'Just Be' [Jean x Reader] Ending 2: DISAPPEARANCE

Author's Notes: This is the second alternate ending for the Just Be series, as such there are massive fic spoilers abound. Just like the 'Decision Ending,' this ending takes place chronologically in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Trost, after Part 31, and illustrates a different outcome of Part 32. Hope you enjoy!

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…

…

The wait was agonizing. Hour after hour ticked by as you sat hunched against the wall, face buried in your hands.

Resting on the other side of the recovery room was Jean. Lightly bandaged, he sat at a table, his hands folded together and tented up in front of him. His eyes, framed with dark circles, were shut tight. His forehead rested against his knuckles. Quite frankly, he was faring no better than you were.

Outside, the blasts of cannon-fire persisted, like a relentless storm. With the gate sealed, the final operation to mop-up the remaining Titans was under way.

… There was still no news of Marco, and by this point you were dreading the worst.

In the final stages of Trost's liberation, you, Jean, and Marco had been caught in the explosion that had finally finished off the monstrous Crawler Titan. Jean had ended up buried beneath the wreckage of fallen, only to be saved at the last possible moment by Marco. With Jean injured and you still missing, Marco had taken it upon himself to search for you by himself.

…And that was the last Jean had seen of his best friend since.

Little did Marco realize, you had miraculously managed to wander back to the Wall on your own. Dazed, exhausted, and a little bit scratched up, but alive. That was when you found Jean resting on a makeshift bed of crates, looking a little beat up, but otherwise well. Once the two of you were reunited, the sudden and horrifying question suddenly kicked in.

…Where in the world was Marco?

It immediately became clear that your mutual friend, comrade, and Brother-in-Arms was still unaccounted for. Without a doubt, he was still somewhere out there, on the front lines. Either he was in trouble, or still searching for you, not realizing that you had already made it back safely. Despite the danger, you and Jean were both fully prepared to leave the safety of the Walls once more to recover him with your own hands. Alive, preferably. Dead, if you absolutely had to. The idea was perilous, yes. But still, the two of you would have rather risked your lives facing the Titans once more than to sit around trapped in the Hell of waiting. Waiting and not knowing, if there was a shred of hope that Marco could still be rescued.

… Despite your best intentions, you and Jean were forbidden from re-entering Trost. No matter how hard you begged and protested, the officers would have none of it. The battle zone now belonged to the Recon Corps. With their precision and efficiency with regards to dispatching the remaining Titans, they were the ones trusted to manage the mop-up operation. A pair of injured Cadets, despite their noble intentions, would only get in the way.

And so…all you could do was sit there and wait, and hope with all your heart that someone from the Recon Corps would spot some sign of Marco, and not mistake him for another corpse. The sheer helplessness of your situation was agony. Between the prospect of hearing the worst news possible or no news at all, you didn't know which you feared more.

You lifted your face from your hands and looked at Jean. You could tell that he worried sick, despite his efforts to keep calm. Sensing your pinpoint stare, his eyes flickered upwards. Both of you were begging for some sort of solace, some sort of reassurance, but neither of you could give it. Between you and Jean, not a single word had been exchanged for the past hour and a half. There was only restless, apprehensive silence. It seemed almost foolhardy to even hope, yet you had not the courage to do anything else…

The sun began to dip behind the Wall once more. The longer you waited, the more unbearable it became. That was when you heard a door slam open, followed by a commotion coming from the infirmary entrance.

Multiple footsteps could be heard shuffling in. The atmosphere was frantic. Someone was barking orders. "Get us a spare bed! NOW! We need gauze, sutures, tourniquets… whatever you can find! HURRY!"

Startled, you and Jean both looked up and gazed towards the doorway. A crowd of green-cloaked soldiers were flooding hastily through the hallway.

Jean glanced at you with a perplexed expression. You gave him the same look. As the two of you rose to your feet, you were suddenly graced by the presence of Lance Corporal Levi, who looked as grim and stormy as ever.

Exacerbating his foul mood, perhaps, was the fact that his sleeves were soaked elbow deep in blood. Human blood, you realized in alarm. Titan blood never left stains behind.

"Black hair. Tall. Fair-skinned, sixteen-year-old brat, with a face full of freckles," he said in a deadpan voice, crossing his arms at the doorway. "That was the description you gave us, am I correct?"

You and Jean both reacted on the spot.

"You…you found him?!" you gasped, not yet daring to believe. "Marco…!"

“Is he…” Jean stared intently, almost afraid to ask. “Is he alive…?”

A troubled crease appeared on Levi’s forehead as he glanced over his shoulder, towards the commotion further down the hallway. “Barely. I’d say we arrived in the nick of time. I can’t say that it’s a pretty sight, so you’d best be-“

You weren’t listening. Neither was Jean. Levi cursed loudly as he was knocked backwards into a wall. You and Jean both ran past and left him there. All you could think about, with utmost desperation, was the well-being of your comrade.

A bead of sweat appeared on Jean’s temple as he picked up the pace. The fear on his face was apparent. But you knew that it was nothing compared to his overpowering need to know, with his own eyes, that Marco was alive.

…Marco, you whispered silently, following the noise that came from one of the operation rooms. Please… Please be alright…!

Emerging from the room was Major Hanji Zoe, who had to dodge a near collision as you and Jean rushed over.

“Goodness, what on Earth-!” she exclaimed, grabbing her spectacles. “By any chance, are you two friends of the young man we found? I’m sorry, but I really can't let you-“

“MARCO!” Jean yelled, shoving past her and charging into the room. As you maneuvered to follow him, the lean soldier suddenly froze on the spot, turning white with horror at the sight that lay before him. Looking further into the room, you immediately realized why.

The sheets were stained with blood. Medical workers were tending to him, their faces grim and grey. There on the sick bed lay the unmistakable form of Marco, who was wheezing and gasping and writhing in pain. Your insides churned as you watched.

…Half of his face was disfigured. More specifically, it looked more like a torn up, bloody mass of flesh than a face. His right eye was lost entirely. Large sections of outer skin had been stripped away, revealing the raw, bleeding muscle underneath. The remaining half of his visage was stained with tears, features contorted in a heart-rending expression of terror and suffering.

You almost didn't recognize him. But there was no mistake, those freckled, boyish features were his. What was left of them, anyhow.

