"I'll be right outside; just press the button if you need me, sir," Mikasa heard the nurse say, voice filled with almost reverent awe.

"Thank you," Armin said absentmindedly, not paying the nurse attention as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

The steady beeping of the machine and the woman's heavy breathing on the bed were the only sounds left in the room.

It wasn't enough to completely drown out the crowd's noise outside the building.

Armin couldn't go anywhere without some form of hubbub, and he had forgone discretion to arrive as soon as possible.

It used to worry her. Armin used to be such a shy boy, needing her and... Needing people to help him. He had grown to be so much more since then, but she never forgot who they used to be, and she never forgot her worry for her friend. Even in her state, Mikasa couldn't help but take a long look at the man she hadn't seen in a few months.

Armin looked... old.

Once blond hair now hung in wispy grey strands. His skin was sunken and pale, hanging too loosely on his bones. He barely stood with the help of a cane.

Not that she was any better.

Various instruments and tubes were attached to withered flesh, meant to keep her alive.

Not that Mikasa cared about living much longer.

Armin Artlet, her best and last friend, was dying.

Mikasa had known this would happen one day. She was just lucky that she was going first.

As if to make up for their once limited life span, the former titan shifters had retained some fraction of the enhanced vitality they once possessed. They had outlived almost everyone.

Yet, not even they could ignore the march of time.

Armin was the last. The last human to ever be a titan to still walk the earth.

The Last Titan.

It had been a long life. A full life.

Armin had seen the worst of humanity and rose against it. For all the terrible things he had seen and done in his youth, he had dedicated the rest of his life to bringing peace and happiness to the world so that others might not suffer as he did. He had fallen in love, built a family, and still found time to curb humanity's worst impulses.

Armin was a large part of the reason that the rebuilding of the world after the Rumbling had gone so well. That peace had lasted so long after the Battle of Heaven and Earth.

It had been a long and happy life.

So he sat quietly at her bedside, holding Mikasa's withered hand with what little strength he still possessed.

Even if an Ackerman lived long, she wasn't immune to time either. Her life had been much simpler by comparison. She had had enough of fighting with the world as a whole. It had been selfish of her, but Mikasa had left the future to those best qualified to build it.

She, too, had a long and happy life.

And here they were, the last of the 104th Trainee Corps. The last Scouts.

They were all that remained of a much crueller era.

"I'm sorry," Armin suddenly said.

"For what?" Mikasa asked weakly.

"For leaving you alone for so long."

"I wasn't alone," she said. "I had Grisha and Ymir. Erwin and Hange visit, too. You should be proud."

"I am. I saw them outside."

Armin's wizened face stretched into that boyhood smile at the mention of his children for the tiniest of seconds. Mikasa's heart swelled, but it was gone too fast. In its place was the world-weary look he had most days since Annie's death.

"But I am still sorry. I ran around for so long and haven't made time for you. And now this. I came as soon as I heard."

"Don't apologize," Mikasa chastised. "I couldn't do half of what you did."

Armin's laugh devolved into a coughing fit, but he waived her off when she was about to call a nurse.

"Cough. Don't, ack, bother," Armin said, barely getting his breathing under control. "Eren would punch me if a cough ended up killing me after everything."

Mikasa's heart throbbed in familiar pain at the name, but she didn't let it show as Armin settled back into his seat.

"You'll be fine," Armin said with what strength and hope he could muster. "We've gone through worse. You've gone through worse."

"I won't," Mikasa said, a note of finality in her voice. "This is it. I know it is. The end of my path. I am not sorry. I refuse to bury you, too."

"It won't be long for me either."

"Don't say that," Mikasa begged, eyes tearing up as she grasped his hand as tightly as she could. As if her measly strength could hold onto him.

"It's true," Armin sighed. "Ever since Annie... passed, I knew my time would come. I tried to hold out. I really did, but I can't anymore. I'm sorry."

Mikasa didn't say anything, just clutching his hand tightly and closing her eyes as if it would stop the tears.

It didn't.

The beep beep beep of the machine echoed through the room.

"I..." Armin paused, unsure of what to say.

"What," Mikasa croaked, voice feeble.

"I dreamed of him," Armin said, and Mikasa opened red-rimmed eyes to see him staring at the ceiling. "Eren."

He didn't need to clarify.

Even after all these years, there was only one 'him.'

