Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the anime that this is based on, or the song or a unicorn or a plush Totoro *cries*

Modern day AU - I'll try to make it as un-crappy as possible, promise. Part of it seems kinda rushed in retrospect, but that's partially because I realised how long this oneshot was getting and also because I'm thinking of doing a second part from Mikasa's P.O.V, so sorry if it's annoying.

A/N : Thanks to Lucewood, writingdisorder and Chibi_Sniffer, who all waited patiently (or not so patiently in Lucewood's case) for this oneshot to be finished. Sorry it took so long, guys.

Under the willow tree.

Eren's P.O.V:

Age 10

Mikasa.

The girl that I met all that time ago; the girl that stole my heart slowly, then all at once.

The cold of the wind bit fiercely at my cheeks the first time that I saw her. My scowl, buried under the red scarf wrapped around my neck, melted away when I saw the girl under the willow tree. The girl that I would find out was called Mikasa.

At the age of 10, I didn't know what love was, or have the range of emotions or level of comprehension to understand its power; how it felt, or even to know what the flutter of my heart and heating cheeks meant. But when she smiled at me, the barest hint of white showing behind her lips, I felt the flutter in my heart and the heat rushing to my cheeks for the first time.

She wasn't dressed for autumn. Her light summer dress did nothing to prevent the chill of the wind from reaching her, the boughs of the willow tree above her the only thing protecting her from the bite of autumn. But still, despite the cold wracking her body, she smiled. At me.

And despite the pain in my lip from the cut splitting it in two, I smiled back, shyly, a tinge of fear flitting through me at the thought of her running away before I could speak to her. I don't know why I thought she would run. Maybe it was because everything precious in my life had always left me until then.

My mother. The man my father used to be - the man that didn't see me as an obstacle instead of a son. The father that didn't solve his problems with his fists.

I couldn't bear the thought of the girl with grey eyes leaving before I got the chance to hear her voice, even though in my heart I acknowledged the truth I had been shown all my life: that she would leave, just like everybody else.

Please don't leave. Not yet.

She didn't leave. The girl under the willow tree stayed where she was, watching as I slowly grew closer, the black tresses of her hair shifting gently in the wind. It seemed like the words that I would say to her that day would be the most important to ever leave my lips. What do I say? The thought echoed around and around in my head, a recording on a loop.

"Hi. I'm Mikasa." Those were the words that cemented me to this girl, the sound of her soft laughter as I struggled for speech binding me further to the decision that I would protect this girl, because I didn't want the world to show her its truth - I didn't want her to be left alone, the way I had.

"Mikasa..." I whispered, shaping it with my lips, the name slipping comfortably from my tongue and spreading quietly through the cool air. My cheeks burned as I met the soft grey of her eyes, the erratic pattern of my heart speeding up to a flutter again for a reason that I didn't understand. "I'm Eren. Nice to meet you." I offered softly, watching as her eyes flitted to the bruise on my jaw and the fading discolouration at my temple before dropping to the cut in my lip.

Embarrassment rushed through me and heated the tips of my ears to a flushed pink. But when I met her eyes, seeing the same fear that was always twisting in the back of my mind, the fear of the fists that were meant to keep us safe, my fear melted away. I saw defiance burning in her gaze, brighter than the fear as if she was determined to not be afraid anymore, and wondered if I still had that same defiance, if she could see it in my eyes. "It's nice to meet you, too, Eren."

As we talked, her mostly taking the lead and me trying not to sound like an idiot, a sense of safety wrapped around me, blocking out the cold wind and the pain from my bruises - it was almost as if nothing could hurt us, as long as we were here and together, sat under the tree that stood sentinel over us. It was a childish thought, full of wilful ignorance and a pervading sense of desperation to block out the normal aspects of my life and to just revel in this one surreal moment, but I would have given anything so long as I could fully believe in that fantasy.

I felt Mikasa shiver next to me, her arm barely brushing mine but still grabbing my entire attention, because it was Mikasa and she was cold, and I wasn't because all I could feel was the way my cheeks tingled and my heart stuttered when she looked at me, and all I could wonder was why. Why is my heart beating so fast? Why are her eyes so beautiful? Why am I feeling like this? Is her heart beating fast, too? Her pale skin was tinged red at the fingertips, the cool air of the autumn afternoon shrouding itself around her small form and chilling the warmth of her smile.

My hands shook when I wrapped my scarf around her, the soft material unfurling from around my neck and taking its place on hers. A brief pang shot through my heart as it left my grasp, the memory of my mother giving it to me flickering through my mind.

