother looked him in the eye, face an anguished wash of confusion and dancing remnants of fear. "Where there hell... where did you go? Then you turn up here, I... Do you know how worried we were at home?"

His stomach turned over, and he breathed another sigh, unable to keep the eye contact. "I'm sorry. I got stuck here after the gates to the internment zone shut..."

"You what – Falco, you just stayed at headquarters over night?" Colt's tone was adequately disbelieving. Falco hoped that was the shock talking.

"Yeah. I didn't know what to do – don't worry, no one saw me. I'm really sorry Colt."

The sound of a door slamming made the brother's jump apart, turning to see three Marleyan soldiers marching outside. Glancing at them with a sneer, the three kept walking.

Once more, Colt took a deep breath, analysing Falco's face enough to make him want to squirm. "... At least you're okay. Let's hope the gate guards will let this slip. They asked where you were this morning, and I made up an excuse for you... we'll talk to them, together, alright? They're not so bad, if we say the right thing... maybe..."

Falco only nodded, not knowing what to say. After the craziness that'd ended only minutes ago, he needed his brother's presence, grateful once more to have him.

Mikasa

Mikasa sat at her desk, her head resting on folded arms, nuzzled into the red scarf now pulled to reach past her nose. The desk sat positioned next to a window that looks out across the gardens, but Mikasa's gaze does not reach it. Instead, that glossy, syrup-coloured wood, constantly smelling like polisher, is all she saw. She only knew the sun is setting from the shadows and darkening tones.

Her senses perk to the sound of footsteps approaching her room, instincts not disrupted by her bleak outlook. They are soft, cautious, yet not hesitant as they come to stop by her door and give two knocks. "Mikasa, it's me." Armin's familiar voice calls to her softly, and she turns around as he enters. There's this look in his eye that had been missing for months now, and his eyes seem a brighter shade than what she'd grown accustomed to expecting. Her eyes dart down to his hand as he holds out a letter to her.

Mikasa's mood plummets instantaneously.

Without a word, she slowly reaches for it, gripping the envelope, and turning back to the desk. Propping her elbows back on the table, she opens the already unsealed letter and begins to read.

When she finishes, she reads it again. After that, she glances back at Armin over her shoulder (who watches her intently) before reading it for a third time.

The letter is from Jean rather than Eren – a relief for her heart – but what he says... it makes no sense to her.

"Armin..." she mutters her friend's name, knowing her friend would have made for sense from it.

"Mikasa... it's a lot, isn't it?" Armin places an understanding hand on her shoulder as her gaze lowers back to the desk. "We're going to discuss it in a moment, but Hange wanted everyone together."

For another moment, Mikasa pauses. Her fingers dance over the edges of the paper as her thoughts swim wildly. Does this mean she could feel hopeful again? Commander Hange would surely advise them on that. Mikasa stands, turning to her childhood friend with the letter held close to her chest.

"Let's go, then."

Armin nods silently, and she follows him out of the room, side by side once they're in the corridor.

"It'll be alright, Mikasa." Armin reassures softly, a phrase he repeats often to her in the last few months. Mikasa hopes that she can start to believe him soon.

Falco

Everything was going well.

And it was due to this fact that Falco felt incredibly paranoid.

It had been almost forty-eight hours since met Mr Kirstein now, before simply walking away (as though nothing happened, oh so normal) in the morning. Everything went right. The guards, jolly and kind as always, had laughed of his 'blunder' too easily. No Marleyans had seen him acting suspiciously, or at least they had not reported it. His father only gave him ten strikes with the cane for being stuck at headquarters (he started to wonder what Mr Kruger would think of that, but those thoughts quickly turned sour). Only Colt remained suspicious that he was hiding something ("It's your big brother's job to always be there for you, so stop pouting!") but even he had eventually let it go. Just like that, the familiar routine allowed Falco to act as if nothing had changed with surprising ease. The only blunder had been when he'd been staring down Zeke without even realising it, and receiving a few odd looks for doing so.

He was sure that by now, there were multiple holes in the different stories he'd told people, and an amalgamation of contradictions. It made him wonder why others just took his word for things so easily – surely he sounded utterly ridiculous!

"I'll see you guys tomorrow, I'm staying for extra practice." Falco said, reloading his gun as the others began to pack up, their allotted training time now over. Gabi gave an exaggerated groan.

"Seriously? You're so annoying..."

"And that's coming from whom?" Udo retorted, and Falco chuckled. It was always nice when someone had your back. Gabi, however, wasn't as pleased.

"Someone who can actually focus." Falco froze under her direct stare – someone had noticed his behaviour after all. 'But why did it have to be Gabi - Out of everyone, the most stubborn?'

"That's why I'm staying longer: to make up for it." He lied hastily, keeping his eyes on the target. In all honesty, he only then realised he had been too distracted to even notice his performance.

"Warrior Candidates, Captain Magath has summoned you to his office." a rather tall officer interrupted them. He was equipped with eyes that oozed contempt as he leered at the children. "Right away, sir." Udo answered first, and Falco quickly moved to clear up, before following his friends out of the door.

"What do you think it is?" Gabi hummed as she strolled along, far peppier than the rest of them.

"Nothing good. It's never anything good." Zofia said.

"Maybe a new training regime or some task?" Falco pondered. Captain Magath had seemed extra busy as of late, rarely training them hands on as he tended to prefer: this could be important.

Gabi's eyes swiftly lit up as his suggestion. "Or choosing the successor of the Armoured Titan?" excitement caused the girl to almost bounce as she walked. Falco felt a wave of apprehension flow through him. That was a real possibility as well.

By the time they crossed the courtyard and made it to the Captain's office, Falco was barely participating in the small talk anymore, too lost in his own thoughts. He knocked on the door and announced their presence before Gabi had the chance to, before letting himself and the others in at the man's approval.

Captain Magath's presence was as intense as ever. Falco had learned that for as harsh as the man could be, he treated the warrior unit far more humanely than one would expect (of course, he was no angel, and Falco still held some resentment over him choosing Colt as the beast's successor) and was actually willing to listen to an Eldian's input. The way Captain Magath always scolded Colt for his lack of initiative and then genuinely listened to his input had once completely shocked Falco.

"In a weeks' time, there will be a dinner party hosted by Lord Tibur. You Warrior Candidates will serve as attendants, and meet the guest's needs without flaw. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

As Captain Magath continued to indulge more details, and how they would be trained as proper waiters, Falco struggled to actually register his words. 'It's real? Mr Kirstein was telling the truth? I still don't know for sure yet but... Lord Tibur returning to Marley just when Mr Kirstein said he aimed to declare war? And Zeke already knew about it...? At least, I'll be there to hear whatever he has to say.'

Falco had to suppress a smile, feeling significantly more confident. Rather than having to rely on second hand information, he'd see this himself. Furthermore, he now felt comfortable believing Mr Kirstein's claims easier now that he had some new evidence.

Despite being so insistent with Mr Kirstein before about helping, he'd be lying if he said he felt comfortable with this. His hometown was in direct danger, from the person he'd... no, he should not think about that part.

'Focus on talking with the others, don't let them notice.' he reminded himself, 'let those thoughts come later.'

Once again left as the last one to finish packing his bag, Falco followed the other warrior candidates out into the courtyard where they spotted Mr Braun and Mr Galliard talking. Despite being further away, the tone of Mr Galliard's voice, who appeared to be ranting about something, wasn't friendly. Even with the candidates fully are of their tumultuous relationship, the holder of the Jaw Titan still paused when he saw the four of them approaching, turning away from Reiner and stepping towards them.

"Hey kids. What were you up to today?"

"Getting perfect scores whilst Falco falls behind, what else?" Gabi puffs out her chest slightly, a big grin on her face.

Falco and Reiner's eyes meet, broken immediately by the former. 'That's right. No matter how serious the situation is, I have to keep trying to save her. I'll try harder, I promise.' Of course, Mr Braun couldn't hear his thoughts, but Falco would let his actions speak for him. He would do his best to focus slowly on that goal as soon as he entered headquarters, just as he had before finding out about Eren Yeager.

Idle chatter filled the air, the conversation to the point with the candidates eager to get home. When Falco mentioned staying a little longer, Gabi gave him some side-eye, but left regardless.

Once they were out of earshot, Falco turned to the current Armoured Titan.

"Mr Braun, could you give me some pointers for physical combat?"

"Exactly. Then, you'll throw your left foot forward, and wrap your right arm around their neck. You'll pull down, and then have a better angle for a better submission, and access to the nape."

Falco nodded along, absorbing it easily. They stood in the courtyard centre, no one else within hearing distance. Only two Marleyan Soldiers hung out on a railing above, words only as decipherable as a bee's buzzing.

With their difference in height and build, proper demonstration was far from practical. Still, refreshing the basics with such an accomplished warrior was nothing to scoff at, and every word he hung on to carefully. Falco had seen him in practice against other soldiers on occasion. When he fought, Mr Braun was no longer man, even when outside his titan – instead, he was a mountain, steeled with a sturdy base and a defence harder than rock.

What the boy was most interested today, though, was not so lauded.

"Which of those techniques have you used against other titans?" Falco inquired, attempting to seem casual.

"The Armoured is effective with charges, and when it has the first hit. Don't aim for anything fancy or requiring agility, rather absorb, and counter." The response was to the point, relevant, and not at all what Falco was aiming for in the moment.

Cautiously, he pushed a little more. Voice less certain, he asked, "Any particular moves you used more than once...?"

Reiner's gaze became heavier, eyebrows dipping slightly. "Is there something you want to know?"

There lay a mountain of things Falco wanted to know. Trying to find those that Mr Braun would actually answer was what appeared to be impossible. Falco wanted to be direct, ask him what Paradis island was really like – if he was right to trust Mr Kirstein. To his dismay, however, he simply could not understand Mr Braun – who had encouraged him to save Gabi yet shut down any potential disloyalty to Marley.

"... The reports about Paradis are very vague. Including the fighting tactics you used. When I inherit your titan, I might have to fight other titans around fifteen metres there, so I was wondering..." Mr Braun's expression betrayed nothing, no matter how closely Falco watched him. Pushing on, he tried his trump card. "I even thought they might fight differently, being devils. Surely they won't fight fair."

"Paradis teaches fighting similarly to Marley." Mr Braun, disappointingly, didn't budge. To the point, relevant.

'Just give me something,' Falco so desperately wanted to say aloud, 'something I can build from, anything!' After what happened on the train, however, this cautious skirting was as far as he dared to push it. He could already feel himself sweating, hot under the collar, far out of his comfort zone and pushing his moral boundaries.

In truth, since meeting Mr Kirstein, Falco had been thinking about Paradis allot. About all that Mr Braun must've seen in those four years – his time there must've been so much more painful than he'd first imagined. If those inside the wall were just as human as Mr Kirstein appeared to be, everything Falco thought he understood became far more nuanced, difficult to understand.

This didn't scare him. No matter how complex or demoralising the truth was, he wanted to know. Only, the ones he trusted the most seemed the most hesitant to give it. Colt, Gabi, both he could never tell about any of this. Udo and Zofia were more realistic, yet when it came to Paradis...?

Falco didn't want any of them involved. He also knew it was a bad idea to simply keep all this to himself, regardless of what he'd promised Mr Kirstein. He would do anything to save his hometown, especially in a peaceful manner, if possible.

Mr Braun had drawn a clear line. To pass it he would have to give away key information – information he increasingly felt the weight of bearing down.

With a heavy heart, he thanked Mr Braun, and bid him farewell.

Mikasa

"Ah, there you two are. Here, take a seat." Hange offered them both with a weary smile. She and Armin sat down on the empty sofa, Sasha and Connie in the other. Levi sat in the armchair, with Hange seemingly in the middle of pacing.

The room was warm, alit by a healthy fire that crackled and spit. It seemed more alive than anyone in the room, faces ranging between downtrodden and disbelief.

"So, the brat decided to play dress-up as an amnesiac amputee." Levi drawled.

"It's a good disguise, all things considered. Good for us too, since he can't wonder to far from one place." Hange hummed. They had turned to face everyone, a hand at their chin in consideration.

Sasha perked up, "you mean, we're going after him?"

"It's a possibility now." Hange confirmed.

Armin nodded with them, glancing at Mikasa as he begun to speak, who had not said a word since they'd left her room. "It could work. If we could talk to him, figure out what his plan is with Zeke..."

Mikasa only looked back at him. It seemed too soon to hope.

Connie, who'd been brooding silently, scowled. "If he bothered to tell us, which he hasn't for who knows how long. And now he's planning to have us all attack Liberio for him."

"That hasn't happened yet." Mikasa murmured.

Staring at her for a second, Connie just shook his head. "Just planning to is bad enough."

"Mikasa." Levi interrupted them, saving the woman from her own lack of rebuttal, "you think he'd do all of this, and go back at the last second?"

The two Ackerman's held eye contact. Levi was deceptively casual, holding tea in his right hand, but head titled to look at her directly. It was Mikasa who looked down, staring at her hands, fiddling them together in her lap. "There's a chance. Eren would never get civilians involved if he didn't have to."

Across from her, Sasha looked between everyone rapidly. "Those letters didn't sound like he wrote them at all. I mean, he cares about us, and then wants us to lead an attack to save him... he used to hate feeling pathetic like that!"

"Sasha..."

"So maybe it was Zeke who wrote them instead! It's a disguise!"

No one met her gaze. In the thickening atmosphere, Armin finally muttered, "Sasha, that doesn't work. The warrior candidate would know what Zeke looks like, and he described Eren."

The other woman deflated slightly, now looking just as lost as everyone else.

"We should just smuggle that arrogant brat out. He doesn't get to decide what should happen next." Levi grumbled, taking a sip of tea between his words. "We didn't risk out lives for him over and over so he can throw a tantrum and run away."

Mikasa had wondered about that. Surely, they could get him back now. There was just over a week until the festival – time was not on their side, but it wasn't too late to work something out.

Hange sighed a little, hands on their hips.

"Whatever we plan to do with Eren, it could take a while to get all the paperwork done to get us into the internment zone. It's not as if Marleyan Civilians would ever just casually go there for a stroll." Commander Hange looked at each of them, Mikasa hoping they were going somewhere with this. "So, in the meantime, we should explore all the possibilities we've got."

"What else is there? Zeke?" Connie raised an eyebrow.

Hange shook their head, suddenly grinning: "the warrior candidate! I mean, Jean seemed to trust him, didn't he?"

Mikasa glanced up at Sasha, who blinked at Hange at the suggestion. She caught Armin's eye next. He held that thoughtful expression, one she'd come to know well.

Hange's hands went up, their grin ever-present. "We're the scouts! Taking stupid risks and clinging onto whatever we have is all we've ever done! This is a different world, it's true, but that doesn't mean we should give up!"

Years ago, those same words inspired them. Years ago, those words eventually led them here, this side of the sea. The hope they'd invigorated then... she felt none of it.

'Is this really progress?' Mikasa thought, 'loosing the founding Titan, and scrambling to get him back?'

Around her, glances filled the room, from unsure to depressed to hopeful. Armin's eyes found hers, and he took her hand to give it a squeeze.

"No, we won't give up." Armin spoke. "We haven't lost Eren yet."

Eren

The world is silent this time of day. A time when work is over and almost everyone is at home, eating dinner together and talking about their days, still not late enough for parties and bars to get into a full swing.

In the evening air, Eren awaited a soldier's arrival, at Zeke's promise. He is behind the hospital once more, where he previously met Zeke. His arm became increasingly sore, as he stayed stationary on his crutch.

He was glad to see the day end. A few hours ago, he had been frequently checking the windows to see Falco's arrival: he'd done so yesterday as well, noting the boy's prolonged absence, especially after seeing him had become a daily routine – not to mention how he'd pleaded Eren to deliver more letters through him.

Eren wasn't going to allow that, though. He would hand Falco meaningless deadwood, and give Zeke's follower what was needed.

The sound of footsteps approached, and he turned to a Marleyan soldier, wearing a dark blue uniform he had seen guards wear before.

The man ducks his head briefly, before standing straight once more and holding out his hand. "A letter for War-chief Zeke?"

Wordlessly, Eren takes it from his pocket and hands it over.

The soldier continues passed him as though he'd never halted, travelling down a set of stairs into the city bellow.

How he hated this feeling – his bones fundamentally opposed this stifled lifestyle, this waiting game, these slow, drawn out days of waiting for the sunset to claim the last rays of sun, just so he could write off another day.

There was nothing to do, however.

It didn't matter how he delivered those letters. It didn't matter how Falco would feel when he eventually found out. How could it, when his end goal was so devastating?

So why, with every passing day, did his day-dreams stretch to be more and more unrealistic? Thinking of Mikasa, thinking of Armin, as he told them everything, shared the future he saw. Thinking of Zeke, how he would worm a few more favours in his favour. Only a few hours ago, he had tried to brainstorm a way to convince Falco and his family to travel to Paradis Island. Something so utterly outlandish it should never have crossed his mind – but now he could not stop thinking about it.

With no company, his mind continued to drift – to where, he would never know.

Falco

A new morning, a new day of relentless training.

Today, they were in the courtyard. Udo and Zofia stood off, talking casually as their supervisors drew the start and end of their race in the dirt. Stretching his arms, Falco counted to five seconds before switching arms. Then it was his calves.

A new race, a new opportunity to beat Gabi.

Protecting her was all he would think about for as long as he was at headquarters – that was his new promise to himself. Even outside of headquarters, it would remain his biggest priority, regardless of his new understanding of the world, of what he was fighting to do in her place. That would never change. The recent changes in his life only made him realise that it may be even harder to do so that he'd expected – and to do so without becoming someone he didn't recognise.

'So, I'll just have to knock something like this out of the park.' it was that simple - he had to win.

Udo and Zofia were to his left, Gabi to his right. Lined up, guns held to their chests.

A supervisor walked over, whistle hung around his neck. His footsteps were the only sound, silence prevailing as he halted to their right.

Falco's knees bent, ready before any other candidate.

Their supervisor drew the whistle to his mouth, letting it hang there. Each second became encompassed by a domineering silence that halted even the wind. When Falco took a breath, it seemed the loudest thing he'd ever done. He was solely concentrated on the race ahead - on winning.

There was no one here but Gabi. Only them, in world of nothing but a dirt track. There was no Udo, no Zofia, no supervisor.

Ahead, there would be nothing but victory, so he swore.

A whistle blew, and his body surged forwards. Legs kicked into the dirt, arms pumped back and forth, spiting the heavy weapon. Every muscle worked in tandem, his lungs forcing fresh air in with heavy breaths to circulate his blood.

Soon, a burning ache took hold, pain mounting with each harsh thud of his boots hitting the ground. Sweat dripped, his ears rang. Now his muscled screamed for release, begging him, but he could only keep running.

Ahead, a glance told him the finishing line was right ahead. Gabi - ahead of him, ready to take this race. The distance between them was mocking in its gravity. He would not be intimidated. He would not give up.

Falco compelled his legs forward until steps became leaps, wider and faster. And if his legs were to collapse, he'd grow wings, and fly instead, for loosing was not an option. He would take the armoured titan.

At full speed, he charged, the finish line merely a couple meters away. He heard Gabi's breaths. He ran harder, a final few steps, and collapsed.

On his knees, he heard Gabi slow to a halt - and knew he had done it.

Falco threw his head back, and cheered. Udo and Zofia's cheers soon joined, and the need to breathe was triumphed by pure elation.

Half an hour later, Falco stood by the hospital.

Everything looked as it always had. He saw nurses and patients mulling around, a sombre air lingering around the large building that was home to those who had nowhere to go, and no freedom to build anything new for themselves.

Almost two months ago, Mr Kruger first called for him, as he stood in this exact place. Then, this dreary hospital became his safe haven, a more comforting place than his own home. The place he'd come to whenever he wanted Mr Kruger's company, his advice, his compassion and encouragement.

Falco ducked his head, and retreated behind the wall. Back leant against the bricks, he sighed. It was a Friday. He'd accomplished something great. Of course, of course he'd come to the hospital. His head joined his back against the brick with a soft thud. 'This is so stupid.'

Eren Yeager... it was slowly getting easier to refer to him that way. 'Mr Kruger' was a face of the past. Falco didn't know how much was real, and how much was a facade, and up till now he had no desire to find out. After almost being the one to cause his hometown to be attacked, Falco never wanted see his face again. The face of a man who'd he'd confided in more than anyone else.

Now, a moment he would have loved to share with 'Mr Kruger', when his hard work spurred on by the man finally paid off, was lost. The final blow of realisation sank in: he was alone again. He still had no one to turn to about his Grandfather, no one he could bear to burden.

Now that he recalled, Yeager had never seemed to like that; "But you should still consider telling him what's going on... at least think about it."

Falco huffed, humiliation brewing as he tried to mask it with a scowl. 'I must've been quite the burden for him.'

Slowly, he got back to his feet, and stalked away from the hospital.

From his bag, he dug out his sketchpad and a pencil. He had other ways to spend him time, before he had to face his grandfather once again. Finding something interesting to translate onto paper would surely ease his mind a little. He had done it before, he would do it again.

"I wish it wasn't you."

What was that even supposed to mean? Falco shook his head – Mr Kirstein made it clear this was all as Eren intended. He shouldn't want to talk to him still... he should hate him. Falco wanted to hate Eren.

For as angry as he was, that feeling never came.

Instead, the icy wind chilled the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He found himself seated upon a bench, outside a café that'd already closed for the evening. His pencil rested against the paper, nothing yet drawn. Despite the bustle, nothing drew his eye. In the evening, he could almost picture it as a forest trail – people of all sorts trekking the same path, predictable yet somehow fascinating. Then, he thought, the hospital had been his blue ocean – though many resided there, they seemed invisible, leaving him and Mr Kruger to talk freely upon the still surface.

In the end, nothing was drawn. He simply watched the world around him. At some point, his head fell into his arms, resting upon the bench and his notebook.

Without Mr Kruger, going home seemed far too daunting.

Falco wanted to deny it – but it was true. Though a storm had struck the ocean, he still gasped to stay afloat, rather than be pulled bellow, into the dark depths, unknowing when he would be struck, hurt again, all alone. Colt, always nearby yet so far – in the centre of the storm, unable to fathom what lay beyond.

The idea had him curl into himself further. 'Why,' he wondered, 'did I confide in him so easily? This would be so much easier if he'd just been an acquaintance, or something.'

Although Eren Yeager hadn't seemed to like it... he'd encouraged it, hadn't he? He held him when he sobbed, told him wanted he needed to hear. Those memories seemed too raw – too real – to come from nothing. Then, there were the letters. He'd always made a point to thank Falco each time he delivered them for him. The boy had felt so appreciated, seen by those small gestures of gratefulness. Then he'd tried to stop having him deliver them all together. Surely, he found a better way to do so - safer than relying on some pathetic kid.

Another possibility sprung to mind. Falco ignored it. He wouldn't get his hopes up. Not with Yeager. Not again.

'How much time am I wasting on this, anyway?' the thought made his eyes blink open, 'I could be using it to study for a test, practicing at headquarters. Instead I ran off and wasted however long staring at the sky.'

Regardless of how difficult it was to go home, or too truly comprehend everything that happened outside of training, that wasn't an excuse. One race wouldn't save Gabi. He needed to keep going, and letting Eren Yeager get in the way of that would only lead to more pain.

A new fierceness balled his fists, and sat him up straight. This was his life. For Gabi, he needed to control it. For Gabi, he could face any storm.

Chapter Text

Falco

Each step home took effort, Falco dragging his feet slightly. He took the route the alleyways again, if only to avoid as many eyes as possible. They do not mean any harm, but his wish to be alone cannot even blossom in his own home – this is his only chance.

There, he saw a familiar face – Mr Patterson. Worn, yet not defeated. As he approached, the man sat up, giving him a quick smile. “Hey there, Falco. Haven’t seen you in a while now.”

“Yeah... how are you holding up?”

“About as well as before.” there is a hopelessness to his voice that’s all too familiar. Mr Patterson and he only ever have short talks – pleasantries mostly: he knows almost nothing about the man, besides him being homeless and outwardly nice.

Today, though, he drops his bag besides him and leans on the wall, knees pulled near his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Ah, maybe, who knows?” he looks surprised at the abrupt company, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Did you have a job before? Maybe you can get one like that again?”

“I was a postman. Not much skill involved in that. Didn’t pay much, either. It was only a matter of time before it to all crumbled down.”

“Oh...” maybe that was the wrong thing to ask, but Falco couldn’t think of more to say. That was probably why they hadn’t talk much before, he supposed.

“Don’t dwell on it. I doubt a life like mine’ll happen to a kid like you. Bet you have tons of ambitions, huh?”

His hand reached to clench upon his yellow armband, eyebrows furrowed. “...I like drawing.”

“Really? That’s good – lots of artistic jobs out there you can work towards.”

Falco isn’t sure why he said that. Gabi matters more than some drawings – infinitely so – but... those words made him smile somehow.

In a way, this reminded him of how he first met ‘Mr Kruger’. How funny it was, that only a few kind words from a stranger made all the difference.

In the internment zone, people just like him, just like Mr Patterson, lived out their lives, in total ignorance of Eren Yeager living amongst them. They had families, friends, ambitions with failures and triumphs.

The responsibility of keeping all of them safe now rested partly on his shoulders. Should he change his mind, and trust in the Marleyans? The people who’d subjugated them for a hundred years... yet interacted with them every day, from Eldians being employed outside the internment zone to making up the majority of their military ground force.

Alternatively, did he continue to try to trust the people from Paradis? Fellow Eldians just like those from the Liberio – but from so far away, so isolated from the entire world, that they had no ties to the people here. Only a few days ago, he finally met someone from the island, something he’d only expected to happen on a battlefield.

Falco thought that on the island, kind people like Mr Patterson must live out their lives, just as they did here. Those people, he knew, were worth protecting, just as much as the people from the internment zone, regardless of personal bias.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I’ll try to be all I can, Mr Patterson.”

Dinner is served shortly after he arrives home. Falco sets the table whilst his brother finishes cooking - something Colt has gotten rather into lately, insisting to their parents that he wants to do so occasionally. It is a kind gesture, and they clearly appreciate it. Colt is wonderful like that.

Their grandfather walks out of the bathroom as Colt serves each portion, giving a friendly smile to them both. “That looks mighty tasty, Colt.”

His brother gives a small smile back, blushing subtlety, a little “thank you,” squeaking out.

“I have a few cookbooks lying around if you need any. They have some pretty unique ones, like a few dishes from Hizuru.”

“That sounds great, grandpa. If I can find the ingredients for such things...”

They sat around the table, Falco immediately sliding into his usual place next to his brother, who was obviously reeling from all the praise. Not that Falco could blame him – those words were coated in fondant - seemingly so sweet, but only moulded for visuals.

“They’re there if you want them. Anyway, both of you, how was training this week?”

Colt sat up, turning to him. “Falco has been doing well lately. Beat Gabi in a foot race today – she’s the top candidate I told you about.”

Falco raised an eyebrow, not noticing his brother had been present- wasn’t he in a meeting? Colt shrugs back at him, reading his mind – “I was above on the railings. Watched the whole thing.”

“Well, isn’t that impressive?” the praise shouldn’t make him happy, and he should disregard it as what is was – perfectly placed fondant.

“Uhm. Thank you.” how desperately pathetic he felt.

“We should both shower, though.” Colt continues, “that run has got you smelling pretty bad, Falco.”

The jolt of panic is nothing new – but like anything that happens far too regularly, it fades fast. As Colt should expect him to, he grumbles and nudges him under the table. Showering would take ten minutes. Ten minutes to be alone. There was only one bathroom... he couldn’t pretend to use that... could he pretend to study? No, why would that ensure no communication...

“Now, Colt, be nice to your brother.”

Maybe a chore, like taking out the garbage? Cleaning the dishes would put him in one place for too long without Colt.

“Come on, grandpa, it’s true at least! I’m sure you can smell the both of us. Sorry about that.”

When was the last time they took the garbage out? It was Friday now, so... a couple of days ago? If Colt saw, he’d probably only think he was being forgetful, right? It shouldn’t be suspicious in any way.

“It only means you worked hard, Colt. As you always do.”

That wouldn’t take up enough time, though. He needed other chores, ones that made him move around the house...

“What about you, Grandpa? Did you do anything interesting this week?”

What about dusting? No, that wasn’t urgent enough; it would be an obvious avoidance – so what else? Cleaning his room? He could always make a mess before his grandfather came in.

“Oh, no. Just looking for a new house, as per usual. Speaking of, Falco?” said boy jumped at his name, looking over to see his grandfather looking at him with a deep frown. “I’m sorry, for not noticing that you didn’t feel comfortable in that area. You should have told me sooner.”

Colt looked between them, head swerving almost comically. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Ah, his father told me about him not liking the area surrounding the Slatewood Apartments. And really, I get it. It’s not a nice place.” The tone was so understanding and patient. The look he gave so concerned and thoughtful... but it was unabashedly intense, holding eye contact for far too long.

“He never said anything to me either... you really can’t find any place nicer, grandpa?” Colt asked the question with caution.

His grandfather waved him off a little, shaking his head.

“My budget isn’t particularly grand, Colt. Oh – but don’t worry about that. I’m sure a place will come up eventually.”

Inspiration lit up Colt’s face. The expression that Falco had seen many times in the trenches when he came up with a new idea he was sure Captain Magath would approve of. This time, Falco had a grasp on what he was thinking before he opened his mouth – with the thought, terror seized his body, the ability to breath shaken from him.

“Why don’t you move in with us?”

‘No. Anything but that – Colt!’

“I couldn’t possibly! You have a good place here, for growing up, not bothered by some old man.” The rejection was of no comfort. It meant nothing, nothing but fondant.

Colt, charmed, insisted, because of course he did. He would never let family suffer. Colt is wonderful like that. Falco could only watch as they went back and forth – “mum and dad would never mind, we’ll be happy to have you with us!”

He wanted to say something but his airways were clogged. Sweat covered him, a bristled blanket to his skin that we could not shrug off. He was trapped beneath it, and it stole all he had. He felt weak, as though his muscles had withered away. It increased, with every word spoken: until, as his grandfather stared down into him, that people-pleasing grin still slathered on his face: “well, if you insist... I suppose I can think about it.”

Colt take a sigh of relief, the sound barely registering. “Please do. Falco and I could always share a room, so you can take whichever you like... right, Falco?” his brother paused. “...Falco?”

Now, his brother too looked down on him. Only, the look he gave him...

Falco stood up abruptly, feet staggering him away. His brain jolted to excuse his body - “bathroom.”

Falco had never seen a white rabbit before. Falco had never seen any rabbit before.

It was silent and still. But weren’t rabbits supposed to jump? Even when he crouched next to it, the rabbit did not move.

Its chest was moving. Much faster than his chest, up and down it went.

Falco watched it for a moment, not wanting to be scary. He was very big compared to a rabbit. Daddy was very proud when he reached 110cm a few days ago! He said he’d be tall, just like him and grandpa!

Falco looked back at the rabbit. It was white, but it was dirty. Almost all its fur was somewhat brown, and Falco thought that it was probably mud.

He could help clean up the rabbit!

Very slowly, his arms crept forward. Slowly, slowly. The rabbit blinked at him, and he blinked back. Cats did that too, were rabbits like cats?

Slowly, slowly, he scooped up the rabbit. It was difficult because the rabbit was lying down.

He brought the rabbit up to his chest, and he gasped. On the other side of the rabbit was blood, dark and oozing. The sight had Falco freeze in place, panic swelling.

Poor rabbit! He definitely needed help now!

Not touching the bloody spot, Falco held the rabbit with both arms cradled under its paws and belly. It was very soft. He sped walk all the way to grandpa’s house.

On the way, he called her Caroline.

When he saw his grandpa’s door, he almost stopped. But he walked up anyway. Hopefully, grandpa would care about the little rabbit. Hopefully he was in a good mood and the alcohol hadn’t turned him all scary.

Falco freed one hand, very slowly, and knocked on the door. His grandpa was there quickly, looking down at him. Nerves made him shuffle around, but Falco smiled because it was polite, and his grandpa liked him to be very polite.

“Good afternoon, grandpa! Can I come in?”

“What do you have there?” his grandpa seemed normal. Falco sniffed the air. There was no funny smell on him – he wasn’t infected with alcohol!

“A rabbit. She’s really injured, look at the blood.”

“Ah... I see. Bring it in.”

Falco obeyed, feeling like skipping, but he could never do that with Caroline in his arms.

His grandfather ushered him to the kitchen.

“Put it down there, let me see it.”

Falco nodded with a hum, doing as instructed. Caroline looked so small and he wanted to cry. She was really pretty, that blood shouldn’t be there.

He told his grandpa this, and asked for some bandages.

“She is weak, Falco. And she is suffering allot.”

“No!” horror was all the boy felt, “No, I don’t want her to hurt!”

His grandpa rubbed his arm, a little too hard to give him any comfort. “That’s okay, poppet. You can help her.”

“Help her?” Falco asked, “Without bandages?”

“Yes, Falco. Here, put your hand on her tummy.”

Falco obeyed, very very gentle when he felt the blood-matted fur. The up and down of her stomach on his fingers felt almost ticklish.

“Harder, Falco.”

The boy’s eyebrows creased. He didn’t get it. How would this help Caroline?

When he didn’t move, his grandpa’s calloused hand grasped his. Gentle, at first, guiding his own hand down.

Harder than Falco liked.

He tried to pull his hand up, but his grandpa didn’t relent.

Down, his hand pushed.

Down, down.

Falco started to blubber. He didn’t like this.

Down, his hand pushed.

Now the child writhed, and screamed, and thrashed.

Down, his hand pressed.

Caroline thrashed too now.

Falco was screaming, lungs heaving. An arm held his own, squeezing too tight, keeping him in place.

It wouldn’t stop. His hand kept pressing, and he kept screaming.

The hands left him. He fell back, side hitting the floor first.

“Get up. I didn’t lie to you. Look at the little rabbit, Falco.”

Another sob wracked his chest. He was a mess, wanting to curl in on himself. Caroline... Caroline...

“Get up.” That grasp was on him again and he wailed. He cried, he shook his head, he closed his eyes.

“Look at her, she’s okay now. She doesn’t feel any more pain.” Caroline was not okay, Falco knew it. What was grandpa doing?! He hadn’t drunk any alcohol!

Colt said that alcohol didn’t make you evil. That’s why mummy and daddy could drink it. But that couldn’t be true, because grandpa was nice too.

Grandpa was nice.

It was the alcohol.

He didn’t smell weird.

Was there no alcohol?

If there wasn’t any alcohol, then Caroline must be okay.

“Look at her Falco. She’s okay now.”

Slowly, Falco obeyed.

Her legs were still again, but they weren’t moving before. Her chest had been moving all along, and now it wasn’t.

Her eyes didn’t move, either. She stared at him.

Caroline stared at him because she was dead.

“You looked pale, Falco. Really pale.” His brother’s voice carried so much concern it turned his stomach, even with little left in it. “That wasn’t ‘nothing’.”

“The food just went down wrong, Colt. I’m really okay.”

Colt simply looked at him. Falco didn’t meet his eye. It was barely dark outside, yet exhaustion weighed his eyelids down.

“...Maybe I didn’t cook it right, or something had gone off.” he said it slowly, as if he couldn’t even convince himself.

Silence.

Eventually, Colt sighed. “Take a shower first... just give me a shout if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

The door clicked behind him, leaving Falco behind.

The boy gritted his teeth. The unpleasant memory of Caroline’s death trampled his brain, breaking its way to the forefront of his mind from where he’d long suppressed it, awakened by the abrupt motion of his grandfather living here, with him. The memory of such an innocent animal had been unbearable for a seven-year old to handle, let alone the implications.

Unlike the abuse he’d endured himself, Falco has instantly recognised what’d happened as vile, morally wrong in every way. It wasn’t just his grandfather who he deemed vile, but himself too – had he not felt her warm blood on his hand, feeling it dry as he stared blankly at his palm?

The next day, he’d gone to school as normal. At what point he had forgotten, he was clueless. He never reflected, never understood how monstrous that made his grandfather, not only to him, but everything around him. The only thing remained was the sinking feeling in his gut around his grandfather, something in him knowing that man had nothing but evil in his heart.

Had he hurt other animals before? In the past six years, had he hurt any others? Was he complicit in it? The thought had vile rise back up, his palms grasping his trousers as a lifeline to reality.

Without Caroline, it’d taken Falco too long to accept what his grandfather really was, facilitated only by the four years away from home in the trenches. The slow spiral of having to accept that is what hurt the most, and knowing he was completely alone in that realisation, only listening passively when Colt dreamed of returning home to both their parents and him.

Colt had loved their Grandfather for many more years. Why would he believe he's actually a monster?

If he told Colt what was happening...

No, he didn’t want to think about that.

It would be so selfish.

Why should Colt have to be put in such a difficult position of choosing between family members?

That was another selfish thing.

Beyond everything, Falco couldn’t begin to think about telling Colt, for one simple fear – what if Colt did believe him, but did nothing? What if Colt even agreed that he deserved it, turning a blind eye?

What if he really was as worthless as his grandfather told him?

The thought made him want to vomit once again.

Eren Yeager... how much his simple reassurances had meant. Nevertheless, if his very identity was fake, his motives for helping him skewed at best, did they mean anything? His heart told him yes, it was honest... but his heart had once wanted to trust his grandfather. Could he even trust his own perception?

Nothing more could hurt than Colt rejecting him. His brother’s love was an unrelenting force in his life, something he counted on in his darkest hours. The bright north star, bringing him home, no matter how lost he was in the storm.

If he were a star, he’d probably be invisible most nights, drowned under an unending sky, forgotten. He didn’t care to shine bright, to be a beautiful shooting star as Gabi surely would be. Rather, he hoped to be a part of a constellation, forever linked with others no matter how cruel the abyss.

He’d been without Yeager’s guidance his entire life. Falco was used to the solitude his grandfather forced upon his mind. He needed to stop wishing for the impossible, stop wishing to be something he was not.

For those whose lives unknowingly dangled in a political struggle, for the Mr Patterson’s and unsung heroes, he couldn’t give up. Whether he was a coward, whether he was foolish, whether he was a pathetic brat... he’d become all he could, and he didn’t need Yeager in his life to achieve any of it.

Chapter Text

Falco

A new day, a new fresh start. One small victory against Gabi, however rewarding, would do little in the long run.

Falco pushed himself to the limit, as per usual. When Gabi pointed out the unneeded effort, her voice was not one he recognised. The light, teasing tone filled with incontrovertible confidence had been replaced with something colder, haughty – did she see him as such a threat? In a way, that was progress. In another way, that made him miserable.

Within the warrior candidates, a new string of tension emerged. Udo and Zofia were slower to catch on, but when their jests, so often light hearted, resulted in him and Gabi pointedly looking away, it was obvious.

By lunch, accusations flowed.

“I know you’re cheating.” Fists clenched by her sides, Gabi confronted him.

“How would I cheat at running?”

Gabi’s face soured, spluttering indignantly. “I don’t – you’re always running off on your own! The moment we get back to the internment zone, you’re sneaking off! Not to mention how weird you’ve been acting! I know something is going on!”

His eyes darted to the floor. “That’s...” 

“Come on Gabi, maybe he just goes to the library or something. It’s not like we asked him.” Udo interjected.

“She’s just scared of loosing.” Zofia hummed.

Gabi huffed. “I am not! Why would I be, I am leagues ahead, of all of you. He’s just not acting right!”

Although it’d be easy to blow it off with Zofia’s theory, Falco believed Gabi. With how weak he was, one race wouldn’t magically make him a threat, and the brunette was smart enough to know that. Not to mention, he was fully aware of how erratic he’d been acting with all that’d happened in the last few months, constant swings between security and misery putting his mental state through a washing machine, bashing him around like an insignificant chore.

His grandfather wanted to move in. He wanted to live with them. For as long as Falco could remember, the man had always gotten what he wanted.

His lips pressed together, taking a steadying breath through his nose. He’d do better.

Training continued onto hand-to-hand combat. Determination fuelled him, knowing it to be one of his former weak points. After a reassuring win against Udo, Falco stood against Gabi. Despite his best efforts, he fell on his face as she pinned him down.

He still had so far to go, as he knew.

When training finally ended, he quickly ditched the other cadets with another excuse about forgetting something in a classroom (earning a dramatic huff from Gabi as she stomped off to catch Udo and Zofia) then left headquarters and headed back to Mr Kirstein’s residence. The walk was far smoother this time as he could feel himself do a much better job of keeping his movements casual, no longer needing to peer at street signs for reassurance.

He knocked on the backdoor politely, stepping back to glance at the transom, trying to spot any shadows moving. A fruitless effort when the door was quickly pulled ajar to allow him to enter, Mr Kirstein holding it whilst looking down at him with a serious gaze.

Peering around the tall frame as Mr Kirstein stepped aside, Falco spotted two others in the room. More spies from Paradise, more supposed island devils.

The first was woman with dark brown hair pulled into an unkempt ponytail with a distinguishing eye patch under her glasses. To the side, a noticeably shorter man with jet-black hair leaned against the wall, staring him down with narrowed eyes. The feeling of being scrutinised instantly put Falco more on edge.

“Ah! You must be Falco Grice, right?” The woman asked him, her gaze stern, but not carrying the same venom as the short man’s did.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Well, let’s have a seat then. My name is Hange Zoe, by the way!”

“It’s uh, nice to meet you, Miss Hange...” Falco answered, going to where he’d sat previously, diagonal to Miss Hange.

“Levi! Come on, introduce yourself, take a seat!” Her voice slightly went up in pitch as she addressed the man now out of his field of vision, and he heard a “tsk” sound. Footsteps soon followed, and he took a seat in the only armchair, leaving Mr Kirstein to sit next to Miss Hange, opposite himself. Despite just asking the other man to introduce himself (Levi?), Miss Hange carried on talking. “Well, this is rather unusual, no? I can’t say I saw this coming... not to say I’m not pleased, though!”

“You’ve a lot of answering to do, that’s for sure.” Mr Levi finally spoke, tone clipped.

“We can try to answer anything for you in return. Then we can stand on solid ground to discuss what comes next... oh, and let’s steer clear of Military numbers, things like that, as much as possible. All we want to know is exactly what you hope to gain by doing this.” Mr Kirstein explained. Falco, who nodded in understanding, appreciated the straightforwardness.

Miss Hange seemed a little energized by that exchange, leaning forward slightly. “So? Why didn’t you tell your superiors straight away? Do you not trust them? Jean doesn’t believe you initially came here to boost your score, is he right?” The questions were hurled at him one after another, and the boy took a second to process that. When Falco answered, he tried to be as clear as possible – being with three enemy soldiers made him feel as though one word out of place would lead to trouble. Something about Miss Hange in particular made him feel she would dissect his every word.

“Because I wasn’t sure what Yeager’s situation was. I thought that he was a spy, but I was worried that some other nation was threatening him into doing so by threatening his family. He... he talked about his family a lot.” Falco decided not to say just how close he’d felt to Yeager; it was deeply humiliating how well he’d been fooled. Instead, he watched as each individual reacted, Miss Hange seeming particularly expressive when compared to her comrades. “So I wanted to see it for myself first... if I didn’t find anything then I’d of turned him in.”

“Ah! So we got lucky with Jean coming home when he did, hmm? And why exactly did you decide to return instead of reporting this address?” Miss Hange prompted further.

“Because... you don’t want Eren Yeager attacking Liberio... at least for now, right? And I know reporting him would make sure he can’t do that, and we obtain the founding titan, but...” Falco paused. ‘It didn’t seem right? I want to understand you and Mr Kr- Yeager. I hate how the Marleyan Military sees Eldians and I don’t want to be their dog –they’re the ones taking my brother away from me in fourteen years.’ It was all true, but they didn’t seem strong enough separately. He had to make sure they trusted him, or this could easily fall apart.

“But I wanted to believe there was an alternative to that. I didn’t want to cause another war or anymore bloodshed.” It was the truth. He was supposed to be a warrior candidate, but he was truly afraid of causing others to suffer. Relaying the truth meant he could convey his conviction to Miss Hange with an unwavering gaze.

Apparently, he wasn’t alone in his self-realisation.

“I’d of thought the Marleyan’s would have chosen stronger candidates to yield their remaining titans, delighting in their propaganda.” Mr Levi stated it as one would a certain fact.

‘Yeah, I guess that’s why I probably was never going to be chosen...’ Falco brooded, but didn’t say aloud in case Mr Levi interpreted it as petulance.

“Levi! That’s so insulting! Ignore him, short men often feel the need to-!” Miss Hange was swiftly kicked.

“Hange.”

“What? Just letting the kid know you’re like that all the time, so he doesn’t think it’s personal... I wouldn’t need to if you were just more polite...”

Miss Hange seemed to be considerably more relaxed after coercing Falco’s motivations from him. Falco sort of could understand that, but at the same time, he wasn’t a threat they’d have a problem getting rid of (something he was all too aware about). Maybe she was thinking about something else...?

Mr Kirstein turned to him. “They’re interesting in the letter idea you had.” He gestured to Miss – wait, they? “Care to share?”

All too soon, the spotlight was back on Falco despite his momentary confusion. “Uh, eh, yeah? I didn’t really think that out at the time...” Falco took a breath, “But I only meant that if you lost contact with Eren Yeager, then I can help with that. I don’t have a plan further than that, really. I visit him at the hospital dedicated to helping soldiers suffering from various PTSD-related issues. I send letters for him around once a week. I don’t think anyone else could do that for him, unless it was another warrior candidate.”

Hange hummed at that. “Did he seek you out then? How did you meet?”

“I always thought it was just a coincidence. I saw him in a line of injured soldiers at first, and switched his armband to the other arm...” Falco almost groaned at recalling that. He’d always put that down to shell-shock, even after the man had confessed to faking his PTSD – losing a limb would surely cause anyone to become a little out of it, even temporarily. “The next time I saw him, he waved me over to sit at a bench with him... it didn’t seem out of place at the time.”

Recalling all of what had happened prior left a hollow feeling in Falco, as though all the comfort he’d gained from the man was being extinguished. He could only imagine what the man had been thinking all that time...

Across from him, Mr Kirstein folded his arms and began to look rather irritated, eyes holding a glazed look. He’d surely known Eren Yeager far longer than himself, which elicited a surge of curiosity to tug at him.

Hange nodded, their hand reaching to grab their chin. “I see,” their hands flew apart suddenly, in a gesture that almost looked like a shrug in a burst of energy. “Well, however complicated this is – it is an opportunity. One we couldn’t pass up – it goes without saying how important the founding titan is to us.”

“The brat knows that too, and used it against us. He’s still just an ungrateful, petulant child.” Mr Levi scoffed.

Mr Kirstein added to that, “what a bastard. Leaving us behind like this...”

Falco couldn’t help but stare at the three. They seemed even more upset with the man than he. It certainly wasn’t how he expected meeting the ‘island devils’ – the man’s comrades – to go, but his growing hopes only blossomed further.

‘Island devils’. That phrase was quickly becoming grating, even to him, ‘if so, it must be awful for them.’

Hange clapped their hands together, bringing the attention back to them. “But we caught up with him, no? Or at the very least, we’re hot on his tail. Not saying that’s of our own merit... you’re a pretty brave kid, huh? Now, I won’t give you false promises, and acting exclusively through peaceful methods may not be possible, but I won’t let that become justification for involving civilians.”

Falco found he was unable to hold back a smile. Even now, it was nice to feel as though he was making a difference. He was hoping beyond hope that this time, it was a positive change.

For now, he had a lot to ask them, and they all had a plan to make.

Eren

“Excuse me.”

The older man, his grandfather, looked up. Eren stared back, seeing the recognition seep into the elder’s face.

“Ah. Mr Kruger, isn’t it?” the polite smile remained the same, only twitching slightly.

“Yeah.”

“I am sorry about the last time we met. Here, take a seat if you will.”

Eren did so, after a string of reluctance held him back for a brief moment. In a lonely hospital, he had truly sunk so low as to try something as desperate as this.

“The last time we talked, you mentioned your family.” Eren began, watching the man opposite freeze up, shoulders hunching. “Stay calm. I just want to ask you something.”

Eren’s tone was far from comforting – that, he could not bring himself to do – but he was not here to elicit another mental breakdown. He simply sat there, watching, as the other tried to catch his breath, mediate it. It seemed the other managed it, managing another weak smile, “Ah, alright. Uhm, what did you... want to know?”

“You said you had regrets about your family. What were they?” unlike last time, the question was genuine.

“Ah. That’s not something I should be talking about.”

Eren felt annoyance tingle along his spine, clenching his jaw to stifle it. He knew it was reasonable to be cautious – he knew that, but from this man in particular... “This is between us. You already said enough last time.”

“I said... what did I say?” when Eren provided no answer, only staring back at him, he slowly continued talking. “Look. I really can’t tell you much of anything. Just that... I wasn’t a good father. I tried to be, to prioritize my children’s safety over everything else... including their happiness, their liberty. Even when my son... when he went through something awful, I didn’t change. I still didn’t listen to what he really needed. All I could focus on was his safety... no matter what. Even if he hated me for it, I figured that was just being a parent.”

“It didn’t work. I lost my son, just as I lost my daughter. I failed him. All I wanted was to have him live and I failed.” The elder hunched into himself, as if crawling away, somewhere deep in his mind.

Eren averted his gaze.

To prioritize safety over all, it was what he opposed since childhood. Cowards hiding behind an excuse to do nothing, to use no liberty, however strangled it was.

Yet, from his grandfather, it seemed so desperate. As though forcing himself to never use his own liberty, instead.

Suddenly, Eren wanted to laugh. He leant back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling above, worn from many years and discoloured from smoking into a sickly yellow. Neither said another word. There was nothing more to say, one coward to another.

Falco

Falco’s head perked up to the sound of his door opening, a figure peeking in.

“Hey, Colt.”

“Hey.” There was a sigh to his voice, and Falco watched with furrowed brows as his brother rocked on his feet. “Can we, uh, talk for a moment?”

“Yeah... what is it?”

At the confirmation, Colt tried a grin. Nodding, (at what, Falco couldn’t say) he walked to sit beside Falco in his bed. Slightly alarmed (it was almost midnight, their parents wouldn’t like either being up) Falco put his textbook to the side, hands on his lap, ready to listen.

Colt took a breath before he began. His words spilled out as one long word as opposed to a sentence. “I was talking to Gabi, earlier. Well, she talked to me – either way – we were talking about you, it’s not that bad I promise, but she asked me what you’ve been doing after they left, since I was there still with Mr Zeke, and I said I hadn’t seen you, but we’re really worried because you’ve been acting off for a while now, since we got back to the internment zone really, and I need you to know that I’m here for you if anything is wrong.”

“Colt...” he tried.

“Not that you have to tell me everything, I know you like your independence these days, always running here and there, but I’m still your brother, you can rely on me for anything, you know that don’t you?”

“Brother, it’s okay.” Falco reached his hand to his arm, recognising his brother’s state of mind. “I’m not going anywhere. And, if you’re going to get drunk, at least be quiet when you come home. You’re lucky mum actually went to sleep at a reasonable time tonight, or she’d of caught you again.”

Colt deflated a little, “you knew?” The question made the younger huff. The smell of alcohol has now reached his nose, even if he hadn’t noticed immediately.

“It was kind of obvious. You were – Colt?” his brother apparently stopped listening, instead tucking himself into his bed without a word. Falco huffed again. “You can’t sleep here... I still want to memorise this chapter. We have a test on it soon.”

Colt grumbled to himself. “You’ve been working too hard. You don’t even need the armoured titan you know...”

Falco sighed. Only a month ago, he would’ve left for the sofa, with a good serving of extra huffing. His brother was so openly affectionate and honest when he got a hold of even a drop of liquor... he remembered Miss Pieck calling him a ‘lightweight’.

This time, the honesty had him tense - how long had his brother been worried, and never told him?

Colt deserved better than to worry over him, it wasn’t worth his time. Not to mention the guilt he felt over keeping so much from him, even if it was to prevent him from getting involved.

“...Cuddles.”

“In a while, Colt. I really need to memorise this.” Falco reached over, tucking the covers over his grumbling brother, before slipping onto the floor beside his bed and opening the book once more.

Jean

“It had to be on the day of the festival, there’s no alternative.” Jean read the letter aloud. He and Falco glanced at each other in discomfort.

“It seems rather risky, doesn’t it? Leaving it last minute like that...” Falco started, eyebrows pinched together. Jean put the letter down on the table, his own face scrunching up.

“It’s far from ideal. But you sending a letter from us to Eren will only do more harm than good, kid. He knows that whatever we say, we can’t actually do anything from outside the internment zone. And Yelena won’t help us with that either...”

“You’re comrades, though... surely he’d at least hear you out, Mr Kirstein...” Although Falco’s face remained calm, Jean could sense the underlying panic building.

“Falco, listen. It’s still in our best interest to keep Liberio safe, and we’re going to do our best to make that happen.”

“But if you leave it that late, you can’t guarantee it.”

“No, but I never could. However, the festival will allow us to slip into the interment zone and get Eren out far easier, and we need that advantage to ensure no one is alerted to our movements. Besides, we won’t be waiting around until then. The Evening Party could still be an option.” Jean pointed to the corresponding information in the letter, making Falco take another glance at it.

After their last talk, Falco revealing what Commander Magath had asked of him and the other Cadets, Hange had returned and confronted the ambassador about her keeping information from them. She’d confessed to doing so, and had agreed to take Mikasa to accompany her: the woman’s Asian futures would keep her from standing out by her side.

“You’re aware of the Hizuru crest, right? Look for that.” Jean suggested.

“I can do that. The festival is only five days away now... is this the last time I should come?”

“Yeah. We won’t risk you being caught wondering outside the internment zone anymore than we have to... but you’ve got this memorised, haven’t you?”

Falco looked back at the second page of the letter, the page detailing both of their places in the plan. “I have, but I’m not sure Eren Yeager would just follow me without suspicion... what if he suspects something? I haven’t been talking to him at all.”

“Even if he has caught on to you knowing something, there’s no way he could know you’re in contact with us... or even that you know his actual identity rather than him being just a random spy. You investigating the address on the letter wouldn’t seem likely.”

The boy reached to rub the back of his head, looking away. “Yeah, that was really impulsive of me...”

