A/N: Hey guys, chagirl Karsyn is back on FF (after roughly a three-year hiatus?)! Man, I've missed writing, and after that latest SnK chapter, my love for his anime hasn't diminished one bit. Brushed up this chapter a bit, and I might've written a bit more for our ultimate OT3, so please leave some feedback and let me know what you all think! 3

Mikasa

The world is cruel and merciless… yet so beautiful.

There was no aftershock to that realization. It was so hard-hitting that Mikasa felt the tears stop running as Eren led her down the hill. She didn't exactly feel strong at the moment; her knees slightly wobbled with each step down the steep, wooded slopes. But she felt a sense of comfort upon repeating those words to herself, a sense of control towards the whirling chaos of this world.

Fight, you can't win without fighting.

Something in the dark undergrowth, a rock or a shrub, caught itself against her foot, and she stumbled slightly, tugging Eren back with her. His grip on her sleeve slipped onto her wrist, and firmly he pulled her steady, right back onto her feet.

"You okay?"

At first she couldn't see his face, for the night was cruel like the rest of the world and insisted on keeping a curtain drawn over the stars and the moon. All she could perceive was the sound of his voice and the grip of his warm hand. However, when Dr. Jaeger stepped forward with the small light of his lantern, she could see the weary, concerned expression on Eren's face. Shadows danced underneath his half-lidded eyes, and to her surprise, they lacked the furious fire that allowed him to take down two of the traffickers.

"We can take a small break here, if you'd like," Dr. Jaeger offered, setting his satchel against a tree. "We still have a little ways to go from here, perhaps two maybe even three more miles until we reach town."

She was hungry, thirsty, and tired. The kidnappers had not offered her anything—not even a drop of water, much less a bite of bread for the length of the day—and she felt sore. But impassively, Mikasa shook her head. This was yet another one of those fights that threaded the complex of their world. In order to win, she had to fight the hunger, thirst, and tiredness that threatened to befall her.

"I'm fine."

Dr. Jaeger's lantern could only shine so far into the darkness, and the forest seemed to mock their journey. Crickets and toads played a haunting overture accompanied by the warnings of an owl and the occasional scream of a coyote or fox. A chilling draft whipped through the trees, biting at Mikasa's exposed legs. Just another fight, she thought as she pulled Eren's scarf closer around her neck.

Truly, it was a godsend of warmth. Also it smelled nice. There was a hint of pine and a dab of spice, but the primary scent was… indistinguishable, alien, and unfamiliar. Whatever it was, Mikasa pulled the scarf tight and followed Eren towards the place he called home.

Eren bore a striking resemblance to Carla Jaeger. Their expressions both channeled violent emotions like churning waters. When Carla yelled at Eren for his recklessness, Mikasa could see the defiant fire in mother and son's eyes, burning bright with a matching intensity. And when Eren apologized, those nearly identical eyes simmered down and softened, reflecting the flickering candlelight on the kitchen table.

"Eren, please promise me that you'll never ever pull something like that and endanger yourself again," Carla said sharply, kneeling and pulling her son into her arms.

Eren buried his head against his mother's shoulder and sniffled. "I… won't. I-it's just that those men made me so—"

"Enough about that," Mrs. Jaeger interrupted. "Mikasa."

Mikasa stiffened at the sound of her name. Mikasa didn't belong in this household; Mikasa Ackerman didn't belong with Eren, Grisha, and Carla Jaeger. Mikasa was the one flat note that rung out conspicuously in the choir, the one note that made choirboys cringe and birds wince. And this woman with the temperamental eyes wasn't Mom. This was a lady she had never met before who was holding her the way she would hold her own son, whispering that one flat note over and over again, crying over someone else's daughter.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. That shouldn't happen to anyone, especially to someone as young as you," Carla murmured, running a hand through Mikasa's hair. "But you have a home here now." The woman pulled out of the embrace. "It might never be the same for you as before, but I want you to remember that you're welcome here. You have a spot at the dinner table, a place to sleep, people who take care of you."

"Thank you," Mikasa replied, shifting her eyes towards Eren who sat beside his mother, a silent shadow. "Thank you so much…" Her voice trailed off. Carla was not Mom. Carla was not her mother. "Thank you so much… Mrs. Jaeger."

Eren's mother paused, and internally Mikasa dreaded what was about to come next. I'm not calling you that, she thought. It was selfish, yes, but she didn't give a damn. That title—Mom—was granted solely to someone else, and now that that someone else was gone, no one was permitted that title from her. The name Mom was locked up in a little safe in her heart, never to be accessed ever again.

"Carla," the lady said with a laugh. "Just Carla. Mrs. Jaeger makes it sound like I'm an old lady knitting sweaters in a rocking chair."

