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He felt his legs give out as a ear-piercing cry of joy filled the air. His eyes stung and he could barely feel Connie or Sasha holding onto him. Their laughter, their tears, all of it was distant noise that couldn't quite permeate the swarm of thoughts in Jean's mind. The realization that they'd done it. They pulled off what he'd thought was impossible and succeeded in securing a victory for humanity. It was enough to make anyone want to break down but he felt numb. [break][break]
Nothing.[break][break]
Everyone turned to their loved ones, their comrades, giving hugs and thanks. Gathering the death and mourning them as best as they could. Wary eyes adverted the chaos and destruction in hopes of saving this feeling for awhile longer. But when Jean turned around, there wasn't anyone waiting for him.[break][break]
He wanted to laugh. It was stupid holding onto this feeling of sadness and anger. Loneliness. He was surrounded by his friends, his mother was safe within the walls, he should've been proud for being a small part of something bigger.[break][break]
But he wanted something more than just a medal and a thanks.[break][break]
The stinging feeling in his eyes weren't from the fires or the ash rising in the air. Warm tears ran down his face as his body sagged and he gave into rest. Voices called out for him and he felt hands clinging to his clothes in attempts to pull him up but something was pulling him down. Further and further until nothing else was there anymore.[break][break]

WHY AM I HERE?

Jean had a dream. It was one that he'd had many times before and even though he knew it wasn't real, he didn't want to wake up. He was home in Trost District and could smell his mother cooking his favorite meal while talking to someone. His bed was wider than it'd been before and there were more clothes in his closet. Opening up the door, sunlight poured in and nearly blinded him. And as he walked to the kitchen, the conversation grew clearer and the laughter made his heart stop.[break][break]
He rounded the corner faster than he'd ever done before and nearly slipped. They'd look at him in surprise and as his mother scolded him for running in the halls, Marco would smile. [break][break]
Marco was there and extended his hand to help him as he'd always done. Alive. Warm. A glowing smile, freckled skin, dark hair and eyes that Jean didn't want to turn away from. The dream always ended the same with him reaching for Marco's hand only to wake up in a dark room surrounded by other cadets. The cold reality would return that Marco wasn't there. He wouldn't be there. He could never be there.[break][break]
So when Jean opened his eyes to see a foreign ceiling, feel a soft bed under him, and find an unknown person sitting yb the door. He did the sensible thing that anyone would've done in his situation.[break][break]
He freaked out. [break][break]

I HAVE TO GET BACK HOME.

The person by the door introduced themselves as an AGENT. Of who, they wouldn't say. For what, they wouldn't reveal. But they ensured Jean as long as he cooperated that there would be no problems.
[break][break]
Bullshit.
[break][break]
Jean reared up and scoured the room for anything that he could've used as a weapon to protect himself. Something was wrong here. The Titans, was this one of their tricks?
[break][break]
Where were his friends?
[break][break]
The agent kept a safe distance from him as he inched his way towards a nearby window. Sunlight peeked through the curtains and keeping his gaze trained on the foreign individual, he opened the curtains to look. His breath was taken away as he observed buildings taller than he'd ever seen in his entire life.
[break][break]
People milling about on the streets, large boxes made of metal, and not a single destroyed structure. There were no fires and there was no ash rising in the sky. No Titans. But if he squinted, he could see something in the distance.
[break][break]
The ocean.
[break][break]
When he passed out, did his friends bring him across the ocean?
[break][break]
How did they get past it without some type of boat or something like in Armin's book?
[break][break]
A million questions bounced off the walls of Jean's mind and he turned his gaze on the agent who sat impassively waiting. He brandished his weapon and scowled. Demanding answers was his first command but the answers he recieved weren't the ones that he expected.
[break][break]
Found alone.
[break][break]
Washed up on the shores.
[break][break]
Registered as a citizen.
[break][break]
Different reality.
[break][break]
Safe.
[break][break]
Jean faltered and groped around for a chair but his hand pressed against a tv remote on the night stand. The TV came to life and his heart nearly leapt into his throat as he pressed his back against the nearest wall. Pictures flickered across the screen and sound echoed through the room. The agent didn't move but glanced between the TV and Jean as if evaluating the amount of damage to be done by its presence.
[break][break]
After Jean fumbled with the remote and shut it off, he curled into a tight ball.
[break][break]
He muttered the same six words over and over again as if he'd wake up from this strange reality. He didn't even hear the agent leave the room and promise to come back tomorrow. No, he just stayed there and hoped that his dreams would take him away.[break][break]

