Dangerous Territory

A Sign From Above

Eren collapsed back onto his cot, hoping the waves of pain would fade away. Softly, he began to laugh, half-mad from pain, grief, and now this. At least he might actually get the chance to die in battle. Still, he would have preferred to have a gun in his hand.

"Wait..."

He dropped down and looked under the bed. Reiner had shoved Levi's purse far under the bed so it would be out of view, but it was still there. His right hand began to move to grab, but even the slightest twitch of muscle sent blinding pain through the broken arm. Eren gritted his teeth, reached with the numbed left arm, but that also burned his wounded shoulder.

"Dammit!"

He stretched with his foot instead until he wrapped the purse strap around his ankle. He pulled it out, but his arms still did not want to work to open the purse. He struggled until finally he got a buckle undone and pulled the Enfield revolver out. Sweating and panting from just that much, Eren collapsed back onto his cot.

At least he was armed, although the gun had only one bullet.

Who would he shoot? The Americans who would only put him in a POW camp where he would be treated fairly, or the Germans who wanted to castrate and kill him, where his best chance of survival was to be a political pawn in a deadly game by the Gestapo?

He looked down at the gun. If he had to be honest, he probably did not even have the strength to pull the trigger, but just having this weapon made him feel better.

He would die in battle armed against the enemy.

Even if he no longer knew who the enemy was anymore.

* * *

Sitting in the dark, hearing the sound of bombs and gunfire, Eren kept slipping between reality and hallucinations. He would shake his head, focus on the dingy room, yet to protect his own sanity from the triggering sounds of battle all around him, he would slip back into yet another fantasy.

He saw someone he imagined might have been Zeke, a man with glasses who looked like a blond version of his father leading an army of giants and animals.

He saw Levi, only he was flying through the air wielding swords like a comic book hero.

He fought side by side with a Japanese girl. He wondered who she was.

He saw Floch wearing puppy ears and a collar as he wagged his tongue and barked.

He saw Reiner lifting a tank above his head with a single hand like it weighed nothing.

He saw Armin with his bandaged head turned into a turban, dressed like a snake charmer, playing a musical instrument that brought a snake-like Jean up from a basket whilst Carly swayed erotically in a belly dancer costume.

Amid the chaos in his mind, Eren heard a familiar voice. He shook his head. No! He must be dreaming again. Another hallucination. Still, he pointed the gun that way, although he could barely lift the muzzle. As he tried to convince himself he was only imagining things, a voice shouted at the door.

"Eren!"

"Armin," he muttered, struggling to keep his vision clear of flying Levis and beastly Zekes.

A key opened the lock, and the door to his cell creaked open. Armin was there, not some snake charmer, but a wounded soldier with the keys to the prison cell. With him was Jean, watching the hallway with his rifle ready. Armin began to rush in, but he saw the fingernails and bloody eyeball drying out. His hand rushed to his mouth as his stomach heaved.

Jean stoically came in, kicked the fingernails away, used the bloodied black pound to pick up the eyeball, and threw it into the toilet bucket so it was out of view. "Focus," he admonished Armin, who gave a yelp and shook his head to clear his mind from the ghastly horror.