Archive of Our Own ^beta

"We need to talk."

Mikasa looked up at her superior, Deputy Chief Erwin Smith. "Can I help you with something, sir?"

Erwin regarded the girl carefully. "Walk with me."

Mikasa stood up from her desk, her friends—Sasha and to a lesser extent, Annie—casting her confused glances. Mikasa could only shrug hopelessly in response. "Not to be rude or anything, but where exactly are we going, sir?"

"My office."

Mikasa quickened her pace, following Erwin through the wide hall. The walls were decorated with corkboards depicting a variety of things, from photographs of wanted criminals, to schedules for the next month, to even the occasional birthday card and coupon voucher.

When they reached the end of the hall, Erwin opened the door and beckoned Mikasa inside. "Have a seat."

Looking around, Mikasa decided that she was immediately impressed with Erwin's taste in interior décor. The room—though minimalistic—managed to convey that the man within was serious, but not willing to let that austerity get in the way of looking good. Admiring the shiny leather chairs in front of his desk, Mikasa made herself comfortable in one and almost forgot that Erwin was watching her rather intently.

"Comfortable?"

Mikasa thought she detected a note of amusement in his voice. "Yes," she replied, "very."

"Glad to hear it," said Erwin. "And you'll be glad to hear that you've been all that the higher-ups can talk about, lately?"

"Pardon?" Mikasa stopped shuffling around in the chair.

"You've moved through ranks quicker than almost anyone else," said Erwin. He tented his hands, the heavy signet ring on his left hand standing out. "You've shown incredible talent, the likes of which is rarely seen."

Mikasa just nodded, not sure how to respond to the praise.

"That's not to say that your peers aren't talented. Your friend, Armin Arlert, has shown near-genius levels of intellect and another one your colleagues—Annie Leonhardt—can aim better than half of the people I work with. However, you're a special case, Mikasa."

"Thank you, sir."

Erwin opened one of his drawers and pulled out a thick stack of papers. He slid it across his desk to Mikasa, who stared at the packet with slight apprehension. "I would like to offer you the opportunity to become a Detective."

"What?"

"You don't have to accept right away. Read the conditions and if it still interests you, come talk to me again."

"I'm not sure what to say," said Mikasa. "But, thank you for the opportunity."

Erwin inclined his head. "I urge you to take advantage of this chance, Mikasa. You'll have access to a lot of high-level cases."

Mikasa perked up.

"If you choose to, you may work in the organized crime and homicide branch. You may find information on the Titans, if you wish."

Her grip on the armrest tightened.

"If you choose to accept this, you'll be working closely with some of my other colleagues, some of whom you already know. Petra Ral, Auruo Bossard, and Rivaille amongst others. I encourage you not to tell anyone, but I've offered a position like yours to Armin Arlert, whose talents seem to be more suited to forensics."

Mikasa forced herself not to react at the mention of the third name. "I will look over this," she promised Erwin. "But, expect my answer to be a yes."

"We need to talk."

Levi hardly turned around, only angling the back of his head in her direction. "I'm busy right now. Can we talk later?"

Mikasa shrunk back slightly. "You're just faxing some documents. Can we talk now?"

Levi sighed, leaning on the grey table near the fax machine. The copy room was small, more of a closet than anything else, but it provided Mikasa with the privacy she wanted for this particular conversation. "Listen, Ackerman."

Mikasa flinched at the use of her last name, something Levi hadn't called her since the earlier days of her being a cadet.

"I'm a busy guy," said Levi. "I have a lot of work to do and my co-workers are lazy as hell. Can we talk some other time?"

"That's just the thing," insisted Mikasa. Lowering her voice, she continued. "Erwin wants me to become a detective."

Levi didn't even react. "I knew you could do it," he said. "But, what's your goddamn point?"

Shrugging off his brusque attention, Mikasa pressed on. "Are you okay with this?"

"Why should it matter whether or not I'm okay with this?"

Mikasa clenched her fists involuntarily. "I don't know if you'd be uncomfortable working with me or not."

"And why the hell does that matter? If you want the job, you take it." He roughly grabbed a stack of papers off the machine, but didn't leave like he'd promised earlier. "Is it Yeager?"

"What about Eren?" Asked Mikasa defensively.

"Is he being a brat? Is he telling you not to take it?"

Mikasa averted her eyes from Levi's glare. "No, I haven't told him yet. But, I will!" She said, taking note of Levi's exasperation. "I will."

Levi hoisted the pile of papers and tucked it under his arms. "I suggest you make up your mind soon," he said. "It's a good opportunity and you deserve it." His voices softened slightly.

"Thanks."

As Levi left, Mikasa reached out to as if to touch his wrist, but stopped herself.

This time, it seemed that she was the one watching him walk away.

"We need to talk." Annie Leonhardt slammed a hand onto the surface of Mikasa's desk. The photo frames on the table shook slightly; one wobbled precariously and would have toppled over if not for Annie's quick reflexes. She awkwardly placed it back, next to the others.

Mikasa started and quickly minimized the game of Solitaire she'd been playing. "What is it?"

Annie straightened up and cleared her throat awkwardly. "About the staff party we had last week. I got so drunk, I could barely walk straight and ended up leaving the bar. Reiner and Bert told me you drove all over town to find me and bring me home."

"It wouldn't have been right to just let you go," said Mikasa.