Back home with his mother, sunlight, and Marco.[break][break]

THERE ISN'T A PLACE FOR ME HERE.

When the AGENT returned, Jean was seated in front of the television entranced by the pictures. He quickly turned around as a tray was set down in the space between them. The agent was careful to keep a distance between teh two of them and Jean was quick to remind of the "weapon" he had. It was only a broken shard of a vase and the agent warned him not to cut his hand. Jean laughed and it sounded hoarse to his own ears.
[break][break]
He had so many cuts and wounds that pain was just another experience. It wasn't anything to be afraid of anymore.
[break][break]
But he didn't want to die of hunger.
[break][break]
He ate and ate. Most of the food were things that he'd never seen before but they were delicious all the same. As a soldier, he learned not to be picky of what he ate. Any meal could have been his last and he didn't want to die because he refused to survive.
[break][break]
The agent took the seat near the door again and waited until Jean was finished.
[break][break]
Silence was laid between them with the only the distant noise from the TV as a buffer. And begrudgingly, Jean thanked the agent for the meal before turning back to the TV.
[break][break]
The agent seemed content with it and accepted his thanks. Silence continued until Jean told them that he would have to go home. He couldn't stay wherever this was. There were people who were waiting for him and he had to get back to them.
[break][break]
"There's nowhere for you to go," the agent said. "You arrived from the ocean. You didn't travel across it."
[break][break]
They locked eyes. No one said anything. Jean scanned their features, looking for any sign of deceit or lies. He didn't find any but he didn't want to believe. It was like waking up from a bad dream but it was real. He had the scars to prove it. He had the memory to prove it. And if all of that was fake then that meant he was fake too.[break][break]

And Jean would never accept that.[break][break]

MY MOM, MY FRIENDS, MY PURPOSE ARE ALL THERE!

Jean wasn't sure how many days had passed. He kept the curtains closed and used a lamp to keep the room lit. When that wasn't necessary, he'd fall asleep while watching the television. A book case sat in the corner of his room and were filled with information that he never thought possible. He didn't read all of the time but seeing as he couldn't leave the room of his own free will, he had time.
[break][break]
So he sat with his back to the wall and read the books one by one. Sometimes, he'd scribble in them with pencils he found in the night stand. Circle passages that he didn't understand and take notes of the ones that he did. He gnawed on the pencil and groaned when the lead snapped. When his eyes grew heavy, he laid the book on his stomach and slumped on the bed.
[break][break]
Allowed his dreams to carry him away somewhere far from here.
[break][break]
The agent would come by day after day. Bringing food, books, and even clothes for him. His uniform was hung up in the armoire near his bed but he didn't have the heart to put it back on. Somehow, he felt that he wasn't fit to put it on again.
[break][break]
And the clothes that the agent brought were reminiscent of the ones he saw in the "magazines". Sometimes, he'd point out the clothes in the magazines that he'd prefer and the agent would bring them. Saying that eventually when Jean was ready he'd be able to get a job of his own and buy his own clothes.
[break][break]
That made Jean's heartbeat stagger.
[break][break]
A job.[break][break]