Mikasa's breath hitched as the familiar pain echoed, reinforced by the sadness of impending loss.

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"He was the same as I remember him," Armin said, his voice wistful. Nostalgic. Far away, as if he was seeing something she couldn't. "It's been so long, and he was so young. I was young. It was like we were talking in the Paths again."

Armin reached out as if cupping something in his hands he couldn't see.

Then his arm lost strength and fell to the bed.

"He came to say goodbye."

Armin's voice cracked, and tears beaded his eyes.

"Not 'see you later.' Goodbye."

"...Armin?" Mikasa asked as the tears flowed freely from the dying man.

"He told me-" Armin's voice cut out as he sobbed. "He said he was proud of me. That I had helped create a better world. That I had kept my promise to him. He told me I wasn't going to hell. He told me I'd done too much good. I can't go to hell. That it would be the last time we saw each other."

These were the tears of an old man. Tears of a good man who did terrible things for his people, country and friends. Who had helped kill his best friend.

The tears of an old man who had finally been forgiven yet could not forgive himself.

"And I was... relieved."

The old man was openly weeping now. In a way he hadn't done in years, the tears streamed from his eyes as he looked at her with pleading eyes.

"I was so damn relieved!" Armin said, self-disgust in his voice as he pounded the bed with feeble strength. "I promised him, Mikasa! I promised Eren! I promised I'd meet him in hell! That I would help shoulder the responsibility. And when I found out I wouldn't? That I'd see Annie again? I was so happy. So damned happy!"

Mikasa could do nothing for her best and last friend as he wailed, the beeping increasing in tempo as her heart accelerated in sympathy. Eventually, after a long minute of heaving sobs, the Last Titan quieted his rage and self-disgust.

"I don't want to go to hell," Armin Arlert said as if confessing the greatest of sins. The tears still flowed, but he looked at her now, begging Mikasa to understand. "I want to see Annie, and Jean, and Connie, and Historia, and Reiner, and Sasha, and Captain Levi, and Hange, and Gramps, and Mom and Dad. I want to see them all again. But I promised him, Mikasa."

Armin pleaded and begged Mikasa to understand the weakness and pain of a mortal man.

She did.

Mikasa Ackerman knew very well how much it hurt to kill your heart.

And she also knew Eren Yeager.

"He'd be happier if you broke your promise," Mikasa reassured Armin with the truth.

"But..." Armin gasped out a sob. "He must be lonely. So lonely. I can't leave him alone. I can't. We entrusted too much to him. Put too much on his shoulders. I should carry some of it. We are all to blame, not just him. He can't be the only one to pay. Not alone. I showed him that book. I did all those terrible things. I promised him. I promised."

"We all did," Mikasa's voice cracked. "All of us. The military. Humanity. Eldia. The scouts. You, me, everyone. We kept entrusting more and more to him. He carried all those bodies on his back. We were the ones who wanted to use the Rumbling as a threat. We were the ones who would use Historia and her children as sacrifices for our future. We are all to blame."

"But I was the one who promised him," Armin repeated, eyes swimming with tears. "We saw them in the end. We all did. Even with all the terrible things we did, they aren't in hell. Eren is alone there. He can't be alone. I can't let him be alone. I promised him Mikasa."

As she listened to Armin talk, listened to him pour out this last confession of an old man, Mikasa told her last friend the secret she had long kept.

"He won't be alone."

A secret she had planned to take to her grave.

Armin's tears slowed to a stop as he listened to her and the plan she had laid out so long ago.

"Ahhh," Armin let out a rasping sigh, at once of relief and of self-disgust. "I... I should have known."

"You would have... after," Mikasa said lowly. "It's in my will."

"I never deserved friends like you two," Armin said, his free hand reaching over to cup her cheek and rub along the scar that had never healed. "You've always been too good for me. Always going ahead. I'm always trying to catch up."

"You've always been the best of us," Mikasa said, a small, sad smile on her face. "You surpassed us long ago."

Armin seemed to shudder as he felt her arm falling softly to the bed again.

"I'll leave Eren to you, then," he gasped, eyes blurry from tears. "Be careful. He's a handful."

"I know," Mikasa said softly.

That was it. That was all she had.

Mikasa had been fighting for her entire life to not waste the gift she had been given. The cursed and blessed gift, paid for by so much death and destruction.