"And I'm Grisha." Mikasa jumped at the sound of Dr. Jaeger's voice from the stairs. The man emerged, holding a candle in his hand. "You can have the guest room, though I'm afraid that you'll have to borrow some of Eren's clothes for tonight. Don't worry, we'll go out and buy some new clothes tomorrow morning while Carla does her grocery shopping."

Calling adults by their first names was unheard of. Eyes wide, Mikasa struggled for a response as Mrs. Jaeger reached across the table to grasp her hand. Those fingers were just as warm as Eren's, she noticed, unconsciously burying her face deeper into that red scarf. And then it hit her. Pine. Spice. That third scent.

It was the scent of home. A home. The Jaeger's home. Now, her home.

Pine and spice were only a part of it. Other aromas caught her interest: burning candles, clean bedsheets, and even a whiff of fresh mint. Eren's house smelled nothing like her old home; there was more going on, seemingly more hectic in comparison to the relaxed scents of the mountainous outdoors and her mother's cooking.

The guest bedroom was a room about the size of Eren's with a comfortable bed, a dresser, and a little nightstand with a lamp. The window offered a view of the streets of Shiganshina, which slept soundly under the clear night sky.

Even though she was warm now with a sizable serving of stew in her tummy, Mikasa crawled into bed with the red scarf hugged against her chest, ensuring that it didn't slip from her arms. It took some squirming and writhing before she found the right sleeping position amongst the fluffy pillows and thick comforter, but as she laid in the unfamiliar bed, sleep seemed hesitant to arrive. Ridiculous. She had walked a cold five miles, more or less, down the mountain, laid beaten and bound by human traffickers, and witnessed both her parents being murdered. Sheer exhaustion gnawed at her every fiber. Her muscles ached, and her legs felt like they were going to fall off, yet her eyes remained alert, darting through the dark room in search of nothing.

Sleep was pointless right now, she decided, sitting up and lighting the kerosene lantern on the nightstand. Mindlessly, Mikasa wrapped the scarf back around her neck. She stroked the knit fabric, feeling each individual yarned thread pulling itself together to form the garment that kept her so very warm. A pang of sadness hit her, and her fingers trembled, involuntarily repeating the sewing motions her mother had taught her earlier that day.

Thread it here. Pull the needle out just a bit, and thread it back in. There you go, Mikasa. You got it like a pro—

A loud pounding. On a wooden door. No, this couldn't be happening again. Not here. Her fingers freezing up as they did in her own house, Mikasa sucked in a breath as the pounding continued. No. This time she was ready. Her eyes scanned the room for anything. The lamp, the pillow, the sheets—there, in the corner, was a broomstick. Didn't Eren use a broomstick to take down one of the horrible men?

Quickly and quietly, she threw herself out of the bedsheets, took the broom firmly by its splintery handle, and approached the door on her tiptoes. She felt like a scared animal, a deer alone in the dark forest with nowhere to go. She was surrounded by thorny shrubs that blocked all exits, and enemies lurked everywhere: from above, below, and lying in ambush.

Fight and win. Or lose and die.

The door swung open with a creak. Right. Gritting her teeth, Mikasa charged forwards and thrust the round butt of the broomstick handle blindly. Her heart sank. She must've missed because there was no impact with whoever made the knocking sound. All she heard was the sound of a familiar voice crying out in protest and a soft thud.

"Whoa, what the heck!" The light of a flame revealed the startled, mortified face of Eren, sprawled on the ground. "I was holding a candle here! We're lucky I didn't drop it or else that would've been a disaster! M-Mikasa, what's the matter?"

"E-Er-Eren?" His name felt weird on her tongue, and she felt the word roll off awkwardly. "It's just you…"

She watched his eyes drift down to the broomstick handle in her hands. Her attack had missed. If the circumstances were different and behind the door wasn't Eren but… more monsters, that one mess-up would mean that she'd experience the trauma of today all over again. The same bleak hopelessness that swarmed her mind as she stared blankly at the boots of her captors. The same harsh language they threw back and forth at each other, talking about what a pervert would do to her once they sold her at the underground market.

"Mikasa…" Eren took the broomstick out of her shaking hands and rested it against the wall. Closing the door and holding her by the wrist, he led her towards the guest bed. "Everything's going to be okay now," he assured her, sitting her down on the mattress. "Those filthy bastards are gone."

She didn't flinch at his harsh language as she would've not too long ago. Under her old household, her mother didn't tolerate any swearing whatsoever, but Mikasa nodded. Those men were filthy bastards. By their filthy actions, they had debased their names to merely a harsh insult, and she was fine with that. Let them lose their identity through their crimes. Let them be the filthy bastards that they were.

"Eren." Saying it a second time, his name felt easier, smoother. In fact, it had a nice sound to it, and she had to restrain herself from saying it third, fourth, and even fifth time.

