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When Jean finally gets to the ocean, he thinks he sees all his past friends waiting there. For him, for everyone else, just to see this big mess come to an end. He is bloody, but not bleeding. Some of it seeps into the seams of his white pants, but the other half steams off of him in heaps. He’s tired too, yeah, and maybe a little more than broken.
Jean stands before the ocean, wanting nothing more than to slip off with the tide. And despite the pretentious feeling Jean hates, he knows that the world still needs him. He knows there is still Armin, Mikasa, Connie, Sasha, Jaeger and everyone else, too. Jean blinks once and he hears their voices over the waves, twice, and he thinks he sees Marco. Marco, whole. The whole souls thing? He doesn’t think he’s imagining it anymore, but Jean blinks a third time and Marco is gone. Has been long gone.
When he sees his friends come over the sand dune, Jean sits. He unbuttons his shirt and pulls off his boots because he is tired and they are done fighting. It hits him then, that an era is over, another has started. Off goes his socks and he rolls up his pant legs, at least up to his knees. As the others slowly approached, Jean stood again. The sand smooshed between his toes, molding against the shape of his feet.
Mikasa arrives first, scarf billowing loosely, unwounded in the wind. She smiles at him, tired and weary to her bones, but a smile at him all the same. Jean remembers then, what she means to him. He can’t put words to it, but he knows she is something special. Someone special. Buried feelings resurface in that moment, crackling through caked blood on his skin and the perpetually gruff expression on his face.
"Where are the others?" He pauses, clears his throat. "Are they alright? Are they coming?"
Jean doesn’t know what to say, so he blurts out questions. Back then he never really knew what to say in the little moments and he still doesn’t.
Mikasa eyes him, both hands clenching at the unwounded scarf around her neck.
"They’re all okay. They’re waiting for Levi-heichou to catch up."
"Oh. That’s good then."
Silence slips in between them as they continue closer to the shore. The breeze is refreshing against his bare skin, goosebumps aligning his toned chest and abdomen. Along the way, Mikasa strips her jacket, free of the burdensome wings branded onto her back. Straps are unclipped and shrugged away and she holds on to him while slipping the worn leather boots off. Socks are pulled off quickly and Jean is holding Mikasa upright at sea level. From the corner of his eyes, he can see a red scarf flutter to the sandy floor.
Mikasa takes his hand and after a moments hesitation—on his part, because really, this is too surreal—he lets her drag him into the sea. They are knee-deep and oncoming waves rise to crash against their thighs. Further still and it’s hard to fight the pull of the ocean when it’s waist-high.
"M-Mikasa?"
Jean is confused and kind of cold, but the blood is washing away and despite his heavy jacket, he feels light. Like the wings on his back are finally unfurling and taking flight.
Mikasa turns and looks at him. Really looks at him with her deeply set grey eyes. Jean is weary under her gaze, but not uncomfortable. She moves closer so that their sides are almost touching, shifts so they’re both facing one another. Jean’s eyebrows raise when Mikasa lifts her hands—tough and precious, still—to cup his face. His back strains from his stiff posture because what is he supposed to do?
Mikasa brings his forehead down to touch hers and Jean thinks then, that he understands. Mikasa is like the ocean; her waves push and pull, engulfing him in her essence. Jean is all but unwilling.
Closer and closer still, their noses are touching and Jean can almost taste the sweet sultry of her lips. However, the waves are pushing hard and he’s sure he can hear their names being called from the shore.
Soon enough, he and Mikasa are being joined by Connie, then Sasha, and finally Eren, too. Jean can see other figures on the shore and he genuinely smiles now. He smiles because they are—everyone is—here.
He and Mikasa return slowly, hands delicately intertwined, to meet up with their comrades on the shore. Their extended family. They’ve all shared portions of their lives with one another, invested trust and time and emotions, doubts and fears. Why not share this, the end, the new beginning, too?
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fin