Masses of gauze and bandaging had already been applied to stem the bleeding, but even then it was still a traumatic sight. That was when you noticed something deformed and misshapen about the rest of his body, as though part of it had been crushed inwards. But looking closer, this was actually not the case. Marco was missing his entire right arm, and along with a significant chunk of his right shoulder.

Seeing him alive and in torment, you didn't know whether you had witnessed a miracle…or something downright horrifying.

The bandages that had been hastily bound around his injuries, presumably at the site where he was found, where already soaked and dripping. His body trembled violently, and his chest labored… panting, heaving, fighting for dear life while drowning in pain.

"…M-Marco…" Jean whispered. His face was ashen. "Wh-what the hell happened to you…?"

You were too aghast to speak.

Hearing his name, Marco strained to focus the one eye he had left, as though he had only just realized that you and Jean were standing into the same room. His lips, raw and bleeding, silently mouthed Jean's name and yours, but despite his best efforts he was unable to utter a single coherent word. The only noises he could manage were the horrible gasps and gurgling noises of someone struggling to breathe.

The healers set to work removing the filthy bandages and treating his wounds, grievous as they were. Though they tried their damndest to be gentle, there was little they could do for Marco's comfort. The most wrenching moment, however, was when he regained full consciousness...and suddenly began screaming in agony.

"Ergh… Ngh…. Aaaaugh!!"

You couldn't bear it. Though you longed to be near Marco and help him when his need was greatest, to witness him in this awful state was more than your psyche could process. Clenching your eyes shut, you clasped your palms over your ears to block out the noises tearing from Marco's throat. So much blood…

You felt like screaming, yourself.

As Marco began to thrash and spasm on the sickbed, you were briskly pulled out of the room by a pair of strong, lean arms. The door was shut after you. Marco's voice was muffled now, but you heard his agonized voice all the same.

In the hallway, Jean hugged you close, trying to comfort you. The two of you were trembling from head to toe.

"[First]…" he gasped, filled with remorse. "I'm so sorry I made you look! I should have been more careful…"

You clutched at Jean's jacket, burying your face into his shoulder. You didn't even care about that at all.

"Marco… He's… " You whispered, voice cracking with sobs. "Thank God… He's alive… He's alive…!" Tears burned your eyes. "But… Oh, Jean… he's in so much pain…!"

Jean hushed you gently, and rubbed your back. His other hand brushed against your hair, offering reassurance. But you could tell by the tension in his arms that he had mixed emotions about the whole thing. Marco, for the time being, was alive. …But what was the outlook?

"Please… Please tell me that he's going to be alright, Jean!" you cried, staring up at him. "I know he's suffering so much right now… but I don't want him to die!"

For a second, Jean's mouth hung open in the air. His jaw trembled, he struggled for the courage and eloquence to say something optimistic. Something hopeful. But the realist in him was unable to sugar-coat the truth.

"I…. I don't know, [First]… I really don't…" he uttered weakly, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth. "I don't want him to die either! But after seeing his injuries… all the blood he's already lost…"

His grip on you tightened as more frantic shouts and horrified screams rang out from the treatment room.

"… The only thing we can do now is wait," he said, holding you closer and covering your ears. "… No matter what, the two of us will be there for him. …That has to count for something. …Right?"

You certainly hoped this was the case.

---

Another full day went by in fearful wait. Every now and then, you'd receive news from the treatment room. Some small improvement here, a terrible mishap there… but nothing conclusive. Marco's life still hung in the balance. That said, the fact that he was finally accounted for was a source of hope for you and Jean. As the two of you waited for your own small injuries to heal, you sat together in silence. Waiting. Praying. Hoping.

Every so often, a comrade from the 104th would visit and inquire after Marco's current level of stability. Sasha brought food, even though Marco was in no state to eat any of it now. You and Jean, however, helped yourselves and recovered your strength. Connie dropped by as well, looking horror struck. So did Christa and even Ymir. Reiner frequented the infirmary on a regular basis. Bertholdt did so less often. You often spotted Annie hovering outside the entrance, but for some reason she always seemed unwilling to come inside.

Marco was a beloved member of their regiment, the friendly heart-and-soul of their circle who always looked after everyone. It was only natural that the Cadets worried about him. But for you and Jean, anxiety hit you the hardest.

"It's all my fault…" you lamented, pressing your head against the wall. "It's all because he went looking for me. I made this happen. …If I hadn't been so careless…!"

Jean grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, and forced you to face him.

"[First], you had best be shitting me if you actually believe that," he snapped. Though his manner was admonishing, there was empathy in his eyes. "Listen, you had no idea of knowing what would have happened. How could you? Marco willingly took every risk when he ran off in search for you." His expression turned grim. "And as it so happens… he was lucky in some ways, and unlucky in others…"

This was talking about the boy who had graduated at Rank Seven in the 104th. A fortuitous number, indeed…

"I can't help it…" you sniffled, rubbing your eyes. "At this rate, he might die because of me… And… and even if he survives… they probably won't be able to admit him into the Military Police after all, will they?" The realization filled you with ice. "He's lost his entire arm…"

Jean paused uncomfortably. He had not considered this possibility at all.

"Don't think about that right now," he urged you, clasping his hands around yours. "For now, let's just pray for his recovery. Marco's still fighting in there, you know. We have to keep calm and stay vigilant, in case something happens."

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath to calm your nerves. "Yeah," you said in a resolute voice. "He needs us both. I won't abandon him, ever."

… For the rest of the evening, Jean observed you closely. Though his main concern was Marco, he still had room in his heart to worry about you. But by this point, Marco was the only thing you could think about.

You didn't realize back then, exactly how much you were going to live up to your promise.

---

In the end, Marco truly was stronger than the both of you together. He fought for his life with his all… and won. You and Jean could scarcely dare to believe it as Hanji Zoe gave her report.

"He's still in a lot of pain, and it'll be a very long while before he recovers completely. Poor boy…" she said ruefully, adjusting her glasses. "But…"

"…But?" Jean asked, holding his breath.

Hanji smiled kindly at him. "The medical workers are confident that he'll live. I'm amazed, to be honest. Your comrade is a trooper at heart. Didn't make a single complaint at us either. I've met soldiers who have bawled their eyes out at lesser injuries."

