"Something must be done."

"Do whatever you think is best. I'm giving you a chance. Do not fail me; there will be consequences otherwise."

"Yessir!"

-=-=-=-=-

"E-Eren?"

"Yes, that's me," the boy says curiously—surprised even. "Who are you?"

He almost ran them over with a shopping cart. His hair is a light brown and he looks to be the average body weight, maybe a little more but due to muscle, not fat. Armin guesses they're about the same age, but the sixth graders were getting increasingly large which had thrown off his previously almost perfect accuracy.

They stand just outside the entrance to the grocery store—a Kroger. The building rises up like a giant, cement palace behind them. People bustle in and out of the doors, unaware, lost in their venture to get food.

Armin gives Mikasa's facial expressions and actions a scrupulous inspection, trying to gauge her entire existence in the span of five minutes. He is one who observes and asks questions about what he sees; he doesn't like to keep quiet or the questions will eat him alive. The world is a series of equations and facts in his mind.

If he compares their situation to a science experiment, S and the letters are the independent variable while Mikasa is the dependent—one creates a situation and the other reacts to it. It's much easier to think this way. How does Mikasa react?

Wait, more importantly, how does "Eren" play into all of this? He was just a guy that almost crushed them with a shopping cart.

Armin's glancing at and scrutinizing Eren now, too. What was his eye color? he wonders.

Mikasa and Eren are facing each other. She looks ready to reach out and tackle him to the ground, but in a playful, loving way.

"I'm—I'm—I'm—"

Armin's eyes flicker over to Mikasa. She resembles a frozen computer, repeating the same thing over with the same outer look. She looks shocked, scared, and happy at the same time. People walk by with children and their grocery carts, the importance of the events taking place lost upon them.

"I'm your—"

She faints.

"Mikasa!" Armin involuntarily shouts. He lurches forward seemingly against his will just in time to catch her by her left arm; Eren catches the right. Together, they've managed to keep her from face-planting into the cement. They gain some looks, but the pedestrians walk on.

"Whoa, there," Armin hears Eren grunt to himself as he gets into a better supporting position. Armin does the same and he doesn't know if it's just because Eren's helping, but Mikasa's extremely light. He didn't notice it immediately, but she looks ... unhealthy. Her skin is paler than it should be and it's pulled taut across her bones. What's happened to her? What, perhaps, has she been doing to herself? Eren doesn't seem to notice.

"My grandfather's waiting in his pickup truck nearby," Armin remarks as he fits Mikasa's arm around his neck and shoulders. "She can stay there to rest until she wakes up."

People were definitely looking at them now, wondering what was happening, if the girl was okay. Eren gives a small nod in Armin's direction and readies himself to walk forward, but just as they begin, someone stops them.

"Everything alright, boys?" a man with a bushy mustache asks. He's tall with burly shoulders and more importantly, blocking their way.

"Everything's fine!" Armin says a little too quickly. He tries to be calculating and calm, but he can't deny his heartbeat has heightened significantly. What if there was something seriously wrong with Mikasa? If they didn't call an ambulance and she died, her death would be on their hands. The reason behind someone's death is something Armin can't ever imagine being.

The man with the bushy mustache eyes them suspiciously.

"She's just a bit dehydrated and she passed out. It's fine," Eren pipes up. His eyes are challenging and daring. They're the epitome of "I dare you to say it again" in a way. It's excessive in Armin's view.

The man stares at Eren for a moment, then nods and walks on—albeit slower with several glances thrown over his shoulder. From what Armin's seen of Eren, he's deduced that he might be a bit belligerent and was probably very passionate about his causes. He wouldn't be surprised if he discovered Eren was also very patriotic and wanted to join the military. The last part was a generalization, but for some reason, Armin felt it fit. Eren just looked the part.

"Which way is your grandfather's car and is he going to ask a lot of questions?" Eren asks once they get a steady rhythm going.

"Turn to the right," Armin answers, taking deep breaths. So maybe he isn't the most physically fit, but he could destroy you at Stratego. Never mind, that just sounds lame.

