ANOTHER CHAPTER! 

For those asking, Levi will appear on chapter 10, and then will be a constant figure, so don't worry and bear with me, ok? I'm working a bit on the worlbuilding and setting the story. I know it's not what most of you want, sorry.

LEAVE COMMENTS!

Eren still spoke of enlisting months after the fall of the Wall. Therefore, Mikasa was ready to join the forces as well, though she didn't speak much of it. Though they had control over Armin legally, Angela knew that if Eren and Mikasa were going, Armin would follow.

No matter how much Angela and Adawolf tried to dissuade him from such a decision, his mind was made up. It was common knowledge that Mikasa would go wherever Eren went, no matter the situation or outcome, so she barely listening to anything that Angela had to say to her, presenting hard fact of the probabilities they would have out there.

The next year, enlistments would start.

The children had just one year left as children, then they would be soldiers.

Those facts and her awareness, made Angela unable to eat for days. She even asked for a night off from her job at the inn to sit outside and nurse a small cup of tea that Adawolf had made her to soothe her stomach.

The cold air outside of autumn certainly seemed to calm her down a bit. Never had Angela felt such clean air as in that world; perhaps because of where she had spent most of her life, perhaps because she had never paid much attention to it. Whatever was the reason, Angela had come to appreciate the lack of fumes once she got used to it.

"I'm sure that where you came from there are better medicines for it," Adawolf had said, sitting beside her on the porch.

Angela hummed, agreeing in her mind as she thought of Omeprazole and, perhaps, even some anxiety medications. She would be grateful for them.

"I suppose there are," she said. She turned her head to him, watching as he took a deep breath. "When I watched this story, the worldbuilding seemed so cool and well-constructed, but now that I'm here, there's so much that I don't know about this."

Adawolf tensed for a second. He hated talking about Angela's home, but his curiosity was killing him at the same time.

"Like what?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"I never saw anything about the hospitals, like civilian hospitals. Or how civilians really lived. Or much of the geography of it all, you know? Like... where are corns planted, where is rice planted. What about the rivers – where are they born, how far away from the sea are we?"

His head snapped towards her.

"Sea."

The word had been so shocking to him that he had looked around to make sure nobody else was listening to them, much like he had done when Armin was small and had wanted to talk about the curious book he had found.

"Yes, we have that back at home as well," she said, appeasing him. "Armin didn't say anything."

Though he seemed somewhat relieved, he seemed even more curious now.

"And the sea, how is it?" he asked, leaning towards her.

Angela's mouth opened in a grin. For a second, she could see where Armin got all his thirst for knowledge and the truth from.

"Cold, unending, salty, vast..." she said, remembering the beach, "wet," she added as a joke.

That brought a small smile to Adawolf's lips.

She sipped her tea again, it was barely lukewarm at that point, being in her cup for too long as she looked around, trying to find some distraction.

"We go to the sea all the time where I come from, it's a common hobby – swimming in it, surfing in it. The sea has a thing called waves, where the water makes this... hm... how can I explain this? Like, a roll or something. It's very strong, it pulls and twists. And people get these boards and they use it to float on top of it and try not to fall; we call it surfing, and it's really cool," she told him, laughing as she remembered her brother falling face first into the water. "There are so many animals in it. Really pretty ones, and the ugliest ones as well. Some are dangerous, perhaps more than the ones on land."

"More than Titans?" Adawolf asked.

She frowned.

"No... not more than Titans," she said, shaking her head a bit. "But we don't have Titans back home."

If there was some envy in Adawolf's eyes, he hid it well by looking away from her again.

"Do you ever think about going back?" he asked.

Angela watched him for a second, biting the inside of her cheek as she weighted her words and options.

"Yes," she said honestly. "Most of the time. Life here is a lot more difficult than the one I lived back home."

"And why don't you?"

"I don't even know where to start to search to go back," she confessed. "If I speak about this to the wrong person, the Military Police will come get me and torture information out of me. They do it to citizens, can you imagine what they would do to me? – besides, what will they do to you? You helped me, harboured me, lied for me." She shook her head. "My silence is safer. Living here until I understand what happened to me is safer."