Jean collapsed into his chair, pressing his palms against his eyes. His voice was barely a crackling whisper. "Thank God…"

You took a step forward and grasped her hand. She blinked at you mildly.

"I… Major Hanji…"

You fumbled on your words, staring wide-eyed at her. "…I can't thank you enough for all that you've done. Not only did you find him, but you went out of your way to make sure he got the best treatment possible…!" You shook your head, unable to comprehend it. "Why…?"

Hanji looked at you warmly. Her smooth, yet callused hands wrapped lightly over yours. "I doubt it would surprise you, but we've witnessed every injury imaginable in our line of work. As such, all of us at the Legion have sharper skills in battlefield healing and first response than most would give us credit for. If you think we had to go out of our way to help your friend, don't. Every Titan we slaughter counts for only so much, but the lives we preserve matter far more."

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm not saying that I speak for the entire Legion. Some members are far more pragmatic about the matter than I am. But to be honest, seeing you two so worried and your friend in need of help… struck us closer to home than we expected."

"Is that why you have volunteers working in the infirmary?" Jean asked, amazed.

Hanji nodded. "Yes. The Titans have all eradicated from Trost, so Commander Erwin has given us permission to participate in relief efforts. Our friends in the Garrison got hit the hardest… but I suppose that is to be expected during an invasion."

Her words made terrifying sense. The Recon Corps saw bloodshed on a regular basis, but this time it was the Garrison who had suffered the most.

"So... what's going to happen?" Jean asked tentatively. "Can… May we see him now?"

"The poor boy needs looking after, that much is for certain," said Hanji, slinging a pack over her shoulder. "He's still asleep, but the healers should have no issue if you decide to pay him a visit. In the meantime…" Her eyes suddenly lit up with a bright grin. "…I'm off for the capital on Legion business. It seems as though you've got quite an unusual comrade in your midst, Cadets. I do look forward to meeting him!"

She was talking about Eren. Come to think of it, you hadn't seen Mikasa or Armin in a while, have you?

Hanji gave a cheerful salute, which you returned with respect and gratitude. With that, she left the two of you for the hallway outside, humming a merry tune. … She was certainly in a good mood.

The moment you and Jean were left once more to your own devices, the two of you exchanged the same look.

"Let's go see Marco," Jean urged.

You nodded, heart pounding, and hurried with him to the recovery unit. From the aftermath of despair and hopelessness, things were finally starting to look up.

---

After a nightmare of hearing Marco’s agonized screams non-stop, the utter silence coming from the recovery unit was eerie. Gathering his nerve, Jean drew a breath and stepped inside first. Once he gave you a look signaling that all was well, you followed him in.

Where there had once been bloodstains, everything was now white and stark clean. Whatever the medical team from the Recon Corps had done to help, it was clear that they had known full well what they were doing. There in the bed lay Marco, resting up to his neck beneath the covers. Only his head remained exposed, and half of it was bound expertly in bandages, clean and fresh. His remaining eye was closed, and his chest moved gently up and down. You tried to convince yourself that he was only asleep, and not trapped inside a coma.

You stepped further into the room, making your way closer to the bedside. A basin full of fresh water, a washcloth, a supply of bandages, and various medicines were arranged on a nearby table, along with a set of instructions. Jean quietly drew up a chair and sat down on one side of the bed. You did the same on the left side, leaning in so that you could gaze into Marco’s face.

“Marco…” you murmured, knowing that he likely couldn’t hear you.

His face was still as pale as a ghost beneath his freckles. Every now and then, a faint groan or mumble escaped his lips, as though he were disturbed by a sudden nightmare... but other than that, his sleeping expression was a serene as could be.

“He looks so peaceful,” you voiced your thoughts out loud, reaching out to brush a bit of hair away from the boy’s forehead. “He doesn’t look like he’s in much pain anymore.”

“The drugs must be working, then,” Jean said, looking pensive. A frown appeared on his face. Hesitating for a moment, he reached out for the sheets that concealed Marco from the neck down. Eyes tense, he pulled them away, looking underneath.

A chill coursed down your spine at the sight of Marco’s bandaged torso, right arm utterly gone from the shoulder down, leaving behind only tightly-bound stump. Such horrible injuries…they were bound to leave awful scars. You hoped the prognosis would be as optimistic as Hanji had described.

Jean let out a heavy sigh.

“There’s no way the Military Police will take him like this,” he said, voice full of regret. "Chances are, he probably won't be considered fit for combat either if he can’t use the 3DMG anymore. …Although…"

He gulped, trying not to sound so dismal. "I'm…I'm sure that after he goes through recovery and rehabilitation, they'll let him have a desk job. …Maybe…”

You shook your head, unable to hear another word.

“Jean, please. …Stop,” you said, cringing. “He’s alive. …Isn’t that enough?”

Jean closed his mouth, looking shamefaced.

“You’re right…" His tone was apologetic this time. "Of course. …Sorry.”

He had meant no harm, you knew. But right now, your emotions were churning up like a storm in your heart. You felt relief, gladness, fear, awe, and grief all at once. Against all odds, Marco had made it out and survived. You couldn’t explain how, but there was one thing you were absolutely certain of. You and Jean had just witnessed a miracle.

…But somehow, seeing him asleep on the bed in front of you wasn’t enough. Marco remained unresponsive. You longed to hear his voice again, to have him look at you. That way, you could be absolutely certain that the comrade you knew and cherished was still here - in mind, body, and spirit.

You reached out and gingerly closed your hands over his – the left hand that remained. He felt a little colder than normal, probably due to low blood pressure, but you could still sense the warmth of life that pulsed underneath. Gazing into his face, filled with yearning, you gave his hand a light squeeze.

Please… Marco. Come back to us. …We need you.

Jean’s eyes suddenly widened. “[First], look…”

You saw it too. Marco’s form suddenly stirred. His features contorted in a wince, and another groan escaped his throat.

His fingers tightened around yours. You held on fast and continued to watch, waiting… hoping …

At last, a dark, chestnut-brown eye fluttered open. It blinked once, twice… and began to move around. Pumped full of painkillers, Marco still looked incredibly out of it. That said, his senses slowly sharpened back into focus. Turning his bandaged head ever so lightly, he looked at you with a dazed expression.

"Marco…" You whispered, suddenly terrified that he no longer recognized you. "It's me… you know who I am, right?"