"My grandfather, by the way, is a curious man. He will undoubtedly ask questions." Eren groans. "But he'll be satisfied if I give him answers. I could lie but in this case it'd be simpler just to tell the truth. I've already lied enough today," he adds on in a quieter tone. Despite that, Armin's sure Eren's overheard him. He doesn't care.

It's summer in Michigan. It's hot. Ten minutes have gone by by the time they both manage to practically drag Mikasa to his grandfather's truck. The entire time they're walking, Armin is taking in as many details as he can.

The way Eren's hair looks in the sun.

How many time Mikasa's chin makes contact with her chest. (He's slightly worried how her spinal cord's doing.)

How heavy her weight is on his shoulders. He wonders if it's this hard for Eren as well. If it is, the boy doesn't show it.

When they finally reach the bright red pickup truck, the front seat's empty. There's no grandfather in sight, but there is a bright yellow sticky note on the dashboard. It stands out against the gray interior. Only Armin seems to notice it.

"He's not there," Eren remarks, tone showing he's pleasantly surprised. Armin's satisfied with this outcome as well, but wonders where his grandfather has run off to. He supposes it'll be on the sticky note. They better take advantage of the time they have before they're pestered with questions.

"Hold her for a second," Armin says. "I'll open the door and then I'll help you get her inside.

Eren nods as Armin pushes himself out from underneath Mikasa's weight and Eren's arm is securely around her waist. Armin rolls his shoulders when he finally reaches the truck door. No matter how light Mikasa is, her weight had messed him up a bit. He needs to start working out.

He gets the door open and reclines the passenger seat so Mikasa can lay comfortably, then he waves Eren over and Armin helps pull her up and make her cozy in the seat. He takes a moment to appreciate how Mikasa looks. She looks as if ... she hasn't eaten—like she's sick. Her dark hair goes down to her waist and she wears no makeup. Armin thinks that if she were healthier, she'd be very objectively attractive.

Someone gives a cough by the open truck door.

Oh, yeah, Eren's still there.

"Oh, sorry," Armin apologizes. "So your name's Eren?"

Eren's face grows darker. "Yeah ... it is. Who is this? I heard you shout a name but I didn't quite catch it." He nods towards Mikasa laying in the passenger's seat.

Armin stares at her for a few seconds, thinking that the cloth of the seats might be getting too hot in the sun before even giving Eren's question a thought. Armin's become untrusting of everyone around him besides his own parents and his grandfather recently. The letters from S made it seem like he had a stalker and any new person he wasn't already familiar with, he felt could be the one he was looking for.

Finally, he says with trepidation, "She said her name ... was Mikasa." Armin hopes he isn't committing a mistake by sharing that with Eren. He glances over to Eren for his reaction but finds his face surprisingly calm—no change. Odd. Maybe Mikasa really was crazy and the two people held no connection. Still: Armin kept it as a possibility. After all, he'd seen weirder in the past few weeks.

"Do you want to sit down?" Armin asks after a moment of silence with only Mikasa's uneven breathing to fill it.

"I'm fine, thanks," Eren answers. "It's hot outside and you don't have the keys to turn the air conditioning on. I think I'm better this way."

Armin's never noticed it until then, but Eren looks like he spends a lot of time in the sun; he has a gorgeous tan. Armin's always thought tans looked like the beginnings of skin cancer. Perhaps that's why he was so pale. He also thinks it's actually better inside the truck instead of boiling in direct sunlight.

Despite what he says, Eren really does want to sit down. He seats himself on the black step you use to hop into the truck, legs spread with his hands firmly clasped together and head down. He looks deep in thought, so much so that Armin's hesitant to say something even though he needs to gather info from Eren. He himself is seated in the driver's seat, head lounging back against the headrest. He wants to say something, but it's almost like someone's stuffed a rag down his throat. It starts to feel suffocating and he takes a deep breath, cutting through the thick silence, to clear the feeling away.

His shoulder was still bothering him. He rolls it again and sighs. "Looks like I messed up my shoulder somehow." That definitely sounds better than saying he was too weak to support Mikasa's weight.

"Hm," Eren hums. "You must've been carrying more than me because I'm fine. Thanks for that, then."

I wasn't carrying more than you, Armin thinks. You're just stronger than me.