"What is it?"

"I'm… sorry." She kept her eyes locked onto the candle by the nightstand, watching it flicker and reflect off of the lantern glass beside it. Due to her own stupid actions, that candle could've burned this house down—along with her new family. And then she would only add greater weight to her life sentence as a murderer, right?

Eren laughed uneasily. "Nah, don't worry about it too much, Mikasa. Honestly, I'm still shaken up over that—"

"I'm a murderer," she cut in. Raising her hands, the hands that learned to sew today as well as the hands that sank a knife through a human being's heart, she felt her chest tighten up. Why were her hands so red now? And wet? For a minute, she couldn't breathe; the walls she built above herself finally crashed, letting down the pressure and guilt of today tumble down like an avalanche.

"Stop." His voice snapped her back to reality. Her hands were no longer bloodstained and dripping; they were clean, thanks to Carla's efforts. "Mikasa, just cut it out." She faced him to see those blue-green eyes gazing angrily down into his own hands. "We… we had a reason to do it! Those men were animals! They killed your—" He cut himself off at the last word and shook his head. "What I'm trying to say is, people like that shouldn't be allowed to be in this world."

"But there were three!" she protested. "They killed two people, my parents, but we… we killed three! That's not right! We—"

"Don't tell me that we're worse than them," Eren muttered darkly. "Because we're not. And that's not how it works. Three people went into your house and did all those crimes. It could've been one or two or five or six hundred. It just happened to be three. And two people died because of them. And it could've been three people. Or four or even a thousand. Just—" He clenched his hand into a fist. "—the fact that they killed your parents isn't right. Even if those bastards apologized for years at a time, they can never make up for that, so don't worry about it too much. We did the right thing."

Fight, you can't win without fighting.

She didn't exactly understand his logic. Had she killed out of justice, as he was describing? Without a doubt, she was sure that the fight-or-flight instinct had taken over in that moment, and she was teetering on the tightrope of survival, but was she also trying to be the hero? And earlier he spoke of them as animals—so was he out for revenge?

"Yeah," Mikasa replied bleakly. "But even though I might've had a good c-cause…" Her throat felt thick with bile, and the tears that she held back from earlier broke out and flowed freely down her face. "I killed someone," she choked. "An-and I get it!" she gasped quickly. "I had to fight to win! But that still doesn't mean that I won't feel terrible about it after…"

The world is cruel. Merciless.

She hated the world. Why couldn't its beauty prevail? Why did they have to live with such cruelty? Sniffing, she wiped the tears with the scarf and inhaled the scents of her new home. And the scent of Eren. He was a part of home, and having him sit here, right beside her on the side of the bed, was comforting to the torn feelings within her.

"I get what you mean," he replied, rubbing his neck with his fingertips. "I… I killed two people today, and it's kinda mind-blowing—in the bad way, I mean. It's nothing like getting in a fight with those older kids. I don't even know if I was really thinking, but it was just the right thing to do! Mikasa, just remember that! You had to do it!"

"I had to do it," she repeated. It seemed like he was trying to reassure himself of the same thing as well.

"Yeah! Don't cry anymore, Mikasa! We're here for you now." She could feel her cheeks heating up when he squeezed her hand once. Twice. "Listen, you should get some sleep now. Today's been hell for you, so the most important thing you need is rest. I can show you around town tomorrow."

"I can't sleep," she murmured. "I'm tired, but I can't sleep."

Eren paused. "You too?"

"Yeah."

"Well… I'm in the same boat as you. I've been literally lying in my bed for the past hour, but I can't sleep at all. It sucks. So I got bored and thought I should check up on you."

"Thanks."

"No problem," Eren sighed, flopping his back onto her mattress, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. "What do you wanna talk about?"

His question caught Mikasa by surprise. He struck her as fickle, having suddenly switched from talking about their dark day to this small talk, but she was secretly relieved by the change of topic.

"I don't know, what do you wanna talk about?" she responded, feeling awkward as she copied him, flopping back onto the bed beside him. Together, they gazed up at the panels of the ceiling, at the wiggling shadows made by the lights of the candle and lantern.

"I dunno either, but you're not like those other girls in my town. You probably wouldn't get along with them. All they do is whine and scream about boys and brush their hair."

"Are you saying that I don't brush my hair?"

"Sure." Eren reached over and flicked a strand of her dark hair into her face. "Plus, I haven't seen you complain once today about anything, which is pretty weird for a girl."

Unsure of how to respond to that, she brushed the disturbed lock back behind her ear and made a face. "Is that a compliment?"

"If you want it to be." He shrugged. "And why are you still wearing that ratty, old scarf? It's like a hundred degrees in this house. You should take it off before you get a fever, silly."