I remembered her kind brown eyes. A smile that never really left unless the fists fell, and even then she was strong - for me. I remembered the gentle way her hands held me and wiped away my tears when I cut my knee running outside, and I remembered the warmth of her arms hugging me and keeping me 'safe'. But I was never really safe, and she could never really protect me.

Age 6

My eyes burned, the tears I was trying to hold back only staying in place because I swiped at them angrily, breath shaking as I sat in the dark. I hate him. I hate this. I hate me. Why can I never stop him from hitting her? All I can do is sit here, useless, until he calms down and I can find another way to mess up again that ends up with him using his fists. The cool brick wall of the house dug into my back, my knees pressed against my chest to offer some protection from the cold air of the night. I could hear the muffled sounds of raised voices even from outside, my cheeks burning as I wondered how much the neighbours heard when he was drunk, or angry, or just in the mood to lash out.

The noises fell quiet, complete silence buzzing from the house - a tense, aching silence that wrapped around me and squeezed at my chest.

The noise is better than the silence. Because when there's noise, you know what to do, know what to say, whether to hide. When it's quiet, all that you can think of is when it's going to end, when the noise and the pain will come back. Suddenly the quiet becomes the worst part, because there are no signals and no warning, and when it stops you wish there had never been a quiet moment because the sudden switch back to the angry roar is disorientating and even worse in its wake.

I closed my eyes, holding back the tears and the cold light of the stars, holding my hands over my ears and hoping, hoping that it wouldn't happen the way it always did, the way it always would as long as he was here - Slap. The sound cracked through the air, audible even through the brick wall that separated me from my mother. Despite myself, I flinched, years of this repeated over and over ingraining when to duck and when to flinch away into my being.

At least when he hits me, he isn't hitting her. But then she always gets involved, and it always ends like this - with the silence and that sharp noise and then we all act like nothing happened, over and over again, week tumbling after week until they morph into months, the bruises and the cuts fading, the months growing into years and the cycle never, ever stopping. If I don't do anything, then he hits her, but even when I try to help it doesn't get better, because she can't stand by and watch me get hit anymore than I can watch him do the same to her.

Powerless.

"Eren?" Her voice carried over the sound of the back door creaking open, light footsteps making their way towards me. If I listened closely, I could hear the hint of a limp, so I blocked it out, trying as hard as I could to not think about it or the way I had let it happen, again. "There you are." She knelt down in front of me, pulling my hands from my ears and holding them gently. The mirage of safety wrapped itself around me, and I hated it, hated that after all these years,somewhere deep inside I still thought that I could be safe. But I also craved that sense of safety, so I didn't fight it, welcoming it even though it was only a lie that I desperately longed to be true.

Though it was dark, the shadows didn't hide the bruise around her eye or the swelling on her cheek. I reached out and touched her face gently as if the contact would somehow heal her, which it never did. She leaned into my hand, a smile on her face even a she winced at the slight pressure. "Have you been crying?" She asked, voice soft. I met her gaze defiantly, shaking my head before looking away, determined to hide my weakness from her. I want to be strong for you. "That's my brave boy."

She knew I was lying. She always did. She still pretended to believe me, though, even though I certainly wasn't brave; or at least, not brave enough to make a difference. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

"Of course I am. I have you to look after, right? I'll always be okay so that I can look after you, Eren." The brown of her eyes seemed almost black in the darkness, yet still warm and welcoming, the way they always were. She pulled at the worn red scarf around her neck, the crimson material unfurling and pooling into her hands. "This is very precious to me. It was given to me by someone that I loved very much - now I'm going to give it to you, because I love you just as much as the person that gave this to me loved me. When you're lonely, or sad, or scared, as long as you have this scarf you can think of me and remember that I'll always be here for you if you need help."

The scarf still held a hint of her warmth as she wrapped it around my neck, the scent of lemon soap and cinnamon that always clung to her falling around me. My mouth curved a little at the edges as she smiled sadly at me, but at the same time I wanted desperately to know who gave her the scarf that was now mine, and why she looked so sad. "Thank you, Ma." I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in the fabric of her shirt.

"Keep it safe, Eren. And one day, when you find someone special, maybe you will give it to them."

Age 10 (Continued)

My hands fell back into my lap once I had tucked the end of the scarf over Mikasa's shoulder, my fingers twisting together nervously. "It's warm, right?"

She nodded, eyes wide as she looked at me. I coughed, uncomfortable with the sudden quiet. "My Mother gave it to me when I was younger, before she... left. She told me that I should keep it safe - but she also said that when I found someone special, I could give it to them. I, uh, I guess you're cold, so you can keep it for a bit, if you want."

Mikasa's eyes widened, her hands smoothing the worn material of the scarf almost reverently. "Eren... I can't take this. Thank you, but you need to save this for your special person, not for someone that's a bit cold." She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck, folding it gently before placing it back in my hands. "Keep it for someone special. Don't waste it on someone like me."