He already had a job.
[break][break]
He was a soldier!
[break][break]
He fought with the members of the Survey Corp to further the life of humanity. That was his purpose. And all at once, he found himself reeling.
[break][break]
How could he have been so foolish?
[break][break]
What was he doing?!
[break][break]
He lamented to the agent that his mother was there. Anything could've happened to her in his absence. His friends were there fighting the good fight while he was eating food and watching television like a bum. Like he forgotten his purpose, like he forgot what he was fighting for, like he'd forgotten him!
[break][break]
And Jean broke down. He slammed his fist against the bed and yelled. He screamed and cried until his voice was hoarse.
[break][break]
If anyone could hear him, they didn't respond.
[break][break]
If anyone heard him, they knew better than to respond anyway. [break][break]

DOES GOD HATE ME, IS THIS WHY THIS IS HAPPENING?

For the next few days, Jean was living in a blur.
[break][break]
Eating.
[break][break]
Reading.
[break][break]
Exercising.
[break][break]
Sleeping.
[break][break]
A constant cycle that made sense because he didn't have to think about it. If he exhausted himself enough from his exercises then he'd be able to read then sleep. Anything that didn't require too much thought was something he'd rather be doing. The agent didn't come during those days but he noticed a blinking light in the upper corner of the bookshelf.
[break][break]
A camera.
[break][break]
He'd read about those.
[break][break]
Well, if they wanted to watch him then they were free to do so. He continued his motions but one night, he just collapsed.
[break][break]
His foot slipped and he hit the ground with an audible gasp. There was nothing else. For a few seconds, he couldn't feel anything but the distant pain in the back of his skull. When his eyes slipped closed, he dreamed.
[break][break]
He dreamed of him.
[break][break]
He saw his smile.
[break][break]
He saw his hand reaching out and the others were with him.
[break][break]
And Jean felt an unimaginable pain in his chest because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach him.[break][break]

DOES HE WANT ME TO KNOW THAT I'VE FAILED AGAIN?

When Jean awoke, it wasn't by his internal alarm clock but by blinding sunlight that filled the room. Jean covered his eyes as he rolled onto his side to escape the blinding glare. However, he'd also rolled onto the steel-toed boot of a rather large woman who didn't seem like she was about to take no for an answer. She hauled him to his feet and pushed him into the nearby bathroom that was connected to his room.
[break][break]

"You've been moping in this room for months now," she said. "Get up and get dressed. We're going out."
[break][break]

He didn't even know who she was. But he did know when to not make someone angrier than they already were. Jean begrudgingly went into the bathroom and shut the door. Showering was something that he was accustomed to but he hadn't had his hair cut in awhile and he hadn't shaved either.
[break][break]

Shaving was one of the harder parts. He nicked himself once or twice, grumbling as he had to put tissue on the splotches.
[break][break]

The clothes fit him well but when he looked in the mirror, he wasn't sure who was staring back. The woman didn't wait for him to take himself in before hauling him out of the room by the collar of his shirt.
[break][break]

She dragged him down staircases that he didn't even remember and past people who looked outlandish at best. However, they just smiled at him and waved as he passed them by.
[break][break]

And once they passed through doors made of glass, Jean was pushed out into a whole new world.
[break][break]
Cars.
[break][break]

Phones.
[break][break]

People of all different shapes and sizes.
[break][break]

It was just awe-inspiring.
[break][break]

He straightened up and looked around with amazement as she stood with her hands on her hips. Pride was in her eyes but there was a twinge of something else as she watched Jean stumble about.[break][break]

"Alright kid, welcome to Tomodachi Island!"[break][break]

THERE'S A GUY - NO, THERE WAS A GUY.

