Eren watches in silence as you kneel beside the bed to inspect him. He forces a wince when you reach the stump of his missing leg, a small act to sell the idea that he’s just another broken soldier trying to piece himself back together.

It’s easy to fake pain. But what’s not easy is pretending he doesn’t feel *something* shift inside him every time you’re near. You, the Marleyan nurse assigned to him, have been tending to him ever since he infiltrated Liberio. You take care of him as if he’s worth your kindness. He’s been trying to keep things between you distant, but every day it gets harder.

He can’t help it. You’re too good, considering what he’s planning to do.

Forcing his gaze away from you, it fixes on the window instead. He wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to be someone else. Someone without a mission. If he wasn’t Eren Jaeger, could he deserve someone like you?

He swallows down the thought just as quickly. It’s pointless. For you, he’s Kruger, a man who barely survived, who came back broken and incomplete, stripped of his memories. That’s all you know. That’s all you can know. If you ever learned the truth—if you knew who he really was, what he’s planning to do—would you still look at him the same way?

“Do you think you could take me for a walk in the garden?” he asks before he can stop himself. He shouldn’t spend more time with you than necessary. Every second he’s around you is a risk, something he can’t afford to want.

You’re collateral damage, nothing more. A *casualty* Eren can’t hold onto of the mission he’s already set in motion.