He sighed, lowering his head. His face was hidden from Angela, but she could feel the way his next words were heavy on his chest, as if he had hidden them for a long time and did not know the weight they would have once they were out there.

"I wish you could take Armin with you when you go back, away from this mess," he whispered. "I love my grandson, but I cannot do this if he joins the Survey Corps."

Angela pressed her lips together.

"The story about here, the one I told you about, is very much about Eren and his friends joining the Corps. That includes Armin," she said. "He does well. He's the one that tells the story for the most part."

Adawolf shook his head, refusing to listen much about it.

"I wish I could go with them," he said.

The absurd idea makes Adawolf chuckle at his own words, but Angela turns her head to him, frowning.

"What is the age for enlisting?" she asked.

"Starts at 11, but the training would only begin at 12. And the maximum age is 23," he said, turning to her. "You're not getting in, Angel."

Huffing, Angela looked away, scrunching her nose.

"If I got in, I wouldn't be able to make it through anyway," she said, noncommittal. "I was never much of a fighter. I did jiu-jitsu for a month and a half as a kid, always ended up getting hurt and bruised, so I hated it. Went to theatre no more than three days after I gave up on my very short career in fighting – got into music. The furthest thing away from physical fighting there is."

Adawolf seemed to find her description funny, though he had no idea of jiu-jitsu was.

"You mentioned that you were a singer. Did you have a lot of gatherings?" he asked.

"We call them concerts, and yes," she said. "I was in my country's most listened twice in a year, and stayed there for quite a while," she turned to him, "that's a big achievement, by the way." He nodded, pretending to understand. "I was at my peak, you know? The most famous I had ever been, beloved, understood, under the spotlight – and then... I was here, in a forest with people that I didn't know and that didn't know me."

"And in your underwear!" he added, shaking his head in dismay about the memory.

Angela threw her head back, laughing so loudly and suddenly that her throat ached for a second. Her whole body shook as she put the cup of tea to the side.

"It wasn't!" she laughed. "It was a negligee, like, a babydoll. You don't have that, but it's sleepwear. I was using it for a concert."

"In public!"

"It made sense with the rest of the context of the story I was telling, I promise!" she said, still laughing, but defending herself from his scandalised look. She shook her head, cleaning the tears escaping from her eyes. "Oh, this is my worst nightmare. There was a reason I didn't let my parents watch my set this time."

She sighed, laughter dying at the memory of her parents.

Adawolf seemed to understand even in her silence, gently touching her back and patting there a couple of times. His hand felt huge and warm against her back even through the fabric.

"Do you miss them?" he asked.

"Very much, all the time," she answered.

While she felt lighter after their talk and telling Adawolf a bit about her life before, she still felt the twisting of anxiety inside of her, churning her stomach and making her feel like she would break down crying at any provocation.

"I'll find a way to make sure they are safe, ok?" she offered, forcing a smile.

He didn't seem to believe her for a single second, but smiled at her anyway, pretending for her sake.

After a moment, Adawolf cleared his throat, putting his fingers through his hair and sighing a bit too loud, seemingly awkward again. He licked his lips, turning her head away from her before facing her again.

"I have a question, Angel," he admitted. She nodded, facing him with her whole body now. "I noticed money has been... appearing."

There was no hiding her reaction, no matter how many years of acting classes she had, no matter how well she lied in her interviews and smiled for cameras when she had been crying just second before.

Shock and fear, when true, were hard to hide.

Angela's eyes widened and she stared at Adawolf, mouth drying up and tongue suddenly too big for her mouth. There were no words in any language she knew that could describe the weight in her chest and stomach as she fought to say something that could somehow make the situation better.

"Armin needed medicine," was all she had managed to say. "And then I needed medicine as well. We needed money."

Adawolf stared at her. "Where did it come from?" he asked.

"Work."

His face twisted, as if he could feel she was lying.

"Did you steal it?" he asked, voice lowering, still gentle, but a lot less kind than before.

