Songfic: 夢の世界 (Yume no Sekai / World of Dreams) by Monkey Majik
Video and lyrics translation available on my tumblr (see my profile; short url for song and lyrics post: ZqznJq-5z-Cs).

The night air bites viciously through her thin sweater, chilling her to her bones. She shivers, wrapping her arms around her knees as she pulls them close to her chest.

In her first expedition as a squad leader, Mikasa had returned with only half her team. It had taken the sacrifices of three of her most experienced soldiers to create enough of an opening for the rest to escape.

She didn't even have a chance to look back as they sped away. To say sorry for what she had asked them to do.

Sitting atop the hill behind the Survey Legion's headquarters, she can see over the walls: Rose just ahead and lit by torches, a ring of fire clawing towards the heavens as if making a desperate bid for freedom. And further afield, the shadows of Wall Maria, an inky backdrop mocking the futile pantomime of the flames.

She stares into the shadows, wondering if the day would come when she would be able to say their deaths were not in vain.

"…nobody could have predicted the outcome. Nobody ever can. So it doesn't matter what you did or didn't do."

She hadn't noticed his approach or when he had come to stand beside her, but she recognizes the worn tones of his voice.

"…I know…" she says simply, not bothering to look up.

He gives no other words of comfort, as they gaze out into the darkness together.

His movements are fluid yet deliberate as he shifts, lowering himself onto the grass with his back against hers. He waits in silence, but she hears the unspoken invitation.

Lean on me.

A sudden weariness overcomes her. Sitting back on her hands, Mikasa tips her chin upwards and closes her eyes, gingerly laying her head on his shoulder. He tilts his head towards her, wisps of his hair ghosting across her cheek.

She dreams of the dark walls rising up to swallow her, in the same way they had devoured her comrades.

A gentle warmth on her hand shakes her from her reverie, piercing through the relentless cold. She curls her fingers around his, grasping tenuously at the fragile solace he offers.

It is then that she opens her eyes, and finds the black skies littered with thousands of glittering stars.

Eren is the last to approach her after the ceremony. It had been impossible to get near earlier – as soon as the troops had been dismissed, she was swarmed by friends and admirers wanting to shake her hand, or convey their wishes with a salute.

"Looks like the new Captain of the Scouting Legion is pretty popular," he says to her with a grin. "Congratulations, Mikasa. If there's anyone who could take on the mantle of being Humanity's Strongest, it's you."

"…thanks, Eren," she mumbles; but she is not looking at him and there is too much of a pause before her reply.

His enthusiasm fades; he wonders if he has spoken too lightly.

"Hey."

"Mmm. I'm fine," she recites, the words brittle on her lips.

He frowns. She had been reluctant enough when asked to take on Mike's responsibilities in the past, but this, this was probably too much.

He struggles for a while, searching for the right advice.

"Mikasa, I… I mean, you… you don't have to do this, you know," he endeavors finally. "I'm sure the Commander would understand, if you wanted to refuse the position."

She fingers the edges of her scarf, turning his words over in her mind.

Erwin had said the exact same thing to her two days ago. That he would understand if she refused to accept the Captain's role. She had unleashed her fury against him then, spewing curses and bitter accusations of lunacy, hypocrisy, and cruelty.

He had calmly pointed out that sacrifices were necessary in order to accomplish bigger goals, and that as a squad leader herself, surely she understood this by now.

She had shut up after that, noting the dark circles under her superior's eyes.

He had gone on to tell her that the other burden of being a leader was to carry the fears of the soldiers, and display them as infinitely greater strength. That the only way to compensate for the all the deaths they had caused was to continue to fight, and win.

Fight and win, she muses, glancing up at the concerned expression on her brother's face. It was a refrain that constantly haunted her; a leitmotif pulling her along like a stringed puppet dancing over the abyss.

She knows that she can, and will, do this. For him, for the legion, for all their comrades who had died, and all those alive who still had hope in the future.

Stilling her hands, she pulls upright and faces him fully.

"I'll be fine. I'm strong, remember? More so than anyone."

Eren's eyes soften, reassured. "Yes, of course."

He gives her a slight wave as he moves off towards the barracks. She watches his retreating form until it disappears into the building.

"Yes… I will move forward. I'll keep fighting. Just like always," she states quietly, casting her eyes over the abandoned parade grounds stained in the dying colors of twilight.

She had always thought that his office was too small. Not because he needed a lot of space, or had a lot of things to put in it. It just felt like this tiny box could barely contain the intensity of his will, leaving little room for others to step in.

They stood at the chalkboard behind his desk, reviewing the strategy for their next mission. It was a gamble unlike any before: a guerrilla attack on the village of titan-shifters they had discovered beyond the woods. Erwin had insisted that it needed to be accomplished with precision and stealth – and therefore, only the two leaders with the two most elite teams would be given this impossible task.

That meant the two of them.

He draws a sweeping arc around the mess of triangles scattered about the board. "You will take your team around the perimeter, drawing the attention of the villagers to the outside. If any of them shift, you will lead them into the forest where the traps have been set beforehand. The trees should give you plenty of cover. My team will head straight for the village center, and attempt to recover the information that Historia mentioned in her brief. Got it?"

She scowls. "What kind of stupid plan is that? What happens if anyone shifts while you're right in the middle of them all? You have no escape, there are no 'trees' in the middle of a village!"

He continues scrawling arrows across the board. "Obviously, it's your job to lead enough of them away to the forest, so that my team can reasonably handle the ones that are left."

"That's insane," she retorts. "We have no idea how many shifters are over there. And I don't know what you or the commander qualify as 'reasonable handling', given that our success rate in the past has been far from ideal."