Jean couldn’t help a quick chuckle at that. Finding a warrior candidate darting out of the house whilst he was in the bathroom was startling, to say the least. Either way, the boy’s decision to seek out his residence turned out well for Jean in the end.

Falco

“You can’t escape my wrath that easily!” Falco growled with a playful smile on his lips. In his grasp, a girl who couldn’t be older than seven wiggled around, trying to avoid a deadly tickle storm.

“Don’t eat me, don’t eat me! James!” the other little kid, stood off to the side, jolting to action at his name. In his hands, he wielded a stick, and he raised it high above his head as he charged.

With a terrified sounding yelp, Falco retreated. “Gah! Another mighty warrior!”

The little boy beamed, going to whack as high as he could, beating the stick to his chest.

“Argh! That hurts! But, you didn’t get my nape!” Falco sidestepped, and grabbed the boy around the waist, holding up the boy, who looked about five or six, into the air. “No one could hit my nape! Especially not you!” he directed an evil laugh at the girl, who had run to grab her own stick back from the ground.

Purposefully turning away from her, he gently wrestled with James, feeling the tiny child begin beating him with his fists, each harmless thump pulling a yelp of pain.

Falco struggled to keep his scowl. The two tiny children were so incredibly cute, cheerfully treating this as serious as he might his own training. He’d already wondered more than once whether he’d ever play with his own kids like this someday... watch them play from a park bench with Gabi besides him... the mere thought had a little blush painting his cheeks.

Gabi and him... having kids, married... picking names and teaching them how to walk, hearing their first words and watching them grow... kissing Gabi as their kids complain about how gross they were – if only that could be true; in another world, where one of them would not die within fifteen years.

Colt was another that came to mind, how his older brother so gently played with him like this at that age. He could only wonder how many times Colt had secretly let him win or get the upper hand.

He didn’t have to wonder on Colt’s confusion when Falco began to hate those games, remembering that well. His brother unknowingly aggravating the very real injuries given by his grandfather, confused at Falco distancing himself, oblivious to the real reason.

The same grandfather now watched only a few meters away, seated on a park bench.

A stick pressed against his nape, whacking it a few times as Falco let out a very overdramatic scream and fell to the side.

Both children cheered, standing over him and giving their victory cries. He heard their parents chuckle in the distance. Shaking free of his own thoughts, Falco kept his smile.

For once in his life, he didn’t want care if his grandfather was there.

The last few days, Falco had felt a strange confidence. Perhaps because he finally beat Gabi. Perhaps because he was sneaking around behind Marley’s back. Perhaps because he refused to let Yeager’s trickery make him miserable. Perhaps because he himself decided he would be confident.

Today, as Eren Yeager had once suggested, he was with his grandfather in public. Spending time with him, technically, so he had nothing to complain about to his parents. Then simultaneously bending it even further, not even having to talk to the man, leaving him unable to touch him.

Just feeling that rare confidence around his grandfather made him cling to it more, yearning for it to grow and stay there, so that he did not have to be afraid. When the instinctual fear in the back of his mind threatened to take hold, told him this was pointless: ‘grandfather will hurt you for this’, ‘everything will be pointless when he moves in’ , he’d shove it back with a ferocity he once didn’t have. Ferocity he’d earned for himself.

When they’d first arrived at the park, his grandfather had wanted to head to the edge, a bench in the corner of the park. However, a miracle in the form of two children appeared, spotting his armband and deeming him cool enough to badger, asking all sorts of questions, like if he was going to become a big strong titan.

Falco had leapt to the opportunity, quickly entertaining their imaginations and wondering off with them, not even glancing back at the elder.

As the children began doing a little victory dance around him, their mother and father came to scoop them up. They whined in their parent’s arms, flailing about. “It’s time for dinner, my darlings. Say goodbye to the nice warrior candidate!”

Falco waved as they left, feeling his heart sink. Alone with his grandfather again. They were in public, though, so it’d all be okay. He’s fine, he’s fine. Everything is fine. He was not afraid. Falco got up from the grass, head held high. Now out of earshot, he could hear the insults coming.

“Had fun?” his grandfather approached with a smile.

Immediate unease set in. That... couldn’t be right.

“Yeah,” Falco replied, careful to keep his voice even. He was so sure his grandfather would be mad about him playing with the younger kids without asking... if there was one thing the man hated, it was disobedience, loss of control.

“Well, it’s getting late. We should head back too. Come on let’s get you home.”

His entire body froze when a hand clasped his back. Right on the mark where he was beaten, over and over. Falco forced himself to breathe – he couldn’t lose his cool, just like that! Through constricted lungs, he made the oxygen flow. ‘You’re in public, you’re in public. He can’t hurt you. And at home, you’ll be with Colt. He can’t hurt you again. He can’t hurt you.’

As he forced himself to walk along with his grandfather, the hand only seemed to grow heavier. Strings held his bravado together, and his grandfather steadily snipped each, waiting until he would fall apart. Too much of it had already been taken the instant the hand landed upon his back, and he wanted to shrink into himself, to disappear, rather than try so feebly to stand tall.

“That was a real nice thing of you to do for those other kids, Falco. I’m sure you made their day.”

The praise shook him. Falco chanced a glance up to see the elder still smiling.

“I...” he stumbled on his words. Be brave. “I hope I did.”

“Oh, that was definitely the case. Those kids looked up to you, I’m sure.”

His grandfather’s praise... it was something he hadn’t heard... since he was around James’ age, wrestling with Colt. This couldn’t be right – what was happening? This surely had to be because they were in public, right? He glanced ahead. No, the other family had long gone. There were people up the road, but not nearly in earshot, looking the other way.

This couldn’t be right. It wasn’t right.

‘You shouldn’t even care what he thinks of you.’ He told himself. Falco knew it was likely fake anyway – he did – but something new had come alive. In his mind, the young, confused boy, always wondering where his kind grandfather had gone, began to hope. Falco couldn’t help but wonder... did he finally do something good in his grandfather’s eyes? It was a hope he’d clung onto all his life, wanting so badly to hear this. Hoping, beyond any reasonable hope, to feel his grandfather’s love. That little boy came to life, even with the smallest of praise.

“That’s why, it’s too bad,” his grandfather sighed. “They’re dense enough to look up to a cocky little shit like you.”

A hand gripped the back of his head. Violently, it was turned, and shoving straight into a lamppost. A crack sounded, directly from his nose.

Falco shrieked, a mix of pain and surprise, grasping at the lamppost to keep his balance. The hand was gone as fast as it had arrived. Falco’s other hand went to his nose, feeling wetness – blood – begin to pour out.

“Falco! Are you alright?” his grandfather had a hand on his shoulder, and he heard more footsteps approaching.

“What happened? Is he okay?”

“He wasn’t looking where he was going while running... went straight into the lamppost... Falco? You alright? Do you think your nose broke?”

Falco grit his teeth. Around him, the small group of kind strangers reached out, and he dimly recognised them as those he’d seen ahead. They surrounded him with genuine concern. The all too familiar shame and embarrassment began to burn him up.

Still, Eren’s words came to him, “It’s not your fault. You’ll work through this Falco, and come out stronger on the other side.”

Despite everything, the memory reawakened those comforting feelings. ‘Don’t be embarrassed. My grandfather caused a scene, not me. It’s not... my fault.’

Despite this, what could he really do?

“I’m fine... it doesn’t hurt so badly.” Saying that hurt worse than his nose. He was nothing.

An older lady shook her head, “You should take him to the nearest hospital, just in case. His nose looks a little crooked.”

His grandfather hesitated, if only for half a second, before quickly nodding in agreement.

“That would be best. Come on, Falco, let’s get you looked at.”

Outside, the last traces of sunlight seeped into the horizon, blues darkening to black. The stars were beginning to show, faint but consistent.

Falco watched from inside the hospital, letting the doctor tend to his nose without complaint as he softly breathed through his mouth, in out, slow and steady. The doctor that treated him was familiar, one he often saw around whilst visiting Yeager. She was always a positive force, smiled at him if he walked past. She noted the familiarity as well, to his dismay – for it was in front of his grandfather that she pointed it out.

His nose had been splinted, packing his nose and a small dressing on the outside over where the ridge had broken. The manual realignment was surprisingly quick, and although it’d hurt, wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined upon being told what’d happen. At least this time, he had been properly prepared for the pain.

All this time, his grandfather had acted as anyone would expect, the concerned and doting grandfather drawing just as much pity from the doctor as the patient, the elder seemingly worrying himself sick. Behind his eyes was a hunger only Falco seemed to recognise.

This was a treat for him, Falco now realised. Like a desert, he could indulge himself only occasionally, smugly enjoying Falco lying for him even with such obvious evidence to use against him, basic self-preservation replaced by his control. If there were no risks of suspicion, he could tell this would be a regular occurrence.

An unfamiliar burning built in his chest. It came with ease, as if it had always meant to be there. His jaw clenched up, and fingers reflexively curving into his wrist, dull nails digging into his palm.

“There. It’s all done now.”

Falco stiffly nodded. “Thank you.”

Glancing at the mirror to the side, he caught sight of himself.

Bellow his eye, dark violet and green marred his skin, giving a rather horrifying looking black-eye. The colours were ones he so vividly remembered seeing on his back all those years ago. Only now, everyone could see them, and he was surely not alone in his self-disgust.

“It’s not your fault.”

The doctor only gave him a friendly smile, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Keep the packing in there for the next week, and don’t try to breathe through your nose. It will swell up, but that’s normal... you can take it off at home this time next week. If it feels sore, use ice on it, alright sweetie?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“I’ll take good care of him,” his grandfather interjected. “And I’m so sorry for the trouble; the kid can be such a klutz.”

“Everyone can get lost in a daydream occasionally. Trust me; I’ve seen some very bizarre and preventable injuries!” her smile fell a little after, turning back to Falco. “Unfortunately, you should abstain from physical activities for a few days at least. You’re a warrior candidate, so I’m not sure how that’d work compared to normal school... I’ll give you a doctor’s note, just in case. Let me just grab a pen.”

Falco watched her leave, chest tightening at the news. Missing out... missing out on training? Now? He couldn’t afford that, Gabi was still too far ahead!

The burning in his chest expanded, white-hot. His chest heaved and his teeth grit against each other.

No, this wasn’t right. He wouldn’t let his grandfather stop him from saving her – he couldn’t! Why did he let his confidence slip so easily – why did his grandfather always make him feel this way? How dare he? He couldn’t stop his training! He couldn’t harm Gabi!

“See what you’ve done, Falco?” he hated that voice, but it just kept talking. “Do you ever get tired of causing trouble? Squandering what you’re –”

“Would you shut up already, I’m only tired of hearing your voice.” Falco’s spat out the words without processing them. Before he could regret it.

A storm had begun in the room, his grandfather looking as though struck by lightning. The entire room darkened, the growl of thunder coming from his grandfather as his eyes slid into slits. Falco did not let him speak – this storm was his, and he would control it.

“I’m telling mum and dad everything you’ve done. I’ll tell them how I got this injury. What you did, everything you did! You can’t stop me, no matter what, I’ll tell them. Colt, too! He won’t ever take your side, I know it! I doesn’t matter what you say to them, what you tell me, I know how much he loves me!”

His grandfather launched at him, grasping his arm in a bruising grip. His eyes bore into him, entire face contorted into a seething rage. “What the fuck did you say to me?” he shook him roughly. “Say that again, I fucking dare you.”

“I’ll tell everyone.” Falco choked out. “I said, I’ll tell everyone.”

They held eye contact, prolonged, both heavily breathing. Falco’s heart beat rapidly his chest, entire body rattled. His grandfather stood over him, a dark glare making him appear more of a monster than anything human. His voice became gravelly, yet returning to a normal volume.

“I’d kill you before I let that happen.”

He told the truth.

Footsteps interrupted, and the bruising grip was released as the other sat back quickly.

The doctor walked in at his grandfather was sitting back down. Still, even he couldn’t mask the remnants of what’d happened, his smile never so blatantly false, Falco still shaking like a leaf with heavy breaths, and a haunted, blank expression.

Falco didn’t spare her a glance, trying to steady himself away from a full panic.

His grandfather told the truth. Falco had no real way to know, but he did – his life meant nothing to him, to that raging beast that had towered over him.

“Ah... is, uh, everything alright?”

“Yes. We just... had a little disagreement. He was... refusing to take time off.” His grandfather spoke unevenly, not at all his usual, composed self. “I got a little protective, you see.”

“I... yes, I understand. Mr Kruger, this may not be the best time... why don’t you go to the cafeteria for some dinner?”

Falco’s head snapped to attention at the name, eyes darting to the aforementioned man. The doctor continued talking, and he heard none of it.

Eren Yeager looked back at him, or rather, his nose. When their eyes met, it didn’t even last a second, Falco flinching back. A sense of relief filled him – despite everything he now knew, the warmth and comfort he’d come to associate with the man hadn’t left him yet, regardless of how the acid had corrupted those memories. Corrupted thoughts, they whispered and warned him, ‘He’s just checking on his postman. Don’t forget that.’

“We should get going. Thank you for everything, doctor” His grandfather interrupted. The boy’s gaze stayed on his lap. “Falco, come along.”

The demanding tone had every hair on Falco’s head rooted in place. Finding his voice, he turned to the doctor. “Did... Mr Kruger need something?”

So badly, did Falco want to hope.

“He saw you come in, wanted to check on you quickly.” The doctor explained, glancing at ‘Kruger’, who was still lingering behind her.

His grandfather looked between them. The smile he held on his face flickered briefly.

“Well, he’s fine as you can see. Come on, Falco. We should really get going before your parents worry, no?”

“Oh! Here,” the doctor passed him a bag, “this has medication, and information on what to do and a full diagnosis you can show to anyone you need to.”

Falco wanted to scream. He had no idea what to do, suddenly yearning for his big brother. He wanted to be in Colt’s room, the safest place in his entire childhood, not stuck here with them.

As he got to his feet and trailed his grandfather out, his pride took a beating. Even knowing it was only to the end of the hospital grounds, with their homes in separate directions, the act of simply being in his shadow made his blood boil. He was sick of this. He was sick of trying everything he could to stay away from this man, to appease him as best he could.

He needed to be at warrior training, every day. For her.

Now outside the hospital walls, Falco didn’t say goodbye. He simply turned to leave. A hand grappled his shoulder and yanked him roughly to the side. As soon as they were out of sight, it changed to grip his wrist, so bruising his grandfather surely risked popping a blood vessel.

“Think you’re just going home, you little shit?” he seethed.

Panic seized his veins, and he immediately thrashed. Adrenaline spiked his heart rate until he could hear it in his ears - thumping and thumping.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare. Say, kid, how would the hospital staff would react if they found out Mr Kruger had some other reason for wanting a kid around? Started touchin’ him in ways he didn’t want?”

Falco froze, monetary confusion making his brows furrow, before curling his stomach as he realized. “That’s... they won’t believe you! You can’t say that, it’s horrid! When I tell Colt what you did -”

“You wanna to take that chance?” He interrupted, grip impossibly strong. “S‘long as I remember, Marleyans ain’t exactly frugal when it comes to adding a few new titans to their collection. So let me make this crystal fuckin’ clear – you try fuck me over, and I’ll make sure everyone comes with me.”

Hot tears choked Falco, knees suddenly weak with an urge to vomit. “I hate you, I hate you so much, I hate you.” All he could say, all he could think.

His grandfather scoffed at him.

“Tough shit. Now get your pathetic ass up, we’re leaving.” One hand kept an unbreakable grasp on his arm, Falco sobbing as he was dragged along. From this hell, he would never escape.

Chapter Text

Six days, each evening waiting to see the boy, the concern growing with each – Falco was a responsible boy, who’d begun to visit him daily; Eren knew something was off.

‘Mr Kruger’ could do nothing but wait.

Falco returned. Haunted eyes, pale, shaking. A little disagreement, said the creature. The child beside him, Eren had never seen so aghast, trembling like a snared rabbit.

Did Mr Kruger need something? A call for help. A child’s call, a friend’s call – Falco’s call.

Eren left through the window.

He could only hope the darkening sky made up for his snail-pace as he left around the back, intending to loop around to where that snake had dragged Falco off was heading.

Eren’s grip tightened on his crutch, steps heavy. Lying in the hospital all day, being the useless Mr Kruger... his footsteps echoed, the click clack of his cane threatening to break it completely. He despised that Mr Kruger.

Laying low, doing nothing. It was best way to achieve his goals. To Eren Yeager, it was a hell within itself. For his entire life, he’d always chosen to be exposed to the inconveniences of attending too much liberty than to risk expending too small a degree of it.

These streets, he didn’t recognise. The occasional figure scurrying by, he didn’t recognise. Approaching one man he saw curled bedsides a building laying upon cardboard, he simply asked, “where are The Slatewood Apartments?”

Calling the apartments dingy was an understatement. It looked just as decrepit as the underground city, litter everywhere, spilling out of alleyways, cracks and graffiti polluting every building. A foul, heavy smell hung over the area, stinging his nose.

It was the kind of place no sane person would go at night, nor linger in the day; where you’d smell decay hanging about a dumpster, and not think twice about it. It was the kind of place you’d hear a child’s screams, and know it’d go ignored, however visceral.

Eren did not know the apartment number, and he did not he need to. The heavy thumps and muffled hollering guided him there faster than a highly detailed map. He ascended to the third floor, the rusted stairs hanging outside the building. He marched on, oblivious to the way his fists had turned white: oblivious to how his breathing rose, every muscle tensing.

The walls were paper-thin, hearing each tenant’s slight shuffle as he thumped past. They would hear him, as they heard Falco, and ignore it all. ‘Pathetic.’

“Don’t you dare move a single fuckin' muscle.” The voice made the hair stand on the back of his head; his teeth ground together, “I’ll be back.”

As footsteps left, Eren’s approached. Peering into a window, blinds haphazardly drawn three thirds down, he squinted to look into a kitchen, eyes soon meeting those of hazel, Falco looking back at him with a palpable fear.

Overpowered by relief, Eren gestured for the young boy to come over, smoothing over his face with a deep breath. Falco stared back, lips trembling, arms slowly uncrossing from where they curled around his knees. He gave a glance to where his grandfather had left, the sound of something heavy being dragged echoing in and outside the apartment, and then back to Eren. Eren saw him take a breath, and watched Falco dart up, crossing the room, pushing the blinds up before going for the latch.

“WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING SAY, HUH?”

A blow to the head sent Falco to the floor.

Where the boy had stood, an old man glared out at Eren. The elder swung window open, and Eren’s fist greeted him, sending him stumbling back. Eren leant down, pulling at the tie knot upon his injured leg.

The elder grabbed his hair, pulling it inside. Eren followed. Steam followed him.

He tried to save himself from falling. Hands shoved at him and his single leg stood no chance.

He fell to the floor, the two men shoving at each other; cheap blows caused warm blood to trickling onto him from the other's nose. With a yell of pain, the man grasped at his wrists and attempted to pin him.

Eren drove both his trapped hands down to his knees, lifting his hips, hearing a thud as the elder tried to regain balance. He didn't get the chance. Leaning sideways, Eren trapped his arm and rolled to the side.

One a single leg, he tried to balance.

He fell as it was grabbed, head thumping against the counter top. A sharp thud accompanies a drumming in his head.

The elder is up before he, stumbling back and reaches for something on the counter.

A knife was in his hand.

Eren's foot hadn't healed.

The elder lunged for him. The knife impaled his hand. Eren cared little, now taking the elder off guard by pushing into it. In a single moment, Eren saw his eyes - shock, panic - then it's over. Eren punches his jaw up. The elder stabbed his arm.

The knife was wrestled free, and it swung again.

A deep, single thumping sound pierces the air. The knife falters mid-swing. Falco is there, just behind his grandfather, holding a broken vase, which he repeatedly smashed into the monster's skull, shattering it completely on the fourth clobber.

Eren takes the knife and slits his throat.

Warm blood coated his hands, now spilling onto the floor. The elder’s neck was open; flesh dangling from his neck before thick blood obscured it. Eren doesn’t bother to watch the last remnants of life disappear.

Eren looked to see Falco stumble back. He was shaking, pale, lower lip trembling. Tears were beginning to flow as his back hit the wall, sliding down when his legs failed him. Falco’s eyes looked solely at the body in front of him, and nothing more.

Eren said nothing. Instead, he got to his feet. He did not look at Falco as he grabbed the cloth covering the dining table, laying it instead over the body. When he allowed himself a glance at Falco, he felt relief upon seeing the boy look up at him instead.

No doubt, he’d seen the leg. There is no possible excuse for that.

The boy tries to steady his breath, blinking rapidly.

It took time. His breath steadied.

“He’s dead...” Falco said.

“He’s dead.” Eren echoed.

Falco got to his feet. When he looks at Eren’s foot, there is something cold to his gaze. He breathed in steadily, eyes closing briefly. After a moment, he looked Eren in the eye. “Why...?”

Eren took a deep breath himself. He crouched back down, sitting so they may be at the same level. His throat was dry, chest heavy. “I wouldn’t let him hurt you. Not again, not when...” he had to stop, searching for what he’d buried so deep. “My leg. It doesn’t change nothing, I promise, I don’t ever want to see you cry and I’ll do what it takes to prevent it this time, from now on.”

Falco stared back, wide eyed and mouth parted. His head no longer rested on the wall, the boy gathering himself. Eren ensured eye-contact. “I mean that... I’m not just saying it.”

Eren’s hand found his leg. “This isn’t easy, but I’m –“

“I know.” Falco interrupts. “Eren Yeager, right?”

Eren blinked, eyes widening.

“Right.” He echoed, mind striving to catch up.

“I met your friends. Mr Kirstein.” Falco’s voice was low, trembling, as he began to fill him in. “They told me what you planned to do here. How many did you plan to kill? Are planning to kill?” His voice rose, teeth gritting together, “you never wanted to help me. Never. So don’t lie to me, I know you’re lying. And I don’t need you!”

“No.” Eren confirmed. “You don’t need me. You’re so much stronger than I am. Stronger than you know. And I will always be sorry for what I’ve done. So, please, when I say –”

Thumps from outside made them still.

“The neighbours...” Falco murmured. Scrambling towards the window, he shut it and pulled the blinds down.

The old man’s body was still bleeding heavily. Dark red seeped into the cloth covering it. The smell of rust was beginning to emanate, which would surely only grow viler with time.

Falco stared at it too, shifting his weight between each of his legs. Hesitant, he said, “There’s a park between the buildings. Tiny one. We can talk there, no one else does anymore.”

“Then, let’s go.”

Falco lead the way out, before pausing and telling Eren to clean up his hands in the bathroom, and to grab new clothes. The man complied, the blood on his hands too thick to harden and crust, smearing over the bathroom as he quickly washed up.

Falco came in, pausing in the doorway. As Eren turned to look, the boy hesitated some more, before walking to him and passing over a bundle of clothes, Eren seeing a shirt and trousers.

“Thanks, Falco.” Eren said. The boy turned to leave – “Hey, uh.”

Falco paused, still looking forward.

“Before I got here... did he...”

Falco’s shoulders hunched up. “Nothing worse than a few bruises. I’m fine.”

Forcing Falco to open up the last thing Eren wanted, however badly he wanted to check him over. Resigned to watch him disappear through the doorway, Eren’s heart dropped, looking back to the clothes in his arms.

He changed quickly into the simple white button up shirt and brown trousers. Before leaving, his hand found the bandages on his eye. Slowly, he unwrapped them. Steam blurred his vision as he walked out, finding Falco by the door.

Slipping on shoes a size too small, he followed Falco out the apartment, where the iron smell lifted and the silence only suffocated him more.

Falco

Between the backs of apartments and the concrete wall surrounding the internment zone, there lay a small opening. Concealed away from the average passerby, Falco and Colt had once considered it a prized find – the single dying tree in the centre, looked upon by two benches, all just beginning to decompose, were far from daunting, instead making it more mysterious.

Four years on, and the tree still miraculously stood. Rotting branches surrounded the stubborn truck, even as the benches looked long collapsed and graffiti was scattered around, trash bags and boxes making it just as depressive as the rest of the estate.

It had never been perfect, but it was never so openly destroyed.

Falco stifled the urge to sigh. It was still reclusive enough to serve its purpose, regardless of the stench, stale air, or dropping temperature.

Eren Yeager had followed him without complaint. With cleaner clothes, no bandages obscuring his face and no missing leg, he seemed taller, bigger, and none of that was why Falco found it so much harder to look him in the eye. He felt small, new injuries sending jolts of pain when he moved the wrong way, his back throbbing and agitated at the slightest move of his spine.

He had just helped murder his own grandfather. That was still sinking in. He had helped murder his grandfather, and then fled the scene with the murderer, who was also the founding titan and had abused his trust.

If it weren’t for that murderer, though... what would have happened to him? He had never seen his grandfather snap at him in public before. “I’d kill you before I let that happen.” Those words still sent shivers down his spine, made him curl into himself.

If it weren’t for Eren saving him... would he have been like Caroline?

Silence had suffocated their walk, and to break it he took a deep breath.

“After everything I told you...” Falco began, voice ashen, “Why didn’t you stop me?”

The man turned to face him more head on, expression downcast, lacking a hard edge. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” he said, a sigh to his voice, “No: I wasn’t someone you should’ve relied on. I did not do all that I could’ve, so that I stayed conspicuous. Still, picturing you living in silence, chained by cruelty, I couldn’t enable that.”

He paused, taking a breath. As Falco said nothing, he continued, “I know I hurt you. You would find out my identity, I knew that... I haven’t acted so impulsively... in a while.”

With too many thoughts, Falco struggled to reply. For all his pondering, the answer seemed too simple... then, simultaneously it was so very human; a series of impulsions that struggled to make sense of themselves, resulting in a clustered mess hard to understand.

“That’s... pretty stupid.” Falco deadpanned. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to punch that man. He wanted to curl up in bed. Then he felt those fleeting emotions waver, and then wanted none of those things. Crossing his arms over his chest, lips pressed together, he finally felt himself relax. For the man who always seemed to know what to say, “It’s so dumb.”

“I should’ve thought of a better solution. I was so selfish, I know.” said the other, making Falco shake his head.

“I meant...” he paused, considering. Correcting him wouldn’t do much good, and he’d rather address something bigger. “You came here... to kill everyone, didn’t you?”

As expected, Mr Yeager was blunt. “I was willing to do what my comrades weren’t... I’d make sure Marley doesn’t have the opportunity to strike first.”

Falco’s eyebrows creased as he thought; yes, Marley would have little reservation about slaughtering all those on the island of Paradis, on a morality basis. However, he’d yet to hear any plans to attack himself – and Paradis had beaten them back once before.

His mind wondered further. Marley was notorious for breaking the laws of war. Notorious for doing whatever it took to secure victory. Although upfront about it in most cases, the reports on Paradis remained shrouded in mystery.

Falco hesitated to ask, but pushed on. “Was it like that nine years ago?”

Mr Yeager looked away, but didn’t seem to emote much more. When he looked back, there seemed to be a shadow overcastting him. “It happened in a moment. No one saw it coming. I watched my mother be eaten alive in front of me...” Falco appeared more impacted than Eren, eyes widened, forlorn. The man paused for a moment, looking off at something the boy couldn’t see. “And all I remember is the desperation, how I would do anything to save her, make it stop. And when I couldn’t, I wondered why she had to die in the first place.”

“Just... like that?” Falco was unable to bring his voice above a murmur, his heart panging with empathy. ‘What he must have felt in that moment...’ “Eren... I’m so sorry.”

Eren’s lips pulled back, eyes squinting, still gazing off. “For something that happened when you were three? You have no blame in that. My choice to keep going... I would try to forget it at first, but I knew it would involve so many innocent lives. That I’d create a hell of my own.” Falco recognised that tone, most prominently from their first talk; a tone that left no doubt in one’s mind about how serious he was. For a change, the boy wasn’t completely absorbed, rather thinking about each word as it came, mind trying to make sense of it.

Once more, Mr Yeager turned to look him in the eye. “I saw you as something to achieve my personal freedom,” he admitted, voice too soft to fit such words. Falco expected as much, but to hear it aloud... he could feel his shoulders hunch up, jaw clenching.

“I haven’t thought of you that way for a long time. Your happiness is so important to me. When you told me what was happening to you, I was so proud that you had the courage to do so. I’m so proud of you, all the time.”

Against everything, his emotions turned once more, and Falco felt his heart lighten. Such blatant truth, both the ugly and the alleviating, took a burden from his shoulders and placed it bellow him, so that he could strand taller, equal. It was as though him bones had been warmed by a fire, reinvigorating him. “That-... this is still really dumb.” Saying it aloud shook off the remaining weight, ensuring it was truly gone. “But... thank you, Mr Yeager.”

“I think I preferred Eren.” The man mused. He, too, had lost his shadow. “I’ll make it up to you, if I can. I promise – if you want me too, I’ll keep you safe.”

Falco listened with a sigh. “Please, just listen to your friends. They have a plan... that they wouldn’t want me sharing with you... at this stage.”

Eren looked upon the verge of scoffing, his words sarcastic. “Do they?”

It was impossible for the boy to tell what that meant in its entirety. All he knew is that Eren clearly had faced more than he could imagine with those people he dismissed so easily, that bitterness unable to originate from anything other than a deep sentimentality.

He tried again, stubbornness beginning to blossom. “Give it a chance, please? It means you wouldn’t have to attack Liberio, so...” he stepped forward and grasped Eren’s sleeve, tugging it once as he stared up at him.

“Eren, please tell me I can trust you.”

Chapter Text

Falco

His grandfather is dead. Arthur Grice is dead.

He can say that now. Something his grandfather would have beaten him for. His name, Arthur Grice. Just a man, just a human. That human was dead.

Arthur Grice, dead, a robbery gone wrong. His body found by Falco Grice, his grandson.

Would everyone be saying that soon?

If they did, they’d surely mention how kind he’d been. A family man, kind to all. Maybe they’d pity the child who found the corpse. Falco huffed – they should save their pity, because he felt nothing.

Standing in the bathroom, looking into the bathroom mirror in the middle of the stormy night, Falco could only stare at his reflection.

The new bruises on his wrist matched his face in their ferocity, dark and angry as new colours marred his skin. When he looked long enough, he could picture that vein-ridden hand wrench his skin, dragging him all the way home, increasing pressure as they got closer and closer, matching the swirling fear that quickened his breathes until everything became a blur.

His wrists were nothing compared to his back. When he’d first taken his shirt off, he could only stare at for a few moments. His grandfather had liked him to remove his shirt before usual beatings, making sure the blows weren’t softened. He had been planning tonight, before Eren had interrupted. Falco knew his habits. But in the moment, it was if he couldn’t care too, shoving the door open and throwing him against the counter, wailing down kick after kick into his back, each smashing his face against the hard wood.

Indeed – his face was a visible mess, the broken nose still giving him an awful black eye, and now his forehead bruised to match. He’d redone the doctors work, as well as he could anyway, applying a cream he’d used for years to try and stop the swelling. The small tub he’d used was already half empty.

He’d never had to try anything like powder or make-up to hide scars or bruising – they had always been where no one could see. His grandfather was always meticulous, always knowing just how far he could hurt his grandson before Falco could no longer cover it up.

“I’ll kill you before I let that happen.”

It had been the truth.

Falco didn’t understand. How could a monster like that exist?

Arthur Grice... did that man ever love him? Or was his life just as meaningless to him as Caroline’s? He knew the sick enjoyment he got from tormenting him. Would that same joy come from...?

A tremor shuddered through his body, hands gripping the edge of the sink.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, smash.

He’d done that. He’d... he’d gone too far.

He trembled as he got to his feet. Knees threatened to buckle, yet he pulled himself up. Blood strangles his ears, and each sound sounded a thousand miles away. Eyes squinted; he turned his head, trying to comprehend – Eren. Eren was there. Bellow him, and he – what?

Focus. His grandfather was tossed aside; Eren was getting to his feet. Good, that’s good. Leave – they needed to leave. He stumbled on his feet – leave, run, Eren, we need to go – a knife. His grandfather gripped a knife. NO. EREN –

Eyes once upon the window searched desperately – a vase. He lurched for it, head swivelling back to Eren. Hand bleeding, pushing back. He wouldn’t win – he’d die, he’d die trying to save him, his fault.

Fire must of consumed him, he was sure, his chest alight. Anger, white-hot, returned with vengeance. No. He must fight, too. The knife pulled back. He propelled himself forward.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, smash.

It was over.

He didn’t feel anger. Not anymore. He didn’t feel sorrow. A part of him wondered, staring at his beaten face, when those emotions would find him.

The rage was all consuming – in a single moment when he saw Eren’s life endangered by his grandfather. He acted. He saved Eren’s life. For that much, he was glad.

It was a disturbing thing, the act itself. Watching the man’s throat slit, knowing he helped make that happen, the sound of the vase smashing, the corpse slowly bleeding out. He’d seen worse, and he’d been fine. Indeed, such images could fade with time, disturbing though they were, they did not carry the core of his problems.

Falco wasn’t glad the man was dead. He wasn’t exhilarated to stand up to him. He wasn’t happy to think, ‘I’ll never see him again.’

How could he let himself think that? He never could, not when his family slept around him, unaware of what he’d done?

His brother loved their grandfather. His father loved his own father. His mother loved her father-in-law. Unaware that, this afternoon, after training, Falco would return to say that beloved man was dead.

Perhaps, a part of him did wish it’d gone differently. That his grandfather didn’t have to die. All these years, he’d only wanted to keep his family from ever knowing his grandfather’s true colours, so they could be happy: watched from the sidelines as he relished in their adorations. So that they could be happy – so they didn’t have to choose whom to believe, so they could let him take the burden.

He had failed them.

Eren

“Are you sure about this, brother?” Zeke inquired, handing over the envelope.

“I’m sure. Taking my leg off again is a small price to pay in exchange for making sure nothing goes wrong on the day of the festival, and that means watching everything with my own eyes.”

In his hands, Eren held a room key for a motel, as well as a pass out of the internment zone. With the day of the festival so close, no more was needed. The men talked just out of sight of everyone else, behind the Liberio internment zone post office. Of course, Eren didn’t need to tell Zeke what he really intended to do with either. The man in front of him was too caught up in his own fantasy to notice anything astray either way.

“Then I won’t stop you. I have nothing to hide from you, Eren.”

“Everything rides on this plan, brother. If I had any doubts, I wouldn’t leave them until now.” the words came naturally by now, knowing a simple title was all it would take.

Eren watched him walk away after goodbyes were exchanged, the other’s long strides taking him round the corner. If nothing else, Zeke was the best resource he could hope for. Stretching up to a small awning window left subtly ajar, Eren tapped on it before leaning back against the wall.

As Eren waited, he furrowed his brow in frustration. Loosing Zeke’s trust this early wasn’t good at all. He’d have to be far more careful.

Grabbing his pen from one of the many pockets on his coat, Eren quickly copied most of Zeke’s note.

A few minutes later, and corn-coloured hair poked out from the corner, the boy looking rather sullen. “So, he’s really a traitor.” Falco muttered, shuffling his feet with a frown.

“He doesn’t see it the way you or I might, Falco. He wants to free all Eldians, including those here. Death is almost a blessing to him.” Eren struggled to say that aloud, almost feeling he was defending it.

“Still, being willing to attack Liberio, where he grew up...”

Eren sighed, watching the boy’s pained expression. His hand found Falco’s tense shoulder to give it a light squeeze, making sure he saw it approaching. “It’s insane, I know. But he’s been convincing himself that it’s the only way for a long time.”

For a moment, Falco looked off. Distant, still – with only a moment of patience, he was back.

“...I’d really like to have kids someday,” Falco admitted. His face, previously so downtrodden, finally softened as he glanced off into the sky. “Making a real family with someone I love, it sounds amazing. And I can’t, because I’m Eldian? Why is it always Eldians that have to be punished?”

Eren firmly pressed his lips together, mutual frustration burgeoning. “He’s just the key. I won’t allow his to do something so foolish, as I told you yesterday. Don’t forget that.”

After a brief pause, Falco nodded his head, and Eren moved his hand back to his side. To Eren, this was all new territory – though Falco was an older child with a good nature, he was still left rather mixed-up over the previous events. Although they’d already talked about Falco’s family again before meeting with Zeke, Eren wasn’t completely satisfied. Death would never solve a broken family.

With how troubled Eren felt, he could not disavow how protective he’d grown in such a short amount of time. Nor could he deny it to Falco, when his actions screamed so loud. The past day had taken what was brewing and turned it up until a fire had broken out... in that way Eren supposed he really hadn’t changed.

...Surely, the future had.

Fragments of memories, short glimpses into the future; a series of paintings he felt himself in, including things now left impossible. Reiner, on his knees, face filled with regret, anguish. Falco, a boy previously unknown, to the side, staring, terrified.

Eren could only guess at what had changed. Was it the timing of the last letter that caused it to get wet? Should he have not given it at all? Was it Falco deciding to find Jean? Truly, was it something that simple had caused this ripple effect? Or had the divergence happened before that, somewhere after he arrived in Marley? None of the memories meant to guide him gave any clear answer.

Whatever happened in the next few days would determine whether his memories would hold true, that Eren had known for a long time now. The declaration of war Willy Tibur his memories declared him destined to make – despite the circumstances, Eren didn’t know if he could envision it going any other way by now. Of course, the flash of Reiner bowing, trembling at his feet... that had to be changed. Without Falco’s assistance, he could no longer follow that path.

Instead, he had now given a promise. Until that declaration of war... could he still be free? The hope he had four years ago, of defying the memories he’d been given. Until that moment: until he saw the ocean, vast, beautiful, and pictured what lay beyond. Until he realised that those memories were the only way he could be free.

This was his last chance. What could be a small hiccup in his plans could snowball further into a complete re-writing of fate. In the next week, that would all be decided.

“Oh, I’m planning to give Mr Kirstein the letter after training today.” Falco’s voice piped up. Eren only then realised he’d been glaring past his head. Looking back down, he nodded with a sigh, refocusing himself. They’d talked about this last night... was he nervous? “Will that be quick enough for him to spread the information to everyone else? I could try running there now.”

“No, don’t risk being late to training. Jean will have a million questions... sorry about that.” Eren muttered, but Falco only shook his head, gazing up at him with large eyes.

“If it means avoiding a war... I’ll gladly do it.”

Eren felt himself smile, wanting to ruffle his hair again. “Good. And, here, I wrote down the address. That animal may be gone now, but... here. Otherwise, I’ll see you in two days.”

“Thank you...” Falco took it, a small smile on his face. However fretful he was, he wasn’t a child any longer. And while the future still lingered unsurely, he didn’t resist the urge to make the boy smile. Before Falco could leave, he quickly flashed him a teasing grin. “By the way...that person you’d love to build a family with... that wouldn’t happen to be that Warrior Candidate, Gabi, would it?”

“I never said that, don’t presume things!” the kid spluttered, cheeks instantly tinting red and eyes darting to the floor quicker than a whip. Eren’s smile turned genuine at the reaction, and as Falco looked back up, he was treated to his hair being thoroughly tousled. “Hey!”

Satisfied with the childish reaction, Eren laid off. Now, it was time to address it. Crouching down a little, he looked Falco in the eye, making his pout fall in exchange for a confused eyebrow raise.

“Will you be alright, going back to your family?”

The boy sighed. “Yeah. It’s not like I have to actually see the body, so... it’ll be okay.”

Eren nodded.

When Falco had left last night following their long talk, Eren had made himself busy, staging the scene for a false robbery – half-false robbery, anyway. He did steal a good portion of the money just in case. Falco would go back home today, after ‘visiting’ his grandfather, and tell his family what he had seen.

Falco appeared composed, which was still just as surprising as it was last night. To Eren’s knowledge, he’d yet to cry, or shout, or anything – which was concerning in its own right, as Eren was clueless to whether he was suppressing emotions, or just handled them differently than himself.

Considering all that’d happened, Eren shouldn’t expect Falco to be open about such things with him – and he wasn’t. Though subtle, Falco was still withdrawn – but the shifter couldn’t help but to hope.

“Alright. You’ll be okay, soon. You’re strong.” was the best he could give.

Falco just looked away.

Eren found himself talking more. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t make him hurt you. Everything you did was to protect yourself and your freedoms.”

“I...” the boy started, but nothing more came as he bit his lip.

“This isn’t your fault.” Eren said again.

His only response was a nod – shaky, and slow, but there. That was the best he could do, and all Eren could ask for as the boy.

For a moment, both stood there. Neither spoke, nor said goodbye.

In the silence, Eren felt lost. What could he say to make it right? Nothing, was the obvious answer. His mother... what would she say?

“Your mother, Carla, she said this...” Keith Shadis, the man’s recollection, it came to him easily.

Slowly, Eren took a breath.

All his attention went back to the present, here in Liberio, across the sea. To Falco, he offered another answer; on he had once treasured himself four years ago.

“My mother, she once said that I never needed to be special.” Eren recollected those words with the ease of a sailor finding the North Star. “She never wanted me to achieve something grand, or change anything.”

He saw Falco listening intensely from the moment he mentioned his mother, and the eye contact they held was both gentle and unwavering.

“I’m special, because I was born into this world. Everyone is born free, and everyone has the innate right to experience freedom.” Eren couldn’t remember a time he ever felt more confident in his own words. It was impossible – something so simple, how it felt so right to say.

How right it felt, acting to protect this kid he was so fond of. Maybe, when his mother spoke these words, she felt all he felt, too.

“I’m sorry, Falco, for ever getting you involved. You didn’t deserve that. It doesn’t matter what else I wanted to achieve, what else I planned to do, it could never alleviate responsibility for what I’ve done.” If his mother was here, what would she say? What did he want to say? “You should grow up, get married, have as many children as you want. And never have to suffer like this, ever again.”

Tears rolled down cheeks, Falco’s cheeks, and the young boy was crying.

Falco

The doorway loomed in front of him. The feelings in his chest told him this was a prison, not his home. Where he had to lie and cheat and endlessly pray that those around him didn’t turn on him.

He opened the door with trembling hands. He walked inside.

Heart thumping, even turning his head required a strength he was quickly loosing.

His parents and brother sat on the couch, cuddled together, crying.

They looked over to him, his father reaching out a hand. “Come here,” he said, “we need to... we need to tell you something.”

...Wait.

As if doused with icy water, Falco stood there, frozen, mouth agape. He looked at his family, then to the floor, then back up.

... Wait.

Why did they look at him like that?

His feet walked him over, heavy as lead, exhausting him with each step. His father, he’d never seen him so emotional. He’d never seen him sob, never heard his voice quaver so far from the usual deeper tones. Voice cracking, barely able to look at him, his father told him, “father- your grandfather is dead.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

No, it couldn’t go like this.

He needed them to stop looking at him like that.

“What?” Falco stood there, trembles shaking him. “What are you talking about?” how could he know? Falco would he tell him, not the other way around... who found the body? It hadn’t been a day and only his family had the keys, and in such a decrepit area –

“I’m sorry, Falco,” Colt, his brother, their eyes met and Falco felt the bare ability to breathe escape him. “I’m sorry.”

No. Not Colt. Not Colt, not his brother, not the person he loved the most. Not Colt. Falco stood there, he stood in his living room, and then he stood somewhere far away, in the clouds, up above. All he said in response was his brother’s name, Colt, as a hurricane ripped him apart. Limb from limb, his chest left constricted until he stood still, lifeless as a mannequin, heart shoved in his windpipe. Colt had found the body.

Colt hadn’t cried in years. Always strong, Falco knew, for him.

“I’m sorry,” his brother, kind, all too kind, now said, “I’m so sorry, brother.”

Colt’s eyes were bloodshot, puffy, face red and irritant as he continuously wiped his sleeve. His breaths purposefully deep as he clenched his teeth, fists gripping the couch tightly – such a desperate attempt at composure, all so he could talk to his little brother.

Falco felt his heart tear apart. “It’s not your fault.”

How he wished to hug him. He wished his feet to move from their entrapment. The feeling of blame swarmed up again, and still, though it made him want to vomit, he swallowed it down.

Taking a deep breath, Falco blinked until he could see clearly.

“Don’t apologise, Colt.” from the table, he offered a box of tissues. “It’s not your fault.”

From his grandfather’s death, Falco had been freed from his iron grip. Now, the consequences of that freedom would forever burden him. A death, perhaps deserved (that Falco didn’t know), had punished the undeserving far heavier.

The tears that had blinded him never fell. Around him, his family sobbed.

Hours later, and Falco sat by a burning fire.

He’d lit it hours ago, hoping to warm the so dreary room. It didn’t help, and he didn’t expect it too.

His parents had left an hour ago, choosing to address the situation quickly. Though he and Colt had been left out of it, his brother had soon followed after them, wanting to help. He, too, forbid Falco from getting involved. This time, Falco listened: his presence would only upset them, believing he knew nothing.

Despite his bruises, and lack of any alibi, they didn’t point any blame, any suspicion. They did not do so because they loved him. They loved him, and they trusted him.

Since they’d left, he’d only briefly left to his room before coming back down, staring into the fire. In his grip, a stuffed bear. In the bear, it carried his memories of a false promise, of when his grandfather had handed it over, spilling lies he would always believe.

Covered in dust, two empty black buttons stared at him for the first time in almost six years – half of his entire life.

Falco pulled the eyes from its head, and tossed it upon the fire. He then tossed the non-flammable buttons into the garbage outside.

Around him, a cool breeze ruffled his hair. He looked up into the sky, knowing his parents would take a few more hours. He no longer wanted to be alone with his thoughts, continuous dwelling upon such only sinking the guilt deeper into his heart.

Knock, Knock, knock.

In his pocket, his other hand grasped the gifted keys. ‘Eren, please be there.’

Finally, he heard something from inside. Footsteps drew closer, and the door opened for him. Eren looked down at him, eyes immediately softening. He stood back, and Falco entered without formalities. Eren headed towards a small kitchen area, barely enough space to cook.

“Need a drink?” Eren asked. His voice without urgency, calm and soft – Falco found himself relax, just slightly.

“Uhm, water please. Thank you Eren.” He walked to the small table, taking a seat. The motel was far from eye-catching, the uncoordinated, mismatching furniture clashing with the dark green carpet that covered the whole place, the only exception being the small kitchen area. At least it wasn’t Latewood, and had some semblance of hygiene.

Eren sat down by his side, placing the glass by him. Falco took a small sip. It tasted slightly metallic.

“My brother found the body.” He said.

“Did he leave training earlier than usual?”

“I don’t know. He must have, I guess.” His hands tightened around the glass, brows furrowed. “Eren, nothing’s better.”

His heart felt so heavy under his ribs, lungs packed with cement. The boy ducked his head, emotions arising once more. “I made it worse.”

Not giving a chance to reply, Falco straightened, turning to look Eren in the eye. Teeth clenched, nails digging into his palm, he forced words one after the other. “I finally stood up to him, and I’m not better off! How is that fair?”

When he trembled, Eren did not look away from his seething look. Falco hoped he knew, it was not for him. Wiping it from his face was simply impossible.

“It’s not fair,” Eren confirmed. “Of course it’s not fair on you. But he can’t hurt you anym-“

“That’s not it! That’s not it, Eren!” Falco snapped. “My family, they’re hurting because I killed him!”

“You were defending yourself.” Eren’s voice took a more assertive, certain tone. “You were defending me. If you hadn’t of attacked him, I would be dead. Don’t blame yourself for the situation he put you in.”

Falco only shook his head, looking back down at the table as he trembled. “I was wrong. I was wrong, I’m not okay. My family isn’t okay. Everyone is suffering, and now I have to live with knowing what really happened. Is that really worth it?”

He breathes in, slow. His hear thumped wildly, and he struggled to regulate it. Eren gave him space. Falco shook his head again, emotions calming into numbness once again. “I should have just taken it all. I shouldn’t have involved you, or fought back... Colt... I just want him to be happy...”

The room seemed so cold, all of a sudden. His elbows on the table, Falco held his arms, eyelids low. He felt the goose bumps along his skin, lost.

Why had been such an impulsive idiot? Why? Nails continued to dog into his skin. It was a hell that awaited him, and he willingly walked into it. If he had only told Reiner in the first place, kept the status quo... would they all be better off?

“...Falco.” Eren called him. “Please, look at me.”

He did, turning his head. Eren looked back – his expression. Falco’s eyes widened again, sitting a little straighter: Eren’s eyebrows had lowered and pulled closer together, angled up, eyes glossed, lips pouting outwards.

“Falco.” He began. His voice brought him in, demanded he recognise its sincerity, raw and open. “You weren’t wrong to look for help. You weren’t wrong to fight back. Yes, if you kept quiet about everything, your family wouldn’t be mourning him right now. But don’t say they would be happier. You will never know that; because they might just have mourned for you instead.”

Falco stared. He hadn’t considered that. He knew his grandfather could have killed him. Still, why hadn’t that crossed him? Was he just that stupid?

“Falco...” it was the gentlest he’d ever heard Eren. When the man spread his arms, Falco did not have it in him to hesitate. He was embraced in warm arms, Eren holding him close. “It’s not just your parents. I already said that I’ll keep you safe from now on – and I mean that. No matter what.”

“Then, what do I do?” Falco hated how his words left his mouth, how they sounded so unstable. “How do I fix this?”

Eren took in a breath. Falco felt him tense, even briefly. Falco hugged a little tighter. Finally, Eren let it out.

“I don’t know, Falco. I... I really don’t know.”

Morning came, and Falco rose at dawn.

He blinked slowly, and did not move to get up.

Yesterday, his grandfather was declared dead.

Tonight, Lord Tybur would host his grand party.

Tomorrow, the festival would be upon them.

In these forty-eight hours, decisions of paramount importance will change the world.

Above him, the cracks in his ceiling he had long memorised seemed to grow. When he sat up, it was to the sound of morning birds, and outside his window, he watched the clouds pass by, drawn to their ambiguous patterns.

For a fleeting moment, Falco thought he could waste the day away, right here, in his bedroom. No detail was too small for his mind to procrastinate from. Then, it was gone, and the boy was glad for its departure.

He had no solution.

When he thought back, however, he found himself far clearer than last night. No – he was still glad he met Mr Kirstein. He wanted to help prevent a war. Falco was sure Mr Braun was aware they were people too, but then he destroyed another wall after almost five years of living there.

Falco couldn’t quite comprehend that. Another night meant for sleep torn from him in favour of constant musing. Thoughts swirled – could he really understand the purported 'island devils' more than he did his own superior?

No - there must be a way to change that. Falco decided, right there: he would remedy this, today. He would not allow himself ever stop moving forward.

Time was almost out.

Chapter Text

Falco

"Vice Chief Braun!" Falco called, approaching the solder. It was still early in the morning, and Mr Braun was walking to headquarters. Falco kept his eyes firmly pinned on him, distinctly avoiding gazing away. "Could I talk to you for a moment, please? Alone?"

Mr Braun sighed, looking both tired and a little miffed. "I have to be at headquarters in fifteen minutes, why didn't you ask another time?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Braun, but this really is important... please can we go?" he winced, knowing it came out far more desperate than he'd intended.

At the very least, it worked in his favour as Mr Braun finally agreed, and let him lead him away. He bit his lip as guilt quickly hit him, but he brushed it to the side: the alternative was so much worse, after all.

He quickly guided his superior to a bench, not out of sight, but out of any passerby's hearing. He did not look back so that he did not have to fake a smile. Mr Braun had known him long enough to make him worry doubly so over being caught out.

Quickly looking around, he confirmed the area was quiet before he began.

"Uhm, Mr Braun, before we go any further, can I ask you something?"

"Falco... what exactly are you trying to do here?"

Not knowing how to answer that, Falco simply hesitated before continuing, "You were on Paradis Island for five years, weren't you?"

If his superior didn't seem happy before, his deepening frown confirmed it. Eyes narrowing slightly, the man ensured firm eye contact.

"You need to stop this, Falco. I don't know what's been going on lately, or why your suddenly so interested in this, but asking too much about that island will only lead to trouble." The boy got a similar feeling to when he disappointed his parents. All at once, eye contact was almost impossible. Almost. He looked back up and met his eye.

"They aren't really devils, right? Like Jean Kirstein... he's actually really nice."

The reaction to the name was immediate. Mr Braun's face completely froze, staring at him without blinking. It was a face Falco had never seen on the Warrior, even in the worst of war – an emotional stabbing unable to be replicated by physical threats. Once more, guilt ate at him. Nevertheless, this was to protect Gabi and everyone else, so he could only pray the Warrior would understand how irrational he was acting.

"Falco," the man began, voice far too shaken to carry its usual authority, "... tell me everything."

"I met him," he admitted quietly. "Mr Kirstein. He told me so much about what happened on Paradis... what you were like there."

As the morning light lost the remaining shades of the sunrise, Falco continued to talk, telling the man before him everything as quickly as he dared. Despite the looming time-frame, his conscience forced him to wait until everything seemed to sink in before he told him more. He oversimplified the parts with Eren, both to avoid talking about his family situation and because that name seemed to shake him even more than the initial name-drop. It felt as though each word that he spoke dug in another needle into his superior, yet he simultaneously knew trying to wait for the pain to ebb way for each jab would be more painful than just getting it over with.

Falco may not be able to begin to imagine what the other was feeling at that moment, but he wasn't much better off himself as he forced himself to hurt his superior assiduously, someone he respected and had looked up to for four years now.

When he finally finished explaining the new plan, he was shaking all over, fists clenched to his sides as he took in a needed deep breath.

Reiner was not as visibly shaken, but despite towing over Falco, he seemed so small: shoulders slumped and eyes dreary. Now finally free of the largest burden, Falco allowed himself to breathe.

Now he'd told Mr Braun everything. A small mercy, he figured, for what could come next.

"And this new plan," Mr Braun finally asked, "How does it involve us?"

"We... need to meet up with them tomorrow." Falco muttered. "If things go how Lord Tybur wants, which is a declaration of war, then they want to make you – the armoured titan – a hostage."

For a long pause, neither spoke. Falco waited for him to refuse, ready to try to convince him to try to talk to his old comrades and find another solution.

"So, where exactly is Eren?" the man asked after a pause. Falco perked up immediately – were they thinking the same? What luck!