I opened my mouth to argue, because giving her my scarf wasn't a waste, and how could she say that? But she was already leaving, walking away, leaving, just as everyone always did.

"Goodbye, Eren. It was nice to meet you. I hope... we can meet again, someday." She said, her words carried on the cool bite of the wind, made even colder by the fact that she was gone, just like that. "Maybe." The word was soft, almost an afterthought, barely tracing her lips before it was free. It seemed... wistful, but maybe that was just a foolish impression fuelled by my futile hopes of somehow seeing her again.

I sat alone under the tree with the scarf folded in my lap, watching the path that she had walked away down even after I couldn't see her anymore.

Maybe. The word sounded bittersweet, the possibility of seeing Mikasa again mixing with the resignation that settled in my gut; because 'maybe' wasn't certain, and 'maybe' was more like a lie than the truth.

Maybe.

Age 17

Seven years went by. Not particularly quickly - they didn't escape my notice or take me by surprise, but they passed fast enough that before I knew it, the realisation that she wasn't coming back had come and gone almost without my permission, stealing my resolve to believe in that small 'maybe'. I knew the feeling of waiting for something that wasn't going to happen. And I knew that I was alone.

Not in the literal sense of the word - there were still people around me, and friends that cared. But when I went home, there was no one there but me, the half truth from all those years ago, and the aching absence of caring arms to soothe away the pain and surround me with the scent of lemon soap and cinnamon. He was never home until after dark, bringing with him a black portentous mood that was almost tangeable and carried with it an undercurrent rife with the promise of violence.

I never stuck around when he was like that, when the unspoken threats got too much. The streets were cold as I walked them, waiting for his mood to pass or for the alcohol in his system to lull him into unconsciousness, but I didn't mind because countless nights of wandering had made the winding lengths of concrete and tarmac familiar to me.

My feet stopped where they always did: outside the shop owned by Levi Ackerman, who refused to be called anything but Sir by those he deemed inferior, which, as it turned out, was the majority of people that walked through the door. The lights washing through the glass windows and coiling against the velvet reach of the dark were welcoming, if a little bright. I pushed the door open with my shoulder, walking over to the seat I always used in the corner and sitting down quietly, taking in a breath of the strong smell of coffee that hung in the air.

It was an unusual business in comparison to the others that it sat next to; a small coffee shop that also displayed row upon row of CD's arranged around the mismatched furniture scattered around its interior. Its familiarity was soothing. Comforting, almost.

A mug was placed in front of me, firmly, yet gently enough not to damage the table. The tea inside lapped at the edges, drawing my attention and that of the man standing by the table. I could almost see him prepared to pounce on the potential spillage, only relaxing when the liquid's movements had all but stilled. I looked up an met the silver eyes of the dark haired man scowling down at me. "Pay up, you little shit. No arguments."

I met his gaze wordlessly, reaching into my pocket and dropping the money that I had already counted out at home into his hand. Levi nodded. "Damn right." He seemed to feel assured by my silence, as if my cooperation made his day easier.

"What if I'd wanted something else?" I asked quietly, smirking slightly at the way Levi stiffened and froze in his path back to the counter.

Levi looked over, eyes sad. "Please," He scoffed, tone quiet. "People like us don't change unless there's someone for us to change for. You'll be sat there with that same drink until you find that someone, and I'll be here - except I've already missed my someone, so I guess I'm here to stay." His voice grew melancholy as his mouth twisted into a half-hearted scowl. "Shut up and drink your tea, brat."

I don't even like tea.

And I think that I've already missed my someone.

Nursing the hot mug between my fingers, I gazed at the broken reflection of myself that I saw on the surface of the milky liquid and tried to ignore the quiet buzz of conversations thats surrounded me. It was conforting in a way - to be able to sit there and just wait, not for anything in particular, but for as long as I needed to. Alone, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. I shifted uncomfortably, blocking out the stray thought. I knew the feeling of being alone in a crowded room, but that was something that I could get past. The worst feeling isn't being lonely, but being forgotten by the one person you will never forget.

Pain flared in my fingers, causing me to pull back hurriedly from the hot mug that my hands had been wrapped round, rubbing them on my jeans to rid them of the burning sensation. I cursed under my breath, pressing my hand against the cool surface of the table.

"Here." A glass of water was pushed towards me along the table, the condensation along the outside leaving a trail along the surface. Levi'll hate that. Oh well. "For your hands." The same voice prompted.

I gratefully latched onto the glass, holding back a sigh of relief as the cold seeped into my fingers. "Thank you." Grey eyes met mine, and my voice froze in my throat.

