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1.
When Dr. Jaeger and his son bring Mikasa home, they receive three distinctive greetings.
First, a screech. Then, the clatter of a bowl hitting the floor. Finally, golden eyes. Eyes that Mikasa realizes are just like the strange, murderous boy’s: wide, fiery, teary.
What in the world happened to them?! The woman behind the golden eyes sobs. She frantically rubs her sudsy palms over the strange boy's — Eren's — shirt; the bubbles on her hands and arms turn pink as they mix with dried blood.
Carla… Dr. Jaeger sounds soothing, but stern. A warning, Mikasa can tell. She dips her chin into her newly received scarf and tries to make herself small.
The golden-eyed woman — Carla — glances at Mikasa. At her bare feet and ripped nightgown. At Eren's scarf wrapped haphazardly around the young girl's neck — wrapped just enough to cover the fresh bruising around her mouth, the crimson wool blending with the blood now flaking off Mikasa's pale cheek.
They’re covered in blood, Grisha! Her golden eyes become murky with her tears. Eren, are you hurt? Sweetie — because she does not yet know Mikasa's name — do you need us to escort you home? Where are your parents?
Carla! Dr. Jaeger's voice booms, his glasses glinting in the lantern light. Let's get them to bed first, then I'll explain...
Carla blinks; Mikasa sees her lip tremble. A few moments — an infinity — pass. Enough time for Mikasa to wonder if she'll be turned away, to question again where she will go now that home no longer exists.
Finally, Carla reaches out to Mikasa. The pink suds gone. All Mikasa sees is warm, lightly calloused skin. A mother's palm.
Mikasa hesitates. But Eren gives her a look — firm, reassuring — and Mikasa slips her tiny, shivering hand into Carla's.
Come, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up — you probably need a good night’s rest.
2.
For the first couple of months, nightmares come nearly every night. Mikasa awakes covered in a cold sweat; the images she conjured in her dream space burned in her brain.
Rain streaking blood-spattered windows. The crimson rose blooming on her father’s vest. The divot in her mother’s neck. Her palm outstretched, her eyes already dimming, her mouth stretched open with her final breath wasted on an ignored command to run, run, run.
Consciousness returns with a start, with a gasping breath. And Mikasa's cheeks are frigid with tears. She yearns for someone, for Mama…
She doesn’t mean to let the feeble cries slip from her lips. But they do. And the word (Mama) tumbles out unbidden; Mikasa wants to swallow it until she chokes.
…But she’s greeted by a flustered shush and a sleep-heavy hand. A little brown hand that wrapped a scarf around her and tugged her back home, that has tucked her in every night since she arrived at the Jaeger house and pulls the covers over them as they sleep side-by-side.
You're okay. He slurs his words, sleep-drunk, and his eyelids stay closed. It was just a dream — we're safe at home. Go back to sleep.
She doesn't stop crying. But she does try to heed his commands: she focuses on the weight of his drowsy palm on her back, tells herself to squeeze her eyes shut and focus on Eren's sour breath on her face, in her ears.
It takes some time, but Mikasa eventually falls back asleep, lulled to slumber by nonsensical hushes and wrapped in the red wool dampened by her tears.
3.
They aren't supposed to share a bed. Dr. Jaeger said that they're approaching an age where it would no longer be decent. Carla had even given Eren a makeshift pallet, a nest of cushions and pillows that Eren assembles on the floor every night, after he and Mikasa pad to his room.
But, as Eren tends to do, he ignores his parents' orders. Particularly when Mikasa has a difficult time sleeping because the bed feels too big and too cold. A feeling that washes over her every night. So he climbs into bed with her and Mikasa falls asleep knowing he’s near.
Unfortunately, tonight, Eren has contracted a strange sickness. And despite Eren’s insistence that I am fine, Dr. Jaeger confines Eren in the room that the good doctor shares with his wife. It would be cruel to pass your illness onto others, Eren, Dr. Jaeger scolds.
So Eren's mantra transforms to a message for Mikasa — that she'll be fine. That he'll get better soon. But, most importantly, there's nothing to be scared of here; you'll be okay by yourself.
But his assurances are not successful.