"I'll show you, Vice-Chief. You can talk to him; convince him to listen to his friends, can't you?" This was Falco's true hope. Although no one from Paradis could slip into the internment zone so easily, Mr Braun, who knew Eren personally, far better than himself, could. When the man didn't respond, he continued, feeling himself beginning to ramble, "I can take you to his address, after the party tonight... and you can try to talk to him. If you need to use force to protect our home, then, you can... but please try to talk first."

He may not know the details of what happened on that island on a personal level, but Mr Kirstein made it clear they were comrades for years, and Eren was vague enough for him to be hopeful. It may not be enough, but it was all Falco had.

Finally, Mr Braun finally seemed to take a silent breath, closing his eyes briefly before looking back at him, "we need to get to headquarters. I'll come find you and we'll talk about this later, but do not leave headquarters without me, understood?"

"Yes, Mr Braun... uh, you definitely won't tell anyone will you...?"

"If I told anyone, you and your family would be killed without a second thought." The warrior stood, Falco copying soon after. "From now on, keep your head low... it's a miracle you haven't been found out yet. Don't meet anyone else from Paradis without me being present."

Falco breathed a sigh of relief. Needing the confirmation, he quietly asked, "So, you really don't want a war, right? You'll help to avoid it?"

"No, I don't." a simple answer, and all Falco wanted.

"Regardless, Falco." Mr Braun placed a hand on his shoulder, a firm squeeze rooting him in place, "don't put your full trust in them. However kind they've been to you, they're still enemy soldiers with different goals. Goals that don't ensure our comrades' safety."

"I understand." He just wanted to understand everything else, too.

Mr Braun locked eyes with him for another moment, before standing straight again. He didn't walk, and Falco saw him take in another breath.

"Remember; don't interact with anyone from Paradis anymore without me."

"I won't." With the festival tomorrow, it's not as if there were many opportunities. Only the one tonight and there was no plan for her to talk to him.

Finally, Mr Braun nodded once, and walked forward, Falco trailing behind. That went over... far, far better than he'd expected. Though Mr Braun's reasoning for keeping quiet seemed more to do with his family's safety than any apparent trust, Falco supposed it still got them where they needed to be.

A part of him now berated himself for not telling their vice-chief far sooner, rather than keeping him in the dark until the day before the festival. Falco sighed – at the time, he'd been so desperate to cling on to that hope, that Mr Kruger was real, that it drove him to do the riskiest moves imaginable, entirely focused on keeping it to himself.

"I saw you as something to achieve my personal freedom," those words, Falco couldn't stop thinking about, "I haven't thought of you that way for a long time. Your happiness is so important to me. When you told me what was happening to you, I was so proud that you had the courage to do so. I'm so proud of you, all the time."

A soft smile tugged at his cheeks, Falco feeling warmth build up in his core at the memories. Regardless of what Eren had done in the past, Falco would always know what it has led to – for both of them.

He was being impulsive again. That idea, however, didn't give him the same stomach-churning anxiety as before.

Mikasa

Mikasa smoothed the kimono, watching herself in the mirror. The quality was unmistakable, white fabric softly brushing over her fingers. It was adorned with golden accessories, giving a simple yet elegant look.

Although apprehensive, Mikasa couldn't deny feeling rather... pretty. Feminine. How long had it been since she'd felt this way? Even for formal events, she rarely wore a dress, instead using her military uniform. Those uniforms bared a symbol, two wings overlapping, blue and white – the wings of freedom.

Lady Kiyomi's dulcet voice called from beyond the door, and as Mikasa granted permission, she stepped into the room she saw that a smile quickly broke on her face before hidden by cupped hands.

"Lady Mikasa, you look exquisite." The woman claps her hands on her shoulders, looking up with a pride-laden smile. Mikasa looked back evenly, grey eyes hiding a harshness yet to be revealed.

"Thank you, Lady Kiyomi. Will we be leaving soon?"

"Yes, of course. We'll arrive their early as you wished." The smile adorning Lady Kiyomi's face became strained at Mikasa's blunt questioning.

As they entered their carriage, Mikasa caught site of the symbol adorning the back of Lady Kiyomi's kimono. Three overlapping swords composed a triangle in a simple black and white palette; the same as the one inked into her skin, and now on the back of her own kimono.

Mikasa did not think of her mother often. It almost felt like a different life, before she met Eren and unlocked her Ackerman blood. It taught her how fleeting life could be, how you could lose it all in the blink of an eye. Her father, someone also carrying the Ackerman blood, was taken off guard and killed easily after, just like that. Now, though her childhood friends carried titans, that didn't diminish even a shred of her fear – a single bullet to the head was all it would take.

When she gazed at that symbol, all her thoughts could only focus on them, Eren and Armin. Perhaps in a different life she could have been a proud member of the Azumabito clan along with her mother, happy for her heritage, proud to carry the symbol upon her uniform. Yet, that was not her world, and she was not that woman.

Mikasa Ackerman was an Eldian, born and raised on Paradise with her family, Armin and Eren. Her comrades were a second family – Sasha, Connie and Jean, she would not hesitate to kill or die for. As long as she lived, she only wished to protect them, to keep them safe and grow old together – she was content with that simple yet powerful ambition.

Her hands rested upon her kimono for second, taking comfort in the faint sound of paper crinkling.

As the door closed behind her and the horses were instructed to move, her grey eyes hardened with unspeakable emotions. 'Eren, please wait for me. I can help you, stay by your side. Give me the chance to protect you, one last time.'

The party wasn't to dissimilar to what Mikasa had grown accustomed to in Wall Sina – over the top and meant to impress. Though the guest list was more diverse, coming from all around the world, they all carried that air of superiority the rich of wall Sina became known for.

Mikasa's gaze was passive as she glanced around trying to spot those Hange had told her would be here – their allies, their adversaries. Most prominent, of course, was Willy Tybur himself – though he appeared to be fashionably late, as the Marleyan phrasing goes.

She moved with Lady Kiyomi through the party, blinking and turning her head when a girl with a yellow armband darted behind her to refill another guest's empty wine glass. The girl had platinum blonde hair tied in a ponytail and bangs that almost reached her eyes. Mikasa's gaze went unnoticed as she stepped gracefully around more guests to fill up more glasses with the bottle she clutched to her chest. No one paid seemed to pay her any mind, not even pausing to thank the girl... not that Mikasa would expect any better.

"It's Willy!" A burst of sudden calls made Mikasa turn her head, checking the source. Indeed, the man walked into the large hall, arms linked with an unknown but undeniably beautiful woman (his wife, perhaps?). He himself was well groomed, handsome even, wearing a classic black suite with a black bowtie, with long golden hair refined to perfection to frame an angular face. His free hand waved at those who crowded to greet him, a smile too perfect to make Mikasa comfortable – though it seemed to charm everyone he targeted it at frozen in place men and women alike. Instant distrust coursed through Mikasa like a tidal wave; her refined instincts, which she had always fully trusted, screamed at her that he was more spurious than any rich merchant she'd met yet.

Before having a chance to decide her next move, Mikasa's attention was once again stolen – this time, it was from directly next to her. Lady Kiyomi stood next to a boy, sporting the same attire and armband as the other child had. In his hands, a half-empty wine glass shook from his fearful trembles, eyes wide and coated in fear as he and Mikasa's gaze both recognised the darkening red stain on the other woman's kimono.

Instantly, Mikasa seized the wine glass from the Eldian child, stepping closer to obscure the vision of those behind her. His eyes flicked to her, dark pupils almost unnaturally shrunken from pure terror. "I- I'm awfully s-sorry –"

"Shh! Don't make a fuss!" Lady Kiyomi muttered. The boy obeyed.

"Is everything alright, Ladies?" A man approached. He tried to look between them.

"Yes. I spilt my wine on her accidentally." Mikasa answered, not missing a single beat.

"He was offering to help," Lady Kiyomi added her voice calm and steady. She leaned down to pat his tensed shoulder briefly with an almost motherly, reassuring smile. "Thank you for that."

Mikasa watched as the men escorted her away, Lady Kiyomi turning to her with a short smile and a promise to be back quickly. Her gaze fell back down to the boy, seeing him still frozen in place. She hadn't been the best liar then, and Lady Kiyomi's calm tone had quickly taken away any suspicion much easier than she could've. For the first time since finding out her true intentions, Mikasa felt a strand of gratefulness to the older woman – whatever her intentions for Paradis were, that she admired.

"Why... why did you save me?" The boy muttered, still not looking up at her. Mikasa's nose wrinkled – a child should never feel the need to ask why they were helped – she smothered that feeling and tried to mimic Lady Kiyomi's kind tone.

"Do you believe you deserve to die over spilling wine?" She muttered with her voice low as she continued to feel eyes on them. "Of course I helped you."

Not wanting to attract further attention, she stepped away quickly, wine glass still in hand. Awkwardly, she looked around again, wondering if she should just leave it on a table somewhere. So that those Eldian children could deal with it... the concept made her skin crawl.

Mikasa quickly checked up on the child again, hoping he hadn't been punished either way (from what she'd seen, they barely needed an excuse to do so). Regardless of keeping her cover, she would not let that child be harmed. He was looking right back at her, three other children peering by his side. She recognised the girl with platinum hair, while one was another boy with short blonde hair and a girl with dark hair, half-pulled back into a messy ponytail.

Her eyes locked quickly onto the blonde boy, noting that the dark-haired girl stop talking as she gazed back at them. He seemed to fit Hange's description, could he be the one who –

The sound of glass clinking pulled her attention away to focus back ahead. A rather podgy man, who was talking about some nonsense about grudges, was now addressing the crowd that had formed around Willy. Around her, the crowd grew increasingly tense.

Deciding her priorities, she quickly ignored that man and glanced backwards. Luckily, at the edge of the crowd and with everyone facing the man, she easily slipped backwards to a now empty table, making sure to make direct eye contact with the blonde boy, who seemed to be watching her as well, keeping the kids in her peripheral.

Before either could move, a new round of applause rung out, and she clapped to it automatically as cries of "Willy!" and "Lord Tybur!" rung out. Her attention quickly snapped back, stormy eyes focusing in more intensely than anyone else's did.

His movements, his words, all rehearsed to perfection. The charisma he oozed sent prickles down Mikasa's spine as she watched him skilfully captivate those around him. He made big promises, and addressed issues usually left unsaid about Marley – yet the apparent openness was stifled by the obvious devising put behind each word.

Mikasa felt as though she was on an island, separated from everyone around her. Only she and Willy remained, his voice carrying until it was all around her; "however, I have come to a single solution that will solve the Eldian problem once and for all." Willy Tybur raised his glass, and her hand shook when she grasped her own. "Join me tomorrow, in my first ever theatre production, where I will reveal my plan for all to hear!"

The crowd was back around her, and she allowed herself to be swept up by the powerful current, glass raised in the air and they exclaimed his name. Her voice sounded like an echo of itself as she joined in. As the harsh current died down, waves of cheering his name ending, she looked down to find her spare hand tightly gripping the tablecloth. Never before had she met a man who irritated her so much with his presence alone. Hange's plan may not include his assassination, but she would gladly support one that did.

She looked back at the kids, tapping her wine glass while making eye contact with the blonde boy, who quickly noticed her. After a moment, he turned to the girl with platinum blonde hair and exchanged a pile of cutlery for a wine bottle, and making his way over, and she quickly placed her glass down by her side.

"Falco, right?" She murmured as he slowly filled it, her voice barely above a whisper. He nodded slightly, not looking up just like the other boy.

"Yes. And you're Lady Mikasa?" The title still felt foreign, but she agreed either way.

"It's nice to meet you." He stopped pouring the wine, stepping back slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"After the party, wait somewhere for me, you can say where would be safe for you – I'd like to talk with you, briefly."

"The back entrance, only the Eldians working here exit that way..." Just like that, he left, and she stood alone.

Mikasa didn't move, slightly taken aback by the abrupt departure. To her, this seemed absurd, but he was her only ticket to finding more about Eren. Though Eren surely only used him out of necessity (that yellow armband clearly had its use) he might be able to tell her more than Jean's been sharing with them. Perhaps, even a reason as to why he had abandoned her.

The thought made her head pound. She trusted him more than anyone or anything, only wishing to be by his side... so why was he doing this? Why did he always leave her alone, just out of her reach as he looked ahead to something she couldn't see? Was she not good enough? Did she lack something he pursued elsewhere?

The band began to play once more, the piano taking centre stage. It was beautifully played, the woman's voice that soon accompanied it even more so. Biting her lip slightly, Mikasa tightened the grip on her glass and made her way forward. This was no time to get lost in such thoughts again.

When she arrived, Willy was talking with two women, chuckling at something to do with horses and cars. Mikasa's gaze snapped to one immediately – recognising her face from Hange's research: her pronounced cheekbones and deep brown eyes catching her attention. Wearing a long, deep blue dress and adorned in golden jewellery, the woman turned to Mikasa as she approached with a small smile. Mikasa put on her most pleasing smile, the unfamiliar feel of lipstick making it even more unnatural feeling than it already would be, focusing first on the man of the hour.

"Lord Tybur, it's an honour." Mikasa greeted, "I am Lady Nobuko Azumabito."

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you Lady Nobuko, I heard about Lady Kiyomi's kimono, what a shame..." Tybur spoke, words covered in an unbearable amount of honey.

"You're work is incredible, Lord Tybur. The charity you showed in Niphivi was simply astonishing." Mikasa schmoozed in return, unsurprised when he began to brush it off with a wave of a hand.

"You are far too kind. My achievements there are down to the hard work of many individuals that set things into motion a long time ago."

"Well, I'm only regretful I couldn't be there to witness it." She said. The complements and small talk they continued to exchange could only get her so far, and being reminded of the incident with Kiyomi sparked an idea. As they talked, she could feel a woman to her left, slowly pressing forward as she inched to talk to Willy as if she was water in a dry desert. Unfortunately for her, Mikasa was a bird of prey, ready to prey upon the unsuspecting.

"It's been wonderful finally talking to you, Lord Tybur." Mikasa continued, the edges of her mouth beginning to ache as she held her smile. At her words, she sensed the woman readying to take a step. At the same time as she moved forward, she stepped backwards, causing their arms to hit into each other. Instantly, her full glass of wine spilt sideways, onto both her and the other woman's outfits.

The woman instantly started to blubber apologies to her. She turned to Willy, unwilling to neither curtsey nor bow but forced a slew of apologies out.

Staff members surrounded them as if they'd been shot, their concern almost comically overkill.

Willy only smiled good-naturedly to them, and chuckled. "These things happen. Please assist these lovely ladies, I'd hate to ruin such a stunning dress." the complement was slipped in neatly, an accessory to his falsehood. It served only to make her more uncomfortable.

"That would be desirable... that's very kind of you" Mikasa politely accepted.

And just like that, she was whisked off and Kiyomi's men quickly gave her a spare Kimono, already in the area from the incident beforehand. Mikasa didn't spare a moment, changing her clothes quickly before calling in the men meant to escort her around.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" The first asked, watching her as she approached. Still, Mikasa didn't need them to turn around for this. Simply raising her fist, she swung a punch directly to the side of his head , grabbing the other's collar with her other hand before knocking him out cold just like his co-worker.

Physical force, at least, she knew how to do.

With the two easily dragged into the ridiculously huge walk-in closet, Mikasa simply walked out alone, free to roam without restraint. Her strides exhaled confidence, the aura letting any staff that passed her fully aware she was in no need of assistance. she sucked in a breath and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Within seconds, her facial expression could once again match the hardness of a stone.

Soon enough, the woman appeared, escorted by a soldier in a blue suit – her personal guard, she recalled. Mikasa approached quickly.

"My apologies for my clumsiness." Bowing deeply, Mikasa was at least sincere in that.

"No, that's alright, Lady Nobuko. I suppose Lord Tybur's presence had us both star struck, no?" there was an easy charm to her voice, and as Mikasa quickly searched her eyes, the woman seemed genuinely unbothered.

"I suppose so." She agreed.

"I am Shafira Biobaku, it's a pleasure to meet you." With her identity confirmed, Mikasa shook her outstretched hand.

In the briefing, Hange had described her as a well-liked politician, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Bastousili Isles. Regarded as charismatic and reliable, she had been a promising potential ally.

Bastousil had a small population of 30,400 compared to Paradis' 1,050,000. A series of small, isolated islands, they made their wealth through trading spices, primarily vanilla.

Politically, they were neutral. Their geographic isolation kept them out of major wars, trading with whoever gave the best deal... with their small size in population, land and resources keeping them under the radar. Most importantly – their population was almost 40% Eldian. Despite being trading partners to countries segregating Eldians, they did not segregate Eldians themselves. Rather, Eldians were considered normal citizens.

The Azumabito neglecting to mention their existence was yet another show of their willingness to monopolise resources. Having travelled across the sea themselves, the Bastousili Isles finally came to their attention.

"I'm glad to make your acquaintance." Mikasa nodded. "As coincidence has it, I've been hoping to discuss potential relations with you."

Madam Biobaku blinked rapidly; jaw loose before she fixed herself. "I was not aware that Hizuru had any interest in us. It would be my pleasure to do so." Turning to her guard, she nodded, "would you please ask for an appropriate room for such?"

A short while later and they were seated at a 10-seater table, chairs immoderately cushy and adorned.

"Firstly, you should know that although I am of Azumabito decent, I do not identify as such." Mikasa began. "I am a citizen of Paradis."

"...Is that so?" Madam Biobaku conveyed not a sliver of dissatisfaction. She remained professional, not a hair falling out of place. She leant forward and never looked far from her, shoulders straight. "I was not aware Paradis had ceased its isolation. I suppose Lady Nubuko is a false identity?"

"It is. My name is Mikasa Ackerman. I only ask you hear me out."

"Then, I am truly glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Mikasa. You're taking quite the risk." Madam Biobaku mused. "There is a reason for that, no?"

"There is. We do not wish to stay in the shadows, but to build new relations around the globe." Mikasa continued watching her, still awaiting some sign of disgust. With no such reaction from Biobaku, Mikasa reached for a container, putting it atop the table and pushing it towards her.

"This contains a gram of iceburst stone, straight from the source. Even in a gas form, this much is equal to half a kilogram of coal."

Mikasa watched her expression instantly shift, taking the container and examining it without touch before placing it back between them.

"Such a resource would be very precious. Although, I'll admit, it's not one I've heard of."

"It is believed to be unique to Paradis. We use it to fuel our gear. This technology has unlimited potential, being so efficient compared to anything else in the world."

Biobaku hummed thoughtfully, a hand reaching her chin. "In any case, there a many procedures to go through if our countries wish to begin trade. It would be proper to set a more formal meeting. How exactly would you wish to do so?"

"I... this is something you're willing to do?" Mikasa faltered. She watched as Biobaku seemed to soften, deep browns squinting gently.

"To trade with the devils of Paradis?" She inferred. "It's not conventional, I'm more than aware. Nevertheless, the Bastousili Isles prides itself in neutrality and its long reach to all countries. If you wish to trade with us, it is only proper I allow a formal discussion on it."

"Then, I apologise for doubting you." Mikasa attempted to put her apprehension aside. Unlike Tybur, Biobaku's small assurance gave her hope.

Mikasa

Half an hour later and Mikasa made her way to the back exit. The staff were the only ones still around, clearing up after the guests. Falco was there, as he'd promised, twiddling his thumbs, out of place.

Mikasa gestured to him to follow, and he did so, relief washing away the strain on his face. Guiding him to the edge an empty street – it would have to do, hiding in plain sight – they stood, backs to the same wall, the kid only just around the corner.

All she could think was how strange this was. How, as Commander Hange had said, the scouts had always been so unconventional, that these risks were required. It's why Jean had let him go in the first place, and all the information they had gained from that decision gave her some peace.

"Eren... he talks to you often, right?" Only, the information Jean gave was not the kind Mikasa was after.

"I guess..." He sounded unsure. "What do you want to know?"

"What has he been doing, all this time? Just... every day."

Falco paused before answering the arbitrary question, Mikasa hearing him shuffle against the wall. "When I visit him, he looks... tired, distant, especially at first. I don't think he left the hospital much, if at all. And he was always alone, or silent with the nurses." Mikasa's brows furrowed slightly. That sounded like how Eren had become – the Eren she tried to deny existed at all: the Eren that left her, slowly, stepping back inch by inch over the last four years, until he turned and sprinted, no longer there at all. The woman only noticed she'd neglected to give a response when the boy hesitantly continued; "he began to tell more stories, too, about his comrades. He clearly altered them, but... they seemed meaningful to him."

"... Stories?"

"Lots of them... he said they were from the trenches. Like a female soldier who ate a stolen potato in front of him."

Mikasa felt her heart stutter, "Sasha... that was Sasha."

Eren remembered that. Just like they all did, that silly potato incident that had been a running joke among them for years. Did Eren remember all of that, too? Did he remember Jean's relentless use of the nickname, remember Connie having to knock her out before she ate all the meat? Did he treasure those still?

How Mikasa wanted to see him again. To ask him all that was on her mind, herself, in person. Instead, this was the best she could do.

"Please, give this to him." Mikasa took a letter from her Kimono, and held out her hand behind her. Falco grasped it, slipping it away.

"Of course," the boy agreed, and Mikasa could only be grateful, for more than just this single favour.

"Be careful on your way home." Was all she said, standing straighter away from the wall. Her carriage was still waiting, as was her family.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble, Lady Kiyomi."

"It was my pleasure. I'm sorry for not offering it sooner, if only I'd had realised your interest in such an event." Mikasa's eyes narrowed as she cast a stare upon the back of the Lady's head. What an immodest lie. If it weren't for Falco telling them he'd been ordered to attend to guests there, they'd of never known about the event in the first place. The Azumabito Clan would never risk associating themselves with Paradis where avoidable.

All Commander Hange could do was smile through it. "Thank you, I appreciate it. The volunteers have finally arrived, so we'll be doing one last briefing all together before we meet with the rest of the scouts. Mikasa, would you grab Armin from his room?"

"Of course."

"By the way, you look very chic." They complemented, as if tasting the word. "That's what the folks here say, right?"

Lady Kiyomi remained smiling, through her eyes finally crinkled. "Indeed. She was positively breathtaking tonight, born for elegance."

Mikasa couldn't disagree further, but gave a tight smile and left to find her friend, after a quick trip to the bathroom. She was ready to wash off all the makeup already, especially the lipstick.

When she entered Armin's door a few minutes later, face now refreshed with cold water, her heart dropped as she saw exactly what she predicted. "Armin..."

To his name, he looked over, wearily attempting a smile. Around him, various documents lay in an organised mess, various academic books on the art of persuasion, a thousand versions of the same speech spun out with slightly different edits. "Mikasa... Did it go well?"

"Not as well as I'd liked." She said honestly, "but it worked out, Madam Biobaku was receptive. Now it's up to you."

He took in a stilted breath at that. Before he could say anything; "And you'll do your best. Your best has always been amazing. If it weren't, Commander Hange would never choose you –don't doubt their judgement, at least"

Armin stared at her. It was nothing she hadn't said before over the previous days, but Mikasa's stern face told him this wasn't comfort, but a statement the woman truly believed in, and now, just before everything would happen, she would simply not allow him to think otherwise, no speckle of doubt avoiding her caring, steel eyes. Softly, she walked over, placing a hand on his back. "Whatever happens up there, know I'll always support you. Even if for the simple fact I don't have to watch you kill innocent people, knowing what that'd do to you."

Armin looked between her and the sheets of paper, exhaling a deep sigh thorough his nose. Then, he took all accept one and dumps them into the bin besides his desk. Finally, he faced Mikasa with a smile, as she watched his every move.

"I never thanked you." He said softly, eyes warm as he looked at her, "for begging for my life, four years ago. Even now, I still wish Erwin were chosen. I know all I can do is give my best."

"This is what your good at, Armin. This is your best. Your mind has saved Eren and me countless times, just like when they pointed the cannon at us. You can do this. And somewhere, Eren knows that too."

Armin chuckled slightly. "I think that was a little different than addressing the entire world... but thank you. Again."

Commander Hange went through the plan, chalk in hand, guiding everyone though his, their or her parts and the larger plan overall. Both the volunteers and the Scout higher-ups listened intently, sat around in the sofas and the additional chairs brought in. For the scouts, it was the thousandth time they'd heard it – for the volunteers, the first. In the corner, Lady Kiyomi along with two guards beside her listened in, silent and stone-faced.

Mikasa sat between Jean and Sasha, expression grim and serious despite knowing the plan top to bottom. Her hand rubbed Sasha's arm subtly as they arrived at the worst-case scenarios – endangering civilian life. Out of all of them, Sasha had been the most outwardly disturbed by killing unnecessarily, especially civilians. Although she was certainly not alone – everyone in their squad despised it – she was the most likely to hesitate, and that gave Mikasa serious concern. Hesitation in the battlefield was always disastrous.

"Keep in mind, that even in the worst scenario we keep civilian causalities to a minimum. There is no excuse for firing upon unarmed civilians without a direct order, and you will be tried for insubordination if caught doing so." Hange's eyes flick between various squad leaders, letting each acknowledge how deadly serious they were. Mikasa noted them taking a subtle breath, before they continued, strengthening their voice. "Every person here has a thousand reasons to seek revenge tomorrow. Against the right individual, you would be justified. But tomorrow is not about justice, it is about hope, so that future generations do not feel the same craving for revenge. Don't see this as a lesser blow to Marley. Though their harbour will remain intact, their name and reputation will not be allowed to repair.

As you know, they will use their established diplomacy tool – the Tybur family – to get a footing with the other countries and launch an attack on Paradis. We will not counter that with brute force, for it would only prove their rhetoric right.

What they have done to our island and countless other nations may not bring us together as allies tomorrow, but we will use them to severe any possible alliance with Marley either." A moment of silence filled the room, Mikasa feeling many squad leaders already boiling to object. Many in the military, a good number of them in the scouts, saw this change of plan as borderline traitorous. The initial plan to blow up the harbour and eliminate all of Marley's top brass had seemed almost miraculous, with how heavy of a blow they could deal to their biggest threat. Their commander choosing to sacrifice that for a chance of diplomacy seemed unforgivable.

For Mikasa, she only looked over at Armin, doused with pride. Her faith in him was unrivalled.

Slowly, a single person began to clap, and most turned their heads to watch Yelena step forward, wearing a bumptious grin as she called the room to look upon herself.

"What a noble cause, Commander Hange. I'm sure the world will acknowledge your virtue."

Her commander simply gazed back, undisturbed as they met Yelena's eyes. "We are always thankful for what the volunteers have done for our home. I know that each of you have faced Marley's oppression, just as we had, and I will never take your help for granted. However, the Tyburs hope to gloss over your pain by offering a greater threat, and lead your home countries to look over the pain the caused. That cannot happen."

"You seem so sure, Commander Hange." Yelena smiles. "How inspiring. We will follow you as your loyal allies."

Sasha squirmed next to her, Connie on her other side sharing a glace with Mikasa. When Hange sent them to get some rest after a final toast of wine, Mikasa kept her expression firm, letting Sasha lean on her silently, the girls walking side by side. Having been roommates for six years now, she knew when Sasha tried to mask her nerves.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sasha." Mikasa murmured as they parted ways. "Have faith in Armin and Hange."

"I do!" Sasha quickly replied. Mikasa isn't surprised when opening Sasha's door reveals a secret stash of food by the woman's desk. Despite this, she still hands the woman those posh sausage rolls she managed to snatch for her from the party. "Eat well and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sasha's eyes lit up, holding the overly expensive food like a godsend, drool already pooling out the corners of her mouth. "Y-yeah... see you tomorrow. Thank you!"

Mikasa nodded, walking to her room across the hall and letting Sasha indulge herself. If only comforting Armin was so simple. In a way, Sasha's simplicity was beautiful to Mikasa, able to enjoy the simple pleasures in life without expecting any grandiose gestures, humble aspirations driven from the love she had of her family and culture.

In the relative comfort of her own room, Mikasa lied down to sleep, haunted by all the possibilities of tomorrow. The chance of having Eren back at her side, of both he and Eren keeping blood of their hands... it made her happier than anything did, and so more pre-emptively anxious than ever.

The candle by her bedside, the only light, she blew out, allowing the darkness to encompass her. Somewhere in Liberio, was Eren still awake? He wouldn't have seen her letter yet, but when he does tomorrow morning... she only hoped the message goes through.

'Please, Eren. Come home.'

Eren

The world outside was dark, the window he hadn't bothered to fully close bringing in the night's cold breath. Only a few sounds persisted so late into the night – the occasional barking, the humming of a nearby factory, occasional footsteps and echoed murmurs. In the kitchen, Eren held a bottle of wine. Extremely cheap, would likely taste abhorrent.

What mattered was that it was alcohol. He was ready to forget and just fall asleep. His thoughts wouldn't shut the fuck up, patience wearing thin.

He glanced over at the clock. Midnight had passed; a new day had officially begun... the day of the festival. Not that it mattered - his healing could take care of his system long before he needed to think.

Since it was past midnight... he glanced towards the door. Falco would be home from that party, wouldn't he? The boy shouldn't turn up.

The hand on the bottle gripped it tighter. He took a deep breath... 'damn it.' He shoved it back in the cupboard.

Eren had given Falco that key already. A promise he'd always be there, whenever he needed him. That included obscene hours in the night. With his grandfather's drinking... Falco wouldn't say it aloud but... fuck; being there meant being sober.

Turning around, he left the kitchen area. Nothing left to do but sleep, he trudged back to the bedroom (just as ugly as the rest of the apartment).

Discarding his clothes in a pile, he fell upon the bed. The thin metal frame groaned in protest. Anything that came to mind, he shook away, determined just to sleep.

Time passed.

The crack of light he left on from the hallway was mildly irritating. He didn't bother to get up. 'Sleep already.'

More time passed.

Into the darkness, he felt his mind slip, a haze blurring his thoughts, the pillow cradling his head to the thoughts of genocide.

"To know you were sleeping so soundly, right across from your victims..." who said that, Eren couldn't recall. All he remembered, as he leaned upon him, was how Berthold shook, sucking in another deep breath.

Eren, too, took a breath. He did not break into tears, did not despair over his actions. Was that because he had another possibility to follow, or would he of always slept tonight?

Could anyone do so? Or did it take a monster?

His mind didn't answer, instead it took him further into the haze of sleep.

THUMP THUMP.

Eren's eyes snapped open. He jumped to sit up straight, back rigid. His brain thumped at the sudden action, vision hazed.

'What..?'

Knock, knock, knock.

'Oh, the door. It was the door.' Embarrassment tugged at him as he reached to sooth his head. 'Wait. It's surely past midnight by now, who would...' Falco crossed his mind, then Zeke, both possibilities having him out of bed in moments, only in a white shirt and slipping back on his trousers previously discarded on the floor as he hobbled over to the door.

Turning the keys, he found Falco, looking up at him with hazel eyes, expression that of determination – lips pressed together, pulled back slightly and eyebrows pulled together. Eren looked back, a little unsettled. 'Huh. He actually came tonight.'

"Falco, what...?"

Movement caught his eye, and he twisted his head to see Reiner Braun, along with all he evoked – brotherhood, treachery, pain, disgust, recognition – standing there, on the street, looking back.

Chapter Text

Eren

Her love was beautiful. Her love was a mystery.

Ever-present and seemingly everlasting: since the day they met, she stayed by his side. If that love was unconditional, there was no worse person than he.

When she looked at him, what did she see? What made him so special to her? Whatever she saw, whatever she hoped for, it had surely been built upon on lies. The person he truly was deserved none of it.

Perhaps, it was simply time. Years passed, and all that remained from their home was he and Armin. Was he a little brother to her – a figure she felt she must protect? A promise to his mother: an obligation. An awakening of strength: a forced loyalty.

You are family, so she said. It was all she said.

Her love was beautiful, and it was cruel.

Under the night sky, Eren watched the boy's expressions carefully. He'd killed that fucker – but it was far from over. He wished to check Falco's injuries – to ensure they weren't serious – but that wasn't his place. Instead, he watched, letting the boy gather his thoughts further.

"Give it a chance, please? It means you wouldn't have to attack Liberio, so..." Falco stepped towards him, and he saw the determination build in his hazel eyes as the kid grasped his sleeve, tugging it once as he stared up at him.

"Eren, please tell me I can trust you."

He felt his breath still, almost stepping back. Why would he – no, of course he'd ask that. Only, when done so bluntly, Eren had no chance to meet those naive eyes. When he was so damned to his own future, there was no world where he just – just say yes.

In a stretch of silence, he could only hear their breaths, the wind, distant footsteps. Slowly, Eren placed a hand to Falco's shoulder, knowing that was something he was okay with; he would always be careful with a few spots, such as his back.

He didn't look him in the eye, but could manage his direction. "If it means protecting my friends... I want to destroy Liberio." There was no happiness in that statement, no happiness in watching when an understanding look passed the young boy's face. "I'm sorry, Falco. I wish it were different. I'll do what I can to keep you and your family safe... and that is all."

Falco, too, took his time to reply – which turned out to be rather out of left field. "Eren... did you want to talk to Mr Braun?" he'd asked, "Or... was it only necessary for the plan?"

"It was necessary to follow the memories." Eren answered. He took a sigh, gazing off, "it seemed foreign at first. How on earth could a scene like that ever play out, when the only place I expected to see him again was the battlefield?"

"Now... there are things I want to know. Questions I need to hear him answer, in his own words, face to face. Whether that's underground or in a prison cell before he dies, I couldn't care less." Eren did not relent on the hard truths – he felt somewhat cruel, but he didn't want Falco believing in a lie, believing they would every truly be on the same side.

Seeing Reiner again... he'd indeed been curious of that lately. Now that Falco knew his identity, however, it could never happen. The boy knew far more than he ever should have.

If it were Armin, begging to know, Eren may have suspected he was being manipulated. It was almost too affective, how Falco had made that information so easily slip through the cracks of his certainty. However, what made it so affective, what the fact that it was simply not possible – Falco was innocent and trusting to a fault, forgiving when he shouldn't be. Eren was quite sure Falco could not manipulate a dog into dropping a chew toy.

There was no past between them. Strings of complication had been splintered and broken, leaving them raw where everyone else he knew regarded him so heavily.

For reasons Eren struggled to comprehend, he'd been dealt the brunt of Falco's trusting nature. He'd been told horrific things Falco trusted no one else with. It stirred something within him, something he'd almost wished he could kill.

Maybe, he would still kill it. Even if with every passing day, he felt less equipped to do so.

Falco

All was silent in Eren’s motel room. They were in the kitchen, seated around the table under a flickering light. Falco perched next to Mr Braun, the man opposite Eren.

Even outside, the world did not dare to move. Not a bird tweeted, nor a soul walked by. The boy gripped the edge of the table, feeling the scratchy, splintered surface dig into his palms ever so slightly.

“It’s been some time, Reiner.” It was the first time Eren glanced at Falco since they sat down, “I never pictured this.”

The boy shuffled his seat. “You wanted to ask him a few questions... and Mr Braun said he could, so...”

Mr Braun took a silent breath. Voice low and gravelly, he began to talk. “You came here for revenge, didn’t you?” he looked solely at Eren, “why drag a child into this?”

“...Falco, you should go.” Mr Braun said it after a beat of silence. A direct order without so much of a glance. Frustration clawed at the boy, who stood regardless.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you want to leave?” the question was Eren’s, who watched him carefully. An honest question, resulting in an honest answer.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then stay.” It was so simple, and for the first time Falco took a calming, deep breath. He sat back down by Mr Braun, who’s brows furrowed, eyes darting between them.

“Eren.” His tone was sharper. Surely, he disagreed. Falco, however, was now set to stay – he didn’t want to be in the dark anymore. Mr Braun didn’t say anything about that aloud, strangely, continuing after the softy pause. “You came here alone, without the scouts.”

“It was necessary. They would not understand.” Eren’s voice gave nothing away. Even more so than when they’d first met, now starkly contrasting with the two nights previous. Only now, he realised how much suffering Eren carried in that dead shell.

“...Understand?” Mr Braun restated, gruff yet small. Below the surface, something began to rise.

“No. Not when I came here for the same reason you did.” This time, Mr Braun gave a visible reaction, entire face contorting in escalating panic, a shiver running across his body. A mountain crumbling so easy, as though its core were burdened with lava.

Amidst the scene that had Falco frozen, Eren barely blinked.

“You understand, don’t you?” the monotonous voice clashed violently to Mr Braun’s shaking form. “After all you did. After I watched my mother eaten in front of me. After you caused tragedy upon tragedy.”

Falco flinched to the reminder of what he still did not understand. Yet his tongue was too heavy for speech, his curiosity to burdensome for his screaming sorrow for his superior to be heard. Eren only watched impassively, before glancing away, scratching at his cheek briefly.

“Maybe, this was all decided far sooner than I thought. Even before you broke the wall in... was there ever a choice?”

Reiner crumbled further, head bowing deeper.

“I did have a choice.” Where Eren’s voice was almost wistful, light in its honest ponderance, Mr Braun’s carried the weight of unspeakable sins, trembling under its gravitas.

“Annie and Berthold... they wanted to go back, and I made them go on. That was... my choice.” He took a shuddering breath, no longer looking at Eren or himself, downcast and lost. “I wanted to be a hero. I wanted people’s respect.”

Mr Braun’s teeth clenched. A mountain of strength had come undone with only a few words. His head shot up once more to look Eren in the eye, Falco feeling him stare into his own soul. “Shiganshina, Trost, every death, everyone who suffered – everything was because of me!”

Mr Braun hadn’t stopped trembling, fists clenched and shoulders almost to his neck. Across from him, Eren almost seemed to relax, closing his eyes for a moment before glancing at Falco, then back to Mr Braun.

“We really are the same.” Eren said. He sighed. “The world isn’t entirely wrong to attack Paradis. The monsters they fear are real. If there is no other way, I will not hesitate to destroy the entire world.”

Mr Braun fully jerked at the notion, “it was my fault, please – Eren, you don’t have to go so far –“

Falco felt his heart clench. It was his choice to bring Mr Braun here, and he felt himself reach over with a tentative hand to his arm, calling Mr Braun’s name softly.

Eren spared him a glance, flickering to something reminiscent of last night, before turning back to Mr Braun, purposefully snuffing out that light into a blank canvas. “Then protect Paradis. Lend yourself to the scouts.”

Falco’s eyebrows furrowed, interrupting. “What does that mean...?”

“Anything. Just don’t do as I have, please, Eren...”

Eren stared, almost creepy in its lack of expression, had Falco not seen what lay beneath. He felt his breath still with nerves.

“Don’t mistake me. I’m making no promises. But for one last time... I’ll trust in the scouts.”

Eren

Eren watched Reiner guide Falco out of the apartment, unwilling to let them talk despite Falco clearly having something more to say. Eren passively watched, knowing Reiner to be reasonable in that. He had manipulated Falco from the day they met, and even if he tried to rectify that, the past was set in stone, and Falco was firmly involved in this whole mess.

All Eren wanted was to untangle him, and set him free. The boy deserved none of this. He'd seen none of the past nine years, accountable for none of their suffering. Regardless, it seemed the cycle of trauma had begun again, Eren at the bottom of the wheel, wondering if he had the power to halt it, lest it crush him and all of Paradis altogether.

Reiner and Falco walked slowly down the street, the former speaking with dipped brows. The man's demeanour was completely different from the boy he used to aspire to be like. Even when he appeared firm, there was a desperate, dreary air that weighed upon Reiner – and it was all too easy to add to it, to breaking him in.

Eren was granted no satisfaction, watching him tremble. The ability to feel so was stripped from him the moment he crossed the sea. He only felt satisfaction from the knowledge his instincts were right – Reiner had chosen to break the wall down. They were the same.

Not like Mikasa, or Armin. Not like Jean or Connie or Sasha. If Eren did return, he knew they would never understand, nor except that. Mikasa, he already saw her face, brimming with false hope, ready to defend him against the world for such a small show of humanity.

Unless she saw it with her own eyes, she would never understand the devil that lived within him.

Finally, Eren stepped back from the window.

Walking back, something caught his eye, under the table in contrast to the dark oak. A white letter, lying in wait where Falco had sat.

Walking over, he picked it up.

That was Mikasa's handwriting. In the slightly curled penmanship, it simply read, For My Family.

Eren,

If you are reading this, then I am grateful it has reached you successfully. In only a day, perhaps less, I will see you again. Nevertheless there are things I must say no matter what happens.

In the months you have been gone, we've reported back to Paradis that you've gone missing, even before receiving your first letter. Now, the scouting regiment is here in its entirety, and we are prepared to get you back home.

The night you left, you asked me why I care for you so much... whether it was because you saved me, or if it was because you are family. I remember every word. For a long time, I didn't understand why you would ask so suddenly, why then? I still don't know, not without you telling me yourself.

But, at least, I can answer your question first.

I love you. Not because you saved me, not because of what you have done for Paradis, not because of your position. I love you, because you are my brother – not of blood, but of choice, and that is just as strong. And that choice is because I know, and I love, who you are. I love your kindness, your strength both in and out, your warmth, your generosity. Spoke words I will always hold dear.

You said you would always wrap this scarf around me. I cannot put it into words, trying to ink it into paper seems to almost depreciate how much it means to me to always have this reminder with me.

All of what is happening now – it is not irreversible. Just come home to me us, and we can work this out together. Just as you don't understand how I care... I do not understand any your actions since that night.

I do understand, however, what the path of violence will do to you. You could never kill innocent people, innocent children, and if you did, you could never forgive yourself. You are good, and you are kind; please, don't forget that. It shines too bright to fade from you. Please, don't do this to yourself.

Allow yourself to follow Armin's plan that the Warrior Candidate boy has been instructed to give it to you at the last moments. I cannot see you suffer any further Eren.

Please.

Come home.

Chapter Text

Falco

A breeze drifted through the window. Goosebumps rose upon Falco’s arms, cool air grounding him. 2AM early Sunday, in his bedroom, motionless.

The apprehension churned in his stomach. It had built steadily over the day, making him take deep breaths periodically. He watched the night sky to remind himself that here was here, and in this moment, he was safe.

Since returning at midnight, Mr Braun walking him home under the sporadically placed streetlamps, his mind had circled around the same question.

In twenty-four hours, would the Liberio Internment Zone still stand?

His eyes dipped down to examine the patterns upon his blanket. Knees pressed to his chest, his hands held onto them tightly as one lone thumb rubbed up and down. Back to the sky, he gazed, mouth slightly agape as swirling thoughts overwhelmed his self-awareness.

The world outside his window was not as silent as he. Where talking with Mr Braun and Eren had left him isolated, alone with the men that seemed to force the world to still for them, he now sat under Liberio’s shadow once more, taking comfort in those familiar sounds the city always provided.

However important those shifters were, the people of the world around them were far more so. A titan’s destruction could leave the masses silent for a moment in time, the raw power unbeatable head on. Humanity was best at crawling back, more stubborn that the flies they swatted or the cockroaches they squashed. That presence was outside his window, all around, it told him to take a deep breath, and he obeyed.

As he did, the fear dissipated slightly. He uncurled from his knees, and shuffled to his bedside drawer, he took out his sketchbook and pencil (an old comfort, calling to him finally) and opened it upon his windowsill. A newly uncovered moon guided his pencil along, and he drew as he breathed – steady, continuous, doubt and regret a thing for tomorrow.

Feathers, smooth and free. Talons, sharp and secure. A beak, unbreakable and protective. When he lowered the pen, he saw the best drawing he’d ever done, one he’d unknowingly dreamed of since he could remember. Upon a background of clouds, infinite and stretching upon the entire world, he saw his freedom.

The clock told him 6AM had come and gone. He rose to his feet, skirting out of his room to get ready. Apprehension bit at his mind – and went no further. His stomach and body had settled, ready and waiting for what was to come.

Falco held his sketchbook to the light, looking upon the picture before he placed it back in his drawer, leaving it for another day.

The festival had arrived.

Downstairs, he chewed on his toast, the reliable meal seemingly evaporating before it could fill him. His mother entered the room, preparing her own toast and sitting next to him. She gave him a thin smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Good morning, sweetie. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay, don’t worry... is dad not...?” at his question, she averted the shaky eye contact entirely.

“He’s just shaving; he’ll be down in a minute.”

Falco nodded. He had nothing more to say upon noticing the red surrounding her eyes, slightly puffy under the kitchen’s direct lighting. The guild swarmed him once more, and he only looked back down to finish eating.

Colt entered the room, scratching at his neck. It was almost as if he’d heard his thoughts and came to reassure him. Even unknowingly, his brother was always there for him. A gift he repaid with a murder. Colt’s eyes were just as red as his mother’s was.

Falco’s emotions came in waves. It wasn’t wrong for his family to mourn the person they thought his grandfather was, just as it wasn’t wrong for him never mourning the horrific human being he actually was. He got away with those constant lies because of how his family would never doubt him. That fact still haunted him. Now, Arthur Grice would be remembered as the lie he represented -not for his legacy, but for the family that deserved better. (Eren had disagreed with his decision, even if he never voiced it directly. Nevertheless, the alternative would only prolong their suffering.)

“Try to enjoy today, sweetie. It’s not often we get a day off, is it?” his mother called, noticing Falco putting on his shoes. “It’ll be a nice day... a festival, right Colt?”

“Uh huh.” A clipped answer was all she received.

Finishing with his shoes, Falco looked back to give his mother the softest smile he could. “I’ll see you later... mum, I love you.”

She blinked at him, plastered smile wavering before reforming. “I love you too.”

Just glad to see his mother’s smile become genuine, Falco smiled back before turning to his brother. “I love you as well, Colt.”

His brother gave him a confused look. “If you’re planning to assist Gabi with doing something reckless...”

Falco gave a half-shrug. Colt frowned briefly, but relented. “Love you too.”

The door closed behind him, the last glimpse of his brother’s face now behind him as he speed-walked down the streets, right back down the path Reiner had walked him by hours ago.

Eren wasn’t surprised to see him, nor did he show a shed of emotion as the boy began to relay what the Scouts wished him to do. They sat next to each other upon the sofa. Outside, the sounds of the festival slowly increased as more Eldians awoke to enjoy themselves.

When the boy finished, Eren looked down, and Falco let the comfortable silence overtake them. He wondered if Eren, or Mr Braun, had managed to sleep last night.

“It’s obvious wishful thinking.” Eren muttered, eventually. “But I promised to put my faith in them, and if that’s what Armin wants to gamble on...”

Falco hummed, not having anything to say.

“There is something else.” Eren said after a pause. Falco looked over, straightening to demonstrate his undivided attention. “Zeke will still expect you to act a certain way. He’s to believe you still see me as Mr Kruger – near the end of the festival, you need to leave, telling your friends you spotted me. Then, return and take Reiner with you.”

“Okay. That won’t interfere with anything.” Falco affirmed, nodding. Eren looked on appraisingly.

Slowly as ever, a hand reached to gently squeeze his shoulder. Eren didn’t fake a smile, but his eyes reflected warmth that was far more comforting. “You’ve helped everyone so much. You’re such a good kid... after everything, will your family be alright?”

“Everyone is still mourning him. My father’s taking it the hardest, even if he tries to hide it. Still... we’ll be fine.” The thought only then occurred of how ludicrous this’d seem; bearing his heart so readily to the founding titan, who was willing to destroy his home if the situation asked for it. There was still no real guarantee he wouldn’t if his friend’s plan fell through.

The memories from mere nights ago surfaced once more; the simplicity of Eren not wanting him to be alone, wanting him to be free. When Falco had heard him admit it, he’d first been completely overwhelmed by emotions. He’d recognised immediately the impulsive nature (you learned to have a keen eye for such when you’re friends with Gabi) and had been both warmed and disillusioned.

Eren was a selfish man. He’d admitted as much, and Falco had believed him. Eren had saved him, and it was that simple. There was no greater realisation about war, about how he should treat those outside of Paradis. Just him.

“I saw you as something to achieve my personal freedom,” he admitted, voice too soft to fit such words. Falco expected as much, but to hear it aloud... he could feel his shoulders hunch up, jaw clenching.

“I haven’t thought of you that way for a long time. Your happiness is so important to me. When you told me what was happening to you, I was so proud that you had the courage to do so. I’m so proud of you, all the time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, if I can. I promise – if you want me too, I’ll keep you safe.”

There was no guarantee for more.

And there still wasn’t.

In all definable ways, Eren was a monster.

In his lap, his fists clenched, and then unclenched.

“Eren, can I hug you?” he asked, watching the surprise ripple over Eren’s face before it settled into confusion. The times they’d hugged could be counted on one hand. Nevertheless, those times were real... and that candour was what they both needed right now.

Eren didn’t answer directly, solely readjusting to wrap an arm around his shoulders. The man felt stiff, unnatural. Falco barely cared as he wrapped his own shorter arms around him.

A moment passed. Something switched. Eren’s other arm completed the embrace as he tightened his grip. Falco felt him shake. With his head on Eren’s shoulder, he didn’t stand a chance of seeing his expression, only able to focus on gripping him back.

This wasn’t Mr Kruger, who was a perfect savour, always reliable, always kind and warm. This was Eren Yeager – who was kind and warm, who saved his life and protected him. And Eren Yeager was just as flawed as him. Somehow, that in itself was far more comforting than a picturesque hero – it was real.

“I want to hug you again after this is over,” Falco mumbled.

Eren gave him a tight squeeze, before softening again as a sigh escaped. “We can only try, Falco.”

Just like that, there was nothing more to say. Still, the hug lasted a few more breaths before a knock at the door interrupted them. Falco leaned back, taking in a final deep breath.

It was time to go.

Eren moved first, Falco trailing behind as the man froze, scrutinizing the figure out the textured glass. To Falco’s surprise, Eren turned to hold his shoulder, lowering his voice, “Have you got your keys?”

“Uhm, yeah? Eren, is something...?” He trails off as the man shakes his head.

“I’ll see you at the stage, Falco. Stay back a moment.”

The boy felt a surge of confusion, but did as he was instructed, slipping out of sight and hiding to the sound of the door opening, then being locked behind.

Curiosity had Falco sneaking to the window, peeking out of it carefully. He spotted Eren walking the opposite way, following a tall Soldier. At the low angle, he made out the choppy blonde hair just below their helmet.

Gabi’s entire presence radiated her abhorrence for him. Even as he passed her an ice cream, her eyes had burned a hole through him, swiping it from his hands. Udo and Zofia both continuously glanced at him, easily thinking along the same lines as him: even on a day as rare and exiting as this, was she really still choosing to ruminate on her festering grudge? He hadn’t expected their friendship to bounce back completely, but it would have been nice to be copacetic with her. No – not even that. He’d just been hoping to see Gabi at her best – rambunctious, possibly obnoxious, but alive with energy, unabashedly being her brilliant self. It was a side of her he utterly adored.

Still, they managed to have fun for the most part. Falco tried his best to put on a happy smile, grateful for Udo success in being loud enough for all of them, and, eventually, the general atmosphere lifted Falco and Zofia’s moods up as well. Despite her grumpy pout, even Gabi at her most stubborn couldn’t refuse all the amazing food they were generously given by Mr Braun. By the time the sun reached its highest, the tension in the atmosphere had been buried down until Falco could even forget, at least for brief intervals, what the later hours would entail.

Everything around him demanded immediate attention. Every dish proved an exhilarating surprise to the taste buds, every stall hiding a treasure. Everywhere they looked something new greeted them; unique looking trinkets, books that looked decades old, maps from lands around the globe, performances with puppets and loud, energizing music playing in every street.

Time slipped by faster as he learned to have fun, at it seemed that by the time his smile became genuine, it had run out. The streetlights lit up all at once and the temperature became do decline, a wind chilling the back of his neck.

Falco turned to his friends, quickly telling them he’d spotted someone he knew from the hospital, and raced off.

Mr Braun’s eyes watched him, whom he had not dared look in the eye.

Mikasa

The sun sat low in the sky, bellow it the crowds only just beginning to thin out as the youngest attendants were lead home by their parents, their wallet far lighter than what they’d started the day with.

Mikasa kept her eyes forward inside the carriage, feet almost touching their precious luggage – various nondescript bags holding the redesigned ODM gear. Sitting beside her was Lady Kiyomi, dressed in a similar kimono to her own.

This time, she hadn’t come alone – Armin and Commander Hange sat opposite, neither looking out of the window.

As the horses took them through the streets, Mikasa resisted the temptation to draw the blinds. Happy yips of excitement echoed from the children at each new stall, accompanied by groans as parents dragged them away. She refused to picture their innocent smiles.

Eren’s peaceful face came to her instead, dreaming under the tree upon the hill.

Slipping her hand into her kimono, she lay her hand upon the soft red fabric, feeling it gently with between thump and finger. As she did, the noises outside didn’t seem so terrible.

Her Eren would never kill innocent children. He would never be the monster that looks into a child’s soul as he tears their life apart. Until she saw it with her own eyes, she would never change her mind on that. She knew him better than anyone else did.

The carriage had stopped. Footsteps sounded directly outside the door, before it was held open for her, two guards ready to greet them. She stepped out first, Armin, Hange, then Lady Kiyomi following behind.

The fear Armin had last night reflected only in his eyes, the man otherwise appearing the firm, accomplished director he would be posing as. She herself looked the part as the regal Lady Nobuko. Each step forward, they defined the future of Paradis.

Lady Kiyomi walked only slightly ahead. Armin remained by her side, his composure unwavering. By him, Hange kept close, posing as his top guard.

With the play beginning within the hour, Tybur would already be on high alert, nerves likely beginning to take their toll. The sheer number of guards surrounding his tent made that astoundingly clear – but in the end, the endeavour could only be pointless. Regardless of number, she could slice them all into indiscernible chunks of flesh and organs.

Two guards noted their approach, pulling back the curtain to reveal the man himself. He turned to them with open arms.

“Lady Kiyomi and Lady Nobuko, it’s so good to see you both again. I see you brought a guest?”

Armin stepped forward with a respectful nod. “It’s an honour to make your acquaintance, I do hope we’re not being to boorish.”

Mikasa kept to herself, allowing Armin to act the part of an eager director. His entire demeanour changes, the way he spoke and the vocabulary he chose, even the way he held himself perfectly fitting his role, eloquently displaying a small amount of enamour with Lord Tybur.

