Chains in the Sand
3
Chp 1 here
and...
cw: allusion to canon-typical violence, injury, and death, angst, kidnapping, manipulation, yandere behaviour, allusion to miscarriage, murder, suicidal thoughts, being dependent on Zeke.
It wasn’t often that she cut into flesh that didn’t hiss and steam at the intrusion, but she was far from a stranger to the feeling. She had killed her first human long before she’d ever seen a Titan, after all.
It had been a quick thing, over in a second and overshadowed immediately by the two assailants that still remained gaining leverage over her. The score of thugs had separated her from Levi, ambushing them en route back from her first operation in the hushed darkness of the woods just outside Trost. Levi hadn’t taken long to fight his way back to her, but it was long enough for her to have to act.
What she remembered clearest about that moment was the absence of hesitation. The kill was necessary, an instinctive move born of desperation and training. Once he had incapacitated the pair who’d overpowered her, Levi’s eyes had darted between the body and her — not pitying, not judging, only gauging what she needed. He had dislodged her little blade from the man’s side, handed it to her hilt-first, and let her choose what came next. She had gone for the kill again.
In those moments, Levi's silence was precious. He would never judge her, not in the act of taking a life, and not in seeking solace. Wrapped in his arms, she had found refuge. Witnessing her at her rawest, he had, in turn, let her glimpse into his own guarded soul, finally beginning to dismantle the walls he had long upheld around himself. It marked the deepening of a bond that became her anchor, giving her the strength to move forward. At her most vulnerable, he had made her feel invincible.
Was it deranged then, that memories of murder were tied enduringly to something so precious?
Was it wrong that in the agony of losing him, she’d gone for the kill this time too?
Her makeshift blade broke skin, blood blossoming around metal and unfurling across the clean fabric of Zeke’s uniform shirt. But his reaction was swift and ruthless. Before the blade could penetrate deeper, he seized her wrist, twisted it, and pinned her arm behind her back.
He didn’t stop there. She didn't even have time to meet his eyes before the world tilted on its axis and Mila found her face shoved roughly into the mattress. The worn fabric scraped against the abraded skin all over her body. Her surprised yelp was cut off by a new, excruciating pain.
In an attempt to break her fall, Mila had instinctively reached out with her free hand, twisting her injured arm in the process.
The room closed in on her as the searing agony blinded her senses. The stretch and chafe of tender, burnt skin.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she clenched her teeth to suppress the howls that fought to escape her chest.
Whimpering, she tried to move her arm into a less painful position.
“Stay still,” Zeke growled, shoving her once again. She could feel the strength behind his weight alone. He may not have needed much to overpower her but she sensed the strain in his voice – not from pain, but his effort to maintain composure.
Mila's breaths came ragged as she struggled against his hold, hampered by stifled sobs and wild strands of matted hair that clung to the dampness of her tear-steaked face.
Zeke's grip was unyielding.
“Oh Mila, Mila… I thought we were getting somewhere.”
The mattress shifted as he leaned away slightly, nursing his wound. His light hiss of discomfort felt like a jeer, a patronising coo at her feeble effort.
“Right for the kidney, too… Really? Can’t say I’m entirely surprised but I am disappointed.”
He muttered more to himself than to her. “Why did you do this?”
Why… why had she?
The whirlwind of anguish and fury in her mind was slow to clear. Action always came so much easier than thought, even in moments far less severe.
Mila had been in hiding in more ways than one. From pain, from loss, from the truth that pressed relentlessly against her mind.
And now, with all possibility of that simple outlet -of action- denied, Mila couldn't help but reflect.
Yes, this man had saved her from the battlefield, kept her from death. He was nursing her back to health. But she couldn't trust him, not after everything she had been through.
In that moment, when he’d spoken of her ‘home’, it was like he was the one who had sent titans to kill everyone she knew, for no reason other than a whim.
He was who’d broken down Wall Maria and let a stream of titans in to wreak havoc on the people of Shiganshina. And then Trost.
He had killed everyone on Levi’s squad, torn Miche and Nanaba and Gelgar limb from limb. He was responsible for destroying the Scouts, Hange, Moblit, Erwin…
He had kept them all in a cage to be slaughtered like cattle.
He had murdered Levi.
“You know why,” she murmured, voice trembling with impotent rage.