Mikasa does her best to console herself. But, when night falls and the other side of Eren’s bed remains empty, her worries return with abandon. She squeezes her eyes shut, tells herself you're safe you're safe you're safe. But ease eludes her. Sleepiness is nowhere to be found. Sadness burrows in her brain and her heart, instead.
The door creaks open. And Mikasa senses rather than sees that it's Carla. I brought you some lemon tea, Mikasa, Carla whispers. I thought you could use something warm.
Mikasa turns into the covers, hopes that she can feign sleep and that she can avoid worrying Carla...
Too late: Carla stops at the side of Eren's bed and witnesses Mikasa's silent tears, observes how she grasps at the spot where Eren usually sleeps with a wordless desperation.
Oh, sweetie, Carla croons. She strokes Mikasa’s hair as she buries her face in the pillow. Embarrassed. Ashamed. Craving another woman’s palm against her scalp, against her salt-stained cheek.
But starved for a mother's grasp, Mikasa doesn't resist when Carla — warm and lightly perspiring from completing her nighttime chores — scoops Mikasa in her arms. Tucks the young girl's head under her chin.
Carla rocks Mikasa back and forth on her aproned lap. She hums a song that Mikasa knows she has never heard before, yet feels hauntingly familiar. (She supposes mothers’ lullabies share a foundational melody, written by the love only a mother possesses.)
Mikasa feels like a baby again. And, even though she has never done so before, even as an infant, Mikasa begins to suck on her knuckles. On her thumbs. Saliva mixing with tears.
And Carla continues to croon. Rubs her back. Eventually tucks Mikasa under Eren’s covers and lies down next to her. Mikasa blinks at Carla through her tears: she sees golden eyes in a familiar face.
Poor girl, you’ve been through so much.
Carla caresses Mikasa's bangs, her scalp, her forehead — and Mikasa continues to suck her thumb. Sweet girl, Carla mutters repeatedly, until Mikasa's puffy eyelids finally droop closed.
4.
Sometimes, Mikasa struggles to fall asleep because her stomach aches. On those evenings, she cannot even find solace in Eren's company. So she seeks Dr. Jaeger, hopes that he can prescribe a remedy to her nighttime ailment.
She creeps down to the cellar, well after nightfall. Mikasa knows that he'll be there because, at dinner, Dr. Jaeger proclaimed that he needed to do some work in his basement study.
She knocks, waits for him to call out come in before she pushes the heavy door open.
Everything okay, Mikasa? He surveys her over his glasses.
She shakes her head and gestures to her stomach. It's aching again, Dr. Jaeger. I can't go to sleep.
He gets up to offer her his seat. She listens as he makes his way to his shelves and bureaus to pull out his medical instruments. He returns with a device that she recognizes: it was what he used to use on her mother — to listen to Mama's heart, to the heart of her baby brother still nestled in Mama's womb.
Just as he did when he would examine Mikasa in her forest home, Dr. Jaeger listens to her heart. To her back. Presses his fingers against her abdomen, her ribcage. Hums soothingly as he continues to assess her condition.
After some time, Dr. Jaeger removes the medical device and sighs. Mikasa, he says. It doesn't sound or feel like anything is physically wrong. What other symptoms are you experiencing, other than the aching stomach?
Mikasa crosses her ankles, fiddles with her nightshirt. She shrugs. She doesn't have an answer for Dr. Jaeger because she's not sure that she has experienced this type of illness before.
Does it also hurt here? Dr. Jaeger delicately points at Mikasa's chest, right above her heart.
She bites her lip. She nods — and she's unprepared for the tears that begin to fall.
Dr. Jaeger sighs, then wraps his arms around her. Stiff. She knows this hug is his attempt at comfort, but they're burdened by the reality that he knows her first and foremost as his patient. She can sense as he pats her hair, rubs her back, that he is just as confused as she is on how she can find her place within their home.
You've been through something nearly unthinkable, he says, as he holds her at arm's length. Carla and I are committed to making you as comfortable as possible. It will get easier.
Mikasa nods again, and she wraps her arms around her waist. A feeble attempt at self-consolation.
Is Eren being kind to you?
Nod.
I know that you two have had a... rough and unorthodox introduction. But trust me when I say this: Eren is a good friend.