“I’m sure my stage fright makes me look so feeble in light of all your achievements, Mr Fuller.” Tybur was an actor himself, the smile he gave them was even more fraudulent than the ones she’d endured last night; the sweat on his brow and tension in his muscles couldn’t be wished away that easily. A small part of her couldn’t wait to see it fall when all his efforts up until now would crumble before his eyes.

“There is no shame to be had, Lord Tybur, it is all too common. It is my own admiration of you that drives me to ask to assist you in any way I can.”

Mikasa knew Armin could handle this.

“I see the visionaries are in their own world.” She interrupted. “We should go find our seats, Lady Kiyomi.”

Lady Kiyomi too spoke. “Indeed. The best of luck to you, Lord Tybur.”

They stepped outside, leaving Hange and Armin. Walking back to the carriage, Mikasa felt a surge of gratefulness, perhaps for the first time towards the other woman. “I appreciate all you’ve done, Lady Kiyomi.”

Her tone remained polite, though her eyes matched her words, “it is not a problem. I’m sure it will all be settled when I visit you next.”

Mikasa only hummed to that.

When they reach the carriage, she gathered the luggage from the floor, and nodding once to Kiyomi, she disappeared into the crowd, sparing only a single glace back at the tent.

Falco

“Vice Chief Braun!” Amongst those gathered around the stage, the red-arm bands were easy to distinguish. One bearer of such he did not dare a glance towards.

“Hah? What’re you up to now?!” It was Gabi, voice bitter, accusing. “Udo said you told him you saw someone from the hospital, who was it?! Why do you know someone like that?”

Mr Braun spared her a tired glance, sighing when he turned back to Falco. “There’s barely enough time before Tybur’s speech. Let’s make it quick.”

“Seems plenty of time to me,” That voice, tauntingly casual, that had him cringing. ‘Don’t look over. It’s not strange, don’t look over.’

Mr Braun spared him with a quick answer, allowing Falco to lead him away. Gabi continued grumbling to herself, volume just on the cusp of his hearing. The boy could feel himself tense, false smile morphing into a scowl that aimed wholly at himself.

He guided Mr Braun through the crowds, not looking back. The crowds thinned out as they turned another corner, now outside the range of the stage.

“You needed them to see me leave with you?”

“Eren mentioned something...” Falco muttered, unsure. “It was really for War chief Zeke to see.”

“Zeke?” Mr Braun sounded rightfully stumped. “Why Zeke?”

Falco glanced at their surroundings again, before looking at Mr Braun in the eyes for the first time all day. “He, uhm, knows everything.”

Mr Braun opened him mouth to reply. A fruitless endeavour. He closed it once more, eyebrows dipping as he looked away, the arms folded over his chest readjusting.

Falco hated this. He carried on talking. As the evening dusk lost the remaining shades of the sunset, the boy continued to talk, explaining the plan in greater detail, much like he had for Eren over twelve hours ago. Mr Kirstein was clear about Eren only knowing the plan last minute, and so Mr Braun was given much of the same. Despite the looming time frame, his conscience forced him to wait until everything seemed to sink in before he told him more. It felt as though each word that he spoke dug in another needle into his superior, yet trying to wait for the pain to ebb way for each little jab would be more painful than just getting it over with.

The boy could not begin to imagine what the other was thinking at that moment. All he knew was those same needles tortured him as he heard himself inflict more suffering upon his superior.

When he finally finished explaining the new plan, he was shaking all over, fists clenched to his sides as he took in a needed deep breath. For as visibly shaken as he was, Mr Braun was only a fraction of it. Even so, a mountain was never supposed to look so small: shoulders slumped and eyes dreary.

“We... need to meet up with them now.” Falco said. “Mr Kirstein told me where he would be, just in case things go wrong. If you’re really willing to go to them...”

‘To be at their mercy. To let them hold you hostage. To let them kill you’. How was he saying any of this to his superior? How was this something Mr Braun seemed to be at peace with last night?

For a long pause, neither spoke. Falco waited for him in silence, the urge to convince Mr Braun that he didn’t have to do this, to stay here in Marley, where Mr Braun could be safe. Here, with the other warriors, with Udo and Zofia, with Gabi - his cousin - and the rest of his family.

Mr Braun finally spoke.

“Falco, regardless of what I do, stay away from them. Whatever you think you achieved – they are still the enemy. Am I clear? You cannot negotiate with them on your own. You got lucky, knowing Eren’s location.”

“They didn’t hurt me even before that.” Falco frowned. Mr Kirstein may not have let him go home, but that was in self-preservation, wasn’t it? He knew it wasn’t his merit, and it was mostly circumstance that kept him afloat. Regardless, working with Mr Kirstein... he did something good, didn’t he? He wasn’t pathetic, he wasn’t... he isn’t what his grandfather says – he achieved something, didn’t he?

“They are the enemy, Falco.” Mr Braun repeated it again, slow. “In war, which is inevitable in the long run, they will do what they have to.”

He felt his heart sink. It was true... it was true, but...

Eren... he, at least... he was the enemy, but Falco would not accept he would hurt him. He promised.

“Then... what are you going to do, Mr Braun?”

“I can’t stay here any longer. I can’t live a day more as a coward who runs from his sins.” A hand landed on his head, and Mr Braun crouched in front of him. Unlike before, he wore a far calmer look. “I need to face them all again.”

And now, it was Falco’s turn to have his jaw gape open like a fish. “Mr Braun... do you mean that you’re...”

“What are you saying?!” The voice had ice constrict his veins, allowing only his head to snap to the sound. Matching sets of wide eyes immediately recognised the dark hair and borderline frantic face as that of Gabi Braun.

Chapter Text

Gabi

Udo and Zofia didn’t notice it as she had.

Falco had always been a little weird. He stared on at seemingly nothing, loosing himself to his own mind (he even stared at her sometimes, and then denied it with a weirdly red face when she interrogated him). Gabi had never understood what he thought so hard about.

Usually, she just figured it was just him being a worrywart, one of those people who over thought about everything, even when he was scowling. The deeper in thought he was, the more he appeared to go from blank to irritated, so she knew that to just be his concentration face.

That was just Falco being Falco. Not her problem.

Until it got strange.

After training, he hung out with her, Udo and Zofia less and less, running off somewhere until it became a daily routine. He lost himself to his thoughts in the middle of training, where he would always concentrate before. Then, straight after than disregard for training, he’d suddenly try harder than he ever had. Gabi couldn’t comprehend it – did he care about the Armoured Titan, or not?

Even with that, Gabi mostly shrugged it off. Falco being weird was his problem, not hers. She had her own training to focus on, and refused to be distracted by such worries. He could take care of himself, talk to her if he wanted to.

It would have stayed that way – if not for the numbing shock that the next event gave her. After all of that constant up and down – he beat her in training. He won a race against her, the best warrior candidate Marley had ever had.

To that, Gabi was furious.

Whatever was on his mind, wherever he snuck off too – was it some sort of additional training?

The next day, she confronted him. Whatever he was doing was dishonest cheating. Despite how obvious that conclusion was – no one sided with her. It was infuriating – Udo and Zofia had seen exactly what she had!

Out of options, she turned to the older warrior candidate, Colt, despite knowing it was a long shot. He was talking with Mr Zeke as she approached.

“What’s wrong with your brother?” she asked curtly. They both gave her varying looks of confusion.

“What? Is something wrong, Gabi?” Colt questioned.

“Falco. Acting weird. You have to know something.”

“...Well. You’re not wrong. Ever since we came home... I know he’s been distracted by something.” Colt puzzled. He rolled his shoulders, as if relieving his nerves. “He’s been all over the place lately. I can’t tell if he’s happy or...”

“When he gets home, is he happy then?” She interrupted, leaning that much closer.

“Yes, actually.” Colt blinked at her, eyes widened with sudden realisation. “...How did you know that?”

Satisfaction curled inside her. “Just a hunch.”

“Haven’t I told you, Colt?” Zeke, in contrast, looked relaxed, leaning back upon the railing. “He’s simply getting to that age boys like to keep secrets. It’s nothing to worry over.”

Colt didn’t look satisfied, but didn’t disagree, either. Gabi isn’t quite so ready to give up. It was a secret related to training. That’s important.

Still, Colt would not divulge anything that could endanger Falco – she was all too aware of how close they were. If he was up to something nefarious, she was on her own.

More weird instances kept happening. He’d hang back for extra training, and then no one would see him until the next day. What Zofia and Udo called ‘hard work’ she knew to be an escalation of him already disappearing into the internment zone – now, it was simply from training itself.

Next, he gained two black eyes, a broken nose and bruises all over his body. She couldn’t help but to stare at him, a churning feeling in her stomach. When Commander Magath grilled him for it, he shrugged it off as him being clumsy and topping into a streetlight, and subsequently tripping to the ground. Gabi dismissed the bad feeling she had and surmised it was part of his secret training. The training that allowed him to beat her in the first place.

Then, just yesterday, everything escalated yet again. Leaving the house just a few minutes after Reiner, she arrived at headquarters – and her cousin was nowhere to be found. When he arrived, Gabi felt complete disbelief – he arrived with Falco. Later, the very same day, after attending to guests at the party – Falco disappeared again! That confirmed it. He was sneaking off to do something outside the internment zone.

That wasn’t some teenage boy secret Zeke had described. That wasn’t a minor thing for Colt to act as an overprotective big brother about. It was a blatant betrayal of Marley’s rules.

Today, as the festival began, Gabi was determined. The next time Falco tried to avoid them, tried to sneak away, she would follow. He would not drag Reiner down to whatever he’s planning.

Moreover, if that something was truly nefarious, she’d – it’s the right thing to do of course it is – she’d report Falco, as any good Eldian should.

Today, Gabi Braun would get her answers.

Falco

If the shock hadn’t of pinned Falco in place, the expression carved upon Gabi’s face would have. He was boiling. His skin was alight. The ice did not melt, but instantly evaporated.

Lead packed his stomach, sweat building as his breaths became uneven.

Gabi – Gabi. She heard. She knew.

Her nostrils flared, her lips pulled back from her slightly gaping jaw. The girl’s thick eyebrows lowered and pinched together with a cluster of wrinkles forced out in between, overcastting her narrowed eyes that stared unblinkingly into his.

It seemed Gabi herself became too worked up even to speak for a moment, gathering herself a little with a few rapid blinks and shaking breath before she exploded once more.

“Face them again... Reiner, who is ‘them’? You’re planning to betray Marley with those devils?!” Gabi’s voice was stuck between volumes, her youth escaping as large eyes stared up at her cousin, who Falco found himself also waiting on.

Mr Braun took a breath in, “Gabi, wait –“

“NO!” Gabi stomped a foot on the ground as she let out a frustrated huff. “I will not wait! You... you can’t be a traitor, Reiner!”

She whipped her head back to look at him, still breathing heavily. “And you! I knew something wasn’t – you betrayed Marley, didn’t you?! You’re a filthy Restorationist, trying to drag Reiner down with you!”

Falco felt his heart stop, the accusation a bloodied knife. “It – it isn’t–”

“Gabi, lower your voice, now.” Mr Braun stepped towards her as Falco choked on his words.

Gabi looked back at her cousin, her eyes still simmering with rage; their depths seemed to plea for something she could understand. “Only when you come with me! We’ll find Commander Magath, and – and –“

Brown eyes looked into his own, a single moment. With it, Falco found his hand reach out. “Gabi...”

It was gone. “SHUT UP!” She retrieved the knife, and she stabbed him with each word, with her pain. “I’LL TELL COMMANDER MAGATH WHAT’VE YOU’VE DONE, YOU TRAITOR, I HATE –”

Large hands grasped the girl’s shoulders, and Reiner had reached her. “Quiet.” It was a command. “Now.”

All was silent. Gabi stared back, mouth hung open, waving upon unspoken curses. Reiner crouched down on his knee, peering into her eyes. When he spoke, his words were true. “I will never betray you, Gabi. I love you. I would do anything to keep you safe. But if you must stay quiet – the wrong person cannot overhear this, including enemies nearby.”

Gabi stared a second longer, before turning to look back at himself.

Falco stepped back.

He had no idea what to do.

What could he do?

‘Gabi...’ her pain, her screams, all his thoughts a reflection of what he knew would forever haunt him.

He ached to reach her, to comfort her, but he could not.

It was all his fault and he had no idea of what to do next.

Mr Braun was supposed to be lured into a trap at this very moment, along with Mr Galliard and Miss Pieck. The boy felt himself choke – to them, Mr Braun was missing! What if they panicked? Did something rash?

Mr Braun and Gabi kept talking. Their voices made it through the fog that’d overcome his mind: “The enemy is nearby? Reiner – we have to do something!”

Falco could not leave her. He would not leave her. He heard his words more than he felt them. “Mr Braun... Mr Kirstein, he, I – he could think you’re going to attack –“

“Could attack?!” Gabi’s voice was torture scraping his brain like sandpaper. “They’re in OUR city!”

He only looked pleadingly at Mr Braun, who looked back, keeping his composure.

“Find me here soon. Just buy me some time.”

Falco shook his head. Impossible. His fault. His stillness had Mr Braun look back to him, eyes now imploring.

“I’ll protect Gabi,” he urged, “go.”

The boy’s eyes bore into her: “Gabi, I’m – I’m not –“

“How dare you, Falco?! How – why – how could y-” Abruptly, Mr Braun pushed a hand against her mouth.

Voices. Not theirs, out of sight.

The chatter grew louder, footsteps echoing. Three distinct voices now casually talked, very word now clear, right around the corner... and then it passed them. The volume had peaked, and now faded away.

Falco swayed on his feet. His eyesight blinked in and out of focus. Too much, his entire body screamed. Too much.

“Falco. Go.”

His teeth grit together – how he hated this – how he hated knowing what must be done.

He could not even nod. He simply walked back. Upon a wall, out of sight, he had to regain his breath, clear his breath from the dizzy spin it had entered. Heaving out a breath, he let it pass.

Slowly, his hand left the wall. He stood for a second, his ears trying to listen to Gabi once more. ‘No. Just Go.’

So he did. He scampered away like the coward he knew he was.

Mikasa

From the shadows, Mikasa watched in confusion as Connie escorted the warriors away. From the crowd her eyes followed them. Murmurs filled the air, anticipation for Tyburs speech growing by the second.

‘Where is Yelena?’ her instincts kept her alert – but even before seeing Connie, so starkly not where he was supposed to be, she’d been on edge. It was akin to the feeling of knowing someone was watching you, the hair on the back of her neck standing upright.

Something else was wrong, she knew it.

“There are times to be strict and there are times to be flexible”; she’d heard Armin mutter that under his breath many times. Knowing the plan was awry, she could only change with it.

Finally, to her relief, Hange appeared from the crowd. One thing went right, at least. With a single nod, they lead her from the crowd and through the now vacant streets. Turning swiftly into a dark alley, Mikasa found their previously placed luggage.

Slowly, she and Hange took off their formal wear, revealing their uniform and ODM straps. Looking over, she watched Hange remove the additional wires.

“It worked?”

Hange gave her a half smirk. “That it did. Now, let’s get started. Scout the area whilst I get this set up.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded respectfully. Time was sinking away quickly. Lucklily, equipping the gas tanks and bulkier equipment was a second nature to her.

Mikasa ascended to the rooftops, crouching down and looking around. In theory, it was the perfect domain for her comrades to leave for the airship quickly, and carry out the essential elements of their plan. In reality, she now saw a group of armed soldiers on the rooftop overlooking Tybur’s speech.

They were armed to the teeth: guns in hand, spare rifles lined up behind them with stacks of bullets. Their presence becfaeme only a greater threat as noises sounded down bellow. Trumpets blasted, a symphony of brass and drums blasting her ears, drowning out the soldiers quiet words to each other.

Tybur’s play was beginning.

Mikasa’s movements were careful, no longer using the ODM to move around but her own athleticism, jumping between rooftops whilst staying low on higher ground, keeping behind any larger objects she could. Her footsteps were light, each movement precise and controlled to perfection with her honed, overwhelming talent.

‘Those soldiers lack experience, given how they made Eldian soldiers take all the risks.’ Her steps made not a sound; their faces remained facing the other way. ‘Something I’ll make them regret.’

The soldiers were silent now. Many lay low like her. She surveyed the ones still standing, noticing that one particular soldier stood out, a pair of binoculars in his grasp. From his authoritative stance alone, Mikasa surmised her was of high status. A captain, at least. Beside him, a man crouched, seemingly transcribing something.

Now, the captain became a possible hostage to control the others.

The trumpets continued to blare. The woman recognised her opportunity. A tigress hiding in the long grass, her body tenses, position a practiced perfection, ready to strike.

The lone soldier looking in her direction glanced away.

From the darkness, Mikasa pounced. Her foot collided with the nearest soldier’s cheek, momentum sending him into another. She leapt once more, and pulled a gun to their Commander’s head.

Only then, do the soldiers have time to react. It is too late. She has her hostage. To the stunned crowd, she turned.

“Nobody move. Drop your weapons.”

They obey.

“You’re quite brave, acting alone. Or foolish. What is it that you want?” Only their Commander dared speak, tone calm.

Mikasa did not answer, attention remaining on the soldiers, only pressing the barrel firmly against his head. “Keep your hands above your head and move inside, single file.”

Just like the last, her command was obeyed. Soon, she had them lined against the wall in the floor bellow. Though they looked upon her with hatred, the fear building amongst them was ever growing, and Mikasa looked each dead in the eye, her message clear. Commander Magath proved a valuable hostage, and now that they were some distance from the other soldiers, she takes the opportunity given.

“Why were you upon the roof?” She questioned him in a quieter voice.

“It’s only natural for there to be security for such an event.”

“That security, includes the leader of the Commander of the Warrior Unit?” Mikasa matched his detached tone.

“Trying to get information from me is pointless, Island Devil. We both know it’s not worth first blood.” The Commander refuted.

Despite herself, her voice rose, indignant to such a bold claim. “You still call us that after you sent children to murder thousands of innocents?”

“It’s useless to argue over history, when you look at the devastation you Eldian caused.” His tone remained steady, though now a haughty flair now bled from each word.

“The children and civilians that died that day had nothing to do with that.”

“The peace they revelled in before was built upon a mountain of Marleyan corpses.” Both parties attempt at calmness had devolved. She could feel his conviction, his belief. “You want a luxury for your people that was stolen for thousands of years from Marleyans.”

“Then, what would you expect us to do? Peace must begin somewhere.” Her eyes narrowed, her grip on the gun tightening.

“Ah, is that what this is? An invasion, for the sake of peace.” His voice slipped into a condescending drawl, almost scoffing.

Mikasa does not allow herself to respond. She can feel exasperation stiffening her body, a hollow anger as she pressed the gun’s barrel into the exact kind of man that forced Eren to abandon her. He kept talking.

“Most of the Marley’s brass is gathered here today. Why would you give up that opportunity?”

“It is war you want, then.” That is the way such a man thinks. She knew this, and it is repulsive.

Rather than the indignant reply she expected, the man paused. The world around them seemingly revived itself, and she breathed to the sounds of Tybur’s voice, of wild cheering.

Something else too. Footsteps. Nearby... not from above.

When he spoke again, he was once more calm. “I want–”

Knocks in quick succession had their heads turn; looking upon the door Mikasa had previously locked. It came not from the door to the roof, but from the main building - confirming whoever it was came from bellow.

Hange would have no reason for that.

“Commander Magath? Commander Magath? Carlo Ebner reporting, from the Panzer Unit.”

In the silence, Mikasa nodded to her hostage.

“I’m here. Give your report.”

His words arrived in a hurry, “we’re under attack! Miss Pieck and Galliard were trapped underground. I was sent to get your orders, sir, the others are helping them out!”

“Tell them to head to the gates.” Mikasa murmured, close to the commander’s ear.

He did not look at her as he repeated the order. “Head to the gates. Stay there and do not engage first.”

“Yes sir!”

As soon as he arrived, he was gone. Footsteps moved away and Mikasa turned to the soldiers watching in silence.

Finally, footsteps sounded from above, and she felt a rush of relief. They were still on track.

Raising her voice, she narrowed her eyes to their increased disquietude.

“I can and will strip you all into unrecognisable slices of flesh if you do not obey. So act as you have, and no blood will be spilt tonight.” Her gun dug into Magath, turning her attention. “Come with me.”

Jean

Another minute passed. Perched upon the rooftop, Jean could only wait. Silence. No footsteps approached. Sasha and the scouts around them waited. Their nerves were surely no different from his own. Jean glanced back to the staircase. Connie did not appear. Jean resisted the urge to curse and pace, instead placing a hand upon Sasha’s shoulder in a vain attempt to shield her from the murmurs that grew louder, louder.

Jean Kirstein was not allowed to be only a friend, but must become a leader to. With only a firm squeeze, he got to his feet. “Remember, this is for Paradis. If you care for your comrades, stick to the plan and avoid bloodshed.”

In reply, he received a scoff. “The fallen would be heroes – heroes who did their duty and protected their home, rather than living in a fantasy world.” The voice belonged to Floch, who delivered his words with a tone far too condescending.

Before he could answer, the sounds of footsteps caused both men to look towards the stairs, both in alert and in hope.

“Mr Kirstein?”

Confusion filled him as he peered at Falco, the boy’s arrival taking him off guard. “What happened? Where’s Eren?”

Falco appeared just as confused as he was – “What? Eren? No, it’s Mr Braun – uh, the Armoured Titan. He won’t be with the other warriors, or coming here immediately... but he’s not a threat!”

The news had his mind ablaze, and his voice rose even as he tried to keep it even. “Tell me what happened, quickly.”

The boy took a breath, momentary confusion pulled back to reveal just how nervous he really was. “I... told him. About the plan.”

Floch stepped forward, immediate in his response. “He did what? Jean –”

“Where is he, Falco?” Jean cut in, taking his authoritative voice back.

The boy stalled again, looking between him, Jean and Sasha. “I... I can’t tell you that yet. But, but I promise, before the Zeppelin comes, I’ll show you to him.”

“We don’t have time!” Frustration clawed at Jean. Working with the boy would always have always had mishaps, but right now?

Falco shook his head, his pitch heightening, “he was going to – is going to – help you! I didn’t mean for –”

“Help us? What does that mean?” Jean pushed.

Once more, Floch scoffed, looking upon the boy as though he were a fly to be swatted away. “How is that important right now? He’s refusing to tell us the location of the Armoured titan and you’re just going to accept that?”

“I’m not accepting anything. But if he won’t tell us, we don’t have time to search the entire Internment Zone, not without raising suspicion.” Jean scowled at him. Floch shook his head.

“I think there’s another solution to that, Jean.”

When Floch turned to Falco, Jean watched something leave his eyes, a glimmer replacing it that could only shine in the darkness. Falco took a step back, completely tense as Floch continued. “While we’re on it, you never shared what you were planning to do with him after this is over.”

“Eh? Wait...” Falco only stuttered, clearly overwhelmed.

Jean stepped towards Floch. “He’ll go back to his family. Just as we will.”

Floch didn’t have any reaction, his eyes still burning a hole into Falco and his lack of restraints. “And tell them everything? Even if this goes well, he knows too much.”

“If he tells the wrong person, says the wrong thing, he’ll be killed along with his family for treachery. That’s reason enough.” Jean bit. That was why he’d let the boy go the first time they’d met– which had already proven Falco was aware of that danger.

Sasha stepped forward, by his side. “Yeah, mistakes happen! He’s helped us! So what if Reiner is on the loose and could attack at any second, or may have already informed Marley’s higher upon about our plan?”

‘Not the best thing to say, Sasha.’ Though Jean knew she meant it, and she actually did not care about that, Floch’s gaze still had a satisfied glint.

“No... Mr Braun wouldn’t tell anyone.” Falco spoke again, a wavering strength to his voice. “He doesn’t want another war, and neither do I!”

He saw Sasha soften instantly to the plea, before returning her gaze to Floch. “He’s just a boy...”

“And kids have a tendency to run their mouths, as already proven.” Floch snapped. One side of his mouth pulled back as if disgusted. After a pause, he sighed. “I’m not even suggesting he needs to die, you know. But leaving him here is just another loose end in this half-baked plan.”

Sasha spluttered at this. “Loose end? He’s a child –”

Jean stepped forward once more, in front of Sasha. “This isn’t the time Floch. Falco, you’ll show us where Reiner is in two minutes, understand?”

“...Okay.” The boy nodded slowly.

Jean turned to the rest of the scouts upon the nearby rooftops, who watched the commotion in a tense silence. He raised his voice as loud as he dared, gesturing around him. “Everyone else, get back to setting up the lights. We need a clear path.”

All at once, fists pressed to chests, and orders were followed as each scout got back to work. Jean turns back to Falco, finally allowed to address the true issue. “When was the last time you saw Eren?”

“Huh? This morning, a soldier came and escorted him away, just as you said.”

“What soldier? What did they look like?”

“He was blonde... which was short and choppy. Eren didn’t seem to hesitate to going with him. And he was very tall.”

Jean reeled back. Only one came to mind, and she was no man. Even then, she was more conniving snake than human.

A new urgency filled his tone, worst fears beginning to realize. “Did you see what direction they went?”

“They headed west, just as you said they would.” Falco seemed truly unaware.

Frustration built – at the kid for telling Reiner, at Floch for stalling the conversation, at Eren, at everyone. Things could truly never be simple.

“Kid, that wasn’t who was supposed to collect him.”

He sees Falco’s jaw go slack, but did not waste anymore time explaining. He instead looked to Sasha, “Go find Levi. Tell him Eren is missing. And is likely still working with Zeke. Hurry.”

“Wait! I remembered something!” Falco interrupted, jumping up.

“Eh? Quickly, Falco!”

“Before Eren left, he said he would see me at the stage! He might be there!”

Jean and Sasha glanced between themselves, and Jean nods. “Tell Levi that. We don’t know for sure, but it’s something.”

Sasha nods, now completely focused. Jean watched her take off, resisting the surge of panic that made his jaw clench together.

They would find Eren. They had too.

Eren

The walk was silent. Eren’s mind ran a thousand miles just too keep pace. His goal was simple – the how, less so.

It was Yelena who spoke first. “You’ve been informed of the new plan the scouts have.” Her tone was not questioning.

“New plan?” Eren inquired, monotonous.

They turned a corner, heavy steps loud despite the growing bustle just a few blocks away. The path Yelena took strayed from the main streets.

“Indeed. Commander Hange’s desire for peace is astounding, their incompetence even more so.” Her tone was dry, though a hint of amusement slipped in. One only a person who knew something more could hold. “They were slow to inform us, too. Only last night were we finally filled in.”

Eren didn’t speak. Yelena carried on after realising it, unaffected. “It’s funny though. Even with all those details, Hange neglected to mention one thing: the main player, yourself. I would have thought they’d give you some more consideration, all things considered.”

“You’ve been playing along with their plan.” Finally, he spoke, neutral.

“Don’t worry, Eren. They suspect nothing. They trust you, just as Zeke does.”

That sat too heavy to be left alone. “So? What does this new plan entail?”

“Ah, you finally asked.” The amusement in her tone comes back, now far more potent. “Don’t worry. If its information you’re after, I’m sure Zeke will indulge you.”

“Zeke?” Something in his stomach flipped. The dread in the back of his mind eclipsed.

They turned another corner. Zeke stood there, alone.

Just as Yelena had, he gave a smile, nodding to him like one might an old business friend. “Ah, good, you arrived.”

“What’s this about a new plan from the scouts?” The act was useless, but Eren held to the slim chance, having no other angle.

Zeke’s eyebrows dipped, now addressing him with slight exasperation. “Eren, let’s not play this game.” He walked closer, casual in his strides. “I do understand. They are your friends, family even. You want what’s best for them.”

“You seem to have misinterpreted something. I have no intentions of going along with any new plan.” Eren looked at him blankly.

“Oh? But, you didn’t mention that when we met last time, did you? Though you were quite eager to tell young Falco everything once I left.”

A sliver of panic jolted through Eren, having to force his exterior to remain stagnant. It seemed the only thing to do was to get to the stage, not matter what. “Baseless assumptions from that will get you nowhere.”

His words went ignored, Zeke’s only acknowledgement a pitying sigh. “I’m not surprised, or judging you. It must have been so lonely here; it only makes sense you formed an attachment. Just be truthful with me, brother.”

“You know I used him to deliver letters – I got wrapped up dealing with his personal life whist doing so, and had to play the part. What exactly are you suggesting?” Giving up would only let Zeke know he had other plans. Instead, he now retaliated in the slightest of ways.

“–Even using your mother’s words to comfort him. It was so very touching.” Zeke daring to mention her had Eren’s hair standing on end, the notion of it just inherently wrong. “You know, Eren, you’re a very caring person. The way you talked about that Ackerman woman – Mikasa – I know you have a good heart.”

If Zeke thought this to be comforting, he was severely misguided. Eren remained silent. If Zeke wished to spill everything to him now, he surely had a reason. “The original plan ensured that Paradis would stand until the everything else will be put into motion – the Marleyan higher ups that will be there tonight, the war hammer titan – did you forget that?”

“I intend to attack Marley tonight.” Eren answered, “There is nothing else too this, other than the scouts being more reluctant than I initially anticipated.”

The shift in Zeke’s posture was miniscule – a slight straightening, a gleam to his eye. “Then, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know, I came up with a way to give them further encouragement... and ensure my little brother doesn’t get cold feet.”

“Oh?” Eren questioned, Zeke breaking eye contact to instead look past him to Yelena. The woman recognised the unspoken prompt.

“Last night, your friends were so hopeful. And what better way to boost the spirits, than with a toast?” The amusement in her voice was barely hidden this time. His entire body froze, but he was not given a chance to process before – “I made sure not to leave out the other soldiers, too. A final toast of wine for good luck is only customary.”

It felt as though she’d kneed him in the stomach. His most primal side screamed at her, every part of his brain warning him of the danger present. Armin, Mikasa, everyone else... they all...his teeth ground together as he had to force his breaths to slow.

“Zeke...” The rage rose quickly, and it trembled his voice.

Much like every other time tonight, Zeke gazed back passively. “Having pure titans destroy Liberio is far more extreme, and would certainly result in far more casualties, for both sides.”

Suddenly, he took on a new tone – one belonging not to him, but a genuine care suited to a loved one, or a misbehaving child. “Eren, you understand what I’m saying, don’t you? This is what’s best, for everyone.”

Eren urged to lunge forward, to strangle him against the wall. Using the wine on the military police was a betrayal enough – but the scouts? The desire to watch his eyes bulge from their sockets, watch him fight for another breath welled inside of him... and all the while, the mask of disinterest struggled to stay afloat.

He would not lose his cool, not at the last moment.

Zeke enjoyed his victory, but in his confidence that Eren had been trapped, his weakness was exposed.

“...I’ll begin the attack as planned.” From behind the stage.

Mikasa

“The one who ended the fighting and saved the world... was the King, Karl Fritz.”

Mikasa stared down, stone faced. He really did have belief in himself. Alternatively, as she would opt to say, utter arrogance.

“It seems he’s taking the second approach.” Hange muttered, staring out. “So be it. If we get this right, it’ll make this even easier for us.”

“Should we let him continue?” Mikasa glanced over her shoulder towards the bulky equipment. She didn’t entirely understand the new technology perfectly, but Hange had worked hard to ensure there would be no flaws.

“Yeah - hold back for now. Tybur will want to emphasise this point further.” Hange peered to their left, where their captive wait upon his side, tied and gagged. Then, they got to their feet, collecting the equipment and standing besides it

“Mikasa, if you would?”

“Of course Ma’am.”

Together, they heaved it up, the size of it clearly noticeable from the stage. At no point did the show halt, Tybur’s voice still projecting loud and clear. A professional cons man, truly. A perfect stone cadence, even as he continued to flatter King Fritz. Hange secured the giant equipment looked sturdy, looking it over and making adjustments. Mikasa was only able to watch with dulled confusion.

However clunky their combined skill, it was ready in under twenty seconds, leaving them to face back to Tybur.

For a moment, they listened in.

Finally, Hange’s eyed narrowed. As Tybur recited the King’s last request, they turned to her.

“He’s told more than enough. Let’s begin.”

Mikasa walked to the other side of the roof to the captive, away from the contraption. She took out her signal flare, and clamping her ears, shot it into the sky.

The high-pitched whine filled her earlobes, blocking any sound from reaching her. When her hearing returned, the crowd had stopped its murmuring.

Her hands did not leave her ears.

A new sound boomed upon her ears.

“Lord Tybur, I came here to warn you.” Armin’s voice played, booming from this distance. “It’s those island devils – they’re staging an attack!”

The effect was immediate. The crowd exploded in volume, many standing from their seats, faces that appeared so small tossing and turning.

“I can assure you Mr Fuller that is not possible.” The sickening honey of Lord Tybur’s voice contrasted with crowd’s instantaneous panic as if it were curdling with milk. For some, their movement stilled, growing quiet to listen – others began to shout, screaming up in question to the frozen figure of Lord Tybur.

“We managed to crack some of the inscription – it clearly states they plan to invade tonight!” Armin’s voice insisted. “Your play must be halted immediately, and the internment zone emptied.”

“Mr Fuller please calm yourself. The security he-“

“Please, look at this. It’s a report from the nearby Zeppelin Docking Station – it was stolen, not even half an hour previous!”

For a moment, the audio emitted only ruffling sounds, and the brief pause had the crowd too on a baited breath. Though standing from their seats, they remained, as though invisible chains held them to the stage.

“... I see.”

“So, you’ll stop the play, mustn’t you?”

It was as if the crowd now breathed as one, waiting.

“No. I will have people investigate the missing airship and the criminals claiming to be from Paradis, but they will not stop today’s events.”

With a clipped, brassy sound, the audio halts. Upon the stage, Lord Tybur stepped to the crowd; palms open to the crowd in a soothing gesture.

Mikasa watched the figure appear behind him, high up upon the roof.

“Everyone, please remain calm. That audio is not –“

“But that was indeed your voice, right, Mr Tybur?” The figure swooped down to the stage, graceful movements lowering him with ODM.

The crowd bellow gave a chorus of outrage, fingers pointing, necks craning upwards and following his decent. Curiosity had their fear subdued, the entire audience on their feet to witness what promised to be world-altering theatrics. Eldians leaning out the windows looked upon the verge of falling to the ground – pale with shock. The world around the stage was dead, an empty grey mass that listened in, straining to hear its fate.

“It was your voice, Lord Tybur,” Armin declared, “that stated you would be willing to compromise the safety of every single life, of every single attendant here in order to spread your message.”

There was no hesitation, no crack upon his confidence. The cowardly worm had nowhere to bury out.

“I believed that the threat was overblown... the security of this event –“

“Even when presented with evidence that shocked you to silence?” Armin refuted. He rose a hand into the air, and that was all Hange needed.

Once more, from the beginning, the audio played out, each word sinking in for the audience. Rational brains no longer overturned by surprise, they now listened to each word far more astutely, and the words crushing their spirits in the process.

When the audio ended for a second time, none dared be the first to speak – all accept Lord Tybur. Finally, his attention slipped from the crowd – and instead, upon Armin. “This is a gross misrepresentation of my words, there is no sighting of any island devils, and this venue is perfectly secure.”

“No, Lord Tybur. It is not. You are willing to let everyone present die for your cause.” Armin remained calm, tone barely accusatory, instead as if recounting a deadly reality - a radio host telling of a rapidly approaching tsunami.

“I was deeming the threat level –“

“Not only that,” Armin continued over him, “but you wanted and planned for the destruction of this internment zone tonight, isn’t that right?”

Finally, the crowd jumped back into yelling and gasps. Now, media stations had approached the stage, shoving past with their notepads to yell up at the stage. Many on the sides stayed seated, whilst others had begun to back away, a select few entirely evacuating. Many simply stood in place, huddling in groups, listening.

“That is completely unfounded, conspiratorial nonsense.” Tybur rebutted. He still managed to stand tall, still, looking upon Armin as if he were a misguided child.

“You planned for the death of everyone present, so that Marley could regain the founding titan and continue to suppress the world under your tyranny.” Neither man reacted to the crowd. “You wished for the world to focus upon Paradis and not upon Marley, bolstering your strength so you could slaughter more innocents and create countless refugees in a campaign for power and resources.”

“You have no basis to any of these claims.”

“That’s where you are wrong. I should probably introduce myself properly.” Armin sounded perfectly cordial, as he turned to address the crowd fully, walking a few steps towards the reporters.

“My name is Armin Arlert.” Armin did not look back to Tybur. He addressed the crowd, both from the windows and down below: “And I am an Ambassador of Peace from the Island of Paradis.”

Falco

Peering over the rooftops, Falco looked out into the distance, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening at the stage. To his relief, there was no sign of that recognisable flash of lightening signalling a transformation – not even a gunshot. There was no wind, no rain, the temperature cool and pleasant. Instead, only distant murmurs of the crowd could be heard the trumpets and drums on hold. Even they were barely audible over the normal sounds of the city; footsteps and varied voices of conversations bellow them, faraway cars, a dog somewhere to the north occasionally barking a few times before falling silent. The only thing out of place was certain whooshes of air and zip wire-esc sounds.

For such a momentous occasion, it was unnerving.

A high pitched, disruptive noise sounded. Then, a booming sound – muffled from this range, but must be deafening to stand by.

“It’s begun.” Mr Kirstein said.

Falco had no reply, only continuing to stare out with a renewed vigour, lip bitten upon.

His fellow warrior cadets, including his brother, must be watching something life changing right now. Information he’d only discovered barely a week ago, yet already accepted as fact by his young mind. He wondered how his brother would react. Would Cold try to listen, or would he choose to be stubborn? What of Zofia and Udo? Caring and smart in their own ways, yet subjected to the same brainwashing their entire lives.

Whatever they thought of this, he could only hope that the plan would go off without a hitch and they’d stay safe.

He glanced behind him to the sound of nearby ODM. Miss Sasha descended back onto their rooftop, having finished her section of the lights. Other soldiers had appeared, darting from rooftop to rooftop, as they assembled the parallel lines of lights that now stretched all across the internment zone.

Now that he had a chance to study it, the ODM gear was fascinating. It was far more sleek than most of the bulky Marleyan technology he was accustomed to, making Sasha look incredibly agile and in control as she zipped about with her comrades, reminding Falco of silent ninjas that dressed in all black from books he’d read when he was younger. The sight had him a little giddy; the ODM seeming more suited to fiction than reality was all around him. It must feel so freeing to zoom around using that.

Mr Kirstein and Mr Floch stayed on the same roof as him, the mounting tension clear despite the silence between them. Floch had continued to insist Falco couldn’t be trusted with so much information... and Mr Kirstein had relented. The latter had already been kind enough to go through things with him, reassuring him that he wouldn’t let him be treated as a prisoner on Paradis (which Floch had snorted derisively at) since he’d gone out of his way to help them, and was clearly no threat. He’d insisted that Commander Hange would surely agree.

Falco appreciated the attempt, even if he didn’t have high hopes. He was the enemy: Floch’s mere presence reminded him of that.

“All done, Jean.” Miss Sasha assured. Reaching up to fiddle with her ponytail, she split it into two with both hands before pulling the two parts away from each other slightly, tightening it. Mr Kirstein pulled out a pocket watch.

“The zeppelin should be arriving any minute now.” Reflectively, they all looked across the path of lights, towards the edge of the internment zone.

“Marley’s Naval Fleet and reinforcements are going to be on our heels.” Mr Floch said.

“They’d really attack at the zeppelin?” Falco asked, flinching back when Floch’s eyes affixed to him briefly. Something about that man gave his brain warning signals. It was a feeling that was familiar... especially regarding one man.

“Not if Armin’s accomplished what we’re hoping he has.” Mr Kirstein answered. “Although enemies piloting an aircraft over their city would be reason to attack regularly, doing so in front of the reporters may remind them of Marley’s war-driven nature – something they’ll want to avoid.”

Falco turned to Mr Kirstein to reply, but a soldier’s arrival interrupted. He looked slightly panicked, jumping up to the roof without ODM. His voice came as a whisper.

“It’s the Cart and Jaw, along with a few Marleyan Soldiers. They’ve been spotted heading towards the gate, a few blocks south!”

“What? But Yelena –” Mr Kirstein paused, clear frustration in his tense shoulders. With a slight grunt, he changed his tone. “Show me. We’ll ambush them from behind. Restrain them before they can transform. Sasha, Floch, you two will deal those crucial blows whist we take out the soldiers around them. Understood?”

The reporting soldier gave a solute, and the soldiers in the immediate area followed Jean’s lead. Only Mr Floch gave him a sideways glance, before zipping off with the rest.

The boy waited.

And waited.

Despite being in this body for twelve years, he suddenly didn’t know how to handle it – should he stand, or sit? Should he pace? Nothing feels right – everything is wrong.

No, not everything. It was just him.

Reiner was completely right. This was what working with the enemy lead to. Not only him - Gabi was right... of course she was.

He was a traitor, in every possible definition. At least in the original plan, Mr Galliard and Miss Pieck would have been hurt, but alive and free. How did they even escape? One of them transforming would have killed the other – if they even could in that cramped space. It was too deep to escape in human form – far too deep. How did it all go wrong? Eren, too, was missing. He was supposed to be here, waiting upon the Zeppelin with his comrades, yet his location still remained a mystery.

He couldn’t help but to wish Eren were with him.

The only one from Paradis he fully trusted was the one most categorically untrustworthy.

Bellow, he could hear the noise growing. Civilians have become aware of the odd disturbances, a few brave souls wondering into the streets or leaning out windows to peer up at the rooftops. He avoids their eyes – ‘I didn’t mean anything horrible to happen. I tried to do the right thing, I promise.’

He would do anything to keep tonight ending in bloodshed. Anything that made his treachery worth it.

Amongst the growing noise, he hears ODM and turns to see the soldiers returning, Miss Pieck and Mr Galliard thoroughly restrained – gagged and bound. Mr Galliard was out cold, limp in Mr Kirstein’s gasp as he was dropped to the roof. Miss Pieck remained awake, composed as she calmly looked around her, calculating greys observing each soldier – until she spotted him.

He stared back, silent. Mr Kirstein continued to talk, commanding tone catching everyone but himself.

A hand clasped his shoulder. He peered up to see Miss Sasha, the immediate panic escaping at her concerned expression.

“Hey, uh, don’t worry about this. I mean, we’re not going to take them as hostages, that’d be too aggressive. So, it’ll be fine!”

Her face is so kind. Falco looks a second longer, taking a breath. “Yeah...”

Miss Sasha doesn’t move away, but doesn’t test his boundaries. They sit next to each other. It’s almost amusing to him – if anyone saw them, he’d look like a hostage too, knowing how tense he appeared by an enemy soldier. She ended up talking continuously, and he half-listened, finding something soothing in just how much she found to say as the minutes tick by, waiting on the Zeppelin.

Any second now, they’d hear the humming in the distance.

His eye caught movement and a glint between the two men. He turned to see – from the outside stairs, a figure he recognised immediately immerged. The moonlight reflected the pistol in her grasp.

His hand shot out to her, “GABI, WAIT!”

He followed her pistol’s barrel. It aimed at Sasha, who’d already pulled out her own to fire back.

“NO, NO WAIT!” His body moved before his mind, and he pushed into Sasha’s side.

He heard the shot before anything else. It came only once. Falco stumbled and fell on his hands and knees. When his hand hit the ground, the pain finally erupted. The sudden feeling of a red-hot poker stabbing him made his mouth gape in silent agony.

Everything happened at once.

A shot rang out. Another.

He felt hands go to support him, a feminine voice call his name, footsteps, many masculine voices shouting. ‘Gabi... did those shots hit Gabi?’ His head jerked up, trying to find his best friend.

His eyes did not work with him, blurring his vision. He could hear his own heart thumping in his eyes as the darkness at the edges of his vision threatened to send him into darkness.

Chapter Text

Eren

"An island devil? Could it be true?" The whisper was one amongst many. In the crowd of civilians, Eren waited. Behind the stage, just out of sight, a crowd of Eldians listened to the unfolding scene upon the stage. Marleyan guards were scattered around, holstering guns as an undisguised threat to keep their volume lowered. Yelena was with them, just out of sight.

"Perhaps it's a hoax?" Another said.

"What does it matter? It can only be bad news." A third voice griped distain lay bare.

It was all that Eren expected. It was all Eren chose. 'For them. Don't forget that.' Something he'd reminded himself of all morning.

"Do not be concerned - I'll make this clear. We are not here to instigate a war. We do not abide by our bloodied past and wish to start anew – unlike what Marley and their war trodden path." Armin's voice projected across the internment zone, loud and clear, projecting every syllable and every infliction. "There will be no violence. There will be no bloodshed. You are safe – the only thing I ask of you is less than five minutes of your time, from a hundred years of silence."

A new presence that shuffled next to him, and Eren turned to meet the blue eyes that stared down condescendingly.

The blond speaks first. "Brother."

Eren doesn't turn. "Shouldn't you be waiting by the gate?"

"I wouldn't want to be too far from the main stage, now would I?" It's an obvious taunt. Armin's voice still fills the air, unaware of the new danger.

"Come with me." Eren turned heel, walking away.

He got a curious, "Oh?" And Zeke followed behind. Eren left to be a few houses down, where fewer soldiers guarded, and to an outside staircase. Even so far, Armin's voice stayed so loud in his mind. 'Armin, Mikasa... even now-'

In the distance, the hum of a Zeppelin reached his ears. They must be here. Else they would never be. Falco, he must have warned them in time.

On the flight away from the roof, Zeke stopped.

"Eren." He calls. "It's time."

Eren walked a few more steps, stopping as the cold breeze reaches him. With it, a new sound carried to his ears.

"Indeed, brother."

A deep thump. The familiar blast of gas. Eren turned to see Zeke slammed into the wall – "GAG HIM!"

A pale hand does so, the force knocking Zeke's head against brick with a deep thump. Levi takes his gun out, thumping it hard into the man's head.

Zeke crumpled to the floor as his mouth was released, unconscious.

Unclipping rope from his side, his Captain tied the man's hands behind his back. Even with eyes to the Beast, his voice directly stabbed into him. "Eren."

"Captain." he returned, quick to explain, "I didn't intend for this."

Levi roughly shoved a ball of cloth in Zeke's mouth, secured in position with more rope. His words were just as violent, even when controlled. "You'd best hope not."

Leaving Zeke slumped, Levi approached, rope in hand.

Eren did not bemoan the rope fastening over his wrists tightly. "When we get back to the Zeppelin, you'll be tied up. Then you'll be in a cell before your court hearing."

The scratchy rope upon him was his own choice. What a strange thought. In his remaining years, it would never leave. Without the rumbling, this was his future.

His decision, now written upon stone, bound to him.

"I understand."

Jean

The little girl stared ahead at where she shot. Mouth gaping, she didn't move a muscle. Jean's gun trained directly upon her.

Out of nowhere, another body dove in front, bullets pumped into them, the girl's gun flung away from her.

"Hold fire! Shoot if they reach for the gun!" Jean yelled, gun by his side as he rushed towards the threat. By now, other soldiers were landing on the roof from multiple directions, but to his relief, they obeyed orders. No more rounds were fired.

Jean kicked the discarded weapon off the roof, letting it fall with a distant clatter as he turned to face the bloodstained body. His eyes instantly drifted to the red armband, then to blond hair, and then the way he positioned himself to cover the girl almost completely, a hand tucking her head against his chest as blood slowly gathered around the two.

Jean did not need to see his face to know the man's identity. The steam beginning to cover them only confirmed it.

As two soldiers landed next to him, they helped him apprehend the two, tearing Reiner from the young girl and made do with tearing the warrior's jacket with knives to tie their hands behind their back, restraining them as best as they were able.

The girl's shock quickly wore off. Anything Reiner may have wanted to say before being gagged was drowned out by her frantic screams about betrayal and never submitting to island devils. Hot tears built in her eyes. They did not fall. Instead, they reflected her deepest emotions – anger, shock, the anguish of shooting a possible friend, the overwhelming nature of the situation, it was impossible for Jean to decipher with words.

Jean's attention snapped back to Falco, and he quickly hurried back to Sasha. Blood oozed from between her fingers as she pressed onto his wound. The bullet had hit under his ribcage, a single wound on one side making Jean curse – if the bullet had actually ricochet inside of him, the internal damage would be severe. The boy was still breathing, and his eyes snapped open. Coming too, his breathing spiked and he looked around, at Sasha, at him, and beyond them, not even glancing at his injury.

"Just breathe, kid, you'll be fine... the Zeppelin will be on top of us before we know it. Sasha, can you carry him onboard?"

"I can do that." Sasha's voice was dead serious. She didn't ask further questions; eyes only once darting to the four captives as she carefully laid the boy down to attend to his wound with Jean's assistance. There would be tourniquets on the Zeppelin, for now Sasha's hands acted their only substitute, Jean's own upon hers.

Without any clear reason, Jean's mind flickered back to first meeting him, when he had practically inhaled that omelette. It was the moment that made Jean realise just how young he was – how young Reiner was when he broke those walls.

Now, that moment served as a different reminder.

Bellow, the civilians voices grew louder, matching the loud humming and the Zeppelin finally flew beside them, figures bellow them pointing up at the war machine right above their heads. Around him, soldiers begun to murmur to each other.

"We knew they would notice the Zeppelin, so don't flounder because of it." Jean ordered. "There are no signs of the Marleyan military, so retreat into the Zeppelin – move!"

The soldier's around him quickly obeyed with a practiced, "Yes, sir!" quickly heading towards the opened door on the right of the ship.

Sasha left before him, leaving him to turn to Reiner and the other warrior candidate.

"Take them up too," his eyes flicked to the girl, "and be gentle about it. Leave the Jaw and Cart."

Jean watched his comrades take off, attaching to the Zeppelin one by one as it slowly made its way down the path of lights. For now, Jean remained outside, staying attached to the Zeppelin with one wire and keeping his other hand free, just in case. The civilians moving bellow him were stuck between running from them, and sticking against walls with heads tilted up at him with gazes variations between fascination and terror.

So far, no Marleyan soldiers had tried shooting at the Zeppelin. Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time before the main army would arrive, and with the Zeppelin as slow as it was, most military vehicles could easily catch up with it.

Eren

Eren was carried to the Zeppelin. Armin left as he did; carried up by other scouts, whilst Levi still lugged Zeke around.

They shot upwards; the ropes on his wrists restricting his movement, making him rely on the scout carrying him to get in. Many scouts left with them, guns drawn as they scoured the city for last minute attacks, lead by Jean.

Inside, Eren was escorted down the hallway. Eyes burned into his head from all directions, as Levi lead him the room just before the cockpit.

The door opened before they reached it – and Sasha immerged.

Emotions struck his chest like a tidal wave, so strong he stumbled backwards. Sasha. Sasha was in front of him. Under the current, he lost his breath. Sasha stood there. Alive. His knees almost buckled, the undercurrent threatening to trip him, yet pull him towards her – 'Tell me this is real.'

She breathed, she walked and she looked at him. To her side, a smaller girl was nudged along gently.

Levi didn't take kindly to his apparent stalling, kicking him squarely in the back. It did not matter. Sasha was alive.

It took a moment for him to spot the blood that covered her dark uniform, the smell like rust strong in the air. She did not limp, nor looked pained. So he plead that it was indeed not hers.

"Eren. You're really here." She called for him – and finally he stepped forward.

"Sasha... the blood..." He needed her to say it. To say she was unharmed.

Only, Sasha's face fell, eyebrows lowering with the inner corners curving upwards, lips slightly pouting outwards.

"It's not mine..." Sasha looked down to small girl, whose teeth were gritted together. "I'll be with her. Eren... don't do anything stupid anymore. We're all trying so hard for you..."

Eren knew that. How bad did it hurt to hear aloud, from her, right now; the cheery girl was so downtrodden.

Sasha escorted the girl past him without another word, even as her eyes continuously shifted back. Eren walked forward himself, the smell of iron growing as continued on towards the cockpit.

When the door opened, Eren could only stare.

Lying upon the floor was Falco. Medics surrounded him, as other familiar faces did. Eren processed none of their identities – only the paleness, the clammy skin, the tourniquet covered in blood.

Levi's voice demands for an explanation. Jean was talking, but it flew over Eren's head as he walked forward. When his eyes leave the injury, they observe Falco's face – his eyes half lidded, blinking slowly. He breathed short and shallow.

Falco reached a hand up, and Eren was by his side, taking the small hand in his own. His boy squints at him, hazel eyes not focusing.

The medic talks by his side, too loud and too abrasive. "We've stemmed the bleeding, but..."

"Will he make it?" Jean muttered.

"He lost so much blood... the bullet initially missed the vital organs, but there's no way to know if it hit arteries or ricocheted internally."

Eren kept his eye on Falco as they talked, seeing his eyelids droop a few times, eyes finally resting on him.

"Eren..."

Eren grimaced – how weak his voice sounded – his hand reaching to the boy's forehead, where it touches gently to his short bangs, brushing softly against the fading bruise. His black eye had not yet faded. They were all fresh, painful reminders of the suffering the child endured. "Breathe." Eren instructed him, "Keep calm."

He looked so small. He looked so pale. Any focus his eyes held had faded again. "You're safe, Falco. You won't die."

There is no reply. Both Falco and the others were deathly quiet.

Slowly, Eren heard the hum of the Zeppelin return to his ears.

Levi spoke. "Eren... it's about time you filled us in. What the fuck happened with you and Zeke?"

In those simple words, Eren's mind spun. In a brief moment that he spent trying to reason how to say it, his mind found something like hope between the blood on his hands and the beating heart of Sasha. "The Military and the Scouts have ingested his spinal fluid."

"...What?"

"Eren, are you sure? When did this..."

The man didn't have to look up to know the horror on their faces. Through the tourniquet, more blood seeped. "He was using it to blackmail me into attacking Marley."

Connie's voice suddenly appeared, sounding confused. "Uh, huh? I thought we froze up when that happened?"

"That's a lie." Eren said, monotone.

Armin gave a small, startled gasp, one Eren distantly recognised as one that came with a revelation. "We were only going off Zeke's personal account. It's entirely possible."

"He's too dangerous to live. One scream, and it's over." Eren moved it along swiftly. He held Falco's clammy hand tighter, willing the warmth of it to stay. "Zeke needs to be fed to someone, immediately."

