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When you thought of him, you were always overtaken by an urge to care for him, be there for him, understand and try to figure him out, and you really thought you did.

You thought you knew him more than you knew yourself. You felt safe with him, loved him. When you were with him nothing mattered anymore, nothing but the two of you. No rules, no restrictions, no war. You only had eyes for each other.

When you were with him, it was as if you could go to the wilderness on the other side of this terminus, where there were no railroads.

Now regret was your new smile.

Your trust in him was lost and the love you felt which was once like a durable fire, was now showing its infinite mutability by blossoming into all its opposites; disgust, resentment, anger and even fear.

The man you once loved didn't exist anymore, that's what you wanted to believe, needed to believe, finding yourself unable to accept that he'd always been this way ever since you'd met him; In search of a devil, to give his life meaning, to silence his ever guilty conscience of surviving that day, outliving the heroes around him like a coward.

Now his hands had been tainted with blood, yet his sins didn't weight heavy on his shoulders. He had become the devil he was looking for.

You saw the signs before but chose to ignore them. Him spiraling into his radical beliefs, waking up from nightmares screaming and covering his head from imaginary rocks, the lost look in his eyes searching for a purpose, the discomfort on his face whenever Zeke was mentioned, and his hatred for the people outside the island. You'd always been there for him, trying to help him yet he'd lost himself somewhere along the way.

The naive young boy who joined the scouts with the fancy ideal of becoming a hero and serving humanity had fallen from grace and burned like the morning star.

This was what he had to do for his people, he did what he believed to be right, had killed for it, and would kill again.

Unbeknownst to him, he'd killed you, the one he cared for the most. Sometimes he'd do it with a bitter look, sometimes with a bitter word. Sometimes he'd shed a tear, sometimes he'd do it without a sigh, strangling you with the hands of betrayal.

Yet each time he'd see your teary eyes, every time you found yourself unable to hide your pain, he'd feel the noose of guilt tighten around his neck, but pretended not to care, putting on the mask of a man indifferent to your suffering and playing his role almost perfectly.

Once his name leaving your lips would send him running to you, but now he wouldn't move a muscle.

The only thing you found yourself able to do was to think of the past, the him you fell in love with and the times he showed you love and affection, when being close to him felt safe.

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"I was really hoping the soup would make you feel better." You said as you sat at the corner of his bed, putting a cold wet cloth on his forehead after stroking his bangs back, his fever was getting worse.

Thanks to Sasha you'd found your way back to Floch when you heard he was still sick, much to his annoyance. 

"Why, was there medicine in the soup that you didn't mention before?" He said with a sarcastic undertone before letting out a cough into his fist. Clearly done with his attitude, you heaved a sigh as you looked at him lying in his bed, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, still confused on why you cared for him to this extent.

"Quit with that constipated look on your face already." You said, rolling your eyes. "You look seconds away from a hemorrhoid."

At that he scoffed; "Having to be in your company.. can this get any worse.."

"Too bad it's all you're going to get until you feel better."

There was a moment of silence as rain fell against the window, causing you to turn your head and watch the drops slide down the glass, oblivious to the hazel eyes fixated on the side of your face.

"Would you be interested in working as a doctor for the scouts?" Taken aback by his sudden offer, you turned to face him again with a hopeful glint in your eyes.

"Do you really think I'd be qualified?" You asked in slight disbelief and he gave you an affirming blink.

Slowly sitting up, he removed the cloth as auburn strands of hair fell onto his wet forehead. "I do, the scouts would benefit from having more doctors helping out, that aside, i'm pretty sure you're slowly getting bored of sitting in your room."

You scoot aside a little, making more space for him. "That's true, it's getting incredibly boring. At least Nicolo has his own restaurant now, so it's only fair if I make use of my skills as well." That aside it would give you enough freedom to continue sending letters to the captives without being guarded all the time.

Floch nodded, "I'll talk to commander Hange about it later." He thought the reason why you wouldn't leave him alone was because you were bored out of your mind, and that a purpose would cause you to be busy enough to keep your distance and not talk to him as much. He hoped you wouldn't, hoped that you would leave him alone so he could sort out his thoughts, those feelings of his were only growing the longer he tried to deny them. They would eventually be his downfall.