Nod. She knows; she can already tell.
Okay. Dr. Jaeger stands up and extends his hand. Let's get you something warm to settle your stomach. And we'll get you tucked into bed, okay?
One last nod. Thank you, Dr. Jaeger.
5.
What’s that.
Mikasa has just bathed, the nightshirt she has coopted from Carla brushing the tops of her ankles. Her hair drips onto the wooden floor; the bandage she usually wears is gone. She moves to hide her wrist, her mother's few final words ringing in her ear. But Eren is too quick, too adamant, and his small brown hand darts out and captures Mikasa's arm, dewy with bath water.
He runs one finger along the curious marking, now healed, now slightly faded from what once burned black with pain and oozed with fresh blood and plasma.
Mikasa knows that her mother told her to keep her family's mark hidden, to keep it secret. But, truthfully, Mikasa relishes the idea of sharing this secret with Eren. Her closest companion. Her friend. Her… family.
Her cheeks warm as Eren's eyes widen with awe, as his finger nail grazes the ink.
But Eren's finger stops. And Mikasa realizes — too late — that he has discovered her other secret marks.
He frowns; Mikasa watches his dark brows furrow, his lips snarl canine-like — the tell-tale sign that (Mikasa has learned) prophesies one of Eren's irrational outbursts. He delicately turns her arm, his grip gentle, his movements slow. But Mikasa feels the hot breath coming rapidly, furiously from his nostrils on the inside of her wrist.
Gouge marks. Some scabbing, some freshly red. Mikasa has found it surprisingly easy to carve out pieces of her skin with her bare hands, and the pain has been sadly soothing—
Eren's hand shakes. Mikasa wants to hide.
But her heart also feels lighter after Eren's accidental discovery.
Don’t be stupid. Mikasa watches as tears pool in his furious, blue-green eyes (Eren is prone to cry, and her heart tugs at how he now cries for her). Don’t pull this type of crap again.
Defensive, offended, she yanks her arm from Eren's grip and turns away. She lets her wet hair cover her reddening face.
She doesn't stop scratching herself for some time. But she's at least grateful when, the next day, after he has seen her wrist, Eren makes her come with him into town — he usually tells her to stay here, I'll be back in an hour. They stumble upon Eren's friend Armin, who's stuck at the bottom of a bully's foot.
And when Mikasa runs with a speed she didn't know she possessed, and when she tosses the perpetrator with a strength that she only discovered a few months ago, she realizes that this might be a better way for her to siphon the pain that is bottled in her limbs.
6.
Armin staying the night is a rarity, but Mikasa is glad when he does. With his strange stories and inventive ideas, Armin makes dinner conversations a bit more interesting. The Jaegers have their routine, their domesticity. And while that comforts her, Mikasa delights in this small, yet manageable, change. It feels like a gift.
Armin has become a friend over the past few weeks: he had been so grateful for Mikasa's defenses against his bullies that he has latched onto her.
She had hesitated to accept him, at first, even though Armin smiles widely and more easily and is gentler with her than Eren ever has been. Even though Eren had told her he’s my best friend, he’s the smartest person I know, you’ll love him, Mikasa.
The thought of friendship overwhelms Mikasa a bit because, prior to meeting Eren, she had no one other than Mama and Papa.
But now, Mikasa finds Armin fascinating. Where Eren is a flickering flame, Armin is cool water. And Mikasa can tell that they love each other a lot.
And thus two duos became one trio.
After they've all changed into their bedclothes and retreated into Eren's room, Armin clambers onto Eren's mattress to sit next to Mikasa. Mikasa's tummy flutters: he has a book in his hand; he had mentioned it to her before, and she had been dying to see the images that Armin painted for her with his words.
Armin sidles next to Mikasa, the smuggled book spread across their laps. His blue eyes twinkle.
You don't want to sit with us, Eren? Armin calls down to where Eren is sprawled on the floor, in his pile of pillows and blankets. We haven't talked about the outside world in a while.
Eren grunts, then turns his head. Mikasa only sees tousled dark hair. She frowns — she knows that Eren never shows enthusiasm when Mikasa tags along, but he has never so cruelly rejected her like this. Seeing the back of his head makes her stomach leaden.