"You're welcome." The girl with the grey eyes replied. Those grey eyes. Recognition dawned in them slowly as she scanned my face. "Eren?"

"Mikasa." Her name felt strange on my lips, the years since out last meeting making my every action feel awkward and clumsy. "Hey." I finished lamely, tugging at the red scarf around my neck to allow air to cool the now uncomfortable warmth that the fabric trapped to me. Mikasa's eyes were drawn to the material, reminding me of the last time that she had seen it and bringing a buzz of embarassment with the memory. My hand fell back to the table and away from the scarf.

She sat down in the chair opposite me, almost falling onto the seat, which made a loud screeching noise that caused Mikasa to cringe and Levi to send a blistering glare in our direction. The pale tone of Mikasa's cheeks now bore the pink haze that I was certain coloured my ears, judging by the burning sensation I could feel in their tips.

"How've you been, Eren?" I froze in surprise, not expecting her to start a conversation. My mouth opened but no noise came out, partly because I was surprised, but also because as I was coming to realise, I didn't know. It wasn't something that I'd paid attention to over the last seven years because really, in the scale of things, how I was feeling wasn't really important.

Knowing when not to answer back was important, when to duck, when to run. How to get people to accept that I was 'fine' even when I really wasn't. Compared to that, knowing how I was feeling seemed trivial, almost a pointless endeavour. It wasn't worth the confusing mess of emotions that welled up - they were always hard to quell afterwards, so it was easier to ignore them altogether.

What could I even say? I missed you? I wish you hadn't left? I didn't even know her. But you do, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. No, I don't. I knew her seven years ago, but seven years is a long time, and I don't know her now. I don't know the new her. So I shrugged and said the minimum I could get away with.

"Alright, I guess." I bit at my lip, trying to ignore the crestfallen look that swept over Mikasa's face and the anger that I felt at myself for being the cause of it. She shifted uncomfortably, covering her hands with the sleeves of her hoodie and shrinking back into the material. Damn it. I can't do this to her. I can't block her out. "What about you?" The words stumbled out of my mouth.

Relief replaced the disappointment on Mikasa's face, her grey eyes shimmering in the soft golden light. Beautiful. Wait, what? "Well, I guess it's been okay. School and stuff, you know, the usual." She carried on talking in her soft melodic tone, but all I could concentrate on was the way her happiness seemed to wrap itself around me, pulling me in until all I wanted was to see her smile, to be the one to make her smile, and then the rapid backpedalling of my thoughts as I fought against the fluttering sensation in my chest.

I pulled my attention back to the conversation, dragging my eyes away from the table that obscured the hands that I had clenched into fists in order to distract myself from the girl across from me. "Eren?" Mikasa laughed. I met her eyes in panic. What had I done? "Are you okay? You seemed a bit out of it there." Her smile never left her face, a brief hint of a dimple showing as she grinned.

"Y-Yeah, sure, I'm fine." I shot her a small smile, surprised at how natural it felt to just be happy around her.

And then I gave into it. I stopped fighting and just let myself enjoy sitting there and talking to her, making her laugh and occasionally blush in the beautiful way that she did, asking her questions and listening studiously to catch up on what I had missed in the seven years that had passed.

"What's your favourite song?" I asked, slouching back in my chair, and stretching my legs out under the table. They brushed something warm, causing me to suddenly jerk away again and a furious heat to burn in my ears. The whole table and you had to pick the one spot where her legs were. Great job, Eren. "Sorry." I whispered, looking away. Idiot.

Mikasa laughed, quietly and with a hint of shyness. "It's okay." She fidgeted with her sleeve. "My favourite song? That's a hard one." She didn't meet my gaze. "I, uh, I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to keep it a secret. You haven't done anything wrong," Mikasa rushed when I opened my mouth to apologise, because all my life it had always been me that had been wrong, I was always the problem. "I've just never told anyone before. And... I'm kind of saving it for someone when I know them really well."

I shrank a bit in my chair. "Oh. Okay then." I made an effort to smile again, trying to reassure her that I wasn't upset, because to be honest I wasn't, I was just confused. Maybe she'll tell me someday. That's if I ever see her again. We don't exactly have the best track record.

We talked a bit more, but after that Mikasa didn't seem as confident, her smile not quiet as bright. Her blush faded, leaving her cheeks pale. "I have to go." She said quickly, pushing herself up using the table and standing behind her chair. Not meeting my gaze, Mikasa pushed her hair behind her ear and began fiddling with her sleeve again.

I stood up too, ignoring the noise of the chair against the floor and the ire-filled glare that Levi shot in our direction again, this time at me. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I trailed behind  Mikasa, my stomach flipping in strange patterns as I walked with her.