You were almost certain that he did not, for all he did at first was give you a blank stare. Crestfallen, you lowered your head. That was when his mouth opened.

"… [First] …"

…It was though you were hearing his voice for the first time in forever. Hearing him utter your name, softly but clearly, you looked at him again. Your heart raced with expectation.

… He too, was staring back at you, as though he could barely believe it himself. "…[First]… [First], is that you…?"

A surge of warmth and relief flooded you, to the point where you felt like crying. Smiling broadly, you clutched his hand in yours.

"Yes. Yes, it's me," you said in a choked voice. "I'm here, Marco. … I'm right here…"

In his injured state, Marco could barely move or speak. And yet, he never stopped looking at you, not even once.

"[First]… You're safe…" he murmured, awakening more and more with every second. He let out a breath of relief. "…I was… I was so worried... I looked everywhere for you… I don't know what happened to me…"

"I know, Marco… I know," you gulped. The tears in your eyes were starting to spill over. "I'm so sorry… It's all my fault. If I had known sooner that you were still in Trost, I…"

To your shock, Marco's broad hand simply reached up, and brushed away a tear before coming to a rest against your cheek.

"Don't worry about it, [First]…" He said, smiling and wincing against the sharp pain in his wounds. "I'm just glad… I'm just glad you're safe…"

Even at a time like this, he was still trying to comfort you. Unable to hold back any longer, you clutched his hand against your cheek and wept against his palm, sniffling quietly.

After everything that's happened… he still hasn't changed.

Marco's eye began to wander about the room. With his right eye gone, his field of vision was not as it used to be. It hurt to move his body, or turn his head, so there was no way of seeing who was sitting at the other side of the bed. And yet, he somehow knew…

"Jean…" He suddenly called out, struggling to tilt his face. "Jean… are you there? … It's you, isn't it?"

"…Yeah… It's me, Marco. I'm … I'm right over here."

Jean smiled bravely, trying to keep every emotion under a wrap of calm. Despite his best efforts, you heard his voice trembling. Removing himself from the chair, he knelt down and leaned over against the bedside, right where Marco could see him.

"Hey, Buddy…" he said, still tense. "…Are you feeling alright? Does it still hurt?"

Marco blinked up at him with a mild expression. "To be honest… It feels more like I'm dreaming." The corner of his lip curled up in a sheepish smile. "...But I'm not, am I? It hurts a little too much to be a dream. …And yet it doesn't…" He laughed a little, and winced again. "…I don't know, I just feel really strange and out of it."

Jean grinned weakly. "You're up to your jugular in painkillers. That's probably the reason why."

The mood suddenly became more sober.

"…You really gave us a scare just now, Buddy," Jean said quietly. "…Thank God you're still alive…"

You were still sniffling uncontrollably, holding onto Marco's hand for dear life, as though terrified he might disappear on you again.

Marco's face was filled with remorse. "You guys… I'm so sorry … I made you worry so much, didn't I?"

By this time, he was almost fully awake. That was when the realization hit him.

"… Is it… " His voice was tentative. Nervous. "…Is it really that bad? How…how do I look right now? Jean? [First]…? Please, tell me…"

"Marco…" Jean tried to speak, but his voice trailed off weakly. You remained completely silent and forlorn. Neither of you had the courage to say it out loud.

Eventually, Marco mustered the strength and the courage to lift his head from the mattress, ever so carefully, and look around. You and Jean both protested, afraid for his reaction, and of the possibility that he might re-open his wounds. But by that point, Marco had already seen everything.

Where his right arm used to be, there was nothing but an empty space on the mattress, just beyond his shoulder. Marco stared in complete silence at the amputated limb. Neither you nor Jean had the slightest idea the sort of thoughts were running through his head right now.

Eventually though, a sigh escaped his lips. With a look of pain and resignation, Marco lost all strength, and allowed his head sink back against the pillow.

"…So…" he whispered, staring up at the ceiling. "…That wasn't a dream, after all."

---

No one in the 104th Training Division was the same again following the Invasion of Trost. As the young Cadets dined together in the mess hall, waiting for news from the brass, everyone wore the same edgy, nervous looks on their faces. Some were more melancholy than others. The young men and women of the 104th were close-knit, and there was not a single Trainee who had not lost a dear comrade or a friend in some way. You, Jean, and Marco were certainly part of the handful of lucky survivors.

And yet, Jean found little reason to celebrate. Lost in the storm of his thoughts over breakfast, he found himself wondering what was going to happen from now on. With the war, the well-being of humanity, and also… Marco's uncertain future.

"I guess Marco won't be able to come to Wall Sina with us anymore…" Connie sighed, poking holes into his dinner without having the appetite to eat it. "I can't believe it! He was so close to achieving his dream… And now, after everything he's done to get this far…"

"I can't imagine how he must feel right now…" said Christa sadly. "But Jean, you must be devastated too, aren't you? Marco's your best friend… The two of you were always talking about how you would move to Wall Sina together…"

Jean paused thoughtfully before answering.

"I haven't been concerned about that, to be honest," he remarked in a somber voice. "… I guess all I've been worried about for the past few days is whether or not he'll live. Ever since Major Hanji Zoe told me he'll be alright, it's all I can think about now."

Falling pensive, he stared through a nearby window, into the cloudy sky beyond.

"…I know I've given them a lot of flak before. But I'll say this - they're not the reckless, willing sacrifices I thought they were. For all the danger they put themselves through, they still value life, whether it be their own or that of their comrades. …That's why I owe everything to the Recon Corps for saving Marco's life."

Everyone stared at him.

"Wow, Jean. That's a first," Connie remarked, eyes wide. "If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you've grown to admire them."

Jean scoffed. "Give me a break. I don't plan to derail my life's goal any time soon. I'm just saying that for a military branch supposedly comprised of suicidal zealots… they deserve more respect than people tend to give them."

No one argued against that.

Sasha bit her lip worriedly. "I haven't seen [First] in a while. …Where is she?"

Jean smiled a little sadly. "Looking after Marco. Where else? I swear, not once has she left his bedside, even to sleep or take a break. … I'll have to bring her dinner myself, or she'll starve herself."

Hearing this, Sasha's eyes lit up. "I see… I'm sure Marco must be doing well then, if [First] is taking care of him. Hey, come to think of it… even if Marco can't come to Wall Sina with you, Jean, then at least he'll be able to stay with [First]!"