He didn't catch her name but she told him that she was part of the same group as the agent who visited him before. When the agent wasn't able to get results, she decided to step him and give him a heavy wake up call. Portions of that call were spent in a barber shop where he got his hair cut by a really hairy guy.
[break][break]
He dodged cars after stepping into a busy street and marveled at buildings taller than any titan he'd ever seen. Sometimes, he'd glance over his shoulder to see if someone was following him. Halt when a large creature crossed his path only to find that it was just another inhabitant. She'd hurry him along, reminding him that he wasn't in any danger, he was safe.
[break][break]
And as much as Jean craved this life at one point in his life, he didn't want it now. His mind kept wandering back to the others.
[break][break]
Were they safe?
[break][break]
Were they looking for him?
[break][break]
How far was he from home?
[break][break]
They took a break at a burger place. Jean stared down at his reflection in the counter top until his meal was put in front of him. The smell and the taste of it made his eyes water. He covered his mouth and tried to stifle a sob. Lowering his head, he didn't want to cry in public with so many people around him.
[break][break]
His guide brought them to a booth where the other occupants wouldn't be able to see them but Jean didn't want to cry.
[break][break]
He didn't want to whine or sob.
[break][break]
He just wanted to go home.
[break][break]
She waited until he composed himself and then asked him the question that he never thought he'd have to answer.[break][break]

"During your time in that room, you've been doing a lot but there's always one common factor," she began. "Can you tell me about Marco?"[break][break]

HE WAS SO WARM AND SWEET. ALWAYS THERE TO KEEP ME GROUNDED.

He didn't want to tell her about Marco.
[break][break]
She didn't deserve to know about him. None of them did. And even the sound of his name on someone else's lips was enough to make his blood boil. But it felt so good to be able to talk about him to someone else. So good that someone else acknowledged that he existed and was willing to know more about who he was.
[break][break]
Words spilled out of Jean's mouth.
[break][break]
He recounted how he met Marco.
[break][break]
How Marco kept him levelheaded when he was sure that he was going to sink. [break][break]

How warm Marco was when he felt cold inside.
[break][break]
How he could see something in him that Jean never felt was possible.[break][break]

And then he choked on his words as he remembered the fire.
[break][break]
The smoke as he ran through chaos.
[break][break]
Clawing his way through rubble to try and find a glimpse of him.
[break][break]
But there was none.
[break][break]
Instead, his comrades came to him with words that he couldn't process.
[break][break]
Eaten.
[break][break]
Titan.
[break][break]
Marco.
[break][break]
His world came crashing down and blinding rage stole his sight. It took his breath away as he tore through the Titan's flesh, hacking it to pieces, tearing through it as if he could bring Marco out. If he just tore a little deeper, a little more then he could pull him to safety.
[break][break]
Just a li-
[break][break]
"Jean, you're bleeding."
[break][break]
He snapped back to reality.
[break][break]
The skin on his wrist was smeared with red and flecks of blood were under his nails. He'd been holding himself too tight, digging into his skin.
[break][break]
He muttered an apology, pressing a napkin to the wound and staring down at his meal. The ketchup was smeared across the plate and he saw himself in the reflection.
[break][break]
Battered. [break][break]Cold.[break][break]Alone. [break][break]

I TOOK HIM FOR ADVANTAGE. I THOUGHT HE'D ALWAYS BE THERE.

Night fell over the island and Jean walked behind her without a word. His hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a weight settling in his chests. Noise was just static in the back of his mind as his feet dragged along. Sometimes, she'd push his shoulder to make him turn but otherwise there'd be little to no contact. [break][break]


Jean felt like he was sludging through this feeling and sinking further. [break][break]


A bright light made him wince and recoil as he raised his hands to cover his face. Peering through the cracks of his fingers, he saw a large warehouse.[break][break]


"The agent told you that you'll have to work, right?"[break][break]


He distantly remembered that but only grunted in reply.[break][break]


"This is where you're going to be working."[break][break]


He lowered his hand and looked around. The warehouse was practically empty except for a few boxes, a truck, and what looked like a motorcycle. Jean gave her a side glance and she grinned.[break][break]


"You're going to be a courier," she said as she disappeared into a room inside the warehouse.[break][break]


Jean numbly walked in and ran his fingers over the handlebars of the motorcycle. And once she came back, a folder was slapped hard against his chest.[break][break]


"But first, you're going to therapy."
[break][break]

He refused.
[break][break]

He didn't need therapy.
[break][break]

He didn't need to be coddled like a baby or told what to do. He just wanted to go home!
[break][break]

"Look, one way or another, you're going to have to accept that you're not going back. And if you're a soldier, adapting should be one of your strengths."[break][break]

THERE TO COMFORT ME WHEN MIKASA REJECTED ME FOR EREN.