Mikasa

The humming sound mixed with the sounds of wires and gas filled Mikasa's ears, descending the stairs and tearing the gag from Magath's mouth. The Marleyans around her cautiously glanced between her and the windows.

"You devils think this will change anything? Don't be so foolish." Magath snorted. Cautioned distain polluted his words as he broke the long silence.

"It won't." Mikasa stated flatly. "Not today."

She glanced down to the stage, where all the Marleyan Military had been gathered in one place. "Nevertheless, we won't play your games, either. The world will not be your ally."

"Not today. But they will never be yours."

Mikasa didn't waste her breath. Instead, she ordered the General at gunpoint to the rooftop entrance. She gave one last glance to the Marleyan soldiers.

"You'll be free to leave once the Zeppelin leaves the internment zone." She reminded them.

Time moved slowly as the Zeppelin passed them by, but Mikasa remained unfazed as the sounds of her comrades zipping around faded away. Her tanks were almost completely full and when it came to speed, she was unparalleled.

It was only when the Zeppelin's humming faded from her ears did she hear Hange's call. Abidingly, Mikasa emerged on the rooftop again, knocking out the commander and letting him fall without a care.

Bellow, the stage was now preoccupied with Tybur's appeasing words and swarmed with guards; the crowd that had been listening with occasional murmurs was now alive, the reporters yelling for answers and the other half trying to leave.

Out of time, Mikasa and Hange paid them little mind and launched into the air. Mikasa attached to buildings around the stage faster than any gun could track her before she disappeared from their view entirely.

She sped throughout the internment camp, swinging with perfected ease throughout the city, the wind in her ears blocking out any sounds other than the whistling wind and Hange's gear.

She crossed the wall separating the internment zone from the rest of the city. The back of the Zeppelin was insight. Another glance told her it was slowly rising higher into the air.

Quickly locating a tall chapel the Zeppelin was about to pass, she raced ahead and attached to the top of it from as far as she could. Stopping her gas, she sank down lower to the ground before quickly reeling in the line and accelerating upwards at speeds an average person could pass out from, launching herself upwards and into the air high above the buildings and grappling onto the Zeppelin without breaking a sweat.

She turned, firing a hook just before Hange. Their Commander slowed immediately and grasped it from the building, attaching themselves. Mikasa reached for the side, grabbing the net still bellow the open door.

"Mikasa, here!" Sasha called to her, grabbing her hand to pull her in. She took it gratefully, before turning. Both she and Sasha aided their commander aboard, tugging them in quickly as Mikasa's gear reeled them in.

"Thank you, Mikasa." Hange breathed. "Ackerman blood is surely amazing."

"Of course sir."

Sasha sighed, once more relieved. "When we started rising higher I was about to go down myself! ... Anyway. Did everything go well?"

"There some soldiers overlooking the crowd," Mikasa answered with a solemn frown. Behind her, Jean closed the door before coming to her side. "Don't worry. I didn't kill them, but I couldn't let them inform the rest of the military either."

"You took care of that wonderfully, Mikasa." Hange gave her a grateful, if slightly tired smile. "I owe you allot for today it seems. Thanks to you, I had time to set everything up in time. Still, I hope you understand why I wanted to keep it discreet with only the two of us."

Sasha answered before she could, a proud glint in her eye. "Well, she's Mikasa. She's saved my life more times than I can remember! Less than perfection doesn't exist with her!"

Mikasa opened her mouth, embarrassment brewing at the easily dished out praise, only to be interrupted by a series of harsh clangs. Her head turned, looking down the Zeppelin. "What...?"

Head switching back, she furrowed her brows at her friend.

"Don't worry about it Mikasa... it's just a small argument, it'll hopefully be resolved... relatively soon?"

"An argument? About what – Eren?"

Sasha looked off to the side, uncomfortable. "He's certainly a main factor, but... not exactly..."

Less than halfway though and Mikasa was gone. She head straight to the front on the Zeppelin, only vaguely aware of Hange following behind her.

She swung open the door. Eren was the first thing she saw, standing in the centre of the room. Behind him, Falco laid pale, eyes closed. If not for the slow rise of his chest, Mikasa would assume him dead.

Armin and Levi stood together as Eren faced them, and Zeke collapsed to the floor, gagged and bound to the wall between them.

Jean and Connie stood nearby the door, the most alerted to her footsteps, loud against the metal floor in the new silence. Levi regarded her with a lidded glare.

"Oi. Don't complicate this anymore. Go back to the others."

"What happened?" Mikasa asked sharply, looking between them.

Hange walked in behind her, surveying the situation with a neutral expression.

"Zeke's spinal fluid was in the wine we had last night. It's been given to the military police, too." Levi seethed. Eyes narrowed, his pupils were no wider than slits.

Only Armin turned to them fully. "It's too big of a risk to keep him alive now; we know nothing about how his ability to trigger it works."

"Then, what do we do?" Mikasa asked. She watched his face fall further, turning his head even as he looked at her.

"...We were waiting upon Commander Hange to discuss that." Armin's gaze moved to where his head had turned, and Mikasa looked with him to Falco, and then to Eren, stood between his frail form and their superiors. "That is... whether we wait to let the premier decide whom to give the beast titan too instead of Historia... or whether... we save his life."

Eren

"Eren, please tell me I can trust you." Falco's words echoed, over and over, never-ending. How determined his boy was. How good.

How pale. Each breath Falco strained for sounded more laboured than the last.

Tension rippled through Eren's muscles, stood unmovable in front of the bloodied form.

"He helped us when he didn't have to." Mikasa spoke.

"I know," their Commander affirmed, robust, "however, the inheritance of the Beast titan is not something to be decided through emotions."

Eren finally tore his gaze from them, and turned to those by the door, who'd been looking to escape the situation. Jean, for his part, did not look him in the eye. Teeth gritted, eyebrows furrowed, he slowly spoke up.

"He's still an enemy soldier..." his words bitten out over tense shoulders and gritted teeth, "Paradis relies on the power of Titans for its safety. Our people need one of their own to wield the Beast."

"The Armoured can serve that purpose. The Beast Titan has never been useful in combat; Zeke's throw was the only exception." Eren said. His voice was a distorted calm. Hange too looked on, unwavering. Armin raised a hand in a loose imitation of a stopping gesture.

"Set all that aside. Look at the bigger picture. We took a huge gamble today. And, all of we did was in the name of avoiding war. Falco is like a little brother to the Warriors... and they saw him shot. If we save his life, it'll help towards our cause."

"So giving Marley another titan shifter is the answer, huh?" Levi's frown deepened.

Eren breathed slow and deliberate, measuring each. It was true Falco needed to obey Marleyans, or rather risk himself and his family's life – but fuck that, he was more than a pawn. Eren would make sure of it. After what he did – how he betrayed that trust – he needed to.

"All due respect, sir, It won't be as simple as just taking him back home to Marley." Armin opined.

"Indeed." Hange said. "Even if he inherited the beast, it would be no mercy. There's no good childhood he could ever have."

That's not true. That's not true. Eren wouldn't let it be true. He promised. The boy they all talked about, it wasn't the one Eren knew.

So kind, so infinite in his forgiveness. A twelve-year-old boy who was infinitely wiser than he was. "Eren, please tell me I can trust you." He wanted to be trustworthy. He wanted to protect him. Damn it, he wanted to protect everyone. So much so, the world's fate was held up for them. Should they request it, the world would be nothing but a flattened dead abyss. No later than they asked and no later. They deserved someone better than him – they deserved not to live in fear. Most of all, they deserved to choose their own fate: the fate of the world. All he could do was all he did – it had to be enough.

"Falco isn't like that." Eren stated. His eyes continued to bore into Hange, to Levi. "He wouldn't do what Reiner has. He wouldn't... wouldn't break the wall."

Their futures he couldn't help. Without the rumbling, he could never ensure it with his few years left. He would never die satisfied. Now was all the time he had – and each breath he took he would ensure he used it best he could. His eyes found Sasha – he must keep them safe.

"At least, he has Warrior training to handle a titan." Armin proposed, Eren feeling his intense gaze matching Mikasa's. Another moment passed before Armin turned to their Commander. "Hange, I know we have already taken a great gamble today. It is another hour until we arrive at the port, but, please... try to consider it."

Hange looked from Armin to himself. He stared back, seconds ticking by.

"...The medics will continue giving him treatment." Hange stated, a sigh slipping from their lips as they walked towards the cockpit. "For now, everyone calm yourselves. We can't do anything until the Zeppelin lands either way. And lock the door behind you, Connie."

Connie did so, two heavy doors slamming in tandem.

Out of the corner of Eren's eyes, Zeke began to stir. Turning, he stalked over, a step away from his limp body. His blood boil with rage. What a pathetic creature, thinking he could steal Eren's will. Thinking that Grisha ever accomplished such.

A boot stomped upon Zeke's head – and Eren snapped to Mikasa, looking into his eyes. She loved him. Her letter, to her family. She was his family. Could it be so simple? Her eyes told him yes. He still didn't understand... but she did. All he understood was how he loved her.

Eren stepped back from the limp figure. No more than titan feed, not worth a scrap of energy.

Turning, Eren knelt back down. Besides Falco, he waited. Levi did not move to tie him up.

Chapter Text

Jean

Jean felt another sigh escape him, dreary to his bones from the constant workload. ‘At least, this much will be over with shortly,’ he thought, finding his place beside Armin, who stood with Hange, Levi on their other side. Sasha, Connie and a few other members of the survey corps waited a few rows back. Despite how large the ornate courtroom appeared, it was filled to the brim with various factions. The Garrison and Military Police’s higher ups stood in the lowest row like himself, various witnesses and more higher-ups behind them, behind them, powerful political and wealthy figures – most noticeable, however, was the lack of press and general public.

Before them all, Queen Historia sat beside the Premier, and her two advisors behind her. For the first time in three months, she had voluntarily returned to the city from the countryside. Her baby-pump was prominent, her eyes weary as her presence demanded near-silence from all attendance.

The doors to the giant courtroom once more opened. There, guarded by two more members of the Military Police, Eren walked in.

Any remaining mutters fizzled, immediately silenced. Everyone watched the man walk down to the centre of the room, hands cuffed behind his back, blank expression on his face. He stopped, dead in the centre of all eyes, looking only forward.

Historia’s eyes carried an identical emptiness. Jean felt his breath hitch. He couldn’t help but wonder when both she and Eren became so lifeless – and why he hadn’t noticed it before. Why none of them noticed it before. She remained sitting.

“Thank you everyone for gathering today.” She spoke, nodding once to the Premier. “Today, the actions the accused, Eren Yeager, could be considered under regular law – however, due to unprecedented conditions being met, I believe these laws are inadequate to deliver proper justice. Today, I grant full decision-making authority to Premier Zachary.” Historia nodded once to the Premier. “Eren Yeager, do you have any objections?”

“No, my Queen.”

“Understood. Premier Zachary, abide by the words you have sworn and deliver proper justice today.”

Zachary nodded respectfully to the Queen, before forwards, addressing the courtroom. “As Her Majesty has commanded. Today, we will determine whether Eren Yeager will remain as our founding titan, or if such ability must be passed to another. First, we will hear from the Military Police.”

Nile straightened himself, almost straight across from Jean. “Of course, Sir. I, Nile Dock, Commander of the Military Police, believe that Eren Yeager has proven himself incompetent and incapable of his responsibilities, and is in no way fit to wield Paradis’ main defence. A new, more suitable candidate must be chosen, and consume the power at the quickest possible date.”

Premier Zachary did not offer an opinion. He turned to Hange. “Next, the Survey Regiment.”

“Yes, sir. I, Hange Zoe, Commander of the Survey Regiment, propose this. Displacing the current holder of the Attack and Founding Titan will only cause further problems. His decisions were all for his Comrades benefit. Furthermore, this will cause outrage with the people. They see him as a hero and their beacon of hope after the events taking place four years ago, including the retaking of Wall Maria. To kill Eren Yeager would be to kill the already regimented trust in the Military.”

Jean felt himself look around the room - they spoke with conviction for himself, but was the crowd affected similarly?

“Now, the Garrison. Commander Pixis?”

“My pleasure, Premier Zachary. As the Commander of the Garrison, Dot Pixis, as of now, believe Eren Yeager should remain imprisoned. Indeed, I do not believe this trial is proper.” The entire room stared. A trial requested by the queen herself – could he say such a thing? Jean looked over to Historia, who, surprisingly, looked back to him. Her expression had still not moved. “Those who offered solutions have not taken further precautions have been offered to prevent another such a betrayal from happening – which should be essential. For the Military Police, we should wish to know what possible replacement would make up for Yeager’s undeniable skill and experience, and the process choosing a new inheritor would include. For the Survey Regiment, they simply want us to put our trust back upon the same man who abandoned his comrades.”

Despite both the other regiment commander’s visible discomfort, the Premier sat straighter, looking down at Pixis from above his glasses.

“Understood.” Premier Zachary then looked down once more to Eren. “And to you, Eren Yeager, I have a question for you as well.”

“Yes, sir.” He showed no anxiety, voice perfectly projected so that the whole room heard each word.

“Your actions in Marley are presumed to be in the name of Paradis. Is this assumption correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, you have been mistaken. To serve in the name of Paradis, you adhere to the vows you swore to, and obey the chain of command. Something you disregarded entirely when you abandoned your comrades in enemy territory and aimed to incite a war all by leveraging your position as founder against Paradis.”

The words were damning. Jean felt himself tense further, straightening his back and taking a deep breath. It was expected. It was inexcusable.

If Eren felt the same, his posture did not show it. “All I did was for Paradis.”

“Sir?” Hange was given a nod of permission. “Eren Yeager was put in an impossible position by Yelena. Following usual conduct was not necessarily the right course of action – is that not why Queen Historia granted you full decision-making? His insubordination was not voluntary. The moment he received orders Yelena did not know of, he followed them to the best of his abilities and ensured Zeke Yeager’s capture.”

The Premier looked down at the papers on his desk, the sound of shuffling paper echoing in the stagnant room. He peered over to Levi.

“Levi Ackerman. You’re account states Eren Yeager lead Zeke Yeager into a vulnerable position. In Eren Yeager’s account, he separately allegedly lured to Zeke behind the stage. Do you truly believe he had no previous opportunity to go behind his back?”

“The brat informed the former Warrior Candidate about his wareabouts the moment he recognised Yelena. Upon seeing me, he was quick to tell me to gag him. Even quicker to let us know how dangerous he was.” Jean did not miss Eren’s eyes leaving the Premier, darting to Levi, however brief it was. “It was clear the threat was forefront in his mind.”

The Premier sat back slightly. He looked back to Eren. Jean watched his expression carefully. Strengthening his fortitude, straightening himself and taking a breath through his nose, Jean raised his own hand.

“Sir, if I may.”

All eyes turned upon him. This included the Premier’s.

“Continue, Kirstein.” He small glasses up on his nose with two fingers.

Jean had spoken to the Premier on multiple occasions, but the sound of his own surname sent a jolt through him. It was so official. Everything he said mattered.

“I believe that it is unfair to pin the blame solely upon Eren Yeager. Rather, as his comrades and higher-ups, we failed not only to identify Yelena as a threat, but also to give Eren another course of action. Nor did we take notice of any strange behaviour or signs that could have prevented his dilemma.”

“Oh?” The tilt to the Premiers voice indicated a genuine interest, compared to the previous drawl on his voice. “Then, are you suggesting a deeper routed incompetence in our military?”

“We have only known of the world outside of our walls for four years, and engaged with it for less.” Jean answered his hands straight by his sides. “The Military, the Survey Regiment in particular, have gone through major changes in an effort to keep up and adapt. Any replacement you may put in Eren’s place would be subjected to his troubles, and make the same mistakes, and lacking experience, likely to a greater extent.”

The Premier finally looked away from him. Finally, his lungs took in a normal amount of air. He heard Nile’s voice, likely beginning to launch a counter attack. Upon such realisation, he steadied himself – the fight was not over.

Outside the courtroom, Jean waited. Armin stood by his side.

The public would not relent their shouting – a huge crowd awaiting the verdict, journalists shouting questions to any poor fool who made the mistake of sparing them a glance.

Finally, a carriage stopped by them. As a Military Policewoman opened the doors for them, they saw him.

“Eren...” Armin’s relief was clear. No longer in a cell, no longer in a courtroom, their friend sat inside his carriage. Green eyes looked back at them – between them.

The men climbed in, sitting opposite him.

“We’re glad it went so well.” Armin continued upon a lack of reply. “We didn’t believe it would go down so well with the Premier.”

“There’s something more important to address, though.” Jean cut in. Leaving this in the air would only cause more discord among them. As the carriage begun to move, he levelled Eren with a stare. “What we said in court aside. Why the hell did you keep all of Yelena’s bullshit to yourself? We’re comrades, damn it, you think we couldn’t have worked something out?”

“Everything I did, I did for Paradis.” Eren stated. When Jean’s stare did not relent, his jaw clenched. “You would be right not to trust me. I only just realised what that actually means. If you are so desperate to risk your lives for peace, I would only suffocate your freedom if I stop you.”

Jean blinked. He looked over to Armin, who looked back, equally wide-eyed. They looked back - only now, a sinking feeling begun in Jean’s stomach.

“Mikasa and Falco weren’t at the trial.” Eren stated. “Armin, where are they?”

Armin seemed to jump to the topic. “Yes – all that’s fine, Eren. The news might’ve made it to you before you were hauled of the Zeppelin – but it is good news.” Armin leaned forward a little, trying a smile.

“Don’t waste your breath, Armin...” Jean drawled, his head bouncing back against the carriage. He huffed, feeling Eren’s eyes upon him. “You’ll see what he means soon enough.”

Eren

The Scout Headquarters were just as he remembered them to be. Even the smell was familiar – the fresh breeze tinged with metallic-peppermint smell that ice-burst stone left handing in the air, which only got stronger as you entered the castle, mixing with the body odour of various sweaty soldiers.

Isolated, it stood alone with the nearest village dipped behind a hill. Against the countryside, it stood proud, eliciting the faint memory of seeing it for the first time: pride, awe – ‘never mind being a titan, I am officially a scout – I will finally fight for humanity, upon the front lines!’

Jean and Armin lead him inside towards Hange’s office. All around, stares followed him, no more trusting that they had been four years before. ‘How ironic.’ Only this time, it was entirely his own doing.

Upon their approval, Jean opened the door to Hange’s room.

Inside, they sat at their desk, Levi sitting off to the side. His eyes bore into Eren’s, more intense than all the stares he’d gathered walking here combined. Three seats waited before the desk.

“Ah, there you are, Eren. Jean, Armin, please remain present.” Hange did not stand, gesturing with their head for them to take a seat. Slowly, they did so.

“I will take a full account of what happened, starting from three years ago, up to the moment we landed on Paradis.” From the corner of his eye, Eren saw Armin take out a pen. “I’m well aware you’ve given full accounts to multiple higher-ups. However, I wish to hear it myself, and ask questions regarding it.”

“I understand, sir.”

Hange’s eyes only narrowed, almost imperceptibly so.

“Good. I should warn you, your testimony is alarmingly vague about what happened in Marley – how you got the former Warrior Candidate to trust you again, for one. And he’s been avoidant about such, too. Everything you did in Marley matters, as it was time you spent around Zeke and baiting us towards the enemy. Firstly, I will ask you this: do you stand by your vows?”

Eren closed his eyes. A question asked again and again of him since arriving back – for how he disregarded them, it was only fair.

His titan was a tool. His cape, his wings of freedom, was everything. At least, that’s what he’d thought. His cape was only a tool itself – a tool for his selfish desires of freedom, which now struggled to manifest in the new, larger world full of enemies.

Armin and Hange’s plan of peaceful negotiation would not allow him to protect them. He would never be free, nor of the threat outside nor the titan’s curse.

“Commander Hange. I am still a scout.” The words came naturally to him. A chain he slipped upon his wrist in replacement of his guiding memories. He hoped this to be the freedom his friends sought for. “I pledge my heart to humanity.”

Eren trudged on with Jean, walking around the Scout Headquarters to the backfields. Armin stayed inside, turning off to his office, leaving the two alone.

Everything was so strange. He felt empty. He felt overwhelmed. Nothing was as it should be, and he was calm. Talking to Armin. Talking to Jean. The people he cared about more than anyone else.

Memories offered no guidance. It was almost lonely. More than that –it was so freeing.

As they made it past the castle, Mikasa appeared. Eren stared back as she turned fully towards them, eyes locked. He stopped walking, the action impossible as his feet suddenly submerged in quicksand, locked in place, only to sink under her eyes.

“Eren...” Mikasa breathed. She did not move.

How could he speak calmly? Her name found his lips, and as it did, so did the memories. Of a childhood a thousand years ago – organic, memories he’d never forget. Running through the streets, picking fights at the market, dreaming by the canal.

“It went as well as we could’ve hoped.” Jean said. “Public opinion can’t be allowed to fall any further, so that was on our side at least.”

Mikasa blinked at him, before her hand reached to her scarf. “I’m glad.”

A moment of just gazing at each other passed, the wind swaying their hair in the breeze. She wore full ODM gear, blades included. “And, you came just in time. Look over there, any time now...”

Eren felt his confusion build. Anticipation, however, surged him forward, and he stood by her, looking over the empty field. There, in the centre, a small figure waited. Right at the back of the field, two horses and their riders observed him themselves.

Eren knew the lone figure. Though face lost by distance – he knew.

Lightening surged from the sky. Bright light encompassed Falco. From the light, a figure formed. Eren stared. In seconds, bones formed, muscles wrapping around, and then skin – fur.

The new beast titan.

The figure was not human-esque, Eren could tell straight away. In the finishing seconds, the expected realisation grew to a stunned shock.

Above the wall, a giant bird flew, away from confinement, further than he could dream.

Wings spread wide, proud. The entire body covered with feathers and fur, the colour of sand, sleek and streamlined. The body, too, at least thirteen meters head to tail, sleek and dynamic.

It was not the figure in his memory. A resemblance – but only that.

What he looked at was new - the beak, strong, the claws, sharp. But not those his memory told him of. This titan was no fighter. This titan was made solely to fly.

Chapter Text

One Week Prior....

Falco

Falco stared at his reflection.

His hand was slow, trembling as it pressed upon his back. Fingers barely contacted his skin as they moved up to his neck and down his upper arm.

Empty. Wrong.

His mind simply couldn't comprehend it.

He... should be happy... shouldn't he? Wasn't this a chance to move on? Arthur Grice left not a trace on his skin.

Yet, no such elation swelled in his chest. He did not feel the urge to smile. Only stare.

Empty. Wrong.

Would this ever feel right? Those scars that were his eternal warning, his reminder and now all had been simply erased. He never wanted nor asked for those scars. Each vivid memory of his mind no longer lined up with his own body. No one would know. Of his past, of his present or future, no marks could permanently scar him aside from death.

The cell was cold and quiet. He stared a minute longer.

With a grimace, he tore his gaze and put his shirt back on. He felt so lost, so strange.

He'd eaten Zeke. He'd betrayed his hometown. He'd betrayed Colt, betrayed Gabi. He'd become a titan shifter.

An echoed clanking sounded. He swivelled, listening closely as the footsteps grew nearer. No other prisoners were close by; they must be coming for him.

He steeled himself, tried to shake his nerves. Even if he didn't know what to feel, he knew what not to.

"Uhm, Miss Mikasa?" Falco tried, hesitant.

The woman was slow to answer, not turning to face him as he continued to trail her down the stairs. He hoped he didn't offend her by using her first name... even if she asked him too, he couldn't tell if it annoyed her. He pictured her stone-faced, (really, he had no other expression to picture) tired of him asking yet another question.

"What is it?" she asked, voice giving nothing away.

"I... I was just wondering. I'm thankful you're doing so much for me... but why is that?" There, he said it. He both felt relief and even more suspense.

It had been a few days since Falco had awoken – the new holder of the Beast Titan. Since then, he'd had more stern talks than his parents nor superiors had ever given. One official after the next appeared to give him anything from useful information or just to unload their unrequested opinion upon him. Finally just an hour prior, he had been called to the Premier's office, where he'd been given the final verdict.

He would be allowed to keep the Beast Titan – however, he would stay under the constant supervision of Mikasa Ackerman, on orders to restrain him if he ever tried to harm anyone, so that he would be eaten.

Falco did not understand how Paradis chose their shifters. Marley would certainly have never allowed such a thing. For the verdict, he could only be thankful.

Only, one part he found himself hung up upon; Mikasa Ackerman had suggested she could supervise him. Straight after, she had asked if he wished to visit his friend in the prison. The boy readily agreed, though confused.

Mikasa was no quicker to answer that than before. Only this time, she looked back at him, slowing her pace slightly. They'd reached the courtyard now, heading toward a few tired up horses.

"You helped us in Liberio. You were the reason I could reach him after so long." She stated. Now she stopped entirely. Her voice dropped a little, sounding less of bitten command. "And... I don't understand this completely... but on the ship, I saw how he was with you. I can tell the both of you are hiding something. I won't ask what that is. Regardless... I have to believe this is the right thing to do."

Falco stared up at her, before his eyebrows pinched as he looked aside, thinking that through. All of this was so strange.

"Only Hange is able to talk to him as of now." She continued. "But... for your friend, I can help you reach her. So, whenever you want me to, I'll bring you to her. When Hange isn't having you practice with your titan that is."

Falco nodded immediately, feeling the tension evaporate with her words. "Thank you so much, Miss Mikasa. Thank you."

She nodded once. Walking the rest of the way to the horses, they went on their way.

The temperature dropped inside the prison, a chill running down his spine. Despite being above ground, the old stone building was a world of its own, atmosphere shifting with strange noises from all over.

Following Miss Mikasa duteously, he couldn't help but to peer at his surroundings. The new types of architecture on Paradise were fascinating to Falco. This building in particular, however, was like a portal back to Marley, with drab stonewalls and odd, lingering smells. It was only then he realised how fresher the air was here than in Liberio, even if he'd already admired the green scenery, which seemed luxurious in comparison.

The guard warned them about Gabi's behaviour before telling them her cell number. Apart from food and other basic necessities, the girl was completely unwilling to accept anything. Hairbrushes, extra blankets and washing facilities had all been refused. A kind guard offering to give her a children's book had been viciously refused each time. The news wasn't surprising with how stubborn he knew his friend to be. It was simply depressing to have confirmed.

Upon spotting him, Gabi got up from her curled-up position and glared at him, her eyes quickly darting to his midsection. She did it again, as though she was trying to get a good look at his injury without him noticing. It was very noticeable.

"Hi, Gabi..." As he spoke, her eyes fixed firmly upon him.

"All chummy with the devils now, huh?" she bit back. Her hair was a tangled mess, face a little sweaty, glowing in the sunlight from the tiny cell window, and still wearing the exact same dirtied outfit – even her armband.

"I'm sorry, Gabi. It's my fault you're here." It was an effort to look her in the eye.

"Everything that happened – everything - is your fault." Gabi barely restrained herself from shouting – her jaw clenched, visibly beginning to shake. "How could you betray Marley like that?!"

"I was betraying our superiors, not our home. I just wanted the Eldians in the internment zone spared from the war." Frustration bit at him, like an itch growing over his body. Gabi wouldn't believe him, wouldn't change her mind. Yet what else was there to say other than the truth? He couldn't lie to her when he so clearly thought otherwise, when she asked so directly. "Regardless of any of that, you won't accomplish anything by being rude to the guards and not taking care of yourself! How is refusing basic hygiene going to help anything?"

"I'M NOT LIKE YOU!" Gabi screamed suddenly, temper exploding as she shot up from her bed. "I COULD NEVER, EVER BETRAY OUR HOMETOWN! I AM A GOOD ELDIAN!"

"Why? Because you're still wearing that band?" He yelled straight back, desperate. "How could you possibly think that changes anything? Everyone here is Eldian!"

"They're devils that refuse to repent!" Gabi seethed, the gaze in her eyes almost unhinged, voice continuously rising in pitch. "They're nothing like us – like me! I can't believe you let them manipulate you so easily!"

Falco found his mouth open and close, at a complete loss – he knew his friend was loyal to Marley and extremely stubborn. The way she parroted what they'd been taught in school since they were six was almost haunting. Only here, it was confirmed there was no reason for her to do this than her own delusion.

He subconsciously went to step closer – somehow mend their emotional distance physically – when a hand clamped on his shoulder, tugging him back a little.

"Falco." Miss Mikasa interrupted. He turned, seeing her giving him a serious look – not scolding, only grounding. That's enough, she silently told him.

The boy knew she was right. It'd escalated far beyond what he'd wanted. Turning his back on her, even for the night, felt wrong regardless. The walk back out felt slow and lonely, despite the guards around him. 'What did I expect? For Gabi to walk out happily with me? I know it's completely unrealistic... yet...'

"She's scared." Miss Mikasa stated, her words unexpected.

"Huh?"

"You're her friend. She probably feels completely alone right now, on an island of devils with no one on her side. Her cousin and friend seemingly turning their backs on her out of nowhere."

Falco listened, brain whirling to process that. He hadn't thought of it that way – in his mind, Gabi and fear didn't seem to mesh. She had always been so brave, so sure of herself. The opposite of himself.

"Can I ask you something... uh, Miss Mikasa?" Falco asked quietly, continuing upon getting a nod, though still hesitant, "did you hate Eren? When he left for Marley?"

Mikasa's pace faltered, but she recovered herself so quickly it could have been his imagination. "No. I could never hate him." she was certain. "I can't claim to know what your friend is feeling. But if she's really your friend, there will always be doubt in her mind when she opposes on you - regardless of whether she acts on it or not. You just have to find that."

Falco took a moment to consider that. "I'll try. But I doubt she'll listen to me."

"That's good." Miss Mikasa sounded genuine.

The conversation lulled briefly, Falco having nothing to say to that. Grateful for the encouragement, he tried to think more positively. He would be allowed to see her again, and he would make the most of all the chances he got.

The sun was low in the sky, sunset soon to arrive. Outside the prison again, they thanked the guards and left Gabi behind. From his horse, he looked back, peering at the window he estimated her to be behind. He'd be back.

"With that done, we'll head to the scout headquarters." Miss Mikasa said. "Commander Hange arranged to meet us there once they were done with their responsibilities... which are usually finished around sundown. Not counting the paperwork." The last part was barely muttered, but he recognised the implication. Commander Magath was the same way. Always working, addressing them over stacks of papers.

"Understood." He acknowledged. Remembering their cheery introduction, he perked up a little.

"They've been dying to see your first transformation. According to Yelena, the beast is the titan that changes most with the shifter."

See your first transformation. It was happening. Despite all the restrictions, Falco was glad it was here in Paradis.

Jean

"Oi. Get up."

Jean stared down into the cell, watching the man slowly rise from his bed. It was mid-day... was the man's internal clock already so broken?

Jean did not look to his face. Not a chance.

"Jean... what are you doing here...?"

"Not for you." Jean took the paper from his jacket's pocket, along with a pen, and held it out. "This is just an opportunity. Write a letter for your cousin."

Not a reward for good behaviour. Not a reward for telling the truth. For telling all of it. Rewarding what this man did, in any indirect way would make his blood boil over.

"Gabi? She's alright?"

"She's sitting in a prison cell in her own filth." It was barely an exaggeration. "I'll deliver it to her personally as soon as you've written it up. Get a move on."

Even the seconds it took Reiner to walk over and take it from his hands sparked irritation within him. He forcefully kept his mind in the present, that incident ever threatening to turn his temper.

'It's for those kids.' He reminded himself. 'It's only right to return the favour. What's one letter compared to the mountain Eren sent us?'

It was silent as Reiner wrote. Jean did not stare in, but leaned back against the bricks between cells. Only the dripping leak and scratching sounds of charcoal against paper took his attention. The smell down here was putrid, the air stale triggering any newcomers gag-reflex – after all, Reiner would not be allowed on higher floors for any reason, and old castles were never known for ventilation.

Jean's mother had been so pleased to see him. Scratch. She was so overjoyed to hear no fighting had broken out, and had given him her signature omelette in celebration. Scratch- Damn it, would Reiner finish already?!

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Don't think about it.

Finally, Reiner stood again. Jean turned back, taking the paper and pen back from him. "I'll read it over first."

Reiner nodded to the obvious statement, all too close by the bars.

"Thank you, Jean."

"I already said. I'm not here for your sake." He turned on his heel, and stalked away immediately.

He read the letter over as he walked. He sighed, folding it and slipping it back into his jacket. 'What a way to spend my lunch break,' he thought, dreary.

Still, as the fresh air hit him, he could take a breath. He stared endlessly into the sky. Freckled cheeks and warm brown eyes greeted him.

'I could never talk it through with Reiner. Please forgive me for that, Marco. Still, that girl... there's a chance with her, isn't there?'

Falco

The week passed by before he even realised it. His awe towards his titan form had yet to diminish. Each training session, regardless of the purpose, was exhilarating. He could fly. His titan had wings.

When he cut into his hand, a thrill surged through him, and he didn't stop his smile. Lightening surrounded him; wind swirled around – once more, he had wings.

With this form, his life was restricted to thirteen years now. It was something he's aware he hadn't quite processed yet. As he began to move within his titan, however, it always slipped quickly from his mind so that excitement could take over.

For the first time, he was allowed to transform without Commander Hange present, only Mikasa, in case of an emergency. Hange was fun to be around for the most part, but the idea of a simple practice session without elaborate and strange tests was very enticing.

Hange had previously said that, when they had time, they'd take a trip outside the walls and properly test out his flying long-distance wise. The idea made him all jumpy with excitement. Hange did jump with excitement.

Opening his wings, flapping them a few times – it was all too natural. His titan's body was his. That was the only explanation he could give Hange when they asked how he moved them.

Upon his horse, Mr Varis put a hand in the air – and Falco gave a deep nod back. 'Yes, I'm in control.'

The man's hand came down. Permission granted, another tingle of excitement ran down his spine. Finally, he spread his wings, tips high enough to touch, and leapt.

His wings pushed upon the air. With each rapid flap of his wings, a whoosh of air sounded in his ears. Higher, higher – heart thumping, unable to stop.

The flaps of his wings evened out. He was soaring, the castle bellow suddenly so small. The figured even more so, faces once so detailed no more than little pale blobs.

Hills rolled on forever. Wall Rose appeared in the horizon. Several small villages scattered around the countryside – on his other side, the larger town.

He wasn't allowed that far. It didn't matter.

He could stay up here for an eternity.

Eren

Watching the titan fly overhead, Eren could barely tear his eyes away. It was a majestic sight, the slim build graceful in the air. Build for sharp turns and speed.

The wings were equipped with sharp talons halfway down before it replaced by huge feathers. The claws and beak where both silver, with the end of the beak darkening into black. A small tuft of feathers flowed behind the head, the neck and body relatively thin. The beige feathers whitened on the underbelly. The tail was rounded like a fan, the two legs thin and tucked up.

He’d done it. Eren had kept his promise.

Memories of seeing the boy on the airship still rattled him. A shock to the system not only from the possibility of losing him just after seeing Sasha – but in retrospect, it had also been just how unexpectedly hard and fast those emotions had tugged upon him. How desperate he’d become to keep his promise, keep him safe.

Everyone saw that.

“When you were in Marley...” Mikasa finally spoke. He blinked, tearing his eyes from the sky. He found her staring at him. “Eren, what exactly happened?”

That’s right. Everyone saw his emotions break through. Of course, they’d be curious... Hange had already pried enough.

“Everything Falco would’ve told you. Before that, I was just playing the part of an Eldian soldier.”

“I know... but...” Mikasa paused, fumbling a little, “it feels like we’re missing something. Everyone feels that. And that something isn’t small.”

Jean said nothing, only looking between them. Eren looked back to the sky. Above, Falco had flown to the left, over the woods. “It’s not my story.”

“Then, at least tell me it’s over.”

“No. It’s not over. It won’t be for a long time. But... I know it’ll turn out good, in the end.” Eren felt a surge of pride at those words. The kid was so strong.

Neither Mikasa nor Jean replied. Still, he felt her eyes leave his side, most probably looking up like himself.

No more words were spoken. So much to say, yet nothing came out. Instead, they simply watched the spectacle, letting the day slip away.

In Marley, the thought would endlessly irritate him. Another day as the useless Mr Kruger. Here, beside Mikasa, the feeling couldn’t be more dissimilar.

Armin, standing strong upon that stage, his potential finally found. Mikasa, trusted by Hange to protect both themselves and Armin singlehandedly – and succeeding beautifully. He could not have enjoyed it in the moment with Zeke able to kill them when he pleased– but upon reflection, his heart swelled.

Only when the man on the horse shot up a yellow signal flare did Falco finally returned to the field. His landing was noticeably clumsy compared to the gliding. Steam shot up from the top, tiny figure emerging from the thirteen-meter long titan.

The three of them walked towards him, watching him shake off all the red muscle holding him in position. As he did so, he stretched a little, turning – and spotting him.

Apprehension burst in his chest.

They weren’t in Marley anymore – and with everything that’d happened... what must the kid think about him?

From his titan, Falco blinked down at him. With a small double take, he was jumping down the side of the steaming beast.

“A flying titan huh?” Eren wondered, stomach swirling beneath the outer calm.

Falco ducked his head, shuffling with a small smile.

“It’s almost bizarre how quickly you got used to those wings.” Jean observed.

“Uh – uhuh – thank you.” A little blush was growing under the combined praise. “But – Mr Eren, your trial went well?”

“Still just Eren – and yes, it did.” he confirmed, seeing Falco relax and smile in relief.

“If he behaves, anyway.” Jean reminded them. “You’re still on thin ice. Just lucky that restrictions on you would only anger the public. To them, you’re a hero, the poster boy of progress... to keep them at ease, everything should continue as normal.”

“I know, Jean. And, what about you?” Eren asked the boy.

“It’s not so bad.” Falco shrugged, looking over to Mikasa. “Miss Mikasa has to guard me all the time. I don’t even have to sleep in the dungeon anymore, since Commander Hange thinks I have full control over my titan now.”

Eren looked to her. That was something to ask about another time.

“And you swore a few oaths, which you must abide by.” Jean reminded once more. He folded his arms over his chest, looking between them all. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves – none of this is permanent.”

Eren was all too aware of that. No longer was he privy to what came next, and without Zeke, following the path was now firmly on hold. Historia – he must find a new way to help her.

“Eren, sleep at headquarters for a few nights.” Mikasa ordered suddenly. “The journalists wouldn’t leave you alone in Trost.”

“Alright, Mikasa.” Eren sensed her relief – though he had no reason to disagree. Dusting everything and restocking his cupboards would take longer than the remaining sunlight would allow either way. Even if he didn’t put it into words, the familiar mothering tone put him at ease. He’d missed her, so much.

The mess hall was bustling as ever. Rowdy soldiers bustled around for their food, going back for seconds, even thirds. A Luxury they didn't have only a few years ago. Laughter and raised voices kept the place alive, the smell of body odour and alcohol permeating the air after long days.

All eyes turned to Eren as he entered. He kept his gaze forward, but still spotted many familiar faces – including Floch.

He decided not to think about it. He'd already dwelled enough in his own head within his prison cell.

With a bowl of stew, he followed Mikasa and Falco into a corner of the mess hall, where Sasha and Connie watched him approach. Jean had left for his own private housing, having preferred that much like Armin and himself. Armin must've headed off at some point, too. Sasha switched between staying here and with her family on her breaks, whist Connie just preferred to stay in one place for the most part, not minding the constant bustle.

"Hey, Mikasa, Falco." Connie greeted. Sasha gave a wavering smile as Mikasa and Falco returned the greeting.

"And hi, Eren." Sasha greeted slowly. Her smile widened, but her eyes crinkled no further.

"Hey." Eren sat down with the other two, opposite Connie. The other man just looked on fixedly, deceptively calm. Eren just decided to let him bring it up when he wanted to. The list of problems was all too obvious.

Connie bit his tongue, however, allowing Sasha to start up a new conversation.

"Niccolo was officially absolved from the whole spinal fluid wine business." She began. "And then, he invited me to come over and try some new recipes – with a big meal in celebration!"

"How many portions would that amount to?" Mikasa asked drily. Not noticing her tone, Sasha began to ponder on it seriously.

With the topic immediately moved towards food and Niccolo, Sasha alone lifted the atmosphere. Eren had only met the Marleyan a few times, far less than the rest of his friends. The last time he did, however, the man seemed to genuinely adore Sasha – the longing, adoring way he looked at her as she shovelled food in her mouth being all Eren needed to see.

He and Connie didn't contribute much to the conversation. He was glad to see Sasha in high spirits, however, Mikasa and Falco feeding off her enthusiasm to ignore the obvious tension. To Eren's surprise, the women seemed completely used to Falco's presence, despite him only being here less than a week. They treated him kindly, letting him into their conversation and informing him on things he wouldn't know.

Avoiding it further than the shared meal was impossible, however. Mikasa also seemed aware of this, asking Connie to show Eren to an available room.

For the majority of the walk, it was still silent. Eren waited.

"You never told us." Connie told him, spitting it out over gritted teeth.

"I know."

"Why is that?" he wasn't looking for an answer yet. "We could've helped you with the shithead Yelena, but you just let her blackmail you without a fight." Connie narrowed his eyes. "Just giving up isn't like you. It'd hurt your pride going along with anything she said."

"...Armin keeps saying it's more complicated than that. Maybe I just don't understand because I'm an idiot, but – damn it, it doesn't make sense!" Connie stood tense, jaw tensing further, nostrils flaring.

Eren forced himself to make eye contact. "You're right. Maybe I've changed. I don't even know."

"The hell does that mean?" Connie narrowed his eyes. "What changed?"

Memories swarmed Eren – in the trees, the former Levi squad; Mikasa's scar, a permanent reminder of his failure; Hannes; almost the entire survey corps; even Armin, he almost lost, believing his obvious bluff.

"I've made so many mistakes. Each one cost so many lives." It felt foreign on his tongue. "I just knew... I had to change something. Push myself further."

Connie stared. In another moment, his jaw completely slacked, blinking a few times.

"Are you... actually serious right now?" his face changed once more, eyebrows pulling together and nose wrinkling. For a second he just huffed, exasperated. "You haven't changed a damn bit. Still the same weakling. Only now, you're a selfish coward to boot."

It was Eren's turn to gape at Connie, watching him fold his arms and lean back on the wall.

"What did I expect, though? Trying to shoulder everything, again... and here I thought I was the idiot."

"Connie..." the other man put a hand up to stop him.

"Just get some rest already. I can't be bothered with you anymore today. Your room's right there."

"Uhm." Still a little stunned by the abrupt change, Eren stood in place... it was far too early to sleep. With a glance to a castle window, Connie followed his gaze, and winced, now making the atmosphere supremely awkward.

After a strange standoff, Connie left a few seconds after – face scrunched in disbelief. Eren watching him a moment, shaking his head slightly. He and Sasha were so strange. 'Damnit, Connie... how do you make me feel at ease and more tense than ever...' what he did know, though, was his friend was no idiot.

Falco

The Scout HQ had an expansive library. It was something Hange had took clear pride in when he first came here, happily gathering a giant stack for some 'light reading' to help him understand life here.

Despite the draft, the room had an almost mystical element to it, the few scouts reading at various tables dutifully quiet, facing away from him with their heads ducked into the pages. The candles were lit as the sun began to sink, making him smile at just how atmospheric it was. Paradis was such a beautiful place, everywhere he looked.

'Special yeast made only within Wall Sina prevents spoilage for a long time when placed in storerooms or tents,' so the book told, 'fodder, wheat, beans, and other items are stored in mass both for the winter and in case of emergency.'

It was interesting enough. Really, he was just hoping to plough through it and get to what he really cared about- that book on ODM gear.

The door to the library creaked loudly. Falco glanced up in a brief curiosity – and then sitting up fully, smiling once more.

"Hey, Eren." He kept his voice quiet as he closed his book, turning to face him.

"Hey. Sasha said you might be here." Eren spoke just as lowly, and took a seat beside him.

"Yeah... uhm, it looks like it's going well, so far." Falco mused. "With your friends... Miss Mikasa and Miss Sasha I mean."

"It is. And don't worry, Connie and I will sort that out too... we had a talk."

Falco nodded, relieved. The tension was more than obvious, and had left Sasha itching with worry. Somehow, that was literal. Even now... was it just him, or did Eren appear on edge? Nervous?

About what, though? It was just the two of them. Eren had no reason for nervousness right now.

The boy had to steel himself – the next question was even more loaded. "About me being the Beast Titan..."

Eren looked on, curiosity only shown in a slight eyebrow movement. It was better than what he was expecting, at least.

"I mean – about Mr Zeke. How I inherited his titan." It had him curl into himself, looking away. 'Your brother. I ate your brother.'

"Do you want to know how it happened?" Little emotion made it through his voice, sparking his nerves alive.

"No! I mean – they told me some of it – aren't you... mad at me, for that?"

"No. Bastard deserved it." Eren sounded almost too certain, and Falco stared over at him. Eren peered back through long hair, slumping lower to meet his eye. "Falco... don't think it's like you losing Colt. I didn't know Zeke. I certainly didn't agree with him, though you know that already."

Falco wondered if that was the whole truth. The idea of not caring for Colt was so foreign it barely made sense – not with how he thought of his brother back in Marley every day. At least, he knew blood ties didn't mean anything, even if it feels like they should sometimes. That he could begin to understand.

"To be honest... I thought you'd be mad at me. After everything I did, those letters... you - everyone - you should all - it should more than just doubting me, more than what it is.." Eren's teeth clenched, the tense breaths he took clear and jagged.

"What? No, not at all." From what Miss Sasha had told him, Eren had been among those for him taking the beast titan – saving his life. He pushed those words forward, just as strongly as Eren had his. When Eren gazed back into his eyes, that intensity seemed to fizzle. Eyes closing briefly, Eren managed a small nod.

A calm moment of silence past, both in their own thoughts. Falco took a breath, until his heartbeat calmed completely. Now that the lingering cloud had been swept away, it was comfortable, familiar, as if they were sat back on the bench in Marley, just... talking. Only now, no secrets dangled above their heads.

"So... Miss Mikasa and Miss Sasha?" Eren sounded somewhere between amused and confused.

Falco had a spring of memories that made him want to mould his face with the pages upon the table.

"They... didn't like being called by their last names..."

Eren snorted. "We're all around nineteen, you know. Our position just seemed to happen way too fast."

Falco only grumbled. Only yesterday, they all realised they'd had the exact same conversation with the boy: asking him to call them by their first names. All at separate points. The revelations lead to a lot of laughter.

It wasn't at him... it was just excruciatingly embarrassing.

"Come on. It's not like they'll think bad about you for that." Eren wore a faint smirk, and Falco pointedly turned away with a pout. He wasn't there to know just how long they kept the joke up.

"It's not funny."

"If you say so." He did say so. Without turning back, he heard Eren give a quick huff through his nose.

"Come on, don't be to mad. I still want that hug you promised."

Falco sat straight. Eren remembered that. When he peered over, the man gave him a small, simple smile.

The boy gave a little hum of agreement. Shifting to face him, Falco latched upon Eren's side, the arms that opened for him coming down upon his back, slow and careful. The notion was quickly becoming more and more familiar. Emotion swarmed him, and he buried himself deeper into the hug. Eren must know his scars had disappeared, and yet... it was just as careful. 

Relief overrode all other emotions at such a small thing, and he finally comprehended: they'd done it. Despite their mishaps, everyone was alive and well.

A deep breath escaped his lungs. Even Gabi... she was at least safe. Colt, alone, unknowing... but someday, he'd figure it out. Someday... it could all be okay.

Chapter Text

Mikasa

“Wasn’t that just amazing?” Hange struggled to keep their professional mask on as they slipped off the Beast Titan. Mikasa watched on from bellow, fondness blooming.

A flying titan had sparked something alive in their Commander. Despite their overwhelming responsibilities, the existence of a flying titan seemed to invigorate them endlessly. Mikasa was only glad to see Hange back to their cheerful self; it seemed so long ago that this was their usual disposition.

Now they’d even asked Premier Zackary to fly to the port rather than go by train. In addition, they had managed to have him agree to it.

Said man nudged his glasses up his nose, looking back up at Falco, steam surrounding as the boy immerged. “It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. But your sure that it can’t be sued in combat?”

“With the technology outside the walls, one lucky shot would take him down. He’s fast, but a large target nonetheless... those giant wings are particularly vulnerable.” Hang’s brow furrowed at the thought. It didn’t last - gathering themselves and loosening their shoulders. “Of course, there are a million possibilities with such a titan.” Hange’s excitement was back in full force as they animatedly gestured for Falco to step down, which he did. “Falco here has been practicing everyday – he lost control the first time he transformed – but beyond that, his performance has been incredible!”

“I have read your- detailed reports, Hange.” The Premier reminded. “But seeing it in person is admittedly extraordinary.”

The Premier’s gaze turned to Falco, who noticeably straightened. “You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, sir.” The boy gave a tight nod.

Hange clapped their hands together, looking off to the ocean. “Well, since it appears the Azumabitos have not yet arrived, how about a full demonstration?”

Mikasa was only a little surprised to hear him agree. It seemed even someone as distinguished as the Premier wasn’t immune to the awe a flying titan demanded.

A safe distance away, she turned to mutter that observation to Hange. They gave her a cheeky grin.

“He’s not as stilted as you’d think. Erwin told me all about a few... questionable decisions he’s made.”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. The rumours of a torture-chair involving... unmentionable things... resurfaced in her mind – no, surely not.

As if reading her mind, Hange snickered ungracefully. They straightened up quickly when the Premier glanced behind him.

Returning to watching the show above their heads, Mikasa lost herself to her thoughts.

Unlike the Founder and the Attack Titan, the Beast Titan changed drastically with each inheritor. Hange had suggested many times to the Premier that the ability to fly would almost definitely be lost if they were to have Falco eaten – something Mikasa knew her Commander would never let happen.

Mikasa only hoped that public opinion would sway towards that, too. Having both the Armoured and Beast stay with Warriors of Marley was not a popular decision, and had sparked huge outrage when they officially announced it would remain that way for the envisioned future.

Ironically, that outrage had been part of what spared Eren of any appreciable punishment.

The Azumabito arrived on the horizon within the hour, their ship docking without problem. Falco, spotting it first, had landed and hence instructed to stay back as the Premier first went to greet them, officials from the Military Police flanking him, arriving from the train. Hange and she stood to the left, standing to attention.

“We’re honoured to welcome you to Paradis.” The Premier began. Opposite him, Lady Kiyomi Azumabito gave a flattering smile.

“Yes, it’s an honour. I commemorate your brave decision with how you presented yourself in Marley.”

“However, this does bring a new series of questions to light. The plan proposed by Zeke Yeager is no longer in effect, is this correct? Including the partial rumbling?” Lady Kiyomi masked her inquietude well.

“As for now, we will be abiding by international law. We will wait for a formal declaration of war before we make any large-scale attack.”

Mikasa’s gaze fell to the right. Behind their ship, the Azumabitos had brought their newest invention – the flying boat. Purposed with watching the results of the rumbling, it was a grim reminder of the almost definite war on the horizon.

“Lady Mikasa, how glad I am we have the chance to speak so soon.”

“Likewise, Lady Kiyomi.”

Only a few guards of the Azumabito Clan distantly trailed the two women. They walked along the shore, holding a prolonged conversation as of Lady Kiyomi’s request.

“It seems a small scale rumbling will not happen for many months yet.” Kiyomi remarked.

“Considering that’s all you care for, it must be quite the disappointment.” Mikasa contended it half-heartedly – so obvious was Kiyomi’s goal, it was insulting for her to suggest Mikasa wasn’t aware.

“Well... unless the rumbling’s power if proven, Hizuru will lose any faith it has in the Azumabito.” An smile plastered the woman’s face, unease slipping through. The lady paused, and in that something switched, her jaw hardening and tone became assured. “But that is not all we care for. We still hold pride in the clan your mother passed down to you.”

Undeniable passion laced her words. Mikasa could not help but to stare a moment before she continued to walk forward. With a moment of reflection, she narrowed her eyes. “You never intended to let me, or any of the scouts, know of the party Lord Tybur hosted. You do not care who runs this island – and whether it benefits the people, or me.” Halting her steps, Mikasa faced Lady Kiyomi head on.

“Let me make this clear. I am an Eldian, and this is my home. You have no intention to keep Paradis safe – and so I will never rely on you.”

Lady Kiyomi bared a sheen of sweat on her brow. Her smile was long gone. Before Mikasa could leave, however, the woman pursed her lips, straightening herself.

“In present day, the Azumobitos are known as known as a bunch of avaricious swindlers. Without the rumbling, we will become even less. However, no matter what becomes of the country, we wish to protect you.” She walked forward, and Mikasa, in her shock, allowed the woman to lift up her wrist. Lady Kiyomi held where her tattoo printed her skin, looking up at her with impassioned eyes. “Whatever meaning your mother told you this held, it remains. The Azumabito Clan will always be loyal to you!”

Falco

Mikasa had been even more silent than usual as they rode to the prison. Dismounting and entering the giant building, the silence went from expected to awkward. Pondering what to say – if anything, at all – Falco anxiously scratched at his cheek. Even just a simple ‘thank you’ caught in his throat. As kind as Miss Mikasa was to him, he would be lying to say she did not intimidate him the slightest bit.

The prison guard spotted them over his desk. He perked up, gifting them a friendly smile.

“Hey there!” the guard greeted, “I’ve got some good news!”

“Really? Is Gabi doing okay?” Falco bubbled, head perking up.

“Well, she’s been far more approachable – accepting more things – even asked for a few books, a warmer jacket, some accessories for her hair...”

“Hair accessories?” Mikasa enunciated, the sharpness making the guard’s smile falter slightly.

“Well, it was quite the mess. She just wanted to fix it up... isn’t that normal for girls of that age?”

Mikasa turned to Falco, who avoided her look. He’d never noticed Gabi doing much with her hair in the trenches other than just tying it back. Still, he wouldn’t get her in trouble over accessories.

“Yeah... she takes care of her hair.” He shrugged.

Mikasa didn’t seem satisfied with the vague answer... but let it go, and thanked the guard for the information. Falco eagerly copied her, now a little more hopeful.