Zeke sighed, his weight easing slightly. “I suppose you think me a monster, like everyone else not on your side. With a terrible thirst for blood…” a knee nudged her foot, chain jingling, “and perhaps an unconventional approach to caregiving.”
A sharp laugh rose to her throat, but she swallowed it along with her impulse to agree. But that wasn’t it. She knew that this man was not directly responsible for any of those things.
She thought about what he had said before, about wanting to send her back home.
What was the world that she had known now? Overrun by titans? Taken over by this mysterious group of shifters who had all the knowledge that her world had fought so desperately for? She didn’t want to know. She had spent the last days trying so hard not to ask, not to even think.
She could fathom a few reasons for the enemy wanting to nurse her to health and send her back, make her some kind of ambassador; an emissary of the oppressors.
But then why keep her like this, chained and hidden?
This man was not following orders. Most likely, he was part of some kind of oppositional movement within the enemy’s ranks. And he would likely answer all of her questions eagerly.
But every question she could ask seemed like a path leading to unbearable truths. If the Scouts were gone, if Levi was gone, what did that mean for her? The thought terrified her more than death.
Nothing he said could make a difference.
He wanted to send her back into a world without Levi. He was keeping her in a world without Levi.
“Well? Is that it, Liebchen?” he prodded, interrupting her tormented thoughts.
“I don’t give a shit…” she seethed, tossing her head in a failed attempt to get her hair out of her mouth. “About you.”
“Hmm.”
Mila flinched when she felt him touch her, but he merely used a finger to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her body remained tense under the disconcertingly gentle touch.
“I understand your anger, I truly do...”
She couldn't see his face, but his voice was back to the calm, thoughtful baritone that had talked her through her days of catatonia. She could feel him slowly inch back, releasing the pressure on her back. It was a sign of his willingness to engage in a conversation. He was trusting her.
Or he was just that certain that she didn’t pose a threat. It was as if he wasn’t, at that very moment, bleeding from a wound she had inflicted.
“…but in this moment, think for a second.”
Despite herself, Mila was descending fast from the tension of their confrontation into a hazy exhaustion, and his voice – deep and mollifying – gave her pause.
“Can you suspend your personal rage for long enough to understand the-"
He scoffed softly when she began to roll onto her side, groaning with the effort it took. But he reached out nonetheless. “Easy…”
She felt the heat of a solid arm sliding beneath her back, hooking around her waist to lift her. Exhaustion from the constant shadow of pain overwhelmed her, and Mila let her muscles relax, surrendering to his movements. Zeke’s other hand rose to support her head.
Fingertips grazed her scalp, the rhythmic motion soothing, lulling.
She blinked. Slow, unfocused.
His face hovered above hers, framed by the golden halo of his curls. Broad shoulders eclipsed the dim, yellow light, shielding her from an unforgiving world. His lips barely moved, voice low and steady.
“That’s it… I’ve got you.”
This wasn’t so bad. It was almost comforting. Maybe with him there, she could just slip back into the floating realm of not thinking. Not doing. Just the quiet space of nothingness.
He didn’t settle her back into her previous position. Instead, he fluidly slid between her and the wall, sitting her down onto his thigh. The warmth of his body pressed into hers, and though it offered comfort, Mila’s instincts rebelled, making her squirm at the proximity.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice a soothing hum.
His left hand found hers and guided it carefully until it rested on his knee, trembling but anchored.
“Mila,” he said, his tone deliberate and measured. “I’m not your enemy.”
Her body tensed up with doubt but his arm pressed her closer, cradling her head into the crook of his neck as he murmured soft assurances.
“I’m not the enemy. You’re safe with me.”
A shaky breath escaped her lips, deeper than any she’d managed in days. Zeke’s scent surrounded her. He usually smelled faintly of cigarette smoke but now a far more complex mix hit her. She focused on it, using it to try and clear her mind.
Tobacco and leather, and something else — a sharp, spicy sweetness that reminded her of rare fruits served at lavish Mitras parties.
The orange ones her sister had loved.
A bad idea. It was a bad idea, to try and focus when every thought, every thread invariably led her back to memories tied to the dead. If she could only get out of her head, just for a moment…
She shut her eyes, dispelling more tears with a sniffle. Her good hand clenched the fabric of her shift against her belly, seeking a fragile sense of grounding.