Opening the door, I stood to the side and raised my arm so that Mikasa could duck under it and leave the shop first, my breath catching as her arm brushed my chest when she moved past me. I saw Levi smirk from behind the counter, a hint of nostalgia in his gaze dimming the smile. My gaze returned to Mikasa and the way that the slight breeze ran through her hair, black locks shifting gently as they framed her face.

I knew what the fluttering of my heart meant then, just as I knew that the way Mikasa made me feel wouldn't change with time, because this was love, soft and fast, stealing my breath and reasoning until I was haunted by thoughts of her, the girl under the willow tree.

The cool night air ruffled at my hair as I shuffled my feet, shifting my weight to distract myself from the girl standing in front of me. "Um... Bye, I guess." my mouth was dry as I said the words, a bitter taste in my mouth as we played out that day all those years ago, this time in reverse, because I was the one leaving. "See you some other time, maybe."

Maybe. I never realised how much I hate that word.

Mikasa's smile seemed to drop, just a fraction, barely enough for anyone to notice unless they saw the way she almost shrank, her shoulders falling marginally. "Yeah... I hope so."

My fingers curled inwards, nails digging into my palms uncomfortably, though they didn't cause as me much discomfort as watching Mikasa searching for the right words to reply to my awkward goodbye and the half promise attached to it. I'm sorry. With a weak smile, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving her behind me.

A cool hand grabbed my arm, firmly at first, then gently as their grip loosened. Mikasa pulled me back around to face her."The trouble is, you think you have time." She mumbled, almost as if she was talking to herself intead of to me.

"Mikasa?" She looked at me, cheeks flushed, and her soft grey eyes holding that same warm look as before, the look that made my cheeks heat and my heart's steady percussion increase its tempo.

"Shut up, Eren." Mikasa whispered. She rose and pressed the soft warmth of her lips against mine, surprise making me pause for a second before I slowly moved my hands to rest at her hips as she wrapped her arms around my neck. The air seemed to suddenly heat up, or maybe that was just me, or was it Mikasa? The cool touch of her fingertips against my neck and wibding through my hair made me pull her closer towards me, seeking the warmth that radiated from her. In fact... She seemed too warm, compared to the otherwise cool air surrounding us. The sensation of her lips grazing mine stole my attention, pulling my focus back to us.

I rested my forehead against hers, pulling away slightly as I tugged in a shaky breath. Mikasa avoided my questioning gaze shyly, ducking her head so that she wouldn't have to meet my eyes. My hands ached to hold her again, but she took a step back, so I shoved them into my pockets and tried to fight the tingling burning through my cheeks.

"Meet me again." I blurted, panic widening my eyes when I realised what I had said. Crap. "I - uh, only if you want to, I mean - oh God -" Mikasa laughed softly, cutting off my babbling.

"Of course I want to, Eren." Relief rushed through me like a cool wave, easing the blush that I knew was on my cheeks. I smiled nervously, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. "No more maybe's." Her face grew serious.

"No more maybe's." I agreed. "Tomorrow, same place, same time? I mean, I'm usually here a lot, so I'll be here most nights."

Mikasa nodded, biting her lip slightly as if to hold back the embarassment that was flushing her pale cheeks a light pink. "Sure. Tomorrow, then."

We met most days, always at that same place, tucked away from the harsh nature of the rest of our lives in the corner that we had claimed. Levi didn't really care, as long as we bought something, but I saw the pain in his eyes when he thought I wasn't looking. It seemed like he was remembering a pain that he had managed to forget, or rather one that he had learned to live with.

Week passed, and the comforting yellow glow of the café became our haven, the place where we could forget what was outside and just be together. It was there that we exchanged numbers, and there that I accepted that I loved her.  And there that I told her how I felt. Granted, I was a stuttering mess, but she still understood.

"Mikasa." I stood, head bowed. "I- I want to ask you something. You don't have to listen - actually wait, yes you do - no, that makes you sound like a jackass, Eren!" I snapped at myself. Mikasa sat silently, a small smile on her face.

Levi snorted from behind the counter. "Great job, champ." He muttered under his breath. I glared sharply at him, turning my attention back to Mikasa after offering Levi a subtle hand gesture involving my middle finger that made him bark out a laugh.

"What I'm trying to say is...." I pulled in a deep breath and rushed the rest of the words with my eyes closed tight. "Mikasa Ackerman, will you be my girlfriend?"

Silence echoed back at me from the other side of the table, broken only by a small chuckle. "Yes you idiot. Yes, I'll go out with you." Mikasa grabbed me in a hug and I finally opened my eyes, a grin spreading across my face as I wrapped my arms around her.