Maybe Mr Braun’s letter had really helped her – no, of course it would, Gabi adored him. He’d have to thank Mr Kirstein again once they were back.

They arrived at Gabi’s cell after only a minute. Anticipation swelling, his steps sped up as her cell got closer.

She sat on the bed, knees drawn to her chest. Just... sitting. A quick glare was cast, but it was brief. Turning away, she stared at the wall.

‘Okay... don’t be disappointed, there is still progress...’ Falco recalled Mikasa’s previous advice: “She probably feels completely alone right now, on an island of devils with no one on her side. Her cousin and friend seemingly turning their backs on her out of nowhere.”

“Hi again, Gabi.” He tried to gage her reaction, noticing the way her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing tightly together. She said nothing.

“You, uh, got a letter from Reiner, right? So he’s really okay. They don’t plan to kill him soon. And they have no reason to hurt you -”

“Make her leave.” Gabi snapped. “Then I’ll talk.”

Falco blinked. That was... a hint further progress was possible, wasn’t it? “I can’t, Miss Mikasa assigned to –”

“I’ll be back in five minutes.” Said woman swiftly departed.

Falco’s head swivelled, watching her leave abruptly. His tongue fell heavy in his mouth, incapable of more than a disorientated hum. When he turned back, he watched Gabi slowly un-tuck herself. Walking up to the bars, she glared down the corridor after Mikasa, assuring she was gone. The girl faced him head on.

“They’re going to kill Reiner.” She stated.

His eyebrows dipped, head turned at the abrupt declaration. “What? No, they’re using him as leverage against Marley. And they don’t want to start a war they can’t win.”

“He told me.” She ground out each syllable through her teeth. “He used a code in the letter. They are going to kill him, Falco.”

His eyebrows knitted in further, mouth open as his mind tried to conjure up a reply. Now, worry had begun to spark. Reiner had seemed so certain when he’d seen the man last... if that changed, something must have happened. But what? He was in a cell, far underground. “Gabi... I really don’t think that’s true.”

“Why, because those devils told you so?” she grabbed at the bars, glaring at him. “Have you forgotten what they’ve done?!”

“What do you - they were attacked years ago,” Falco spluttered, “they never asked for this. Besides, do you think they would have given you all those things you asked for if they were so evil? They don’t benefit from giving you books and accessories.” Falco watched her glare turn seething, jaw clenching.

Then, she took a few deep, ragged breaths.

Falco stared, confused, as she closed her eyes for a few seconds. No longer did she look at him when they opened. He stepped closer to the bars. Trying to get back on track, he searched for her eyes behind thick lashes.

“Gabi... I’m still on your side. I... I really care about you, even if you hate me right now, I swear I’ll do everything I can to –“

Her hands launched through the bars. Her left dug into his own arm – the right jabbed something to his neck, only just breaking the skin, a tiny trail of blood dripping down.

“Gabi! What are you –“

“So it’s true. You have the Beast Titan.” Gabi interrupted. He peered down, trying to gage what it was – some kind of metal spike, both ends jagged as if broken from something longer.

Even when she pressed it a little hard to his skin, he didn’t scream for Mikasa, or even struggle. The faint hiss of steam reached his ears.

“They wouldn’t just give a warrior candidate a titan like that.” Gabi snarled. The borderline delirium in her brown eyes tore at his guilty conscience. “You will help me break out of here – or I will stab this into your caleroid artery, and you’ll bleed out long before you can heal.”

Falco stared into her eyes. Gabi was threatening to kill him. He felt a little blank, not scared, not confident. As if he were an impassive ghost watching the scene rather than an active participant, hearing her, not understanding.

“Where would you even go?” He questioned her as if she talked about the morning paper, dazed. “This place is surrounded by miles of wooded area. You have no map, food – anything.”

“I’m saving Reiner. And unless they want the beast titan going to some unborn baby, there’ll be no objections.” The girl didn’t give him a chance to speak - “Take a pin from my hair.”

When he opened his mouth, still not budging, she tightened her grip on his arm. “Take a pin from my hair. Get that lock open.”

Falco stared at her, then at the lock. A wide surface of metal, rather than the cell bars, surrounded it. It would be almost impossible for Gabi to reach around comfortably enough to pick it. Then, he looked back to the metal piercing his skin.

Gabi was threatening to kill him.

That was his fault. The boy knew that. Her recklessness, her fear. The guilt hit him harder still – because he still didn’t regret his actions. Not his choices involving Paradis Island. And he never would.

“I’m sorry, Gabi.” He whispered, “I’m sorry you got involved. I was acting suspiciously, and you only acted accordingly. Still, what I did for Paradis... I can’t apologise for.”

The metal dug further into his skin, breaking it once more. He was practically provoking her to kill him. He didn’t want that. He just needed her to hear this.

“I only wanted to stop them invading our home... and I didn’t want Marley to attack them in return. I went behind you back. I lied to everyone. You should be mad at me.”

Her face was one of indignation, confusion, and rage, and a thousand other things she blinked away to bare her teeth. “Falco, just open the cell already!”

“I CAN’T, Gabi!” his voice spiked suddenly, frustrated, hot tears appeared in his eyes. “I can’t! Just stop being reckless – please, you don’t need to do this! Mr Braun will be alright!”

He floundered for something she wanted – no, she needed to hear – what he could say to just make this right, make her feel okay, so she could get out of whatever torment she put herself through. But what? His tongue just felt so heavy, his eyes blurred and unfocused.

“Did you see him?” she challenged, dark eyes haunting.

“No, but –“

“Then how can you say that?!” the grip on his arm became bruising – the metal against his neck was still.

“That’s enough. Gabi, let go of him.”

Both froze. Falco only moved his eyes to her – Mikasa, like a statue, watching them. Gabi’s grip tightened reflexively. Anxiety flooded his mind.

“I was told about how you shot him.” Mikasa said. “Those emotions you felt; are you prepared to lose your friend?”

Falco saw her jaw clench to the word ‘friend’. Up so close, he could see her entire body was tense, a loaded spring ready for Mikasa or himself to move. He felt far from confident in the woman’s words.

“Don’t think you can manipulate me like you did him, devil! I am a true Eldian, loyal to Marley!”

“I’m going to walk over and separate you from him. Don’t make it difficult.”

Mikasa did as she said she would. When Gabi pressed it to his neck, the woman simply ripped it from her grasp with inhuman strength, then doing the same with her other hand.

Just like that, it was over.

Gabi stared, appearing too shocked to display her anger.

“Falco, are you hurt?” Mikasa looked him over, peering at his neck.

“Uh, uhum. I’m fine. Thank you Miss Mikasa.” He spluttered.

She pulled back.

“We’re leaving now. Maybe it would be best to find another way to help your friend.” She said.

Falco was still blustering from everything.

What just happened?

Gabi threatened him, didn’t go through with it – or would she have, and Mikasa was faster. His neck throbbed distantly. It didn’t hurt to touch it. Huh – he must have healed.

Just like before. Scars and injuries left him so quickly now. It didn’t feel right still.

Mikasa walked calmly, as if nothing had happened. When they reached the guard, she just told them what had happened and walked past. Falco just followed, watched the back of her head in contemplation. Miss Mikasa seemed to genuinely care – more than what she was required to do. Adrenaline not yet diminished ushered him to ask further – “How did you know she wouldn’t hurt me?”

“Because I’ve seen it before. I know when someone is willing to kill.”

Falco doubted that. He’d seen what Gabi was capable of, how many enemy soldiers she’d killed using her age as a weapon. He never liked to think of it in those terms. Nevertheless, undeniably, it’s what she did, over and over.

Gabi was capable of killing him, he was sure.

He just never thought she’d want to.

Eren

Eren watched Mikasa and Falco arrive to the mess hall – just in time for them to still eat together. Sasha yelled them over, her hands in the air – as though they didn’t always sit in the same area.

They both walked over after gathering their food. It was a peculiar sight, seeing the short blond child surrounded by adult soldiers, yet somehow blending in just enough a passerby may mistake him for just a shorter man. Next to Mikasa however, stoic and robust, he looked especially young.

With each passing day, those sorts of sights only became more surreal to Eren; he never woke up.

“Long day with the Premier?” Connie questioned.

“Lady Kiyomi made it longer.” Mikasa sat beside himself, Connie already scooting over for Falco. “I’m sure your date with Niccolo was far more pleasant.”

“Still not a date.” Sasha’s words piled upon each other far too quickly to not earn a knowing smirk.

“Then, what is it?” Eren said. His own voice sounded so foreign.

“A food tasting session, in which I also sample his personality!”

“Savour his personality, you mean.” Connie chortled.

Sasha made humming noise, digging into her bread. Suddenly, her head popped back up. “Oh, yeah! I’m taking some of my paid leave on Monday and Tuesday, just for a few days. Spend good time with the family.”

“Introducing him to the family?” Connie was relentless.

‘How surreal.’ Eren thought once more. Talking about their days. Ranting about the Military Police. Comparing ODM skills. In the end, they circled back to their days, landing on the topic of the imprisoned girl, Gabi – Sasha wondering how she was, and receiving the gloomy verdict.

“We should just drag her out of prison, and show her the people of Paradis! A proper, slightly boring, tour!” Connie suggested.

“A tour with the constant background noise of kicking and screaming.” Mikasa looked as though she already had a vivid image in her mind.

Falco glanced between them, before giving a long sigh.

“Whatever it is, I don’t think I should be involved directly. She hates me...” he lamented, eyes downcast. His fork poked at his carrot slices, spearing them with a thousand tiny holes.

“No, she doesn’t.” Mikasa interjected. Eren immediately recognised her sharp tone after years of scolding. “I wouldn’t have left the two of you alone if she would have hurt you.”

Sasha nodded, swallowing her large mouthful and looking past Connie to the boy.

“Yeah. I told Mikasa all about how she was after she shot you.”

The aforementioned girl nodded once more. Her dark eyes were bottomless pits. “The instant realisation of what just happened – of what you just lost in a matter of seconds... you don’t ever forget that. And you can’t face even the idea of it ever truly happening.”

Falco’s eyes darted around, wide. “Then... she was just... acting?”

“Yeah! C’mon, isn’t that obvious?” With a shake of the head, Connie leant back and gave the boy a firm pat on the back.

It was instant. Falco froze, eyes leaving the table, leaving the hall – before he blinked and grinned a little too wide.

“Ah – yeah. I guess so.” Words too quick, pitch too high.

“Falco.” He caught the boy’s attention, reaching him effectively, eyes meeting. With it, Eren heard his voice soften with his strained heart. “Try eating those carrots rather than stabbing them.”

“Oh. Right.” Falco smiled softly, a grateful glint to those eyes. Eren was simply happy to see them shine... even with Connie snorting again.

“Wow. You tortured those things, huh?”

Falco shrugged, still looking over at Eren. After another moment, he looked back to his place and did as suggested.

Eren felt warmth that threatened to leave a smile on his own face, though he suppressed it, as he’d grown used to doing. That accursed man refused to leave this world behind entirely, but they’d get through it.

To his side, he felt Mikasa stare him down, who looked down as he noticed.

Mikasa

“Armin, Jean.” Mikasa stepped forward, eyebrows pinched. “Did it go well?”

From Hange’s office the two young men appeared. Sharing a look, they turned to her.

“Hange managed to get the Premier’s approval.” Armin confirmed a small smile on his lips.

“And?” Jean prompted, a knowing grin pushing back his cheeks.

“...And... I’ll be in charge of the new excursion.”

Mikasa nodded - a revelation, not a shock. Hange knew just as well as herself of Armin’s genius.

“You deserve it.” She approved.

“And you made it possible, managing to contact Madam Biobaku so last minute.” The faintest blush bloomed upon Armin’s cheeks, pushed back from a growing smile.

“Now, leave it to us.” Jean asserted. “The Scout’s new branch, now officially recognised: the Ambassadors.”

“Isn’t it just so exciting?!” All three jumped to Hange’s voice.

In the doorway, they grinned widely. “If only I could go... but! I’ve got work here, and Armin, Jean; I know you two will just nail it!”

Mikasa could see Armin wishing to retract into his own skeleton. The compliments make him struggle to look them in the eye when he muttered a, “Thank you, sir.” Hange just grinned again, squeezing past them in an exited wiggle.

“Now! With that out the way, I have time for more experiments – no don’t worry Mikasa, it’s under control, go relax – experiments starting with seeing how dexterous our new Titan’s claws are! See you!”

Just like that, their superior pranced out of sight.

After a moment, Armin chuckled quietly.

“It’s nice seeing them like that again.” He mused.

“If anything could excite them, my bets would be on a Flying Titan.” Jean shook his head disbelievingly, a fond chord betraying him. “...But, yeah. I hope it lasts.”

“We’ll do our best as Ambassadors to take some of the weight of their shoulders.” Armin affirmed.

Mikasa looked between them, hand reaching for her scarf.

“...Eren, too.” She appealed. Eyebrows drawn together, her thoughts traced over the last four years. “He suffered because of all we put upon him. Yelena almost forced him too...”

“You still believe that.” Jean stated. Armin looked between them, mouth pressed in a firm line. Mikasa looked straight back at him.

“Of course I do. Eren would never choose to kill innocents, especially children. Don’t act like he’s a different person now, just because he was manipulated.”

“Have you ever known Eren to make empty threats?” Jean folded his arms over his chest, looking prematurely exhausted by the repetitive conversation. “If Eren really hasn’t changed, then... Mikasa, when he sent those letters, he intended to follow through.”

Their eyes locked together in despondent challenge. Armin, a sigh to his words, broke it.

“Jean, wondering about what could have happened won’t help anyone. All we can do is focus on helping him now. Show him that we’ll always be there for him to lean on. That could take time for him to accept fully. Maybe now things are finally changing... he’ll be hopeful again.”

It was a long shot and they all knew it. Luckily, they were scouts – that was all they ever had.

“Have you two noticed?” Mikasa spoke. When they turned to her curiously, she tried to funnel in some optimism. “With that boy, Falco... he acts so... different.”

She was sure they had. Although not openly addressed, Eren’s behaviour in the airship had been completely unexpected. Seemingly determined to save a child no one else knew well, if at all.

The only time he’d spoken at the table was to remind said boy to eat... which, Mikasa felt, was far more than it appeared. Eren had seemed gentle, more so than necessary. It wasn’t the Eren she’d known the last four years, but it felt so authentic. A new side, a new part to him she’d barely explored. Or an old one, resurfacing.

The way he talked, so calm and sturdy. It almost reminded her of Grisha, or Carla. The night she came to their home, alone and afraid – the family one as they welcomed her. The traumas that haunted her carefully stepped around, never addressed but always kept in mind.

She would be forever grateful to the Yeager family... her second family.

Eren was different around Falco. Simultaneously, he seemed more like himself than ever.

“Then, what?” Jean asked. “What reason would Eren have for that?”

“It’s a good thing. That’s all that matters.” Mikasa defended. Whatever had provoked the change, it must be deeply personal. Eren hadn’t answered her the first time – and she would not push him.

“I agree.” Armin conceded. “If Eren really has changed, we just have to get to know him all over again. He’s a friend I’m not ready to lose. Not yet.”

Falco

“Woo! Look at you go! Okay, over here...” Commander Hange happily chattered away, practically running laps around him as they studied every feather on his titan. In front of him, they’d set up various giant-sized puzzles.

Today, Captain Levi and Eren had joined them – not by any necessity Falco could notice. Which left him rather confused by the former’s presence, considering how uninterested the man appeared.

The test he currently worked on was reminiscent to a jenga game – using the claws upon his wings to remove logs delicately from a pile he’d carefully balanced as the first test.

Carefully, he poked forward two of the three claws, gripping the end of the log and slipping it out carefully. When done, he carefully rotated it to be vertical, balancing it upon the stone foundation.

“See how much control he has?” Hange grinned, grabbing a notebook and writing something, pen moving far faster than most could write (then again, their handwriting tended to be... not partially good).

“Hange, I know where you’re going with this. The answer is still no.” Hands folded over his chest, Levi gave no further explanation.

“Try it, just once! Falco doesn’t mind it at all, do you?”

Falco didn’t know what he was supposed to mind, but shook his head anyway. Though eccentric Hange may be, they never hurt him.

“I don’t care how grumpy you are, no one hates flying – everyone else has tried it, except the two of you.”

At the clarification, Falco subconsciously had his titan straighten up. He’d flown plenty of scouts around the base by now – more and more soldiers slowly giving in to trying it just that once (it was rarely just that once).

“You’re definitely fine with this?” Armin had fretted, himself and Mikasa once having the most reserves – “It’s not... demeaning, in any way?”

“No, I’m really okay.” Falco had shaken his head, “I mean, it makes the scouts more accepting of me being here, right?”

Armin had reluctantly conceded to that. When the scouts thought of him, it was no longer primarily as the enemy Warrior Candidate from Marley – rather, it was as the kid with wings.

Many still had reserves. Hange was definitely being hyperbolic with the claim everyone had flown – certain members only gave him glares and muttered under their breaths about giving the Beast Titan to an actual scout.

They were the minority now, thankfully.

Besides all of that – Falco really did love flying people around. With a relatively small effort, he witnessed the pure joy of people completing their childhood dreams. He often fantasised about being able to show Gabi, Colt and the others from the Warrior Unit a ride. To hear them whoop for joy or take in the sights as many scouts had.

So wonderful was that feeling he often forgot the many downsides of his titan. The curse of Ymir. The obligation to use it in upcoming wars. The threat of being replaced. How he’d eaten Zeke. It’d sink in eventually, he knew – and he’d already spent many nights wide-awake, dwelling upon it, when the cruel reality refused to be ignored.

‘Is it wrong,’ he wondered, ‘for me to enjoy having a titan so much, when titans lead to such devastation?’ Marley would say yes, Hange would scoff and declare it impossible not to enjoy it. He found himself agreeing with the latter more and more.

Focusing back to those present, he was more than intrigued to see Eren and Levi’s reactions.

Hange had begun helping him in what Armin pointedly did not call a saddle (even if he did in his own head), despite Levi not giving any sign of approval. Eren had only agreed after Falco gave a little nod to him.

The ‘seating’ on his back was a large net, a long stretch of fabric tied upon it, and leather straps laid over that, where ODM gear could be clipped in and sporting various hand grips. A proper saddle was being constructed – it would take time, however, with how huge it needed to be without weighing too much, minimising the constraint to movement and speed.

“So exhausting, I’m just going to stick with the net today!” Hange declared, standing upon his back. “Climb on up, you two!”

“Have you figured out his maximum speed yet?” Eren asked, clambering up from where Falco had pressed himself low as possible.

“We’ve got 90 miles per hour when going straight, so far!” Hange was all too happy to answer. “He reports that’s very tiring to maintain. And we’re still trying to measure diving... still, I’m confident we can get him to go faster with practice and better technique! ... Levi! Hurry it up!”

To Falco’s surprise, Levi did so. Shooting himself up over Eren with ODM, the man was on his back in seconds, clipped in. “You’ve built quite the expectation for the kid to live up to, Hange.”

“I was the one who asked, sir.” Eren’s voice betrayed his annoyance, shuffling to strapping himself in the typical, non-flashy way.

“Taking responsibility?” Levi chastised. “I was under the impression you were incapable of that of late.”

“... I don’t know, but I will try my hardest.”

“Levi, come now, you’ve –we all have scolded him enough!” They were far from serious, almost too jovial – but Hange’s overblown giggle had both men quieting. “Whenever you’re ready, Falco!”

The boy nodded his titan’s head.

The next half an hour was lost to the sky – the familiar sensation of wind all around – blowing in his ears, under his wings, pushing back feathers. Gliding upon it to hear the other’s conversation – flapping his wings to feel them grip tighter and fall into silence. He didn’t need eyes to the back of his head to know they enjoyed it – even as he slowed once more, they simply continued to take in the sights.

What he would give for Gabi to be up here instead of in a dreary cell... he brushed aside the thought, Eren and Mr Levi experienced this at last – he should focus on them. He did so until Hange had to return to work, ordering him to land, reluctantly so.

Steam surrounded him as he pushing himself from his titan, feeling it slump down below him as he mentally adjusted to the feeling of two legs, two hands and no wings.

“Does it feel like this for you, Eren?” he asked. “So... connected?”

Both of them jumped from the titan’s back, Falco noticing Hange trail Levi with a barrage of questions.

“It’s just like piloting a larger version of me. I see through its eyes, feel when people touch it. I’m not experienced with having wings, though.”

“It just feels like I’m flying. Not even a titan, just... me?” it unintentionally came as a question. Then, he perked back up. “You liked flying, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Eren nodded – “Hange was talking about the logistics of the seating all morning, but it barely felt necessary to me.”

“A saddle would be safer though.” Before Falco even finished the sentence, Eren’s brows had dipped.

“Saddle?” he repeated, “you call it that?”

“Uhm. Yeah?” The boy’s face scrunched up in confusion. “...Is that wrong?”

They both began to trail Hange and Levi back inside. From the side, Falco noticed the way Eren’s lips pulled back.

“Just be careful. Whatever terms you use, don’t let people think of you as less than human.”

Falco hesitantly nodded. From the young man’s slow intones as he looked beyond them, recalling something distant, he wondered aloud: “did that happen to you? I thought everyone was Eldian here...”

“It did... I was called a monster; they even debated killing me on the spot.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “The Marleyan reports were that vague?”

“Practically everything alluding to daily life or human interaction had been removed. Mr Kirstei- Mr Jean spent hours filling me in so I understood everything.” Falco grumbled. The Marleyan military wasn’t known for its subtlety. All the books Hange had given him weren’t light reading, either.

That line of thought brought something else to mind – what he’d meant to bring up but had never gotten around too.

“You didn’t tell the Commander about the memories,” he asked, voice now far quieter, “why not?”

They trudged up the slope towards one of the castles’ side entrances. Levi and Hange were lost in their own loud conversation, a good distance further. Eren stopped walking entirely at the abrupt question.

“And tell them I was supposed to destroy the entire world?” He questioned. “And that I was willing to go through with it?”

Such words should give him more fear that what he felt - no matter how long he'd had to wrap his head around it. However, the idea of Eren hurting him was to foreign for fear to take hold. And so when Eren looked down to him, even when there was something missing, Falco found his words with ease.

“But everyone knows how... difficult the situation is, right?” Falco replied. “Can’t they understand that?”

There was no change for a reply, however, as a call from Hange had them both looking the remaining distance up the slope. There, a woman with a flower on her jacket (the Garrison, Falco reminded himself) had appeared, sweat on her brow by Hange, who now held an opened scroll.

Too far away to hear them easily, Falco only saw Hange’s expression, all traces of gaiety disappeared. With another, far more concerned glance shared with Eren, they both walked the remaining distance.

“It’s your friend, Gabi.” Hange informed, the mention alone having Falco’s stomach drop. “She escaped from prison.”

Chapter Text

Gabi

In the forest, Gabi stumbled upon a path.

Eyebrows knitted together, she looked both ways – though it winded too much to see further than a ten or so meters each way.

After running all night, parched and in serious need of a moment of respite, this was all she had. A village or even a lone farm would give her some food and water. After that, she would find a way to locate and rescue Reiner. With those devils surely torturing him for information, there was no time to waste.

Stepping out from the thicket, Gabi made her decision. She could take an average civilian if they got too close. The presented path was easier on her weary feet, the dirt track offering few surprise tree roots or thicket to trudge through.

Her ears spiked to the sound of footsteps. Halting, she listened carefully.

A bark. No chatter. Steady footsteps, likely only the one person.

Through the winding path, their eyes met.

A blonde girl stared back at her, stopping dead, two dogs by her feet without leashes. The girl looked her over once, wide eyed.

"What are you doing here?" The devil asked. "Are you lost?"

Around them, the branches looked to flimsy for anything useful. Rocks under her feet, the larger ones scattered around the path, seemed to be her best bet. She'd just have to wait for her opportunity for such. The dogs could easily be kicked away.

"I don't want to say... I just ran from my home. I couldn't live there anymore." No other footsteps approached. They were alone. Gabi stepped towards the girl, slow, certain.

The blonde didn't back away. As Gabi took another few steps forward, she finally spoke. "I see. Then, would you like to come with me? We'll be having breakfast soon."

Gabi faltered. She had to repeat the devils words in her head to make sense of it as a brief temptation flickered at the idea of a filled stomach. She snuffed that out immediately. A devil would not be so kind.

"I would like that." Her stomach twisted as she forced the words from her mouth. Wondering down the path would waste time she couldn't afford. Any opportunity, she must take. For Reiner.

"Don't worry. It's not far." The girl turned sideways, waiting for Gabi to walk towards her, the devil not trusting her enough to turn fully. Gabi stalked forwards, though she would not walk in front, as the devil wanted.

When she was a few steps away, the devil turned, walking first. Gabi's steps faltered. The girl took the lead easily, not glancing over her shoulder as she re-tread her previous path. At Gabi's feet, the black and white dogs sniffed curiously, tails wagging quickly as they trailed after the two.

"My name is Kaya." Kaya finally glanced back to her.

"...Katie."

"That's a nice name."

"Thanks." With that, the conversation trailed off. After a lapse of silence, Kaya glanced back at her.

"I was wondering. What's that thing on your arm?"

"It's a religious thing." Gabi reached to grab her armband, staring her down through hooded eyes. "It's very precious to me. Don't touch it."

"Alright." No further questions came.

The silence resumed for the rest of the short trek. With the devils back turned and keeping a good distance from her, Gabi managed to shock a sizeable rock into a pocket upon her long hoodie.

Finally, the woods thinned out, revealing two log cabins and a barn, lined up along a fence surrounding a large field. Several horses grazed idly. The dogs suddenly ran ahead towards the cabin, almost shoving Kaya, who'd pre-emptively stepped out of their path.

"They'll have their breakfast too." Kaya told her. Gabi said nothing, gaze still on the horses. Sure enough, following the devil had worked in her favour.

"Wait here. I'll tell my family you're coming."

Gabi still didn't respond, letting the devil wonder off on her own. The horses didn't have saddles. She had no experience with riding them. Her only option was too wait until no prying eyes would see her. The obvious answer was as soon as the night set, Gabi would break into that barn and steal anything she'd need, and stay low until then...

No. That was not an option she was willing to take.

After all, it was still early morning. She would not reach Reiner for weeks with such cowardly methods. From behind her, a figure on the horse broke from the woods. Gabi only gave them a glance, fingers gripping upon the wooden post. What should she do? There was no way she could follow that devil inside – sit at the same table, eating their food. She wasn't like that traitor.

"Uh... hey there?" The horse had stopped before her. Gabi got a closer look at the rider – and her heart dropped.

It was her. The soldier from the rooftops.

Looking down upon her, the soldier's realisation mirrored her own.

"Sorry for the wai– Sister!" the other devil was coming. Fast, heavy footsteps Gabi didn't dare turn to.

The soldier needed to die, now. Gabi needed to leave her corpse and ride away upon her horse.

The devil dismounted from the horse. She came towards her. "Uh, look, I know you're probably not very fond of me and everything but –"

Gabi sidestepped, kicking out to her shin. The devil stumbled upon her feet, hand grabbing for girl that she easily dodged. Gabi was now behind the devil. Taking the rock from her pocket to her fist, she launched herself forward. She swung at the woman upon her elbow, making her hand flinch back as she stumbled again, Giving Gabi the clear shot to clobber her head.

From the outside, Kaya screamed.

The devil thrust all her weight backwards, crashing into her. Gabi hit the ground. Her elbow skid and skin ripped. She flailed backwards, stumbling back to her feet. Her back hit the horse.

Turning, Gabi pulled herself upwards, clambering up onto it.

"Hey, wait -! That's not a good idea!"

In the saddle, Gabi felt the horse's muscle tense under her hand. She ignored it as she tried to get her leg over the side, reaching for the cantle so that–

The horse reared up, flailing under her, stomping back down and Gabi felt herself flung upwards from its back.

Her spine slammed to the ground, pebbles like bludgeons as they dug into her. She heard herself shriek. Someone touched her. The devil! She slapped it away, once more crawling backwards.

This was not how she would die!

Her teeth grit together. Her hand grabbed at the path. Turning to glare at the devil, she threw the grit, and then again, and again as the devil covered her eyes with an arm. The other grasped at Gabi's wrist.

"Get off me!" Gabi twisted her body, ignoring its screams of protest. "Don't touch me, you devil!"

"I won't hurt you!" Like Gabi would ever believe that!

She ignored any of the devils following words, scrambling for another plan of escape, even has her other arm was grasped, and the woman hovered over to pin her kicking legs between her own. False apologies and pleas for her to calm herself had Gabi struggle fiercely, the trapping of each new limb making her frenzy escalate rapidly. She yelled, tried to bite, her heart a flurry in her chest. More devils came, surrounding her. She yelled at them, obscenities and slurs.

Why was this happening to her? These devils should be rotting in the ground, screaming in pain. They took Reiner, they took Falco, they would not take her too! She would not die here – she would not surrender!

Voices called out to her, again and again. Deceptively soft, mockingly calm. Without any further blows, without violence, Gabi's throat became sore; her chest heaving as adrenaline slowly lost its potency.

"There, jus' breathe now, slowly does'et..."

She flung her head towards the voice, seeing the middle-aged woman kneeling besides them. Who did that devil think she was talking to?! Gabi's teeth grit together. Her mouth struggled to form a reply.

"We'll need 'a check y' uver, alright? That fall must'a hurt y' plenty." Dimly, Gabi recognised the Southern- Marleyan accent.

One by one, her options were snuffed out. Each plan her brain gave was for fantastical than practical.

"Just leave me alone!" she shrilled, tossing her head around to look at her surroundings for something, anything. Nothing. She was left panting, teeth gritting, staring up at the devil woman's face. Nothing to do, nothing to do but scream. Even that was useless.

"I think things would be far worse for you if we did that..." The woman pinning her didn't look her in the eye, her face scrunched up. "Come on; let's just talk about this inside, okay?"

Talk about what? What could devils possibly want to say to her? Gabi held eye contact unflinchingly as the rage continued to burn. There must be a way to turn this situation around, there must be.

"Don't hurt yourself, let's just go slow..."

Slowly, the hands around her wrists loosened. Gabi stared.

Was this devil brain-dead, forgetting her close call with death? What was her plan here? To lure her into a false sense of security?

Gabi continued to stare up at her with each slowly ticking second. She sat up as her wrists were released, the devil she'd aimed to kill getting off her entirely. Standing to her feet, the girl looked around once more. Heart beating in her chest, her body willed her to keep on moving.

Her path back to the forest was blocked by the two adults, with Kaya to her left, the soldier in front of her and the fence behind her back.

Gabi looked back to the soldier. No – she was trying to trick her. That was obvious. Gabi forced out deeper breaths. Two could play that game.

"This must be a scare, I know, but we cannae let y' jus' wunder off alone." The man spoke, his attempt at a calming voice making Gabi want to back up – she forced herself to be still. "We dun havva do anythin' serious. But we need tu get y' inside an check yer injuries. We'll talk everythin' through."

The briefest spark of anger made it upon her face before Gabi could sooth it. Their deception made her sick – these devils were really hamming it up. What kind of family would just accept an enemy that attacked them into their home?

"I'll come inside. But don't touch me." Gabi ducked down slightly, appearing meek.

"We can see y' injuries frum a distance. We dunnae have'ta touch yer if they aren't ser bad." The lady soothed in just the same way as the man did. Perhaps they rehearsed this.

"Fine." Gabi needed to get out as fast she could.

The older devil woman tended to her injuries as promised. In the bathroom, Gabi had to show her back – which the mirror showed was now covered in deep red bruises from her fall off the horse. The woman, who introduced herself as Lisa Blouse, carefully hand her some ice stuffed in what looked to be a pillowcase. Gabi held it to her own back – despite the awkward angle. Even if it meant she had to stop holding her armband tightly to her body.

"Mom? Are you in there? I have some food for her." Gabi recognised the soldier's voice.

"Are you alright with her coming in?" Blouse asked.

"I'm not hungry." Gabi didn't look at her, even as her stomach strained. She could never eat with those devils. With that, she'd be no better than him.

"Are you sure?" Blouse asked her again.

"Yes. I just want to rest."

"Alright. Could yer promise me y'will try ter eat when yer wake up?"

Gabi nodded, still not able to turn around.

Finally, she was shown to a room. It was upstairs, yet not so high she wouldn't be able to jump down from. It was a smaller room, clearly unlived in from the basic furnishing. Gabi approached the bed slowly and laid down on her front, the ice removed after a few additional minutes of rest. Her armband was back where it was supposed to be. The bed was comfortable, thick sheets easy to sink into, bruise throbbing less with her back perfectly straight. This time, she was unable to avoid Blouse's motherly smile.

"Yer safe 'ere. I promise."

Gabi meant to give a false agreement – nothing came out. The devil smiled once more, before closing the door behind her, leaving Gabi alone.

For as much as Gabi strained her ears, no sound of a lock came. Distant chatter reached her, but she could not make out their words.

Their words began to muffle together, and she sensed no one coming closer. With the window right behind her, this could be her chance.

Yet, these devils should never just leave her alone like this. Were they so foolish? Going so quickly could alert them. Maybe she should wait another few minutes.

She shuffled slightly upon the blanket, her hands moving as they adjusted the pillow, getting rid of the lump that was ever-so-slightly noticeable. She sighed deeply.

That stupid horse. Did the devils control them too? If she wanted to ride one, she needed to have it obey her, at the least.

Could devils even bewitch animals? Those dogs seemed to like them too, and her mother always says dogs always know when someone has bad intentions...

Distantly, she nuzzled her cheek into the soft pillow. No lumps, soft.

Even the smell of wood and fresh air was far better than that of her cell. What was Reiner's cell like? He said he was fine in his letter, but she knew that he was hiding something. When she folded the letter to see the real message, it was yet more lies. Why would he go out of his way like that, unless they already knew their secret codes and he wanted to ensure their trust?

In other words, Reiner was planning to gain their trust and use it to escape. Could she do the same with the devils on this farm? She would inherit his titan and responsibilities, after all. Not him. Not that he deserved the beast titan either. He deserved to... he deserved worse.

Udo and Zofia crossed her mind. Back in Marley, they must surely be worried for her and for him. She couldn't imagine their reaction to knowing he was a traitor. It was that detached from their reality.

...What was he doing right now? Was he simply happy to lie in a cell at night? No – he was enjoying himself, she bet, happily surrounded by with conniving devils.

Udo and Zofia weren't like him. They were loyal to Marley, even if Udo tended to... no, it didn't matter.

They'd be on her side...

Knock! Gabi jolted up. Knock knock!

She was up in seconds, loose hair flying over her face. "Hah?!"

Her back reprimanded her with a sharp stinging. Head whipped to the door, then all around – what just – did she fall asleep?

The sticky feeling of drool stuck around her chin seemed to confirm that.

"Uh, uhm, Gabi? I'm sorry if you were sleeping – but it's an emergency!" the soldier's voice quivered, higher in pitch.

Swinging the door open, a quivering mess greeted her, the soldier having her own line of drool dipping from her chin. Gabi backpedalled immediately, nose scrunching.

"What the hell are –"

"Good! Okay, you need to eat, now! Holding myself back like this is torture!" The devil scampered off, back downstairs.

"Eat..." Gabi faltered, staring after her. 'How is that an emergency...?'

Looking up and down the corridor as she wiped at her mouth, Gabi blinked away her remaining exhaustion. The only sounds were from downstairs where the soldier had run off too.

Had she seriously just fallen asleep? Running all night was no excuse, that mistake could have easily gotten her killed. She huffed indignantly. Walking downstairs, a musty, smoky smell hit her as she peeked through the doorway, glaring into the kitchen where the devil woman was making that ruckus.

"Finally!" The devil heard her?! "Come on, this cannot wait!"

"What is 'this'?" Gabi's hand gripped the doorframe tighter, scowling at the devil as she picked something up and turned around, now grinning giddily.

"Meat! I caught it just now, to welcome you!" The soldier cheered. Sure enough, she carried a giant platter of sliced meat. To the side of the kitchen, butcher tools and animal skin laws lay out, obviously a fresh kill. "It's wild boar! A smaller species, sure, but tastes delicious!"

Gabi stepped forward. The smell grew stronger every second – tantalising, tempting. The girl stepped forward. Upon her face, the scowl deepened, staring her down.

"You think you deserve that, you devil?" She bit out, taking pride in the falter to the devils beaming smile.

"Eh?"

"This is a luxury, you indulgent, gluttonous devil." Memories of the internment zone were stormy rainclouds in her mind, building up to a storm. "You must atone for your sins and give yourself up to redemption if you wish for such things."

Gabi had eaten meat seven times in her life, and she remembered each. The first six times where at headquarters, a gift from Magath after a successful training exercise. The seventh was at the festival, when the interment gates had opened.

She had earned that. It was a symbolic show of how Eldians could earn back such privileges when they proved themselves to the world.

Stalking forwards, Gabi grabbed the platter, glaring back up at the devil.

"And you will never deserve it."

She tossed it upon the floor, and stomped upon it.

The effect was immediate. The devil woman shrieked, mouth agape, hands flying up to her face. Her eyes, to Gabi's irritation, did not spare the ruined meat a single glace – looking solely at her.

"You... you really believe such a thing?" she squeaked, face contorting into a something disgustingly similar to pity. "Gabi, you at least think you deserve meat, don't you?!"

"I –" Gabi involuntarily took a step back, brows furrowed. "I earn it. I know my place!"

"Your place! What does that have to do meat? We're part of the same world you know!" The woman's hands flew everywhere as she spoke, her current posture making her appear as if carrying an invisible box. And – where those tears in her eyes?

"We're humans! I hunted this meat – I gave it as a gift!" now she ducked her head entirely into her hands, voice cracking as if she really was on the verge of crying. "How could they twist your beliefs like that?! It's so sad!"

Gabi stared blankly. Part of the same world... humans... hunting... gifts... crying... the girl shook her head as she narrowed her eyes again. Whatever kind of bizarre trick this was, it wouldn't work... however it was supposed to work.

"Sasha? Are yer alright?" From the door, the man appeared, walking to his daughter's side.

"She won't even eat meat!" The soldier turned and grasped his jacket, before looking back to Gabi. "Have you ever heard summin' so sad?!"

Gabi heard the accent slip through in the soldier's upset... why did this family have a Southern-Marleyan accent anyway? Why did only she hide it? Kaya didn't seem to have it at all.

"Now come un, I'm sure sum 'a this 's still salvageable." He kneeled down, putting the meat back on the plate from where it'd fallen. "Kaya was wannin' to talk, now yer back frum huntin'. Gabi, I wus gone make dinner now, hows about yer help widdat?"

"Why? What are you even planning here?" Gabi stomped her foot again, glaring between them as both devils watched her with matching expressions. "You know I'm from Marley - a warrior candidate – who do you think your fooling?"

Instantly, Gabi knew she had slipped – so much for lowering their guard. Playing nice with these devils was impossible.

The two devils looked between each other again. The soldier seemed to sigh, giving Gabi another long glance before slipping out of the kitchen. The man turned back to her, and she glared right back.

"Gabi, I know how confusin' this is. The world is so vast, an y'seen so much more if it than I." He was weaving a story, picturing that world in his mind. "But here... here, yer not burdened by anythin' out there. Yer can rest here as long as you like."

For a moment, she stared. In the time she'd fallen asleep, they could of easily alerted nearby soldiers, or haven the residing soldier take her kicking and screaming.

'This must be how they tricked Falco,' she realised. 'He believed this.' Everything made sense - they play the long game, and corrupt you slowly.

Reiner must have been in true hell, trying not to succumb to this for five long years. And he'd succeeded, for the most part. The devils had still gotten their claws into his skin. That's why he'd agreed with Falco in Marley and doubled down in that stupid letter. Maybe, he was really not planning escape. If that was the case, it was up to her to rescue him.

"Y'don't have to eat at the same table... but I thought, y'could see me cook it, or cook sumin' un yer own. How'd that sound?"

"...Fine." She needed her strength. If he was playing the long haul, she could benefit from this. Finally, her mind and stomach agreed.

Twenty minutes later, and Gabi ate alone. The sounds of happy chatter from the large entry room, both a dining room and living space around the large fire, echoed throughout the house.

This was how she won, she told herself.

Jean

Jean stood with Armin at the back of the ship. Bellow, a large crowd of soldiers had gathered, including the scouts they knew, now waving one last goodbye, the smoke bellowing above as they began to set sail.

It was a large ship, with three sails and two funnels, originally a captured Marleyan Vessel. However, it was the only one given a new look, making it distinct with a new paint job, particularly on the funnels. Now, it had a new life, no longer a war vessel, but one bringing peace.

"It's really happening." Armin breathed. "We're leaving on a diplomatic mission."

"And look who's leading it, huh?" Jean leaned upon the railings, giving him a playful smirk.

"I'm just grateful so many were willing to assist us. People far smarter and more experienced than me."

"Just means you chose well." Jean shrugged.

Above them, the horn sounded loud and clear. They were moving.

Armin had a look of child-like wonder upon his face, watching as their comrades began to wave and cheer for their departure.

"For Paradis!"

"Good luck!"

"Show the world who we really are!"

"Eldia will stand strong!"

Jean took off his hat and waved it above his head, nudging Armin to do the same. However childish, the sight of both his comrades and those he respected (including Mikasa, Connie and Hange) cheering for them, entrusting them with something so important made his heart swell with pride.

Hand cupping his mouth, he yelled back. "You know we will!"

"Don't get cocky already, Jean!" Connie's voice stood out from the others, and though too small to see, he could picture that smirk surely upon his face.

"It's rightfully earned confidence!" He yelled back.

"We'll do our best!" Armin began yelling, almost having him jump out of his skin – the blond was just as loud! When Armin caught his eye, he only nudged him. 'That's the spirit.'

The boat left as they continued to cheer, ending with a series of cheers and whooping hollers.

Hat readjusted upon his head, Jean leaned back against the railing, a small smirk still on his face. Bastousili Isles, here they come.

Mikasa

Mikasa felt little surprise when Lady Kiyomi approached her once more. The woman had a relaxed expression. "Lady Mikasa. I wanted to discuss something with you."

"What would that be?"

"Something that I believe would benefit us both."

Mikasa looked the shorter woman in the eyes, not sure how to take that. If there really was an element of truth to her prideful stance, it was at least worth considering.

"We will leave back to Hizuru shortly. I ask that you come with us."

The instantaneous rejection of the plan was upon her lips. Mikasa restrained herself with a straightening of her back.

"... Not everyone in Hizuru is friendly to Paradis, correct?" she cautioned instead, taking the risk hesitantly.

"Every last individual? No, of course not. However, we do not discriminate Eldians by law. Our ancestors worked alongside yours, not oppressed by. And many chose to stay on the mainland with us as opposed to fleeing." Lady Kiyomi's chin pointed upwards as she spoke, words becoming more natural. "Seeing you in person... it may relight our Nation's pride. I believe The Ambassadors will be travelling there after the Bastousili Isles, so you could easily leave back home with them."

At the more in-depth explanation, her heart calmed some. It wasn't... an awful idea. The world of International Politics was still murky waters to her, but Lady Kiyomi didn't indicate to any of that. That would remain with Armin.

"...Have you mentioned any of this to the Premier, or anyone else?"

"I wanted your honest opinion first, Lady Mikasa. Not pressured by anything else."

Mikasa closed her eyes for a prolonged moment. This... this was progress. Even as the image of Eren appeared in her mind – separated once again, so soon – it wasn't one of sadness. "Don't be selfish," she heard him saying, "this is for everyone else. It's not about you."

She had a million and one obligations within the scouts. None of them stood against the importance of Paradis' future. If Hange could work around those, then...

She looked straight into Lady Kiyomi's calm eyes. "I have no objections, Lady Kiyomi."

Gabi

"Hey, what's that on your arm?"

Gabi's head whipped around, focusing on a boy, perhaps a few years younger than her.

"What does it matter to you?" She huffed.

"Wait, wait - Let's try not to be nosey, okay?" the Soldier interrupted, giving a nervous chuckle. The boy gave a long sigh, before running back outside the barn. Gabi bared her teeth in a snarl, and faced back to the horse she was supposed to groom.

The chestnut beast stomped a hoof, head shaking. Gabi pursed her lips. "It's going to attack." She stated bluntly.

"Well, you don't look relaxed yourself." The soldier hummed. She approached the horse, reaching a hand to its nose. "This girl is called Lobster; she's only two years old but has such a sweet nature, confident too!"

"Is she too young to ride?"

"Well, we're just getting started on that. Kaya was wanting to handle that, her first chance doing it herself with a younger horse. And they get along so well." The devil smiled to that, looking proud... then it dropped. "I'm surprised you wanted to work with them, after you were thrown. It could have been a lot worse."

"I'm not a coward." Gabi stepped forward and pressed the rush across her fur in a harsh line. If she could not learn how to tame these beasts, she'd have to leave on foot – and with no idea where Reiner was trapped, that could lose her a great deal of time.

"Yeah, I can believe that!" The soldier nodded earnestly, then as if remembering something, stopped abruptly. "I have to ask this, so... when you broke out of prison ... you didn't... hurt anyone, did you?"

Crack. Satisfaction flooded her. The guard had fallen for it so easily. With a single swing, he fell to the ground, unmoving.

She scrambled off the bed, leaning over him, adjusting to slam it down once more. In the corner of her eye, she spotted the book he'd lent to her. My little girl liked this, he had said. I think it'll keep you entertained.

Do you think devils would have given you all those things you asked for? Falco had asked.

The makeshift sling, heavy in her grip, now heavier.

"I cracked his jaw." Gabi stated. She brushed over the horse's fur once again. It flinched under her touch.

Footsteps approached.

"Father says to come in for breakfast!" It was the boy again, still irritatingly chipper.

"Finally! I was just wondering 'bout that." The soldier beamed. Gabi rolled her eyes, trudging after her as she hopped along. As they approached the house, she finally slowed herself down. "Hey, if you're unable to eat with us, you can take your food elsewhere again."

"I'm not unable to do anything." Gabi snapped.

All eyes were upon her as she entered. Bowls of soup were placed along the table, yet no one had begun to eat. The children watched her carefully, a brunette girl giving her a smile. Mrs Blouse handed a bowl out for her, and her hand snatched it as a viper would, before taking it into the other room.

As she ate up her food, Gabi scowled down at the deep wood. How dare that devil imply that what, she was scared? That wasn't it. She was Gabi Braun, the most talented warrior candidate.

"Could I sit here?" Gabi's head swivelled around, looking at the devil who called herself Kaya.

"No."

"Okay."

Just like that, she walked back around.

Gabi stared jaw slack.

That was not the last time Kaya approached her.

Only an hour later, as Gabi was asked to do some dusting around the houses and barn ("Dun' y'stretch too much, there's no need'a wursen y'injuries," warned Mr Blouse). Kaya walked towards her slow.

"Could I talk to you?"

"No."

Once again, Kaya walked off.

For a third time, Kaya approached and asked if they could talk.

This time, however, Gabi was seething. She had been in the middle of gathering equipment and food for when she left. In the enormous barn, she'd found a spot n the floorboards that moved, and now had stored various items from around the house such as a map and water underneath. She already had a knife lodged securely in her boot, the weapon giving her a sense of ease. All she had to do now was work out how to get those stupid horses to co-operate with her and she'd be set to search for Reiner without worrying about supplies.

With Kaya's interruption, she had had to shove the nearest stack of hay over and cover it quickly, the movement straining her bruising. With a hiss, she stomped over to the girl, meeting her halfway.

"What the hell is your problem?" Gabi growled. "Leave me alone!"

"I just wanted to tell you..." Kaya frowned. "The other kids don't know you're from Marley. They weren't allowed out of the house when big Sis had to pin you, so they only think you came from a bad home. I don't know what big sis, mother and father told you, but I just wanted to say that personally."

Gabi was already walking away, not waiting for her to finish. Did these devils ever let up on their constant manipulation tactics? It was so irritating. It was obvious everyone here knew, including the children – that's why the devils were being so needlessly nice to her.

"Won't you at least here me out?" Kaya's monotone finally gave way to a plea, and Gabi turned to see her eyebrows scrunched, raised in the centre of her face.

"Why should I?"

"There's something I wanted to show you. Information wouldn't hurt you, right?" Kaya stressed. Finally, Gabi considered it. Her eyes squinted, one corner of her mouth pulling back.

"What information?" she challenged. Kaya's shoulders instantly dropped, her face smoothing over.

"Follow me."

An overgrown path was the only guide within the thick brush. Kaya walked ahead, brushing away foliage to reveal a deserted village.

"This village used to be my home."

Gabi's eyes wondered over the scenery. Half reclaimed by nature and stripped bare for valuables, four years seemed like fifty, as if those who lived here should be as gone as the town.

Nevertheless, it was Kaya whom she followed. It was Kaya who told its story, of a titan appearing and the residents fleeing – all apart from her mother. Opening up the door, the blonde showed her into her old home.

"From right here, I sat and listened to my mom get eaten." It was empty now, no traces of blood. "She was alive the whole time it happened. Eventually, she went silent. She screamed until she lost her voice."

It was empty now. That was a fact the house, the village itself, disagreed with. Gabi was only allowed to stare forward, her eyes trained upon what Kaya's recollection allowed her to visualise.

"When big sis pinned you down, you kept calling us devils." She continued with a voice still so calm. "But I don't understand what we did for you, and everyone else outside the walls, to hate us."

Kaya turned back to her, baby blue eyes looking upon her. "Gabi, won't you tell me? What did my mom do for everyone to hate her so much?"

The question was a bullet – and Gabi's nerves electrified instantly to the abrupt absurdity. "Your kind slaughtered people for thousands of years!" Disbelief and indignation permeated her words. That was right – none of what happened here mattered, this was nothing! This devil had no right to complain for such comeuppance!

"Thousands?" Simple, clueless.

"Don't tell me you forgot it!" she exploded, mind jumping upon the answer with a practiced ease, the ease any Eldian should know. "Eldians used the Power of the Titans to trample and rule the world for a millennium!"

"They wiped out other cultures, forced them to bear their children and murdered endless droves of people!" Sharp nails dug into her palm, her teeth grinded as she stomped forward, finding those eyes again – ensuring the devil understood this: "Don't you play the victim here!"

"My mom was born and raised here," said Kaya, ludicrously unaffected. "She never did anything like that."

Frustration wound around her again, a snake constricting her lungs ever tighter. "But a century ago, the sins of your ancestors were terrible and great!"

"A century ago? Then, what have the people who are living now done?" Kaya stressed her words, making Gabi snarl.

"You refuse to repent!" Lazing about and indulging in luxuries like meat that was all these devils cared for. "You don't deserve to live on a paradise while the Eldians of the world suffer because of you!"

"Paradise? Living in constant fear of titan invasion and the world's wrath, that's supposed to be paradise?" Kaya's voice broke, gathering higher, stressed words now hurled at her. The blonde stepped towards her – face contorting into a deep grimace. "Being eaten alive, that's Paradise?"

Hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her. Gabi had nowhere else to look than her horrific expression, the agony and fear unavoidable. "Just answer me, please! Why did my mom have to suffer like that?"

"There has to be a reason! It's crazy if there's not!" Kaya's expression didn't make sense. A scared little girl, a tormented victim. It was all Gabi could focus on. She felt her throat clog up, muscles constricting further.

"Why was my mom eaten, alive? Why was she killed?" Everything she thought turned to stone was jolted apart, Kaya's haunted face shaking her shoulders. "Huh? Why?"

With a choked yelp, Gabi shoved at her.

Both girls stumbled backward. Gabi could only blink after her.

It didn't make sense. Nothing fit together. As much as Gabi willed it, Kaya's face did not change. Thoughts, reasons, she'd told them all a million times before – they didn't fit. You deserve it, you deserve it, her brain supplied, and then snuffed out. It didn't fit.

Kaya didn't look at her again.

"So you don't know." Kaya whispered. "You don't know, do you?"

"I do know." Gabi rasped.

Kaya finally looked over her shoulder, once more studying her expression. A tense moment stretched for an eternity.

"...Let's go back. It'll be dinner soon, anyway." She sighed.

"All of you are so obsessed with food." Gabi uttered.

"Big sis says it brings people together. I believe that too."

"Why are you still trying?" Gabi muttered lowly, eyebrows dipped. Though still irked, something in Gabi didn't like asking her a question like that, twisting in the back of her mind.

Kaya stopped, hand hovering over the door handle. Gabi saw her take a steadying breath. "You tried to kill big sis, multiple times. Yet Sasha wants to help you, change your mind and reunite you with your friend."

Kaya's hand traced over the door handle, lost to her thoughts.

"I don't know if I want that much. Still... if big sis forgives you, then..." finally, she looked back to Gabi, a certainty to her gaze. "I'll try my best to understand you, too."

A lump had built in Gabi's throat that she swallowed down under the intense look.

"Gabi... would you listen to how I was saved?"

Everyone was staring at her.

Gabi stared down at her plate, fork gripped tightly in her hand. Her lungs were restricted and she gulped down her nerves. She could hear the clattering of cutlery against plates, the chewing of those who'd already dug in after giving their thanks. It echoed in her brain, rebounding louder and louder.

"Its apple an' pumpkin," told Mrs Blouse, "Hope y'enjoy."

Gabi had not tasted such a combination in a pie before. Her family rarely bothered to spend so long cooking. No one particularly enjoyed it – not to justify such an expensive endeavour.

Still... it did smell nice. It wasn't smooth, but held together as she took a forkful to her mouth.

Besides her, she heard Kaya begin to dig in too.

"It's really nice," the glasses boy spoke up.

"Almost makes up for not getting meat yesterday." the other said. A thump sounded under the table. The boys glared at each other.

From beside Kaya, Sasha mumbled though her food, before swallowing and repeating herself. "No big deal! Right after dinner, I'll go catch us summin'!"

"Really, big sis? Thank you!" the boys cheered her as more pie was shoving in her mouth.

Gabi paused before her second mouthful. "...I'm coming with you."

The soldier hummed affirmatively. Then her fork clattered as she choked.

The two dogs walked ahead of them, sniffing around excitedly with tails wagging. Gabi trudged behind as they headed west, the opposite direction of the wind.