"Thank you." You whispered with a smile on your face before reaching for the black tea on his nightstand and handing it over to him. "Here, I mixed it with honey, it's going to help with your throat."

He took a sip before his eyes focused on you again, making you feel like he was dissecting you with his gaze. "One more thing." He said as you hummed in response, signaling him to continue. "Did you receive any letters in those past few weeks in the middle of the night?"

You shook your head, not clocking on yet. "It seems like one of the marleyan captives has been shoving letters through the other captives' doorsteps."

You immediately froze, finding yourself unable to speak and his hardened stare didn't help to calm your slowly building anxiety as he continued; "One of the soldiers found collections of letters in the rooms of a few of them, the captives themselves seem to have no clue about who exactly is sending those letter."

You tried gathering enough courage to not sound nervous as you spoke; "I haven't received such letters, but.. how do you know it's only one person writing them?"

He cocked an eyebrow, "Same handwriting in all the letters." The tone in which he spoke now seemed condescending. "The goal seems to be to rally the captives and put up a fight."

You didn't dare say anything, fearing you could potentially blow your own cover.

"As if Eldia didn't suffer enough already.."

Diverting your gaze to the window again, you frowned, there was no point in arguing with him about history now.

Biting your lower lip with a tinge of guilt, you faced him again. "What are you going to do when you find the one writing those letters..?"

"Nothing you'd like to know." He said almost immediately, causing you to swallow hard as a lump formed in your throat. "We'll investigate everything."

You blinked vigorously as you were overcome by dread when hearing the sudden change in his voice. "I might even put a bullet in his head once we find him."

"I-is there really any need for violence?" You interjected, not sounding as calmly as you intended to.

"You seem to have forgotten that we're in the middle of a war."

"Don't worry, i'm perfectly aware of what's going on around me thanks to you reminding me all the time." You said as you felt the anger rise within you. "But those people just want to go home to their families.. I want to go home.. this place isn't where I belong."

"Really?" He laughed bitterly, "because you're going to be spending so much damn time here, I suggest you better get used to it."

You inhaled a sharp breath as you got up, trying to distract yourself with anything to control your emotions. You would get out of this place eventually, you can't stay in this island forever. Turning to the nightstand you picked up the book you brought with you, it would be a nice distraction and ease the hostile atmosphere.

You sat down on the small couch close to his bed as you watched him set the cup of tea aside. "Why did you bring a book with you?" He asked, still in a sour mood.

"I thought it would be a good idea to kill some time before Sasha comes back to pick me up, I knew she would take longer than necessary."

His hazel eyes watched you intently as you turned the pages, "What's the book about?" He asked before laying back down on the bed, the fever making him feel exhausted.

"It's called 'the most dangerous game'" You replied with a forced smile, still feeling uneasy, scared for your own future. "It's about a hunter whose name is Rainsford, after a shipwreck he ends up stranded on an island that's said to be bad luck, they call it the 'Ship-Trap-Island', However later he meets General Zaroff, and even though they initially get along.. soon Rainsford realizes that the General is a hunter as well, a hunter that has gotten bored of hunting animals and started hunting humans instead, and Rainsford soon becomes a hunting target for the General."

Shifting your gaze back at him, you noticed that he genuinely seemed interested, yet tired at the same time. "Want me to read it for you? I'll leave once Sasha is here." He hummed in response.

You cleared your throat before you started reading; "'Off there to the right - somewhere - is a large island' said Whitney. 'The charts call it ship-trap-island. A suggestive name, is it not? Sailors have a curious dread of the place, I don't know why, has to be some superstition.'" From the corner of your eye you saw Floch exhale a sigh and turn his head to stare at the ceiling deep in thought.

"'I can't see it.' Remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dark tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the ship.." Somewhere along your reading he'd dozed off.

You set the book aside and silently sat at the corner of his bed once again, moving a few strands of his auburn hair aside. You still didn't have an answer to why you cared for him so much, he was the Zaroff to your Rainsford, and you didn't remember whether Rainsford made it out of the island alive or not, or if Zaroff had to die for this to happen.

You wanted to consider Floch your friend, but was it even possible?

Lost in your thoughts, you were brought back to reality when his eyebrows started twitching signaling that he was once again in the abyss of his nightmares. Putting your hand on his to give him some reassurance, you wondered if he'd ever make it out of there.

And if you'd ever make it out of here.

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