"I don't think it's ratty, and it's new to me," Mikasa said dryly. "No offense, Eren, but you need to learn how to talk to girls." Oops. That came out too quickly.

Before she could apologize or take it back, Eren flicked another strand of hair into her face. "What're you talking about? I know plenty about talking to girls. All you do is talk about hair and clothes. Like, 'Goddamn, Mikasa! You're hair's so gorgeous, what do you do to it?' And, 'Mikasa, yuck! That scarf's so ugly, why are you wearing it?!'"

Mikasa couldn't help but let slip a small smile at his fake falsetto. "Shut up, Erietta. I like this scarf, and I'm going to wear it every single day, whether you like it or not." Without holding back, she elbowed him hard into the side, and Eren yelped loudly.

"Damn, that hurt!" he yowled, sitting up and clutching his side. "Do you have the strength of a bear or what?"

"S-sorry! I didn't mean—"

"And Erietta? Is that the best you can come up with? If we're gonna be friends, you gotta do better than that, Mikasa! That was straight-up pathetic!"

Friends? Quickly, Mikasa sat up as well. "Eren, I'm really sorry! I swear, I—"

A loud creak sounded from the hallway. The two froze as footsteps padded down wooden floors outside the door.

"Crap, it's Mom!" Eren hissed. "Mikasa, you blow out the candle! I'll get the lamp, and we gotta be in bed before she gets here! Got it?"

"O-okay!" Heeding his orders, she clambered off of the mattress and tiptoed towards the nightstand. She sucked in a deep breath and extinguished the candle flame while Eren worked at the knob that turned on the gas lantern. "Eren, hurry!" Mikasa whispered, diving into the covers.

"I'm trying!" he shot back. The footsteps were nearing the door, and just as the doorknob creaked, the lantern shut off, drowning the room in pitch black.

Mikasa felt Eren squirming into the comforter beside her. They heard the door open slowly, and cracking an eyelid barely open to a slit, she could see the silhouette of Carla standing by the doorway. Eren's mother remained there for a few more seconds, tall and imperious, before closing the door. Her footsteps padded back the way she came. Signaling the end of the danger, a door in the distance screeched open and clunked as it shut.

"Phew, that was close," Eren whispered, popping out from the covers. "We better be quiet and keep the lights off or else Mom'll go berserk on us. Rule No. 1 in the Jaeger house is to always be in bed when you're s'posed to be in bed."

"Right," Mikasa replied, her voice muffled by the thick comforter. "No sneaking out." At a first glance, Carla Jaeger didn't seem like the stringent mother who kept close tabs on her kids, but based on Eren's chilling voice, she decided not to take too many chances.

"Yep, or else Mom gives you one hell of a spanking. One time, I snuck out around midnight so me and Armin could go see these fireworks the big kids were lighting up, but then some idiot set the bakery on fire, and when I got home—long story short, don't do it."

Mikasa nodded vigorously. "I won't." She wasn't exactly sure who this Armin character was, but on a second thought, she decided to hold her tongue.

Eren continued to tell stories of Armin and himself in hushed tones, of all their adventures together and of this big storybook that he made her swear to keep secret about because it was apparently taboo. Mikasa would respond with little nods or a mhmm or yeah, quick little replies in fear of interrupting him. Listening to Eren kept her mind off of the terror of that day, and she found herself clinging onto his every word, dangling when he took even the briefest moment to think or catch his breath. However, it also seemed to calm her roving emotions, even seeming to lull her to sleep.

"Hey," he whispered when she became unresponsive with those mhmm's and yeah's. "I think I'm gonna head on back to my room. You look tired."

Instantly, Mikasa's eyes snapped wide open. "What?"

"I said I was gonna go back to my bed. I'm getting a little sleepy too."

"Wait!" she called softly as he slipped towards the door, creating an empty hole in the covers beside her. "Won't your mom yell at you if she hears you going back? I mean, the door's really noisy."

"You… you want me to sleep here with you tonight?"

Mikasa felt her face turn bright red; fortunately, the lights were off, masking her embarrassment in darkness. "I don't want you to get in trouble…"

"Eh, you're right, this door's a total jerk. Scoot over."

She felt her spirits lift as he crawled back into that empty space beside her. She felt safe from the cruel world and its lack of mercy right here next to Eren. Next to him, she could see the world for what she wanted to see: its beauty.

"Just tonight, okay? I kinda kick a lot…"

"I think I can kick you back just as hard."

"…Yeah, definitely just tonight. Hey, remind me to show you a real cool spot by the river tomorrow. I think you'll like it."

She didn't answer. For the first time since the incident, her mind felt relatively at peace. There was only one escape from the world, and it was right here. Home.

The world is cruel and merciless… yet so beautiful.

"Night, Mikasa."