"I love you." She whispered.

I stiffened. She loves me? Looking down at the girl in my arms, I said the words that I had never said before. "I love you too, Mikasa."

After (20 +)

Things passed quickly after that, but I never failed to catalogue each moment with Mikasa inside my mind, storing them and never forgetting.

Our first house, carrying her over the threshold in my arms just to make her laugh in the beautiful way that she did. Getting married and seeing her dressed all in white walking towards me, before she sealed it with an "I do" and a kiss. The words that she whispered to me as we walked out of the church and into the startling bright sunlight, a gentle "I guess you're stuck with me now.", and the squeal she made when I picked her up and kissed her, whispering that I wouldn't have it any other way, because she was everything I had ever wanted.

Waking up to the grey of her eyes every morning, going to sleep knowing that she would be there when I woke up because she was the exception to the truth I thought I had known, and she would never leave.

The doctor's visits.

Her hand holding mine softly when we walked to the willow tree where I had met her for the first time, the beginning of all that was good in my life, the day when she had flooded my monotone life awash with colour and laughter and... love. Because that was what it was, all those years ago. Even then, I loved her.

The cold, surgical atmosphere of the waiting room. I hated it because it reminded me of the last time I had been here - the day I lost my Mother. She 'fell', of course, but I knew that wasn't true, just as the doctor's did, and the haggard shade of a man that he became. It had made me wonder if he had loved her, in his own twisted way. After all, how could he not love someone so beautiful and pure? Maybe even something as well-meaning as love could decay into a shadow of its former self, a warped reflection of the caring that had preceded it. Or maybe he never loved her, and that was just the way it turned out.

And then Mikasa walked out of the doctor's room, the girl with the grey eyes and my ring around her finger, the small smile that I loved gracing her face as she held out the image in her hand to me. It was strange how quickly a grainy image could take my breath away, a picture made of grey and black and white that made everything suddenly so real - because we were having a baby girl, and we were bringing a life into the world. Mikasa and I.

She grabbed my hand gently in hers, laughing at the goofy grin that had spread across my face and that stayed there as I looked between the grainy scan picture and the woman that wore an equally wide smile as she placed my hand on her stomach. The heat of my hand mixed with that of her body and I wondered if the baby could feel it. No, you idiot, of course it can't feel it. But what if it can? It can't -

We're having a baby.

Time passed quickly, Mikasa's stomach becoming increasingly rounded as months fell one after another. She was still as beautiful as the day that I had first met her and all the days after that, even if she did get snappy when we ran out of chocolate, which ended up with me raiding the nearest cornershop for as many cocoa related products as I could find.

I could tell that the pregnancy was taking its toll on her, little by little - she grew tired more easily and spent more time sleeping, smudges forming beneath her eyes. But she still smiled, blaming the tiredness on morning sickness, which was more than enough to make me back off.

And then it happened, all in a rush, a cry sounding out from the living room where I found Mikasa lying on the sofa with her eyes wide with pain and a hint of panic, because we weren't ready and we were young, and maybe this was a mistake. I drove faster than I should have on the way to the hospital, fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and muscles tense until Mikasa placed a soothing hand on my arm, offering a pain filled smile that tugged at my heart because even now, she was making sure that I was okay.

Then we were there. The harsh smell of antiseptic burned at my nose, making my eyes sting as I half-carried Mikasa through the doors of the hospital, her legs weakening as waves of pain washed through her with each contraction.

"Wait here, Eren." Mikasa said weakly as she was lowered to a hospital bed and taken... away? Mikasa? No. Confusion froze me in place, costing me precious seconds as the warmth from her hand against mine faded away.

"Mikasa, wait!" I called, hurrying after her, weaving between patients and doctors in order to catch another glimpse of her face. Soft grey eyes met mine, darkened with pain.

I love you. Stay here, she mouthed. "Mikasa?" I whispered, my words almost becoming a whimper.

I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want to be somewhere that she wasn't. Firm hands sat me down on a chair in the hall, pushing me back down when I made a weak attempt to rise. I need to be with her.

I didn't want to do this anymore.

Time passed, but I was unable to quantify it to any major degree; maybe it had been mere seconds, each flicker of time barely brushing me as they flew past, or maybe it had been hours, each one heavier than the one that preceded it, increasing the weight that pressed down on my chest and restricted my breathing to ragged pulls for oxygen.

My palms prickled as blood rushed through them, the roar in my ears blanketing the other, smaller sounds in the corridor, noises dropping away until all that was left was the hard rhythmic percussion of my heartbeat and the subtle ringing that pervaded the space between the heavy thuds.

And then even those noises dropped away, leaving me exposed and cold.