She shook her head, pressing her lips together to stop the words that wanted to come out.

Angela wanted to tell the truth, she wanted to confess to Adawolf that she had been making a move or two amongst the few people she knew to get to know and understand things a lot better than civilians could explain to her. But she didn't want to tell him how she had been doing that.

"What did you do for it?" he asked, firmer.

Her mouth opened and closed, eyes fluttering before looking down at her feet.

For a long moment, the only sound between them was the dry whisper of leaves scraping across the road in front of them. They stared at one another as a cart rattled past their street, wheels groaning under the weight of sacks of grains, but the sound seem distant while Angela's ears were flooded by her own rushing blood.

Adawolf didn't press her at first, unable to find his own voice as the memory of her sneaking back after seeing his doctor came to mind and twisted his heart in pain.

In front of her, the young woman stared at him like a cornered animal. Usually, they bolted or bared their teeth, but Angela was so horrified that she had frozen in place, shoulders tight, hands clenched on the fabric of her skirt, breathing barely moving her chest in her panic.

"What. Did. You. Do?" he asked again, firmer, quieter.

He didn't need to ask. He knew.

She swallowed.

"There are a few men at the inn," she started, words thin and brittle. "Some of them are important men. Traders, officers passing through, a council clerk once or twice – young, loud." She took a deep breath. "When they drink, they talk very openly."

Adawolf shook his head, brow furrowed.

"Men don't pay to talk," he said.

She looked down.

She had to push herself to continue, physically leaning forward, pressing the words out of herself. It came out uneven and broken as she dragged each one of them out of somewhere deep and dark within herself.

"They don't talk to civilians, not about things like the ones I need to hear. Military planning, whispers of the condition beyond the Walls, how the districts are really doing," she said, voice wavering. "But men talk truthfully when they think the woman isn't really listening, just searching for compliments."

"Those men are paying you to listen?" he asked, disbelief obvious.

Angela pressed her lips together.

"They pay for my company," she confessed.

Company wherever they went, even upstairs at the inn.

Adawolf didn't move, but his eyes moved away from her.

Desperate to feel his eyes on her again with the same warmth as before, she swallowed down any shame and disgust she felt for herself. She kept her eyes on the ground as she started to stutter out words.

"They know I needed the money, that's why they paid," she said, rushing. "I needed medicine, Armin needed medicine, and Mikasa needed a coat. The food going more expensive in the markets last month, too. We couldn't afford it. They just think they are being generous, helping a woman – I'm paid to listen, to drink, to..." her voice faltered before she pushed through, eyes watering. "They just want to be heard and they pay because they think they are being kind. I'm not a prostitute."

The silence that followed wasn't as kind nor cautious as before.

Adawolf leaning back against the wall of the house, stunned. He felt like he had the air knocked out of him as his hands rested on his knees, fingers curling on the trousers' thick, uncomfortable fabric.

"You are still selling yourself," he said, voice hoarse.

Angela stiffened.

"I... I just..." she stammered. "It isn't every night, just when and with who I choose. Only when someone useful comes by, and they see me more as a mistress than a worker. That's how I knew that rice would become more expensive this month, that's why I told you to buy extra – it helps. They tell things that aren't public." She sniffled. "My memory isn't perfect. We are in a gap that doesn't tell me anything; I need to know where in the story we are."

Adawolf pushed himself to his feet so abruptly that the wood groaned under him. Angela flinched.

Frustrated, he walked away from her, back turned as he reached the edge of the small porch and sighing loudly. His hands dragged over his face, fingers digging into the grey of his bear and hair, trying to push away his horrible thoughts and disgusting things he had heard her say.

He said nothing.

Angela watched, feet now planted on the ground, ready to jump up as well. Her heart muffled her own words.

"I didn't steal anything. I didn't hurt anyone. I was just trying to help, I just wanted to do my part," she said sharply, almost defensive.

"That's not the point!" Adawolf exclaimed, spinning to face her again.

She went quiet, the rare snapping making her stare at him in shock. The sharpness in his voice made her shrink a bit into herself.

