Disgruntled by the late hour, the squad leader opened the door with a somehow more grumpy expression than normal on his face. "... What could you possible want at this time, Acker--" He began before having to catch the soldier whom suddenly collapsed in to his arms. "... Ackerman?" He'd mutter, his tone a mix of panic and confusion, "Ackerman?!" Shit.
Mikasa had left the bar an hour ago. With her bank account fleeced from the drinking, she had no option but to walk home. Leaving Sasha and Historia to go their separate ways she had shivered in her black leather jacket, her hand stuffed into the pockets of her black jeans while her shoulder bag bumped impatiently against her legs as she walked.
She hated being broke, and as she hurried home she counted off the days until she was paid - it was only eight days away. She could last until then.
Perhaps it was because she was too focused on budgeting as she walked, or perhaps one drink too many, but she didn’t notice the shadow following her on her way. As she turned down a quieter street she was suddenly grabbed from behind and she felt the cold metal of a blade against her throat. “Bag.” hissed the assailant.
Not to be taken lightly, Mikasa let her reflexes take over, and she was soon out of his grip, albeit with a cut on her cheek from the blade. Her movements were second nature, but flawed with the dulled reactions from the alcohol - moving her limbs was almost like pulling them through treacle. Before she could even react, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen as the knife was plunge through the jacket. She cried out, whimpering and collapsing to the ground and the searing agony rendered her body useless. All she could do was register the pain in her body as she weakly tried to apply pressure to the wound, acutely aware of the wetness that had already soaked into her jacket. Lost in the waves of agony that kept crashing over her she didn’t even notice the assailant leaving, having cut the bag away from her shoulder.
She didn’t know how long she lay on the ground, barely strong enough to even make audible whimpers and no one came to her aid. Eventually, she managed to stand, though her legs threatened to buckle. Her mind raced - the nearest hospital was miles away, too far to walk and taxis didn’t come down this way often but…
Levi… He lives near here.
Her mind struggled as she tried to remember exactly where it was he lived - it turned out to be a lot closer than she remembered but her body seemed to be willing itself to live, leading her on muscle memory straight to his door. Her knock was weak and barely audible.
C’mon Mikasa, knock… just a little harder…
Summoning up her strength, she curled her hand into a fist and thumped it against the door. Relief, coupled with the pain finally being intolerable, swept over her as he opened the door, and she collapsed into his arms.