Jean looked at her, startled. He had not even thought of this at all.

"Yeah!" Connie exclaimed, looking optimistic. "Once he gets better, maybe he'll be able to do some work for the Garrison Division, just like [First]! That way, they'll never be alone."

"You'll be able to visit them too, Jean," Christa pointed out with a smile. "The Military Police often work with the people in Garrison after all, and they always get leave. Plus, I'm sure they'll still be safe behind the Walls…"

Safe…

The words of Major Hanji suddenly echoed in his mind.

"… Our friends in the Garrison got hit the hardest… but I suppose that is to be expected during an invasion…"

Visions of the vanguard's corpses, piling higher than he ever wanted to see again, suddenly plagued his mind.

Jean was struck by a chilling thought.

…What if the Titans invade again?

Unsettled by the thought, Jean rose from his seat on impulse. His fellow Cadets stared in surprise.

"…Listen you guys," he said quickly, gathering up his half-eaten meal. "I'd better go see how Marco and [First] are doing."

Without another word, he turned a heel and left the table, making straight for the infirmary.

---

These days, you spent most of your time at the infirmary, tending to Marco and looking after him when the medical staff were overworked. Though your beloved comrade was still in a state of pain and trauma, his condition was slowly improving. By now, you had gone for more than a handful of days without proper sleep, working endlessly to treat Marco's wounds, replace his bandages, tidy up the room, and perhaps most importantly of all… keep him company. You were exhausted, but you felt strangely invigorated all the same. After all, every effort you made was doing some good for Marco, wasn't it?

Not that I enjoy playing nurse, you thought to yourself wryly, gathering up a bundle of fresh sheets and laundry into a basket. I'm just glad that there's something I can do to help him. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure his recovery goes well.

Quietly determined, you hauled the laundry down the hall into the recovery room, where Marco was resting. Last time you had seen him, he had been sleeping peacefully. Now, he was sitting upright with some amount of difficulty. But that wasn't what alarmed you.

With a look of feverish concentration, Marco had a plate balanced in his lap, and a paring knife in his left hand. He was trying to slice an apple… with very little success to show for the sheer amount of trouble he was having.

You immediately dropped your bundle of laundry and ran over to stop him.

"Marco, what in the world are you doing?" you scolded him, removing the knife from his hand, along with the plate and apple. "You might hurt yourself if you do that! Here, let me help you."

Marco let out a sigh. Despite your good intentions, you couldn't help but notice the disappointed expression on his face.

"Are you hungry?" you asked, a little more gently. "Jean will be back with dinner soon."

In the meantime, you sat down and began cutting up the apple into manageable slices. Marco remained silent, and gazed cheerlessly out the window, towards the barracks just across the promenade. Was he waiting for his best friend?

"…You and Jean have been going out of your way just to look after me, haven't you?" he asked quietly.

You smiled weakly. "Don't worry about it. It doesn't trouble us one bit." Setting the knife down, you offered him a slice of fruit. "Here, Marco. Have some."

By now, Marco had lost his appetite entirely. You looked at him, worried. Though Marco was trying his hardest every day to recover, there were times when he would fall despondent… perhaps even a little depressed. Seeing just how much he had gone through, and how much he had lost, just to survive… there was no mistaking why.

"… I know that I'll have to learn to live with this… but…" he murmured. "It's a lot to take in. The things I used to do every day, just to manage myself… I can't even do them without asking anyone for help anymore. I feel so useless… like a burden."

You answered him in a frank voice. "You're not useless, Marco. You're injured. There's a difference."

Though truth be told, 'injured' was merely scratching the surface, but why rub it in?

"You're going to get better, Marco," you assured him. "I heard overheard a conversation with one of the doctors - sometimes you have to crawl if you want to learn to walk again. Luckily, that's not really the case with you… But no matter how difficult it gets, I know we can make the most of it."

Marco was completely unconvinced.

"But I'm never going to be the same again, am I?" he suddenly burst out, throat clenching.

You stared at him, stunned. By now he had turned you face you fully, wearing an expression that was full of anguish.

"How…?" he asked, on the verge of tears. "How can you look at me and pretend not to see… this? My face… my body…?" His voice trembled. "When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt like I wanted to throw up. I don't understand it… How can you stand the sight of me without feeling the least bit sickened, or horrified…?"

For a moment, not a single word left your lips. As Marco stared at you, pleading for an answer, you finally set the plate down.

His stare widened as you held up your left hand, showing him your bandaged wrist. The hand that would never again use a sword. It was a cheap comparison, you knew… but this was by far the best way for him to understand where you were coming from. And also, for you to get the briefest sense of how he felt right now.

"Did this make me any different than who I was before?" you asked, giving him a full view of your injury. "Tell me, Marco. Does it?"

"I…" Marco stared at you, mouth trembling. "No… No, it doesn't…"

Rising from your chair, you moved to sit at his bedside, staring eye to eye with him.

"I know that it's nothing compared to what you are going through now, Marco…" you said, smiling sadly. "But there was a time when I believed that I had nothing going for me anymore. That I was worthless, and that no one would want me anymore as a soldier, or a person. I felt as though I had lost everything. I didn't want anyone to look at me, either."

You took his hand in yours, twining your fingers securely with his.

"… But you were there for me, Marco. You didn't care how much of a mess I was. You saw me for who I was on the inside, and you never abandoned me."

"[First] …" Marco stared at you, completely lost for words.

You lifted his fingers to your lips, and kissed them tenderly. "…Marco, do you remember? Back then, you made me a promise, and I haven't forgotten. You told me, that no matter what may happen, where I'll end up, or what I decide to do… you'll always be on my side. … That hasn't changed, as it?"

Taken aback, Marco shook his head. "No… No, it hasn't. Of course not! I don't care what's going to happen to me from now on, [First], I'll never go back on my promise…!"

His fingers tightened around yours, holding on fast.

"You're more precious to me than you'll ever realize, so much that I treasure you more than my own life! And I promise you… that will never, ever change."

Hearing those words, spoken with such conviction and earnestness, made you smile with warmth.