Therapy didn't go well in the beginning.
[break][break]
Talking about what happened in "his world" like it was a dream was annoying.
[break][break]
Jean wasn't sure how many times he'd broken something and was told that it was okay. That he was just letting out his anger and it'd be billed to him at a later time. He didn't want to stay here, he yelled. He wanted to go home, just saying those words over and over again made him feel like he was losing his mind!
[break][break]
But now, he was standing and facing the windows with his hands on his hips. Trying to compose himself before he got the bright idea to punch someone who was trying to help.
[break][break]
"And what about Marco?"
[break][break]
Not again.
[break][break]
Not fucking again.
[break][break]
Why did they keep bringing him up?
[break][break]
Nothing good would come from bringing him up.
[break][break]
"I don't want to know what happened to Marco. I want to know how you felt towards him. Why does his name trigger such a violent response?"
[break][break]
Jean breathed heavily and clung to the nearest object to keep himself lucid. The questions kept piling up.
[break][break]
Did Marco ever hurt him?
[break][break]
Did Marco ever cause him grief or agony?
[break][break]
Was Marco a terrible friend to him?
[break][break]
Was Marco someone that he hated?
[break][break]
So many questions.[break][break]
"Jean, I'm here to help you but I can't unless you talk to me."[break][break]

Jean's shoulders shook as he laughed. Broken laughter mixed with hot tears running down his face. He covered his mouth and bowed his head as he tried to stop the shaking.[break][break]

And in a small voice, he whispered, "You sound just like him."[break][break]

THERE TO SEE THE END OF IT ALL WHEN WE'D GO TO THE OCEAN LIKE ARMIN SAID.

The sessions continued after that. [break][break]Everyday, Jean would talk about Marco a little more and more. Sometimes he would rage and throw things or accidentally injure himself.[break][break] Other times, he just wanted to take a quick walk before he'd return and try again.
[break][break]

THERE TO WATCH ME GET OVER ALL OF MY BULLSHIT SO I COULD TELL HIM.

Once he was cleared to drive, Jean took to practicing as often as possible. It was a while before he was allowed to drive on his own. But when the wind blew through his hair and the buildings were a blur flying past him, it almost felt like he was home. He smiled from time to time while delivering packages once he was cleared to work.[break][break]
He met children who grew excited to see him coming by.[break][break]
Elders who talked to him for hours on end about getting married, starting a family, being happy.[break][break]
Eventually, the strange looks ebbed away as he became a familiar face and he laughed again.[break][break]
Distantly, he recalled the friends that he left behind and his heart ached to think of them. Jean kept a sketchbook filled with pictures of his friends, of the Titans and everything so he'd never forget. And he even wrote letters to Marco.[break][break]
His therapist never dismissed his feelings for Marco. Telling him that even if he wasn't here anymore, he was still looking out for him.[break][break]
He didn't have to let go of Marco.[break][break]
And slowly, the wounds began to heal.[break][break]

I LOVED HIM. PAST TENSE.

There were some moments where Jean would look at the people on the streets. See how they interacted with each other with either love or disgust. And he'd marvel at how they could be so open with one another when he wasn't with himself. He didn't hype himself up. He knew that he was attractive in some ways but he didn't want anyone else.[break][break]
During those days, he even re-evaluated his apparent crush on Mikasa.[break][break]
Did he like her because she was beautiful or was it a prelude to something else?[break][break]
Eventually, his feelings for Mikasa were easily compacted into one area. [break][break]
Friendship.[break][break]
So his therapist posed the question to him, "What is Marco to you?"[break][break]
And the words were caught in Jean's throat. He knew what Marco was to him. It was painful to deny it but he didn't want to confess his feelings for Marco to someone whose name he didn't bother remembering. [break][break]

FUCK SURVIVOR'S GUILT, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT.