"Well, I sure as fuck don't see you suggesting a better plan of action. You heard Erwin. The information we're after is the last known record of how the shifters came to be, and if we don't get it out fast there's a good chance it will be destroyed once they realize we know about it." He is furiously circling the X in the middle of the chaotic scribbles, chalk dust falling like snow from his hand.

She turns away, glaring at the floor. "He might as well just say that it doesn't matter if you fail to return, in that case," she spits venomously.

His hand stops in mid circle.

Slowly, he puts the chalk down, turning to face her. And he is looking at her, really looking at her, and behind those fierce eyes she sees a wave of carefully hidden emotion swelling and breaking, threatening to drown them both.

Those turbulent grey eyes, they are reaching into her soul and taking her far, far away from here, to a place of promises unkept.

He steps forward, closing the gap between them in an instant. And then he is kissing her, deeply and urgently, hands tangling in her dark hair. Her senses are overwhelmed by the taste of him, the smell of him, crisp and clean like the sudden rain that cuts through the suffocating midsummer heat.

Her pulse is thrums in her ears as she is surrounded by the force of his desire. Live… live… LIVE, it chants, over and over. This is what it means to be alive.

She closes her eyes, pushing fully into his embrace, and wishes for time to stop in this moment where nothing matters except for the feel of his body against hers.

"It's not much of a celebratory party if the guest of honour is nowhere to be found," he calls out, rounding the top of the hill.

"Hmph," she scoffs. "Everyone but you would be too drunk by now to notice that I've left. How did you know I would be here, anyway?"

"Where else would you be?" he answers with a shrug. "May I?"

Mikasa inclines her head towards the grassy patch on her left. "Sure."

Armin crosses over, careful not to step on the plain grey flagstone buried in the ground beside her. He places a small rucksack in front of him before taking a seat, folding his legs underneath as he settles down.

She had never confided in anyone about what had happened between them, and certainly they had treated each other with only professional respect in front of everyone else. But somehow Armin was always able to see the things that lay beneath the surface, and she sensed that her friend had figured it out.

After all, he had guessed correctly that she would be here.

"Say, Armin..." she begins tentatively, stretching out her hand and bringing it to rest on the cold stone between them. "The words... that we fail to speak while we're alive... where do they go to rest, when we are no more?"

He regards Mikasa thoughtfully, observing as she unconsciously traces patterns on the rough slate with her fingers.

"I believe… that they stay in the hearts of those left behind," he replies after a while. The tracing stops.

"Is that so…" she murmurs, and he can hear the pain in her voice.

They fall into silence, watching the lonely wisps of cloud rolling across the midnight sky in the distance.

After some time, Armin stretches forward and shuffles around in his bag, pulling out a small flask. He sets it on the ground next to Mikasa's fingers, along with two small cups.

Standing to his feet, he places his hand on her shoulder briefly. "Drink it while it's hot, ok?"

She bows her head once, keeping her eyes forward.

He turns to go, but stops two steps later.

"…I am sure he knew, Mikasa," Armin says. "He knew."

She turns to him then. "…thank you, Armin."

He nods, setting off down the hill.

"Thank you," she whispers again, looking at the flask beside her. She opens it, filling the two cups to the brim. Lifting the first to her lips, she drinks it down, feeling her eyes burn as the warm sake washes down her throat.

Picking up the second cup, she pours it slowly and carefully over the stone, and watches as the liquid runs across it in rivulets before bleeding into the grass.

They are the last two in the stables, having sent the rest of their teams ahead to wait for them at the gates. Working efficiently, purposefully, they pack supplies and check equipment. There is a rhythm to their movements, a subtle synchronicity that ebbs and flows as they move around each other and pass various items back and forth.

He tosses a set of ropes in her direction and turns back to his horse, knowing she would catch them easily.

She fumbles, the rough coils slipping through her fingers and landing in the dirt with a soft thud.

It is just another mission, she thinks, retrieving the ropes from the ground and fastening them to her saddle. Yet she is strangely uneasy, and she doesn't understand why she feels a pressing need to say something. Anything.

"Hey- woah, shh…" he soothes in a low voice, patting his steed as it paws the floor nervously.

Tightening the last of the straps on his pack, he takes hold of the reins and tugs.

"I'm going. See you at the gates, Mikasa." He brushes past her, stepping towards the doors.

Now, the voice inside her urges. Tell him now.

She grabs the edge of his cloak as he passes and he stops, turning towards the pull of her hand.

She hesitates, the words dissolving on her tongue. "I…"

"…don't," he says, cutting her off. His voice is dull, controlled; it is the voice of a soldier bound to his duty. But as she looks into his eyes, the flood comes rushing back and he falters.

Lifting his hand, he cups her cheek gently and smiles, just for a moment.

It is a smile she has never seen before, full of tenderness and vulnerability, and it is so, so beautiful that it takes her breath away.

He turns to go.

No. No no no NO, the voice in her head screams.

She knows this scene. It does not have a happy ending.

"No, stop…"

But he has already mounted his horse and is galloping towards the gates, the wings of freedom are flying out behind him and he is soaring fast and far into the night.

She is running, she is reaching out, but she cannot catch up and he is fading away.

"Wait! I l-"

She wakes too soon, again.

Beyond her outstretched hand, the rugged wooden beams of the ceiling come into focus, then blur once more, as the hot tears stream down her cheeks.

His smile is seared into her memories; that achingly beautiful smile that was as brilliant as the starry sky on the night he first held her hand, and as warm as his arms around her when they first kissed.

She closes her eyes and covers her face, releasing a shuddering breath.

"Levi, please..." she whispers.

Alone in her room, she cries until she is shattered and dry, and waits for the merciless night to carry her back to his world of dreams.