I heard it, then.

Suddenly that harsh crack echoing through the quiet of the night wasn't the worst thing that I had heard.

It was the long, drawn out drone of a monitor through the empty corridors, a reverbrating sound that echoed and yet at the same time hung in place, never stopping or moving, just hanging there, and the sound of feet hitting the cold linoleum floor and then the quiet apologies that never reached my ears because she wasn't gone and this wasn't real, the girl who had grown into the woman that I loved was still there with her small smile and those soft, grey eyes that made me spill all of my secrets, because I knew that

She

Loved

Me, and that she would never just leave like that - no, she loves me, and she isn't gone because this. Isn't. Real.

And then it was real. It was so, so real, because when I held her hand in mine, she didn't squeeze back, she didn't smile, she didn't even move, because she wasn't breathing and she was

Gone.

All that I had cared for, loved, protected, taken away in an instant. In the end, I hadn't been able to protect her, just as I hadn't been able to protect my Mother. I couldn't protect Mikasa - in fact, having a child, our child, had been the thing to kill her. It was my fault.

If we hadn't met under the willow tree, if she hadn't said those soft words that had hung in the cold air between us, that simple greeting that had meant so much to me, if I hadn't have given her the scarf, the scarf that now lay folded neatly at the foot of the bed, none of this would have happened.

If Mikasa hadn't met me, she would still be alive.

It was my fault. I should never have walked over to her that day.

But then, I had something to go on for. Because the little life that the nurse placed in my arms was half Mikasa, and half me - and she had her eyes. The soft grey eyes of the girl under the willow tree looked up at me from a face so soft and pure, so innocent, that even though Mikasa was gone, I suddenly had something to go on for. Something to protect. Our daughter.

Even though the gap in my heart and by my side was still empty and gaping, filled with a pain that seemed to never ever stop, when our little girl smiled, I didn't mind the ache as much.

I lay awake the next night by the cot that our daughter slept in, holding her tiny hand in mine as she slept and letting the tears that I had held in fall in hot, never ending streams down my cheeks. Pain built up in my chest as I held back sobs that were clawing to get out, but I stayed silent, unwilling to wake up the baby.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I sat up and rested my head on my knees, blocking out the world and the events of the past day. Hoping that when I looked up, Mikasa would be there with that small smile, our baby in her arms. I knew she wouldn't be, of course she wouldn't, but when I looked up and she wasn't there it still hurt, adding salt to a wound already open and bleeding. A gurgle met my ears and then I saw her, our baby girl, watching me calmly as she lay in her cot.

I tried to smile, but I knew that I didn't even come close. She was light in my arms as I picked her up, my movements careful and cautious as I supported her head in the crook of my arm. "Hey." I whispered, tracing her cheek gently with a finger. I didn't really know what I was doing - Mikasa and I had joked that we would figure it out together.

Except we wouldn't, and I was on my own.

My bare feet made padded softly along the floor as I attempted to lull her back to sleep with the rhythmic movement of my slow pacing, which carried me past the cot, to the bedroom door, through to the living room and then back, retracing my steps before drawing them out again. The envelope on the table in the centre of the living room caught my eye, not once, but every time I walked past it, ignoring the black letters that flowed across it.

Mikasa had written that letter. I remembered watching her carefully write down each word from the doorway between the hall and the kitchen, smiling at the way her brow furrowed as she thought about what to write. She had been determined not to let me see its contents, only telling me that after our baby was born I was allowed to read it. Although I laughed at the determined look on her face, I had agreed, because I could tell it was important to her.

Now I could read the letter and find out what she hadn't wanted me to see. But I didn't want to open it, because it was the last thing that I had from the moments when she was with me, before it all went wrong. And so I avoided looking at the small envelope on the table each time I walked past it, instead looking down at the sleepy grey eyes that never left my face.

Grey eyes that were so like Mikasa's. I shook my head, walking over to the letter on the table and ripping it open before I could regret my actions.

To my dear Eren.

I traced the lines with my fingers, hating the way that they bit at my heart and the way that I kept reading because I was desperate for the way that I could almost hear her say the words in my head.

All those years ago, you asked me what my favourite song was. I never told you - the reason why is kind of silly, actually.

It's not the kind of song that I think you would expect me to choose as my 'favourite', or to give it that title; to say that I prefer it over any other. I don't think that's true, anyway. I don't think a 'favourite' song is one that you think is better than any other - I think it's one that makes you feel in ways that other songs can't. A song that means something to you, something more than lyrics and notes.