"I –"

"Do you think I care about the money I put to make sure you and the kids are ok?" he asked, seemingly offended. "I don't care if you stole a loaf of bread from a stall in the market. I would much rather you robbed the entire fucking market than –"

He choked on the words, letting them die abruptly on his mouth. His locked his jaw, staring at her.

Her gaze didn't leave his, eyes glassy.

"We needed the money, Pa," she whispered.

Adawolf let out a breath, turning away from her and shaking his head. He put his hands on the porch railing; shoulders tense beneath the coat as he looked out to the quiet road. And there he stayed for long seconds, breathing through his nose and out through his mouth, wrestling down his own feelings.

When he spoke again, still facing away from her, his voice was low and rough.

"How long?" he asked.

"A couple of months," she admitted.

She felt the cold autumn wind tugging at her hair. She felt like a child waiting to be scolded – and for a moment, again, it was like Adawolf was really her father.

"They won't say anything. You and the kids are safe –" she stared.

He made an awful noise.

"HA!" he said, laughing. "That's what you think I'm worried about? Angela, you should've told me!"

"You would've tried to stop me and –"

"Yes."

The answer, cutting her off, was so sudden that she stopped for a second before continuing.

"Pa, please, be reasonable. My medicine alone was more than we could afford a few months ago, and there was Armin's medicine before that. We needed the money," she insisted.

"I would've found another way," he said.

"How?!" she asked, pressing him even though it hurt. "You work every day; I work every night. The butcher barely pays enough to keep all of us fed. The children don't receive government help because there are two adults in the house," she listed. "Winter is coming, the children are growing and need new clothes – warm clothes. We need savings. When they leave, they'll receive just enough to keep them alive at the base. All of this is temporary."

"No, you'll find another reason to get yourself in danger," Adawolf said, shaking his head. "You'll find another reason to try to feel useful."

"They are going to enlist, whether we like it or not, so we'll need information! We need every advantage we can get," she insisted.

Adawolf's eyes were filled with tears. It was a scene she thought she would never see in her life.

For a moment, the anger that she feared was there; bright, red and raw in his eyes as he stared down at her sitting form. But it didn't last for more than a few seconds. Anger died and something heavier stayed.

Grief.

"You are too young to think like that," he lamented.

"In my world, they are too young to join the military," she answered, unsure if that was the correct moment.

Slowly, Adawolf lowered himself back to sit down with her.

"Please, Angel, stop," he whispered.

"Pa –"

"Please, for the sake of my heart, stop it. If information is what you want, I'm certain that there are other ways to hear it. I can find another way to hear it. I have lived longer than the drinks in that inn. People talk to butchers as well as they do to pretty girls," he insisted. "Let me do that part for you, please."

Despite herself, Angela gave him a weak, incredulous huff of laughter, tears burning in her eyes, but not going to her cheeks.

"You are my daughter," he insisted. "Lie or not."

She nodded, sniffling again.

Angela didn't mention that she was turning twenty-five that day or that it was a birthday that she shared with her mother. She just stayed in her new father's arms when he hugged her and tried to understand and accept that Angela Arlert was turning twenty-six, while Angela Relish would be forever twenty-four.

The laughter was overwhelming, the smell of old beer made Angela's nose itch and the way the candles were burning quickly made her curse whoever used bad wax. In times like these, Angela really missed small things about her world, like electricity.

Lights to set the mood, some ambient music playing or a microphone that would make her voice louder than the rest of dozens of people in that inn talking and laughing, ignoring her singing for the sake of their drinks.

For a lot of her previous life, Angela had been used to being the main focus of the room, being ignored felt more hurtful than she would like to admit.

Humming, she made the rest of the song slowly die down before putting the new guitar the inn-owner had borrowed her aside. Then, she stood up to clean one of the vacant tables for the next clients to sit on.

"Oh, Angie, you are here!" a man said, laughing through his tipsy lips.