Zeke's warmth enveloped her, his fingers threading slowly through her hair, occasionally grazing her scalp. The rhythmic touch proved impossible to resist, and the tension in her body began to ebb.
“You’ve had it rough, haven’t you, Liebchen?” he cooed, and she felt it resonating in his chest, pressed into him as she was. It was reminiscent of the purr of a cat. For a moment, Mila found herself melting into the soothing touch, letting the warmth seep into her bones. Thoughts of Levi heavy on her heart, she couldn't help but whisper, "I’ve had it easier than most."
“Have you, now?” he murmured, the faintest chuckle vibrating through her. “Weren’t you in the Survey Corps?”
Mila huffed a small, bitter laugh, the sound sharp and edged with pain. But something about the question burrowed into her, unsettling and persistent.
Zeke's fingers continued their gentle ministrations, his touch remaining unbroken despite her silence. Realizing she wouldn’t elaborate, he mused softly.
“It must be worse than anything I could imagine, living inside those walls. If battling titans felt like an escape… if that was what you called ‘having it easy’.” He paused, his voice dropping even lower, “You must have had such high hopes for the world outside. To fight for it the way you did.”
Mila’s fist tightened further with impotent fury, his words chafing against the raw nerve of her loss.
“After everything you’ve endured,” he lowered his head, murmuring into her hair, “…wouldn’t you like to know the truth?”
That whisper carried a shiver from her ear all the way through her body, striking something deep inside her. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was something primal and unrelenting.
The truth.
The truth that everyone else had given their lives for, laid down as an offering at her feet.
Weren’t you in the Survey Corps?
The winds in Mila’s head had caught onto those words. Tugging, pulling threads of thought into forms she could no longer ignore.
Zeke sighed deeply and paused – a deliberate, hopeful silence which Mila did not break. He continued, his tone almost imploring.
“It’s alright if you don’t trust me – really, it is. All I ask is that you give yourself a chance. To survive. To finally know. And maybe even to help.”
When she still didn’t respond, he casually hooked his foot around his rucksack and pulled it closer, rummaging through its contents as he spoke. “Ah well. Now, how about we get you a generous dose of opiates and a warm bath?”
He pulled out a compact case housing a syringe and several small glass vials.
“Opiates. Is that what it’s called? The medicine you said staves off infection?” Mila’s voice was faint. She watched him singlehandedly pierce the seal of a vial and extract the milky liquid into the syringe.
“No, that was the antibiotic,” He explained, enunciating carefully. “Comes from a form of mould. Kills bacteria that can cause infection. Opiates, on the other hand, help with pain. You probably know some form of it derived from the poppy flower.”
His tone carried a faint condescension, like a teacher simplifying concepts for a student deemed incapable of understanding. Mila couldn’t blame him. For a century, they had been kept in the dark, while the rest of the world advanced.
An ache in her throat, she thought back on long days in the lab with Hange and Moblit. The weapons she’d helped design. The many expeditions. The fierce joy of small discoveries, of every little step forward. How insignificant all those victories must seem to these people on the other side. How pointless.
The stroking of her head halted as Zeke shifted, his hand moving to steady her arm in preparation for the injection.
Weren’t you in the Survey Corps?
Those words surged back. Louder. Sharper.
The storm in her heart rose, finally ripping them to shreds.
She hadn’t been in the Survey Corps.
She was still a soldier. She was still very much a scout.
“Wait.”
The single word, quiet but firm, froze Zeke mid-motion. He stilled completely.
The scouts were not decimated at all. If every other member of the Survey Corps was truly dead, then it fell to her to carry their mission forward.
If Erwin never reached that basement, it was now her responsibility to obtain for him – for them all – the answers that they had sacrificed their lives for.
It wouldn’t be as easy as giving up. She would need to find a way to live with a heart that ached a hundred times deeper than the searing burn of that explosion.
But she could do it, she realised.
She would dedicate her broken heart.
Her hand rose, trembling but resolute, gently pushing his away. “It’ll make me drowsy. Before that, you have to… I need to know… Tell me everything.”
Zeke’s expression shifted subtly, a flicker of intrigue sparking his gaze. He set the syringe aside with deliberate care.
“Of course, Mila,” he said, his voice smooth and certain. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Pls drop a comment because my irl friends don't fangirl and I can't be alone :')