"You see? What's so different about you now? You're still the same Marco I've known since the day you came up to my table, back when I didn't know how to talk to anyone." You shook your head sheepishly, remembering the way you were back then. "You were there for me when I needed you. You taught me how to make friends. You encouraged me to get along with Jean… and you never stopped looking out for me, even if it meant putting yourself in danger."

You leaned closer to him, reaching out and brushing a stray curl of hair away from his forehead. His cheek turned faintly pink as he stared at you, transfixed. Gently cupping your hand against the side of his face, you leaned in and gave him a kiss, near the corner of his mouth. You felt his face flare with heat.

"I want to do the same for you, Marco," you murmured, pulling back and gazing at him. "I know you can get through this. And I'll be here for you, every step of the way. … I promise."

Your words overwhelmed him. For the first time in days, you saw a familiar spark of life in his eye, revived from the depths of despair. You were right all along. The same hopeful, optimistic, ever-enduring Marco was still there, as if he had never left you in the first place. Overwhelmed with gratitude, he said nothing, too preoccupied holding back tears.

Leaning in, you pressed your forehead together with his, offering warmth and comfort. Closing his eye, he reciprocated, reaching out with his arm and holding you close.

"Thank you… [First]…"

…

…Meanwhile, out in the hallway, Jean had his back pressed tight against the wall, just beyond the doorway. There, he was neither heard nor noticed… but he had caught every word of your conversation with Marco. In his arms, he clutched a basket full of leftover bread that he had collected from dinner that evening… just for you and Marco. Now, he lingered outside, reluctant to intrude on the heartfelt moment that the two of you were sharing right now. He was a third wheel. Walking in at a time like this would just be awkward.

… And yet, he felt lonely all the same. The three of you had always been close. Neither you nor Marco would ever exclude him on purpose… but a part of him felt as though he was unneeded. Maybe even a little forgotten.

Closing his eyes, Jean sighed heavily, shaking his head. No, he shouldn't think like that. He had no right to be selfish when Marco was the one who was suffering the most right now. He knew full well that he ought to be content that his best friend was getting the support he needed. And you were doing more for him than Jean himself ever could. That alone ought to be enough.

Even so… he thought to himself, full of anxiety. …I can't help but worry about the future…

…After all, what if the Titans attacked again?

Jean wished that someone, anyone, be it you or Marco, would draw close and put his mind at ease. But he was alone, left to the mercy of these troubling thoughts. With a look of resignation and mixed emotions, Jean left the basket of bread outside the door, turned away, and left you and Marco in peace.

…This was something he was going to have to work out by himself.

---

This time, Marco was able to enjoy a full night's sleep, untroubled by nightmares. Though his wounds still hurt, every day made it a little more manageable. And so, in the morning, he looked a little livelier than before. The colour had returned to his face, as did his energy. It was as though something had renewed his strength, his will to live.

Jean was there to greet him in the late afternoon, cracking a grin as he entered the room.

"Yo, buddy. Still alive?"

Marco smiled wryly back at him. "I feel half-wrecked to be honest, but I'm not dead. Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation?"

He shook his head incredulous. "What am I talking about…? Of course it is. I'm alive. I'm here. Even after all that's happened, I'm still living and breathing. I can still hardly believe it myself, to be honest. It just doesn't seem real."

"You and me both," Jean said, sitting down against the chair. Though he was smiling, his face wore a look of rumination.

Marco tilted his head to the side, gazing at him curiously.

"What are you thinking about, Jean?" he inquired. "You seem to have a lot on your mind these days."

Jean blinked at him. "Don't I always?" he remarked cryptically, avoiding the question altogether. "You seem to be in a good mood, yourself."

"Mm…" Marco turned faintly pink. "… I've just been thinking about the drastic changes I'll have to make in my life from now on. To be honest, it doesn't seem so bad anymore." He smiled warmly. "All I have to do is remember what I still have. Some things just don’t change. And because of you, and [First]… I know that I'll never be alone."

Jean fell silent, listening to every word.

Marco gave him a look of regret. "I'm sorry, Jean… I won't be able to enlist in the Military Police with you. Even after we made that promise ages ago…"

Jean shook his head adamantly. "Don't worry about that, Marco. I'm serious. You're still alive. That's all that matters. "

A grave expression suddenly appeared the face of the lean, copper-blond soldier.

"…When I think about it, maybe Wall Sina isn't as safe as everyone thinks it is. Everyone's in danger, no matter where they are. You, [First], everyone else…" He paused, swallowing uncomfortably. "I used to believe that running away from this War was the best way to survive. Until the Invasion of Trost, I never realized that by running away… I was condemning other people to their deaths. When I remember our comrades, the ones who died under my watch that day… a part of me wishes I'd stayed behind and fought instead of leaving them behind."

"Jean…" Marco murmured. "It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for what happened. I told you, didn't I? I survived that day because of you. You made the right call."

"I know, Marco," Jean said heavily, folding his hands over the gap between his knees. "I know. And trust me, I want to believe it as much as you do. The thing is… one can only avoid battle for so long. You can't expect to run away forever without hitting a wall eventually. Sooner or later, you're going to have to be brave, turn around, and face your fears head on."

His amber eyes became strangely focused as he spoke his thoughts aloud. "…If you want to protect the people you hold dear, if you want to change the world they live in for the better… sometimes fighting is the only answer."

Marco stared at him, bewildered beyond words.

"Jean," he said at last, in a hesitant voice. "…What exactly are you thinking about, right now?"

Jean shook his head and smiled casually. Worrying about others before himself, Marco was the same as always.

"Nothing unusual. You and [First] are the only ones on my mind these days. Although…" With a groan, he rose from the chair. "…I've been wondering lately. Maybe it's high time I made a few changes to my life as well."

Just as he turned a heel to exit the room, Marco stopped him.

"Jean… wait." He could feel Marco's stare at his back. "…No matter what, we'll always be best friends. Won't we?"

Jean grinned over his shoulder. "As if you have to ask. Didn't you say it before? There are some things in life that'll never change."

…

[Songstamp: "Kawaranai Mono" from The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, English Cover]

…

You and Jean bumped into each other in the hallway, just as you were making your way towards the recovery room.

"Off to see Marco again?" he asked, gazing at you intently.

You nodded in earnest. "I found a book that he might like. I've read it before, when I was very young. Have you heard of it?"

You showed him the leather-bound, hardback cover. His amber eyes widened.