Before she can ask Eren what’s wrong, she's distracted when Armin shows her the pages. His eyes are alight with enthusiasm. Flowing rivers of water. Lands covered in ice. Sand spreading far beyond what the eye can see. Mikasa is transfixed by Armin's words; she only nods, looks at the pages with a fearful curiosity.
Even though she has heard Armin and Eren murmur about the outside world many times before this night, she still doesn't know if it's a world she wants to witness herself.
You don’t talk much yet, Armin says as he closes his book. But I can tell we’re going to get along, Mikasa.
Back off, Armin. Eren growls from his blanket nest on the floor. And you can't sleep on the bed with her; she's a girl — it's indecent.
Armin chuckles. Nudges Mikasa's elbow and gives her a shy smile. Good night. He slides off the mattress, clambers over Eren, burrows into the second makeshift bed on the floor.
Mikasa snuggles under the blanket and studies Eren's face with his brow scrunched, his lips downturned.
Over the past few months, she has grown used to Eren’s irrational outbursts. His yells and frustrations that cause Carla to yell back at him just as ferociously, that cause Dr. Jaeger’s booming voice to soothe Eren back to a state of rationality. Mikasa has dealt with Eren in different ways: sometimes she ignores him; sometimes she sides with him; most of the time, she snaps at him and puts him in his place
You shouldn’t treat your parents that way, she would scold. And Eren would grumble, mumble something about how she wasn't his mother or sister and therefore didn't have any authority to tell him what to do. But, nevertheless, he would listen to Mikasa, at least.
Over the past few months, Mikasa feels like she has started to get a basic grasp on the things that make Eren's blood boil. Usually, ignorance. Complacency. Someone treating someone else unkindly, especially without cause.
But tonight, she isn’t sure what Eren is frustrated by. And she's too tired to decipher his tumultuous emotions. So she nuzzles into the bedding and decides to ask him about it later (if she remembers).
Once she's comfortable, Mikasa reaches her hand down: the bed still feels too big, and she doesn't want Eren to feel like she doesn't recognize he's upset. She's grateful that he quickly grabs her palm, holds her fingers tight.
She smiles. Their intertwined fingers provide enough comfort to help her fall asleep.
7.
After nearly a year, Mikasa has fallen into a rhythm. During the day, she has been entrusted to help with chores. Hanging the laundry with Carla. Gathering firewood with Eren. Going into town with Dr. Jaeger and Eren under the guise of visiting a patient or picking up merchant goods — but she and Eren end up sneaking away to find Armin, instead. To play in the fields, to climb the tree on the hill; to gaze at passersby in the town; to sit along the river and watch the ferries come and go.
In the evening, her room with Eren has become a sanctuary. She likes that he has stopped grumbling about her inclination to bring in little mementos from their ventures into town. Their windowsill and dresser are covered with dried leaves and flowers. Twigs with singular leaves. A pebble so smooth and pearlescent grey, a color that reminded Mikasa of her mother's eyes.
You seem happier here. Eren mumbles into the nighttime air, as they lie down side by side.
Why do you say that?
He turns to her. Mikasa realizes that she likes how the stars reflect in his eyes.
You sleep through the night now. And sometimes you even fall asleep before I get here.
Mikasa frowns a crooked frown. And she thinks: she hadn’t even realized how calm her heart has begun to feel, until Eren pointed it out for her.
True, months have gone by. Mikasa still remembers the horror of the night she lost her family. But terror's grip on her heart has subsided a bit. Sometimes, she wonders how it happened — how she has been able to keep going, despite her loss...
Her frown turns into a soft smile. And she looks up at Eren, feeling warm and happy. Grateful for him and for Carla and for Dr. Jaeger.
But she’s surprised when the stars in Eren's eyes are joined by tears. She feels confused: unsure of what has made this strange boy, who spilled blood for her and wrapped her in warmth and welcomed her into his home, feel so sad.
Maybe you won't need me for that much longer, after all.
Mikasa starts at his confession. Then glares. She doesn't say anything to him, but she does nudge his shoulder, wordlessly bids him to open his arm for her.
He obliges. And she snuggles into his chest. Listens to his heartbeat. Feels his tears fall on her hair. Tells him by how furiously she grips his sleep shirt that, in this world, in any world, she will always need him.