"What's the sticky note say?" Eren asks, startling Armin. So he did notice. Maybe Eren takes more notes of his surroundings than Armin had given him credit for.

"Oh, yeah." He'd completely forgotten.

Slowly, lazily, Armin reaches for the sticky note. It comes off without any struggle, accompanied by a viscous noise. It's kind of disgusting. The adhesive has sort of melted off and now stays with the dashboard.

Gone to get some groceries, too! BRB as you say ;)

"BRB?" Armin mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing, just my grandpa tryin' to sound cool. He went in to get groceries and'll be back soon."

"Oh," and Eren almost chuckles. "Tell me about your grandpa. Is he from your mom or your dad's side?"

"He's maternal," Armin answers. "He's kind of a weirdo."

He wants to ask Eren some things, too, but thinks it's too early to be doing so. At least Eren had slipped it in neatly, like it belonged in the conversation. If Armin attempted now, he's sure it would just come out stiff and disjointed. Even though it's just small talk, he's certain Eren had a deeper meaning behind it—trying to distract himself from their current events. Armin doesn't blame him. Who would want to be in their situation, after all?

But Armin couldn't allow that to happen.

"Do you get red letters in your mail from time to time?" he asks out of the blue. Eren tenses.

The boy sighs. "Yeah," he admits, sounding happy to get the secret off his chest. "Since you asked me about them does that mean you get them, too? Or did the girl tell you?"

"Her name's Mikasa—"

"Oh, right ..."

"—and I do get them."

He wonders if Eren really understands what that means. The feelings of paranoia that came along with it. His GAD (General Anxiety Disorder) spiking. Eren looked like a stronger person. Maybe he hadn't had the same feelings as himself.

"Did they tell you to come here?" Eren asks. This entire time, he hasn't shown his face to Armin. He just sits there on the step of the truck, surreptitiously watching the people bring food back to their cars.

"Yes," Armin answers quickly. His words come fluently without even a thought that perhaps Eren isn't who he says he is. Armin's getting careless, but he supposes that's what happens when you spend too much time without someone to confide in.

"Did they tell you to look for anybody in particular?" Eren asks with an undertone of hope.

"Yes. S told me to look for you." He says it confidently.

The thought's been bubbling beneath Armin's skin, in the back of his head, ever since he's met Eren. Think about it: a boy nearly runs him over with a shopping cart and then helps him bring a person he's never met before to safety. A passersby on the street wouldn't enter his life in such an explosive way—not a passersby who wasn't meant to be something important in his life, anyways. Mikasa even recognized him and Armin plans on interrogating her for some answers once she wakes up. They need to start unravelling this mystery so they can all return to their normal lives as soon as possible.

Armin explains, "More specifically, a boy with 'special' eyes." He adds in air quotes for dramatic effect. "I haven't gotten a good look at your eyes yet, but I feel like something will happen if I stare right in them."

Eren laughs to himself. "That sounded really gay."

Armin laughs, too, despite Eren's use of the word "gay" as a way to say "uncool". Just the way of the times, he guesses. "Yeah, well, it's the truth."

"I don't deny it. When Mikasa wakes up, we should all read each others letters."

Armin nods even though Eren has his back to him and can't see the gesture. "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Did S tell you to come find someone?"

"Her." Eren jerks his head back towards Mikasa's unconscious body.

Armin looks down, contemplating something. Then he gets it. A figurative lightbulb flashes above his head. "I was told to find you, she was told to find me, and you were told to find her. The three of us. It's a triangle."

"Please don't make a reference to the illuminati."

"It's not that! The three of us! All three of us were supposed to meet. Did S think it would be too challenging to tell each of us to find the other two? No, no, it wasn't that ... There must've been another reason we can't see."

"I understand, though," Eren breathes. "The three of us ... destined to be together, huh? It sounds so cheesy. It doesn't fit the atmosphere."

"Mm," Armin mumbles. "It feels like something more sinister is happening. I've been placed into my own horror story."

"It hasn't gotten ... too horrific just yet, though," Eren points out.

"You're right. Let's hope it stays that way." For some reason, Armin doesn't sound very optimistic.