"Well," Annie glared at a spot near Mikasa's feet, "thanks. For doing that. You had no obligation to, but you did. So, thanks."

"No problem." A part of Mikasa was curious as to why Annie hadn't left, and another part of her was hoping she would so that she could get on with her Solitaire.

"So, do you wanna get lunch or something?"

"Pardon?"

"As a thank you." Annie gestured to nothing in particular. "Not anywhere fancy. Maybe the café down the road."

"Like lunch between friends?" Mikasa quirked a brow.

Annie gave a half-shrug, half-nod. "Yeah. I guess."

"Sounds good."

"Good."

"See you around, Leonhardt."

"Catch you later, Ackerman."

"We need to talk."

That was all Jean needed to say for Mikasa's heart to start beating irregularly. "What's the matter?"

Jean sat down across from her, his hands folded. "About us. Our relationship."

Mikasa felt an eruption of butterflies—or maybe moths—in her stomach. She gulped and twiddled her thumbs. "This feels like an interrogation," she joked lamely. "Or are you going to ask me to hand in my badge?"

Jean didn't laugh. "I'm serious, Mikasa."

Mikasa reached across the table and took one of his hands in hers. "I can be serious."

Jean slipped his hand from her grip. "I did something."

"Something?" Mikasa quirked a brow at his lack of specificity.

Jean nodded. "Something bad. I don't expect you to forgive me."

Mikasa felt a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach and it felt suspiciously like guilt. "I have something to tell you, too."

"Should we do it together, then?" Asked Jean. "To make things easier."

"Sure." Mikasa withdrew her hands from the table and placed them in her lap, hoping that Jean didn't catch how they were trembling ever-so-slightly. She fisted the cloth of her skirt, trying her best to calm her thundering heart.

"Ready? One, two, three…"

"I cheated."

"I slept with someone else."

Mikasa looked up at Jean with wide eyes. Jean stared back, a mixture of disbelief—and possibly relief—etched on his handsome face. "What did you say?" He asked slowly.

"I cheated?" Mikasa phrased it like a question. "What did you say?"

"I slept with someone else," repeated Jean. As the realization sunk in, he laughed humourlessly. "Damn it. What are the chances?"

"This isn't funny," said Mikasa.

"It sort of is," said Jean. "I mean, it's not like we were seriously in love or anything." At Mikasa's flinch, he rolled his eyes. "Mikasa, I'm not blind. We've been growing apart for a while, now. I knew you were never really in love with me."

"That's not the point!" Mikasa insisted. "I did something wrong and I regret it."

"Good," said Jean. He walked over to one of the glass-fronted cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine. Unscrewing the top—because he hated buying wines you had to uncork—he took a swig from the bottle and handed it to Mikasa. She held the bottle gingerly and very delicately, took a small sip. "You should feel bad."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling the warmth of the alcohol make its way through her chest. She reached out for the bottle again.

"Me too," said Jean.

The two passed the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Always the lightweight, Jean's face took on a redder shade. "Do you want another?" He asked.

"That would be nice."

As he unscrewed the bottle with some difficulty, Mikasa rummaged through the pantry and managed to find a half-eaten box of chocolates and a tin of cookies. She laid them on the table with some napkins. "No glasses?"

Jean shook his head. "Nah."

They ate in silence, only pausing to comment on how good the wine was and how well it went with the sweets. Eventually, Mikasa broke the pseudo-silence.

"What do we do now?"

"Hm?" Jean pulled the bottle away from his face. "We finish the rest of this bottle and maybe another few I have."

"I'm talking about us," said Mikasa. "And our relationship. We both cheated on each other."

"We're terrible people," mused Jean. "We're just a bunch of terrible people."

"At least we have each other," joked Mikasa.

"Do you still want to?" Jean was serious. Putting the bottle down, he clasped his hands together and looked across the table at Mikasa. "We can try again, if you want to. I mean, it's not like we have anything to lose."

Mikasa fiddled with holes in her sweater. "Is it okay if we don't?" At Jean's lack of expression, she hastily backtracked. "It's not that I hate you or anything. I don't really have any right to be mad at you, not after what I did. But, I just don't know if that would be healthy for us."

"Is it that person?"

Mikasa nodded wordlessly. "I left him and now I realize I love him."

Jean waved his hand in her general direction. "Go for it. I'd support you if you weren't…you know, my ex-girlfriend."

"I'm sorry," apologized Mikasa. "I did love you. I just don't think I was ever in love with you."

Jean shrugged. "You can't force what you don't have."

Mikasa stood up from the table and tucked her chair in. "I'll pack up my stuff tonight," she promised. "I just have a few things here, but I'll be out of your hair before midnight."

"Don't worry about it. Take your time. You can stay the night, if you want to."

"No, I don't want to impose."

"If you insist." Jean spoke up right before Mikasa could exit the kitchen. "And if you don't mind me asking, is it Levi?"

Mikasa nodded wordlessly.

"I suppose I always knew," said Jean. "I just never really figured it out until now. Oh, and I guess I should tell you, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to."

"It was Marco for me." Jean's voice was light, but to Mikasa, he looked like he wanted to cry. "I guess we're in pretty similar situations, aren't we."

"I guess," agreed Mikasa. "I'm sorry, Jean."

"I'm sorry, too."

"We need to talk." Those were the first words out of Mikasa's mouth before Marco could even ask who was calling him at two AM in the morning.