The knife Gabi continued to carry in her shoe weight heavily as the soldier wielded her weapon – a seemingly simple bow with carvings decorating the centre. She looked so different that when they'd first met, now dressed simply in deep shades of red, white and orange. For Gabi, Dressed in all black upon the rooftops made so much more sense. The girl didn't understand why.

"Why didn't you tell anyone I'm here?" Now that more than a day had passed, Gabi could not help but to ask again.

"You insist people need a reason to be nice all the time... maybe even a devil can be kind occasionally, you know?" The soldier tried a joke with a chuckle, appearing awkward and clunky.

Gabi knew that was not possible. Devils could not escape their vile nature. Maybe... maybe they could care for other devils. Regardless, what did that matter when they committed atrocities against everyone else?

"I'm not like you." Gabi muttered. "And neither... neither is Falco."

The soldier paused, now peering around at her.

"You're hunting with me, aren't you? To eat meat?" She smiles. "We're at least the same in that regard aren't we?"

No. She was only there to get information.

"I already told you. You devils don't deserve meat." Gabi turned away with a huff.

"Ah – uh, did you come to sabotage me?"

"No."

"Ah ha! So you do want to eat meat!"

"Shut up."

Sasha smiled as if she'd somehow won, turning back with victorious hum and begun to trail the dogs once more. Gabi rolled her eyes. This was who had saved Kaya from a titan?

"And we're not the same, in any way." Gabi added on, petulant.

As they trekked though the foliage, the soldier hopped over a series of rocks, then turned to watch as Gabi did the same.

"I don't think we have to be the same." She said, after a thoughtful pause. "I thought everyone within the walls was different when I was your age. And now, there's two billion and a half of us outside the walls too! All just as different."

"When they came into this forest t' hunt, I was furious. But my father... he sent me off. Sent me off to see it for myself an' then I felt like dirt, 'cus I saw how harsh life was outside our forest."

Ahead, the dogs begun to sniff around a certain area.

Sasha perked up at the sight. Stilling her movements both of them peered around, the woods now far less dense than before, yet still layered with crunching leaves.

"Could you hop back on the rock, Gabi?" Sasha whispered. "These leaves will be a problem if there's a hare about."

"Uh. Okay."

When she crouched down upon the rock, Gabi waited. She could see all around with the height and lack of shrubbery – including what the dogs had sniffed at. A little rabbit sized burrow. With another, slower, look around, Gabi spotted another by the base of a tree.

For almost ten minutes, nothing happened. When they'd first left the barn behind, the soldier told her dusk was a good time for hares to be more active. As Gabi heaved another sigh, it surely did not feel that way.

An arrow flew across her vision. Her head whipped around to Sasha, and then to the arrows destination – up top of the incline, only just within vision, a hare laid dead, arrow impaled in its neck.

An impressive shot.

Gabi snorted. That devil may not be a threat to the world with her intelligence... but that wasn't half-bad. Hopping back down the rock, the girl approached after Sasha did, watched Sasha study the kill whilst she muttered to herself. "Good, that's some tasty meat! Nice shot for field dressing!"

Blood poured from the wound. Morbidly curious, Gabi wondered how much more could come from the small animal. The dogs were going crazy, sniffing at the ground where blood had splattered, tails a blur.

"A little gruesome, I know." Sasha sighed. "But the little fella didn't suffer. He lived a good life out here in the forest until now, so don't feel bad when yer eat him. It's just' the way of our world."

Sasha's hand pressed its neck, and the other pulled the arrow out. She got back to her feet, bow slung around her shoulders.

"Humans are just animals, at the end of the day. We're a part of this gigantic world, and we fear anything that threatens our survival, our way of life." She pondered openly, before turning to face Gabi once more. There was a little smile tugging the corner of her lips, still appearing saddened. "You don't have to be proud of your ancestors... of course the Eldian Empire was a cruel thing. But something like hunting for meat and sharing it together... how can something so basic to who we are as a species be wrong? How can you deny yourself even that?"

She was wrong. Gabi knew she was wrong. When she looked at her like... that... Sasha couldn't seriously pity her, could she? At least, Gabi knew these devils truly believed their own words. Just as Kaya had forgotten their sins.

Once again, Gabi remembered that Reiner was with these devils for five years. What had seemed so insanely brave a month ago now clicked, becoming something else, something even reasonable. Could he have given in to that way of thinking? Had he really betrayed her for these devils?

No. That idea was ludicrous. He would never leave her.

Then, what? She was suddenly aware of her thumping heart, the feeling of dread knotting her stomach.

"...I want to talk to Reiner."

Sasha's lips pulled back, pursed. Eyes darting each way, she answered. "...Well, I'm sure another letter wouldn't hurt, right? We have to look them over, but I promise, no more than that!"

"Why can't I just see him?" Gabi challenged. Sasha swayed on her feel a little.

"Heh, I mean, a lot of our superiors would have to give permission for that to happen, just stupidly complicated procedures I'll never understand." Sasha made a face, shaking her head. Before Gabi found her words, the woman continued. "But I can think of someone else you could talk to, if you'd want to."

Chapter Text

Gabi

The restaurant was an extravagant place. Gabi stalled at the double doors, each twice her height, staring up at the golden chandelier above their heads, the vibrant red carpet bellow her feet making her self0consous of all the dirt she tracked in. The walls consisted of highly detailed wallpaper and a deep brown wood – every small crevice in this place seemed luxurious.

It all made her nerves fry. This wasn't right, why would they have a Marleyan prisoner at such a high-profile place?

"Hey, still with me Gabi?" Her own name had her jump, refocusing on the conversation she'd blanked out. It was Sasha, grinning back. "Don't get cold feet now!"

"Not so loud." Gabi snapped. Had she completely forgotten what'd happen if another soldier heard that name?

"She's right, big sis." Kaya nodded seriously, "soldiers frequent this place, so let's be extra careful."

Sasha beamed at the criticism. "You're really growing up Kaya! You're so smart nowadays!"

Gabi stepped after them, following them down a corridor to their left (which was just as wide as any room she'd known) and out of sight. As they did, Gabi pulled out her armband from her pocket, quickly putting it back where it belonged.

"Don't you dare say that again." Gabi took a step back, reaching to her arm.

"You don't have to take it off permanently!" Sasha hastily amended. "But there will be soldiers around that restaurant. Even when it's closed, it's in the middle of a busy street. Do you really want to risk it?"

The fabric was tough in her grip, the yellow bright as it'd always been. How could Commander Magath ever approve of her removing it without his permission? How could she show her face among devils when she removed what symbolised their separation?

"If you wear it, you'll be caught. If you don't go, you'll never meet a Marleyan here. And I don't think you want to get caught, and I think you want to meet a Marleyan – I'm giving you what you want, aren't I? What am I supposed to do?" Sasha's words spilled out quickly, half inaudible and almost entirely to herself rather than Gabi. With a hand to her forehead, Sasha bit her lip and swayed on her feet.

Gabi felt the urge to face palm. Getting a read on this particular devil was sometimes impossible. Her tactics surely involved confusing the enemy.

"I'm putting it straight back on." She asserted.

Gabi did as she'd previously promised. Tugging it up her arm, she watched it slide into place with satisfaction. She hoped the Marleyan, Mr Niccolo, would recognise it as a sign of her loyalty, and trust that she hadn't been corrupted as her former comrade had.

Ahead, Sasha stopped. A door reading 'staff only' was not even knocked upon, as Sasha strode in without hesitation, opening to reveal a giant kitchen.

"Niccolo! I'm here!"

"Sasha!" A tall chef jumped up in shock, somehow joyous despite that. His eyes sparkled, even as he saw her and Kaya. "And – uh, kids?"

Gabi stood taller, rolling her shoulders back. Her armband was surely visible from where he peered around Sasha. "Yep! Hope you don't mind that I brought guests!" Sasha emitted a blazing sense of energy, leaning closer to the chef, even when he'd been trying to look around her.

"Oh, no, not at all..." he blinked rapidly at her, not backing up. "I, uh, while you were away, I made something for you."

"You did? What meal this time?"

"Not just any meal... I, made a new recipe after uh, well I looked at what you liked in the past-"

"I like everything you make! I've never met anyone who understands food like you do!"

"Sasha..."

Gabi's face soured. Why was he giving all his attention to her – he surely noticed her armband, it was right in his face! Unease twisted in her gut as she stepped towards Kaya.

"How do they know each other?" she muttered.

"They met on the port, when the scouts were staying by the shore." Kaya whispered back, cupping her hand near her mouth. "Big sis talks about him all the time. Do you think they'll get married some day?"

"Hah?" Gabi gawked at her, leaning back. "Of course not! That could never happen."

"Why not?"

"Eldians and Marleyans don't 'get married.' That's unnatural and disgusting!" She sneered at the thought.

Once again, Kaya gave her a blank look, eyebrows only dipping slightly. Gabi had received such many times the last twenty-four hours.

"How?" Then, it was followed by an annoying vague question, as if Gabi was the one acting ignorant.

"It just is, Kaya. Don't be stupid." Gabi turned away dismissively. Ignorance held a death grip upon these island freaks, and she would not engage with it.

Around her, the kitchen was in near-perfect condition. Green tiles decorated the lower wall, more kitchen tools hung up than Gabi could count, more than half of which serving a purpose Gabi could not even hope to guess at. There was another door to her right, seemingly heading outside. A waiter was the other side of the kitchen, cleaning a giant pile of dishes.

"Right, sorry girls." Niccolo now, finally, looked back at them, Sasha turning around to face them as well, wearing an awkward grin. "It's nice to-"

Within a second, joy slipped from Niccolo's face. He looked upon her armband.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr Niccolo." Kaya said politely. Gabi nodded along, solely watching his expression.

"Sasha - is that Gabi Braun? The Warrior Candidate?" Niccolo turned from her and once more, back to Sasha. "Are you sure about this?"

"We have to try and help her, Niccolo." She responded softly, meeting his eyes.

A silence encompassed the kitchen for a long few moments. Niccolo's eyes darted between her and Sasha, before they closed with a deep sigh.

"Leave it to me, Sasha."

Sasha flung herself at him. Gabi jolted. Niccolo didn't, instead wrapping his arms around her slowly. Sasha was grinning wide, exuberant, before pulling back. "Kaya, let's sample some of those recipes he made, huh?" she skipped over to put a hand on Kaya's shoulder. "Thank you Niccolo!"

"Yeah, of course." Niccolo's eyes followed Sasha as she left. Gabi felt as if someone had dunked her head in cold water, before a burning spread up in her gut. Niccolo keeping an eye on an island devil should be a good thing, but his gaze was not cautious. "Uhm, let's sit over there, shall we?"

The back of her neck tingled.

Gabi whipped around. The waiter averted his eyes, but hers only narrowed. He had been watching them; watching them with eyes she had wanted upon Niccolo.

"Don't mind him." Niccolo said. "He doesn't like too many interruptions."

"Is he also Marleyan?"

"He is... come on, let's take a seat."

In the corner of the kitchen, a small round table waited for them. Gabi watched the waiter another second. A chef was bad enough – now those devils really dared to make a Marleyan serve them? She bet those devils took joy in such an egregious thing.

Gabi sat down slowly, glancing back at Kaya and Sasha from the corner of her eye. Good, between the dishes and a faint hum, their conversation was inaudible. The POW was noticeably stiff in his seat, also looking back. Better than looking at that Island Devil again, she supposed.

"Well..." he finally looked her in the eye. "Do you, uh, want to ask me anything about Paradis?"

Gabi steeled herself. This was her chance.

"It's okay; you don't need to pretend anymore, Mr Niccolo." She reassured. "I don't believe their lies."

Niccolo paused, some tension leaving in exchange for confusion. Within moments, something seemed to click: "I think you've misread something. Sasha... she's no liar. She's showed me so many things, she changed my life."

His words struck a pin into her hope, deflating it as he spoke. Gabi was dumbstruck. Yet again, someone who should know better had been fooled – even a Marleyan had fallen to the devil's tricks. Moreover, if Kaya's read on them had been right – this trickery was even more disgusting.

"Mr Niccolo, please think about this. You're letting that devil woman bewitch you." She leaned forward, fists upon the table. His mouth pursed, and he looked her in the eye.

"No. It's the opposite. She saved me."

Despair climbed higher in her – was everyone but her fooled? Would they somehow corrupt her eventually too? These devils had controlled the world only a hundred years ago – and she was up against them, alone. Udo Zofia, even Falco, with them everything would be so much more clear.

No. She didn't want that traitor with her. She could do it alone. She knew she could. As long as she remembered who she was, what she fought for, she would be strong.

However, with a Marleyan appearing more as a lap dog than a Marleyan soldier, what hope did her friend have? When she put the blade against his neck... did she really intend to kill him? The rage she'd felt, could it have been enough to truly hurt him? Is that why she didn't kill him when the Island devil approached?

A sick feeling twirled her gut. No. She couldn't have. The idea of it, causing Falco to die – everything felt so hot, all of a sudden. A sudden fever from her heart to her limbs to her head. She felt sick.

Movement caught her eye. Over Niccolo's shoulder, Sasha's back, a shadow of a man left the doorway. The waiter waited only a moment before slipping out after him.

Gabi took a deep breath. Whatever would happen with Falco and Reiner, she needed to put it aside. With a nod to herself, she glanced around. No one else had noticed. Sasha and Kaya were completely satisfied stuffing their faces. Niccolo had begun spewing some propaganda nonsense.

That man is Marleyan. Niccolo spoke of him poorly.

There was hope for that man. Focus.

She could not let this new opportunity slip.

"I need the bathroom." She stated, abruptly standing.

"Right... sorry. I didn't mean to talk so much. It's back out to the main entrance, then to the right, and the door will be marked as the bathroom."

"Got it," she was already standing. "I'll be back."

Her heart was thumping in her chest as she speed-walked out the kitchen. Sure enough, as she rounded the corridor, the waiter was walking up the stairs. She quickly followed him, keeping quiet until she knew Niccolo and the others wouldn't hear her.

A shiver worked up her spine, and she took a breath in. Her steps stalled, something tugging at her. The shiver was a warning, a sense of danger. In the trenches, such instincts had served her well.

She let out the held breath. Whatever was standing the hair on her neck to tingle, it had to wait. That Marleyan waiter was her only hope of finding someone sane on this island.

Her steps, however, remained slow. Walking up the stairs had her ears straining for sound, the soft red carpet aiding to soften her steps. The sound of a door slamming had her pause, before she continued. It was from her left. She reached the top, peering around the corner. Doors lined each way, and she headed left, approaching the first door cautiously.

Muffled voices reached her ears quickly. Her body tensed further, ready to flee at the slightest notice. Now, she allowed her instincts to reach her conscious thought – yes, something was wrong here.

Sasha made it clear only two Marleyans worked here. Whom, then, would the waiter talk to in such an isolated setting?

Slowly, Gabi stepped closer. "Just tell me what you're here for, devil blood." It was the first thing she made out. Bending down, she peered through the keyhole.

"I just believe it's obvious who they'll believe if I reported you as knowing fully about what was in that wine." Gabi froze; she knew that voice. From Liberio, he was on the rooftop, the Zeppelin – a scout. "Whether there is evidence, or not."

"Then get on with it. Report me."

Gabi could not believe it – he wasn't brainwashed! He mustn't be! Through the tiny keyhole, she could only see the mid-section of the Marleyan, so valiantly standing against that devil. How long had he been here? Years? Yet he had not fallen to the devil's trickery.

There was hope. There was hope.

"Don't be so hasty, Greiz. Luckily, there's an easy way for you to walk away scot-free." The devil spoke condescendingly, what was intended to be sweet words only a foul tar. "Those pigs in the Military Police still come here, don't they? Including Nile Dock. I want you to get the Queen's location from him. I don't care how you do it; drug his food if it suits you. Really, just get one piece of information to me, and you won't have to worry about a thing."

Another shiver wracked her bones – now, from anger. Finally, she had witnessed the true devil beneath their masks.

"Gabi!" She shot up, hitting her head against the handle. Sasha's voice! "Did you get lost?"

She stumbled back further from the stairs, hand grasping for the next door over. She pulled it open, slipping inside as the other slammed open. She pulled it back quickly, not locking in fear of the noise. Turning, she rapidly searched the room. Seeing no better place to hide, she ducked under a table, long sheet reaching the floor.

The doors opened to face the opposite direction of where they could see her pull it too. Had she been fast enough?

"Floch?" Sasha called. "What are you doing here?"

"Sasha..." he sounded miffed, before his tone switched back to its previous sickly tar. "Ah, there may have been a misunderstanding here."

"What? We just started talking, you know." Sasha's voice was a fresh water spring compared to the man's. Gabi listened on, forcing down her own confusion.

"The restaurant isn't open for another hour." Niccolo's voice added. Sasha kept making little sounds of approval, eager to talk again.

"We were just looking for a little girl, she and Kaya were just – uh"

"-Choosing a cake for her birthday." Niccolo filled in.

"Yes. Definitely. Serious business that we should get back to."

Gabi could not understand. What was this conversation? Did the devils have different leagues? Was this 'Floch' unable to explain with Niccolo there? Such trickery was only par for the course with devils. Then... Sasha... was she covering for her? Why? Did the other devil not know about Sasha's plan to manipulate her?

"You might want to see this first." Footsteps moved around, and a door closed.

Nothing more could be heard. It was as if their conversation was part of a book, and Gabi had yet to turn the page. Absolutely nothing. With only her own breath to listen to, Gabi slowly rose from underneath the table.

Never in her life had she been so grateful for a carpet. Stepping to the door, she pushed it open only a fraction, the side of her head pressing against it. Through the widened crack, she saw the other door had once again closed. Sasha and Niccolo were gone.

Gabi stepped out, pulling the door behind her. Back hunched, she sped walked down the hallway, staring the door down as she slipped around the corner. Her feet begun to thud down the stairs, carpet only doing so much as she got bolder with each step further.

The front door – it was right there. Did she just leave? Go back to the kitchen?

Click. Upstairs. They were coming for her. No time, and she was moving.

Back down the corridor, into the kitchen – and skidded. Only by a centimetre did she avoid collision. Kaya stepped back, not far enough, and Gabi grabbed her wrist.

"Quiet, out the back door." She hissed, dodging past Kaya. The other girl didn't move.

"What? Where's big sis?"

"Quiet." Gabi tugged once, glancing behind Kaya's shoulder. "Something's going on, just move already!"

Kaya stared at her as she always did, and Gabi glared back. Whatever the girl was searching for, she had better find it quick. The devil knew there were two girls to search for.

"We'll find help," Kaya whispered back, "for big sis."

Finally, they were leaving. Gabi nodded along, anything for her to move already. She unlocked the back door with keys hanging nearby. Opening it wide, she waited for Kaya to get outside before pulling the keys out and locking it behind them. If they were close, they'd of heard it.

"We need to move, come on."

"Look, Garrison Soldiers." Kaya was already pacing over, and Gabi felt a weight tug her feet down. What the hell was she doing right now? Those soldiers – Sasha made it explicitly clear they'd be looking for her. Her armband! Her hand whipped up, and tore.

They'd noticed Kaya, with the speed of which she was moving, of course they had. A glance and they noticed her.

"Please, help us" Kaya begged, pointing back. "In the restaurant, something bad happened with Sasha Blouse, one of the heroes of Shiganshina. Please help her!"

"Hey, hey, we will..." The soldier with a thick beard kneeled beside Kaya, now shorter than her. "Can you tell us where in the restaurant?"

Kaya looked back to her, lip trembling upon the simple call of her fake name. "Anne?"

Gabi slipped the torn remains of her armband into her pocket. She found herself talking. "Up the stairs, to the left."

The soldiers gave them instructions. Kaya and she waited in silence, hearts thumping, eyes wide and straining. In her hand, her knuckles gripped the torn armband until they turned white.

Falco

Three days.

Three days, and Gabi was still missing.

Three days, and Falco could only wait. Infuriatingly, he was not allowed to use his titan for the search, as it was outside of the Scout's domain.

The guard had been found locked in her cell, reporting Gabi swiping the key from him after bashing his head with a brick. Luckily, he was all right aside from the mild concussion and serious bruising. If she'd have hit him after knocking him out... it wouldn't have been so pretty. Falco could only be relieved to hear she hadn't had bloodlust – wherever she was, there had been no casualties linked to her aside from that. In fact, there was nothing indicating her path. Not a scrap evidence even indicating her general direction.

The scouts had been able to argue that in her favour, arguing she was acting in what she perceived as self-preservation. When asked, Falco told the truth – if she were to head anywhere, it would be to find her cousin, and attempt to break him out of prison. As such, the prisons in the surrounding area were warned to keep an eye out for the short brunette.

Knowing how much his friend must be suffering, Falco could barely focus on his training. It felt so wrong, getting three meals a day and a warm bed when she could be on the streets, struggling for each meal. Everyone around him was so kind – telling him she would know how to take care of herself. He didn't doubt that. He just also knew she may not choose to. When Gabi set her mind to something, she could make some very impulsive, risky decisions that may not play out in her favour. Knowing her, she was conducting a plan to rescue Mr Braun – at any cost. That included her own wellbeing.

'Not that I can talk about that,' Falco thought gloomily, 'I've been far too impulsive myself.'

Now wasn't the time for that, not anymore. Running off on his own to help her would just destroy any trust he'd built, especially with Hange, and there was nothing his titan could offer outside the initial search now, even if it was allowed. However, if he could prove their trust was rightfully placed in him, maybe they'd understand they could eventually trust her too.

Instead, the days continued like normal. Today, he got up, had breakfast, performed his daily titan experiments, worked through one of the books Hange had given him (one documenting the uprising that happened four years ago) and was now enjoying his lunch.

"You're really sure about this?" Asked Connie, head tilted at Mikasa. "It doesn't sound like you."

"I'm not doing it for fun," she replied, "but Hange agrees it could be beneficial. A long as I'm careful."

"It's a step forward. But going alone isn't necessary." Eren had a deep frown on his face.

A step forward was right. With Mikasa to leave, Hange had informed the Premier of his surveillance situation – to which the premier had almost shrugged them off: "I put the Beast Titan in the Scout's hands. What happens to him is your responsibility."

It was a relief, and sure enough, he'd been thrilled when Hange had trusted him enough to let that go.

The conversation carried on around him, Mikasa's reply jolting him back. "Armin and Jean will arrive shortly after for the political element. You know I'm little more than a figure head to them."

"That can change. They should respect you for you personally." Eren did not seem willing to budge on that, and Mikasa didn't push back.

"Excuse me, Connie Springer?" All heads turned to a sweaty member of the Military Police, who handed Connie a message. "It's an urgent message from Sasha Blouse."

As soon as Connie reached for it, the messenger saluted and paced off. All eyes turned to the receiver, watching him tear open the envelope. His irises scanned the page, darting around as his lips pursed.

"What the hell, Sasha?" Connie groaned, Mikasa holding her hand out to take it next. As she begun to read aloud, they all leaned forward, hearts slowly sinking as the letter illustrated a series of events Falco could barely believe.

As Mikasa finished, he was standing.

"We have to go to the Garrison headquarters, don't we?" Though he asked, he knew it was a plea – not that it was needed. The three were already standing, no hesitation.

"Connie, inform Hange of what's going on." Mikasa instructed. "We'll get the horses ready to leave."

All heads turned towards them as they walked through the Garrison Headquarters. Hange had already talked with Pixis, and he, Connie and Mikasa had been given through the giant building, until they reach a specified room upon the top floor. permission to meet with Sasha. Gabi's situation was still being discussed. A blonde woman escorted them

"Sasha!" Relief was obvious in Connie's voice, putting his hands on each shoulder. "What have you gotten into?"

"It's a lot, huh?" Sasha smiled wearily. "I'm glad to see you all."

"Do you think Gabi's okay?" He knew it was rude to ask so abruptly – yet doing else wise was impossible.

"Yeah, she's fine, promise!" Sasha waved her hands in front of her. "I wouldn't do anything to her... actually; she was more of a danger to me. I think she tried to murder me at first –"

"What?" Eren sharply intervened. Sasha's hands flailed again.

"Only the time I wrote to you about!" Sasha defended. "Not after that. She's already improved, I just know it. You guys have to help me make sure she can stay with my family."

Falco stared at her, completely taken aback. "Why do all of that...?" He mumbled, lost. Had Gabi not tried to kill her – twice?

Sasha gave a little smile. "You and Gabi are just kids. The way she talks... it makes me so sad for her. What Marleyans must have filled her head with to make her so hateful of us – of herself – I really do just want to help." Then, her smile became more humorous – "and besides, I owe you one for saving my life."

"Then, what exactly do you want to do?" Eren asked. Sasha shrugged.

"Like I said. I think she's doing well with my family. And they have no problem with her staying as long as she needs. After that... maybe it's time for her and Falco to reunite."

Chapter Text

Gabi

"You are one lucky girl, Gabi." Sasha grinned.

Gabi just swiped the letter from her hand. Luck. What a strange thing to call it.

In the passing few days, her fate was left dangling in the hands of devils – something that should make her freak out more than it admittedly had. With the laws regarding child soldiers being non-existent on Paradis, and only held in prison for holding, Sasha had happily reported Hange's success in changing Gabi's custody.

"Now, you can't run off from our property, and... you know. Don't break any laws, generally speaking. I think there were a few other things but, that's most of it." Sasha rambled, clearly having no idea what she was saying. "Also! Before I go back to headquarters, I wanted to ask. Would you... want to see Falco again?"

"Yeah." She forced the words out quick, before turning on her heel.

Sasha continued to talk on as Gabi walked away without another word, taking the letter with her to her room. A new hunch formed at whom it was from.

Julia, the brunette who kept insisting on becoming her 'best friend', wanted to stop her for a chat, who she quickly brushed past. Her cheesy jokes were never funny anyway; the only one that 'liked' them was her stuffed bear.

The bed squeaked as she sat down. Anticipation swelled as she tore the envelope open and unfolded the letter. Falco's familiar handwriting greeted her, small as usual, but significantly neater, easier to read than his ordinary.

She read quickly. It had no important information. With only three paragraphs, it seemed generic in it's comforting nature, asking to talk to her about everything in person. It sounded just a bit too formal, the sentences stiff and perfectly punctuated in a way neither of them normally did.

Gabi had expected answers, not a promise for answers. With a huff, she leaned back. The most annoying part? She knew he was right. Having a conversation like that over letters would be a pain.

A knock sounded at her door, accompanied by Kaya's voice asking to come in. Gabi's mouth parted already, ready to deny her – and then stopped. She stood up. The letter slipped into the small bedside draw, she turned back to the still closed door. No one ever opened the door without her say so. It seemed an unspoken rule in this house, for anyone's room. It was different in her home. Somehow, it made her feel grown up. Sasha said it was to be considerate of everyone's trauma and personal space.

So many things, even the details, didn't make sense about this place. They are devils. No matter how much she increasingly had to remind herself of that, she wouldn't falter.

Because if they weren't, then – no, none of those thoughts either.

Both Reiner and Falco were acting in their hometowns best interest. As long as she could believe that, she could at least try to understand their methods, even if she was yet to decide what her own would be.

Gabi quickly stomped over to Kaya, opening the door and listening to her words. They are devils. Don't think about it. Kaya's talking now, focus on her. Her brain refusing to obey, lingering on these useless thoughts – which had to be the devil's influence – so fight it!

Falco

Somehow, Sasha's plan – at least the first part – actually came to fruition.

Falco could barely comprehend what he was seeing as he rode by her and Eren to the farm. Gabi, amongst others their age, tending to horses in an open field. Not murdering. Her back was turned, facing a blonde girl who seemed to be talking.

Bringing Eren could be a huge mistake. He was still the founding titan and a large element of what had truly gone on in Liberio under her nose. Nevertheless, he knew his friend well enough to decide she'd likely want to face things head on – and being able to ask potential questions to him directly could be a good idea. If she didn't try to murder him.

"Kaya's been looking after her." Sasha hummed. "She wasn't keen on Gabi after she attacked me, but after I talked with her, and then wandered off with Gabi when I wasn't looking, her attitude seemed to change. Now she's talking more with Gabi than she tended to with the others."

"It's good she came out of her shell like that." Eren commented. "You were so worried about her before."

"I just wanted her to express herself more." Sasha frowned. "If Gabi brings that out of her somehow, I have no complaints!"

Falco nodded softly, feeling the same gratitude. Gabi actually forming a friendship with a supposed 'island devil' could only be a good thing – even managing relying on someone, not being alone.

Eventually, one boy noticed them, pointing over and gathering the other's attention – including Gabi. Her eyes were on him immediately, and only a brief moment passed before she was walking towards a gate.

Nerves already exploded inside of him at her slow approach. It looks like she'd meet them at the house already. Sasha offered to take the horses as he and Eren dismounted.

Falco nodded. "Uhm, I wanted to talk to her alone first."

"Sure," Eren said, "keep a distance this time."

He gave a hum of acknowledgement before walking towards Gabi. She was leaned on the fence, far out of earshot of anyone else. All his nerves pumped through his body.

"Do you really choose these devils over our home?" The first thing she said, and already he had to take a breath.

As he thought, Falco joined her against the fence. It was a reasonable distance away, enough for another person to fit comfortably between them. Gabi looked at him through the corner of her eye, and he slowly began, searching her face for discomfort as he did.

"No. I just didn't choose to kill them for it. They didn't deserve that."

"You put everyone in danger." She stated, her voice a deceptive calm. He couldn't tell if it was a test or just a statement.

"Yeah." Either way, he couldn't deny it.

Gabi broke the eye contact; lidded eyes gazing at the grass bellow their feet.

"Don't you have some excuse for that, at least?"

An excuse? He wasn't sure if was just that, or a reason. Either way, he'd been waiting for a chance for her to know, finally. "I met an injured soldier at the hospital." he begun. Like Gabi, he watched the way the long grass curled around his shoes. Two long shadows cast out with the fence, the length making them seem so much grander. "Without knowing he was, I delivered letters for him. When I found out he was from Paradis... it was as if everything collapsed. I wanted to put it all back together right away, and did some stupid things because of that."

"You didn't report it."

He flinched. "No... I met up with his comrades, and tried to help them. They seemed to want peace. I did too."

Both looked up at the same time, eyes meeting instantly. She didn't look mad, just... confused.

"But why?" she stressed, eyebrows dipping, "Liberio is our home. We have to protect it."

"And the people in it. Marley wants war. It'd be us on the front lines." Falco spoke slowly, trying to ensure each word was just as he wanted it. Gabi may not be convinced those here weren't devils – and he couldn't do allot for that. Nevertheless, he knew what she cared about, and that at least, he could reason with. "Gabi, you can't fight for everyone."

Now, to what she had surely dwelled upon. "I talked to Reiner only the day before the festival. Asked him if he would help. He did."

Gabi's face scrunched together. The disbelief was clear. "So they never hurt you?"

"No."

The look solidified. "Then what was with that bruising? You were clearly in a fight."

His heart pounded. Oh, that's where she was going... and he'd walked into it. Even if it was no lie, a reason to doubt his story made everything feel on the line.

"That was separate." He tried to reassure. 'Liars give too many details, right? Keep it simple.'

"Don't say it was a lamppost." She snarked. His hands waved around, leaning of the fence to face her more directly.

"No! No... someone looking for a fight jumped me. Eren defended me."

'Don't feel bad. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.' He'd still tell the truth apart from that... she couldn't know that.

"Eren Yeager? The Founding Titan?" Incredulous, her entire face opened up, mouth agape in a strange lopsided grimace. He told his brain not to think about how cute that was. Not the time.

"Yeah." He confirmed. "Didn't Reiner tell you who was in Liberio?"

"Maybe...." she glanced back over her shoulder, down to the grass in the other side. "He gave me a letter. I only glanced at it. Devils could have tampered with it."

Falco sighed. Should have seen that coming, really. For being around devils, however, she did seem relatively calm. Alternatively, her temper had yet to explode, which would set a new personal best.

"If we got another letter from him... would you read it now?"

"Maybe." Gabi admitted, looking back up at him. Somewhere along the way, that gap had been closed to a normal distance. Close enough that he could see the determination burn in her eyes. "But I won't sacrifice him."

"I know, Gabi." He nodded. He also wondered if Reiner would sacrifice himself. He'd agreed far too quickly. "I think he would like a break... from all of it."

"You're being weird again." She rolled her eyes. He couldn't even argue such a thing.

"Promise me that you'll do everything you can for Reiner." She asserted, suddenly sanding straight, posture giving the slightest height boost. "And that with the beast titan, you'll protect our home. I don't know what happened with Mr Zeke, if he was really a traitor or not. But you were too injured to have a say in that at least. So use that titan properly."

"I promise Gabi." Standing straight, he matched her passion. "Of course I do."

A moment passed like that. He could feel the girl thinking things through, her eyes darting to look aside.

"Let's start with a letter, then." She decided. A weight fell from him, and he resisted a deep sigh. He could hope for nothing better.

Gabi and he talked endlessly. With so much to be addressed, both of them recalled all they could remember, not paying attention to the time as the sun steadily rose higher in the sky. The shadows bellow that once stretched far gradually crept up to them – as they shortened, so did the distance between them. They talked, and they talked, and talked some more until finally, they had nothing more to say to each other.

"What would I even say to him?" Gabi snorted to Falco's newest suggestion, walking beside him.

"Anything." Falco shrugged. He had no plan aside from whatever she wanted to do. "Or nothing at all."

Eren and Sasha were talking with the latter's parents. They all looked over at them as they approached, varying appearances between a friendly smile and cautious posturing greeting them. Gabi stomped towards them, an air of confidence swirling around her as a sudden tornado. He hung back – already sensing the incoming impulsivity.

"Hey, Founding Titan." She crossed her arms.

"Uh. Hello."

"You will die at my hands when I inherit the Armoured Titan. I promise you an early and painful death."

Oh. Falco wanted to crawl away from his own skin from the second-hand embarrassment. "Gabi!" He fretted. "What about a question?!"

"Fine. You know you'll die by my hands, don't you demon?"

She could not be serious right now!

Sasha spluttered a laugh. "Wow, she really is a mini you, Eren." She giggled as she hit Eren's shoulder, who just stared down at Gabi blankly.

"Wouldn't you prefer to capture me?" Eren drawled. "Marley wouldn't want you to lose the founding titan."

"Hey, we just got you back! Don't go asking for it!"

Before Gabi could muster an outraged reply, Falco quickly grabbed for her shoulder. "Would you both stop making it worse?!"

"Right, sorry." Where Sasha looked genuinely apologetic, Eren barely offered a shrug.

Beside him, Gabi huffed, and tugged at his arm. "Let's go, Falco."

Eren

Eren held his hand out flat, allowing his horse, Lady, to take her awarded apple. Predictably, the messy eater got her drool everywhere.

Walking the short distance to the castle brought the world buzzing back to life. Only when returning from the peacefulness of his own home did he now realise just how noisy headquarters had become in the past month. New recruits, both soldiers and politicians, walked around the grounds hurrying from room to room, trying to keep up with the recent advancements.

Levi stood by the main entrance, a collection of new faces looking shamed as he lectured them. "You disgusting pigs shit on the ground, too? No one wants to clean up after you," so he went on. Eren almost held pity for them, but he'd come to appreciate Levi's devotion to cleanliness – and the relatively great condition of the scout headquarters wasn't something he wanted to lose. He walked onwards to collect some food, stomach demanding it.

Sasha and Connie he finds out back, Falco beside them with titan marks steaming on his cheeks, the three situated in a group of scouts lazing about in the mid-afternoon sun taking a break. Whilst eating, of course. Sasha would not allow anything otherwise.

"Just can't stay away, even on your break, huh?" Connie grinned. "Guess we're pretty great."

"Needed to get the last of my things." Eren explained, sitting beside them on the wooden bench. "I'll be moving back soon."

"Right, right." Sasha hummed. "We were just all the way in Nedlay with the Commander. Guess who got us there for that trip?"

Falco ducked his head, humming around his sandwich. Eren shook his head. "Hange was already going all over the place. At least they can get back quicker."

"Seriously, the time saved is ridiculous." Connie said. "The others must be so jealous on those slow boats."

"Boats are cool too!" Sasha frowned. "Think of all the luggage they can carry, you can keep so many stomachs filled for weeks!"

"Not if it's yours." Eren joshed. Mikasa, Armin and Jean were all in new countries by now with their respective teams – and if anything happened to them, it would take far long for him to know about it.

"Everything is changing all the time now." Connie said, almost certainly on the same wavelength. "Makes you realise how little we've done so far. Things happened but... it was all so slow, with bursts of activity. Is this what it'll be like here from now on?"

"It was quiet before?" Falco asked. "Commander Hange seems so lively."

"Well, not quiet. But nothing like this." Connie relented, vaguely gesturing towards some of the newbies. He looked at the boy with a grin: "Not everyone is as relaxed and peaceful as Sasha and I."

"It's true, our calming exterior may have lead you to false conclusions." Sasha preened exaggeratedly.

"It's troublesome to be this cool and admirable." Connie sighed, just as dramatic. "You just can't help but admire my genius."

At Falco's awkward grin, Eren chuckled. "They are being sarcastic. You don't have to remind them of reality."

He hoped. He never truly knew with Connie, ever since they'd met. Right now, however, he was only happy to embrace his friend's playful nature – something he never pictured coming to the surface again.

"Rude."

"Think you're better than us, huh Eren?"

Sasha dropped the mock offense after a moment, looking between them all with warmth in her brown eyes that had Eren staring back.

"Anyway... I do really like it." Sasha hummed. "All those new people want progress, just like us. Even if they don't have military training, they can contribute right at the forefront now."

"Just how the scouts have always been." Eren spoke his thoughts aloud; a bunch of crazy, unique people contributing their skills, opinions and ideas towards the progression of humanity.

On the day to day, however, it was extremely loud to live around. How Connie and Sasha seemed to revel in such a place had him baffled. "Are you two not moving out? Even for the weekends?"

"Nah. Too much of a hassle." Connie waved it away. Sasha nodded along.

"If I have that time, I need to head home, help my parents with Gabi where I can. She's a good girl, but she needs a nudge in the right direction occasionally."

Ah. The girl whose first words to him were a vague threat. In doing so, she had unintentionally reminded him of some memories that were pathetic in hindsight. What a strange encounter that had been. Afterwards, Falco had been stuck between enthusiastically gushing over her and frantically apologising for her actions - a curious combination to witness.

Speaking of whom, Eren turned to see the boy still chewing the last part of his lunch.

"It must be loud for you too, right?" He asked. Falco jumped a little, finishing his mouthful before answering.

"Oh, no, It's really nice how enthusiastic everyone is." He nodded to his own words. His shoulders were hunched up, and darting eyes gave away that there was something he wasn't saying. Eren let him mull it over a little with a patient gaze, knowing he'd speak when he'd decided.

It came quicker than anticipated.

"...Eren, could I... stay with you? Only if you don't mind, or have room, or... I'll definitely help with chores, and I'm somewhat all right at cooking... mum always complimented my dusting!"

Eren's eyes widened. Falco wanted to stay with him. Had he thought of asking since he'd announced he was moving home? Or just thought of it now? Moreover, why would he... no – actually, he understood. Considering what'd happened in Marley... but he'd still lied to the boy continuously; made him send those letters. Surely, that'd left some lingering trust issues Falco hadn't shown yet. Forgiving and forgetting were separate things.

"Sorry. That was presumptuous of me to say..." Falco continued to babble in the absence of a reply.

"No, Falco, that's not it. I wouldn't mind you staying with me." Eren interrupted. Hearing himself say it aloud made him realise just how true that was. He recalled all those times in Liberio when he'd hated sending Falco closer to his abuser and further from him, all those nights wondering if the boy was being abused whilst he sat doing nothing. Those thoughts that had eventually spilled out into murdering the boy's grandfather despite his efforts to suppress them... all those times had turned the idea of ensuring Falco's safety seem like an idea from fairyland, something such a cruel world would never allow.

Falco asking to stay with him stunned Eren, and yet indescribable happiness flooded him as soon he heard himself agree. He didn't know if he could look after Falco the way he deserved, but with Falco asking him he couldn't say no; instead, Eren only able to pledge to himself that he would find a way to make it work.

Falco had a huge grin plastered on his face, almost bouncing on his toes. "Really? I'll be the best houseguest you could ask for, I promise!"

Eren felt his lips turn up at the enthusiasm. "Alright. Then, you should pack anything you'd want with you."

"On it!" Falco nodded as if given an important spy mission, brows dipped and lips firmly together as he scampered off with his empty plate.

Eren sighed. When had the kid learned to tug on his heartstrings like that? Or was it just he who had changed?

A snicker brought him back. Connie and Sasha huddled together, looking at him over matching grins.

"What?"

Their grins grew. "Nothing, nothing." Sasha hummed.

"Just, man, you were acting a little different there." Connie mused, and then tilted his head back with a smirk. "Fatherhood has really changed you, man."

Dread. Enough of it for Eren to want to slam his head upon concrete.

"He has a family back in Marley, you know," Sasha tut-tutted, "that is called kidnapping."

"His family can't care for him right now." Eren's eyes narrowed. "No different than Gabi staying with your family."

"That's why you really went to Marley, isn't it?" Sasha blinked in fake wonder. "He just wanted a family all along!"

"Did kill his brother, though."

"Hmm. Bummer. Must have really wanted to be dad."

"You two are ridiculous." Eren hid the embarrassment with irritation. He quickly got up, even with his lunch half-eaten.

"Don't worry, Sasha. He's just mad we know the truth."

Know the truth. What a sledgehammer to a good mood. As the two continued to chatter, Eren's thoughts now swirled around haunted memories.

The stables disappear around the corner as Eren walked on, bag heavy upon his back. Falco left his side quickly, looking around the bustling street with curiosity. The most well off market in Trost, everything was colourful and loud, bustling with the wealthier folks the walls offered. He kept his head down under his hood, not wishing to be recognised.

A few stalls caught his attention. With food cupboards still to be filled, he takes his time to look over various foods. He'd collected the long-lasting necessities already – now, confectionaries caught his eye. For as advanced as the world outside the walls was, Eldians had not tasted even the simplest delicacies.

In the end, doughnuts were the winner, handed over in a brown paper bag. He ended up snatching a few other items along the way, giving his hands just as much as a workout as his strained back. Jam; cabbage; carrots; then a leather sketchbook, then some apples... and now he was surely being indulgent.

What did it matter? After being stuck with soldier rations, hospital meals and prison food for half a year, there was no resisting. It'd been too long since he'd cooked for himself, let alone others. He had a sizable salary for the walls anyway, and he wasn't typically a heavy spender.

The world had to cap his fun, however. Passing men recognising him had him duck away in denial and quickly abort the area. Falco, who obediently had kept an eye on him, followed quickly.

"Will it always be like that?" Falco peered up, concerned.

"No. But the first time I was seen in public again was always going to be a chore." Eren felt only resigned. Already he could not wait for the journalists at his door.

It's a ten-minute walk to his home. Falco fished out the keys from his wallet, Eren's hands full as the boy ducked inside first.

The shopping bags landed with a thump on the kitchen counter, shrugging off his backpack to the floor.

"Keep that," he said as Falco went to return the keys, "I have two other pairs."

"Okay." Falco uttered it softly, looking down at the keys in his hand with a strange expression. Eren only needed a second look to recognise it – he must have worn it himself thousand times. Falco took another second of contemplation, before he looked around again, head swivelling left and right. "Your house is really nice, Eren."

Eren shook his thoughts away. That was something to address, and soon. For now, he looked over his own home. It was a generous size for one man, with two bedrooms and one bathroom with an open plan downstairs, with the exception of the kitchen. Spacious enough for a living space and desk along with the dining table. Living on his own had been strange the past two and a half years, having been in close proximity with other cadets and comrades since he was twelve. The great jump in alone time and space had been both a blessing and a curse - not having other young teenage boys around constantly made his life far quieter and less stressful... decreased the smell of sweat and increased his hygiene, too. He cooked for himself and had to learn to be an adult. The downsides were just as noticeable however. He would miss greeting Armin as soon as he woke up, or the sluggish chorus of 'good morning' that would surround them. He would walk down with the other boys to eat breakfast with Mikasa and Sasha and spend the entire day never far from a friendly face.

A temporary return to those days had been nostalgic, but couldn't last. The familiarity of his own place had him at ease once more.

As the fire flickered to life, the small flames upon dried leaves and twigs catching onto the logs, the room lit up against the darkening sky. He could hear Falco descend the stairs, coming to his side as he fished out his plates.

"You can look around if you want; I'm going to get everything packed away."

"Uhm, alright. If you don't need help..."

"You don't know where things go, it's quicker this way." Eren brushed it off. Falco lit up, now allowed to indulge his curiosity and scampered off.

It was satisfying work, organising everything back to how he remembered it, fishing things out of previously packed boxes and making sure he'd dusted every hidden surface, checking under tables and up above cabinets.

As Falco approached again, Eren took out the sketchbook from the market place.

"Here." Eren motioned. "So you can still draw."

The boy stopped in his tracks, slowly reaching it to take it. He held it to his chest, the same look returning to his face as with the keys. Eren's stomach dropped, knowing he had been right.

This time, Falco spoke his mind. "... Why did you agree to me moving in with you? Doing so much for me..."

"What reason do I need?" Eren reached his hand to his shoulder, slow as always. Falco looked up at him, uncertain but with fortitude behind those eyes. Eren contemplated the question – and as he did, a wave of memories spilled upon him. Mikasa's letter, her reassurances, it all played out in his head. He did not protect him because he was a good kid, not because he felt guilt, not because he helped Paradis – no, that was ridiculous.

Everything was so simple, in the end.

"I chose to care about you." Eren said. "I chose to protect you. I... just wanted to."

Mikasa protected him because she wanted to. Armin stuck by his side because he wanted to. His friends fought for him because they wanted to.

That reason he'd searched for did not exist. Bonds that formed naturally, attachments growing out of control – and then, they take the reins, and decide it's worth treasuring. Growing. Just when he thought he had to close himself off – his loyalties already set in stone, Falco came along to trample all his priorities.

"I'm glad I met you." Eren thought aloud. "I don't regret that choice, not at all."

A trembling smile was his reward, the boy's eyes shining up at him.

"Me neither, Eren." Falco gesturing for a hug just as the same thought crossed Eren's mind, "With everything that happened.. I'm still amazed this is possible."

Hours breezed by quickly, going room to room, taking notes on anything they needed to buy soon that Eren hadn't initially thought about – and with his new houseguest needing his own supplies.

Connie and Sasha's work come back to haunt him when he looks around the spare room – which now has a proud new owner. What would it take to make the boy feel at home? Something material, such as buying new furniture? Or would it simply take time?

Living like this – so ordinary – every new action was a reassurance, a rush of relaxation. All of it enabled only by the promise of progress Armin and Mikasa provided – out there, working hard. Voices in the back of his head, the constant need to do something, soothed temporarily. He had time to do this, to look after a lost kid. When the scouts needed him, he'd be right there too.

Hands on his hips, Eren shook his head and backed up. He really needed to get out of his own head. It was time to serve dinner, anyway.

The fireplace lit, Eren cooked over the fireplace as Falco bobbed over his shoulder, trying to help the best he could. If Eren were truly honest, the boy's eagerness to make himself useful got in the way more than it helped, stirring things more than necessary meaning he took it off the heat too frequently. The pasta took an extra few minutes to cook properly, and for the next step of the recipe Eren just stood to the side and let Falco take over, knowing they could work this out properly another time - his enthusiasm should fade with time either way. For now, it was quite endearing.

"Okay, is it done now?" Falco asked. Eren looked over the meal – pasta in a creamy sauce covered with parmesan – and hummed, going back to the fire.

"Not quite. Forgot this?" From the hot ashes, he unburied an iron lid, hoisting it over the dish and pressing it lightly. "My mother taught me this."

The newly melted cheese looked as good as it always had. Pride swelled in him at the hungry look Falco gave it. "I see. That's really amazing."

"Yeah." Eren hummed. "She was a waitress at a tavern before I was born. The cook there taught her many neat tricks. Which she then drilled into me, whenever I bothered to listen."

In truth, it was Mikasa who reminded him of the majority – always far more helpful than himself. Wanting to prove herself to the family who took her in – just as Falco now did. His mother never pointed such behaviour out and so neither did he. Her son.

"I see." Falco spoke softly, watching Eren scoop out two portions. "She stopped working when you were born, then?"

"Yeah. Said I was twice as stressful as any job was. Which was... definitely accurate."

"That's... really hard to imagine." Falco blinked, looking off to the side in thought. Eren shook his head, a groan suppressed.

"Whatever you're trying to picture, make it ten times worse."

It seemed all he'd done today was just reflect. Reflect and reflect. Eating dinner, talking about his mother to someone who never met her, never knew anything about his childhood... it felt good. Falco learning about his mother just felt right. He felt closer to the boy. He felt closer to his mother. Understood her just that bit more.

Falco

Falco flicks page by page through the sketchbook. The paper seemed thicker than what he was used to, felt different as his fingers traced it. When he thought of what the first drawing should be, his heart swelled with the possibilities.

In his old sketchbook (a journal, technically) the first drawing was none other than Gabi Braun. That memory was embarrassing – hopefully Colt had not gone through his bedroom and found that, for it was certainly not the only drawing of her. He'd drawn Colt many times, too.

Colt... the name had him take a breath. Colt. What must he think right now? Weeks had passed already, and still no word from Marley on the future between the nations. Newspapers that had made their way across the sea were provocative and dramatic. Regardless – war seemed inevitable. Now it was just how righteous Marley would insist on seeming to the rest of the world – and how well Hange disrupted that message and broadcasted their own.

Falco looked up. This room (his room, could he think of it so?) was fitted with a desk by the window, looking out over the city of Trost. Over the city, over the wall, beyond the ocean – what had happened in his absence? What of Colt? Each day passing had him imagining his family here with him in Paradis more and more rather than returning to them.

He took a deep breath, before taking the charcoal in a loose grip, feeling its texture against his fingers.

It was Colt who would be his first sketch.

The warm light of the lamp illuminated the page under fading light, wax slowly melting as he worked. Only when a knock at the door startled him from his work did he look back.

"Eren?"

"Hey." The man entered, and slowly walked over. "Drawing already?"

"Yeah... my brother."

Eren's eyes traced the page. "I see..."

Falco nodded slowly. "Sorry. I guess it's late. I'll get some sleep now."

"Right... I mean, blow out the candle and you're good."

Falco left the sketchbook open as he stood back up.

"I think of him, all the time."

"Of course you do." Eren affirmed gently. "But that doesn't mean you have any blame in this. You were just doing what you thought was right. Not what was easy. I'm sure he would appreciate that, if he knew."

"You think so?" Falco wasn't so hopeful. "There's just so much I hid from him – how could I even begin?"

"Come on, Falco." It was a light tone. "Just look at my friends. If they can forgive me after four years... so can your bother. He's not as far as you'd think."

Falco sighed. Eren still hadn't told the whole truth to them either. And the idea of his own truth coming out...

"I don't know, Eren." The boy closed his eyes a moment, head shaking a little. "I can't even picture it – he loved our grandfather, how-" he cut himself of for a breath, "I don't know."

"It's your choice." Eren asserted. "But whatever that choice – I know you can follow through. And I'll be there, if you want me."

Eren sounded so sure. After another moment, Falco took one last deep breath in and out. Focusing.

"Okay. I can. Okay." Eren had bleeding him so much, even when his own problems were so vast. "And I'll be there for you too, Eren."

Eren exhaled a lopsided smile, eyes crinkling. "You already make my days so much brighter."

"No," Falco frowned, recognising a cop-out when he heard it. "I mean it. You're problems are so much more important, but I can try. If you ever tell your friends about your memories, or anything else."

Eren tensed. "More important? That's not true. To you – your grandfather may not threatened the world, but he threatened yours – and that is incredibly important."

Falco looked down, not knowing what to say. How did Eren always make him feel so important?

"Falco, let's make a promise." Eren stated. He peered back up, tilting his head.

"A promise?"

"Mm." Eren leaned against the wall, one hand on the edge of the desk. Despite his height, his relaxed shoulders and tilted head gave nothing but comfort. "We both have so many things we want to say. So why don't we help each other out with that?"

"You mean, saying it on the same day, or something?" Falco watched a smile curl on Eren's face in response.

"Whenever we're ready, I suppose. Though setting a date could help." He gave a sigh, words slow and methodical. "We can both agree to be as honest as we can, set boundaries where we want to. Be brave, together."

Falco paused, running it over in his mind. Slowly, he smiled - like Eren's, it was small, barely tugging at his lips, burning from his emotions, all the new possibilities in his mind. "I'd like that." he admitted, fiddling the charcoal between his fingers. It was overwhelming, another heavy weight to his tired mind, utterly nerve-wracking and sure to only become worse when the time would finally come. Eren must feel it too. Though for far different reasons, their emotions remained just as barbarically taunting.  That alone gave some strange solace. Now, they'd find a way to work through it all, no matter how long it takes. "We really should, Eren. I don't think there's even another way... that'd improve everything, I mean."

"Let's do it, then!" Eren nodded, and in his eyes, it was as if a match had been struck. When their eyes met, a wildfire exploded, and Falco felt energy heat his bones. They could do it. They would it.

A yawn pulled at his jaw. Falco blinked - almost stunned at his own body's audacity. He was revved up, determined, not tired! Unfortunately for that idea, Eren's new smirk alone told Falco knew he'd caught it.

"Message received. Goodnight then, Falco." For as much as the boy wanted to protest, his mind and body were now at an altercation. His exhaustion had caught up to him. A bed away from the constant noise of the scout's headquarters was far too tempting.

Falco hummed, slightly embarrassed, as he walked back to sit upon the bed. "Uh – night. Goodnight Eren."

"Goodnight." Eren repeated, his pinching out the flame to extinguish the remaining light source, making the room fall into almost complete darkness. Falco's eyes refused to stay open any longer, and the dull thud of footsteps and noises across the hallway accompanied him to peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Falco

The port was bustling with people and vessels, crowds surging in greater chaos than if a storm had breached the shore. The small island's capacity had long been breached; a single train line no match for the crowds. Instead, they would have to travel in wooden carriages, or even on foot. Only the elderly and equally disabled were privileged to take the train.