Jean was settling into his life rather well. He slept in his office and got up early for work. Practiced in the afternoon when he didn't have any special deliveries and took a jog around town when he couldn't sleep. Everything seemed to be falling into place until he received a package that was scheduled to be delivered to him. When he opened it, he found his uniform folded up and neatly pressed, the emblem of the Survey Corps sending a chill down his spine.[break][break]
He didn't sleep that night.[break][break]
The next morning was even harder. A familiar face came knocking at his door and Jean wasn't very happy to see them. The agent that helped him from before was there to greet him with familiarity. He hadn't returned to the room where he first woke up in for quite some time. His uniform should've still been there and yet now it was tucked in a drawer in his office.[break][break]
"Care to go for a cup of coffee with me," the agent asked cheerfully. [break][break]
"If you haven't noticed, I have a job that I need to do."[break][break]
The agent went on to talk about when the two of them first met. How Jean threatened to gut them like a fish if they came any closer and a quick thanks for not making good on that thread. Jean glared halfheartedly but seeing as the agent wasn't going to move any time soon, he packed up his things and agreed.[break][break]

I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO. YOU WANT ME TO GET OVER HIM, START A NEW LIFE.

The coffee wasn't the difficult part. He'd been to the same cafe that the agent insisted on going on. Though he never really interacted with the staff. It was always quick drop offs and pick-ups but nothing that was too serious.
[break][break]
He sat down with the agent and they talked sparsely. Most of the conversation was about Jean's adjustments to life on Tomodachi Island. He'd learned a few things that helped ease his guilt and hopefully some of his pain.
[break][break]
What he was feeling was known as survivor's guilt.
[break][break]
What he was experiencing was the aftermath of a traumatic experience.
[break][break]
He had symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
[break][break]
And his feelings for Marco..
[break][break]
The conversation derailed after that and the agent talked to him about something else. Omega Five. He wasn't sure about it, thought that it was a strange band name or some elite club. But the more he talked about it, the more Jean began to wonder.
[break][break]
He'd been visting ranges lately. Practicing shooting, training, and he wasn't quite sure for what. He was safe now. He was at peace.
[break][break]
He could stop fighting.
[break][break]
The war, at least for him, was over.
[break][break]
"Or is it?" The agent asked before taking another long sip. "Does it feel like it's over, Jean?"[break][break]

Silence passed over them and the agent reached into their bag and pulled out a file. Setting it in front of Jean, it was signed and sealed to be delivered to someone.[break][break]

"Can you deliver this to an individual in Sun Block?"[break][break]

SO IF I GO IN THAT ROOM, WHO'LL BE THERE?

Jean looked from the package to the agent and then back.
[break][break]
"I'm not doing that."
[break][break]
The agent sighed and folded their hands on top of the table.
[break][break]
"It's your job."
[break][break]
Jean crossed his arms over his chest.
[break][break]
"Fuck the job, I'm not going."
[break][break]
Another jab.
[break][break]
"This is part of your therapy, Jean. You've come so far."
[break][break]
Another jab.
[break][break]
"And I don't give a shit. I don't know what crazy fuckery you guys are trying to do but it doesn't involve me."
[break][break]
They stared at each other.
[break][break]
Quiet.
[break][break]
Steaming coffee.
[break][break]
A loud cafe.
[break][break]
Someone had to break the contact and it was Jean.
[break][break]
He glanced down and his resolved was crushed. The package was to be delivered to a Marco Bodt in Sun Block.
[break][break]
"So Jean," the agent said. "What's your answer?"

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