" 'A Blue Dove for the Princess'…" He murmured, flipping through the pages and poring at the intricately-drawn illustrations within. "…I've read this story too. I used to know it by heart as a kid, actually."

Your eyes blinked in surprise. "You have?"

Jean nodded, looking suddenly wistful. "Yes. …It was one of my favourites." He handed the book back to you. "What did you think of the ending?"

"The ending…?" You paused in thought. "It's rather bittersweet, isn't it? But I think I understand what kind of message the story was trying to convey."

"Yeah…" Jean murmured, averting his eyes. "It's not easy to leave home and your loved ones behind. The outside world is a strange and frightening place. There's no knowing if you'll ever be able to find your way home again… But it helps to believe that in some sense or another, the journey will still be worth it."

You stared at him, faintly impressed. "That's… rather poetic, actually. I mean, coming from-"

"-an asshole like me?" Jean finished the sentence. With a smirk, he ruffled your hair affectionately. "Thanks, Firefly. I'll take it as a compliment."

You glared up at him as he made a tangled up crow's nest of your hair, though you couldn't help but giggle a little. Jean rested his hand on the crown of your head for a while, smiling at you with a peculiar amount of warmth. You became suspicious. Was he treating you like a child again? Or…?

"…Are you coming to the Recon Corps Induction Ceremony?" he asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard.

"Oh… I'd completely forgotten about that," you said, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Damn. I was planning on staying with Marco for the rest of the evening-"

"Then stay," Jean said suddenly.

You looked up at him, startled. "Huh…?"

"I'll come up with an excuse for you. Let's say you've caught the bug or something." Jean shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll go on ahead and see what the Commander of the Legion has to say to us Cadets." He tilted his head at you. "…Or would you rather go?"

Pausing in thought, you clutched the book close to your chest. "I'd rather not leave Marco alone, actually. … I have to say, that's uncharacteristically thoughtful of you, Jean. Thank you."

Incredulous, Jean shook his head. "Again with the back-handed compliments." To your surprise, he let out a laugh. "That's just like you, though. Don't you ever change."

…

// Thoughts of you keeping rushing back to me now and again

Whenever I see you, I see more than just a friend. //

…

Before you could even ask what in the world he was talking about, you were suddenly swept up in a tight and bruising hug.

"Hey… [First]. You know I care about you and Marco more than anything in the world, right?"

You paused. What in the world was he going on about?

Unseen, Jean murmured over your shoulder. "…Can you promise me one thing?"

Your nose was squished against his collarbone. "Hm? What's that?" you asked, voice muffled against his shirt.

For a while, Jean did nothing else except hold you close… relishing your warmth as though this was the last chance he would ever get.

…

// Waiting for the days to end so I could see you some day

Soon again… //

…

"… Look after Marco for me," he whispered. "He needs you now. Stay by his side, and keep him safe. Be happy with him. I know you can do it, [First]. I… I understand just how important he is to you. And… " He gulped, sounding strangely choked. "And… I honestly believe that there's no one else who deserves you more than he does."

Your eyes widened. Your heart raced. Was he saying …what you believed he was saying?

Standing there in the sunlit corridor, with Jean's arms wrapped tight around you, you didn't know what to say. This was all so sudden, and everything that Jean wasn't saying right now was proof of just how strongly he felt for you. You could sense the conflict that left him in a tumult, his struggle to do what he believed was the right thing, and not be selfish. …To let go of the one person he cherished for so long…

… But at the same time, you couldn't stop thinking about Marco, who needed you more than ever. Jean too surely knew this, or else he wouldn't have asked you in the first place.

…

// I can see right through your disguise

Those eyes they betray your lies. //

…

Closing your eyes, you brought your arms up and hugged him warmly.

"I understand, Jean…" You replied softly. "I'll take care of Marco, I promise. And I want you to know that I still care about you too, Jean. You and Marco… you're both important to me. You know that, don't you?"

…

// Even now I can see you as clear as the bluest skies. //

…

Jean remained silent, holding you for a little while longer before letting you go. All the same, you could sense his gratitude.

As long as you were there, Marco would be in good hands, no matter what. Thus, Jean entrusted him to your hands.

---

The torches burned like gold in the dead of night. Standing upon the stage with a solemn expression, Erwin gazed quietly upon the Cadets. There were many reasons why one young soldier would choose to give up his future, his former life, and even his dreams to wage war against the Titans outside of the Walls. Some wished revenge against the mortal enemies of mankind. Others found a sort of reckless allure in serving the Legion's cause. A handful more simply recognized that this was something that needed to be done, for mankind's survival. He could fault none of them, however, for a lack of courage or passion.

Jean remained completely and utterly stoic as he focused his eyes upon the stage. His old self would have been horrified to see where he was standing now. But strangely enough, Jean felt perfectly serene. Maybe he had lost his sanity, who knew. Maybe he had gone through too much to care about anything anymore, but Jean knew that was not the case.

No, he was here, because he cared too much. Where there was once selfishness, arrogance, and a naïve grasp of reality, you and Marco had changed him forever.

…As it stood now, Humanity's best and only chance of survival lay in the hands of Eren Jaeger, whose capabilities would soon be put to the test in the upcoming expedition. Meanwhile, all of mankind lived in fear of yet another attack. You and Marco would both remain in Wall Rose at the defense lines. Your abilities as a combatant were limited. Marco in his current state wouldn't be able to fight at all. The very thought of what might happen to you both in the event of another attack, was enough to leave Jean paralyzed with fear.

The easier route would have been to stay with the Garrison, where he could keep a watchful eye on you both at all times. But where the long term was concerned, how long would that last? What if one day, the Titans arrived to finish off mankind once and for all? No, even Jean knew that now was the time to fast-track the crusade that would defeat the Titans once and for all. Until now, he had believed it to be a lost cause… but ever since Eren Jaeger showed up, everything about the war had shifted the odds entirely.

With that, Jean drew in a deep breath, fighting back the storm of emotions that were threatening to burst up all at once. He was no longer a child, with a head full of foolish ideals. He was a soldier, and for the sake of everything he believed in and everything he cherished the most, he was going to put his life on the line. Straightening his spine, he stood with those who remained in front of the stage… and clenched a fist tightly over his heart.