She had been strong for so long. Too long.

It was time to lay down her swords.

The beeping started to slow as Armin's hands tightened on weak fingers.

Mikasa had the strength to say a few quiet, final words before the nurses rushed in, and the flat noise of the machine drowned it out.

"Goodbye, Armin."

No history book would ever record the passing of Mikasa Ackerman. Her name had long faded from public consciousness. Only a handful of people attended her funeral.

Her family was unsurprised by her passing despite their sadness.

At her memorial, her son, Grisha, would tell all who attended that his mother was the strongest woman ever born and that he was glad she could finally rest.

Per her will, Mikasa was not buried in the cemetery dedicated to heroes with all her lost friends and her husband.

Instead, all that marked her final resting place was an old and battered grave marker that had been there for close to a century and a smaller piece of fresh and clean stone placed there as she was lowered into the ground.

Mikasa Ackerman's casket was filled with her favourite flowers, wrapped in the red scarf she had worn her entire life, and laid to rest under a towering tree.

A day after the funeral, an old man walked to the hill alone on weak legs.

He stared at the graves.

He stared at the tree.

He could hear the laughter of three children as they ran up the hill.

He could see a small boy lead the way, a broad smile on his face as he looked back as if challenging the other two to catch up.

He could see the steady run of the girl, only a step behind, as her red scarf flapped in the wind.

Well behind the first two, he saw a smaller, weaker boy struggle to catch up. His legs shook. His breath heaved. He tripped and stumbled.

But his smile was as big as the other two.

He could see it all, though he was alone with the tree on the hill.

Leaves were falling again.

"I am sorry I broke my promise," Armin told the graves. "I am sorry I can't join you. I am sorry I was always the last to reach the tree. I hope you two are together, wherever you are. Take care of each other."

The wind blew. The grass rustled. The leaves fell.

With movements slowed by age, Armin Artlet took the two leaves that had fallen on his hat.

The laughter of the children grew louder.

He placed the two leaves in front of the graves.

"Goodbye, Eren. Goodbye, Mikasa."

********

That evening, Armin Artlet was admitted to the hospital.

For weeks, all the world could speak of was the death of the Final Titan.

His passing was an international event as the world mourned the loss of a man who had done more for peace than anyone else.

Future history would mark his passing as the end of an era. The final tombstone of an age of titans and the long peace Armin had brought.

It would also be the beginning of a new dawn, one where the lessons of the past were forgotten as there was no one around to remember it.

Armin Arlert, the Final Titan, the Hero, the Traitor, the man who brought peace to the world, the great diplomat, and the Last Scout Commander, was buried beside his wife in the cemetery with almost all his friends.

He died in his sleep with a smile on his face.

Armin's last dream was of three young children running.

Of falling leaves and laughter.

Of smiles as he chased a boy and a girl to the tree on the hill.

Armin opened his eyes to his wife's welcoming arms and the greeting of long-dead comrades.

********

Mikasa woke without a sound in her little cabin in the woods, wiped the tears from her eyes, and got dressed.

As she did every morning, she checked the defence and repair enchantments on her scarf before wrapping it around herself. She had taken care of it for so long, but it had only returned to its once vibrant colour thanks to the aid of her friend and King.

Unlike usual, Mikasa did not start tending to her garden immediately or visit the towns in her territory. All the orphanages she visited knew not to expect her today.

Instead, Mikasa spread her wings to take to the air.

Sitri territory was far from the Underwold's version of Eldi- of Madagascar, even with her speed. Mikasa had to leave early to arrive in time to greet Sona as she returned home for the summer.

She could have teleported. As a Pawn of a Satan and a High-class devil in her own right, Mikasa had her own sigil to use as a teleportation circle.

While Mikasa lacked the magic to power it herself, like her weapon enchantments or those on her scarf, Sera had bugged Adjuka long enough to get him to make a portable battery she could use in day-to-day tasks.

That wasn't the reason she didn't teleport.

Mikasa never teleported if she could fly.

Flight reminded her of her youth.

Reminded her of ODM gear and the incredible rush it brought.

And if a bird happened to fly with her for a few hours?

Well, Mikasa could imagine she wasn't alone in the air.

Instead, Mikasa was flying side by side with a young boy, a broad smile on his face, as they flew hand in hand through the skies of this strange version of hell.