**Author's Note: I want to take a second to remind you that I do take requests for stories and this is the kind of shit I come up with when no one tells me what to write.

But mostly I want to thank you (very much!) for taking the time to read this and say that I love you all!

-Final Braus**

"M-Marco..."

Sasha opened her eyes groggily, shaking her head as they slowly focused on Jean's flushed face, his eyes shut tight and his jaw set. "Are you alright?" she asked nervously.

"Marco!" he shouted, arching his body and throwing his head back. One arm shout out, clawing at the empty air between his body and the lightening sky above them. "Don't let go of me! Marco!"

Sasha leapt up, pinning him down with her body and clapping her hand over his mouth. "What are you thinking?!" she hissed, her palm doing little to muffle what was quickly turning into mindless screaming. "Jean! It's morning! The titans are going to hear you if you do that!"

His breath was ragged and short, coming in gasps. She touched his forehead and realized with a sinking feeling that it was even hotter than before. "Jean?" she asked weakly. "Can you hear me?"

But it was no use. He was locked in his nightmare. She could do nothing but hold him down and try to keep him quiet. In the corner, her horse stamped the ground nervously.

He was getting worse; that much was obvious. This was hysteria. As he bucked and struggled blindly against her, she pressed her head against his chest, listening for his heart. It was beating like a hummingbird, so quick she thought it would burst, and his breath came just as fast.

Oh no, she thought, a hollow void opening up in her chest. No, Jean. Please, no.

After a long moment, his screams died down and he slumped back into the hay, his face relaxing. He could have passed for being asleep, if it hadn't been for his sickly rapid breath.

"Jean," Sasha said, taking her hand off of his mouth. She touched his cheek and he opened his eyes, bloodshot, glassy.

"Where am I?"

She bit her lip, picking herself up off of his body and crawling across the hay to sit behind him.

"Sasha, why does my leg hurt?"

And then she had to watch as the memories hit him like a fucking rock.

"You're alright," she said gently, pulling him up and resting his head on her chest as he covered his sallow, sick face with his hands and coughed out a dry sob. She held him tighter.

"I'm sorry," he choked.

"You just had a bad dream," she whispered, stroking his hair, resting her chin on the crown of his head. "You're okay. Calm down."

He couldn't seem to stop breathing so quickly. Between gasps, he managed, "I was hanging…from this ledge…and Marco…he was there…and he was trying to pull me up…but then I fell…"

"Shh. Try to breathe normally, Jean. Please."

And he did try. But he couldn't. Looking up at her with scared amber eyes, Jean struggled against his own body to make himself stop. She couldn't watch.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Sasha shook her head. "Stop saying that."

"But I am sorry," he muttered, and she felt a warm explode on the arms she held around him. "I'm sorry for letting the titan get me—"

She shook her head again. "'Wasn't your fault."

"—And I'm sorry I let myself get so sick."

"Stop."

"I'm sorry I got you pregnant."

He was really crying now, and it was making it even harder for him to breathe. She could feel a hard lump rising up in her throat. "Stop it, please."

He shook his head, tears cutting clean tracks down his grimy cheeks. "I don't want to die, Sasha. I'm scared."

"Jean…"

"You have to get out," he whispered, looking up at her. "Please, take the horse and go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Sasha—"

"What would I do?" she demanded, swallowing a bitter sob. Her chest hurt. She hoped he didn't know that she was crying. "Where would I go? I couldn't go back to the Survey Corps with a fucking baby, my dad kicked me out, my village is gone…You're all I have, Jean. There isn't anywhere else for me to go."

He seemed to want to argue with her, but couldn't find the words. His body slumped against her, burning up, his eyes glazed. Dead. He started into her eyes, but Sasha felt like she was looking at a doll. Fat, heavy tears rolled down to drip off her chin. "I'm not going to leave you," she breathed, running her thumb along his cheek. "As long as you're here I'm not going anywhere."

He reached up and took her hand. "I love you, Sasha. I love you so much." Smiling sadly, he pressed her hand to his chest, over his pounding heart. "But you're not just in this for you."

She said nothing. Jean's golden eyes turned towards the sky. "You want to know something stupid?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "I'm actually kind of happy. You're going to be a great mom."

"Stop it," Sasha sobbed, clinging to his uniform, clutching him to her chest. "You're going to be fine."

"Nah, Sash, I'm not. Otherwise you wouldn't be crying so hard." She buried her face in his shoulder, her shoulders shaking. She couldn't stop. "Hey, listen to me," he said, turning and weakly pressing a kiss to her temple. "Tell our kid…that I loved them a lot. Can you do that for me?"

She bit her lip, nodding. He smiled. "Good. That's good. And tell them I was a hero. Make up some really brave story about how I died so that they're proud that I was their father. Tell them I took down twenty titans before they got me. Something good."

"You are brave, Jean," Sasha whispered. "You're so brave."

A wispy white cloud drifted across the sky, catching the morning sunlight and turning gold. His eyes followed it, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his dry lips. "I wish. Maybe then I wouldn't be so afraid."

Sasha felt like someone had punched her chest in, torn out her heart and left nothing but crushed space behind. She couldn't breathe past the knot in her throat. "Please don't go," she begged, clinging to him like there was nothing else in the world. "I can't do this without you. I love you."

"I know, Sasha." He looked at her one last time, managed a smile. "I love you too."

.

Sasha slid out from under his body, laying him down on the soft hay and pulling the blanket over his ruined form. She stood up. Tears streamed down her face, ignored, as she lurched away from the corpse and towards the place where she had left her maneuver gear.

There was a tiny storage closet in the corner of the barn, a place where some man she didn't know and didn't care about had stored the shit he kept to keep his animals alive long enough to kill them. She staggered towards it like her legs couldn't hold up her own weight. Pulling off her shirt, she shoved it into the crack under the door.

She fumbled with the tank of her gear. She couldn't tell if it was the darkness or her own shaking hands that made it take so long.

The gas hissed, soft as a whisper.

She leaned back against the wall, resting her heavy head against the cool, old wood and hoping it would be quick. She heard her horse nickering nervously outside, knowing that something was wrong but too dull to realize what. The image of his body hung before her in the darkness like a tattoo on her vision, his pale face and sunken, dead, beautiful eyes locked on heaven.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed, touching the slight swell of her belly.

Her head was light. She curled into herself, pressing her face into her knees. She inhaled deeply and felt her heart racing, colors popping across her vision in little dots. Her brain flooded with images, memories and fragments of thoughts flashing through her mind. Her head was pounding, her pulse loud as a drum in her ears. So loud she couldn't think.

She could feel his hand on her shoulder, cool as moonlight.

"I'm sorry."