…

// Not knowing what the future held for us

You and I dived deep into love… //

…

The two of you were right about me all along, he thought, gritting his teeth in a painful smile. In the end, even I can't stop myself… from doing what my heart knows is right.

…But was it the right thing to do? Jean wanted so much to believe. Maybe, deep down inside… a part of him just didn't want to get in the way anymore. You and Marco belonged together, and he felt like a burden. But Jean knew that this wasn't the case.

There were just no words to describe just how much you and Marco mattered to him. When it came down to it… for your sake, and Marco's, there was nothing he wouldn't do. Even if it meant the three of you could never again be together.

…This was his reason for fighting.

---

The next morning, you stared at Annie, face white as a sheet.

"Jean and the others… have joined the Recon Corps?" you whispered, unable to believe it. You and the ice-blond woman were standing in the hallway, just outside Marco's room. The door was closed.

Annie gazed at you impassively. "Hard to believe, isn't it? I honestly don't know what's gotten into them." She scowled. "And here I thought Jean was the most pragmatic of them all. Guess I was mistaken."

With a shrug she handed you a letter. "He asked me to deliver this to you. I have a bit of time before leaving for Wall Sina, so…"

Wordlessly, you took the letter, still convinced that Annie had been mistaken. As you held your breath, your eyes scanned the parchment.

…

Hey, [First]…

It's me, Jean. Regardless of what you've heard by now, you're probably going to hate my guts by the time you finish reading this. If that's the case, then I don't blame you. Not one bit.

I've made the decision to join the Recon Corps. Are you shocked yet? To be honest… I can't even begin to imagine how you'd react if I said this to your face. Suffice to say, it would probably be along the lines of yelling at me, calling me a moron, and beating the shit out of me. Am I right? … Would you cry instead? Or would you simply be disappointed in me? The more I think about it, the less I can stand thinking about it. In the end, I can't say it in front of you or Marco. That's how much of a coward I am.

But that doesn't change the fact that you and Marco are by far the most important people in my life, to the point where I worry about you guys every day. There's nothing I want more than to see the two of you free from fear and suffering. That's why I've joined the Recon Corps. To see if I can make a difference, and help put an end to this war before it puts an end to everything I hold dear.

I don't expect you to understand. I don't expect you to forgive me, either. All I ask is for you to remember the promise you made. Look after Marco. Don't do it for me… do it for yourself. For Marco. I won't ask anything more of you.

…You're amazing, you know that? No matter what, I won't forget everything that you taught me. About being brave, doing the right thing, and finding a reason to fight. Because you know what? I've finally found it. And I have you to be grateful to.

Tell Marco I'm sorry for not saying goodbye. You two are the best friends I have and will ever know. Remember, look after each other, and stay safe. Wish me luck.

Thank you for everything, Firefly. …See you again.

-Jean Kirschtein

…

Your hands shook as you clutched the parchment. It was now soaked with tears, blurring the words that had been so hastily, yet painstakingly written.

"Jean…" you uttered, voice trembling.

"…What are you going to do now?" asked Annie. "They haven't been gone for long, but I doubt you'd be able to catch up to them."

…

// Searching for the things that always remain the same

I wonder how we found ourselves in that unfamiliar place. //

…

You were compelled to move, breaking into a full-burst run through the hallway. Annie's words were probably true. There was no way you'd be able to see them one last time before they embarked… but God willing, you wanted to try anyway.

Tears blurred your vision. You were out of breath you fought to reach the door…

You wanted to see him again. You wanted him back. You wanted to yell at him and punch him until his eyes were full of stars. To scold him for not telling you anything, for being the reckless, stubborn, moronic horseface that absolutely refused to change…

…

// If the future brings us to the place where we belong

I promise I will live again, 'cause it's you that keeps me strong. //

…

…But that was exactly it, wasn't it? Once Jean was set on something he believed was right, not even you would be able to change his mind.

Your energy faded. Your running footsteps slowed to standstill. Though you longed to chase after him … something was holding you back. You couldn't forget the promise you had made. Marco was the one who needed you now. … And by this point, you already knew who your heart belonged to.

What hurt you the most was the fact that you didn't even have a chance to say good-bye. And now, it felt as though you would never see him again.

Jean… You idiot…

…

// As life unfolds I try to find a reason to live on

I embrace the life that I have as long as it's not wrong. //

…

Sitting up in his bed, Marco looked up as you walked into the room. The book you had started reading to him the other evening… was open in his lap.

"[First], there you are!" He smiled. Suddenly noticing the look on your face, he looked at you in concern. "Is everything alright? Your eyes are a little red."

You wiped away the last few tears away from your eyes, suppressing a sniffle.

"Y-yeah…" You lied. "Just getting a little emotional again…"

…

//The lights illuminate the path that we both walked along

Glancing back in time I smile knowing that I'm not alone. //

…

Jean's letter was hidden, tucked away safely in your pocket. You didn't have the heart to tell Marco the truth just yet.

You glanced towards the headstand. Marco had just taken his daily regimen of painkillers. From the sleepy look on his face, it was clear that he was ready to get some extra rest. Though he was in far better shape than before, the road to recovery was far from over. But whatever hurdles waited ahead, you knew that the two of you would be able to face it together.

…

// Searching for the things that always remain the same

I'll never forget your smile on that bright sunny day. //

…

…After all, you and Marco still had someone to support you from afar. He was out there somewhere, fighting for the cause he believed in, with the two most important people in his life forever in his memory. No matter what the danger, or the distance… he was still thinking of you.

As Marco rested his head upon the pillow, you pulled the covers up to his chin and planted a kiss on his forehead. At the very least, someone precious to you was still by your side. That much would always stay the same.

Marco looked up at you, eye drooping faintly.

"Where's Jean…?" he asked, letting out a yawn. "I haven't seen him in a while. He'll be back soon, won't he?"

"…Yes." You answered with a brave smile, even if you felt like crying again. "No matter what happens… no matter how long we'll have to wait, I know that he'll surely come back to us."

…

//My feelings they will never change, transcending time and space

I just wanna meet you now… that you've gone without a trace. //

…

Marco fell into deep, tranquil sleep. Staying by his side, you remained awake, staring into the infinite sky beyond the window.

…

// I just wanna meet you… now that you've gone so far away. //

…

…

Someday… we'll see each other again.

…

--- Just Be: Disappearance Ending ---