Giant cargo ships, Falco counted three more, appeared in the distance to meet the already brimming harbour. Upon the rooftops overlooking the chaos, he and Gabi observed it all with a handful of the scout's new recruits. Many had left the chaos behind after wishing the two of them some luck. Roaring engines, loud commanders and a wild crowd left him and Gabi mostly silent by now, voices strained from trying to make themselves heard.

A loud horn joined the party, the train marking its near departure. Despite restrictions, the train in the station had every seat taken, the majority standing crowded together before the crammed doors shut and the engine began to huff loudly with a hiss. The crowd around it complained loud enough for him to hear them, even with a large distance between them.

Six thousand Eldians immigrated to Wall Maria. Over half of his former internment zone. Falco could barely believe it. This was a giant operation, three months in planning. While Hange and Armin dealt with the negotiations to allow it, Pixis had prepared for their arrival.

Many of the newcomers will have skills needed within the walls – teachers, plumbers, builders, electricians, engineers, doctors... countless jobs the more advanced world required could now be used by the rapidly changing world within the walls. Others were simply to be given jobs on farms or factories, newly established in reclaimed land.

For such an event, even the Peace Ambassadors had come home. Looking to his left showed some of the members upon the nearby rooftop -the more established members of the scouts, including Eren, Mikasa, Connie and Sasha. Armin was below, helping to organise the newly arrived crowds, giving them vital information about how the next few days would play out before asking them to hand over their vital documents. Members of the Garrison flipped through the documents, rapidly inspecting them for approval, and checking for the expected individuals before handing them back with instructions of where they'd be heading.

Gabi raised her binoculars to the cargo ships. "See that boat coming in? I think that's the one Hange said has our families." She took a breath. "And even better? Magath permitted Colt to leave."

"What?" Falco felt faint. "Th– they're letting him leave?"

"Yeah!" she bit her lip soon after. "Still. Udo and Zofia... they're in danger, even now."

"Then we just have to make sure war won't break out," Falco said firmly. "That was something Hange said. More mingling with the outside world like this means more sympathy."

"Please. The only tourists that actually got that stupid holiday program were thrill seekers disappointed not to see actual devils."

"Yeah..." No denying that the exposure plan was a bust. Even those who were curious ended up being entitled and quick to start fights when not treated like Gods. Only approved Hizuru citizens could travel to Paradis purely for tourism now, and even that was a strain upon the economy with all the policing needed, rather than the expected boost.

Journalists were the absolute worst, however. Given the freedom to travel the island, they were free to make up bald-faced lies and spread them as fact. It drove Commander Hange mad, but they had learned restrictions on any free press could only make them look worse. Instead, they simply invited more forward-thinking papers, with everything already paid for. It was a small victory to a towering problem, but what more could they do?

Mr Armin and Mr Kirstein had been working hard across the sea. They were barely ever on Paradis anymore: nations, political parties and various organisations wanted to speak to them almost constantly. Usually, it was nothing helpful, but the occasional coin was tossed their way, which Armin could turn into a chest brimming with treasure.

Such was the case with a meeting including Falco and Gabi's former commander: Theo Magath. The man that had sent countless Eldian soldiers to their deaths had agreed to send Eldian citizens to Paradis in exchange for the return of the Armoured Titan. Gabi and he had spent countless hours wondering over why exactly he had done so – but in the end, what did it matter, when their families were finally safe? What Magath couldn't know, however, was that Hizuru had long supplied Paradis with anti-titan weaponry, able to take the Armoured within a couple of shots. The thunder spears had also been improved upon, making them even more powerful and compact than ever before.

It was torture, waiting for these final few moments to pass. Months of anticipation have led to these last minutes to countdown. Watching it crawl to a stop, watching the first few passengers leave the ship, watching them trudge down the dock.

"There!" Gabi scrambled to her feet, passing him the binoculars and pointing. "It's my family!"

"I see them!" With her red armband, Reiner's mother stood apart from the crowd. "Why is she still wearing...? Reiner..."

"I guess she just wants to. There aren't any laws in Paradis for that." He could hear Gabi's disappointment, the way she deflated on the spot. He frowned deeper.

"She can change. Maybe it'll take a while... but no one is more stubborn than you Gabi." He tried. Gabi snorted, shooting him a look of disbelief.

"Did you forget all our sleepovers? My mother? Aunt Karina?" She reminded him, and successfully so. It was no mystery where Gabi's ferocity had been inherited. If a miracle someday occurred... could they have kids with such a stubborn temper? It sounded strangely charming, even with his brain logically knowing the stress it would bring.

Realising he'd been silent too long Falco gave a quick affirmative, louder than just a usual hum. Gabi handed him the binoculars as his gaze returned to the boat, where three orderly lines of people stepped off. He wondered if Colt would still wear his yellow armband. Every Eldian arriving was still mandated to, but a sizable minority took it off as they reached the shore.

"You two weren't joking about all the brainwashing, huh..." Jonas sighed. The boy was a scout recruit, joining only a month before, but with his sweet and caring disposition had already become one Falco considered a close friend. The boy had been the only one of his friend group to join the scouts, loneliness quickly remedied as he met both himself and Linda, another recruit left isolated by choosing such a treacherous Military branch. She was an adventurous soul, often lost to her daydreams. It had been refreshing, having people only two years older as friends, as kind as Eren and his group were. He finally felt among peers rather than something between that and superiors.

That group of recruits graduating to fully established soldiers had brought a new opportunity. One of his best friends had quickly snatched up.

Falco could still barely believe that. Knowing Gabi was returning to war, and he was powerless to stop her, knowing her will should never be suppressed because of his personal feelings, left him feeling helpless. All he could hope for was that it never came to a war necessitating ground soldiers. For everyone he loved.

"I wish Udo and Zofia had been allowed to leave." Gabi had come to his side. Her volume was normal but in the bustle, only he was able to hear it. He put the binoculars down to face her.

"We'll keep pushing for it, Gabi." Falco nodded firmly. "No matter what, Marley or Paradis, nothing will make me use my titan to harm them. Even if they inherit the Armoured or Cart."

"Your titan would never be used in war. It's such a large target, and easy to take down." Gabi jabbed his arm with an elbow. Her eyes sparkled with affection and determination despite it, and he nudged her back, a warm smile on his face.

"If Mr Armin could convince General Magath to let Colt leave with my parents, I think it's possible for Udo and Zofia." Falco tried to be hopeful, already picturing their faces appearing in the binoculars view as he held them up once more.

"He went on and on and on and on about how much it cost Marley to train us though." Gabi recounted, each iteration of 'and on' getting more emphasis.

"Lovebirds getting closer, alert!"

They jumped to Linda looming over them with a smirk, matching Jonas' wiggling eyebrows.

"Jealous, Linda?" Gabi stood and turned around, putting her hands to her cheeks with an obvious smirk in her voice. "I know you must be when this cute face will never be yours!"

"Ew." Linda pulled a face, hands up in mock surrender, "yuck, Gabi." Said girl cackled, pleased with herself.

Time passed slowly, nothing but casual small talk and looking through binoculars. Two of the three lines thinned out to a stop – until only one line remained. Then, finally, he spotted them.

Colt was the first he saw– but his armband had been reverted to a grey. His parents followed them, luggage slowing their steps. The feeling of relief Falco felt was overwhelming. His heart thumped deeply in his chest, warming him with a sudden rush of heat. Worries flooded his mind just as quickly as the relief had. He forced it down, repeating to himself what he already knew.

When it came to getting them used to the island, he wouldn't anything unless they asked it directly. He'd taken a different stance than Gabi had. She seemed determined to lay it out flat with her family, but he wanted to take a more subtle approach. His parents tended to be rather reserved, so he didn't fear them lashing out or being rude as Gabi did for her family. Rather, he hoped to let them see the island for themselves and make up their minds independently.

Whatever happened, however, there was no use stalling with his family when they did choose to ask. Whatever happens concerning the truth – he needed to be with them again, more than anything else in this world.

His and Gabi's family would soon be instructed by the Garrison to separate from the crowd, where they would travel separately with the scouts to stay in the village nearby Scout Headquarters. However, until all the crowds had left, they couldn't reunite. It was simply too chaotic to risk with him holding the Beast Titan – more commonly referred to as the Flying Titan.

"Let's head down." Gabi asserted. "Nothing more for us up here."

Doing so required them to move back down through the building – neither wearing ODM, not that Gabi knew how to use it properly with only a month in the Cadets.

Falco could still barely believe that. Knowing Gabi was returning to war, and he was powerless to stop her, knowing her will should never be suppressed because of his personal feelings, left him feeling helpless. All he could hope for was that it never came to a war necessitating ground soldiers.

"Look at them all go," Linda muttered, "it's like a bee hive."

"Beehives are productive. This is..." Jonas trailed off, the chaos surrounding them speaking for itself. Soldiers frantically searched for documents, scavenging desks buried under a mountain of paper. Refugees were guided through the halls, most of which were petty criminals and traumatised soldiers – the individuals Marley considered a drain when not waiting to be turned into mindless titans by Zeke. As they went down the stairs to the second floor, Falco recognised many of the soldiers from the hospital.

On the first floor, as they passed by more bustling rooms, one individual caught Falco's eye.

Mr Patterson!

"Be right back, you guys," Falco announced, making the others stop. "There's someone I wanted to say hi to."

Gabi looked over at him, intrigued. "Someone I would know?"

"Don't think so."

"Wait, Falco – you're not allowed to be alone with anyone from Marley, remember?" Jonas worried. "With your titan and all..."

"Then don't snitch." Gabi narrowed her eyes, her folded arms making her stance definitive.

"Good with me. Get back from the toilets quickly, Falco." Linda was already turning back, with Gabi tugging Jonas along behind her. Falco gave Jonas a reassuring smile over his shoulder before he darted off.

Mr Patterson sat on the plush carpet floor along with a group of other immigrants. Falco called his name, glad the soldiers were too understaffed to monitor every single room.

Mr Patterson looked as nonchalant as always, giving him a grin. "Well, I'll be. Ain't you too much of a big shot to seek out little old me?"

"Hi, and no." Falco scratched at his cheek, looking away. "But, you decided to come to Paradis?"

"Did I have much to lose?" He chuckled.

"Only five thousand came instead of the full eleven thousand..." Falco sighed. "I'm glad you decided to, though, I promise it'll be better."

"S'pose it can't hurt to have the Flying Titan's promise." He remained upbeat, a lopsided smile on his face. "But, wow, you should have seen the internment zone when that was announced! People were acting like baboons, all over the place shouting their opinions, screaming about island devils. And those same people somehow ended up on a boat runnin' from Marley. By their own choice."

"Maybe they were scared of saying the wrong thing." Falco hummed.

"Some maybe. Or just desperation to give their family something better. The majority remained too stubborn I guess."

A loud horn sounded. Both stared towards the window at the noise, seeing a ship beginning to dock. Complaints circled at the noise, and he nodded softly to Mr Patterson. "I should get going."

"Have a good one, kid."

Heart warmed to see the man in high spirits for this new chance at life, Falco took his leave.

Eren

With the signature hiss of gas, Levi lands behind them. His face is as unimpressed as always. Hange is a ray of sunshine that bounds from just behind, waving cheerfully. Eren stands to attention, everyone following his lead to look upon his, their or her Commander hopefully. Despite Hange's greasy hair and sweaty forehead, their smile reached their eyes.

"Looks like this long day will soon be over," they're quick to reassure, "no more boats should arrive now."

"A miracle, with how long those whining bats took to hand over some pieces of paper."

Straight in front of their Commander, Sasha and Connie give a synchronised sigh, shoulders dropping and grinning at each other. Hange only chortles.

"I know it's been a long day. However exciting, it's also exhausting. Thank you all for your professionalism... right up until now." They shoot a smirk toward Connie and Sasha. "Once the individuals of note have been separated, we scouts can get back to the wall. We'll likely not make it before sundown, so prepare for that."

Altogether, they salute. Eren's hand found his heart, thudding against his black uniform.

"Eren, talk with me." As the rest of his friends depart, Mikasa sending one last glance over her shoulder, Hange approaches. Their face appears friendly - relaxed - but he sees the raise of the shoulders and the hesitation in their steps.

"Yes, sir?" He opts to stay disciplined, unease plaguing his mind.

"At ease, at ease..." Hange still appears friendly as he drops the salute. "I wanted to ask. Did you recognise anyone down there?"

"No, Ma'am." Eren's gut feeling was confirmed, and he prepared for the upcoming onslaught of questions.

"So, those feelings of familiarity with those memories of an alternate future, do you think with the people we've selected, there's any possibility?"

Eren hesitated, looking down in thought. "...I won't know until I meet them. But the future I saw, I never interacted with many more from Marley."

Hange nodded. "Tell me as soon as possible if it does, alright? Aside from the warriors, that'll be our best bet."

"Yes, sir."

As Hange leaves first, follows, slowly. As he sends his hooks into the nearby building, his eyes spot Armin and Mikasa mid-conversation. Changing anchors, he swoops down to meet them.

Armin gives a glance, gesturing to wave, but Mikasa only continues to send Armin a rather intense stare.

"Armin, don't you dare." Mikasa places a hand gently on his shoulder, and Armin looks back at her. "You are the face of our nation, and there is no one more suited to that than you – the colossal titan, capable of mass destruction more than any other Eldian, a peace ambassador."

Not needing any more context, Eren stands by her side, giving a firm nod. "If anyone can do it, it's you, Armin." Never in his life had Armin shone so bright.

The blond looked between them, sighing softly.

"I guess nothing much changes between us, even all this time later." He shook his head. "And yet six months ago, it felt like the world didn't make sense anymore."

"If you need some bullies punched in the face, I can certainly still manage it." Eren jokingly rolled his shoulders, an overconfident smile on his face, rewarded with a soft laugh from Armin.

"I'm making sure it doesn't come to that again." He smiles. "..Anyway, I'm sorry."

Both he and Mikasa give him a confused look. He gives a sad smile.

"I have to get going; Pixis want to see me there before we head off."

"Right." Mikasa nods. "Would you want me to come...?"

"No, that's okay. Jean is all the help I need. He comes up with ideas I would have never thought of. He really gets what makes people comfortable."

"Okay then, good luck." Eren knows he can't follow – he's lucky to be so close to such a crowd in the first place in his position. Mikasa echoes him, softer, and they watch their friend leave. With a blast of ODM, Armin is gone, again.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Mikasa tugged at her scarf, her eyes downcast to the concrete below their feet. His eyebrows crease, and he steps closer.

"Hey. Mikasa..." she gives him a soft glance.

"How long has it been, Eren?" she asked. "Will it always be like this?"

"If you choose it to be." He says, soft. "Don't stay because of me. He would love to have you with him."

"I can't lose what little time I have left with you, Eren." She sounds sure. He watched her softly. Though he's long stopped trying to separate from her, the guilt has not.

"Then stay with me." He says. "My home is yours too."

She paused initially. "You've helped that boy so much," Mikasa murmured. Her eyes trace his face, as in taking him in. "I'm so glad."

"Me too." There was no doubt. "And my home will be his for as long as he wants it to be, whatever happens with his family. And I will find room for you, even if I lived in an alley."

Briefly, he recalled the month after Armin's grandfather was lost. When their home truly was an alleyway, before they were sent to work in the freezing fields. To this day, he didn't know which was worse.

Back in the moment, he looked at his old friend and gave a content smile. "You will always be my family, Mikasa."

Gabi

Gabi felt the letter with her fingertips, brushing over the crease where it had been neatly folded. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she removed her hand from her pocket and grasped Falco's hand instead.

She could not tear her eyes from what was ahead. Silently, she suspected he could not either. His hand gripped hers tightly, clammy but firm.

"Gabi Braun?" They turned to a Scout Soldier, one she wasn't familiar with. "You're family has been approved. You can meet them now."

She ducked her head in a shaky imitation of a nod. Falco squeezed her hand tighter. For a moment, she squeezed back. Then, she let her grasp go limp, and as he copied her, they separated.

Once more, she chose not to look at him, instead marching forward, letting the soldier guide her over the hill, out of sight of the docks. There, on the dirt road, the bulk of the Survey Corps prepared to leave with the select few Eldian individuals taken separately from the main crowds, for a variety of reasons. She caught sight of her family immediately – being ushered into a wooden carriage.

Her father's eyes were those that met hers. In an instant, he was standing, and she was running.

"Dad!" She called. She called again, she called for her father, her mother, and her aunt until she was firmly in their grasp, her parent's grasping her tight, the way they tugged her close holding her with a desperation she'd never felt before. Her own name met her ears, repeated and repeated, and sniffling and choked sobs made it impossible.

They were ushered into the cart by soldiers, her parents keeping her wedged between them, hands on her shoulders. Aunt Karina reached out to take her hand as she entered, covering Gabi's with her own and brushing over her knuckles with a warm smile.

"Gabi... dear, how good it is to see you."

Her parents simultaneously hugged her closer to her words, and Gabi felt her cheeks strain with a smile.

"Finally..." Aunt Karina seemed the only one readily conversing, and Gabi forced her attention upon her. "Finally, someone who will tell us the truth. Gabi, darling, tell us everything these devils have been up to."

"Auntie..." The letter's presence re-established itself in her pocket, and she reached to take it out. "This is from Reiner. For you."

Gabi kept her gaze low upon Aunt Karina's outstretched hand and lap as she passed it over, listening to the paper unfold, feeling her mum tug her even closer as her father leaned over to read his nephew's fate.

Gabi leaned into her mum's side, turning her head to bury it in the thick coat she wore. When she heard her aunt mumble something lowly to her father, Gabi peered back up.

"Auntie, there are bad people here." Her mind went to Floch, the man imprisoned for treason, to all those who sneered at her as nothing more than Marley's pawn. "But... even they aren't devils. Just bad people."

"And that's not it." She continued quickly before her Aunt could give her input. "There are good people, too. People who took me in these last six months."

Sasha and Kaya came to mind, and the whole Blouse family orphanage soon appeared after. "They... they helped me. She believed in me."

"There are no devils here." She looked around, from her mum to Aunt Karina, and her dad. "Reiner knew that. I know that now."

Looking at her mum once more, she gave her the most determined glare she could pull. "There are no devils." Each word she emphasised carefully, lips pulled back as she asserted her conviction. "And before you argue, please, meet them in person. Then you can see yourself, right?"

"Gabi – this is –" Aunt Karina stared at the letter again, eyes darting over the page to read it over and over. Gabi could see the doubt on her parent's faces, and her gut knew that though they did not argue it right now, they were far from accepting.

"Meet them how Gabi?" her dad asked. Her mum glanced over her shoulder to the soldiers nearby.

"There's a Marleyan Chef that works in a restraint that knows the soldiers." Gabi begun. "He offered for us and Falco's family, along with some of the Scout's veterans to attend a large meal in celebration of today's success."

The adults looked amongst themselves. None looked sure, the suspicion and reluctance clear.

"We have to face the devils either way." Her dad began. "We're on their island now. We can't just hide away and hope they leave us alone. Besides, Karina... Reiner seems to agree."

Falco

"Colt!" he shouted, voice reverberating in his ears. His brother's eyes met his. He saw the glimmer, the instant look of shock and relief and a thousand more emotions flutter on his face. An expression that must now be mirrored on his own.

"Falco!" his mother called to him, by Colt's side. She reached out a hand for him as he approached, which quickly lead to an embrace.

"I didn't think we'd see you yet." His father said. A hand pressed upon his back. Falco jolted, head whirling to it. It was only a moment, a fleeting second - he looked into his father's eyes and everything was okay.

"Commander Hange pulled some strings. She knew how eager Gabi and I were to see our families." Falco nodded. His parents exchanged glances. He didn't elaborate; deciding his plan to be subtle would likely be the right approach with them.

"No –wait- Falco, before any of that." He looked to Colt - and everything was stomped by the look he was given. His brother stared down at him, head shaking. "Pieck – she told me what she saw.. on the rooftop. What happened to you."

Colt glanced at their parents, before taking a breath. "Falco, she said you were shot in the chest."

"What?!" His parents' heads darted to Colt immediately, alarmed. It seemed they had not been relayed such information, then looking between themselves to share a look of horror.

"No – I'm okay, see?" Falco tried to soothe, "they helped me."

Colt's eyebrows dipped down, and Falco shook his head. His brother was already thinking, and knowing him, in the right direction. It was a mystery to what Marley had informed their citizens, but he could wager it was close to nothing. Colt, however, had access to much more than the average citizen.

"Just stay calm," Falco advised next, lowering his voice to brush away the stress. "I can tell you more when everything isn't so hectic."

His parents are good people. They work hard; they provide for their children, and they care for them. They do not have the most active role in their lives – but how could they, when their children are soldiers, away from home more often than not?

The brothers watched their parents in silence, how they cautiously looked around the cottage and murmured to one another about whatever seemed the most foreign. Upon the land of devils, Colt remained close to him, and as Falco was at ease, his brother let his shoulders drop – not upon his level but trusting his stance.

It was a trust that they have built over the battlefield, over years in trenches. His comfort was all Colt needed to remain right there beside him until time permitted them further details.

This has always been there, between them. Falco had been aware of it, subconsciously, but did not understand. In the light of all that has changed, all he has realised, it is as clear as the sky above.

Revealing the truth: it's a concept that remained terrifying. Nevertheless, the concept of his brother turning his back on him is unthinkable – he could not be afraid of it, and it would not happen. Anything his mind told him otherwise is a manifestation of his brain, not the real brother he has.

When the locals came to introduce themselves, his parents panicked. Falco did what he could to calm them, but it was pointless. They would not change in a day. It will take time.

Instead, he asked Colt to walk with him. If there is any time to do it, it is now.

The forest they walked through is one he has seen from above many times. Both his and Gabi's family relocated to the closest village to scout headquarters had that upside – along with all locals already knowing him.

"You certainly don't see them as devils," Colt said. Through the trees, a beating sun cast rays upon their path. Falco takes a moment to find the right words, searching through his thoughts.

"Everything we were taught was wrong," he said, certain.

The rustle of leaves came to a stop, and Falco turned to see his brother stand still.

"But you knew that before the festival," Colt's eyes met his, "didn't you?"

His throat clogged up. His eyes darted to the floor, to the trees, and back to where they should be. Colt... didn't look mad. Eyebrows pulled close together, lips pressed.

"I did."

Colt nodded, lips pulling tighter before a sigh took tension from his shoulders, head shaking softly. "Pieck said as much. How you acted with them - it was like they knew you, somehow."

Perhaps that was why Colt had been so quiet. Aside from checking his injury hadn't been a handicap, no questions had come. He'd been lost in his thoughts, just as he had. Now, those thoughts couldn't stay hidden. Colt knew something was going on – and Falco knew he could not lie anymore. Good reason or not.

"I trusted them – or, someone in particular." They were going to talk about this. After all this time, after all those years. 'You can do this. It's not your fault. You can do this. You can tell Colt about what that man did to you. What Grandfather did to you.'

"Here. Let's sit down." Colt pointed out a fallen tree. It was relatively clean, the centre of the tree smoothed as if used for such repeatedly. Falco followed along, only now aware of how much strength had seemingly sapped from his legs.

"Remember that little park we used to go to, before the trenches?" Colt asked. "Nearby grandpa's house."

'Of course, he would mention him.' Falco gave a little nod. "Yeah. New buildings cover it up now. And trash." He replied.

"You went there?" Colt raised his eyebrows, and Falco's nerves only grew. Should he just... say it? How?

Colt spoke before he could.

"...Anyway. I just meant to say, we told each other everything. Played for hours with a single tree. This just reminded me of that, this giant forest. It's something we would have loved, huh?"

Falco nodded absently. Colt hated conflict just as he did... but the distraction didn't work as his brother intended it. The reminder only served to show Falco just how badly he needed to say this, to get it out there, finally.

'Even then, I was hiding something, Colt. Our grandfather hurt me.'

However, the words would not conjure. His lips opened. His breath stopped. Nothing. Trapped. He clamped his jaw, took a breath, and tried again. He hurt me. Through trembling lips, nothing came.

Was it impossible to say? Was he too weak? After everything – he had to say it – it was so close. 'Our Grandfather hurt me.' He had to tell Colt.

"...Falco..." Colt's voice met his barrage of thoughts, and everything paused to listen: "Whatever you're trying to say – I'll always be here for you."

"I know." It came out clipped. Of course, Falco knew, he always knew – but there when he said something so unexpected, against their family? "I know." He said it again, slower, because he had to believe it.

Once more, he clamped his jaw. He nodded to himself. Say it. Say it.

"He hurt me."

He said it. He still had so much more to say. Nevertheless, he said it.

Colt's breathing spiked. Without looking, he could hear his brother's mind whirling.

"...Grandpa, you mean?"

Falco's eyes squeezed together: "yeah."

Torment was the pause that followed. Falco shook his head again, a thousand more things to say, and no plan he'd had on how to say them mattered. So he just said it. He kept going.

"More than once. When I was six – and then I was seven, and it was all the time. Until we left, all the time." His voice was breathy, a deep grimace on his expression. His mouth just moved as his mind did over a thousand memories, jumbled, borderline frantic. "He'd get drunk at first – but then he wasn't – it didn't matter anymore – he just hurt me. And I was so scared but I couldn't tell you, he told me not to but more than that – I just couldn't, Colt." He emphasised couldn't, as if a single word could ever hope to explain all that went through his mind, as if it simplified it, made sense of everything Colt must be thinking.

Falco forced a break upon himself. Whatever Colt must be thinking – more information did not help. The boy peered up at his brother, watching each crease on his brow, each twitch of his mouth. A return to a torturous silence – but it was broken far quicker. Colt met his eyes.

"Falco, I..." Tears pricked at Colt's eyes, a deep depressive cove opening in his eyes – one that would surely remain for a long time to come. His body visibly trembled all over, and he reached out a hand slowly. "Here, come on, can I hug you? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here..."

Of course, he could. Falco shifted closer into the warm embrace and held him tightly. It was selfish – he had to ask. "You... Colt, you believe me don't you?"

"What?" Colt pulled back slightly, taken aback. "Falco, of course, I – yes, of course, I do! Just, Holy - fuck, I'm so sorry, brother."

His brother pulled him close again, and Falco gripped as hard as he could. His heart thumped; his head ached. A light, distant feeling like fog soothed over his mind, and he could pass out if he did not keep himself present.

"It's okay... it's okay... I'm okay now, Colt." Was that true? Certainly not right now, but more than ever before, he was. "It's okay..."

His brother held him close. Falco did not relent in his death grip, the tears upon Colt's cheeks still foreign from how little he'd seen it. When he'd learned about his grandfather's death, he'd cried then too. Now his memory was torn apart and spat upon. The man he'd cried for was not only dead but also revealed to have likely never existed in the first place.

A chill comes through the wind, the leaves just walked upon tumbling away as more were pulled from branches above. One sticks upon Colt's hair, which he pulled free. Falco scooted back, waiting now for Colt to speak first.

Eventually, he did. He asked when it began, if it had stopped, how bad it got – the last asked carefully. Falco answered factually, both being brutally honest and mercifully short in his answers.

"I told Eren Yeager about it." He admitted eventually. "He was a spy in the internment zone, staying in the hospital. When I broke my – when my nose was broken... grandfather did it."

Colt was visibly processing all he said, biting upon his lip, unable to sit still without shifting regularly. Falco continued as he stilled. "Eren saw it when onlookers insisted I go to the hospital, and he remembered where he lived, even though I only mentioned it once. That's when... when we killed him. He was trying to hurt me again – worse than ever before, maybe Eren could tell there was something seriously wrong but – he saved me."

"I thought that – I thought there was something wrong with..." Colt's words stumbled over each other. "Yeah, I knew something wasn't right. I just never imagined that's what... what it was."

Falco had to bite back a pang of rising guilt. Colt knew the truth now, and always would. There was no going back now.

"Does anyone else know? Aside from Eren?"

"No." Falco shook his head firmly. "No, no one else."

At least, for now. Telling a single person was unthinkable a year ago, but now two people knew. Would his parents? Others in his future... Gabi? He didn't like the thought of that now, but he no longer held such a firm line to it. Either way, he did not want his grandfather's actions to be his weight to carry alone, his dirty secret.

"I love you, little brother." Colt pressed the weight of the world upon those words, and Falco felt his heart rise upon them.

"I love you too." He whispered back. "I won't keep anything like that from you again, I promise. I don't want to."

"Okay. Okay..." Colt said that for the both of them, and Falco had never felt so light. His brother didn't hate him – no, all his nightmarish imaginations were just that.

"What comes next?" Colt said.

"I'm living with Eren right now," Falco murmured, "I don't know about after that."

"About... moving back in with us?"

Falco winced. It was something he'd been avoiding, both in his mind and aloud – but he already knew the answer.

"...I can't, Colt." He said, eventually. "I'm not even a prisoner of war, you know? Gabi and I are too young to be considered as such under Paradis' law. I'm not watched or restricted in any way. Commander Hange considers me a scout like any other."

Colt did not say anything for a brief moment.

"If that's what you want." He offered.

"I love you more than anyone else." Admitting it aloud had Colt staring at him, eyes looking twice the size he was used to. "But..."

"I get it. You feel safe with him." Colt doesn't meet his eye for much longer, looking down to the floor. "You're still my brother, but not my comrade."

"I don't want you to be a soldier anymore, Colt," Falco admitted, "I don't get why Commander Magath let you leave the warrior program, but please take this chance."

"After the festival, he was acting completely different." Colt looked into the trees on the opposite side of the path, now contemplative. "Everything that happened seemed to spook him somehow. Me, Udo, Zofia – he just wasn't the same with us, even before he let me leave. He never said it directly – but I know he was the one who allowed so many Eldians to Paradis."

"You fought for our family." Falco comforted. "Our parents are safe. Can't you make sure they learn to accept the people around them?"

Colt shifted once more, but a look of certainty was upon his face as he eventually turned back.

"I do understand, completely. Could I just ask for one thing?"

Eren

"You, uh, have any hobbies?"

Eren finished his mouthful before looking over. Colt waited, the only one present that didn't look outwardly awkward.

"Cooking is always fun for me," he replied, "but generally no. I haven't had much time for that."

"Right... guess you'd be busy, all things considered." Underneath the relaxed posture, however, Eren could see the analytic tint in his eye, observing him as forming a battle plan.

Falco's parents were far more obvious in their discomfort. Sitting next to each other, they continuously shared long, uneasy glances; shoulders hunched up and back straight.

To the side of them, along the circular table facing his brother, Falco only looked uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat and used his food and fork as a fidget toy more than something consumable.

"He's a good cook." Falco complimented, uneasy smile directed to his mother, Joanne.

"That's nice." Joanne looked just as uncomfortable.

The dining hall around them was filled with loud conversation, tables far enough apart for conversations to only be heard if one tried. The Braun family sat close by to the right, along with the Blouse's and the Kirstein's family to their left. Armin and Mikasa sat with Connie, the three talking with Niccolo who'd just come from the kitchen. Levi, Hange, and a few other scouts sat nearby the door, Levi muttering something to Hange with an irate expression.

"What about your family?" Falco's father, Andy, pulled him back with the question. Eren refocused himself – this was important, for Falco, and so important to him. However awkward.

"My mother was killed nine years ago... as was my father." Eren could not sugar coat it more than that. It just felt disrespectful to his mother.

"My condolences for your loss," Andy said solemnly. To Eren's surprise, the stiffness to his tone was not one of insincerity. His mind took the time to remind him that it was this man's father that had abused Falco for half the boy's life. All of it right under this man's nose. Likely his brother, too.

"Thanks." Eren drawled. His attention now set upon the man, "my mother protected me until her last breath. She was a good woman."

Andy regarded him with a searching gaze, holding within a deep empathy. It moved to look beyond him, the man lost in his thoughts.

"Our son has inherited the beast titan." Joanne broke the silence. "Here on Paradis, the consequences of that seem the same."

"I'm choosing not to move back in," Falco spoke up abruptly, heads turning to him. Eren relaxed, grateful for Falco deciding to address that first. "Eren – the scouts – they're not forcing me to stay elsewhere."

"I only have a few years left to live myself." Eren addressed. "I can help him as much as I can whichever way he needs."

Eren found himself staring at Falco's father once more. Falco was still just a young boy who deserved to move back in with his family and live a normal life. However, just as Hange surmised, it was not possible - both with his titan necessitating he stay in the military life and with the ignorance still permeating this family. Meeting them personally, he could feel they were good people. Caused far less distress than other immigrated families, and treated him astonishingly well circumstances considered. A good family that raised a good boy, poisoned by one individual. A poison that would take many more years to extract fully. He would try his best to reassure them that their son would be looked after to the best of his abilities if they would believe him.

"Pieck said Falco was injured before he left for the Zeppelin," Colt said. "I'm just glad you saved him."

Had Falco told him about what'd happened? Why bring it up? No – he seemed sincere. Unless... Eren looked back to the parents, to them now staring at Eren wide-eyed. Oh. Locking eyes with Colt once more, gratitude filled his heart. He hadn't needed to put him in such a positive light, but if the older brother thought that was what would make a difference then...

"I did all I could." Such self-aggrandising talk felt strange, even when true. "I'm sorry it was the only way to save his life."

Colt's unchanging smile told him, he understood. Andy and Joanne exchanged a look with each other, and then back to him.

A waiter, a young blonde woman, came to take their newly emptied plates. Eren excused himself for the bathroom.

"Ah, I was needing that as well." Andy got up along with him.

Once business was attended to, Eren set to washing his hands, avoiding eye contact as Andy left a stall behind him.

"I'm not happy with my son still being so far from us." It wasn't angry, just a simple statement. Eren peered over slowly, now even more uncomfortable that in the dining hall. "Still, we know nothing about titans or the military... but even if we did, he seems to have made up his mind. I don't think he'd appreciate me and Joanne forcing anything upon him."

"No," Eren agreed slowly, "He wouldn't. I'm surprised you're agreeing at all. Thank you."

"You're a strange lad, aren't you? But your mother taught you some stand-up manners." He stopped scrubbing the dish, turning to ensure eye contact. "I am truly sorry for such a loss. Seeing this place in person... it made me realise some things."

He resembled Falco strongly with such an expression. The genuine, open way he talked was so very reminiscent of his son. Perhaps, he was whom Falco had inherited that overly trusting nature from. Down to the kind heart and the warm smile – it was the same.

This man wasn't to blame for anything. For as sick as it made Eren such horrific abuse had gone unnoticed, how could he blame this man for trusting his father? For not looking for signs that should never have been there?

"What things didn't you understand?" he asked eventually, taking upon the same friendly tone.

"My brother... for years I never understood him. Now understand my son even less than him. Colt is more of a father to him than me, with all the years away I lost that connection I ought to have with them. And it's on me for not building it up again." Eren felt there was something not said, but the man was already moving along to dry his hands. "Say. Encourage Falco to visit his old man once in a while, won't you?"

Eren stared, hands hovering over the sink.

"Yeah. Of course."

The dining hall is far more alive than when they had left it. With the main course over and the waiter collecting empty plates, everyone had gotten up, mingling with new people. Hange had moved to talk with the Braun family, a patient smile on their face as the two women continuously jabber, armbands still worn. Colt had moved away from his family to listen to Hange, silent along with Gabi's father. Gabi herself had also switched seats along with another blonde girl – Kaya, Eren recalled – now in Colt's former chair with Falco and his mother.

Jean's parents were chatting with Sasha's family, and the 104th, his friends, had seemingly grouped up to talk separately. Unfortunately, the table they'd congregated on was the one Levi had been seated on, who sipped at his tea slowly with his typically slightly irritated look.

Leaving the mainland family's in Hange's capable hands, and giving a slight nod to Andy who rejoined his wife and son, Eren walked beside Mikasa. She gave him a small smile before her attention was back to the scene in front of them.

It seemed not everyone had finished eating. Sasha and Connie were currently stuffing their faces with pancakes. A giant pile of six was on Connie's plate, but Sasha was down to only a small heap in the corner of her plate, chewing ferociously.

"A drink, sir?" Eren turned to a waiter, serving red wine. He took it with a nod and small thanks, Mikasa doing the same. He moved on to the rest of the attendants, previous empty glasses swiftly gathered by another waiter.

"She cut a giant piece from them like a cake," Mikasa whispered to him, "It's almost frightening to see her try to eat fast, with what her usual is anyway."

"Connie should certainly know better after all these years." Eren shook his head at the man, skin unhealthily pale. Mikasa's smile twitched further.

Crumbs covered their faces, spilt over the table and onto their clothes, Sasha's hands sticky with honey as a mixture of both honey and drool dripped down her face. Levi looked borderline horrified by the scene; the most expressive Eren had seen him in months. Beside him, Jean looked just as disapproving, but the humour sparkling in his eyes gave him away.

"I thought about your offer," Mikasa murmured. "I think I want to live on my own. Armin agreed to stay with me when he's home."

"I see. Have you found a place you like?"

"I'm looking at places near headquarters. I know you like Trost with all the shopping and everything readily available, but I think I prefer the countryside."

"I think Armin would appreciate the respite." Eren's eyes drifted to the man and watched him sit next to Jean with a calm smile, not even attempting to remind Connie or Sasha that it was a bad idea.

It wasn't even thirty seconds before Sasha was taking the last bite, a new crowd of children had come over to cheer it along. A defeated Connie leaned back in his chair; not arguing as Sasha stole his plate at began scoffing it down to further delight her new audience.

A clinging against glass had their attention. Hange stood in the middle of the room, holding a glass and fork. "Once again, a great hello to all of you!" They cheered, speech referencing their first speech, greeting everyone here. Eren cocked an eyebrow, wondering what more they had to say. "I'd like to thank you all for being so accepting, but also so honest and forward this evening. This dialogue we've freely given tonight – it is what will lead to progress, not just the grand moments of triumph that we witnessed upon bringing so many new Eldians to safety here within the walls."

"I know that I myself have felt worn down by this - feeling as though there is no solution. I feared this dispute being passed down generations, that bloodshed was ultimately inevitable. And many here have that hopelessness, that desperation." Hange looked all around, eyes upon each attendant. "We cannot find a solution to the problems we face. There is no quick fix, no way to sweep away violence. Instead, we must do all we can without lowering ourselves to our ancestors' sins, without being afraid of speaking the truth. We cannot spare our children from the cruelty, but we can promise them to improve the world as much as we can before they must take over – and they must promise their children the same."

Hange lifted their glass again, holding it high. "So, I offer a toast to new beginnings – to putting our individual talents together to create a better world than the one we first faced across the sea."

Eren raised his glass, all adults doing the same. He looked around at the smiling faces, the pride in everyone's eyes. Even Levi held his cup up slightly, in the odd position he always held it. Gabi and Falco shared a smile; standing so close their shoulders grazed each other. If only the boy would confess already – Mikasa now also was giving the two a knowing look.

"To the future!"

The sun peaks through the window, intrusively turning his prized darkness to a bright red. Eren rolled over, covering his eyes with a groan.

A new day was upon him. He took a moment to take just those few last blissful deep breaths before he turned once more on his back. A grunt of effort left as he forced himself to sit up, shuffling to put his feet over the bed. He yawned, fingers linking together high above his head as his back and arms stretched. As they fell, so did his breath release.

As he sat, his ears picked up sounds from below, and he recognised the pangs and clanging to originate from the kitchen. Voices accompanied it soon after – ah, he was the last one to wake then.

With another yawn, he stood, completing his morning stretches before grabbing clothes from the wardrobe.

He was down shortly, descending the stairs to find Falco was indeed awake, looking very proud of himself as he greeted Eren with a plate of what seemed actually edible scrambled egg on toast.

"I cooked it right this time!" Falco grinned. "I already ate my half, it's not rubbery!"

Eren took the plate, grasping the fork. The frivolous urge to be overly critical and make the boy sweat for a brief moment was tempting, but he spared Falco the dramatics and took an immediate bite.

"Cooked exactly right. Well done, Falco." Eren nodded, lowering the fork again to address it with a proper smile

"You taught me how." Falco beamed up at him in response.

Sitting down, Eren enjoyed the rest of his breakfast. Falco darted back into the kitchen, already beginning to wash up. Indeed, the eggs were good, bread cooked perfectly as well. Though neither were natural cooks – far from it, they relied on that recipe book and advice as a fish did water – it was something they both enjoyed improving upon. Cooking was filled with tiny little victories for a thousand different skills and dishes.

With his plate emptied, Eren paused, looking over at Falco. The boy had already moved on to putting everything away, opening the cutlery drawer with a handful of cutlery.

Falco truly was a good kid. He constantly kept Eren on his feet with the chores so the boy didn't do more than his fair share. Even entering his teenage years, he was kind and polite to everyone, made friends easily and cared for them all deeply.

Eren knew he couldn't be a perfect guardian. Truly, aside from his mother's distant guidance and Mikasa's advice, he was helpless. If that somehow worked out, as it had so far, he could only be grateful and work hard to improve it.

In the end, however, Eren only felt a deep feeling of contented relaxation. Having Falco around was a pleasure, and when the past and daunting future came to haunt them, he was glad to be there for him.

Walking over, Eren washed up his plate and cutlery as Falco finished drying up.

"It seems we have the whole day to ourselves," Eren commented, the old water a shock to his warm hands. "Any ideas for such a rare occasion?"

Hange had declared a few days of extra rest for the majority of the scouts following the hectic weekend, and though Eren would be fine working and continuing the progress, arguing it would only have his friends concerned. Instead, he opted to fill the time at home, following his workout routine as usual. He figured Falco would probably do the same for a day or so before visiting Jonas and Linda, perhaps his family too, since Gabi wasn't available.

"I sorta just feel like going to headquarters either way," Falco confessed, making Eren raise an eyebrow. "I was just looking forward to flying today, as well as Seeing Jonas and Linda I guess."

Eren nodded, leaning back on the kitchen counter. He was glad Falco had new friends. The thirteen-year-old fit in with the scouts, and was well liked despite the odds – but having friends his age was something everyone needed. As for flying, he was aware that the boy did so far less now there was no practical reason for it other than practice or travel.

"Say," Eren began, "Let's go outside the walls. There is a lot of unmonitored air space there."

"That's allowed?" Falco asked eyebrows pinched together.

"If we asked? Probably not." Eren admitted. "But it was never specified that we shouldn't, either."

Though Falco looked down with a scrunched face, Eren knew the lack of verbal denial signified victory was already his.

"I'm going to get some water from the well and wash up a little," Eren stated casually, standing back up straight. "Should we aim to leave in two hours?"

Eren

Entering Shiganshina, Eren feels himself glance at the destruction and the crystal that still lined the entrance; a remembrance of where a boulder had once impacted the walls. Eren averted his gaze, reaching down to stroke Lady's neck lightly, fingertips upon her short fur.

"Eren?" He looks over to Falco, before following his outstretched finger. "I think that soldier wants you."

'Shit.' Eren cursed himself – of course, they'd want to know where the Founder was off to. Still, he directed Lady over him, the soldier waiting just before the walls, before the wooden bridge into Shiganshina.

"Eren!" He called. "Recognise me, kid?"

Eren scrutinised the Garrison Soldier in confusion. He was familiar, with his slicked-back dark blonde hair and noticeable beer belly. No name came to mind, however.

"Sorry. I know you, but-"

"Hugo, of course!" Hugo gave a proud grin, hands coming to rest upon his hips. "I know you were close with Hannes, but Philip and I were there too, ya know!"

Eren blinked in realisation. "You're Hannes' friend. Who got drunk with him?" The man spluttered a laugh.

"You're just as I remember you, Eren." He gave a big, toothy grin next, looking over at Falco. "And, let me guess, a new troublemaker?"

"Was Eren seriously that bad?" Falco gave him a scrutinizing look, likely recalling all Eren's stories about his childhood. Hugo somehow grinned even wider, throwing his hands up.

"Started fights weekly, constantly bossing us soldiers around, the whole package!" He indulged, before his expression shifted, readjusting his stance to a calmer one. "Wait – I'm getting off track here. I was supposed to tell you – Mrs Hannes passed away a few months ago. I could never talk to you with all the scouts always surrounding you."

Eren took the news with a deep inhale. He'd only met the woman once or twice around town, certainly nothing he could remember. He knew Hannes was grateful to his father for saving her life, the constant praise for Grisha speaking for itself for how much he treasured his wife.

"I see. How did she die?"

"Dropsy. Poor woman." Hugo shook his head. "When going through their things, they found something I thought you might want."

Turning back, Hugo turned to where he'd been seated, pulling from a saddle bag several letters.

"Fun to read for me too, but, hey, they are yours." Hugo handed them over with a nod. He still held his smile - though it had become soft with loving memories.

Eren reached out slowly, plucking it from his grasp and unable to resist, opened it immediately. Upon it, he recognised his writing. It was far less neat, amateur with spelling mistakes already bouncing off the page at him.

One of his apology letters, he recognised.

All at once, childhood memories of writing these surfaced once more. Whenever his mother caught wind of him being rude to someone, she'd make him write apology letters take them to him, them or her, and apologise in person. He had despised it, as most of the time, he still felt he was in the right.

This letter was most definitely one of those times.

'Dear Mr Hannes.

I am sorry for calling you lazy and a drunk. And for calling you a coward. That was very rude of me and I will do better. I am grateful for the soldiers keeping our town safe. It will not happen again.

From Eren Yeager.'

His younger self couldn't seem more robotic and forced if he'd tried. He could picture it, handing it over and grating out an apology while his mother stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder with a deep frown on her face.

He turned to the next letter, the writing the slightest bit more legible

'Dear Mr Hannes.

I'm sorry for the fight in the street causing you to get in trouble. And sorry for trying to hit you when you pulled me back. That was a rude thing to do and I will not use violence to solve my problems. It will not happen again. Also, thanks for sticking up for Armin. They always try to corner him in alleyways you never check, usually near Eldo Street. Please check there on your patrols.

From Eren Yeager.'

Now that seemed far more genuine. A few lines about using violence and never happening again were phrases he recalled using to satisfy his mother when she looked the letter over. Nevertheless, he could tell the rest was genuine, mostly because his younger self distinctly did not apologise for stating the fight itself.

...Hannes had kept both of them. He'd kept all of them. He counted eight letters in total. Was that how many he'd given him?

He had truly been a little shit. Causing trouble for everyone – and only recently, he'd done so even worse, disappearing on his family. Had he ever truly grown up? Was he any better than the brat who ignored his mother and picked fights?

All he could get out was a slight nod. "Thanks, Hugo."

Shaking hands guided the letters into his horse's saddlebag, and he climbed up quickly. "Let's take a detour."

"This was where my home was." He narrated from his horse. Falco stopped his horse, stopping beside him.

The very place, the very street. Where his home had once stood, an entirely new house had been built. It made sense. There was no point in rebuilding what amounted to a pile of rubble exposed to the elements for five years.

The architecture was almost entirely the same; except with a few modernised elements, the plumbing and drainage an entirely different system.

Everything he and Mikasa hadn't taken almost five years ago was gone. When it had seemed a lifetime to get back, another had passed, in which he never chose to return. So consumed with everything else, he never paid attention to what become of Shiganshina's rebuilding plans.

"...Eren, look." He turned his head, looking up as Falco pointed up the street. A titan had come around that street. From the breach. Dina.

Now, two young children appeared. A boy and a girl stood frozen, mouths agape. Staring at him.

The girl moved first, turning to tug at the boy's sleeve. "Harris, is that Eren Yeager?"

"I dunno. Mummy said he used to live here."

"Oh!... Is that bad?" She asked, looking between her brother and Eren. The boy only stared forward.

"I dunno."

Eren gave a small sigh, ejecting himself from his head. Dismounting his horse once more, he walked over to the young kids. "Come on, Falco. Let's introduce ourselves."

From where the young boy had given him respectful distance, he saw the relief in his eyes. Falco nodded quickly, hopping off as well and walking after him.

"Yeah, I'm Eren." He crouched down to eye-level, giving them the warmed smile he could. "It's good to see this old place still has so much life."

Both kids grew enormous smiles, looking at each other.

"Is he someone cool too?" The girl questioned. Eren turned his head, facing where her finer pointed.

"Of course. He's my family." For a moment, Falco faltered, almost stepping back as his lip trembled. It lasted only a second, the boy taking Eren's head gesture to speak. Falco moved forward.

"Uh, hi. I'm Falco..." as Eren continued to give him the look, he continued, "I'm the beast titan. The one that flies?"

Immediately, their eyes light up. "Whoa! We see that flying over all the time!"

"Well, I do need to get the scouts to the harbour quite often," Falco explained, visibly relaxing, though his cheeks heated at the admiration. "It's a long trip on horseback."

"I've never ridden a horse." The boy stated. Compared to his sister, he seemed far more reserved.

"I hadn't either. It's not so hard, once the horse trusts you." Falco said, peering at the horses that had trotted up behind them. Eren shook his head.

"I think they've had enough of a break. Let's get back on the road. Goodbye, you two."

"Aw, come on, I wanna fly on his titan!"

"You barely spoke to us."

Eren pursed his lips. "Sorry, you two. It's not very safe for people your size."

A new series of complaints met that as Eren already climbed back onto Lady, Falco doing the same after apologising to the younger children.

They waved the kids goodbye swiftly, waiting for them to walk a good distance from the horses before starting off once again.

As they did, Eren found himself watching the sky up above. Only a few wisps of cloud intruded upon the bright blue sky. He breathed in the crisp air slowly. What did any of his worries matter? Shiganshina was alive, teaming with new life. He'd reclaimed his home. Outside the walls was another story – but for here, he could be confident there would be new brats causing new troubles for new soldiers, and the veterans already too used to annoying children.

"Eren?" He looked back down, turning to Falco. The boy looked pensive, shoulders the slightest bit hunched as he chewed upon his lip. "Did you really mean that?"

The realisation was instant. With it, a thousand new memories – just like Shiganshina, he was alive with a new beginning.

He only had so many years left to live – even if Hange and Armin maintained they'd find a way to stop the curse before then. If it was all he had, it was not enough to guarantee his family's safety – but enough to watch them grow. His final years, likely surrounded by more mature, ready individuals, prepared for a battle that would outlive them. Falco would be among them, sixteen years old, and surely just as special as he was today. His boy is ready to grow up.

In an instant – he saw his mother – and it was in his own heart. All she wanted for him the day he lost her – to survive, to grow old – it was all he wanted for his boy.

"Of course you are." He finally replied. Falco was his family. Hoping to squeeze as much conviction and emotion into those two words as he could, looking the boy in the eye. Falco looked back, hazels now with a glossy sheen.

"I love you, Eren." His words trembled – just as Eren did at those words.

"I love you too." He felt his cheeks become wet, the tremble of his jaw give away that just like the boy, tears had begun to fall.

Eren let them.

His hand stretched out, clutching Falco's, gripping it tightly between their horses. He could not protect his boy forever. He could not protect his family. Eren let that happen.

They would protect each other. Just as they always had.

Falco

Outside the walls is a world untainted by human intervention. As far as he can see, both on horseback and in the sky, it is nothing but the natural beauty of the world. Though without his titan body, he felt as light as air, the peace he felt as he breathed enough to feel himself lift higher.

The fifty-meter high walls have long vanished from sight, and he dismounted from his steed in the clearing, the stallion calmly leaning into his palm for the affection. To the sound of Eren dismounting, his stallion turned to the river, trotting to the edge of the giant clearing and lowering his majestic head to the water. Lady soon joined him, eagerly enjoying the refreshment.

Eren walked to his side slowly. A hand reached his shoulder, and Falco quickly pulled him into a hug, having promised himself to do so as soon as they dismounted. It's as warm and comforting as he'd grown to love, gentle yet strong.

When he pulled pack, he now could notice the red around Eren's eyes, whose cheeks were surely just as uncomfortably sticky as his own. However, there is new mirth to them as Eren stands up straight, stretching his arms above his head before leaning down to stretch his hamstrings. Falco follows suit, trying to release the aching from staying on a saddle for multiple hours.

"Those were apology letters, by the way," Eren said suddenly. Falco perked up, attention immediately summoned.

"For Mr Hannes? Why?"

"My mother," Eren confirmed his prior assumption. "Whenever I offended someone, she made me hand-write a meaningful apology."

"Everyone always talks about how impulsive and bratty you were." Falco mused. "I thought they were lying, but that was quite a few letters."

"I'll make you write an apology letter for that. Be careful." Eren wore a big grin, and Falco chuckled in response.

"Can I read yours for inspiration?" his curiously won out, and Eren only smiled.

"My childhood self would be a wonderful role model."

Falco beamed. He was always so curious about Eren's past. A world of only three walls, everything else wiped out – it just seemed like a plot from a novel, not something they all believed for over a hundred years. He would have been so overwhelmed had he been in Reiner's position, discovering the magnitude of their ignorance.

A glance at Eren told Falco he too had been lost to his thoughts. Eren looked more serious as their eyes met once more. "Falco, I may not live much longer."

It was abrupt – to say the least – but the boy steeled himself, nodding slowly. That was something he still had yet to fully comprehend... along with his death. He was beginning to feel that it would never truly hit him until Eren had taken his last breath, eaten alive.

"I know – when your gone, I'll try to keep Paradis safe – as best I can, Eren."

"No." Eren shook his head firmly. "That's not what I wanted to get at."

Though surprised, Falco waited for Eren to finish. He did so, once more putting a hand on his shoulder. Another gesture that was all too familiar – and one he wanted to feel for far more than three and a half more years.

"Falco, when I'm gone, the world will keep changing. All I want from you is to move with it – live as best you can." Eren spoke with a conviction that left no choice but to listen, to understand." There is no need for any grand accomplishment – just living as long as you can - that's all I want now."

Eren was alive. Nothing else could describe the fire, the life behind his eyes Falco saw as he continued to speak to him. "You are already special. Because you were born into this world."

Falco recognised those words. The very ones Eren had told him after that night when they had no idea what would come in the future – only able to promise protection. Somehow, they had succeeded.

"I'll live, Eren." He swore. "I'll keep myself alive, and everyone else too."

He was rewarded with a relieved smile, was and pulled in for another hug. "I'm glad, Falco."

Falco gripped him back, taking measured breaths.

When he pulled back, he took out his knife and cut his hand. He showed Eren, grinning.

"Let's fly."

Eren grinned right back.

"For as long as we can."