She turned, staring at Penrod with the narrowing of her eyes. He was a politician of sorts; a small one that mostly helped the real politicians, yet he was somewhat powerful at the same time, always aware of things because people forgot about his existence in the corner of the room, waiting to be useful again.

Pen had been her first and one of the only clients she had ever taken to bed. Well, he had taken her to bed, actually.

Sitting at Penrod's table were a group of men. Most of them were much older than him, hair starting to grey or already fully white, all smiling and laughing as if they knew a joke that she didn't.

Angela smiled.

"Pen!" she said in greeting, trying to ignore the bitterness on her tongue.

"Come on, sit with us," he said.

"I can't," she said, looking around. "I'm still working."

Pen laughed, dismissing her completely with a wave of his hand. He reached out, taking her wrist and pulling her to his lap.

She shifted on his lap, the tip of her toes still touched the ground, so she tried to get some boost to get away from him, but she was held in place by a hand tightly around her hip. Awkwardly, she giggled.

"I really must get going," she tried.

"Don't you want a drink with us?" one of Pen's older friends asked.

"No. My son isn't feeling well, I need to go back home soon," she lied.

Pen sighed.

"I had news to tell you, but since you must go..." he said, dramatically throwing his head back.

Still, he didn't let go of her hip.

Angela forced another smile. For balance, she put her hand on the sticky, dirty surface of the table.

"Certainly, that news is something you can tell me quickly while I'm still here," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

One of his friends, the eldest one at the table without a doubt, leaned forward, eyes travelling over Angela's body slowly, hungrily. Still, she ignored him, eyes focused completely on Penrod and his trembling smile – he always got too nervous when she was too close.

"You helped me get a promotion," he said.

Angela made a little interested noise, pulling away to see his face a bit better.

"Oh, yeah? And how did I do that?" she asked.

Pen fixed his posture, ego unharmed.

"You said you wished you could help the world without fighting, you said you were never much of a fighter anyway," he started, hand pinching the soft skin of her side as if to punctuate her lack of muscles, just soft flesh. "I was thinking of a solution that could help without putting beautiful, sweet women like you in danger – and I thought of something that people really liked! So, I got a promotion."

"That's great, Pen!" she said, squeezing his shoulder. "Tell me, what did you think of? It must be something grand to get you a promotion so suddenly."

Another one of his friends laughed, this time reaching forward and putting a hand on Angela's knee over her skirt. She had to hold back not to flinch away from the coldness of his old, wrinkled hand making her bones ache through the fabric.

"Health Division," Pen said simply.

Blinking, Angela fixed her grip on Pen's shoulder to cross her legs and make sure the old man couldn't raise his hand any higher. With that, she was almost turning her back to those men, focusing solely on Penrod.

"And what does that Health Division entail?" she asked.

Smiling, Pen put a hand on the very low of her back, pulling her closer to his body.

"Professionals that are meant to watch, ensure and provide health for the soldiers," he explained as it that was obvious. "Men and women will be trained to be medics and nurses so they can actually be useful in and out of the field. It's a lot easier than having to bring the soldiers back into populated places to get them medical attention, a lot of them die on the way because those stupid soldiers barely know first-aid."

The first face in her mind is Erwin.

She wondered if he would've survived if there was a medic in close proximity after the... stoning he suffered.

"That's great!" she said.

"A two-year month paid-training period, and the Division will be sorted through the branches," Pen added, nodding at her compliment. "What do you think?"

She smiled again, this time more genuine than before.

"I think I want to sign up!" she said.

The men around her laughed, some in a good mood, others trying their best to sound sultry and inviting. She ignored all of them, facing only Pen, trying to get him to continue speaking about his intentions and his ideas.

"You'll be able to in a few months," he said. "There'll be an official announcement of it and there will be a list on the government buildings... but, if you want, I can put your name in already to make sure you'll get a spot."

"Wouldn't that be too kind?" she said.

His hands slid down her back, threatening to go to dangerous low territory when she giggled, pushing herself to stand using her hands on his shoulders.

"Well, regardless, I must go. I need to go back home very soon. My family is waiting for me," she lied.

And she had a lot to think about.