The conversation falls into a comfortable lull.

Birds are constantly chirping no matter what time of day it seems in Michigan. Cars are roaming past. People are talking. There's the smell of cigarette smoke. It's a normal day. If only other people knew how abnormal is really was. But, Armin realizes, he doesn't really ... want other people to know. Secrets ... he enjoys the feeling of knowing them. Like a constant adrenaline rush. It's exhilarating in a way. He would keep a secret forever.

Then Armin hears a sizzling and smells meat burning on a barbecue. His stomach rumbles and he's hungry. I wish I could eat that food, he thinks absentmindedly.

His eyes snap open.

Who would be grilling in a Kroger's parking lot?

"Eren!"

Armin turn his head and calls his name loudly. Eren jumps up, face pale like he's just seen a ghost and immediately turns his attention to Mikasa's right hand. It's burning. Mikasa's still unconscious, but now she looks troubled in her sleep, face contorting into something painful.

"Holy shit," Eren mutters.

The skin's bubbling up, filling the entire car with the aroma of ... beef, like a cookout. How disturbing. Small tears fall from the corner of Mikasa's eyes. In that moment, she looks so helpless, so sick, so vulnerable. Armin wants to just hug her really hard until she either wakes up or pushes him off her. She looks like she's dying. He doesn't know her very well and he hasn't known her for very long either, but for some reason, the scene is breaking his heart. She was sent here to find him. The look she'd given him ... like he was there to save her or something. It was kind of pitiful.

"What happening to her?" Eren asks, frantically.

"Sh, sh, look!" he shouts desperately. Armin points to her hand. It's cooling quickly—very quickly.

It was not as if someone had taken a fire to her skin that licks the air wildly and burns whatever it touches, but a hot iron—deliberate in its activities. The Ancient Romans used to brand their runaway slaves with the letter "F" as punishment with hot irons. Punishment. Was Mikasa being punished? Why would S do that? Because of course this is S's doing. There's no doubt in Armin's mind. Except Mikasa had done nothing wrong, so why would S do this to her?

On the back of Mikasa's hand, an "X" has been branded onto the skin. It's black and burned and the smell is disturbing. Surrounding the X, the skin is in much better condition but is still damaged a fair amount. This is sickening. When S threatens, does this prove he actually means it? S was stronger than Armin had thought.

"An X," Eren says, still in slight shock. "What do you think this means?"

Armin sits there for a moment, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

"X marks the spot."

Eren starts, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open for a second, before his face settles down into what looks like rueful acceptance.

They sit in a pregnant silence, the summer heat heating their skin into a sweat. Something needed to be said, but neither of them could speak. What would they do now? Armin's grandfather was sure to come back soon. What would they do with Mikasa? Would she even wake up? Armin feels his anxiety rising up the back of his throat, suffocating him.

There's a sound—almost like a squeak—that comes from the passenger seat. Both boys almost jump out of their skin at the small noise and turn their heads quickly. Mikasa's eyes scrunch together and then flutter open. The motion is as smooth as silk and like the gentle flapping of butterfly wings, somehow innocent. Her dark eyes are glassy, showing no particular emotion. She looks sort of like a baby waking up from a long nap. Clean. Pure.

Then she winces in pain.

"Armin ... ?" she whispers, tone asking millions of questions.

"Hey, I'm here," he says, leaning closer from where he sits in the front seat. Eren's right beside her already, face worried and questioning. Armin's trying to sound calm despite being suddenly frightened at S's amount of power.

She smiles at him and it feels like he's looking into the sun. She turns her head to the right where Eren stands, his face suddenly surprised when she looks at him. He shuffles on his feet, for some reason looking nervous. Do pretty girls make Eren nervous? Armin wonders. It's irrelevant. Armin asks too many questions.

He can't see her face anymore, but her body tenses. "Who are you?"

"What?" Eren stammers. "You said my name only moments ago." She continues to stare. Dumbfounded, Eren recites, "I'm Eren Jaeger." The syllables sound practiced on his lips.

Mikasa smiles at him but it's not the brilliant shining one she'd given Armin; this one holds pity. "I'm sorry; I don't know you."