8.
Eren has been getting restless when they go to sleep, and it has started to irk Mikasa. He nuzzles into her shoulder, fiddles with her hair, tosses and turns beside her.
His movements crowd their sleep space. So Mikasa needs to elbow him in the ribs, hit him in the face with the pillow, hiss stop moving around, I'm trying to go to sleep.
That usually kicks off an argument. All violently tense whispers as Eren says I'm just trying to get comfortable, stop nagging me and Mikasa snaps you can get comfortable without bothering me, you know.
She doesn't want their arguments and tousles to disturb Carla or Dr. Jaeger, who have been taking care of her and patients in town and who probably need a good amount of sleep. Mikasa is on the verge of punching him, maybe even pushing him off the mattress, demanding he sleep on the pallet on the floor like he's supposed to, if he doesn't stay still.
But, instead, Eren kisses her. Clumsily. Toothily. He butts his forehead against hers, bumps her nose with his. It isn't gentle, by all means. But it halts whatever silly argument they were having.
Mikasa stares at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. She watches as he blinks at her, as his cheeks flame red — redder, even, than the night he gave her his scarf.
Before she can ask him why did you do that, Eren hurriedly turns around and scurries off the bed, taking one of the blankets with him.
'M gonna sleep on the floor tonight, he mumbles. You're right: it's getting too crowded and stuffy for either of us to be comfortable, especially when the weather gets warm.
She wants to tell him to wait, hold on, stay here because it feels safer when you're near. But her tongue feels heavy, and her freshly-kissed lips won't move.
When Eren settles on the floor, his back to her, Mikasa is weighed down by inaction. She mourns his closeness, but she's not sure how to fix her mistake — because she's not entirely sure what she has done wrong. But she decides to bury her concerns because, even though she lacks the vocabulary to understand why and how, she recognizes that something has shifted.
It is the last night they share a bed.
9.
The night before her life changes again, Eren confesses: I'm going to join the Scouts.
Mikasa's heart shatters, even though she isn't completely surprised. After all, Eren and Armin have always waxed poetic about what lay beyond the walls, what the outside world has to offer.
Why would you do that?
He doesn't answer. Keep your mouth shut, okay? His green eyes flash. Don't even think about telling Mom and Dad.
He doesn't expand, dodges her question. But Mikasa realizes that she doesn't need him to explain — she already knows. She knows that Eren’s restless limbs and irked demeanor betray more than youthful energy. The words he shouted, the crimes he committed on that fateful night that brought them together, had already betrayed the truth: Eren despises being kept in a cage, despises anyone who would cage others in — and, unlike Mikasa, he would never be satisfied with a life within the walls. With a quiet home, a little family like the one she had somehow found again in this past year.
Wherever you go, Eren, I'm going to follow.
He pushes himself up to sitting, his pillows and blankets askew, and rounds on her. His fangs bared, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. Like hell you are! Spit flies through the air. You need to stay home, where you'd be safe!
Mikasa holds the blanket tight against her chin. Her silence is her refusal. And when Eren scoffs, she knows he understands.
Tension fills their room. Fails to dissipate, even well after they fall asleep, blanketed by stony silence. Because in the morning, when Carla asks the two of them to gather firewood, the tension persists as they gather branches side-by-side, silent yet seamless in their shared responsibility.
They finish their chore more quickly than they anticipate. So Eren grunts as he leans against the tree: I'm going to sit here for a while; we have some time until we need to get back home.
Mikasa hums her assent. She leans her pack of firewood against the tree, then takes the liberty to meander around the field, to examine the flowers and to think. She wants to talk to Eren more. To apologize, sure. But, more importantly, to convince him to stay.
Before long, she realizes that she has meandered further than she planned. She turns around, makes her way back to the tree. And she sees Eren napping, his lashes and hair fluttering in the breeze, a bit of drool creeping down the corner of his snoozing open mouth.
She leans forward, her hands on her knees. She observes his sleeping face: his eyelids lightly flickering in his dream state, his chest rising and falling in the fading daylight.
She smiles.
Eren. She shakes his shoulder. Eren!! Wake up. It'll get dark if we don't go home now.