I guess, in a way, the reason that I didn't show you this song that day was because the dream that I have always had was too fragile for me to share. I'm gonna be, Sleeping At Last. That's the song that I didn't show you that day. When I was younger, perhaps 15 or so, I heard that song for the first time and it became the song that meant the most to me, suddenly and without warning. It was the song that made me dream.

I dreamt that one day, someone would feel the same way the lyrics described about me - a foolish and maybe selfish dream, but one that I had non the less. Maybe it was because everyone that I ever loved left me, and I wanted desperately for someone to be the exception.

Eren, you are that exception.

I never thought that somebody could love someone like me, a ticking time bomb shaped like a human, with feelings and dreams that I pushed aside because I didn't want anyone to get caught in the blast, and I knew that it would happen, so pushing people away was the safest thing for me. At least, I told myself it was safer, but in reality all I did was isolate myself and make the limited time that I have lonely and cold.

I don't have long to live, Eren. I don't even know if I'll make it through the pregnancy, because I'm ill, the kind of ill that doesn't go away. They didn't even think I'd make it this long. I might be living on borrowed time, but I'm going to make sure I get as much out of it as I can. I'm going to see our baby smile, and I'm going to see you hold her as if she is the most precious thing in the world, because she will be - a little part of me and a little part of you.

You gave me forever in numbered days, and I'm grateful. I never thought that I would find someone like you, someone that I could love and that would love me back just as intensely. I never thought that I would get married, buy a house or share it with you, but you made it possible, Eren.

Even after the years that have passed, you're still here. Thank you. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think that the lyrics describe how you feel about me, and even if they don't, I know that I feel like that about you. I love you, Eren.

I can feel our little girl kicking in my stomach. She sure is a handful, even now. Little Kalura. That's just a name suggestion, of course, but it's beautiful name and I thought that you might want her to have something of your Mother's, even if she won't meet her. I know she would have loved her Grandma, just as I know that I would have if I had met her.

Maybe, when she's old enough, I can show her the song. It's strange: in a way it's become our song to me. I can't wait to share it with her.

Love, Mikasa.

I put the letter down and cried. Soft, silent tears that coursed down my face and made my head pound with each beat of my heart. The baby in my arms whimpered, grey eyes looking up at me as she grabbed a handful of my hair in her tiny palm. It broke my heart when they told me you were gone, Mikasa. But somehow it kept beating, even when I didn't want it to. Now I need it to keep beating, for our child.

"Kalura." I choked out, attempting a small smile. My daughter gazed solemnly up at me. "Do you like that? Kalura?" I shaped out the name, testing it out as it hung in the darkness of the room. "Yeah. That sounds good. Your Ma picked it for you, you know."

A heavy sigh wracked my lungs as I wiped at my eyes. Enough. I stood up, cradling Kalura against my chest gently. Her small hand never left my hair as I walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the top drawer, pulling out a neatly folded length of crimson material.

I looked down at Kalura, a little part of me and a little part of Mikasa looking back. "A long time ago, someone very important gave me this scarf. I loved them more than I can say, and now I'm going to give this to you because I feel the same way about you." My hand shook as I pressed the worn material into Kalura's tiny grip. "When you're lonely, or sad, or scared, as long as you have this scarf you can think of me and remember that I'll always be here for you if you need help." I cleared my throat, blinking back tears as I kissed the top of Kalura's head softly. "And maybe someday, if you find someone special, you'll give it to them."

Black hair and soft grey irises flashed in front of my eyes, a small smile curving soft lips as the remembered chill of a long-gone wind made me shiver.

Isn't it funny how the most unforgettable scenes can be so trivial? But then, one moment that another sees as trivial can mean so much more to somebody else, because nobody could ever truly know which moments are the most important until that moment is gone and can't be brought back.

Maybe to me, that moment in time with the cool bite of the wind against my cheeks was the most unforgettable, with her dark hair swaying in the wind and those grey eyes that would never really leave me meeting mine, a small smile curving her lips as she said those words that would begin this spiral of events; our house, our wedding, the waiting room, that grainy grey image that we thought was the start of something special but that Mikasa knew could in fact be the end, and then that day at the hospital, where the most precious person in the world to me was taken away but gave me someone else to love and protect.

Those words.

"Hi. I'm Mikasa."

'It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.' - John Steinbeck

A/N: Hey thanks for reading this. It wasn't really meant to be this depressing... but hey it turned out this way so *shrugs* Sorry, I guess.

I might do another part to this to explain Mikasa's side of the story, but that's up to you guys because if you're happier imagining what might have happened to Mikasa in the years between their meetings then I'll leave it as is. I guess I could also expand more upon key points like the wedding and the time that passed before Kalura was born and Mikasa passed away if I do a second part.

Again, thank you to anyone that reads this, I really appreciate it ^-^

- J